Against All Odds - Glee Cast

The first thing Luke thinks of as he opens his eyes is not the heavy hangover but his psychiatrist appointment. He looks over his shoulder, and everything he said and did in the last twenty-four hours hits him the second he sees her awake and too far away from him. He opens the email confirmation on his phone and shows it to her without saying a word.

"What is this?" Sierra stares at the screen, but not at him.

"My appointment. With a psychiatrist. I will get the meds, and I will take them. I promise." he explains. "Please."

"When?"

"Right after your birthday."

"Okay." she says and gets out of bed, stretching on her way out of the room.

Luke soon follows her example. The flat is oddly quiet, and so he enters the bathroom, avoiding even a peek of the mirror, and brushes his teeth, staring down at the sink and smelling everything that went down his throat yesterday.

The sound of silverware hitting the plate is all he can hear when he walks into the kitchen moments later.

"You.. I.. I was going to cook." he mumbles, frowning.

"It's fine."

"No. I cook." he walks to the stove after seeing two fried eggs on her plate. No veggies, no spices, no meat, nothing? he thinks. He knows she's perfectly capable of cooking a proper meal.

"It's fine, Luke. I can cook for myself." she keeps staring through the window, sipping her coffee. It tastes awful. She doesn't even drink coffee. She only bought it for her drawings-she mixes a tiny bit of it with water and covers the entire paper, making it look a lot older and, therefore more comforting.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Definitely not."

"Talk to me."

"I don't wanna talk." she shrugs.

"So much for communicating." he drops the spatula and turns the cooker off.

"You were the one to say it's pointless."

"Sierra."

"What do you want to talk about anyway?" she finally looks up at him.

"You're acting like you don't even want me here anymore."

"A strange feeling, isn't it?"

"Stop it!" he sighs. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I just want you to understand that I'm mad at me, too. And I don't like me either. And every negative thought you have about me, I have it too. And I'm sorry."

"Oh, I understand, don't worry. You don't need to explain yourself. I always understand." she leaves the table, and soon enough, the flat too.

Business trips written in their contracts were always something to be excited about, but right now both Luke and Calum are looking at the schedule put up on the wall in their office completely confused.

"Mr. Curt, we'd like to ask you something." they knock on his door, feeling like middle-schoolers walking into their favourite teacher's classroom to spend the long lunch break and ask for their lunch leftovers or snacks.

"Yes, go on." the man points to the chairs for them to take a seat.

"We can see that you put both of us for this trip to London." Luke starts.

"Oh yes, I think you boys will enjoy it!" he exclaims, so excited as if he was the one to go on this trip. It took some convincing those in the head office to put two workers of the same position together for a trip, but he never even thought of separating them.

"Mr. Curt, you know I have a little brother.."

"What, you can't go?" he sinks in his seat lower.

"No, no, it's just that only one of us can go at a time so that we can take turns living with him." Calum explains.

"Yeah, I can't put all the pets and a kid on my girlfriend to care about."

"Oh, I get it." he nods. "Nice to see such a strong friendship in your generation. I'll see what I can do, okay?"

"Thank you, Mr. Curt."

"Of course. I understand what it's like to bring up a child alone. And you're so young. I'll help as much as I can." he smiles at them as they leave.

Calum is grateful for any and all help Mr. Curt offers him, but most importantly, he's grateful for the understanding. Luke, Sierra, and even Ashton are all only kinds. They're not parents either. They don't know what it's like to be so responsible for every aspect of someone's life. They don't even know what's it like to live with a child that young. Luke was the only one who got somewhat closer to that knowledge-he was never a parent to Cory, but he was always a partner to Calum, which was enough at the time.

For the first time in over a decade, Sierra is doing nothing on her birthday except accepting gifts and picking up her phone every ten minutes to thank yet another person for wishing her a long life and smart students. A typical package for a teacher. The party is not crowded this time-Michael and Crystal are back in the States; Sierra didn't invite anyone but Kamila, and Luke and Calum are very much self-invited.

