Written for Round 1, Challenge 1 over at diva_off at Livejournal, using the prompt Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again. Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again. I kind of love this pairing a lot. And Matt. I love him a lot, and will continue writing stories about him because he never got any story really, so I will write him one.
It's been two weeks and three days since she ended things with Puck. Since she fell out of love with the father of the daughter who has already left them and gone out into the world (Quinn knows that Beth is not alone, but she still feels like a bad mom, like she should have prepared her daughter better before just letting her go). Quinn isn't sure what the specific cause is, the break-up or Beth or school or her parents or just life in general, but she breaks down under the stands by the football field. That's where Matt finds her, curled in on herself sobbing.
He'd left practice late, wanting to get a few extra reps in, and sees Quinn crouched there, hiding in the natural darkness of the tunnel, curled up as though she's trying to disappear within herself. It seems only natural for Matt to kneel next to her and pull her into his arms.
It should be awkward. His shoulder pads are overly bulky and her mascara is running like a river, and the tunnel smells quite strongly of pungent wet grass, bad popcorn and day old sweat. But it's not; it's the most comfortable thing either of them has done in a while.
Her arms fit neatly underneath his shoulder pads, and one of his large hands cradles the back of her head as she buries her face against the crook of his neck while the other rests supportively against her lower back. She smells like lilac and hope against all odds, and though he smells strongly of sweat, it's comforting and familiar and reminds her of hard work and strength.
Neither of them is sure how long they stay there, crouching isolated in their own dark little world made up of the beautiful warmth of late September and each other's arms. When they finally pull away, light is spilling into the tunnel from the setting sun, but instead of making a bad metaphor, he just wipes the mascara tears from her eyes and tells her she looks beautiful. She blushes and feels like she's in middle school again, and wishes she had something sexy or cute or funny or anything at all to say, but he doesn't seem to mind her silent smile.
The next day, Matt sits next to her in Glee and asks to be her lab partner in Physics, and stops by her locker after school to tell her he was really glad that they'd been partnered for the new Counting Crows number and that he'd really liked how she wore her hair today (pulled back from her face, because some part of her is tired of hiding), as though he knows just how much she needs some solid presence in her life right now.
As he'd said that, some sophomore Cherrio whose name Quinn had never bothered to learn had strolled by, and that's when the rumors had started: Quinn Fabray is eyeing the star running back. Baby Mama's looking for a new Sugar Daddy. Look at that bitch, ruining another guy.
By the time 4th period and Glee roll around, she's on the verge of tears again, and tells her 3rd period teacher that she doesn't feel good, just so she can get a pass to the nurse's office and avoid the stares and dirty looks in the hallway. But when she reaches the Glee room, Matt's already there, dinking out notes on the piano.
She almost spins around and leaves, but he moves remarkably fast and grabs her hand in his own large, warm one. "They don't scare me. I don't care what they say, or what they think. I like you," Matt says simply, his eyes never leaving hers until he leans down to kiss her.
It's soft and short, but it still makes her knees weak and her head swim, and when he pulls away her world seems to be entirely encompassed by his eyes and his smile and she finds that she doesn't care either.
"I like you, too," she says, and, God, how does he always make her feel like she's thirteen years old again, in Mike Chang's basement, giggling over a game of Spin-the-Bottle that she realizes now was almost too cliché?
"Good," he says, and kisses her again. She definitely doesn't care what anyone else thinks.
The next day, he finds her before her first class and threads his fingers through hers, walks her to class with his head held high even as the whispers don't bother to hide. Before she walks into American History, he kisses the back of her hand, smiling that perfect smile the whole time, and wishes her good luck, tells her she'll be great and not to worry about a thing.
Shortly after lunch, Matt finds her by her locker, still smiling and still wonderful. When he sees the slushie headed for them, he doesn't move, doesn't dodge it, just puts his body between it and her. And as the sticky purple liquid stains the back of his letter jacket, drips down over his head on to his face, he just smiles and licks his lips.
"Mmmm, grape," he says, and his grin grows. "Want a taste?" he asks, and her grin matches his in size as he leans down to kiss her. Matt Rutherford tastes like grape and September and new beginnings.