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-breathless-

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Summary: "His lips touch hers and suddenly all the tragedies of life seem just so inconsequential." Spoby 3x02. Oneshot.

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A/N: So… Season 3 has barely started and already I am in L-O-V-E with it. 3x02, however, is definitely one of my all-time faves. The Hanna/Mona chair-throwing scene. The revelation of Jenna not being blind ("I'm ready to hang a sign: bitch can see!"). And am I the only one who ships both Wranna AND Haleb? But, of course, what I loved the most was the super-steamy Spoby massage-turned makeout…and what I hated was Veronica's, ahem, awkward interruption. So, this is my take on Spoby 302, just because I love that they are so happy and adorable and in love (Especially after my heart was ripped out, trampled on, and tossed in a blazing inferno last season with the Spoby drama.) And also because 303 was so Toby- and Spoby-less.

So okay, enough of me talking. On with the story!

~Ana

P.S. if anyone wants to gush about season three, A theories, or anything PLL/Spoby-related, my pm box is open! :)

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She is exhausted. The stress of everything that has been going on—Mona, Maya, Emily, the dug-up grave, Alison, New A, Melissa, Garrett, not to mention school—has finally caught up to her. She's always been good at handling pressure (after all, she's a Hastings, and Hastings bounce back like superballs, as she had told her mother). She's the girl who handled school and charity-work and field hockey and "A" texts while balancing her high-pressure family life, her friends, and her boyfriend. But now…she can't. After everything that's happened, after all she lost, all she hurt, all she feared, it is supposed to be done. Mona's locked up at Radley; Garrett's in jail. It's over.

But it's not.

Game on, bitches. –A

A. That accursed initial she thought she'd never have to see at the bottom of a text again. How can A be back? And who is it this time? She knows there is no way Mona had acted alone, but what is the point of torturing them all over again? Haven't they been through enough?

Either way, New A has really amped up his/her game. Sending Emily Alison's (possible) veneers is pretty damn creepy…not that she expects anything short of that from A.

God. Why is it that whenever she thinks she can take a breath, A shoves her head back underwater?

A soft knock on the door startles her out of her reverie, and she realizes she's been staring absently at the book Mrs. Montgomery assigned for the month, and has been reading the same sentence over and over and over again. Slightly embarrassed, she shoves the book aside and opens the door. A pair of ice-blue eyes welcomes her, and in spite of herself, she manages a smile.

Before she can even open her mouth, his lips touch hers, his large hands tenderly cupping her cheek, and suddenly all the tragedies of life seem just so inconsequential. Surprised, all she can think to do is kiss him back. The kiss is long and sweet and soft, not tentative but not heated. It's perfect.

He's perfect.

Eventually, oxygen becomes a necessity again, and they pull back, their faces millimeters apart.

"Hi," she manages, speaking over her pounding heartbeat, a flush rising to her ivory cheeks.

"Hey," he replies, his deep dimples appearing as he tenderly smiles down at her. "How was school?"

"Um…" she stammered, still reeling from the kiss, "It-it was school. You know, the usual." The usual meaning freaking out and fishing necklaces made of teeth from toilet bowls. Her life is nothing but unusual, she thinks with irony.

Toby brushes a stray strand of her hair, escaped from her ponytail, behind her ear, gently brushing his fingers over her skin. "I missed you."

Her heart swells, a wide, almost instantaneous smile spreading over her face. "I missed you, too."

He takes her hands, guiding her backwards into the kitchen, letting the wood-paneled door close softly behind him. "What're you up to?" he inquires, toying with her fingers, his calloused yet tender hands rubbing against hers.

"Um…just stuff for, um, English," she stammers, distracted by the feeling of his skin over hers and the burn of want and desire and love it brings to her. "I have to read Hedda Gabler."

"Oh," Toby replies, guilt washing over his handsome face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you-"

"No." she interrupts, shaking her head vigorously. "Toby, you could never bother me. Actually, your coming here to check on me is you being your typically sweet self, and I"—she leans forward, touching his forehead to hers—"have almost no complaints."

"Almost?" he grins down at her. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you're too good of a distraction. But…I think maybe I can hold off five minutes. I mean," she adds, flirtatiously batting her mascara-soaked lashes, her mocha-colored eyes sparkling, "the book isn't going anywhere, right?"

Toby chuckles, squeezing her hands. "Spence. I'm not going anywhere either, you know. You're stuck with me."

"Good," she breathes, her eyes boring into his. "Because I really don't know what I would do without you."

He gently tips up her chin with his index finger. "You'll never have to know," he replies softly. "I'll be here as long as you want me."

Tears fill her eyes and for a moment the one coherent thought going through her mind is, I love you.