Kamila arrives last and is greeted by Luke, while Calum and Sierra guard the food from the cats. They also had to move all the balloons Luke decorated the flat with into the bedroom because every time the little claws pop the balloon, a piece of it ends up in someone's plate or mouth.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!" she smiles, shaking Luke's hand so firmly he has to tense his in response. Her curls look so much better than his and he has to hold back a question about the products she uses. "Sierra talks my ears off about you almost every day."

"I bet." he smiles back, looking down. "Only the good stuff, I hope?"

"That's the only one there is." Sierra shows up from behind him and wraps her arms around his torso. He shivers at that but covers it up a second later by carefully putting his hand on her waist as well, barely touching her.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, too. Hope you'll love it at ours, the party is gonna be boring."

"It's not!" Sierra nudges him, and he can tell that punch is very much intended. Like she was longing for it.

She gives her a tour of their flat, explaining in the smallest detail how and why they did or chose the furniture, or the colour of the wall, or the material of the kitchen cabinets. Sierra's drawings and canvas catch Kamila's attention so the next half an hour they spend on evaluating her art. Pointing to every second painting, Kamila keeps repeating how 'it's so William Turner'.

As the usual bartender, Luke makes everyone a drink, and they finally move on to celebrating her sweet twenty-five. Calum exchanges a few looks and conversations with Kamila but it doesn't lead to anything except for getting one taxi home for the both of them. Definitely for financial purposes only. At least that's what Calum convinces himself of when he lays in his bed that night. Sierra's never heard her talk of boyfriends, or even a crush at that point. And she is an art teacher. Chances are, she's very far from being interested in him. He's sure.

Luke follows the noise of the TV to the living room to find Sierra half-asleep on the couch, an old Disney cartoon in the background soothing her deeper and deeper to sleep. He picks her up and tip-toes to the bedroom, but before he can lower her into the bed, she grips his neck tighter. He puts her down and takes his hands off of her, but the grip is still there. He frowns but doesn't move.

Without opening her eyes, Sierra inhales his perfume deeply and mumbles into the crook of his neck, "I really liked today. Thank you."

Luke scoffs at her with a smile and tries to put her down again, but feels a kiss on his neck. So tender and so sloppy. He gives in and goes down with her. She quickly shifts from his neck to his lips, and now there's no going back for either of them. Unless Luke finds his self-control. And he does the second she takes off his shirt.

"I don't wanna start anything before we actually make up." he pulls his lips away just enough to speak.

"Come on, you're not gonna fuck me on my birthday?" Their regular physical closeness is not something she is ready to give up because of her pettiness.

"I'm not here to fuck you." he moves further away, a deep frown on his forehead.

"What, are you gonna make love to me?" she mocks him, pouting.

"I love you, so yeah, that's the plan."

"Do it then." she shrugs. "I don't care what you call it."

"Sierra, please. I know I fucked up. I know. I'm sorry."

"Then make it up to me." she takes off her shirt as well, locking eyes with him.

"You're drunk." Luke says, now getting up completely.

"It's not like you're not."

He shakes his head. "I didn't drink. My appointment is tomorrow. It'll be difficult enough to take the meds and not drink, so I'd rather take it slow beforehand."

"Oh, okay."

She gets on her feet, too, and opens the bottom drawer of the nightstand, taking out the box Luke once teased her about when they were moving. Luke follows her movements with his eyes as she disappears into the bathroom. The water starts running, and he sighs, sitting on the bed again.

Sierra locks the door behind her instead of leaving it open for the cats to roam around and runs herself a bath. Anything to cover the noises coming out of her mouth every few seconds as she gasps for air, trying to stop her crying. She takes her time in the steamy room, hoping he's asleep by the time she returns to bed. Hoping he's annoyed. Upset. Maybe even furious. Anything to match her mood and not make her heart sink every time she talks to him.

He's not. None of those things. He's in the same position, just waiting for her.

She crawls into bed without a word and turns on her side away from him, already predicting how numb her right arm is going to be in the morning. Luke watches her for a minute or so and soon is under covers as well.

"Please, get some sleep." he whispers.

"I'm trying." she grunts quietly.

