A/N: The moment you've been waiting for will be in the chapter after this. I promise.

This is a long chapter so let's keep this brief.

Onward.

CHAPTER 10

It was 8:15 when Toby walked into the restaurant, knowing that he was already running hopelessly late.

His parents had insisted that he get a summer job after his sophomore year, complaining that if his grades weren't going to be up to par, he had to do something productive. His final report card had left something to be desired, most certainly, and his folks didn't take mediocrity lightly.

He had been furious at first. He didn't want to spend the majority of his summer stuck indoors, unable to enjoy the weather. However, upon obtaining a construction job that allowed him to work in the sunlight, he found that he didn't mind as much as he thought he would. He was making money by doing something that he was good at, and was able to enjoy the summer's warmth at the same time.

But tonight they had kept him well past his usual clock-out time. And he was unforgivably late for Spencer's Sweet 16 birthday dinner.

He was perplexed when he didn't see her at first. She had explicitly said that the corner table had been reserved specifically for their group of friends – but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, all he saw was Ian and a couple guys from the football team, lounging back in their chairs like they owned the place.

"I told her that nobody likes a girl who won't put out," Ian was telling his friends brashly, taking a generous gulp of his soda. "I mean, it's the truth. It's not my fault that she took it so personally."

"It's her birthday, Ian," Garrett argued with half-hearted disapproval, picking apart the crust from his sandwich. He did not elaborate on the explanation, however. He knew better.

And for good reason. Ian was already leaning over the table to challenge his friend, looking irritated that he had disagreed with him.

"And I had a romantic night planned for her," he insisted waspishly. "But she ruined it because she's a prude."

Toby could feel his nostrils flare involuntarily as he strode up to the table. Garrett was the first to notice him, his eyes widening at his arrival. This somehow accelerated his adrenaline rush as he flipped an empty chair around, straddling it casually.

"Hey, Ian," he greeted nonchalantly. "How are the blue balls treating you today?"

Ian squared his jaw in indignation, purposely ignoring the way that Garrett had choked into his drink with laughter. "She's not here anymore," he responded simply. "So I don't have anyone to hold me back from kicking your ass."

Toby shrugged noncommittally. "I spend my days laying brick and lifting hundred-pound construction supplies," he began. "That's not to say you're not welcome to try, but, just know that I'm not as helpless as one of your AV Club geeks."

Ian rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Don't test me, Cavanaugh."

"How does it feel, by the way?" Toby asked, mockingly rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. "Knowing that the most action you get is in your own room, late at night, twiddling your pencil dick all by your lonesome?"

Garrett was hiding his face in his hands, his body shaking with silent laughter. Ian was shooting daggers at his friend, aghast at his disloyalty.

"Anyway," Toby started coldly, standing from his chair and lowering his face toward Ian's. His opponent stared him down, his gray-blue eyes flashing furiously at Toby's audacity. "If you try to make her do something she doesn't want to do, I will personally neuter you myself. Is that clear?"

Ian's face flickered for only a brief second, his stony expression returning as soon as it had vanished. Toby didn't give him a chance to reply; he was already slinging his jacket over his shoulder and making his way to the door.

"Shut up, Garrett," Ian growled derisively from somewhere behind him.

Toby smirked to himself as he left the restaurant and hopped back into his car. He couldn't be sure, but he had a pretty good idea of where he would be able to find her.

He drove a few minutes to the local playground, putting his car into park just as the sun began to dip into the expansive horizon. He made his way up the path, a small dusk chill passing over his arms as his eyes roved the park equipment.

There she was. Sitting pensively on a swing, rotating her body back and forth ever-so-slightly by digging her heels into the sand. He silently took the swing beside hers, his eyes trained on the sunset in front of them. She briefly regarded him with a glance before following his gaze. It was one of the many instances where words weren't necessary.

"I went to the restaurant," he declared shortly. "You weren't there."

"Ian and I got into a fight," she explained, her voice raspier than usual. "I didn't want to be around him anymore."

"You're a saint for being around him at all," Toby chuckled darkly.

She looked at him with impatient pleading, asking wordlessly for him to withhold his judgment. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

The silence befell them once more, both of them studying the incredible pink and purple hues that the setting sun was casting on surrounding clouds. Another breeze swept through the air and she shuddered involuntarily.

