Quinntana Week 2013 – Day 1 - Nerd/Popular
A/N: Please read See You In Another Life before reading this ficlet.
Friday, March 12th 2010.
Quinn lounged back on the long off-white sofa, sipping tentatively on her beer. Sophomores stumbled past her, tripping over each other and talking loudly amongst themselves, as music pumped from a sound system in the corner of the spacious living room. It was at least twice the size of her own, Quinn rolling her eyes while the heavy beat vibrated off the large bay windows. It rattled the family photos mounted on the white walls, and shook the polished floorboards beneath her feet.
Quinn brought her red cup back to her lips, turning her nose up slightly at the generic keg beer. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the girl sighing and letting her eyes flint around the crowded room again. She noticed a few girls from the senior class dotted around the room as well, sticking out amongst the throngs of younger teens milling about the two-story home.
What the hell am I doing here?
She didn't usually drink, but then again she didn't usually go to parties either. She was only there because of her older sister, Frannie, and because lately she'd been welcoming any excuse to get out of the house; away from her parents and their spiteful words, even if that meant spending her Friday night with half of her sophomore class.
She was absently swirling the remains of her beer when the distinct smell of weed drifted over to her, Quinn turning her head to see a group of jocks and a few cheerleaders in a loosely formed circle several feet from the couch. Noah Puckerman, the running back of the Titans football team, was taking a long drag on a joint, his back to her, before slowly releasing the heady smoke. He chuckled softly to himself, his friends not even batting an eyelid.
Quinn knew that drugs were a common occurrence at these types of house parties, but she still looked on cautiously as he passed it carelessly to his left. Brittany, the bubbly vice captain of their school's cheer squad, attempted to bring it to her lips, but it was swiftly removed from her fingertips as the girl beside her shot her a sweet smile, before staring daggers at the jock.
Quinn's stomach twisted lightly when the girl came into view, not having noticed her sitting behind the old oak coffee table. She began to pick nervously at the rim of her beer, her eyes on the head cheerleader as she placed the joint between her full lips and breathed deep. Quinn licked absently at her own, continuing to watch her as she leant forward, spinning an empty bottle that sat in the middle of the circle.
But after a lingering moment, Quinn tore her eyes from her and their little game, turning toward the back deck, as a boy threw a handstand over the large steel keg to the cheers of a crowd. The shouts and words of encouragement rang high above the sound of the dance music still thumping through the house, the black nozzle pressed tightly to his lips. But Quinn's attention was stolen away when she heard that unmistakable voice dim the commotion that was surrounding her.
"You've gotta be shitting me…"
She quickly turned her head back to the circle of teens, those dark eyes looking at her from across the short space. Quinn faltered under that intense gaze, noticing the clear green beer bottle was pointing directly at her through a break in the group. That perfect face held a fallen expression with a hint of something Quinn couldn't quite place, the look sending her pulse racing. She brought her cup back to her lips, taking a sip, as the rest of the girl's friends began to wolf whistle and laugh in unison.
"No fucking way," Santana spat, the dying joint between her fingertips and a faint cloud of white smoke hanging in the air around her. "She's not even playing."
Quinn just shifted uncomfortably as several sets of eyes looked on from the floor in front of her. She didn't know whether to just stand up and walk away, rolling her eyes at them in the process, or whether to just speak up and avoid being dragged into their game unwillingly. But in that moment she couldn't even move, let alone find her voice.
This is so not happening.
Not her.
"I duh-noo," Puck drawled, closing one eye and lining Quinn up with an outstretched arm. "Looks like she's part of the circle to me," he shrugged, turning to his buddies, the group of them jeering crudely.
"But she's a girl," Santana blanched, her gaze still trained on Quinn, the blonde beginning to see panic in those eyes, the same ones she'd been staring at for the better part of a year.
"So?"
"Oh, I see," she accosted, with that tone that rarely left her voice. "So when it lands on another guy, you get to spin again, but another girl is allowed. You're such an ass."
"Dude on dude is just gay," Puck retorted, his brow furrowing. "Now girl on girl, that's just hot."
Pig.
"I am not kissing Frommers," Santana said, Quinn's heart sinking slightly at the mention of the nickname. "You can forget it."
"Rules are rules, Lopez."
