Chapter 8:
Author's Note: My god, I hate econ… So life has been a bit busy, to say the least, and I've had some school related things that have come up, thus preventing me from posting this. But that's cool and all. I hate myself for leaving you guys without something new, but I do place real life first, which I hate even more. It sucks being responsible.
now, come Nov. 1st, I am attempting NaNoWriMo, and placed a really really stupid goal of 120k. I doubt I'll get much writing done here, but I'll do my best to add to this when I can, when my novel-experiment hits a rough patch. I have one chapter in the waits, which I will post next Monday(Nov. 4th), so hopefully this and that will hold you over until then. A new chap of Invisible is up, and my short-collection has some things going into it as well. Shameless plug over.
So with that said, here's the next chapter, continue to read and review(b/c honestly, reviews are like crack for me) and remember that I own nothing of glee. If I did, we'd have a walking dead/ dawn of the dead situation going on the second episode.
Because I can,
SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)
November 22th
Quinn purred. It was not a common occurrence, but she was aware of the times when she felt so comfortable, so happy, which in itself was an oddity, that the glee, pun intended, god she was rambling like her girlfriend, yes girlfriend, they had finally finalized their relationship, had to escape.
There was little to be truly happy about during the school week however. After punching Finn, both Rachel and the boy, who deserved that title now more than ever, were suspended for three days. Only three thanks to Figgins desire to win a football game on Saturday, and that Rachel would have called the ACLU given Finn's actions in outing a girl who was certainly not ready. Though Rachel was banned from performing at sectionals, which would hurt them, but not cripple given the Glee captain's new attitude.
That meant three days without her friends. Santana did not show up to school for those three days, and Brittany had accompanied her the entire time. Glee was uneventful and somber, while the play practice was put on hold and a rushed run through scheduled for Thursday before opening night on Friday and the two performances on Saturday. In fact the entire school was quiet. An angry Quinn saw to that.
The Head Bitch in Charge was out and about for those three days, frightening everyone in her presence into submission and respect, but she could not be everywhere. The hockey players avoided her, as did some of the Cheerios and football players, but they were small in the grand scheme of things. There was work to be done and friends to protect.
Sue Sylvester said she was proud of how Quinn was protecting what was hers. That there was a reason she made head cheerleader freshmen year after all.
Thus, when Thursday came, and she watched as both Santana and Rachel sang a song about kissing a girl and liking it, she could not but help and join in, along with the rest of the female Gleeks. It was fun and meaningless, and no one thought of her as lesbian, which was even better, but it showed their support of Santana and Brittany, who had been outed as a byproduct but could not care less. Finn had tried to make things right, but one glare from Mercedes, which surprised her, had sat him down after he suggested a women's week as a means of showcasing how woman were important too. Quinn's inner feminism and tiger had to be held by back Santana of all people.
At the play practice, a dry run through, Rachel approached Quinn and they had a nice long discussion, sans any touching which disappointed her tiger-self, and she came away from that talk with a girlfriend. Which was so much better than a boyfriend, though Rachel liked to joke in their texting that she was the boy in the relationship, ignoring the penis she had sometimes.
Friday had brought some ease to the tension of the school, along with a hockey player thrown in the dumpster by Quinn after he slushied Santana. Right after in fact. The bastard did not have the intelligence to at least notice her presence and had to suffer probably a massive headache from the way he hit the back of the dumpster. She decided that it was unimportant.
Quinn also talked to Finn, when she found him alone in the choir room during lunch. The boy seemed so lost and unsure of the hatred he had received that any anger and frustration she felt disappeared. The tiger-self was not happy, but the Quinn-self knew better. Finn was remorseful for what he had done, knew it was wrong somewhere in him, but he did not fully understand.
So they talked. Took most of lunch, and some of their free periods, but Quinn listened as Finn just talked about all the things he did not understand or wanted to know more, and how he did not realize that no one knew about Santana being a lesbian was suppose to be a secret. His ignorance did not lessen his error, but at least, Quinn understood why and decided that to kill him now would be wrong. In a rare moment of kindness during the week, she offered to help him, to be a big sister to him despite being a bit younger than the boy. Santana did not like the decision, though Brittany thought it was wonderful and therefore so did the Latina.