"Okay, you don't want to see me? I'll turn away. And you lay properly and sleep." he turns on his left side. "Jesus Christ." he pauses. "Love you."

"Love you too." she whispers.

The clock ticking counts every second of strangling silence, and they both, afraid to even breathe, pray one of the kids makes a sound, but they're all fast asleep.

"Why do you sleep on your back only?" he asks after a few minutes.

Sierra looks over at him and almost reaches to put her hand on his body. "I hurt my back when I was twelve. My classmate picked me up and threw me on the floor. I was scared to tell anyone, so I went on the internet to find out how to reduce the pain. Going to a doctor was not an option, knowing my mother."

"She'd blame you?"

"For sure. I blamed myself too." she fiddles with her fingers. "I had the biggest crush on the guy, and just the fact that his arms were around me made me forget what a bully he was."

"I'm sorry about that." he knows she nodded in reply. "Have you ever seen me for what I am?" he asks carefully. "Not like your crush?"

Sierra thinks for a second before replying what she's prepared specifically for him. "Yeah, right now."

His arms are covered in goosebumps as soon as she replies, and the dots in his brain finally connect-his only chance is now.

When Luke enters the psychiatrist's office, he's already rehearsed all the answers and questions there might be, and giving the impression of a robot is not his concern at all-it's not like these doctors truly care about his well-being.

"Do you drink coffee regularly?" the doctor asks, holding his fingers right above the keyboard, ready to type in the answer. The man is not much older than Luke, which seems weird to him. He's only ever had old dudes tell him to go outside more and make some new friends.

"No, never. Can't stand the smell of it."

"You've taken medication before, right? Do you remember what it was? Did it help you?"

"I don't remember the name, but it stopped all the feelings completely. I was like a canned fish." Luke replies and immediately shuts his eyes in embarrassment.

Feeling like a canned fish was a saying only in his family-Sierra enlightened him back at school that no one actually says that. It seemed to him back then that she knew all the metaphors and sayings in the world. But this one, specifically, originated from the time when Luke and his father went fishing for the first and last time. When they got home with the haul, his mother went to cook the fish, but Luke protested. He couldn't watch her kill it, not realising he was the one who caught it and brought it to her. That was when he stopped eating fish-he'd never liked it before anyway. Every time his father tried to feed him fish-'It's for the brains,' he said-Luke always refused, saying the fish had feelings. Then his father introduced him to canned fish. 'This one has no feelings, I promise you.'

"How are you with impulses? Rage?" the doctor asks then.

"Only internal. I don't hurt people. Physically." he adds.

The man nods, and Luke waits. He waits and waits and then waits some more until he finally gets the question out.

"Does this medication have weight imbalance as a side effect?"

"You have problems with food? Body image?"

He looks up at him, and Luke lowers his eyes at once.

"Uh, yeah, both."

Luke sees the doctor erase the text on the computer and wonders if that was the first time a medical worker verily heard him. He keeps typing and clicking and making all those sounds that somehow calm Luke down, and then he suddenly stops and makes eye contact with him, getting his attention by clearing his throat.

"You do know medication alone-"

Here it goes again. Just when Luke was about to cheer inside and think of this man highly.

"Isn't completely effective, yes, I know."

"DBT is something I recommend for patients like you. You're very self-aware."

"I've been told. Can I have the prescription?" he reaches for the desk with an open palm.

"Sure." he gives him the number. "You're not going to try therapy, are you?"

"No." Luke gets up.

"Maybe give yourself a chance? You're so young."

"Have a good day, doctor."

On his way home from the pharmacy Luke outlines an entire speech of all the promises he will make for her, knowing he's bound to break at least a third of them. He doesn't want to, but that's what always happens. It's the promises, and they break them every time.

But when he turns the doorknob, the sight of curled up in bed and quietly crying Sierra makes him forget his own name. He walks up to her slowly, not knowing if he's allowed to, and gently touches her shoulder. She looks up at him and nods, sitting up and clinging to him.

