A/N 1: This is fluff! anonymous: yep, Spencer's sexy, like, all the time, right? Maxi-Luca: I have a question: did the "I love you" part made your heart crack in a bad or in a good way? Like, did it make it crack in emotion or cringe in shame and horror? And thank you as always (by the way, people out there, check the fic "Circumstance" if you haven't started reading it yet, it's Spemily beauty, and very related to this season in the show). Mona: thanks so much again! I did want to show it naturally, cause sex is natural, and love makes it even more natural; although it's definitely the hardest part for me to write. boomer84: you literally broke my heart in little pieces and I'm still picking them up from the floor. I love that you love the characters, cause I love them too, for some reason. So you think Emily's cruel? I'm the one thanking you for such a review. IxHeartxGlee: I can't express my gratefulness to you for always leaving some words. Really, my eternal thank you! Nico: thank you... and here's the update!
Peeking out of the window in the living room to catch a sight of the day, Emily saw there were no clouds in the horizon.
The day was still beautiful and the sun was still shining. Yes, there was a slow, gentle breeze that kept moving the leaves in the trees, but it was still a light, clear summer day. Good. Maybe they could take that walk or go for a swim later. The whole day was still ahead of them, slit like a juicy pomegranate or a pineapple. Damn, she was hungry. And, for some reason, she was craving for exotic fruits. It was sex. Sex made her thirsty and hungry and fruit-craving.
She walked barefoot to the kitchen and connected the fridge to the electrical current; then she placed some of the groceries inside and took out a big can of strawberry yoghurt. They'd bought no fruit so the yoghurt would have to do. And the chocolate ice cream was totally spoiled. It had completely melted during the last two hours, so she put it in the freezer with no real hopes that it could ever be edible again. After that, her search for a spoon started. She looked in every drawer and was about to give up and ask Spencer when she caught a glimpse of metal next to the sink. They were right there in her face. She approached the sink and took the opportunity to wash some forks and spoons in case they'd need them later when they cooked... in case they ever got to cook, that was. It was the first time she was alone at the Hastings' lake house with Spencer, and there was something about it that was making her feel like a teenage housewife, enjoying domesticity and dish-washing and potential food-cooking. She wished they could stay longer, although she was afraid of sleeping here, because the cabin was dark and isolated in the middle of the woods. It was a romantic place. And it was away from Rosewood. But it made her feel scared at the same time, because the night scared her in Rosewood and in the woods, almost everywhere, before and especially after A appeared in their lives. Anyway they had to go back to Rosewood. They had no permission to stay after 9 p.m. Like an early-hour Cinderella kind of limit, only this story was Rated R and contained no crystal high-heeled shoes.
Emily dried two spoons with a dishcloth and initiated her walk back to the bedroom, stopping along the way to recover her backpack. When she reopened the door, the sensation of a heavy, thick atmosphere of darkness, sweat and sex invaded her again, so she approached the window and rolled up the blinds just enough to let some light break into the room. Light gave way to air when she proceeded to open the window too.
A grunt of dissatisfaction came from the bed. Lying face down on the covers, Spencer moved and stirred, her bare skin goose bumping with the breezy air that blew inside.
Emily smiled, taking a moment to contemplate the view under this new light.
Leaving the spoons and the yoghurt aside, Emily sat on the bed and grabbed the sheets, slightly pushing Spencer, who emitted more sounds of discomfort, to cover her a little so she wouldn't get cold. The gooseflesh slowly disappeared under the warmth of the white sheets, her skin returning to normal. After taking care of the room and of Spencer's health, Emily lied down and opened the yoghurt. She took the spoon to her mouth and savoured the creamy strawberry flavour. Spencer seemed to be half-asleep, so Emily just ate in silence and, when she finished, left the yoghurt on the nightstand by her side, the remains ready to be eaten whenever Spencer decided on coming back to life.
