Demi/Taylor - Burning Brighter than the Sun (oneshot)
Title: Burning Brighter than the Sun
Character/Pairings: Demi Lovato/Taylor Swift (brief mention of Selena Gomez)
Summary: Demi forgets for a moment that this is just another one of those things occupying both of their schedules, because it’s Taylor, and she actually has someone to talk to and laugh with now. Taylor and Demi hang out backstage at an award show.
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,000
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. None of this happened. Title comes from Taylor Swift's Untouchable.
Other: Written for summerstorm as a holiday gift.
Demi isn’t quite sure why she had to come to this thing. It’s not like anybody actually cares; she’s not nominated and she’s not presenting, nobody watches the show on television. But yet, here she is.
And she’s pretty much bored out of her mind, sitting on the plush seat, watching girls in fancy dresses--most of them really pretty--presenting awards with men--in equally nice suits--to people she hasn’t met, and probably won’t get to meet, because she’s just Demi. And they have better things to do than to talk to a Disney girl who hasn’t won anything important, who is judged simply because of who her employer is.
So really, she’s utterly relieved when her phone vibrates in her small clutch. Stealthily, she takes it out and sees a text message from Taylor. Which just brings the biggest smile to her face--whether it’s because Demi’s missed her or because she’s saving Demi from more cheesy jokes and practiced gratitude, Demi isn’t sure, but it doesn’t really matter either way.
Come back stage :)
Oh, okay then. Demi didn’t even know that Taylor was actually here, since her schedule is the most insane thing ever--Demi used to think she had it hard, but it’s nothing in comparison to how booked Taylor usually is. Demi forgets for a moment that this is just another one of those things occupying both of their schedules, because it’s Taylor, and she actually has someone to talk to and laugh with now. So everything’s looking just a little bit brighter.
Leaning over when they cut to a commercial, Demi whispers in her mom’s ear that she’s heading backstage to see Taylor. Her mom smiles at her and tells her to have fun; she’ll call Demi if she isn’t back when the show ends. Getting up quickly, Demi tries to avoid any photographers, but they seem more intent on snapping pictures of Usher than noticing her, so she’s safe.
When she reaches the door that leads to the dressing rooms, Taylor’s standing there chatting with the security guard about baking snickerdoodles, rubbing her arms quickly as though she’s freezing; her cheeks are slightly flushed and there are goosebumps on her arms, so Demi thinks Taylor probably is (and it’s not surprising, considering the sparkly dress she’s wearing and how the air is cranked in here).
“Oh my god, Demi!” Taylor grins at her, enveloping her into a hug. Demi has to stand on her tip toes to get her chin to rest on Taylor’s shoulder, and Taylor’s curly hair is completely in her face. And Demi feels much happier than she has in a really long time. There’s just something very genuine about Taylor that Demi misses sometimes, that Demi used to feed off of constantly when she was with Selena.
“Hey, how are you?” She’s feeling a little breathless and lightheaded when Taylor releases her, and Demi wonders how tightly Taylor was actually hugging her.
“Great. Better now. See ya later, Frank,” Taylor says, nodding and waving at the security guard like she’s actually planning on coming back to talk with him--and she probably is--as she grabs Demi by the arm and yanks her backstage.
Everything’s darker now, and Demi can hear someone reading off nominees, their voice echoing a little. Taylor’s hand is still gripping hers lightly as they make their way through a crowd of techies wearing all black and people talking to each other through headphones and walkie-talkies. Demi wonders why Taylor would want to hang out back here, because it’s just making Demi feel anxious.
“So, um…” Demi lets her words taper off, not really knowing if they’re allowed to talk or if someone’s going to shush them.
“I’m really nervous,” Taylor says. And Demi guesses it’s okay to talk.
“About what?” Demi sees a blonde-haired woman with a trophy take a quick look in a mirror before heading onstage, a confident air as she walks, back straight and head held high, heels clicking steadily.
Taylor raises her eyebrows and smiles softly. “About the awards,” she says, and there is a friendly “duh” that she doesn’t add to the end of her sentence. “I’m really cold.”
“Do you have a speech prepared in case you win?” Demi knows she’ll win, because she’s Taylor, and because she deserves it. Demi’s glad someone like Taylor is able to have so much success, someone so humble and generous and real.
“Oh, no. I won’t win.” Taylor shakes her head a little and her eyes follow Martina McBride with awe.
“You could. You’re T-swizzle.” Demi laughs, bumping into Taylor a little.
Taylor giggles under her breath, reaching over to adjust the strap on Demi’s dress. Taylor’s eyes are filled with a little bit of mist as she looks around at everything that’s going on. “Thank you, but there are so many people more deserving than me.”
Demi looks at her closely as Taylor straightens out her own dress, tucking her hair behind her ears. There’s a perpetual glow surrounding her that Demi’s drawn to, a gratefulness that’s unmatched. It’s impossible to miss how much Taylor loves life, loves everything she’s been able to do, been able to accomplish, how she thinks it could all go away in the blink of an eye. How Taylor also seems to think that it wouldn’t matter if it did disappear tomorrow.
Demi kind of thinks it wouldn’t faze Taylor. And she’s surprised by that. Because Demi’s spent a lot of time recently clutching to what she has so tightly it burns, trying to guarantee she’ll still have it next year and the year after that. She has fans and fame and money and more friends than she can even count. Demi’s sure it was what she wanted, the most important thing. Spending so much time working for it, dealing with the girls back in Texas who hate her, she always thought she deserved this. That it was her reward for getting through all the tough times.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Because she used to have someone to tell secrets to, people she could call at three in the morning who would answer the phone groggily and listen to everything she had to say; now she has people who answer the phone with loud music thumping in the background, words slightly slurred, telling her they can’t really talk right then. She misses what she used to have, no matter how hard it was, because now it’s impossible.
“Hey, Taylor, can you stand over there so when they’re announcing the nominees the camera can find you?” a man who looks about thirty asks her, pointing to an area directly to the side of the stage.
“Oh, sure,” Taylor grabs Demi’s hand and pulls her along. Taylor’s taking in all of the people, smiling brightly at each of them.
“What are you doing?” Demi’s pretty sure she wasn’t invited.
“I can’t stand here by myself for two minutes.” Taylor squeezes her hand and Demi squeezes back. Taylor’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, peering out onto the stage, watching with all the excitement of a toddler seeing a huge heap of presents under the Christmas tree.
“Okay.” Demi stands there, trying to follow everywhere that Taylor’s gaze lands, trying to see what she sees the way she sees it. It’s difficult not to feel annoyed, bored, sad; harder to feel happy, grateful, harder to feel like Taylor does.
Taylor drops Demi’s hand when the nominees for her category start being read off the teleprompter; Demi moves out of the way of the camera. Watching Taylor smile softly into the camera when her name is read, studying the lines on her face as she claps for the other nominees even though they’re all in the audience and can’t see her, Demi starts to feel really faint and sweaty, even though goosebumps are starting to appear on her arms and legs because of the air-conditioning.
When Taylor’s name gets announced, she stands there stunned for a moment, and then the camera’s on her again and her hands fly to her mouth, tears well in her eyes. She reaches for Demi, hugging her forcefully; Taylor’s hands bunch up some of the fabric of Demi’s dress and she whispers, “oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” into Demi’s ear before letting go and walking onto the stage.
Taylor’s speech isn’t more poetic or unique than anyone else’s, but when she thanks everyone and says she can’t believe she actually won, it’s actually real. She exits the stage on the other side, talking with the people who presented the award to her, and Demi feels alone again.
She looks around and doesn’t see anyone she knows; she thinks about how Taylor’s probably going to be busy in the press room for a few minutes answering questions. Demi texts her congratulations and goes back to her seat, sliding in next to her mom, who simply grins at her
When the show ends Taylor finds Demi and offers to take her home. Demi’s more than ready to agree. They get in Taylor’s limo and Taylor rolls down the divider, calling the driver by name, telling him she won and she can’t believe how lucky she is. She talks to him for a second before turning to Demi, saying, “I’m sorry I left you by yourself.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m so proud of you.”
“No, let me buy you some ice cream, I’ll make it up to you.” Taylor nods her head a little and looks out the window for a second.
Demi grins brightly, crossing her legs. “No, its okay, you really don’t have to.”
“But I want to,” Taylor replies. Then she’s addressing the driver, “I can buy you ice cream too, Roger. We can bring something out for you and park and eat it in the limo together.”
He seems to hesitate for moment, Demi can see him thinking about telling her how unprofessional that would be, but then he probably realizes Taylor will buy him some ice cream anyway. “Vanilla is fine.”
“Vanilla it is.”
---
After finishing their cones and driving around a little bit they park in Demi’s driveway. “Hey, how’s Selena?” Demi asks nervously, looking down at her fingers, tapping her foot to an unknown rhythm.
“Good,” Taylor says softly, “she’s good. She misses you though.”
She knows Taylor doesn’t just mean getting to talk to her, but that she misses the Demi she used to be back in Texas, the Demi she was before last summer. “Oh. I miss her, too.” She means Selena, she means herself; they’re kind of interchangeable--she can’t really have one back without the other.
“If you ever want to talk just give me a call. I’m a good listener.” Taylor squeezes Demi’s shoulder and Demi looks at her, biting her lip and trying not to cry.
“I’ve heard that. Thanks.” Demi grabs her clutch and looks at Taylor one more time. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Sounds good.” Taylor smiles, pulling Demi into her side for a quick hug, pressing her lips to Demi’s cheek and letting them linger there softly. “If you forget about me know you’ll be bombarded with voicemails. And maybe a nasty song,” Taylor laugh, releasing Demi.
“Okay,” she chuckles softly. “Bye Taylor.” She turns to open the door, but Roger’s already pulling the handle for her. “Thanks,” Demi says when she steps out of the limo.
She wishes she was a good enough person to deserve someone like Selena, someone like Taylor. Demi thinks that maybe she’ll have to work on that.
When she steps into her house it’s dark and she closes the door behind her, turning on the lights, letting the room flood with a bright, yellow glow.
She can see things more clearly now.
---
Character/Pairings: Demi Lovato/Taylor Swift (brief mention of Selena Gomez)
Summary: Demi forgets for a moment that this is just another one of those things occupying both of their schedules, because it’s Taylor, and she actually has someone to talk to and laugh with now. Taylor and Demi hang out backstage at an award show.
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,000
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. None of this happened. Title comes from Taylor Swift's Untouchable.
Other: Written for summerstorm as a holiday gift.
Demi isn’t quite sure why she had to come to this thing. It’s not like anybody actually cares; she’s not nominated and she’s not presenting, nobody watches the show on television. But yet, here she is.
And she’s pretty much bored out of her mind, sitting on the plush seat, watching girls in fancy dresses--most of them really pretty--presenting awards with men--in equally nice suits--to people she hasn’t met, and probably won’t get to meet, because she’s just Demi. And they have better things to do than to talk to a Disney girl who hasn’t won anything important, who is judged simply because of who her employer is.
So really, she’s utterly relieved when her phone vibrates in her small clutch. Stealthily, she takes it out and sees a text message from Taylor. Which just brings the biggest smile to her face--whether it’s because Demi’s missed her or because she’s saving Demi from more cheesy jokes and practiced gratitude, Demi isn’t sure, but it doesn’t really matter either way.
Come back stage :)
Oh, okay then. Demi didn’t even know that Taylor was actually here, since her schedule is the most insane thing ever--Demi used to think she had it hard, but it’s nothing in comparison to how booked Taylor usually is. Demi forgets for a moment that this is just another one of those things occupying both of their schedules, because it’s Taylor, and she actually has someone to talk to and laugh with now. So everything’s looking just a little bit brighter.
Leaning over when they cut to a commercial, Demi whispers in her mom’s ear that she’s heading backstage to see Taylor. Her mom smiles at her and tells her to have fun; she’ll call Demi if she isn’t back when the show ends. Getting up quickly, Demi tries to avoid any photographers, but they seem more intent on snapping pictures of Usher than noticing her, so she’s safe.
When she reaches the door that leads to the dressing rooms, Taylor’s standing there chatting with the security guard about baking snickerdoodles, rubbing her arms quickly as though she’s freezing; her cheeks are slightly flushed and there are goosebumps on her arms, so Demi thinks Taylor probably is (and it’s not surprising, considering the sparkly dress she’s wearing and how the air is cranked in here).
“Oh my god, Demi!” Taylor grins at her, enveloping her into a hug. Demi has to stand on her tip toes to get her chin to rest on Taylor’s shoulder, and Taylor’s curly hair is completely in her face. And Demi feels much happier than she has in a really long time. There’s just something very genuine about Taylor that Demi misses sometimes, that Demi used to feed off of constantly when she was with Selena.
“Hey, how are you?” She’s feeling a little breathless and lightheaded when Taylor releases her, and Demi wonders how tightly Taylor was actually hugging her.
“Great. Better now. See ya later, Frank,” Taylor says, nodding and waving at the security guard like she’s actually planning on coming back to talk with him--and she probably is--as she grabs Demi by the arm and yanks her backstage.
Everything’s darker now, and Demi can hear someone reading off nominees, their voice echoing a little. Taylor’s hand is still gripping hers lightly as they make their way through a crowd of techies wearing all black and people talking to each other through headphones and walkie-talkies. Demi wonders why Taylor would want to hang out back here, because it’s just making Demi feel anxious.
“So, um…” Demi lets her words taper off, not really knowing if they’re allowed to talk or if someone’s going to shush them.
“I’m really nervous,” Taylor says. And Demi guesses it’s okay to talk.
“About what?” Demi sees a blonde-haired woman with a trophy take a quick look in a mirror before heading onstage, a confident air as she walks, back straight and head held high, heels clicking steadily.
Taylor raises her eyebrows and smiles softly. “About the awards,” she says, and there is a friendly “duh” that she doesn’t add to the end of her sentence. “I’m really cold.”
“Do you have a speech prepared in case you win?” Demi knows she’ll win, because she’s Taylor, and because she deserves it. Demi’s glad someone like Taylor is able to have so much success, someone so humble and generous and real.
“Oh, no. I won’t win.” Taylor shakes her head a little and her eyes follow Martina McBride with awe.
“You could. You’re T-swizzle.” Demi laughs, bumping into Taylor a little.
Taylor giggles under her breath, reaching over to adjust the strap on Demi’s dress. Taylor’s eyes are filled with a little bit of mist as she looks around at everything that’s going on. “Thank you, but there are so many people more deserving than me.”
Demi looks at her closely as Taylor straightens out her own dress, tucking her hair behind her ears. There’s a perpetual glow surrounding her that Demi’s drawn to, a gratefulness that’s unmatched. It’s impossible to miss how much Taylor loves life, loves everything she’s been able to do, been able to accomplish, how she thinks it could all go away in the blink of an eye. How Taylor also seems to think that it wouldn’t matter if it did disappear tomorrow.
Demi kind of thinks it wouldn’t faze Taylor. And she’s surprised by that. Because Demi’s spent a lot of time recently clutching to what she has so tightly it burns, trying to guarantee she’ll still have it next year and the year after that. She has fans and fame and money and more friends than she can even count. Demi’s sure it was what she wanted, the most important thing. Spending so much time working for it, dealing with the girls back in Texas who hate her, she always thought she deserved this. That it was her reward for getting through all the tough times.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Because she used to have someone to tell secrets to, people she could call at three in the morning who would answer the phone groggily and listen to everything she had to say; now she has people who answer the phone with loud music thumping in the background, words slightly slurred, telling her they can’t really talk right then. She misses what she used to have, no matter how hard it was, because now it’s impossible.
“Hey, Taylor, can you stand over there so when they’re announcing the nominees the camera can find you?” a man who looks about thirty asks her, pointing to an area directly to the side of the stage.
“Oh, sure,” Taylor grabs Demi’s hand and pulls her along. Taylor’s taking in all of the people, smiling brightly at each of them.