And she does. She loves him so, so much. The past five months, after Toby came back to her and Mona was locked up, had been the best of her life, the most absolutely perfect days. They spent most of the time doing nothing—walking along the beach; laying in her backyard and trying to spot shapes in the clouds; kissing on her bed; watching movies; and talking on the phone for hours. Toby had gotten his own place away from Jenna the Sister-Bitch, and Spencer was finally free of A and all the problems surrounding her.

But now A is back, and she is forced to lie to the only person who she really trusts, who she truly loves. And it's breaking her heart. After Toby returned, she promised him that there would be no more secrets between them, but now she is forcing herself to keep New A a secret from her protective boyfriend, in order to keep him safe, as much as it's killing her.

She can't think of anything to say, so she almost involuntarily jumps into his arms, hugging him with all the strength she has. He hugs her back, his arms securely holding her, as if he'll never let go. She buries her head into his shoulder as he kisses her head. "You're amazing," she murmurs into his collarbone.

"Look who's talking," he counters, smoothing her long hair back into her ponytail. "I love you, Spencer."

In response, she reaches up and kisses him tenderly on the mouth, pulling him closer. His lips, his touch, his taste, his scent…everything about him is so perfectly intoxicating that it makes her wonder how she can manage to spend even a second without him.

"Spencer…" he mumbles, pulling away.

"Toby."

Their eyes meet, dazzling turquoise and deep mocha meshing together, and Spencer feels her heart soar.

"You better go do your homework," he says softly, kissing her forehead. "And I have some work of my own to do." He picks up a set of blueprints that she hadn't noticed in her joy of seeing him.

"Okay," she sighs reluctantly, untangling herself from him. He squeezes her hand as she crosses the room to the couch, where her book sits, silently taunting her. Toby plops down on the kitchen island, moving aside a pot of coffee, probably lukewarm now; Spencer had made it over an hour before. Spreading out his work blueprints, he gets to work sketching. She can't help smiling at how adorable he looks, bent over the prints, his jaw adorably clenched. Reaching for her book, she begins to read, but she can't focus on the story of suicidal Hedda, thinking about something else: a Google search she'd done the night before. Maybe her boyfriend can shed some light on who New A could be—without knowing there even is a New A, she thinks resentfully.

"Where did Jenna go when music camp ended?" Spencer blurts, lowering her book. "Did your parents pick her up?"

He glances up from the blueprints, his brow furrowing slightly. "I have no idea, why?"

"Well," she begins, "that camp ended on August twenty-third. I looked it up online," she admits. "Did she just…stay up in the Pocconos?" Jenna would've had to go somewhere, considering that she had come back today. Maybe she has something to do with what happened That Night with Emily and the missing body. People lie, but medical records don't…Garrett had to be talking about Jenna. Right?

"Honestly, I don't know," Toby confesses, rolling up his supplies and sitting down on the loveseat next to her. "I was packing up my stuff before she even went to camp. Just eating breakfast there was weird," he adds, shaking his head.

"How come?" she asks in concern, putting the book down.

"My parents were treating Jenna like one of her snow globes," Toby explains. "After the surgery didn't work, it was like they were afraid she would crack if they asked the wrong question."

At least they ask questions, Spencer thinks bitterly. Her parents barely notice her existence, and when they do acknowledge her, it's to criticize and correct and demand. Letting out a sigh, she puts her head in her hands, attempting to block out all the problems and lies and secrets and danger and pain.

"Hey," Toby breathes worriedly.

"Mmmm?" she says into her hand, rubbing her aching temples. He touches her arm and she looks up into his clear blue irises.

"Come here," he beckons, holding out his arms. He pulls her closer, her back to him, and he rubs his hands up and down her back and shoulders. She swallows, the warmth of his touch sending bolts of electricity coursing through her veins. He smoothes the knots in her shoulders lovingly, and she lets out a slight sigh as the massage relieves all the tension of the past two years of her life—every A text, every book report, every sleepless night.

"You're a little tense," he murmurs, still stroking her back.

"Yeah, I was born that way," she jokes lightly.

He chuckles. "Maybe I can help with that."

Her eyes close in relief and contentment as his loving, tender touch travels over her skin. He lifts the hem of her shirt, his hands resting on her shoulder blades, and her breath catches in her throat as she feels him kiss the bare skin of her back, once, twice, three times…suddenly, an uncontrollable surge of love overcomes her, and she whirls around, pressing her lips to his. He kisses back, wrapping her in his arms as the kiss grows more heated. Spencer moans slightly into the kiss and he responds by kissing her deeply. They fall back onto the couch cushions, their mouths never breaking contact, her hands pulling on his navy polo, caressing the 901 FREE AT LAST inked on his hip. Her legs tangle through his as they kiss like it's the last time they'll ever have the chance.

