Alternate summary: Hanna Marin, successfully making the straight girls of Rosewood question their sexualities since 1994.
Alternate summary to the alternate summary: All the girls love Hanna Marin. The end.
Just a silly little Hanna-centric fic, prompted by various Tumblr posts and Ashley Marin's infamous "Is this about exploring a new feeling?" line. Definitely AUish. Unless there are some things the girls never told us about.
Haria. Vandermarin. Spanna. Hannily. Halison. Not in that order.
I.
Hanna loves her friends. No, really. She loves all of them. Equally. Even their not quite so quirky habits and traits. But over the years and in-between stake-outs, dramatically reading texts from anonymous bullies at the same time, long overdue sleepovers, gossiping and eating too much fast food, some of those little things have started to get to her. The annoying kind of habits that make your skin crawl but in a totally cute, almost endearing way? Yeah. Those. Of course it's only natural, of course she was bound to pick up on them, notice them eventually, and knowing a person for such a long time and not getting annoyed by them once in a while, that'd be pretty damn weird, anyway, right? Right. But she loves her friends. And all of their freaky habits. For some reason.
Like Aria. She bites, no, chews her nails when she is nervous, lost in thought—probably either busy composing a tragically beautiful soundtrack or writing weird poetry in her head because she is just so artsy-fartsy—angry or stressing over something and it's really nasty because after she's done, she usually doesn't wipe off her spit and actually touches you with her bacteria-infected fingers. Eew. Whenever she has one of her Aria moments—it doesn't happen that often but still—her voice gets extremely shrill and takes a dip right in Hysteria Town's public pool, making bats all over the world cringe in fear.
The thing about Emily is that she is a Fields. Mr. and Mrs. Fields have raised her just right, all proper, manners, politeness and whatnot. But she has that look, that one special look, that very Emily "I'm silently judging you so hard right now" Fields look and Hanna hates it so much because why can't she just speak up when something's bothering her like Hanna always does? Also? She is a mouth breather. Which wouldn't be so bad, Hanna supposes, if she would do it all quietly and not in your face, like her holier-than-thou judging, but she doesn't. Unfortunately.
Hanna can live with Spencer's perfectionism or the fact that the brunette feels an immense need to constantly correct her...or anybody, really. She can also deal with her intimidating competitiveness quite well, and the way she has to win at every freaking game and then be a huge asshole about it afterwards. But Spencer can't hold her liquor. At all. Combined with her fierce stubbornness and her whiny tone whenever someone tells her to slow down or to just not drink, every night with alcohol involved usually turns into a big mess.
While Drunk Spencer definitely has her perks—like, two hours ago, Hanna had finally confessed that it was her who'd ruined Spencer's favorite skirt after borrowing it without asking and Spencer had merely given a casual shrug then started reciting some poetic quotes about the past and Hanna is pretty sure that it was from The Lion King—she is actually much worse than Hungry Spencer who is worse than Caffeine Withdrawal Spencer who in turn would give Stressed Over School Spencer a run for her money.
She gets frisky, feisty and extremely flirtatious when she drinks too much...which she, unfortunately, does whenever she decides do drink. See above. Not to mention horny. Incredibly horny. It would probably be funny to Hanna, too, if Emily and Aria hadn't charged her with the seemingly impossible task of putting the headstrong brunette to bed and if Spencer's intoxicated breath wasn't tickling her face right now.
"I don't wanna sleep," Spencer whines loudly and grabs Hanna's collar, steadying her drunk ass a little bit. "I wanna party!" And then, in an even raspier voice than usual: "I wanna make out with somebody!"
"That's great," Hanna replies dryly and gives an exasperated sigh. They are having this conversation for the sixth or seventh time tonight and she is seriously having doubts about the "Friends forever" part of her other two BFFs because they are still downstairs, not even thinking about coming to her rescue. "Gimme your cup."
"No," Spencer says promptly and holds said cup away from the blonde.
"Lemme just hold it for a couple of minutes, 'kay?"
"I'm not stupid," the brunette shoots back in a slurred voice and gives her a dark glare...or tries to, at least. It looks more like a pout and fits her childish tone perfectly. Her other unoccupied hand is still fiercely grabbing Hanna's collar to hold herself upright. "You're gonna take it away from me."
"Just let me hold it for a little while."
"No."
"Come on, Spence. Be a good girl."
"Whatever," Spencer spits with fire in her eyes, drawing out every syllable. Then she giggles all girly, repeats the word a couple of times, obviously liking the sounds she is making very much until the dark browns focus on Hanna's blues once more and she scoffs. She thrusts the cup into Hanna's hand. "Pfft. It's disgusting, anyway. I've had, like, eight. Maybe nine. I don't know."
Biting her lower lip, Hanna refrains from making a comment, although something inside her nods, deeply impressed. She then twists to put the cup on top of the dresser behind them. "Come on," Hanna urges, drawing back a little because Spencer has gotten even closer by now. "Bedtime."
"But I'm a fun person. I wanna party." Spencer pauses for a moment before adding, "Par-tay. Hee."
"Party's over. Everybody's gone home."
As if to prove her wrong, the crowd downstairs breaks into a loud cheer. A small frown appears between Spencer's brows and Hanna kicks the door shut with her foot, gently pushing her friend towards the bed on which she lands with a muffled thump and a much louder laugh.
When Hanna kneels down to take off her friend's boots, Spencer sits up, smiling mischievously, and in retrospect, Hanna thinks that she should've seen it coming. After the way the brunette had been behaving for the past three and something hours, it's actually no big surprise, especially after all those years together in which she had gotten to known all of her previously mentioned weird quirks but when Spencer's shirt hits her in the face, she is so taken aback that all she can do is stare at the girl with raised eyebrows.
Her bra follows shortly after and then her hands go to her pants but Hanna stops her. "What are you doing?"
"Going to bed," Spencer replies. "Duh."
"Duh," Hanna echoes. "You really need to get naked for that?"
"I'm all hot," Spencer says. Rolls her eyes. Duh. Then gives a big grin. "Ya know?"
Hanna ignores her suggestiveness, stands up, softly pushes her to lie on her back on the bed and presses her hands on her stomach to keep her down when she starts to wriggle in protest.
"You are no fun. You don't know how to party." The brunette pouts as Hanna wordlessly pulls a blanket over her. "You're completely lame and I don't like you."
Smiling in amusement, Hanna flicks her friend's nose affectionately. But said friend has already closed her eyes, no longer fighting against her tiredness, and Hanna sighs loudly, feels relief settle over her. "Night, Spence," she says in a small voice, moving to brush a kiss against her forehead and just then Spencer's eye flutter open and she's suddenly wide awake again; she reaches out blindly, grabs onto Hanna's collar once more and yanks her down.
