I manage to get to JJ's flat just after half past ten. My finger finds her buzzer, only daring to dart out of my coat. It's frigid outside. My breath is thick in the air. I should have worn pants.

Someone, maybe JJ but maybe not, lets me in the building. I can hear music coming from behind multiple doors. When I find the number she gave me, I make myself knock before I can decide to turn around. Some other woman lets me in. She introduces herself as Amy.

There are easily about twenty people in here. She hangs up my coat in the closet and lets me know where the two bathrooms are. Then, I make my way through the people crowded around. The space is open concept, so I don't have trouble finding the dining room table with all the cups and the alcohol that the hosts have provided.

I haven't caught a glimpse of any of my co-workers. Maybe I can blend in and find them in an hour and then disappear into the crowd. If I'm lucky, I can make it home by midnight. Still, I grab a cup and put down the small bottle I brought with me. As I uncork it, I feel someone's shadow cast on me despite the little light in here.

"Honey-flavoured whisky?" Morgan reaches behind me and picks up the glass bottle, examining it. "You seemed more like a shots girl."

I roll my eyes. I'm beginning to get used to how the profilers manage to sneak up on me.

"What are you drinking?" I ask. "Aren't you a little old for shots?"

"You're never too old for shots," he says. "Also, I'm only thirty-three."

He grabs tequila off the table and pours two glasses. He passes one over to me, and the two of us cheers. Then, we do the shots. I let myself glance over his clothing. He is wearing a grey button-up and jeans. I think I'm dressed appropriately. The thought prickles in the back of my mind, mostly because I'm worried Reid will try to correct my dress.

"Take a picture," Morgan jokes, grimacing as the alcohol goes down.

I roll my eyes, "where is everyone else?"

"Spread around," he says. He leads me over to a corner of the room. "JJ's floating with some of her other friends, and Prentiss is only starting to mingle. Garcia and I are having a good time over here. Reid is trailing along."

I quickly bring the whisky up to my lips. It's a drink that is supposed to be enjoyed, but I force myself to down it. Then, I show the empty bottom to Morgan.

"I need more," I say. "Catch you later?"

"Man, I forgot what it was like before thirty," he shakes his head. "If I drank that much, I'd be hungover."

All I can do is shrug. He's six years older than me, but I've been going to bars for almost as long as him. The drinking age in Australia is eighteen so I went throughout my undergraduate degree hungover between lectures. As young as twelve I can remember Maman pouring me a glass of wine for dinner. I can hold my own better than one might expect looking at me.

So, I pour myself another drink and force myself to keep moving. I find Prentiss and make my way over to her. More people are filling in with every passing minute. I can hear the apartment buzzing. It's gone three times since I've gotten here. Now, we are pushing thirty people. Yet, I manage to get to Prentiss. She is chatting with a couple of women, and she introduces me to them. It's hard to chat with the music over our conversation. One of the women seems really drunk. I doubt she is even able to hear Prentiss.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do it again," Prentiss says, looking over at me. "Cole, do you have any tattoos?"

"No," I shake my head, then look at her, "you have tattoos?"

Prentiss smiles at me. One of the other girls begins to talk about the new backpiece she is trying to get. The other woman keeps swaying. It's not to the music anymore though. Then, she starts to go green.

Prentiss sees it at the same time as I do. We grab her and drag her to the bathroom. Prentiss holds the girl's hair back, only barely stopping her from puking.

"Twenty-somethings," Prentiss sighs, looking back at the door and sighing. "Can you go get JJ?"

I nod. It takes a minute to swim through the crowd but then I get to JJ.

"Cole!" she smiles. She pulls me into a hug. "I'm so glad you made it! Everyone else is somewhere around here."

"Prentiss is in the bathroom with a girl who's puking," I say.

JJ sighs. She presses the palm of her hand against her forehead, "honestly, you cannot bring Jenna anywhere."

JJ heads off into the bathroom. I pull out my phone and check the time. It's barely quarter to eleven. This night is going to kill me. Maybe I can convince Estelle to call me, and I can feign a family emergency.

Instead, I make my way over to where I know the others are supposed to be. Then, I get to the corner, and only Dr. Reid is there.

Even though I've consumed two drinks since I got here, I am decidedly not intoxicated enough to put up with all of this. Coming here isn't really fulfilling Agent Hotchner's suggestion though. Yet, I cannot force myself forward.

