* I was inspired to do this because I myself have SOD (although undiagnosed; many cases of this disorder are undiagnosed because of its difficulty to diagnose and the abundance of its cases) and I realized that it's a very real possibility for Reid because of his eidetic memory.

** This is my first CM fanfic so I hope everyone is in character! (although I realize reid is a little OOC)

*** I do not own CM. :'(

Unsurprisingly, it was Blake who noticed it first. She had been a mother before, and she had taken to Reid quickly. Reid was a shy young man, not eager to meet new people, especially once he already had such a close-knit pseudo family around him. But he had taken to her unusually fast, the others noted, perhaps because of her motherly aura.

They were sitting in the bullpin, their short reprieve from cases filled with paperwork and filing reports. Reid had the largest stack, a few of Morgan's own files littered within his own, and was tugging at his hair. One finger was tugging at the sock on his ankle, pulling and twisting as he chewed on the tip of his pen. Blake watched him curiously, confused. Even with the extra files, Reid normally would have been nearly done. It was almost two in the afternoon, and Morgan was further ahead than the boy-genius.

"Reid?" Blake called out to him quietly, the nearly-empty bullpin making her voice sound louder than usual. When Reid didn't look up, she said his name again. After getting no further reply, Blake realized she had gathered Morgan's attention as well. "Spencer? Spencer!"

The reaction was less than expected. Reid's body jolted, his head snapping up and his eyes wide. The pen in his mouth fell to the table, and the young man winced at the noise it made on the hard wood. "Y-Yeah?"

Blake's brow was folded in concern. "Are you alright?"

Reid mumbled as he picked up the pen, then looked to Blake with wide eyes. His pupils were dilated more than usual, a certain form of unease filling them. It wasn't quite panic, perhaps startle? "Are you alright, Spencer?" Blake repeated, tilting her head.

"Fine," Reid said curtly, tapping his foot and pulling at his hair again. "S'just the noise."

Blake and Morgan looked to each other before Morgan shrugged and went back to his work. Blake sat for a moment, watching Reid with confusion. After a few moments, not wanting to unnerve the younger agent, she stood and went over to the coffee machine.

"Dammit," she hissed to herself. "Broken."

A tiny, shrill noise met her ears. Frowning, Blake lowered her ear to the machine. Her eyes widened only a fraction when she heard the white noise coming from the broken wires. "Huh," she huffed, looking across the room at Reid with pursed lips. "Filled with odd quirks, aren't we, Dr. Reid?"

"Hey, Aaron, can I talk to you for a second?"

Hotch looked up from his desk to see Alex Blake standing in the doorway to his office. The rest of the team had gone home, save for himself and JJ, who was going over a few requests in her own office.

"Sure. Is something wrong?"

Blake sat down across from her leader, crossing her legs and linking her hands together. "I'm not sure. I just noticed something... off with Spencer this past week." At Aaron's cocked brow, she continued. "He's been quite irritable- not with us, just by himself and with his paperwork- and he's been having trouble concentrating." She shrugged. "I mean, I know I haven't been here too long, but that seems out of character for him."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"I tried to bring it up, but he brushed it off as nothing."

Hotch nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him. Thank you, Alex."

She stood, smiling. "No problem. You coming to Dave's this Saturday?"

"Maybe. I have to get a sitter for Jack."

"Alright. Don't stay here too long, Aaron. Growing boys need their sleep."

Hotch rolled his eyes but smirked, bidding his teammate good night as she left the office.

"CLEAR!" Morgan's voice echoed through the house, followed by JJ's own, "CLEAR!" The warehouse was large, but there were few rooms. Their UNSUB was nowhere to be seen. Then again, their flashlights offered little visibility in the dark structure. "Morgan, can you hit the lights?" JJ called to Morgan as she came to stand next to Reid. Reid was looking over a pamphlet that had led them to said warehouse, brow furrowed as he tried to read by the dim lighting of JJ's flashlight.

Suddenly, there was a loud buzz as the lights flashed on. The warehouse wasn't old or even abandoned, just empty for a few months, which their UNSUB had seemingly taken to. The lights were massive, bright white rectangles that hung from the ceiling on wires.

If she hadn't been standing directly next to him, JJ wouldn't have noticed it. But she was, so she did. Upon the illumination of the warehouse, Reid winced and hissed, eyes squeezing shut and a hand twitching towards his head, although he didn't raise it.

"Spence?"

Reid said nothing on the matter, immediately going into profiling-mode of the warehouse and conversing with Morgan as though nothing had happened. JJ resolved to watch him closer, though.

