Seeing Eye To Eye
Title: Seeing Eye To Eye
Pairing: Mike/Quinn
Summary: "I need you to show me how to put on eyeliner." (This is AU in that Quinn never came back to New Directions.)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Additionally, this is all Mariel's fault.
Mike remembers Puck talking about how he cornered Rachel in the girls' bathroom to get her to come to the flash mob thing at the mall last year when they were sitting around the Lima Bean talking about their plans for what Kurt called the 'Barbra-vention.' When Finn asked how he got in there without getting written up for sexual assault or whatever, Puck had just rolled his eyes.
"You just own it, dude," he said. "Act like you're supposed to be there."
Mike hopes that's legitimate advice instead of being one of those things that only works for Puck.
He wouldn't normally do this. There are a few places that a guy just isn't supposed to be, and the girls' bathroom is definitely on that list. Boundaries are important. And, to be perfectly honest, there are things that go on in a girls' bathroom that he just doesn't need to know about. But he needs to talk to Quinn, and after a week of watching her move around the school, he's pretty sure that right now, during their twenty-minute lunch period, is the only time that he's going to be able to catch up with her without being forced to cut class and track her down under the bleachers during her free period.
Mike turns right instead of left when he leaves AP Chemistry, opposite of everyone else who's headed to lunch, then up two flights of stairs. He rounds the corner at the end of the hallway just in time to see Quinn go into the bathroom, the door banging closed behind her. Before he can let himself think too much about exactly what he's doing, Mike has slipped past a group of giggling freshman girls and followed Quinn in, the slamming of the door behind him echoing through the room.
"Get out," Quinn says from her place in front of the mirror. She's applying lipstick, almost the same color as the streaks that she had in her hair back at the beginning of the year that have since faded.
Since he expected it, Mike isn't too bothered. "I wanted to talk to you," he tells her, stepping closer, close enough that he can see her reflection when she rolls her eyes. "To ask a favor, actually."
She closes the lipstick with a soft snick and turns to face him with one eyebrow quirked. "A favor," she repeats. Her voice isn't quite flat; he thinks there's a little bit of interest there.
"I need you to show me how to put on eyeliner."
He's way more embarrassed about being in the girls' bathroom than he is about asking a girl to show him how to do makeup. He's worn makeup before, and while this isn't nearly as cool as being a zombie, it's not a big deal.
"Eyeliner." Her own eyes are a bit wider than they were, and rimmed in the same smokey black liner that he needs to be able to copy on himself. "I'm really going to need some kind of explanation, Mike." She drops the lipstick into the top of her bag.
He tells her about Mr. Schue's Michael Jackson assignment for glee and how he and Artie are doing "Scream." He doesn't want to look like a girl, but he does want it to be clear that he's doing the Janet part - even though he's obviously doing all of the dancing - and eyeliner is the way to do that.
"I thought you couldn't sing," she says when he's finished talking.
"It's new."
Quinn almost smiles. "Ask your girlfriend."
"Tina and I broke up." This year has been stressful for both of them for different reasons, and it crept into their relationship. They were sniping at each other and picking fights, and they realized that it just wasn't working. Things are still weird between them, weird enough that he can't ask her about this.
"Brittany then." Mike just shakes his head. He considered Britt, but he's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to stop at black eyeliner; he would have to talk her out of trying a bunch of different colors and glitter and whatever other stuff she has. "Why me?"
"You know your way around black eyeliner," he answers with a shrug. "And I trust you not to poke me in the eye or try to play dress up."
She considers him for a moment. "Yeah. Okay. But you'll owe me."
*
Mike's been to Quinn's house before, back in middle school for a couple of birthday parties and once freshman year when they worked together on a To Kill a Mockingbird project for English. It's different now, with less dark wood and lighter colors that make him think that Mrs. Fabray did some decorating after Quinn's dad moved out. It's a little weird though, being in here and knowing that it's just him and Quinn.
She leads him up the stairs and into her bedroom, pulling open the closet door so she can hang her jacket. It reminds him of the old Quinn, the purple wallpaper and the white eyelet duvet and the Cheerios jacket that he can just see hanging in the back of her closet.
"Here," she says, pulling her desk chair over in front of the full-length mirror in the corner. She pulls a folded up piece of paper from her pocket while he sits, unfolding it before slipping the edge under the mirror's frame. It's a screenshot from the "Scream" video, Janet Jackson's face as a point of reference.
"How do we do this?" he asks, watching her sharpen a pencil. The shaving curls under the sharpener for a moment, pale and smooth-edged in smudges of black, before breaking and falling to the floor. She leaves it there.
"I'll do one eye to show you, you can do the other," she answers, examining the point of the eyeliner pencil. It's sharp, sharp enough that Mike worries that it's going to hurt when she puts it against his skin.
It doesn't hurt. It tickles a little, and he has to fight the urge to either squeeze his eyes closed tighter or blink them open. Quinn's free hand is curved around his jaw keeping him still, one finger just brushing against his earlobe while she works, and she's close enough that he can smell her perfume, the same soft floral fragrance he knows she's been wearing for years. It's honeysuckle and something else that he can't place - jasmine, maybe, or some other soft floral. It doesn't quite match this version of Quinn, which kind of makes him think that she isn't quite as different as she'd like everyone to believe.
"Okay," she says, her voice soft. "Open." She's sitting on her knees in front of him, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Look up." She lays her fingers gently on his cheek, pulling lightly at the skin under his eye before tracing the pencil along the rim of his lower lid. He reminds himself to breathe when his chest starts to feel tight.
"Feels weird," he comments, barely moving his lips. He trusts her, but he's still afraid of getting poked in the eye.
She leans back on her heels, looking critically at his face before bringing the pencil back to the inner corner of his eye. "You get used to it." She glances at the picture on the mirror, then makes a couple more feathery little strokes beneath his lower lashes. "There. What do you think?"
It's weird, one eye rimmed in black and the other bare, and it doesn't match the picture exactly (which makes sense, since Janet is a black woman instead of an Asian dude), but it looks pretty good.
She smiles when he tells her that. "Your turn." She hands him the eyeliner pencil.
"What if I poke myself in the eye?"
She makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-scoff, and rolls her eyes. "Don't."
He's scowling when he turns to face the mirror, pulling the chair closer and leaning in. His first line is shaky, and there's a gap between the liner and his upper lashes that definitely isn't supposed to be there. Determined to get this right, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before starting again.
It takes him way longer than it took Quinn, and even then it isn't perfect. He's a little paranoid, so there's still too much space between the liner and his upper eyelashes, and he hasn't matched the shape that she made on his left eye. But he's out of patience, so he leans back in the chair with a sigh.
"Here," Quinn says softly. Her fingers graze against his when she takes the eyeliner, and the tips of her fingers of her other hand brush against his cheek, like she's reminding him again to be still. He closes his eyes without being prompted, and this time he doesn't have to fight a flinch when she begins drawing on his eyelid. "There," she says after a moment.
She's still very close to his face when he opens his eyes, her mouth soft and her eyes on his, examining her work. She's close enough that he can see the different colors in her eyes, the dark green at the outer edge of her irises and the flecks of burnt gold closer to her pupils. Relaxed and unguarded as she is, Mike thinks it's the prettiest he's ever seen her.
Quinn blinks once when he brings his hand up to cup her cheek but doesn't move away or stop him when he leans in to kiss her, keeping his eyes open to watch her face, to see her lashes flutter when she realizes what he's doing. Then their lips touch and his eyes slip closed and his mind goes blank of everything but Quinn.
The breath she draws in when they pull apart sounds as shaky as Mike feels. "Why did you do that?" she asks, whispering. They're still so close together that talking at a normal volume would be like shouting.
"I-- I don't know," he admits, glancing down at her mouth. Her lips are perfect, bow-shaped and pink even now that the lipstick she was wearing earlier has faded away. "You're so pretty."
"So are you," she quips, reminding him that he's wearing more eyeliner than she is. He dips his head, and she brings her hand up to rest at the side of his neck, her thumb stroking along his jaw. "Mike." He looks up. "Will you do me a favor?"
"What?"
Her lips curve just slightly, and there's a little sparkle in her eye. "Kiss me again."