Which led them all to Saturday, sleeping over at Quinn's rather large home on a coach in front of a large television, where she was only one sitting really, Rachel was lounging on her, back to the armrest, scratching the back of her neck, just in her hair line, as she rested her head on her shoulder, while Brittany was leaning on her other side, cuddling with a Santana, a rare and easily excited creature according to Brittany, so no sudden movements. Quinn smile and nodded, relaxing around the three people who the tiger-self felt comfortable around.
"Stop it," Santana said.
"Hmm," Quinn replied, her eyes closed and just enough the touch of her girlfriend, and her best friend, and her protector.
"The purring," She continued. "I can feel it through Britt, and..."
"Aww," Brittany said, "I know that look."
"What look?" Rachel paused her hand, and Quinn wanted to growl at the lack of scratches. This was a sin and would not be tolerated.
"Britts, no," Santana tried to sit up, but a firm on around her waist prevented her from moving.
"She's horny!" Santana groaned and turned to hide her face in Brittany's stomach. "It's okay though, we can fix that."
"Now?" Rachel asked. The scratching had not started up yet, the hand was there tempting her. Quinn started to nuzzle Rachel in an attempt to convince her to start again.
"No." "yes." Santana and Brittany said. Santana sat up and looked away.
"Oh, that's right," Brittany replied. "Rach, come." She stood up and pulled the diva away, out of the room and quickly upstairs where a door slam informed the remaining two that it was alone time for their girlfriends.
"Your girlfriend is weird," Quinn said, smiling at Santana.
"Your girlfriend is crazy," Santana replied.
"I can not really argue with that," Quinn shuffled in her seat, trying to get comfortable again now that Rachel was gone. She had enjoyed the warmth and pressure the girl provided and without it, the almost empty house grew colder.
Brittany came running down stairs to the dark living room and grabbed her back. "Forgot something," she said, and Santana hid her face again.
Silence settled next to the girls after a door slammed shut. "I'm so so so sorry, Q," Santana said, shaking her face in her hands.
"Why?" Quinn asked.
"I think I might have gave Rachel... the idea that... well," Santana looked away, "she and Britts should compare notes."
"I do not see how that is a-" Quinn started but paused. "What kind of notes?"
"It may have been just after you went all hyper-sex cat on her, and she was gloating a bit about how you and all-" she waved a hand at Quinn's waist, at least tried to, given that she had not looked back at her.
Quinn sighed, keeping her attention on some sort of movie playing on HBO2. "How bad will it be?"
Santana shrugged. She shifted on the coach until she was stretched out and resting on the other armrest. "Brittany has a few."
"Notes?"
"Notebooks," Santana replied. Quinn finally looked at her friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't think that-"
"I swear if she comes down here with some crazy sex-capade that came from your girlfriend-"
"Your best-friend."
"Your girlfriend, I will..." Quinn had no threat really, but something was required. "I will make Brittany cut you off."
"You wouldn't dare," Santana sat up, returning the glare of the tigress.
"It would be your fault, you know that," Quinn said. "You are the one who told them to compare notes, which I doubt that Rachel even has any."
"Rachel, your girlfriend?" Santana leaned back down. "Not having excessive amounts of notes regarding her sexual fantasies prior to and currently involving you? The same girl who walked into Glee last week with over fifty pages of individually selected information for each member?"
Quinn groaned and fell forward into her hands. "And further more, you can not blame me for this. I'm simply doing what you can't."
"What is that suppose to mean?"
"I'm the one who had to give your girlfriend the talk," Santana said, "I'm the one who womanned up and told her about her failure towards Glee. Things you couldn't do. You're the one wanting to fuck a sex kitten, pun intended."
"You are so cultured," Quinn replied. Santana had stepped in where she could not, or rather would not. She had hurt her girlfriend so much in the past, and now, the things Rachel needed at the moment was more than Quinn felt comfortable giving the girl. She did not want to her any more.
"I know right," Santana turned back to the television screen. "It's not a bad thing, just don't blame me for your fucking ineptitude."