Jet-rides back were normally a contradictory mix of tense and relaxing, relief that the UNSUB was caught but sorrow for the victims' families. Morgan was plugged in like usual, JJ and Blake conversing quietly across from him. Rossi was reading, making notes ever so often in the margins. Hotch sat across from Reid where the youngest agent was curled up on the couch, infatuated with his sweater. Hotch looked up from his case files when Reid made a small whine. The young man was picking at the sleeves of his cardigan, tugging on a loose thread with a frustrated expression. Hotch was slightly startled when he noticed the tears in his teammate's eyes.

"Reid?" he asked nonchalantly, trying to keep their conversation away from the other agents. "Is everything alright?"

"The thread," Reid muttered, tugging on it again. "If I pull on it too much then my sweater will unravel. But it's bothering me."

Hotch cocked an eyebrow at the behavior. Now that he thought about it, such small actions weren't unusual for the young genius. "Do you want some scissors?"

Reid's teary eyes cleared up at the question, and he nodded. "Y-Yeah, thanks." Hotch pulled out his pocket knife, handing it over and inspecting Reid silently as the young man's aura instantly cleared. He smiled as he handed the knife back to Hotch, picking up a thick novel labeled in Russian. "история никто," he said with an excited smile, "The Story of a Nobody by Anton Chekhov. It's short but a really intriguing tale about a secret terrorist group who infiltrates the house of a government official's son and..."

Hotch listened to Reid while simultaneously pilfering through his files, nodding at the right parts and smiling at the genius's enthusiasm. He remembered his conversation with Blake a handful of months before. He had been attempting to watch Reid more closely, but he had been too preoccupied with Jack and their cases to really take note of much. Now that he had seen it for himself, though, he silently promised he would work harder to notice such actions from their resident doctor.

"You alright, Pretty Boy?" Morgan had to shout over the noise of the club, grin wide on his face. He, Reid, and JJ were gathering intel for their current case. JJ was at the bar, chatting with the female tender about the kinds of guys that came to the club. Morgan had been dragging Reid around to different flocks of ladies all night, charming his own information out of them. Reid had done a few magic tricks earlier in the night, intriguing the girls into talking when Morgan's flirting failed. But now, after almost two hours of walking around and finding next to nil, Morgan was noticing how strained his friend looked. Reid was pale and had been tugging at the collar of his button-down for the past half hour, his eyes unfocused and darting about. It startled Morgan how similar his behavior was to when he had been shooting up years before.

Reid didn't reply, but Morgan could hear the hitch in his uneven breathing even with the deafening music and laughter around them. He put a gentle hand on Reid's bicep, leading the younger out of the main room and into the bathroom. Fortunately, it was empty, so Morgan locked the door before turning to speak to Reid.

The young man was leaning over the sink, panting harshly as he turned the water on full blast, just listening to the white noise with a slightly less pained expression. Morgan was about to approach him when he noticed the way Reid's lips were moving. He was... counting?

Morgan stood there, far enough away so Reid wouldn't feel smothered, but close enough to where his partner could reach out and touch him if needed. After Reid counted to a hundred, the tension in his shoulders drained. He breathed out through his nose slowly, head drooping to his chest. Morgan could see a glimmer of tears in the other man's lashes.

"I'm fine."

Morgan shrugged. "It's fine to get claustrophobic every once in a while."

"Not claustrophobic," Reid countered, washing his face with the water and drying it with a paper towel. "Just... too many people."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

The deadpanned look Reid gave him made Morgan snort and raise his hands in defense. "Alright, alright. Sorry I spoke, kid."

"Claustrophobia is defined as the extreme and irrational fear of confined places. This death-trap, although cluttered with way too many people, isn't a confined space. It's approximately ten thousand and forty-five square feet with a floor-to-ceiling height of fifty feet. So I'm not claustrophobic. Demophobic, maybe, but that's also highly unlikely considering I do fine in the bullpin and I grew up in Vegas."

"Demophobic?"

"The unnatural or irrational fear of large groups of people," Reid said dryly, pushing past Derek back into the club. "I'm fine."

"Sure thing, pretty boy." Morgan could still see the panic in Reid's eyes, though, even as the genius merely unlocked the door and clung to the handle. Quickly, Morgan looked at his phone. No messages. "JJ just texted. She says she's ready to go. We've done all we can here and we've hit just about every brick wall available."

If Reid could sense Morgan's bluff, he said nothing of it.

It was about three months after the breakdown Reid had at the club, to which Morgan confided his concerns with JJ to. He had considered going to Hotch, but decided that would bring too much attention to something that was probably nothing. He was slightly surprised to hear that JJ had noticed irregularities in Reid's behavior as well.

"I mean, I've always noticed things are off with him," she had said while filing away paperwork, "but I just started noticing things about a year ago. He's really sensitive to bright lights and loud noises."

