Hey guys. Thanks for the reviews last chapter, I'm glad you're all excited for more frequent updates. I'm too tired/sad to write more of an AN, so you're lucky this week. Here's the next chapter; enjoy, review, and I'll see you next week.

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It wasn't until Toby woke up that he realized he'd actually fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was holding Spencer as she fell asleep, and then the next thing he was aware of was waking up in her bed. She was nowhere to be seen, but it was after ten which meant she'd be at school. He'd dropped out a couple of months ago and he was in between jobs right now, so he had nothing pressing to attend to during the day. Spencer, of course, would probably be sitting up straight in the middle of Economics and asking questions so complicated even the teacher couldn't answer them. As much as he admired her drive and her intelligence, he wished he had half as much for himself.

Rolling over, he saw that she'd left a note on her nightstand. Good morning! it said brightly in her neat handwriting. I've gone to school, but you're welcome to stay as long as you want. My parents won't be home for a couple days. I'll call you after school and we can hang out? - Spencer.

Toby held the note to him, marvelling at the way things could change so entirely one night and be back to normal the next day. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it occurred to him that he'd been anticipating some kind of major change, given the momentous nature of what they'd done last night. Maybe he and Spencer should be communicating only in code now; maybe they should relocate to some secret bunker somewhere so they could plan their next move.

It was ridiculous, he knew, but it seemed even more ridiculous that things should so quickly go back to the way they were before. Spencer was off to school, she'd left him a note like she always did, and he was going to head home. Nothing gave any hint as to what they'd been up to last night, and although logic told him that this was a very good sign, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of disappointment. Everything had changed, but it was still somehow the same.

After enjoying the warmth of the bed for a few more minutes Toby hauled himself out of it and started getting ready. Somehow things had become scattered around the room, so it took him a while to find everything; his wallet was under the chair, his phone on the floor over by the window. He had a new message, and opened it with trepidation, expecting it to be Mona. Instead it was someone a lot more welcome. If you're still at my house, you're welcome to help yourself to any of the food in the pantry. See you this afternoon.

Realizing he was actually hungry, Toby gathered the rest of his things and made his way downstairs. The house was quiet and totally empty, as Spencer had predicted, but he kept a wary eye out just in case. Melissa he might be able to deal with, but he'd have a hard time explaining to Mr and Mrs Hastings why he was in their house. They knew about him and Spencer, of course, but he wasn't sure how supportive they were of the relationship – or how welcome he'd be to spend the night.

Everything in the kitchen was almost unsettlingly neat: cans organized in equal rows, various types of tea stacked in order of use-by dates, and from the looks of it the jars of preserved fruit were in alphabetical order. Since dating Spencer he'd come to have a lot more order in his life – there had been a time when she'd spent an entire afternoon redecorating his apartment, including organizing his books by author and his DVDs by genre – but this level of organization was almost too much; there was something clinical about it.

Shrugging, he set about making toast. He could tell that Spencer had eaten her earlier; the bowl and spoon she'd used were already washed and neatly placed in the draining rack. Toby had the feeling that if even a single crumb was out of place the Hastings would know, and just as surely they'd know it was none of them who did it. Being in Spencer's house, even without any of the other members of her family present, gave a lot of insight into why she was the way she was. Maybe if Toby had been raised in such a strict household he would have turned out a lot differently; maybe he'd be able to set the table with four different types of fork, or know the difference between a crumpet and an English muffin.

After eating breakfast he carefully washed the plate and knife and put them back in the drawer, and put the jar of jelly back exactly where he'd gotten it from. As he closed the pantry he caught himself thinking of the future, picturing a life in which he would marry Spencer and they would live together in a house like this, and she would chide him for using a cup without a coaster or eating a sandwich without a plate. The thought amused him, so it was with a smile that he emerged from the Hastings house and started down the street.

It was a nice day, so he didn't mind the rather lengthy walk to his house. He hadn't been back there since his first mission, he realized. As he walked he wondered how Spencer was getting on at school. It was highly likely that Emily would have already been reprimanded by her boss for 'losing' those plans, so she may well turn to Spencer for support. And whatever Spencer had done last night would undoubtedly have consequences too, and she was the one who'd have to deal with them.

Toby stopped at a newsstand on the way and bought a cup of coffee; it would taste horrible, he knew, but the little old lady who ran the stand was always so delighted to have customers that he made a point of stopping at it whenever he could. This whole A-Team thing, he mused as he carried on, was going to be a lot harder for Spencer than for him. It was something he'd been hoping for, something he'd been looking forward to, and getting to protect Spencer was an added bonus. But for her it was different, because she had something to lose.

On a whim he stopped at a florist a block away from his house and bought a bouquet of roses. This was going to be a hard time for Spencer, and he wanted to do what he could to make it easier on her, somehow make up for the fact that while she was at school having to lie to her friends, he was able to sleep in and spend the day relaxing.

When he got to his apartment he held the bouquet in his hand and his keys in the other, jiggling them in the lock which was always sticking. As he stepped inside he was greeted by a rush of cold air, and realized that he'd left the fan on all night. He turned it off and rested the bouquet on the table, and then looked around at the room. 'Organized chaos' was the phrase which came to mind, such a stark contrast to Spencer's house with its careful coordination, a place for everything and nothing out of order.

Sometimes opposites really did attract, and Toby was forever grateful for that. He filled an old alcohol bottle with water, since he didn't have a vase, and put the flowers in it. Then he stopped to admire them, typed a reply to Spencer letting her know that he would love to see her that afternoon, and finally he settled down on his couch. He was in the process of deciding what to do with the rest of his day, how to fill the time before he could see Spencer again, when there was a knock at the door.

Curious, he got to his feet, muted the TV, and opened the door.

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Hm, who do you think it is?