A/N: I have a few chuckles in this one for you. Hope you enjoy! Another couple chapters or so before we wrap up and start thinking about part three.
I'm getting mixed reviews about Hanna/Holmes...my apologies if anybody is disappointed by the pairing. I had promised some readers of SWY that I would do a back-burner exploration of Hanna/Holmes in this story, and I've been trying my best to develop their relationship while still regarding them as "supporting characters." I hope everybody understands and will still continue to read!
This chapter includes some Jaria moments. Please, folks, no rotten fruit - I happen to like me a bit of Jaria. It may seem random for now, but I have plans to develop it in part III. I'm also setting some other plots up for it...hopefully it will go over as planned!
xoxo
CHAPTER 22
"No, you don't understand," Spencer insisted, leaning almost the entirety of her upper body over the counter to challenge the airport desk clerk. "These are tickets for the flight that will take us on our honeymoon. HON-EY-MOON. They can't possibly be wrong."
"I'm sorry," the attendant behind the desk offered, sliding the envelope definitively across the marble surface. "These tickets are for a 9PM flight, not 9AM."
"That's impossible," Spencer growled, dropping her bags to her sides at last to survey the tickets herself. With shaking hands, she yanked open the envelope, ignoring a paper cut sustained along the way.
"It's all right, Spence," Toby was saying over her shoulder, looking on at the glaringly disappointing numbers on the paper before them. "We can come back."
"No," she insisted flippantly, glaring daggers over the counter. "We need to be on a 9AM flight."
The clerk sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry, Miss, but we don't even offer a flight at that time today."
"Then make one!"
"Spencer," Toby said warningly, grasping at her shoulder.
She was pushing wisps of hair out of her face in determined frustration. "You don't spring this kind of news on a newlywed. That's like just asking to get your ass kicked."
The clerk pursed her lips together in disapproval. Toby sensed the immediate need for damage control.
"It's okay, babe," he began, turning her to face him. "I'll take care of it. Just go sit down and do your relaxation exercises, all right?"
She huffed, slamming the tickets down on the counter top and beginning to stomp away. "A whole twelve hours gone from our itinerary. Twelve hours!"
"Spencer…" Toby began, attempting to placate her retreating figure. She irritably collapsed into an uncomfortable-looking airport chair, crossing her arms. He waited for her to glance in his direction, but she was determinedly refusing to do so. She looked close to tears, despite her hard exterior. He knew how frustrated she got over her schedule being disrupted – and not only was this no exception, but it was a particularly sensitive case. She looked down to play with the buttons on her dress coat, taking deep, shuddering breaths.
"Look," he began, turning to face the desk clerk. "I'm sorry for my wife's…volatility. She doesn't mean any harm by it, really."
"Hmm," the attendant mused darkly, arching a perfectly penciled eyebrow. "Clearly."
"If we could just get these exchanged for something earlier, I'll pay the difference," Toby offered, fishing into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. "Is there anything else available?"
The attendant, with a short harrumph of impatience, turned to her keyboard and began clattering away with her long fingernails. Toby waited eagerly, looking over his shoulder at Spencer. She was looking longingly out the window, watching a number of commercial jets ascend outside the building, her brown eyes glistening with disdain.
To any other person in the same situation, a twelve-hour flight change would be manageable. But Toby was well aware what he had gotten himself into with Spencer Hastings – a complete, obsessive attachment to schedules and organization, and utter confusion and disarray at any immovable obstacle that thereof interfered with her plan. She handled unpredictability poorly, and despite the neuroticism that accompanied it, he loved her all-the-more for her stubbornness.
He knew she kept a bottle of prescribed Xanax in her nightstand, in case of overwhelming and impending anxiety attacks. He was aware that she took a bubble bath every night to simply calm the nerves that had accrued throughout the day. He also happened to be privy to the fact that she secretly outlined her entire day in a purple spiral notebook, leaving only so much room for the possibility of misconfigured time. It was the primary part of her personality that most men may have difficulty mitigating; but for Toby Cavanaugh, it was an endearing part of the packaged deal. He happened to be fluent in Hastings Panic-ese, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"I have an earlier flight, but you'll still have to handle a layover at LAX, so it's still not quite buying you the time you wanted," the attendant began, green eyes glued to the computer screen. "It leaves in two hours."
"We'll take it," Toby breathed, flipping through the cash in his wallet. "What do I owe you?"
There was some additional clickety-clack of her nails on the keyboard. "Two hundred and fifty."
