I could've gone on forever with this one, I'm in love with this idea. Listen to basically any song by the Lumineers, but specifically Sleep On the Floor, while reading to get the full effect🥰 ~🌸

"Spence, can you please tell me where we're going?"

Spencer was sitting in the driver's seat, looking all too pleased with himself as he drove you two through the ever-busy streets of Washington D.C. It was almost midnight, and all he had said before you left your shared apartment was, "Let's go for a drive, I have something to show you."

Surprises were not Spencer's forte. They made him too anxious and he almost always ended up spilling. And usually you could tell beforehand if he was planning something. But this was definitely out of the blue.

"You know what's concerning me at this moment?" You spoke, gazing out the window at the lit up city, "You study serial killers for a living. And you're a genius. Which means you could probably figure out the perfect way to murder me without anyone finding out. Is that what this is?"

"Actually, that's not true," Spencer said factually, "There really is no such thing as the perfect crime. And lucky for you, we're almost there so I don't have time to explain to you all the scientific reasons why."

"You didn't say no," you teased, pretending to look worried.

Spencer chuckled, "Y/N, you know I'm not going to murder you. I'd have to be dead for there to be any possibility of you getting murdered by anyone. Just trust me."

He instructed you to close your eyes before turning down another road, and you had to say you were pretty excited. He parallel parked the car and turned it off. You heard him get out and the shutting of his door, and then yours opened.

"Here, hold on to me," he took your hands, helping you step cautiously out of the vehicle. Once the door was shut and the car was locked, he placed his hands gently over your eyes from behind, "One...two...three...open!"

You opened your eyes and were immediately confused, "Spencer...why are we at the Smithsonian Art Museum? It's way too late for it to be open."

"It's not open to the public, obviously," he took your hand in his, "it's nearly midnight. But it's open for us."

Your eyes lit up, "Are we doing a National Treasure type thing? Cause I'm so down for that."

Spencer chuckled, "No, we're not stealing anything. Just come on, you'll see."

He took you by the hand and led you down the sidewalk and up the stairs to the entrance. A man in a black polo and khakis was waiting for you there.

"Is this the lucky girl?" He asked Spencer.

"I would say yes, but I think I'm the lucky one," Spencer smiled, "Thanks for doing this."

"It's no problem," the man smiled, "Anything for our favorite seminar speaker."

The man led the two of you inside, whispering something to Spencer before locking the entrance again and sitting in a chair by the door.

"I'll be here if you need anything," he said, pulling out his phone.

You turned to Spencer, smiling harder than you thought possible, "Did you really get us into the Smithsonian Art gallery after hours?"

Spencer's face lit up excitedly, "We have the whole place to ourselves for as long as we want. Well, more like for the next two hours, but still."

You should've felt out of place in your yoga pants and one of Spencer's Caltech tee shirts and cardigans, plus your old vans that were the closest ones to the door, all from leaving in such a hurry. But for some reason, it felt just right.

You gave him a playful look and dropped his hand, "Race you to Degas!"

He hardly had time to process what you had said before you were racing down to the elevators. The two of you knew that museum like the back of your hand; it was the site of your first date and many dates afterward.

You were panting my the time you skidded into the exhibit, letting out a squeal of surprise when you found Spencer was already there. He was doubled over in front of one of the sculptures with his hands on his knees.

"Spence, you okay?" You breathed heavily. You were seriously considering signing you and your boyfriend up for a gym.

He nodded, raising a hand weakly to signal he was catching his breath. Eventually, he stood up to his full height, his head tipping back has he breathed out a heavy sigh, "Stairs."

You swallowed lungfuls of air greedily, finally relaxing your racing heart, "How...how did you run up three flights of stairs and all the way across the building in less than three minutes without dying?"

Spencer still panted slightly, shaking his head, "I don't know, I feel pretty dead right now."

You giggled, which in your exhausted state came out more like little puffs of breath, as you walked over to him, "This one's my favorite."

"I know," he smiled, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle as you admired the sculpture, "Little Dancer of Fourteen Years, completed in 1881. Actually, it's your favorite sculpture of Degas', but your favorite painting is over there."

You bit back a grin as your eyes followed where his hand pointed to The Ballet Class. He was right. His eidetic memory always made him remember the little things.

He tucked his chin into your shoulder and just held you there. Everything seemed so magical about the moment, about the whole night. It felt like the two of you were in your own little world, the only ones inside that massive museum full of precious art. It felt like anything was possible.

Once you grew restless, you took his hand and began to wander around your favorite exhibits, running and jumped around in the large, empty halls and entry ways like kids in a candy store.

You played hide and seek and took turns scaring each other by jumping out from behind sculptures and statues. Although Spencer hates seeing you scared for a moment when he startled you, he loved watching you crack up laughing seconds later.

There was one particularly open area that lead to all the different gallery entrances and had a marble fountain in the center.

Spencer lead you over by the fountain, bowing goofily and offering you his hand, "May I have this dance?"

You giggled, "Spence you hate dancing."

He pulled you in anyways, holding you close. You sighed letting your head fall to his shoulder. That's when he began to sing.

"Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help
Falling in love with you."

His voice was off key and strained as it always was. Singing was one of the only things he really couldn't do. But your heart melted anyways, tears clouding your vision as you stared out at the moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows around you.

He giggled slightly at his own voice before continuing, "Oh shall I stay?
Would it be a sin?
If I can't help
Falling in love with you."

He would have kept going, but the moment was far too sweet for you to not kiss him. You pulled away enough to meet his eyes before connecting your lips to his. It was soft and tender, matching the atmosphere.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket.

You prayed you two weren't being whisked away on a case, not when you were having the best time of your life.

He just smiled at the screen before pocketing it again, "Time for part two."

You were confused but intrigued, allowing him to pull you along as he ran towards the elevators down the hall. Once you were at the top floor, he led you all the way down to a door that read "Staff Entry Only."

He just grinned at you and punched in a code on the keypad next to the door. It hissed as it unlocked, and he pushed it open, revealing a short staircase to the roof. He nudged you to go on in front of him, and you trotted up the steps to the most beautiful sight you were sure you'd ever seen.

He had set up an entire picnic on the roof overlooking the museum district of the city. You could see the thousands of twinkling lights on buildings all around, accented by the fairy lights Spencer set up. A light breeze blew your hair back. It was all just ok perfect to be real.

"Do you like it?" He asked shyly.

You turned to him with the most adoring gaze, "I love it Spence," you gave him a tight hug, "I love you."

He wrapped an arm around your waist and an arm around your shoulders, kissing your head, "I love you too."

The two of spent the rest of your time drinking your time curled up together on the outstretched quilt, drinking favorite brand of lemonade and eating assorted flavors of scones as you stared up at the stars. It was just the two of you, no distractions, not a single other person in sight.

For those few fleeting hours, nothing existed outside Y/N and Spencer.