fic: Got to Fight Outtake: Taylor/Miley
Title: Got to Fight Without You Here-Outtake
Author: breathe_it_in94
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2351
Disclaimer: If I owned Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, and/or Selena Gomez, well... I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting here writing stories, now would I?
Summary: Takes place during the first live round of the singing competition; how Taylor and Miley hit it off. Probably makes more sense if you read Got to Fight, but if you feel like being confused, go ahead.
A/N: If y'all like it, I might make a second part of this, so let me know what you think/want!!!! Hope y'all enjoy!
Miley took one of the reserved front seats in the audience, along with the other friends and families of contestants. She wished she could be over by Demi, with the performers, because she knew Demi was a nervous wreck. Not only was she over there with a bunch of strangers, but she was there with (who Miley was convinced was) the love of her life.
She glanced over at her best friend and saw she was seated next to a Latina girl. A very hawt Latina girl, Miley noted.
It was so easy to admit it, that she found other girls attractive, now that Demi had admitted her feelings. It was only once her best friend had “come out” that Miley realized just how much she herself stared at other girls, how that dare two summers ago had left her heart fluttering. So she was pretty damn sure she was attracted to girls… she just had to figure out if she’d ever actually been attracted to guys.
She didn’t want to try anything with Demi, that was sure. Demi seemed pretty taken with this singer, and Miley didn’t want to risk their friendship anyway. No matter how gorgeous (though her friend was far more than that, Miley felt using anything along the lines of “sexy” was pushing the Friendship Boundaries) Demi was, she’d just have to--holy hell.
Holy fucking shit.
There is no way the girl walking down the center aisle was real. No way. Not possible. There was absolutely no. Fucking. Way such a beauty existed.
The tall, slim girl’s blonde curls bounced as she walked in her heels to the front row (So she knew a contestant). Her skirt flowed around her legs, inches above her knees, hinting at the creamy skin hidden underneath. Miley felt her heart beat faster as her thoughts traveled to… less appropriate places.
And then--and then--the potential-model decided to sit next to her. Miley squirmed as their arms brushed on the armrest, and she crossed her right leg over her left, tapping her right foot in the air as she tried to avert her focus to the stage, where the host was announcing the first contestant.
But then the blonde got bored. She must have, if she actually wanted to talk to Miley.
“Who are you here for?” Miley was asked. Amazingly, she didn’t miss a beat with her response.
“Demi--she’s the last performer, I think.”
“Yeah? My best friend is on before her, then. Selena.”
“Hope she’s better than this girl here,” Miley said, nodding her head towards the stage and its current occupant. She smiled to show she was joking (mostly), and the blonde laughed.
“Trust me, I wouldn’t let her embarrass herself like this.” The singer strained her voice to hit a high note, but fell flat, and both Miley and the blonde winced at the ungodly sound before bursting into giggles. When someone shushed them from behind, the girls quieted and slumped down in their seats, stifling the occasional giggle. Once the laughter had ceased, the blonde stuck her hand out. “I’m Taylor Swift,” she said with a smile.
Miley took her hand and grinned back. “Miley Cyrus.” Miley looked in her eyes. Blue eyes. Gorgeous, deep, bright blue eyes that seemed to swirl in the dim light of the audience--
People were clapping. Miley (reluctantly) turned to the stage, where the girl was bowing with a watery, forced smile on her face, and the host started introducing the next contestant. Miley looked back at Taylor, who she could have sworn was blushing, and they slowly took their hands back, turning to completely face the stage.
It was awkward for the second performance. They didn’t speak, but Miley couldn’t keep her eyes away. She repeatedly glanced at Taylor, looking away when Taylor turned to glance at her. Their eyes met, and stuck. Miley’s heart skipped a beat. Her mouth went dry. Her throat closed up, and she turned to clear it. She took a deep breath and turned back to Taylor.
“So you and Selena, how long have y’all known each other?” Taylor visibly relaxed at the familiar (safe) topic, and Miley mentally congratulated herself on eliminating the awkwardness.
