Hey guys! So this is a new fic I'm starting. I've decided to make things a little different and have a Quinntana fic, just because I've recently discovered that I ship them pretty hardcore (lol) and I thought it'd be cool to write a fic about them. It'll be a little lighter than No Light in Your Bright Blue Eyes, so I hope you like it!
{ Q U I N N ' S P O V }
The alarm clock goes off.
I wake up, but my eyes do not open immediately. What time is it? I roll over and mutter nonsense. I slept rather late last night and my head is hurting. It isn't a hangover, I didn't drink much at the party. I hate headaches. With a groan I smash my hand against the alarm clock to shut it off.
Then I feel movement next to me. What?
My eyes open immediately, and they fall onto someone's back. A large back, at that, covered with what appears to be a gray shirt. My eyes trail up the back and arrive at what appears to be a set of black hair. I recognize the hair immediately. What is he doing here?
I sit up and place my hand on his shoulder. I push him lightly, though I'm sure he is already awake since he just finished moving. "Finn?" I mutter his name.
He hums tiredly and moves slightly at my touch. It isn't enough to fully wake him however, so I shake him a little. "Finn," I repeat myself, slightly annoyed.
Finally he rolls over to face me, his handsome self smiling at me. He is the cutest boy I've ever encountered in my life, it is hard to believe he is mine at times. I'm obviously the prettiest girl at our school, and he is the hottest boy. Cheerleaders and football players are a cliché couple, but we don't care. We love each other, and that's all that matters. We've been dating since our sophomore year, and now, in our senior year, we are as strong as ever. He respects my wishes to wait until marriage to have sex, even if at times I see he is frustrated by it. But we are both virgins, and that makes me feel secure about the both of us. I have never seen him look at another girl the way he looks at me, and vice versa with me.
I've never been interested in anyone else, and I never will be. Finn is the one I'm going to marry.
"Good morning beautiful," he whispers sweetly to me. I can't help but smile, but it doesn't take away from the fact that I had no idea why he was in my bed. Crap, maybe I was drunk. But I've never been drunk before, and I could've sworn I only had one bottle of beer. Wait…then again maybe Puck had given me a wine cooler. Or two… shit maybe I was drunk.
"What happened last night?" I ask him, sort of rudely pushing away his attempt at being cute. "Wait." My head whips toward the door, which is closed. As I take in my surroundings, I see that I'm in my room. The shades are down, so it's dark. I'm in my room…in my house…where my parents are probably dwelling.
I turn back to Finn. "What are you doing here!" I exclaim in a whisper. If my parents find him here they'll freak. They are way more religious than I am, and if they are even exposed to the possibility that I've had sex with Finn they would probably kick me out of the house. I swore to not only them but to God that I would remain abstinent, no matter how hot Finn and me's make-out sessions are. And now that I realize my fears of my parents walking in on us, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I can't remember how I got home last night. What if Finn and I…
"Well I had to help you –" I interrupt Finn as I jump to my next concern.
"We didn't…?" I can't even bring the words up for fear of jinxing myself.
Finn sees the concerned look on my face, and he sits up. So much for the romance, but romance is the last thing I want to think about. I bite my lip as I fearfully await his reply.
"No. We didn't," he tells me, shaking his head. His facial expression is that of a worried-for-Quinn look, not a I'm-trying-to-cover-it-up look. Finn is a horrible liar anyway, so of course I believe him.
The sick feeling in my stomach dissipates, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Finn continues to talk. "Your parents weren't home and you could barely walk properly, so I just came upstairs with you and you asked me to sleep with you." His eyes widen, making me confused. Shit, please do not tell me he just remembered something I didn't want to hear about.
"Uh – I mean – I mean not sleep with you like we did anything! I meant, uh, literally sleep with you!"
Oh, that's just Finn being his awkward self. My relief forms a smile on my face, and I tilt my head to the side. He's so cute when he's awkward, especially when he freaks out about saying what he thinks sounds wrong. He isn't the bright bulb in the tanning bed, but he's mine, and intelligence has never been an important factor to me.
