Nobody's Backup, a glee fanfic

Nobody's Backup

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Glee

To: asianvampirelady

From: toosexyformychair

Date: 23/02/2015

Subject: Nobody's Backup

There's something I have to tell you. I know I should've said it in person, but believe it or not, even my badassery has its limits. You make me nervous. Not just when you're mad, although you can get pretty damn scary then, but the way you look at me sometimes. Those brown eyes you used to hide under colored contacts see through me like Superman's lasers. Even after all these years.

Remember when we made that pact after the Klaine-Brittana wedding? That if we didn't find anyone else by the time we're 30, we'd marry each other?

I didn't mean that. I was joking.

I don't want you as my backup girl. You were my first, and I want you to be my last.

I'm not proposing to you or anything. Hell no. We've had enough under-20 engagements in this Glee club to last all of Lima, 4 if you count Sam and Brittany under Coach Beiste's fake license from the Internet. Which I don't. We need to like, graduate from college and get jobs and stuff before we even think about marriage.

But think about us. Carefully. Please.

If anyone told you about all that stuff last autumn, don't let it squick you out. I went to the doctors and I'm clean now. I haven't been with anyone since then.

More to the point, I hope I've learned a few things since we broke up at the end of freshman year.

Never tell your girlfriend how to dress or how to act, lest ye call down the righteous wrath of Madonna upon your head.

Never ignore her or take her for granted, even for Halo 2.

Don't assume that just because she's disabled too (or pretending to be – sorry, had to get that in there) that you'll fit together automatically.

Bitchy doesn't mean honest. And vice versa, kindness doesn't mean love. (If I promise not to tease you about Blaine and the Vick VapoRub, will you forgive me for Sugar Motta, Betty Pillsbury and those girls at NYU?)

Treat both your bodies with respect. (STD's are nasty, yo.)

I watched you grow up from a beautiful Goth girl into an even more beautiful vintage-dressing woman. I saw how happy you were with Mike, and even though I kind of fantasized about running him flat under my wheels at first, I was happy for you too. Then he graduated and – sorry, but it's true – watching you became like watching a train wreck. But I couldn't stop. And you pulled yourself together even stronger than before: you organized the most gorgeous Sadie Hawkins dance in McKinley history. You were there for Lauren, Becky and Dottie when no one else was. You owned "Gangnam Style" in a way Psy himself only wishes he could.

(I'm still bummed that everyone ignored Finn's idea for a foreign music tribute episode. We could've done "Rock Me Amadeus" or "Jai Ho" or that song from Haruhi Suzumiya. Off topic. Anyway … )

I love you, Tina Cohen-Chang. I'm not sure I ever stopped.

Don't write back right away. Take all the time you need. And whatever your answer is, I promise I'll still be your friend.

P. S.: How's this for a spontaneous romantic gesture, huh?