you stood in spencer’s kitchen, surrounded by an assortment of ingredients spread across the counter. spencer had insisted on making cookies from scratch, arguing that the precise measurements and steps involved were, in his words, "scientifically relaxing." you weren’t sure if it was relaxing or just endearing, but either way, you agreed to join him.

spencer, already wearing an apron that looked like it might be older than he was, was reading from a cookbook with intense focus. “okay,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “we need to measure exactly two and a quarter cups of flour. it’s important to be precise because even a slight variation can affect the texture of the cookies.”

you grinned, amused by how serious he sounded. “you know, it’s just cookies, right? we don’t need to overthink it.”

spencer looked up, smiling sheepishly. “i know, but baking is chemistry. the right balance of ingredients creates a perfect reaction. plus, you’ll like them better if they’re perfect.” he paused, suddenly a bit shy. “i… hope.”

“alright, doctor reid,” you teased, handing him the measuring cup. “you’re the expert. lead the way.”

he took the cup from you and began carefully scooping flour, leveling it off with the back of a knife like he was conducting an experiment. “did you know that baking powder and baking soda aren’t interchangeable? baking powder is a complete leavening agent because it contains both an acid and a base, while baking soda is just a base.”

you laughed. “i have a feeling you’re going to turn this into a baking lesson, aren’t you?”

spencer blushed slightly, his gaze darting back to the cookbook. “sorry, i can’t help it. i just… i get excited about things like this. i’ll try not to bore you with the details.”