Toby winced slightly at this, gazing down at the limited amount of money he had been able to put away for the trip. It would not break the entire honeymoon, certainly, but still posed the potential for running short near the end. One last look at Spencer's forlorn expression made him confident, however, that he would simply have to make it work.
"All right," he sighed at last, pulling out the required bills. The clerk continued to feverishly enter more information into the computer. Toby returned his wallet to its proper location in his back pocket, gathering the new tickets and luggage and heading in Spencer's direction.
"…Won't be able to attend the luau, or go on the Pearl Harbor museum tour," she was muttering to herself, scanning the planner of her phone and chewing absent-mindedly on her acrylic thumbnail. She did not even notice him approaching.
"Baby," Toby began quietly, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. She started at his voice.
"You scared me," she breathed, one hand flying to her heart. "I can't believe this, Toby…it totally messes up all of our plans for today…"
"Spence, listen," he said, squatting down on the floor beside her. "I got the tickets exchanged for a flight in two hours…we're still going to lose some time, but I hope it's better."
The sparkle that appeared suddenly in her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck in gratitude made the two hundred and fifty dollars well worth it.
"Oh, thank God!" she cried, pulling back to survey his face. "You're the best! That means we can still go to the luau – the Pearl Harbor tour may be out, but maybe we can squeeze it in later in the week…" She trailed off, referring back to her phone to feverishly reorganize their itinerary.
Toby took a seat beside her and watched her fondly as she fumbled through her phone, mumbling directions to herself under her breath. It was moments like these that made Toby happiest. His wife was easily the most melodramatic person he had ever met when it came to schedules and planning, but to him it was endearing. Perhaps it would be nerve-grinding to the average Joe, who preferred spontaneity over electronic itineraries. Other men may be anxious to change this quality of Spencer's, but Toby relished in watching her successfully traverse a challenge. Nothing made her happier – and by extension, his own heart soared at her triumphs.
"Snorkeling on Wednesday," she murmured to herself, turning to Toby and grinning. "I've always wanted to go…are you as excited as I am?"
He smiled back, rubbing small circles on her opposite shoulder. He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her temple. "Whether we're in scuba gear swimming with the fish, or stuck in a shady motel with a bad cockroach problem, I'm most excited to spend the week with you."
Her smile fell to a serious expression, gazing at him adoringly. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he agreed. He scooted closer to her, gesturing to the phone in her lap. "So. Tell me what else you have planned."
It was 11:00 at the house, and Hanna had only barely managed to finish preparing for company. Holmes had been rather useless – as most men usually are when it comes time to entertain house guests – and had sat idly by sputtering like a fish out of water. In all fairness, it had been Hanna's idea to host a wedding party brunch before Aria, Emily, and the rest of their guests departed back to their homes; but judging by the laser beams shooting from her eyes, he had nonetheless been expected to adequately contribute.
"You look nice this morning," he had offered pathetically.
She had hardly batted an eyelash before responding distractedly.
"Yep."
It was at that point that he thought it was wisest to simply give up.
Aria and Ezra had been the first to arrive with a dish to pass, followed closely by Jason, Emily, and Lancaster. Melissa had politely declined, insisting that she would need to get Taylor back home to rest before school the next morning.
The brunch started out like any other – laughter, reminiscence of the evening before, and shared respects to the happy couple.
"The bachelor party was something to remember, huh?" Holmes chuckled, looking pointedly at Ezra. "You made some risky moves with your money, Fitz."
Aria glanced at him worriedly. Ezra merely shook his head to deflect the comment.
"Perhaps – but who walked out of that casino with four thousand dollars?"
"Of course man, you knocked it out of the park," Jason conceded, holding hands up in mock surrender. "You steamrolled all of us with your winnings."
"Denny's was the best part though," Holmes insisted, laughing. "Ezra was damn set on having real sugar for his coffee…he got so pissed about the Sweet 'N Low."
Hanna stared at him, bewildered. Holmes cleared his throat and shrugged sheepishly. "Well…maybe you had to be there…"
"It's all right. Hanna kissed Emily at the club," Aria offered, a mischievous smile on her face.
Holmes turned to Hanna immediately to confirm the tale. She was blushing an attractive shade of fuchsia.
"I only did it to make some assholes stop hitting on her," she began.
"And it worked," Aria confirmed. "I don't think a single guy came up to Emily for the rest of the night."
"Nope," Hanna replied triumphantly. "I'm the best cock blocking wing girl to have at your side."
The table broke into laughter at this comment.
"How hungover were you the next day, anyway, Ezra?" Lancaster asked curiously, spreading butter onto the last remaining onion bagel. Ezra sighed dramatically.
