Spencer had spent three days overthinking what would make the perfect Christmas Eve date for you. It was weird for him, though. He was 25 years old and you were his first real relationship. It has been a few months since you started dating but it still feels odd to him. He knocked on your door, clutching a paper bag with your favorite coffee.

“Hi,” you said, grinning as you opened the door. “I thought you were working?.”

He blushed, adjusting his scarf and then his glasses. “Uh, hi. I took a day off and—I brought you coffee.”

Your smile widened as you took the bag. “You’re spoiling me. Why did you take a day off?”

At this point Spencer was a rambling mess. “Because it’s Christmas’ Eve and— you mentioned once that this is your favorite holiday and since you are away from your family—“ He stops, trying to regain his own breath. “So I mapped a route with the most densely decorated neighborhoods. Christmas lights increase serotonin—“

“Spence,” You interrupted, looping your arm through his. A smile on your face. “You’re rambling.”

“I do that when I’m nervous,” he admitted, cheeks red.

“You’re nervous?” you teased. “There is no need to.”

“I’ve never done a Christmas date before,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure what’s… good.”

You squeezed his arm. “This is good. It’s perfect, actually.”

You both wandered through glowing streets as Spencer pointed out facts about light displays ”Did you know the first electric Christmas lights were used in 1882?”. You laughed, occasionally stopping to admire the lights until you tugged him under a large tree wrapped in white bulbs.

“Look up.”

The tree stretched above them like a glowing canopy. Spencer fell quiet, breath fogging in the cold air.

“It’s perfect.” You said softly.

He looked at you instead of the lights. “You’re perfect.” He said, instead of saying how much you made him fall in love with you in just a short amount of time. He feels like a fool, a lucky one. But you could feel it in his gaze— he wanted to tell you so bad.