A/N: Reviews are loved. Based off a prompt from the Finn/Quinn Prompt Meme on LiveJournal. You can find the prompt here: 27(dot)media(dot)tumblr(dot)com/tumblr_lc6dakHXkK1qcrgz4o1_500(dot)png
Pretty Persuasion
"That was terrible!" Sue shouted from the stands with her megaphone as the Cheerios finished running through their latest routine for the umpteenth time. "Take ten."
Quinn let her forced smile fall from her lips the moment the coach had turned her back on them, berating the football coach now about something or another. The blonde sighed. At least her attention was off of the Cheerios for the next ten minutes.
Being a cheerleader at McKinley was a lot tougher than most people thought, especially with Sue for a coach. One had to have an extra thick skin to take her verbal abuse day in and day out, although she supposed she should consider herself lucky being the team captain and all. At the end of the day, she was Sue's favorite, regardless.
Plus, she had friends on the team for constant support. She noticed Santana and Brittany walking off the field then and she ran over to stop them.
"No way," she told them and they groaned as they came back to her side, albeit reluctantly, knowing full well why she was calling them back in the first place. "No breaks for the three of us . You two know that. We have to be on top of our game."
"Ugh, you are totally a Sue in the making Fabray," Santana commented, motioning for Brittany to stretch with her. "I mean, honestly, I'm starting to cheer in my freaking sleep."
Quinn put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, having taken slight offence to her casual statement. Before she could say anything, however, the Latina spoke again.
"Hey Q, check out Finn Hudson totally checking you out right now," Santana told her, adding, "Third time this week you know."
"Fourth," Brittany corrected her, having been keeping score as well, although she only held up three fingers.
Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her fellow cheerleaders before looking over her shoulder to glance at the boy in question. What was the big deal? Being the captain of the Cheerios, boys were checking her out all the time. This was hardly news to her.
The moment her eyes connected with his, he looked away, pretending like he hadn't been staring at her at all. Typical, Quinn mused to herself. Boys. They were all the same.
"You should totally go out with him," Santana encouraged her, a smirk starting to form on her face. "Boy is fine. I mean, come on Quinn. It's inevitable. He's the quarterback. You're the head cheerleader. You two have to date."
"I actually think it's illegal not to," Brittany whispered, the look on her face dead serious at the moment.
Quinn rolled her eyes at the two of them, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.
"I'll pass. So, you can go out with him San since you're next in line or whatever. Honestly, all the guys on the football team who've hit on me have been absolute pigs. What makes you think he'll be any different?" she wondered, tilting her head to the side, waiting for her response. "He's probably worse than they are considering the fact that he's the quarterback and all. Plus, his best friend is Noah Puckerman. I think I've made my point."
"Well, I'm certainly hoping he won't be much different from Puckerman," Santana admitted, winking at her. "Now that boy, he rocked my world last night."
"Ugh, have some self respect S," she suggested as she had time and time again. "You're Puck's booty call and you know it."
"Didn't say I wasn't," she answered and Brittany giggled at her response.
Quinn scoffed. Somehow her friend actually liked the ones who were pigs, who were mean and condescending to her, something that she would (fortunately?) never understand. Were assholes supposed to be a turn on or something?
She looked over her shoulder again then (out of pure curiosity of course) and sure enough, he was still watching her. Ugh. Enough was enough! She stormed across the field over to him, ponytail swinging back and forth with a vengeance as she went.
When he noticed her charging towards him, he almost ran away, but she stopped him.
"Finn, right?" she asked him and he turned around slowly, managing to nod in response despite his shock over her presence.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been thrilled that Quinn Fabray was standing this close to him (let alone actually talking to him), but she seemed angry with him right now. Had he done something already to piss her off? Oh God. Had he been using his outside voice just now when he was thinking about how hot she was?
"You can stop drooling now," she snapped at him, cutting to the chase. "You're going to get my shoes wet."
Unlike most of the guys who would have normally laughed that off or come up with some witty retort (cue Puck), he seemed genuinely hurt, his face falling instantly at her words.
"Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his hands, silently chiding himself for ever having believed that he had a chance with the Quinn Fabray. "I just think you're really…pretty. Sorry for bothering you. I'll go now."
Color her stunned because Quinn was completely taken aback by his response to her snide remark. No guy had ever really called her pretty before. Sure, the words 'hot', 'sexy', and even 'fuckable' came up a lot, but definitely not pretty.
She could feel the heat rising up in her cheeks and dear God, were her hands getting clammy over some boy calling her pretty? She took a deep breath to steady her speeding heart rate and when she finally succeeded in doing so, she concluded that yeah, maybe, just maybe, Finn Hudson was different after all.
"Wait," she called after him and he stopped in his tracks immediately.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned around to face her as she took a step towards him.
"Look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier," Quinn apologized, wringing her hands absentmindedly.
Lord help her, she was actually apologizing to someone without a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"I just…have to deal with a lot of guys hitting on me everyday, especially the ones on the football team, and most of them are only really interested in getting into my skirt, you know?" she continued, her eyes locked on his now. "Seeing as you're the quarterback, I sort of assumed you would be just like them or even worse, and I shouldn't have…and I'm sorry."
He continued to stare at her for a moment, needing some time to process her apology, but then he assured her, "That's ok Quinn. I understand."
She gave him a small smile as Sue motioned for her to come back to practice from afar.
"Good," she sounded, although she didn't really want to leave just yet. "I guess I'll see you around then?"
He nodded, returning her smile before watching her walk away from him, but then…
"Wait," he called after her this time, a sudden surge of courage coursing through his blood.
She swiveled around to face him, trying very hard to suppress her smile, the one she knew would be permanently etched onto her face for the rest of the day.
Couldn't he tell she just wanted him to ask her out already?
"Uh," he started, stumbling a little bit over his words. "So, uh, do you maybe…Would you like to go out with me for dinner sometime then? I mean, I promise I won't try to get into your skirt…or pants…or whatever you decide to wear that night."
Quinn giggled, her hand over her mouth, finding him absolutely endearing for some reason or another.
"Pick me up tomorrow at eight?" she suggested as Sue yelled at her to return to practice over her megaphone for the second (and for Sue, the final) time.
He grinned upon hearing her response, trying hard not to break out into a victory dance right there in the middle of the field. Quinn Fabray had agreed to go out with him of all people! Puck was usually the one who got all the girls, so how did he get so damn lucky?
"Yeah, ok," he simply told her, stopping himself before he could say anything stupid to make her change her mind. "Bye Quinn."
He watched her hurry back over to her fellow cheerleaders before leaving the field himself. When he returned to the locker room seconds later (fully under the impression that he was alone, since his team had left awhile ago), he broke out into a little victory dance anyway.
He stopped, however, when he heard his best friend wonder from behind him, an uncomfortable cough on his lips, "Dude, what the fuck are you doing?"