She shows him a picture from her family album. It's black and white, faded, can't have been from past the seventies. A woman no older than thirty is sitting by the side of a sea, a polka dot swimsuit on her. "She was the only one in that family who always understood me. Every time my mother and I would fight, she'd always be on my side. My." Sierra touches her chest and her fingers quickly catch the necklaces, reminding her of the other two most important people in her life. Both alive. "Not her daughter's. She really loved me, you know. I've always aspired to be like her." she takes the picture back from his hands and traces the silhouette. "Not marry a guy I'd spend forty years being a servant to, but to be so loving and accepting like her."

"I didn't know her, but I'm sure you are a lot like her. And she'd be proud to know that." he whispers to her.

The only thing he knows about her grandmother is that she was always around for her. She would take her in when the girl was too little to be left alone for the night. She took her to all her painting classes. She taught her gardening. She read books with her which is why now Sierra's bookshelves are bigger than her closet. She taught her knitting, and they made her first handmade scarf together. It was bright blue and probably too long-she could wrap it around her neck at least four times. But it was the warmest thing she's ever owned. Her grandmother was the only one who wanted Sierra here from the start. He found out by accident. The very few times her mother did allow friends over always ended up in arguments in the kitchen. He couldn't help but overhear.

"You think you're so brave for talking back to me? To the one who raised you?" her mother dragged her out of the room because 'fighting in front of guests isn't polite'.

"The only thing you care about raising is some random dude's dick." Sierra said, already knowing her cheek would be met with the palm of her mother's hand.

Luke couldn't see her but he knew her lips were pursed. Sierra always talked about those damn pursed lips before the hit. The same expression every time.

"I almost died giving birth to you, and this is how you pay me back?"

"I don't owe you anything to pay you back! Dad told you to get an abortion. You didn't. It was completely your choice to bring me here. The wrong choice."

He'd never heard her yell before. He realised he'd never seen her angry either. Irritated, sure. Strict, yes. But this furious is the first time for him.

"So you're not mad at him for not wanting you born in the first place but you're mad at me?!"

"At least he knew he hadn't been ready and couldn't have given me a proper life. But when I was born he never for a second made me feel I shouldn't have been born. He likes me for me." Sierra lowered her voice as if trying to see if she believed in that herself. "But you despise yourself so much that even your own daughter is an obstacle for you. You raised me. Everything you hate about me is you. Don't ever forget that."

Sierra keeps crying in his arms just like she did that night almost ten years ago. As if they're fifteen again, as if they're just best friends again.

"I really miss her."

"I know." he nods and kisses the top of her head on his shoulder.

I need you, she wants to say but stays quiet. Something in her wants to stay like this forever.

"My dad said love changes people." she says instead.

"I don't think it changes. It just reveals who you are."

"Who am I?" she looks up at him.

"I don't think you needed to aspire to be like her." he points to the photo again. "Maybe you needed a healthier cycle of love-to give and to get. And that's how you became her. Loving and accepting."

"Am I actually that accepting if I keep trying to push you to change? I don't even mean to- I don't want you to change, you know. I fell in love with just the way you've always been."

"You've answered your own question." he smiles. She keeps quiet, sensing how close she is to him. "I'm sorry. About what I said. You are worth living for. In fact, I think you're the only thing that's worth living for."

She chuckles.

"Listen, I want to make this work. I want this, I want us." he makes her look at him, and her smile fades.

"Still?"

"Yes, still. Always." he nods. "It was never you, okay?"

"I'm not a trigger to you?"

"No, no. I am. It's me against myself. Not you, okay? I love you." he cups her face, finally brave enough to face her for longer than five seconds.

"If it's you who's the trigger, you shouldn't take it out on me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. I saw it." she nods. "I just can't come to terms with the fact that there's a part of you that hates me."

"It doesn't. It's capable of it, but it doesn't. It will never win over the love I have for you, okay?" he pauses to think. "Not that there's a fight between them. God, I worded it completely wrong-"

She laughs at him, her tears finally drying up, letting her eyes smile as well. "Make them friends."

thank you so much for reading and please don't forget to vote in the end!! happy holidays and see you soon xx