Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Glee. :(

A/N: This hasn't been beta-ed. All mistakes are my own! Considering that I wrote this at 1 AM, there could be quite a few!


Puck

Sex Ed. What a dumb idea. Whoever put me into this class was clearly mistaken – I don't need to be taking the class at all. Hell, with the number of cougars and Cheerios I've banged in the past month alone, I could teachthe class. Besides, who else knows the subject better than I do? I could do a better job than the nun they hired. The woman is practically ancient. I doubt she's ever even seen a dick before. There is no way she could teach the class better than I could. Maybe I could get Figgins to let me do demonstrations. I would hand-pick my fellow demonstrators, of course. That would be fucking awesome.

Speaking of fucking awesome – Quinn Fabray is sitting diagonally from me, one row to the right and one seat up. Perfect view. She keeps shifting around in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs in that deliciously short skirt of hers. There's something wrong with that level of perfection. It needs to be violated. She's so... tempting. I idly wonder what she would look like naked. In my mind, I undress her. First, I'd rip off that brutally short skirt. Next, I would pull off her top. Then would come her bra, her panties, until there would be nothing between us at all. I can picture it now: the blonde bitch writhing underneath me, moaning my name. Another scenario: her beautiful lips wrapping around me, taking me all in and refusing to stop until I'm spent. Each possibility is so tantalizing, I can feel my skin crawl with anticipation and my blood rush downwards, what little focus I have on the teacher's lecture rapidly evaporating.

Knock it off, I tell myself sternly. I have to remind myself that I'm fantasizing about Quinn Fabray, my best friend's girlfriend, president of the Celibacy Club. I know I'm a stud – any girl in the school would love to tango with me, if you know what I mean – but Quinn is a different story. Finn says she flips out if he even slips a hand under her shirt. There's no way in hell I'm getting anywhere near to tapping her ass. To relieve myself of my, uh, swelling problem, I try to concentrate on the teacher's voice. She's lecturing about contraception, or something stupid like that. All girls take the Pill, right? Contraception isn't anything I need to worry about, so I tune out and focus on Quinn again. Hot fucking damn, she looks good in that skirt.


Quinn

I sigh and look at the clock. Thirty-five minutes until Sex Ed. is over. Sister Hannigan doesn't need to spend all this time going over each method of contraception in such graphic detail. I am a firm believer in abstinence. My first time will be my wedding night. My husband will respect my body and my decisions and not push me into anything stupid, the way Finn does. Oh, Finn. He's honestly not that smart, which makes me feel a little sorry for him. He just doesn't understand the virtues of virginity or that my future husband will expect me to be pure. Instead, he looks down at me with these big, round eyes and asks me if he can just touch my breast once. I let him, (under the shirt, over the bra) as long as he agrees to not go any further than that. I gave him a promise ring for our six-month anniversary and he told me he couldn't wear it around school because the rest of the guys on the football team would make fun of him for it. He is so shallow.

I glance back at the clock. Thirty minutes to go. Sister Hannigan is still lecturing, but she's changed topics. Now she's onto the consequences of a teen pregnancy. As if I need to pay attention to this. I wonder if I could petition the school to allow the Celibacy Club to hold meetings instead of attending Sex Ed. since we clearly are not in any need of this class whatsoever.

At the last Celibacy Club meeting, some ridiculous girl walked in and tried to pretend that girls want sex just as much as guys do. I mean, come on. That is entirely false. Men are simply sex-driven creatures; women are much more sophisticated than that. The same girl is in Sex Ed. with me, sitting in the front row. Her name is Rebecca, maybe? Rachel? It doesn't matter. Whenever I see her, she's always scribbling down pages and pages of notes as fast as she can using a pen with a gold star on the end of it. When she wrote her name on the attendance list at the first Celibacy Club meeting, she signed her name with a gold star after it. "It's a metaphor," she explained. "I'm a gold star." Ugh.

Suddenly, Sister Hannigan calls my name. Students are reading aloud from the textbook now, one by one.

"Quinn, please read the paragraph at the top of page 107," she instructs.

