The pitter patter of rain against your bedroom window greeted you as your eyes fluttered open. The backdrop of gray clouds made you feel even sleepier as you turned back around.

You came face to face with the dozing man next to you, his pink lips parted slightly. His curls splayed our wildly around his head, almost resembling a halo. He had one arm tucked under the pillow, the other laying limply in the small space between you.

He sensed your movement and the arm that laid between you inched towards you, seeking you out with his eyes still closed. You smiled softly to yourself and shuffled towards him, taking his wandering hand in yours and draping it over your waist.

He smiled contentedly in his sleep, and your whole body warmed. Even when he was sleeping, he had the most adorable personality in the world.

You didn't want to wake him yet, but you couldn't resist reaching up and scratching lightly at his stubble. He'd had a few days off, which was rare, so he hadn't had a reason to shave. His head turned instinctively, nuzzling his nose into your palm.

You'd never been to heaven, but you were pretty sure it felt something like this.

Slowly and all too soon, his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his molten caramel eyes lazily opening to meet yours.

"Hi."

The low, gravelly sound of his morning voice mixed with the sounds of the rain outside sounded like the sweetest symphony to your ears. You both took a moment to bask in each other's presence with sleepy smiles, legs tangling under the sheets.

"Sleep good?" You asked quietly, trailing your fingertips up and down his bicep.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing, "Good. I dreamed about you."

"You did?" You grinned, "Was it a good dream?"

"Mmhm," he hummed, eyes shutting briefly as he recalled, "Not as good as my reality, though."

You gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, "You're such a lover boy. How is it possible to be that cute first thing in the morning?"

He gave a teasing shrug, "Talent. Some are born with it, some aren't." He booped your nose.

You fake shock, scrunching your nose at his touch before swatting his chest lightly, "I am plenty cute, thank you very much."

He pulled you closer with his hand on the small of your back, kissing your forehead, "Yes, you are. I was just teasing."

You smiled, loving how he sweetly clarified that he was teasing, even though it was obvious. That was just so Spencer.

You yawned, stretching out, "Rainy day today. Whatever shall we do, Dr. Reid?" Your fake posh accent made him grin.

"Whatever pleases the lady, Mrs. Reid," he played along, thumbs drawing circles on your hips.

You leaned into him, kissing his slightly chapped lips. You were in the process of getting him to wear chapstick regularly.

You pulled back after a moment, grimacing slightly, "Morning breath."

"Morning breath?" He gave you a look of confusion, "You mean this morning breath?"

He breathed in deeply through his nose and then let out a huge breath in your face.

You scrunched up your face exaggeratedly, giving his chest a small shove, "You're so grosssss."

"Hmm is that so?" He wiggled his eyebrows, "That's not what you were saying last night."

Your jaw dropped and you giggled, "Spencer!"

He grinned, pulling you on top of him. You shrieked, dissolving into even more giggles as you rested your chin on his chest. He gazed at you lovingly, running his long fingers through your hair.

"Can we just stay in bed forever?" you sighed.

"Maybe not forever," he murmured, "but we have all day today."

You groaned, nuzzling into his collarbone, "But I need to shower and brush my teeth."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Then go do that, and I'll make breakfast for us and we can eat it in bed?"

You hummed in agreement, "Sounds perfect."

You emerged from the much needed shower feeling refreshed. You wrapped up in your fluffy robe and went back into the bedroom to find Spencer setting up a tray of pancakes, fruit, eggs, and orange juice. He even put two little flowers from the kitchen bouquet in a tiny vase.

You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, "What's all this, bub?"

He turned around to face you with big doe eyes, cupping your face in his hands gently, "Maple pancakes, your favorite."

You pushed yourself up on your tippy toes to kiss his nose, "I love you. Especially when you make food for me."

He tucked a strand of your damp hair behind your ear, "I love you too. All the time."

You shared a sweet kiss before you headed over to the bay window, opening the blinds the rest of the way. You breathed in deeply, taking in the serene scene of the rain falling on the grass outside your house.