"You know what would be really funny?" There's that raspy voice. Hanna wishes she would just go back to normal and stop looking at her like that, all bedroom eyes and stuff. God, where the hell is Rational Spencer when you need her? "We should totally make out right now."
"What? No."
Spencer pffts a little, cradles Hanna's face in her hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and starts giggling. "That would be so funny, though."
"No," Hanna repeats firmly and struggles to stand up but Spencer mewls in protest. "Go to sleep."
"I'm a really good kisser," Spencer retorts.
"I believe you."
"Noooo," Spencer whines, shaking her head furiously. "You aren't supposed to believe me. You are supposed to say..." Her voice gets an octave higher. Hanna watches her, confused, and it takes her a few seconds to figure out that the brunette is trying to mimic her. "No, Spence, I don't think you're a good kisser. And then I'll say...But I am...and then you'll say...Prove it. And then we'll make out."
Hanna laughs. "OK but why do you sound like a man?"
"I don't know," Spencer replies. All of a sudden, she looks disoriented, lost, as if the simple fact that there is something she doesn't know outrages Sober Spencer so much that even Drunk Spencer can't properly deal with it. It's cute. Then it's gone and she's right back in Seduction City. "But we need to make out."
"No. We don't. You need to go to sleep," Hanna says impatiently. "And I need to go downstairs and kill Em and Aria."
And once more, she doesn't see it coming. She should have, of course, but she doesn't. Spencer pulls her down forcefully, closed eyes, puckered lips and a very peaceful, hopeful expression on her face and Hanna, too, instinctively closes her eyes, very aware of Spencer's hands in her hair but just as Hanna gives up, tries picturing someone else in Spencer's place, and there's an endless mantra of "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck" in her head, Spencer stops short.
"I feel weird," she says in a strange voice and sits up at once, unintentionally head-butting Hanna in the process.
Hanna rubs her forehead, wincing in pain. "What's wrong?"
—and the brunette throws up in Hanna's lap.
II.
Whoever said that middle school—and high school, for that matter—would be the bestest time of your life, deserves to have...deserves to have something really bad to happen to them, Hanna decides. She doesn't know what exactly but she'll think of something gruesome and bloody once she has finally found that extremely dumb person and given them a piece of her mind.
Being a big girl is hard as it is already but paired with stupid people at school who for some reason feel the pressing urge to remind her that she is not chubby like her mom tells her but, in fact, fat and undesirable on a daily basis, by now one fleeting look into the mirror is enough to send her to the edge of tears and make her feel like hiding out in her room for the rest of her days while eating Ben & Jerry's and watching reruns of Friends. Or Full House.
Thank god for Mona.
With Mona, it's easy to forget that she is not as pretty, gorgeous, beautiful as other girls, it's easy to forget to feel regret and shame after binging, it's easy to forget that she is...lonely. They had initially become friends because they used to be lonely together, finding strength in one other over shared lunch because Mona, too, knows her struggles, understands her pain and the hell that is school better than anyone, and over the past few months, they've grown even closer. Sometimes, when Hanna is lying in her bed in the mornings, dreading yet another awful day, Mona is the only thought that keeps her going. They're all that: friendship bracelets and loud giggles, warm hugs and even warmer smiles. They are forever.
So when Mona announces that she has a boyfriend now, Hanna feels her world crumble drown around her feet. It's not like she doesn't want her friend to be happy and it's not like she hadn't known that something like this would happen one day. They'll go to high school soon. They're slowly becoming adults and getting a boyfriend, that is something adults do, right? But it feels awful nevertheless because Hanna had always hoped that they would have their first boyfriend together, had always hoped that they would do double dates and all that corny stuff and just experience everything and every first there is at the same time. Hell, she'd even been so sure that Mona would be there for her first kiss, lurking somewhere in the background and giving her the thumbs up. Maybe taking a couple of pictures.
"He's about this tall and cute and, oh, he likes skateboards and photography and he is really charming and smart," Mona says over the loud music. It's Saturday and they are sitting on Hanna's bed, doing their homework, while Hanna's parents are fighting downstairs. So far, Mona has been really polite about it, not mentioning it or even asking her to turn down the volume a little. Or maybe it doesn't have anything to do with politeness and it's more about the fact that she is way too busy gushing over her stupid boyfriend to notice Hanna's anguished face.
Like, ugh, why can't Hanna have a boyfriend, too? Someone to hold her and to love her and just be there for her. Someone to call in the middle of the night. Someone to take photos with. Someone who could go to parties with her nobody would normally invite her to. Someone to show off on her MySpace profile. Someone to tell Mona about. This is so unfair. She feels immensely ashamed for the way her thoughts constantly drift into bitch-zone, a mean voice inside her head whispering, What does Mona have that I don't? over and over again and she knows that a good friend wouldn't dare think things like that, knows that a good friend would be all happy and interested in Mona's tales but the truth is, right now, Hanna doesn't feel like being a good friend. All Hanna feels is jealousy.
"Why can't I meet him?" Hanna asks.
"He's shy," Mona answers quickly.
Later, after Mona has gone home—to meet her boyfriend, wink, wink—and her dad, too, has taken his car and driven god knows where, Hanna joins her mother in the kitchen and eventually tells her about Mona's new love interest albeit hesitantly and with a lot of meaningful pauses.
"And you've never met him?" her mother questions while preparing dinner. She puts two plates on the counter, all casually and whatnot but Hanna notices. So it's just going to be the two of them tonight. Again. Her mother's eyes are kind of red, too, as if she had been crying when Hanna had come downstairs but she seems better, better than she had been after their last fight a few days ago at least, and she seems anxious to get her mind off of her husband. Hanna silently agrees because babbling about Mona and her boyfriend is much easier than thinking about her father.
"Nope," Hanna answers, popping the "p".
"Hm..."
"What?"
"I don't think he's real," her mother says.
"What? Why would Mona lie to me?"
"I don't know." Her mom gives a shrug, sniffling a bit. "But you two share everything. Literally everything. I came home the other day only to find out that the $80 bra I bought my daughter is now in the possession of Mona Vanderwaal. Who doesn't even have as much as you do."
Hanna blushes and starts snickering. "Mom!"
Her mom laughs, too, and the sound warms Hanna's heart. "Don't you think it's weird that she wouldn't introduce you to her boyfriend?"
"A bit," Hanna admits sheepishly. "I saw pictures, though. Blurry pictures."
