AN: So this is pretty much AU after 3x01 because of reasons. Sam is also the same grade as Quinn and Company for similar reasons. ALSO, this is a reposting of the story previously titled "That Bitch and Her Three Exes". It was deleted in the recent purge because of inappropriate content. Lame. I urge you all to follow this story on AO3, as this will be a secondary outlet for this work, rather than its primary home. I have the same username and the story still retains it's original title.
It started in June. The doorbell rang and Puck answered it to find Quinn in all her Skank glory, holding a guitar, at his doorstep.
"Teach me," she said. She was trying to demand it, but she faltered and it sounded more like a plea.
He hadn't spoken to her in practically a year, although that was not for his lack of trying. She simply had wanted nothing to do with him, or anyone from Glee for that matter. All she ever wanted to do was smoke and screw around with that questionable girl, Mack. It was frustrating to watch the girl he once wanted the world with fall down past any acceptable level of loserdom. It was hard to watch her fall apart. So he stopped trying after a while, only stopping to give her a short hug at graduation that she hardly reciprocated before quickly retreating to his car. He didn't want her to see the tears in his eyes because he knew deep down that a huge part of her breaking was his fault. He only stopped when he realized that she did still graduate, so that meant that some part of the Quinn he loved was still in there somewhere.
So without question, Puck invited her in and began to teach her how to play guitar. He owed her so much more than guitar lessons.
...
He thought it would take longer for her to get the hang of it, but her fingers were already calloused. From what, Puck didn't know and he figured he wasn't supposed to ask.
They had been going over what songs he could teach her next because she had already mastered the few he used to teach her technique, when she told him.
"I wrote a song."
She was looking at his desk, unused and littered with everyone else's senior pictures. Her voice was quiet, but certain. He still had to ask.
"What?"
Still looking at the desk, focused on a wallet size picture of a girl they both knew, she repeated, "I wrote a song." Only this time she continued; her tone businesslike, "It's just chords and lyrics, nothing fancy. It would need a full band to really work."
It was then that she decided to meet Puck's gaze. Her eyes were begging for something.
"Well…uh, let's hear it, Baby-mama."
Her eyes were still boring into Puck's when she spoke. "Like I said, I need a full band."
Puck could hardly believe what she was implying, so he had to ask to make sure.
"Are you saying that you want to…start a band?"
She retreated into herself for a moment; he could see it in her eyes. But then she was back, bright and determined.
"Yeah, I guess. We could probably ask Finn and Sam to play with us. It's as good as chance as any to get out of here, you know?"
She laughed quietly before adding, "We could call ourselves 'That Bitch and Three Her Exes' or something."
Puck had to bite his tongue before saying something about the fact that she could have gotten out like a normal person. She could have gone to a college far away. She could have bid the ignorant town of Lima adieu. But instead she spent her senior year smoking under the bleachers and ignoring everyone who ever cared about her. She spent her year pointedly not saying a word to Rachel Berry, even though he knew his fellow Jew still texted her every day. He saw the unanswered texts on Rachel's phone and the sad look she shook off each time she tried again. And now, during Quinn's lessons, he saw the reaction on the other end. Sometimes Quinn's face was blank, and other times she grimaced, but every time her eyes flashed with something.
If you asked, Quinn said she was finally being herself, but Puck knew that she spent the year as the farthest thing from.
But Quinn was sitting in his room with a guitar in her lap, asking him to form a band with her. He owed her a lot more than a rock band.
So he said, "Okay…but we are not naming the band that."
...
It was mid-July when Sam was faced with the new Determined Punk Quinn Fabray rather than the Apathetic Punk Quinn Fabray he had been trying to reach out to for the entirety of his senior year. When he opened the door, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Quinn!" he blurted out.
"Surprise," Quinn greeted in monotone.
Sam gulped as he said, "You got that right." He desperately tried to search her face for any indication of what the hell was going on, but she was wearing those stupid thick sunglasses and he couldn't see her eyes.