I chuckle and lean into toward his face. My lips lightly connect with his, but I don't make the kiss last long. I pull away just as he kisses me back, and I look into his dark eyes, the smile still on my face.
"You're so sweet," I tell him, my hand reaching up to the top of his head. I run my fingers through his hair, which is as soft as Egyptian cotton. It's certainly looking a little too long for my liking, however. I only approve if his raven black hair is no longer than two inches above his scalp, any longer and I tell him to cut it. Like right now, as I am about to tell him he needs a trim. He always does as I say though, which is good because I don't like to be protested against.
"And you also need to cut your hair," I tell him with a slight frown. I take some of his hair and pull it lightly, and he simply looks at me with a dazed expression. He always has that dumb look on his face, and it's annoying sometimes because I don't have patience for him being so confused all the time.
"Why are you looking at me like I have two heads?" I growl. His expression changes immediately to something less dazed, and he looks away to his left.
"Nothing. I'll get it cut as soon as I can," he tells me quickly. I smile and release his hair. Then my head pounds, reminding me that I'm apparently suffering from a hangover.
"Was I drunk?" I ask him, though he alluded to that fact when he had told me that I couldn't even walk without help. It was still unlike me to drink that much alcohol though, and it concerns me. I remember laughing and fooling around with my fellow Cheerios and some of Finn's football teammates in Santana's house, but that was all I could recall. What caused me to drink so heavily?
"Yeah," Finn says. "I think Santana challenged you to a drinking game, and you both got pretty hammered. I wasn't around when it happened though, I was hanging out with Azimio and Karofsky on her porch."
I look down at my quilt in thought. Santana… very vaguely I can recall now. What Finn said is making sense. Yes, I can remember Santana drinking with me. The other Cheerios cheering us on. But that's it. I can't remember if Santana said anything that drove me to accept her challenge, or if I just felt like doing it because I wanted to. Ugh, I must've drunken a lot if I can't remember anything else.
"Okay," I say a bit distantly. I'll investigate it more when I get to school on Monday. I have a more important issue to deal with – getting Finn out of here without my parents seeing him.
I get out of my bed, revealing that I'm wearing only my underwear with my green blouse. This revelation makes me turn slowly around to face Finn, a suspicious scowl on my face. He looks at me in horror, still sitting on my bed, and quickly shakes his head.
"N-no! I didn't do that I swear!" he says a bit too loudly. I quickly shush him before he can alert my parents that he's here. Is he stupid? He's going to get us both killed!
Finn continues to speak but quietly. "You insisted that you go to bed like…that." His face turns beet red, which I find very amusing but I refuse to show him that. "I did what you said, I didn't want to upset you…"
He's honest, I love that about him. I instead decide to drop the subject and look for a new outfit to wear so my parents don't get suspicious seeing me in the same outfit as last night. I find a simple white long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I'm not planning to go anywhere today so there's no need to dress up. I'm about to take off my shirt until I realize that Finn is still in the room. I turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow.
"You mind?" I hint to him.
Finn realizes he shouldn't be staring and quickly turned around so his back is to me. It's still uncomfortable to change in front of him since this has to be the first time he's even seen me in my underwear, but I still slip into my new outfit and throw my old shirt onto the bed. I check the mirror to see how bad I look, and I see that my hair is a frizzy mess and my eyes are red. Shit, my parents will be alarmed if they see me like this.
I easily fix the hair problem by tying it up in a ponytail, but the eye problem can't be helped so I leave it. Hopefully I'll think of an excuse by the time my parents notice, I just have to focus on getting Finn the hell out of here.
"Stay here and don't move," I tell Finn before heading out of my room and closing the door behind me. I can only hope that he doesn't do anything stupid for once. One time when he was at my house for dinner, he accidentally slipped that he didn't believe in abstinence in front of my parents, and my dad had such a fit about it later on that I almost wasn't even allowed to date him anymore. But with a lot of convincing and my Quinn charm, I managed to convince my dad that Finn still respected my wishes of being abstinent, and that never in his life did he try to make me break my vow. That in itself was a lie because there has been a couple of times where he tried to push it, but considering Finn did enough damage stretching the truth a little was absolutely necessary. Needless to say he got an earful from me after I settled the situation. I can still remember his horrified expression as I lashed out at him. It was quite amusing.
