It all felt like too much now.

That is, the tension between them.

The myriad of 'almosts' and 'maybes'

Not just between the two of them, but in the air surrounding them. Of those they surrounded themselves with; though now, admittedly, from farther away, and at a constantly decreasing frequency.

Not just the almost-kiss on that balcony in Madrid, and then the maybe let's do this again soon, both too afraid to commit or to see each other again, knowing what was building up between them. Almost an acknowledgment of the path they would surely tumble down if they even tempted themselves to do so. Tumble was an understatement - it would be a straight plummet down that hole, and they both knew it. It was more than that. It was the almost family she almost created with the guy who was her first and almost-forever, who was also Caleb's best friend. The almosts of a ring on Hanna's finger, wedding plans being made - an almost marriage, almost a whole life, that he had planned with the girl who'd been Spencer's own best friend.

Well, their old best friends. In truth, nothing had happened, but life got in the way. Hanna stayed in New York and was quickly engaged to a lawyer, and Spencer heard first through her parents, rather than the blonde she'd previously spoken with more than once a day, who was now a text when one of them had the time, lucky if the other responded within the week. It inevitably stung, but she was excited for her friend nonetheless. Toby built that house for Yvonne in Rosewood, but after they got married, moved out of town to be closer to her family. At first, at least a little part of her suspected this was at least a little about her recent move from DC to Philly and her work on her mother's campaign. Yvonne didn't like her much. She didn't blame her. There was a deep history there between her and Toby, the kind of feelings and softness you always have for your first... and he had been her first everything. But that meant that she and Toby could never be the friends they'd meant to be when they went separate ways. She was pretty sure she'd heard he and Yvonne were expecting a baby any day now, but Caleb would never bring it up. And in truth, he didn't hear from them as much since they'd moved and gotten busy either.

And here she was, sitting on the couch with Caleb, who was the only old friend living in Philly. Because of her. Not that she really thought about that part, or even took credit fully. She thought of just happy coincidences, a friend doing another friend a favor to help him get a job. It just worked to her benefit that it happened to be 15 minutes from her own.

She never thought that of all her friends, she would be the one to stay so close to home. But DC stopped making her happy, and her mom's campaign was close to heart. It didn't hurt that Caleb had settled in in Philly, and once that happened, she stopped looking for a new opportunity, content to spend all the time she once spent with her pack of girls with him instead, because part of what made DC feel so wrong was the emptiness and the loneliness that even the miles from Rosewood, or the great bar down the street that always had her drink ready with a side of the chips she could shamelessly eat a whole plate of alone, or the cute guy she strung along for a while - or was it the other way around?, or the series of one night stands that she thought would make her feel better, but never did - could make feel full. It always came down to the melancholy feeling of seeing her friends having fun in group chats or on social media, and feeling left out even though they were all apart. Probably because they all moved on and grew up, and her tendency to get stuck in deep thought and nostalgia made things feel out of place. She always found it hard to feel like she had a place. She just tried to keep the waves of change from knocking her off her feet. But she didn't miss her friends when she was with him. After all she'd been through over the years, she thought once she'd had the chance she'd flee as far as she could go from Rosewood. But now, something about being closer to home, close to her mom, and even Melissa when the winds blew in the favor of civility, and having someone around who really could understand everything, like Caleb, who would never ask why when she did a second take or weird feeling fall over her over simple things like unknown numbers, or cars that followed too closely on dark nights, or how she got random aches for something that felt like was missing - turned out to be all that was all she wanted after all. Familiarity. Almost home, but not quite. Close enough to fill the void without creating suffocation.