"Puck and I sort of have a proposition for you." Apparently, this version of Quinn did not deal with conversational pleasantries.
"A proposition?" Sam drawled out. After a moment, he exclaimed, "I knew Puck had a man crush on me!"
Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. God, why does everyone think I would be into that?"
"Then what?" Sam asked confused. He really thought Quinn had arrived to usher in a new stage of her downward spiral: sexual deviancy.
"We sort of have an idea for a band and we could really use you," Quinn said plainly. "If you're interested, be at Puck's garage tomorrow at three."
"Like…a rock band?"
"No, a rubber band."
...
When Puck arrived at the Hummel-Hudson household he didn't bother knocking before opening the front door and heading straight upstairs to Finn's room. He only paused a moment before opening the door so as to avoid walking in on anything he didn't want to see. Once he figured the coast was clear, he swung the door open and said, "Get up, Hudson. We have to move your set to my house."
Finn, who was practically in the fetal position on his bed when Puck entered, had now turned his head lazily to look at the other boy and dejectedly whined out, "What the hell are you doing here, Puck?"
Puck moved closer to the bed, giving Finn a rough shove before replying, "Getting your ass out of this house, that's what."
"Just leave me alone," Finn said quietly, turning his back to Puck.
Puck exhaled heavily through his nose. "Look, man. I know you are all down and out because Rachel broke it off with you and everything, but she didn't do that so you would spend the rest of your life moping in your room. She did it so the both of you could have a decent life."
Finn turned back around and sat up, meeting Puck's eyes with a watery glare. "She was my only hope at a decent life, Puck," Finn sobbed. "Without her, I'm just a Lima loser."
"See, that right there is why she broke up with you," Puck exclaimed, jabbing his finger in Finn's face. "You are a whiny baby who doesn't give a shit about forming his own future!"
Finn jumped up angrily, getting in Puck's face. "You take that back!"
"No. Because I'm right. And you are leaving this house with me today, Finn."
"And if I don't?" Finn challenged lamely.
"Well," Puck grinned, "You'll be really missing out because all of this is Quinn's idea."
Finn's face contorted into an expression of extreme confusion. "What does Quinn have to do with my set?" His face then quickly morphed into concern. "She doesn't want to sell it for drugs, does she?"
Puck only laughed as he began to disassemble the drum set in question.
...
Quinn, dressed in black jeans and gray v-neck, reluctantly lit a cigarette as she waited in front of Puck's garage, propped up against the door with her backpack and new bass guitar leaning against her. (Blackmailing Mr. Ryerson had been a good financial move.) She promised herself that she would quit this summer, but sometimes her nerves got the better of her. Quinn inhaled the nicotine et. al. laced smoke, allowing it to fill her lungs completely. As she exhaled, Quinn wondered briefly what Rachel would say.
Quinn, while I understand it's not my place, I hope you are aware of the number of far-reaching negative consequences associated with smoking. And I am not just referring to a bad cough or fingernail discoloration.
She chuckled quietly at the fact that Rachel Berry had become the voice of her conscious so easily. Quinn couldn't quite remember when it happened. Maybe it was something that had always been. She could see Puck's truck coming down the street. She thanked God or Something that Finn was with him. As Puck pulled the truck into the small driveway, Quinn took one last drag from her cigarette before she dropped it and ground it into the cement with the toe of her shoe.
"You got him out of his room?" Quinn asked with a slight smirk playing on her lips.
"Of course I did. Did you think I was going to let you down, Baby Mama?" he replied with a grin.
Quinn just chuckled. She could see Finn eyeing her nervously from the passenger side of the truck. This was probably blowing his mind, considering Quinn and Puck had exchanged maybe fifty words all school year. Part of her hated involving Finn in this. It's not like he was going to get what she was trying to do. After all, he thought she didn't feel anything, didn't he? But Quinn was goal oriented. This was going to be her way out of Lima, and part of her felt like Finn deserved to get out too. Besides, he was a good drummer.
Puck opened the garage and move things around, while Finn unloaded his set from the bed of Puck's truck. "Where's Sam?" Puck asked.
"Sam's coming?" Finn questioned in disbelief.
Quinn ignored the taller boy as she moved to begin setting up the bass amp Puck had gotten out of storage for her to use. "He'll be here. I told him three and it's only a quarter til."
"Is he bringing his own amp?"
"Actually, I don't think he has one anymore because…you know."
Puck nodded. "Right, well then I'll just have to get another out of the basement." He ran into the house, calling "Be right back," over his shoulder as he left.
After a moment, Quinn almost laughed at how awkward the atmosphere had become. Instead, she started to tune her bass and actively ignored the nervous glances Finn was throwing her.
Once she had finished tuning and had begun warming up, Puck returned with another guitar amp.
"It's small, but it'll be loud enough for now. I don't want to get out the big guns until we know what we're dealing with," Puck said to no one in particular.
"I'm sure Sam will be fine with it."
As soon as the sentence was out of her mouth, Sam's truck pulled into the driveway.
"Well, speak of the devil, Sweet Cheeks," Puck joked. Quinn shook her head. Finn became very interested in the placement of his cymbals.
Sam quickly got out the car with his guitar in hand, walking into the garage with his usual boyish smile. "So," he drawled, "How's everybody's summer going?"
It's was stupid stereotypical question, and it was just so Sam.
"Personally, I think mine is about to get really interesting," he said, grinning. He began getting his electric guitar out its case, when he looked up sheepishly toward the others. "I…I don't have an amp. If that's a problem, I'll—"
"Puck has an extra for you," Quinn cut him off.
"Oh, alright, cool," Sam said, clearly relieved.
"No worries, man," Puck replied. He then turned to Quinn. "Alright, now that everyone is here, care to reveal your masterpiece?"
"What?" Sam asked, as he began to tune his guitar.
"Quinn, here, wrote a song," Puck clarified. "She said she wanted to work it up with a full band."
Sam began examining the amp he was going to be using. "So this whole year was part of perfecting a Joan Jett impression?" Sam asked jokingly.
"Just trying to express myself," Quinn replied in kind.
Suddenly, Finn burst up from where he was sitting on the floor near his set and bolted over to Puck. "Just what the Hell is going on here?" he exclaimed.
"Dude, calm down. What does it look like? We are going to jam," Puck answered.
"I'm not going to calm down! This is weird! What is Quinn doing here? She doesn't like any of us!" Finn shouted, getting angrier by the minute.
"You're not going to kick a chair, are you?" Quinn asked annoyed.
Finn was planning on kicking his set stool, but he didn't want to look like an idiot, so he folded his arms instead. "Just explain what's going on," he said with a huff.
"It's just like Puck said," Quinn replied. "He's been teaching me how to play the guitar, I wrote a song, I learned bass on the side, and figured that since none of us have anything else going on, I figured we could do this together." Quinn paused before adding, "But if you really don't want any part of it, you can go back in you room and mope about how Rachel finally realized she was better than you."
Finn moved quickly, forcing himself into Quinn's face. "You take that back," he demanded through gritted teeth.
"Or what?" Quinn whispered, "You'll hit me? Get real, Finn."
Finn says nothing in reply, so Quinn continues. "Look, the four of us have nothing now. All I want to do is play some music. You going to tell me, you're not interested?"
Finn again says nothing as he steps back and visibly relaxes, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Well," Sam began, trying to dial down the tension, "I, for one, am dying to see what Quinn's been working on."
"Yeah, all that pot and lady loving is a great way to rock," Puck chimed in smirking.
Quinn fixed them both with a watered-down approximation of her usual death glare. "Wow, guys. I really want to share now," Quinn said.
"Oh, come on. That was all Puck," Sam complained, "I was being serious."
"Who says I wasn't being serious?" Puck countered.
Quinn couldn't believe that she willingly walked into this. In what universe was it a good idea to start a band with her three exes?