"Oh, alright. You saw photos." Her mom nods, still smiling. "You know what? Bring me your laptop. I need to go on the internet, print out some pictures of George Clooney and then I'll tell everyone that he is my secret affair."
"Mom."
"Come to think about it...maybe I'll throw in some Brad Pitt and Richard Gere, too. Monogamy is overrated anyway."
"Mom..."
"Johnny Depp."
"Mom!"
They are both laughing really hard now. So hard that her mom starts crying once more but the tears are the good kind, the beautiful kind, the only kind she wants her mother to spill and Hanna decides that she likes the sounds they are currently making much more than the sounds she desperately tries to turn out when her father is home and she has to face the fact that not only do her peers keep on avoiding her, making her feel so very unloved, but her dad does, too.
And the seed of doubt her mother has planted inside of her head? It roots and starts growing into an ugly plant real fast, especially because by now weeks have passed with Mona constantly bringing up her boyfriend—or her fake beau, whatever—at every given moment and Hanna still has to meet this mysterious, blurry faced stranger. One day, however, once again a very boring, pretty much uneventful Saturday, they are hanging out at Hanna's and the blonde spots several huge hickeys on her friend's neck.
"I swear, whenever he looks at me with those big blue eyes of his, my knees go all weak and my heart starts beating really fast and stuff," Mona sighs, dramatically holding the back of her hand against her forehead in Victorian fashion and letting herself fall onto the sofa. She pushes her glasses back into place and turns to Hanna who is munching away on a white-chocolate bar. "He is so cute."
A frown creases Hanna's brow as she puts her snack down. "Didn't you say his eyes were brown the other day?"
Mona freezes for a moment or two, squinting at Hanna as if to provoke her into accusing her of lying but when the blonde merely shrugs her shoulders, the smile on the brunette's face makes a reappearance and she waves her hand dismissively. "He wears contacts."
"Well, he certainly needs those and an extra pair of glasses if he sucks on your neck all over the place," Hanna giggles. "Look at your hickeys."
"Shut up," Mona replies lightheartedly and throws a cushion at her.
"I'm serious. What was he trying to accomplish? Make a world map?"
"Shut up," Mona repeats, blushes and touches, caresses, the precious trophies on her skin. Her movements draw Hanna's gaze back to her and for the first time, Hanna notices that the bruises look very odd. "It's cute. He's cute."
The blonde doesn't answer and when their laughter eventually subsides, they sit in quiet for a couple of minutes or so while Hanna continues to eat and Mona watches TV, occasionally laughing about something on the screen. It's Mona who breaks the silence again.
"So...have you finally met anyone interesting?" she asks.
Hanna blows a raspberry. "Sure. My house is full of cute guys. As you can see."
"Well, we're going to Brooke's birthday party next weekend," Mona reminds her, twirling a lock of dark hair around her index finger. Compared to her nerdy appearance and the straight A's she rocks, the sudden rush of girliness feels weirdly out of place. "So don't be so pessimistic. Who knows what's gonna happen there?"
Nothing, Hanna thinks and shrugs when Mona gives her an encouraging grin. Nothing is going to happen there because nothing ever does. Not to her. Nothing good anyway.
"I know you said your mom would come home later but where's your dad?"
And that question, that comment, as casual as it is, is the icing on the metaphorical cake, the final push that throws her off balance and off the cliff and she starts crying. All of this is way too much. The pain in her mother's eyes, the make-believe scenario her parents' marriage is, middle school, Mona having a boyfriend while she doesn't. Too much. Simply too much weight for the fragile shoulders of a broken teenage girl. The tears keep on coming out of her eyes like waterfalls even though Mona hugs her at once, not even hesitating for a tiny moment, and starts making quiet shushing, soothing sounds, holding her firmly against her tiny frame while she simultaneously strokes the top of her head very gently.
"It's gonna be OK," she whispers and Hanna believes her, and how could she not, she says it with such assertiveness—so much authority that probably would have frightened Hanna under different circumstances—that she can't help but snuggle closer into her friend.
And Mona, she feels like comfort, like home, like someone without expectations that Hanna can't—will never be able to—fulfill, and Mona is warm and here and real and just Mona.
Yeah. Thank god for Mona.
She doesn't know how much time passes, doesn't know how long Mona holds her without saying anything, not even throwing completely empty and meaningless words of comfort at her like people so often do, doesn't know how many tears she sheds but when she breaks away slightly and wipes at her cheeks, Mona simply smiles at her. "There," she says softly. "All better now?"
"I don't know," Hanna replies honestly. "I just...I feel so overwhelmed. I hate middle school, I hate everyone there and I doubt high school is going to be any better. And then—and then there's my mom and my dad and...and I feel so mean for saying it out loud but you got a boyfriend and I don't and I feel so...I'm...I hate myself so much. I'm ugly and..."
"Hanna," Mona cuts in loudly and shakes her head, blushing. "It's not like—I—he is—I lied to you, okay? I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."
Hanna blinks.
"You are so beautiful, don't you see?" she continues and pushes up her glasses. "You are absolutely gorgeous. In and out. I would give my right arm to be you. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. And also? Please stop telling yourself that."
Hanna blinks again. Then she puts her hand against Mona's cheek, cupping it while still sobbing uncontrollably, and the brunette draws in a surprised breath at the unexpected touch but before anything else can happen, the front door opens. Hanna's father walks in, shouting a hello; the moment's immediately gone, and they break apart quickly.
They never talk about it again. Hanna doesn't bring up Mona's so-called boyfriend and the fact that he doesn't exist and had never been real in the first place and Mona doesn't mention their almost-kiss. But a couple of years into the future, after their platonic break-up, her next few adventures at Fat Camp and one Alison DiLaurentis later but way before Aria's return from Iceland and the text messages from hell, Mona grabs her hand one day and tells her that she has got really nice lips. She doesn't say it in her usual way, in that Mona Vanderwaal way, the way people like Ali—and now them, Hanna realizes—would compliment you, smile in their faces, knife behind their backs. She sounds sincere, and her eyes hold a sparkle Hanna recognizes from a lifetime ago and still doesn't know the meaning to. But she decides not to dwell on it and simply nods a short thanks, returning her friend's smile.
Yes, thank god for Mona indeed.
III.
They have one unspoken rule about breakups: whenever one of them goes through (yet another) one, whoever gets told about it first texts the remaining two so that all of them know which topics to avoid at all costs during their daily group meetings.