He was shrugging off his jacket before even thinking about it. "Here," he declared, using his feet to pull his swing closer to hers and drape it over her shoulders. She smiled sadly in gratitude, holding it closed at her chest with one hand.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Toby?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course I do," he answered honestly. "You're very pretty."

She was chewing on her lower lip now, eyes trained on the ground in front of her. "Sometimes Ian makes me feel like I can't do any better than him."

"Ian is a dick," Toby blurted before he could stop himself. "You could have anyone you want."

She brought her gaze back to him, silent tears clinging to her dark eyelashes. "Would you wait for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"If we were dating and I was a…virgin." She said the last word with quiet embarrassment, as though she were uttering a curse word. "Would you wait until I was ready?"

He inhaled sharply, uncertain about her meaning. "Spencer…"

"No, I know, it's weird to think about me like that," she interrupted hastily. "Just…pretend that we're not best friends. Just for a second." Her mocha eyes locked into his azure ones once more, mingling together to create some remote beach landscape of sand and water. "Would you?"

He gazed at her earnest expression, seeing that she was desperate for him to remove himself from the situation long enough to answer. At last he nodded quietly. "Yeah. Yeah, you should wait for someone you really love."

She exhaled shakily at his reply, as though feeling torn between relief and confusion at his answer. When she spoke, her words were almost inaudible. "I thought so."

The last of the sun disappeared behind an expanse of trees in the distance, casting another gust of wind over the playground. Her hair got caught in its wake, dancing precariously around her face in wisps. "Some goddamn birthday," she muttered.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her remark, surprised to hear her swear. She didn't do it very often. She, too, was soon giggling in spite of herself. Nothing about the situation was remotely funny, but it felt better to laugh than to cry.

When their morbid mirth began to die down, he reached out to quietly grasp her free hand, squeezing her fingers. It was little comfort, he knew, but he hated to see her so sad on the one day of the year that she was supposed to be happy.

She smiled somberly down at their innocent embrace, squeezing back after a beat.

"Happy birthday, Spence."

He had a plan.

It had occurred to him on a whim, the developments of which were still formulating in his brain even after he had made the declaration.

It would take up a majority of the day, and therefore, hopefully, serve to adequately distract her from the world crumbling around her. The hardships would still be there tomorrow – but for today, he wanted her to focus on her own happiness.

Her eyes had lit up at his announcement, her mouth adorning a giddy smile of excitement. She had practically leapt out of the bed to do as told, skipping anxiously to the bathroom without hesitation.

She never ceased to amaze him. After everything that had happened as of late, he would have expected her to be a shell of her former self, broken and torn at the seams. It was how he would have been, had he gone through everything that she had. Instead, the fire he had grown to love so dearly over the years continued to flare up unexpectedly every now and then, reminding him that it took more than that to crack Spencer Hastings.

He had whisked himself away to get everything ready for the first event of the day while she was in the shower. It hadn't taken much time, admittedly, and was rather easy to put together. She had periodically peeked through the bathroom door to investigate what he was up to. And each time, he shooed her back in.

"I'm not an idiot!" she called laughingly from behind the barrier that separated them. "I can smell food."

"Consider it your only hint, then," he returned, the sound of the sizzling bacon only giving him away further.

When everything was set, he allowed her to step out of the bathroom under the condition that she kept her eyes closed. He put both hands over her eyes from behind, just for good measure, as he led her outside onto the porch.

"I hate surprises," she whined. "You know that."

"No, you don't," he countered. "You just hate waiting."

"That, too," she chuckled, holding out both hands in front of her to ensure they wouldn't be running into anything. When she felt the warm springtime breeze hit her arms, she clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "What are we doing out here?"

"You'll see," he sing-songed cryptically. She was clutching onto his wrists now in front of her face.

"I swear to God, if you let me fall down those stairs…"

"You've got to learn to trust me," he laughed. He led her over to the blanket he had laid out, and instructed her to sit. She did as told, her eyes still squeezed shut impatiently.

He settled down next to her, letting out one final heavy exhale. "All right. Open."

