apocalypsehowcomm | LOG - July Catch-All/TDM Prompts (OPEN)

"Oh," Malcolm says in relief. "In what way? Have you ever been to a therapist before?"

Because this is Malcolm's wheelhouse.

"No," Neal says, then pauses. "Well, not really. Once, but it was... I was working with the FBI as part of a sting."

He smiles crookedly. "She drugged me."

"I assume you don't mean 'gave you medication'," Malcolm clarifies.

"Unless 'Goodnight Cinderella' is FDA approved in your world, no." He draws Malcolm away from the kitchen, back to the couch. "What're you reading?"

"It's a book that purports to present new information about the zodiac killer but it's just a retread of an obscure paper by a psychology student at UCLA in the 90's," Malcolm answers distractedly. "Goodnight Cinderella... isn't that a roofie? ...Shouldn't it be Goodnight Sleeping Beauty? I don't think Cinderella ever famously fell asleep. Or Goodnight Rip Van Winkle?"

Neal grins, both at Malcolm's summary of the book and at his distraction by semantics. "Probably. No one ever said drug names were consistent. Consider the source."

"Well, the start of therapy can make you look at things you might not be comfortable examining at first, even if you and the therapist are compatible. Do you want to talk about what they said?" Malcolm asks.

This time Neal doesn't look irritated so much as uncomfortable. He shifts to look at Malcolm's book, opens his mouth to deflect, and realizes with a little twinge of frustration how easily Malcolm would probably see through it.

"It's nothing, really. They just want to do some assessments for... things."

Things.

Malcolm frowns faintly.

"Things? What sort of things?"

The kinds of things people always wanted to assess him for ran the gamut of psychopathy and narcissism, so his mind turns in a dark direction at the vagueness and Neal is none of those things.

"Are they qualified to assess you for things?"

"I assume so." He shifts a little in his seat, embarrassment gnawing at the pit of his stomach. "They weren't exactly specific. Developmental disorders, learning disabilities."

The last is said a little bit like he might say Wal-Mart. "I don't see what that would have to do with anything, but they said I can take a little time to decide if I'm interested."

Malcolm tilts his head, trying to parse that around Neal's distaste for the idea, when it occurs to him that he hasn't walked to the sofa; he's been led there.

Why would Neal shepherd him out of the kitchen? Think. File. On the counter. Wasn't there before.

"Are their theories in the file?" he asks, turning to look around Neal's shoulder towards the kitchen.

Neal's discomfort dials up from a five to around a nine, though he does put some small amount of effort into hiding it. "Yeah."

Malcolm gestures towards it.

"Can... I take a look?" he asks.

Neal sighs, then nods, letting Malcolm go to retrieve it if he wants to. His last protest is not going to get it himself.

Malcolm pauses, studies his face in that way that seems like he's looking into your brain.

"But you don't want me to; you just don't want to tell me no." He tilts his head. "Why not? It's not about rejecting it, unless you think I'll believe it, but even that isn't enough. You think it will make me think less of you? Oh. Well. I don't think it can. Any of the things that would just... aren't you."

Neal leans away a fraction in surprise. You'd think by now he'd be used to it, Malcolm's ability to do that thing he does where he just... looks at a person and spells their own thoughts out.

He doesn't want to tell Malcolm no. He doesn't want to think about why he doesn't want to tell Malcolm no, but mercifully that realization doesn't linger for long because Malcolm keeps going.

Does he think it will make Malcolm think less of him? He's not sure, which--probably--means that he does think that. Not only Malcolm, either. Neal frowns and looks away.

"I don't have a learning disability," he says softly, tone stubborn. "I'm not developmentally disordered."

"There are lots of disorders," Malcolm tells him. "Lots of them aren't bad. Lots of them provide impediments to every day tasks but a boost to other things. Like creativity," Malcolm reasons. "Or recall. What do they think it is?"

When Malcolm out-and-out asks him that way, Neal can't sidestep. Well, he could. But he doubts it would get him far, and he's not as inclined to dance when it won't help as he used to be.

"ADHD," he says, his tone hovering near that Wal-Mart aversion again. "Which isn't even possible, is it? That's a kids thing."

"I'm not an expert in it, but I've covered it. It looks different in kids than in adults, but it doesn't go away. In fact, if I remember correctly, it's being diagnosed in adulthood more as it becomes better understood," Malcolm muses. "Did they tell you why they think that?"

See Neal's discomfort ratchet up to eleven.

"Some of the things I said about..." He trails off a moment, realizing with trepidation that he hasn't said much about when he was a kid to Malcolm. He didn't say much about it even to the therapist, only what he couldn't dance his way around, but still. He can focus on the things related to his adult life. "About impulsivity. Well, they called it impulsivity. About interrupting people, the way I never really stayed in one place in my twenties, the way I have trouble sitting still. The way I get distracted sometimes when someone is talking. I'm just thinking."

The last statement is defensive.

His lips pinch into that irritated expression again. "She asked me if I'm frequently late. I'm not. I'm never late. And I don't have trouble relaxing. I can relax. And I'm not messy. You know I'm not."

"ADHD doesn't preclude compulsive behaviors," Malcolm tells him. "In fact, compulsive behaviors can be a coping mechanism in undiagnosed neurodiversity."

"I'm not--" He starts to protest the idea of him being compulsive, too, but stops himself, resorting to scowling into the middle-distance.

"It doesn't have anything to do with why I went there," he says, sullen now.

"But treatment can be a game changer; you don't want to know how your brain works and how to make it work for you instead of against you?" Malcolm asks. He pauses, then watches Neal's face. "Are you resistant because you feel other people will look down on you for being neurodivergent or because you look down on neurodiversity?"

Neal stares at Malcolm, taken aback. "I don't look down on--I didn't even know that was a term."

Malcolm gives him a look.

"You understand the concept of developmental disorders and mental illnesses," he chides. You don't get to deflect with semantics, his tone says.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw for.... idek what you'd call it. COGNITIVE BIGOTRY? NEURODIVERGENT DENIAL?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject