fic: Unexpected Gifts

[wowbright]

Characters: Tina, Blaine
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 4.11 "Sadie Hawkins"
Word Count: 1,709
Summary: 4.11 missing scene fic. Tina takes Blaine home from the dance. She's quite the gentleman even though she might rather be a rake.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to April and likeasouffle for cheerleading! Title inspired by meta by

misqueue. Any errors are mine.

 

lj / tumblr / dreamwidth

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After the dance, Tina thought of continuing on the snow theme by taking him out for ice cream, but it was fucking freezing outside and the only place for ice cream open at that time of night was McDonald's. Which, technically, doesn't even count as ice cream.

So, instead, they drove around a bit and stopped at the 7-11 for hot chocolates and got back in the car and drove to the river – more of a creek, really, but it was the best that Lima had – and stared out at it through the windshield as they sipped their drinks and Blaine told her about the Warblers and the steroids and swooned a little every time he mentioned Sam's name. It only hurt a little, to see him do that. Mostly, it made her feel warm and happy, because he was happy, and his skin looked softer, and his eyelashes – oh, his eyelashes.

"You said something last week that I've been thinking about," she said in one of the lulls.

 "What?"

"You're not a predator," she said, and he looked at her, his eyes large and more stunning that the full moon that reflected off the water. "Having feelings for someone who can't return them doesn't make you a predator."

"I know," he said. "In my head, I know. I just – I just want to be better than that."

Tina shook her head. "But there's nothing bad about it. It just is."

He shrugged and slumped back in his seat.

"Everyone has them, sooner or later," she said. She reached across the brake for his hand. The heater was on in the car, and the cups of cocoa were hot, so neither of them was wearing gloves by now, and he took what she offered. His hand was as warm as the chocolate in her belly. "Straight people have those feelings, too."

He rolled the back of his head against the headrest until he was facing her. His smile was bright. His eyes were bright. Everything about him was so gloriously bright. "So I've heard," he said, and squeezed her fingers gently, and didn't let go. He watched her for a long time. Then he frowned. "But I – I can't be like straight people."

Tina frowned, too. "I know." She pulled her hand away from his. "I know you're not straight. I know we're just fr–"

"That's not what I mean." He sighed.

"Then what do you mean?"

He clutched his cocoa with both hands. It made him look young, and small. "Okay," he said. "What does a 'C' mean?"

"You mean, the grade?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, what's the literal definition?"

"'Average'?"

"And what if you brought one home on your report card?"

Tina's mouth dropped open. "I've never even gotten a 'C' on a pop quiz. My parents would …" She bunched the hand that wasn't around her cocoa cup in the skirt of her wool coat. "I don't know what my parents would do."

"And a 'B'?"

"A 'B' on my report card means being grounded." She blushed and ducked her head. "You know, for my own good, until I get my grades back up."

Blaine put his finger on her chin to nudge her face up. She wouldn't move. The longer she didn't move, the longer he would keep his finger there. "Hey, look at me," he said, and she finally did, because she couldn't force this moment into what she wanted it to be, no matter how badly she wanted it. "You don't need to be embarrassed about it, Tina. It's like that for me, too." And his finger was gone, back around his cocoa cup.

She shook her head. "Except you don't only need to be perfect at school. You need to be perfect at … life."

His smile was small and strained and much too close to hopeless. "Yeah," he said, draining his cocoa cup and sticking it between his knees. "If I want people to respect me."

She put her hand on his coat sleeve. "You are, though," she said. "You are …" She bit down on her bottom lip before the word "perfect" could fall out. She'd said it on the dance floor, but she'd been drunk then – drunk from dancing and from touching Blaine longer than she ever had before; drunk from hearing Blaine saying the word "love," directed at her.

She'd sobered up since – gotten as sober as she could be around Blaine – and it would be different to say the word now. Now that she had the faculties to recognize that it was Kurt's place to say it, he and Blaine sang the fucking song to each other in front of the entire glee club, they sang it to each other when they carpooled back and forth to school.

It was Kurt's place to say it, but certainly Kurt wasn't saying it anymore. So she said it – faculties intact, stone cold and sober. "You're perfect. To me. And anyone else who even bothers to look." She squeezed his forearm and started to let go, but he put one hand over hers.

