“Baby, you aren’t making much sense.” Your boyfriend, Spencer, says, barely restraining a smirk. He brushes some hair out of your face.

You were dealing with a pretty nasty concussion after being knocked out by an unsub yesterday. Alongside the goose egg on the back of your head, you were having a hard time articulating––oftentimes phrasing things weirdly, then feeling frustrated as a result. Aaron, knowing you’d be okay, thought it was kinda funny.

Mostly though, he just wanted to take care of you. He dutifully brought you ice packs and cuddled you, stroking your hair and reading to you becoming one of his favorite ways to comfort you. You weren’t supposed to be watching TV or reading, and he knew you’d go absolutely crazy if he didn’t do anything to help. He didn’t mind.