She tried to think about the year ahead of them, about Danby and Princeton, about her swimming records and her real chances for a scholarship now that the HGH threat seemed over, about training and classes and exams. She calculated the miles that separated Princeton from Danby, debated over a drive or a flight, tried to form the image of a college dorm and roommates and classmates; but first, before any of that happened, she calculated grades and scores, her mind following every academic track she'd left, Bs and As, trying to create the best possible scenario (excluding A) for the year to come. Stress started to flow through her body, enervating her muscles and filling her head with information she'd almost forgotten during the summer, applications, books to read, books she'd already read, presentations, lab experiments, essays, competitions, extracurricular activities. For god's sake, if she kept thinking like this, she was really going to transform into a Hastings at some point. Not that she didn't want to belong to the Hastings; she did, at least to the one next to her on the bed, but the stress and pressure that dominated the Hastings household was something she never really liked and which made her suffer for Spencer. She had to find a way to deal with that stress herself.
Right now, the way her body found to deal with it was to immediately react against the thoughts, pushing them away, drowning them down under more pleasurable feelings and sensations. Like the light and the breeze softly brushing their skin. Like the warm, smooth body breathing next to her, partially hidden by the white sheets. School didn't start just yet. There'd be time to worry later. But not now. Now the skin facing her was eye-catching and too alluring to keep her thinking about stressful things. Distracting as it ever was, Emily moved her head to plant a sweet, brief kiss on Spencer's waist, then another one on the small of her back, yet another one on her spine. Since there was no response beyond what seemed to be a slight change of respiration, she allowed her fingertips to slightly walk on Spencer's back, tracing spirals and all kinds of patterns until goosebumps returned to Spencer's skin under her subtle, intimate touch. Somehow wickedly delighted with that effect which wasn't caused by the mild breeze in the room anymore, her fingertips travelled to Spencer's waist and wandered, slightly pressing here and there, until Spencer trembled and jerked away in a sudden move.
"It tickles."
Her voice sounded sleepy and low, but not annoyed. In fact, it sounded extremely pleased.
This was confirmed when she moved closer, an inviting gesture for Emily to continue tracing lazy geometrical patterns on her skin.
Emily giggled at the invitation, continuing her idle moves.
"Spencer", Emily pronounced slowly, almost as if her tongue was growing thick with the sound. "Spencerrrrrr."
Spencer turned her head on the bed to get a direct sight of Emily. Blurry, sleepy, literal bedroom eyes greeted Emily from the pillow.
"What?"
Emily smiled back at the bedroom eyes.
"Nothing", she answered, her voice lazy and sleepy too. "I like saying your name. S-pen-cerrrrr."
Spencer shot a wide smile now and curled her body a little in order to get closer.
"What?", Spencer repeated, not really expecting a different answer. She smiled even more brightly now. "I like your name too."
"But you can't purr it", Emily smirked sweetly, "like I can."
She repeated Spencer's name in such a way that it sounded like a low, soft purring sound.
"I didn't know you liked cats."
"It's a lesbian thing, you know."
Spencer chuckled at the joke, then bended more to approach her face to Emily's.
"But you're the cat", she reasoned, because it was Emily who was purring. "You're my cat. You're my cat Emily."
"So you're the lesbian and I'm the cat?", Emily playfully asked. Then she raised one brow, thick but beautifully drawn, a gesture she was perfecting lately. "I hope you like cats."
"I really like them", Spencer joked back, "especially if they purr my name like that."
"It's pretty uncommon to get a cat who actually talks."
"And swims too."
"Right."
Because cats weren't supposed to enjoy water. But this cat here lived for the water in the pool.
Emily placed another soft, little kiss on Spencer's side, which caused Spencer to smile again and move her whole body down in the bed so she'd be aligned with Emily, lying face to face.
"I left some yoghurt for you", Emily said, pointing at the nightstand with her head. "Ice cream's now like a soup of chocolate, it's kinda gross."
Spencer hummed contemplatively, her eyes not leaving Emily's.
"I'll eat later." She lifted her hand to touch Emily's luminous dark hair. "I was thinking about you."
