Title: That's the thing about perception.
Author: faberryobsession
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, unfortunately.
Author's Note: Heya guys. This is my first attempt at a Faberry pairing, so lemme know if you're interested in keeping it going.
Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back
A sigh emitted from full lips as the lens cap clicked into place. She watched in silence as the hair dressers scurried back and forth, ushering the models back into the dressing room with mere hints of impatience and well-divulged attitude so that they could quickly get them ready for the next set of photos. High heels drummed a distinct tattoo upon wooden planks as she made a beeline for her office. Honey blonde curls bounced in quiet esteem as she flipped the blinds closed and settled at her desk. Only then did she allow herself to fold her arms upon the cherry wood and lay her head against them.
Being a photographer had its ups and downs. Getting started had been a long and arduous process, with many failed attempts and rejections. But when one had passion for their craft, it was bound to be recognized eventually. At least, that's what she'd always told herself. That simple belief and many hours behind the lens was what had gotten her here. Highly praised and sought after, Quinn Fabray had never allowed other's opinions to get the better of her. Okay, well not often. There had been a time when she'd merely sat back and allowed life to pass her by, convinced that she'd never see past the inherently small town of Lima, Ohio.
A knock at the door broke her from her reverie and she lifted her head just in time for her assistant's irritated timbre to break her from her thoughts, "One more minute, Ms. Fabray and I'll be dragging your ass out of there." The sarcasm behind that one name was enough to rouse her from her chair and she straightened her designer suit before she fired back, somewhat amused, "I think we've been through this Lopez. I took your ass to the floor in high school. I can do it again."
The sneer on Santana's features was evident, " Lucky shot, Q." The blonde merely grinned and brushed past the latina, muttering something that soundly oddly like, " Ungrateful bitch," leaving her assistant to blow her a mocking kiss as she approached the camera she had set down just ten minutes before.
I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy
There was something lacking in the ladies now all dolled up in what appeared to be evening gowns. But, they were more like the ball gowns women wore in the old west, a bell skirt and simple lines. The only contributions to the modern age were the beaded bodices and brilliant colors. She had to admit that they all looked stunning, but that was what came, working with models. They were meant to be beautiful. Anything less and they never stayed in the business for long. Apparently they were meant to be starved and plastered with make-up as well, but Quinn would never point that out to them.
"You look great ladies. Before we start, are there any questions?" A shorter blonde cautiously raised her hand and asked, " We're not actually going to dance for this are we? They're like costumes right?" Occasionally, she got a bimbo. What could you say, life wasn't perfect. Despite the obvious lack of sense, or perhaps because of it, Quinn merely smiled and shook her head, " The editors just want a few shots to celebrate the Renaissance Fair they're holding in Time's Square. You won't be required to do anything but pose as you normally would."
She could feel the eyes bore into the back of her head, knowing that Santana was glaring in disgust in her direction but the friendly smile never left her features. The blonde looked relieved before nodding slightly and moving over to the simulated ballroom. She took time with each of them, settling the younger blonde whom she now equated with as much as a wind tunnel down at a table. The off-white linen settled nicely with the older feel of the picture and she pressed a drink into her hand, gently reminding her that it was a prop when she began to take a sip. Brushing off the urge to laugh, she moved to the next woman, a lofty brunette with dark eyes to the window set-up, guiding her so that she looked out longingly to what the onlookers would presume to be the garden. It was really a powdered donut that the model had been eyeing before the shoot began. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get the results you want.
The last two she placed in the middle of the dance floor, each with a handsomely dressed partner. Hands joined on one side, both male's free hand on either waist with either female's hand lifting to settle on a broad shoulder. "Stiff," was the complaint rolling around in her head. It would never do. Always a quick thinker when the need arose, she went over to the stereo system and pressed play, Kesha's 'Tik Tok' now blaring from the speakers. As she'd hoped, the women fought against the urge to smile. Singing quietly to herself she moved into position behind the camera, hoping to catch the right pose she was looking for.
Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Ain't got no money in my pocket, but I'm already here
And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger
Not long after, she placed the camera down and signaled to Santana to shut off the music. She might've been a pain in the ass, but she knew how to do her job. The lively beats subsided and Quinn clapped her hands together with a broad smile, " Thanks everyone, I believe that's a wrap. You did wonderfully ladies," she beamed a smile at them, " You as well guys," and a wink at the men, " There are refreshments in the changing room if you'd like to get a quick bite, otherwise you're free to go." Without waiting for them to excite, she retreated back into her office without closing the door, knowing it wouldn't be long before… "Fabray!" Yep, there it was.
Santana followed her as quietly as she could manage, not speaking until she'd shut the door and the exclamation was out of her mouth, " I don't know how you handle those air-headed bitches." There was a name in the back of her mind but she didn't dare allow it release, "I mean, come on, how you stand there with that friendly fucking smile and not slap one is beyond me." Sitting at her desk, the blonde retracted the memory card and murmured dryly without looking, " Because those bitches are what allows you and I this comfy lifestyle we've become accustomed to."
Still, the latina grumbled, " Can't we at least get the brains to go with the beauty? There has to be some intelligence in the modeling world somewhere." Quinn laughed, " This from the woman failed basic math." She dared a look and there it was…seething, " I was distracted is all." She strove for nonchalance while the blonde snorted derisively, " Yeah, pre-occupied with Brittany's ass is what you were."
She'd said it without thinking, but immediately she'd wanted to take it back, " S, I'm s-s," but was cut off with a wave and a surprisingly vulnerable, " Don't worry about it Q. It's been seven years right?"
Both women settled into a weighted silence, each one dealing with past regrets and doubts and neither wanting to talk about them. It was amazing they'd stayed friends this long, and both women were aware of the others buttons. So, instead of allowing her thoughts release, she slid the memory card into the laptop and pulled up the pictures, Santana quietly moving to stand behind her. The first few were flitted through quickly, with a note of indifference. They weren't that great. Not terrible, but there was no emotion in them, no feeling.
I'm talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys tryin' to touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk
Now, now, we go until they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us
"It's like they're walking around with a cast-iron rod up their ass, Q." The blonde rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a grin, she agreed, "Just have to get them to loosen up a bit is all, remind them that they're supposed to enjoy life."
"Give 'em a little powder up their nose, they'll fucking notice that." Santana's grumbles ceased as a photo near the end caught both women's attention. The music had reached the chorus, and Quinn had caught one female dancer with a small, secret smile on her lips, as if moments away from bursting out with the lyrics. The other had her head tilted just a bit, all but grinning as a foot was poised slightly in the air in excitement, about to take a step.
Quinn began to speak with an air of pure pleasure and confidence in her work, only to be beaten out by Santana, " That's our shot." Quinn sat back and eyed the woman for a moment, " You mean my shot right?" A one-finger salute came in answer, " You might be the photographer, but you know damn well you couldn't do it without me." Any smart-ass comments that would've been her answer were cut off by the incessant ringing of the telephone and Quinn picked it up, still glaring at the latina, " Quinn Fabray's office." Emphasis was placed on her name and Santana mumbled, " Who's ass is as big as her ego."
The comment went unheard as the blonde's jaw went slack, a glazed look in her eye as she answered without inflection, " Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow at eight. Bye." The receiver was placed back on the cradle with a dull thump that resonated in the quiet of the office. "Q?" Getting no response she tried again, " Quinn?" The use of her name by the latina seemed to snap her out of it and she raised hazel hues to Santana, " What's up? Who was that?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle, she must've noticed the now ghostly pallor of the blond. A monotone answered, " That was Phil. I have a new client coming in tomorrow." By this time the latina was growing impatient and she barked, " Well, you going to tell me or just let me hone my psychic abilities over here?"
A two-word response was all that she received, " Rachel Berry."
You build me up, you break me down
My heart, it pounds yeah, you got me
With my hands up, you got me now
You got that sound yeah, you got me
Don't stop, make it pop. DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I'mma fight, 'til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock, but the party don't stop, no