Here is another Aria/Ezra AU story with lots of flashbacks and fluff.
Please leave comments/reviews
I do not own PLL.
It was past time for time for bed, but she couldn't sleep. Aria listened to the water drip in the bathroom, the drops coming slowly, steadily. The mechanical sound the droplets made as they traveled from the shiny stainless steel faucet to the white porcelain sink echoed in her mind, the sound expanding until that was all she could hear. Drip. Drip. She had been asking her dad to fix it for weeks now, but somehow the problem remained unsolved. Drip. Just like the countless other problems in her life.
Aria tried to think about some of those other problems as she sat on the floor of her bathroom, willing the dripping sound to go away. Maybe if things had turned out differently on that day. Maybe. Maybe nothing, she tells herself. It was all in the past, nothing could change it, nothing. She played the scene in her head again.
"Aria?" asks a voice hesitantly from the classroom door.
Aria looks up from the desk she was perched on, staring at a book. "Yes?"
"Well, umm, your mother is stuck in a meeting with a parent and won't be done for another hour. She asked me to give you a ride home." Mr. Fitz runs his fingers through his hair in apprehension.
"Okay," she replies, flashing a smile as she jumps off a desk and follows him out of her mother's classroom.
The pair is silent as they make their way to the teacher parking lot, and Aria glances at Mr. Fitz when the quiet became stifling.
"What are you reading?" he asks suddenly, as if he is aware of her discomfort.
"Maps for Lost Lovers," replies Aria with a small smile, fingering the book in her hand.
"Nadeem Aslam. That's on the twelfth grade reading list. What are you doing with it?" he asks as they exited the building, looking at her, this time with a dubious expression on her face.
Aria winces as her eyes readjust to the brightness of the sun. "Because I wanted to." She knows her tone is slightly petulant, but he doesn't have to act like she's too dumb to read the book because she's only a sophomore.
"Do you like it?" he asks, as he gestures to his car, a silver Camry.
"That's a strange question," she returns as she opens up the passenger door and climbs in, leaving her backpack at her feet.
"Why?" he asks, settling into the driver's seat and putting the key into the ignition.
"Most people ask other people what they think about a book not whether they like it or not," Aria answers matter-of-factly.
"Well, I think it's important," replies Mr. Fitz, "whether or not you like a book. If you don't like it, don't read it." He shrugs and his hands readjust themselves on the steering wheel.
She shoots him a look that involves raising an eyebrow. "You're strange for a teacher."
"Am I?" he asks.
Aria notices that they are driving past downtown Rosewood, and spots The Brew on the corner. She is suddenly struck with the urge for a cup of coffee. "Yes," she replies shortly. "Most teachers don't care what their students think."
"I'm not most teachers," answers Mr. Fitz carelessly.
Suddenly Aria wonders if the stories the seniors tell about him are true. She thinks that maybe he really does make his students write about their feelings and talk about their futures and give them bonus points if they disagree with him.
"Turn here," are the words that come out of her mouth as she points to the next street. Several more turns and they pull up to the front of her house.
"Thank you for the ride," Aria says politely as she grabs her backpack and prepares to exit the car.
But instead of replying "You're welcome," he says, "If you like Maps for Lost Lovers you should look at How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents."
She smiles in response as she shuts the car door behind her.
That was their first encounter. It was their only real encounter until a year later when she bumped into him in the hallway during her lunch period. How much of an accident are accidents really? How much is really fate?
Aria leaned against the bathroom wall and takes a sip of the wine she swiped from her parents' stash. She pulled her legs against her so she can rest her chin on her knees and then sighed. Giving herself permission to dwell on the past, Aria shut her eyes and thought about that second time. She still debates whether its fate or not.
"Sorry," sputters Aria as she walks into something solid, a male body she guessed as she looks at the shoes he is wearing.
"No problem," replies the man gently, bending down to help her pick up her scattered papers. "Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World," he reads out loud as he looks at the book. "That is some hard reading." He looks at her. "But of course, you would choose to read that, Aria."