And she quite liked spending time with him, she always had. They'd always had a good banter and kinship. After the history they'd shared, always living life so adjacent to one another, there was another important almost - and that was almost no secrets between them - between the secrets that they'd shared with each other, the way they told each other near everything now... and the things they'd heard from their previous best friends and partners over the years. The ones that maybe they wouldn't have shared, the ones that they quietly accepted without talking about. About the heartbreak after the breakup. About the locker room talk about the firsts and the many times afterward. That thing she liked, the noise she made, the thing he really wanted to try and asked for over and over again in the dark with Hanna, his indecisiveness concerning commitment and family. About things that hurt them that their partners didn't know how to fix, desperate to seek advice, but in the end, unable to change who they were and where they came from. Their internal demons that were never quite understood. An almost pregnancy that they never talked about, but he knew, and she knew that he did. That thing he was afraid of, that made him keep the lights on at night for a solid month a few years back. His tendency to smoke when he was anxious, and her tendency to bum a cigarette from anyone who paid her attention outside a bar in the colder months, liking the feeling of hot smoke filling her lungs. An all too similar place, they came to find - him, with a mother who left him to end up in foster care, only to start a new family, and her family, uninterested in having a second child, always feeling like she was never enough, running away to find out her absence went unnoticed, and the scar that that left to this day when she thought about her place and her worth, and secrets big enough to cast craters between members of that same family. For both, families that never felt much like the family they wanted in the first place.

Despite, or maybe because of, all of this, it was almost intuitive that they fell into a routine when it became the two of them left close by. Lunch breaks and coffee, at first. Dinner on Fridays with a bottle of wine, or two. Cocktails on weekends until they passed out laughing on the couch.

And now they had brought takeout back to her place for dinner from the Italian place downstairs instead of their reservation at the new hibachi place he couldn't stop talking about, waiting out the passing snowstorm, and wine turned into vodka sodas, a double, with an extra lime of course, just the way she liked it. He made her drink perfectly. A little too perfectly, because two drinks in, she felt her eyelids squint a little more, her lips loosen, and it was maybe possible that Spencer Hastings was finally relaxed for once. Maybe even in a state neighboring drunk, but not quite. Not yet, anyway. Still with her wits about her. Relaxed, and unburdened from the usual 100,000 thoughts racing in her brain.

It wasn't the first time, but the tension - well, it was a bubble, and it was almost ready to burst.

It felt like they were far away from it now. The biggest almost. Far away from the romantic week in Madrid that actually was a total coincidence. She always pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Only sometimes did it push the guilt away. Mostly because she felt guilty of the thoughts she was having about him, about what they could have done in Madrid, but didn't. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a hair away from throwing the thoughts aside and going for it back then. If she'd had one more glass of sangria, they very likely would have ended up a few feet from the balcony, tangling together their limbs and bedsheets. They only approached the line, but neither ever dared to get close enough to cross.

By now, she did a good job not thinking about those things. Except in the everyday moments that passed by like the small blips in time that they were, but seemed to stretch over an eternity. When a gaze lasted a little too long, especially when he hung out while she got ready for a work function, or worse, a date, in the tight little skirts she liked so much that left little to the imagination, in the most covered up way possible, and she swore she felt his eyes magnetized to her legs and hips. When their hands brushed unexpectedly, almost seductively, when they were alone in his studio apartment, the bed only ever a few feet away at any given moment begging to be used for something more exciting. The hugs that lingered a moment longer than they should, hands falling lower than they would on anyone else. The whiff she savored of his cologne, and she swore he made a comment about the smell of her perfume, but she was still coming back to reality. When they closed down the bar and crashed together just because her place was closer, just a short walk around the corner, and then waking up all too close. They lived on the edge, but it was just that sense of danger they both were drawn to, always, much to the dismay of their previous partners. But then a pregnant pause would snap them back into reality, slowly easing back into the moment meant to be shared between the just-friends they insisted they were.

Best friends.

"Hey, not such a heavy hand... are you trying to get me drunk?" She laughed and swiped the glass from him as he poured.

"Really? I think you're already a little drunk, Spence. Besides, I don't think either one of us is going very far from this couch anytime soon" he pointed to the window, which was so covered with snow you couldn't see anything past the heap piling up on the windowsill. He poured himself another bourbon, straight. Like a good little Hastings, she had a fully stocked bar cart in the living room at all times, just like her parents had taught her. It didn't matter that she lived alone, and she rarely had company beyond Caleb, or the visits from her friends that were few and far between.

