Pretty Little Liars one shots

Relax - Spanna

Not mine

Hanna knew that walking into her condo was like tiptoeing through a minefield. Depending on how the day had gone, she could either avoid all the mines, or hit all of them at once, and she had no way of knowing which one it was going to be until she got there. She kicked off her smartly stylish high-heeled shoes at the door, and carefully set the keys in the catch-all dish by the door, as to not make any excessive noise.

"Hanna?" The voice came from the kitchen, she could tell. Maybe she wasn't in a bad mood. Or maybe she was stress-baking – there wasn't the scent of fresh-baked cookies in the air, but maybe she had only just started on the dough. "Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" she said, laughing as she walked into the kitchen. She set her purse down on the counter and turned to face Spencer. "Unless you gave keys to our condo to all of your girlfriends..."

"Nope, just you," Spencer said. She relaxed her face upon seeing Hanna, her constricted pout turning into a hint of a smile. "Sorry, I'm just really stressed about this dissertation. Thought I might be hearing things again."

"We left behind all that creepy A stuff when we left Rosewood – and Pennsylvania, for that matter - five years ago," Hanna said. "No one's following us here in Boulder. No one. I can get a strange text message..."

"...And not freak out, because now, it's just a wrong number and not some demented stalker. I know." Spencer set her cup of coffee down on the counter and ran her finger over the handle. "I don't know why I agreed to write my dissertation on the symbolism of alcohol in post-war Irish novels. What inspired me to do this?" She let out a tiny wail and thumped her hand against the counter. "And the draft is due next week to my adviser, and I – why did I do this?"

"I don't know why you did either," Hanna said. She spied the pile of well-worn novels sitting on the kitchen table, next to Spencer's laptop. She knew that if she thumbed through the pages, there would be copious notes in the margins and highlighter marks of every color scrawled across the pages. She looked up at Spencer. "But – come to the couch with me, okay? Put down the coffee. How many have you had today?"

Spencer's eyes darted around the room a little bit. "Uh. Three? No, four. Maybe more than that. I forget now. You know that I have blood in my coffee stream." She gripped the handle of her mug just a little bit tighter.

"Okay, first, eww, gross. Second, if we get a letter from Folgers thanking us for personally keeping them in business, I'll know who to thank. And third, come over to the couch with me."

"Why? I can't take the time off to have couch sex with you, Hanna, as much as that sounds really nice right about now. The Country Girls calls my name. Can't you hear it? 'Spencer...I want you to analyze my broader plot themes...understand me the way only my author does...Spencer...'"

"You can take five minutes off from the creepy talking books to get a relaxing massage from your girlfriend. Promise. And then you can go back to dreaming of walking down the streets of Dublin arm-in-arm with your book characters."

"Or throttling them in their sleep." Even as she said it, she walked over to the couch and sat down on the cushion. "Because that's more accurate to how I feel about them right now. If I'm going to Dublin, I want to be arm-in-arm with you."

"Or throttling them in their sleep," Hanna echoed. She sat down next to Spencer and placed her hands to the nape of Spencer's neck. She began slowly kneading the pads of her fingers into the soft, supple skin there. "But you just need to relax right now -"

"Oh," Spencer gasped. She rolled her neck around, craning to give Hanna the maximum access to as much of her neck as was possible. "Keep doing that thing. With your finger. Right there. Oh."

"Things you told me last weekend." Hanna bit back a smirk as she worked on her girlfriend's neck, slow and steady, not rushing the pace. "Except we were in bed, and you were -"

"Yeah, I remember." Hanna could almost hear the smile radiating off the remark, and Spencer ducked her head down, changing the angle from which Hanna's fingers could work. Hanna almost figured that there had to be a blush hidden. Not that they had anything to hide, but sometimes, Spencer could do the most awkwardly adorable things without even trying, because she would just stumble into them.

They fell silent, Hanna continuing to massage little circles into the base of Spencer's neck, feeling the muscles unravel from their bunches of knots under her touch. Every now and then, Spencer let out a tiny gasp or moan, and Hanna took that as credit that she wasn't doing an absolutely horrific job at giving a massage.

Five minutes turned to fifteen. And then more.

"Hanna," Spencer said, breaking the silence, "didn't you say that this was only supposed to be like five minutes? No more?"

"Yeah, but who's keeping track of time? I have my girlfriend diverted from her paper, I get to relax after a long day at the bank by making her feel better and unwind a little bit, and you feel really, really good. So – don't be mad?" Hanna placed a kiss to the side of Spencer's neck, and parted her hair with her hands so that it fell over her shoulders in long, brunette waves. "Your dissertation is right where you left it. And your coffee too. You can go back to it. Promise." She reluctantly took her hands down and folded them in her lap.

Spencer turned around on the cushion, accidentally sitting on Hanna's foot in the process. "I'm already distracted," she said, taking Hanna's hands in hers. "And I'm incredibly turned on, at the moment, and that's not something that's conducive to working on anything but you."

"Really?"

"Really. So," she said, leaning in to brush Hanna's hair back over her ear, softly kissing at the corner of her lips, "do you want to do what we did this weekend?"

Hanna's eyes lit up. "You mean – you would do that again?"

"Only with you. And when I'm done with this dissertation, I'll take you to Ireland myself. Even if it's probably changed quite a bit since these novels were written, so I won't be able to use them as a guidebook, but – you know. You, me, an Irish countryside inn..."

"You know just the right things to say."

"Good. That bodes well for the rest of my dissertation, then." Spencer's eyes glinted mischievously in the light of the side table lamp. "Now, about that..."

"I'm already there," Hanna said, taking Spencer's hand in hers and dragging her across the room. "C'mon. Let's go."

"I thought I was supposed to be the leader of the two of us."

"Not if you keep dawdling like that and making me wait, you're not."

With a skip and a leap, and a strategically placed hand, the bedroom door slammed closed.