“Practically our whole lives. We met on the playground in elementary school. She thought it was cool that I was so tall, even though I‘m three years older and was bound to be taller back then. We’ve been best friends ever since.” Taylor looked down at her lap and looked up shyly through her lashes (Sexy. Very sexy). “We tried dating once, but we’re just meant to be friends.” When she didn’t continue, Miley realized that Taylor was looking for her reaction to their sexualities. So Miley smiled.
“Demi and I, we’ve known each other forever, too. She lives right around the corner, so we’ve been in the same schools forever. Same classes, even. It’s kind of freaky, actually, but yeah. We’re both kind of, um…” she looked down this time, her hands fidgeting in her lap, “figuring ourselves out right now.” At Taylor’s hopeful look, she continued. “She kind of has this huge crush on some girl in the competition. I don’t have anyone--yet. But I couldn’t risk what I have with Demi for a relationship. She’d agree.”
Taylor looked back down and up, again through her lashed, but not so shy this time. She smirked. “Good to know.” The way she looked at Miley made her blush, and Miley hardly ever blushed. Taylor continued, “Sel is actually crushing pretty hard, too. On someone in this competition.” Miley’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and Taylor nodded. “Think they’re talking about each other?”
Miley looked over to where Demi was sitting, looking at the person onstage but not really watching or listening (Miley could tell with Demi). The Latina (Selena, apparently) was turned away from her, talking to the guy on her other side. Demi was looking extremely uncomfortable. But Miley could see the glances Demi was throwing at the girl next to her. So she nodded.
“Selena’s in denial,” Taylor said. “She refuses to admit that Demi means more to her than the average crush. She needs to wise up and see…” their eyes met again (Coincidence?), “what’s right in front of her.” They both shifted, holding each other’s gazes, and Miley gasped as their fingers brushed, sending waves of electricity up her arm.
“If I had a beautiful girl I wanted right in front of me,” her voice came out as a throaty whisper, “I’d do everything I could to have her.” Miley weaved their fingers together. “And I wouldn’t let go for the world.”
Taylor bit her lower lip. Miley’s heart skipped a beat (again). “I don’t want to rush you, here,” Taylor said playfully, but then turned serious and shy, “‘cause I know you’re trying to, like, find yourself right now, but you wouldn’t happen to be doing anything next weekend, would you?”
Miley smiled gently, inwardly smirking at Taylor’s use of “weekend” instead of “Saturday”. “My schedule’s clear as of now, but I’m hoping that’ll change in a few seconds.” Taylor beamed.
“Would you let me take you out on a date next weekend, Miley?”
Miley’s smile grew to the size of Taylor’s. “I’d love to, Taylor.” Their fingers melded tighter together as Taylor squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
“Here,” Miley said, digging in her purse with her free hand. She pulled out a pen and momentarily let go of Taylor’s left hand, only to grab her right and hold it in place. She wrote Miley © 555-2100 on the palm of her hand and looked up at Taylor, handing the pen over to her.
Taylor wrote her number on Miley’s hand and capped the pen, taking Miley’s hand and raising it too her lips. She looked into Miley’s eyes as she gently kissed the writing, and Miley’s mouth went dry (again). “For good luck,” Taylor whispered, and somehow Miley heard it over the noise coming from the stage. She darted her tongue out unconsciously to wet her lips, and she saw Taylor’s own lips part just that tiny bit… if Miley just leaned forward…
“…Miss Selena Gomez!”
Taylor--reluctantly, Miley noticed--turned and clapped loudly for her best friend as the Latina ran onstage and to the mic.
She’s good, Miley thought. Good enough, even, to rival Demi. It’ll be a close call. She glanced over at Taylor, who was focused on her best friend with a proud smile on her face. Miley leaned over to whisper in her ear, “She’s really good.” She took note of the way Taylor closed her eyes and shivered as Miley’s lips brushed her ear before she turned to nod in agreement.
When Gomez (Miley liked that better than “Selena” for some reason) was done singing, Taylor rose off the back of her seat, but didn’t stand, and clapped wildly. The host came back onstage, and Taylor sat back, her arm on the armrest between them. “I’m proud of her,” she said. Miley nodded and smiled.