They take turns at offering support, comfort and unconditional love because every single girl has her own way of caring for her friend. Hanna, for example, is in charge of cheap and trashy magazines, tons of fast food and, most importantly, lots of ice cream, and all those sappy romcoms (the kind that manage to make you bawl for two and a half hours straight); Spencer is all-business, suggesting fun activities that require putting pants on, her eyes holding promises of making whoever broke her best friend's heart pay but she's also surprisingly cuddly (and her hugs are like medicine only much, much sweeter); Emily is the caretaker, the listener and observer and if you don't want to talk about it, she sits there quietly and usually frowning in distress, and just makes you feel immensely better with her mere presence (and all those small touches and smiles and yeah, even her "I'm so done with you" looks cheer you up...but come to think about it, maybe it's only Hanna who gets those from her); Aria normally has one or twenty very sarcastic comments to spare, tries to make you eat delicious (ugh) vegan meals that she cooks for you and because she is unarguably the most romantic one of the four, there always has to be a Disney movie, a corny TV show or weird ass poems (and she is really tiny but she is also a big sister and totally has that going for her; while Spencer may be the Queen of Hug Land, Aria's definitely the President of the United States of Hair Stroking).
Sure, Hanna doesn't want any of her friends to go through tears and heartbreaks because, honestly, they hurt like a bitch—she knows that from first-hand experience after all; been there, done that, collected a lot of lousy and ugly shirts—and broken up couples mean no double double...quadruple dates, she corrects herself. The quadruple dates that would be so much fun if the girls didn't constantly refuse them, Hanna thinks bitterly. Anyway, breakups are bad but there's only one thing that is worse than one breakup in their circle: two breakups. She likes it much better when there's only one newly single in their group. That's why Hanna isn't exactly looking forward to deal with the two Grumpy Bears that are currently moping in their respective rooms.
"Uh-uh. No way. I'm not going to Spence's after school," she tells Emily as they walk to the brunette's locker. "She totally bitched at me this morning! Just because I asked if I could have her history homework if she wasn't coming in today!"
"Fine," Emily retorts and sighs. "I'll drop by Spencer's place after school and you can go and try to make Aria leave her room for more than ten minutes."
Catching one of Emily's books that is threatening to fall out of her locker with one hand, Hanna shakes her head no. "Nope, no chance. She's listening to My Immortal and Nothing Compares 2 U twenty-four-seven and that crap is making me seriously depressed over something that didn't even happen to me."
"I would like to remind you how you were during your last breakup," Emily says with a look, closes her locker sharply and leans against it.
Hanna chooses to ignore her comment. "Why can't they just comfort each other? Isn't that how it should be?" She nudges her friend's shoulder with her own and grins. "I mean, look at us, we always cheer each other up. Because we luurve each other."
"You go over to Aria's place, I'll drop by Spencer's after school. We'll switch tomorrow," Emily replies. There's a very scary and adult 'end of discussion' feeling to her tone so Hanna just nods and mumbles something inaudible in retreat.
So, after school, Hanna finds herself sitting on Aria's floor while her tiny friend is lying curled up on her unmade bed, facing the wall and giving no indication that she has even noticed Hanna coming in. The first twenty or so minutes, Hanna tries to start an innocent conversation, going from one carefully chosen, mindless topic—"Ms. Greene, the hippie art teacher, you know her, was wearing the ugliest dress today"—to another—"Like, I still don't understand why Marissa Cooper had to freaking die"—but Aria only makes weird sniffling noises and gives an occasional sob, and Hanna gives up, sighing dramatically. The following twenty minutes, she busies herself with her homework instead, internally screaming in agony whenever that awful Adele song comes on yet again but another twenty minutes later, the song actually starts so grow on her and she hums along absentmindedly while filling her nails so she startles when Aria gets off the bed without a word, takes her iPod off the station and throws it on the ground
She spins around in fury, clearly looking around for something or someone to scream at, and Hanna raises her hands automatically; Aria's hazel eyes soften at once as if she is seeing, really seeing, her friend for the first time since she'd come here. "Hi," she says in a small voice.
"Hi," Hanna responds, lowering her hands again and picking up her file. "You okay?"
"I..." Aria clears her throat and rubs her forehead. "I guess so. Sorry. I hate that song."
"It's OK. I wish you'd already done that before I got used to it though," Hanna jokes and smiles a little. She takes it as a good sign that the brunette returns her smile hesitantly while getting back on the bed. "Wanna watch a movie? I've got...Pretty Woman, When Harry Met Sally.."
Aria watches her with a confused smile as she digs out the DVDs out of her purse and throws them in her friend's lap one by one. "Han..."
"Bridget Jones' Diary, Pretty in Pink, Sleepless in Seattle..."
"Hanna."
"Ooooh...and Clueless, of course."
"Hanna," Aria repeats and the girl in question finally glances up, holding 27 Dresses in one hand and 10 Things I Hate About You in the other. "Thank you so much for being here, really, but I don't wanna watch a movie...or a TV show," she adds when Hanna's face lights up and she pulls The O.C. out of her other purse. "I just wanna be alone for a while, I think."
"No. You can't stay here like this forever. I'm not letting you."
"Watch me," Aria retorts, pushes the DVDs off her lap and goes back to her previous position, lying down and facing the wall and looking like a motherless kitten.
Another reason why Hanna hates breakups so much: her friends' pain makes her feel utterly helpless and powerless. She is not as articulate as Aria, she doesn't know what things are better left unsaid, what things she could mutter to make someone feel warm and loved; she is not as smart as Spencer, doesn't know stuff and doesn't give a flying fuck, really, about scientific researches on what things to do to heal a heartbreak properly; she is not as understanding and loyal as Emily, isn't that interested in everyone's point of view and making sure that everybody and their mom is happy and content. She is Hanna; just Hanna who loves her friends so, so much and in times like these, she suddenly feels like Hefty Hanna again. Useless and overwhelmed.
"Do you want to eat?" Hanna asks, getting up and sitting down next to Aria. "I can go and grab something. We can go out, if you want. Get drunk. Find a cute and decent guy. Someone our age, for a change. I mean...or we could go to the mall. Like, I saw a really...umm...pretty animal print skirt the other day and I'm sure you'd absolutely love it. Here, I even snapped a picture for you, if you wanna see."
"You know what else we could do? We could totally ruin Fitzy's life by hacking into his Facebook and Twitter accounts and posting stuff, like, those horrifying internet gore videos I watched when I had the swine flu, remember, and he would be fired for it, I bet, and..." Aria looks at her over her shoulder and frowns. "...not that anyone would ever do that," Hanna quickly adds and giggles. "Just a suggestion."
Sighing, Aria turns back around but reaches behind her, finds Hanna's hand and squeezes it gently.