"Yeah? I thought you were sleeping."
Spencer denied with her head.
"No, I was thinking", she repeated, "about you."
"And what were you thinking about me?" Emily's eyes sparkled. "Can I know?"
"About that night when we kissed the first time", Spencer answered, still playing with Emily's hair. "I was wondering… Did you wanna kiss me all the time?"
Emily frowned mockingly at her.
"I already told you about that night."
Spencer's curiosity about their story before The Kiss never reached an end.
"Yeah… but you never said if you actually wanted to kiss me all through the night or if it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing."
Hadn't she explained that before? Emily believed she had.
"I told you it wasn't planned", Emily explained (again), "but it was on my mind, yeah."
"It was on your mind."
"It was on my mind." It'd been on her mind constantly. "You were wearing a blue dress that was kinda distracting, so it definitely was on my mind, like, most of the time."
This bit of information about the dress was new.
Spencer could always get new things out of her interrogations and, as a result, Emily received the most natural response to her words: a copyrighted, property-of-Spencer-Hastings crooked smile that showed her inner satisfaction.
"So you were looking at my legs, not at my mouth."
Last time she heard, staring at a person's mouth was a sign of wanting to kiss them. However, staring at that person's legs… that was definitely a stronger, more indicative sign of attraction.
"I was trying not to look at either of them."
Spencer had to laugh at Emily's elusive, yet clarifying answer.
"That stupid dress kept rolling up", she remembered, "but I didn't realize you were staring at it."
"Because I wasn't."
Of course she wasn't staring. That would've been rude and inappropriate and embarrassing. And a clear signal that she didn't want to send… at least not so clearly.
"But you just said it was distracting you."
"Because it was", Emily explained matter-of-factly, "and that's why I wasn't looking."
Spencer frowned at the twisted, complicated logic behind the words, although, in truth, she found it totally charming.
"So let me get this clear", she restlessly continued. "You look at other girls' legs when you're not interested in them, but you avoid looking at them when you are interested?"
Emily stared at her, knowing Spencer's ultimate purpose too well.
"I don't usually stare at other people's legs", Emily answered, "cause I only wanna do it when I find them distracting."
Spencer wickedly chuckled. She was reaching the point for which she aimed.
"So were you looking at my legs or not?"
Emily smiled her sphinx, Mona Lisa type of enigmatic smile, a warm sense of suspense floating in the air.
"I was", she finally recognized, gaining another bright smile, but then decided to add something else. "Trying not to do it."
Spencer snorted and narrowed her eyes at her.
"What do I have to do to get a clear answer from you?"
Emily giggled, feeling silly, because she was being vague on purpose. Of course she'd stolen a couple of glances at Spencer's legs. Maybe more than a couple. But she wasn't going to admit to that so easily.
Well, in a way she'd already admitted to that. What was the mystery anyway?
It was something Ms. Recently-Adopted-As-Gay Spencer Hastings could not understand, because she'd never stolen glances at other girls' legs (or body parts) before, had never felt weird about it when it was a friend who was distracting you with long legs or dizzying fragrances or dangerous cleavage or... Stop. She didn't really want to remember all those awkward moments.
Thank god Spencer wasn't a friend anymore.
"I don't know", Emily replied, pretending to think really hard about what Spencer had to do to get the clearest answer. "Why don't you tell me what you were looking at during that night?"
Because, let's face it, Spencer was acting weird and sending mixed, confusing signals. So maybe she was looking at something too. It was about time to turn the interrogation on her.
Spencer lowered her eyes to Emily's mouth, a very clear signal now, and then fixed her gaze back on Emily's dark almond eyes.
"I was biting my tongue about your girlfriends."
"Yeah, no kidding", Emily said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But biting your tongue isn't looking or staring."
"I was…"
Had she looked at Emily in that way during that night? She didn't really know. Maybe she had. But she hadn't identified it as desire. Although there was something in the air she couldn't totally grasp. There were some weird thoughts and images going on in her head. She'd assumed it was because she was drunk and messed up about breaking up with Toby and about Emily's warnings and silences, but now she knew there was something else.