"Bouchard!" Dr. Reid says. He offers part of a smile and a wave.

There it is.

I head over to him. He's got on dress pants and a red sweater with patches on the shoulders. His glasses are pressed tightly against his forehead.

"What happened to Garcia and Morgan?" I ask.

He points, as discreetly as he can through the crowd. The pair of them are dancing, with each other but with some strangers as well. Several women are gathered around Morgan. All I can do is shake my head at all the nonsense happening around us.

"Some girl is puking in the bathroom," I tell him.

He shakes his head, "Jenna. This is her third year in a row of getting sick. Last year she got sick twenty minutes before midnight."

"Were you even legal three years ago?" I ask, shaking my head.

He seems puzzled, "I'm twenty-six."

I don't have a funny retort for that. He's older than I expected him to be. Likely, he's not even a year younger than me.

Dr. Reid scrunches his nose. He adjusts his glasses and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Also, I very rarely drink," he says.

"Yeah, with this crowd I don't blame you," I glance around. People seem to be having a good time, but not me, and certainly not Dr. Reid. There's chatter and laughter and dancing and all sorts of things. No amount of liquor I think could bring me to their state. "You don't seem like the type to enjoy parties."

"The team cares that I come," he offers.

I almost laugh. How is it that he feels just as trapped here as I do? While he does seem a bit stiff for a party, at least he's well-liked. Everyone loves Dr. Reid, except me of course. I feel like he has managed to trick them all. Well, he is the cleverest profiler on the team. It compensates for his complete inability to shoot a gun.

"What's funny?"

"Agent Hotchner put me up to this too," I say. My face sours, and then I look at him. "He's the one who has been making you talk to me. He's been trying to get you to win me over, hasn't he?"

Dr. Reid looks at me funny, "you seem to misinterpret everything I say to an almost comical degree. You don't do it with anyone else though. Why do you think I specifically am out to get you?"

"Don't psychoanalyze me," I turn my head away from him. "I'm going to get more to drink."

He doesn't stop me when I leave. I also don't make my way over to the drink table. Instead, I force myself to join Garcia. Her grin is so wide when she sees me.

"Morgan said you had disappeared!" she says, gesturing to him behind her.

He's grinding on some girl that I do not know. Garcia does not care, and I realize that they probably just flirt with each other because they like to banter, and not because they are sleeping with each other. From training, I know that relationships are discouraged within departments. I should have known that they weren't together. Otherwise, one of them would almost definitely get moved.

"It's a big crowd," I point out.

"Yeah, JJ's roommates are quite popular," Garcia laughs. She looks me up and down. "You look lovely. Is that black?"

"Midnight blue," I pull at the fabric of my dress. I'm glad I wore it now because it's beginning to get warm in here. My bare legs are keeping me cool, despite the long sleeves. It's too dark to make out the colour, but I do like it. Dark colours look good on gingers like me.

"Well, wrap dresses look nice on you," Garcia says.

"You'd know," I smile, "you always manage to have the best makeup."

"Flattery will only get me as your dancing partner," she says.

Then, I join her and the others in the crowd, dancing. I try not to focus on the time, which isn't hard to be honest. I enjoy singing my heart out to music. It reminds me of my days in Australia. The bachelor's degree felt like the break in life that I needed. To this day, I'm chasing that high.

Garcia, Morgan and I head over to get more drinks. I manage to stave away Morgan's offers of giving me a shot. Seeing him outside of work, socializing with Garcia, he's less of a thorn in my side. We end up swapping stories about college life. Garcia never went, so it's mostly Morgan talking about doing keg stands and having one-night stands. He laughs when I explain to him what a shoey is.

"You know, you aren't half bad, Cole," then, he pauses. "Can we start calling you Bouchard? You're the only one on the team who goes by a first name."

"Sure," I shrug. While I do prefer Cole, I can be accommodating. I can always be accommodating.

"Hotch introduced you as Cole, so we thought you didn't like Bouchard," he says. "It's weird, though. Garcia's not a field agent and no one calls her Penelope except for me."

After this conversation, I feel a bit differently about work. So, I guess it isn't male profilers that I hate. It seems like it's just Dr. Reid who manages to infuriate me.

Morgan turns back to try to convince Garcia to take another shot with him. I check the time. It's quarter to midnight. I've only been here a little over an hour, and I'm already on my fourth drink. If I do another shot, I'm going to be Jenna in the bathroom.