"Or we could to this," Hanna mumbles.
She must have fallen asleep at some point, right after Aria had gone on a trip into dream land probably, because when she wakes up, it's already getting dark outside and the spot next to her on Aria's uncomfortably small bed is empty. It's still warm though as if the brunette got up only a couple of minutes ago and when she goes downstairs while checking her phone and texting back Emily to ask how Spencer is, she finds Aria in the kitchen. The girl seems to be in a much better mood than before which immediately cheers up Hanna, too.
"Good morning," the brunette sings and flashes her a smile. "Or good night. Whichever you prefer."
"Hey," Hanna answers in a sleepy voice and stifles a yawn as she sits down at the table. "You're in a good mood. Should I call the cops? Did you murder someone?"
"Ha, ha," Aria replies dryly, pauses for a moment and shrugs. "I honestly don't know. I feel a lot better than I did this morning...thanks to you, by the way."
"I didn't do anything," Hanna protests. "All we did was take a nap after listening to Adele."
"Yeah, we did, and it helped a lot. So thank you, Han. For coming over and being there for me today," Aria says, smiling another big smile and walking over to the fridge. Hanna feels proud of herself. "Also...I'd totally forgotten that you are a sleep talker. Which is funny, I didn't think that that would be something I would ever forget, but I guess it's because we just don't to sleepover parties anymore when they don't involve police stations, murder scenes, and being accused of killing our dead friend."
"Yeah," Hanna agrees, lost in thought, and then stares over to the brunette, eyes wide open, suddenly registering what she has said. "Wait, what was that? What did I talk about?"
This time, there is a definite smirk on Aria's face and she sticks out her tongue at the other girl, shaking her head in an I'm-not-telling-you way. It's great to see her this playful, this cheerful, so Hanna just rolls her eyes, lets her be, and doesn't question any further.
"I talked to Mike and he said he already ate so I thought I'd make us something for dinner myself, that OK with you?" Her tone is neutral but Hanna can almost see the way her body tenses up immediately when Hanna doesn't agree right away and because of that, the blonde has no other choice but to accept her offer. "I was thinking, maybe, vegan lasagna?"
"Ugh," Hanna blurts out and wrinkles her nose. Aria doesn't look amused. "I love you, Aria, I really, really do, but can we please eat something else instead? Like, you're not even vegan, you're vegetarian, and I for one want my cheese. I need my cheese. Real cheese."
"Fine," Aria retorts. "Something vegetarian then. But you're helping me cook."
Blowing a raspberry, Hanna stands up from her chair to walk over to the counter where Aria is already very busy preparing some vegetables. Then the dark-haired girl turns around to put on some music. No, it's not Adele and that awful song which Hanna has decided she hates again and yes, she might actually go to church this Sunday to thank god himself personally for it. They sing along with the iPod playlist, dancing through the kitchen during Baby and Aria actually does a very impressive Beyoncé imitation when Single Ladies comes on.
After a while, however, all the vegetables are chopped, they're waiting for the pasta water to boil and Aria asks her to pass her the salt and Hanna does so without another thought.
"Thanks babe," Aria then says absentmindedly. She is not wearing her shoes and Hanna, who already is a little taller than her, is still in her usual heels, and the kiss that Aria had leaned in for ends up on Hanna's chin. Almost simultaneously, both girls look up from their tasks and stare at each other confusedly. It's Aria who breaks the silence. "Whoa, what the hell."
And that's when, almost ironically, Katy Perry's I Kissed a Girl starts playing. Hanna roars with laughter, holding her sides. "Omigod, did you just confuse me with Fitz?"
"I...I guess?" Aria replies hesitantly and grimaces when Hanna's laughter goes from amused to downright hysterical. "I mean, we'd always cook together so I just, I don't...stop laughing."
"Do I have to wear vests and start writing poetry now?"
"Stop."
"Or are you going to make me wear ugly ties?"
"Stop," Aria repeats and blushes.
The blonde still can't contain her laughter. "I'm an English teacher. Ask me how."
"Stop, I mean it, or I'm telling Spence that it wasn't Melissa who ruined her skirt. It was you," Aria says, holding up a warning finger and poking her with it. Hanna's jaw drops comically. "Yes, Hanna Marin, I know about that. And there's plenty more stuff you told me while you were asleep. Hush now."
But she can't help it. When they eventually sit down for dinner and Aria places Hanna's plate in front of her, the blonde girl, in her most seductive voice, whispers a, "Thank you, baby", raises her head and puckers her lips. Aria groans and throws her broccoli at her.
IV.
Nobody throws a party like the DiLaurentis. And nobody throws a fit like the youngest member of the family.
With arms and legs crosses awkwardly, Hanna stands in the doorway of Ali's house, not quite knowing if she is supposed to finally come in and not daring to ask because the two siblings standing in front of her, barely three feet apart from each other, are having one of those fights. Not the ones where there is a lot of passionate and angry shouting coming from both ends—not the ones Hanna has seen Aria and her brother or Spencer and her sister have—but the ones that feel like eternal winter. Ice cold.
"I thought you were going to one of your friends tonight," Jason says in a very calm voice although both his facial expression and his body language tell an entirely different story.
Whereas Ali doesn't even bother trying to conceal her annoyance. "Change of plans," she replies with a shrug. "That a problem?"
Jason, too, gives a shrug that looks almost exactly like Ali's. "Yeah, it is, actually. Find someplace else to be." He glances at Hanna and then looks back at his sister who doesn't seem very content with his response. "'Cuz I really don't feel like playing babysitter for you and that Marin chick."
"I'm sorry but do I look like I care?" the younger sibling retorts, raising her eyebrows. Hanna manages to cover the involuntary giggle that spills from her lips halfway but it doesn't go unnoticed; Jason shoots her another dark look, and a smug grin grows on Ali's face. Apparently she is pleased with Hanna's reaction. Yay. "You want me to call mom and dad and ask what they think about Van Wilder – the Rosewood Sequel?"
Before he can even open his mouth to form an answer—and, judging by his frown, it wasn't going to be a friendly one, anyway—four really bulky and obviously already drunk guys push past Hanna wordlessly and walk into the house. They smell...odd, not covered in the the usual booze and sweat scent that seems to accompany all of Jason's other friends and Hanna wrinkles her nose in disgust, looking up to exchange an eye-roll with Ali but unsurprisingly, the blonde has disappeared from her spot and is nowhere to be found. Hanna gives a very deep sigh and steps into the house, closing the door behind her. Her friend knows full well that Hanna doesn't like being left alone with Jason and his stupid buddies—they make her extremely uncomfortable with their constant talk about inappropriate boy stuff she really doesn't want to hear—and frankly, Hanna doesn't care about any of this crap because she'd rather just go over to her house and hang out there than participate in this sibling rivalry bullshit.
She sighs once more and leans against the wall with crossed arms, watching the boys do their weird male greeting ceremony with the shoulder touching, fist-bumping, high-fiving and whatnot, but just then, her friend reappears, a smirk playing on her lips. "Why didn't you go upstairs already?" she inquires, then starts walking as if she isn't interested in Hanna's explanation anyway. Which she most probably isn't. She tugs Hanna towards the stairs by her wrist. "God, come on, don't just stand there like an idiot."
And as obedient as ever, Hanna follows. Then she remembers what had confused her a little earlier and she speaks up for the first time since coming over. "What is Van Wilder?"
"It's a movie," Ali explains with an unmistakable 'duh' in her tone. "I really don't know what to do with you girls sometimes."
Hanna's face falls. "I'm sorry."
"It's OK."
When they enter Ali's room and Hanna sits down on her bed, the other blonde swiftly moves over to her window where she stands for a couple of seconds—looking, no, staring out, observing—until she turns around with a sneer which Hanna is too wise to comment on and plops down next to her friend. "Anyway," she says and shakes her head as if trying to shake whatever she's just seen out of it while simultaneously reaching under her bed and pulling out two beer bottles. "Before I forget."
"Where did you get these?" Hanna takes one bottle from Ali's hands and looks at it.
The blonde rolls her eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Where do you think?"
Downstairs the boys are blasting an early '00s rap song that Hanna still remembers from elementary school—a time that was both better and worse than now, Hanna thinks—and she figures that some more guests have arrived. Hanna puts the bottle down on the floor without looking up.
Ali purses her lips impatiently. "Well?"
"I don't know," Hanna finally responds. "I didn't know you were planning on drinking tonight."
"Oh, come on," Ali replies, again rolling her eyes. "It's not like you never drank before. It's just one freaking beer, for god's sake."
"I know but I don't really feel like...I thought we'd watch a movie or listen to music or something...and beer smells really awful and my mom will notice when I go-"
"Don't be such a fucking Spencer," Ali cuts in, actually spitting out their mutual friend's name with so much disgust on her face that Hanna instinctively winces. They must have had yet another fight—something that happens a lot these days, Hanna remarks—which would explain Spencer's foul mood when Hanna had dropped by earlier. Ali starts to play with the bottle in her hands, peeling off the label with her colorful fingernails. It makes a weird sound and Hanna is suddenly very aware of the silence in the room. The other girl doesn't make any more comments or give out her usual and seemingly endless repertoire of torture but what she is doing now, it's much worse for some reason. Hanna feels awfully small, punished, and would prefer if Ali just went back to the mean remarks about her weight, her face or whatever the hell she now decides is bothering her about Hanna's appearance.
"I'm sorry," Hanna blurts out all of the sudden because she can't bear the silence any longer and, most importantly, can't deal with not having all of Ali's attention and affection any longer. It's sick and disturbing and she knows it, she hates herself for it, but then Ali glances up with raised eyebrows and a confused smile on her face and Hanna doesn't even have to stifle her anger, her desperation; it immediately melts away, just like that.
"For what?"
"I don't know. I thought you were mad at me."
"Sweetie, no. I'm not mad at you," Ali replies at once, laughing and shaking her head. She doesn't look like she's put much thought into it but Hanna feels as if Ali is laughing at her, shaking her head at her, at her stupidity, at her naivety, at dumb little Hanna. "What's with the puppy eyes?"
"I don't know," Hanna repeats, giving a weak shrug, and tries to stop giving Ali the puppy eyes or whatever. "I'm sorry."
"OK, now you're really annoying me," Ali says and although her tone is light, almost eerily and very un-Ali-like casual, Hanna avoids her eyes and stares at her own fingernails instead; her fingernails she'd spent hours on getting just rightand yet they still don't look, will never look as perfect as... "Just stop apologizing."
"Sorry."
Ali groans and lets herself fall down on the bed.
And Hanna drinks up her beer and finishes another one and accepts the third bottle Ali thrusts into her hands without a word of protest because if Ali decides that they'll be drinking tonight, then they will be drinking tonight; and Hanna calls her mom and tells her that she and Ali are sleeping at Spencer's place, and yes, mom, I do know that Jason's having a party, that's why we're going over to Spence, duh, because if Ali says that she has to lie to her mother for no reason at all, then she will be lying to her mom; and Hanna lets Ali do her fingernails after she listens to her ramblings for half an hour because if Ali thinks that her nails are ugly—something she'd already guessed, already known—then they are. That's the way it is. The perks of being friends with Alison DiLaurentis...or whatever.
But at the same time, it's one of the best things that have ever happened to her. They are sitting across from each other now, slightly buzzed but sober enough to just talk and Ali actually listens, listens to her babble about the TV show she is currently following, listens to her rant on about her biology teacher, listens to her gush over Sean, and she laughs at the right things and grimaces when Hanna pulls a face and "aw"s and "oh"s whenever the conversation calls for it and it's nice. It's nice when they can be like this, when she is allowed to feel a little good about herself, when she feels worthy of their friendship.
Then Ali tells her a story about how she'd once deleted everything off of Jason's game console's memory card after he'd ratted her out to their parents for sneaking out one night and the whole story seems fabricated, exaggerated, in a way, like everything about Ali usually does, and yet, Hanna can't help but start laughing.
The other blonde grabs at Hanna's face, squeezing her cheeks together and they both snicker and giggle a while longer, until Ali's short nails dig into her skin almost painfully, her laughter withers away suddenly and quite unexpectedly and she gazes down at Hanna with an unreadable expression on her face.
Her blues flicker to Hanna's lips, back to her eyes, then to her lips again and she looks like she is thinking really hard about something, spinning another trademarked crazy Ali idea inside of her malicious head but all that Hanna can see is her friend's widened eyes, strangely resembling one of those badly-drawn cartoon characters on television and she giggles once more. It's probably the alcohol.
As Jason hammers against Ali's closed bedroom door, shouting words Hanna's mother would scold her for repeating, Ali's eyelids flutter shut and she leans in by an inch or so and Hanna backs away reflexively. But a second later, Ali plants a small peck on her cheek, finally lets go and draws back with an insane laugh.
