BY ORDER OF THE QUINN

Summary: AU S2E19 Prom Queen. Quinn takes back her rightful place on the throne. And get a little something extra in the bargain.

Prologue:

She is jerked out of her contemplation of her lovely (so lovely) wrist corsage by the appearance of a positively seething Santana Lopez. Oh God, what now? She does a quick visual sweep, taking in her fellow gleeks, checking Brittany's position first. That's usually the only reason Santana would look ready to kill, but everyone seems fine. Finn is talking with Sam and Mercedes, Rachel is on Artie's lap while Jesse St Jackass twirls the wheelchair around, occassionally circling a giggling Brittany. Tina and Mike are liplocked on the dancefloor amidst the rest of the school population. Puck is holding court with a bunch of blushing girls in full-on sex-shark mode. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"They're setting Karofsky up," Santana says once Quinn turns to face her, eyebrow raised in query. "The write-in vote is for Kurt as his Prom Queen," she continues. "I heard a couple of freshman Cheerios gigglin' about it in the bathroom just now."

Chapter 1

Almost immediately, the blonde is pissed, although she tries to calm herself down. But it's an impossible task, she knows. This was supposed to be her year, damn it!, she thinks in despair. She gave up her daughter, her spot as the Head Cheerio and her relationship with Sam for them; like hell was she giving up that crown. Not to Kurt Hummel of all people, and definitely not like this.

"So?" Santana asks pointedly, "what are we gonna do about it? They're messin' with us, Q. And I'm sick of it!"

Quinn agreed whole-heartedly. It had been expected, of course. She'd thought, however briefly, that the popularity-obsessed masses would be mollified by her stepping down, especially since she took Santana with her, but she sees now that their lack of reaction to her canvassing for Prom Queen votes had been meant to lull her into a false sense of security. And I fell for it, she wryly admitted.

"Well, if it's a Queen they want, a Queen they shall have," she purred. It was about time these pathetic idiots, who clung so resolutely to their popularity like a life-line, received a lesson in appearances. Let them eat cake? Sure, until they choke on it.

She took one more (fortifying) look at her corsage (still lovely) before squaring her shoulders in preparation for battle. Her stance was unconsciously mirrored by the Latina, dressed to kill in red at her side. Quinn nodded at her. It was always good to know (rather than have to wonder if) Santana was on her side, and that she had her back no matter what.

"I'm done," she said, knowing her second-in-command would understand exactly what she meant. "We're done," she corrected. "It's over."

Santana narrowed her eyes, taking in the determined face of her ex-captain. "You serious?" She couldn't help her sceptism, too used to playing devil's advocate as Sue Sylvester's hound, and she wasn't about to stop now. She would follow the blonde to the ends of the Earth, but only if Quinn was sure.

"Yep," came the reply. Hazel eyes were ringed with steel. This was the real Lucy Quinn Fabray, tempered by all she'd gone through, the epitome of regal confidence. She smiled at the Latina, full and wide. "Are you with me?"

Santana looked over to where Brittany was laughing with Artie, then she turned to where Finn was nursing a cup of punch while glaring at an oblivious Jesse St James. Finally, she answered. "How far are you taking this?"

Quinn followed her gaze, allowing a sneer as she took in her (soon to be ex) boyfriend ogling a smiling Rachel Berry. She shook her head in resignation. She was just so tired. Of pretending to be fine, or happy, or even sane half the time. Screw always doing what everyone else wanted her to do. What did that get her anyway? In the end she was still miserable, unloved and alone. It was time for a change.

"All the way."

Santana spoke almost immediately. "What do you need?" She checked their surroundings briefly, making sure they were as secluded as possible. "Do I let Karofsky in on this or...?"

Quinn frowned in thought, before shaking her head 'no' in answer. "He's a big boy, S. If he can't handle what he's been dishing out all these years, that's on him, not us." She took another look around the gym, focusing on Brittany and Artie for a second. "What about you? Think Britt's will be okay with this?"

Santana nodded shortly. "She'll be fine, Q. I'm giving her exactly what she wants right now. I aint making her a cheater, though." She sighed softly before admitting, "Artie is a pretty good guy, and a decent boyfriend. This will be just a statement, as far as anyone's concerned. The rest is up to Britt."

"Okay," Quinn conceded her point. "Then let's go make a statement."

