"Miss Fabray? Principle Figgins will see you now"
Quinn looked up from where she was slouched over in her chair to see the receptionist –with hair pulled back so tight in a bun that it looked as if she'd had a botched face lift - giving her a disapproving look. Let her disapprove, Quinn thought bitterly as she raised an expectant eyebrow at the woman. Judging by the pursed lips of the decrepit old lady, Quinn could only guess how badly she wanted to open her mouth and spurt out her two cents about the situation.
That was possibly the most frustrating thing about having completely re-made herself over summer. People who'd never spoken to her before, who'd only seen her in the halls were suddenly expects on her. Quinn was sick of hearing about how pretty she used to be, how much she'd had going for her and how if she'd just tried that little bit harder, held on a little bit longer, things would have been alright. Things would not have been alright. No body at the time had wanted to know what it was exactly she was going through, sure they'd tried to sympathized but Quinn had learned the hard way that people were selfish and wouldn't give you the time of day unless they got something out of it in return. They didn't care then and they only cared now because suddenly, she'd broken away from their control, she'd stopped listening and doing what everybody else wanted and it felt amazing.
With a quick flip of the finger to the receptionist, Quinn pushed herself up from where she'd been slouched over in her chair and grabbed the strap of her bag, letting it drag behind herself before she threw it to the side of yet another chair, this one more grand then the last. Sitting behind a smart looking mahogany desk sat Figgins, balding, with a mismatching tie and shirt looking every bit the out of date moron he was. Without waiting for an invitation, Quinn dropped down into the chair provided for her and threw her legs over the arm, her body twisting purposely so she could avoid eye contact with the man. There was no look he could give her that she hadn't already seen a thousand times before.
Disappointment, betrayal, confusion, anger, melancholy.
Quinn had seem them all before (particularly recently) and she wasn't about to sit through another half assed guilt trip.
"Miss Fabray, I assume you know why you're here"
Unblinking, the punk studied her fingers, her blunt nails picking at the already torn up cuticles. "You do, Sir? Well, why don't you just give me a lecture, slap my wrist and send me on my way since you all insist on treating me like a moronic child? Wouldn't want to be the odd one out would you, Figgins?" She didn't need to look up to know that the elder man's cheek were probably red in frustration. As well as being a bigoted, sexiest man, he'd never been known for his cool, calm personality and collected temper. "Miss Fabray, smoking on school ground is prohibited, something all students are aware of however seeing as this is your first infraction we would have been willing to let you go with a warning. But smoking in class is unacceptable! That is a shared learning environment, Quinn, people do not want to be breathing in your dirty, murderous fumes!" Quinn grit her teeth, so very tempted to grind them at the audacity of the man telling her what she could and couldn't do. Throwing her legs from the side of the chair, she sat forwards, her arms folding neatly on the desk in front of her.
"With all due respect, sir, last time I checked this was a free country and eighteen is the legal age for buying tobacco. I'm eighteen, I wanted to smoke. I haven't done anything wrong but protest your small minded views."
Quinn squared her shoulders, preparing for the argument she was sure was coming, but when Figgins instead just sighed and sat back, Quinn was both silenced and surprised. He was the first person who appeared to be giving up on her, the first person who just simply couldn't be bothered fighting her and Quinn honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that. She didn't even get a chance to shift through the confusion in her mind before he was speaking again, making it very obvious he was trying to make some kind of emotional connection between the two of them. "I know things have been hard, Quinn and I know it can be a horrible world sometimes, but you broke the rules. There's nothing I can do, my hands are tied. You'll be suspended for a week and this infraction will go on your school record. You're free to go." The dismissal happened so fast that she didn't get a chance to formulate a witty remark, her mouth instead opened and closed like a fish a few times before she noticed Figgins standing, an arm out held towards the door.
Feeling the cold sting of humiliation settle in, Quinn stood; feeling much more jaded then she had when she'd first walked into the room and snatched her bag from the floor before giving Figgins a practiced death glare. A haughty "whatever" left her as she nudged the chair out of the way and stormed out of the office, her pink hair whipping angrily around her face as she left.