"You know, what nevermind," Quinn said, moving to pack up her bass. "This was crazy. I'm sorry I wasted your time."
"What? No!" Puck protested. "I was just joking, I swear."
But Quinn's bass was already safely back in its case. She was half way to her car when someone put a hand on her shoulder.
"Quinn, wait."
She slowly turned around to find herself face to with Finn.
"What do you want?" Quinn asked tiredly.
For a moment, Finn seemed completely lost, like he didn't think Quinn was going to actually stop for him, but then he spoke—proving that he was, in fact, completely lost.
"Uh…Rachel always wanted me to be a leader, you know? Or, she wanted me to be her leading man, but I think they are the same thing," he said, reaching around to scratch the back of his head, looking down at his feet.
"Get to the point, Finn."
"The point is that I'm not a leader. I tried, but it never worked out. And I know I acted like a jerk back there, but I think it's really cool that you're trying to start something we can all be a part of, you know?" Finn explained, tentatively meeting Quinn's gaze.
Quinn exhaled heavily through her nose, taking a moment before she said, "Was that supposed to be motivational?"
"Well…yeah?" Finn replied.
"So I count you in this thing?" Quinn clarified.
"Definitely," Finn answered, taking Quinn's bass from her.
She crossed her arms and looked him over. He was just as lost as she was, and that little speech he gave her was probably the first time he felt like himself in months. As long as he kept quiet and played the drums, this would be good for him.
"Alright, Finn, but let's make a few things clear," Quinn declared. "The minute you kick a chair or say anything particularly rude or thoughtless, you're out. Got it?"
"Got it," he said, nodding, looking only slightly terrified.
...
Twenty minutes later, everyone was back in Puck's garage, with the addition of a small keyboard. The three boys were waiting anxiously as Quinn rummaged through her backpack. After a moment, she produced a weathered black folder.
"Do you still own anything that's not black?" Sam asked.
"The pick guard on her bass isn't black," Finn countered.
"But the finish is."
"Seriously, guys?" Quinn complained.
"Yeah, seriously, guys? Her hair is pink." Puck defended.
She couldn't help it—she laughed. It was like having an out of body experience. Never in a million years did she think that she would be about to show song lyrics to Puck, Finn, and Sam because they would be starting a band. It was surreal and sad and hilarious all at the same time.
"I really need everybody to focus, okay?" Quinn said, grinning.
"Right, let's see what you got," Puck said.
Quinn began to hand out printed copies of lyrics with the chord changes. Yeah, she told Puck that she had written a song, and she was pretty sure he had assumed that meant that she had only written one, but Quinn had been writing songs for much longer than she had been learning guitar. She used to make up songs all the time when she was taking piano lessons, but she stopped when school and cheerleading became too much.
It's not like she had just stopped altogether either. Quinn had always been a doodler in class, so her notebook margins had always been filled with little drawings and turns of phrase.
She wrote a lot when she was pregnant. She wrote more after she wasn't. But in the last year, the words weren't just rhyming or clever. It wasn't just venting. She had things she wanted to say. Things she wouldn't be able to say out loud.
Songwriting was Quinn's medium and this band was going to be her outlet.
Sam was the first to comment on the material.
"Quinn…this is awesome."
"Yeah, Baby Mamma, this looks really good," Puck agreed.
When Finn didn't say anything, Quinn turned to where he was sitting at his set to see his reaction. His face actually looked distraught. "Finn, what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, it's just…" he trailed off.
"What, Finn?" Puck coaxed, annoyed.
"These words are really sad," Finn said softly.
Puck and Sam couldn't say anything protest because he was right—the lyrics were sad.
Quinn pursed her lips in thought before walking over to the keyboard. As she was turning it on, she said, "Think of it this way: It's kind of like when you start any kind of journey—and sometimes you have to leave people behind, or people leave you behind."
