Title: The Skanks
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Quinn/undetermined and Klaine... I sort of want Faberry. What do you guys think? :)
Summary: Thanks to The Skanks, this was a summer Quinn would never forget.
Warnings: Swearing, possible fem!slash (undetermined), OOC-ness, AU-ish, etc.
Rating: T
Word Count: 647
Song: The Garden- Mirah
a/n1: I wanted to fill in the blanks for the Skanks before the next episodes do lol. Race against the clock I guess? :'D Oh well; I bet everyone is doing something like this! I really want Faberry right now, but if you guys don't... I will say this: no Quinn/Finn, 'kay? I really dislike that pairing.
Disclaimer: Do not own Glee! :D
Summer seems to drag on for Quinn Fabray.
Her "friends" called her everyday, texts filled with "where are you?"'s and "Quinn are you okay?"'s. At first Quinn indulged herself in her child-like desires to communicate with the group of misfit Glee kids—she gossiped with Santana and Brittany about Sam's trouty mouth macking on Mercedes, the "Kiss That Missed" video that was reminiscent of her morning sickness, and Puck's attitude (read: bitch/save) towards Lauren Zieses.
But as the sticky warm summer days dragged on, Quinn felt faker and faker by the minute. Her baby doll dresses clung to her like a second skin, her short hair cradled her face far too gently. And now that school was over, Quinn had no identity. She was neither a Cheerio nor Glee kid. She was just Quinn Fabray, fake and plastic.
She had thought about going on dates with the boys who winked at her at the mall—hitting on them seemed like a great prospect in the heat of the moment. But with her last crappy break ups Quinn was reminded of pregnancy and mono—basically, dating was a no-chance-in-hell choice for her.
Not if she wanted to focus on herself.
To top it off, her mother was a living nightmare Stepford wife (or in this case, a divorcee): she held white glove parties for all her country club friends, introduced Quinn to rich boys looking for a easy lay, and drank a variety of wines Quinn was sure that were foreign and increasingly expensive.
In hindsight, Quinn should have seen the Skanks coming. Afterall, everything else in her life was falling to pieces.
"Quinnie dear, could you run out and pick up some sparkling apple cider? My girlfriends from the country club are driving up and you can't have a good party without a decadent dessert tray and sparkling juices!"
Quinn, sitting at the polished marble island in the middle of her kitchen, looked up from her Cosmo magazine and greek salad. Her choppy, texturized bangs covered the inquisitive arch of her brow. "Why don't you just open up the wine cupboard?" she suggested. Her mother suddenly looked aghast, hand going to her heart.
"Do you think we're a bunch of drunken floozy's?" she said, voice suddenly hoarse.
Quinn thought back to the times her mother and father drank like sailors and giggled like children. She smiled curtly. "Yes. I do. But if you want the cider, I'll get you your cider." She pushed herself away from the island, hopping off the black bar stool. Walking towards the front door she toed on some ballet flats as her mother strode over, face taut with anger.
"Lucy!"
"Mother, I told you not to call me that." Quinn said warningly. She snatched her purse from the closet, but not before she dug her hand in her mother's coat and pulled out a credit card.
Her mother shook her head, hand going to her face. She heaved a sob and Quinn rolled her eyes. "Quinnie, you used to be so good."
As Quinn's hand turned the door knob, about to ignore her, an emotion swelled up in her, her head feeling clearer than before and her heart lighter. Braver. Rebellious. She looked her mother straight in the eye, something she hadn't done in a long, long time. "And you used to be so sober. I guess people change." As her mother gasped, Quinn gave into another indulgence: a victorious smirk.
And then Quinn walked away, a power surging within her that she hadn't felt since she was the head cheerleader of McKinley.