Fic - Stand In [Selena Gomez/Taylor Swift, G]
Title: Stand In
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: SelGomez/TaySwift
Genre: Fluff, romance, friendship
Rating: G
Summary: A simple question and a not-so-simple answer
Word Count: ~700
“Sel?”
“Hmm?” I mumble tiredly against her hair.
We're laying together on the bed in her tour bus, her laptop open on her lap with a movie playing, but I'm not really paying attention. I'm finding playing with Taylor's hair to be a much more interesting and entertaining activity.
“What am I to you?”
My fingers freeze, and I can feel a lump appear in my throat.
“What do you mean?”
She pauses the movie with a definitive press of her space bar and sits up, my fingers sliding out of her curls as she does so. She's looking down at me through her glasses, eyes serious, lips thin and grim.
“I don't know...I kind of worry sometimes that I'm just a replacement, a sit in for when things aren't going great between you and Demi.”
It feels like a slap to the face when she says that. I can't help but think that this is just like Taylor, stew over a problem until it just eats away at her self-esteem until there's nothing left but doubt.
I sit up, ignoring the mat I can feel forming in the hair in the back of my head, and cross my legs, facing her.
It's weird but, as I think about it, I realize this could be one of the first serious conversations I've ever had with this girl. A thousand things that I could say flash through my mind, disjointed thoughts joining those excuses until my head is a swirl of “no you're not”s and “that's not true”s mixed with “god, she's gorgeous” and “you're too young, she'd never go for you”.
But when I open my mouth, all that comes out is, “no.”
She opens her mouth to say...something, probably to ask for more, for me to clarify, but I silence her with a hand on her sweat-pants clad thigh.
“Tay, I love Demi. You know that, I know that, she knows that. I love you too, but in a different way.”
“Different how?” She asks, her hand creeping towards mine, like she's fishing for a line of hope.
“I don't know how to explain it...” I trail off, looking down at the bed spread.
Her hand finds mine and grips it tightly.
The silence is deafening, and though it only lasts a few seconds, I'm sure, positive that it's lasted longer.
Then we both start to speak at the same time.
“Tay.”
“Sel.”
We both stop, waiting for the other to continue, until the silence has returned, only this time we're not carefully avoiding each other's gaze.
“You go ahead,” she says finally, softly.
“Okay,” I say, taking in a deep breath, steeling myself.
“When you were performing Love Story tonight, there was something different about it.”
It's like suddenly my gaze has laser intensity, because she can't look away from me fast enough.
“Tay, look at me,” I tell her firmly, my other hand going to her cheek and gently drawing her gaze back to mine.
“Who were you singing to, Tay?”
She closes her eyes quickly, and her lips do one of those funny little smiles, you know, the one where you're smiling and trying not to cry at the same time.
“You, Sel,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I say, my thumb caressing her cheek.
She opens her eyes at my insistence and I give her a small smile in return.
“Good,” I say simply.
And with that, I flop back down onto the pillow, dragging her down with me until her cheek is resting on my shoulder and my fingers are back in her hair, tangling into the curls and massaging her scalp slightly.
“Tay,” I say softly into her ear a while later.
“Yeah?” she responds, just as softly.
“No one could ever replace you.”
She leans up on her elbow, looking down at me, appraising. Then she's leaning forward and her lips are on mine, soft and quick, before she pulls back with a smile.
“Good.”
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: SelGomez/TaySwift
Genre: Fluff, romance, friendship
Rating: G
Summary: A simple question and a not-so-simple answer
Word Count: ~700
“Sel?”
“Hmm?” I mumble tiredly against her hair.
We're laying together on the bed in her tour bus, her laptop open on her lap with a movie playing, but I'm not really paying attention. I'm finding playing with Taylor's hair to be a much more interesting and entertaining activity.
“What am I to you?”
My fingers freeze, and I can feel a lump appear in my throat.
“What do you mean?”
She pauses the movie with a definitive press of her space bar and sits up, my fingers sliding out of her curls as she does so. She's looking down at me through her glasses, eyes serious, lips thin and grim.
“I don't know...I kind of worry sometimes that I'm just a replacement, a sit in for when things aren't going great between you and Demi.”
It feels like a slap to the face when she says that. I can't help but think that this is just like Taylor, stew over a problem until it just eats away at her self-esteem until there's nothing left but doubt.
I sit up, ignoring the mat I can feel forming in the hair in the back of my head, and cross my legs, facing her.
It's weird but, as I think about it, I realize this could be one of the first serious conversations I've ever had with this girl. A thousand things that I could say flash through my mind, disjointed thoughts joining those excuses until my head is a swirl of “no you're not”s and “that's not true”s mixed with “god, she's gorgeous” and “you're too young, she'd never go for you”.
But when I open my mouth, all that comes out is, “no.”
She opens her mouth to say...something, probably to ask for more, for me to clarify, but I silence her with a hand on her sweat-pants clad thigh.
“Tay, I love Demi. You know that, I know that, she knows that. I love you too, but in a different way.”
“Different how?” She asks, her hand creeping towards mine, like she's fishing for a line of hope.
“I don't know how to explain it...” I trail off, looking down at the bed spread.
Her hand finds mine and grips it tightly.
The silence is deafening, and though it only lasts a few seconds, I'm sure, positive that it's lasted longer.
Then we both start to speak at the same time.
“Tay.”
“Sel.”
We both stop, waiting for the other to continue, until the silence has returned, only this time we're not carefully avoiding each other's gaze.
“You go ahead,” she says finally, softly.
“Okay,” I say, taking in a deep breath, steeling myself.
“When you were performing Love Story tonight, there was something different about it.”
It's like suddenly my gaze has laser intensity, because she can't look away from me fast enough.
“Tay, look at me,” I tell her firmly, my other hand going to her cheek and gently drawing her gaze back to mine.
“Who were you singing to, Tay?”
She closes her eyes quickly, and her lips do one of those funny little smiles, you know, the one where you're smiling and trying not to cry at the same time.
“You, Sel,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I say, my thumb caressing her cheek.
She opens her eyes at my insistence and I give her a small smile in return.
“Good,” I say simply.
And with that, I flop back down onto the pillow, dragging her down with me until her cheek is resting on my shoulder and my fingers are back in her hair, tangling into the curls and massaging her scalp slightly.
“Tay,” I say softly into her ear a while later.
“Yeah?” she responds, just as softly.
“No one could ever replace you.”
She leans up on her elbow, looking down at me, appraising. Then she's leaning forward and her lips are on mine, soft and quick, before she pulls back with a smile.
“Good.”