Out of all of the possible Family Guy pairings, Meg/Quagmire has always been my favorite. This story takes place beyond the seasons (as far as S12), and leans heavily on the events of S10E10, 'Quagmire and Meg'

(Obligatory warning:) Characters owned by Seth MacFarlane

For an evening at the Griffin residence, it had been a fairly peaceful one. Peter and Lois had spent most of the afternoon in a quiet argument, as they usually did when Peter hadn't done something truly outrageous. Chris had sequestered himself in his room, and no one had heard a peep from Stewie or Brian since Lois had put them to bed a couple hours earlier. Meg sat on her bed, leaning her head on her windowsill, watching the neighborhood street. Her eye caught every slight movement on the sidewalk, the turning of cars down the road, and some small part of her heart still held out that someone, anyone, would come and visit for her birthday.

She really shouldn't have been surprised that her parents had completely forgotten it this year. Last year they had taken her to the Teen Choice Awards, but had hardly reacted when no one showed up at the surprise party later that evening. This year there had not even been a mention of the approaching birthday, and now it had come without a nod or word.

She pressed her phone to her thigh, hoping against hope that it would vibrate, at least with a "can't come" or a "seriously, loser? wtf," but so far it had remained still. She watched out the window as the sun dipped down behind Quahog, and remained motionless as the sky turned orange and night seeped in from the corners of the horizon. Only when the new stars began to bud did she retreat from the window and close it tight.

Sighing, she took a pen from the desk and reached up to her wall calendar, marking an X on the date, then reached under her mattress for her diary. The book was old, having been her diary for the better part of five years, and even though she hadn't been writing as much of late, she was beginning to run out of space. Just a few more pages and she would be at the cardboard backing. She touched the pen to the page, wondering what to write. Really, was there anything she could stay about this day that the diary had not already seen? "Dear Diary, my family ignored my birthday," "Dear Diary, my parents didn't speak to me today," "Dear Diary, I have no friends," it was all the same, really. So, instead of writing, she started thumbing back through the pages. This diary had seen quite a bit in its time, though, she would admit that. It was disjointed at times, melodramatic, but what else could be expected from a teen girl's diary? As she flipped through the pages, she reached a page that she had dog-eared exactly one year ago, the night of her surprise party.

Dear Diary,

My parents took me to the Teen Choice Awards for my birthday, it's like they don't know me at all! Oh, wait, they DON'T know me at all. Mom said that she gave Chris money to pay off people at school to come to my party, and even then Dad was the only one who came. They had to pay off my own father to come to my birthday party. This family sucks!

There is only one reason why this birthday wasn't a total bust, and that was from next door. I've always thought of him as just one of my dad's friends, but he's so different from him- I don't even know why they are friends. Glenn is so nice and funny, he actually reads and he isn't completely inconsiderate. He even texted me after my dad kicked him out (what an asshole) and we're going to start hanging out. Brian is worried about it, but I told him not to be. Glenn isn't going to hurt me or anything, and I am 18 now. If they aren't going to care about me when I'm alone, why should they care about me when I'm hanging out with someone? Especially someone my dad knows? They are so fucked up.

-Meg

She chuckled to herself, closing the diary and shaking her head. She had known even then what kind of man Glenn Quagmire was, but she hadn't minded his attentions. So what if he was a womanizer? He was a nice guy, and it wasn't like she wanted to marry him or anything like that. What was the harm in a little fling? She furrowed her brow, growing frustrated at the memory of her parent's reactions. Peter she could almost understand, almost, but Lois? Even by her own admittance she had been a massive slut before settling down with Peter. She had no right to judge, or to stop Meg at the cabin.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She waited in silence, and listened as her parents passed by her room.

"Hey, did Meg seem a little moody today?" Lois asked.

"Eh, she was probably on her period. Heh. Period." Peter laughed. Lois groaned and she heard their bedroom door close. Her mind was suddenly made up. She picked up her phone. She still had Quagmire's number, right?

Glenn Quagmire had just leaned back in his chair, book in hand, when his phone buzzed from across the room. Frowning, he stood up and went over to it. The only people who ever texted him were the guys or Ida- he never gave out his real phone number to his one-night-stands. There were two messages, one from an unknown number, and one from…Meg?

(555) 555-4891

HAAY SVEN! SEXY BOI, WANT 2 HKUP 2NI8?

P. Nipple Ring

Hey, Mr. Quagmire. Are you home?

Glenn sneered and deleted the first message, remembering that Joe had given a random girl his number after she mistook them for Norwegian tourists. It had been fun until he'd forgotten his accent halfway through the night, but by then she had obviously been too drunk to tell. He hoped that she wouldn't try the number again, then replied to Meg's text.

P. Nipple Ring

Hey, Mr. Quagmire. Are you home?

Me

Yeah, Meg. What's up?

P. Nipple Ring

Would it be okay if I stopped by for a minute?

Me

Is your dad okay with it?

P. Nipple Ring

He's asleep

Quagmire considered for a moment. "It's innocent, Quagmire." He told himself before typing out a quick reply and hitting send before he could stop himself. Thirty seconds later, there was a quiet knock on the door. She must have sent those messages while standing at her front door. He checked that his robe was tight around his waist, smoothed back his hair, and opened the door.

The smell was the same as she remembered, the smell of Old Spice, books, and sex. She stepped in gingerly, smiling at her neighbor and taking in her surroundings. He was in his robe, a white wife beater and blue boxers just visible underneath, his bare feet pressed into his plush rug. In the corner there was a book with a half-full glass of wine sitting on top of it. That made her strangely happy, to realize that she had interrupted him in reading, instead of a more salacious activity.

"What can I do for you, Meg?"

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, Mr. Quagmire." Meg said, holding her arm and glancing around, "I just… well, it's my birthday and no one said anything."

"I'm sorry about that." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Did your parents do anything?"

"No."

"Well, can't say I'm surprised." He said, "Well, it is awful late-" he began, but seeing her face he paused and said, "So… do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure." She smiled. He smiled back, then went into his back room. He came back with a small handful of DVD's.

"Does it matter to you?" he asked, gesturing to the movies. She shook her head and watched as he crouched to turn on his television and insert the disc. After a pause, before the disc had loaded, she cleared her throat.

"Mr. Quagmire…" She said, "You remember last year, right?"

"Heh, heh. How could I forget?" He laughed uneasily, "Your mom almost skinned me alive in my own cabin."

"Yeah…" She said. Maybe he wouldn't want to, now. Maybe her parents had scared him enough that he wouldn't be interested anymore. Well… how would she know, though? "Well, I've been thinking about it."

"Thinking about it?" He asked, standing from the player, remote in hand.

"I think… well. I am 19 now, Mr. Quagmire." She said, blushing. He stared at her, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

"What are you saying, Meg?"

"I don't know…" She mumbled, "Do you want to...do you want to fool around a little?"

"Are you serious?" He asked. She couldn't read his face.

"Well, yeah. I am." She said. Her face was so hot she thought it would melt her skin. She fiddled with the bottom of her blouse, refusing to look up at him.

"You gotta tell me if you are really sure." He said, his voice stern, "I got into big trouble with your parents last year, and I'm not going to lie- I mean… I would...I… are you sure?"

She looked up at him, catching his gaze for several seconds, before smiling wide.

"Yes, Mr. Quagmire."

"...Giggity."