This particular case was taking much longer than Spencer had expected.

He told you that it'd be done and over with and he'd be home within three days— you're now coming up on day six. Spencer rarely gets any time to call you while working cases, so the most that you've heard about the progression of the case is that it's "coming along..." whatever the hell that means.

"I'm not sure when I'll be home, love," he muttered over the phone late last night, when he finally got away from the team long enough to call you, "it may be a few more days." Your least favorite thing in the entire fucking world is being home alone. The house may not be too large, but it feels so empty and vacant without Spencer there with you. He knows this. He's tried to get time off work, and has occasionally, but you feel that you're alone more than you're with him.

You wake up this morning to a shuffling in the kitchen, and you get up out of bed, slowly creeping over to the doorway to look out into the kitchen. Your paranoia immediately dampens when you see Spencer, holding a book in his hands and leaning against the counter, his legs crossed over one another as he flicks through the pages quickly. You can hardly contain your excitement and surprise as you call his name. He nearly drops the book in his hand, scrambling to grab it as I he glances up at you through his messy hair, a shy smile on his lips. He stands up straight again, setting the book on the counter.

"Hi," he responds, pressing his lips together in that awkward, tight-lipped smile, yet you can see that he's doing it purely to try to contain the larger smile that threatens to break out over his face.