A/N I seem to have hit a minor mental roadblock in Blurring the Lines Between Us. As a means of hopefully sorting through the mess of plot ideas inside my head right now, I'm pulling this little tendril out of the disorganized pile. Hopefully this isn't too strange, and someone actually ends up enjoying it. Flashback's will be in italics.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars; however, I am borrowing the characters and turning them into marionettes of sorts. Also, credit for parts of the flashback conversation between Spencer and Emily (it's not direct quoted, but ever so slightly modified to context) goes to Rory of Pretty Little Texts on Tumblr. I do not have a Tumblr, but I do have to say that it is... interesting.
Thanks, of course, have to go to the lovely LaughLoveLiveXx for being an awesome beta. Thank you for tolerating me as well. Haha.
The transition from day to night was quiet; flawless, even. The orange and purple sunset faded into darkness, without its usual cacophony of sounds. The typical buzz that emanated from the streetlamp on the corner of the Hastings' drive was absent; instead of attempting to shed what flickering light it could, it remained silent and black. The cool wind that residents were accustomed to during the pinnacle of autumn, in Rosewood, lay still. Not a single leaf was rustled save for when the pull of winter sleep tugged at the vestiges of life, or one settled to the ground with no more than a whisper of a crackle.
Within the still and stagnant night, not long after the witching hour, a single sliver of light, seen through half curtained windows, hinted at a sparse sense of life within the haunting darkness of autumn in the latest stage of the moon cycle, right before the new moon. Under the luminescent circle of an antique desk lamp, a family heirloom, sat Spencer Hastings. Before her lay the workings of multiple essays and assigned readings given by her AP teachers after the completion of midterms. Open textbooks, scattered papers, and her laptop haphazardly cluttered the expansive space of her room.
Normally Spencer maintained a clean sense of order about her room, even under stress, but she was slipping. It was only the third day following the end of Rosewood High's week-long fall break, and Spencer couldn't seem to manage her time quite as well as she used to. Her bed still lay half-made from her rush out the door, when her myriad of alarms simply did not wake her in time to go through her regular routine. In the time following her return home, at the end of the school day, a layer of balled up notepaper began to build and surround first her bed, then her desk as she changed her location in hopes of producing more inspired writing. All were various drafts of the three essays that she had due in little more than five hours – the latest being her dissertation on Shakespeare's Macbeth.
After she typed the last few letters and they subsequently appeared on the screen of her laptop, Spencer let out a tired sigh of relief and accomplishment. In a matter of seconds, the document was saved, printed, and tucked safely in a folder that she then placed in her messenger bag. Her final rough drafts were filed away in the bottom drawer of her desk that also contained every assignment she had ever turned in since she started school at the age of four.
The sense of self-pride that filled her after a successful cram session started to dwindle as Spencer took in the state of her room. The tired part of her really wanted to leave it for another day, but the Hastings in her was appalled that the thought had even crossed her mind. She figured that turning off the light would hide the mess, invoking the "out of sight, out of mind" effect, that she wasn't quite acquainted with, as well as help shutdown her brain so she could sleep.
With a sense of finality, she turned the small knob on her Nana's lamp causing her to reflexively jump as darkness cloaked her room and she felt a sharp shock run through her fingers.
"Damn it!" The expletive slipped from Spencer's mouth in a hiss as she cradled her hand to her stomach, trying to ease the burn that she felt trailing through her tendons and forearm, all the way to her elbow.
Now, Spencer wasn't the type to let superstition bother her, but the lamp was a parting gift left to her in her Nana's will. The former matriarch was sure to be rolling in her grave at the mere notion that a Hastings could possibly step out of line and ignore the family motto of 'why enjoy today when you can worry about tomorrow?', even though the red numbers glaring at Spencer from across the room indicated that tomorrow was technically today. If either of her parents was to randomly acknowledge the presence of their eighteen-year-old daughter, and the mess was still there after sunrise, they would most certainly have her head on the metaphorical cutting block.
Spencer's weary brain, no matter how sophisticated, could not fully process the fact that her parents never truly had a clue she existed unless it was literally thrown in their faces, and that her Nana haunting her out of spite for silently tarnishing the Hastings name was completely inane.
However ludicrous the idea, the light was back on in seconds and, with new-found energy, Spencer was throwing away papers and piling up laundry to be washed, pressed, and hung before the first warning bell rang at 7:15 in four point five hours. Somehow, somewhere between cleaning her room and her various trips downstairs, she managed to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top to serve as pajamas on the off-chance that she actually got some sleep.
