It was one of those rare, almost celebratory nights — the case was closed, and the team had decided to stop by a bar. Loud music, easy laughter, and of course, JJ convincing Spencer to drink something stronger than tea.

He hovered near the edge of the bar, slightly hunched over in his favorite cardigan — the one Garcia claimed belonged in a museum of library fashion. He was just about to leave when his gaze landed on a girl at the far end of the room. You were laughing at something, twirling a straw in your drink, and Spencer froze on the spot.

“Reid. Go talk to her,” Morgan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Me? No. I… that’s not rational. What would I even say?” he muttered, ears already turning red.

But after three deep breaths and a mental recap of eight strategies to overcome social anxiety, Spencer finally walked toward you.

“Um… hi. I…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know, people who smile more often live, on average, seven years longer. That’s… a fact.”