She looked down at Taylor’s hand. It was open, palm-up. She looked up and clapped loudly as the host finally said, “Miss Demi Lovato!” and her best friend ran onstage. When she stopped clapping, she settled back into her seat and discreetly raised her arm to rest on Taylor’s, their fingers entwining immediately. Mentally, Miley sighed with relief, and she looked back to Demi.
Something was wrong. Demi was good at hiding her emotions--most of the time--but Miley could see she was pissed. But she was determined. Determined to do what, Miley wasn’t sure, but whoever Demi kept glancing at backstage sure did have her mad--wow.
Demi was lost in the song, Miley could tell. She never moved like that when she wasn’t trapped in the music. And she still kept glancing backstage. And winking.
“Selena’s still back there,” Taylor’s soft drawl came in her ear, making Miley shiver in response. “Do you think that’s who she’s ‘dancing’ for?” So Miley wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
Miley smiled and turned to Taylor. “More than likely,” she said. Their eyes met (again. God.).
The crowd was cheering, Miley realized, and she (once again) tore her eyes from Taylor’s to clap crazily for Demi. Though she adored the view that was Taylor, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that she’d missed half of Demi’s performance.
And now they had to wait for the results. It probably wouldn’t take long; there were only ten contestants. Still, Miley leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable again, and studied the hand holding hers. They fit perfectly, she thought. She tilted her head in thought, and her head ended up bumping Taylor’s shoulder. She froze, but Taylor relaxed into the position, so Miley did also. Taylor’s head rested atop hers as they talked about whatever came to mind. She learned that:
Taylor had a little brother named Austin. She just graduated high school the past school year, but was taking some time off before college. She was born in Tennessee, but moved to Texas when she was just over a year old. Yes, her hair color was natural, as were her curls.
Miley talked about Trace and Noah and Braison, her parents, and growing up in a musical family.
And then the host was back with the results. The top three. Demi made it. Miley stood, clapping crazily. Gomez made it, too, so Taylor stood up.
Miley caught Demi’s eye and raised her eyebrows at Gomez. Demi nodded. They’d been right. Miley studied the girl jokingly, but Demi shook her head. It didn’t work out. Something was wrong, but Miley would have to wait to find out what.
Everyone was cheering. When the cheers were dying down, Miley sat and found the most perfect view of Taylor’s ass. The skirt she wore was shorter in the back, it had to be, and Taylor was tall enough that just a hint of lace peeked out at Miley. She couldn’t keep her eyes away.
When the names were announced for the top two, Miley raced backstage. She grabbed Demi in a hug and remembered to only kiss her cheek this time. “You did great.”
“Thanks, babe,” Demi replied.
Miley took Demi’s hands in hers as she pulled back. Demi’s mischievous smirk appeared as she looked over Miley’s shoulder and asked, “You check out the blonde?”
Miley scoffed. Like Demi didn’t know. Miley wasn’t blind. “You kidding me?” She told Demi what Taylor had said about her and Gomez. She didn’t realize she was practically showcasing Taylor’s number until Demi had grabbed her hand from her hair, questioning. Miley blushed (again. Damnit. What did Taylor do to her?).
She turned to look at Taylor again, and couldn’t help another once-over, even with Demi right there with her. Demi gently pushed her, trying to get her to talk to Taylor, but Miley needed some information first. “You need to tell me what’s going on with you and Gomez.”
So Demi took her offstage and told her. And Miley came to a conclusion:
She was not going to let her best friend fuck this up and over. She grabbed Demi’s arm and started walking back onstage. “Oh hell no, y’all are talking this out, right now.”
Plus, she couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to Taylor again.
Miley tapped Taylor on the shoulder, and she could feel her face lighting up at the other girl’s smile. “Hey, um, I was thinking… you want to go on that date, um, now? Like, instead of next weekend?” Taylor beamed and nodded.
“I’ll drive,” Taylor said, so Miley turned and gave Demi her keys.
“You’ll have to take Gomez home then. See y’all later.” She gave Demi a wink as she stood staring at Miley disbelievingly.
She and Taylor turned and started walking. Miley could have sworn they were walking straight lines, but they got closer and closer until their hands were bumping against each other. Miley tentatively touched their palms together, and Taylor entwined their fingers.
