FIC: Experimental Habits (Reid, rated R)
Title: Experimental Habits
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Character: Reid
Rating: R
Word Count: 1395
Summary: Reid confronts his body-image issues.
Note: I had the story idea for Reflections in Candlelight, and started wondering just how in the world Reid got into that habit of sleeping naked in the first place. This is that story.
It started as an experiment.
Years of teasing and mockery had far more of an effect than Spencer was willing to admit to, leaving him painfully, transparently unsure of himself - of his body and the way he looked. Memories and conjecture circled in the back of his head for weeks, overheard speculation and taunting words flared up when Spencer had a moment to himself, when he wasn't working, alone in a room with the lights out.
He studied the people around him, the way they walked, the clothes they wore. Morgan's nonchalant saunter and charming smile, the way Jason would slouch down and sprawl into a chair, the set of Elle's shoulders and the way she would lean against a desk when talking to a local law enforcement officer. Morgan and Elle didn't dress with any appreciable difference between work and the times they'd all get called in on off-hours. Even Hotch always looked confident, cool and untouchable, no matter what he wore. Granted, Spencer didn't have much opportunity to see Hotch dressed down, but his bearing tended to remain the same. The question was this: did their confidence come from the clothes they wore, or their comfort in their own bodies?
At first, he'd thought it must be the clothes, so he'd gone to the mall one Saturday, determined to find his confidence. Logically, he'd known it would be crowded, but somehow he still wasn't quite prepared for all those people. Then, as if darting through the crowds wasn't nerve wracking enough, there'd been the problem with the clothes. For someone used to wearing jackets or sweater-vests over long-sleeved shirts - he had a high metabolism and low body fat percentage, it wasn't his fault he was so prone to being cold - the fashionable short sleeve shirts he saw in every window left his arms looking thin and emaciated. He was practically swallowed in the jeans he saw everybody else wearing, they threatened to fall off his hips even with a belt. Instead of inspiring confidence, he felt helpless and uncertain, out of his element and positive - paranoid, he knew - that every time he met a sales clerk's eyes, she was laughing at him in some way. Or worse, full of pity for the gangly, awkward boy hopelessly trying to fit in.
So the clothing was out. That couldn't be it; no matter how shallow Morgan liked to lead people to believe he was, Spencer realized his confidence came from something deeper than his outward appearance - though that certainly didn't hurt. Now came the puzzle of figuring out how to become comfortable in his body.
Feeling foolish and more than a little nervous, Spencer signed up for dance lessons. Hotch could dance, both comfortably and well. He'd seen Hotch draw Haley in close for a slow dance just as often as he'd seen him spin her in a twirl and make her laugh. There were some upsides to having an eidetic memory. While he signed up for the traditional lead role, it was just as easy for him to watch and memorize the follow's part as well. It did grow to be fun, if awkward and difficult in the beginning. Spencer had to constantly be reminded to forgive himself, and to listen to the music, and pay attention to his partner and not his feet. He found that while he could lead, he much preferred to follow, finding a certain ease in letting someone else decide which move to perform next.
But, for all that he enjoyed himself every week, and for all that it did help his confidence, Spencer still didn't feel comfortable in his own body. What would it take, he wondered, to be happy in his skin? Clothes hadn't helped, and the dancing, while helping his coordination, still didn't make him feel less than awkward and geeky. It was an overheard conversation between the girls that had Spencer's head snapping up, his brow furrowing in thought. A shared lament over body image, and perceptions, and Garcia's declaration that candlelight made everything beautiful, in all ways. Spencer glanced around, watching Morgan nod in agreement, and Hotch's muted grimace of sympathy.
It occurred to him then, that maybe he wasn't the only one with body image issues, which prompted him to wonder if maybe Garcia was right; candlelight made everything beautiful.
He tried it that night.
Breathless, chest tight, Spencer bought a package of tealights from the drugstore, and littered all fifty of them throughout his room, everywhere. He burned his thumb from flicking the flint on the lighter so many times, and brought it to his mouth absently while he looked around. There was the mirror over his dresser, reflecting the soft glow of the fire throughout his room. It was a little high for his purposes, so with some trepidation, he removed full-length mirror from the bathroom door and moved it into the bedroom, panting with the effort and staring at himself uncertainly.
Spencer took a deep breath, and a cursory look at himself in the mirror. He saw what he normally saw: long, unruly hair, pinched features and small eyes, thin lips. His wrists jutted out from the cuffs of his sleeves, his hands long and awkward. The rest of him was covered in clothes, and for a moment, Spencer considered blowing out the candles and burying himself in numbers and theories until it was time to go back to work. Then he firmed his resolve, and lifted his hands to his neck.