She thinks about that afternoon in her bedroom, and how seeing him, his perfect body glistening from his shower, his blue eyes twinkling, in nothing but that towel, made her forget why she wanted to wait. They'd talked about their comfort level when a heated makeout one evening in July barely missed the cutoff, and if there was anyone she wants to be her first, it is Toby. But now, she wonders, why wait? She loves him, he loves her, and she's ready to take that step. But before she can even recollect her thoughts, the sound of her mother's clipped voice interrupts Spencer and Toby's passionate moment.

"Spencer?" Veronica calls, the door clicking shut behind her.

Oh, crap, Spencer thinks, breaking the kiss and struggling to disentangle herself from her equally startled and disappointed boyfriend. "Yeah, in here!" she yells back, yanking herself out from underneath him, both of them readjusting their rumpled clothing and mussed hair, praying Veronica wouldn't notice their swollen lips and flushed faces.

By the time her mother click-clacks in, wearing an elegant blouse and skirt, Gucci bag on her arm and hair perfectly styled, the couple is sitting stiffly on the couch, wearing innocent smiles. "Oh." Veronica stops short when she sees that her daughter isn't alone. "Hello, Toby." Ever since the night of A—er, Mona's—reveal, both Peter and Veronica have tried to be more tolerant of Spencer's relationship, deciding to "bury the hatchet", as Peter put it. "Or the hockey stick," Spencer had replied snarkily. But she is grateful to her image-obsessed parents for trying.

"Hey, Mrs. Hastings, how's it going?" Toby replies with a nervous smile.

"Oh, I've had better days," Veronica responds wryly. She crosses over into the kitchen, fiddling with the wireless phone. "Has your sister called?" she asks, directing the question at her younger daughter. "I've left three messages for her."

"Um, no," Spencer replies tentatively, sensing that something's up with her mother. "Is Melissa okay?" Ever since Melissa had her miscarriage in June, her sister has stopped calling, seeming to wallow in the grief of losing her last tie to her deceased husband. Spencer supposes she understands; even after everything, Melissa had loved Ian, and baby Taylor even more.

"I don't think okay really applies in her situation, now does it?" Veronica flashes Spencer a hard look. Spencer winces. Her mother is a force of nature when she was stressed or angry, not unlike Spencer herself. Veronica clears her throat, glancing back over at Toby, still sitting awkwardly on the couch. "Will you be joining us for dinner, Toby?"

"Well, I was-" Toby begins, pausing as Spencer places her hand gently on his thigh. He meets his girlfriend's eyes and she shoots him a pleading look, begging him to stay. He can almost hear her crooning, please, Toby? Chuckling slightly under his breath at the damning effect she has on him, he turns back to Veronica with a smile. "Sure."

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"Pass the salt," Peter asks his wife, blowing on the stew in front of him.

"I got it, Dad," Spencer replies, handing her father the saltshaker.

"Peter," Veronica clucks her tongue in disapproval. "You're not supposed to have salt remember?"

Peter waved his spoon dismissively. "Psssh. That doctor doesn't know anything."

"Uh, Dad, they don't pass out medical degrees on the street, you know," Spencer points out.

Peter, Veronica, Spencer, and Toby are seated around the Hastings' dining room, bowls of stew and pieces of garlic bread in front of them, making small talk.

"Or law degrees," Veronica points out.

"Hard work day?" Peter asks his wife, reaching for a piece of garlic bread.

Veronica nods. "Understatement. Actually," she continues, picking up her still half-full bowl and walking it to the sink, "I think I'm going to turn in early."

"You sure?"

Veronica nods. "An aspirin and some sleep will do me good. Goodnight."

"Bye, Mom," Spencer says, smiling weakly at her obviously overworked mother.

"Feel better, Mrs. Hastings," Toby adds.

Veronica turns in the doorway. "Veronica. Call me Veronica." She offers Toby a tight smile which he returns.

"Okay…Veronica." He tries out the informal title, and Spencer grins secretly. "Thank you, for dinner. It was great."

She nods approvingly, glancing at her daughter. "Get some sleep, honey."

"Sure, Mom," Spencer reassures.

Once she's gone, an awkward silence fills the table.

"So, Toby," Peter says casually, breaking the silence. "Spencer mentioned you were renovating the new coffeeshop downtown?"

"Yeah," Toby answers, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin by his plate. "I got a loft above the Brew, with free room and board. The renovation process was pretty extensive; I was roughing it for a while." He laughs nervously. Given his history with Spencer's father, the dinner is going pretty well, Spencer thinks. She's proud of her boyfriend for earning her parents' trust and approval, even though it has taken a while. After all, better late than never. She has always known her parents will recognize how much Toby meant to her, and now it seems they have.