All of this was going on without any input from Quinn. Her palms had begun to sweat, and her chest was hammering wildly beneath the thin material of her dress. A part of her wished she could just go back and say no to her sister when she invited her that afternoon; stay home like she usually did, with her door closed, shutting out the world. But another part of her, a completely irrational and foolish part, one that Quinn scolded herself for, actually wanted to kiss her. Even if it was in front of half the school. And it was that part that kept her glued to the couch, and made heat slowly spread up her neck and color her already flushed cheeks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The girl hates you, Quinn.
"Unless of course you'd rather I take her-"
"Fine," Santana snapped at the boy, Quinn's attention drawing back to her. Even though she had cut him short, Quinn could have sworn Puck was about to suggest- "But make it three minutes, jackass."
"Three minutes of what?"
Quinn didn't even recognize her own voice, it sounding a lot more confident that she actually felt, the whole group turning to look at her. Santana had risen lithely to her feet, and was sauntering over to her, Quinn doing her best to keep her eyes from roaming down that body.
"Heaven, Nancy Drew," Santana sneered, passing her and walking towards the hall. Quinn looked back at the group of friends, her heart hitting somewhere in her throat at the girl's words, realizing that this wouldn't be happening with an audience.
Oh my God.
Puck smirked at her, nodding for her to follow after Santana. Quinn took a deep breath, the limited alcohol in her system doing little to quell her nerves. She placed her half empty cup on the end table next to her, and stood up from her spot on the soft couch. She didn't know why she didn't just say no, or completely ignore the group of friends; it wouldn't be the first time. But something in her kept her feet moving forward.
When she turned the corner she could see Santana leaning against the doorway to the downstairs' bathroom, her leather jacket pushed halfway up her toned arms. She had a scowl on her lips as Quinn approached her, her mind a constant stream of expletives and white noise. Puck merely chuckled to himself, eyeing her suggestively as he came up behind her and waved them both into the small tiled room, before shutting the door behind them.
The deafening click of the outer lock echoed in Quinn's ears, as she turned to find Santana already on the other side of the bathroom. She had her arms crossed tightly across herself, accentuating the swell of her chest. "Who the fuck even invited you anyway?"
Charming.
"You're brother, Joseph," Quinn told her, trying to gain back some of her usual confidence that she'd lost in the previous exchange. "My sister's friends with him."
"Of course she is," Santana sighed, leaning against the wall beneath the small window, her eyes to the ceiling.
Running her fingers through her long hair, Quinn began to scuff her worn boots against the tiles. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her as well, but something told her it wasn't just the cold that made her do it, her eyes flicking to the girl across the other side of the room. A tense silence stretched between both of them, only interrupted by Santana huffing every few moments, those eyes anywhere but on her.
"So…" Quinn edged, feeling beyond awkward just standing there staring at the opposite wall. "I've never actually done this before-"
"And it's gonna stay way," Santana bit back, cutting her sentence short. "You can fondle yourself if you want. But me, I'm gonna wait out the remaining two minutes, and then go back and rejoin my party."
Santana let out a heaving sigh and rested back against the wall behind her, Quinn suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at the girl's biting words. "You're kidding yourself if you think a guy like Puck is going to let us out of here before the seven minutes is up," Quinn said, her hands gripping the basin behind her back. "Pretty sure you're a smart enough girl to figure that out."
Santana didn't make any attempt to respond as she eyed her skeptically, that scowl still painting her features. But even with her brow knitted together and her lips turned down, Quinn had to admit that the cheerleader was still breathtaking, those perfect eyes dropping suddenly from her gaze.
How is that even fair?
"And he's going to ask you what happened, you know," Quinn pointed out, her confidence growing. She wasn't sure where it was coming from; usually she froze up whenever she found herself this close to the brunette. But maybe being alone behind a locked door was breaking down that wall. "What are you going to tell him when he lets us out?"
"Lie and say we did," Santana said, as if it was obvious. "I thought you were meant to smart, Fabray. Or is being president of the school's rag just to pick up guys?"
Quinn merely laughed at Santana's words, her eyes finding the tiles at her feet. "Good luck with that," she mumbled, swallowing back her own retort. "I'm sure he'll buy it."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a terrible liar, Santana," Quinn laughed, a smile finding its way to her lips. "It's your eyes, they give you away," she added before she could stop herself. But as soon as the daring words left her mouth, heat began to creep up Quinn's neck, noticing Santana falter as well.
"Excuse me?" she murmured, taken aback, her eyes soft and somewhat cautious.
Great work, Fabray.
