hey lovelies! i'm just taking a quick break from my oneshot series to post this thing since it's been in my head for awhile. it's super fluffy fluff, because duh. that's how i roll ;) enjoooy!
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-take me back to the start-
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"And there, on the bed, was a box with the familiar logo, the game that started it all. 'I thought we could play a rematch. Unless you're afraid I'll beat you. Again.' 'Four years, and you still haven't let that go.'" Spencer and Toby spend a night at a certain motel, with Scrabble, Mad Libs, and a beloved shirt, celebrating a love that's survived every obstacle. Spoby 1x19 parallel. Fluff all the way.
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"Aria, what the hell?" Spencer demanded, glaring at her best friend through the rolled down car window.
"You heard me," the tiny brunette replied with an eye roll. "Get in the car, Spencer."
Spencer shook her head in exasperation. "You mean my car? Where are you taking me?"
"I'm under strict orders to deliver you to our destination and not tell you a thing," Aria told her, much to Spencer's chagrin.
"Aria...if this is some scheme Hanna's concocted to get me drunk and post the pictures on Instagram again, I swear to God-"
"Like I would ever let that happen again." Aria rolled her eyes, smirking internally at the memory of her normally uptight friend when she had gotten beyond wasted last New Year's. "Just...trust me. Please?"
Spencer sighed. "I have a test in my Philosophy class first thing on Monday-"
"And you'll be back here by tomorrow afternoon. You can study all day Sunday, not that you even need to study. You had your textbook memorized by Halloween." Aria, growing impatient, motioned for Spencer to get in the passenger seat of the car she'd left idling by the curb outside Spencer's dorm room while her friend interrogated her.
With a begrudging sigh, Spencer crossed over to the passenger side, yanked open the door, and plopped down in the passenger seat. "I'm going to find a way to get you back for this," she grumbled as Aria pulled away from the curb.
The girls were twenty now, and into their third year of college. Both Aria and Spencer had ended up attending Hollis, and while Spencer's parents were initially disappointed - though that was probably an understatement - she hadn't made it into the Ivy League school they'd intended for her, Spencer loved college life at Hollis, and having Aria around was a bonus, since Emily was at school in California, and Hanna attended the Rhode Island School of Design.
It had been a year since the last "A" text, a year of rebuilding. A year of forgetting - or attempting to forget - their tumultuous pasts; the grief, the fear, the terror, the hurt. None of them had heard from Alison in months - following the disintegration of the A Team, she'd skipped town without so much as a goodbye. Spencer secretly thought it was for the best.
Things had changed, of course. But things had also stayed the same, where they mattered most.
She and Toby were still going strong. Though the "A" drama had ended, he found that he enjoyed being part of the police force, that providing justice in a town so corrupt brought him satisfaction. Though she worried, she was supportive. How could she not be, when she saw how happy he was?
"We just missed the turn for your house," Spencer observed.
"Very good, Nancy Drew." Aria shot her a wry look. "We're not going to my house."
"Then where-?"
"Nuh-uh," Aria interrupted, shaking her head so that her huge chandelier earrings swung. "It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises," Spencer whined, turning her head to gaze out the window. They were edging toward the outskirts of town.
Aria muttered something under her breath about how she couldn't believe she'd gotten roped into this, and Spencer toyed absently with the necklace around her neck, the glinting pendant, in the shape of a Scrabble tile, catching the light of the setting sun streaming in through the window.
Tomorrow was her and Toby's fourth anniversary. They'd made tentative dinner plans, until he'd called a few days before and cancelled, remorseful, saying that he'd caught a big case.
She missed him terribly, and hated not being able to spend time with him. But with her at school and the demands of his job, alone time was a rarity.
She was startled from her bitter thoughts by Aria announcing, "We're here!" as they pulled into a small parking lot.
"The Edgewood Motorcourt?" Spencer felt a flutter in her stomach, a grin spreading over her face.
Aria grinned at the look of sheer delight on her friend's face. "Your surprise is in room two-thirteen."
Spencer caught the petite pixie in a hug. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Aria laughed. "Does this mean you're cancelling your revenge plans?"
"Hmm. I'll think about it." She gave Aria's hand a quick squeeze. Aria squeezed back.
"Go. Enjoy yourself." She winked. "And tell me all about it."
"I will," Spencer promised. She took a step toward the modest motel, pausing at the door to room 213.
And remembered that evening, four years before, that she'd opened the same door looking for answers, and had found something so much greater.
