Status: One-shot
Always You
Nothing On You
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come watch us tonight, Pey?” a boy with golden locks asked, his callused hands cradling the face of a discontent-looking girl. Her fiery hair matched the look in her steel blue eyes almost perfectly.
“I’m not going to your concert, Kendall,” Peyton snapped, turning her back on the blond. His three brunette band mates all looked at each other before promptly fleeing to the car. They wanted nothing to do with a lover’s quarrel. Peyton Miller was not a person you wanted to fight with, and they were well aware of that.
“Peyton, we’ve been dating over a year, and you haven’t been to any Big Time Rush concerts,” Kendall said, stepping around to face her, his jade eyes pleading.
“Has it ever occurred to you maybe I just don’t want to see your tween heartthrob dance moves? Or be stuck in a crowd with a bunch of twelve-year-olds?” she retorted, looping her thumbs through the loops of her old denim jeans. She raised her eyebrows, challenging him.
“Don’t you want to hear us sing?” he asked, exasperated. Peyton snorted, and brushed her cinnamon colored bangs out of her porcelain face.
“You sing for me all the time. I work at the record label; I’ve heard you guys recording. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is, this is important to me. I love you, and I want you to be there to support me.” Peyton chewed on her plump, glossy bottom lip, looking up at the cotton-candy clouds. She couldn’t meet his eyes when this wave of guilt was flooding over her.
“Now stop feeding me that bull. What’s the real reason you don’t want to come?” he asked, slouching to meet her almond eyes. His gray beanie slid a bit from his blond and tawny strands. He always had known when she was lying. When they first met at the label, he’d known she hadn’t told him her real name. In her defense, she’d had a lot of shady rock stars hit on her during her years fighting her way up the ladder that was the label.
“Do you have such awful sight from those gorgeous emerald eyes of yours that you don’t see all of the ‘I-heart-Kendall’ signs in the crowd?” Realization flashed across his face, and Peyton looked away again, embarrassed by her confession.
“Pey, you know they don’t matter to me. They’ve got nothing on you,” he reassured her, wrapping his muscular arms around her thin frame. She sniffed a bit, snaking her arms around his neck. She rested her head against the black and blue material of his flannel shirt, taking in his sweet scent.
“Still, it’s intimidating. Kendall, you have these girls, literally throwing themselves at you. They spend day and night listening to your songs, watching your teenybopper show,” she paused, grinning up at him, her eyes shining sarcastically. “They probably would faint just to touch you.
“You’re famous, Kendall. You have a successful album with the guys, you have a popular TV series, and you go on tours and play for sold out stadiums. I’m just some girl in torn up jeans and an old band shirt. You’re way out of my league, and I don’t even know what you see in me.” Her voice cracked, and Kendall kissed the top of her head lovingly, cradling her.
“I don’t understand how you don’t get it after all this time. I love you, Peyton, every single part of you; it’s always been you. You always know what to say when I’m having a bad day, or what sarcastic comment to throw out there to make me laugh. You’re determined, smart, and unbelievably gorgeous. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s more than that. You’re the one that’s out of my league.”
“Okay, now whose feeding who bull,” she sot back, pulling away to raise her eyebrow at him. He just shrugged, a lopsided grin playing on his face.
“I wouldn’t do that, I don’t just make stuff up,” he said, putting his hands up defensively. Peyton crossed her arms, trying to hide the way the corners of her lips were twitching upward.
“Oh, ‘cause you didn’t tell me you had a three headed dog named Fluffy. You can’t even be original in your bullshit, you have to steal from Harry Potter,” she scoffed, and Kendall chuckled.
“That doesn’t count. You forced me to the bar, and I was slightly intoxicated—“
“Slightly?”
“Okay, more than slightly. But that is a completely different story.”
“Whatever, have it your way. That doesn’t change how great you are. You play guitar, you sing, you love your family, you’re on TV and in a band—“ Kendall cut off her rambling, pressing his lips against hers. They moved in sync, his hands sliding to her tiny waist, hers to the nape of his neck, twisting strands of tawny hair in her fingertips. They pulled apart, breathless, and Kendall leaned down, touching his forehead to hers.
“The best thing about me is you, Pey,” he said, breathing heavily. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a soft smile on her pink lips. She went on her tiptoes, slamming her lips back against his.
“Awe, you made up,” James called from the red convertible, his hazel eyes wide and innocent when the couple glared over. Peyton flipped him off, turning back to Kendall to peck his lips one more time. Carlos and Logan’s laughter echoed through the empty suburban block, but no one paid it much attention.
“So will you come?” Kendall asked, his raspy voice hopeful. Peyton crinkled her button nose, wiping her strawberry lip-gloss off his thin pout, allowing a sigh to gush from her lungs.
“I suppose I should,” she mumbled, causing Kendall to lift her in his arms and spin her around. She squealed, clutching his broad shoulders for dear life. He then laced his fingers with her tiny ones, running to the old, empty curb where the car was parked. Kendall kicked James out of shotgun, then held the door open for Peyton before jumping into the driver’s side.
The whole way to the stadium, their hands sat intertwined on the center console. As the wind picked up strands of her ginger hair, making them flutter around like ribbon; she couldn’t help but steal glances over at Kendall. His smile lit up his face as he sang along to the alternative song on the radio. Every stoplight, he’d kiss her hand, making her heart stop. She didn’t know much about where their careers would take them, but she knew they’d end up together, always.
