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Red isn't always a bad colour

Summary:

What if one day Josie Pye goes too far with her comments to Anne, causing some old insecurities to rise. However, while Josie is pleased with the results at first, would she have done the same if she knew all it would do was push Anne closer to the one man she wanted? The notorious ladies man, Gilbert Blythe.

ONESHOT

Notes:

I wrote this on a whim ages ago while procrastinating on writing Finally Getting the Life He Wanted and had it all typed out in an hour haha, the only time I ever write quickly is on a time crunch. I thought this was just a cute oneshot of what could have been for Anne and Gilbert so anyway, enjoy! Feel free to comment :)

Work Text:

Anne’s pov

“Anne. Anne!”

The girl in question spun around, grabbing onto her hat to prevent it from falling. “Josie.” Her tone was neutral, even polite, but certainly not friendly. Anne had long learned to be wary of conversation with Josie Pye.

“I was just wondering where you got your hair done in Charlottetown?”

Anne’s eyes widened. Since when had Josie ever had anything nice to say about her hair?

“After all, I need to know what places to avoid when I get my hair done,” she then laughed cruelly. “You see, unlike a poor orphan, I actually have standards. And you could only ever dream of a man looking at you, while I need to be looking my best for the queues of men wanting me, all desperate to take me to the ball.”

And there it was. The cruel, backhanded comment with just enough spite in to make it hurt that Josie Pye excelled at. But while she had always been nasty about Anne’s hair, that comment was especially vicious due to the upcoming ball Anne wasn’t part of. While certain Josie had made sure she was unable to come it looked completely accidental with Marilla being away that night with Mrs Lynde, meaning the twins care fell on her but the knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Anne replied diplomatically before leaving, no interest in entertaining Josie any longer. As soon as she was out of sight she sat down heavily in the woods, beginning to cry. In all her fantasy’s she met her Prince Charming at a ball and they danced all night and finally, when Marilla agreed she was old enough to go to them, she was busy.

Trying to console herself, she told herself it didn’t matter, she loved spending time with the twins and after all, what man would want her with her red hair?

“Anne? Are you okay?”

Anne wiped the tears off her face swiftly, turning around to see Gilbert approach. “Of course, I’m fine.”

“I saw you talking to Josie,” he replied, frowning. “What did she say to you?”

“It’s silly,” Anne said, sniffing.

“It’s not if it made you cry,” Gilbert objected, sitting next to her.

She rolled her eyes, looking away from his intense gaze. “She just made a jab at me being unable to go to the ball.”

“You can’t go? Or won’t?”

“Can’t, I would if I could. After all, I love dancing,” she said, sighing wistfully. “But Marilla and Mrs Lynde are out that night so I need to stay home and take care of the twins.”

“I can come over, help you with the twins if you like?” Gilbert offered, “Keep you company?”

Anne smiled. Gilbert was such a good friend. “Don’t bother, the ball will be much more fun.”

“I insist,” he said, looking so serious for once she laughed, holding her hand up in mock surrender.

“Fine, fine, you can come.”

“Great, glad that’s sorted,” Gilbert replied, lying back and looking at the sky, satisfied.

“You’ll probably regret it,” Anne warned him but he ignored he, replying “I’d never regret hanging out with you.”

Anne felt her face burn and she looked away, unsure of how to reply. While Diana never said it like that to her, that was something friends said to each other, right?


Anne sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The twins were hard enough to care for with three adults keeping an eye on them, let alone by herself. She hadn’t even had time to do her hair and she knew she looked like a disaster as she attempted to round Davy and Dora up who were tracking mud through the previously clean kitchen. Marilla was going to be furious if she came back to it in this state.  

A knock on the door had her halt in her tracks. Glancing at the clock which read 8pm, she frowned. Who was here at this time in the evening?

“It’s Gilbert!” Davy yelled gleefully, peering through the window before flinging open the door.

Anne stared at Gilbert, horrified. “Don’t you have the ball?” she managed to splutter out, quickly attempting to tidy her hair up before sighing in defeat. Gilbert had seen her in worse, it just used to be less mortifying for some reason. When had she started to care about what Gilbert thought of her?

“I promised I would come help you,” he reminded her, eyes flickering around the messy kitchen.

Anne sighed, now remembering the conversation he was talking about. “I thought you were joking,” was all she thought to reply, to which he shrugged, smiling.

“Good thing I’m here though, looks like you need a hand.”

Usually the implication she couldn’t do something, especially from Gilbert, would cause her to prickle but after the day she had she couldn’t muster up her usual spark, instead nodding and letting him in, missing the concerned look on his face.

Gilbert’s pov

His gaze flickered over her, taking in her tired figure and defeated pose. “What do you need me to do?” Since he was here he might as well try and take off as much work as he could.

“Um,” she glanced hesitantly around. “Could you entertain the twins in there for a minute?” she asked, waving her hand to the living room. “Just make sure any muddy clothes are left in here.”

Gilbert nodded, stripping the twins of their coats and shoes before leading them into the living room. Being an only child, he was unsure on how to entertain them so decided the best course of action was to ask what they usually did. “What does Anne usually do with you two in the evenings?”

“Sometimes she tells us stories,” Davy volunteered, “or if it’s dry outside we’ll stay out until our bedtime.”

“Right, well, what book do you want to read?”

“Errrrr,” Davy thought out loud, wandering over to the bookshelf when a soft tap on his side brought Gilbert’s attention to Dora. She pushed a book on his lap, looking at him with huge, hopeful eyes.

Gilbert flipped to the first page, about to start when Davy caught sight of the cover and broke into a wail. “I don’t want to read that!”

Dora shrank back into Gilbert and he frowned, feeling protective of the little girl. Anne had talked to him about her worries about Dora and how much Davy overshadowed her and the more he spent time with them the more obvious it became.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to Davy –”

“No! I don’t want to!” he shouted, stomping his foot and chucking the book he had picked up down. The three of them froze when the book skidded into a table, the groan of a vase audible as it wobbled before clattering to the ground. Gilbert darted forward but it was too late, smashing to pieces on the floor. He winced at the noise, guilt rising in him. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t help Anne? How could he ever prove his worth to her when he couldn’t even babysit two kids?

He spun around to Davy who looked horrified, Dora cowering by the chair. “Davy!” Gilbert snapped, his patience already wearing thin. How Anne had dealt with this all day he had no idea?

“It wasn’t my fault! It was hers!” he yelled, pointing at Dora. “If she hadn’t chosen that stupid book then –”

“Then nothing. You made that choice to throw the book, now you suffer the consequences,” Gilbert said sternly. He knew Anne felt for the kid and struggled to punish him but his behaviour was only going to get worse the longer he got away with this for.

“What’s going on? I heard a crash –”

The horror on Anne’s face as she saw the broken vase and her hands flew to her face. Gilbert was alarmed to see a tear slip down her face, which both Davy and Dora did too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it I swear!” Davy cried before flinging himself past Anne and out the door into the rain.

“Davy!” Anne hollered, Dora sobbing next to her.

Running a hand through her hair she looked at Gilbert, “I’ll be right back –”

“You’ll be doing no such thing.” At the raise of her eyebrow he marched on, refusing to let her struggle under this weight any longer. “Go put Dora to bed, I’ll get Davy.”

He could see her debating for a second before her shoulders sagged and she nodded, beckoning Dora to follow her up the stairs. Gilbert looked out the door at the lashing rain. This was for Anne.

He grabbed his coat and stepped out, flinching at the harsh stinging from the raindrops. He couldn’t imagine a small 8 year old boy alone out here.

“Davy! Davy! DAVY!” he hollered, lucky he had been here so much he knew the land like the back of his hand, now barely able to see two feet in front of him. Wrapping his coat around himself tighter, loathing the weather but hating the thought of Davy out here more he trudged on.

Suddenly, admits the lashing rain he caught a dark shape in front of him, stumbling towards the river. “Davy!!!”

The figure spun around and Gilbert’s relief at finding him was short lived when he slipped in the mud, falling towards the torrential water flooding over the banks. His arm shot out, pulling him to safety seconds before disaster and he tugged him under his own coat.

Never, ever, do that again. Okay?”

Davy gave a whimper, nodding as Gilbert fought his way back to the house, 90% sure this was the right direction. He’d never been so relieved in his life to see Green Gables loom over him, door open, Anne hovering in the entrance. Like she might do if she were his wife and this was their child, his mind whispered to him which he swiftly shut down. He shouldn’t be thinking like that, couldn’t be.

“Oh thank the Lord,” Anne cried, dragging them to the fire in the kitchen and taking Gilbert’s coat. “Oh Davy, you’re soaked.”

She bustled around the kitchen, making a warm cup of tea for Gilbert before herding Davy upstairs to put him to bed. Gilbert remained by the fire, too tired to prevent his thoughts from wondering to his future house. It was hard enough before not to imagine Anne as his wife but now, being in such a domestic setting with her it was almost impossible not to.  

At that moment Anne reappeared, frowning as she took the mug from his hands. “You’re freezing. You really need a change of clothes,” she said, eyeing his forlorn figure.

“While I would love to get out of these, I refuse to wear a dress of yours,” Gilbert teased, smirking as she threw a cloth at him. Rummaging around, she eventually procured a thin shirt and some trousers.

“I don’t know if these will fit, they were Mathews you see and you’re a quite a bit bigger and broader than him,” she said, her calculated eye flickering over him, the wet shirt doing nothing to hide his muscles, hardened by all the work on the farm growing up.

Gilbert didn’t know whether to feel sad about Mathew or giddy at the fact she thought he was fit. He decided to try to remain neutral but she didn’t seem that bothered at the smile that slipped through, saying “I’m flattered you ever thought to cast your eye in the way of a ruffian.”

She snorted, handing over the clothes. “As you should. My room’s upstairs, two doors down on the left. Come back down after and remember,” she winked at him, “no one, least of all Mrs Lynde, will hear about you being in my room.”