"That's great." Peter replies, seeming genuinely proud. "You have a lot of talent. And I'm glad my daughter has someone around to care for her."

Spencer takes his hand under the table and holds it atop his knee, smiling at him as if to say I'm glad I do, too.

He squeezes back, I love you, saying, "I'm glad I have your daughter around, Mr. Hastings. Spencer…is amazing. She really is."

"Took you long enough," Spencer jokes, squeezing Toby's hands tighter.

Peter smiles slightly, watching the lovestruck couple. "Well, take good care of her," he tells Toby firmly.

"I always will," Toby replies, reaffirming the vow he made to himself the second after he first kissed the brunette outside of the motel. "I promise."

Peter nods, rising. "I'd better turn in, too. You have a good night, Toby."

"You too, Mr. Hastings," Toby echoes politely.

"Get some rest, Champ," Peter kisses Spencer's cheek, and she rolls her eyes mentally, silently willing him to just go so she can kiss her boyfriend.

"Okay. Goodnight."

Peter heads up the winding staircase to his room, leaving Spencer and Toby alone. For a moment, they just look at each other across the cherry wood dining set, their gazes searing into each others' souls, their heartbeats accelerating. Then she's in his arms and they're hugging tightly, as if to protect each other from all the evils of the world, and Spencer feels safe. She feels happy. She feels loved.

And she loves Toby, too.

"That went really well," she gushes, pulling away to grin up at her boyfriend. "My mom wants you to call her Veronica, and my dad pretty much just gave us his blessing!"

Toby laughs softly. "I know. And, honestly, I'm a little scared of what he would've done if I had said anything other than how amazing you are."

"Well, that's what the gun over the mantle is for," Spencer deadpans. At his horrified look, she laughs. "I'm kidding. Honestly, though, you did great. I'm so proud of you."

Toby smiles softly. "That's all I wanted to hear."

As their lips touch, all that's going through Spencer's mind is that she really cannot live without him, without this. She's really and truly in love, and suddenly a flash of fear stabs through her heart: What does New A plan to do to Toby?

"Spence?" Toby breaks away, concern washing over his features, and she realizes that she's stopped kissing him. "Are you okay?"

"How could I not be?" she replies, brushing her fears away. She'll protect him, no matter what she has to do, who she has to hurt, what lies she has to tell. Toby is not going to get hurt at her expense. Not again.

"Toby?" she mumbles into his shoulder.

"Mmmm?"

"You're the amazing one. I just wanted you to know that."

He kisses her tenderly. "And I want you to know that I'm crazy about you."

She giggles. "Or crazy, period?"

"Oh, that's how you wanna play it?" he grabs her, tickling her mercilessly until she shrieks, "Toby! Toby, st-stop! Please…please, I-I can't…I can't breathe."

He laughs, too, bending down to kiss her neck as she steadies herself, panting. "I love that."

"What? Torturing me?" She scoffs sarcastically.

"No," he replies, smoothing her hair. "The sound of your laugh."

She smiles slowly, feeling herself melt. Toby has always been the more romantic one, not that she hasn't pulled a Juliet move now and then. "Well, I love when you do that thing where you take my breath away. All I have to do is look into your incredible eyes, or hear your voice, or feel you touch me, and I forget how to breathe. I think that's one of the side effects of that disease—what's it called?—oh yeah, love."

"Mmm. You should probably get that checked out," he teases, stroking her fingers.

"See, that's the thing. It's incurable. The only way to satisfy it is…to…do…this." She kisses him lightly on the jaw, running her fingers through his soft chestnut hair, ruffling it slightly.

"Hmm, well I think I've been a victim to this disease for a while," Toby tells her, putting his arms around her tiny waist. "Actually, ever since a certain gorgeous girl showed up on my front porch with a French workbook."

Her brown eyes flit from his lips back up to his own icy-blue eyes, her voice raspier than usual as she breathes, "Well, she's really lucky to have a boyfriend as incredible as you."

"No. I'm the lucky one."

And then they're kissing again, emitting all their love and need and want into the moment. Emitting how much they love each other, how they would do anything for each other.

"I'd better go," Toby murmurs, reluctantly pulling away.

She swallows back her disappointment. "Okay." It's getting late. She has school tomorrow, but all she wants is Toby. She has to remind herself that they're only teenagers; life doesn't work like that. Not yet, at least.

"Tomorrow, we'll pick up where we left off," he promises, giving her a final, lingering kiss.

"Sounds great," she sighs, looking up at him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he kisses her head. "Sweet dreams. I love you."

She watches him drive off into the night, watches as the truck grows smaller and smaller and then disappears entirely, thinking that while life can throw its curveballs, sometimes the most unexpected can turn out to be the very best.

And Toby is proof of that.

Fin.

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