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It hasn’t stopped raining all afternoon, the heavens determined to turn Georgetown into a massive puddle. So, instead of going on a bookstore date as planned, Spencer sat in front of you in your cosy book nook with a matching mug full of marshmallow topped hot cocoa — his speciality — explaining the laws of thermodynamics of all things as the rain pattered against the window. "Wait, go back to thermal equilibrium," you said, too big of a humanities major to follow along at Spencer's pace.
"So, if two systems are each in thermal equilibrium with a third system, they are also in thermal equilibrium with each other," he explained and you just stared at him blankly. He pursed his lips, trying to come up with an easier way of explaining it. "So, if I touch a cup of hot cocoa," he continued before taking your hand in his, "and your cold hand–" You smiled at him sheepishly.
"I have bad circulation," you muttered defensively.
"They will eventually reach the same temperature because they're in thermal equilibrium," he finished.
"Why do you scientists like to complicate everything?" you asked him, lacing your fingers in his.
"Coming from someone who argued that gender is a spectrum, I don't think you get to complain," Spencer replied and you groaned, leaning against his shoulder.
"Fine, continue," you told him. "What else is there?"
"So, first law of thermodynamics–"
"Energy can neither be created nor destroyed," you recited and he raised his eyebrows at you. "Don't look so surprised, I watched Bill Nye too. But it was mostly to watch him set things on fire."
"You're going to make a wonderful arsonist some day," Spencer said dryly and you just grinned, snuggling into his warmth.