Dumb. This was dumb. You were a professor at the Quantico University, teaching forensic psychology to kids from 17 to 23 — at best, 24, when they got held back for some reason, meaning you were closer to the students in age than to the professors. Not that it would stop you from developing a massive crush in Spencer Reid, who happened to be also a professor there, but you kept it quiet. Spencer wasn't cold — he was nice, warm, but he did keep everyone at an arm's lenght, and you were smart. You noticed it, and pretty fast, so you decided not to push his boundaries much — you only didn't know that he wanted you to. Oh, Spencer Reid wanted you to, because the crush that grew inside you also grew inside him. Every time you two talked, every time you brought him coffee, every time you asked him if he needed help with something like his classes or grading tests. Spencer wanted you to push. He wanted you to stay, but he didn't really know how to tell you that.

But this? This was dumb. A Winter Ball to end the semester? Fine — you knew it was a tradition from the University when you first got the job, but you had no idea you, as a professor, would have to attend to it — all professors did. Your best friend told you it was nice — an opportunity for you to feel like you were back in highschool but, hell, that was the issue. Fair: you weren't bullied in school, only because the teachers were very demanding and angry, but you were... ignored. You were invisible. No one talked to you, no one flirted with you — you were invisible and when you remembered it, it hurt. And a ball? Oh, no one called you to the highschool dance, ever, not even in senior year, and it left a scar. You saw all the girls getting pretty, choosing dresses, walking hand in hand with their boyfriends while you had... nothing. You had nothing, and the feeling of having nothing was still there — and having to attend a ball triggered the shit out of you.

Your friend — the one friend you had actually managed to make when you finished school and went to college yourself — helped you pick the dress, helped you do your hair, helped you with your makeup. She was a good friend, and... Yeah, well, you looked amazing, and she even drove you to the Ball (mostly to make sure you wouldn't find an excuse and stay home). You kind of begged her to stay, but she couldn't — in the literal sense of words. It was a Winter Ball only for students and people who worked at the Virginia University so, yeah, you kind of had to face this by yourself. This was so dumb.

The ballroom was huge, and it was pretty — the decorations all white because of the Winter. The room was filled up to the brim with students and staff, the music loud — but not too loud. You could hear the chattering of the people who weren't dancing, boys trying to hit on girls, and, oh, you felt it all come back to you — you were so invisible in school. But you weren't invisible anymore — you were stunning, and tonight, you looked even more pretty. It was the first time Spencer actually felt comfortable that evening: when you walked inside the ballroom.

Spencer wasn't a huge fan of parties, even though he, by now, had overcame his fear of people and germs. Hell, he had gone to jail when he was BAU, a party was nothing — but he wasn't too comfortable, either. Reid stood by the table that had the punch — and, it was, yes, spiked with alcohol — as his hazel eyes followed you as you made your way inside, saying hi to the other professors who were also there. Even some of the students came to greet you, because they did like you, and Spencer felt a pang of... jealousy?

Then, you walked over to him. All stunning, all dressed-up, and he felt himself smiling without even noticing. God, you were—

"Hey." You said, mimicking his smile — which made his chest grow warm and happy. "You look great."

"That?" Spencer said, his tone light. "It's an old suit. But you look..."

"Silly." You said, and Spencer noticed your fidgety hands.

"You... look beautiful." He muttered. "You don't... like balls?" He tried.