Chapter Thirty-Six- Last Night, I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me
You can't bring yourself to move.
You have no idea how long you've been still for, but it feels like hours. Hours of laying like this, flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the clock. You'd once read that if you lay still for over a half-hour, your body would automatically fall asleep; but you were beginning to think that was a myth.
No matter how hard you tried, sleep wouldn't come.
You'd tried counting sheep, but all you could count were reasons to stay awake. You'd tried counting backwards, but somewhere in the seventies you got distracted. You'd even tried breathing exercises, but you couldn't remember how to do them properly so all it had done was draw your attention to how abnormal your breathing actually was.
The logical thing to do was to get up and do something and try your hand at sleeping later. But then you were back to the whole problem of motionlessness again.
It wasn't like you weren't tired, either. God, you were more tired than you thought it was possible to be. It wasn't the sleep deprived kind of tiredness, though; it was the tiredness of defeat.
The tiredness of someone who had spent far too long walking on eggshells in their own home. The tiredness of someone who spent every evening on tenterhooks, not knowing which of her husbands was going to walk through the door- the one who she had fallen in love with, or the one she didn't know at all.
Until tonight, you'd held on to the blind hope that this was just a rough patch for the two of you. The naive optimism that, someday soon, things were going to get better. Of course, you weren't stupid enough to think that all of a sudden life was going to be all blue skies and sunshine- you had just wanted the storm to pass.
But tonight lightning had struck. It had hit your Achilles heel, and kept zapping until every last vestige of resistance had drained from you.
You hear Toby snore slightly and you gulp.
Rape.
No matter how you dressed it up in your mind, that's what it was.
He'd come home late with alcohol on his breath and smoke on his clothes and told you he'd missed you, and that he was sorry for the way he'd been acting lately. He was stressed about work, and you didn't deserve to be treated that way.
He was an expert at sorry. After all, he'd practiced it enough, and each time he said it, it became more believable- like he'd rehearsed it in the mirror so many times that it almost sounded sincere. He tried to prove it, too, with flowers and gifts and cards. And each time he said it, you'd been dupable enough to think that he meant it, and you'd let the indiscretion behind the apology slide. It was usually a callous comment or one too many beers after work, which had led to him stumbling home in the early hours of the morning reeking of his own vomit. But recently they'd become more physical transgressions- grabbing your wrists roughly when you tried to walk away, or raising his fists towards you when you said something wrong.
In spite of all of those offences, you still hadn't seen this one coming.
He'd kissed you, when he walked through the door tonight, and the taste of his tongue had made you feel sick. He'd bought you chocolates, though, and a card which said that he really was thinking of you and that he truly did love you, regardless of the way he'd been acting lately.
So you hadn't pushed him away at first. Not until his hands were roaming greedily underneath your shirt and you realized that you didn't recognize his touch. Then you'd pulled away, claiming that you had a headache- so you were just going to take an aspirin and go to bed.
Being the man you thought he was, he'd let you. He'd even found the painkillers and fetched you some water whilst you got ready for bed. Yet, an hour later, when you were laying in the dark, alone in your bedroom, he'd slipped in beside you.
He'd asked nicely.
Then he'd asked aggressively.
And then he hadn't asked at all.
Emily woke a few hours later, having slept on and off through all but the first ten minutes of the Harry Potter marathon they'd embarked on, happy to find Spencer still asleep in her arms. It had been a long night, and she was exhausted, and she guessed that Spencer's emotional exhaustion had drained her even more than the twenty-eight hours she'd been awake. As she reached out to start the The Goblet of Fire, she felt Spencer stir.
"You can go back to sleep if you want," Emily whispered into her ear, "It's only two pm."
Spencer shook her head, stretching out before nestling down against Emily.
"It's okay," She murmured, "I'm awake."
Emily conceded that Spencer did look an awful lot better for a decent sleep, and she didn't argue with her.
"So what do you want to do today?" She asked, closing the laptop and staring up at Spencer, who was hovering above her now.
Spencer thought for a moment, pursing her lips pensively.
"Something great." Spencer smiled sleepily, her arms growing tired of holding her weight up above Emily and settling down on top of her.
Emily nodded, smiling into a kiss that Spencer leaned in for.
After an afternoon of wandering around the Met., with Spencer pointing out her favorite paintings and explaining to Emily the history behind them, babbling excitedly about her favorite artists, they stopped for coffee and headed into Central Park.
"This is nice," Spencer murmured into her coffee, letting Emily wrap her arm around her waist as they walked. Emily nodded in agreement, smiling as Spencer angled her body in closer in the light April breeze.
