Annoyance (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Deteriorate

Spencer's POV

Hotch had enforced the buddy system again, including Garcia in on the mix as well. Nobody was allowed to even be alone for a second, except for bathroom breaks. And even then, someone would have to wait outside the door or in the general vicinity. It was absolute hell. Spencer could feel himself breaking down, decomposing at an accelerated rate, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He needed time alone, time to process, time to cry, time to get his rage out, but all he got were those quiet moments in the bathroom or the shower.

He went with Derek to the firing range in the middle of the night halfway through the week, the both of them trying to get their worries and aggression out that way. It seemed to help Derek, but Spencer wasn't satisfied. He needed a way to physically expel the feelings from his body, whether it was through pain or other means. He had never understood why people punched holes in drywall until now. He fantasized about how satisfying it would feel to have that searing pain in his knuckles, to watch the wall crumble away under his own hand.

It was an unending task of watching traffic cameras and surveillance footage, of going through case files over and over again despite the fact that he had read all of them before, knew what all of them contained. Nothing nothing nothing. He was losing focus, losing momentum, wallowing in his own self-hatred and guilt.

Every day the pressure in his chest got worse, his temper flaring up more often. He could barely sleep anymore. He hadn't been sleeping much beforehand anyways, only getting small reprieves on the nights he spent with you. Melatonin and even cough syrup didn't help him, so he was stuck in an unending cycle of grogginess. His evenings were long, most of them spent lying awake on Derek's couch or his own bed, thinking about where you and Emily were, about what was happening to you. Were you going to be in one piece when they found you? Would they ever find you? He found himself holding his phone up to his ear and listening to the messages you had left him, just so he could hear your voice.

On Thursday he went to see a specialist to try to help. He was no good to anyone if he couldn't do his job correctly. He should have known that the first session was just introductory, that he wouldn't be able to actually talk about what was weighing on him until next week. He didn't have until next week. He needed to be better now. But that's not how the world worked. That's not how trauma worked.

Saturday was the day that he lost it. It had been a week now, still nothing. He was in the kitchen in the break room at the office, getting coffee. His hands were shaking more than they normally did; he was basically running on caffeine and 2-3 hours of sleep per night. He wasn't watching where he was going, too lost in his own thoughts. He tripped over a chair leg, dropping his favorite mug straight onto the linoleum. The mug shattered, hot coffee splashing all over his pants and the floor. Derek burst in, probably startled by the loud noise, just in time to see the tears falling down Spencer's cheeks.

Derek paid no mind to the broken cup or the spilled coffee that was spreading. He took one look at the scene and strode straight over to Spencer, taking the shaking man into his arms and holding him as he fell apart. Spencer gripped Derek's shirt in his fists, trying to hold on to some of his sanity, hold on to anything, as his body was wracked with sobs, his face buried into Derek's shoulder.

They had been together all week. Derek had watched Spencer devolve, trying to intervene but getting shut out every time. It really was only a matter of time, and Spencer couldn't help but think of how pitiful he was standing there in the kitchen, whimpering and crying like a child in the arms of a friend.

When he had finally gotten control of himself what felt like eons later, Spencer stepped away slowly, wiping at his eyes as he sniffled loudly. Derek reached out a comforting hand, placing it on his shoulder softly. Spencer couldn't even look him in the eyes. After a few moments of silence, Spencer turned around to grab some paper towels, kneeling on the floor to clean up his mess. Derek crouched next to him, helping him pick up the fragments of his broken mug and sop up the now cold coffee off of the ground.