Fandom. MikeTina

Disclaimer: Glee © Fox/Ryan Murphy

It Was Perfect

By sakuracherish814

Puck was pretty sure that Mike Chang was in a depression. Like a legit depression. (It was starting to freak them all out.)

All they—or at least he—knew was that it was because of what happened at the celebratory football party Friday night. He hadn't gotten the whole story, but apparently while Mike had left to check on something with Matt, someone tried to force themselves on Tina. Mike took care of them, of course. Puck was sure he'd never seen such murderous intent in the guy's eyes. Ever.

In the end, nothing had really happened to Tina other than the fact the jerk had kissed her. Rachel and Santana brought her home right after.

But that was it.

Monday he hadn't shown up to school. Most of them assumed he'd been with Tina, but when she came back Wednesday, judging by the way the two avoided each other like the plague, that wasn't the case. In fact, the once inseparable pair was rarely together.

"Noah," Rachel says to him that Thursday morning, "I'm getting really worried."

He doesn't even need to ask what she was talking about. "I know. I've never seen them so…dead."

She flinches. "Please be mindful of your choice of words, Noah, I don't think it's highly appropriate of you in this situation. Has he said anything?"

"No. What about Tina?"

Rachel sighs and shakes her head. "She barely even looks at us."

"Then Finn and I'll talk to him," he declares.

A look of horror crosses her face. "No, Noah, I told you why we shouldn't do that! What if bringing it up again just furthers their melancholia or somehow make it—"

"Babe, I get where you're coming from," he says, cutting her off, "but Mike and Tina were already pretty shy to begin with, so I doubt just letting it go on will be much help to them, either."

"But—" she begins until she realizes she has no argument. "Fine."

Now you know something is wrong when Puck is the voice of reason.

They corner Mike during free period in the library.

"Hey," Finn says uneasily as he and Puck settle into the chairs on either of Mike's sides. Mike looks up from the book they were pretty sure he wasn't really reading (for starters, it was upside down) and the expression he has is so blank and emotionless that it nearly sends chills up their spines—it was like looking at the living dead. "H-How are you?"

Puck shoots him a Did you really just ask that? look and Finn clears his throat and tries again. "Mike, listen, I—"

"I already know what you guys want to talk about, and trust me, I wish I knew," Mike interrupts, and at first they don't really hear what he says because they're just shocked that they got him to speak at all. But his voice was soft and dead—nothing like the Mike Chang they knew.

"What do you mean?"

"Tina's been avoiding me," Mike mutters, "and I don't know why."

"Avoiding you?" Finn repeats. "She only got back to school yesterday and she's kind of been avoiding all of us." And so have you, he is tempted to add.

"It isn't just today and yesterday," he explains. "You didn't see the look on her face after…what happened. After I beat up that guy, I went to go see if she was okay, and she looked at me strangely and I think—I think she might've been afraid of me."

"Because you beat him up?" Puck asks. "He sure as hell deserved it."

Mike sighs. "You don't understand. You didn't see her. She's never looked at me that way before."

Finn and Puck look at each other.

"How am I supposed to feel with her avoiding me about the whole thing?" he goes on. On the table, his hand curls into a fist that makes his knuckles go white. "I tried texting her, IMing her, calling her—I even went to her house, but her parents told me that she locked herself up in her room and refused to see anyone. She won't even look in my direction. God, this is my damn fault, because I let myself get angry and it freaked her out, which is screwed up because I did it for her because I think I'm in love with her and now she won't even look at me—"

"Whoa, wait," Finn interrupts, his eyes darting to meet Puck's stare. "What did you just say?"

"I…" He runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with her."

"And you just decided this now?"

"No, I guess not," Mike sighs. "But, she's…she's all I can think about all the time and I don't want to stop it, either. There's just something about her that makes me want to make her happy, to just be with her, even if we're not doing anything. I can never really figure her out but I can't help but want to find out everything I can."

Puck places a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I don't know how it's possible, man, but I think you can talk as long as Rachel can without breathing."

Mike exhales a laugh, and frankly, it's a damn good relief to Puck and Finn to hear it. "Thanks, I guess."

"You do know that there's only one thing left to do right?" Finn asks. Mike looks at him. "You've got to tell Tina all of this. Maybe then she'll finally give you a reason."

"I don't know," Mike admits hesitantly. "I'm starting to think she doesn't feel the same way. How am I supposed to tell her all that confidently when I'm not even sure how she'll react?"