Fuck McKinley, Fuck Figgins, Fuck Schuester and Fuck the fucking glee club kids. They all preached about how they were a family, how this was a safe community but Quinn didn't feel safe. She hadn't felt safe for a long time. What justified their right to start caring about her now, or worse, act apathetic and shove it in her face? Quinn hadn't asked for their attention, she hadn't asked for their opinions or their help. In fact she would have proffered if they all just disappeared and left her alone. That apparently wasn't going to happen though.
When Quinn pulled up on the curb aside her house, it had taken her all of two seconds to recognize the car sitting in her usual parking spot.
Santana.
And wherever there was Santana, Brittany was sure to follow. With a groan, Quinn let her forehead fall against the top of her steering wheel before she rummaged through her bag and pulled out her cigarettes. She doubted she'd be able to get through this encounter without her coveted nicotine. Turning off her car, she stepped out into the cold night air and glanced up at her bed room window, not at all surprised when she saw a slither of artificial light creep through into the darkening sky. With sullen footsteps, Quinn stomped to her front door and shoved the key into the lock, her agitated movements giving anyone who could have been on looking the very direct message that she wasn't in the mood for company. "Judy, I'm home!" Quinn called out as she threw her keys onto the side table. Quinn paused when she reached the bottom of the staircase, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anger when a very familiar noise reached her ears.
Screaming.
Not just screaming though, shouting as well in that awful, hysterical, panicked voice tone her mother reached when she was on the verge of having a panic attack. Ever since Quinn's dad had been kicked out of the house, he'd been around at least once a week (usually drunk) begging for Judy to take him back, promising he was a changed man and that he had eyes for only her. It was all a load of bullshit and Quinn knew it. Sadly though, her mother didn't and almost fell for the act every single week. It was Quinn's job to interject and force him out of the house much to his and her mother's protests. But not this week, it was about time Judy Fabray learned to stand up for herself. With a grumble, Quinn took the stairs up to her room two at a time and flung her bedroom door open. She eyed the two girls sprawled across her bed with a raised eyebrow before kicking the door shut.
"You're out of school now, do you really have to wear those ridiculous outfits in my room?"
The cheerio's cheerleading uniform was something most girls coveted receiving. Quinn had received it twice in her life and both times she'd been so happy she nearly cried. Now though? She was planning on cutting up her uniforms up for Halloween to make something of a Zombie-Hooker. Personally, she thought it was a much better use for the uniform.
"Geez Q, lighten up. You're going to give yourself premature wrinkles with all that scowling you've been doing lately" Santana sat with her legs crossed on the edge of Quinn's unmade bed, unashamedly letting her eyes trail over the punk's slender body. Truth be told, Quinn reveled in the attention. This was the kind of attention she craved, this was what she wanted. A person would have had to be blind and deaf to miss the raw lust that Santana's eyes flashed with. Well, that or they'd have to be Brittany. Quinn barely had time to brace herself as the blonde bombshell threw herself at her. With an "Oof "Quinn stumbled back, her arms circling in a placating manner around the squirming blonde now clinging to her, barely able to understand Brittany's insane babbling.
"Why're you so late Quinn? Did you have to help Figgins go and plant more gummy bear houses? You didn't get expelled did you? We waited for you out the front but no one answered the door when we rang and San said it was fine to come up, didn't you San?" Brittany turned to glance at the Latino on the bed who appeared every bit as frustrated as Quinn felt – at least until Brittany gave her a beaming smile and she caved. With a sigh and an adoring look sent in Brittany's direction, Santana stood up, the folds of her skirt falling neatly against her enticingly slender legs. "Yeah, you don't mind do you Quinn? I mean it's not like we've seen you all week. What happened to us staying friends? You've barely looked in our direction at all this week" Despite the snappy under tones in Santana's voice, Quinn knew what the real issue was.
Santana was proud, she was strong and confident. Or at least, she acted that way. Quinn was very aware how fragile and cowardly the girl was deep down. She'd been too afraid in the past to tell Brittany she loved her, she'd been too afraid to come out at school, the same was Kurt had been and most of all, Santana was afraid of getting her heart broken. There was an unspoken law between the two of them, a silent vow that allowed each of them to understand just how deeply they cared for the other without having to say a single word. Brittany on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. She failed to pick up on the subtle nuances of human behaviors and interactions and was still kept painfully in the dark about Santana's intentions towards her.