It had to be desire, although it didn't have the name at the time.
But she was paying more attention to Emily than to any other thing that night. Her whole body had been gravitating around Emily while they talked and laughed and listened to each other and then engaged in drunken silences, all of her thoughts and ideas directed in one direction even when she didn't look at her or when she made an effort not to look at her (so she was trying not to stare too, but why? Why was she being so careful about staring and how in hell had she not identified her own restraint as a clear sign of alarm?)
Aria had teased her that night, saying she was blind like Jenna if she couldn't voice how utterly gorgeous Emily was.
Hanna had teased her too, saying she wasn't worthy of a girlfriend position if she couldn't see it or say the right words.
Emily had laughed at their jokes, somehow agreeing, but subtly averting her eyes from Spencer, keeping all her secrets to herself.
But Spencer wasn't blind, Emily was stunning. She just couldn't find the voice to say it, had instead babbled some stock phrases about how Emily was cute and beautiful, words that reflected the truth (Emily was both cute and beautiful) but that always fell short, too inadequate when applied to Emily, the person who was now looking into her eyes, a curious, deep, enduring gaze, not looking away from her anymore.
She'd behaved as if Emily was holding a riddle when the riddle was actually herself.
All these things she felt about Emily which she couldn't really interpret with concepts and words, let alone voice them, give them names, identify them and act on them.
Only after the kiss.
Regarding their relationship, it was almost as if they'd always been two or three stages ahead of where they thought they were. They were playing a level of the friendship game, convinced it was that way, they got it right, but in truth they were already playing the next one, or the one after that. They were friends, really close friends. They took care of each other, respected their differences, knew their weaknesses and strengths, offered a helping hand, a smile, a motivating word (you go, champ, she'd say to Emily after a swim meet; you always win, you'll do it perfect, Emily would wisely murmur after Spencer came back from a tennis match or when she was studying for a test). They'd even respect each other's silences, would know when to let the other one be alone. Well, Emily would. Spencer wasn't that good at respecting boundaries when she was really worried. And, all that time, they thought they got it right. Even when they were distant and apart after Alison went missing, Spencer still cared for Emily and somehow still tried to look after her in the new, colder condition of their friendship, like they had suddenly went down so many levels but were still playing the game, the game that reinitiated full-force when A sent them the first threatening texts. All that time, thinking they got it right. But they were getting it wrong, because they were already playing another level of the game. They expected more from each other, wanted more out of each other, and in her case even pushed more in order to get as much as she could out of Emily. But they never really understood what it was until that kiss.
Only the kiss pushed them forward, forcing them to skip all those levels they'd been playing around, sending them directly to the top stage of the game. The stage where you killed the ultimate monster and earned the laurel wreath.
Emily realized it, at some point. She kissed her for that reason.
But it took her too long as well.
Spencer was sure it started long before Emily's realization.
"I was thinking", she tried to continue the sentence she'd started, finally sort of grasping the feeling she had that night, "I didn't really wanna think about you kissing anybody, but the images kept coming to my head because at the same time I wanted to know what you said… and how you felt about it. And I was also thinking you were kind of glowing in a really beautiful way I couldn't totally describe, but you always do, so it wasn't really different from other times."
Emily always glowed, but maybe not so much as that night.
"So you were thinking about me kissing other people."
"Yeah, but you were talking about kissing other people, so that's why I kept running images in my head."
"And you were thinking about them", Emily asked for clarification, "these images."
Emily already knew that. Instinctively, she'd known. But, in a sense, she was still curious as to how deep these images had run in Spencer's head.
"Yeah", Spencer admitted. She remembered every fragment of it. Every word Emily said, still in her ears. And the way she looked when she spoke. And the way she looked when she tried to smoke that cigarette. And how she would sometimes shoot a direct glance at her that both intrigued and shook her, only to see her looking away again. "I was looking at you… I think I was dumb."