Chapter 2

"He is still looking at you," Jesse whispered to Rachel, pulling her closer as they danced. He had been keeping a surreptious eye on his erstwhile rival, despite Rachel's pleas for him to stop. She huffed, giving him a look. "Not that I can blame the guy," Jesse smirked, making a show of trailing his gaze over her body. "He'd have to be blind to not notice how good you look like this."

Rachel rolled her eyes, hating herself a little for actually blushing at Jesse's observation. "Stop it," she admonished the boy, again. "I told you, we're just friends now, Jesse."

"Hmm," the boy smiled, "but does he know that?" He would never admit it out loud, but Jesse thought Finn was one of the luckiest bastards alive. He had the two most intriguing girls in all of Ohio going gaga over his stupid face, and he didn't deserve either of them. Speaking of-

"Quinn is looking rather marvelous herself, don't you think?" he asked, hitching a subtle head-nod in the direction of the former cheerleader. She seemed to be in a heated discussion with one of her flunkies. "What do think that's about?"

Rachel only shrugged. Really, the less she knew of Quinn and Santana's plans, the better. "None of our business, I'm sure. Unless they're arguing about the alternative to pouring pig's blood on me," she added, sounding only slightly bitter. "While Santana might have no compunctions about defiling a Jew in such a manner, Quinn's-"

"Headed this way," Jesse interrupted in a sharp whisper.

Rachel could only stare in dumb confusion as Quinn was indeed making her way towards them. Her attention was riveted on her glee teammate, until the shrill whine of feedback forced her look at the stage. The crowning ceremony was about to begin.

On stage, Figgins finally managed to speak into the microphone at a volume that everyone could appreciate. "Quiet please, children," he began sternly, "quiet please." He waited for a beat, and then: "Thank you. As is customary, I will be announcing the Prom King first. Will the candidates please step forward?"

One by one, the candidates for Junior Prom King were announced. A roar of applause went up for both Finn and Rick 'The Stick' Nelson, while a few brave souls wolf-whistled for Dave Karofsky, amid boo's and snickers. Again, Figgins called for quiet.

"And your Prom King is... David Karofsky!"

It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Principal Figgins continued the ceremony. He called the candidates for Prom Queen forward, before announcing the winner. Quinn, Santana, and Missy Gunderson all garnered polite applause, the former two most notably louder due to their glee-club friends. And then the moment of truth.

"Oh dear," he said softly. He read the cue-card in his hand more time, before turning to face the three girls on stage. He zeroed in on Quinn and Santana immediately. "What is the meaning of this?" he hissed quietly, taking care to cover the microphone. He might be oblivious most of the time, but he refused to be part of a prank of this magnitude. Unfortunately, the two ex-Cheerios were very good at subterfuge.

Figgins sighed as he realized there was no way out of this. He spared a quick glance in Will Schuester's direction, before turning back to the sea of students waiting for him. "Your new Prom Queen, by a majority write-in vote is... Kurt Hummel!"

This time, there was no shocked silence.

Missy was the first to break it. "Noooo!" she wailed, bursting into hysterical sobs as her boyfriend, Rick, grabbed her in a tight embrace. The rest of the student body were hollering their asses off, before one started up a chant of "Dance, dance ,dance!" His cry was soon taken up, and pretty soon it was the only thing to be heard. The jocks and cheerleaders, the obvious masters behind this prank, had cleared a path from a stone-faced Karofsky, replete with crown and sceptre, to a frozen Kurt.

On stage, the band started a slow waltz.

Standing to one side, quietly taking in the chaos, Santana took a deep breath. "Ready?" she asked Quinn, who nodded. "All the way, right?" she said, while offering a closed fist to her best friend.

Quinn nodded again, before bumping the Latina's fist with her own. "Let's do it."

Chapter 3

"Excuse me," Quinn said, causing Rachel to gasp at her sudden appearance. She frowned as her brain tried to figure out why Quinn Fabray would be standing in frint of her, smiling softly, and looking like a perfect vision of the Prom Queen.

"Um," she replied, biting her lip. A thought, an awful yet suspicious thought had her eyes widening in realization, and fury. "Did you do this?" the pint-sized diva hissed. "Was that what you and Santana were discussing earlier? How to effectively humiliate Kurt even more?"

Rachel's voive had been getting louder with every word she spoke, and soon she was yelling at Quinn for her heartless behaviour, and had gained a crowd. And also the attention of Finn Hudson.

The tall footballer forced his way to the front of the wall surrounding the furious diva and the placidly staring former HBIC. "Is that true?" he demanded, reaching for Quinn's arm. "Did you set up Kurt and Karofsky?"