"This is what Central Park was made for," Emily smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Spencer's hair, "For people in love."
Spencer smiled, snaking her arm around Emily's waist, a yawn escaping her lips.
"You okay?" Emily asked softly, watching as Spencer's demeanour became slightly more reserved.
Spencer sighed in resignation, knowing there was no use in trying to hide how she felt from Emily. .
"Just a little tired."
Emily nodded understandingly, pulling out her phone and and tapping the screen a few times.
"You think you can make it another ten minutes? We could get dinner near Times Square."
Spencer smiled, leaning in and kissing Emily's lips softly.
"Ten minutes is good."
Emily pecked her hair playfully, swinging Spencer's hand in her own as they walked out of Central Park. Holding her hand like this felt like they'd never left the third grade, and that was what she loved most about being with Spencer. She had the ability to make her feel as carefree and innocent as a child, at the same time allowing the two to have a mature relationship with adult responsibilities. There were so many dimensions to their relationship that she was confident that neither would ever tire of being together, and they had shown great enough flexibility in their lifetime together to assure Emily that there was nothing they wouldn't make it through.
She and Spencer were in it for the long haul.
They ate dinner at a vintage French restaurant overlooking Times Square, and as they left Emily found herself caught in a quandary between attempting a romantic walk through the square or taking a cab back to the hotel. It was solved for her as she watched Spencer yawn, her eyes red and watery as she threw her a sleepy smile. Spencer was doing so well lately that it became easy to forget how weak and vulnerable she was.
"You want to wait inside while I grab us a cab?" Emily offered, noticing as Spencer shivered a little in the evening weather. She had always been thin, but she had become skeletal during her marriage and she was still significantly underweight enough that she often struggled to keep warm.
Spencer shook her head, keeping hold of Emily's hand as Emily stuck two fingers between her lips and blew hard, letting out a sharp whistle and smiling satisfactorily as a cab stopped just in front of her. She opened the door and called out the name of the door to the driver, letting Spencer slide in first and climbing it after her, wrapping her arm tightly around her shoulders as the car started to move.
"I can see why this is a cliché," Spencer murmured as she rested her head on Emily's shoulder, "People in love snuggling in the back seat of a New York cab? I could definitely get used to this."
Emily chuckled softly, pressing her lips to the crown of Spencer's head and letting them linger.
"We could always move here." Emily suggested, only half joking. Spencer nestled deeper into her chest, letting out a soft hum against her.
"Maybe someday."
Emily wandered out of the bathroom in her pajamas later that evening, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, surprised when she turned to see Spencer in the hotel bed, underneath the sheets, which were roughly remade, their blanket fort dismantled on the floor.
"Bed?" Emily asked, a note of surprise detectable as she climbed up and knelt on the bed. "Are you sure? I don't mind sleeping on the floor with you."
Spencer smirked, nodding and patting the spot beside her on the bed, smiling a little as Emily crawled towards her.
"I couldn't let you sleep on the floor again." She murmured, placing her hands on Emily's hips and tugging her forwards so that she was straddling her lower thighs. Emily leaned in and cupped Spencer's face.
"I'd sleep on the floor for the rest of my life if you were there with me."
Resting her weight gently across Spencer's lap, Emily looped her arms softly around her neck. Locking her gaze with Spencer's, Emily thought about just how many times she'd looked into those eyes in their lifetime together. It must've amounted to hours, she thought.
Spencer reached out a hand and brought Emily closer, her lips ghosting across Emily's face; across her forehead and temples, her eyelids and cheeks, before lingering over her lips.
As Emily let Spencer kiss her, she was distinctly reminded of the first time Spencer had come to her apartment all those months ago, and she had done just the same to her. And in that moment she realized that everything that each of them knew about loyalty, trust and comfort they had learned from each other.
They had taught each other, through a messy process of trial and error, how to let down their walls and be together. They had learned how to trust each other, even at their most vulnerable, and that was how they had gotten each other through everything that had been thrown at them.
Their relationship was made of hundreds of nights spent huddled together under the sheets, and days spent with their friends, kisses on the forehead and stolen glances. It was nothing more and nothing less than every touch, look and word that had passed between them.
"Were you serious?"
Spencer's whisper broke Emily from her thoughts.
"About what you said in the cab. About moving."
Emily sighed softly, pursing her lips as she thought for a moment.
"I wasn't when I said it. But I think I am now. I mean, we never planned on going back to Rosewood after college, right?"
Spencer nodded, moving her hands softly across the small of Emily's back.
"I didn't mean New York necessarily, we liked New Jersey. Or there's Philly. Or anywhere else."
