*Edited for stupid mistakes. Thanks for Anon :) *

Since all of you are so amazing, I'm doing some FoF! Thanks for my loyal readers/reviewers, and any newcomers. You motivate me beyond belief!

neverhappy10: Hahaha I laughed so hard when I read your comment. Worry not, this is not a suspense story. I'd love to write one, but I don't think I have that ability - yet - to do something of that caliber, and make it good. And you should probably get off your knees and sit down. Some one has to have some nice chairs for you to sit in, you know, prop your feet up, stay a while!

Irishgrl33: Is it Arthur playing matchmaker? Or maybe it's someone else and he's just made aware? Questions questions questions. Ah, who am I kidding, it's Arthur. As for Paula...she's not entirely aware of things, though, for her part, Ashley really isn't, either.

TheNerd181: Wow, that's a very good theory, and obviously well thought out. But, as any author should do, I must maintain an air of mystery! Never reveal how your trick is done, only show the finished product. I'm very glad you like this story, and hopefully, however I end this story, it'll meet your expectations.

imaferrari: Ahh, such a loyal reviewer, you are :) First of all, I love your username, because ferraris are the bomb! And whenever I say it, I sound like the girl from Finding Nemo saying "I'm a piranha!" Second, I can't believe you consider me comparable to those brilliant writers. You make a girl blush! I'm so very very happy you enjoy this. It's been a blast writing it, and I think it's probably more angsty than I usually do, but that's what makes it so much fun. And Arthur is a very observant guy, just like he was in the show. That being said, he definitely has other things to base his assumptions off of, whether from Spencer's actions or Ashley's words.

LyricalHarmony53: Love? Well I love that you love this story! And especially that you find my writing style unique. I strive to be like so many of the great writers on this site, but I do try to keep it my writing style. Copies are never as good as the original, and I never want to replicate another writer's works. So thank you, I think that may be the best praise I've received ever :)

JJ: Number 100! I totally hope confetti and balloons popped out of your computer as you clicked to submit your review. Thanks for pushing this story to triple digits! I'm sending you a hug via Internet! And I really like having DreamSpashley compared to realworld Spashley, because I want readers to truly understand how conflicted Spencer is. Even though she's completely aware of the major differences, what with one being real and the other, obviously, not, it just makes it that much harder for her. In one world her and Ashley are perfect together, and in the other, it's like they are just standing still, and she hates it because she knows where they could be. As far as more intense Spencer, you bet! She is more sarcastic and caustic, and while she's not depressed or unfeeling, life is definitely not perfect, and she has some issues with her mother that have shaped her to be at least a little bitter. Honestly I enjoy writing a more sarcastic Spencer. On the show she's portrayed as more sweet and innocent, and I feel like she probably was all that, but also was a smart-ass underneath.

Son of Sam: Haha a baby moose-lion? I'm shuddering as I picture that, yet laughing at the same time. But I'm flattered that you love this story enough to kiss such a...interesting baby. Lol. Thanks for your review!

chunkymonkey3: You know, as much as I love real kisses, sometimes the sweetest message can be conveyed through cheek kisses. And though Ashley wasn't conveying any type of love through her kisses, it was a show of affection, and for both of them a very meaningful gesture. It gives a little insight into Ashley and gives a little hope for Spencer. Basically a win-win, no?

Chapter 10

My apartment is immaculate. Anything that could possibly look like clutter has been shoved into my closet. I've dusted, vacuumed, and mopped every surface, and when I felt like I was about to pass out from the strong scent of bleach, I lit a candle, praying I wouldn't find out the hard way that bleach fumes are flammable.

In case you haven't guessed it, Ashley's coming over.

Sure, she won't be here for about another hour, but that's about how much prep time I need. I kind of wish I hadn't cleaned and dressed already, because now I'm nitpicking. My stack of magazines has been straightened about ten times, my hair brushed so much that I'm afraid I'm becoming a trichotillomaniac.

I'm already regretting my decision to apply lotion, what with my hands sweating, creating a slimy combination. They've been wiped repeatedly on my shorts, which in turn have been smoothed out just as often.

The phone rings, successfully scaring the shit out of me and causing me to bust my ass to try to find it. You think with its obnoxious ring it would be easy to find. This, however is not – nor ever – the case. I just know it's Ashley calling to cancel, turning me down for some actual fun.

I stare at the damned phone, debating whether to answer or not while mentally counting the rings. It's on five now, which means it has two left.

Now one more left before the call ends.

I roll my eyes at myself before answering, slightly out of breath. "Hello?"

And I wait. For Ashley to tell me she can't make it, for her to tell me she has better things to do than waste precious time with me.

"Hello," a robotic voice answers, making me sigh. "This is Linda with Child Services. It has come to our attention that you have not been making payments on your child. Failure to do so can – and will – result in legal action. If you have any-"

I hang up quickly, staring at the phone with wide eyes. Stepping back cautiously, I hear a knock at the door, scaring me – once again.

Thinking it's some deranged Child Service representative, I look through the peephole, breathing a huge sigh of relief when I see Ashley. Realizing that, holy shit, it's Ashley, I wipe my hands again take a cursory smell of myself, nodding in assent that I don't smell too terribly.

"Hey," I say casually as I open the door.

Ashley smiles, stepping forward and hugging me without any pretense. "Hey," she returns. "Sorry I'm kind of early."

"It's okay, I don't mind." She has no idea how much I downplay my response. She has no idea that I'm still tingling from her hug.

She walks in, eyes sweeping around my apartment as it has every single time she's been here. As she plops down on the couch, she looks at me with concern. "Everything okay? You seem...distracted?"

"Actually no," I answer grimly, making my way over to her and sitting beside her. I can't help but notice that she sat on the couch this time, leaving the chair vacant.

