Quinntana Week 2014 – Day One – Quinntana Begins
This went a little awry – and I'm blaming that on tomorrow being Fluff/Comfort, something I do not take to well – so forgive me.
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Firsts & Lasts
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The first time you saw Quinn Fabray, you were eight, and the two of you were wearing the same white dress at Maddy Goldberg's birthday party.
There you were, standing on the edge of the group, pretending to be interested, and in walks Quinn, with her posse of friends. You didn't know her, you only knew of her. However, her reputation wasn't enough to scare you, the fierce Santana Lopez, off. One of you had to change, that was obvious, but you were certain it wasn't going to be you, and likewise, Quinn thought the same.
She had clocked you the second she came in, her eyes narrowing at you, and then your dress, and you knew what was going through her mind. You weren't going to back down if some daddy's little princess asked you to change. It didn't matter that Maddy would lend you whatever dress you wanted, you were staying as you were. This was a battle of wills, and the other girls at the party were catching on to it, too.
So, to best deal with the situation, you squared your shoulders and took off across the lawn. Maddy was biting her lip as you approached, and Quinn's posse already looked ready to wet themselves. But not Quinn. She looked at you like you were a challenge. So with all the confidence an eight year old can have, you complimented her dress, your dress. She immediately cocked her eyebrow, a move you now think she probably had perfected as a baby, and smirked.
"Yours is stunning, too," she replied, her voice sickly sweet with all the hints of fake-ness, but she was actually being genuine. She might not have been happy you were wearing the same dress, but she definitely wasn't implying the dress was ugly.
And somehow, from such a simple gesture, the two of you stood side by side, and ended up being the girl's everyone else wanted to talk to. Both of you didn't dare partner up with anyone else for the games Maddy had planned, and heaven forbid
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer; because that's exactly what you both saw each other as, competition, an enemy. Quinn knew you were a threat to her social standing, and you knew that Quinn was going to do what she could to keep you from the top.
It only made sense that the two of you would band together, in equal footing, and make the most of the opportunity presented. If Quinn stopped going after you, you could safely sit at the top of the social hierarchy, and in doing so, you'd have her back. The girl clearly needed a proper friend, not just another member of the posse, and you could easily take that place.
And, come the following week, at Stacy Lewis' house, everyone was wearing the dress Quinn and yourself had been wearing the week before. To ensure that neither of you were out doing the other, Quinn and you wore exactly the same blue dress, and never left the other's side.
*0*0*
The first time you kissed Quinn Fabray, you were fifteen, and the two of you were in your bedroom studying.
Or rather, you had been studying, but after so many minutes of staring at a math equation neither of you could do, you both opted to procrastinate for a little while. That meant going through the latest school gossip, who was dating who, and then who was cute.
"I actually think Finn is pretty cute," Quinn offered, shrugging her shoulders. She was sprawled out on your bed, her feet at your pillows and her head at the foot of the bed, where her math books were cluttered. You sat at the desk watching, ready to throw in your two cents.
"Yeah, if you want a bumbling idiot as a boyfriend," you replied, shaking your head in return. Finn was not good boyfriend material for Quinn.
"Well, maybe I do," she supplied, catching your attention. "He's easier to manipulate that way. Plus, at least I won't have to do anything with him, unlike if I was dating Puck."
"Ewe, don't date Puck, he'll have you knocked up before you graduate." And that thought had you glaring at the floor, your fist clenched, with a wave of emotion making you feel like killing him. It wasn't the first time you'd experienced that, because any time the thought of Puck even attempting to touch Quinn, you wanted to put his balls in a blender. But that was the same for anyone even attempting to touch Quinn; it pulled out the jealous and protective side of you.
"Don't I know it," Quinn murmured, rolling onto her back, staring at your ceiling, having missed your train of thought. "Why can't it just be easy?" she asked.
"Easy?" you questioned in return.
"Yeah. Why can't it be like in the movies or on the tv shows, where I fall in love with my best friend, or I meet the love of my life at some party and everything is perfect," she wondered, and you watched her carefully.