Quinn shrugged out of the leather jacket she'd worn to school and threw it over the back of her desk chair before grabbing a hair band to pull the mess of pink hair off the back of her neck. "Santana, relax. It's Friday. We've barely been in school for a week and you're already freaking out" With a dismissive wave of her hand, Quinn stepped over the piles of clothes littering her floor and pushed open her bedroom window. Smoking might have been one of her new favorite habits, but it didn't mean she wanted the lingering, stale smell of cigarette's clinging to her room. Perching herself on the windowsill, Quinn pulled a cigarette out of her fast diminishing packet and made quick work of lighting it to inhale a deep drag.
Nicotine. It was better then sex.
Turning back to watch the two girls on her bed, Quinn couldn't help but let her lips twitch up into a smile. Brittany lay with her head in Santana's lap as slim fingers stroked through her hair tenderly. Two girls who were so obviously opposite, yet in their own way both managed to make the ache of loneliness in her chest disappear. Quinn had to remind herself how dangerous moments like these were for her. It was so easy to fall into a comfortable existence with these girls and it wasn't something Quinn could afford to do in public. Tapping the ash off the end of her smoke gently, Quinn placed it between her lips and let it dangle precariously as she stood up to strip herself of her t-shirt before making a move to continue with her skirt. Having turned her back to the two cheerleaders on her bed she was oblivious to their movements and Quinn jumped with a start as two deliciously tanned hands skimmed the contours of her waist before coming to knot together against her flat stomach.
"So, since it's Friday night and we knew you were likely to lock yourself in your room and listen to that hardcore emo…whatever it is you're into these days, we thought we'd come and save you and have a little…fun instead"
The words were purred so sweetly against the lobe of her ear that Quinn had to suppress a shiver. She didn't protest as the hands rubbed slow, soothing circles on her exposed flesh moving lower and lower until they were slipping in-between the material of her skirt and the dip of her hips. "Santana" she spoke carefully, not wanting to let the breathless tremor that was trying to expose itself escape. "You can't just tempt me with sex and expect all my problems to go away or that I'll forget you pretty much broke into my house…it doesn't work like that." Quinn attempted to sound gruff, they all knew she was and judging from the frustrated sigh that sounded next to her ear, she suspected Santana had anticipated a fight about the issue– how could she not have? It wasn't as if Quinn was a docile little lamb.
What surprised the both of them though was the sudden presence of a blissfully naive Brittany in front of them, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked slowly on the balls of her feet. Whatever tension Quinn and Santana had been felt building ebbed when they caught sight of the timid little smile Brittany was directing at them. "We don't need to sleep with you to have fun Quinn. Right , San?" Begrudgingly the Latino grunted her agreement and slowly pulled her hands from the delicate skin of the punk's hips. Brittany may not have been an intellectual genius but she sure as hell had the both of them wrapped around her little finger; so much so that when she pulled the half burnt out cigarette from Quinn's hands the partially clothed girl did nothing but watch as her nicotine fix was stolen and stubbed out.
Replacing the smoke with her own hand Brittany gave Quinn a reassuring smile and lead her towards the crumpled sheets of the bed. With gentle guidance she turned the slightly confused albeit placated Quinn backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed and caused her to crumple on the mattress. With one simple motion, Quinn had laid herself out across the middle of her bed. Looking as smug as was possible for Brittany , she flopped down beside the mop of pink hair and hooked a leg over Quinn's bare waist. From the side lines Santana had been watching with a raised eyebrow, the jealousy rising within her until she'd been given an expectant look from a certain blonde over Quinn's shoulder. Resigning herself to the fact she wasn't going to get out of this fate, not tonight anyway, Santana crawled onto the other side of the punk and wrapped an arm around her middle, her fingers ghosting Brittany's thigh as she rolled her eyes at the encouraging smile she was given.
Thought she would be loath to admit it, it was exactly what Quinn needed, what she was craving. Acceptance. Comfort. Security. For possibly the first time in months, she was forced to admit to herself that in that particular moment she had nothing to be sour about and that no matter how hard she tried to push, two certain people in her life were probably never going to leave.