co·zy
adjective
giving a feeling of comfort, warmth, and relaxation.


Max enters Spencer's apartment and follows behind him as he unloads his bags on a leather chair near his vast book shelf.

She notices the spines, hundreds of them, as well as other books that pepper the surfaces, some face down, some with various accoutrements marking the pages.

He has a tall fiddle leaf fig tree in the corner by the window, as well as other plants and wooden furniture.

He has interesting taste in art, but otherwise his place is cozy.

"I-it's been a while since I had someone over," he says, sliding the last bag from his arm.

He eyes the room then darts to the kitchen to pull out a container of Clorox wipes.

"It's probably dusty," he says opening the container and looking around again, the smell of bleach fills the room.

"It's fine." Max says, putting her hands up as if he is holding a weapon. "Your place is great. But, put those away before you suffocate us."

"Ok... um, You want some coffee or something?" He asks, doing as she says, and standing behind his kitchen counter.

"Yeah, sure" she says, getting distracted by the titles on his bookcase.

He spins around to take out two mugs, and begins the process of grinding beans, weighing them, and setting up a Chemex.

Noticing her as she begins eyeing the bags he left on the chair, he nods his head towards them and says, "go ahead and have a look."

Max pulls out folds of white, black, and brown, as well as a blue, red, and black tie.

She separates them into piles on the chair in an attempt to make a cohesive outfit.

In her focus, she did not notice him walking towards her until he is beside her handing her a hot cup.

"Garcia thinks the black suit, white shirt, and red tie." Spencer says, taking a sip of his drink and staring at the suits.

His eye brows furrow.

She imagines this is how he looks at files or suspect boards when he is trying to solve a case.

"Well, put it on and let me see it." Max says, tipping her mug, and letting the smooth liquid roll onto her tongue, warming her throat.

He hands her his mug, and grabs the three items, walking them carefully to the back room.

She sits both cups on a nearby surface, and busies herself with the book spines again, touching the ones that interest her, and trying not to think about the man undressing a few feet away.

He comes back in, pulling on the still loose red tie.

The white shirt is half way tucked in, and he's missed the top two buttons.

His hair is disheveled from switching shirts.

"I like it..." Max says, "but I think it would look better with the black shirt" she walks toward him, and picks up the black shirt from the chair beside him.

She holds it up to him, and squints an eye before saying, "monochrome is really in right now."

He rolls his eyes and snatches the shirt from her playfully, retreating to the back again.

Max grabs the black tie from where she draped it on the back of the chair earlier, and whips it over her shoulder aimlessly, taking another sip of her coffee.

When he returns, he is in all black this time, having left the white shirt and red tie behind.

She sets her cup down again and he closes the space between them, waiting for her comments.

She nods approvingly, remembering the tie on her shoulder.

"You forgot the tie." She says, pulling it from her shoulder and looping it around his neck.

"I think all black suits are very... classy..." She breathes out, looking up at him as she continues working at the tie.

"Many find monochrome colors calming because it's less visually stimulating to the nervous system," Spencer begins to ramble, "They can literally calm one's amygdala, lessening negative fight or flight responses so one's prefrontal cortex stays in control."

He licks his lips to punctuate the info dump, and avoids Max's gaze by looking over her shoulder as she is sliding the tie's knot into place.

He's nervous. Max thinks.

Max's hands linger and he gulps before looking down at her.

They maintain breif eye contact before Spencer leans.

For a millisecond she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he reaches for a not yet explored shopping bag on the chair beside them.

Her hands brush his chest as he leans the rest of the way to the chair, and, not knowing what else to do with them, she plunges her fingers into the sides of her hair to tuck it behind her ears.

She clears her throat in an attempt to recover.

He stands back straight with the bag in one hand, the other searching for something within.

An amused look plays on his face as he meets her eyes.

"I'm not kissing you again," He says, eyes back in the bag to find whatever the hell he was looking for.

Max let's out an a breathy laugh, her tongue rolling between her bottom lip and teeth.

"Last time you got all weird." He says, eyes flicking up to meet her's once more.

She stands there watching him, questioning whether or not his words were supposed to be some sort of dare.

"Shoes" he says, finally, pulling a long dark dress shoe out of the bag.

Max scoffs again, this time more amused. "That's fair I guess... and those look good."

He nods and sits in a nearby chair, facing her.

She couldn't help but think he had a satisfied smirk forming on his lips.

He begins putting on the shoes when Max asks, "so what's the award your getting?"

She picks up her coffee cup again and sits in another chair across from him.

"Oh it's just the area award in instructing behavioral psychology, it's mostly a fundraising event," He says, finishing one shoe and starting on the other.

"Is this an FBI thing...?" Max asks.

"No, it's with the University. I adjunct there sometimes."

He's done with his shoes and looks up at her, leaning forward and bringing his hands together.

She gives him a thumbs up and says, "I think that looks great."

He smiles and rubs a hand on the back of his neck.

"It's supposed to be pretty swanky. Free drinks and food. A few of my friends couldn't come, so I have extra tickets if you want to stop by. You can bring Michelle." He says.

"Uh... you said tomorrow night, right?" Max asks, shifting uncomfortably.

"Yeah, I think the presentation starts at 6:30," he gets up and walks to his desk behind him, "but the dinner part is at 7."

He rummages for a few seconds, finds what he was looking for, and crosses the room back to her.

"No pressure, just if you have time," He shrugs, handing her two tickets.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'll let you know," She says, bringing her coffee cup to her lips and looking at the tickets.

"I mean that though," he says, "no pressure."

She lowers the cup and looks up at him.

With the tickets in hand she makes a motion between the two of them and says;

"I might need... this thing... to go slow," she says, aware of the sound the paper in her hands is making.

He nods his head, eyes locked on hers and says, "slow is fine," then adds, pointing to the tickets in her hand, "do you want me to take those back?"

"No," she says.


✈️

"Coffee is a language in it's self." Jackie Chan