She looks up and realizes it's Mr. Fitz. She shrugs as they both rise from their crouching positions. She shrugs. "Mrs. Welch's class is boring."
"I can see why you would say that," he says with a nod of his head. "Where are you headed?" he asks, glancing around the deserted hallway.
"The library," she replies shortly. "I wanted to go somewhere quiet to read."
"You sure you got everything?" he asks uncertainly, looking down at the bundle of papers in her arms.
"I'm sure," she replies shortly. "Thanks." She begins to walk away from him and down the hallway.
"Wait," he calls out when she's a few steps away from him. "If you're interested in some really out-there reading you should look into Turn of the Screw. Henry James," he adds suddenly.
"Okay," she responds with a nod of her head and a smile, leaving him to wonder if she would look into the story at all.
The next year, she doesn't end up in his English class. She's assigned to Mrs. Stephens who teaches the Advanced Placement students. But that didn't stop Aria and Ezra from talking about books outside of class. That year was full of chance meetings, brief conversations, quick glances.
Aria, after having decided that the bathroom floor is more comfortable than the wall, laid down in a fetal position and rested her head against the pale blue rug. She tried to the tell herself that at least the rug was soft. Wistfully, she thought about the warm bed waiting for her in the next room. She shoved the thought away. Instead, she let herself think of another book, another meeting, another chance.
"Mr. Fitz?" she calls out hesitantly, knocking on the open door of his empty classroom.
"Yes?" he asks politely, looking up from his desk.
"Mrs. Stephens told me to give you a copy of my independent study project. She wants you to look over it before giving it a final mark-up."
"Oh, she told me about that," replies Mr. Fitz with a smile. "I'm sure it will be a pleasure to read." He indicates the edge of his desk, and she walks inside the room to leave it there. "Ready for graduation?" he asks.
"The sooner the better," Aria tells him, shaking her head in relief. "I'm ready for all of this to be over."
"You shouldn't say things like that," he says with a small smile. "You'll find yourself wanting to go back one day and not being able to."
She wrinkles her nose. "I doubt it." She looks down at her paper and then back up at him. "Am I the only senior working on an independent project?"
He chuckles, the sound filling up the empty classroom. She realizes this is the first time she's heard him laugh. "Not many seniors ask for extra homework their last semester."
"Oh." Her voice is small, meek. A flush creeps into her cheeks.
Mr. Fitz leans back in his chair lazily. "What have you been reading lately?"
"I've been taking a break," she confesses. "I've been re-reading Pride and Prejudice."
"Hmm. Have you looked into Persuasion? I know it's less popular than some of Austen's other work, but I think the message is a little more powerful."
"I'll look into it," she promises him. She glances at the door and turns to leave. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Fitz."
"Anytime, Aria," he responds with a smile.
Aria's mom had told her that Ezra Fitz had left Rosewood High the same time she did. He was busy getting his PhD in English Lit. while she went off to college in Virginia. Strangely enough, she had run into him during a student trip to North Carolina. Well, it was more of a student conference at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. He talked at a session she as attending.
As Aria laid on the bathroom floor, the rug underneath her head, she couldn't help but feel relief at the coolness the tile offered the rest of her body. She internally debated whether to sit up and gulp down the rest of her wine or stay in her semi-comatose state. She decided on the latter as she rolled over onto her belly and laid face-down, her nose taking in the surprisingly fresh smell of the bathroom rug. Her mother must have washed it recently.
Aria grabs one of the last chairs in the back of the conference room and looks at the speaker, who is busy struggling with the projector, bending down to see what the problem is. She sighs in relief that she isn't late and silently curses Susie Durang for holding her hostage as she complained about her boyfriend.
When Aria looks back up, the projector is working, and she finds the speaker is one of the last people she expected. She glances down at the handbook filled with session information and their presenters and sees his name. She wonders why she didn't notice it the first time. She answers her own question before she can finish the thought. She was too excited about the topic-Borders in Contemporary Literature-to even bother to look at who the speaker would be.