Her eyelashes darted upward as she did so, her face a picture of unabashed excitement. It was moments like this, where her inner child surfaced, that warmed his heart most. It brought him back to days of his past that he hadn't even realized he could remember, watching her gleefully discover new adventures for them to embark on.

"A picnic?" she surmised instantly, assessing the plates of food before her. Her grin quickly spread from one ear to the other.

"Do you remember the time that our parents took us to the swimming hole, and we commandeered the picnic basket for ourselves?" he asked, unable to mask a chuckle.

She tossed her head back in laughter, the memory taking her away to some distant place. "My mom was furious. We ate all of those sandwiches."

"We were nine," he countered, delighting in the way her eyes were sparkling with recollection. "We ate everything. Besides, you insisted that we share with the geese."

She was shaking her head in amusement now, a tiny smile playing at her lips. "Those geese didn't leave me alone for the rest of the day, either."

They both laughed quietly as they pictured those much smaller and more innocent versions of themselves, hidden surreptitiously behind the Kissing Rock before they even knew what it was. They had both been so anxious to grow up for so long that by the time it actually happened, they were so blind-sided by sudden responsibility that those days quickly disappeared into some vague oblivion of memory. The days where having a picnic with your best friend didn't make any boyfriends jealous – the days when college applications and actual homework assignments were nothing more than some indiscernible blip on the radar of the future.

The days where they understood so little about male-female dynamics that a Kissing Rock was no more than a jungle gym to traverse.

"I would have planned for it to be somewhere more…exciting," he began apologetically, "but I didn't exactly have much time with you breathing down my neck."

She playfully slapped at his arm, her coffee-colored eyes catching a glint of the sun's rays.

"Right here is just fine," she said quietly. "It's sweet."

There was a moment in which they both assessed each other silently, eyes locked in a staring contest. These occasions seemed to be occurring more frequently now, and he had somehow begun to come to terms with them. They made him far less uncomfortable than they had a few short days ago.

Nevertheless, he was the first to break it, clearing his throat as he began to load a plate for her.

"For your dining pleasure," he began dramatically, "we have eggs – scrambled, of course, your favorite…Bacon, extra crispy…and pancakes with extra syrup."

Her lips were pursed into a tightly squeezed smile, as though she'd burst if she didn't fight to suppress her excitement. She eagerly reached for the plate he presented to her.

"How do you remember things like that?" she mused, a degree of impressiveness infiltrating her tone.

"It's hard to forget when you spend your whole life with someone," he replied earnestly, watching as the last of the cumulus clouds began to roll away into nothingness. The sky was almost entirely clear now.

She pulled an indignant face. "I know people who are married that don't know this much about each other."

"Well," he began pensively, "I suppose when you meet your soul mate so late in life, you're already so focused on being an adult that the little things don't stick the way they do when you're a kid."

She peered at him from beneath her dark lashes, her expression perplexed. He didn't blame her – the statement had been laced with far more ambiguous nuance than he had intended.

"So." He plastered a grin on his face to deflect any potential discomfort on her part. "I have the whole day planned out for us, and I have to say, it's going to be pretty epic."

Spencer smirked in reply as she nibbled on a piece of bacon. "Pretty confident, aren't we?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

Her expression melted suddenly, a look of nervous uncertainty grazing her features. He hoped that he hadn't said anything to freak her out. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can we make a detour?"

"Absolutely," he allowed. "A detour for what?"

"Well…Ryan is with Maya today," she began slowly, and Toby hoped that he was successful in hiding his disapproval. This was supposed to be the one week per month that Ryan spent with Ian – and he seemed to be with Maya far more often than he was with his own father. "I'd like to stop by and see him."

"Not a problem," Toby agreed. "We'll pack up whatever leftovers we have and take them over."

She rotated her body to lean into him briefly in an armless hug, gazing up at him with heartfelt appreciation as she pulled back.

"I wish more guys I dated could be like you," she said. "Most of them run screaming for the hills when all of the skeletons in my closet come rattling out."

It was his turn to be puzzled at the potential hidden meaning behind her statement. She didn't give him much time to process it, however, as she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you. For everything."

The drive to Maya's wasn't long. Spencer had called ahead of time to alert her to their arrival, and as a result, Ryan was anxiously waiting on the front deck when they pulled in.