You turned back to Spencer, joining him on the bed. You took turns taking bites of pancakes in between bits of conversation, wishing every morning could be like this.

You watched a few Star Trek reruns as well as one of your favorite medical shows, an even balance that appeased both of you. Around one in the afternoon, you came up with an idea.

"Spence, come with me," you said, standing and throwing on one of his tee shirts and some baggy pajama pants.

"Where are we going?" He asked, confused.

"Just trust me," you said with a wicked grin.

He did. He always did.

You took him by the hand, leading through the front door and out into the driveway.

"It's raining, Y/N! We are 46% more likely to catch a cold-"

"Dance with me?" You cut him off, extending your hands to him.

One look at you and he couldn't say no.

You pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked like a dream, standing in the rain in his white tee shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, his curls now wet and sticking to his forehead.

"Sing a song?" You requested quietly, your head against his neck.

"You know I can't sing," he pouted.

"Pleasssseeeee," you whined, tugging at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Fine," he sighed, smiling softly. Again, he couldn't say no, "Any requests?"

You shook your head, "Surprise me."

He thought for a moment, his hands on your hips saying you side to side before he began, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

You gazed up at him with eyes full of adoration. If love were a person, you were certain it would be Spencer Walter Reid.

"You make me happy," he spun you around lightly, drawing a laugh from you as your feet splashed back to the ground, "when skies are gray. You'll never know dear..."

His voice cracked and he was desperately off pitch, but you couldn't care less.

He brought his lips down to your ear, "How much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him sweetly, "I'm never going anywhere, you know? Even if I die first, I'll come back and haunt you."

He gently wrapped his hands around your wrists, his thumb brushing over your pulse point, "No way. If you go, I go. Then we can be an old ghost couple and haunt the team together."

You grinned pinching his soft cheeks lightly, "Sounds perfect to me."

The two of you headed inside, as Spencer was convinced you would die sooner rather than later if you caught a cold. You stripped of your soaked clothes in the laundry room and he took you by the hand back to the bedroom, running the two of you a hot bath. It was a welcome treat after freezing from the autumn air combined with being wet from the rain.

You soaked up every second of having him home with you, knowing that at any moment he could be dragged away for another case. You leaned back into his chest, which was flushed pink from the warm water, satisfying your craving for skin-to-skin contact.

He tangled his long fingers in your hair, scratching at your scalp and making you keen. He leaned down and kissed your shoulder before speaking softly, "Want to make those little Halloween cookies? And we can watch Tim Burton movies for the rest of the afternoon?"

You grinned, loving how his love of all things fall and Halloween matched your own, "Ah, you know fall is my love language."

He stood from the tub and dried off quickly before holding a towel up for you to step into. He smirked, proudly handing you one of his Cal-Tech tee shirts to wear. You took it appreciatively, the soft, worn material surrounding you in the scent and feel if your husband.

You padded to the fridge while he dressed in a fresh tee shirt and his pumpkin pajama pants, grabbing the little Pillsbury sugar cookies with ghosts and pumpkins on them. You weren't sure why they were so good, but in the fall you and Spencer went through them practically in bulk.

You set the oven to 350 and placed them on the baking sheets. You heard Spencer in the living room, carding through the DVDs to find, no doubtably, The Nightmare before Christmas. While the cookies baked you rounded up all your spare throw blankets and tossed them to him on the couch. By the time you came back with the fresh baked cookies on a plate, he had built a blanket fort with an open front so you could see the tv.

You giggled to yourself, peeking in at him with his mismatched socks and Halloween pajamas, hair drying in all different directions.

"What's the password?" He asked with a grin.

"I have cookies," you offered, holding up the plate.

"I guess that'll do," he shrugged teasingly.

You wiggled your way in, laying next to him, placing the cookies in front of you.

The rest of the evening was spent watching Halloween movies, eating hundred of cookies, and relishing sleepily in the sound of the rain drops on the windows.