He doesn't notice her, doesn't look her way. But Aria doesn't care because she's too enthralled with his speech. Instead, she listens intently as she furiously takes notes and he talks about the duality of spaces people inhabit and how that translates into literature. She wishes the half hour session were longer, so she could listen to him speak more.
When he asks for questions, she raises her hand, and she stands as she tells it to him. She sees the surprise in his eyes as he recognizes her-it has been three years-and he knowingly smiles as she finishes the question. He directs her to a book, and she sits down, a slight blush on her cheeks.
"What are you doing here?" he asks her brightly as few minutes later when the session ends.
"I go to the University of Virginia," she replies. "I'm here for the conference."
"Are you presenting a paper?" he questions.
"Not this year," she tells him softly. They look around the conference room, filling up with people who are waiting for the next session and the next speaker.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he offers slowly. "Grab a cup of coffee or something?"
"Sure," she answers eagerly. She tells herself her excitement stems from the fact that it has been months since she has seen anyone from Rosewood.
They walk toward a quiet coffee shop on campus, a few minutes from where the conference is taking place. As they sit with their coffee, they strike up a lively conversation that quickly turns into a debate. A half-hour into the exchange, she realizes that this is the longest she has ever talked to him at one time. She rather likes it.
"Don't call me Mr. Fitz," he tells her quietly in the middle of their conversation.
She tilts her head and looks up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asks as she sips her coffee.
"You're not in high school anymore. Call me Ezra," he offers.
It was the first of chats and emails that would take place over the years as Aria worked on her Bachelor's and then her Master's and Ezra finished up his dissertation. During that time, she told herself that he was only seven years older than she was, and seven years wasn't so much difference. At least that's what she told her mom when she found about the emailing. But she liked talking to Ezra. He was willing to argue and debate and not laugh when her opinion on a text was the opposite of the generally accepted one.
Aria rolled back over, sat up and drained the glass of wine. As the last of the dark liquid disappeared from the glass, she told herself she should've picked a harder liquor. Vodka or tequila. Something that would make the feeling in her stomach go away. She needed it to go away; she couldn't face everybody feeling like this.
"What are you thinking about?" asks Ezra. They're sitting in his apartment near the university, and Aria can't help but notice how clean and tidy the small space is.
She shrugs. "What happens next," she replies slowly.
"Graduation is a big deal," he tells her. "Have you thought about what you want to do?"
"Actually," she answers softly, "I was thinking about what was next for you, Dr. Fitz," she emphasizes pertly.
"It still hasn't hit," he answers honestly. "It's been less than twenty-four hours since I defended my dissertation."
"Well, I wouldn't come all the way down to North Carolina just for any reason," she shoots back. "Dissertation defenses are but one of the few acceptable ones."
"I don't know," he answers to her earlier question.
"Will you go back to Rosewood?"
"I would like to," he replies. "Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Like to go back to Rosewood?"
Aria tilts her head. "I think so. But I don't know what I would do there. Teach maybe? How do you think I would fit in at Rosewood High?"
He shakes his head. "Aria, you got your MFA in creative writing. Why don't you finally finish that book you've been working on for all of these years?"
"You know about that?" she exclaims in surprise.
"Of course I know about it. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"
"I know you applied for the job at Hollis," she lets out suddenly.
He looks at her, his eyes narrowing, and then he sighs. "Of course. Your dad told you."
She shrugs. "He still has a little bit of trouble accepting our relationship. It is a little strange, you know, being friends with someone who is your ex-student."
"You were never my student," he says in exasperation.
"Only technically," she replies dryly. She grabs the brandy on the coffee table and drains it. When she sets the glass down, he's looking at her. "What is it?" she asks. "Do I have something on my face?" She rubs her mouth with the back of her hand.
"No," he answers slowly. "I just-" he falters, and continues to stare. It is then that Aria sees the desire in his eyes.
