"Hey, pretty boy," Morgan called from across the bullpen, "wanna come with us to Milo's tonight? I think you could use a night out."

You chuckled quietly at Morgan's teasing, glancing up at Spencer. The nickname suited the boy genius well. He was, indeed, very pretty.

He was dressed in a blue striped button down, black pants, a black and white tie, and a black cardigan with a white stripe along the edges. He had just recently started wearing these vintage looking glasses which, in your opinion, made every outfit of his look ten times hotter. His clothes always reflected his intelligence, giving off almost a professor vibe that drove you crazy. It seemed like everything he own fit him perfectly, like it was made for him.

"Y/N?" Spencer's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were going tonight, and you were just staring at me," he chuckled.

"I think you have a little drool right there, Y/N," Prentiss teased, pointing to your chin.

"Har har har, very funny," you rolled your eyes, your cheeks heating up, "yeah, I'm going."

"Then yeah, I'll go," he responded to Morgan's earlier question.

Why did was he agreeing to go only if you were going? A spark of hope ignited in your chest, thinking maybe, possibly, he felt the same way you did. Which meant you were going all out tonight.

You went home and changed into your favorite dress, a slick, satin, spaghetti strap black dress that hugged your body in all the right places and stopped mid thigh. You freshened up your makeup, darkening your eyeshadow and adding some red lipstick, before styling your hair. Once you were satisfied with your appearance, you slipped on your slick black pumps and completed the look with your favorite necklace and sparkly earrings.

A spritz of perfume later and you were walking out the door, keys and clutch in hand. You arrived at the club, making your way through the crowd and spotting your friends at a round booth in the back.

"Dang, babygirl," Morgan whistled, his eyes taking in your appearance appreciatively.

You rolled your eyes at him, "Hello Derek, I'm doing well, thanks for asking."

He chuckled, along with the others, when they all fell silent. They all stared with wide eyes at something obviously behind you. You felt a hand press against the small of your back just before you could turn to see what they were looking at. When you did turn to see who's hand was on you, it became obvious.

"Spencer," you whispered in awe, taking in the sight before you.

He was dressed in a thin white button up, the first two buttons undone, tucked into some deliciously fitted black pants, and complete with a black sport coat and black dress shoes. His hair was washed clean, free from its usual gel, and curled beautifully, still slightly damp. You could smell his shampoo from how close he was standing, filling your senses with mint mixed with the woodsy, spice scent of his cologne. You felt dizzy with it.

"Hey," he smiled brightly, ignoring the others looks and speaking directly to you, "y-you look absolutely stunning."

The familiar smile and signature stutter reassured you that this was, indeed, Spencer, but definitely an upgraded version.

"And you," you raked your eyes over his frame, not caring how obviously you were checking him out, "you look gorgeous, pretty boy."

The nickname, which was normally only coming from Morgan, seemed to effect him in a whole different way coming from you. His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, at a loss for words.

Morgan cleared his throat, "We're still here you two. When did you coordinate this?"

"We didn't," You spoke distantly, still dazed by the man standing next to you, whose hand seemed unable to remove itself from your back. Not that you minded.

You finally slid into the booth next to Garcia, Spencer choosing to fill in the space left on your other side. The others teased Spencer for finally finding his sex appeal, and you had to restrain yourself from saying he had it all along. You thought he was sexy every day, this version of him just stoked the flames even higher.

"I was nervous about wearing this tonight," Spencer whispered to you once the others moved on to a new topic.

"Why? It suits you so well," you smiled.

"Well, I knew I wanted to get a, um, certain girl's attention, but I was worried about all of them," he chuckled, taking a sip of the water in front of him. He never was one for alcohol.

Your confidence faltered, "A girl, huh?"

"Yeah, I knew she'd be here tonight, and I wanted to show her I can wear more than cardigans," he replied, his voice surprisingly cool and smooth.

Your hands were shaking slightly under the table. There was no way he was talking about you, right?

"Well, I think you look good either way," you said shakily, wishing you could find the words to tell him exactly how you felt, "she's a lucky girl."

"I think I'm the lucky one," he said, "cause she makes everything look good, from her work clothes to her silky black dress."

It didn't take a genius to put together from the way his hand had landed on your shoulder, fiddling lightly with the strap, and his gaze held yours so intensely, so out of character for him, that he was talking about you.

"Follow me," you said, nudging him out of the booth and taking his hand, "I spilled some of my drink on Spencer's shirt, I'm going to go help him get it out."

You spoke quickly to the group, knowing they didn't buy it for a second, but you really couldn't be bothered. You dragged him through the club, up some stairs, and down a hallway that was just some bathrooms and a storage closet, where no one really went.

"So did I make that up in my head, or are you saying you're into me, Spence?" You asked, still a little disbelieving.

"That's what I was trying to say," he said, a dusty pink color tinting the tops of his cheeks, "I couldn't figure out how to come out and say it, so I kind of danced around it. Did you know that 31% of men who are already friends with-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his. He was stiff and didn't move for a moment, so you pulled back.

"Sorry, I should asked you first," you said awkwardly, pulling back.

"No!" He exclaimed pulling you back to him, causing you to stumble a little bit until he steadied you with his hands on your hips, "Sorry, I-I meant no, like no you shouldn't be sorry, I just didn't expect you to actually feel the same as me much less want to kiss me."

All traces of the suave, confident front Spencer was able to hold up back at the table was gone, and you were thankful for it. You preferred bashful, stuttering Spencer. It was who he really was, the man you found incredibly attractive and adorable all the same.

"Spencer, I've wanted this for a long time now," you confessed, "you're the most attractive man in the world to me."

His face softened, filling with emotion, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He quickly blinked them back.

"Are you even real?" He squeaked, chuckling to himself.

"Hmm, I'll let you decide that for yourself," you hummed, leaning up and pressing your lips to his again.

This time he reciprocated eagerly. It was sloppy at first, but you soon found your rhythm. You reached up and ran your hands through his curls, giving them a slight tug, earning a pleased noise from him.

You pulled back and smiled, tucking one of his longer curls behind his ear, "I'm so happy you're finally mine, pretty boy. But I have to warn you, once you have me, you won't be getting rid of me very easily."

"Promise?" he smiled.

You beamed back at him, "Promise."

The two of you walked back to the book hand in hand, and immediately money was being passed around.

"What's all this?" You asked.

"Bets," Morgan smirked, "I bet JJ that you two would get together within an hour of being here."

"And Garcia bet me that when you two got back from wherever you went that you would have hooked up or at least looked like it," Prentiss grumbled, handing over a twenty dollar bill.

You looked at Spencer, whose now messy curls gave the illusion that he had gotten lucky. Spencer's face turned even more red than it already was, if that was even possible.

"We can't take you guys anywhere," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"It's about time you put the poor smarty boy out of his misery," Garcia said, definitely a little more than buzzed.

"He's made me one lucky gal. Huh, pretty boy?" You said with a playful smile, squeezing his hand.

"Dang, I cant ever call him pretty boy again," Morgan sighed.

Everyone laughed. And for once, you felt completely content.