What Goes On Inside That Head of Yours?, a glee fanfic

A.N.#1: This isn't the first time I wrote Faberry. Not really. I just haven't posted the first fic I wrote before this. Basically, this is pure crack. For me it is, since this was inspired from a very embarrassing situation I've been in. The only difference I made here is that it has a Faberry twist on it. Unbeta-ed, beeteedubs. Excited to post this, though. Enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing and reminiscing it.

Disclaimer: Everything's not mine except for the sarcasm and the stupid idea of not pushing the ground button immediately.

Quinn's mind - Italics

Just Quinn - Regular

What Goes On Inside That Head of Yours?

Just my luck.

Let me hold on to that thought. Well, until I get the nerves to go over there at the bulletin board, stand beside her and maybe subtly check her out or ehem ehem look up at some lame flyer or whatever. Why is even a bulletin board hanging around there beside the elevator. In a mall. Stupid Lima.

Yeah, keep on telling yourself that.

Oh, oh, oh. She's still there. It's already been approximately 2 minutes and she's still standing there. Was there some new theatre play audition list posted without my prior knowledge? Or maybe a playbill of a Barbra Streisand musical got lost in there, somewhere?

Ugh, shut up not-so-rational part of my so-called mind. You are supposed to be the one who's rational and you should just suck it up and make my body go there to do so.

Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exh—Oh my God, do midgets really need to get on their toes just to read a flyer that's just two inches higher than them? Gasp. Did I just saw white, virginal panties peeking under that sinfully-short plaid red skirt or my mind is playing yet the same game with me?

Dude, honestly? Move that gaze back up, clean up your drool, walk over there and just talk to her already. Simple. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

Okay, fine. Just shut the hell up already. I don't want to check myself in to Lima Mental before I even get the chance to at least say hi or whatever stupid greeting that comes to mind when I get there. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Left. Right. Go on, go on. Almost there… GASPS! Wha—my hair's a freakin' mess! Okay. Stay calm. Swipe a little at the back, brush some bangs on the side… voila! Grin. Now, where was I? Ohhhh. Good, target's still there. I have about 10 more steps before I reach my destination.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

…

How will you even carry on a simple conversation without having a brain meltdown whenever you are five steps more near her?

Umm. Actually, I only have one step left.

Smartass.

Abort mission. This is only going to lead to an embarrassing stuttering mess of epic proportions.

…

Umm, hello? The-one-insisting-that-she-is-the-rational state part of mind, are you still there? Over.

…

You've got to be kidding me.

…uhh, do I look like I'm kidding?

What the f—C'mon! You're Quinn Fabray, ex-head cheerleader but still reigning as McKinley High's Queen HBIC. You. Are. Not. A. Wimp. And also, you are totally going to kneel for an additional hour to prayer time later for making your subconscious almost swear on you.

Oh, don't be such a Fabray. (By the way, you already cursed earlier.) Who made me go over here under the false pretense of staring at those lame things people call flyers posted on a stupid bulletin board to when I actually just want to stare stupidly at Berry's stupid, perfect legs that go on for miles.

Hmmm. It does go on for miles. Maybe it'll feel good around us, too.

Amen to that, girl.

Ugh, stop being such a perv. It'll only add up another thirty more minutes for prayer time and I do not want to drown myself from my bleeding knees.

Huffs. Then stop being a bitch, you lez.

Like you're the one to talk. Who stared dumbly and drooled more?

Very mature of you. Are you sure you're really the rational one? I mean, are you legit?

Sarcasm can make you one.

"Quinn?"

After what seemed like hours of arguing with your subconscious only landed you to a somewhat awkward position to make an even more embarrassing conversation with none other than, Rachel Berry.

Shit, shit, shit. Play cool. Oh fuck, did I just cursed? Again? What the hell, Quinn!?

"Oh, Berry. Didn't see you there." Smirk. Well-played. Oh my… that's like the cutest frown ever.

"Are you sure? You've been staring at me and I've been trying to get a hold of you for a minute now. You look like you're contemplating on something very… intense. I heard you do some murmuring. Were you talking to yourself? Oh, Quinn… do you have a problem at home? I've heard that you've been having a hard time adjusting to your new home life specifically the fact that you and your mother are trying so hard to keep everything normal after her divorce with your father. If you do need a friend or well… someone you need to talk to or simply listen to your woes, I'll be more than glad to help you with anything."

"Anything?" Oh no. I did not just say that. Faster than I can say… anything.

Yes, you did stupid! ABORT, MATE! ABORT, ABORT, ABORT, ABORT, ABOOOOOOOORTTTTTTTT!

Bright smile. "Sure."

Ding.

I don't really like elevators because they can be dingy but I've never been this thankful. Praise to 'bro up there. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Internally. Stay calm.

"Uh yeah. Whatever."

Code Red! Code Red! Inside, immediately!

"Where are you going?"

We are currently on the 5th floor. Where will I be going? Of course, I'm going down. To the ground floor. To go home. Duh. Yeah. Frown a little bit. There. "Ground. My mom's texted me to meet her there for early dinner."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Why did she look a little bit disappointed?

Don't assume yet, my dear.

Whatever. Now, will your hand to wave. Good girl.

"I'll see you around, I guess."

Boom. Shy smirk. "Bye, Quinn. See you around…"

OHMYGODDIDSHEJUSTBITHERLIPAL ITTLE?!

Ding. Elevator closes. Wait, did she just wink?! What the—

She totes get her flirt on with us, yes.

OHMYGODMYJAWDROPSALITTLEMORE TOTHEGROUND.

Do you want me to pick it up for you?

OHMYGODDIDSHEALSOASKEDUSTOCA LLHER?!

Yes, yes she did. Move on, Fabray. Excited, much?

OHOHOHOHOHHHHHSHEFLIRTEDWITH USSSS!

Sighs.

SHESOOOOWANTSUSBACK! LEZGETOURGAMEONNNN!

Sighs some more.

…

Wait. Where are we?

Umm, the elevator?

I know! I know! Are we stuck? Why is it not moving?!

Oh my God.

What?

You didn't push any buttons.

…

PUSH SOMETHING, IDIOT!

Fine, fine! Click. There.

…

Ding. Elevator opens.

Oh no, you didn't.

What?

You clicked the button for the 4th.

…

Oh.

…

She probably noticed that we stayed inside for a minute, only to click the button for the wrong floor, didn't she?

Do you want me to embarrass us further by confirming?

"Ugh, we're so screwed."

'Berry' much screwed, indeed.

A.N.#2: Thoughts? See that box below? Type it there. Thanks in advance! :D