Quinn did not say anything. Santana had been protecting her for as long as she could remember, even when it was from herself. They did not speak much about her sophomore year, and all the troubles that went with it, mostly because Quinn had a hard time accepting just what the Latina did for her, even when it was difficult and painful. Santana had her kicked off the squad in order to protect her unborn child. Santana was the one who kept pressuring Finn to cheat on her, just to show how much of a boy he really was. Santana was the who helped her deal with getting kicked out, giving up Beth, her struggling sexuality, everything. Santana protected her. Now, Quinn wanted to do the same, even if only lighten the load she was forced to carry.
"How are you?" Quinn asked.
"Hmm?"
"We have not really talked about this week," Quinn said.
"Is there anything I can say that will stop this conversation?" Santana stared at the television. She wrapped a blanket around herself and attempted to burrow into the armrest. Every once in a while, she forgot that Santana was a smaller girl. She was not tiny or anything, but the large voice, the large presence and strength masked everything that was physically her. Santana was a person who everyone knew was present and they would never forget it. Rachel too, in a different way. Maybe that was why they were such good friends.
It was rare, but there were times when she wondered why the beautiful Latina put up with Quinn's crazy life, why she kept with her when it was obvious she could have more, better, friends that would not hurt her like she did in the past. Things were better this year, they both knew it, but Quinn wanted, no needed, to make things better. Make things right. And it would start with her stepping up.
"I want," Quinn started, but shook her head. "I need to know what I can do."
"And if I don't want to talk about this," Santana replied.
"Then I am going to cuddle with you as a tiger until you do."
"Would human form be acceptable?" Quinn moved across the couch next to the Latina without another word. Santana slid into her side, resting just under her arm on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist.
They rarely sat like this. Before she was kicked out Quinn kept her distance from the pair, just as means of submitting to her father. After returning home, when she had struggled so hard with her sexuality and fought against it, they stayed apart. Only during the summer, when she was tired of fighting, exhausted from the tiger constantly battling her needs and wants, did Quinn let Santana curl into her. Or was it Santana let Quinn wrap herself around her? Did it matter?
"I came out," Santana said.
Quinn said nothing; her hand traced along Santana's arm, the other played with her midnight black hair, letting it just glide through her fingers.
"To my parents," Santana continued. "It was... okay." She squeezed tighter. "They didn't seem surprised or nothing, but... I could tell they were uncomfortable bout it. Like they didn't know how to respond. Catholic upbringing and all that shit."
Quinn just emulate the touch Santana that Brittany sometimes did when the Latina was upset. In a completely non-sexual manner. She kept her mouth shut and just nodded.
"I'm more worried about my abuela. She's... she's the one who taught me about myself, about God, about the earth and everything, she's... I can't describe how fucking awesome she is. This one time, I swear, this rando broke into her house, and while he was digging through her drawers, she tackled him, bound him to a chair and started to play Barbara Streisand over and over and over again, waiting for the cops to show up that she called an hour later." Quinn felt the Latina laugh, though there were soft pauses as though she had a hard time catching her brief to prevent another emotion from taking over.
"I don't know how she'll take it."
Quinn said nothing.
"Lima sucks as it is, and … and this is just gonna make it worse," Santana said. "School is gonna suck, it already does."
"Anything I can do?" Quinn asked. Santana said nothing for a bit. Some infomercial was talking about a better way to chop vegetables or something. It was annoying her. "Really anything."
"I know you talked to him already," Santana said. "Britts told me."
"Sorry."
Santana shook her head. "'s cool. I understand. Someone had to teach him some manners. Or at least warn him to stay out of my way."
"Not about that."
"Hmm?"
"That it was you he forced out."
"Oh," Santana said and tried to burrow into her Quinn's stomach. "I'm not."
"It should have-"
Santana sat up and leaned into Quinn until she was almost touching noses. She had seen the black irises expand until they filled the eye, the tight eyebrows and almost nonexistent lips before, but rarely directed at her. "You don't fucking get to do that, you gets me?"
"Santana, I..." Quinn said. The anger disappeared, leaving only soft and almost wet eyes, glowing in the blue light behind her. Santana's face had lost all tension, all power, leaving only the tired, almost broken girl that she had seen that day Finn spoke freely.