She knocked on the door carefully, then tried the handle. It eased open.
There were candles everywhere, bathing the tiny room in a soft glow. She smelled something marvelous, and spotted a huge thermos of coffee. A stack of magazines was perched on the floor.
And there, on the bed, was a box with the familiar logo, the game that started it all.
"I thought we could play a rematch." The sound of his voice, that deep baritone, made her heart leap to her throat. Turning slowly, she saw him standing behind her, hands in his pockets, a smile lighting that handsome face. "Unless you're afraid I'll beat you. Again."
She let out a light chuckle, shaking her head. "Four years, and you still haven't let that go."
His smile widened, and she took a step closer to him, or maybe he took a step closer to her, and then his arms were branded around her and their mouths were fused together and his hands were tangled through her hair.
After a few seconds, oxygen became necessary again, and they pulled away breathlessly, their foreheads touching, his arms at her waist. "I thought you had something at work..." she managed breathlessly.
He kissed her nose. "I wanted to surprise you."
"Well, you did." She buried her face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. "This is perfect. Toby...thank you. Thank you so much."
"Hey, the night's barely begun," he teased, drawing away and brushing a mahogany curl back from her heart-shaped face. "So..." he continued in a drawl, taking her hand and gently pulling her down so that she was nestled beside him on the edge of the bed - the same tiny bed they'd shared when he'd been a pariah and she'd been wearing a mask of perfection. "Scrabble first? We also have Mad Libs, 'Bikes to Die For, Babes to Fight For'..."
"Page twelve," she laughed, remembering. "It's a great read." He laughed too, and the sound was like sunshine, chasing away any shadows left on her heart. He'd always been able to do that, she thought. Chase away the shadows. Even four years ago, when they'd hardly known each other, he'd known how to make her feel at peace. He'd gotten inside her head, under her skin. Then he'd stolen her heart.
She wouldn't change a thing.
"Let's start with Scrabble."
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"Serotonin?" Toby shot his girlfriend a look that managed to combine affection with incredulity.
"Ten points, counting the double letter score on the 'S', plus a triple word score, plus the fifty point bingo bonus gives me eighty points." Triumphantly, she wrote down her score, then tallied up the rest.
Three hundred and eighty-four to...no way.
"Four hundred and two?" Disbelieving, she quickly recalculated his final tally, and reached the same result. "How did you manage to do that?"
Toby shot her a look. "Could it be that I'm just the superior player?"
Scoffing, she grabbed a handful of tiles from where they'd been arranged on the board, then shoved them haphazardly back into the box. "Well, I guess in the interest of tradition..."
He smiled softly, laying a hand over hers to stop her. She looked up at him, then sighed. "Good game."
Chuckling, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "That was painful for you to say. I appreciate it."
"Yeah, well," she shrugged, "I have a soft spot for you."
The kiss was warm, soft and familiar. It occurred to her that she could kiss him until the world ended, until the sun ceased to shine and the sky collapsed, and it still wouldn't be enough.
A grumbling noise interrupted them, and they both laughed when they realized it was her stomach. "Guess it's time for dinner," he said, offering her a hand.
They seated themselves at the tiny table pressed up by the wall furthest from the bed. She watched as he pulled out a takeout bag, removing a plate whose tantalizing smell made her stomach grumble louder.
"Lasagna?" She asked excitedly, beaming as he peeled the tinfoil off the dish.
"Your favorite," he confirmed. "From Bucolli's."
"Oh my God. That's it. You're the best boyfriend ever." She snatched up a slice, practically salivating, while he watched her dive into the meal amusedly.
"You might want to use a napkin," he suggested, then wiped sauce off of her face himself. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling into his brilliantly. After all that they'd been through, one look from her still turned him to putty. It was simultaneously the most baffling and the most beautiful feeling he'd ever known.
"Thank you for doing this."
"I'd do anything for you," he replied, and her smile sent his heart pounding to that steady beat of love.
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After dinner, they lay on the bed, her head against his chest, his arms locked protectively around her, his fingers toying with her long waves. She listened to the sound of his heartbeat, trailing a hand up to caress his face.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. He closed his free hand over her wrist, holding her hand there.
"About us."
She propped herself up to look at him, a slight frown puckering her brow. "What about us?"
He traced her jawline with his finger, lingering over the delicate curve of her chin. "Everything we've been through. It seems crazy, you know? Four years ago, in this motel room-"
"We had no idea what was coming next," she finished. He gathered her back into his arms, laying a tender kiss on her eyelid. They were silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, before she spoke again.