"It was pretty bad," he admitted.
"Oh my God, yes," Aria agreed, shaking her head. "He wouldn't even let me open the blinds in our hotel room."
"It's no wonder…You should have seen him at the casino," Lancaster began laughingly. "Drunk out of his mind – we were trying to get him in the limo and all he could do was keep going on about a ring…"
Holmes delivered a swift kick to his kneecap below the table, but had not done so soon enough. Lancaster doubled over in pain, his sudden cry of surprise masking what would have otherwise been a noisy clatter of silverware hitting porcelain.
"Ring?" Aria breathed, looking at Ezra incredulously. Ezra avoided her eyes and took a heavy gulp of his orange juice, as if steeling himself for the task at hand. Jason was eyeing her protectively.
"I…uh…it was going to be a surprise," Ezra mumbled under his breath. The fast-settling silence in the room, however, made his statement practically echo off the walls.
"That's positively not something we can afford right now," Aria was hissing quietly. "Not only that, but I already told you – my parents have to get used to the idea of us being back together before I'm willing to spring anything on them…"
Ezra cleared his throat, looking across the table at Holmes for assistance. Holmes could only wince in reply.
"I just thought…you know…with Spencer and Toby getting married…that you might have the wedding bug and it would be a good time to – "
"Wedding bug?" she growled. "You were going to propose to me just to avoid hearing me talk about my best friend's wedding?"
"Look. Can we talk about this later?" he muttered discreetly. It was clearly the wrong thing to say, for Aria had risen to her feet.
"Why should we? We've obviously had the entire conversation in front of everyone we know already, anyway!" Emily reached out to take Aria's hand supportively, but she yanked it away. "Is it so much to ask to try to make that kind of moment a special one? When we have my parents' blessing?"
"Aria," Hanna placated. "Ezra's just trying to – "
"If you even dare take his side, I will dump my orange juice in your Gucci purse," Aria threatened. Hanna reeled back immediately as if slapped.
"We just got back together," she said venomously. "In no way, shape, or form are we in a position to be thinking about this!"
"All right…you're right," Ezra was pleading desperately. "I'm sorry. Will you sit back down so we can spend time with our friends?"
"They're not your friends – they're my friends!" Aria spat. Hanna and Emily exchanged looks of shared disbelief. Neither had ever seen Aria so hostile towards Ezra before.
Aria threw her cloth napkin onto her plate, as if signifying the end of the conversation. "I'm going for a walk." With that, she was bee-lining for the door.
The group looked at one another somberly, attempting to make sense of Aria's outburst. Jason was the first to stand, making his way to the door to follow her.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ezra grumbled, burying his face in his hands. "Of all the people to go with her…"
"It's not like that," Emily offered comfortingly. "He just…he gets her, you know?"
"They dated for six months while we were broken up," Ezra argued, giving Emily a deadpan stare. "He's not exactly the one I want talking to her right now…"
"I'll go," Hanna offered, standing and making her way to follow suit. She had hardly descended the porch steps before she caught them out of the corner of her eye, talking feverishly beneath the hibernating cherry blossom tree in the front yard.
"…of all the things to do when this is going on," Aria was venting sadly, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I don't have time to deal with this right now – and neither would my parents…"
"You have to tell him," Jason murmured, taking her gently by the hands. "It's not something you can keep to yourself. It will make you insane."
Aria shook her head fervently. "No. I can't. I'm not going to rush back into this relationship with more baggage than I had when we split up."
"But he loves you," Jason said softly. "He would want to know…to be there for you…and take care of you."
Hanna had the distinct feeling that Jason's soliloquy was dripping with hidden meaning. He reached out to affectionately tuck a piece of hair behind Aria's ear.
"It's only fair to give him that chance."
Aria exhaled with a loud whoosh, wiping the tears away from her face. She politely stepped away from Jason's hold, as if uncertain of how to otherwise let him down easy. "You're right. I should. I should go talk to him…"
Hanna chose that moment to make her presence known. With a soft clearing of her throat, both Aria and Jason whipped around to face her, looking akin to two deer caught in headlights.
"Aria," she began pathetically, "are you okay?"
Jason took a step back from Aria, as if burned by their proximity. "I'll give you girls a chance to talk…excuse me…" He ducked quickly around Hanna and back into the house, avoiding eye contact the entire way.
Hanna looked questioningly at Aria, awaiting a feasible explanation. Though the weather was slightly warmer today than it had been, the chill on the wind was still enough to make her breath come out in wisps. She wanted desperately to ask about what Aria was hiding from Ezra, but decided against invading her privacy. She would talk to her when she was ready.
