Grayson Gilbert

Grayson Gilbert & Miranda Sommers

                         B  A  S  I  C    S  P  A  C  E 
If only Grayson could stop time or ditch, he would. He really wasn’t in the mood to go to English. He never was. He sighed, slamming his locker and his eyes widened slightly seeing Miranda standing next to him. He hadn’t even noticed her walk up. How long had she been there? "What do you want?" He asked, wondering what he did this time to deserve a visit from her highness.

—-

Miranda had heard from Nik about his encounter with Grayson last weekend in the locker room, bloody and essentially knocking on death’s doorstep.  Needless to say, there was a certain fury and fire in her eyes as she approached, all but ready to rip off all of his clothes to search for these supposedly life-threatening wounds. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded rather crossly, her eyebrows furrowed as she stood in front of him. “Impaled with a stick or… whatever! Covered in blood. What the hell, Grayson?”

—-

Grayson looked down at Miranda in wonder before snapping out of it. “Want to say that any louder? I don’t think the lunch lady heard you in the cafeteria.” He retorted annoyed. At this point, he was convinced that Nik was the biggest source of gossip on campus. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to their episodes.

—-

She rolled her eyes in a dramatic display before she snatched him by one of his wrists hard and tugged him away from everyone else.  Originally, she was just going to find a private spot in the hallway to talk, but then she saw a utility closet, and well - it really did seem like a good idea at the time. So, she shoved him in there and shut the door behind them. “There. Private. Now, do I have to repeat myself, or are you going to tell me how the hell you’re even alive?”

—-

"I…" Grayson paused his comeback, realizing they were now standing in a closet. He had just followed her lead but couldn’t have she picked an empty classroom instead? His right hand searched around for the light switch because it was a bit ridiculous to be standing in the dark. Turning on the light, Grayson looked at her in disbelief and noticed how much room they truly didn’t have. He stepped away from her as much as he could against the left wall. It didn’t help much. "You want to know why I didn’t tell you? Why would I tell you?"

—-

Miranda was honest-to-god so furious with him that she didn’t even realize her, uh, very obvious err in judgment. Instead, she was advancing on him, moving forward despite the fact that he very clearly wanted space. Miranda didn’t care. Nope. Didn’t give a single fuck. Not today. In fact, her boldness took a step further as she reached for the fabric of his shirt, tugging it up to look beneath it. “Where is it? You don’t just get impaled and live to tell about it, Grayson. So, where is it?” she demanded, her free hand roaming over the planes of his (… wow, very… uh, nice) chest and abdomen in search for a wound that she didn’t know she wouldn’t find.

—-

There was anything to explain why Miranda was being so aggressive about his recent fight. She was a crazy person and he was just about to tell her that before she started groping him. What the hell, Grayson froze feeling her tiny hand run against his skin under his shirt. “Miranda. Stop.” He ordered, too shocked to even push her off. “Stop.”

—-

"No, you stop." she shot back, meeting his eyes for half a second. "You were hurt enough to have died, and I can’t—” Miranda wasn’t sure what she was going to say, because suddenly her hand was on his belt, and that was when reality decided that it was time to pay her a little visit. Her hand pulled back as though she’d touched fire. That was a definite … what the fuck even just happened? She was very bewildered and embarrassed and confused. Her heart was beating too fast, and her face was too red, and oh god when did this closet get so small.

Miranda straightened her posture and pushed her shoulders back, stepping away. “Okay, so… Nik lied. I guess. I don’t know— I … don’t know,” she swallowed and moved toward the door, opening it and walking outside, to several very curious and wide-eyed students. “Shut up, it’s not what it looks like,” she snapped before striding deliberately away with a furious clicking of her heels.

—-

The second that Miranda stopped touching him it was like getting hit in the face with a bucket of ice water. As usual, Miranda had ran off after their encounter. Grayson was furious as he chased after her, not paying attention to any of the other students in the hallway.

"Woah, woah. Where do you think you’re going?" He asked, catching up to her. "We’re not done yet." He grabbed her by the wrist and flung her back in the closet in the most literal sense. He instantly felt bad about being rough with her, but he couldn’t dwell on it. He closed the door with a loud slam and stayed at it so she couldn’t leave until they were done talking.