Spencer smiled, shifting her hips underneath Emily and pulling her down on top of her. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt having Emily pressed on top of her so firmly; she was no longer in control and it was a position she'd endured many a time with Toby. But Emily was so gentle that being underneath her felt secure and erotic, not intimidating.
"I want to start a life with you." Spencer whispered, her hands finding their way into Emily's hair, "In Rosewood, in New York, in New Jersey. It doesn't matter to me where we are. I just want to be together."
Emily smiled into a kiss.
"I can think of nothing better." She grinned, "We're going to have a great life together. I promise you."
Spencer nodded softly, flipping them over and climbing on top of Emily. Kissing her gently, Spencer moved her hands to Emily's shirt, her fingers hesitating over the first button.
"Can I?" She asked between kisses. Emily bit her lip, glancing down at Spencer's hand and then up at her face.
"Um," She murmured, "I'm not wearing anything underneath."
Spencer smirked, leaning down for another kiss and slipping her tongue between Emily's lips as her fingers moved against her buttons. She slipped her hands across Emily's shoulders, pulling her shirt off and leaving Emily underneath her in nothing but her pajama shorts. Spencer slowly began leaving a trail kisses across Emily's chin and neck, pausing at the center of her throat and blushing a little.
"You okay?" Emily asked softly, running her hand reassuringly across Spencer's back. Spencer bit her lip, moving her face into Emily's neck and refusing to meet Emily's gaze.
"I, um," Spencer mumbled, growing slowly more and more embarrassed, "I'm not sure what to do. I've never, you know, not with..."
Emily's eyebrows raised in surprise. In college, Spencer had dated a girl for a few months, and though she'd never asked her, she'd assumed they'd slept together.
"Not even with Isobel?"
Spencer shook her head and Emily nodded.
"Okay, well, if you don't want to, you don't have to do anything. And if you're certain, do what feels right to you."
Spencer took a deep breath, moving her lips back to Emily's neck and kissing slowly across her collarbone. Her hand moved shakily to Emily's breast, cupping it lightly and brushing her thumb over Emily's nipple, which hardened at her touch. Emily shivered a little and Spencer felt a distinct satisfaction inside her as Emily's body responded to her.
Lowering herself flat against Emily, Spencer tangled her hands in her hair and left a trail of kisses between Emily's breasts. She hesitated a little, reassured when she felt Emily's hands stroke softly across her hips, and slowly ran her lips across the fuller part of Emily's breast, taking her nipple and massaging it softly.
Emily shuddered underneath her and Spencer felt a surge of heat between her legs that she hadn't felt in years.
Spencer inhaled deeply as her lips brushed across Emily's skin, savoring the coconut scent of Emily's body lotion. She ran her lips across Emily's torso, barely even kissing her skin but lightly grazing her taut muscles. Emily was still exceptional shape, but her figure had grown up with her, a mixture of defined muscles and soft curves.
Spencer stopped at the waistband of Emily's shorts and faltered. Her breathing started to become labored and she closed her eyes, willing the anxiety to subside. Her hands began to shake a little, her mouth grew dry and a slight pain emerged behind her eyes.
A panic attack. Perfect.
Recognizing the symptoms Spencer was exhibiting, Emily reached her hands down and softly brought them to Spencer's shoulders, bringing her back up to her eyeline and laying her down softly against the pillows. She reached for her shirt and pulled it on, leaving it open save one button, as she lay back down between the sheets.
Cupping one hand to her face, Emily placed a short kiss on Spencer's lips, pulling away and keeping her hand on Spencer's face and wrapping the other around Spencer's fingers.
"In," She coaxed, nodding to Spencer as she took a deep breath, "two, three, four. Hold, two, three, and out, two, three, four, five. Good…" Her voice lowered to the point where she was barely speaking, and closer to mouthing the words, her eyes firmly locked on Spencer's as she repeated the pattern a few more times, until Spencer's breathing was all but normal.
"I'm sorry." Spencer whispered, her voice still shaking a little.
Emily shook her head.
"No, I am." Emily admitted, "I shouldn't have let us get carried away. We have forever for this, it doesn't need to be right now."
Spencer seemed to relax at her words and she let Emily guide her into her body, cuddling into her side and sighing tiredly as Emily wrapped her arm around her shoulders, reaching out her free hand and switching off the bedside light.
"We're in this for the long haul, aren't we?" Spencer whispered, a note of realization in her voice.
Emily nodded against her, tightening her grip on Spencer under the sheets. Their relationship was real and getting more so everyday. They had joint obligations and responsibilities, jobs, rent and bills. They had a life together.
"Forever."
A/N
Merry Christmas! How was that for progress?