Knowingly, and with feeling, Aria leans over and kisses him softly on the lips.
It was their first kiss. It was not their last. Not even close. It led to other kisses. Many other kisses. Some were passionate, some affectionate. Some were hard, others soft. He kissed her on her mouth, her cheek, her arms. They had taken all of that emotion with them from North Carolina all the way back to Rosewood. And they were greeted with the sighs of disapproving parents.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Aria groaned at the sound. That was thing about leaky faucets. Either the drip would slowly stop on its own or it would suddenly gush like a waterfall. You never knew. She didn't. Drip. Aria readjusted herself on the bathroom floor so that she was more comfortable. Drip.
She knocks on the door, her knuckles rapping harshly against the hard wood. She waits for a moment until Ezra opens the door. It is obvious from his disheveled appearance that he just woke up.
"Aria?" he moans, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Do you have sugar?" she asks brightly, pushing past him and into the tiny kitchen his apartment afforded.
"Why do you need sugar?" he returns, shutting the door and indicating a shelf.
"I'm baking a pie," she tells him grabbing the bag and moving to head back out.
He shook his head, the corners of his lips hinting at a smile. "Who thought living in the same building would be a good idea?"
"You," she chirps. "It's your fault you're so tired," she tells him. "You're the one who stayed up grading student papers."
He grunts and plopped onto the sofa. She follows suit. "Why do we pretend?" he asks.
She readjusts the sack of sugar in her lap, looking down, before meeting his gaze. "I thought we agreed it wasn't a good idea."
He shrugs. "Maybe things have changed."
"Maybe," she agrees hesitantly. "It's not too soon?"
He rolls his eyes and turns his attention to a picture on his nightstand. It was of the two of them at a New Year's Eve party. "It's been almost a year."
"Hmm," she sighs, smiling as she thinks back. "It's been a good year."
"Will you think about it?" he asks gently, intertwining his fingers in hers. "You practically live here already."
She looks down at their fingers and lets out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding. "I'll think about it," she promises. And Ezra pulls her closer to him until her head is resting on his chest, the bag of sugar forgotten on the floor.
She had moved in less than a month later, going from the fourth floor to apartment 3B, much to her parents disappointment and chagrin. It wasn't that they didn't like Ezra; it was that they thought she was moving too fast. She hadn't really dated anyone else since her second year of college. She knew then what she knew now. She didn't want anyone else.
Aria got her towel from the rack and wrapped herself in it, using it as a blanket. She shivered slightly and snuggled into it. It smelled like detergent and lavender and home. It made her smile. She let herself think about other thoughts, other happy memories.
"What are you reading?" asks Ezra as she lays on their bed, snuggled under a mountain of blankets to ward off the cold winter chill.
"It's this book by an up and coming author," she replies, smile dancing on her lips. "It's about a girl in a small town."
"I might have heard of this author," says Ezra, playing along. "Have you looked at her second book? I think it might be even more spectacular than her first."
Aria glares at him as he jumps into the bed with her. "Considering that the second book is still on my laptop, I'm wondering how you got into it."
He pulls her close in response. "Not my fault you use our anniversary as your password," he answers shamelessly.
She giggles and sets the book aside, letting herself be enveloped in his arms. "Will it always be like this?" she asks. She surveys the tiny apartment filled with so many happy memories.
"No," he responds truthfully. "We'll have arguments and fights. We'll clash over the house and the dogs and the kids. But we'll always love each other."
Aria raises an eyebrow even though she knows he can't see it. "We're going to have a house and kids?"
"And a dog," he adds.
She can hear the smile in his voice. "What will our house look like?" she says.
"Oh," replies Ezra, drawing out the word. "It'll be white with a wrap-around porch and a swing. Green shutters. There will be a big backyard and a swing set for the kids. A den we can convert into a library with lots of shelves and windows and comfy sofas. A master bedroom with a bed bigger than this one, and a hot tub big enough for two." He continues with the details, and Aria suddenly realizes that he is describing a real house, not a fictional one.