Yeah, Ali and Hanna have been friends for a while—has it already been years? Hanna isn't sure—and although Ali is quite like a matryoshka...or maybe even some kind of onion, having layers over layers over layers, Hanna has seen, gotten to known, some of her sides, even the more disturbing and uglier ones but whatever has transpired between them just now is something scarier and stranger than every single one of the more frightening layers of infamous Ali D combined. Sure, maybe she had thought about something like this once or twice...about something like this happening with someone in their group...but it had never been her, would never be...
"OK. That was weird," Hanna says and gives a nervous chuckle.
"Shut up," Ali snaps.
And then there is silence again.
Hanna feels herself shrink in size, break in half, and wouldn't mind if she magically disappeared right about now because Ali scoffs and narrows her eyes at her dangerously, saying it all without actually opening her mouth. The moment is gone. The lightheartedness from before, all the giggles and their closeness, all the jokes and easiness between them, it's disappeared. Like it always does.
It's kind of funny though. All it takes is one simple glare, one simple look, really, to make the somehow even more beautiful and yet even more vicious Ali inside Hanna's head wake up in fury and shout all kinds of things at her. Worthless and you're nothing without me and you need me and Hanna wonders whether the other girls, the other three of their little group, experience the same, wonders whether the blonde knows that Hanna has a tiny version of Ali inside of her head at all times, who keeps on punishing her for her wrongdoings, her bad behavior, when the real Ali is too occupied with herself to do it.
But when she dares to look up a few insanely long minutes later, the other blonde is still lost in thought, brows knitted together tightly, so obviously and extremely frustrated, a small snotty child about to throw a temper tantrum. How fitting, Hanna thinks but immediately regrets it after a moment.
"Ali?" she asks tentatively instead.
Snapping out of it, Ali flashes her friend a big smile and touches her leg. "I bought some new eye-shadows the other day. Can I try them out on you?"
It's not a question, not really, so Hanna merely blinks and doesn't answer and Ali certainly doesn't wait for one and instead gets to her feet to walk over to her vanity table.
And even though she is gone some weeks later, disappearing on a warm summer night, it takes days, months, even years for the Ali in Hanna's head to finally do the same.
V.
The day starts like any other—she pulls her blanket over her head after her alarm goes off and rolls around for a couple of minutes that somehow turn into half an hour, takes a quick shower, put on a close-fitting dress, grimaces, changes her outfit (twice), does her make-up in front of her magnifying mirror (gives a defeated sigh after spotting a few pimples on her forehead), accidentally spills some of the loose powder on her bed sheets, glues her fake lashes on, fixes her nail polish, hurries off to school, meets with the girls...just like any other day. They talk about -A over lunch, then they talk about boys, girls, school, the mall, and she keeps staring at Aria's food longingly until the tiny brunette looks at her in an (almost) intimidating way and says, in a very firm voice, "No, Han," and she has to give up (but still manages to steal some of Emily's fries when she isn't looking). After school, she decides to go shopping (alone because her friends are, like, way lame) to reward herself for not skipping P.E.
So, she's going through a rack of blouses on sale, right, and naturally, a shop assistant comes over and asks if she can help and Hanna nods absentmindedly and expects to find the same old but surprisingly friendly woman who usually works here next to her but when she looks up, the first thing she sees is...legs. Long legs. Very long legs—and did she mention exposed? Very long, exposed legs in knee-length boots that resemble dead animals eating her from the toes up. Hanna isn't blind. She can tell when someone's pretty, gorgeous, extremely and mind-shatteringly attractive. No, actually, scratch that out. Hot. But right now, she has a hard time telling whether she is simply appreciating the shop assistant's beauty or if this is all going into pink drink territory. The way her stomach makes a triple back flip when the girl gives her a very warm smile and touches her shoulder doesn't help either. Crap.
Hanna ends up buying nothing (but shoes in a different store) and drives home. Takes a couple of photos of her new purchases and puts them on Instagram. Hashtag self care. Does her homework while talking on the phone with Aria. Checks her Facebook feed. Orders pizza. Flips through TV channels. Has a quick chat with her mom. Goes to bed.
Really. Just like any other day.
And the fact that she can't stop thinking about the cute little shop assistant? That's something she'll deal with tomorrow.
The following day, the shop assistant—her name is Penny; Hanna just knows stuff, okay, she hasn't spend three freaking hours digging out that information so please stop looking at her like that, gosh—isn't there and Hanna is in an unexplainable bad mood when the enters The Brew a while later. She sits herself down on their usual sofa, arms-crossed, and follows Emily with her eyes as she walks from table to table, not even pausing to acknowledge Hanna's obvious dilemma. Scratch that out again. Obvious pain. Stupid Emily. Stupid Penny. Stupid everybody.
Emily's shirt rides up by an inch or so as she bends to pick up a few mugs from a now empty table, revealing a patch of the skin on her back and Hanna stares at it, can't help but stare at it, and she wonders, lips pursed and brows furrowed in concentration: Does she have soft skin? And she does, I've touched it before, it feels nice and God, Hanna, what is wrong with you?—and Emily straightens up, pulls her shirt back down, finally sees Hanna, and then she is walking over to her friend, smiling a little. "Hey. I didn't see you before. Can I get you something?"
"No," Hanna grumbles. "I'm in a bad mood."
"Yeah, kinda figured that out already." The brunette sits down on the chair across from her and nudges her feet with her own. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Hanna responds quickly and pulls her feet away. Hang on a second, a voice inside her head objects loudly, Emily's gay, right? Emily could totally help with...whatever this is. "On second thought, I do need to ask you something."
Not even hesitating for one tiny moment, Emily nods. "Ask away."
"If you had to date one of us, who would you date?" That's definitely not what she had meant to ask but the words spill from her lips before she can stop herself; Emily must have caught her very confused expression because she raises her eyebrows. Hanna tries to play it off with a giggle.
"What? What kind of question is that?"
"It's just a question," Hanna says and shrugs casually. Emily is still frowning. "No, come on. Just for the laughs, alright? If you had to date one of us—me, Aria or Spencer—who would it be?"
"Why would I have to? That's absurd," Emily replies.
The blonde gives another forced laugh. "Come on," she says, snickering. Not a big deal. "Let's say...let's say the fate of the world depended on it."
"Han, we are not on some SciFi show. I need to go back to work. You sure you don't want anything?"
Hanna grabs her by the hand immediately, pulls her back down and doesn't let go. "Come on. You must have thought about it once or twice. Play along. Who would you date?"
"I don't know. None."
"But then the world would, like, explode or something. You have to date one of us. Think of all the babies and kittens and cupcakes you could save."