Emily laughed softly.
"Yeah, I think you were dumb too", she nodded mockingly, "for once."
Spencer frowned, annoyed at this new realization of her idiocy.
"Why didn't you kiss me before?"
"Before? It took a lot to do it that night."
"You should've done it before. Like, a long time before."
A long, long time ago.
Whenever they started skipping levels of friendship to become what they were now.
"When?" Emily raised her brows quizzically. "When we were twelve?"
They barely knew each other when they were twelve. They were basically starting to communicate back then. Spencer was a dorky nerd, whose only ambition was to gain Melissa's respect and to exceed in academics, an adorable pain in the ass and a sack of bones. Emily was a sweet little lamb with a smile of gold and a kind heart, destined to date the star of the swimming team or of the football team or of the athletics team. Any kind of star, but basically a male one.
God, were they blind, were they stupid? Or were they just too young?
Did Emily even know she was gay at that point?
"The night I broke up with Toby and you came to my place."
Emily seemed surprised.
"That was definitely not the night to kiss you."
"Why not? I'm pretty sure I would've kissed you back that night too."
"I'm not", Emily replied, a little taken aback by the idea. "You hardly even looked at me. It took hours to actually get you to speak to me."
"But you wanted to do it?"
Here she was, Spencer: trying to get a new twist of information. They had also talked about that night before. But there were always new details to get out of it.
Emily stared at her calmly for a long moment before replying.
"Yeah, I did."
It had been torture to repress it.
Spencer sighed and placed her hand on Emily's neck.
"I wish you had."
Emily didn't agree, though.
"Sure", Emily answered, a slight sharpness in her tone. "You break up with your soulmate and two people kiss you, and one of them is your best friend. It makes a lot of sense."
Spencer had completely forgotten about Wren. And Wren was not the name she wanted to bring up right now in conversation. Not today. Not for a long time. Orange was starting to fade away, but it was still her color if Wren's name was mentioned.
She'd also forgotten about the soulmate ideal that she was attributing to Toby at the time.
"You are my soul mate."
Emily's gaze softened upon hearing the words, and she leaned into Spencer's ear.
"But you didn't know yet."
Spencer wished she'd known a long time ago.
"I wish I'd known earlier."
Emily smiled, her high cheeks standing out and glowing again.
"When we were born we should've been introduced and forced into a concerted marriage", she teased. "Would that make you happy?"
"No, that's awful", Spencer protested, pouting her lips. Concerted marriages were wrong and an act of violence on people, especially infants. "But maybe if you'd tried pulling at my dress in kindergarten or something like that, I would've known."
They both laughed at the idea.
"I didn't pull at other girls' dresses in kindergarten", Emily defended herself, though. She'd always been very well behaved as a child. "Maybe you did, but I didn't."
"I didn't do it either", Spencer complained. "I just threw mud at other boys and girls."
"See?" Emily smirked cheekily, glowing more intensely now. "Throwing mud definitely screams bisexuality to me. You should've been the one to come kiss me."
They locked eyes, because Emily had somehow managed to turn the tables on Spencer, and Spencer knew, even though it was all a silly joke. Sometimes she wondered why she hadn't realized and basically kissed Emily with all she had, before or after she came out, with Alison alive or dead, it didn't matter. Sometimes she still wondered why. Maybe she was just obsessed with a stupid, insoluble question. Facts were important, questions about the past were not. Stories were made of facts, not of questions. But facts were also contingent, malleable: they were once mere possibilities in someone's head. It didn't cease to intrigue her, so she just pulled Emily's neck closer to her face and parted her lips to kiss Emily kindergarten-style; well, it was dirtier and sexier than anything that should happen in kindergarten. Now, if she really wanted to perform the ideal joke, she'd just have to find some mud to throw at Emily's beautiful face and hair, to symbolize the beginning of their love in (false) retrospect, drawing it back to an original state of childish innocence in a past that could never be. Kindergarten style: throwing mud to scream they belonged together, they were bound to happen against all odds.