I'm not about to risk my relationship with him again. My parents are already suspicious of him because of his stupid slip-up – which was seriously a year ago, but they can never seem to let it go – and if they find him here then I'm going to be banned from dating period. I head downstairs, the sunlight from outside illuminating my entire house and making the cream-colored walls appear as if they were glowing. The bright lights shoot through my eyeballs and stabbed my brain, making my eyes tear up a little from the pain. God damn, having a hangover sucks.
Family pictures of my family are hung around all over the house – blonde hair conquers every inch of the house, more of the blonde hair of my sister Frannie than anyone else – and my furniture so regal and ancient-looking it's as if my mother thought we were actually royalty when she first decorated the house.
I find my parents eating pancakes in the dining room, so I join them.
"Good morning darling!" my mother sings. Her loud voice stabs me in the brain as well. Why is everything hurting me?
My mom is eating her famous blueberry pancakes with a glass of orange juice. Out of everything my mother ever made in the kitchen, her blueberry pancakes have to be my favorite thing she's ever made. My father has just finished chewing and swallow a piece of pancake and smiles at me.
"Good morning Quinn," he greets me.
I sit on the chair closest to my mother and smile at both my parents. "Good morning."
"I made you some pancakes dear, would you like some?"
My stomach decides to be a bitch and feel sick at that moment, shooting down the bit of appetite I had. The blueberry pancakes in front of my mother transforms in front of my very eyes, turning from a circular delicacy of fruity goodness to a mesh of disgusting ingredients that has blue spots hinting from beneath the surface, reminding me of the mold in bread. No, I do not want any pancakes unless I want to vomit.
"No thanks Mom," I tell her, too queasy right now to even look at the pancakes. I look away for fear of vomiting on the spot.
"Really?" My mother sounds surprised. I never turn down her pancakes, and I feel like punching myself right now because I just made it obvious that something was wrong with me. I should've pretended that I did want the pancakes just so she wouldn't question me. Damn it.
"Quinn are you okay?" my father asks, a concerned look on his face. I'm silently cursing myself for being so stupid. Clearly I'm a Finn Hudson when I'm hung over.
"Yeah Daddy I'm fine. I'm just not very hungry right now," I tell him, looking down at the table.
"Quinn? What's wrong with your eyes?" My mother begins to lean toward me. Shit!
I lean back. I need to think of an excuse quickly. "I didn't get any sleep last night," I tell her as calmly as I can. My heart is pounding in fear that my parents wouldn't buy it and that I was going to be caught. I won't be allowed out of the house ever again if they find out I was drunk.
But my mother insists, and I know I'm going to be caught now. "No Quinn, your eyes, it looks like-"
The doorbell rings. Ow.
All three of us turn our heads in the direction of the door. What perfect timing, I owe whoever was on the other side of that door.
"I'll get it!" I volunteer as I jump up from the table. Before my mother can protest I speed away from the dining room and to the door. I was curious as to who would be here so early on a Saturday, but that person is my savior.
I open the door, and to my surprise it's Finn standing in the doorway. My jaw drops and I can't seem to breathe at the moment. What the hell? How did he get outside? I see that his hair is messier than it was when he was in my room, and there was actually a few leaves stuck in his hair. And dirt rested on his left cheek. I trail down his body. There is dirt on smeared on his gray t-shirt and jeans, and his chest is expanding and retracting quickly as if he is out of breath.
"What- how…what the hell are you doing?" I whisper furiously at him. The whole point was to get him out of here without being seen, and now he's literally arriving at my doorstep. Does he want us to get caught?
"I climbed out of the window," he tells me with a proud smile. "I didn't know how long you were going to be with your parents, and then I remembered that you look really hung over and I didn't want your parents to suspect anything. So I figured I come to the rescue."
Any annoyance I have felt toward him disappears immediately, and I grin at him. Sure, he isn't smart, but that was a very smart plan and it seems to be working. I lean against the doorway, unable to stop smiling. Could he be any more perfect?