"Not just loud noises," Morgan said, shaking his head. "Blake told me about this one time- nearly a year and a half ago now- where the coffee machine was broken. Apparently Reid could hear it from across the room and it was driving him nuts."

JJ frowned, looking out the window of her office to see Garcia and Reid laughing over something while the woman handed over a muffin to her teammate, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Have you said anything to Hotch?"

"No. It might be nothing."

JJ nodded, lips pursed. "But it might be something."

"We'll keep an eye on him."

It was Garcia who was present for one of Reid's more extreme 'episodes'. The two had been on their merry way to a theater screening of the first and third Doctor Who seasons, piled down with hidden snacks and drinks. Upon walking down the sidewalk, Reid stumbled on an outcropping and knocked into another man, making the coffee in his hand spill out over his track suit.

"Dammit! What the hell, man?!" he shouted. Garcia could instantly tell the stranger was merely having an off day, although he didn't have to be so rude about it. Reid was stammering as he stumbled back, tripping once more on the same outcropping and falling to the ground, successfully scraping up his hands.

"Spence!" Garcia called to him, stooping to help him up. The man in the track suit was still raving, making wild gesticulations as he stormed past them, tossing his nearly-empty coffee on the ground next to Reid. She glared at him and murmured "Excuse you," before turning back to Reid. "Are you okay, honey bun?" Garcia asked as she helped him up, looking at his gravel-impaled palms. "Tch, we're going to have to put something on those."

"I'm sorry," Reid whispered to Garcia, making the woman's heart break.

"Oh, hon, you have nothing to be sorry for! That jerk-o was just being a big donkey's backside about nothing."

Reid's eyes were narrowed, as though he were continuously wincing, while Garcia pulled him towards an outdoor drinking fountain. As she cleaned his hands, the woman noticed the way Reid's fingers were shaking, as though he were on an adrenaline IV. "You alright, angel fish?"

Reid's teeth were tugging on his lower lip, his brows furrowed as he glared at his hands. He grunted as he tried to brush the gravel off for himself, but Garcia would have none of it. "Baby cakes, some of those are pretty deep and I don't want you to hurt yourself-"

She stopped talking when she heard Reid murmuring to himself. "Get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off-"

"I'm getting it off, hon," she said consolingly as she picked at the pebbles embedded in the agent's skin. It didn't take long, but with Reid's flinching and frantic mumbling, it felt like ages to Penelope. "There we go!" she exclaimed when she was finished. "Good as new!"

And to her surprise, it was good as new. Upon his palms being clean, Reid was instantly back to his happily nerdy self, rambling on about the show they were going to see. Garcia couldn't keep track of his whiplash behavior, so she simply smiled and nodded as they made their way to the theatre.

"A toast, to a job well done!" Rossi said with a smile as he lifted his wine glass into the air. The rest of the team cheered, clinking glasses and sipping at the aged alcohol with various reactions to the brew. Reid took a sip and set it down, while JJ and Blake were downing it with glee.

The team was at Rossi's mansion to have dinner and relax after a particularly rough case. Cases with children were always the hardest, and the team found comfort in each other in their wake.

Morgan and Garcia had roped JJ and- surprisingly- Hotch into playing a board game on the coffee table, and the group was now laughing rancorously at their friendly rivalries. Opera music played quietly in the background while Muffie's barking could be heard from the backyard. Blake and Rossi were standing in the doorway to the living room, watching their team and chatting quietly.

Then, Rossi noticed Reid.

The young genius was on the couch, leaning up against the arm with his legs pulled up to his chest. It wasn't an unusual position to see the young man in, which was why no one else had taken note. But when Rossi saw Reid's book lying on the floor, spine upwards in a way that the younger agent usual would have complained would ruin the binding, he knew something was up. Reid's spindly fingers rubbing at his temples was an even bigger giveaway, and Rossi excused himself from Blake's presence for a minute to jog upstairs.

Blake had noticed Reid, too, and was approaching the genius with a worried countenance. "Spencer?" she called to him quietly, crouching next to him. "Spencer, what's wrong?"

At her words, the others twisted in their seats to look at the scene. Hotch and Morgan crossed over instantly, the latter getting close to Reid and putting a hand on his knee to try and gain his attention. JJ and Garcia hovered nervously, trying to figure out what had set their teammate off.

Reid whimpered- honest to God whimpered- when Morgan touched his knee. He pulled back further, eyes shutting even tighter and fingers pressing into his temples with a bruising force.

"Reid," Hotch scolded, trying to bring the younger agent's hands away from his face so he wouldn't hurt himself. Reid yelped and pulled away, forcing himself back so far into the couch the team was convinced he was trying to melt into it. JJ was about to try her luck reaching out to the panicking man when Rossi's voice suddenly came to her ears.