"There is a chance of an unplanned pregnancy every time you have intercourse. Contraceptives are generally effective in preventing pregnancies, although they are not foolproof. The only completely effective method of preventing pregnancies is total abstinence," I read.

"So remember, children. Abstinence! Abstinence is the only way to prevent an unplanned pregnancy!" Sister Hannigan trilled.

Her voice gave me a headache. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. I had had enough of this class. It's not like it will ever be of use to me.


Rachel

Sister Hannigan has quite convincing arguments for abstinence, though frankly, they are a little overdone. Of course, I can't take any chances with an unplanned pregnancy.

Juillard, Broadway, fame – it's all well within my grasp. I'm going to be famous. I even sign my name with a gold star sticker. It's a metaphor; I'm a gold star. I have everything planned out in my video blogs, which I post on MySpace on a daily basis. In two years, I will graduate from William McKinley High School with the highest GPA in school history and a perfect attendance record dating back to Kindergarten. Four years later, I will attend Juillard in New York City while performing small but crucial roles on Broadway that are written specifically to show off my natural charm. By the time I graduate from Juillard (with honors, of course,) I will have earned a starring role. My name will be splashed across playbills, written in lights. Rachel Berry will become a household name, spoken in breathy, revered tones of awe by aspiring actresses and singers. Of course, that's just the beginning. An unplanned pregnancy would ruin all of that. It would be inconsiderate of me to conceive a child at such a young age if it meant denying the world the pleasure of seeing me perform.

I attempted to express these views at my first Celibacy Club meeting, although I don't believe the president of the club, Quinn Fabray, was very impressed. I explained to her that girls want sex just as much as boys do. As the result of an increase in hormone production, it's only natural that teens should have sexual feelings. I'm sure that Quinn is suffering from sexual repression, which would explain her inhuman desire to silence my beliefs. Quinn is clearly unable to express her sexual desires, which may cause her to act out in a moment of confusion or loneliness. I'm sure you're impressed with my analysis of Quinn's sexual behavior. My two gay dads take my education very seriously and bought me a boxed set of adolescent psychology books for Hannukah, which I immediately read and used to to psychoanalyze the behavior of others around me. If this seems a little strange to you, relax. You are probably quite impressed with my intelligence and maturity. After all, I told you – I'm a gold star.


Finn

Sex Ed. isn't nearly as cool as I thought it would be. I thought it was going to be, like... hot chicks. Maybe they would make out with each other or take their clothes off. Instead,it was just weird Sister Hannigan, lecturing about the dangers of teen sex and something she called "venerable diseases." Confusing, I know.

I try to catch Quinn's eye whenever Sister Hannigan mentions the word "sexual intercourse," which is basically every ten seconds. Maybe if she hears the word "sex" often enough, she'll get turned on and let me feel her up – for real this time, not over the bra. I really like Quinn, but I wish she wouldn't be so uptight. I wish I could just have sex with her, to know what it feels like. I've heard from Puck that if you can last more than ten seconds, it's better than anything in the world, even football. I figure Puck knows what he's talking about. He has sex, like, every day. With moms and stuff. It's kind of gross, the way he goes on and on about it. I told him to stay away from my mom or I'd beat him up.

I get out a piece of notebook paper and write Quinn a note. "You, me, 8 PM. Want to get a real sex education?" I write. I fold the note into a careful paper airplane and throw it towards Quinn, watching it soar through the air and land squarely on her desk. She gives me a curious glance and a smile as she opens it. Yes... yes... I silently pray, hoping she'll agree. After all, some weird girl at Celibacy Club said that girls want sex just as much as guys do. Quinn can't hold out on me forever, right?

Quinn turns around, staring in open-mouth horror. "You're vulgar," she mouths back to me. She tosses her ponytail and crosses her arms across her chest. Some girls are cute when they're mad. Quinn, on the other hand, isn't. At all. I inwardly groan, knowing this means I won't get to touch her boob again for awhile. Not even over the bra. Damn.


A/N: Please review! All reviews are greatly appreciated. :)