Story Title: ABC

Chapter Title: Taste

Author: Mathais

Rating: T

Fandom: Glee

Warnings: Het/slash, some possible trigger situations for sexuality/racism issues

Pairings: one-sided Mike/Kurt, Mike/Tina, one-sided Mike/Wes

Summary: Being an ABC is hard. Being a bisexual ABC in Lima, Ohio is even harder. Mike deals.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and elements of Glee; I'm just here to play.

Notes: While there is a faint chronological order to some of the sections, the story overall isn't; most of it is just snippets.

OoOoO

Taste

The first time his container of leftover rice and vegetables ended up overturned on the ground, Mike cried and went hungry.

The second, third, and fourth times, he tried to hide in the corner of the lunch room to eat in peace, but they followed him anyway.

The fifth time, Mike asked for lunch money instead. His mother gave him a disappointed look and told him to take the rice, but Mike refused. His stubbornness earned him a slap on the hand, but the next day Mike got up early and made himself a sandwich.

Bread and ham tasted like ash in his mouth, but he choked it down every day. He was left alone after that.

OoOoO

Dim sum always made him smile.

He tore through the haa gaau and siu maai and inhaled the ngau coeng and pieces of lo baak gou as fast as propriety allowed. He sipped his sweet guk faa chaa and made sure to pour tea for his family too, and he was always rewarded with his relatives piling more food onto his plate, who all but demanded that he take some more ngau pak yip and he liked paai gwat didn't he, and he was a growing boy, so doesn't he want another lo mai gai?

All of the flavors, light and heavy, mixed in his mouth and lingered long after the meal ended. When he closed his eyes, he could make out the individual tastes for everything. He wasn't picky at all; he even ate the dou fu fa when he all but hated tofu in any other form save fried.

It was such a rare treat to go to an actual dim sum restaurant, with the unabashed conversation and gossip, the carts and dim sum ladies shouting out their wares, the clicking of chopsticks and cups, the dropped food and spills that would get them killed at any other restaurant but were just part of dim sum life.

He had to savor every bit of it, because the dim sum in Lima?

It paled in comparison.

Mike couldn't begin to list all the things wrong with Lima's dim sum, including the chicken feet salad ordered out of morbid curiosity and the fact that it continued serving late enough for dinner.

He had to admit that the chicken feet was decent, and the steamed pork buns weren't too bad either, but the waitress he had to order from gave him such a blank look when he asked if they had tripe or water chestnut cake.

(The less said about the spare ribs, the better.)

Despite all of its failings, the dim sum place was the best Chinese place in town, so Mike continued to go there.

Mike just wished there was a better example of Chinese cuisine.

OoOoO

Mike once showed up to a class bake sale carrying the dan taat his mom helped him make after much pleading. The other families took one look at his offering, the eighteen beautifully browned and slightly misshapen crusts with the bright yellow centers of egg custard, and they tittered to each other. They ended up regulated off to the side, but Mike was hopeful. He bounced cheerfully throughout the day, sure that they'd get sold, that everyone would finally see how good it was.

When he came back at the end of the day, there were seventeen egg custards waiting for him. The eighteenth, he saw being eaten and spit out right in front of him, after which the man complained about some weird China shit on the table.

He quickly gathered the leftovers and raced away. Mike was crying too hard to see past his tears, but he ended up in the park, hands full of cold pastries. He took the first tray of dan taat and smashed it against the ground, too ashamed to it bring back home.

As he was about to do the same with the second, a boy nearby spoke up and asked, "Why are you wasting food like that?"

"Because no one likes what I made," Mike sniffed. It was stupid, but he'd worked so hard on them, and he just wanted...

"Wow, you made them? Cool!" The boy bounced up to him. "Hey, you're from Ms. Moran's class, right? Can I have one?"

Mike silently held out what remained. He took one and gave it a tentative bite. Mike was astounded when the boy's eyes lit up and he crammed the rest of it in his mouth. "Ish so good!" he mumbled around the mouthful, hands already reaching for more. "You should eat some too!"

Mike watched as the boy devoured another three of them, and then he picked one up himself. As he fit into the pastry, cold and a little hard but still sweet and flaky, Mike could only think, "Yeah, it's good."

"They're better warm," he found himself saying.

He would later swear that the boy's eyes actually sparkled. "Oh man, these get better? You have to give me some next time!"

Mike grinned outright. "Totally."

"The name's Matt Rutherford!" The boy stuck out a crumb-filled hand. "Nice to meet you!"

"Mike Chang." He returned the handshake with a bright smile on his face.