She paused a moment as she scrolled through the keyboard's presets looking for the one she wanted to use. After a quick sound check, Quinn continued, "Not because anyone wants to, but because that's what has to happen."
Things were getting really heavy pretty quick, so Quinn took it upon herself to get things back on track.
"Alright, so it starts on a B chord," she demonstrated by playing the chord on the keyboard, "And it's in four, okay?"
When she got indications of comprehension from the boys, she continued. "The intro progression goes B then C sharp minor, A flat minor, E, and then it repeats. The verse is the same, too. So it sounds like this."
Quinn demonstrated the pattern on the keyboard, and took a deep breath before coming in when the verse was supposed to begin.
"Far away. This ship is taking me far away. Far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die." Her voice was a little shaky because it had been more than a year since she had sang in front of anyone, but it was strong and clear. "Starlight. I will be chasing the starlight until the end of my life. I don't know if it's worth it anymore."
She could see Sam fingering the chords on his guitar and Puck was already figuring out a lead line. Finn was bobbing his head and tapping his feet to the beat, looking like he was about to burst.
"Hold you in my arms. I just wanted to hold you in my arms. My life. You electrify my life. Let's conspire to ignite all the souls that would die just to feel alive. But I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away. Never fade away." Quinn finished out the verse before pausing to move onto the next section.
"Wait," Finn said, is this going to be a ballad or what?"
"Definitely not," Quinn stated.
"Okay, so drum-wise, what do you want?"
Quinn smirked as she said, "I think you already have it figured out it in your head, so I don't really care. Just keep time."
"Awesome," Finn said with a goofy grin spread across his face.
"Awesome," Quinn agreed. "And then there's the pre-chorus thing, which is A flat minor, E flat minor, E and B," she said before demonstrating it like she did with the chorus. "But I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away. Never fade away."
As weird as it should have been to be not only sharing, but singing what was essentially Quinn's journal with three other people, the longer it went on, the more comfortable she felt. She could see Finn air drumming out of the periphery, and she could feel Sam's proud eyes on her.
"The chorus, I guess, is what I would call this next part. And Puck, I'm thinking some arpeggio patterns over the actual progression? It's A flat minor, E flat minor, A and then E."
"You got it, Baby Mamma," Puck agreed.
"Our hopes and expectations. Black holes and revelations," Quinn sang twice before stopping. "I could go through the whole song, but this is a good halfway point because it just repeats once and then it's over." She paused, slightly nervous about the boys' reactions. "So…thoughts?"
It only took a moment, but then Sam spoke up. "About the intro…do you just want to play the chord progression, or do you want to do something different?"
"I don't really know, honestly," Quinn said, biting her bottom lip. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."
"Why don't we just play through the verse together and see what happens?" Puck suggested
"Sounds good to me," Quinn agreed, picking up her bass from the guitar stand Puck had set out for her.
Everyone got ready to play, making sure their chord charts were in sight, and then Finn, Puck and Sam all looked towards Quinn expectantly.
"What?" Quinn asked confused.
"It's your party, babe," Puck answered smirking.
"Oh."
For the second time that day, Quinn heard Rachel Berry's voice in her head.
You're a very pretty girl, Quinn. But you're a lot more than that.
She wondered briefly if being a potential front woman of a rock band was what Rachel had in mind that night. It was doubtful.
"Alright, well," Quinn said, biting her bottom lip. "Finn, count us off. Give us a measure and then we're all in. Got it?"
"Sure," Finn replied. "One. Two. One, two, three, four."
...
"Same time, same place?" Sam asked as he hefted his guitar into his truck.
"Yeah," Quinn answered.
"Cool," Sam said, climbing into his truck. "See you all tomorrow," he called out his window as he backed out.
Quinn, Puck and Finn waved and Puck came up beside Quinn. "I have to take Finn home, but stick around, would you? It's cool if you want to stay for dinner or whatever."
Quinn grinned in spite of herself. Puck was trying and Quinn appreciated it. "Okay."