He's more than happy to oblige. After all, he owes her.
Pairing: Mike/Quinn
Summary: "I need you to show me how to put on eyeliner." (This is AU in that Quinn never came back to New Directions.)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Additionally, this is all Mariel's fault.
Mike remembers Puck talking about how he cornered Rachel in the girls' bathroom to get her to come to the flash mob thing at the mall last year when they were sitting around the Lima Bean talking about their plans for what Kurt called the 'Barbra-vention.' When Finn asked how he got in there without getting written up for sexual assault or whatever, Puck had just rolled his eyes.
"You just own it, dude," he said. "Act like you're supposed to be there."
Mike hopes that's legitimate advice instead of being one of those things that only works for Puck.
He wouldn't normally do this. There are a few places that a guy just isn't supposed to be, and the girls' bathroom is definitely on that list. Boundaries are important. And, to be perfectly honest, there are things that go on in a girls' bathroom that he just doesn't need to know about. But he needs to talk to Quinn, and after a week of watching her move around the school, he's pretty sure that right now, during their twenty-minute lunch period, is the only time that he's going to be able to catch up with her without being forced to cut class and track her down under the bleachers during her free period.
Mike turns right instead of left when he leaves AP Chemistry, opposite of everyone else who's headed to lunch, then up two flights of stairs. He rounds the corner at the end of the hallway just in time to see Quinn go into the bathroom, the door banging closed behind her. Before he can let himself think too much about exactly what he's doing, Mike has slipped past a group of giggling freshman girls and followed Quinn in, the slamming of the door behind him echoing through the room.
"Get out," Quinn says from her place in front of the mirror. She's applying lipstick, almost the same color as the streaks that she had in her hair back at the beginning of the year that have since faded.
Since he expected it, Mike isn't too bothered. "I wanted to talk to you," he tells her, stepping closer, close enough that he can see her reflection when she rolls her eyes. "To ask a favor, actually."
She closes the lipstick with a soft snick and turns to face him with one eyebrow quirked. "A favor," she repeats. Her voice isn't quite flat; he thinks there's a little bit of interest there.
"I need you to show me how to put on eyeliner."
He's way more embarrassed about being in the girls' bathroom than he is about asking a girl to show him how to do makeup. He's worn makeup before, and while this isn't nearly as cool as being a zombie, it's not a big deal.
"Eyeliner." Her own eyes are a bit wider than they were, and rimmed in the same smokey black liner that he needs to be able to copy on himself. "I'm really going to need some kind of explanation, Mike." She drops the lipstick into the top of her bag.
He tells her about Mr. Schue's Michael Jackson assignment for glee and how he and Artie are doing "Scream." He doesn't want to look like a girl, but he does want it to be clear that he's doing the Janet part - even though he's obviously doing all of the dancing - and eyeliner is the way to do that.
"I thought you couldn't sing," she says when he's finished talking.
"It's new."
Quinn almost smiles. "Ask your girlfriend."
"Tina and I broke up." This year has been stressful for both of them for different reasons, and it crept into their relationship. They were sniping at each other and picking fights, and they realized that it just wasn't working. Things are still weird between them, weird enough that he can't ask her about this.
"Brittany then." Mike just shakes his head. He considered Britt, but he's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to stop at black eyeliner; he would have to talk her out of trying a bunch of different colors and glitter and whatever other stuff she has. "Why me?"
"You know your way around black eyeliner," he answers with a shrug. "And I trust you not to poke me in the eye or try to play dress up."
She considers him for a moment. "Yeah. Okay. But you'll owe me."
*
Mike's been to Quinn's house before, back in middle school for a couple of birthday parties and once freshman year when they worked together on a To Kill a Mockingbird project for English. It's different now, with less dark wood and lighter colors that make him think that Mrs. Fabray did some decorating after Quinn's dad moved out. It's a little weird though, being in here and knowing that it's just him and Quinn.
She leads him up the stairs and into her bedroom, pulling open the closet door so she can hang her jacket. It reminds him of the old Quinn, the purple wallpaper and the white eyelet duvet and the Cheerios jacket that he can just see hanging in the back of her closet.