The tie went first, un-knotted and pulled out of his sweater, ruffling his collar. The sweater followed, then the collar and the buttons on his sleeves and shirt. His hands were sweaty, fingers fumbling against the small, hard plastic. He pulled the shirt out of his pants, and then his white sleeveless undershirt. Hazel eyes glanced into the mirror and then away, as he reached for his belt buckle, the click of metal against metal unnaturally loud in the quiet of the room. He stepped out of his shoes, and pulled off his socks. Spencer pulled off his pants and then his underwear and for the longest time, he gazed at his toes.
They were regular toes, he supposed, if a little long and bony like the rest of him. Hesitantly, Spencer raised his eyes a little more, watching the play of golden light around the knobby mounds of his knees. It really didn't matter how much he ate - and he had tried, before - he didn't have the body type to put on muscle mass. It led to thin thighs and slim hips. He only had the barest hint of body hair, something that always made him feel as if he'd never really made it out of adolescence. Shadows flickered around his stomach, over the faintly defined lines of his abdomen and chest, in the valleyd expanse between one pectoral muscle and the other. His nipples were a dusky rose color in the light, collarbones showing prominently under a slim neck.
Everything about him was...delicate. He wasn't built like Morgan, or reassuringly solid like Hotch. Even Jason had a comfortable presence to him that Spencer lacked. He was fine boned and bird-like. Who would want that? And why did sexual attractiveness equal validation anyway? Was that what made the others so comfortable with themselves? It wasn't as if he'd never had sex before, he just didn't place the kind of importance on it everyone else seemed to. Maybe he was doing it wrong.
Spencer took one last, hard look at himself in the mirror and then sighed a little. Maybe it was a habitual exposure thing. And if it was, then no amount of staring tonight was going to give him confidence tomorrow. He'd try again later. Spencer pulled open a drawer and reached for fresh clothes, pulling on his underwear and pajama pants. He picked up the shirt and looked in the mirror again, taking in his bare chest. Comfortable in his own skin was not hiding from it. Spencer re-folded the top and put it back in the drawer, then began to move around the room and blow out the candles.
Garcia was right, they did make everything look better. Maybe he'd try again in a few days, see how he felt about himself then.
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Character: Reid
Rating: R
Word Count: 1395
Summary: Reid confronts his body-image issues.
Note: I had the story idea for Reflections in Candlelight, and started wondering just how in the world Reid got into that habit of sleeping naked in the first place. This is that story.
It started as an experiment.
Years of teasing and mockery had far more of an effect than Spencer was willing to admit to, leaving him painfully, transparently unsure of himself - of his body and the way he looked. Memories and conjecture circled in the back of his head for weeks, overheard speculation and taunting words flared up when Spencer had a moment to himself, when he wasn't working, alone in a room with the lights out.
He studied the people around him, the way they walked, the clothes they wore. Morgan's nonchalant saunter and charming smile, the way Jason would slouch down and sprawl into a chair, the set of Elle's shoulders and the way she would lean against a desk when talking to a local law enforcement officer. Morgan and Elle didn't dress with any appreciable difference between work and the times they'd all get called in on off-hours. Even Hotch always looked confident, cool and untouchable, no matter what he wore. Granted, Spencer didn't have much opportunity to see Hotch dressed down, but his bearing tended to remain the same. The question was this: did their confidence come from the clothes they wore, or their comfort in their own bodies?
At first, he'd thought it must be the clothes, so he'd gone to the mall one Saturday, determined to find his confidence. Logically, he'd known it would be crowded, but somehow he still wasn't quite prepared for all those people. Then, as if darting through the crowds wasn't nerve wracking enough, there'd been the problem with the clothes. For someone used to wearing jackets or sweater-vests over long-sleeved shirts - he had a high metabolism and low body fat percentage, it wasn't his fault he was so prone to being cold - the fashionable short sleeve shirts he saw in every window left his arms looking thin and emaciated. He was practically swallowed in the jeans he saw everybody else wearing, they threatened to fall off his hips even with a belt. Instead of inspiring confidence, he felt helpless and uncertain, out of his element and positive - paranoid, he knew - that every time he met a sales clerk's eyes, she was laughing at him in some way. Or worse, full of pity for the gangly, awkward boy hopelessly trying to fit in.
So the clothing was out. That couldn't be it; no matter how shallow Morgan liked to lead people to believe he was, Spencer realized his confidence came from something deeper than his outward appearance - though that certainly didn't hurt. Now came the puzzle of figuring out how to become comfortable in his body.