His smile was slick. She loved/hated that. It made her grin and chew her lip without much second thought. She just sighed and took a sip.

"I'm just saying, this is my...fourth, fifth? drink... I'm a lady, for heaven's sake. It's only Tuesday." she teased him and crossed her legs.

"No you're not." he had a discerning look on his face. "I've seen you pound back way more, in a way shorter time frame." He licked his lips and chuckled. "Not to mention some other... pretty un-lady-like moments I can think of off the top of my head."

She raised an eyebrow. "Rude." She pursed her lips. "And Madrid doesn't count, that was a vacation. And I don't even want to know what you're referring to exactly... but it doesn't seem like it's very fair." Her expression soured as she took a gulp of mostly pure vodka.

"Weren't you supposed to be studying abroad?" He squinted "And plenty of other times, but sure, you're a lady, whatever." He smiled at her, devilishly, as usual.

She shook her head. He probably had no idea what he did to her.

Suddenly there was a loud boom outside, and the lights flickered off.

She sat up at attention and leaned against the arm of the couch to turn and get a better look out the window. "Looks like a tree took out the power line. Great." she said sarcastically. "There's supposed to be an emergency generator" she looked up at the lights, with no sign of flickering back on. "I guess it's my luck that's out too." She quickly stood, her hand reaching out and landing on his thigh as she stood, all the alcohol she consumed while sitting now rushing right to her head as her legs wobbled beneath her. She quietly laughed at herself, and took a minute with her hand on his thigh to steady herself before moving again. "I told you not to be so heavy-handed with the vodka" she reprised, still gripping his leg, their faces close enough that she could smell the bourbon on his lips. She didn't like the drink, but the smell was intoxicating. As if she hadn't had enough already. She noticed that his hands had gone straight to her sides to catch her when she stumbled and stayed fixed there as her shirt rode up, his fingers catching the skin between her shirt and jeans, and goosebumps had formed on her sides and arms. They lingered for a minute, looking right at each other, hands glued in their current positions. One of those moments where the tension between them was so thick that it could barely be cut through. Cue the pregnant pause where they forgot that their status was just-friends, for just a second, wobbling on the edge of more. Another almost. She stood straighter and pulled down her shirt, still laughing just a bit to herself.

"I'm going to get the candles and see if I can find a flashlight in case the" she pointed up as if she'd forgotten the word for the lights "if those don't come back on." She pointed to the other room, flushed. She felt her heart racing, and failed in convincing herself that it was because of the drinks, not the sensation of his hands on her skin.

She took a minute to breathe in the hallway before searching. She opened the closet and scanned all the shelves before finding a flashlight, but flipped the switch to realize the battery was dead, and she definitely didn't have any new ones. She sighed heavily, growing frustrated in more ways than one. She finally settled on a box of old candles to give them a little light, and came back in to set them on the coffee table, lighting them one by one carefully, and falling back down on the couch.

"Ah, mood lighting. Spencer Hastings, are you trying to seduce me?" He found himself all too funny. She felt the burn in her cheeks.

"Oh shut up, the batteries in the flashlight were dead." she kicked at his side as her legs extended on the couch. She leaned back and focused on opening her takeout container, rather than looking at him, and scrolled through her phone.

They did this often. Quietly sitting and enjoying each others' company, usually the TV on in the background, laughing and talking on and off. But in the silence, especially here by candlelight, she felt like it was different. Like his eyes were on her differently. And maybe they were.

"Why are you staring at me like that? If you want some of my pasta you could just ask." She finally broke the silence.

"I mean I will take a bite." he leaned over with his fork, regretting, as usual, his own choice, and wanting to share hers instead. He made fun of her for always ordering the same thing, but it was always good - never disappointing. "But it's just... you mentioned Madrid before... because of all the tequila." he laughed "But sitting here eating in the dark reminds me of the night we had the picnic on the beach. You were so mad at me at first, and we got absolutely soaking wet and had to run back to the hotel literally dripping... but that ended up being, like, the best night of that trip. I would love to do that again, but that seems like a once in a lifetime kind of thing."

