Clueless

Arguing Addicts

"Spencer!" Rowan moaned, throwing her hair over her shoulder. Her foot had the habit of tapping uncontrollably when she became impatient.
"Spencer, come on!" She begged.
He wasn't answering her, locked in the bathroom. "I swear to God, Spencer Reid, I will walk out of this door. I will call someone to pick me up." She threatened.
She made a mental list on who would come pick her up with the least amount of questions.
The door was flung open. "What do you expect me to say, Rowan?" He demanded.
"I- I don't know. I just can't take you being mad at me." Rowan admitted.
"I'm not mad-"
"You're yelling. Your heart rate has increased, you're flushed, your body language-"
"Stop." He managed. "Stop profiling me. I'm not mad, Roanoke, I'm disappointed." He ran a hand through his hair.
Tears were beginning to form in Rowan's eyes. "Disappointed? Jesus, Spencer, do you know what all I've been through? The one time I didn't take my medicine I woke you up screaming." She defended herself.
"Loratab, Rowan? That's not an antidepressant. That's not even an antipsychotic. That's a narcotic." He reminded her.
"I know what it is." She said shortly. "I'm the one that's addicted. Do you even know how hard it is to have an addiction?"
Spencer froze. He had never told her.
He began rolling up his sleeve, revealing the scarred over puncture wounds of a junky.
"Dilaudid. I was kidnapped, Rowan, and I was forced to dig my own grave." He told her.
There was a moment of silence.
"I was never mad at you. You're just so strong, Row, and I know you're better than those pills." He pulled her to her feet.
"I didn't know. I- today was a bad day. Sometimes I don't have to take them. I just want to forget." She admitted into his shoulder. Their arms were holding onto each other tightly.
"Kiss me. For every time you want to take pain medicine, kiss me." Reid suggested.
"Your lips are going to hurt, Doctor Reid."
•
"Morgan?" Rowan answered the phone sleepily.
"Answering each other's phones now? And what base are you two at?" He joked.
"First of all: he's in the shower so I answered his phone."
"You're not in there with him?"
"Secondly," she spoke over him. She could hear the grin in his voice. "Our game is none of your business. And second." She answered.
"Second base? Nothing's happened. Come on, pretty girl, we need a home run."
Rowan laughed lightly. "I thought you were going to kill Spence for even kissing me."
"But you two are practically married now."
"We're waiting." Rowan reminded him.
"Right. True love waits."
"You really like messing with us, don't you?" She laughed. "Why'd you call, anyway?"
"We're going clubbing tonight. The doctors are expected." Morgan informed her.
"Clubbing?" She questioned.
"You know, dancing, music, drinking. The likes. You have been clubbing, have you?" Morgan asked.
"Nope." She answered. "I mean, I went to a senior party once. But they were all plastered and I was twelve..."
"You're definitely going with us. Reid, too. It's not the first time he's gone." Morgan told her.
"It's not?" She questioned curiously.
"Jealous? Relax, Rowan. Spencer is exceptionally boring to most girls at a bar." Morgan laughed.
"Yeah, well, I'll tell him about the invite. Text me the details."
Rowan hung up as Spencer was getting out of the shower.
"Morgan invited us to go clubbing tonight." Rowan hadn't made it out of the bed, yawning with her words.
"Do you want to go?" Spencer asked.
"I've never been." She answered. "It's up to you."
"Have you ever been drunk?" He questioned.
"Mhm." Was his answer.
"What?"
Rowan didn't answer for several moments. "Once. I'm only twenty-two. Give me a break." Rowan said lightly.
"We'll go, if you want. Promise not to look at other guys?" Spencer joked.
"Only you."
•
"You need a drink." Morgan said to Rowan, who was sitting alone at the bar.
"I need Spencer to hurry up. And I have no intention of getting drunk in front of any of you. I'd make a fool out of myself." Rowan smiled slightly.
She was wearing a black, one shouldered dress that was tighter than anything she owned. Her hair was nearly curled over her shoulder and her glasses were replaced for contacts. She even managed to do her makeup without horribly messing it up.
"You're not going to make a fool out of yourself. Drinking helps you relax." Morgan pressed.
"With my luck, I'd become an alcoholic." Rowan laughed over the music. "I think I'll stick to water."
"One shot. Come on, pretty girl, you know you want to have some fun." Morgan poked her in the side.
"Your girl is right there." Rowan nodded towards Penelope, to which Morgan laughed. "And I do not appreciate the peer pressure." She joked back.
"You're smiling. I'm breaking you. One shot, Rowan. That's all I'm asking." She felt her resolve dissipate into dust.
What could one drink do?
"We need a fireball." Morgan said to the bartender.
"This was your plan all along." She accepted the alcohol. "To talk me into my incoherency."
"My plan was to ask you nicely and apply pressure until you drank. Bottoms up, Mrs. Reid."