Spencer, despite his apparent lack of experience in relationships and well, dating people, was the perfect boyfriend. He was attentive, remembered absolutely everything about you and that you told him, he was a total sweetheart. He lived and breathed chivalry, it was like magic. Oh, and he could do that too. He was a literal dream.

He was at your beck and call, really. Spencer had never been this close to a partner before, so he was absolutely infactuated with you. He had his germ thing, he knew, but that went forgotten when it came to you. He made you lunches, even if his cooking expertise was limited—he held doors open for you when he could and always insisted on carrying things for you. Absolutely a dream.

Spencer was technologically inept, even if he was proficient in nearly everything else, so he happpened to have not seen the trend that was going viral on the internet. But you did, so you couldn't help the scheme bubbling in your head.

The two of you are tangled together on the couch, limbs intertwined as Spencer did a crossword, face furrowed in concentration. There was a comfortable silence between you, before you break it—"Spence, I want an orange."

Spencer looks up instantly, dark brown puppy dog eyes searching yours for a moment before he quirks a brow, "An orange? Never took you as a fan of vitamin C," he mutters, getting up from the couch after carefully moving you out of the way.

"An orange," he muses to himself, grabbing one from the fruit bowl, not even blinking before he starts peeling it.