#yes toby is probably the little spoon but usually they’re face to face

[rootworks]

Who’s the big spoon!!!!!!!!!

these are super sketchy but my idea is that they usually sleep face to face or would switch off being big spoon. theyre also the type of people to sleep fully clothed in their shoes and jeans

[purplerose244]

Belonging

Here again for the @toa-secret-santa of this year! So happy to participate again, I love these events! 😍😍 Hello @spellcasterdouxie, I’m your secret santa! Merry Christmas and festivities, hope you like my present! ❤

Summary: In which being stuck in New York to protect a magical being and save the world in the process is no excuse for not celebrating Christmas with your friends.

Also on AO3

So… Nari was a terrible liar.

Extremely powerful being, the purest pretty soul, but horrible at lying.

Douxie didn’t have the slightest idea of what she was plotting, granted that she used to be part of an evil congregation of wizards that wanted to take over using an ancient artifact – meh, like that was the weirdest coming from his friends –, but he was fairly sure that her claim regarding the leaking sink of the bathroom was some sort of decoy.

Did that convince him to ignore those big adorable puppy eyes?

“It looks good to me, but I’m gonna give it a double check just in case!”

“Thank you Douxie, much appreciated! Please make sure everything is working, do not overlook a single thing!” Absolutely not. He was a master wizard, not a beast.

Their little apartment was neither pretty nor particularly clean. Which considering the little money he accumulated over the years with all of his jobs back in Arcadia and given the fact that they were in New York City, was kind of a given. But it had a perfectly functional bathroom, basically a gift from above, or some kind of karma retribution from putting up with three different apocalypses in the same summer – and he had all suspicions that another one was coming, but possibly another season. That being said, he wasn’t sure why with her plant like appearance, Nari with all people was so interested into their sink. Besides maybe for spraying a bit of water over her head – one very curious and endearing scene really, like a pot plant watering itself.

Then again, he wasn’t completely sure why he was going along with it instead of asking directly what was this all about. Maybe he liked to study whatever thought somehow as peculiar as her could come up with. Maybe there was nothing else of particular interest to do while waiting for his mac and cheese to be ready… maybe that little nightmare of his from last night got him a little too down, and doing anything but think about it was a better solution than most. And it was a pretty annoying maybe, because dreams about his master were as common as breathing lately.

He thought he was over it. It was probably too soon… hopefully he was at least getting closer to the not too soon part of it.

One long silence followed, from which he was fairly sure he had heard a few whispers a little lower than Nari’s light tone. Great, what now? Was she actually plotting something?

“Is everything okay over there? Arch? Nari?”

“Fine, everything is fine! Keep checking please!”

“Are you serious?” Okay now it was ridiculous. “Nope, I’m getting over there, and you two better not be up to no good!” They were a surprisingly compatible pair, especially since his familiar had made it his mission to teach her the marvel of pranks – she wasn’t even malicious about it, that made it all even more devious somehow. Douxie left the wrench on the ground, getting out of the bathroom and towards the living room. “You all keep forgetting that I’m the master wizards here, so technically I’m in charge, so if you’re scheming something- Whoa, Mordrax’s miracles!”

The last thing he had expected, after leaving their lonely living room that was made of four faded walls with a random kitchen connected to it, was to get back to it completely transformed into a messy, happy Christmas themed little chamber.

Filled with very familiar faces.

“Merry Christmas, Teach!” Claire almost knocked him off his feet with that hug. She looked radiant, all wrapped up in one big purple sweater with ‘Feeling Wicked Sassy’ written on it – appropriate. Behind her Steve, Toby and Archie were all smiling.

“Sorry, you would not leave the house,” Nari looked all cozy and a little guilty in that big mint green sweater – with ‘Every Day is Green Day’ written on it, where did she get that? –, waving at him. “And it felt like claiming we were being attacked by Skrael and Bellroc was a bit excessive.” Thank goodness his roommate and protegee had some common sense – considering his latest adventure, more than him for sure.

Claire giggled, shrugging innocently.

“We honestly hoped you were that bad of a plumber and would give us more time…”

Douxie snickered, because this was ridiculously endearing and he loved it all already.

“Too bad I’m not completely hopeless.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Steve, it was Steve, not even worth turning around to recognize him. But a random fist bump, that much he could concede – especially with that massive blue sweater ‘Silent Knight, Holey Knight’ he had on, like really what was even that. “Ready to have the best time of your life?”

The master wizard arched an eyebrow.

“Said from you? Should we call the firefighter in advance? Or the police?” The blonde pouted very dramatically, Claire snickered. He had really missed these two. “Wow, this place looks amazing! The landlord can’t see this or she will force me to pay more for the rent.” His wallet was already gasping enough for breath and money. “All this stuff, all the decorations… is this beef?” Ah, that was why it all felt like such a sudden change, this paradisiac scent had definitely not been here before. “It smells delicious!”

“Thank you!” Second shock of the day, but Douxie could hardly blame himself considering the most time he had spent around Jim had been during his huge troll moments – he kinda looked like a twig now in comparison. “I’m pretty well known for my festive feasts.”

“Also known as festeasts!” Toby showed one enthusiastic victory sign, pulling off his orange ‘Rockin’ This Christmas’ with plenty of little gems and stones all around – the forever geologist.

Jim rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Tobes we’re not calling them that.” The Warhammer holder frowned, only to beam when he got handed a spoon for a taste. “I made most of this from home so it’s all ready and warm, but I wanted to make something on the place while I was at it. Freshly made food tastes way better on Christmas.” Toby hummed around the spoon, smacking his lips, then he rubbed his fingers together towards the chef, who caught it as to add more salt.

Douxie couldn’t help but scoot closer, peaking inside. That looked like food. That looked like real, delicious, extremely well-made food.

“What in the world, how did you make that?” Jim snorted.

“You moved on without much of a comment from me turning into a half-troll, a full troll and then back to a human, and this surprises you?”

“My friend, there were Thai leftovers, one instant ramen, an onion and an egg left in the fridge so yes, this surprises me!” All speculations died when he was offered a taste too. “… so it turns out I know nothing of magic. I must bow to the real master wizard here.” If happiness had a flavor it had to be this one. The former trollhunter snickered, giving him a little elbow before going back over his creations. And if the most classic ‘kiss the chef’ apron on him wasn’t already extremely fitting, the cyan sweater underneath reciting ‘I’m In The…’ on the back barely left to the imagination what list was written on the front.

A very well-deserved sign, really.

“Buttsnack’s managed to make these too, take a look!” Steve waved at the little counter that was the only thing remotely looking like a table in this place. And smelling just as heavenly as everything else, there they were, mince pies, just like the ones from Camelot. “But I don’t know if they’re as good because someone slaps my hand every time I- OUCH!! I didn’t even try this time!”

Archie’s tail could be surprisingly useful as a whip, in fact.

“You were thinking about it! So don’t, these are for later.” And wow, if his most loyal companion wasn’t absolutely adorable wearing that little red sweater – ‘Santa Paws’, he was going to complain about it all day long. Douxie wished he hadn’t left his phone in the bathroom. “We’re still waiting for the tree, the last decorations and the music. But we’re almost ready.” So apparently his familiar had been behind all of this. That actually made perfect sense.

Of course this little wizard associate had known this was going to do him good. It was the kind of bond that came with being around each other for over 900 years.

Archie smiled at him, and Douxie couldn’t not grin in return.

“Can’t wait for them! Even thought I did have some when we had that travel… well technically ages ago, we were actually in Camelot, but it wasn’t- Ah forget it, time loops are too confusing.” There was a consensual groan including all of them but Toby and Nari, who just looked at each other and shrugged. “Well, this is awesome, how did you even get everything here so fast?” On second thought, that was more than just bizarre. His eyes crossed Claire’s right away. “You get so tired with transportations through the Shadow Realm usually, and you got to bring along all of these people and decorations?” The thing was, this wasn’t supposed to be possible. Another thing was, Lady Claire of house Nunez was so insanely talented it would had not surprised him.

The girl waved her hand in denial.

“I wish I was at that level, but no. Still, we did travel back and forth pretty quickly.”

“Without magic? How?”

“I should take offense from that highly questioning tone.” Third shock, his poor heart – he came back from the grave once, and he really didn’t recommend it. He was fairly sure the apartment he had rented didn’t include interdimensional portals opening in the middle of the living room. “And from the fact that you humans keep forgetting I invented a perfectly functioning wormhole generator. But please, continue with your predicaments, ignore the scientific feat I’ve accomplished!” For an alien that barely understood human sarcasm, Krel Tarron was made a whole half of it.

As he walked in from the portal, holding one edge of a box filled with Christmas balls, on the other side Zoe stepped in carrying along the rest. And between a black ‘I’m Back, Witches’ sweater and a gray ‘DJ Kleb’ one with four sleeves, it was one curious and fantastic view.

“Yeah yeah, you bent the rules of physics, congratulations!” Zoe’s tense tone implied that she must had heard that complain already. “Stop talking and get working, I’m going the extra mile here!”

“This doesn’t sound like a good time to have a walk.”

“For the love of…!” The pink haired girl let out a muffled scream, let go of her edge of the box – lucky for Krel to have four arms to catch it – and jumped over the master wizard to grab his shoulders. “I hate you so much, you left me alone dealing with all of these new knuckleheads! Like the local dummies weren’t enough!” The collective offended ‘Hey!’ coming from both the Akiridion and the village’s idiot – a marvel that Steve actually responded, fully aware of his status as knucklehead – was somehow even more endearing than funny.

Meanwhile Zoe was still wrinkling his favorite jacket, frowning aggressively at him like the fact that he was out there saving the world was unforgivable – you could say anything about this pink head, but not that she didn’t have priorities.

Douxie snickered, easing the hold onto him.

“Sorry for trying to give my friends a place to live in this crazy wild world, then!”

“… apologies accepted.” Zoe narrowed her eyes. “But only if we finally hunt for niffins and get those forsaken burgers after you did the deed. I’m calling dibs on you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Besides, you owe me. I didn’t snitch and told that Hex Tech got annihilated and we’re in need of new personnel because someone needed to hide from the big bad villains.” Those blue gems were screaming not to mess this offer up, because it was certainly not going to come back.

Even with a pressure like that, in some way inside of him, Douxie felt freed of a little weight. Despite the distance and everything that had happened, some things stayed the same. So he quite happily held up his fist, smirking at the girl.

