[gleeverse "over the rainbow" challenge drabbles + ~icons~]
eight mostly-drabbles; four icons. ranging in levels of hideodousness and general suck. includes angst for brittana / quick / coberry / kurt / seblaine; fluff for sam/joe / rory/puck/artie bromance / mercedes/sugar (sorta); icons from 02x22 featuring finchel&brittana. cries i think mike was the only nude erection i didn't use at all
**
She kisses him, rough and biting, and demands, “Stay.”
He doesn’t argue, doesn’t say that he really has to go or that his mom’s gonna worry (‘cause she’s clingy, lately; emotional and shit because graduation’s coming up) or that he just really, really doesn’t want to.
She kisses him, and he lets her, because she’s a fucking mess and it’s all his fault.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into her neck, and he can’t bring himself to mark it because it’s not right; because he doesn’t love her anymore and doesn’t want to, but he has to because she needs him to.
She doesn’t ask what he’s sorry about.
**
Brittany used to smell like vanilla. She used to smell like sweetness, and warmth, and home, and it made Santana want to stay in her arms forever. Whatever perfume it was that she had been using, in those early years that Santana had known her, it had fit her perfectly.
She doesn’t, anymore. Now, it’s something more mature; something like an exotic flower from the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. And Santana still holds her, still clings tight to Brittany because she’s still Brittany and that still means everything, but it’s different.
Santana isn’t sure that she likes it.
**
Joe is standing just beyond the Hummel-Hudson’s front porch in the rain, when Sam sees him outside. He’s soaked pretty bad - it’s pouring out there and Sam’s not sure what he’s doing, why doesn’t he just step closer? - and his dreadlocks look wet and limp and sad, but he’s smiling like he doesn’t even notice.
“Dude,” Sam calls, feeling awkward and dramatic at the same time, because he’s pretty sure he saw something like this in one of Kurt’s romantic comedies. “What are you doing?”
Joe calls back, “I saw it in a movie!” like that answers everything.
(It sorta does.)
**
**
It’s an eventually thing.
It starts when they’re young, and they take the same dance class. Tina smiles at Rachel; Rachel beams back and introduces herself in a flash.
Tina doesn’t say much, but Rachel says more than enough for both.
It continues when Tina reaches high school, just a year after Rachel. Tina watches Rachel, sometimes, but tries not to be too obvious. (Artie notices anyway; teases her about her crush and convinces her to join Mr. Schuester’s new Glee Club.)
Rachel doesn’t see her, and she probably just doesn’t remember.
It ends when Rachel graduates. She kisses Tina, with a sheepish smile on her face as she admits, “I’m late, aren’t I?” Artie shouts something incomprehensible, but they take it as something to the point of you’ve got that right.
They don’t talk about the fact that she’s not just late, she’s too late, and that’s okay with the both of them.
They were always an eventually thing, anyway.
**
“Epic,” Rory repeats.
Artie nods solemnly, hands folded in his lap and expression entirely serious.
“Yes. Under no circumstances should you use the word epic in conversation, online or IRL -”
“IRL,” Rory mimics blankly. Next to him, Puck shakes his head disapprovingly.
“Shit, man - in real life,” he explains, and Rory colors in embarrassment.
“Right, right,” he offers quickly, before Puck can try to talk Rory into playing another fighting game. (The last one was disturbing enough; Rory’s never liked zombies.) “I’m not supposed to say epic because…”
In sync (which is probably creepily unintentional), Puck and Artie both lean forward in their respective chairs, and stare at Rory in a way that’s very unnerving.
Rory swallows hard, and guesses, “Because…it’s out-of-date?”
The whoops of victory that follow are oddly triumphant for the situation. Rory recalls that the term for it is secondhand embarrassment and thinks - not for the first time, since starting “lessons” with his classmates - that he was better off without mastering the internet.
**
LOL she texts in reply, all caps.
Mercedes frowns at the screen of her phone, not sure if the LOL is because Sugar is joking, or if she seriously thinks that Mercedes is above cutting her just because they’ve got the bond of the Troubletones.
(Because she’s not. With Santana, sure, maybe, but not with Sugar; Sugar is a whole new kind of irritating.)
scuze me she responds, fingers punching the keys with more force than is necessary. Next to Mercedes, Rachel sits up and glances over curiously, until Mercedes gives her a sweet smile that she probably sees right through but decides isn’t really worthy messing with anyway.
The answering text comes quickly.
but your like, totally gay. i mean you were in the troubletones. wasn’t that the point of the group?
It’s either the misuse of your, the inexplicable comic effect of Mercedes claiming (truthfully) to be straight, or just the fact that Sugar is just a plain old pain in the ass that makes Mercedes think that she has never disliked anybody as much as she does Sugar.
(Rachel squeezes closer to Mercedes on the bed, curling against her side, and Mercedes ignores the tingly feeling she gets inside when she can feel Rachel breathing on her shoulder. The fact that Rachel Berry used to be the person Mercedes disliked more than anyone else in the world is suddenly very terrifying.)
**
It’s bare. Empty. Untouched, unmarred, undecorated and uncertain.
Kurt stares at the white walls of his new apartment, stares at the starkness of it all and feels lonely.
He dials Rachel’s number, and then changes his mind. Considers Finn, and instantly decides against it.
Thinks of Sam, briefly, and turns his phone off.
In the morning, the walls are still there, imposing as they glare down at him, waiting for some means of definition.
There are no sounds of life outside Kurt’s bedroom door, no footsteps padding or laughter ringing or doors swinging shut with too much force.
It’s bare, and empty, and Kurt has never been so intimated before - certainly not by anything inanimate.
He turns his phone back on, and calls Rachel.
**
Sometimes, he fucks up.
The sex is good, and easy, and it’s just sex so it still feels like it shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t know the names of the guys, doesn’t care, because they mean less than nothing to him.
Blaine is always there for him, those times.
He shouldn’t be, because Blaine deserves better and Sebastian is barely just okay. But he always is, because for whatever reason, he kind of loves Sebastian.
It wears on Blaine, but he tries to hide it, like he thinks that Sebastian is the one that needs to be tiptoed around. Like he thinks that Sebastian is the one with a breaking point on the horizon. And Sebastian feels guilty, because he’s not a monster; because he loves Blaine, in a way that means more than anything that one night stands ever could; because Blaine deserves everything and Sebastian gives him close to nothing.
But sometimes, he still fucks up.
**
She kisses him, rough and biting, and demands, “Stay.”
He doesn’t argue, doesn’t say that he really has to go or that his mom’s gonna worry (‘cause she’s clingy, lately; emotional and shit because graduation’s coming up) or that he just really, really doesn’t want to.
She kisses him, and he lets her, because she’s a fucking mess and it’s all his fault.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into her neck, and he can’t bring himself to mark it because it’s not right; because he doesn’t love her anymore and doesn’t want to, but he has to because she needs him to.
She doesn’t ask what he’s sorry about.
**
Brittany used to smell like vanilla. She used to smell like sweetness, and warmth, and home, and it made Santana want to stay in her arms forever. Whatever perfume it was that she had been using, in those early years that Santana had known her, it had fit her perfectly.
She doesn’t, anymore. Now, it’s something more mature; something like an exotic flower from the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue. And Santana still holds her, still clings tight to Brittany because she’s still Brittany and that still means everything, but it’s different.
Santana isn’t sure that she likes it.
**
Joe is standing just beyond the Hummel-Hudson’s front porch in the rain, when Sam sees him outside. He’s soaked pretty bad - it’s pouring out there and Sam’s not sure what he’s doing, why doesn’t he just step closer? - and his dreadlocks look wet and limp and sad, but he’s smiling like he doesn’t even notice.
“Dude,” Sam calls, feeling awkward and dramatic at the same time, because he’s pretty sure he saw something like this in one of Kurt’s romantic comedies. “What are you doing?”
Joe calls back, “I saw it in a movie!” like that answers everything.
(It sorta does.)
**
**
It’s an eventually thing.
It starts when they’re young, and they take the same dance class. Tina smiles at Rachel; Rachel beams back and introduces herself in a flash.
Tina doesn’t say much, but Rachel says more than enough for both.