"Back up. Back up."

Everyone shuffled backwards as Rossi came close, crouching in front of Reid, far enough to give him his needed space. Reid's breath was coming quick, his fingers spasming against his forehead as he fought off his impending migraine. Rossi pulled out from under his arm a thin quilt, lightly draping it over Reid's lap and chest. He then procured an iPod and headphones, allowing the young man to put them in for himself. As soon as the music started, everyone could see a change in Reid. He sighed happily and melted into the couch, relaxing as he snuggled childishly up to the blanket. Rossi smiled softly, standing and ushering the team into the kitchen to explain.

"What was that?" Morgan instantly inquired, voice urgent. "He was having a panic attack or something-"

The others all began to speak at once, but a sharp glance from Hotch made them quiet. Their leader then looked to Rossi. "Dave, can you explain what just happened?"

Rossi chuckled, crossing his arms as he looked to his teammates. "I'm surprised the group of seasoned profilers hasn't figured it out already. I mean, I did as soon as I joined on."

"Alright, well, I'm not a profiler, so it doesn't count for me," Garcia piped up just as Morgan asked, "Figured out what?"

"Sensory Overload Disorder," Rossi said, ending the suspense but only stirring confusion. "It's a disorder associated with anxiety, autism, schizophrenia- and with eidetic memories." At the team's still-confused faces, Rossi continued. "People with Sensory Overload are easily overwhelmed with things like bright lights and loud noises. But also with other things like textures of fabrics or noises that other people can't hear."

"Like white noise from machines," Blake said slowly, to which Rossi nodded.

"My niece has it," he said in explanation, "so as soon as I got to know Spencer, I knew what was really going on."

"He takes in and remembers everything," Garcia said with a mix of praise and concern.

"That's gotta do numbers on someone," JJ concluded, casting a glance over her shoulder to where the youngest agent was now sleeping soundly.

"We shoulda noticed sooner," Morgan chided himself, "I mean, we've been a team for nearly ten years!"

"It's hard to notice sometimes," Rossi consoled the frustrated group before him, "especially when the person who has it tries so hard to hide it."

"Why are we just now noticing it?" JJ asked.

Rossi smiled and shrugged. "Maybe he's letting his guard down. He feels at ease with the team, knows that whatever he has issues with we won't judge him for."

Morgan snorted. "I think he should know that by now."

"Maybe the addition of a maternal figure to the team pushed him over the edge," Hotch addressed what Blake and Rossi were both thinking. "It provided the security he really needed to allow himself to take down those walls."

Blake looked over at Reid, a contented smile gracing her features at the young man's relaxed slumber. "Glad I could help."

"Well, now that we know we can help him!" Garcia affirmed happily, scurrying towards the coffee machine. "And to start, I think I'll make him a pot of coffee, fifty-seven sugars like usual."

The team laughed and went back about their earlier actions, albeit much quieter and with more reserved motions. Reid woke up about an hour later, none the wiser to his team's revelation.

If JJ made sure the same quilt was always in the jet, no one complained. It was a soft felt with satin edging that had a soothing texture, which Reid immediately took to. If Blake began making sure the coffee machine was always up and running- with plenty of sugar- before Reid got to work, no one objected. If Morgan stopped shouting out across the bullpin and laughing loudly, startling Reid just for the fun of it, no one chose to notice- except Reid. If Hotch began sending Reid to the quieter environments on cases, making sure he was never on his own or confronted with anything too unfamiliar, the team didn't say anything on the matter. And if Rossi began bringing an iPod full of classical music and several pairs of earplugs with him on every case, nobody was any the wiser.

Reid had noticed his team was acting curiously, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After all, it made the bullpin and jet much more pleasant of atmospheres. Even the cases wrought less anxiety than usual- subjectively of course. Pretty soon, Reid found it hard to leave the office where as usually he couldn't get home fast enough.

They were on the jet back from a very successful case when the team noticed it. Reid was listening to the iPod Rossi had procured, a muffin via Garcia and a cup of coffee via Blake tucked into the crook of his elbow. On his lap was the blanket JJ had stashed for him, his fingers rubbing the satin methodically. He was flipping through a book Hotch had suggested, a novel of Robert Frost poetry. It was likely that the young genius could quote every stanza verbatim, but he took pleasure in the scent of the crisp pages. Morgan was sitting next to the younger, his shoulder leaned up casually against Reid's. The younger agent was melting into the touch, just a warm and gentle reminder of his physical surroundings.

Morgan looked up at his teammates who were all watching the scene contentedly, a grin spreading over his features. Nothing was said. And nothing needed to be said. Because everything was finally all as it should be. Everything was alright.

ERMEGERD SUCH CHEESINESS IM SO SORRRY

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