You were going to have to tell her eventually, or it was only going to get harder. At sixteen, the two of you were expected to have boyfriends and be up to no good. And eventually there would be a guy who would catch Quinn's attention, and then what? What would you do? Would you settle for missing your chance? No, probably not, but you would never put Quinn in that position, of having to choose.
That meant you needed to confess before all that happened, before she had to choose, before there was a boyfriend to complicate things, and before you potentially lost her.
"Well, maybe you could fall in love with your best friend," you said, with no hint of nonchalance, like one would expect usually.
"Santana, you're my best friend," Quinn replied quickly, waving her hand dismissively, still staring at the ceiling.
"I know," you replied, letting the words sink in.
Quinn paused and then slowly stopped what she was doing, rolling onto her side, to look at you, as if she hadn't heard you right. It was, though, and you could see her processing what you'd said, running through all the ways of how to misinterpret that and then coming to the same conclusion; she couldn't misinterpret what you were saying.
And that moment, that moment was your bravest, staring back at her, unwavering in your certainty. You already knew where you stood, and had since you were thirteen. You'd walked in her shadow, you'd had her back since that day at Stacy Lewis' house, and you'd protected her from the likes of Puck and his sleazy hands. And why? Because she was your best friend, sure, but it was more than that. It was so much more than that.
Quinn knew it too, from the looks of things.
Keeping your gaze, she gestured you closer, with her staying put on the bed, lying on her stomach, perching on her arms, still looking at you. And you moved, you had to, you always did as she asked, and this time was no different, so you moved, you moved closer until you were kneeling before her at the bottom of the bed.
Yes, the carpet was hurting your knees, and the Cheerio skirt gave you nothing to lean on as it was so damn short, but she was looking at you as though something had just clicked, and you were desperate to know what it was. Your knees would heal; your friendship might not, depending on what was to happen.
Slowly, and ever so carefully, Quinn's hand reached out, cupping your cheek, and pulling your face forward. You swallowed the lump in your throat and moved in, your forehead leaning on hers, feeling her breath across your lips, and hearing the catch in her throat. Your eyes never left hers, not even to glance down to the lips you were so desperate to kiss. You needed to know what she was thinking, to see if she was going to freak out. But none of that was there, none of that was in her eyes, and they looked nothing but confident, and a little turned on. Though, the latter might have been wishful thinking on your part.
"Q," you whispered, scared to break what was about to happen, but desperate to know what her next move was going to be. You didn't count on your lips ever so slightly touching hers as you spoke, nor did you count on her slight whimper as she closed the distance.
Her kiss was soft, tentative, showing the uncertainty she was clearly trying to hide, but also revealing the confidence she felt as her lips brushed yours again, and again, and her hand moved into your hair. You tried to stay calm, to hold back the lust running round your system, but then her tongue swiped against your lip, followed by a nip of your bottom lip, and you couldn't fight back the moan.
You were panting as you kissed her back, your tongue meeting hers, her fingers scratching against your scalp, pulling you closer, your knees scraping against the carpet, and it was so much more than you ever expected. The slight hesitation was gone, and she was kissing you back with as much want as you had for her. And this, this moment, this was your defining moment, with her lips on yours, and your heart in her hand.
"We should get back to our homework," Quinn whispered, ending the kiss slowly, bringing it to a natural end. You were still catching your breath, your body abuzz with her, but you nodded, assuming that was the right thing to do.
Shuffling back from the bed, you wondered if she was going to freak, if she was going to run, but then her hand was on yours, pulling you back in, and her kiss was sweet, tender, a sign. She smiled at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, and you returned her smile, appreciating the gesture.
Whatever was to happen, you were content knowing you had made your feelings known. You weren't a coward pinning after your oblivious best friend. You'd given a hint, and she'd kissed you like that was the answer she had been searching for all along. And that, you were never going to forget, because whether it moved forward, at that moment, she had wanted you just as much as you had wanted her.
