Author: Reversatility
Title: Once Upon a Time
Words: 1515
Summary: Emily and Alison talk after the events of 5.08. It doesn't go the way Emily expected.
A post-5X8 fic, which can be read as a standalone, although parts of it refer to Kisses that Tell Too Little, to which this is a sequel of sorts.
Again, there may be smoochies … but, well, this is Emison, so angst is a given.
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Emily hears Spencer curse under her breath, so she takes a half-step towards Ali, bracing for a Spencer diatribe. But for once, her tightly wound friend is apparently too flabbergasted or disgusted to give Ali a piece of her mind. All she does is spit out "I cannot believe this" in Alison's direction before cocking her head at Emily to leave.
Emily looks at Ali, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, and Spencer, taut from head to toe. Gesturing vaguely towards Alison, she says to Spencer,
"I just have to-"
It's a plea, really, which Emily is glad that Spencer understands, even though she's clearly not happy about it as she practically storms out. The tension in the room slackens for just a moment, and then Emily whirls around to Alison, eyes blazing.
"What the hell, Ali? Now you're using people like Noel Kahn as hoodlums for hire?"
Alison simply stares calmly and says nothing, further infuriating Emily even as a part of her realizes that Ali has correctly discerned that she'd better let Emily get a whole lot more off her chest.
"Did you think how this would affect Hanna's mom? I mean, it's not like we need more people in this town terrified in their own homes! And what if he'd bungled it? Or if Mrs. Marin had somehow unmasked him? How would the two of you have explained that one?"
Ali cuts in sharply, finally.
"That didn't happen."
Emily shakes her head, mouth grim.
"That's not the point, Ali. You shouldn't be just- just plotting to do God knows what to God knows who while the rest of us are in the dark. We're all supposed to be-"
Alison steps forward without warning and Emily finds herself immediately thrown off. Their faces are inches away from each other, and her eyes find Alison's pinned on her own.
"Be what, exactly?" Ali hisses, and Emily can no longer think of what she was going to say. Alison parries onward, her sarcasm unleavened by any sweetness.
"Best friends? Rosewood's most envied posse?"
Stung, Emily counters weakly, "The point is that you should have talked to us about this."
Alison doesn't lose a beat.
"When, Emily? When all Aria does is play New York on rewind? When Hanna is out every night – getting wasted with her dropout boyfriend, in case you missed it – so she doesn't have to see me for a second more than she has to? When Spencer's so wrapped up with mommy and daddy issues that she only gives me the time of day when there's a crisis?"
Alison has always known how to strike with words, and her next ones hit hard, even as her voice softens.
"And when you don't seem to have any problem standing me up and avoiding me as well, when you were the one who told me you wanted to talk more?"
They haven't had the chance to speak, just the two of them, since their last afternoon together. Or rather, Emily admits to herself with a flush of guilt, she hasn't made the time, as she shifts her weight from one foot to another. But still, it isn't fair for Alison to accuse her of ditching her.
"I couldn't meet you the other day because, like I texted you, I ran into Hanna and she wanted to have coffee and apologize about dinner. Ali, I'm sorry, but I told you, she insisted."
There's more to it than that and they both know it. Once upon a time, Emily would have soaked up the delicious thrill of being Ali's only confidant about anything; she would've rushed eagerly from school and been the first one at the Kissing Rock, making sure not to have Ali wait for even a minute. But she's not that girl anymore.
In any case, Ali is not interested in being placated.
"That's what you told me," she notes coolly, and gives Emily her back as she moves toward her packing.
Emily lays a hesitant hand on her shoulder.
"Ali-"
Alison turns to face her again, a storm in her eyes.
"You asked me- begged me, to come back to Rosewood, and I came back. Only to find out that my mother was murdered, and A is more active than ever." She laughs humorlessly. "And on top of that, I have to deal with Mona's pathetic efforts at playing supervillain."
Emily doesn't know how it happened, but Ali has once again tilted the conversation until it's nothing like the one she thought they would have. Now she wants to grab Alison with both arms, to comfort her rather than shake sense into her. Instead, though, she drops her eyes and a frustrated sigh escapes her mouth.
Alison seems to notice the change, and her gaze travels over Emily's face for a moment.
"I mean, what do you want from me?" she asks with barely any rancor.
The double meaning is perfectly clear, lancing Emily unexpectedly. Once upon a time, Ali had put into her mind the idea of traveling the world together, a sun-dappled fantasy that flooded Emily with secret joy whenever she revisited it. She imagined sauntering down streets in mysterious cities hand in hand, dragging each other now and then into stores or cafés, their faces glowing with excitement … running through grassy fields with picnic supplies and throwing down a blanket to share their food on a perfect spring day … or just sitting quietly on a beach somewhere, snuggling for warmth as they watched the sun lose its fire over the horizon.
For so long after Ali was gone, all she had were memories and dreams, never sure what was real.
Now, Alison stands before her, flesh and blood. Now she knows Ali as she never had back then, a body that yields to her, hidden places that grow warm or wet or hard under her touch.
And so Emily pulls Alison to her, and Ali's mouth is already opening when she kisses her. Their tongues and teeth clash, and it is not sweet and it is not gentle, but Emily doesn't care, because at least this she can make some sense out of.
Alison is reaching under her shirt, and her hands feel so good on the skin of her back. Emily tangles her fingers in Alison's hair, her kisses more insistent as she moves towards the bed and tumbles them down. Alison pushes up a little to roll herself on top, but Emily stops her, pressure firm on Ali's shoulders as she places wet kisses over her neck. When she slides a thigh between Alison's legs and hears her moan softly, she begins moving more rhythmically.
If she wanted to have Alison completely now – something she had refrained from the other times – she knew she could. She lifts her mouth back to Alison's and catches sight of Ali's face, eyelids hooded and a hint of a smile on her lips.
"You know you want to kiss me," Emily suddenly recalls Ali saying flirtatiously in that damn video.
And then, unbidden, she is remembering the girl she once was, before her own body had been known, sweetly and gloriously, by Maya and then Paige, when what she wanted from Alison was not the simple friction of bodies rubbing together.
Once, once upon a time.
She slows her movements to a stop and pushes herself off Alison, seeing confusion and a question in Ali's eyes that she can't properly answer. When she is off the bed, she leans down and places one last kiss, softly, on Alison's lips before rasping out,
"More than this, Ali. More than this."
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It's so late when Emily gets home that she's surprised to find her mother still awake, lying on the couch in pajamas. She leans up to greet Emily with a tired smile before Emily has a chance to completely compose her features.
"Something wrong, honey?"
She doesn't want to talk about this, doesn't even know what she would say, so she shakes her head.
"It's nothing, Mom, I just-"
But her mother is staring at her with such warm concern that she can't bring herself to lie, so she stops. When her mom pats the spot next to her on the couch, Emily walks over and sits down, resisting the urge to hold her head in her hands.
"Is it- is it Alison? Is she okay?"
She can't explain that it is Alison now and Alison then, and how both of them are entwined in the turmoil of her heart. Her mother doesn't push any further, just puts an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. For a moment, Emily is a little girl again, listening to fairy tales that all begin the same way and end with "happily ever after." As if she had read her mind, Mrs. Fields croons softly,
"It's going to be alright, sweetheart."
Emily closes her eyes and lets her head drop onto her mom's shoulder. Hearing someone say that warms her just a little, even if she wonders if she dares believe it anymore.
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Sorry for the downer ending, but this isn't the end for Emison, I promise! And thanks for the comments, favorites, and follows, they help me write faster :).