Affection was something that Spencer Reid wasn’t used to.

The only affection he recalled from his childhood was during moments of clarity with his mother, when she could find it in herself to care for him through the fog of her schizophrenia. But typically, he was the one caring for her — especially after his dad abandoned them when Spencer was only ten.

He grew up being bullied relentlessly by his classmates. Whether it was verbal or mental, the teasing for his intelligence and his looks, the beatings just because… he never really found it in himself to believe in a happily ever after. A life where he was accepted, loved, happy.

Until he met you. You were the light in the darkness, the one thing that gave him hope.

The second he met you, he felt something shift within himself. It wasn’t a linear path, not in the slightest — he shied away from physical touch for months until he could accept it without the insecurity of not being enough. He had trouble expressing himself, opening himself to you fully.

But God did you make it easy. You gave him time, space, the love and care he’d been craving his whole life. You listened to his rambles when others would’ve told him to stop talking, you taught him how to kiss and how to love and be loved.

And tonight, you wanted to do something special for him. It was your one year anniversary. Something Spencer had never experienced, something he never expected to experience.

You knew he knew it was your one year anniversary, and you knew the idea of it being one year of dating you was overwhelming to him. But you also knew he’d never experienced a first anniversary — he wasn’t sure if you were supposed to do something special for it, if you’d want to do something special for it.

So you took the initiative.

He’s been at work all day, and now it’s around 6pm when you show up to his apartment, a bouquet of flowers for him in hand. He would probably be exhausted, but you wanted to do something special for him.