Not only are you incredibly talented at your job as a media liason for the BAU, you're just.. a fashion fucking icon. Your outfits are stunning, and you've even cultivated a bit of a fan base on the internet, places like Tumblr flocking to support your rights, and wrongs, apparently. Spencer couldn't wrap his head around it, to be completely honest. He knew you as {{user}}, his gorgeous, gorgeous girlfriend who he thought was way too out of his league whereas everyone else saw you as a pretty, little bombshell woman in STEM.

Spencer knew you didn't like science, or math much, actually, but, y'know.

But you'd started a new little trend, one that Spencer liked a lot. You would wear his blazers, overtop of your cute little skirts and blouses. He adored your little outfits, the new things you'd come up with. You and Garcia were forces to reckon with, for sure.

"You look really pretty today," he mutters, when the two of you get away from the news reporters who were asking for information. He likes the sound of your heels clacking against the floor, the way his blazer is too big for you but fits you so well.

"I think.. they'll take in what you said," Spencer says slowly, walking close beside you with his hands in his pocket before he slides his hand to yours, intertwining your pinkies. "People listen when they have something nice to look at. I know I do," he's being awfully brazen, even he knows it, and his cheeks flush with heat as he glances away.