Instead of answering, Quinn pointedly stared at Finn's giant hand clamped on her delicate limb, before digging her nails into his flesh and forcing him to release her with a muffled curse. "Don't ever touch me," she snarled at him, eyes flashing a warning. The assembled teens all took an unconscious step back. None of them wanted to get caught as the target of an enraged Quinn Fabray.

Still stubbornly ignoring the crowd (and honestly, they were used to it by now) Quinn addressed Rachel. "I had no idea this was gonna happen, Rach," she said. "It was supposed to be me and Finn sharing our first dance as Prom Queen and King, you know that."

Rachel nodded because, well duh! But obviously this was not what had happened. The chants for Karofsky and Kurt to dance together were still going on, and as Rachel looked over at the softly crying boy, she sighed sadly. Quinn might be ruthless and stubborn, but she wouldn't give up the Prom Queen crown to humiliate her fellow glee-club member.

Finn, of course, was not convinced.

"You're sick, do you know that?" he began, cradling his red-scraped hand. "You know Karofsky's been hassling Kurt; threatening him. He had to switch schools because of the bullying, Quinn!" He took a few steps closer to his stoic girlfriend, his face screwed up in rage. "I thought, after Lucy Caboosey you'd have more compassion. But I guess that's impossible for someone who is basically a cold-hearted bitch like you."

There was a collective gasp, as everyone saw Quinn flinch at Finn's declaration. Even the chanting had died down in the face of the shit-storm that Finn Hudson had unwittingly unleashed. This was it: the footballer was dead.

Santana broke through the immobile masses to glare at the hapless footballer. She'd yet to ask Brittany to dance, having agreed to wait for Quinn to take the lead. But this was not part of the plan. Damn that overgrown idiot to hell! she cursed. Subtly, she caught her ex-captain's eyes, before redirecting her gaze to the flower on her wrist. She looked back into hazel-greens, shiny with emotion, then offered a small, but encouraging smile. If you're still in, I'm still in.

Santana watched as Quinn drew in a fortifying breath, before lifting her eyes to Rachel's shocked gaze. "Excuse me," she smiled crookedly, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. She lifted the hand, eyes tracking to her lovely corsage briefly, then back to Rachel's, "May I have this dance?"

Almost without thought, Rachel found herself taking Quinn's hand. She watched as the blonde then turned to Santana and motioned towards a waiting Brittany. Next she turned to Jesse, "I'm pretty sure Sam wouldn't mind you leading." Finally she turned back to Rachel. As if waiting just for that signal, the band started their waltz again.

Amid their graceful circuit of the dancefloor, Rachel caught Kurt dancing with Blaine, shy yet happy smiles on both their faces. Another twirl and she spotted Jesse leading a giggling Sam, perfectly erect posture and all. Another and she exchanged hesitant smiles with Brittany and Santana. She could see Tina and Mercedes laughingly arguing over who should be leading. A burst of laughter escaped as Mike and Noah attempted a lift that had the Asian boy nearly falling on his ass. The only ones not joining in were the sulking pair of Artie and Finn.

Breathless with the incredible support Quinn had orchestrated, Rachel looked at her dance partner in awe. Quinn narrowed her eyes at the slightly manic gleam, before arching an elegant eyebrow in question. "What?"

Rachel only shook her head, struck utterly speechless by the blonde. "He was wrong," she finally said. She brought them to a halt, reaching for Quinn's other hand and pulling her into a hug. "Finn was completely wrong," she reiterated. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever met," she declared, stepping back to take in the statuesque blonde in all her glory, "but you are so much more than that."

Quinn smiled in response, then bit the corner of her lip. All the way, right? Having made her decision, she cupped Rachel's cheek, stroking the soft skin down to her jaw. Slowly drawing the shorter girl closer, she whispered, "I know you told Finn which corsage to get me. And I know what gardenias mean." She searched Rachel's eyes, waiting to see if her assumptions were right. They were so close now, she could feel the other girl's breath ghosting over her mouth.

She waited.

Epilogue:

The ring wasn't too flashy. It was deceptively simple, actually, much like the girl wearing it. Much like the relationship it signified, too. They had been clear though, that it was not an engagement ring. (It would make a very appropriate engagement ring, though.) It was a symbol of their love for each other; their dedication to each other and the relationship they shared. It was the perfect accessory for the newly crowned Senior Prom Queens of McKinley High.

Figgins had been more than willing to have his name attached to this particular write-in surprise.