"God, I don't know." Emily gives a sigh, looks up at the ceiling, thinking hard. Then: "Maybe Spencer. Happy now? Can I go back to work?"
"No," Hanna says loudly and feels her jaw drop. This is horrifying. This is betrayal of the highest order. "Why Spencer? She isn't even into girls."
"You and Aria aren't either," Emily reminds her, again raising her dark eyebrows. Great. There's that trademarked silently-juding-you-so-hard look. Hanna wants to scream. "I don't know. She is pretty, I guess, and she is a really great person. And I'd have to watch strange movies with Aria and listen to her talk about art and books all day if I dated her."
"Well, I'm pretty, too, you know," Hanna babbles. "And I've got a lot of character. I'm the bestest friend ever."
"That's great," Emily says and stands up. "Can I please go back to work now?"
"No." Hanna tugs her down again, hard.
Emily looks more puzzled than ever. "Why are you so mad?"
"Because. Why wouldn't you wanna date me?"
For a small moment, Emily says nothing, still staring at Hanna with a weird expression, as if she is too stunned to even form a word. "Why wouldn't I want—Han, that would be weird."
"But dating Spencer wouldn't be weird at all because she is so pretty and such a nice person."
"Seriously? Are you throwing a fit because you feel like I chose Spence over you?"
"And because you considered Aria over me. Aria. And the only reason you ditched Queen of Birds and settled for Hermione Granger is because she likes strange movies," Hanna says angrily. "And you know what? If I had to date one of you to save the world...I would chose...I would choose Spencer just to make you jealous. And then I'd constantly make out with her right in front of you and stuff. And tell you all about our amazing sex life. Are you happy now?"
"No," Emily says, shaking her head slowly. "To be honest, mostly I'm just extremely confused because I don't know what's going on."
Hanna grabs her purse from the sofa and stands up. "Thank you so much for choosing me to save the world with you. I thought we were, like, life partners. In crime. Grey and Yang. Or something. I guess not," she mumbles. "You can go back to work now. I'm out."
She lies on her bed, later, trying to drown out her thoughts by listening to really loud music—she is surprised her mother hasn't come in to complain about it yet—but it simply doesn't work because her mind constantly keeps getting back to Penny and her legs and Emily and her skin and Shana hitting on each and every single one of her friends and not hitting on her, and she buries her head in her pillow, tempted to just let out a growl of frustration, but instead a small laugh escapes her lips. It surprises her like the question that had involuntarily come out of her a mere couple hours ago; surprises her just like her leaning over to Mona, almost kissing her had surprised her; surprises her like Ali's behavior that night; surprises her like Spencer's shirt hitting her face; surprises her like Aria mistaking her for Fitz had. But what doesn't come as a huge surprise, as a shock, as something completely unexpected, is the realization that follows right after she lifts her head: she is filled with a lot of anger. At Emily for...not, wait, that doesn't feel right. At stupid Emily—there, much better—for choosing Spencer and Aria over her; at stupid Penny for not showing up today; at stupid everybody.
And maybe there's some jealousy, too.
Because here she is, having actually considered kissing Emily one or twenty times in the whole course of their friendship and that stupid ass wouldn't even choose her to save some innocent kittens from a gruesome death? What the hell?
Ugh.
Shrugging, Hanna stands up from her bed and decides that she is Action Hanna now. Action Hanna takes matters into her own hands, Action Hanna makes things happen, because Action Hanna is loveable and beautiful—and yeah, maybe the Destiny's Child song playing in the background kind of helps with the sudden burst of self-confidence—and Action Hanna sure is ready for some serious action. And kitten-saving. She checks the state of her make-up in her mirror, fixer her hair a little, takes her purse and phone and walks downstairs. Naturally, her mother is about to prepare dinner, a phone cradled between shoulder and ear, and waves at her daughter when she sees her. "Are you going out?"
"I've got some world-saving to do," Hanna replies in a mysterious tone. "I'm picking up Emily from work," she adds when her mother frowns and laughs a little, the person on the other line momentarily forgotten. "I'll be back in...like, an hour, I think?"
"Have fun, Catwoman," her mom calls after her.
So when Hanna rushes into The Brew, struggling to find her breath because she'd jogged the last few blocks—apparently, Action Hanna can't do everything—she throws her purse onto the counter carelessly. Emily is just about to finish her shift and looks up from the trash bags in her hand.
"We need to talk," Hanna tells her friend in a low voice. And puts her hand in her side, for the necessary dramatic effect.
"Is this about me dating one of you again? Because I really don't have time to discuss that. I need to throw these out and get home," Emily responds warily. "We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want."
"No, not about that," Hanna says, shaking her head. "Although I'll have you know that your hypothetical girlfriend was this close to making out with me once and your other hypothetical, bird-fanatic girlfriend totally kissed me...well, almost kissed me, but it's the thought that counts. So, yeah, sucks for you, Fields."
The other girl lowers the trash bags and opens her mouth to reply but Hanna cuts her off, waving her hand. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I went to the mall yesterday and there was this really attractive girl." Emily's eyebrows shoot up curiously. "And I couldn't stop thinking about her and now I also can't stop thinking about...and some things have somehow started to make sense. Wow, I really don't know where I'm going with this. I didn't even know that I was going to say that."
"OK," Emily says. She doesn't look as confused as she had earlier, instead her features are warm, incredibly soft and understanding, but she is still struggling to find the right words, that much Hanna can tell. "OK," she repeats, nodding slowly. The blonde watches her think, watches her frown some more, watches her form a helpful sentence in that totally Emily Fields way of hers, but then she reminds herself that she is Action Hanna now, and Action Hanna...
"I mean, look, there really isn't a foolproof way to-"
...Action Hanna cuts her off once again, this time by grabbing her by the head and planting a kiss on her lips. It's an innocent kiss, yes, but it lasts for far too long to be just shrugged off later, far too long to count as an accident, like most of the other (almost-)kisses in Hanna's life—far too long to be considered appropriate. Although Emily doesn't push her off, she doesn't exactly pull her closer either which, yeah, makes Hanna kind of bitter until she feels the other girl relax into their embrace after a few more seconds or so.
They break apart, eventually, because oxygen becomes a serious issue, and Hanna grins triumphantly. "Yep," she says and licks her lips. "Thanks Em."
She leaves her friend's workplace without another word but still throws a look over her shoulder to check Emily's reaction and is highly amused when Emily merely gapes at her. World successfully saved.
And the fact that something inside her desperately wants, no, needs to repeat that? That's something she'll deal with later.
Or maybe...
"Screw that," Hanna mutters to herself and heads back.
Or maybe she'll deal with that right now.