"I'm just…confused," Aria admitted at last, stepping closer to Hanna so that she could rest her head on the blonde's shoulder. "It just feels like everything is moving so fast now…"
"Can I ask you a question?" Hanna interrupted, wrapping an arm around Aria's tiny frame. "An honest one?"
Aria scoffed dejectedly. "Sure. I probably owe it to you."
"When you told me a few months ago that Jason was a rebound…did you lie?"
Aria started, drawing away from Hanna with a haste that suggested guilt. She considered her question for a moment before responding.
"No. Er – yes – I mean…maybe. I mean, I love Ezra…but Jason was there for me when I needed someone the most."
Hanna reached out, using both hands to rub up and down Aria's forearms comfortingly. "Maybe it's Ezra's turn, then," she offered somberly. Aria merely nodded, fresh tears clinging to her doe-eyed lashes.
"I know."
"But whatever you decide – whatever makes you happy – I'm behind you 110%. Remember that, too."
Aria did not say anything. Both girls understood what this simple statement meant.
"C'mon, let's go back inside," Hanna offered, taking Aria by the hand. "You're freezing."
Aria's bottom lip quivered. "I just need a minute…is that all right?"
Hanna squeezed her fingers reassuringly, offering a sad smile in reply. "Of course. I'll give you some space."
"No," Aria said quickly, holding fast to Hanna's hand. "Can you stay with me?"
Hanna felt her heart melt at the sight of Aria looking as lost and confused as she did. She immediately moved in to wrap her into a hug.
"As long as you need me to," she answered loyally.
The plane ride was horrid. If Spencer wasn't as in love with Toby as she, in fact, was – she would have given him a swift kick in the balls for his insanely embarrassing snoring. He was making it damn near impossible for her to rest at all for the majority of the trip, and was drawing attention from nearby passengers. She had attempted to elbow him in the ribcage a few times, but to no avail – he was down for the count.
She had chosen, instead, to try watching the scheduled film. It was the latest Toy Story movie, a friendly option for the entire family. Attempting to lose herself in the story by cranking up her headphones, her mind began to wander.
She and Toby were married now. Legally bound. Fates intertwined for the rest of their lives. She was every bit as thrilled to be his wife as she had always been…but random bouts of panic had begun to set in. There were so many things they hadn't really talked about or officially established, as most engaged couples should prior to their ceremony. It wasn't as though they had purposely avoided topics about their future…it was simply that they had been bogged down by other distractions. Deployments. Ex-cons. Car accidents. Even the wedding planning, itself.
But now that she had a moment to finally breathe a sigh of relief…a million thoughts were now racing through her mind.
How many children would he want to have? She had caught him playing what would have otherwise been a heart-warming game of Peek-A-Boo with the triplet toddlers across the aisle. Their mom hadn't even been paying attention to them, and her sweet Toby had taken it upon himself to entertain them. But she felt her stomach twist into knots at the way he gazed at them when he squeezed her hand. It was something like…longing. Spencer only wanted two children – two girls to be exact – and if Toby was counting on her popping out three at a time, he was in for a sore disappointment.
Where would they live? It wasn't as though they had really had an opportunity to save much money as of yet. She was a struggling college student on a scholarship that provided very little leftover finances after tuition. She could pay her share of the rent at the frat house, but that was about it, to be honest.
Toby was a military man who had been earning a decent paycheck while deployed. But now home, he, too, would seek to begin his college career. This bode poorly for financing a home of their own.
Even the most miniscule details were haunting her now – dog or cat? Both? Neither? She was a dog person, herself…but what if Toby didn't like dogs? She had never really discussed it with him before.
All of her worries were coming to a head when he finally stirred in his seat, reaching out to squeeze her knee lovingly. She removed her headphones, staring down at his hand.
"Have you slept at all?" he asked quietly.
"No." She avoided his eyes and opened her book to the marked page, desperate for a real distraction.
"Spencer," he began slowly, craning his neck to catch her eyes. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she offered pathetically. He made a low sound of frustration in his throat.
"Baby…c'mon."
She exhaled heavily, setting the book down hard on her lap. She was speaking before she even realized her mouth was moving.
"How many children do you want to have?"
He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment. Then, no sooner had the expression appeared, it was gone, replaced by a smirk.
"Are you really worrying about this right now?"
"Just answer the question," she pleaded, turning to face him. She resented the amusement that was flickering in his sapphire eyes.