“Alright, as soon as this is over with. Deal.” Zoe glared at him a few more seconds. Then she nodded, and finally bumped their knuckles together.

With a thud Krel finally put the box down, sighing soundly.

“Thanks Seklos this is done. I believe we are only missing the dead tree that will be then covered in artificial garnishments as a form of apparent belittlement of nature.” He stayed still for a few seconds, mindlessly throwing a little sphere on the ground that divided in four pieces, generating a portal. “… I feel like I’m getting so accustomed with humans’ savageness that I’m even quite looking forwards to it. Especially for that useless invention called ‘tree’.” He snickered, getting inside the wormhole that disappeared as soon as he was in.

Luckily the impossible dimensional gateway appeared of not leaving any trace behind. And luckily the creature – or elf, demigod, Nari was still a bit of a mystery – most connected to the nature that had just been denigrated was way more interested in whatever chef wiz Jim Lake Jr. was preparing.

“You knubhead, I just told you not to!” Archie’s spiteful voice came along, as apparently Steve had managed to take advantage of the situation – a scientific miracle happening in front of them, fair enough – to finally get himself a mince piece. Only to get slapped to the ground.  “That’s it, until these cool down you’re getting nowhere near! Douxie, out with me, we need to guard the treasure!” That was some attachment for one tray of soft and delicious little pastries.

Douxie shrugged and complied, picking up the meal under the jock’s renovated pout and heading to the balcony. The chilling air got to his nose right away, but he endured, appreciating just the tiniest breath. There was barely space for once person there.

Well, one person and his familiar. He placed the tray on the railing, making sure it didn’t fall.

“How did Jim even get the recipe?” Archie grinned.

“Well, apparently his troll friends did remember a certain meal very appreciated by humans from back then, but they have their own idea on how to make it. I don’t know the details, but I certainly know it involves socks. Plenty of socks.”

“… you want to see Steve’s reaction to them later.”

“I want to see Steve’s reaction to them later with all the others. Christmas is supposed to be a family festivity, right?” His grin disappeared right after. “So… it didn’t sound like you were sleeping too well last night.” Yep. He knew. Of course he knew. He would had even if he didn’t have to habit of sneaking into his bed to get warm. “Something you’d like to talk about?”

Douxie breathed out, gently buffing his fluffy ear.

“I’m fine Arch, not need to get all sensible on me. It was one of the usuals.” He tried a weak smile, not really feeling like keeping everything in. Not with so many people inside, on this particular day. “… you know, thinking it now, somehow it was easier celebrating Christmas on the streets back in Camelot. Getting something good to eat, have fun, that was enough. Considering how tense was everyone in the Pendragon castle it’s not much of a surprise, but still… I wonder if Merlin ever had a proper Christmas in there.” He sighed. “He certainly didn’t while I was around.” The noisy streets of Camelot overlapped NYC’s busy ones. He swallowed a lump into his throat.

That legendary town was such a faraway place right now, coming back from a single memory was a slap from reality. Douxie shivered, taking in a freezing breath, gasping when Archie jumped over his shoulder and curled all around his neck. His fur was nice and warm.

“We have no way of knowing. But one thing’s for sure, that old man got a surprising, unexpected present in any case.” Archie smiled, eyeing him softly. “One very sneaky, very foolish, very brave apprentice.” They had been there, the both of them. And in any possible way, in the good, the bad, and the best, he had found a life to call that way. The one Merlin had asked him about.

The master wizard smiled, snuggling his cheek against his loyal friend.

It didn’t take long, the winter air acted like a freezer over the little pies. But as they went back in, the place had already changed – and that was besides AAARRRGGHH!!, with one gigantic hat on his head, holding up the tree while Blinky, wearing a scarf, was reading a manual on how to decorate it, where did he even get that? –: there was a table, appeared again out of nowhere, with all the most delicious looking dishes placed all over between branches of holly and little bells. Jim and Nari were putting down the last dishes, Steve was clumsily getting the statue of a reindeer to balance over the tv, Toby was checking the lights to make sure they were functioning.

And Claire was suddenly in front of him, beaming, clearly hiding something from behind her back. It immediately grabbed everybody’s attention, like it was some sort of event.

Was it?

“We’ve organized the present exchange for after lunch, but this one you need to put it on now. So, her it is!” She uncovered the secret and- Oh. It was a sweater. It was a sweater. For him. “There you go, you’re officially part of the wool club, a Christmas-limited association only.”

“Founder of the association Nancy Domzalski, mostly because it was Nana who made them all!” Toby caressed the front of his sweater, smiling softly. “She’s that kind of grandma that thinks that everything that’s made with love can bring warmth, and I’m kind of a believer too.” He shrugged, crossing his fingers behind the back of his head. “I know this isn’t your cool punk rock wizardy style, but Nana had her midlife crisis in her own time and I’m not exactly looking forward to one before my very own eyes!” That was probably not a sight a grandchild wanted of their grandma, that was understandable.

It was. It was, right? It was getting a little hard to focus on something, anything that wasn’t a soft bundle of black and navy blue stripes, welcoming and warm, with ‘Fuzzbuckets’ written on it. It was getting weird. A little unsettling even, because he just got out in the cold but his bones weren’t freezing anymore and he felt all fuzzy inside and now his eyes were warm and-

“… oh, curse me, not the waterfalls…!” Centuries spent transitioning from hopeless bard to punk rock guitarist, only to tear up at a random surprise Christmas party.

From there, he didn’t understand much. Only Claire’s probable ‘Aww Douxie!’, Toby’s sudden ‘There’s no Christmas without the sad moment’, Steve’s surprising ‘I know what to do, come on everybody, let’s all hug it out!’. And all of the sudden he was enveloped with so many arms, so many different people he had gotten to know and had managed to befriend and appreciate. That were part of his world, his life, and what was coming for the future.

So when he managed to open his eyes, there was so much to uncover, between a pink head, a scarred eyebrow, a lock of leaves and a paw still so close to his cheek. And it hit him that perhaps there was a reason why Camelot had always felt so far away lately.

That age was over. But this, it felt like it had only begun. Douxie smiled, closing his eyes again.

Embracing how good it felt to belong again.

[officerjennie]

💘 Tobirama x Izuna

Ask meme here

Stuffs below the cut cause super long. Also! My headcanons change wildly between stories and junk, so this is just one take on them :D

(also also: *nervous laughter* I’m, ahhh, getting around to the asks. I promise.)

(copy paste ftw)

Where they first met and how?Either on the battlefield in canon, or through their overbearing and obnoxious older brothers. OR. Maybe they’re the ones who met at the river in an alternate to canon, ooooooo me like.

How long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involvedI mean. They’re forever in flirting phase. Even after feelings get involved, they’re too busy being snarky at each other to notice.

Who fell for who first (if applicable)?Izuna fell first, and fell hard. Tobirama took a lot more time, especially considering he was convinced Izuna still hated him.Where their first date was and what it was like?Date who? They don’t go on dates. They go angry spar and end up disappearing into the woods for a while, and come out looking like they’ve been wrestling in the bushes.

Who asks who out and how (with a sign? Spelled out on a cake? Just a simple ‘will you go out with me’?)Izuna just shows up at Tobirama’s door step with his stuff one day and says he’s moving in. That’s the first and only ‘asking out’ either of them do.

Who proposes first?Hashirama. Hashirama proposes they both get married. That’s the only way they’re making it official.

If they keep/kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away?I feel like anyone related to Hashirama would default to keeping it secret at least for a few months from him. He’s just too much of a headache to handle.

Where the proposal happens and how (kiss cam at a baseball game? on a Hillside surrounded by ducks? At a Disney park?)It happens at Hashirama’s house. Because he dragged them both there, along with Madara. And sobs about wanting it to be official.

If they adopt any pets togetherTobirama keeps weird pets in tanks, and Izuna has a cat or two.

Who’s more dominantThey’re still fighting that one out…

Where their first kiss was and what it was likeAngry. Probs right after knocking each other around during a spar.

If they have any matching couples stuff (Mugs? Sweaters? Pillowcases?)I could see Izuna getting them something gross like that, if only to watch Tobirama’s eye twitch at it.

How into PDA they areTobirama hates it. Izuna’s alright with it.

Who holds the umbrella when it rainsIzuna - if only because Tobirama doesn’t like using them.

Where their usual ‘date spot’ is (if applicable)Training field.

Who’s more protective?Outwardly? Neither of them, unless the situation threatens physical violence. In the shadows? Izuna.

How long it is before they sleep together (can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’)?Shared a bed wise, it’s a while. They both have a lot of stuff to figure out between them, especially in a more canon universe. They were raised to kill each other, and fought one another over and over - literally hated each other at some point.

If they argue about anythingYes. All the time, even when it’s not serious. It’s practically foreplay to them.

Who leaves more marks (lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc.)?Izuna, somewhat cause (after the fact) it annoys Tobirama.

Who steals whose clothes and how oftenNeither of them, really.

How they cuddle (spooning? facing each other?)Izuna likes to flop on top of his Senju.

What their favourite nonsexual activity isEither random debates just for the hell of it, or training.

How long they stay mad at each otherHow long they appear mad at each other: quite a while. How long they’re actually mad at each other: not very long tbh.

What their usual coffee/tea orders areIzuna gave up caffeine after seeing what it does to Tobirama, who practically injects it into his veins to keep working. Tobirama’s taste buds call out for anything with the blessed wake juice, no matter how the precious liquid is flavored.

If they ever have any children togetherNah

If they have any special pet names for each otherIzuna loves making up random shit to call Tobirama, and laughs at the faces it earns him.

If they ever split up and/or get back togetherOnce an Uchiha’s in love, they tend to stick with it. So no.

What their shared living space is like (Messy? Clean? What kind of decor?)Izuna’s messy, and Tobirama’s too busy with work or being exhausted to clean up a lot. It’s a bit passed lived in, but no where near a pigsty 

What their first Christmas/Hanukkah/etc as a couple was likeThey’re dragged out for the holidays by enthusiastic relatives. It’s just like any other before they got together, but with more mocking batted eyelashes on Izuna’s part and face palming on Tobi’s.