"Can we not talk about that night?" She took a big bite and put the container on the coffee table and took another huge sip from her drink, almost chugging it. The night he was referring to... was the one that almost haunted her.

"Why not?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You know why not," she kicked at his sides again as she settled into the couch and extended her long legs completely out, cracking her ankles as she stretched and wiping her hands on her jeans. "All this time passed and we see each other all the time, and we never talk about it. Why now? I don't wanna do this right now. Because I feel guilty about it still. I know you'll roll your eyes and say I shouldn't, but I do. It was a weird time in our lives." She didn't look up as she spoke. They both knew why she felt guilty. Why he felt guilty. Why it took such a long time for them to feel normal around one another... how badly she'd wanted him that whole week, but ignored those feelings to spare Hanna's. And she was pretty sure he wouldn't have needed convincing to follow her lead down that spiral.

She huffed and kept her head down afterward, and just kept scrolling through her phone. He knew her well enough to know she did this when she was mad, or annoyed, or was shutting someone out and didn't want to talk.

"Great, now you're just gonna scroll through your phone and pretend I'm not here, as usual." He exhaled in exasperation and reached over to try and grab it from her.

"Hey! Stop, give it back, I'm doing something." She kicked and sat up right away trying to fight him for it. The something was just scrolling through Instagram. He had her pegged, she did do the scrolling-ignoring thing when she didn't want to talk about something. She liked to keep her feelings close to the cuff, but those closest to her always knew when things were off, even ever-so-slightly. Caleb was one of the ones who never failed to call her out on it and pull it out of her.

But this was different. Because it was about him.

"You're not. You're getting yourself in a mood because I brought up Spain. Which is ridiculous and you're being childish. BUT, if you're gonna be that way... I have to bring up the fact that you brought up Spain first."

"Not the way you did... we promised we wouldn't go there. Water under the bridge."

"Are you really still so hung up on being upset about this? Nothing even happened." He casually took another sip. Like it didn't bother him. Like he wasn't even bothered by their encounter.

"Just give me my phone," she finally sat up and reached forward to grab it from him, play-wrestling for it until she was straddling his lap.

"No way," his hands found her sides and slid under her shirt as they wriggled, each on a mission to win.

She heard his glass fall to the floor and shatter when one of them hit it in their fight for the phone, but suddenly the yelping and even laughing slowed to a stop.

"I should clean that up" she gulped, but she didn't move right away. Their eyes were still locked. Something about the goosebumps on her spine from his fingers gripping her harder, as if silently asking her not to move.

He didn't answer, he just kept looking at her, holding her in place. "Is the reason you want to forget that trip because you're embarrassed we almost kissed, or because you're afraid of what would have happened if we did?" He didn't even blink.

"Caleb..." she trailed off. He hadn't even fully broken up with Hanna yet, he had just left when she worked late and missed their trip... again. He'd had enough. But they hadn't even talked. It was supposed to be their trip, not hers with him. She'd barely gotten over how things ended with Toby not even a year before that.

He inched closer, she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips now. Almost touching. Was she imagining it, or was the same heat radiating between her legs where she straddled him? Was it coming from him, or was it her center that was on fire?

"Because I'm pretty sure if you hadn't turned your cheek, we would have done a lot more than kiss. And I think you're afraid to admit that maybe you wanted it."

She was red all over now, spreading even across her chest. "I never said anything like that." she swallowed hard. "We were both..." she trailed off. She couldn't focus.

"Happy? Drunk? Sort of like... right now?" He had this smirk that he made when he knew he'd been successful in challenging her - or puzzling her. She usually wanted to smack the smile right off of his face, knowing it was a game.

She couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed his face and let her lips crash into his. The kiss seemed to last several minutes, she wasn't sure she had a good sense of time at the moment. She got this dizzy look on her face as she pulled away from him, but then looked him in the eyes, and this time, her face wore the wide smirk. "See, we kissed, and nothing-" the competitive side of her took control, wanting the taunting to stop. But he interrupted her with his own lips crashing into hers, his hands completely up the back of her shirt, and even the softest graze of his calloused fingers against the middle of her back sent shivers deep down to her core, causing a moan to slip out of her mouth, even surprising her.

"Nothing?" The smirk returned to his face as he pulled away and pulled off her shirt. "So we should just stop then?"

"Oh shut up." she pulled him back to her and continued kissing him, pulling off his shirt, kissing down his neck, letting her hands finally tangle in his hair the way she'd thought of so many times. She pulled away for air, and almost considered putting the brakes on what was happening. What even was happening? Was this real, or a drunken dream she'd awake from, sweaty and red next to him with her head pounding from all the liquor?

But she didn't. She kept kissing him, almost like it was a source of oxygen, hungrily alternating between his lips and down his jawline and chest. She was so busy kissing him, feeling his chest and concentrating on breathing and taking it all in, not to mention the growing heat and bulge now digging into her thigh, that she hadn't even realized he had somehow gotten her bra off without her noticing, until she felt him kiss down her neck and take her nipple between his teeth gently, emitting a small yelp from her, instigating her to furiously move her hands down between their hips and unbuckle his pants and pull him out through his boxers and start pumping her hand between them, leaning her forehead against his and looking in his eyes, biting her lip as she pumped his manhood. She couldn't help but smile, almost smirk. She loved the games they played with one another, how he challenged her... but this time... there was more at stake, and it was certainly more fun.

"God...Spence...shit." he murmured and burrowed his head in her neck, suckling at the thin skin, definitely enough to leave a big, fat, purple mark and fumbled with his hands to find her own button and zipper.

"Not yet." she liked being in control, pumping him now more furiously, adding in her other hand to gently fondle him from underneath while the other hand continued to jerk away, until she felt pre-cum start to leak out and help lubricate the pumping. He was gurgling and making all sorts of noises, bucking his hips, when she finally let go and stood up to unbutton her own bottoms, and they were barely past her thighs before he pulled her back to her spot on his lap, kissing her and looking up into her eyes as he took his member into his own hands, teasingly rubbing it back and forth above her entrance, over her clitoris.

"Do you have..." he was desperately waiting to enter her, he hoped that's where this was landing, anyway.

"It's fine" she shook her head, she trusted him. She put her own hand between their legs and pushed him lower so he would slip into her, maintaining eye contact until he was fully inside, throwing her head back and gripping his shoulders as she gasped, he was thicker and bigger than she had expected him to feel, and she could feel her walls stretch and tighten around him.

The room became a mix of moans and gasps and heavy breathing and grunting, broken up with the occasional crooked sort of smile when they caught each others eyes, knowing they probably couldn't forget it this time. She continued to rock on top of him, digging into his shoulders and gently biting, trying to balance herself. He smacked the side of her hip gently "Get on the couch, it's my turn."

She furrowed her eyebrow and started to lift herself off of him, when he grabbed her mid-motion and entered her from behind, before she could sit on the couch. He was so much deeper now, and her moans and groans were turning into growls bordering fully on screams, biting a pillow to regain some sort of control as she held on to the back of the couch for support as he used one hand to fondle her breast, and the other to hold her hip close against his, his fingers finding her clitoris this time and at first slowly, and then much more rapidly, rubbing small circles as he felt her tighten in climax around his cock, holding himself deep inside to feel her orgasm from the inside, and then thrusting much faster once again. She came twice, alternating between moaning his name and pleading to God as she felt wave after wave take over.

"Caleb... fuck... I'm gonna cum again." she exclaimed as he slammed into her and had switched from fondling her breast to pulling her hair gently. She started panting "Caleb... cum inside me..." she said it loudly. She was teetering on the edge, trying not to climax again until he did. It was always better when it was well timed to be in sync. Her face turned red as she said it, partly from the impending orgasm, and partially because she probably never would have said that to someone on a one-night-stand, and definitely not if they had been face to face.