—-

Miranda made a noise that she immediately regretted coming out of her mouth. It was something of a yelp or a shriek. Regardless, she was surprised to be grabbed and flung back into that tiny room. Seriously, it was so small. How was it so small? And hot. It was really, really hot.

But now she had to pretend as though she was totally okay, completely fine, like she didn’t just get to (accidental?) second base with the person she was supposed to hate. “What?” she hissed, meeting gaze but wishing desperately that she didn’t have to.

—-

"You don’t care if I’m hurt or If I’m dead. You don’t grope me." Grayson yelled at her. "What’s gotten into you? Didn’t we just agree the other day to stay the hell away from each other?" He was irrationally angry, he knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. He just didn’t understand her and it was driving him crazy. "It’s getting hard to keep up with your many mood swings."

—-

She went from embarrassed and annoyed to frustrated and furious almost at once. Miranda dropped her arms at her sides and groaned irritably. “God, I’m not some heartless bitch, Grayson,” she said, sounding a bit more affronted than she wanted to. “Of course I care if you’re hurt, or if…” she didn’t want to say that other one. Didn’t want to go there. “I don’t know either, okay?” Miranda confessed, looking away from him. “Ever since Jenna got hurt, I just… I’ve been worried about a lot of things. Really stressed out. I haven’t really slept, and—” she shook her head and smiled self-deprecatingly. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you any of this.”

—-

Grayson calmed down hearing her explanation. Miranda was lost and confused. This was exactly why it was important to keep the Town’s secrets within the Founders. This was what Grayson didn’t want to happen to every other citizen. He still didn’t even know how Miranda knew about vampires or his involvement for that matter. “I get in fights all the time.” He confessed, he tried to be casual about it. “It’s nothing I can’t handle and it’s also not your problem.” He leaned back against the door. “You weren’t ever supposed to find about any of this.”

—-

"What do you mean, all the time?" she pressed on with what little fight she had left in her.  Stress and uncertainty was easiest expressed through pettiness annoyance for her. "What, are you like the male version of Buffy, or something?" Miranda crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. "I don’t know, getting impaled with a giant stick seems like something that most normal people couldn’t handle. Unless you’re literally Buffy," she sighed, exasperated. "I mean, I can’t exactly say I didn’t go looking. Save your lecturing. I snooped. I regret it. I know."

—-

"Miranda, this is family stuff." Grayson deflected her inquiries about his hunting. "I won’t talk to you about it. We’re not family." He was being harsh, but it was the best that he could do for her. "So I’m asking you again to back off."

—-

Even though he was right (and she knew he was), for whatever reason, it still hurt. She wasn’t even sure why. “Grayson, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not doing anything, because I have no idea what to even do here. I’m kind of just trying to figure out how to keep my little sister from winding up in some ditch somewhere, and in the mean time, trying to finish high school. And then somewhere in all of this, I started worrying about the little things. About people and what was happening to them. Even you. So, you can’t just tell me to back off, because I really don’t want to have to go to anyone’s funeral within the next few weeks, okay? Not because I look questionable in black but because it would really, really suck.”

—-

"This is the third time you’ve tried to talk to me about this. We can’t keep doing this. It’s gonna raise suspicion and I’ll be in major trouble." Grayson retorted. He rubbed his face in annoyance because she was terribly stubborn and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

"It’s simple, Miranda. Don’t invite strangers into your house. Don’t walk alone in the dark. Attacks are usually uncommon in town, but don’t take the chance." He took a step away from the door and toward her. "And no matter what, don’t try to fight one." Grayson sighed because he couldn’t believe what he was about to do. He unbuttoned his shirt to show her that he didn’t have any wounds. "Just stop worrying about me. It kinda freaks me out." He admitted. 

—-

"Can you really blame me?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Then again, I don’t know, maybe you find your brother an inch from death all the time. I mean, what do I know, right?" Miranda looked away from him again, too frustrated to look at him for now. Even as he started listing off instrutions, she busied herself with the shelves, the door — anything but him. (Though, truthfully, she also didn’t want him to look her in the eyes because he would be able to see that she was scared.)

It was only when he moved toward her that her head jerked abruptly up and then down … and suddenly, he was half-naked again and essentially inviting her to check him out. Her train of thought momentarily derailed, his voice brought her back. She looked away again and clenched her jaw. “Fine,” she lied, reaching for the doorknob. “Can I go now?”

