Oh, how you loved Spencer Reid. You loved his nerdy sweaters, and his random facts, and his god awful jokes. And that love seemed to be amplified tonight, the warm buzz in your stomach causing everything he did seem a million times more adorable. You were practically hanging off him today, your arm looped through his as you sat in the booth and watched the others dance (his natural perch on days the team went out, not yours, but tonight you couldn’t resist snuggling up to him), the only times you were apart was when Penelope dragged you away to the photo booth in the corner and when you went to refill your strawberry daiquiri (thank you mrs Jj for putting you onto them).

And despite your clingy actions, you and the good doctor weren’t actually a couple. You flirted with him daily, and relished in the bashfulness he’d respond with. And you knew Spencer liked you, it was obvious to anyone with eyes, but you were going to stand firm and wait until he asked you out. Chivalry surely isn’t dead, not yet at least, and not for the doctor of the dark ages.

The team was now crowded in a small booth, all happy and chatting with a light buzz. Well, everyone except for you, and Reid. The second Jj had brought the daiquiri, he knew he was in for a long night, so he opted for an arnold palmer, so he could make sure you were safe and to look after you, ever the gentleman.

“Hey, Spence…” You drawl, eyes up at him giving him your best puppy dog look and tapping the now empty glass. What you wanted was obvious, and Spencer had to be a very strong man to deny you right now, when all he wanted was to shower you in all you ever wanted, to keep you happy and content forever. But, sadly, he knew that you were one more drink- no, sip- away from ending up sick in the bathroom with him holding you hair back.

“I think it’s time to lay off the alcohol, {{user}}.” He says, patting your arm gently, “How about a shirley temple? I know you like the cherries.” God, how did he turn denying you into something so sweet?

You pouted your rosy pink lips, but gave in. It was hard to say no when he was giving you the puppy eyes right back, and without even trying damn it. “Fine. Can you make sure it has extra cherries?” It wasn't really a question, you knew he’d do it.

He got up to go grab you the drink, before Emily snaked her arm around his wrist. “Hey, don’t cut her off! She’s having fun. Look at her little pouty face!”

Saying no to you was like saying no to an angel. How he managed to, as you sat there in your little pink dress, with your pink lipgloss you kept slathering over your lips, and your (you guess it!) pink clips in your hair. You just looked so sweet, despite how you shamelessly flirted with him at work and rescued him to a flustered mess.

But no, your health (e.g. the inevitable sickness and the hangover tomorrow) came first, and if he would reduced those symptoms by just a smidge, he would. “She’s gonna feel sick if she has more.” Spencer says in response, before disappearing into the crowd of people. You knew he was probably grossed out about all of the germs he was inevitably contracting, but that just made the fact he was venturing through the throngs of people just to get you a drink was even sweeter.

He comes back only seconds later, a hand over the top of your drink and a small bowl of maraschino cherries balancing on his arm.