What their names are in each other’s phonesDifferent variations on the term ‘asshole’

If they have any ‘couple traditions’ (buying a new mug for their collection every year? Baking every Friday evening?)They probably make sure to spend time together more than once a week, but beyond that nothing scheduled.

Who falls asleep first and who wakes up firstIzuna falls asleep first because he likes his beauty sleep. Tobirama crawls in several hours later and crawls right back out before dawn, heading to the depths of his lab.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoonSpoons? They’re not spoons, they’re kunai.

Who hogs the bathroomIzuna.

Who kills the spiders/takes them outsideNeither of them are bothered by the creepy crawlies, though Izuna’s more likely to actually do something if there’s one in the house. Tobirama’s unbothered if it’s a normal house spider, but removes the dangerous ones in some fashion.

[imagineakatsuki]

How would they react to being asked to share a bed with their lover and how would they act while their lover was sleeping besides them?

This ask is adorable. 

Pein / Nagato: Will be surprised by the request (he’ll think it’s coming out of nowhere, but the man’s just busy with work all the time and oblivious to his lover who’s probably been feeling detached, and that’s the reason why they ask to share the bed with him). He’ll still agree, though, despite his confusion. Later, while his lover is asleep beside him, he’ll think back on what caused their request and actions he might’ve taken that lead up to it. 

Konan: Lights up and is quick to agree. She’d been meaning to ask, but grew suddenly shy every time she thought of asking her lover. When they’re beside in bed, she’ll tread her hand through their hair, and her calming touches (may) be the reason they fall asleep before her.

Deidara: Has been waiting for his lover to ask to share a bed and immediately agrees before they can even get embarrassed about their request. He would try to stay awake to watch them sleep, but somehow ends up falling asleep before them every. single. time. 

Sasori: Doesn’t really show much of a reaction other than a small nod when his lover asks to share the bed, but you know he’s in favor of the decision. Because of his puppet body, he literally doesn’t need to sleep and can stay up for hours just admiring his lover’s beauty. 

Itachi: Graces their lover with a small smile and agrees to sharing the bed. If he’s in a good mood or feeling particularly appreciative of them, he’d sing to them, regardless of whether or not his lover is asleep. 

Kisame: He may not think it’s serious (because his lover is probably as chill and casual as he is, so he’ll think it’s a joke like normal), but after seeing their face, he’d agree quite happily. When they both lay side-by-side on the bed, he’d probably end up spooning them (he’s definitely big spoon). 

Kakuzu: Wouldn’t show that much of a reaction and simply agree, though he’d be pretty surprised inside. He usually stays up late doing financial things (so late his lover is already asleep by the time he’s finished), but he’ll make an exception and join them, so long as it’s not too often. He’d probably fall asleep as soon as his lover is in the bed with him, when he’s made sure everything he’s had to do is done and that there’s nothing threatening around. 

Hidan: Probably the reason why his lover even asked to share the bed in the first place, like pulling scary pranks on them at midnight so they’d be afraid to sleep alone. In bed, his lover is not so much beside him as they are under him, because he likes using them as a pillow. Snores loudly; their lover would find that out within the first night. 

Tobi / Obito: If his lover knew about his true persona, he’d tease them relentlessly about it, but nevertheless agree. If they didn’t, he’d hug them and cheer about how his lover was so cute and he’d definitely share the bed with them, in true Tobi fashion. When his lover is asleep beside him, he’d pull them close to his chest and think about how his plan for a new world now included you in it- alive, well, and at his side. 

Zetsu: Will be genuinely surprised and wouldn’t know how to act or what to say at first. Both his sides are speechless. But when his lover starts to look impatient or, god forbid, starts crying, White Zetsu will immediately say yes and start comforting them. It’ll be a little awkward for their lover to sleep beside him, but they wouldn’t have it any other way and they’re both content with it. 

Admin S

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Graying Skies

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix …  Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie … Midnight Confessions … The Moon ... Bright Sunshine

a/n:  for anyone new joining the fray, I wrote a series starting last fictober called ‘Life’ (here’s the last in that series but they’re all listed) … then I finished it … and continued with ‘Life, part 2′ and that’s listed above … you might want to read those first :)

@today-in-fic @fictober

___________________

Skinner showed up early, beating the impossibly always on-time Dave by at least 20 minutes. The look on his face did not convey happy tidings and the pair stopped him before he could leave the entryway, “what happened?”

And not about to mince words, “we found plans for other potential sites.”

Mulder, already antsy to touch her, reached for Scully’s back, winding fingers in her loose materialled shirt, denying skin to skin but feeling the anchor point more necessary than air, “where? When?”

“Air and Space, Natural History, Archives, Vietnam Wall. From the looks of them, they were still in the planning stages, no set dates were determined.”

Scully, wanting more than her anchor point polyester, fumbled behind her until she found the side pocket of his shorts, hooking her thumb on it, completing the circle, “Dave works at Air and Space.”

A few seconds of heavy silence hung then Skinner gave her a grave look, “tell him to take a few more days off.”

Paling slightly, she moved on, fingers gripped tighter to Mulder, “and we only found the driver of the van. We have no idea if he was alone or in a group. Those targets are still viable.”

Skinner nodded to her, “yes, they are. I was going to cancel on dinner and keep working but I promised Sam.”

With her other hand, she touched her boss lightly on the arm, “you needed a break anyways.”

“Collins also threatened to call my mother if I didn’t leave for awhile.”

Mulder, who really should have been laser-focused on the imminent threat to the world surrounding him, gave Skinner a confused look, genuine wonderment filling his features, “you have a mother?”

Too tired to hit the younger man, Skinner glared at him, “yes, I have a mother. She is 4’ 10”, 77-years old, full head of pure white hair and could knock you on your ass without dropping her hand mixer.”

“Walter, I need to meet this woman.”

Finally, he smiled, chuckling in the face of depression, “she lives in Georgia with her brother but if I can get her out of the retirement village and away from her baking pans, I will bring her over. I believe she’d like the two of you.”

That moment of merriment ended mere seconds later, however, when reality returned, “do you need us to come in?”

Skinner nodded, “whenever you’re ready. We’ve got roomfuls of paper trail to get through and we could use your eyes.”

“I can go back with you after dinner.” Mulder looked down at Scully, head twisted to see her, “you, however, need a few days off.”

Any other place in any other universe in any other moment in existence, she would have punched him  for ordering her around but she was exhausted, knowing he was right, “I can probably come in after Mom gets her walking casts on Tuesday but before then, she still needs someone.”

Maggie, having silently rolled herself into the room, would have argued but seeing her daughter held together with the barest of threads, made herself known, “I certainly do, especially now that Walter has arrived.” Looking up at the towering man, “can you come and reach something for me, please?”

Complying without question, Mulder held Scully back from following, tucking her in close to him instead, “thanks for not smacking me around for the comment.”

One defeated shoulder-shrug later, “I will next time, promise.”

Squeezing her in tighter for a second, “should we go see if your mom and Skinner are making out yet?”

“Why would you say that?” Following his hand-pull to the kitchen, “seriously, why?”

“’Cause I’m twisted like that.”

&&&&&&&&&

Everything seemed fine. People arrived, children clamored for hugs, adults talked over each other, things spilled, Skinner took his shoes off and revealed socks with penguins on them, Scully joked and laughed, kissed and fawned, asked and answered … then disappeared, claiming vegetable transection needed to be done.

It was the carrot cutting that tipped him off.

Her exact slicing.

She was usually, contrary to ‘med school, geometrically-precise incision machine Scully’, a terribly messy vegetable killer. She hacked away like she’d never held a knife before, uneven chunks, little bits flying, carcasses littering the counter. Nothing was round, even, uniform. It was a veritable nightmare.

Today, she was cutting each carrot 1/8��� thick, Mulder surreptitiously checking to see if she had a ruler somewhere for measurement purposes.

She did not.

He didn’t stop her, however, leaving her to her hopefully beneficial food catharsis while the guests carried on conversations around her.

Maggie had added kebobs to her menu somewhere along the line and after carrots came Scully’s cleaning and chopping of green peppers, onions, mushrooms, each strung with military care on metal skewers, perfectly spaced, alternating pattern never deviating, one pepper, one onion, one mushroom, one cherry tomato, one pepper, one tomato, one mushroom, one onion, one pepper.

The beef cubes were already cut but even those, she handled with precision, eight to a stick, coated with seasoning, settled on the plate to wait for the grill.

Once she’d washed her hands, he excused himself from the ever-growing crowd to take her by the elbow, back her into Maggie’s room, searching for quiet, “are you okay?”

Eyes flashing suddenly at him, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“’Cause you actually cut the vegetables. I mean, I would bet you a thousand dollars those things are all the same damn size. Something’s up.”

“Mulder.”

Leaning closer, nearly whispering at this point, “what is that beautiful brain of yours thinking about that has you strung tighter than a piano wire?”

And her eyes darkened, filling, crashing, depths stormy, churning, sinking, “I had three kids and I was fine doing them. They died immediately. They all looked peaceful, no signs of prolonged pain or breathing, lungs clean, I mean, if you are going to die in an explosion, they went the best way possible …” Suddenly swaying, she grabbed Mulder’s arm, “I just said …” Allowing herself to be seated on the bed, she saw Mulder carefully kneel in front of her, hands on her thighs, gripping flesh, kneading muscle, “I just said that three kids died in the best possible way … what the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you. You did your job. You did your job then came home and saw five healthy, happy, breathing, kicking, loud, boisterous children and not even using my fancy degrees, I’m deducing that you freaked out. Those kids from before, that was the best way for them to die, if they had to die. I wish they hadn’t but since they did, I’m going to be grateful it was very, very quick.” Hands sliding up to her waist, thumbs across her abdomen to rendezvous near her bellybutton, “now, with your permission, I would like to tell your brother and your cousin to keep their kids out of DC for the duration. If they never go back to the city, I will be perfectly happy with that.”

“Mul-”

“The point of terrorism is to invoke terror and even though I will fight that by going down to work and dealing with the shit that is the rest of the world, I am going to give in to the terror for the moment and keep those little ankle-biters as far from ground zero as humanly possible.”

“Mul-”

“I will let whoever the fuck blew up my city get to me if it means I have a possibility of keeping them safe and since I have the information and the means and the …”

She shut him up with a hand over his mouth, “will you be quiet for a minute?” Hearing a muffled ‘maybe’, she moved her hand, “I would like to keep the kids from hearing the conversation but I agree.”