“What are you doing?” Demi’s pretty sure she wasn’t invited.
“I can’t stand here by myself for two minutes.” Taylor squeezes her hand and Demi squeezes back. Taylor’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, peering out onto the stage, watching with all the excitement of a toddler seeing a huge heap of presents under the Christmas tree.
“Okay.” Demi stands there, trying to follow everywhere that Taylor’s gaze lands, trying to see what she sees the way she sees it. It’s difficult not to feel annoyed, bored, sad; harder to feel happy, grateful, harder to feel like Taylor does.
Taylor drops Demi’s hand when the nominees for her category start being read off the teleprompter; Demi moves out of the way of the camera. Watching Taylor smile softly into the camera when her name is read, studying the lines on her face as she claps for the other nominees even though they’re all in the audience and can’t see her, Demi starts to feel really faint and sweaty, even though goosebumps are starting to appear on her arms and legs because of the air-conditioning.
When Taylor’s name gets announced, she stands there stunned for a moment, and then the camera’s on her again and her hands fly to her mouth, tears well in her eyes. She reaches for Demi, hugging her forcefully; Taylor’s hands bunch up some of the fabric of Demi’s dress and she whispers, “oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” into Demi’s ear before letting go and walking onto the stage.
Taylor’s speech isn’t more poetic or unique than anyone else’s, but when she thanks everyone and says she can’t believe she actually won, it’s actually real. She exits the stage on the other side, talking with the people who presented the award to her, and Demi feels alone again.
She looks around and doesn’t see anyone she knows; she thinks about how Taylor’s probably going to be busy in the press room for a few minutes answering questions. Demi texts her congratulations and goes back to her seat, sliding in next to her mom, who simply grins at her
When the show ends Taylor finds Demi and offers to take her home. Demi’s more than ready to agree. They get in Taylor’s limo and Taylor rolls down the divider, calling the driver by name, telling him she won and she can’t believe how lucky she is. She talks to him for a second before turning to Demi, saying, “I’m sorry I left you by yourself.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m so proud of you.”
“No, let me buy you some ice cream, I’ll make it up to you.” Taylor nods her head a little and looks out the window for a second.
Demi grins brightly, crossing her legs. “No, its okay, you really don’t have to.”
“But I want to,” Taylor replies. Then she’s addressing the driver, “I can buy you ice cream too, Roger. We can bring something out for you and park and eat it in the limo together.”
He seems to hesitate for moment, Demi can see him thinking about telling her how unprofessional that would be, but then he probably realizes Taylor will buy him some ice cream anyway. “Vanilla is fine.”
“Vanilla it is.”
---
After finishing their cones and driving around a little bit they park in Demi’s driveway. “Hey, how’s Selena?” Demi asks nervously, looking down at her fingers, tapping her foot to an unknown rhythm.
“Good,” Taylor says softly, “she’s good. She misses you though.”
She knows Taylor doesn’t just mean getting to talk to her, but that she misses the Demi she used to be back in Texas, the Demi she was before last summer. “Oh. I miss her, too.” She means Selena, she means herself; they’re kind of interchangeable--she can’t really have one back without the other.
“If you ever want to talk just give me a call. I’m a good listener.” Taylor squeezes Demi’s shoulder and Demi looks at her, biting her lip and trying not to cry.
“I’ve heard that. Thanks.” Demi grabs her clutch and looks at Taylor one more time. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Sounds good.” Taylor smiles, pulling Demi into her side for a quick hug, pressing her lips to Demi’s cheek and letting them linger there softly. “If you forget about me know you’ll be bombarded with voicemails. And maybe a nasty song,” Taylor laugh, releasing Demi.
“Okay,” she chuckles softly. “Bye Taylor.” She turns to open the door, but Roger’s already pulling the handle for her. “Thanks,” Demi says when she steps out of the limo.
She wishes she was a good enough person to deserve someone like Selena, someone like Taylor. Demi thinks that maybe she’ll have to work on that.
When she steps into her house it’s dark and she closes the door behind her, turning on the lights, letting the room flood with a bright, yellow glow.
She can see things more clearly now.
---