Lunchtime found Spencer almost four cups of coffee into the school day and extremely jittery. She wasn't sure if her massive migraine coupled with quivering muscles was from lack of sleep, too much caffeine, or not enough caffeine. Regardless of the reasoning, she felt utterly miserable as she slumped onto the bench beside Emily, at their usual table in the courtyard, and all but collapsed on top of the table like a limp noodle. The ailing brunette gave a muffled "Em," as a form of greeting to acknowledge her taller friend's presence.
Concerned, Emily put down her fork full of her mother's incredible pasta salad that she was about to eat, before her best friend's unceremonious arrival. "What's wrong, Spence? You don't have the flu too, do you?" She queried, referencing the fact that both Hanna and Aria were out sick, while gently rubbing the tighter than usual muscles of Spencer's back in what she hoped was a comforting manner.
Initially, Spencer relaxed into the warm touch that was somehow soothing her headache while simultaneously releasing her tensed facial muscles, and almost let a moan slip from her parted lips. She made sure to impede the sounds escape when she became fully aware of exactly who the hand trailing the length of her back belonged to, and had to fight the urge to flinch away from the touch.
Spencer was taken back to last Saturday, the day that she knew she had made a complete fool of herself even if she couldn't remember all of the details.
The four friends had decided to get together and end their fall break with a bit of underage drinking, and frivolous party games. It was like a private party to mark both the passing of all of their midterms as well as one-quarter of their senior year. Hanna, having made mostly B's, was probably the most festive, and definitely the most wasted out of the four of them.
Upon Hanna's continual toasting and insistence that Spencer keep drinking to being a successful tutor, the almost hazy eyed brunette was probably second on the list of intoxicated friends. Emily wasn't far behind the zealous Hastings, but Aria, on the other hand, was only a little tipsy in comparison to everyone else. The shortest of their group, being a bit of a lightweight, was still sipping away at her first drink and had only consumed maybe two shot to Spencer and Emily's five, each. Aria wasn't completely sure what they were doing shots of, but she was decently buzzed.
The revelry was silently understood to be run by Hanna, who- eventually- deemed them all drunk enough to play a few rounds of Truth or Dare. The comical game was highlighted by Aria running around in a blanket cape with a spatula pretending to be Wonder Woman, Hanna drunk dialing random numbers and claiming to be either a pregnant ex-girlfriend or a lesbian one night stand, Emily confessing to having a thing for brunettes with glasses, and finally, Spencer making the mistake of accepting a dare from Hanna.
From the mischievous glint in the blond's glassy eyes, Spencer knew it wasn't going to be something she would do willingly, under normal circumstances. "I dare you, Spencer Hastings, the queen of all things uptight and boring," Hanna paused for suspense and also to make sure she didn't slur her words too much, "to dirty dance to any song of my choice-" Spencer let out a sigh of relief, not knowing that there was more to the dare, "-with Emily."
Hanna was giggling and stumbling to go get her iPod out of her purse before either of the brunettes in question could respond. The blond, by some means unknown, managed to procure the Hastings family's expensive docking station and set up her iPod on the kitchen island. By the time the music started to pour through the room, Spencer had gotten over her reservations and stood up with a "What the hell? Why not?"
Spencer stood on trembling legs that she convinced herself were caused by the alcohol and not nerves. Naturally, she took the lead and started to loosen up to the rhythm of Chayanne's "Salomé". Shaking the tension from her limbs, she closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. After getting a feel for the pace of the song, she opened her eyes and offered her right hand to Emily, who had hesitantly moved to stand in front of her, drawing her in with the increased pitch of the trumpets before melodious Spanish lyrics poured over them.
The cadence of the song didn't call for rehearsed steps or choreographed moves, and soon the two found their own unique rhythm to their movements that went beyond the rapid pace of the musical notes permeating the air around them. They had no clear leader or follower to their dance; instead, they were on mutual grounds of give and take. They danced around as well as with each other, occasionally exchanging teasing touches such as a brush of fingertips along the curve of a hip, down the column of a tanned neck, or around a slightly bared shoulder.
Their pace changed a little when Spencer stepped forward and brought Emily's back against her front. Until then, their movements were touch and go, drawing closer only to pull away from complete contact. The shorter brunette's hands found their way down Emily's smooth sides to still moving hips that she then drew closely against her own. They both moved together like water, even when Emily turned in Spencer's light grasp and melded into her body. They stayed completely in sync.
Spencer anticipated Emily's every move from the placement of her hands, just below the swimmer's toned waist, while Emily played with the silky hairs at the nape of Spencer's neck and kept their eyes locked. Both deep brown gazes were a little hazy but they would later chalk that up to the drinking and nothing remotely close to passion.