"Well," he started, rubbing her knee, "I was hoping for two or three."
Two or three. Two or three. That was manageable.
"All right," she conceded. "What about pets?"
"Spencer," he began worriedly, "what's going on?"
She sighed loudly, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes were trained on them there for a moment, attempting to gather her thoughts properly.
"I just want to make sure we have all of our ducks in a row," she answered honestly. She pulled a face when he responded with a chuckle.
"I would say that we don't need to worry about it right now…but I know how you are," he said with a sly grin. "To be honest, there are a lot of things I've thought about – and a lot that I haven't." He reached over to take one of her hands in his own, using the pad of his thumb to massage her knuckles. "But whatever the topic may be, I'm willing to negotiate. That's what a marriage is. Compromise."
She winced. She had always hated that word. Her parents had used it continuously throughout her childhood, in reference to her disagreements with Melissa. And from her experience, "compromise" was usually equated with "sacrifice." And not the kind of sacrifice where the person gained anything from the deal in return. Melissa always won out. With everything.
But the look of sincerity in Toby's eyes calmed her nonetheless. She knew that he would be willing to discuss all of their options when the time came. And he – if anyone – would be completely open-minded in their decisions.
"You're right," she stated at last, squeezing his hand in hers. "I guess I'm just coming down from the wedding day high and stressing about everything and anything imaginable."
He chuckled, extracting his arm to wind it around her shoulders. "Relax. It's our honeymoon. You're not supposed to get worked up over grown up details just yet."
Try as she might to resist, she could not help but smile. She cocked her head onto his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Relaxation. Compromise. Negotiation. These buzzwords would have to succeed in distracting her for the course of their vacation.
"Right," she thought out loud. "It's our honeymoon. We're supposed to be wallowing in a romantic getaway."
"Exactly. Now you're talking. It's about enjoying each other's company and discovering new sights…together."
They sat in silence for a moment while she considered the implications of this realization.
"Toby?" she asked suddenly, trailing her fingernails along his wrist.
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever joined the mile-high club?"
He paused, reeling back slowly to look at her. "What?"
"I was just thinking…this trip is all about new experiences, right? New firsts that will set the stage for the rest of our lives?" She turned to face him, rubbing her thumb along his bottom lip. He shuddered ever-so-slightly in reply.
"Well…to answer your question…no, I haven't," he started hesitantly.
She beamed at him. "Meet me in the bathroom in three minutes," she whispered suggestively. As she stood up and began to shimmy past him into the aisle, she had to hold back laughter at the look of utter surprise on his face. She had succeeded in stumping the Great Toby Cavanaugh. At last!
She slipped into the tiny compartment in the back, assessing her face in the mirror. She looked utterly disheveled from the chaos of the day's earlier events. It was a Hastings curse – gaining the appearance of five years in a single day based on miniscule stressors.
She had barely had a chance to improve the mess that was her hair before Toby came barreling in with her. He shut the door quickly behind him, staring her down like a man with a mission.
"Toby – " she began, surprised. He grabbed her by the hips and pushed his lips onto hers, his tongue instantaneously dancing in a pre-determined rhythm against hers. She felt a debilitating tingle appear behind her navel. It was suddenly glaringly obvious that Toby had some sort of fantasy surrounding this very scenario, for his hands were unabashedly exploring several parts of her body faster than she could even blink.
In one swift movement, he had hiked her legs around his waist and hoisted her onto the sink. There was a look of fiery desire in his eyes as he began to plant a trail of kisses from her earlobe to her clavicle, desperately pulling away at her blouse. Her eyes fluttered shut at the sudden intimate contact. He then took her passionately by the face and crashed his lips back onto hers, nibbling recklessly at her mouth.
"Good idea?" she panted against his tongue. He was pressing up against the apex of her thighs, his hands buried deep in her chaotic chocolate locks.
"Best idea ever," he replied, equally as breathy. He was fumbling now with the button of her jeans. "We have to hurry – the guy behind us that ate all those tacos earlier was starting to look a little squeamish."
And in spite of herself, Spencer began to laugh uncontrollably. Toby took only a moment before he was also hovering over her, shaking with mirth. It felt good to laugh, after the morning she had had. And only Toby could manage to cheer her up after such a disruption.
They spent a minute reflecting laughingly on this unfortunate image, wiping tears from their eyes and releasing shaky exhales, before Spencer reached behind her back to unlatch her bra. Then they were all business once more. His eyes drunk her in hungrily, his hands roving over her curves.
"Let's make ourselves official members," she whispered, pressing her lips to his once more.