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The first time you told Quinn you loved her, you were seventeen, and it had been long overdue.
The two of you were dating, were going steady, whatever you wanted to call it, you two were together. It had been slow, a nervous process of should you or shouldn't you, and in the end, you were glad you did. It took a lot of time, a lot of discussions, to get to now, where you both could be sitting in your back yard, Quinn lying against you, holding your hand under the afternoon sun, while your parents were inside.
With so much extra stress, the stress of coming out, the stress of school and parents and life, it meant adding any more burdens to your relationship might just sink it. Or, at least, that's what you thought.
So you held back, you went on dates, you made sure to tell Quinn how stunning she was, how she made you so happy, and you did everything you could to show her, too. You were saying the words without saying them, and had been for over a year. You didn't want to scare her off, you didn't want to frighten her away.
She might have loved you as a best friend, but loving you as a lover, that was something entirely different. You may have already been there, you may have already known you would follow her to the end of the earth, but she hadn't, and you couldn't risk spooking her.
Now, though, all of that seemed ridiculous. Two years. It had been almost two years since that first kiss, and you were as in love with her then as you were now, nothing had changed that. Only now, you could tell her. You were going to tell her. You needed her to hear the words you had been saying silently for years.
Rolling onto your side, curling into her body a little more, you moved your sunglasses off your face and looked at her. She truly was stunning, and it only took her a moment to take her glasses off, too, and look back at you.
"What? Are you too hot?" The opportunity to make a joke wasn't worth ruining the moment, so you shook your head in response.
"No, I just…" you stopped yourself and leant in to kiss her, revelling in the ability to do that as you pleased and to have her smile at you like that after each kiss. "I love you – I'm in love with you, Q."
It only took a moment, a second for the words to sink in, and then Quinn was smiling at you like you were the morning sun, the rain during a drought, and the answer to all questions, and it had you smiling back at her; the euphoric feeling coursing through your body.
She laughed, the happiness spreading to you, and kissed you again, and okay, maybe you thought she'd say it back, but you weren't going to be disappointed if she didn't. You weren't going to rush her. But then the kiss ended and she pulled back, leaning up on her elbows, and you were so sure she was going to tell you she loved you too.
"I'm going to go get something, stay here?" The words tumbled out her mouth and left yours dry.
"What? Now?" you asked, trying to hide what a little like rejection. But she was still smiling at you, which made no sense.
"Yeah, just wait, alright?" Quinn asked, brushing herself off as she stood up, leaving you lying out on the grass.
"Where is it? Where are you going?" You couldn't stop the questions from falling, and the frown forming on your brow.
"It's at my house, I'll just go get it," she laughed, shaking her head at you as if you were the ridiculous one.
"You're going to leave me, after what I just told you?" You had to ask, you needed the clarification, because maybe she hadn't heard you right.
"Yes," Quinn laughed again, playfully rolling her eyes. "I'll be ten minutes, just wait here, I'll be right." Surely she knew patience wasn't a virtue you had.
Leaning down, she pecked your lips once before jogging her way into the house, leaving you to lie back on the grass, staring up at the sky, wondering what the heck was going. You had told her, you had told her you loved her, you were in love with her, and that wasn't exactly the reaction you were expecting. But hey, you'd done it. You'd told her, and she knew.
But that, that was also the last time were able to tell her you loved her.
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The last time you kissed Quinn Fabray, you were eighteen, and she was in the Intensive Care Unit at Lima General Hospital.
She had far too many machines hooked up to her for it to be good, and she was on her ninth day of being in a coma. Your hand was shaking as you slipped it into hers, trying hard not to touch or catch the IVs in her hands and arms, trying hard not to hurt her, to bruise her delicate skin, or upset the perfect rhythm of her heart.
You needed to hear the continuous beep beep beep of the machines, and you needed her to be okay. No one was telling you anything, though. Her parents were keeping very hush hush about her recovery, and had they known you were with her, they would have thrown a fit. You'd convinced your dad to sneak you in, because he saw how much weight you'd lost these last few days, and he saw how red your eyes were every hour of the day, and he saw that you were slowly but surely dying inside not being able to see her.