"Here," she says, pulling her desk chair over in front of the full-length mirror in the corner. She pulls a folded up piece of paper from her pocket while he sits, unfolding it before slipping the edge under the mirror's frame. It's a screenshot from the "Scream" video, Janet Jackson's face as a point of reference.
"How do we do this?" he asks, watching her sharpen a pencil. The shaving curls under the sharpener for a moment, pale and smooth-edged in smudges of black, before breaking and falling to the floor. She leaves it there.
"I'll do one eye to show you, you can do the other," she answers, examining the point of the eyeliner pencil. It's sharp, sharp enough that Mike worries that it's going to hurt when she puts it against his skin.
It doesn't hurt. It tickles a little, and he has to fight the urge to either squeeze his eyes closed tighter or blink them open. Quinn's free hand is curved around his jaw keeping him still, one finger just brushing against his earlobe while she works, and she's close enough that he can smell her perfume, the same soft floral fragrance he knows she's been wearing for years. It's honeysuckle and something else that he can't place - jasmine, maybe, or some other soft floral. It doesn't quite match this version of Quinn, which kind of makes him think that she isn't quite as different as she'd like everyone to believe.
"Okay," she says, her voice soft. "Open." She's sitting on her knees in front of him, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Look up." She lays her fingers gently on his cheek, pulling lightly at the skin under his eye before tracing the pencil along the rim of his lower lid. He reminds himself to breathe when his chest starts to feel tight.
"Feels weird," he comments, barely moving his lips. He trusts her, but he's still afraid of getting poked in the eye.
She leans back on her heels, looking critically at his face before bringing the pencil back to the inner corner of his eye. "You get used to it." She glances at the picture on the mirror, then makes a couple more feathery little strokes beneath his lower lashes. "There. What do you think?"
It's weird, one eye rimmed in black and the other bare, and it doesn't match the picture exactly (which makes sense, since Janet is a black woman instead of an Asian dude), but it looks pretty good.
She smiles when he tells her that. "Your turn." She hands him the eyeliner pencil.
"What if I poke myself in the eye?"
She makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-scoff, and rolls her eyes. "Don't."
He's scowling when he turns to face the mirror, pulling the chair closer and leaning in. His first line is shaky, and there's a gap between the liner and his upper lashes that definitely isn't supposed to be there. Determined to get this right, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before starting again.
It takes him way longer than it took Quinn, and even then it isn't perfect. He's a little paranoid, so there's still too much space between the liner and his upper eyelashes, and he hasn't matched the shape that she made on his left eye. But he's out of patience, so he leans back in the chair with a sigh.
"Here," Quinn says softly. Her fingers graze against his when she takes the eyeliner, and the tips of her fingers of her other hand brush against his cheek, like she's reminding him again to be still. He closes his eyes without being prompted, and this time he doesn't have to fight a flinch when she begins drawing on his eyelid. "There," she says after a moment.
She's still very close to his face when he opens his eyes, her mouth soft and her eyes on his, examining her work. She's close enough that he can see the different colors in her eyes, the dark green at the outer edge of her irises and the flecks of burnt gold closer to her pupils. Relaxed and unguarded as she is, Mike thinks it's the prettiest he's ever seen her.
Quinn blinks once when he brings his hand up to cup her cheek but doesn't move away or stop him when he leans in to kiss her, keeping his eyes open to watch her face, to see her lashes flutter when she realizes what he's doing. Then their lips touch and his eyes slip closed and his mind goes blank of everything but Quinn.
The breath she draws in when they pull apart sounds as shaky as Mike feels. "Why did you do that?" she asks, whispering. They're still so close together that talking at a normal volume would be like shouting.
"I-- I don't know," he admits, glancing down at her mouth. Her lips are perfect, bow-shaped and pink even now that the lipstick she was wearing earlier has faded away. "You're so pretty."
"So are you," she quips, reminding him that he's wearing more eyeliner than she is. He dips his head, and she brings her hand up to rest at the side of his neck, her thumb stroking along his jaw. "Mike." He looks up. "Will you do me a favor?"
"What?"
Her lips curve just slightly, and there's a little sparkle in her eye. "Kiss me again."
He's more than happy to oblige. After all, he owes her.