Glitter
Title: Glitter
Disclaimer: I thought we established this long ago – I don't own Ugly Betty. Never have, never will (unfortunately).
Rating: PG, K
Pairing: Daniel/Betty friendship, pre-ship
Summary: 'He just needed her to acknowledge him, acknowledge his admission. Tell him it was ok. Tell him it would be ok.'
Warnings: Vague allusions to Daniel/Molly, Connor/Molly
Author's Note: I haven't written D/B in so long, I'm feeling a little rusty. But season 3 has been all kinds of awesome in the Detty department, so I really wanted to write something and I thought it'd be safe to write a short friendshippy piece to get back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy it.
OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
This wasn't at all what he'd expected.
She wasn't giving anything away.
There was no look of cutting disappointment, no sigh of frustration at his admission of idiocy. She didn't even look surprised that he had managed to screw up. Again.
She just pinned him to the spot with soft brown eyes, her thoughts masked securely behind them and the lens of her glasses.
He'd been warned. But he had fallen for her anyway. And it had ended the way he always knew it would have. The only way it could have, if he was being brutally honest with himself.
Admitting his stupidity hadn't been a ploy to relieve him of his guilt, nor clear his conscience. It hadn't been because it was the right thing to do. It hadn't even been an option. He'd thought about it. Coming clean. But what good would it do? Not when nothing had really come of it, anyway - a broken, bleeding heart excepted, of course.
It had just happened. It had come tumbling out of his mouth, in one rushed, excruciatingly long breath. Somehow, she had forced it out of him without even trying. Not a single word. Just a look. And there it was.
And somehow it hadn't fazed him.
If there was one person in the world who could, it would always be her.
The silence had stretched on for far too long. It was no longer just merely uncomfortable; it was suffocating, fiercely hot and bitingly cold at the same time, it was venturing treacherously close to torture. And yet, she hadn't said a word. Hadn't even emoted a single feeling after hearing his confession. She had just stood there. Staring down at him, the light shining in through the large window in the wall that separated his office from her desk, illuminating her and her alone, casting shadows in an already darkened room that fit his mood and painted it so perfectly.
"Betty?" he said. His voice was small and hoarse, barely recognizable as his own.
He just needed her to acknowledge him, acknowledge his admission. Tell him it was ok. Tell him it would be ok.
She looked away. Her eyes falling on the floor, on the window behind his desk, on the lights of the building in the distance, on all the lights shining down on the always busy, never resting, never stopping, never breathing but always living, streets of Manhattan.
And then finally; finally she spoke, "Is it over?"
Her eyes were back on him. The lack of judgement in her gaze had stunned him, and he wasn't sure why, but it had brought with it little relief.
"It never really started," he answered – and it was the truth. Stolen kisses here and there didn't amount to anything, not when her heart had always been with him.
She didn't say anything more.
And he found himself loaded with the unrelenting need to say something. To fill the silence that had threatened to creep in again.
"I know I shouldn't have. Mom even warned me not to, but it just . . ." the words drifted off, the sentence unfinished, hanging mid-air. "I just thought, that maybe for once . . . that just this once, maybe . . ."
And then there was that sigh. Hardly enough to flutter a single atom of air around her, but somehow he had still felt it.
He looked up then and met her eyes. Sparkling eyes filled with so much emotion – undefined, unnameable.
It all burned through him, sparking and warming its way around under his skin, soothing and calming, letting him breathe. Something he had been so terrified to do, he hadn't even realised it, to let alone fathom it.
This was what had been missing.
But just as soon as he had been gifted with relief, it was snapped away without a seconds thought.
She had turned on her heels, and he had watched with mounting horror as she stepped closer to his office door, closer to leaving. Leaving him. Leaving him alone, with nothing but regret for bad company.
Maybe it was the heartache of the last few days that had numbed him and had made him forget; because, in all honesty, he had never really had anything to worry about.
Not when it came to her.
And true enough, thankfully, mercifully, she had stopped. She had turned on the spot, leant up against the frame of the open doorway, and had smiled.
And the panic dissipated. Just like that.
"Are you coming?"
"Coming where?" he asked, his heart rate returning to normal.
"Amanda's hanging out with Marc tonight, and I need help with my Christmas tree."
"Justin?" he asked. His question self-explanatory.
"He's had enough of glitter and tinsel, trust me."
He didn't. Not then, anyway. She was lying. He knew it and she knew it. She had always been a bad liar, and the smile on her lips had just proven it once again.
And so he laughed. And he wasn't surprised. An hour ago he could only have imagined being sat here until morning, miserable and mourning his awful luck when it came to love; but Betty – Betty always defeated the odds.
"I'm not taking no for an answer. And besides," she said, "The silent moody, broody thing is getting old Daniel – I think it's time to try something new."
"And that would be decorating Christmas trees, is it?" he asked her with a wry grin.
"No," she said, "That would be having fun, and just being yourself. No complications, no drama. Just pine needles and handmade decorations and lots and lots of glitter."
And then he smiled a little wider, felt a little lighter, and said;
"I can do glitter."
End
A/N 2: Short, angsty and sweet – hopefully, anyway. Please review and let me know your thoughts; feedback (as always) equals love.
Happy Holidays people!
SmilinStar
xxx