"Cool, because I want to work out the intro with you afterwards," Puck said heading to his truck. Finn followed him, pausing only to turn around to say, "Bye, Quinn," giving an awkward wave. Of course, Quinn considered any movement Finn made to be awkward.
"Bye, Finn," she replied with a small smile.
Fifteen minutes later, Puck had returned. His mother had called him on his way to say that she wasn't coming home because she got dragged into taking the graveyard shift and that his sister was staying with a friend. When he asked what was in the house for dinner, she had replied, "God, Noah, I don't know. You think I can worry about that right now?" before hanging up.
It only took Puck five minutes to order an extra-large double bacon pizza with extra cheese. Fuck being kosher.
When he pulled back into his drive way, he could see Quinn sitting on his front stoop, hastily putting out a cigarette. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him that the only real difference between the Puckermans and the Fabrays was what income bracket they happened to fall into.
As soon as he got out of his car, he made his way to the storage refrigerator they kept in the garage and retrieved two beers. "Beer?" he offered, as he sat down next to Quinn.
"Sure," she replied, taking it from him. It was a bottle with a twist off cap, so Puck was going to offer to open it, but Quinn had it open and was taking the first drink before he could.
Instead he said, "You did good today."
"Thanks," she said, keeping her eyes on the street.
"No problem."
An easy silence fell between them while Puck watched Quinn drink her beer like she had been drinking her whole life while she watched nothing in particular.
"When are your mother and sister coming home?" she asked, still not looking at him.
"They're not. Mom called me while I was driving, so I ordered a pizza," he supplied.
"Oh."
Puck couldn't figure out if Quinn was purposely not looking at him or if she was just brooding like she used to.
"What did you get on it?" she asked after a moment.
"Double bacon, extra cheese."
"You are such a bad Jew," she said finally shooting him a grin.
"More like a badass Jew."
"Sure thing," she said before taking a swig of her beer.
Puck saw the delivery man turning the corner, so he stood up and walked to the curb to meet him. One he paid and the delivery man had left, Puck returned to his spot next to Quinn. Somehow they had agreed to eat outside. It was hotter in the house anyway.
Two more beers and two thirds of a pizza later, Puck finally asked what he had been dying to ask since he heard Quinn sing the first line of her song.
"Who is it about?"
"I'm sorry?" Quinn stalled. You could take the girl out of the Fabrays, but you couldn't take the Fabray out of the girl.
"Your song. Who is it about?" Puck clarified.
"Don't you think that's kind of a personal question?" Quinn countered quietly.
"Sure, but if we're going to do this thing—and by this thing I mean try to escape Lima via Rock Stardom because I know you and you don't do anything half-ass—then I think I should have some idea what's making you tick," Puck stated resolutely.
"Humor me. Who do you think it's about?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow, looking at Puck with a slightly nervous and curious expression.
Puck sighed. "It's either Beth or Rachel, but since the song is called 'Starlight', I'm pretty sure it's my fellow Jew."
Quinn smiled shyly, looking slightly ashamed of herself. "You are so much smarter than Finn."
"Gee, thanks," Puck laughed.
Quinn chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that isn't much of a compliment, huh?"
Puck finished off his third beer, and moved to lean against his front door. "No, not really."
"Sorry," Quinn replied, wrapping her arms around herself. It was late and it was starting to get kind of chilly. Puck pulled her into his lap and held her. They both watched the street now because it was easier than looking at each other.
"So," Puck asked quietly, "what's that all about?"
Quinn didn't answer right away. She took his hands in hers and weighed them—observed how his tan skin contrasted against her own in the same way that Rachel's would have.
"I don't really know."
Puck always thought it was funny that people considered Quinn to be a good liar.
Song: Starlight by Muse
About the Use of Music: For the intents and purposes of this story, if the band hasn't been covered by Glee, then the band doesn't exist. Therefore, all of the songs used are supposed to be seen as original work within in the story. There might be a few exceptions, but the majority of the time that's how it's going to work.