get her loud and clear [sam/lavlav]
title: Get Her Loud and Clear
rating: G
fandom/pairing: Glee / Harry Potter crossover, I think. Lavender/Sam pre-fic.
spoilers/warnings: Slight ones for Quinn's early s03 issues (the ones after the rebellious pink hair, but before the part where she got hit by a truck, I mean). Ambiguous setting.
summary: In the beginning, it's like a romantic comedy. And then she starts yelling.
words: 464
disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter, Glee, or Nine's "A Call from the Vatican".
a/n: Prompt was Sam Evans, Lavender Brown, and "vacation". I don't know if you can understand how much extraordinary love I have in my heart for Lavlav, but if you can, four for you Glenn Coco?
He runs into her on the beach, and that’s literal and embarrassing and he’s pretty sure he saw it in a movie that he watched with Kurt.
She yells at him (really loudly; actually, she sort of shrieks and a few people bother to stare at them, but he doesn’t mind so much because she at least doesn’t yell in Spanish) about watching where he’s going and not being an oaf, and he just kind of stares at her for most of it.
Even though she’s screeching and her face is flushed red (there’s a stripe of white sunscreen on her nose) and contorted into a rage face that he thinks Quinn would envy, she’s sort of a little cute. It’s probably because she’s tiny, he figures - tiny relative to him, at least.
When she stops to take a breath (he wasn’t sure that she was ever going to, but eventually, she does; she must be human and not a cyborg, like he was a little starting to think), he interjects with a, “Sorry,” that he sort-of means (but not completely).
Folding her hands over her chest and lifting her chin in that confident, I-don’t-like-you-and-you’re-going-to-listen-to-me-tell-you-why kind of way that Sam’s seen that Warbler guy treat Kurt with (and Kurt treat that Warbler guy with, too), she glares at Sam and it’s almost scary, for just a second. She’s got an intense glare on her, all flashing eyes and furrowed brows.
She has a scowl, too, but that’s almost attractive in a way that he thinks might mean he has a type.
“Sorry,” she repeats, scoffing, and Sam runs a hand through his hair and tries to look boyish and cute and all the things that Quinn used to tell him he was (before she stopped, and after she a little bit lost it and tried to convince someone impregnate her). “Is that really all you have to say for yourself? You could have killed someone, you could have killed me -” (she untangles her arms just to stab herself in the chest with a pointer finger, in case he didn’t understand that when she said me she meant herself), and Sam’s not sure that that’s true but he nods apologetically anyway.
(It feels like the right thing to do.)
“Yeah, no, totally - you’re right,” he lies, and her face lightens, just a tiny bit. She looks like she’s reassessing him, and that’s at least better than her deciding from his first impression that he’s not worth a second glance. “Let me make it up to you?” he offers, half-grinning.
In an instant, she’s beaming, a big smile and sparkly eyes and rosy cheeks. “Well, if you insist,” she agrees, playing reluctant, and he didn’t insist but maybe if he’d had to, he would have.
rating: G
fandom/pairing: Glee / Harry Potter crossover, I think. Lavender/Sam pre-fic.
spoilers/warnings: Slight ones for Quinn's early s03 issues (the ones after the rebellious pink hair, but before the part where she got hit by a truck, I mean). Ambiguous setting.
summary: In the beginning, it's like a romantic comedy. And then she starts yelling.
words: 464
disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter, Glee, or Nine's "A Call from the Vatican".
a/n: Prompt was Sam Evans, Lavender Brown, and "vacation". I don't know if you can understand how much extraordinary love I have in my heart for Lavlav, but if you can, four for you Glenn Coco?
He runs into her on the beach, and that’s literal and embarrassing and he’s pretty sure he saw it in a movie that he watched with Kurt.
She yells at him (really loudly; actually, she sort of shrieks and a few people bother to stare at them, but he doesn’t mind so much because she at least doesn’t yell in Spanish) about watching where he’s going and not being an oaf, and he just kind of stares at her for most of it.
Even though she’s screeching and her face is flushed red (there’s a stripe of white sunscreen on her nose) and contorted into a rage face that he thinks Quinn would envy, she’s sort of a little cute. It’s probably because she’s tiny, he figures - tiny relative to him, at least.
When she stops to take a breath (he wasn’t sure that she was ever going to, but eventually, she does; she must be human and not a cyborg, like he was a little starting to think), he interjects with a, “Sorry,” that he sort-of means (but not completely).
Folding her hands over her chest and lifting her chin in that confident, I-don’t-like-you-and-you’re-going-to-listen-to-me-tell-you-why kind of way that Sam’s seen that Warbler guy treat Kurt with (and Kurt treat that Warbler guy with, too), she glares at Sam and it’s almost scary, for just a second. She’s got an intense glare on her, all flashing eyes and furrowed brows.
She has a scowl, too, but that’s almost attractive in a way that he thinks might mean he has a type.
“Sorry,” she repeats, scoffing, and Sam runs a hand through his hair and tries to look boyish and cute and all the things that Quinn used to tell him he was (before she stopped, and after she a little bit lost it and tried to convince someone impregnate her). “Is that really all you have to say for yourself? You could have killed someone, you could have killed me -” (she untangles her arms just to stab herself in the chest with a pointer finger, in case he didn’t understand that when she said me she meant herself), and Sam’s not sure that that’s true but he nods apologetically anyway.
(It feels like the right thing to do.)
“Yeah, no, totally - you’re right,” he lies, and her face lightens, just a tiny bit. She looks like she’s reassessing him, and that’s at least better than her deciding from his first impression that he’s not worth a second glance. “Let me make it up to you?” he offers, half-grinning.
In an instant, she’s beaming, a big smile and sparkly eyes and rosy cheeks. “Well, if you insist,” she agrees, playing reluctant, and he didn’t insist but maybe if he’d had to, he would have.