A long stare followed the kiss, innocence still shining through Emily's face sometimes.
Then Emily lowered her head and kissed Spencer's collarbone, right in the small, hollow spot she loved, upon which now rested the silver image of the old Egyptian queen.
"This part of you is mine. You know that, right?"
Her finger slightly pressed the sweaty skin under the silver queen, in the sternum. Then she kissed it, as if to seal the property contract, softly tracing the spot with her full lips and the tip of her tongue.
"You only want one part?", Spencer asked, her voice growing huskier with the sensual feeling of the kiss. She always found it so sexy when Emily either stared or touched her there. "I thought you wanted the whole thing."
Emily looked back, straight in the eye, sweet but defiant.
"I want the whole thing", she shrugged confidently, "and I have it. But this part has my name, like, imprinted. Or tattooed. It says Emily, and I have the pendant to prove it."
She touched the pendant and placed the head on her finger to contemplate it again. Then she continued her explanation.
"So no one else can touch here or it'll burn their hands and their lips, even their eyes if they lay them on it." She shot Spencer a through glance. "Remember this thing was trained for war."
It had been brought by a military man after a mission in Iraq.
Spencer returned Emily's confident gaze in awe.
And this was Emily, the same Emily who proclaimed, during their first real fight, that she was not a fighter.
Every time she discovered a new sign of that possessive, combative streak in Emily, Spencer heard two voices arguing in her head. One said it was irrational for Emily to feel insecure, because she'd made it clear, so many times, in so many different languages, that she belonged to Emily totally, body and soul, that there were no more languages left to explain this fact of life to her.
The other voice found that possessive streak extremely hot.
Actually, there was only one voice. They were the same voice. And the voice said it was hot.
"I wonder why Hanna and Aria think I'm the dog peeing all around you."
Emily giggled, knowing Spencer was right.
"Cause I'm a cat", she replied, following the tease, "and you bark too much."
To be honest, it was a good metaphor. Spencer was the terrier dog, always barking loudly, making a mess, whereas Emily was subtle, reserved about that kind of intense feelings.
"Is there any other part of me you wanna claim as yours?"
Emily smiled mischievously.
"They're yours", Emily softly replied, "but I'm naming them so no one else can come after me and claim them."
Spencer held Emily's gaze, frowning at the indication of a future person who wouldn't be Emily.
"Who's gonna come after you?"
"No one's gonna dare", Emily teased happily, "but I'm doing it just in case."
"So which are those parts you wanna own?"
Emily wiggled her brows funnily.
"They're the sexiest, most coveted parts", she clarified. "Can I say? Or maybe I should keep them a secret."
Spencer didn't answer, but raised her brows expectantly.
Lying on her stomach, Emily bent her knees upwards, her feet dancing playfully in the air. She was enjoying the expectant look on Spencer's face. Then she crawled on the bed until her nose touched Spencer's lips, smelling her breath, patiently waiting until Spencer slightly opened her mouth for another kiss that didn't happen this time, because just when it was going to happen Emily's nose and mouth separated a little while her fingers walked up to touch Spencer's lower lip.
The look of disappointment on Spencer's face only set Emily's increasing mischief in motion.
"This one", Emily murmured, brushing Spencer's lip with her thumb.
"My lips?"
Emily nodded, eyes and fingers focused on that concrete body part.
"Your lower lip", she cleared. "The one you keep chewing on when you're nervous or when you're thinking about something really deep and important."
Or when she was aroused.
Emily lowered her head again and slightly sucked the coveted lip, then deepened the kiss as Spencer was previously expecting. It wasn't surprising for her to receive a much hungrier kiss. Her mischievous behaviour with the lip had clearly turned Spencer on.
"Anything else?"
Spencer asked the question without letting the kiss go, forcing Emily to come back and continue it. When she managed to break free, Emily smiled and looked down at Spencer's partially covered body. Then she looked thoughtfully at her face again, separating a little to gain some distance.
"Yeah", Emily finally announced, "your nose."
