The first and the last lines of this story are deliberately borrowed from other writers. The first is from "How To Become A Writer Or, Have You Earned This Cliché" by Lorrie Moore. The last is from the film "Casablanca".
I wanted to write a story in a world where Spencer, in season one, might have asked Penelope on a date, to see what would happen. Would they end up dating? Would they become friends? Tune in and find out!
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Spencer looks down at his arm hairs and starts to smooth them, all, always, in the same direction. Nervous, yes. Understandably. But he'd asked her out, they are in this restaurant, and damn it, he is going to do is best, here. He pulls his jacket sleeve back down, and pats it once, twice. He looks up and meets her eye. "It's been a long time since I've been out with someone." He waves a hand to include them both, nearly knocking over his water glass in the process.
"I kind of thought you were joking when you asked," Garcia – wait, he should really start calling her Penelope – Penelope says. She grabs one of the breadsticks from the basket on the table, and starts munching on it thoughtfully, the crumbs dusting her sweater. She points the breadstick at him, and he nearly jumps back. "But I figured, what the hell," she says. "Either it's a date, and who knows, you know? Or at least I get out of the house for a while, have some food." She looks away, placing the breadstick on her bread plate with an audible clink. "It's been a while for me, too," she says in the direction of the kitchen.
He exhales slowly, takes a sip of water. Smooths the napkin on his lap. Clenches his hands into fists, then relaxes them. Grabs a breadstick of his own, gives it a quick twirl, disappears it. Reappears it. Disappears it again. He looks up to see her looking at him with surprise.
"What did you just do with that breadstick?" she asks, one brow raised.
"What do you mean?" he asks nervously.
She peers at him over her glasses. "You just made that breadstick disappear."
He can feel his cheeks heat. "Magic," he mumbles. He winces, pushes up his glasses, then makes the breadstick reappear. "I taught myself when I was a kid. From a book. 'Magic for Dummies'. Thought it was a way to make girls like me. Turns out… Not so much."
She leans back in her chair. "Are you saying that girls weren't all over you with that stuff?"
"Yeah, if only," he says.
She smiles. "I like it."
He rolls his eyes, knowing that she's humoring him.
"No, really," she says, leaning toward him. "I think it's cool. Kind of geeky cool, but that's really your schtick, isn't it? With the glasses and the blazers and the…" She waves her breadstick in a circle as if she's about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. "I mean, it's not as if I'm Kim Kardashian over here, with my sweaters and glasses and… me-ness," she says, sweeping the breadstick up and down as if to highlight the flaws she obviously feels are there.
He leans across the table and stills her breadstick-laden hand. "I think you look great." He watches as her cheeks pink. Then he leans back, her breadstick in his hand, and he takes a giant bite. As her eyes widen, he smiles, just a bit. "Anyway, we both like breadsticks," he says around his mouthful. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
She raises her water glass, laughing. "Here's looking at you, kid."
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Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. This was the first story I wrote in this fandom :)