I bring my hand up to his hair and pick out the leaves that are trapped. He has no idea how badly I want to kiss him right now, and if this plan works I owe him a very heavy make-out session. I can't imagine any other guy going through all this just for me, and I open my mouth to tell him how fantastic of a boyfriend he is. But instead of my voice I hear my mother's voice just behind me.
"Oh, hello Finn!" She appears next to me and is smiling at Finn. Hopefully she's forgotten about my eyes at this point. "What are you doing here?"
Finn turns his attention to my mother and smiles at her. "Morning Mrs. Fabray! I was just dropping by to see if maybe Quinn wanted to go out to have breakfast or something."
Oh my God. I love him so much.
"Quinn just told me she isn't hungry," my mother says, and my eyes shoot daggers at her for trying to screw all of this up. "Right sweetie?"
"Finn drove all the way out here Mom. I'll go with him." I look at Finn and smile. "If that's alright with you."
Finn nods. "Um, yeah sure! If you're not hungry maybe we can just get a shake or something."
Uh, no. "In the morning?" I question. Shakes in the morning? Who does that? Jesus, he's so stupid sometimes.
Finn scratches the back of his head nervously. "Well no not shakes. Um…we can just see if you're hungry by the time we get there."
Better. "Mom?" I turn to look at my mother.
She looks at the both of us, but mostly me. Shit, she's probably looking at my eyes again. I bite my lip as I silently plead her to let me go with Finn. I don't really care if she knows anything, it's my father I'm worried about. He calls all the shots in this house, and if he finds anything out it'll be the end of me.
"Alright, I don't see why not. But honey at least fix your makeup. It's all smeared and…well, y'know." She grimaces.
Shit, my makeup. But I'm not going to question my only escape route. "Yeah I'll go get ready.," I tell her with a nod, then I look at Finn. "Wait here for a few minutes?"
"I'd wait an eternity," he tells me with a cheesy smile. I can't help but smile back, and my mother smiles too as she takes this in like something out of a romance film. I'm almost sad about having to separate myself from him right now. He saved me, he saved us. He always tries his hardest to be the best boyfriend ever, and sure I admit I don't show that I appreciate it often, but he should already know that I do. Hell, I'm sure he appreciates having me around, too. So we're even.
I turn around and head upstairs, but while I'm in earshot I hear my mother ask Finn something.
"Finn dear, why on earth do you look like you just came back from rolling down a hill?"
I hold back laughter as reach the top of the stairs and hear Finn's muffled answer.
I love him so much.
I'm going to try and not kill my lab partner. But I'm not sure how long I can last.
"Quinn. The iodine goes in this tube. Not that one," says the extremely annoying Rachel Berry. My worst nightmare had been getting this little Jewish troll as my lab partner, and I was scot-free for the past three years. But it figures that the universe would wait until my last year of high school to make the most annoying girl in the school my lab partner. Now I have to deal with her constantly bossing me around and trying to prove me wrong. She forgets that I'm the smartest cheerleader on the squad – meaning I don't need Coach Sylvester to bribe any of the teachers to pass me – and I know what the hell I'm doing. I understand that Jews have a natural gift to be smart at everything pertaining to the law or science, but that doesn't mean I'm incompetent at what I do.
"I'm going to shove one of these tubes up that humongous beak of yours if you don't shut the hell up," I snap at her as I squeeze the iodine in whatever freaking tube I desire. Of course, she was right about the tube being the wrong one, because the chemical inside turns into a chocolate brown instead of a bright green. Shit.
"I told you," she mutters, and that just pisses me off more.
"Oh, my bad Berry. I forgot that while I'm out having an actual social life with friends and a boyfriend you're stuck home reading the story of the great prophet Moses and how he parted the Red Sea to your vast collection of stuffed animals and still somehow manage to squeeze some study time in your schedule."
"Quinn," I hear Finn's voice behind me. "C'mon that's enough." He takes the same chemistry class as me, but the teacher wouldn't let us be partners so I was stuck with Rachel and he was as least stuck with someone that was likeable, Puck.