Pulling his head back, “you agree?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know … ‘cause you’re the rational one who has never agreed with me about anything except red M&Ms and that Tarintino’s salsa has too much Cilantro in it.” Standing slowly, his leg partially asleep, “will you come back out and keep the kids busy while I tell the rest of them?”

Hugging him around the waist, her chin pressed into his hip, “when can we go back on vacation?”

“As soon as humanly damned possible.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder filled in parents, Scully hugged offspring and played semi-violent rounds of Spoons on the living room floor. The whole crowd ate, everyone from Toby upwards knowingly skirting any subject that might be the least bit depressing or scary, Joanna nearly starting a food fight when she accidently flung an onion on her aunt-in-law. Maggie, it being a special occasion, threw it right back without missing a beat, then raised her hands as she saw forks suddenly and instantly filling with whatever hadn’t been inhaled to that point, “stop! Put the forks down and move away from the plates. We have a guest and he does not need to be covered in food.” Looking directly at her son, who was slower than the rest in putting his utensil down, “I understand he needs his induction but how about we save that for another time, yes?”

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her, then turned his gaze upon poor Walter, clueless for nary the third time in his life at most, “next time, Uncle Skimmer … next time.”

Betsy moved her hand to Skinner’s arm, “I’ll protect you, Uncle Skimmer, I promise. Uncle Charlie isn’t very good with a fork but if he picks up a spoon, get under the table.”

Skinner simply leaned over when normal dinner had resumed, kissing the top of her little braided-haired head.

Scully wanted to cry.

[spobyfanfictionarchive]

A Bleeding Heart: Chapter 12

AN: Okay so I'm awful for taking this long to update but I've had a paper due for my class and it took me like 20939348 years to edit all this. I broke it up into sections, so some of it I edited days ago. So forgive me if there is typos, please. I'm going to stop apologizing now for all the delayed updates because I'm pretty sure that's all my author's notes for the last five chapters.THANK YOU, BABES FOR STILL READING. LOVE YOUUUUUU. (It's exactly 4:34 in the morning, forgive me for being exhausted and loopy.)

When she woke up the next morning, bright and early, at the brink of six am, Toby was already awake and staring at her. His eyes, blue as the sky and the sea, filled with adoration and tender affection.

“Hi,” she croaked, her voice still hoarse from the events of the day prior.

“Hey, baby.”

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, roughly clearing her throat and rubbing her eyes.

“About an hour,” he shrugged, his fingers running through her hair softly.

They'd fallen asleep in their usual position, him spooning her, his arm tucked over her waist, his face buried in her neck. But somehow in the night they'd ended up rolled over and facing each other, his arms still flung across her middle, her legs both between his.

The events of last night still flickered across their brains, like a movie that never evaporated.

The brunette’s embarrassment was still present, her indignity still evident in her demeanor.

He didn't comment on it, hoping if he let it go and moved on, so would she.

“How do you feel?” he asked, bringing her hand up to kiss gently, his lips pressing themselves down her palm, over her wrist and forearm.

“Achy,” she murmured, a slight element of surprise in her tone. “Faint. And tired. How long did I sleep?”

“Ten or eleven hours.”

“What?” She lunged up, despite the way her body protested the action. “How the hell was I out that long? I never sleep more than four hours. Five, if I'm lucky!”

The cop chuckled, sitting up too, kicking the covers back and climbing out of bed, still bleary, despite being awake for an entire hour prior.

 “The meds are probably just keeping you out longer,” he assured, offering his hand to help her up.

“Tobes, I'm fine,” she swore instinctively, her knee jerk reaction.

“Are you sure?” he asked, studying her face carefully. She threw him a sardonic look, causing him to, wisely, backed off. “I’ll go take a shower,” he murmured as she climbed out of bed, more awkward than him, but still steadier than she’d been in a long time. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll just flash you the bat signal if I'm dying,” she promised wryly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked as he headed towards the bathroom.

She followed behind, needing to relieve herself after eleven hours of sleep.

She made it parallel with the television set before the room began to twirl. “To-Toby,” she tried to call out but all that was audible was a faint whine, too high pitch to be recognized as her raspy alto.

Her legs trembled and gave out. She heard her impact with the wall before she felt it and she braced herself for a brutal landing to the carpet.

Instead she felt two sturdy arms wrap around her, just a second before collision, a second too late to completely prevent the fall.

Instead, she toppled over on top of her very loving, but also very solid boyfriend. It wasn't the most comfortable landing, feeling akin to landing on top of a rock, but it beat smacking the back of her already contusioned head on the ground.

“Toby!”

“Are you okay?” he asked first thing, before even making sure he, himself, wasn't hurt.

“Fine,” she assured, a little breathless, scooting higher on his torso so that she could brace her elbows on the ground. “What about you? Are you alright?”  

He chuckled. “I’m fine, Spence. I'm the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around.”

The brunette snorted, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him through her long eyelashes. “Try and stop me.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, wrapping both arms around his girlfriend suggestively.  “This is a romantic position, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “You're such a weirdo.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he murmured, kissing her nose.

“You should probably go take your shower,” she suggested evenly, as she pulled herself up and off him, hanging onto the wall as she hobbled towards the table and chair, where his laptop sat. “I’ll wait out here for you to be done.”

“Do you want to join me?”

She shot him a mordant look. “That’s not going to help the sex issue,” she pointed out grimly, her mood taking a dive.

He sighed, the lightness dispersing from his expression. “Spence, please don't be embarrassed-”

“I’m fine,” she waved off, adverting her eyes to the cop’s laptop in front of her. “Seriously. Go, shower. I’ll be okay for twenty minutes.”

He made a face. “Twenty minutes? What exactly do you expect me to be doing in there?”

She shrugged, fighting a smile now. “I just figured since we weren't having sex, you’d need-”

“Spence,” he cut off, laughing now, somewhat baffled by the innuendo.

“Sorry, just trying to be sensitive to your needs.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I’ll be in the shower,” he called over his shoulder.

“Twenty minutes is your limit!”

“Goodbye, Spencer.”

“Oh, wait!” she halted, remembering something. “I almost forgot. Last night I was thinking I should send thank you notes to all the people who sent flowers to me in the hospital.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, waiting for the inquiry. “That sounds like a nice thing to do.”

“Except I don't have everyone’s address,” she explained.

His brow furrowed. “I doubt I would if you don’t?”

“Well, do your parents still live in that same house?”

“Like they would ever leave,” he laughed humorlessly. “They’d get their groceries delivered if they could.”

“Did Dean say where he lived?”

“No, but I’m sure your mom would know.”

“And what about Mrs. Ackard?”

“I think it’s the same as it was five years ago?”

She took in a deep breath as subtly as she could, anticipating his reaction to her next question. “And where do Yvonne’s parents live?”

Just as she imagined, the name alone changed his manner completely. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes, the brunette’s entire attitude shifting as well.

“I’ll make you a list in a bit,” he promised finally, his voice now strained as he turned to walk back into the bathroom, avoiding her eyes.

“What is it, Toby?” She demanded, her voice akin to a frustrated groan.

He spun around to look at her. “What?”

“Why is it that every time Yvonne’s name comes up, you get this look in your eyes,” she trailed off, volume fading from her voice as she lost her nerve a bit.

He stared at her for a long moment, speechless and startled. “What’re you talking about? What look?”

“This dejected look. You get this sad, miserable expression that . . . that I used to only see when I was hurting,” she admitted, her gaze abating.

She didn't want to admit it, though it was beyond obvious to both of them now, that her words were fueled by envy, no matter how irrational it was. Toby was here with her. He’d just about adjusted every single aspect of his life, just to be with her, to cater to her needs above even his own. And yet, she couldn't shake this feeling every time the raven haired beauty’s name came up.

It was embarrassing to own her jealousy of another girl. A girl who could have been his wife. A girl he looked at with so much warmth and respect and infatuation. A girl who had all of her good qualities and not a single of her bad.

A girl who was essentially everything she wasn't.

“Spence,” he whispered, his eyes now even more forlorn than before.

“Why is she such an elephant in the room between us?” She pressed, her tone even. She was trying to be understanding but the quiet frustration in her voice was unmistakable.

“She isn't important,” he persisted, visibly working to make his voice convincing.

That sparked a fired inside Spencer. “That’s exactly what people say when the person they're talking about is important!”

He shook his head, struggling to find a rebuttal. “That isn-”

“Do you still love her?” The brunette beseeched, holding no inquisition back now. “Do you miss her? Do you wish you and her were still together?”

She was posing the questions like atrocious scenarios truthfully, had he said yes to any of them, as searing of pain as that would have caused, akin to ripping her heart out of her chest, she would have still understood. She would have understood if he chose Yvonne over her, even on the brightest and most brilliant day of her life. There was no question who was better suited to give him the life he deserved.

And she wanted that for him. She wanted him, so badly, to have a life full of blissful happiness. She wanted him to never see the dark side of the world, ever again, after all that he had already endured in his twenty-four years. After everything he’d been put through. All the pain and suffering, all the heartache, and neglect and abuse he’d survived. He, if no one else she knew, deserved to have a joyous, carefree life. She wanted him to thrive and get everything he’d ever dreamed of and never be forced to withstand the things he had as a teenager.

But she also wanted him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted him fully and completely and as selfish as it was, she wanted him to want a life with her too.

But she knew she wasn't equipped to give him that life. Even before her abduction, even before she became a character straight out of Girl, Interrupted, she was far from what he truly deserved. 

She was so lost, so deep, inside her self-deprecating thoughts that she barely noticed how Toby’s expression had shifted. 

He looked as if he was staring dead in the face of a stranger, so baffled, so confused, so bewildered, it almost made her retract her statement altogether. She contemplated the notion for a moment that she’d imagined the whole thing, that this was just paranoia and exhaustion from all she’d been through as of late. 

But she knew, deep inside her bones, that this wasn't in her head. 

“Do you?” she asked again, and her voice was entirely void of the earlier fire. All that remained was an unsteady, half-broken murmur. 

“No,” Toby refuted with unexpected vigor. “No, no, God no, Spence.” 

Relief filled her stomach, his reaction alleviating some of her insecurity. 

It didn't answer any of her questions, didn't quench her curiosity, didn't lessen her need to pry the truth from his stubborn bubble gum pink lips, but it gave her a sense of calamity that she was afraid to ask for.    