As the song drew to a close, they too slowed with down cast eyes and heavy gasps for breath. Damp foreheads pressed together before two sets of brown eyes, one set darker than the other, met again. They took in how tightly pressed together their bodies were, and stepped back almost hesitantly.
"Will you go out with me?" The words fell from Spencer's lips before she could even process where they came from.
Emily's brow creased in confusion. "Outside?"
"No…"
"Spence, I'm not going anywhere with you unless you tell me where we're going!" Emily's voice began to edge towards panicky for some reason. Spencer's words weren't making sense in her head. Her best friend would never ask her out on a date-date, so she had to be asking her to go somewhere. "I already ended up in the back of one car from not knowing what was going on and I will not do that again!"
Seeing Emily's freaked out reaction, Spencer decided to back off. "No, we're not going anywhere. Well, not anywhere outside, anyway." She looked around the room, trying to find something, anything, that would be of use in the awkward situation that she had gotten herself into, only to find that Hanna and Aria were mysteriously absent. Figuring that they had gone to bed, Spencer continued, "We should head up to my room. Han and Ar have already gone up to the guest room."
Emily looked around at hearing Spencer's last words as if she too hadn't noticed their friends' departure. Thinking that the other girl had actually seen them go, and not wanting to seem as if Spencer had her completely distracted, the taller brunette replied, "Uh, yeah. Let's go… It's probably really late anyway." She added lamely.
Returning to the present, Spencer sat up and opted to somewhat awkwardly snuggle into the tan girls shoulder and close her eyes contently, subconsciously seeking the strange medicine that stemmed from the contact. Emily, for her part, shifted to accommodate the fragile brunette, and wrapped her arm around narrow shoulders to rub the length of Spencer's arm, continuing to calm Spencer the way that only Emily could.
"No, I don't have the flu." Spencer finally answered. "If only I did, then I would definitely know what is wrong with me, but I don't."
"Were you up all night studying again?" Emily asked knowingly. "That's the third time this week and it's only Thursday. You need to slow down before you kill yourself with all of the sleep you've been missing out on."
"That's not the only thing though." Spencer defended as she opened her eyes and sat up so she could look directly into Emily's steady gaze, hoping to get her point across with both expression and words. "Em, I didn't sleep last night because I literally thought that my Nana was going to return from the grave and make my life hell if I didn't clean my room. Do you understand how absurd that is? Especially for me. I'm honestly beginning to think that I need some serious help."
"How about you start with a reduction in the amount of caffeine you inhale daily?" Emily advised, reaching for the hot cup of coffee that Spencer had abandoned in her hasty entrance. "I think it's making you delusional."
"No, don't!" Spencer shouted in wide-eyed shock, trying and failing to reach the cup
before Emily had moved it out of her reach. "I'm being serious here, Em. Please give me back my coffee?" The shorter brunette had, loathingly, resorted to pleading and evoking the puppy look that was usually Emily's weakness.
"Nope. You are now limited to one cup of coffee at noon each day for the next two weeks." The swimmer responded, holding strong against the pitifully broken look on Spencer's face. "And, if you're having a hard time sitting at home with your cupboard full of exotic coffee beans then just call or text me. I'm sure my mother would enjoy cooking for more than just two for a change. A girl can only take so much of constantly having leftovers for lunch."
"Do you really think that'll work?" Spencer resigned, knowing that if the puppy eyes didn't work then nothing would.
"Think of this as your intervention and me as your sponsor for Caffeine Addicts Anonymous. We'll have you back to your typical self-confident, brooding Hastings ways in no time."
"Technically this isn't really anonymous, but do you promise this'll work?" Spencer asked, feeling slightly vulnerable and out of character at the thought of giving up her greatest vice.
"If not, there's always Radley." Emily teased, kissing Spencer's forehead before returning to her pasta salad.
"Not if I can help it."
"See? There's the Spencer that I know and love. Now go get something to eat before your blood sugar drops, and all that coffee you've had eats away at your stomach."
"Yes ma'am." Spencer mock saluted with a half-smile, falling into the role of following orders surprisingly well. She was starting to feel better already.
TBC?
I decided to cut the story in half right here because this one-shot kind of started to get longer than I expected. I have the rest of it mostly done. I'm thinking it'll take me about two days to finish, and as soon as I get maybe… 5 - 10 reviews (depending on my mood) then I will post the second half. Hey, a writer has to have some kind of incentive, right?
