A/N: This is just a shabby one-off. There's no real plot, it doesn't really make sense, but I felt like writing it anyway. FTR - this is not the rebel!Quinn story.
"Holy fuck," Santana mutters, eyes wide and mouth open even wider.
Quinn Fabray has just entered McKinley High for the start of their senior year, but she doesn't look anything like the Quinn Fabray the student body knows. Santana isn't the only one who notices - obviously. How could anyone look past the messed up, pink hair and the punk clothes. Santana tries her very best to come up with a witty comment, but her mind is too flabbergasted.
"Holy fuck," she repeats as Quinn approaches her.
"Hi," Quinn smiles, opening her locker. They've become closer ever since Nationals - their friendship still isn't what one could call normal, but it's far from the catfights of last year. "Are you okay?" Quinn asks, an eyebrows quirked - and Santana nearly jumps up in relief at the first sign of the old Quinn.
"You... you..." she tries.
Quinn smirks. "Thought I'd try a new style. I figured since people will shit on me anyway, I might as well have fun with it. At least now I'm giving them a reason. At least they'll shit on the way I look."
"What are you - what were you -" Santana struggles with words. She grabs Quinn's arm and pulls her closer. "Do you realize what you're doing?" she hisses, finally able to utter a full sentence.
"I'm exploring sides of me that I have been ignoring for years," Quinn shrugs. "You should try it too. It's our final year, Santana. Next year we're gone and nobody will give a fuck."
"Did you just swear?" Santana asks incredulously. "You know what - don't even answer that. This calls for an intervention. You're giving me no choice. We have to let them know you're still hot shit."
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Quinn challenges. "Besides, I really don't care if -"
Her words are muffled by Santana's lips.
On hers.
At first, Quinn is too shocked to protest. She falls back against the locker, mentally freaking out but physically enjoying herself too much to stop this. She whimpers when she feels Santana's hand on her hip and her tongue running across her bottom lip.
Santana doesn't seem too keen on letting go, even though people are now staring at them and whispering and she's pretty sure that's Jewfro she sees approaching from the corner of her eye, as always accompanied by his camera.
She parts her lips slightly, enough for Santana to slip her tongue inside. Quinn has now relaxed and just goes along with it, figuring it's too late to stop anything. She challenges Santana, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her in closer, slipping her own tongue inside Santana's mouth.
The kiss stops organically and they're both panting. Quinn looks at Santana, whose face is flushed and eyes are closed.
"You were just looking for an excuse to kiss me, right?" Quinn asks, completely ignoring Jewfro's incessant questions. Santana rolls her eyes, turns around and gives the boy a shove, causing him to bump into Rachel Berry who was also having a stare fest.
Santana turns back to Quinn. "Look. We're not on Cheerios anymore, but we're still in Glee club. That sucks major ass for our status. On top of that, you come to school dressed like you escaped from Jem and the Holograms and I frankly don't know how much longer I can keep the gay in. We had a taste of popularity, of being the top dogs, and it was fun while it lasted but as we both know, the moment you make a mistake you're done for. I've had it. This year, I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to do. It's our last one, and people will be talking about us anyway, so you're right. We're going to be outcasts either way - we might as well have fun doing it. Let's just... let's just really not care this year."
Quinn looks at her, an amused smirk on her face. "You watched Jem and the Holograms?"
Santana can't hide the are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. "Really? Out of everything I said, that's what you remember?"
Quinn shrugs. "You might think you just had some major revelation, but if you had been listening to me instead of trying to come up with a half-acceptable excuse to kiss me, you would've heard that's exactly what I said before."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Ugh. I don't care. I'm so coming to school wearing a fedora, a wife beater and men's jeans tomorrow."
Fin