“Spencer Hastings,” he breathed again and this time he propelled himself forward, dropping to his knees so they could be at eye level. “I-I can honestly say that I have never, ever loved anyone like I love you. I don’t-how could you even think-”

His watery blues, his heartbroken gleam popped the words out of her mouth. “Because,” she sighed, almost afraid to admit the words reeling around inside her brain, even after all they'd confessed as it was. “You’re always looking so heartbroken whenever she comes up. Sometimes, I don't know,” she adverted her eyes downwards, failing once again, just like she did every time she said anything vulnerable or exposing in his presence, to look him in the eye. “Sometimes it just seems like you’d rather be with her.”

He sucked in a shallow breath, his eyes narrowing incredulously. “Babe,” he whispered, but couldn't maintain his voice, the breath disappearing from his lungs with the heartbreak that came with every new word she uttered. 

“Just. . .when you hear her name, it’s like a light goes off and she changes you. Like the idea of not being with her cripples you.”

The cop absorbed that, not speaking again for minutes on end. He stared straight ahead at her lap, not angry, not irritated, but trying to find his footing as he took in her words.

Her head snapped towards him as he finally broke the silence. “All I feel towards Yvonne is absolute and undeniable guilt,” he confessed, raising his head to meet her gaze.

“Guilt?” Her brows knit together, wholly confused what he meant by that.

She knew he felt bad about breaking the darker girl’s undoubtedly fragile heart. Toby felt bad about killing spiders, for crying out loud. But this, this remorse, was incomprehensible to her. How could he feel that guilty about dumping his ex?

As if, like she’d thought yesterday, they held a telepathic connection, he knew what she was thinking. “Not guilt for breaking up with her. Not exactly,” he explained, his voice growing stronger as he gained momentum in his speech. “I feel guilty for exactly how happy I am every single damn time I look into your beautiful eyes and kiss you. How ecstatic I am to hold you in my arms again and think how I never have to let you go. Okay, Spencer, even in the absolute worst circumstances imaginable, I have never felt more in love than I do right now. I love you more and more and more every day and I feel so fucking contrite because I have no regrets for a single thing I've done. I put you above her and I can’t help but be thankful that I did. And it makes me feel like a horrible person, because she didn't deserve to spend years of her life with someone who could do this to her-”

“Toby,” Spencer cut off, her eyes so full of love, her mouth completely disconnected from her brain as she processed his words, let them seep into her brain. “Babe,” she whispered, fervently, and without preamble, without warning, without any indication, she flew at him and folded herself into his arms.  

“I’m so sorry,” he swore, both his arms wrapping around her so tight, the air was squeezed out of her lungs. “I am so sorry. I never thought you would-I didn't realize I was giving you that ide-”

“No,” she cut off, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

He pressed his lips to the gash on the corner of her mouth, moving upwards to her cheek, trailing to her temple. “I love you,” he whispered against her skin. “I love you more than anything.”

She didn't respond verbally, instead choosing to bury her face in his shoulder, pressing her mouth to his chest, one, two, three times, four. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” he whispered again and before she could halt any more apologies, he was murmuring more. “I’ll do better, alright? Please. I swear, I will be better. Give me another chance to prove to you-”

“Toby,” she gasped, pulling back to look into his crystal blue irises. “Y-you don’t think I'm going to leave you, do you?”

Some girls would have been delighted to see their boyfriend beg and crawl like that, see them cry and plead for a second chance. But that wasn't appealing to Spencer. It didn't make her feel happy or satisfied to see him beg for forgiveness, and it never had. 

She wondered in her head, when did he become so repentant? He’d always been more than apologetic on the rare occasion when he’d done something wrong, even unintentionally, but he’d never been so gravely desperate for forgiveness, and it left her feeling bizarrely guilty, like she was turning him into an abused dog who cried even when he really didn't pee on the floor.

“I love you,” she whispered back, fervently pressing her lips to his, despite how sore her mouth was now the medication was officially wearing off. “I’m right here. I’m not going to leave,” she vowed. “I promise you. I never will.”

They stayed in that position, cuddled together, her entirely in his arms, on the rough, piercing carpet for more than an hour before both of them moved. Toby wordlessly took her hand, guiding her towards the bathroom, the issue of sex nearly forgotten in both their brains as they discarded their clothes, and quickly showered under the hot cascading water.

As they were drying off, a loud chirping filled the room and Spencer eyed the cop, confused. “My cell,” he offered, pulling on a pair of jeans and heading out of the bathroom to retrieve the device. 

“If it’s my mother, I swear to-”

He shook his head, attempting to hide his instinctual discomfort. “It’s Ali.”  

“Ali? What is she calling for?”

“I don't think she knows you have your phone back.”

“You think it’s for me?”

He gave her a derisive look. “It’s definitely not for me,” he assured, pressing the phone into her hands and picking up his wet towel from the ground. 

“Hello?” The brunette greeted, her tone still hesitant.

“Spence!” Alison’s voice called through the speaker. 

“Hey.”

“I haven't talked to you since. . .you know. I feel so awful for ignoring you. How are things?”

Spencer shut her eyes, knowing her circumstances were truly dire if Alison Dilaurentis was being so sugary sweet.

In truth, she loved Alison more than she led on. The girls had a long and a very tremulous history but for some reason, Alison was one of the people she’d never been able to completely detach from. She was a part of her family, even when she hated the girl with every fiber of her being.

But, though the blonde had changed significantly from the mean girl she’d once been, she was still incredibly inconsiderate at times and inherently self-centered. She would do anything to protect her friends but she would also ask them to chew off their left arm if it benefited her in the end. 

That’s why her seemingly sincere concern for Spencer’s well-being and her remorse for being preoccupied in her own issues, caught the brunette completely off-guard. 

“I. . .I don’t know?” the brunette answered honestly. “Things for me have been chaotic.” And that was putting it lightly. 

“Same,” Alison agreed and Spencer realized the blonde wasn't the only one caught up in her own problems. 

“Oh my god, Alison! How are you?” She reverted the question. “How are you doing? The girls said-”

Hanna and Emily hadn't actually said much but it didn't matter, as Alison cut her off then, “that my aunt-sorry, correction-that my mother’s twin sister that I never heard of in my entire life, showed up out of the blue?”

Spencer’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yeah, that was my reaction too. Evidently her and my mom didn't have a good-or even civil-relationship. My mom got her sent away to Radley.”

“What?” The brunette repeated, her eyes widening further as images of the outdated, archaic hospital filled her mind. 

“That’s not all, Spence. Mary knows your dad.”

“What?”

After an hour of talking straight, Spencer torpidly ventured out of the bathroom, still clad in her towel. 

“What’d Ali have to say?” Toby asked, glancing up from his laptop.

She shrugged, still reeling, as she pulled on the shirt he’d worn yesterday. “A lot. Her family is. . .” she trailed off, making her way over to him. 

“Hmm?” he hummed as he closed the laptop and reached for her waist.

She sat on his lap, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Jessica’s twin sister, Mary Drake, came to town right around the time I was in the hospital. She apparently never met Jason or Ali or-”

“Wait,” he cut off, a hand squeezing her arm lightly. “Mary Drake? The woman from the file we found on your mom’s Election Night? With Mona? After I power sawed through a wall?”

“Um, excuse you, I power sawed through a wall, thank you very much.” 

“Spence.”

She sighed, digressing. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird,” she agreed. 

He narrowed his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. “Why would she come to town right after we found her Radley file?"

“I don’t know. All I know is she is apparently Jessica with brown hair.”

“Brown hair?” Toby picked that word. “No one in that family has brown hair.”  

“Maybe the Drake’s do.” 

The cop shook his head. “That’s so bizarre.”

Spencer laughed humorlessly. “It gets worse, babe.”

“How?”

“Apparently Mary knows my dad.”

Toby’s mouth fell open, much like her’s had an hour prior. “Your dad had an affair with Mary too?” 

“Alison doesn’t know for sure, but. . . she thinks so.” 

“Oh my god,” he shook his head, baffled. “How many hidden secrets can one family have?”

The brunette snorted. “And I thought the Hastings were messed up. Imagine if you were dating a Dilaurentis.” 

“Technically a Drake,” he amended dryly. 

“It’s my job to correct others, not be corrected.”

 A loud laugh fell from his full pink lips. “I would love you no matter who you were related to,” he promised, rubbing her arm for emphasis. “Besides, I come from a. . .”

“Jackass father?” she finished for him when he trailed off.

He smirked. “And somehow, you manage to love me anyway.”

“Of course, I do. How is your dad, by the way?”

“He’s fine,” the cop answered too quickly. 

She studied his face for a moment. “When was the last time you two spoke?”

The sandy brunette shrugged, his eyes on his pointer finger tracing circles on her thigh. “A couple days ago. I returned his call when you fell asleep.”

“What'd he have to say?” she pressed gently, her eyebrows drawing together. She always approached the subject of his father with caution. He was Toby’s only living parent and despite how much she detested the way he treated his only son, she knew it hurt Toby when she openly bashed him. 

He shrugged again but his sad, guilty eyes gave him away. “My dad never really says too much, Spence.”

“He thinks you're ruining your life by getting back together with me,” she guessed, her eyes narrowing now. “He told you I'm nothing but drama with a stuck-up family, holding you back and that I'm an awful person that’s sucking the life out of you. Didn’t he?”

Toby swallowed, about to refute her assumption but it was too late. His face read like a book. One second of eye contact was all the confirmation she needed. 

“You always look sad when you lie,” she noted, quietly, shifting her eyes to avoid his. 

The fact that his dad disliked her wasn't new, per se, but it still wasn't anything she easily got used to. The fact that the man, who had given life to the person she loved most in this world, detested her elicited a deep, involuntary ache in her chest.  

Toby watched her expression, watched her try to mask the hurt she felt, and he pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Sweetheart,” he whispered gently, “what my father thinks doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” she disagreed. “He’s your father.”

The cop stared at her face, his turn now to study her expression. “Remember when you first got out of the dollhouse? Whenever someone would say something rude or insensitive or careless and I got angry, you would swear up and down that what strangers thought of you didn’t mean anything. Spencer, you taught me that.” 

