A/N: Two prompts rolled into one. But the second is a surprise.

PROMPT: Spencer takes Toby shopping.

Go Anywhere With You

Toby Cavanaugh had always been something of an idealist. Through every trial and tribulation he had endured, he always managed to find the sliver of whatever silver lining existed amongst all the chaos. It was a quality that even his counselors in reform school seemed to notice and regularly praise.

There were very few things in life he allowed himself to take for granted. There were even fewer things he actually truly hated.

But no matter how many counselors congratulated him on having a positive attitude, or how many pep talks he gave himself, one of those rarities of hated things had always been – and would always be – shopping.

He remembered his mother dragging him out to various department stores at a young age, filling her arms with countless hangers of khaki pants and cotton button-downs. She'd then shove him unceremoniously into a fitting room and wait for him to try on, and model, each and every piece of clothing she had chosen for him.

Even worse was the time his dad had dragged him to Art Van and Sears to assist him in picking out new end tables and accessories that were more to his future step-mother's liking than the taste his own mother had left behind. He had spent hours with Jack Cavanaugh forcing smiles and nodding mindlessly at his selections, required to pretend that the new engagement was just as exciting for him as it was for the groom-to-be.

He had always tried to avoid situations such as these. In fact, he had even taken to ordering his clothes from catalogs when he was sixteen, simply to save himself another god-awful trip from Hell.

But when his wife looked eagerly at the barren spaces of the brand new home they had just won in a bidding auction, he knew what was coming. And never in a thousand years could he possibly say 'no' to those delicate toffee-colored eyes.

He had been successful thus far in remaining almost completely silent during the trip, for Spencer had a very clear idea of what she wanted. At least that took a great deal of the pressure off of him; all he really had to worry about was sliding his credit card through a machine and she took care of the rest.

But he knew the moment was coming. She knew him well enough that she would notice after a while.

"So it's between this one, and that one," she rambled quietly, pointing to the six-piece sectional sofa before them and the five-piece behind them, respectively. "I like the idea of more sitting room, but I like the color of the other one better."

"Mmm-hmm," he muttered noncommittally.

She turned to him, her exuberant expression turning to one of sensitive curiosity. "You've been awfully quiet today, babe. Something on your mind?"

Yes. I hate being here with every ounce of my being, but I love you with just enough ounces more.

He attempted to give her a smile, but he was sure it turned out to be more of a grimace.

"Not at all."

She seemed to still be rather skeptical, but did not push him. Instead she wandered around the back of the couch to run her hands along the upholstery, as if to determine its capacity for comfort.

And then, she asked it.

"Well, which one do you like better?"

There it was: the expectation for him to actually participate in the decision-making process. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy, as she had done for him for the past six years. That included, and of course surpassed, spending an entire day picking out furniture. As much as he hated doing it, his love for her easily outweighed his discomfort.

But nonetheless, he would have been far more content to just let her make the decisions. He was simply here for support.

"It's up to you," he said gently.

She sighed, cocking her head at him. "But which one do you see yourself coming home from work and wanting to crash on? Which one can you picture lounging back on to watch the game?" Some distant expression appeared on her face, as if she were peeking into a portal to the future, a smile teasing her lips. "The one that we try fruitlessly to keep the dog off of, but give in after a while? The one that our children will climb over constantly, and hide peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in its cushions, and find it to be a perfect canvas for finger painting?"

And just like that, his previously nonexistent interest in furniture shipping was suddenly piqued.

He could not suppress the tiny smile that played at his lips as he came up quietly behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, burying his nose in the back of her head. The scent of her vanilla coconut shampoo possessed a number of nostalgic reminders, but none as vivid as the first time they had made love. That particular memory was carved into his brain, much like the way they'd etched their names into the oak tree that overlooked the small city of Rosewood.

"I never thought about it like that," he whispered in her ear earnestly. "In that case, I think the dark brown one may have a longer life expectancy."

He could tell she was smiling as she brought her hands up to meet his around her stomach, leaning back against his chest.

"Good idea," she agreed softly.

He exhaled contentedly against the side of her face, and could see the involuntary gooseflesh that punctuated her neck as a result. After a moment he pulled back slowly, rubbing her upper arms as he backed up.