Miley sighed. This was perfect.
Author: breathe_it_in94
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2351
Disclaimer: If I owned Taylor Swift, Miley Cyrus, Demi Lovato, and/or Selena Gomez, well... I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting here writing stories, now would I?
Summary: Takes place during the first live round of the singing competition; how Taylor and Miley hit it off. Probably makes more sense if you read Got to Fight, but if you feel like being confused, go ahead.
A/N: If y'all like it, I might make a second part of this, so let me know what you think/want!!!! Hope y'all enjoy!
Miley took one of the reserved front seats in the audience, along with the other friends and families of contestants. She wished she could be over by Demi, with the performers, because she knew Demi was a nervous wreck. Not only was she over there with a bunch of strangers, but she was there with (who Miley was convinced was) the love of her life.
She glanced over at her best friend and saw she was seated next to a Latina girl. A very hawt Latina girl, Miley noted.
It was so easy to admit it, that she found other girls attractive, now that Demi had admitted her feelings. It was only once her best friend had “come out” that Miley realized just how much she herself stared at other girls, how that dare two summers ago had left her heart fluttering. So she was pretty damn sure she was attracted to girls… she just had to figure out if she’d ever actually been attracted to guys.
She didn’t want to try anything with Demi, that was sure. Demi seemed pretty taken with this singer, and Miley didn’t want to risk their friendship anyway. No matter how gorgeous (though her friend was far more than that, Miley felt using anything along the lines of “sexy” was pushing the Friendship Boundaries) Demi was, she’d just have to--holy hell.
Holy fucking shit.
There is no way the girl walking down the center aisle was real. No way. Not possible. There was absolutely no. Fucking. Way such a beauty existed.
The tall, slim girl’s blonde curls bounced as she walked in her heels to the front row (So she knew a contestant). Her skirt flowed around her legs, inches above her knees, hinting at the creamy skin hidden underneath. Miley felt her heart beat faster as her thoughts traveled to… less appropriate places.
And then--and then--the potential-model decided to sit next to her. Miley squirmed as their arms brushed on the armrest, and she crossed her right leg over her left, tapping her right foot in the air as she tried to avert her focus to the stage, where the host was announcing the first contestant.
But then the blonde got bored. She must have, if she actually wanted to talk to Miley.
“Who are you here for?” Miley was asked. Amazingly, she didn’t miss a beat with her response.
“Demi--she’s the last performer, I think.”
“Yeah? My best friend is on before her, then. Selena.”
“Hope she’s better than this girl here,” Miley said, nodding her head towards the stage and its current occupant. She smiled to show she was joking (mostly), and the blonde laughed.
“Trust me, I wouldn’t let her embarrass herself like this.” The singer strained her voice to hit a high note, but fell flat, and both Miley and the blonde winced at the ungodly sound before bursting into giggles. When someone shushed them from behind, the girls quieted and slumped down in their seats, stifling the occasional giggle. Once the laughter had ceased, the blonde stuck her hand out. “I’m Taylor Swift,” she said with a smile.
Miley took her hand and grinned back. “Miley Cyrus.” Miley looked in her eyes. Blue eyes. Gorgeous, deep, bright blue eyes that seemed to swirl in the dim light of the audience--
People were clapping. Miley (reluctantly) turned to the stage, where the girl was bowing with a watery, forced smile on her face, and the host started introducing the next contestant. Miley looked back at Taylor, who she could have sworn was blushing, and they slowly took their hands back, turning to completely face the stage.
It was awkward for the second performance. They didn’t speak, but Miley couldn’t keep her eyes away. She repeatedly glanced at Taylor, looking away when Taylor turned to glance at her. Their eyes met, and stuck. Miley’s heart skipped a beat. Her mouth went dry. Her throat closed up, and she turned to clear it. She took a deep breath and turned back to Taylor.
“So you and Selena, how long have y’all known each other?” Taylor visibly relaxed at the familiar (safe) topic, and Miley mentally congratulated herself on eliminating the awkwardness.