"Mommy!" he cried, breaking away from the young woman who had been clinging to his hand. He launched himself down the stairs and into her embrace, flinging his tiny arms around her neck.

"Hi, baby," she said happily, stroking the back of his neck. "What are you and Auntie Maya doing today?"

"We were making cookies!" Ryan replied excitedly as she set him back on the ground, his hand shooting up to grasp onto her fingers. "Come see!"

She allowed him to lead her into the house, an unprecedented smile decorating her features. Toby could not help but watch her fondly as he slowly stepped onto the porch, regarding Maya with a kind smile. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit confused about the pretty Black woman standing before him and her exact relation to Ian.

"Hi," he greeted politely, reaching out to shake the woman's hand. "I'm Toby."

"Maya," she provided as she accepted his gesture. "I'm Ian's step-sister."

He chuckled to himself as the pieces fell into place. "That explains some stuff."

She laughed light-heartedly in agreement. "We get that a lot. Our parents just got married a couple of years ago."

That would also clarify why he hadn't known her in school.

"C'mon in," she began, stepping aside to allow him entrance. He crossed the threshold into the living room just in time to have Ryan nearly bowl him over.

"Do you want a cookie, Toby?" he asked brightly, his hazel eyes dancing with unabashed excitement.

Toby kneeled down to regard the child properly. "I would love a cookie."

No sooner had he said it than Ryan was sprinting back into the kitchen to his mother. Toby peeked over his shoulder to see Maya looking on appreciatively at the display.

"You're very nice to do so much for him when you haven't known Ian very long," Toby decided.

Maya smiled as she began to clear some of the toys from the floor, her arms filling up in no time. "He's a good kid. And – between you and me – my brother could use some pointers from someone who actually likes kids."

Toby watched her quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He didn't want to cross any boundaries with what he planned to ask next. "Ian doesn't really do the 'dad' thing, does he?"

"No," Maya replied earnestly. "But it's his own fault for not trying."

He was opening his mouth to ask more about Ryan's relationship with Ian when he and Spencer returned from the kitchen. Ryan was bolting toward Toby with the promised cookie, presenting it proudly.

"Chocolate chip," Toby quipped. "My favorite."

"Spencer," Maya declared suddenly. Toby raised his eyes to see her darting between furniture to stand at Spencer's side, both hands flying to Spencer's face. "What happened?"

Spencer smiled ruefully. "Nothing. I fell."

The lie was like a lashing against Toby's bare skin. He didn't like it in the slightest – but Spencer would never drag Maya into this, for fear that she would feel the need to pick sides. It was very 'Spencer' of her – and he knew her well enough to understand the thought process behind it.

"It looks terrible!" Maya stated maternally. "Have you put anything on it?"

"Mmhmm," Spencer murmured noncommittally. She was stepping away now to join Ryan on the floor, desperate to change the subject.

Toby was staring her down disapprovingly. She seemed to sense his gaze, for her eyes met his for a brief moment, pleading silently to keep his mouth shut.

He was knocked from his reverie by the sound of the door opening behind him. Ian was stepping into the house.

"Hey, Mai, sorry I'm late, I got caught in some traffic on…" He trailed off all of a sudden, looking back and forth between Spencer and Toby as he hesitantly entered the living room.

"That's fine," Maya said, gathering the last of the toys on the floor and dropping them into a nearby toy box. She had not looked up to pay heed to the tension in the room. "No rush."

Ian took a step forward, his eyes locking with Toby's for a moment. There was some degree of hatred there, but more than anything was the glaring warning. He was silently daring him to take a shot.

At last, he broke contact to address his son. "Hey, Ryan," he said with the most gentleness a person like Ian could possess. He was clearly choosing to ignore their presence. "You almost ready to go, buddy?"

"Just about," Maya intervened. She still seemed oblivious to the dynamic shift among the other three adults. "We still have to pack up a few of his things."

"Can you help me, Mommy?" Ryan pleaded, reaching out to take her hand. She glanced over her shoulder briefly, a look of worry etched in her features at the prospect of leaving the two of them alone, as she and Maya followed Ryan to his room.

It was just Toby and Ian now.

A very uncomfortable moment passed.