My head whips in his direction as I give him the same angry look I gave Rachel. "Oh I'm sorry. Are you dating her now? I'm happy for the both of you."
Puck is biting his lip, trying to hold back laughter. Oh, so he finds humor in this. Well, nothing about this is funny. "And you Puckerman? Are you finish sticking it in every girl in Ohio?"
He gives me a cocky smirk. "All but one." Oh no he didn't just –
Finn looks at Puck and shoulders him defensively. "Dude, not cool!" he growls, making Puck look at him in annoyance.
"What dude? I never said I was going after her." Yeah, right. He can never stare at me without drooling.
Finn looks back at me and leans in so the rest of the class doesn't have to hear him. "Look, I'm not interested in Rachel-" From the corner of my eye I see Rachel looking down. "- I just think insulting her is pointless. C'mon Quinn you've been doing it since freshman year, at least let her enjoy her last year here."
I'm offended that Finn is on Rachel's side. He always seemed to be over the years, and no matter how many times I've told him to stop he wouldn't listen. Now he's going to bring this over to this year? Well, maybe Finn should just date Rachel then. It's obvious Rachel has a huge crush on Finn. She's had it ever since Finn and I started dating. It's like she's willing to go through my abuse just so she can be closer to Finn, which is disgusting. Finn has standards, he would never go out with someone like that. Especially when he has me.
"I'll let her enjoy whatever the hell she wants when she finally decides to come back to reality and stop trying to use her Jew-doo magic to make you fall in love with her!" I hear a small gasp escape Rachel's lips.
"Hey!" Puck protests. Right, I forgot he was Jewish. Whatever.
Finn frowns at me. "Quinn, that's not fair. You know I'm only in love with one girl and that's you."
My eyes go to Rachel, who refuses to look in my direction. Her face is almost as red as the chemical on Finn and Puck's table, and I feel like she's about to cry. Good.
"I know that," I tell Finn, my eyes locked on Rachel. "I trust you. It's her I don't trust. So until she backs off, I'm not stopping."
Finn can't think of anything else to say to me, so he continues with the lab. I leave him and Puck and go back to my own. Rachel is quiet and still, and I look at her just to make sure she's breathing. I then focus on our lab, which I finish off by myself with Rachel just standing there moping. So pathetic.
If anything she should be grateful that I smacked her in the face with all of that. She can't keep living in some fantasy land where she thinks that her and Finn are ever going to end up together. He's in love with me. Lucy Quinn Fabray. And plus, he's never even spoken to her before. He would never be interested.
I finish cleaning everything up just as the bell rings. I say nothing to Rachel and I skip over to Finn and take his hand in my. Our hands seem to match so well together. His hand has to be double the size of mine, but we make the whole intertwining our fingers together thing work. His palm always gets hot and sweaty really fast under my touch, like right now. We aren't even out the door and his hand is already sweaty. It's adorable. Gross, considering his sweat is sticking onto my palm, but adorable nonetheless.
I lean close to him as we enter the crowded hallway. Thank God that's the last class of the day, now I can get on with my life free of Rachel Berry. I have cheerleading practice, but Finn also has football practice. It's convenient, since he always drives me home after school. He also drives me to school in the mornings, which my dad finds easy for him since that means he doesn't have to drive me himself, but that makes me wonder why the hell he would ever want Finn and me to break up in the first place. He's always hard on Finn, which pisses me off because Finn always tries to live up to his standards.
Personally I think Finn is worthy to date a Fabray. I just wish my stupid father thought the same.
We arrive at my locker first. I spin on my toe so I'm facing him, our hands still linked together. "I'll see you after practice?"
Finn gives me his usual half-smirk and nods. I smile back and lean up to peck him on the lips, finally releasing his hand from mine. "I love you," I tell him.
"I love you too," he responds, and with that he walks away to his own locker.