"Mike, the chick's crazy about you," Puck informs.

Finn nods in agreement. "She does what most girls do when they like a guy—she's always looking at you, always cautious around you."

"Tina's not like most girls," Mike reminds.

"True. But trust us," Puck tells him. "Tina is into you. Even I know that, and Tina is fucking impossible to read."

But Mike didn't seem as convinced.

The next night, Tina found herself in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Ever since last Friday, she'd been having a lot of nights like this: just sitting there, staring at her phone. Her inbox has dozens of messages, half of which are from Mike, and it's the same story with her missed calls. Her friends IM her online, but she just stares at the laptop and doesn't know how to reply.

There's a soft knocking at her door. "Tina," her mom says, "your father and I are going out to dinner. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I don't feel too well, Mom," Tina replies, not at all lying as she rests her head onto her pillow. "Sorry."

"It's alright," her mom assures. "Feel better, okay? We'll bring you back food."

"Thanks, Mom." Her mom doesn't leave immediately, lingering by her door for a few seconds before Tina hears her heels walking away, followed by inaudible conversation (most likely her talking to her father) and the front door opening then closing. Then, after she hears the car drive off, there was silence.

She doesn't even know how exhausted she really is until she falls asleep.

However, she is woken up minutes later by a soft sound. It had a melody to it, she realizes, and she listens for a few more seconds until she figures out it's a guitar being strummed.

The sound of her phone going off startles her, and she looks down to see that she has a new text. From Mike.

'Go outside.'

The strumming gets a little louder, and her heart nearly stops beating as she realizes who it must be.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and slides into her sandals as she stands up, walking towards the sliding door. Cautiously, she pulls open the curtain, and nearly freezes at the sight. Mike is standing there, in her backyard, with a guitar she recognizes as Puck's in his hands. There's a plastic bag with takeout on the patio table and the candles that were out there were lit.

She unlocks the door and slides it open. "What are you doing here?" she breathes.

"Getting your attention," he admits. There's a smile on his face—one she hasn't seen in at least a week—and she's pretty sure the nighttime air got that much warmer.

"You broke into my backyard," she points out.

He laughs lightly. "Yeah, I needed to talk with you." Then, a bit more seriously, "Do you want to join me?"

She hesitates.

"Please?" he asks softly, and it's as if a magnet is pulling her towards him.

Suddenly, she's standing right in front of him, peering up at him. Despite the dim lighting, she can nearly see his face perfectly, because she just knows it that well.

She gently reaches up, sliding her fingers into his black locks. His eyes flutter closed at her touch, as if he'd been starving for it, and it goes likewise for her. She feels her pulse racing at his reaction—that she is the one who makes his heart flutter—and she gently presses her warm palm against his cool cheek.

"What are you doing here?" she finally whispers.

He doesn't open his eyes. "I needed to talk with you," he repeats.

"It was that important," she begins, "that you snuck into my backyard with takeout and Puck's guitar?"

"You're that important."

He finally opens his eyes, staring straight at her as if he were trying to stare deep enough to get to her soul. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, which was an odd sensation considering she had chills.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You've been avoiding me all week."

"I'm fine."

He doesn't believe her.

"Really, Mike, I—"

"Tina, there's something," he interrupts.

She flinches involuntarily at his response, drawing back her hand, but he catches it and presses it back to his cheek.

"There's nothing to talk about," she whispers.

"There's nothing to talk about at all, or there's nothing to talk about with me?"

She doesn't answer.

(His heart drops in his chest, he can't deny it.)

He slowly pulls her hand from his face, squeezing it gently before letting it go. Tina feels the tears coming on. She wants to tell him—really, she does—but she feels a swelling in her throat, and the sight of him taking a few steps back doesn't necessarily help her cause, either. So she just watches with blurring eyes, expecting him to walk away.

Her eyes squeeze shut and her tears fall—she had expected that, too.

But she hadn't expected him to kiss her.

She sucks in a sharp gasp as their lips meet. He's kissing her fiercely (she definitely feels sparks) but also cautiously, as if he were afraid she'd shatter.

He pulls away, and when she finally opens her eyes, she finds him staring at her and her heart flutters. He never breaks his gaze, even as she gently lowers her hand from his hair and brings it back to her side. He makes no motion to stop her as he had before. Instead, reaches out and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. She feels the heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Tina," he whispers. "I—listen, I wanted to apologize for how I acted at the party. I didn't mean to blow up like that and freak you out but—"

She looks away from his face and places her hand on his chest. He stops.