"I'll go put the delivery order in."

"Wait," she said quickly, grabbing onto his wrist just as he made to walk away. "There are a few other things I wanted to look at first."

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit disappointed at hearing this. It was growing late and he was awfully tired. And though her explanation about what made the difference between a nice couch and a homey couch was the uplifting reassurance he'd needed to have any interest in what they were doing, he still wouldn't necessarily say he was excited to continue on.

But for her, he would do this for the rest of his life, if he had to.

"Sure," he said simply, taking hold of her hand. She laced her fingers through his and led the way.

He didn't pay much heed to where they were heading. Instead, he found himself idly watching the families that bustled by with shopping carts full of dinnerware and bedding, children nestled in the front carrier seats.

Of course he had considered the course their future would take in this regard. He'd even thought about it with such specificity that he could picture what their own baby would look like. Like its mother, he hoped. She clearly had all the most desirable genes out of the two of them. But he hadn't necessarily thought about the more minute aspects of parenthood, as she had. And after her little speech, he was beginning to wonder more and more how their new house would look with a toddler scampering from room to room. And he could not deny it: it was making him smile.

She seemed to be daydreaming about similar bundles of joy, for she paused as they reached the nursery section of the store. Stopping to run her fingertips along the mahogany railing of the crib in front of them, a small smile played at her lips.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she murmured.

He came to stand beside her, snaking one arm around her hips to pull her against his side. There was an overarching extension constructed over the crib, designed specifically to hold a dangling mobile that would lull a baby to sleep.

"Yes, it is," he agreed quietly. "But I always sort of thought I'd make our baby's crib, myself."

She turned to him, her russet eyes dancing affectionately. "Really?"

"Yeah," he began, reaching out to spin the Winnie the Pooh characters that hovered over the bed. "It's easy enough. I could make this exact one, actually."

Her eyes darted downward to the floor, and he swore he saw a tiny blush rising in her cheeks.

"How long do you think it would take?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a couple months, tops."

"Good," she murmured, nodding absent-mindedly. "Because you have seven."

His eyes flicked to hers immediately.

It didn't take long before the meaning sunk in. Suddenly the rest of the world around them ceased to exist, the inordinate chaos of their fellow shoppers put unceremoniously on 'mute.' He took her by the shoulders to bring her to face him properly, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were swimming beneath pools of unannounced tears. Despite this, however, her mouth was spread into the widest, most beautiful grin he had ever seen.

"You – you're – " he sputtered, reaching down to caress her abdomen. She met his hands there with her own, nodding so emphatically that the collection of moisture that had gathered around her bottom eyelids suddenly came loose and dribbled down her face.

"We're having a baby," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

It didn't matter that there was anyone else around. He could care less what anyone thought of them as he lifted her into his arms and twirled her around enthusiastically, laughing with such unabashed joy that he was certain he must look certifiably insane. Once he put her back on her feet he pressed his lips eagerly to hers, tasting the saline that continued to cascade down her delicate cheekbones.

"I love you," he breathed, planting butterfly kisses all along her face. He pulled back to assess her stomach once more, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the area of her womb. "And I love you."

She giggled softly, her fingers winding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. He could not describe the elation he felt, even if he had been asked. It was unprecedented and inexplicable, and very few things in his life had even come in at a close second. The only one that could possibly compete was his wedding day, and even that seemed dim now in comparison.

"We're having a baby!" he announced loudly over his shoulder, which only caused her to laugh harder. A few people smiled supportively in their direction, but for the most part the world continued on as it was. It didn't matter, though. They couldn't possibly understand what he was feeling in this exact moment.

And suddenly, he couldn't even recall how the day had started. How he had, at some point, been rather cranky to be on this trip. He'd never loved shopping more in his entire life than he did right now.

He pulled her in for another hug, feeling the stinging begin to appear in the corners of his own eyes as realization dawned upon him: not only was he hugging his wife, the one person who had ever made him feel worthwhile…but he was also hugging the one little boy or girl that would completely change his world.

He was going to be a father.

PROMPT: Can you write a spoby fic about spencer telling toby she's pregnant?