She offered a half smile, knowing he was right on all accounts. “I guess,” she met his eyes, his sensitive, expressive blue eyes, “I guess, it depends who’s talking.”

Toby squeezed his eyes shut before he dropped his face into her neck, nuzzling her gently. “Don’t do that. Don’t give him free rent in your brain. He doesn’t know you. All he knows is what Jenna and her mom tell him.” 

She nodded, accepting his words, knowing he was right. “What do you say? When your dad says those things about me?”

The cop pulled back, bringing his head up to touch his forehead to her’s. “I tell him I'm in love with you. That you are the most important thing in my life and if he can’t accept that, he can save his minutes.”

At his statement, a ghost smile appeared on her face. Still, she insisted quietly, “I don’t want to be the reason you and your dad stop speaking.” 

“You’re not,” he promised. “He still calls every so often to make sure I'm still alive. And to criticize me.”

“What does he say when you defend me?” the brunette inquired, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer to him now. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, perplexed. “He critiques me and then when you defend me, he has nothing to say back?”

“My dad doesn’t know what to say,” Toby stated evenly. “He can’t relate to how I feel about you. He’s never loved anyone more than he’s hated himself.” 

“Get dressed,” Toby commanded, smacking her butt as he walked by, causing her to jump. 

They hadn’t even been in the same room a minute ago, him still at his laptop, her brushing her teeth in the bathroom, both distracted by their own individual tasks. 

“Why?” she asked, her voice gargled by toothpaste. 

He ran a washcloth underneath the faucet before wringing it out and running it over every inch of his face, soothingly. “Because there’s an open house I just saw for an apartment.” His eyes met her’s, catching her staring as he set the wet rag down. “What?”

“You’ve always done that,” she noted, gesturing with her chin towards the washcloth, a nostalgic twinge in her voice. At his expression, she elaborated, "You’ve always wiped your face with a damp rag before we went anywhere.” 

He looked downwards, his smile mirroring her’s. “I can’t believe you still remember that. You always looked at me like it was so weird,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“I didn't get it,” she defended, chuckling. “I’ve never seen anyone else do it.”

“It feels good!” he insisted. “Remember when you were sick that one summer and I ran a damp cloth across your face to get you fever down? And you said-”

“Yes, I remember,” she interrupted, still smiling in spite of her playful eye roll. “I just don't know how you even got in the habit of that.”

His smile changed then, morphed into a slightly more dismal expression. His tone grew wistful, the dull ache of a badly healed wound evident. “My mom,” he said, his glance flitting across the bathroom, unsure how to maintain eye contact when speaking about the life he’d had with his mom, before Spencer was even a whisper in his brain. “She used to wipe my face every time we went in public anywhere. I was kind of a messy eater and. . . you know, old habits die hard, I guess. When she wasn't around anymore, I thought if. . . if I kept doing it. . .” 

 “I know, baby,” she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand in her’s, lacing their fingers together. Without another word, he pulled the brunette towards him, gathering her small frame to his chest. She inhaled and exhaled through her nose, absorbing the smell of cinnamon and wood and aftershave. Pressing her lips to his chest, exactly where his heart laid beating, she whispered, “Your mom would be so proud of you if she could see you now, Toby. She’d be so proud.”

“Oh my god, look at that wooden side panel, Tobes!” Spencer exclaimed, trying to keep her excitement subdued, though it was nearly leaking out with every action. “And look at how the trim on the ceiling fades perfectly into the color of the walls and how it matches the closet door.”

“I see,” the cop chuckled, his spirits elated from witnessing his girlfriend so happy. 

Her smiles were few and far between lately, and though he knew it had nothing to do with him, though he knew that their reconciliation only brought her happiness and strength, he couldn't help but feel like his heart was being ripped out with every tear that coursed down her cheek. 

“Look at the curtains!” she pointed, practically dragging him with her as other potential leasers moved aside, seeing the two of them coming. “And the color of the window pane matches with the carpet.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair, as she continued to point out every single detail she liked. 

“Are you sure we can’t get in any sooner?” the cop heard, from the main room, sharp ears being a feature he’d attained over the years in his law enforcement career. 

“No, sir, I'm sorry. Not for a least three more months,” the realtor-a seemingly inflexible man-stipulated. 

His voice was low and rang out clear enough that even Spencer heard him over her own excitement.

She abruptly cut herself off. “Oh,” she murmured, her demeanor deflating like a popped balloon. 

He met her eyes with a heartbroken gaze. “Spence-”

“Its fine,” she waved off, hiding her disappointment unsuccessfully. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid apartment.”

“You love it,” he fought weakly. “I knew you would. I knew it was a perfect fit. That’s why I jumped on the ad as quick as I did.”

“Tobes, it’s okay. We need to find a place to move in sooner. Alright, we don't have the money to live in a motel for that long and it’d be stupid to move into somewhere else for only a couple of months,” the brunette reasoned. 

He gave her a pitifully, forlorn smile, knowing she was trying to put on a brave face for him. 

She had been doing so much of that for so long. She’d tried to always remain strong and secure, a backbone for everyone she loved to lean on, even when her own heart was crumbling or her mind was destroying her from the inside out. Spencer had always put others before herself, no matter what it cost her. 

And she had been through so much, especially lately. The fact that it seemed like she couldn't have one good thing, one thing that made her happy, literally burned a fire inside of him. 

Without preamble, without pondering the action, Toby grabbed Spencer’s hand and headed towards the realtor in the living room. “Excuse me?” the twenty four year old addressed.

Spencer stared at him, completely caught off-guard, by what he was doing. 

“Yes?” the older man raised an eyebrow, a false smile spreading across his lips. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Toby kept his voice even and pleasant. “I’d like to know when the soonest possible date we could move in is?”

The answer was rehearsed and automatic. “In about four months,” the graying man informed, smiling still as if they were old friends. He reminded Toby of one of the people he met when he accompanied Spencer on dinners to the club with her family. 

The cop used the skills he’d learned over the last few years and pretended those words were a surprise. “Shoot, we need a place to stay sooner than that,” he looked at Spencer, playing his part.

She smirked up at him, catching on. Her eyes stayed on his face, softening by the second, in total awe of his dedication to her. No one else had ever done so much, just for her happiness. That was all he wanted, her to be happy. It was incomprehensible to her that he was even real sometimes, let alone that he existed in the direst circumstances. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the realtor’s face fell ever so slightly, his facade slipping down a little. “I can’t permit a new tenant until the old ones are out and they said they needed a few months.”

“And what if we pay double the first and last month’s deposit?” Toby challenged, causing his girlfriend’s mouth to fall open.

The man blinked once then twice before sticking out his hand, surprised by the offer. “My name is Martin Kayn,” he greeted evenly, eyeing the couple now. 

“Toby Cavanaugh,” the sandy brunette took his hand with his free one that wasn't resting on Spencer’s waist. The older man's eyes changed subtly as the name seeped in, something unintelligible flickering in his gaze. 

“And you are?” he asked, turning to meet Spencer’s chocolate orbs. 

“Spencer,” she offered simply, leaving out her last name altogether, aware of the chance of recognition. 

Martin cleared his throat, turning back to Toby. “Well, I'd have to present the offer to the current tenants, but there’s a strong possibility this could persuade them.”

The cop’s face morphed into a grin as he felt Spencer’s hands tighten around his arm, her chin resting on his shoulder.  

A small, minuscule part of him felt somewhat like Peter Hastings, throwing money around to get whatever he wanted. But that small, minuscule part of him that felt uncomfortable and disturbed was muted by his girlfriend’s smile, the light filling back into her eyes, the ease in her body language. If this, even for a split second, gave her peace, gave her something to look forward to, something to be happy about, then he'd do whatever it took to make it work, no matter how awkward it felt to him. 

Because she, above everything else, was what mattered to him. 

“I’m going to go look around, babe,” Spencer whispered into his shirt, pressing her lips there. 

“Okay,” he murmured, loosening his arm around her waist as he kept his eye on the realtor, now engaging in a conversation on his cell phone.  

She held onto his hand as she headed into the opposite direction of the house, until the distance was too great and they had to let relinquish their hold on each other. 

The brunette found strange comfort in seeing the near dozen people, scattered across the house, a few shuffling in and a few shuffling out, every couple minutes. It gave a strange boost to her confidence and it dawned on her rapidly why. 

Her parents and Dr. Barnes both stated she couldn't be in large crowds, because it may trigger her after the large amount of people in the massacre. 

They were wrong. They thought they knew everything, they treated her like an inept child who didn't even know herself, they treated her like an inferior, and here she was, proving them wrong. 

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, in spite of the fact that she was in an open house full of strangers and was currently wandering room from room, completely alone. 

“Ugh,” an aristocratic woman in her mid-fifties groaned, motioning out to the window. 

“What is it?” the man next to her inquired. 

“Look at that,” she pointed disdainfully.

Spencer crept up towards the window, peering out to see what the woman was going on about. 

Outside stood two males, about Spencer’s age, early to mid twenties. They looked like they were just talking, their expressions unreadable, until one swung back and aimed for the other, narrowly missing the jaw.

Unlike the woman next to her, the brunette found the spectacle amusing. This apartment complex was in a higher class neighborhood. The residents were members of the same club as her parents, they were active members of the congregation and they probably all were invited to Melissa’s baby shower. 

And yet, no matter where you go, there were immature men, fighting as if no one else was watching, as if there were no consequences, as if violence was always the answer.

She pursued her lips, thinking about Toby, thinking of all the things that had been done to him, all the hurt he’d suffered, all the maltreatment and yet, he rarely resorted to violence. 

The brunette’s eyes stayed indolently on the two men, aiming unsuccessfully at each other, when she was ripped out of her thoughts at the sight of a punch finally making contact and one of the men smacking the concrete. 

She was running down a hall, an empty, dark, unnerving hall. She was sprinting as if her life depended on it.

It did.

“Get back here,” she heard a man growl, his voice familiar. So familiar it twisted her stomach painfully, forcing her to come to a halt to keep herself from gagging. “I said, get back here!”

“No,” she gasped, her tone completely and entirely hopeless, as his hands gripped her forearms. “Please, don't hurt me.”

Without a response, without an acknowledgment, she was thrown straight into the ground, her hands flying up to protect the back of her head from making impact with the cold tile floor. 

She shut her eyes as she felt him come closer, towering over her and she felt her stomach drop as she registered all he could do to her in that position. 