"Get Dr. Reid to do one," I point out.

"He doesn't do shots," Morgan says. Then, he cocks a grin, "I am pretty persuasive though."

Then, he dips off into the crowd, in the direction I last saw Dr. Reid.

Garcia decides to use the bathroom, and I tell her which one Jenna has puked in if she cares about that sort of thing. The air in here is only getting hotter. I'm quite tempted to go outside. However, there is a balcony just off the living room. I make my way over and step into the cold air. The couple outside who are smoking finish their cigarettes before heading inside. I don't blame them for abandoning the balcony. It is frigid; it is December, and it is almost January. My body temperature is cooling. With the alcohol in my system, I know that I am even colder than I feel.

The door opens behind me, and I turn to look. Of course, it is Dr. Reid who makes his way out here.

"It was rather cruel of you to send Morgan after me," he points out.

"Was he successful?" I ask.

Dr. Reid fiddles with the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button. His cheeks are rosy too.

"He was," I decide, observing the flush of alcohol on his face. It spreads from his cheeks to his ears and even his Adam's apple. Maybe the new heat to him is why he doesn't seem to shiver. I cannot imagine exposing more skin in this cold.

"Morgan is very determined," his Adam's apple bobs as he speaks.

I smile, turning back to look at the night sky. It feels like I've won this round of our battle of wits. The satisfaction prevents me from trying to slip away from Dr. Reid. I feel smug, which is not the most attractive feeling, but I don't care. The beautiful exterior might help distract from the ugly interior. The outdoors is beautiful too. The music from a bunch of different apartments is leaking out, and it's a hodgepodge of noise around me. I put my elbows on the railing.

I'm lonely, but I'm not alone. It is a beautiful feeling, in a way. I should like it more than I do, but I do feel cold still. I wish there was a fire, or cigarette smoke, or something. Instead there is sweat and alcohol and a sky that threatens to snow.

"You know, I did it for you," he points out. Dr. Reid moves up next to me, also leaning over the balcony. He's extraordinarily tall, and I'm average-sized, so he has to lower himself to get near my height.

"Drinking, you mean?" I laugh. "Why do you think I wanted you to do that?"

"It was a sort of peace offering," he says. "I can smell the alcohol on you. It was only fair that I tried to catch up. It is never fun to have conversations with people who are much more intoxicated than you are."

He brings his solo cups to his lips.

"What's in that?" I ask.

He grimaces, lowering it, "something Morgan poured. It's so strong."

"Here," I offer, holding my hand out. "Let me be the judge."

Instead of passing me the drink, he peers into my cup, "it won't mix well with that."

I roll my eyes and drink from my cup, finishing it. Oh, that was bad. Now, I'm starting to feel really drunk, "I don't have cooties, you know."

"There are about six billion bacteria in the average mouth," he says. "It's the second most contaminated part of the body, aside from the hands."

He takes my empty cup and pours in a bit of his drink. I sip it, nearly coughing it up.

"What is in that?" I nearly sputter. "It's stronger than a shot!"

"It's 47% proof rum," Dr. Reid says. "It's the drink Morgan and I drank. We had a double shot. I was distracted when he poured this. I'd have to guess there's no more than half a cup of coke in it, and three shots of rum."

Its bitter taste lingers on my tongue. I can feel myself shivering, "That's a lot of fucking liquor."

"I grew up in Las Vegas," he offers as if that explains anything. "I graduated high school at twelve, but I used to go back during school breaks. One of my friends used to drag me along to parties."

"I'm impressed," I admit. "Finally."

He laughs.

I can hear them counting down inside. Ten. Nine. Eight. His head turns too.

My hand wraps around his cup, my fingers on his hands forcing him to pour half of his alcohol into my glass. Screw the bacteria on his hands. There isn't much left in his cup, but he is right. We are in this together.

"Five," I say out loud. "Four."

He joins in with me.

"Three. Two. One."

"Happy New Year!" we both shout. I begin to chug my cup. He does the same. We finish, and I cough, trying to stop myself from puking over the balcony. He shudders beside me, making the strangest of sounds. I laugh at him, gently shoving him to the side.

And even though I've just pushed him, Reid smiles at me.

~~~~~

How the turns have tabled. Or whatever the expression is supposed to be. The next chapter I think is another favourite. A trend setter, I think, and I enjoy patterns. As always, let me know what you think!