I watch her sit up straighter, eyes roaming over my face. "Oh God, what's wrong?"

I sigh. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I, uh...I have something to tell you."

She sits up even taller, if possible, and nods, urging me on.

"I..." I drop off and let my head shift away from her. "I'm not making payments on my child. And now...now Linda is after me."

I watch in enjoyment as her face scrunches up. "Payments on your child? And Linda who? Blair?"

I laugh at this, unable to hold onto my serious disposition. I shake my head. "I just got a random call from Child Services telling me that, not only do I have a child, but I'm not making payments on them. Go figure."

Ashley starts to smile. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "it sucks for whoever was really supposed to get that message." She relaxes back into the couch. "Now enough about your drama, let's watch other people's drama!" She yanks the TV remote off the table and puts her feet up, crossing them by the ankles.

She looks completely comfortable, and it warms my heart watching her so relaxed, looking like she belongs.

We watch TV in silence, except for Ashley's occasion criticizing. I smile because it's hilarious, and because she's so cute. I smile because she's here with me, once again. I smile because her heat next to me has never felt so warm, and knowing she's this close and yet not touching me is the best kind of torture ever.

When I feel one of her fingers lightly dance across my own, I jump and snap my attention to her, a questioning look in my eye. I'm extremely thankful that she's further away from my heart, though I'm not entirely convinced she can't hear its pounding.

"You have beautiful hands," she says simply, as if she's merely commenting on the weather. As if her action hasn't completely thrown me off kilter.

Unable to form an coherent response, and still a little unsure of how some one can have beautiful hands – well, besides her – I just stare at her, hoping my eyes convey a silent question to cover up my loud longing.

Her finger traces my knuckles, sliding delicately, deliciously, over my skin in a caress that drowns out the noise of the TV and all other potential distractions. I silently will her to meet my eyes, but she's focused on her task, as enthralled as I am.

"I've never really thought much about hands, but yours are just..." She gives a soft smile to accompany her soft words, shaking her head at herself like she can't believe she's saying all of this, either. "Beautiful."

Ashley's chin finally lifts, and her eyes are lock with mine. The eerie glow from the TV is the only reason I know it's still on. I can't hear the sound, not with the loud ringing that's echoing in my brain. The small puffs of air leaving my parted lips are the only reason I know I'm still breathing.

Now that I'm convinced I'm alive, I wish I could be convinced I'm not dreaming. And maybe I am. Surely her soft touch is too good to be true. Her eyes too warm and soulful to be real.

And as I let my gaze flicker from her face to her fingers on my hand, I'm reminded of this exact same position with dream Ashley, of what was about to happen with us. Of how her delicate face leaned toward my own. Of how the hand that lightly rubs my own was instead cupping my cheek, cradling me. Drawing me closer to her when I didn't think it possible.

As Ashley suddenly leans back and removes her hand, effectively destroying whatever was happening, I'm reminded of the disappointment that dream Ashley felt. The irony isn't lost on me, and neither is the bitterness or longing.

I force myself to bring my hands together, lacing them protectively in an attempt to feign casualness, like I'm unaware that something was about to happen. Like I'm not wanting to close my eyes and let tears overtake me.

My body rises and falls with each unsettled breath, trying, just like the rest of me, to find a normal rhythm, the one we had just five minutes before. Or maybe one that's older than five minutes. The one it had before Ashley.

The evening progress in silence, thankfully not awkward, and when I get up to use the bathroom, I make sure to sit a few more inches away when I return. Whether Ashley notices, or cares, is a mystery, and I do my best not to dwell on those thoughts.

And when Ashley does her predictable routine of checking her phone and telling me she has to leave, I don't feel my stomach clench in disappointment, only because it hasn't unclenched from before.

"Maybe we can do this tomorrow?" she offers happily, throwing me her smile, the one that never fails – and never will – to make my heart ache.

"Yeah," I promise, probably emptily. It doesn't escape my notice that she doesn't ever invite me to her place. Again, I try not to dwell on it.

Ashley nods and smiles, throwing her arms around me like is customary. Normally this consistency makes me grin like an idiot. Now it only makes me feel constricted.

I release her quickly, echoing her goodnight sentiments and smile, laughing as she jokes about my unpaid child in Guatemala.

As soon as she's out the door, I lock it and walk to the couch, grabbing the remote and forcefully mashing the power button. I feel a sick sense of pleasure as darkness envelops me.

I stand in the dark living room, only for a moment, before the tears start to fall, and then I'm sprinting to my room, collapsing on my bed. My eyes are closed tight, and I know I won't open them until morning.

"I didn't think you'd come back," Ashley tells me sadly. I notice that her ring is turned upside down. This hurts more than I can say.

I walk over to her, stopping in front of where she's sitting on the chair. "I had to." My hand reaches out, waiting anxiously for her to place hers in it.

She doesn't make me wait long, releasing a small, defeated sigh as she does so, allowing me to pull her up. "Why?"

I hold up my ring, smiling softly. "Because of this."

Ashley gives a small laugh, obviously having forgiven me. "Is that the only reason?"

My head shakes back and forth, the smile on my face widening rapidly. "No."

I cup her face in my hands, stroking her cheeks. The smile she gives in response causes my heart and stomach to clench with anxiousness and nervousness. And a little guilt that is quickly pushed far away.

"And because of this," I whisper, and then I pull her mouth to mine, knowing I won't open my eyes.

Not until morning.

A/N: A little fyi, that phone call actually did happen to me! I was at school watching TV when a number from California called me, and it was some automated message about paying for my child. My friends got a good kick out of it, and I did too, though I couldn't help but feel a little bad for whoever should have gotten that message. Oh well, I still slept the same that night.