Her breathing hitched as she felt him creep above her, his hands so close now she could practically feel them on her skin. “Please,” she cried one last time, as she felt him yank her upper body off the ground, like a lifeless rag doll, whatever she’d been previously drugged with still flowing through her system. 

She glued her eyes shut, her natural, uncontrollable reaction to forced trauma, unintentionally allowing herself to be caught off-guard as he pulled back and swung, landing a harsh punch straight to her eye. 

Her scream was muffled by her fraught, powerless cry. She’d never felt like this. She’d never been this far out of control, this far away from the ability to save herself. She’d never been this helpless before in her life, not even inside the dollhouse. 

Her howls were still filling the room as he stood up again, taking a step back. She knew he wasn't done, not by a long shot, but she didn't have time to brace herself for the impact, to pry her injured eye open and make herself see what he was doing.

She couldn't even stand to look him in the face, knowing who he was now, knowing what he’d done. 

Her body recoiled before she truly felt the harsh kicks, numerous kicks, straight to her abdomen. 

Her loud, tortured scream erupted into the air, deafening anyone within thirty yards. Her throat protested in response, feeling like it was being ripped apart, like it was going to gush blood any second now. 

Even in her wholly petrified mind, she wondered why no one outside this building could hear her, why not a single soul was coming to see what was wrong, why no one was calling nine-one-one. 

“Shut up!” he ordered, his voice rising to try to muffle her’s. 

But she refused to be silenced. If she was going down, she would never go without a fight. It wasn't who she was and it wasn't who she would ever allow herself to be. She wouldn’t let him to take from her.

If she never made it out of this building, she was going to die fighting.

When she refused to comply, refused to stop her harrowing shrieks, refused to be silenced even minimally, the man’s tactic changed and suddenly, without a hint of a warning, there were hands wrapped around her throat, pressing down. 

“I told you,” he murmured, his voice as lethal as his actions, “to shut the fuck up.” 

His hands tightened and breathing became an unfeasible task. “Please,” she tried to beg, attempting to raise her hands, attempting to plea for her oxygen. 

But it was all futile. He wasn't going to let up until he, himself, decided to let up. 

Black spots filled her already impaired vision, the need to cough overwhelming but the ability nonexistent. She felt her face growing hot, her limbs numbing and the world around her moving in slow motion. 

And all she could see was him. 

He was the ringleader.

He was the one in charge.

And he had a knife in his hands, ready to kill. 

“Spencer,” Toby exclaimed, grasping both of her shoulders. 

Somehow, someway, she’d ended up flat on her back, laying on the ground of the apartment, strangers all around her, staring at her in horror. 

She heard a loud cry, a desperate, cacophonous wail, loud banging against the wood floor and she wondered who she’d frightened. 

It took her next to no time to realize that those sounds were coming from her.

She didn't realize she was thrashing until Toby had her wrapped up in his arms, folding her so tightly she couldn't move if she tried. 

Her ears popped and she heard her own screams of fear, with crystal clarity now. “Toby,” she sobbed and he squeezed her even tighter to him. 

“What’s wrong with her?”

“What the fuck?”

“Someone did call nine-one-one, right?”

“Is she epileptic?”

“No, you idiot. She’s schizophrenic.”

“Be quiet!” 

“Is an ambulance on its way?”

It was Toby’s voice though that really shocked her. “Do not call nine-one-one or anyone else,” he ordered through clenched teeth, his arms still wrapped protectively around Spencer’s shaking form. 

“What the hell just happened?” Martin Kayn pressed, stepping out of the crowd. 

“Back away from her,” the cop commanded, bypassing the question altogether. When it came to Spencer, when she was in trouble, no one had the power to intimidate him anymore. His timidity instinctually paled when it came to her needs. 

“Toby,” the brunette cried again, swallowing hard, feeling her throat as if for the first time, trying to erase the feeling from her brain of someone strangling her. 

“Take your time, baby,” he murmured, his voice soft and low, only for her. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

She heaved, narrowly choking back the urge to vomit. 

Not here, not now, she thought to herself. She was humiliated enough as it was, screaming and crying and spazzing out in the middle of the open house. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her vision still swirling. “I’m so sorry.”

It took her a minute to realize she was apologizing to Martin, the man whose open house she’d wrecked. There was no way anyone would want the apartment where they'd watched a girl lose her fucking mind. 

“Spence, it’s okay,” Toby whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss there. “Just calm down.”

Embarrassed by her breakdown, embarrassed by her still quivering limbs, she burrowed into her boyfriend and tried to pretend that no one else could see her right now. 

The concept lasted a total of fifteen seconds as the realtor spoke then, a sudden recognition entering his voice.

“You’re the little girl from the news?” Martin Kayn stated, utter disbelief obvious in his tone. “You both are,” his said again, his eyes sweeping between the trembling brunette and the cop holding her. “They did news stories on you two.” he continued.

“Okay, enough,” Toby halted, his voice desperate and fierce and almost unrecognizable as the shy, altruistic cop he’d once been, before her problems had dragged him through the muck as well.

“You were one of the girls kidnapped and tortured in a bunker when you were younger,” the graying man continued as if the twenty-four year old hadn’t spoken. “They did a two hour special on 20/20 about you. They showed you two hugging after you escaped that place and they’ve been showing on every news station him carrying you out of the building-”

“Stop!” Toby yelled, the level of his voice shocking all their onlookers and stealing the voice away from the oblivious, inconsiderate man.

The second the words left his mouth, his head was turned downwards again, as if looking away from her for a second ached.

“T-Toby,” she whispered, her voice a shell of what it’d been a half hour ago. 

“Yes?” he breathed, his eyes somehow both tender and alerted. 

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that the world was still blurred all around her, to explain that she needed help to move because she couldn't stop shaking, to explain that she couldn't even see straight, that she could feel every single eye on her, that she just wanted to flee this places and all the stares and just go, when abruptly, just like it had happened before, her stomach retched and suddenly the contents were displayed on the ground. 

She didn't speak the entire way back. She didn't say a word as Martin Kayne stared at her, open mouthed or as she received an outpouring of sympathies from complete strangers or as her boyfriend wrapped her up in his arms and got her the hell out of there as fast as he could. 

She didn't say a word all the way back to the Edgewood Motor-Court, despite the fact that Toby was the last person who deserved the silent treatment. The way he showed her nothing but understanding and compassion was awe-worthy at this point, for the fucked up mess she’d become. 

Her shaking had dissipated, her screaming had stopped, but the tears still ran down her cheeks, without reprieve. 

She hated herself. She hated how she couldn't get a handle on her attacks, how the smallest things triggered her, how the more and more time passed, the more she proved the doctors and her parents right. 

She hated, above all else, how Toby felt guilt for her episodes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” he whispered at a stoplight, reaching out to wipe her tears with his thumb. 

Once they'd arrived back at the motel, Spencer didn't wait for him, throwing her door open and breaking nearly into a sprint, wanting to get inside the room as quickly as possible.

It didn't even occur to her that she was moving, without a single stumble or trace of dizziness at all. 

She hadn’t been off-balanced in hours. 

The small fact that would have delighted her not long ago only brought her minor pleasure now, in light of the chilling memory that’d just came back, the awful recollection she had now that she couldn't make sense of, couldn't even begin to understand.

This was different from every other memory that had come back to her. It wasn’t as if she was seeing something for the first time. It was as if she were reliving it.

She remembered the feeling of knowing who the ringleader was, remembered they were male, remembered the feeling of betrayal and humiliation and hurt. She remembered everything she felt in those few minutes that had resurfaced in her brain.

But she couldn’t see the face. It was as if she were staring through a piece of stain glass, completely indefinite and undistinguished.

She couldn’t retain the voice or the touch or the smell or any identifiable thing. It was as if she had lost all her senses while trapped in that building.

She heard her boyfriend come into the room, in no hurry to race after her, clearly aware that she was in her right mind again.

How did he know these things about her? How could he just sense them? How could he understand her, like she was an extension of him, when she couldn't even get a grasp on herself?

“Baby,” was the first word that he uttered, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. 

Without warning to her brain, her mouth ejected a small whimper, more mortified than frightened.

No, her terror didn't have a sound. There was no resonance that the human mouth could elicit, no noise a brain could conjure up that would be able to convey how she felt, every single time she was taken back to that night.

What made it so much worse, was that she was alone in hell. In every other situation she’d encountered in the past, even the most frightful and ghastly of them, she had always had the girls as a support system.

She didn't blame them for not being there. How could she? This wasn't high school any longer and they all had their own adult lives. This wasn't the -A that had been after them before. This new person wasn't one for a continuous game, a constant cat and mouse chase.

No, this person wanted a big impact. They planned out their big attacks and then allowed the after effects to run their course, knowing that mentally isolating them from everyone surrounding them, that psychologically tearing them apart, that obliterating their lives, aspect by aspect, was much more effective. 

Spencer realized then, that she had been forgetting one person in all this equation. She wasn't alone. Not if she didn't force herself to be. Not if she didn't punish herself for things beyond her control, shut down and close herself off. 

She had Toby. She had someone who loved her, more than was humanly conceivable, more than was healthy. She had someone who would do absolutely anything for her, no questions asked, and she was allowing this entire ordeal to push him away.

She felt his fingers run through her hair, gently, gradually working his way up to touching her. He was feeling her out, seeing where she was and what she needed in that moment. 

She needed him. 

“Tobes,” she whispered, as his hand moved to cup her cheek. He didn't say anything, his eyes just boring deeply into her’s, filled with captivated compassion. He was there, willing to do anything for her, willing to be anything she needed him to be. She turned her head and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand. “I love you.”

He made a sound akin to a choke and she wondered why those words still elicited such surprise in him. “I love you too,” he promised, swallowing hard on a lump in his throat. 

She didn't realize until then that she had one to match. “I’m sorry I ruined that for us,” she mumbled, barley able to keep eye contact.

“No,” he disagreed sharply, his voice nearly breaking. He couldn't stop himself then, and his arms coiled around her, pulling her to him. “You didn't ruin anything, Spence. Nothing that happened back there mattered.”

“They all think I'm off my rocker,” she contested and couldn't help but remember his words for only hours ago. 

“Since when do you care what other people think?”

