a good pair of shoes
Title: a good pair of shoes
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Lindsay (rowofstars)
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship, Angst, Fluff
Word Count: 1028
Characters/Pairings: Blaine, Quinn (vague reference to Kurt/Blaine)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: Quinn just needs a friend.
Blaine hurries into the practice room, making a beeline for the piano where he left his binder the day before after talking to Mr. Schuester.
He spins on his heel to run out of the room in order to make it to class, and then stops suddenly, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum when he sees a figure curled in a chair in the upper corner of the room.
He lays the binder back down and starts forward, moving slowly towards the small blonde.
"Quinn, right?" he asks, climbing the first level.
She nods, sniffling a little and hastily wiping her eyes as she sits up. She's the only one he hasn't really interacted with and he doesn't know much about her, except what he's heard from Kurt and the others.
"You're gonna be late for class," he says, climbing the next level and coming to a stop in front of her.
She smiles humorlessly, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "What's the point? It's not like I'm ever going to leave this stupid town anyway."
He frowns a little, reaching for a chair.
"Who says?" he asks as he sits down, staring intently at her.
"The law of small towns?" she replies, one eyebrow twitching a little.
He shakes his head. "I don't believe that. I don't believe you're meant to be stuck here forever."
"How do you know?" she asks mulishly. She looks away, raising her hand to catch the stray tear that slips from her eye. "You don't even know me."
"Kurt told me some stuff -"
"Oh, God," she groans, rolling her eyes again. "I'm sure he had some things to say."
"Yeah," he says, nodding. "He did. He said you were a sweet girl with some serious self esteem problems."
Her eyes snap to his face and he stares back.
"I saw you at prom -"
"Don't -"
"- and I know what happened after -"
"Don't!" she snaps, her eyes flashing fire. "Don't talk about prom!"
He straightens and holds up his hands. "I'm sorry."
He's quiet for a minute, waiting for her to calm down, and then leans forward again.
"You're only a failure if you let yourself be a failure," he says softly. "I think you're better than that."
She looks at him a moment, biting gently on her lower lip.
"I just want," she finally says in a small voice, her eyes filling with tears again, "someone - I want someone who cares about me."
He nods and reaches forward, gently resting his hand atop her clasped ones.
"You need a friend, Quinn. A real friend," he murmurs. "I don't know if you've had many of those, but I'm going to wager you haven't."
She lowers her eyes to their hands and he stares at her another moment.
"If you'll let me, I'll be your friend." He dips his head a little to see her face. "An ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a study buddy. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
She takes a breath and her eyelashes flutter a little as she raises her gaze to his.
"You'd do that?"
He shrugs. "That's what friends do."
"But you don't even know me," she says again, shaking her head a little as her shoulders rise in a shrug.
"I will," he says simply.
She looks at him for a moment and then her mouth curves into a small smile.
"I've never really had a gay friend," she says thoughtfully.
"We're indispensible," he says, nodding, and then narrows his eyes contemplatively. "Kind of like a good pair of shoes."
She laughs softly and he grins.
"Ready to go to class?" he says, raising his eyebrows.
"We're gonna be so late," she murmurs as she stands.
He stands as well and waves a hand as he bends to pick up her bag. "We'll come up with some excuse."
She smiles as she takes her bag and they step down until they reach the floor.
"I wondered," he starts as they head for the door. "Mr. Schuester assigned that duets project, would you want to do it with me?"
She looks at him, her eyebrows lifted a little in surprise. "You're not going to sing with Kurt?"
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No, he and Rachel are planning something."
"What're they singing?" she asks, her mouth twisting a little in amusement.
He gives her a sidelong look and then sighs. "Don't tell them I told you, but they're doing 'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better'."
She laughs out loud and shakes her head. "That's perfect for them."
"I thought so too," he agrees, grinning.
They reach the door and he holds his hand out for hers. She eyes it a little hesitantly and then looks up at him.
"This wouldn't be considered cheating, would it?" she asks.
He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. "Considering I'm not at all attracted to you, no."
She laughs and takes his hand. "Hard to tell what's right and what's wrong sometimes," she murmurs.
He looks curiously at her but doesn't comment as they step into the hall.
"So where are you headed?" he asks, swinging their hands between them.
"English."
"Who do you have?"
"Rosen."
He withdraws his schedule, already tattered and worn from spending a day in his picket, and unfolds it. He lifts their joined hands to point a finger at the first line - First period: English, Rosen - and grins down at her. She laughs again and nods.
"Well, that's just perfect," she murmurs. "I didn't see you in there yesterday though."
"First day paperwork. New student and all of that," he explains and she nods again.
They take a few more steps and then he stops rather suddenly, tugging her to a stop as well.
"Be right back," he mutters and dashes back into the practice room. He returns a second later with his binder held aloft and she laughs as he takes her hand again.
"Think a flat tire will work?" he asks thoughtfully, crinkling his nose a little.
"Can't hurt to try," she replies, shrugging.