—-

Grayson’s left hand quickly reached out, placing his on top of hers, so she couldn’t turn the doorknob. “Miranda. I need you to promise me that we won’t have this conversation again.” He stated looking down at her. This was important. They’d already been public enough with it and he couldn’t have any part of their conversation going back to the Council. “Especially at school.” Grayson waited to hear her reply when the doorknob started turning on the side. He looked at her in panic, for the first time, he was nervous about someone catching him with a girl.

—-

Talk about distracting. First he stripped, and now there was inappropriate touching. Miranda was so beyond confused and irritated and flustered that she just wanted to fly out the door and never leave her house again. This was so awkward, painfully awkward, like rom-com movie awkward. She really could have died, especially after how long she realized she had lapsed into silence from staring at his hand which was really hot. Hot, temperature-wise. Not— wait. What had he said?

"I- yeah, I promise," she managed to say before her hand jerked back and she realized someone else was moving the doorknob. "Get out," she hissed in a whisper to him. "You’re bigger, and it’s harder for you to hide. I’ll leave after you’re gone. Because I am not about to get caught in a closet with you.”

—-

"What? No!" Grayson hissed back in a whisper. "Don’t you think it’s gonna be suspicious for me to leave looking like this? Of course, they’re going to know I was in here with a girl." He explained. "Go out there and say you were looking for… soap. Lead them away from the closet for both of our sakes."

—-

"That’s so stupid. God, I thought you were supposed to be Valedictorian?" Miranda huffed. "Get out, or I will kick your ass out, literally. I will kick you in the ass, and make you fall out of this closet." She shoved him toward the door, ignoring how it essentially felt like pushing at a brick wall.

—-

"So basically you want to get caught in a closet with me. Wow." Grayson retorted. She never ceased to surprise him. "I have a girlfriend. Please, leave." There. He asked nicely.

—-

"Excuse me, no,” she bit back. “You are so full of yourself. I wouldn’t date you even if you were the last man on earth. Now get out of this closet before I start getting mean.”

—-

"I’m not leaving." Grayson refused. "You leave first. That’s what you’re good at."

—-

"Ugh, you are so infuriating!" she growled. "Grayson, if I walk out first, I’m going to look like a dirty tramp. You’re not a girl, okay? They’re going to know I was in this closet with you. If you walk out first, then I can wait a few minutes until the halls clear and leave. Don’t be a jackass about this."

—-

"A guy does not walk out of a closet alone. What do you think is gonna happen?" Grayson was ready to do something drastic, something he would regret later, just to teach her a lesson for being stubborn all of the time.

—-

"Oh, my god, why are we even still talking about this? Get out of the damn closet, Grayson. Seriously. You’re dating someone, and I just broke up with my boyfriend. Who has more to lose here? If I go out first, then they’re going to think you were cheating on Rebekah with me. If you leave first, making some lame excuse, your perfect little pristine reputation remains intact. Now, get. out.”

—-

"And just why can’t you make the lame excuse?" Grayson asked. "I still have to button my shirt. C’mon."

—-

"Then, for Christ’s sake, button your shirt and shut up already," Miranda was past the point of frustration. "I’ll give you a black eye if that’s what you want, but god, can you please just stop talking?"

—-

"If you would have left, then we wouldn’t be talking." He replied and let go of the doorknob to button his shirt. He looked over at the door skeptically, hoping the person behind it had left.

—-

"I am so done having this fight with you," Miranda said at once before moving back and sitting down childishly on the floor while making sure to look cross. "Get out."

—-

"Did you seriously just sit on the floor?" Grayson exclaimed aloud and looked down at her. "I hope you get a medal for actress of the year."

—-

"You’re still talking. Why are you still talking?" she closed her eyes and kept her arms folded over her chest. "You should be leaving."

—-

The loud, unmistakable noise of the school’s buzzer rang outside in the hall. “We missed English because of you!” Grayson was so over her. “Goodbye, Miranda. If I had any sense, I’d lock you in here for the rest of the day.”  Grayson shook his head at her. He decided to give in and leave first. There was anything left to say and she was still sitting there like a petulant child. With the crowd of the students rushing out of their classes, he hoped no one noticed him leaving. 

PARTNER: Miranda Sommers; part of TVD High School AU.
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