I am really crushing on this pairing, i don't know why, i didn't expect them to have any chemistry, but they so do!

She doesn't answer a single question, except to say that she wasn't seeing Ian. They kissed, once, and she had been confused when it happened. She wasn't in love with him, she wasn't pining for him, she was just scared of him, and aside from that she spent the rest of the evening doing her best not to ball her eyes out in front of the police.

They asked her the same questions over and over again, why had she been checking up on Ian and Alison? Had she confronted Alison about it? Did Alison give her a reason to be suspicious? Had she been feeling jealous of Alison? Why were her friends lying for her? And it went on and on until her mother after an hour of fruitless questioning asked the police to come back another time.

She waited moments after the police left before letting a few tears trickle down her cheeks, but even the clear distress didn't stave off her mother, who after seeing the police out the door came back to make another round on her. It was one of those moments, it felt fast as lightening, but looking back it probably wasn't.

Breathing heavily, she got up from the sofa, just as her mother walked back into the room, "Spencer, Spencer come back here," she heard called as she ran up the stairs. She didn't stop to think, she didn't need too, she knew what her plan was and where she was going, and who she would be safe with. She tore into her room, pulling a duffle out of her closet she rammed some clothing into it, underwear, shoes, makeup, she grabs pyjama pants but not a top because she's still wearing his. "Spencer, what on earth are you doing?" her mother chided as she came through the door to see her daughter.

"I don't want to be here," she heard herself say, as she zipped the bag shut and ran towards the door, "I won't stay in a house with him, or with you," she yelled as she side stepped her mother.

"Oh please stop with the dramatics," her mother yelled as she followed her hurriedly down the stairs, "you have got to talk to us about what is going on with you," she called.

As she walked towards the front door, her sister appeared in front of her, "Spencer, you can't just leave, you're a danger to yourself," she told her in the most condescending of tones.

Spencer did her best not to snort as she bundled past her sister, "oh of course, because I'm crazy right, I'm off my rocker," she glared back.

It was as her hand hit the doorknob that she finally heard her father's voice, he was the swing vote, the one she could never really count on, but out of everyone in the house was the most likely to win over, because he too hated Ian, and didn't trust him. However it was his tone alone that told her she'd lost even him, "Spencer, don't you dare leave this house, you have no idea the trouble you've caused," he bellowed. She turned the knob, car keys clasped firmly in her other hand, "Spencer, put that bag down right now," but she didn't hear the end of the sentence, she was out the door and in her car before his words could follow her.

Key in ignition, check mirrors, car in gear, go.

She drove fast, a little over the speed limit, she wanted to get there to him as fast as possible without being followed, she didn't want her parents to find her and drag her back to the house for another round of questioning, and she needed the evening to be over. She did her best not to cry, if she cried she wouldn't be able to see properly, that's what she kept telling herself.

She didn't notice the route she took, or the cars she passed, not the songs on the radio, or the fact that she had to turn on her windshield wipers. The next thing she knew she was in the car park, pulling her bag out of the passenger seat and banging on his room door, and that's when she let herself cry. It took him 23 seconds to open the door, and when he did she dissolved into tears, letting him wrap his arms around her and pull her inside.

He gave her a drink and some tissues and sat with her on the bed while she told him through her tears what had happened. She couldn't have pinpointed the moment when she had truly started to trust Toby, but she did, and she was glad she had him, he held her tight and whispered encouragements into her hair and sat with her until she was ready to be let go of.

She peels herself away from him eventually, having calmed down just enough to realise that she is a complete mess and has just dumped all of her problems on him. "I'm sorry," she whispers as she wipes her eyes, sniffing quietly and sitting back to look up at him.

He cracks the smallest of smiles, "you don't have to apologise for being upset," he tells her, leaning back in to kiss her on the cheek, "I get it, I've been there," he assures her.

Another small trickle of tears runs down her cheek, "I'm sorry about that too," she tells him, the layers of grief and guilt weighing down on her.

He shakes his head, "what's done is done, I'm moving on, you don't have to feel bad about doubting me," he insists, "do you want to do something?" he asks, looking around the small room, "we could go out and get a drink," its late but he's sure somewhere is open.

"No," she squeezes her eyes shut, "can we just stay here?" going out feels too dangerous, it's a silly notion, but she wants to keep the outside out and the inside in, where she's safe and he's here with her.

"That's fine," he agrees, "Do you want to watch TV? Or we could play scrabble? I'll let you win if you want," he teases.

She glares, but the corners of her mouth are pulling up into a smile, "I'm kinda tired, do you mind if we just watch TV?" she asks, choosing to leave it til later to point out to him how much of an ass kicking he's going to get the next time they play scrabble.

"That's fine," he replies, smiling with her, he goes to find the remote and turn the TV on while she starts rooting through her bag for her pyjama pants, she finds them and makes her way to the bathroom while his back is still turned.

Facing herself in the mirror, she's the perfect picture of distress, and even though there is a gnawing feeling of fear in the back of her mind, she is calmer now, so she washes her face in an attempt to have her visage reflect that fact. She changes and wanders back out to find he's done the same, he doesn't look up from his channel surfing until he feels her weight on the bed, and when he does his brow creases, "You brought yourself pants, but you're still wearing my top?" he asks, indicating at his bare chest with a laugh.

"I'm sorry," she scratches her head timidly, "I wasn't really thinking when I was packing, besides," she adds shyly, "you look nice like that."

He ignores the compliment, choosing instead to point to her and respond, "I'm sure you would too, we could both just be pants," he tells her with a jokingly suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Her eyes bug, and she's doing her best not to smile at his teasing, so she smacks him playfully on his arm. To which he just laughs and hands over the remote so that she can keep on flicking.

She accepts it and nestles in beside him, praying that the rest of the evening will be free from her parents, the police, and A, before doing her best to turn her mind off, but when she can't, she instead lets herself ponder the beauty of his pectoral muscles, and how glad she is that she is lying against them with his strong arms wrapped around her.

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