"And where exactly is this house?" she asks, turning to look at him.
"5548 Rose Lane," he replies, leaning over and taking a piece of paper out of the nightstand drawer. "I closed on it two days ago."
"Oh, Ezra," breathes Aria as she looks at the picture he' s handed her. "Do we really get to move there?"
"I have a condition," he says, fumbling for something else inside the drawer.
"What is it?" she questions, not looking up from the picture.
"You have to marry me."
She looks up at him and sees a blue velvet box cradled in his hands. "Yes, with all my heart, yes." She leans in and gives a full kiss on the lips.
"You haven't even seen the ring," replies Ezra with a smile settling on his face.
"I don't need to," replies Aria. "I have everything I ever wanted."
Ezra was right about one thing. They did argue and fight and clash. At first the arguments were small, about what color to paint the guest bedroom, where to put the sofa, whether or not they really needed a new oven for the kitchen. Then the arguments became bigger. Whether or not she should spend Saturday afternoon with her friends instead of with him. Whether he should host the Hollis faculty party. If he should obtain the inheritance rights to her second book. They had almost spiraled out of control. Until they came to the one thing they would never disagree on.
"It's my high school reunion," she pleads, holding up the invitation in the air. "I want you to come."
He sighs in frustration and grabs a beer out of the fridge. "I'm not going, Aria. It would be too awkward. I had some of those kids in class."
"So what?" she asks in exasperation as she follows him into the living room. "You're going as my fiancé not as an ex-teacher."
"But that's exactly why I shouldn't go," he reasons as he sits on the couch.
She joins him, a longing look in her eyes. It quickly turns to anger as she realizes what he is saying. "Are you telling me you don't want people to know we're engaged?" she asks furiously.
He shrugs lightly. "It's not that I don't want them to know. It's that I don't want to advertise it."
"Geez, Ezra. That was years ago. Get over it."
"You were still a student while I was a teacher. People are going to jump to conclusions."
"Screw them," answers Aria angrily. "Who cares?"
"Maybe I do," he says quietly.
She pauses and looks at him through narrowed eyes. "It always comes back to this for you, doesn't it?"
"Doesn't it for you?" he looks at her, and she sees sadness in his eyes. It doesn't move her.
"No. When I look at you, I see late nights at your apartment in North Carolina watching movies and talking about books, our time in 3B, the first time you kissed me. Where did that guy go?" She is upset, frustrated, and angry, and she gets up to walk out of the room.
When he doesn't stop her, she keeps on walking until she finds herself on her parent's doorstep. That was two weeks ago.
Aria had gone to the reunion without Ezra. Her engagement ring felt conspicuous on her hand, heavy and weighted. Old acquaintances were asking about her fiancé, and she felt uncomfortable, her dress seemed unnaturally tight, her feet were like lead. She said told people she met her fiancé in college during a trip to North Carolina, that he worked in the English department at Hollis. By the end of the night, she was exhausted and drained. Ezra had been right. There were some people who were going to jump to conclusions no matter what. She didn't want to be the target of their gossip if she didn't have to be.
Aria sits at The Brew, looking down at her book which she was holding with one hand and grips her coffee in the other, taking occasional sips of the dark liquid.
"What are you reading?" asks a familiar male voice.
She resists the urge to look up and focuses on the words on the page. "As You Like It," she replies primly. She feels the body belonging to the voice take the seat across from hers.
"If you like Shakespeare, you should look into Much Ado About Nothing."
She sighs and snaps the shut with a thwacking sound and sets it aside. "What you want, Ezra?" she asks, looking up at him.
"I want you to come home," he replies quietly, reaching for her hand across the table.
"Why?"
Taken aback, he is silent for a moment before he responds. "Because I love you."
The answer melts her icy demeanor and tugs at her heart. But she still says. "No," firmly.
His eyes widen in shock. "Are you really that upset at me?"
"I was. Then I actually went to the reunion. You were right. It was awkward and uncomfortable."