She reached up and cupped her cheeks. "I protect you. I take care of you. It's my job to protect you and Britts and Hobbs from everyone else and -"
"Santana," Quinn interrupted. Her voice was soft and gentle. "Then it is my job to care for all of you."
Santana did not pull her hands away. Quinn leaned into one, just enough so there was some light pressure on it. "You have done so much for me, saved me when I could not save myself. Or would not. You stepped up and said "this is what I am going to do" and you did it. You protected me and made Brittany one of the greatest people I know. You have helped me and Rachel get together, helping her understand all the flaws I have that she does not know about. You have done so much, and yet I have never seen you do anything for yourself."
"It's my-"
"I know you think it is your job to take care of us," Quinn replied. "That you are my beta, my commander who brings down the wrath upon the world." She covered one of Santana's hands and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. "You are my archangel, delivering the news from on high."
Santana laughed, but Quinn saw the reflection of something glistening in her eyes.
"Remember what you told Rachel in the bathroom," Quinn asked.
"Which time?"
"You do spent an great deal of time in the ladies' restroom with my girlfriend," Quinn replied.
Santana laughed again, dropping her other hand, but letting Quinn hold one to her cheek. "She was your not-girlfriend at the time."
"Details," Quinn said. "Remember?"
"Mhmm." She knew which time, the one that really mattered, the one where she protected Rachel by forcing her to see the truth.
"You said that it is the captain's duty to take care of their squad right?"
"Of course."
"I have not."
"What?!" Santana tried to pull back, but Quinn had wrapped an arm around her waist and held the girl tight near her.
"I have not taken care of you. I have taken everything that you have done for me, protected me from, helped with me, for granted, and I can not express how sorry I am for doing so, how grateful I am that you have, or how much you mean to me. San, I know you see more than I do. Please, I need you to understand-"
Santana slid her hand to cover Quinn's mouth. There were tears now in her eyes. "Don't. Please."
Quinn pulled the hand away and gathered both in one of hers. "I know you can see how much your pain hurts me. That I have not done as I should have and cared and protected you."
"Q...," Santana was trying to push back, to force her face to look away.
"You and Brittany were the only two people I had this world," Quinn said. "And I have treated you so horrible. I have taken you for granted and I can never express how much that hurts me to know I have hurt you by doing so. You three are my life, San, please I need you to know that."
"Please," Santana shook her head, eyes remaining on Quinn's.
"So, do not hold this in," Quinn said. "You have spent so long saving me, it is time for me to save you. I will not let anyone else hurt you, okay?" A nod. "Good."
"I've reached my sappy quota for month, can we-" Santana said, finally pulling away, but wrapped herself tighter around Quinn.
"Terrible, terrible horror movies it is," Quinn replied, and practically pulled Santana in her lap. The Latina was lighter than Rachel, which frightened her sometimes, but she would help her, take care of it. She had not been a good captain, and it took one of her pack being hurt badly to see that. Quinn could fix that. It was not too late, and it was what her friend needed.
She surfed netflix until she came upon a horror film with only one star, which was not long enough, given that Santana continued to try to burrow her way into Quinn. The Latina was cuddly when she wanted to be. It was not Rachel, but Quinn liked it when she got to hold someone. She liked being the big spoon in the relationship.
"Oh, Q?" Santana said.
"Hmm?"
"If Rachel asks you to do something with wax, make sure you do a full shave before hand. Getting an unexpected body wax is not fun." Quinn stiffened slightly, but relaxed as Santana laughed into her. Things were going to get better sooner than later.
Halfway through the first portion, watching some due torture some other dude by breaking his fingers one by one, Brittany and Rachel returned at a more sedated pace. Santana was laughing at the poor victim on the screen. "We're watching this now?" Rachel asked.
"Yep," Santana said. "You'll still feeling guilty and or upset about what happened and are letting me pick the movies for the night. It's only right."
"But..but...but," Rachel tried to argue but Brittany pulled her to the couch, sat her between her and Quinn and pulled the other blonde as close as possible, so much so that Rachel was almost laying on the two, and on top of Santana slightly. Quinn did not figure out how this was possible, but accepted that the three woman in her life were close and safe and happy at least for the moment.