It continues when Tina reaches high school, just a year after Rachel. Tina watches Rachel, sometimes, but tries not to be too obvious. (Artie notices anyway; teases her about her crush and convinces her to join Mr. Schuester’s new Glee Club.)
Rachel doesn’t see her, and she probably just doesn’t remember.
It ends when Rachel graduates. She kisses Tina, with a sheepish smile on her face as she admits, “I’m late, aren’t I?” Artie shouts something incomprehensible, but they take it as something to the point of you’ve got that right.
They don’t talk about the fact that she’s not just late, she’s too late, and that’s okay with the both of them.
They were always an eventually thing, anyway.
**
“Epic,” Rory repeats.
Artie nods solemnly, hands folded in his lap and expression entirely serious.
“Yes. Under no circumstances should you use the word epic in conversation, online or IRL -”
“IRL,” Rory mimics blankly. Next to him, Puck shakes his head disapprovingly.
“Shit, man - in real life,” he explains, and Rory colors in embarrassment.
“Right, right,” he offers quickly, before Puck can try to talk Rory into playing another fighting game. (The last one was disturbing enough; Rory’s never liked zombies.) “I’m not supposed to say epic because…”
In sync (which is probably creepily unintentional), Puck and Artie both lean forward in their respective chairs, and stare at Rory in a way that’s very unnerving.
Rory swallows hard, and guesses, “Because…it’s out-of-date?”
The whoops of victory that follow are oddly triumphant for the situation. Rory recalls that the term for it is secondhand embarrassment and thinks - not for the first time, since starting “lessons” with his classmates - that he was better off without mastering the internet.
**
LOL she texts in reply, all caps.
Mercedes frowns at the screen of her phone, not sure if the LOL is because Sugar is joking, or if she seriously thinks that Mercedes is above cutting her just because they’ve got the bond of the Troubletones.
(Because she’s not. With Santana, sure, maybe, but not with Sugar; Sugar is a whole new kind of irritating.)
scuze me she responds, fingers punching the keys with more force than is necessary. Next to Mercedes, Rachel sits up and glances over curiously, until Mercedes gives her a sweet smile that she probably sees right through but decides isn’t really worthy messing with anyway.
The answering text comes quickly.
but your like, totally gay. i mean you were in the troubletones. wasn’t that the point of the group?
It’s either the misuse of your, the inexplicable comic effect of Mercedes claiming (truthfully) to be straight, or just the fact that Sugar is just a plain old pain in the ass that makes Mercedes think that she has never disliked anybody as much as she does Sugar.
(Rachel squeezes closer to Mercedes on the bed, curling against her side, and Mercedes ignores the tingly feeling she gets inside when she can feel Rachel breathing on her shoulder. The fact that Rachel Berry used to be the person Mercedes disliked more than anyone else in the world is suddenly very terrifying.)
**
It’s bare. Empty. Untouched, unmarred, undecorated and uncertain.
Kurt stares at the white walls of his new apartment, stares at the starkness of it all and feels lonely.
He dials Rachel’s number, and then changes his mind. Considers Finn, and instantly decides against it.
Thinks of Sam, briefly, and turns his phone off.
In the morning, the walls are still there, imposing as they glare down at him, waiting for some means of definition.
There are no sounds of life outside Kurt’s bedroom door, no footsteps padding or laughter ringing or doors swinging shut with too much force.
It’s bare, and empty, and Kurt has never been so intimated before - certainly not by anything inanimate.
He turns his phone back on, and calls Rachel.
**
Sometimes, he fucks up.
The sex is good, and easy, and it’s just sex so it still feels like it shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t know the names of the guys, doesn’t care, because they mean less than nothing to him.
Blaine is always there for him, those times.
He shouldn’t be, because Blaine deserves better and Sebastian is barely just okay. But he always is, because for whatever reason, he kind of loves Sebastian.
It wears on Blaine, but he tries to hide it, like he thinks that Sebastian is the one that needs to be tiptoed around. Like he thinks that Sebastian is the one with a breaking point on the horizon. And Sebastian feels guilty, because he’s not a monster; because he loves Blaine, in a way that means more than anything that one night stands ever could; because Blaine deserves everything and Sebastian gives him close to nothing.
But sometimes, he still fucks up.