Uh so I couldn't get this student/teacher idea out of my head after I watched the movie Bloomington. I know I have like a million current stories right now but I just…I really wanted to write this little thing ugh omg sorry. The title is something I come up with on a whim, so it's subject to change. Tell me if you think I should continue or whatever whatever, you know the drill
"Hey Q, you hear about the new teacher?
Quinn slid into the desk in front of Santana, eyeing the front of the room as the Latina spoke to see, in fact, that their normal English teacher was not present. Quinn sent up a quick, joyous thank you to the heavens; their old English teacher had been creepy and weird and stared at her ass in her Cheerios skirt way more than she'd like to admit, and that was only counting the times she'd noticed.
"Sources say she's totally bang-able."
Quinn snorted. "What sources? Puck? He'll bang anything that walks."
The boy in question took his seat at the desk next to Quinn's, catching the insult and letting out an indignant "Hey!"
Quinn shrugged. It wasn't like her statement was invalid, after all.
She opened up her notebook and began doodling flowers in the margins, listening to everyone chattering around her. Despite being the most popular girl in school, there were times when she preferred to just sit back, unnoticed, and observe everyone else. These times were frequent actually, but she was only able to do it once in a while.
The instant decrease in volume caught her attention and hinted that the "bang-able" teacher had probably just walked in. Raising her gaze slowly, the first thing Quinn saw were tan, impeccable, long legs under some God awful argyle skirt. The shirt wasn't much better; a matching sort of sweater vest. But, Quinn couldn't deny that it clung to all the right places.
The "sources" had been right; this woman standing in front of them was probably the most beautiful person Quinn had ever seen in her life. Her nose was a little too big and her grin a little frighteningly enthusiastic (Quinn was always picking out the flaws in her own self and, by default, always picking out those of others), but she was incredibly pretty. Quinn felt herself flush just looking at her.
The teacher turned to write her name on the board and Quinn almost began sweating due to the exertion it took her to avoid looking at her ass.
Puck let out a low whistle and Quinn gave him a side-eyed glare. "I can't wait to take a ride on-"
Quinn leaned over and punched him. Hard.
"Quit being such a fucking pig."
She didn't even know this woman and she felt instantly almost protective of her. They way Puck's eyes were leering at her, running up and down the length of her body, made Quinn want to simultaneously puke and smash his head into a wall.
"Whoa, down Quinn," snickered Santana. "She's fair game."
"Quinn doesn't even like girls," Puck said.
"Yes, she does," Brittany replied absently, filing her nails.
Quinn stiffened and whirled around. "W-what? No I-"
There was a throat cleared and Quinn turned around slowly to find their teacher's eyes focused directly on her, not angry or upset, just patient. Quinn felt a small thrill of pleasure course through her. She wanted this woman to look at her forever.
"I'm Rachel Berry. I know Mr. Rich will be missed but due to some complications he was removed from this position, and I'm your new English teacher." She leaned back against her desk and quietly surveyed the room for a minute. "In order to get to know you guys better, let's do a little activity."
The class groaned, but Quinn sat up straighter. She couldn't deny that a small, small part of her really wanted Ms. Berry's attention again.
Ms. Berry smiled a knowing smile. "It's not too terrible guys. We're just going to go around the room, and say your name and one thing you love to do. No problem, right? I'll go first." She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling before eyeing them with a smile. "I'm Rachel Berry and I love to sing." She looked to the first kid in the first row. "Now, you?"
Quinn tuned out everyone's stupid names and the stupid shit they liked to do. She either knew it all or didn't care. She focused on preparing what she was going to say; even though she was constantly the center of attention, there were a lot of times where she got really, really nervous to speak in front of other people. Right now was one of those times, probably because Ms. Rachel Berry looked like a goddess and her warm, brown eyes twinkled like-
Wait what?
"I'm Noah Puckerman, or Puck. I dig sports." He did some disgusting eyebrow raise thing and smirked. Quinn wanted to barf because he was trying to make things seem sexual all while leering at Ms. Berry. "I just love getting all sweaty and-"
"And playing with balls," drawled Santana causing the whole class to erupt into laughter. Even Ms. Berry smirked quickly before wiping the look from her face and turning to Quinn, smiling at her expectantly. Quinn took a deep breath.
"Um. I'm Quinn Fabray. And I like-" Cheerleading. Gymnastics. Hanging out with my friends. Throwing slushies. Being a bitch. "Writing" she answered honestly. She could sense the rest of the class' surprise. She hadn't told anybody that before. What made her want to suddenly spill her guts for her new English teacher?
Ms. Berry smiled warmly. "What do you like to write, Quinn?"
Quinn was flustered. She hadn't asked any of the other students questions about their hobbies.
"Uh, anything really. Poetry a lot." She felt sick. She didn't want people to know personal things about her; it caused her to feel a certain sense of vulnerability that left a bad taste in her mouth.
The teacher's grin widened before she moved on to the boy next to Quinn, who said he liked anime. He got a few weird looks until Ms. Berry smiled at him and said, "My husband used to love that when he was a teenager too."
It was like a bucket of ice water poured on Quinn Fabray's head.
Santana hummed, "Hear that? Husband," at the same time Puck mumbled, "Oh fuck."
"Guess there's no chance of either of you getting all up in that," Santana laughed, smirking at Quinn and Puck.
"I didn't want a chance," muttered Quinn.
"Yes, you did," Brittany said.