The Unholy Quad, that did not have the same ring and Quinn would never consider Rachel unholy, well, she could given how much the girl enjoyed pleasurable torturing her, the Unholy Trinity and Rachel sat/lied together on the couch, and she enjoyed the relative silence. Rachel and Santana had a tendency to be overly direct and present with their voices, and sometimes Quinn just enjoyed stillness, sitting or lying and doing nothing except being there. The tiger-self especially enjoyed it, but she fought the purring when Brittany's hand found her neck and started scratching during the second movie to keep that stillness. Quinn failed, maybe on purpose, she did not know.
"I swear to God and all that is holy," Santana grumbled from her lap.
"What's wrong?" Brittany asked.
"Stop the purring," she replied, and looked up at Quinn.
"I can not," Quinn said, and Brittany did not stop either. Santana stood from her lap, grabbed Brittany's hand, and rushed out of the room, headed for the stairs. "Use the guest room on the other side of the-" A door slammed shut. "Damn."
"What's wrong?" Rachel climbed into her lap and took over the scratching detail, as was her duty.
"Santana picked my bedroom," Quinn said.
"For what?" Quinn raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend. "Oh. Do you..." She trailed off, but kept her eyes on the screen.
"It is up to you," Quinn said. The tiger-self was always horny, especially when Rachel was sitting so close.
"Can you just hold me and we just talk?" Rachel replied.
"Sure," Quinn said, she wrapped an arm around her waist and held her as she laid down, using the armrest as a pillow. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and covered them.
Rachel snuggled in closer so that Quinn was lying on her back and she was practically a blanket for the blonde. She started to scratch her stomach instead of the back of her neck, which was probably a better feeling. "This is nice."
Quinn purred louder.
"I want to talk about what we've been doing," Rachel said.
"We are laying on my couch with you avoiding watching another terribly bad horror movie."
A moan pierced through the house, and Quinn was rather happy that her mother was not present to hear it. Probably why they, and they being Santana, did it. Just to taunt her. "Seriously, can we turn it off, or at least to something else to drown out their sexual activities."
"Sure," Quinn reached over her girlfriend and changed the movie to some childish television show she had never been able to watch while her father was living in the house.
"Digimon really?" Quinn shrugged and shifted on the couch, getting comfortable again. Her hand snaked under Rachel's overly large sweater, and she drew circles on her back. "Brittany and I talked about you and us."
"I figured from what Santana told me," Quinn said. "Should I be worried?"
"I know now where to get some reasonable priced sex toys when we're ready for them, but for the moment no." Quinn felt her face grow warm and fought a groan at the thought. Thankfully the purring did not stop. "I want to talk about our dynamics."
"Okay..."
"You don't take charge," Rachel said.
"Hmmm?"
"In public," Rachel continued. "We agreed that I would be in charge and thus dominate you in private, the bedroom and when we're alone. But you don't really do that to me in public."
"You mean order you around, command you to do things," Quinn said.
"Yeah, I-I don't understand it."
"Two weeks ago, Thursday, what did I tell you," Quinn asked, her eyes focusing on a little spot on the ceiling. Rachel paused for a second trying to remember, she assumed. "I said that we're eating lunch in the cafetaria, because you skipped three days worth of lunch, despite it being only vegan food. The Monday we got back, first period, before you heard Mercedes do her little tirade on you about glee and solos and stuff, I asked that you take it easier on yourself, slow down a bit at least a school. Even when you upset that day, you did. I am the one who decides where we are sitting and what we are doing during school hours, when we went to the mall, it was my agenda and you asked for my permission to do something, remember I said no and you did not argue?" Rachel nodded.
"I do not need to express it," Quinn said, "And it is not just you, Rae, it is everyone that lets me lead, dominate them so to speak. How often do you remember me not being in charge, not setting the path at which we follow? Excluding Glee, because I can not rightfully take that from you The slushies may not have been mine, but I continued them, encouraged them. Not just against you but everyone else too. They were done, most with my orders, explicit or not.