Feeling foolish and more than a little nervous, Spencer signed up for dance lessons. Hotch could dance, both comfortably and well. He'd seen Hotch draw Haley in close for a slow dance just as often as he'd seen him spin her in a twirl and make her laugh. There were some upsides to having an eidetic memory. While he signed up for the traditional lead role, it was just as easy for him to watch and memorize the follow's part as well. It did grow to be fun, if awkward and difficult in the beginning. Spencer had to constantly be reminded to forgive himself, and to listen to the music, and pay attention to his partner and not his feet. He found that while he could lead, he much preferred to follow, finding a certain ease in letting someone else decide which move to perform next.
But, for all that he enjoyed himself every week, and for all that it did help his confidence, Spencer still didn't feel comfortable in his own body. What would it take, he wondered, to be happy in his skin? Clothes hadn't helped, and the dancing, while helping his coordination, still didn't make him feel less than awkward and geeky. It was an overheard conversation between the girls that had Spencer's head snapping up, his brow furrowing in thought. A shared lament over body image, and perceptions, and Garcia's declaration that candlelight made everything beautiful, in all ways. Spencer glanced around, watching Morgan nod in agreement, and Hotch's muted grimace of sympathy.
It occurred to him then, that maybe he wasn't the only one with body image issues, which prompted him to wonder if maybe Garcia was right; candlelight made everything beautiful.
He tried it that night.
Breathless, chest tight, Spencer bought a package of tealights from the drugstore, and littered all fifty of them throughout his room, everywhere. He burned his thumb from flicking the flint on the lighter so many times, and brought it to his mouth absently while he looked around. There was the mirror over his dresser, reflecting the soft glow of the fire throughout his room. It was a little high for his purposes, so with some trepidation, he removed full-length mirror from the bathroom door and moved it into the bedroom, panting with the effort and staring at himself uncertainly.
Spencer took a deep breath, and a cursory look at himself in the mirror. He saw what he normally saw: long, unruly hair, pinched features and small eyes, thin lips. His wrists jutted out from the cuffs of his sleeves, his hands long and awkward. The rest of him was covered in clothes, and for a moment, Spencer considered blowing out the candles and burying himself in numbers and theories until it was time to go back to work. Then he firmed his resolve, and lifted his hands to his neck.
The tie went first, un-knotted and pulled out of his sweater, ruffling his collar. The sweater followed, then the collar and the buttons on his sleeves and shirt. His hands were sweaty, fingers fumbling against the small, hard plastic. He pulled the shirt out of his pants, and then his white sleeveless undershirt. Hazel eyes glanced into the mirror and then away, as he reached for his belt buckle, the click of metal against metal unnaturally loud in the quiet of the room. He stepped out of his shoes, and pulled off his socks. Spencer pulled off his pants and then his underwear and for the longest time, he gazed at his toes.
They were regular toes, he supposed, if a little long and bony like the rest of him. Hesitantly, Spencer raised his eyes a little more, watching the play of golden light around the knobby mounds of his knees. It really didn't matter how much he ate - and he had tried, before - he didn't have the body type to put on muscle mass. It led to thin thighs and slim hips. He only had the barest hint of body hair, something that always made him feel as if he'd never really made it out of adolescence. Shadows flickered around his stomach, over the faintly defined lines of his abdomen and chest, in the valleyd expanse between one pectoral muscle and the other. His nipples were a dusky rose color in the light, collarbones showing prominently under a slim neck.
Everything about him was...delicate. He wasn't built like Morgan, or reassuringly solid like Hotch. Even Jason had a comfortable presence to him that Spencer lacked. He was fine boned and bird-like. Who would want that? And why did sexual attractiveness equal validation anyway? Was that what made the others so comfortable with themselves? It wasn't as if he'd never had sex before, he just didn't place the kind of importance on it everyone else seemed to. Maybe he was doing it wrong.
Spencer took one last, hard look at himself in the mirror and then sighed a little. Maybe it was a habitual exposure thing. And if it was, then no amount of staring tonight was going to give him confidence tomorrow. He'd try again later. Spencer pulled open a drawer and reached for fresh clothes, pulling on his underwear and pajama pants. He picked up the shirt and looked in the mirror again, taking in his bare chest. Comfortable in his own skin was not hiding from it. Spencer re-folded the top and put it back in the drawer, then began to move around the room and blow out the candles.
Garcia was right, they did make everything look better. Maybe he'd try again in a few days, see how he felt about himself then.