She didn't used to. It didn't matter if people, just random strangers, gossipy lowlifes or nosy meaningless neighbors, believed a bunch of lies about her. 

It mattered if what people thought of her, was actually her new reality. It mattered if there really was something wrong with her. If she was crazy or certifiable or demonic. It mattered that she no longer held control over her own life, over her own psyche, her ability to keep herself in check. It mattered that she had no choice, no warning, no power when she fell apart. 

“And they’re probably right,” she added, her voice muffled as she chose to bury her face in his chest. 

His hand rubbed her back, massaging the tension out silently, allowing her to relax into him, let her body sag against his. Finally, he murmured into her tangled hair, “What other people think doesn’t matter. Not to me and you.”

She laughed once, humorless. “It’s still not fun being the town freak.”

She was surprised when he stiffened and stopped kneading her back. “Spence,” he started, his tone shifted, giving her a look.

“What?” she matched his expression, her distress momentarily put aside. “Why are you looking at me like I have three heads?”

He laughed now, incredulous. “Because you and I have always been the town freaks,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “You were a girl who tried to frame her brother-in-law and I was the boy who everyone crossed the street when they saw me coming. And we got together. We’ve always been something to talk about.”

His words, so blatant, so unconcealed, so forthright, it elicited a genuine chuckle from deep inside her chest. 

He continued, feeling in her body language the tension slowly seeping away. “Everyone thinks we’re weird, babe. Nothing we do, one way or the other, could change that now. And you know what?”

She glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes playfully. “What?”

“It doesn’t even matter. Let them think we’re weird. Let them think me and you are two psychos or that we’re both on our way to the funny farm. Because what a bunch of redundant, chatty snobs like our parents think of us isn't our problem. It never was and it never will be.”

Her mouth, which had been set in a permanent frown only a matter of seconds ago, involuntarily turned upwards. She leaned her forehead towards his, resting them together. “How do you always know how to make everything alright? Even when things were are awful, even when I'm scared out of my mind, even when I don't think I can keep going like this, somehow you always make it okay. You never give up on me. Not even when I give up on me.”

His eyes changed, gaining a reflective gleam. “How could I? You’re not just the person I love, Spencer. You’re my entire family. I couldn't give up on you if I tried. I wouldn't know how.”

Before she could even get a grasp on herself, before she could remember the shameful events of the day, she was kissing him and his hands were on her hips and she was climbing onto his lap, and their tongues were twisting together and nothing else existed until this moment. 

The kiss started out as a thank you. 

It turned into exactly what they’d both been craving for longer than they could even remember. 

They don't kiss long before their clothes are discarded, tossed carelessly aside in piles on the roughly carpeted floor. They don't take the time to realize what they’re about to do, they haven't done in three years. They don't think about the fact that there’s no condom or birth control in sight. 

They only think about each other. The feel of the other’s skin pressed against theirs. The way words aren't necessary. When they're together like that, they can feel what the other is thinking. The way sex provides both of them with the calm, the serenity, the euphoria that they lack in every other section of their lives. The way the other looks at them, as if they are an angel on Earth, as if they are the world’s greatest treasure. 

Maybe things are rough. Maybe for them they always will be. But they both know as long as they have each other, they’re never going to be facing it alone. 

[officerjennie]

💘 Madara/Tobirama

Ask meme here

Stuffs below the cut cause super long. Also! My headcanons change wildly between stories and junk, so this is just one take on them :D

Where they first met and how?Since in canon that’s explained perfectly, I’ll go with what I imagine might happen in a modern AU: Pretty much canon but without sneaking brothers. Mads and Hashi are still best friends, and they meet the respective snotty little brothers. It probs happens when they’re young still, so Mads and Tobi aren’t impressed with each other in the slightest.

How long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involvedI mean. How long they were flirting, or how long they were purposely flirting? Cause we all know they were flirting for years before they figured out they were. A lot of years. The UST was so freaking high it was driving everyone else up the walls.

Who fell for who first (if applicable)?I think they fell around the same time, though in different ways. I see Mads falling hard and fast, like it just hits him and he’s just. Whelp. This is a thing. Where Tobes has a slow glow/burn sort of thing where he has to overthink every possible angle of every minute detail of every interaction until there’s no other possible conclusion.Where their first date was and what it was like?Stoopid boring lunch or dinner. Awkward as crap. They resort to bickering halfway through just because it’s natural for them, and that helps out a little with the awkward atmosphere. By the end they’re both thinking how it doesn’t feel any different from most of their time spent together, which at first is a little disheartening - until they eventually realize it’s cause they’ve been flirting for fucking ever and that’s why it doesn’t feel that different.

Who asks who out and how (with a sign? Spelled out on a cake? Just a simple ‘will you go out with me’?)Either Mads blurts out a demand at random or Tobes sneakily sneaks a hint of a hint of a hint of being interested in a deeper relationship in a random conversation god they’re hopeless

Who proposes first?I feel like neither of them. They just. End up living together. Adopting pets and children. After like, a decade of living that life, Hashi’s over one day all teary eyed and happy his bestie and little brother are happily married and junk, and Tobi just. Blinks. And realizes that, yeah, they’re essentially domestic partners at that point. I don’t think either of them would make it more official, seeing no need to (unless they’re in a modern AU, cause then being legally married might give them important benefits they wouldn’t get as just domestic partners and shit).

If they keep/kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away?Most likely, keep it a secret for a while, even if everyone else suspects they’ll get together eventually. Neither of them want to deal with Hashirama and his wailing/overprotective nature.

Where the proposal happens and how (kiss cam at a baseball game? on a Hillside surrounded by ducks? At a Disney park?)If they’re getting married in a modern AU, it’s a mutual and quiet thing. Like, Tobi just comes home with a stack of papers on the benefits of being married (shit they wouldn’t get as DPs), and they talk it out. If in the Naruto verse, it’s probably Madara, trying not to make it seem like baring his heart is the most awful thing he’s ever done ever, becoming a sputtering and near angry mess over a totally not fancy and home made dinner.

If they adopt any pets togetherWhy do I see Tobi as someone who keeps a bunch of reptiles? Yeah, they probably have cats or something. And Tobi has his weird animals that he likes to observe and junk.

Who’s more dominantIt’s a give and take. Madara’s bossy and loud, and Tobirama’s stubborn about what he wants.

Where their first kiss was and what it was likeIt looked and felt a little angry. Probably some teeth knocking. Either in one of their houses or outside their first date location; if the latter, it ended as soon as they became aware of where they were.

If they have any matching couples stuff (Mugs? Sweaters? Pillowcases?)They have SO MANY COUPLE THINGS. Not of their own free will though. It’s all Hashirama, all the time. He knits them sweaters and scarves, and buys them all sorts of trinkets that are meant for couples. They only keep them because Mito’s wrath is terrifying.

How into PDA they arePurposeful PDA, they don’t like. Both of them are a bit more private about their relationship. Accidental PDA from getting wrapped up into flirty bickering and forgetting where they are? All. The freaking. Time.

Who holds the umbrella when it rainsBoth of them. They have separate umbrellas. Would never get caught being that cutsey together.

Where their usual ‘date spot’ is (if applicable)Either at the park or at the other’s house. Quiet places are a favorite.

Who’s more protective?Madara. Can be overbearing. Mind you, Tobirama can go off like a beast if someone hurts Madara.

How long it is before they sleep together (can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’)?(going with shared a bed) Probably a while, honestly. They’re both a bit reserved and don’t know how to do the whole ‘romantic dating’ thing, and put off the softer parts of the relationship. Takes a few months and up to a year. After they sleep together once, though, they fall into the habit very quickly.

If they argue about anythingEverything

Who leaves more marks (lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc.)?Madara. Partly because Tobi’s skin is easier to mark up, and mostly because he’s possessive and takes pride in leaving his mark.

Who steals whose clothes and how oftenI feel like neither would be of the habit, really. If a more modern AU, Tobi might steal a hoodie or jacket or two, but more because he needed a jacket and less because of any romantic appeal from it. He’d still end up wearing it every now and then.

How they cuddle (spooning? facing each other?)Maddy’s a squid. Doesn’t matter the position.

What their favourite nonsexual activity isSitting around enjoying the quiet of each other’s company. They’re both used to living with chatty people.

How long they stay mad at each otherMadara’s a fuse and gets over stuff rather quickly. Tobirama can hold a grudge, but it’s a less conscious thing. He reminds himself often there’s no need to be sour about something that happened several weeks ago, even while sneering about it.

What their usual coffee/tea orders areUgh, Madara probably drinks coffee gross and takes it black with a bit of sugar. Tobirama is a tea man, because he knows what good taste is, and takes it with honey and a splash of milk - both herbal brews as well as black tea.

If they ever have any children togetherProbably? Maybe? They might adopt one or two.

If they have any special pet names for each otherNo absolutely yes though they’ll never admit it

If they ever split up and/or get back togetherImma say no, cause I don’t ever see anyone working that way.

What their shared living space is like (Messy? Clean? What kind of decor?)Depends on the day of the week. During work days, it can get pretty messy. They clean it all up at the beginning of the weekend though. Decor: simple and warm.

What their first Christmas/Hanukkah/etc as a couple was likeIf modern AU, they’re probably in Japan, so their Christmas would be a date (cause that’s how it is there, all coupley and junk). Maybe a walk through the romantic lighted areas in the city and junk. They’d probably skip the whole KFC having tradition though.

What their names are in each other’s phonesThey’re boring and just keep it either first name or first and last name.

If they have any ‘couple traditions’ (buying a new mug for their collection every year? Baking every Friday evening?)They make sure to have a day to themselves. Tobirama’s a super workaholic and knows it, so setting the day aside makes sure he won’t accidentally neglect his partner.

Who falls asleep first and who wakes up firstMadara takes a while to fall asleep, and takes even longer to wake up. Tobi’s out like a light as soon as he lays down and then is up with the sun.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoonMadara says I’m not allowed to answer that.

Who hogs the bathroomThey’re gross and just go in there together. No hogging necessary.

Who kills the spiders/takes them outsideI mean. I know this is asking who takes care of the scary spider issue, but I don’t think either of them would be bothered by spiders. Madara just kills them cause he doesn’t care, but Tobirama either leaves them there, takes them outside, or catches and keeps them. He’s 100% that weird cousin who keeps a black widow in a mason jar and takes care of it. It’s for science, of course.