A/N: Surprise, surprise! It's not smut! I know, I know— even I'm shocked. Set during 1x03. Once again, I'm dismissing the whole Writing-A-Book-About-Alison plot. I wrote this in one sitting with no revisions, so excuse any mistakes. Anyway, enjoy!
He almost doesn't hear it— in fact, he's sure it's just his imagination— but, after a moment, the now unmistakable sound of someone knocking at his door meets his ears. His dark brows furrow and his eyes flicker over to his clock as he reaches for the remote; it's almost 10:30, which is well past the time frame for friendly visits.
His aging television shuts off with a somewhat concerning fizzle and he stands; his heart pounds in his chest. A million possibilities are running through his mind, but there's one that stands out in particular. He can already see it: he's going to pull open his door, and he's going to be met with a cop or two, already holding out the handcuffs. Maybe he's just paranoid, but that's all he can think as he reaches for the doorknob. He sucks in a breath, bracing himself.
Both worry and relief wash over him as instead, he's met with Aria, all dark hair and big, green eyes. Eyes which, Ezra notes, are brimming with tears. Concern wrenches his insides and he realizes how far gone he's becoming.
"Hey," he breathes, "I thought you were helping out at the gallery." Why that was the first thing he could think to say, he has no idea.
"I was," she answers. He can see that she's digging her nails into her palms. "Can I come in?"
Yes, he immediately thinks. However, his brain speaks much louder than his heart. "I'm... not... sure if that's a good idea," he finally manages, albeit regretfully.
Aria pauses; he can see her struggling. "I'm— I'm sorry, this was... a mistake. I shouldn't have come here, I just... I just didn't know where else to go." She waits for him to answer and when he doesn't, she continues. "I'll see you on Monday." With that, she's turning on her heel. He calls after her before he can stop himself.
"No, wait." She stops and he can practically see the hope bubbling inside her. He can't break that. "Are you— are you okay? Do you need me to drive you home?"
"That's the last place I want to be." Her words are whispered, as if she were to speak any louder, her tears would topple over.
He notes this is the first time he's seen her cry— well, almost cry. He hates it. "Why? What happened?"
Her bottom lip quivers. "Can— can we just... be here for a minute?" she asks, voice shaking.
He offers her the gentlest of smiles, and takes a step forwards. She must realize what he's agreeing to, because without hesitation, she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his chest. Ezra can't help but think how right this feels.
After a few minutes standing outside his doorway, Ezra had realized two things. A.) Standing outside his apartment where anyone could see them probably wasn't the smartest idea, and B.) He was going to have to kick her to the curb or bring her in, anyway.
He'd decided on the latter.
"Uh, I'd let you have the bed, but..." He scratches behind his neck and looks at his mattress. "I don't think that's the best idea."
She nods in understanding, but stays quiet. The moment has fallen into an uncomfortable silence; Ezra feels like he needs to break the tension somehow. "Do you, uh, want something to wear?" His ears go red at the thought of Aria wearing his clothes, but it's not like she really has a choice.
She swallows. "Would that be okay?" she asks, voice small. He nods and rushes towards his dresser. He thumbs through his multiple shirts before landing on the softest one his can find— a mustard yellow one from his days at Hollis. He grabs that and a pair of black sweats before heading back towards Aria with a fumbling gait. "Here," he says, thrusting the fabric out towards her. He avoids eye contact, as if she's already naked.
Oh god, Ezra internally groans. Don't think about that.
"The bathroom's that way." He purses his lips and nods his head in the direction of said bathroom before offering her what he knows is probably the most awkward grin in the history of awkward grins. She nods back and hurries off to change.
Once she's gone, Ezra plops down on his couch. What the hell is he getting himself into? He runs his hands through his dark hair and practically groans. Aria shouldn't be here, and she especially shouldn't be just down the hall, naked.
Stop thinking about it! he scolds himself. He really needs to get his emotions in check.
Minutes pass before Aria's walking out of his bathroom, t-shirt swallowing her whole and sweatpants bunched at the ankles. She looks so small and fragile, and in that moment Ezra realizes the severity of their situation. She's a teenager. Her teacher or not, what they're doing is wrong.
However, as Aria sits beside him, leg grazing his and painted fingernails accidentally brushing against his knee, he also realizes that she makes his head spin and his heart pound and he couldn't stay away from her if he tried.
So he doesn't.
"Do you wanna watch some TV?" he finally asks. His voice is soft, as if speaking any louder would upset her again.
"Okay," she shrugs.
He reaches across her for the remote and turns on the television; it takes a couple of long moments, but the picture finally comes in. "I don't have cable, but I've got one of those Roku things," he says with a nod. "We can watch something on Netflix."
She nods and offers him a smile, making something warm blossom inside him. He wants to make her happy, more than anything.
The rest of the night is spent watching Midsomer Murders, eating off-brand popcorn, and talking shit about a woman he doesn't know. Ezra couldn't be more content.
It's nearly pitch black, aside from the red, digital letters flashing 2:03 AM. Ezra jolts awake as someone slides in bed next to him; he's never been a heavy sleeper, and it takes him a minute to remember who the hell it could be.
"Aria?" he asks, voice thick with sleep.
He hears a sniffle. "Sorry, I— I don't know what I was doing," she whispers. He can feel her scooting off the bed.
"Wait." He blindly feels for her until he comes across her arm, which he grasps gently. "Are you okay?"
She's silent, but there's the unmistakable sound of her shuddering breaths. "I can't sleep," she finally offers up.
He nods, though he's not sure she'll be able to see it. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Can... can you just hold me?" her voice breaks and he can vaguely make out her outline in the darkness.
Before he can object, his arm snakes around her waist and pulls her towards him. She obliges. Earlier, she'd been able to contain her emotions, but he can tell she's actually crying now. Her small frame shakes against him and he strokes her hair; he wonders if she can hear his heart snap in two.
He's not sure how long they lay there, but he's pretty sure she's fallen asleep once her breathing calms. He presses a kiss to her head.
However, before he can drift off himself, he feels a small palm cradling his cheek. He can barely see her in the darkness, but he can feel her warmth, feel her breath so close to his. He swallows nervously. This isn't right. He can't do this— they can't do this. She must sense his worry because she speaks, voice soft. "Thank you, Ezra."
Before he can respond, her lips are against his. It's gentle and sweet and pure; it's a kiss goodnight, an unspoken promise.
"Goodnight, Aria."