Her fingers walked up a couple of steps from Spencer's mouth, slowly running and drawing the crooked line of the nose.
"You want my nose?", Spencer asked, surprised. "I'm pretty sure no one else will want that one."
"I want it", Emily stated firmly. "People are crazy if they don't want it."
She traced the trail of little kisses from the nose back down to Spencer's mouth, which was already twitched up in a smile. They kissed deeply again and then Emily rested her head between Spencer's shoulder and chest, where she could listen to Spencer's regular respiration.
They stayed in silence for a while.
"I never think about claiming parts of you for me", Spencer thought aloud, her voice low and sleepy again. "Maybe I should start doing it. You know, just in case."
Just in case someone came after her.
Oh, but that someone, if it ever existed, was going to live a very short, brief, violent life.
"You can do it if you want."
Emily's voice sounded lazy and sleepy too, her fingers tracing patterns again up from Spencer's stomach to her ribs, her small breasts and back to her clavicle.
"I kinda believe the whole thing is mine."
Emily lifted her head, resting her chin on Spencer's shoulder, and shot her a deep, meaningful look.
"The whole thing is yours. We're just choosing our favourite parts."
After making this clear, Emily looked away to rest on Spencer's chest again, but Spencer's hand lifted her head to keep looking into her eyes.
Then, in a sudden move, her fingers brushed and invaded Emily's long, dark, glossy hair, tousling it around with her hands.
"I want your hair", Spencer's raspy voice demanded, "your hair's mine."
"My hair?"
"Yeah, your pretty hair."
Spencer lifted her own head to sink her nose into Emily's neck and cascade of hair.
"I like your hair too", Emily said, laughing.
She'd forgotten to claim Spencer's brown waves, the way they tickled on her skin when they were kissing, the way she'd always recognize them from a distance, no matter how far away they were, when Spencer was giving her back to her, talking to someone else.
"It's my turn now", Spencer replied, "and I want your hair cause it's always so perfect and luminous and so dark and it always smells so good."
Emily moved, trying to see through her own curtain of hair, to search for Spencer's eyes and mouth.
"Okay, you got it", she agreed, once she could see again. "What else?"
They kissed, dark hair still getting in the way. Then Spencer held Emily's hand and lifted it to her face.
"Your hand", Spencer specified. "No, your fingers."
This answer elicited a mocking, disbelieving look on Emily.
"Why? You have beautiful hands. Mine are ugly."
Spencer's hands were elegant, with long fingers, while her hands were kind of short and chubby. They were probably the part she most disliked about her body.
"They're not ugly", Spencer argued. "There's nothing ugly about you. And anyway I'm choosing your fingers not because of how they look but because of what they do."
Emily smiled slyly, but opened her eyes in shock.
"You definitely are a perv."
Spencer's eyes opened wide in a mimicking fashion.
"Hey!", she protested. "I didn't mean it like that."
"And here I was thinking we were playing a romantic game."
"I didn't mean it like that", Spencer protested more vehemently. "And even if I meant it like that, it'd still be my choice."
Emily burst out in laughter.
"So did you mean it like that or not?"
"No! I'm telling you", Spencer tried to explain. "I chose them because they're always so graceful and they're always doing all kinds of things, like carefully opening stuff without ripping anything apart or walking around me and tickling me and I like that."
Emily was still looking at her in disbelief, so Spencer paused a second to scowl at her.
"You are the perv. You are the one who's thinking dirty thoughts."
Sparks illuminated Emily's eyes.
"You think?"
"Obviously that's the case."
"I didn't choose any pervy thing."
"Maybe you should've."
"Maybe I should have, given your pervy-porny choices."
Man, what Hanna would do with this conversation if she could hear!
"And what would you choose?"
"I'm gonna wait until you choose your last thing."
"I still have one left?"
"Yep", Emily said. "I chose three parts. And you already have perfect, smelly hair and tickling, pervy fingers. You still have one more to choose."
This time it was Spencer who smiled in mischief.