"Really?" he wasn't sure he heard right, he could barely keep track of anything happening...because...well, fuck. It was so hard not to explode the second he entered her, and this was taking all his self control to keep this going as long as it had.

"Fuck... yes... please, Caleb. I want you to cu-mmmmmmm...hmm" she couldn't hold it in anymore, and the end of her words turned into a low-pitched groan as she began to climax once again, and as she was almost over the edge, about to come down, she felt the slight pulsating of his cock inside of her, and his grip on her hips got even tighter, and she knew he was cumming inside of her. Caleb Rivers. Her best friend. The boy she'd known since he was still a boy, and not a man yet. Well, he was certainly a man now, and he had exploded inside of her so much that it was already dripping down her vulva, and he hadn't even pulled out yet.

They both stayed for a minute, catching their breath. She leaned further into the couch, and noted how his manhood was still keeping her full. She sucked in and chewed her lip, smiling to herself, still catching her breath.

Suddenly, there was a few noises coming from the ceiling. She looked up and the generator must have been kicking on, because after a few flickers, the lights came back on. With the lights, Caleb slowly slipped out from her warm, sticky center and she felt the cum start dripping down between her legs. There was an awkward silence before she hoisted herself to a standing position, her legs still wobbly beneath her. "I'm just going to... I'll be right back." She smiled and went to the bathroom, she cleaned between her legs quickly and pulled the t-shirt she'd slept in last night from the hook on the back of the door over her head and laughed - ironically, it was one she borrowed from Caleb a while ago and he let her keep after she got paint on it when they re-finished an old dresser she found at an estate sale and had to have, despite all the work it took to re-finish it. She was quick about it, not wanting him to get worried if she took too long - she knew if the roles were reversed, she would.

When she returned, she walked in gingerly, and saw he had just pulled his boxers back on. She smiled, not smirked, this time flirtatiously. He had seen that smile so many times before. Innocent, almost. And yet, not at all.

"Hey..." She sort of laughed as she came closer. "You okay?"

He nodded "Yeah, yeah... I guess the generator does work... you're not totally bad luck." He teased her, but both of them were still flushed.

"So I guess we can rent that movie you were talking about after all." she nodded toward the TV, which was now turned on. "I should clean up the broken glass, though..."

"It can wait." he looked over at it and went closer to her, pulling her close by the hips. "You were worth the wait." he whispered in her ear as he leaned in, kissed her head, and then pulled away and headed toward the kitchen. "Popcorn?"

"Uhm... yes, please. Extra butter." she smiled a little as she leaned against the back of the couch, the one that still had her wet bite-marks on it, not to mention the evidence and scent pointing to what had occurred not more than fifteen minutes prior.

"How could I forget?" He smirked again. And their eye contact lasted a little longer than usual. The smiles couldn't be wiped off their faces.

And almost as if the time the lights were out had pressed pause on reality, the lights had come back on and things were absolutely back to normal.

He sat down with the popcorn moments later, and pulled her close to him so she would lay on him, his thumb finding her hip bone as he rubbed back and forth. It sent shivers down her spine, and she dared look up at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the TV as he pressed play on the rental.

It was almost like he'd already moved past it... until his eyes dared to shift to look at her from the side, and he couldn't help but smirk, again, and his hand moved to pull her even closer. She looked up, and smiled back at him, and dared to put her hand over his. And just like that, it was back to their routine.

Almost.

A/N: It's been a while but if you've read my fics before, I hope you still might have interest. This has been in drafts on my computer for almost two years. I've never stopped thinking about Pretend or Second Time Around. I just felt like I couldn't finish it with the justice I wanted to give it. I thnk I'm ready to hop back in. In the meantime, I got married. I changed jobs, twice. But every day, I think of these characters. But first, this. I'm re-watching PLL and have listened to Folklore 100000 times and that is probably the inspiration I needed.

Let me know if you like this enough for me to continue, or if it should be a one-shot. I haven't decided yet.