It was a Friday night, and the team had decided to go out to the Auld Dubliner in celebration of how quickly they closed their last case. Hotch and Reid had gotten suckered into going by Garcia, who apparently didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer. Everyone was off doing their own thing—JJ was creaming a couple guys at darts in the back, Dave was at the bar chatting up a pretty woman who was at least thirty years younger than he was, and Emily, Garcia, and Morgan were dancing on the floor. Reid was sitting next to Hotch, nursing his second snifter of brandy whilst Hotch worked his way through his first tumbler of Old Turkey.

Hotch watched his team out of the corner of his eye as he turned to look at Reid, who was finishing the final gulps of his drink. He set the snifter down and leaned over on his left hand. He turned to stare at Hotch. "What?" he asked. His voice was beginning to sound a bit fuzzy 'round the edges, a signal that he was beginning to get tipsy. When Reid got tipsy, he quickly progressed to drunk if he had anymore alcohol.

"Just wondering whether you should have any more to drink," Hotch said, sipping at his whiskey. Spencer frowned.

"Why not?" he questioned, his eyes following the motion of Aaron's Adam's apple as he swallowed. Hotch set his empty glass down and fixed his subordinate with an incredulous look.

"You of all people know how much of a light-weight you are, Reid," he said. Reid snorted uncharacteristically and Hotch resisted the urge to shake his head. Maybe Reid was more drunk than he thought. When Reid stood, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"I want another drink," he told his boss and Hotch sighed. "I'll get one one way or another, Hotch."

Aaron stood and grabbed the snifter and his tumbler. "Hennessy, right?" Reid's eyes widened, and he nodded. He wondered when his boss had learned his preferred choice of Brandy. As he watched him walk towards the bar, he also wondered when he had removed his jacket, because his ass was in plain view now, and his slacks were definitely well tailored.

Spencer had had feelings for his boss for several years now, but they were only just starting to come to a head. He was having trouble concealing them now and he wasn't quite sure what had caused the change. He had always been able to keep them under the surface and out of the workplace, but lately he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off of the SAC. He supposed that it was just a matter of time before one of his team members, or worse, the man he was staring at, noticed.

Hotch returned to the table with the drinks and sat back down next to Spencer, who was watching him with unnerving intensity. He slid the brandy towards the man, who took it gratefully. Reid took a large swallow of the cognac and grimaced as it went down with a burn. Hotch watched him with wide eyes.

"Is getting plastered your plan?" he asked before taking a small drink from his whiskey. Reid nodded and took another huge drink. Hotch just shook his head and grinned. Drunken Reid was always interesting—you never knew what kind of drunk you would get. He was often a happy drunk, but more than once he had become quite... affectionate with other members of the team.

Hotch resumed his earlier watching of the other members of his team mates while Reid attempted to drink himself into oblivion. He watched Morgan spin Garcia around until a weight landed on his arm. He turned to see Reid with his head pillowed on his left arm. His hand was on Hotch's forearm, and his thumb was stroking back and forth across the fabric of his blue dress shirt. Aaron watched the movement of the thumb for a moment before looking at his subordinate, who was watching him with that intensity again.

"Reid?" he asked. He was trying desperately to ignore the sparks that were igniting under his skin at the feeling of Spencer's thumb on his arm.

"You make it so hard sometimes," Spencer said. His words were definitely slurred now. Hotch knew that prompting Reid to continue with what he was thinking was most likely taking advantage of a drunk man's vulnerability, but now he was bloody curious.

"Hard to what?"

"To everything," Reid replied, and Hotch's stomach started to do a funny flippy thing that he would never admit to anyone. "You make it hard to concentrate and hard to breathe and hard to think."

"How?" Hotch asked. He was almost positive he hadn't done anything untoward.

"You breathe," Reid answered simply. If Hotch had been standing his knees would have probably buckled. The hand on Aaron's arm tightened and then slid down to his hand. Reid stroked his index finger across the veins on the back of Hotch's hand. "I know that I probably shouldn't have said anything, but I'm very drunk and I can't seem to control my mouth right now."

Hotch smiled and Reid turned his eyes from his hands toward his face. "You shoul' smile more often," Reid told him. "You look magnif'cent when you do." Aaron hadn't blushed in years, but he could feel one coming on now. Spencer groaned and buried his face against his arm. "You should probably tell me to shu'up."

"I like listening to you talk," Hotch admitted, and Spencer lifted his head.

"Really?" He was grinning.

"Really."

Spencer leaned against his boss and rested his head on his shoulder. He still hadn't let go of his hand.