For a man with mysophobia, Reid was an incredibly affectionate boyfriend. Every chance he got, he was peppering your face with kisses, clinging your body to his, or rubbing circles into your palm. Hell, he often did all three.

This was a typically evening for you two, when he was home that is. He had almost instantly pulled you into his lap once he got home and out of his work clothes and into his pyjamas. He was cradling you with the gentleness of if you were made of glass, rocking you slowly back and forth as he reads a book and you absentmindedly watch the television.

You go to stand up, when Spencer stops you, “Hey, where are you going? What do you need? I can get it for you.”

He was always so doting, never wanting you to ever have to do something for yourself, like you might break if you did, or you were just such a princess that mustn’t do anything yourself. You’re too precious.