A/N: This is totally AU. Basically it's Spashley (eventually) and is about Spencer working out some issues. I really don't know how to describe it without giving too much away. Please review, as this is my first SON fic. And I hope to update at least once a week, but I can't make any promises.
It's always the summers I think of when I think of my family. I remember the mid-June days in Ohio when the heat seemed unbearable, even though most temperatures only hit the upper eighties. It was on these days when we would jump off the rickety pier behind our house, me and Glen and Clay. We'd play in the water for awhile; Marco Polo or water tag, but mostly Star Wars. Glen would be Darth Vader, and Clay would be Luke. I'd be Leia, but would get in the fight with Vader, too. Then we'd get bored and ask my dad to come in with us. He'd always be sitting with Mom on the deck chairs reading a news magazine, shirt off and swim trunks ready to go. Dad made a big show out of it every time. He postponed and debated with himself, causing us kids to laugh like there was no tomorrow. Finally, we'd yell at him enough and he'd come in. After he jumped in, Mom would get out an inner tube and float around with us, too, but only if we promised not to splash her. Then we'd climb back onto the pier, where Dad cooked an amazing dinner of hamburgers, hot dogs, French fries, and cole slaw, while Mom mixed a salad with her homemade dressing. We took our hamburgers and hot dogs and French fries on paper plates and carried them out to the edge of the pier with the cole slaw and the salad in bowls. We dangled our feet over the side and when we were done, Dad would pull out a box of ice cream sandwiches. Even Mom took one. The five of us smothered our faces in chocolate cookie and vanilla ice cream, laughing at who had the messiest face. Cleaning up didn't take too long, with all of us helping, and we usually made it out in time to catch the fireflies before Glen, Clay, and I had to go to bed, listening to the soft hum of the fan.
It's always these days that I think of when I see her. She never had a family to spend those summer days with. Even though she grew up in LA, there were still those peaceful, slow-moving days. And she couldn't walk along the palm trees or down the streets with anyone because she didn't have anyone. When she was older, she told me, she would walk down them alone, or with her friends. But never with her family. Because she didn't have my family.
We're caught in the middle, me and her. We're like a lake that's frozen over, but isn't solid enough to skate on. Like a song that's not fast enough to dance wildly to, but isn't slow enough for a slow dance either. We're like the time between autumn and winter that's too warm for a winter coat, but too cold for a fleece. We're at that awkward stage in a relationship. The one that follows a deep friendship, but isn't quite ready for a romantically passionate love.
So we sit and we talk. And sometimes we touch. Chastely. For now it's enough. But I don't know for how long it will be enough.
Ashley and I are out in the middle of Indianapolis on a Saturday night in mid-May. It's almost summer break from UCLA, and she's busy planning our summer trip. She's laughing and telling jokes, and all I can think of is the renewal of the LA summer heat for this year. We're walking home after a night out; nothing loud or anything, just the two of us having a casual dinner together. We did this every Saturday night. Then, we'd stop at the Blockbuster a couple streets down from our house and rent some stupid movie that we've always wanted to see, but never got around to it.
"So, what'll it be tonight?" she laughs as we walk in.
I'm saved from having to answer by Aiden, the check-out boy who's always on duty when we come in on Saturday nights. "Hey, girls." I assume that there's not much traffic around the store at this time, because Aiden always has at least equally cheesy two movies picked out for us.
And tonight is no different. Smiling his goofy grin, he puts the DVD cases behind his back and asks us to guess. Just like always.
"Left," Ashley says quickly. She picks left every single time, but that doesn't seem to bother Aiden.
"Good choice," he commends. Aiden pulls out a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" DVD. "A very corny show."
"There's a movie?" Ashley wonders obliviously. Aiden smirks. She sighs. "What's option number two?"
Aiden whips out his other choice with flourish: "Moulin Rouge." "I figured this was right up your alley. Chick flick sort of thing."
Ashley snorts at him in response. "'Moulin Rouge?' I'd shoot myself before I ever watched that again."
I stare at her awestruck. "That's one of the best movies of all time! How do you hate it?"
She shrugs. "Not my type of show, I guess. Let's get something other than Aiden's choices."
Just like every week. We argue about one of the movies briefly (tonight briefer than usual), and then reject both choices. Aiden slumps behind the counter, depressed, like a dog being told its owner couldn't play fetch right now. Then we browse all the racks, and Ashley starts complaining about how TV shows are better than movies. I'll ask her why we don't rent some TV show boxed sets, and she disagrees and huffs, stating that we should just get a movie instead. That's what happens every week.
We settled on "Pride and Prejudice" after much begging on my part and promises that she could pick the next time. But she never picked the next time, because I always picked the movie, or we agreed on one.
Aiden pulls himself out of his swivel chair and rings us up at the cash register. "'Pride and Prejudice?'" he says. "What's with the retro?"
"It's not retro," I insist. "It's classic."
"Whatever." He hands to us without asking if we want a bag. We never do.
"Bye, Aiden," Ashley says with a little wave. We head home, walking in silence. But as soon as we open the door to our dorm, Ashley starts talking a mile a minute as she changes into her pajamas- tonight, a T-shirt and bootie shorts. It's hot in LA, and our air conditioning doesn't work.
"So, you wanna make some popcorn?" she asks. I'm lost, not listening, seeing the summer night outside and noticing the lack of fireflies.
"Huh?"
"Popcorn. What's with you Spence?"
I shake my head as I get undressed awkwardly. "It's nothing. Just summer haze."
"I so get that," Ashley laughs. It's always good to see her laugh, especially since she rarely does it around the time when we have our finals. She flops down on the bed dramatically, and I allow myself to giggle. "Why can't school be over already?"
"'Cause it's not?" I'm dressed, and I feel better now. She moves over to her half of the bed. We have two beds, but on movie night, we always share one. Hers. On movie night, it's ours. We fall asleep, and I wake up, head on her chest, her nose buried in my hair. Always.
"Why're watching this movie?" she wonders as she throws it to me to put in to the DVD player.
"You could've said no," I point out, searching for the right button.
"I can never say no to you." Even though my back is turned, I can practically hear her grinning.
"Aw, how sweet," I joke. I climb into the bed, pulling the light sheet over me. I need some form of blanket over me; it's like a comfort. Even in the summer, I need it. I lean up against Ashley as the movie's opening credits begin.
I fall asleep before the end of the movie. I can never stay awake for the entire thing, mostly just a bit past the three-quarter mark.
The next morning, I shift and inch myself closer to Ashley's warmth. I hold onto her tightly while still being half-asleep, and then I realize that I didn't see the movie end. I shake her lightly, until she grumbles something about dish soap an opens her tired eyes.
"What happened?" We go through this every Saturday morning; she knows exactly what I'm talking about.
"That Darcy guy got with Kiera Knightley," she mumbles, throwing her head under the pillow, trying to shut out the world for just a little bit longer.
"That's it?"
"Yes. What time is it?" I look at the clock on the nightstand in between the two beds.
"8:30."
"Why are we up so early?"
"You don't have to get up."
She lifts her head up from the pillow and looks at me deeply. "But I want to."
And that's how it always is on those Friday nights and Saturday mornings.