“Practically our whole lives. We met on the playground in elementary school. She thought it was cool that I was so tall, even though I‘m three years older and was bound to be taller back then. We’ve been best friends ever since.” Taylor looked down at her lap and looked up shyly through her lashes (Sexy. Very sexy). “We tried dating once, but we’re just meant to be friends.” When she didn’t continue, Miley realized that Taylor was looking for her reaction to their sexualities. So Miley smiled.
“Demi and I, we’ve known each other forever, too. She lives right around the corner, so we’ve been in the same schools forever. Same classes, even. It’s kind of freaky, actually, but yeah. We’re both kind of, um…” she looked down this time, her hands fidgeting in her lap, “figuring ourselves out right now.” At Taylor’s hopeful look, she continued. “She kind of has this huge crush on some girl in the competition. I don’t have anyone--yet. But I couldn’t risk what I have with Demi for a relationship. She’d agree.”
Taylor looked back down and up, again through her lashed, but not so shy this time. She smirked. “Good to know.” The way she looked at Miley made her blush, and Miley hardly ever blushed. Taylor continued, “Sel is actually crushing pretty hard, too. On someone in this competition.” Miley’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and Taylor nodded. “Think they’re talking about each other?”
Miley looked over to where Demi was sitting, looking at the person onstage but not really watching or listening (Miley could tell with Demi). The Latina (Selena, apparently) was turned away from her, talking to the guy on her other side. Demi was looking extremely uncomfortable. But Miley could see the glances Demi was throwing at the girl next to her. So she nodded.
“Selena’s in denial,” Taylor said. “She refuses to admit that Demi means more to her than the average crush. She needs to wise up and see…” their eyes met again (Coincidence?), “what’s right in front of her.” They both shifted, holding each other’s gazes, and Miley gasped as their fingers brushed, sending waves of electricity up her arm.
“If I had a beautiful girl I wanted right in front of me,” her voice came out as a throaty whisper, “I’d do everything I could to have her.” Miley weaved their fingers together. “And I wouldn’t let go for the world.”
Taylor bit her lower lip. Miley’s heart skipped a beat (again). “I don’t want to rush you, here,” Taylor said playfully, but then turned serious and shy, “‘cause I know you’re trying to, like, find yourself right now, but you wouldn’t happen to be doing anything next weekend, would you?”
Miley smiled gently, inwardly smirking at Taylor’s use of “weekend” instead of “Saturday”. “My schedule’s clear as of now, but I’m hoping that’ll change in a few seconds.” Taylor beamed.
“Would you let me take you out on a date next weekend, Miley?”
Miley’s smile grew to the size of Taylor’s. “I’d love to, Taylor.” Their fingers melded tighter together as Taylor squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
“Here,” Miley said, digging in her purse with her free hand. She pulled out a pen and momentarily let go of Taylor’s left hand, only to grab her right and hold it in place. She wrote Miley © 555-2100 on the palm of her hand and looked up at Taylor, handing the pen over to her.
Taylor wrote her number on Miley’s hand and capped the pen, taking Miley’s hand and raising it too her lips. She looked into Miley’s eyes as she gently kissed the writing, and Miley’s mouth went dry (again). “For good luck,” Taylor whispered, and somehow Miley heard it over the noise coming from the stage. She darted her tongue out unconsciously to wet her lips, and she saw Taylor’s own lips part just that tiny bit… if Miley just leaned forward…
“…Miss Selena Gomez!”
Taylor--reluctantly, Miley noticed--turned and clapped loudly for her best friend as the Latina ran onstage and to the mic.
She’s good, Miley thought. Good enough, even, to rival Demi. It’ll be a close call. She glanced over at Taylor, who was focused on her best friend with a proud smile on her face. Miley leaned over to whisper in her ear, “She’s really good.” She took note of the way Taylor closed her eyes and shivered as Miley’s lips brushed her ear before she turned to nod in agreement.
When Gomez (Miley liked that better than “Selena” for some reason) was done singing, Taylor rose off the back of her seat, but didn’t stand, and clapped wildly. The host came back onstage, and Taylor sat back, her arm on the armrest between them. “I’m proud of her,” she said. Miley nodded and smiled.