"That little stunt you pulled last night…with the phone call," Ian began dangerously, arching an eyebrow in Toby's direction. "That won't fly again. You need to remember your place, Cavanaugh. I'm willing to let it go, just this once, but…"

"Oh, thank you," Toby declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was so concerned that I had hurt your feelings."

Ian was stepping irritably toward him now. Toby matched his pace and soon they were practically nose-to-nose.

"Don't test me," Ian hissed. "My family is none of your business."

"It is when you're hurting her," Toby disagreed. "I told you once a long time ago, and I will tell you again – I will do anything to protect her. Anything."

Ian smirked, the expression somehow devoid of any actual emotion. "You do want to get in her pants, don't you?"

Toby fought tooth and nail not to flinch at this statement. "It's not like that."

"Sure it is," Ian argued. "I should probably let you know though – she's too much for you to handle in bed."

Toby put one hand on each of Ian's shoulders and shoved – hard. He was caught so off-guard that he stumbled backward into an end table, barely catching the lamp that threatened to teeter off. His head shot up like some morbid real-life Jack-In-The-Box, looking ferociously shocked at Toby's gall. The vulnerability in his expression was gone as soon as it had arrived, and he was marching back toward Toby, massaging his knuckles –

"Daddy, I'm ready!" Ryan announced, barreling around the corner. Spencer and Maya were quick on his heels. The way that they both froze hesitantly at the end of the hallway made it clear that they understood precisely what had been about to happen.

Nobody spoke. The only movement in the room was Ryan hopping over to his father, stopping to spin in a few random circles on his way. Likewise, the only sound was his subsequent humming. 'I'm A Little Tea Pot,' it sounded like. It was like some unintentionally comedic moment in the midst of a dramatic film. If Toby didn't know better, he thought it might be one of those instances that they chose to look back on and laugh at, many, many years from now. But somehow he knew that this would never be funny – not to Spencer, and not to him.

He chanced a glance at her. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line of disappointment, and he knew instantaneously that he had upset her.

Ian was the first one to break the awkward silence. He very slowly turned his eyes away from Toby, as if daring him to try anything else, before regarding his son.

"All right, buddy, let's get going."

"Bye, sweetie," Spencer said, blowing a kiss in Ryan's direction. The little boy melodramatically returned the gesture, and it was so undeniably adorable that it looked as though it belonged in a commercial.

As soon as they had disappeared out the door, Spencer rounded on Toby.

"What was that?" she hissed. It didn't seem to bother her that Maya was listening in.

"Nothing," Toby dismissed coldly. "Nothing at all."

She gave him an imperceptible shake of her head, narrowing her eyes, as though to say that she didn't believe him.

"C'mon," he urged, putting on his best charming smile in an effort to distract her. "We've got to get going."

After a brief goodbye to Maya, she grumpily followed him out.

She gave him the silent treatment for the entire duration of the car ride, her head in her hand as she gazed peevishly out the window at the scenery as they passed.

He didn't want to push it. Instead, he turned the knob of the radio to increase the volume of the music. At least it would crack the uncomfortable hush, if nothing else.

When they arrived at their destination, she slowly sat up, her eyes changing from darkness to hesitant wonder. She seemed to be struggling to maintain her anger, even as he hopped out of the car and propped her door open. He slung one arm over the window, sighing defeatedly.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he began sincerely. "That guy just gets my blood going."

"I know he does," she said quietly, her eyes flickering away from his. "But you're better than him, Toby."

An inexplicable wave of warmth crashed into him at the statement, simple though it was.

"Let's just forget it," he decided, reaching his hand inside to help her out of the car. She smiled softly in spite of herself, taking the proffered assistance. "Today is about putting all of that aside. At least for a while."

"I can't remember the last time I went to a carnival," she said candidly, pushing her hair impatiently from her face to gaze up at the monumental Ferris Wheel. A breeze brought the scent of elephant ears and cotton candy to their noses, and she hummed happily.

"That's why we're here."

She looked at the ground for a minute before raising her eyes to his, affection in their chocolate depths.

"If I haven't said it in so many words before…" she began quietly. She trailed off precariously, as though unsure of whether she should continue.

"I know," he said simply.

She smiled at him one last time, pausing for only a moment before she seized him by the wrist and began to drag him toward the ticket booth.