But now you could, you could see Quinn, and it was a painful sight to behold. She was still so beautiful, but the damage she had sustained was harsh on her, making her look frail and weak; a contrast to the strong girl you knew and loved.
You wanted to stay with her, to be with her every hour of every day to ensure she recovered, to ensure she woke up, she made it through this. You wanted to look after her, to protect her, to support her. Yet, you were powerless, much like she was.
It wasn't up to Quinn, but up to her body, now, to see if she'd recover, to see if she'd make it through this. And you hated those odds, especially as each day crawled by and she remained critical.
It was beginning to look like you were going to lose her, and with that thought, you dropped your head onto the bed, burying it in the blanket, and let it soak the fresh tears.
Holding her hand so gently, you kissed her palm, trying hard not to hurt her in the process and used your free hand to wipe away your tears. The beep beep beep was still a reminder that she was alive, she was still fighting to stay, and you calmed yourself with that thought, settling down again.
You'd stay with her until your dad came to get you, before the Fabrays arrived, and in that time, you'd pray to any God listening to save her.
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The last time you saw Quinn Fabray, you were eighteen, and they were lowering her coffin into the ground at the Lima Cemetery.
You stood stoic, amongst the crowd, not shedding a tear because you'd done that, you'd already broken your heart out over her. You'd cried yourself to sleep every night since the accident. You'd cried in the shower, in the car, in class, in the waiting room, by her bedside, and it hadn't changed a thing.
And now, now everything was final.
You couldn't kid yourself anymore. You couldn't pretend that this was one dreadful nightmare. You couldn't go lie to yourself about her death. But knowing, knowing that she was dead, that she wasn't coming back, that was the worst to swallow.
Ten minutes, she'd said, I'll be right back, she'd said. But it had turned into three hours, five missed calls, seven texts that went unanswered, and then your mother looking at you with so much sadness that you felt your world cave in.
And now, now you were there, watching her go, trying to let her go, and failing miserably.
Ten years. You'd had ten years with her, and it had not been enough. Ten years of standing at her side, protecting her, looking after her, but obviously you didn't do a good enough job because this was her funeral, her goodbye, her farewell.
You weren't ready to say goodbye, you weren't ready to let her go, to leave her. This wasn't how it was meant to be. This wasn't what was meant to happen. Quinn had a future, a life, goals and aspirations and hopes and dreams, and how was she going to achieve them now? And why? Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to die?
The sudden rush of tears was too much, and you clenched your fist, tightening around the slip of paper you held, trying to fight them back. You couldn't cry, because you knew, once you started this time, you wouldn't be able to stop.
In your hand, you held her last words to you, her first and last I love you, and a tale of what might have been. She'd had it on her in the crash, and you'd not been able to let go of it since. It had been your light in the dark, but was now the anchor tied around your feet in the swirling sea.
The NYU logo stood out from the page, followed by the dirt and the blood stain on the corner. And across the top, Quinn's neat scrawl, the blue biro pen having saved a part of her from destruction. Only, they were your undoing.
I've been accepted! I know you want me to go to Yale, but I want to be with you. New Hampshire has nothing on New York. You've had my back since that party at Stacy Lewis' house years ago, so let me have yours for a change. We're finally getting out of Lima, so let's go together. No matter what, I want to be by your side, as a friend, as a lover, I want to be with you. I love you, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us. X
With one final look, with one final teary-eyed glance, you said goodbye. Goodbye the dreams of living in New York together, goodbye to the kisses in Times Square and the afternoons in Central Park, goodbye to the mornings in bed and the nights out drinking, goodbye to the laughter and the tears, goodbye to 'I love you' and 'I love you too', and goodbye to the future standing at her side, loving her, caring for her and protecting her.
Goodbye to Quinn Fabray.
Goodbye.
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