She looked down at Taylor’s hand. It was open, palm-up. She looked up and clapped loudly as the host finally said, “Miss Demi Lovato!” and her best friend ran onstage. When she stopped clapping, she settled back into her seat and discreetly raised her arm to rest on Taylor’s, their fingers entwining immediately. Mentally, Miley sighed with relief, and she looked back to Demi.
Something was wrong. Demi was good at hiding her emotions--most of the time--but Miley could see she was pissed. But she was determined. Determined to do what, Miley wasn’t sure, but whoever Demi kept glancing at backstage sure did have her mad--wow.
Demi was lost in the song, Miley could tell. She never moved like that when she wasn’t trapped in the music. And she still kept glancing backstage. And winking.
“Selena’s still back there,” Taylor’s soft drawl came in her ear, making Miley shiver in response. “Do you think that’s who she’s ‘dancing’ for?” So Miley wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
Miley smiled and turned to Taylor. “More than likely,” she said. Their eyes met (again. God.).
The crowd was cheering, Miley realized, and she (once again) tore her eyes from Taylor’s to clap crazily for Demi. Though she adored the view that was Taylor, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that she’d missed half of Demi’s performance.
And now they had to wait for the results. It probably wouldn’t take long; there were only ten contestants. Still, Miley leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable again, and studied the hand holding hers. They fit perfectly, she thought. She tilted her head in thought, and her head ended up bumping Taylor’s shoulder. She froze, but Taylor relaxed into the position, so Miley did also. Taylor’s head rested atop hers as they talked about whatever came to mind. She learned that:
Taylor had a little brother named Austin. She just graduated high school the past school year, but was taking some time off before college. She was born in Tennessee, but moved to Texas when she was just over a year old. Yes, her hair color was natural, as were her curls.
Miley talked about Trace and Noah and Braison, her parents, and growing up in a musical family.
And then the host was back with the results. The top three. Demi made it. Miley stood, clapping crazily. Gomez made it, too, so Taylor stood up.
Miley caught Demi’s eye and raised her eyebrows at Gomez. Demi nodded. They’d been right. Miley studied the girl jokingly, but Demi shook her head. It didn’t work out. Something was wrong, but Miley would have to wait to find out what.
Everyone was cheering. When the cheers were dying down, Miley sat and found the most perfect view of Taylor’s ass. The skirt she wore was shorter in the back, it had to be, and Taylor was tall enough that just a hint of lace peeked out at Miley. She couldn’t keep her eyes away.
When the names were announced for the top two, Miley raced backstage. She grabbed Demi in a hug and remembered to only kiss her cheek this time. “You did great.”
“Thanks, babe,” Demi replied.
Miley took Demi’s hands in hers as she pulled back. Demi’s mischievous smirk appeared as she looked over Miley’s shoulder and asked, “You check out the blonde?”
Miley scoffed. Like Demi didn’t know. Miley wasn’t blind. “You kidding me?” She told Demi what Taylor had said about her and Gomez. She didn’t realize she was practically showcasing Taylor’s number until Demi had grabbed her hand from her hair, questioning. Miley blushed (again. Damnit. What did Taylor do to her?).
She turned to look at Taylor again, and couldn’t help another once-over, even with Demi right there with her. Demi gently pushed her, trying to get her to talk to Taylor, but Miley needed some information first. “You need to tell me what’s going on with you and Gomez.”
So Demi took her offstage and told her. And Miley came to a conclusion:
She was not going to let her best friend fuck this up and over. She grabbed Demi’s arm and started walking back onstage. “Oh hell no, y’all are talking this out, right now.”
Plus, she couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to Taylor again.
Miley tapped Taylor on the shoulder, and she could feel her face lighting up at the other girl’s smile. “Hey, um, I was thinking… you want to go on that date, um, now? Like, instead of next weekend?” Taylor beamed and nodded.
“I’ll drive,” Taylor said, so Miley turned and gave Demi her keys.
“You’ll have to take Gomez home then. See y’all later.” She gave Demi a wink as she stood staring at Miley disbelievingly.
She and Taylor turned and started walking. Miley could have sworn they were walking straight lines, but they got closer and closer until their hands were bumping against each other. Miley tentatively touched their palms together, and Taylor entwined their fingers.
Miley sighed. This was perfect.