It works.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Betas: Lindsay (rowofstars)
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship, Angst, Fluff
Word Count: 1028
Characters/Pairings: Blaine, Quinn (vague reference to Kurt/Blaine)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: Quinn just needs a friend.
Blaine hurries into the practice room, making a beeline for the piano where he left his binder the day before after talking to Mr. Schuester.
He spins on his heel to run out of the room in order to make it to class, and then stops suddenly, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum when he sees a figure curled in a chair in the upper corner of the room.
He lays the binder back down and starts forward, moving slowly towards the small blonde.
"Quinn, right?" he asks, climbing the first level.
She nods, sniffling a little and hastily wiping her eyes as she sits up. She's the only one he hasn't really interacted with and he doesn't know much about her, except what he's heard from Kurt and the others.
"You're gonna be late for class," he says, climbing the next level and coming to a stop in front of her.
She smiles humorlessly, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "What's the point? It's not like I'm ever going to leave this stupid town anyway."
He frowns a little, reaching for a chair.
"Who says?" he asks as he sits down, staring intently at her.
"The law of small towns?" she replies, one eyebrow twitching a little.
He shakes his head. "I don't believe that. I don't believe you're meant to be stuck here forever."
"How do you know?" she asks mulishly. She looks away, raising her hand to catch the stray tear that slips from her eye. "You don't even know me."
"Kurt told me some stuff -"
"Oh, God," she groans, rolling her eyes again. "I'm sure he had some things to say."
"Yeah," he says, nodding. "He did. He said you were a sweet girl with some serious self esteem problems."
Her eyes snap to his face and he stares back.
"I saw you at prom -"
"Don't -"
"- and I know what happened after -"
"Don't!" she snaps, her eyes flashing fire. "Don't talk about prom!"
He straightens and holds up his hands. "I'm sorry."
He's quiet for a minute, waiting for her to calm down, and then leans forward again.
"You're only a failure if you let yourself be a failure," he says softly. "I think you're better than that."
She looks at him a moment, biting gently on her lower lip.
"I just want," she finally says in a small voice, her eyes filling with tears again, "someone - I want someone who cares about me."
He nods and reaches forward, gently resting his hand atop her clasped ones.
"You need a friend, Quinn. A real friend," he murmurs. "I don't know if you've had many of those, but I'm going to wager you haven't."
She lowers her eyes to their hands and he stares at her another moment.
"If you'll let me, I'll be your friend." He dips his head a little to see her face. "An ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a study buddy. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
She takes a breath and her eyelashes flutter a little as she raises her gaze to his.
"You'd do that?"
He shrugs. "That's what friends do."
"But you don't even know me," she says again, shaking her head a little as her shoulders rise in a shrug.
"I will," he says simply.
She looks at him for a moment and then her mouth curves into a small smile.
"I've never really had a gay friend," she says thoughtfully.
"We're indispensible," he says, nodding, and then narrows his eyes contemplatively. "Kind of like a good pair of shoes."
She laughs softly and he grins.
"Ready to go to class?" he says, raising his eyebrows.
"We're gonna be so late," she murmurs as she stands.
He stands as well and waves a hand as he bends to pick up her bag. "We'll come up with some excuse."
She smiles as she takes her bag and they step down until they reach the floor.
"I wondered," he starts as they head for the door. "Mr. Schuester assigned that duets project, would you want to do it with me?"
She looks at him, her eyebrows lifted a little in surprise. "You're not going to sing with Kurt?"
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No, he and Rachel are planning something."
"What're they singing?" she asks, her mouth twisting a little in amusement.
He gives her a sidelong look and then sighs. "Don't tell them I told you, but they're doing 'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better'."
She laughs out loud and shakes her head. "That's perfect for them."
"I thought so too," he agrees, grinning.
They reach the door and he holds his hand out for hers. She eyes it a little hesitantly and then looks up at him.
"This wouldn't be considered cheating, would it?" she asks.
He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. "Considering I'm not at all attracted to you, no."
She laughs and takes his hand. "Hard to tell what's right and what's wrong sometimes," she murmurs.
He looks curiously at her but doesn't comment as they step into the hall.
"So where are you headed?" he asks, swinging their hands between them.
"English."
"Who do you have?"
"Rosen."
He withdraws his schedule, already tattered and worn from spending a day in his picket, and unfolds it. He lifts their joined hands to point a finger at the first line - First period: English, Rosen - and grins down at her. She laughs again and nods.
"Well, that's just perfect," she murmurs. "I didn't see you in there yesterday though."
"First day paperwork. New student and all of that," he explains and she nods again.
They take a few more steps and then he stops rather suddenly, tugging her to a stop as well.
"Be right back," he mutters and dashes back into the practice room. He returns a second later with his binder held aloft and she laughs as he takes her hand again.
"Think a flat tire will work?" he asks thoughtfully, crinkling his nose a little.
"Can't hurt to try," she replies, shrugging.
It works.