I enter my locker combination and open it to start packing. Unlike the other cheerleaders of the squad, I always do my homework. I'm a class favorite because I always give in my assignments on time and get pretty good grades on my own, keeping to the old Fabray name. My sister Frannie was a Cheerio just like me, and she too was the smartest girl on the squad. Teachers here adored her, even Coach Sylvester. I followed in my sister's footsteps by becoming a Cheerio captain in my sophomore year of high school, an achievement saved for only the best cheerleaders in the squad. Frannie had done the same thing when she went to school here, and sometimes I feel like Coach Sylvester especially likes me because I remind her so much of my older sister.
I sense someone stopping next to my locker, but my locker door is blocking the person's face. I pay no mind to it, I never really acknowledge anyone unless they talk directly to me. But that's exactly what the person did.
"You know Quinn, you should save the PDA with your potato sack boyfriend for when you guys are at home watching re-runs of Mysteries of the Church and praying the Hail Mary ten times every time you think about doing the nasty with each other."
I know the face before I even close my locker.
"Hello to you too, Santana."
Santana smirks as she leans against the locker next to mine. I'm a bitch, but Santana is ten times worse than I am. And the scary part is she's actually being nice with the insults today. Last week she told me that I'm only abstinent because if I did have sex with Finn, he'd be so turned off that he would go off looking for the cheerleader with Down Syndrome, Becky, and find her to be way more pleasurable sexually than me. I can't decide what was worse. The fact that she insulted a girl with a disorder, or she was challenging my sex appeal. Either way, it upset me and I almost ended up throwing her against some lockers.
"You're looking rather healthy today. I figured after being so trashed on Friday you'd come into school wearing some of Finn's blubber to shield yourself from bright lights and loud noises," she says to me, somehow without laughing. I'm guilty of wanting to laugh a little at what she said, but I don't want to show any weakness. Instead, I narrow my eyes and frown.
"My boyfriend isn't fat Santana," I tell her firmly.
She rolls her eyes. "Please, his boobs are bigger than yours."
I grind my teeth in annoyance. "Are you here just to annoy me or what?"
She tilts her head to the side and shows teeth in her smile. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I've never seen a drunk Quinn Fabray before, it was really entertaining."
My hands drop to my side. Wait, maybe Santana can tell me what the hell happened on Friday. Surely she was more sober than I was. "Wait, do you remember what happened on Friday? Finn told me what he saw but he doesn't know the full story."
Santana's smile weakens slightly but I don't think on it. She glances away for a moment before focusing on me, and her smile grows again. "You were really hammered, weren't you? Okay, I was telling you to stop being such a pussy with the one beer you had, and you got pissed because I was taunting you. So we had our own little competition to see who could drink the most."
Damn, nothing is coming to me. How is Santana able to remember everything?
"I won, obviously," she continues. "And it's sad that those wine coolers Puck gave you almost made you pass out on the spot. Wine coolers, Fabray? Do you have the liver of a fucking chipmunk?"
I suck my teeth. Alright so I don't have the greatest tolerance for alcohol, but that's because I need some practice. I only drink one beverage per party, and that party was the first time I went all out. Of course I would lose the drinking game, Santana has way more experience than me.
"Whatever," I mutter.
A laugh escapes her lips. Ugh, she has the cruelest sense of humor. Granted, I'm not a saint, but I look like a saint compared to her. But, she is my friend, as much as I hate her guts at times. She was one of the first friends I ever made at this school, before she became the slutty asshole she is today.
Yeah, that's right. Santana Lopez used to be a decent person.
Freshman year, the both of us were decent people. It wasn't until we joined the Cheerios that we realized that nice girls finish last. Becoming power-hungry demons that need popularity to survive, we changed ourselves completely. I don't regret it, after all if I was the same girl I was freshman year I would be just like Rachel Berry – annoying and irrelevant.
But while I kept some of my old qualities, Santana changed everything about her. The change was scary, but now as I'm approaching the end of my high school career I'm used to it. Santana is what she was always meant to be. And I don't care.
It's just annoying when she gets all bitchy at me. I don't take kindly to bitchiness.
Santana looks at her nails. "As much as I would love to talk about your boyfriend's voluptuous breasts, we really should be getting to Cheerio practice before Sylvester shoots us out of that canon she's been building."
I agree. The coach is a nightmare when she's pissed.
"Alright," I tell her. "Let's go."