“I’m not going to your concert, Kendall,” Peyton snapped, turning her back on the blond. His three brunette band mates all looked at each other before promptly fleeing to the car. They wanted nothing to do with a lover’s quarrel. Peyton Miller was not a person you wanted to fight with, and they were well aware of that.
“Peyton, we’ve been dating over a year, and you haven’t been to any Big Time Rush concerts,” Kendall said, stepping around to face her, his jade eyes pleading.
“Has it ever occurred to you maybe I just don’t want to see your tween heartthrob dance moves? Or be stuck in a crowd with a bunch of twelve-year-olds?” she retorted, looping her thumbs through the loops of her old denim jeans. She raised her eyebrows, challenging him.
“Don’t you want to hear us sing?” he asked, exasperated. Peyton snorted, and brushed her cinnamon colored bangs out of her porcelain face.
“You sing for me all the time. I work at the record label; I’ve heard you guys recording. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is, this is important to me. I love you, and I want you to be there to support me.” Peyton chewed on her plump, glossy bottom lip, looking up at the cotton-candy clouds. She couldn’t meet his eyes when this wave of guilt was flooding over her.
“Now stop feeding me that bull. What’s the real reason you don’t want to come?” he asked, slouching to meet her almond eyes. His gray beanie slid a bit from his blond and tawny strands. He always had known when she was lying. When they first met at the label, he’d known she hadn’t told him her real name. In her defense, she’d had a lot of shady rock stars hit on her during her years fighting her way up the ladder that was the label.
“Do you have such awful sight from those gorgeous emerald eyes of yours that you don’t see all of the ‘I-heart-Kendall’ signs in the crowd?” Realization flashed across his face, and Peyton looked away again, embarrassed by her confession.
“Pey, you know they don’t matter to me. They’ve got nothing on you,” he reassured her, wrapping his muscular arms around her thin frame. She sniffed a bit, snaking her arms around his neck. She rested her head against the black and blue material of his flannel shirt, taking in his sweet scent.
“Still, it’s intimidating. Kendall, you have these girls, literally throwing themselves at you. They spend day and night listening to your songs, watching your teenybopper show,” she paused, grinning up at him, her eyes shining sarcastically. “They probably would faint just to touch you.
“You’re famous, Kendall. You have a successful album with the guys, you have a popular TV series, and you go on tours and play for sold out stadiums. I’m just some girl in torn up jeans and an old band shirt. You’re way out of my league, and I don’t even know what you see in me.” Her voice cracked, and Kendall kissed the top of her head lovingly, cradling her.
“I don’t understand how you don’t get it after all this time. I love you, Peyton, every single part of you; it’s always been you. You always know what to say when I’m having a bad day, or what sarcastic comment to throw out there to make me laugh. You’re determined, smart, and unbelievably gorgeous. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s more than that. You’re the one that’s out of my league.”
“Okay, now whose feeding who bull,” she sot back, pulling away to raise her eyebrow at him. He just shrugged, a lopsided grin playing on his face.
“I wouldn’t do that, I don’t just make stuff up,” he said, putting his hands up defensively. Peyton crossed her arms, trying to hide the way the corners of her lips were twitching upward.
“Oh, ‘cause you didn’t tell me you had a three headed dog named Fluffy. You can’t even be original in your bullshit, you have to steal from Harry Potter,” she scoffed, and Kendall chuckled.
“That doesn’t count. You forced me to the bar, and I was slightly intoxicated—“
“Slightly?”
“Okay, more than slightly. But that is a completely different story.”
“Whatever, have it your way. That doesn’t change how great you are. You play guitar, you sing, you love your family, you’re on TV and in a band—“ Kendall cut off her rambling, pressing his lips against hers. They moved in sync, his hands sliding to her tiny waist, hers to the nape of his neck, twisting strands of tawny hair in her fingertips. They pulled apart, breathless, and Kendall leaned down, touching his forehead to hers.
“The best thing about me is you, Pey,” he said, breathing heavily. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a soft smile on her pink lips. She went on her tiptoes, slamming her lips back against his.
“Awe, you made up,” James called from the red convertible, his hazel eyes wide and innocent when the couple glared over. Peyton flipped him off, turning back to Kendall to peck his lips one more time. Carlos and Logan’s laughter echoed through the empty suburban block, but no one paid it much attention.
“So will you come?” Kendall asked, his raspy voice hopeful. Peyton crinkled her button nose, wiping her strawberry lip-gloss off his thin pout, allowing a sigh to gush from her lungs.
“I suppose I should,” she mumbled, causing Kendall to lift her in his arms and spin her around. She squealed, clutching his broad shoulders for dear life. He then laced his fingers with her tiny ones, running to the old, empty curb where the car was parked. Kendall kicked James out of shotgun, then held the door open for Peyton before jumping into the driver’s side.
The whole way to the stadium, their hands sat intertwined on the center console. As the wind picked up strands of her ginger hair, making them flutter around like ribbon; she couldn’t help but steal glances over at Kendall. His smile lit up his face as he sang along to the alternative song on the radio. Every stoplight, he’d kiss her hand, making her heart stop. She didn’t know much about where their careers would take them, but she knew they’d end up together, always.