OHAI QUINN/MIKE SHIPPERS. I'm Emily. 'Sup?
So, this is my first Quinn/Mike fic, so feedback is appreciated.
This will be a 2 shot, but if it's not, I might turn it into a multi-chapter. It all depends on how things go.
Chapter 1: Reflecting
QUINN POV:
I sat on the little step in between the trophy cases at school, my reflecting spot. I guess it was more of a place for comfort. I folded my hands in my lap, a normal routine. I would look down at my stomach, at the lump that I knew would reside there for a while. Taking a gentle hand, I set it slowly on my rounded stomach, rubbing tiny circles with my index finger. Sometimes it would be in endearment. Of course, I loved this protruding bump, but at the same time, it ruined my life. I didn't know how to feel about this little girl and I don't think I would until after she's gone. I would sometimes draw little pictures or talk to her. I would even sing to her. At the same time, it didn't feel right. I knew even though I was this baby girl's mom, she wasn't mine. She was whoever was going to adopt her after she was gone away from me. Frustrated, I twisted a loose strand of blonde hair through my fingers, not risking messing up the neat headband that I put in place that morning. I groaned under my breath, fixing the white ribbon that was tied neatly around the bright blue dress I was wearing. I adjusted everything, aching to be perfect. Something un-accomplishable.
I think what I really needed was help. I needed a hand to hold on to, something comforting I could just hug and know everything was going to be okay, even if it was just for a minute or two. I used to find that comfort in Puck. I used to be able to run my fingers through his mohawk and get the sweet smile in return, the smile that made everything okay. Everything changed, I guess. He stopped paying attention to what I needed. All of a sudden, it was like nothing had ever happened between us. He started sleeping with Santana and it was all over. I just wanted a sweet smile for comfort again. Something to hang on to. A breath of fresh air. I guess that's all I really needed.
I got up from the familiar spot, heading down the hallway with my bag slung over my shoulder. I could feel myself waddle, something I absolutely despised. Sighing, I started to make my way toward my locker. The sun was pouring in through the wide windows that lined the vacant hallways of McKinley. I flipped my hair out of my eyes, getting a better view of what was ahead of me. I heard a echoing "beat box" noise coming from down the hallway a little further. I walked a little bit faster, searching for the source of the noise. There was an open door a few feet down. I peered inside, revealing a familiar yellow plaid shirt.
"Mike?" I said, stopping Mike mid-way through his vigorous dance routine. I had to say, I was impressed. Some of the moves he pulled off were amazing, like his feet had minds of their own. Mike stopped dancing and snapped his mouth shut, cutting off the beat box sounds. He folded his hands behind his back, standing perfectly straight.
"Quinn," Mike whispered breathlessly. His black eyes were frantic, trying to come up with an excuse for his actions. I had never really seen him before, or at least long enough to study him. I never noticed how strong his face was, how he looked like he was always put together and could withstand anything. For a second, the air was tangled up in my throat. I had to clear my throat, the air moving smoothly again.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my words accented with a breathy laugh. Mike half-smiled, looking me over.
"Uhh…dancing," Mike said, walking over to me, "What are you doing?" His eyes lingered on my stomach for a few moments, examining it carefully. My had instinctually flew up, resting carefully on the bump. Mike looked at me apologetically, unsure if he offended me.
"Nothing," I said, embarrassed. I didn't want him to know I was reflecting on my life. How…nerdy. I guess I didn't want to ruin everything before we even became friends, which honestly was something I wanted, "Keep dancing. That was pretty awesome." I laughed, sitting down on one of the ugly orange chairs of the choir room. I crossed my legs, watching Mike awkwardly make his way to the boom box that was on the other side of the room.
"I'm tired of beat boxing," Mike mumbled, turning on an upbeat dance song that I never heard before then. Mike smiled at me and started dancing again, gliding across the floor. His dancing made me wonder if his moves were actually real. How he accomplished them, I didn't know. It was kind of amazing. He used the whole room as a canvas for this art he was creating. Everything was a prop in the mood he was trying to convey. It was upbeat and amazing, but still felt like it wasn't exactly happy. It was kind of missing the good mood that the song was creating. I stood up, walking toward the boom box. I turned it off, studying Mike's face carefully.
"What's the problem?" I asked Mike, examining his confused eyes.
"Nothing's wrong with me," Mike explained, "It's you. I dedicate that dance to you. You see, it's a dance of happiness, but not true happiness. It's being happy with that something missing." Mike told me, sitting down in my previous spot. I was confused for a moment, recovering as quickly as I could. It was me. I sat down next to Mike, twirling a strand of hair in my thin fingers.
"Since when do you care about how I feel? I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but I can't remember the last time we talked as two people, not glee clubbers," I asked him, anxiously waiting for his response. I didn't want to come off as some kind of rude, hormonal teenager. Mike scoffed.
"Well, then," Mike joked, turning his back. After a moment, he turned back around, "Look, I don't know when the last time we talked was, either, but you look like you've been going through a tough time right now. You deserve a friend." Mike said, smiling sincerely.
"You are a terrible flirt," I mumbled, giggling under my breath. He sounded like a cheesy Hallmark card. Mike's face was smug.
"You think that's the only reason I'm talking to you?" Mike laughed, his eyes crinkling. That was the real sign of true laughter. Your eyes said so.
"No, I'm just saying your pick up lines are terrible," I giggled, folding my hands on my lap.
"I wasn't trying to pick you up," Mike said, "But if you want to be picked up, I guess I could arrange that."
"Okay, Mike, I understand that you aren't much of a ladies' man, but a man doesn't ask a girl out before they barely know each other," I explained, trying to keep my cool. My stomach was kind of fluttering. I didn't really know what to think of Mike at that moment.
"Fine, then. We'll get to know each other. Come with me to go get ice cream," Mike said, setting a hand on my knee. I crossed my arms, cracking a smile.
"Fine," I said simply, grabbing my bag again, "When?" Mike's face lit up.
"After school. We'll go straight from Glee Club," Mike told me, "You have to tell me all of your secrets." He joked, smiling.
"As long as your paying," I joked back. I paused, "Is this really where you go instead of the lunch room?" I asked him. I never liked to go to lunch, just to avoid humiliation, but Mike had lots of friends that liked him. I didn't understand why he avoided going to lunch.
"Yeah. I guess I really don't have much other time to dance. I can't really dance at home. My dad frowns upon dancing and singing…and not being extremely Asian," Mike explained, nodding. I smiled at him.
"I'll see you later, okay?" I said, walking out of the door. Today was going to be a good day, I hoped.
LOVE YOU GORGEOUS LLAMAS
if you have any ideas/ships i should write about, please tell me.