Quinn and Brittany and Seven Minutes in Heaven at Noah Puckerman's first ever Eighth Graders Only Party.
From a game of "trope the fuck out of glee fic" miserybznz and I played way back in May. I got "closet sex" and proceeded to pussy out and write "closet kissing" instead.
"Don't be scared." Brittany says and the smile on her face is the sweetest, smoothest thing Quinn has seen all night. The squeeze she gives Quinn's hand as the door shuts behind them is comforting and soft and almost enough to keep Quinn from tensing as the dark of the Puckerman family laundry room envelops them.
"I've done this before." Brittany says, and Quinn can pretty much hear the way Brittany's smile must be turning into that wide, completely unselfconscious grin Quinn has seen her get when she talks about things that make her happy, like ducks and rainbows and kissing people at parties.
Quinn says "Okay," even though what she really wants to say is, "You've kissed a girl before?" or maybe "I've never kissed anyone before," but both of those sound silly and young inside her own head and she's already too embarrassed at the way her hand would be shaking if Brittany wasn't still holding it.
There's a halo of light and party noise bleeding into the darkness through the cracks around the door, and if she squints her eyes just right Quinn can just see Brittany silhouetted against it. She keeps her eyes focused on the girl in front of her and tries to focus on breathing steady and normal, instead of on the way she can see the darkness pressing in against them from the corner of her eyes.
"I'm not really sure why they call this 'Seven Minutes in Heaven,' cause I think Heaven is supposed to be full of fluffy clouds and cute little baby angels instead of Puck's dirty laundry," Brittany's voice is still bright and cheery, even though Quinn can hear the note of confusion to her words. "But I think you'll like it."
She hasn't known Brittany for too long, hasn't known anyone at this party or at George Washington Middle School for more than the three months since her family moved into their new house in Lima three days before the beginning of eighth grade, but there's something about the way Brittany squeezes her right hand again before tugging her just the slightest step forward that feels familiar and safe, like they've spent hours wandering through the mall hand-in-hand like Quinn used to spend her Saturday's watching other 13-year-olds do.
Brittany's other hand finds Quinn's left arm, her palm pressing against Quinn's elbow before her fingers trace their way up across the fabric of Quinn's t-shirt to rest against her shoulder. Brittany is a few inches taller than her and even in the dark Quinn can tell that she's going to need to lean up a little.
Quinn lets herself follow the slight pressure of Brittany's hand against the back of her neck and shifts forward onto her toes just a little and suddenly Brittany is right there, her lips pressed against the corner of Quinn's mouth.
Brittany's hand presses against Quinn's neck, shifting her forward just enough and then Brittany's mouth is pressed square against her own. Her lips are soft and warm and Quinn is pretty sure she can feel Brittany's smile against her mouth. They stay like that for a moment, just pressed against each other.
Quinn surprises herself when she shifts forward, lifting onto her toes and pushing harder against Brittany's mouth. Brittany squeezes her hand again, and Quinn wonders if maybe she managed to surprise Brittany a little too. Brittany's tongue presses against her bottom lip then, wet and slippery and somehow kind of sparkly, and Quinn maybe forgets how to breathe for a few seconds.
Quinn opens her mouth, partly because it's what she knows you're supposed to do, but mostly because it's what feels right. It's a moment before Brittany's tongue slips inside and against her own, slow and wandering and not at all pushy like Quinn expected. It's like Brittany is taking her time, just having fun and enjoying herself, and Quinn briefly thinks about pulling away and giving Brittany the biggest hug she can manage. Except that Quinn is also really enjoying this kissing thing too.
When Brittany pulls back she says, "You smell good," Quinn's pretty sure it's not what she would have imagined hearing after her first kiss ever, had her imagination ever made it past the actual kiss. But it's also one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to her, which makes perfect sense, because she's pretty sure that Brittany is one of the nicest people she's ever met.
"Thanks," Quinn says, and she just knows there's a bright deep blush working its way across her cheeks and down her neck. She squeezes Brittany's hand again, because it feels like maybe the best way to explain that she's talking about the kiss too.
"You're welcome," Brittany says and tugs Quinn behind her as she turns back toward the party on the other side of the laundry room door.