“I was never there,” Gilbert said teasingly with a mock bow, glad Anne had perked up a bit. He disappeared upstairs, grinning to himself as he imagined Mrs Lynde’s reaction or heaven forbid his mother’s if they found out he was in Anne’s room. As he changed, peeling the wet cloth of his skin with a grimace, he couldn’t help poke around a bit. If he told his younger self that one day he’d be in Anne Shirley’s bedroom he might have keeled over in shock.

Eventually he dragged himself downstairs, wet clothes in hand, knowing it would be suspicious if he was in there too long. He halted at the bottom of the stairs when he caught sight of Anne, humming as she twirled around the kitchen, putting away the dishes and finishing moping the floor. She looked gorgeous.

“Let me do that,” he offered as he placed his wet clothes into the growing pile by the door. Anne spun around in surprise, like she had forgotten he was here. Which she most likely had. “The dishes?” he reminded her.

“Gil, you’re a guest!”

“I’d like to think at this point I’m a little past a guest, unless you have a habit of putting me on par with Charlie Slone.” At her snort he grinned. “And I did let Davy knock a vase over so this is the least I can do.”

After a brief staring contest Gilbert inwardly jumped for joy as she let him pass to the sink, swiftly cleaning and sorting the dishes away. While doing so they started reciting some Shakespeare they had learnt at school together, seeing how much they could remember of it.

By the time they had finished all the chores, including repairing the broken vase that had Gilbert wincing every time he looked at it the rain had faded to a light drizzle. Now there were no sounds of thundering raindrops on the roof, he could hear the faint music from the ball and judging by Anne’s sigh she could hear it too.

“I’m sorry you felt you had to come here.”

What? Gilbert blinked as he looked at Anne, her gaze focused over to the Pye’s house, sorrow in her eyes. He must have misheard that, right? “You didn’t make me do anything? I chose to come here.”

Anne sighed, turning to him. “But you love to dance – ”

“I could say the same about you.”

She gave him a wistful smile. “Yes, well, I have the twins to think about. You should’ve gone. I know Josie wanted you to.”

Gilbert mimed vomiting at that, glad to hear her laughter. He hated that she thought he was here out of obligation. An idea then sprang in his mind and he offered his arm to her. “So, how would you like to dance?”

She blinked at him for a second, looking at him like a deer in headlights before smiling and taking his hand. “How could I refuse?”

Gilbert smiled, feeling elated. He was getting to dance with Anne! They danced around the kitchen to the faint tune from the ball, Gilbert barely able to breath lest he ruin this sacred moment. Anne might never let this happen again, but it would be one of his most treasured memory’s of his life. He could only pray it meant as much to her as it did to him.

The music was just coming to a halt, the ball nearly over and he leaned down to give her a soft kiss on the forehead, praying she wouldn’t kick him in the groin for it. Things seem to slow for a second as he went for it, only for Anne to look up at the same time and his lips, aiming for her forehead, met with her lips instead. They froze in that moment, lips locked, eyes wide staring at each other before Anne jumped apart from him, stammering apologies as she backed away.

“Don’t,” Gilbert said hoarsely, stopping her in her tracks. His lips tingled from the warmth of hers on his and he felt lit up from inside. He didn’t care about ruining his friendship with her anymore, now he knew what it was like to kiss her. How could he possibly go back to just ‘her good ol’ friend Gil’ now?

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t apologise.”

“Why not? I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone before –”

“Neither,” Gilbert said, thanking God fervently that Charlie hadn’t beaten him to it.

However, that knowledge only seemed to make Anne more upset. “I took you’re first kiss! Oh Lord,” she buried her face in her hands. “Not only did you kiss a good for nothing orphan, but one that happened to take –”

“A good for nothing orphan?” Gilbert repeated incredulously. He couldn’t have heard that right?

“Oh come on, you can’t act surprised! After all it’s true!”

Gilbert strode forward, determination flooding him. How Anne’s low self esteem had escaped him he had no idea? He hoped Josie wouldn’t say that to her but he certainly wouldn’t let that continue any longer, whether or not she was the root of Anne’s insecurities.

He tilted her chin up, closing his eyes and placed another kiss on those soft lips, letting himself sink into the feeling. Eventually he pulled back, thrilled that she didn’t resist it. “You are perfect. I don’t care what that brain in your head is telling you, or whoever is feeding you such incorrect information is saying because it’s wrong. After all, I know Diana told you when I came back while I enjoyed teasing the girls I never courted any of them properly because I was just too picky, that I would likely marry a girl from another island of a better standing. And here you are, my perfect girl from another island.”

Anne’s face flushed a fiery red. “B – but I’m –”

“But what? You’re intelligent, kind –”

“Don’t forget the horrific hair. Who wants their wife to have red hair?!”   

“I do! I think it’s beautiful,” he objected, frowning as he cupped her face. “I know you hate me being right but for once, please can you just believe me.”

He couldn’t believe he was pleading her, something he hadn’t done since begging for her forgiveness all those years ago, and judging by her wide eyes she couldn’t either but she nodded. They stood there silently for a minute, Anne’s hands resting on his shoulders, his cupping her face before Anne raised an eyebrow. “So, are you going to kiss me again or not?”

Gilbert laughed, happiness bursting out of him as he locked lips with her, feeling like he might actually be glowing. Finally, after years of waiting, she was his.