"You know, I think I started to fall for you right here in this room."
He peered at her, and she smiled nostalgically. "When you beat me at Scrabble, I just thought, who is this guy? I didn't know it then, but looking back, I can definitively say that was it. That was the moment I knew."
"I'd thought about kissing you all night," he admitted. "While you were on your fifth cup of coffee, while you were spelling out 'glyceraldehyde'...all I could think about was how it might feel if I did." He let out a slight laugh. "And now here we are."
"Here we are," she echoed.
And then their lips touched, drawn together as if by some magnetic force.
It was astonishing, she thought, how every time he kissed her felt like the first time, how every brush of lips, every slide of tongue, could stir her soul the same way. With every slow, drugging kiss, she felt herself fall for him all over again, and that in itself was miraculous.
"You know," he murmured, drawing back. His breath was warm on her skin. "You can't be comfortable in that dress...or that belt..."
Her laugh was low and husky. "Then why don't you take it off of me?" Her fingers idly reached up, carefully undoing the first button of his chambray shirt.
"Spencer-" It never ceased to amaze him, how she could muddle his thoughts and clog his breath with so little effort.
His shirt was fully unbuttoned now, and she traced a hand seductively down his smooth, toned abdominals before leaning up to purr into his ear: "Top...or bottom?"
Four years ago, he hadn't known this feeling, this dizzying, thrilling combination of love and lust. But now he did. As they had come together, body, mind, heart, and soul, he had discovered it. Come to relish it. Cherish it. Even depend on it.
When all of the barriers between them had been removed, they touched. They savored. They took love, and gave it.
They celebrated a love so strong it had survived a million obstacles, a million roadblocks, a million disasters, from black hoodies to pill addictions, to lies and death and everything in between.
They celebrated a love story - their love story - an epic tale of danger and drama and sex and romance, of the highest highs and the lowest lows. A story that never should have been written.
And thanked every lucky star that it had.
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The crisp November air didn't bother her as she leaned against her car, which Aria must have left for her, in the parking lot. The warmth in Toby's eyes, bluer than any cloudless sky, took care of that. She was clad in her (or, well, his, though it hadn't been in quite some time) blue anchor shirt, saying goodbye to her boyfriend before they headed their separate ways - her back to campus and him to work.
"Thank you so much for last night," she said, letting him pull her into a swaying hug.
He drew back, and she saw a hint of something - hesitation? - creep into those sapphire orbs. "Toby?" Frowning, she touched his cheek. "What's up?"
He took a deep breath. "Well...there's this one thing."
"What thing?"
And to her utter surprise, he knelt down on the asphalt in front of her.
"You have no idea how much time I spent trying to think of the right way to ask you this. Make sure the place, the timing, the words were all perfect. I picked the place for obvious reasons" - he offered her a nervous smile - "and I'm doing it now because four years ago, this is when I first kissed you. And I never looked back. As for the words..." He swallowed. "You changed my life, Spencer. I don't care how corny that sounds because it's true. Before you, I was so empty, so lost. I just didn't know it. It took you coming into my life to remember what good really is, what hope really is. I love you. I love who I am with you, who we are together. I love every minute we spend together, whether you're low-blood sugar Spencer or no-caffeine Spencer, whether you're obsessing over something or being a complete know-it-all. I love hearing your laugh, I love touching you, I love your smell, your taste, that look in your eyes when you know the answer, how you look at me..." He trailed off, struggling with his emotions. "You said I was your safe place to land, but, Spence, that's what you are to me, too. And there's no one else I'd want next to me for the rest of my life."
He pulled a small black velvet box from behind his back, baring a glittering diamond to the morning sun.
"Marry me."
Spencer, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout his entire speech, raised a trembling hand to her mouth, tears tumbling down her porcelain cheeks. For all the chemical formulas and mathematical equations she knew, she couldn't wrap her head around this. And for all her vast vocabulary, she could only manage one word.
"Yes."
And then there was the solid weight of the ring on her finger and his arms around her and his lips on hers and she was laughing and crying and all she could think was that, looking back to that November sixth four years before, that first touch of his lips on hers had been when her life had truly begun.
"I was...not expecting that," she said finally, grinning up at him. He chuckled, then drew her in for another kiss, so familiar now, yet as intoxicating as the first.
And it was the start of a new chapter to their story, because Toby Cavanaugh was Spencer Hastings' once upon a time, her happily ever after, and everything in between.
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reviews make me happier than coffee makes spencer ;)