A/N: More scenes that could feasibly happen within the course of the season but probably won't. This one could fit anywhere after episode three, and involves a Klaine!intervention. Hopefully you enjoy their dynamic as much as I do! :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.
"Quinn, are you in here?" comes Blaine's voice, and she shuts her eyes tightly before answering.
"Are you here to tell me how to live my life, too? Because if you are, you might as well just leave. And this is the girl's bathroom, in case you hadn't noticed." There's venom in her voice now, defensive and ruthless as she tries to hold on to her dignity.
"Sweetie, we're gay," says Kurt, "this is as much our turf as it is yours. And we're not here to tell you what to do."
"We're here to talk," finishes Blaine, and she rolls her eyes at how vague that term is. Talk. Ever since Puck decided to be noble and rally the Glee club to help her out, she's been bombarded by people who just want to help, really, we care about you too much to let you go through this alone.
Third stall, she nearly grits out, but changes her mind at the last second and pushes open the door. Her pink skirt (she hates it, hates pretending to be something she never wanted to be) flows out delicately behind her like some sad parody of her old self. It's less of an outfit and more of a costume, she thinks as she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror for the first time in a long while. She barely recognizes herself after that long summer.
"Say what you came to, then," she hears herself demand angrily, but it's like she's speaking from the opposite end of a tunnel.
"All right," at this point Kurt looks meaningfully at Blaine, who picks up smoothly, "we just want you to be happy. I haven't known you for very long, so excuse me if I'm overstepping, but I've heard a lot of your history from Kurt. You've had it rough, it doesn't matter what anyone says. You deserve that happy ending more than anyone."
He's nothing if not earnest, Quinn notices as she twirls a strand of hair absentmindedly around her finger, but she still feels hollow. She frowns when it isn't long enough to continue twisting.
"Is there anything we can do for you?" asks Kurt gently.
Is there anything they can do? She turns the question over in her head a few times. It's the first time she's heard anything even remotely resembling it. She thinks of a girl with a cigarette dangling between her lips and the darkest of sunglasses contrasting razor-sharp pink streaks. They could've done something for her, she decides, but who is she now? She thinks back farther, back to hair that brushed her shoulders and sundresses and wedge heels and innocence (she was only sixteen, just a kid, really) and all of the drama and pain and reorienting of her axes. They could've done something for her, too.
She softens then, and smiles at them through the mirror. "Thank you," she says, instead of answering their question, "I don't think I could've handled any more pity."
"You could never handle pity," smiles Kurt, and she laughs a little, remembering.
"I never wanted any," she reminds him, "People were just…annoying."
And they're fully laughing now, thinking of Rachel and her weird cookies and Mercedes with her soulful ballad and Brittany with her sage advice. This isn't nice, no, but it's fun and distracting, and Quinn and Kurt have never been known for their sugarcoating. Blaine just laughs along with them, and the look in his eyes is clearly reserved for Kurt.
Pride, she identifies it as, and wishes the last time she saw it hadn't been in Puck's eyes when she'd shed the last traces of Skank and tried a new look on for size.
I'm proud of you, he'd said. But she'd never given him a chance.
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