The two of them ate the rest of the dan taat right then and there, and Mike would forever bribe Matt with them and more over the course of their friendship.

OoOoO

His first kiss tasted of chocolate chip cookies.

Huddled in a corner of the camp, eating snacks as they practiced their Cantonese, Mike was distracted by the way Wes's lips formed the sounds and phrases which had so eluded him. Without even realizing it, he found himself leaning forward and attaching himself to Wes's. He remembered vaguely that kisses had something to do with tongues, and so he slipped his tongue into Wes's mouth and tasted the chocolate chip cookies they both had had.

Wes's lips were warm, and Mike was getting into the kiss when he realized that Wes wasn't really responding. Opening his eyes (when had he closed them?), he found Wes looking at him with an unreadable gaze.

And Mike realized with dawning horror that he had just kissed his friend.

One of his best friends.

Who was a boy.

He squeaked and dropped the remains of his cookie. Before he could even think, Mike was on his feet, babbling something incoherent and retreating as quick as possible. He breathing sped as he ran as fast as he could.

He had just kissed Wes.

He had just kissed Wes.

And then he stumbled, losing every bit of his natural dancer's grace and landing in a corner, where he continued to cry.

He'd just ruined everything. Now, Wes would hate him too and leave him alone and then there wouldn't be anyone—

—anyone to hold him.

Like Wes was doing right now.

Through the tears and the snot, Mike looked up, but he already knew it was Wes. After all this time, he always remembered Wes's hands around him.

"I am sorry, Mike," were Wes's simple words, but he didn't move.

Wes still held him.

"You're... You're not mad?" Mike hiccupped.

"I am not mad. I... I do not think I can return your feelings, but we can still be friends, right?" Wes's face was drawn tight with emotion. Mike could see the guilt weighing him down.

"Yeah, friends," whispered Mike. Wes didn't object when Mike gave him a kiss on the cheek; he only went a little pink to match the tint crossing Mike's cheeks.

Mike would always associate chocolate chip cookies with Wes and his first kiss.

OoOoO

Mike worked his ass off, because this had to be perfect. It had to be everything it could be.

Mike would not settle for less.

He mixed the ingredients, fluttering from recipe to recipe in shifts. He drafted his little brother and sister for as long as he could until they mutinied and stole some of the filling, forcing him to banish them with a spatula waved like a scepter. His mom and dad flittered in alternatively, sometimes helping him mold or pack something, other times simply grabbing something out of the fridge.

When it was all done, Mike carefully packed away the picnic basket and got ready. He was sweaty and a little tired, but it was done, and it was with him humming that he met Matt at the park. Neither spoke as Matt spread a large blanket, and Mike began pulling dishes out.

And then they tucked out, talking all the while.

Over savory pork and chicken buns, they went over the latest music videos and dissected the dance movements in each.

Tucking into the pork fried rice, Mike related the last Glee gossip he heard even over the summer—the constant relationship fluctuations made his head spin, but it was so much fun to gossip.

Matt began predicting the future of the Glee club as they ate a spicy noodle dish with peanuts, with each dueling over the spicy mushroom side dish in the middle. Mike picked clean the bok choy and ceded the stir-fry eggplant and cucumber to Matt as they fought over who would end up with whom.

They split the fried water chestnut cake and the steamed turnip cake when they began drifting into the past year and all the changes that happened.

Filled to the brim with good food, the two of them lay back on the blanket and watched the clouds pass by.

Mike broke the silence. "I'm going to miss you, Matt."

A cloud passed over the sun, briefly blocking it out.

"I'm going to miss you too," said Matt softly. "I wish I didn't have to move."

More silence.

"I'll come visit you next summer, or you can come visit us," Mike said.

"I promise," Matt said, and Mike smiled. Matt always kept his promises—always.

They bumped fists, and all was right.

Mike, well aware of his full belly, still sat up and grinned. "I have one last thing."

Matt hummed and turned over, interest sparking in his eyes.

Mike pulled out a tray of dan taat.

Matt grinned.

Together, the two of them tore through the pastries. Mike laughed as Matt double-fisted his food, and Matt playfully elbowed him in the side, causing Mike to spew out crumbs in his laughter.

Even years afterward when Mike caught a whiff of mouth-watering egg custard, he thought of Matt and pulled out his text him a simple, "What's up?"

And he always got a reply.

OoOoO

Mike's mouth felt like he'd been chewing on fuzzy socks.

Mike knew what fuzzy socks tasted like, because of an incident which had maybe happened when he and Matt were seven, not that there was anyone who would confirm anything. He vaguely wondered where he was, and then he groaned when the familiar pains of a hangover made its way through his head.