Why not just confess your love for her, it would be less obvious.
Quinn just shrugged, dropping her gaze back to her feet. She could feel those eyes still on her as she leant back against the sink, not daring to look back at her. "Whatever," Santana muttered. "How much longer?"
"Three and half minutes," Quinn told her, checking her watch briefly. "Told you he wouldn't let us out."
"Shut up," Santana retorted, though the usual sting behind her words was no longer there. And as Quinn looked over at her, those eyes that were on her black stilettoed boots didn't either.
Quinn often caught her in moments like these over the past year whenever she'd let herself stare at her across a crowded classroom or a football field. It was part of the reason Quinn had fallen for her, knowing that maybe her harsh words were just words. And that the look that passed over those dark eyes every time they were on her was just a wall she'd learnt to put up.
"Why didn't you just let him take your place?" Quinn found herself asking, Santana looking up at her with a slightly confused expression. "Puck, I mean. That's what he was going to suggest, right?"
Quinn saw a momentary flicker of fear cross those eyes, Santana swallowing hard and standing up straighter against the wall.
"Where the hell is he?" she muttered harshly under her breath after a tense moment, brushing off Quinn's question with a shake of her head. She cleared her throat, crossing to the locked door in front of Quinn. The girl was so close that Quinn could smell the fruity scent of her perfume, making her head swim. Tingles spread all over her skin, their sudden proximity taking its usual effect. "Come on, Noah. Open the fucking door."
Santana's fist pounded on the polished wood, echoing around the confined room. "We're at a party, princess. He's not going to hear you."
Santana's hand halted its movements, the last of her hard banging reverberating off the cold tiles. She slowly brought her gaze up, Quinn sucking in a sharp breath. Santana's eyes held a sadness that she'd never seen before on the girl, an unfamiliar ache shooting painfully through her chest. "You don't know anything about me."
That sadness tinged her words too, knocking the air from Quinn's lungs. Those eyes briefly searched the taller girl's face, before she swallowed dryly. Then with another small shake of her head, her fist resumed its previous thumping. Her hand moved down to try the door handle, rattling the tarnished metal to no avail. But Quinn continued to stare at her, her heart aching at that look. She didn't know where it came from, or what it meant. All she knew was that she never wanted to see it flash behind those eyes again; it physically hurt her to see it.
Her fist came down again on the hard oak as Quinn pushed off from the sink, wrapping her fingers gently around Santana's outstretched wrist. It was warm, her skin so soft under Quinn's palm. A million thoughts rushed through her mind, all of them screaming at her to let go, to just wait out the remaining two minutes and let her leave. But Quinn ignored them, her fingers tightening as Santana's eyes shot down to her hand at the touch.
The brunette only managed to turn her head in the other girl's direction before Quinn pressed her lips firmly to hers, Santana's breath hitching. Her mouth was startled and unmoving, shock coloring her cheeks. It wasn't until Quinn tilted her head that a low moan escaped, hands finding her hips and fisting handfuls of her dress.
Quinn wrapped her arms slowly around Santana's neck, her lips melding over soft ones that just made her heart hammer against her chest, and her ears ring.
She ran two hands down to rest just under Santana's jaw, sliding her tongue against hers, the girl pushing back to deepen the kiss further. She couldn't hear the dull thud of the music, or the faint cheers from outside the locked door. The only sound that was registering beyond the ring, were Santana's labored breaths as they hit Quinn's cheek, and the small whimpers that escaped her full lips.
Quinn could feel Santana pull in closer, backing her up against the basin behind her. Her thighs were pressed tightly against the cupboard doors as those lips continued to make her head swim.
"That's seven," Quinn whispered brokenly into the kiss.
Santana pulled back slowly, taking what little breath Quinn still had with her. The girl's eyes flutter back into focus after a moment, her hands still bunched in the material of Quinn's dress. But after a tense minute, her grip loosened, "Don't you ever touch me again." Her voice shook around her hushed words, those eyes lying. "You hear me?"
Her hands were still resting lightly on Quinn's hips, her fingers brushing gently at her sides, the blonde breathing heavily. She could faintly hear the click of the lock, only vaguely registering anything beyond Santana still holding on to her, making no attempt to leave. But as soon as the handle turned, Santana jolted back, Puck poking his head around the door.
"Hey, ladies-"
Santana didn't let the boy get another word in before she threw the door open further and fled the bathroom, leaving Quinn breathless and confused.