Pretty Little Liars

01.

Title: Practice Makes Perfect – (1/3)

Pairing: Ali/Emily

Summary: "And trust me, if I'm kissing you, it's because it's practice for the real thing." How much practice does one person really need? Angsty Alison/Emily. - Slight spoilers for latest episode: The Perfect Storm. - Three-shot.

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners (like Sara Shepard and ABC Family). I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own Pretty Little Liars. I am merely a fan of both the television show and the books, and I cannot seem to contain myself. This is for personal enjoyment and the enjoyment of those curious enough to click on it.

Author's Note: After watching this week's episode ("The Perfect Storm"), I couldn't stop thinking about the Alison and Emily scenes they had. I just read the second book – Flawless – and it covers the letter and the kiss. It's different, and I honestly don't know which way I like more. However, it wasn't really the kiss that intrigued me and had me opening my Word Document. It was the second scene where Alison tears Emily down, then calls her back. Three hours later (wrote these at midnight), I was still thinking about it. So, this story was born.

Besides, there really isn't enough of Emily/Alison or Emily/Maya on here.

(1/3)

I loved Alison.

I loved her as much as one can at fifteen. I trailed behind her, listened to everything she said, and practically became a living puppet because of her. I couldn't even think when she was around me. I'm normally this articulate, bouncy person who can at least contribute to conversation. But, when Ali was there, my brain switched to kiss mode. Every one of those moments played in my head to remind me of what I was doing. Then, she would poke fun at me, and I'd think about them even more. Around others, she played and giggled, as if everything were a big joke. Around me, she raged.

Alison lashed out a lot with me. She would always say things, battle against everything we both saw happening. She would stare into my eyes and spit out the nastiest things, the most infuriating phrases. Then, just as I got the strength to walk away, she would cross the distance and push me to the wall. Her hands roamed down my arms, causing the fabric to scrape against the little hairs. My feet shuffled in my nervousness – was I doing it right? Are they out too far? Is this uncomfortable for her? I was horrible at relationships. And, that's what it was. Not one of those Rose and Jack relationships, but our own special kind, the Ali and Emily kind.

In case anyone's wondering, an Ali/Emily relationship is ridiculously unhealthy. Ali pushed me to the closest, immobile surfaces, nails scraping lightly at me, lips pressing down onto mine. I'd put everything I could into the fifteen maybe seventeen seconds that she gave me of unadulterated Ali. I'd think, this time will be different. This time she'll want me. Every time, she pulled back and turned around, returning to whatever she was doing before. Then I'd just watch as the one person I loved told me again and again that she could never and would never love me back.

One day, I decided not to have it anymore. I decided that it was time we did something about it. Before the letter, we would talk.

I stalked up to her, in front of people. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she froze. She didn't turn to me, just kept listening to whatever Spencer had to say. I waited until there was a pause before I moved to her again.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked. My other hand fidgeted with the hair trying to devour my bright, red cheeks. It was pretty successful.

"I'm busy" was her reply.

"I really need to talk to you. About the other day, after practice," I said. What I wanted to say was 'after I snuck you into the school pool and you basically called me a pervert who watched you change and kissed your shoulder when you do twelve times worse things whenever everybody else is looking away.' What I meant was after practice, when I didn't say anything and I should have.

Ali finally brought herself around to me. Her blues eyes burned into mine. She usually avoided eye contact if she wasn't trying to manipulate someone. What was the point in showing the one thing that revealed she had a heart? Her lips drew together and I just knew her teeth were clenched. She never betrayed this much emotion in public.

"Now is not the time, Emily," she stressed. But I wouldn't have it.

"It's either you come with me, or we have this talk right here in front of everyone."

Empty threat. I knew it. I knew that I would never really have this talk in front of everyone. As much as I needed to say it, I wouldn't risk having everyone find out about my problems this way. Only Ali. Always, only Ali.

The hair infiltrated my vision again, blocking me for just a few seconds. I moved it back. By the time my gaze met hers, she'd already made her decision.

"Five minutes, locker room, and this better be important," she said.

I grinned. It was.

I was going to tell her. After months (years?) of feeling like this, I – Emily Fields – would bare my soul for her to see. I was always an open book to her, but nothing would top this. She was going to hear me. No turning, no backing down. Alison shuts up and Emily takes control. If anyone's against the wall, squirming and being left with the most uncomfortable feeling in the world when she's left standing abandoned and open, it would be Alison. For once, it would be Alison.

I just had to wait five minutes.

End Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Review please. I know I'm not the only Alison/Emily fan out there; don't make me feel like I am.