She seemed to dedicate some time to think, but it was clear for Emily that the deal was done. She was just trying to create suspense.
"So?"
Spencer crawled down in order to wrap her hands around Emily's ass and squeeze it, a bright, malicious smile on her lips.
"Your ass, forever and ever."
Emily couldn't help smiling, although she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"And then you'll say you're not a perv."
"It's not my fault that you have the greatest ass. I'd be stupid not to claim it for me."
"Why am I not surprised to find out you're not a romantic?"
Spencer took offense in that.
"Hey, your hands are romantic. Your hair is romantic. Even your ass is romantic, if given the proper treatment."
"Sure", Emily scolded, pretending to be very offended herself. "You're the most romantic person I can ever imagine. I only chose things that were either in your neck or your face, not dirty, sexually corrupted body parts. I care about beauty and spiritual stuff."
"Maybe you just don't like the rest of me", Spencer offered.
"That's not true!"
It was Spencer who couldn't stop chuckling now.
"Okay, we're gonna fix this", she managed to say in between chuckles. "You choose a pervy thing and I choose a more romantic thing. Deal?"
Emily looked away to make Spencer believe she was considering it, while Spencer's hands were still grabbing her ass.
"Deal", Emily agreed after a few seconds passed.
"You start", Spencer said. "Pervy thing."
Emily bit on her own lip now. In her opinion, her lower lip obsession was pretty pervy, but maybe not enough, given the circumstances.
Then she had other obsessions which might just be a little too hardcore to mention, because they didn't exactly correspond to body parts. More to certain activities and postures and… Man. Choosing a pervy thing was more difficult than it seemed.
"I'm waiting."
Emily shot Spencer an irritated look.
"And I'm thinking."
She felt Spencer's eyes clawing into her, growing increasingly intense and amused with every second she took to choose.
She looked down and observed Spencer's body again.
There was this curve on her waist which was really sexy, because she was so skinny but, at the same time, curvy. And that was where she really enjoyed tickling her with her pervy fingers.
There were also her legs. God. Her legs.
Fit and strong, but not too muscled.
Longer and longer under a dress or a skirt, leggings or skinny jeans.
Those two last pieces of clothing were definitely more difficult to handle in pervy terms, but still.
"Your legs", she blurted out. "They're longer than anything and they basically end up driving me where I always wanna go."
Her final words were a declaration of pure pervyness uttered with as much naughtiness as she could manage. Therefore, Spencer's immediate reaction was to cock a knowing eyebrow at her.
"You are the perv, exactly like I said."
And Spencer didn't even know that was the light stuff on her mind. But she'd been forced to think of something pervy. It wasn't really her fault.
Now what would Spencer say to beat her previous romanticism?
"I still have to see if you can be a romantic."
"I can be a perfect romantic."
"Let's see."
They held each other's gaze with curiosity.
"Your eyelashes", Spencer steadily, firmly declared, her expression suddenly serious. She lifted her fingers to touch them softly, forcing Emily to close her eyes for a moment. "They're long, longer than anything", Spencer continued, repeating Emily's previous naughty words, "and they drive me somewhere I always wanna go with you."
Emily reopened her eyes, her gaze softening in warmth. But she frowned, not understanding the cryptic turn Spencer had introduced to her own words.
"Where?"
Spencer slightly shrugged.
"Your eyes. Where you're looking at." She paused, thinking about the real meaning of the words. "I always wanna go there with you."
Still holding each other's gaze, Emily realized Spencer did know how to beat everyone at every game.
Not that she minded being beaten like that.
She felt speechless for a long moment. She felt the ground slipping under her feet, even though she was lying horizontally, the scenery flying by, her body being swept away in the wind.
In a good way.
Not in the really bad way that scared the hell out of her, when things went wrong and there was nothing to hold on to.
They kissed.
And then her fingers played dirty games again.
And then they made love again, forever chained to this room, to this sight until the end.
A/N 2: Title taken from "Crossfire", song by Brandon Flowers.