"Thank you," he said. "It's been rough lately." His eyes were moist and … eyelashy. She wanted to touch his eyelashes, but she didn't. Not a thing to do before getting to at least third base.

She sighed. "For me, too. I miss Mike." Oops. She hadn't meant to say that.

"Can I –?" he said, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to one side and setting his paper cup on the dashboard.

She had no idea what he was getting at, but she said, "Sure."

He scooted sideways and lowered his head to her shoulder and they tangled their hands together on the laps of their wool coats. They stared out the windshield at the moon on the water, at the occasional unidentified bird darting past overhead.

She wasn't sure it was true, what she said about missing Mike. She missed moments like this – the quiet contentment of loving someone, of being there for them and protecting them. But when Blaine sighed that he missed Kurt, and started to list the reasons why – the way he smelled, and his smile, and how he could silence a fool with just one lift of an eyebrow (Tina giggled; she missed that, too) and how safe he felt with him – she knew that Blaine missed Kurt, and not an idea.

"Do you think," she said, "that once you fall in love, it's ever possible to fall out?"

"I don't think I want to," he said, his head warm against her shoulder.

"Me neither," she said. She wasn't talking about Mike.

Blaine laughed and lifted his head, looked at her with bright eyes and that awed, innocent way he had of smiling. "We're a mess," he said finally, but his smile only got bigger, and her palm started to sweat where it touched his, and her heart almost beat out of her chest.

"Life is messy," she said, and she wanted to kiss him then, because his lips were full and he was looking at her like she was an unexpected, just-right gift. But his breath wasn't hitching and he didn't have that soft, stunned look like he'd had on the dance floor. It was the right moment for her. But it wasn't the right moment for them. So she let go of his hands and cursed Sam mentally for killing the one opportunity she might ever have and turned on the engine to take him home.

It started to snow on the way to his house – nothing of significance, just a few sparsely spaced flakes drifting down in front of the headlights. When she stopped the car in his driveway, he reached for the door handle.

"Wait! Don't move!" she shouted, and scurried out the door and around the car, pulling her gloves on as she went. She opened his door. "It's still Sadie Hawkins night. I still get to act the gentleman." She bowed and offered him her hand. "If you would, fine sir."

Blaine chuckled and blushed – and what a pretty blush it was – as he took her hand. His gloves were still off, stuffed into the side pocket of his coat, and she wished she hadn't been so shortsighted in pulling her own gloves on. She tugged him out of the car, and he linked her arm in his as they walked to the door. A snowflake caught on his hair, and another one, and then – oh – one drifted onto his eyelashes, and he didn't blink it away.

She wished that Michelangelo was still alive to paint Blaine's face on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "You're so –" she started, and then pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. She'd been about to say "pretty"; but maybe that would be weird. Mike had liked it when she'd called him pretty, but maybe if you're gay, the word is tainted with a different meaning – one that's not so complimentary. "Awesome," she said. "You're so awesome. I had a great night."

His blush was still visible in the porch light, and his eyelashes fluttered softly as he shied from the compliment. "You're awesome, too." He let go of her arm. "I'm really glad we've become friends."

"Me too," she said, reaching her hand out to shake his. She supposed that was the gentlemanly way to end a date.

He didn't take it. He reached around her shoulders and pulled her to him, their chests pressed together through a cushion of thick wool. Her heart almost pounded out of her chest.

And then she felt it – his lips against her cheek, dry and warm and so perfectly soft – just a peck, and then they were gone. "This is the loveliest evening I've had in a while," he said. "Boys should be lining up for you."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just blushed and said, "Thanks."

When she got home later and went to her room, Tina – in spite of her best judgment – flopped onto her bed belly first and kicked her feet and squealed delightedly into her pillow, the same way she had after kissing Mike for the first time.

 

Comments

[jazzy-pizzaz.livejournal.com]

oh god!!! your fics are always so so good, I would be honored if you read mine!

it's the first fic I've written, but I like it! I always love reading fics with unexpected friendship pairings, so that's what I wrote. Let me know what you think!

[wowbright.livejournal.com]

LOVED IT ALL.