He shoots her a look that tells her he already knows that, so she continues.
"But we have to work through this. It will always be a part of our lives."
"What do you want me to say?" he finally asks, swallowing.
" I want you to promise me you won't avoid our problems." She looks up at him hopefully.
"How? Name it, and I'll do it."
"I want you to marry me. Next Saturday like we planned. I'll be the one in a white dress," she adds with a small smile.
He leans across the table and gives her a kiss on the forehead. "I'll be the one waiting at the end of the aisle." He pauses. "Come home with me?" he persists.
She shakes her head. "No. I want to spend these last few days with my family." She looks up at him.
"I understand." He squeezes her hand before letting it go.
"Yes?" she prompts when she realizes he has more to say.
Ezra sighs. "You're beautiful, Aria. You always have been, and I noticed it long before we were friends when you were still in high school. People will always wonder and talk."
Aria shrugs in response. "Let them. It's our life. Our future."
"Our future," he repeats reverently.
"Forever?" Aria asks quietly.
"Forever," he affirms in awe.
That had been five days ago. And this night, Friday night, Aria found that her childhood bed was too empty for comfort, that she didn't want to climb in it alone. So she had locked herself in the bathroom with a glass of wine listening to that incessant dripping noise getting slightly tipsy and thinking about the past. Her past. Her and Ezra's.
Drip. Drip. The sound of the dripping sink roused Aria from her sleep. Drip. She sat up, and looked at the person leaning against the frame of the her bathroom door.
"Mom?" she asked sleepily.
"Did you spend the night in here?" asked Ella incredulously looking at the towel that had been used as a blanket and the imprint of her daughter's head in the rug.
"Maybe," replied Aria, getting up and stretching.
"Today's the big day," said Ella tonelessly.
"I know." Aria folded the towel she had used and placed on the edge of the sink.
"Excited?"
"Nervous," admitted Aria.
"You're doing the right thing, you know," let out Ella suddenly, looking affectionately at her daughter. "Marrying Ezra."
Aria blinked to make sure she wasn't still sleeping. "I thought you weren't a fan of Ezra. At least not of Ezra as my boyfriend."
Ella sighed. "He adores you; he loves you. That's enough for me."
"When were you okay with this?"
"The first time you brought him home," responds Ella, thinking back.
"This is wrong," lets out Bryon in frustration, sinking onto their bed.
" We knew this was coming," replies Ella, sitting next to her husband and rubbing comforting circles across his back.
"Did we?"
"Yes. Ever since we found out they were friends."
Byron rubs his hands across his face and groans. "He was her teacher. You were his colleague. And now he's going to be mine."
"Aria is not a little girl anymore," Ella reminds him. "She's made her choice. And it's a good one."
"Is it?"
"He loves her," says Ella softly.
"And how long have you known that?" he returns.
"Since she was in high school, I think. I think they've always loved each other. They just needed time to figure it out."
"But the age difference," protests Byron.
"Is not that much different than ours," Ella finishes smoothly.
Byron is quiet for a moment. "Do you think he's the best choice for Aria?" he finally asks.
"With all my heart," she answers quietly.
Ella thinks about this moment as she helps Aria get ready for her wedding, helping her with her hair, her make-up, her dress. She thinks about it on the way to the church. As her daughter walks down the aisle. As Aria and Ezra exchange vows. She thinks about this as she watches the first dance and then the father-daughter dance. Aria made the right choice; Ella could see it in her eyes.
Later that night after the cake-cutting, and the farewells, and the good wishes, Aria is at home in the house her husband bought for her enveloped in his arms. Everything feels good and comfortable and right. They are leaving for their honeymoon tomorrow, but tonight they are worried about nothing but each other.
"I love you," called out Aria into the darkness.
"I love you," answered Ezra in a voice that lets Aria know he's smiling.
Aria listened to the quiet as she drifted off to sleep. There are no dripping sounds coming from the bathroom sink, and she realized the past didn't matter. All that mattered was what was happening now with her husband.