"I am the girl my father groomed me to be, the persona of in charge and passive at the same time, both a leader and a lady, so to speak. I was the perfect child for him, and he would have seen to it that I was either the top of the business world or married to the top, controlling it; all under his wishes, his wants, his desires and needs. I was a Fabray, but only because he said so. "
"But with you, Rae," Quinn said, she did not reach to wipe away the tears that sat in her eyes. "But with you, I am no longer that, with you, and slowly with Santana and certainly Brittany again, I am Lucy. I am, for lack of a better word, happy."
"There's a better word than happy?" Rachel smirked into Quinn's bare shoulder, shifting the strap of her camisole.
"I am comfortable and safe and cherished and know that all the masks I wear at school, at the mall, in public, Rae, I do not need any more and I can let myself stop being in charge, stop being this person who is perfect all the time. I doubt that true happiness will ever be mine, but that is okay. My father held all the power in our house, and never let us forget it. I have done everything that someone else has wanted for me, until sophomore year when I got pregnant and things changed. I was under the control of people I did not want to. I could not be me. I am Quinn Fabray, HBIC and head cheerleader, menace and monster of McKinley High. And until you let me in, that was all I was ever going to me, a statue to be admired, a figurehead to be feared.
"In private, when we are alone, and I feel safe and comfortable, and ..." She trailed off. "I do not need it any more. I do not need to be in charge. For once, it is my choice to command, rather than forced. I can just be and know that I will not be hurt by the situation."
"I would never, ever, ever," Rachel said, her hand stopping for a moment, "hurt you Quinn."
"It is okay," she replied, She reached with her other hand and started the scratching again. "You will, I will. Relationships do not mean perfection, just commitment. And my commitment to this is because I feel those thing, Rae. Because you make me feel them. Even back over the summer."
"Okay," Rachel said, and snuggled closer.
"Okay?"
"Yep."
"Then why..."
"I just needed to know your reasons, to see that you are truly comfortable with this."
"Oh," Quinn said. She looked down at Rachel; her eyes were closed, a smile on her face, and the girl was pressing hard against her body.
"And we'll talk about the notebooks in the morning, when Santana and Brittany leave."
"Notebooks?" Quinn felt her voice break a little.
"Yep, Brittany and I shared a lot of ideas, and I want to share them with you."
"We are setting boundaries tomorrow."
"Of course," Rachel said. "Whatever you want kitty." With that, she started to snore softly and Quinn had no chance to argue or complain or anything. She sighed, pulled her girlfriend closer and fell into a light sleep.
The tree shook violently, almost toppling over as the pseudo-storm passed through town. Only, nothing else was move. There was no houses being torn apart by the savage winds that didn't exist. There were no lamps broken, no mailboxes flying through the air, no bushes shredded. Nothing moved, except for the single tree on the side of the street.
The pseudo-storm dissipated, leaving tree shaken, still trembling under the effects of ever forced it to move in an unnatural way, yet remain stationary, alive. Lights flickered on the street, one by one, cascading down away from the tree, until the lamps in front of a single house shut off.
The man stood at the top of the tree, balanced on a limb. A whitish cloak that melded into the cloudy sky danced in the same non-existent wind, though he didn't shift at all. He faced the now darkened house.
Inside the residence, rested a beast of terrible power, one that needed to be destroyed. One of many in the town of Lima.
He tracked the existent of the pack through many histories and stories, back channel police reeports and barroom gossip. Three weeks of listening to locals tell tall tales and ramble on and on of terrible creatures within their town, folklore that no one really believed or could prove, even when some of them swore up and down. He watched the economy of the town, searching through the sales and distribution of certain items, taking careful notice of very specific meals the beat required. Two weeks sifting through the records of individual businesses that hadn't had the courtesy to digitize their records yet.
Standing still, staring forward, and taking in the empty movements of the house, he questioned whether or not this was the correct residence, or even if there was something present. He left the town a year ago, after no activity was sighted for four years, not expecting to ever return. But something drew him back here. Something terrible, dark, and everlasting. It was time for that beast to end.
A window opened on the far side of the house, behind his standard line of sight, and the beast jumped down in his pale imitation of human form two stories up, and took off at a sprint for the forest. He let it have its few minutes head start before jumping down from the tree and chasing after it, moving by its scent alone.