"Mike, you didn't do anything wrong," she tells him, her voice faint and shaking slightly.

"But you've been—"

"Avoiding you?" she interrupts. "Yeah, I have." She takes in a slow breath. "But not for the reasons you think. So I'm sorry for misleading you."

He stares deeply at her. "Then what was it?"

She takes another breath, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he automatically places his hands at her waist, pulling her even closer. "You want the truth?" she mumbles as she presses her forehead against the crook of his neck. He nods slowly, placing his hand over her head and weaving his fingers gently through her hair.

"You did freak me out the other night," she admits. "But it wasn't because of what happened, or what you did to him. It was the way you were looking at me."

She feels the hand that is playing with her hair pause briefly.

"You looked at me like…like the mere thought of someone laying their hands on me infuriated you. You looked at me like, if my safety was something that could be bought, you would've sold your soul for it."

"I would have," he whispers. "I still will."

"That's the thing," she says. "It made no sense that you would look at me that way unless you…unless you just loved me the way I do you."

She slowly lifts her head from his neck and looks at him. "I've never had someone look at me so intensely, like I was the prize—the one thing you believed you couldn't live without. And, it freaked me out because I didn't know how to react to that."

Slowly, a smile begins to form on her face. "I know now, though."

"Do you?"

"Mm-hmm," she hums, stretching on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

He kisses her back just as eagerly, entangling his fingers in her hair and trailing them lightly against her neck, causing her to shiver. He presses his other hand tighter against the small of her back, pulling her flushed against his chest, and he feels her press her fingers against the back of his neck as they comb themselves through his hair, deepening their heated kiss.

They pull back at the same time, nearly gasping for air, and Mike slowly lowers himself until his head is resting against her chest.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he whispers.

She chuckles breathlessly. "It does that a lot lately, whenever you're around."

He lifts his head back up, placing a kiss against her cheek.

"Come on," she says, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together, "we should eat before the food gets cold."

"You never told me you could play the guitar," she comments, tossing her empty carton into the plastic bag with the other remains of what had been their dinner.

He chuckles. "I don't. I had Puck teach me just a few things."

"Why?"

"Well, it seemed more conventional than throwing rocks at your window."

"Very true," she concedes. "But not any less cliché."

He shrugs, and she beams up at him. "You know," she whispers, her breath warm against his neck, "you should probably get out of here soon. My parents might kill you if they come home and find us here like this. And I still need to dispose of the evidence—they're supposed to be bringing me dinner."

"Nonsense," he says, waving the detail away, "your parents love me. And it's not like we're in your bed—just sitting on it."

"That doesn't make much of a difference to my dad."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Her eyes widen. "No, no, no, of course not," she rushes out, "why would I want that? I mean I—I love you more than you could ever imagine."

He laughs lightly. "Relax, Tina, I was kidding." But he becomes more serious for a moment, reaching over to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. "But I love you, too. Just more."

She feels the blood rush to her cheeks but she manages to laugh, playfully hitting his arm. "Liar."

They pause as they hear the sound of tires pulling into the driveway, and Mike quickly pushes himself off of her bed, grabbing Puck's guitar with one hand while maneuvering her sliding door open with his other. He turns back to look at her as she gets off of the bed to follow him. "I'll text you when I get home," he tells her before planting a kiss on her lips.

"You better. Now get out of here, I hear the front door opening."

He laughs and ducks into the darkness of her backyard and out of sight.

She chuckles to herself before, as softly as possible, sliding the door closed again, locking it. She turns back around and does one quick check for "evidence" before leaving her room.

"Hi guys," she greets her parents as they are taking off their shoes and coats in the foyer. "How was dinner?"

"It was great," her mother says. "And you look a lot better."

"Uh-huh."

Over their shoulders, she sees Mike's face in the front window. He turns back to look at her, winking as he gives her a two-fingered salute. She resists her temptation to burst into laughter, and mouths 'Love you.' He smiles widely at her and mouths back, 'Love you too,' before finally disappearing.

"So how was your night?" her father asks.

And she's probably smiling wider than she should as she answers him. "It was perfect."

A/n. This struck me when I read yourdorkalways's fanfic "The Good Boyfriend" (go read it!) so I'm dedicating this to you, yourdorkalways!

I hope it doesn't suck terribly! It was one of those ideas for me that seemed way better in my mind, but as soon as I got to putting it into words, it just went downhill…

So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!