Fuck alcohol; he didn't think New Directions had it in them (fellow football players and Cheerios notwithstanding).

And then he grabbed his cell phone and froze at Tina's message.

We need to talk. Meet me after Glee today.

Fuck, what happened?

Head pounding, Mike began exchanging horrified texts with Matt, beginning with, I think I fucked up, and ending with Matt's, Man up and talk to her.

He warded off his mom's concern at his headache and drank the resulting tea (he made a mental note to make a crack about panda hair tea at some point before realizing that the one left who would realize that what he was saying was actually sort of racist and thus appreciate the humor was Tina and his mind shut down) before suffering through the group's Blame It (On the Alcohol) rendition.

Fun fact: When Mike had a headache, he was pissier than normal.

Fun fact 2: The amount of people who actually knew that fact was very limited.

So, he ducked out of most interactions with anyone during the day, only getting a clap on the shoulder from a vaguely sympathetic Sam at some point. As his head pounded and the taste of night of alcohol still lingered even after all of the mouthwash, Mike waited for Tina outside of the Glee clubroom.

Mike had become very good at burying his emotions inside, but even now the pit of dread in his stomach was growing, gnawing at his already upset stomach. He fiddled with his phone the entire time—a nervous habit resulting from his inability to keep still.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to flinch. When he looked to the side, he saw Tina's expression, neutral but not unkind. "Do you want to head somewhere... quiet to speak?"

Mike's heart thumped. His throat was dry as he croaked, "There's a coffee shop. Not the Lima Bean, but..." he rattled off a name.

A small smile quirked the edge of Tina's mouth. "Sounds great."

The two of them first stopped off at Mike's place to get his mom's car (because Mike wasn't stupid enough to try driving with the hangover he had), and soon they were off. Neither spoke the entire ride, with Mike staring straight ahead. When he chanced a glance at Tina, he saw a pensive look on her face that he didn't want to dig too deeply into. Mike pulled into a small parking lot, and the two disembarked. He offered Tina a hand and tried his best to not look relieved when she took it without hesitation.

Inside of the coffee shop he and Matt used to frequent, he ordered himself a strong coffee and Tina, a tea which he knew she preferred. After grabbing their orders, Mike directed Tina to a relatively secluded table and sat down.

They did nothing bit sip at their drinks for a bit. Mike couldn't keep himself from shaking, but the coffee did calm him some. The bitter flavor helped wash away any remnants of the night before, and when he looked up, he found Tina's eyes a little soft around the edges.

"Mike, yesterday, you said something." Tina fiddled with the rim of her cup, but her voice was steady.

Mike didn't know his stomach could drop lower, but there it went. "I, I don't remember."

"Mike, I want you to be stra—I mean, I just want the truth." Heart leaping into his throat, Mike clenched his cup harder. Oh, god, oh god. "You said something about Kurt last night, about how you wanted to... taste his lips." She set her cup down with the precise click of glass, which sounded just like his world shattering. "Mike, are you—"

"I'm bi," Mike broke her off, looking down at the murky depths of his coffee. "Pretty much down the middle, but..."

"Oh," Tina said softly. She was quiet for a bit before asking, "Does anyone else...?"

"Matt, Wes," Mike said. He looked up, right into her eyes even though he felt his spine quiver. "You."

There was another faint, "Oh." Tina looked straight at him, and then her eyes softened. "Not Kurt?"

Unwillingly, Mike snorted. Tina's eyebrows rose, and then her face twisted with the sudden flash of comprehension and, for just a faint moment, pity. "Is that why Matt did that thing last year?"

"Yeah," he said without elaboration.

"It's not a problem," Tina asserted and reached out for his hand. Mike willingly gave it to her, and she began rubbing circles into his skin. "I mean, Kurt is one of my best friends, so it was never going to be a problem, as long as it didn't turn out that you were gay and using me."

"No, definitely bi," Mike said. "I just... I never wanted to stand out, and then coming out as bi would have made me..." He ran out of steam, but Tina's knowing nod showed she understood.

"Kurt made me want to try, but... I have you Tina, and that's worth so much more. I may be bi, but I love you," Mike said softly, staring straight into Tina's eyes, with all of her warmth and understanding and everything that shone so brightly.

It was the first time he'd ever said that, and by Tina's sharp intake of breath, it took her by as much surprise at it did him. But, heart beating fiercely in his chest, he meant every word.

Mike wanted to be strong.

Overcome, Tina leaned forward and kissed him.

Mike tasted coffee and tea and mint and Tina and...

It was perfect.