Hey! Thank you for all of the fic recommendations guys, I'm literally going to read them all.
The chapter is for you guys, but I updated tonight because of the reviewer who asked me to. I was planning on tomorrow. Good thing I have another chapter written...So, guest, this ones for you. c:
I'm yearning to get out
I'm starting to hate this room with a passion. My nose wont stop running, which is gross, and the little trash can Santana gave me is already full. I hate being sick. Santana has taken it upon herself to be my nurse. My mom doesn't want to catch what I have, her words, not mine, and Rhys was vaccinated yesterday after school. Now, it's Wednesday, and I'm bored and sick and tired and sore and it's hot. And God, would it kill someone to please bring me some chocolate? I haven't eaten a solid food in three days, but last night I had a dream. About chocolate.
I told that to Brittany because she called to see how I'm doing, and her response was, "Did you know that by the year 2020, chocolate will be scarce?" I pulled my phone away from my face, and eyed the screen oddly.
"No, B, I didn't know. 2020 will be a terrible year," I mumbled.
"Right? I mean, with climate change, and some places drowning and others basically on fire-"
"Britt. Where are you getting all of this from?" I asked. She didn't answer, so I'm assuming she just shrugged.
"Maybe I could bring you some chocolate soup, since you're sick. But, you still haven't told me where you're staying."
"I told you, it's top secret information."
"Is your phone bugged? Can they hear you?"
I smiled. "No, B. No one bugged my phone. I just can't tell you where I am for a little while."
"Your loss," she said bluntly. I chuckled. I blew my nose, much to Brittany's displeasure. "Feel better soon, Q."
"I'll try," I grumbled. Then I hung up. This flu thing is getting old, very quickly. The room started spinning again, so I squeezed my eyes shut. A few minutes later, I blinked a few times so make the blurriness go away. My throat doesn't hurt. My stomach is turning. My nose isn't running. Since when does it all go away at once?
"Look who's awake," Santana sauntered into my room without knocking.
"S-santana, aren't you supposed to be-"
"Sh," she smirked. I swallowed. As she came closer, it seemed as if the rest of the room was getting darker, but she seemed to glow. I noticed that she was wearing the nurse outfit, similar to the one I had to wear when I volunteered at the hospital last year.
"Where'd you get that?" I muttered. She shrugged, then rested the back of her palm on my forehead.
"Someone's feeling better," she smiled.
"I-it just went away," I stuttered.
"Well, good. That means I can do this." In one swift movement, she was straddling my hips.
"I don't think-"
"Don't think," Santana said against my lips. So I stopped. I let her press her mouth against mine, and soon, we were moving in rhythm. I could feel her hips moving on my, back and forth.
"No thinking," I mumbled.
She chuckled. "That's right," she said before slipping her tongue in my mouth. A few seconds later, she pulled away. I almost complained, but she kissed between my collar bones. Then down my bare stomach. Then she hovered over my center, and stared at me deviously through her eyelashes. "I heard you wanted some chocolate?"
"San," I urged, bucking my hips up. She giggled.
"I'm home, sicko," she said.
"What?"
I heard three knocks and jumped, but she didn't even flinch. "How are you feeling?" She asked.
"Santana," I whined.
"Wake up," she pressed a kiss to my center.
"I'm up," I insisted. Another kiss. "Santana," I moaned.
"Wake up, Quinn," I felt someone shake me. Slowly, I blinked and opened my eyes. Holy shit. "I'm home."
"S-Santana?" My eyes widened.
She smirked. "Were you dreaming about me?"
"N-no no no. I was… I was awake," I rubbed my head. The nurse outfit was gone, and replaced by a leather jacket and tight jeans. Of course. It was a dream.
"Uh huh," she smiled. She pressed the back of her palm on my forehead, just like she had in the dream. "Your fever's going down. Do you feel any better?"
"A little," I mumbled, willing my cheeks to not redden.
"Well, whatever happened in that dream must have helped," she raised her eyebrows. There's no way in Hell that I'm telling her. She's bad for me, I haven't forgotten. I just, maybe, forgot how attractive 'bad for me' can look.
"Maybe," I said softly.
"It's too bad, really. Why dream it when you could have the real thing?"
I gapped. She always managed to do that to me- make me speechless.
"I hope dream me was satisfying," she continued. Two could play this game.
"Actually, you didn't finish," I told her. I regretted it immediately. I bit my lip, and hoped that would keep me from embarrassing myself any more than I already have.
"Don't test me, Q," she said. My stomach turned again, but I don't think it was from being sick.
"Well, look who decided to join us," Momma said as I sat down at the dinner table.
"I haven't been hungry," I mumbled.
"She's had the flu," Santana added.
"Nonsense, you had your shots."
"Then I don't know what happened, Mother. I'm sorry for being sick," I said as respectfully as I could.
"It's alright," she waved me off. Santana caught my eye, and her eyebrows were scrunched up. I shrugged. "Have you been getting your school work done?"
"Santana brings it for me," I told her.
"That's not answering."
"Momma, I was a little worried that I might get sick all over my papers. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
"Good," she smiled.
"Santana, can Puck come over?" Leo asked. My eyes widened. Why. Why would Noah Puckerman need to be here?
"Maybe. What's up?" Santana asked.
"Well, I have to put together a race car in my class, and Pucks good with stuff like that. So I was thinking, he could help me."
"We'll see," Santana winked. No we won't.
Santana sat on the foot of my bed with her legs crossed, much like she had before we got too… intimate. She was going over the lesson from today's World History class.
"So, what exactly happened in your dream?" She asked. I nearly choked on my water. I put the glass down and glared at her.
"Nothing," I said sternly.
"Oh, yeah, it definitely sounded like nothing," she cleared her throat dramatically, "Ohh, Santana. I'm up, ooh Santana!"
"Shut up!" I groaned.
"I'm just curious," she shrugged. "Can I guess?"
"No," I shook my head. Of course, she ignored me.
"Was it like when we were in the treehouse?" I didn't respond. "Come on, Fabray. Humor me."
"No, Santana, it wasn't. Now, just tell me what happened today. You never told me what the date was for the Manhattan Project-"
"My lips are sealed."
"This isn't funny."
"No, it's not," she said with a straight face. Then she cracked a smile. "It's hilarious."
"Just, please, help me?"
"Fine. For every question you answer, I'll tell you a fact from today's lesson."
"I don't think that-"
"Don't think about it," the fact that she said almost exactly what she said in my dream sent shivers down my back. "Just go with it."
"...Okay," I said reluctantly. She gave me a cheeky smile, then moved a little closer.
"Alright, so was it normal, or was it like, kinky?" She asked. I scoffed.
"It wasn't kinky." The nurse outfit. "But it wasn't… normal?"
"So it was realistic, with a twist?"
"What are you trying to pull here?" I crossed my arms. Her smile gave it all away. She was trying to get me to think about it. In all honesty, she didn't have to try. I've been thinking about it since I woke up- but I won't tell her that.
"1939," she told me.
I wrote it down. "Alright, now, what was the first nuclear bomb called again?"
"Uh uh, it's my turn." Then, her eyes lit up. "Was I tutoring you?" She asked.
I bit my lip and shook my head. I don't like where this is going.
"Was I your teacher?" She asked.
"No. Now answer my question."
"I'm getting close," she sung. Then she looked down at her notebook. "Little Boy was dropped on Nagasaki in August, 1945."
"Got it," I said.
"So it wasn't a student teacher fantasy. Was it like, a doctor patient type thing then?" I didn't answer, and that was all the answer she needed. "Oh my God," she laughed.
"Nurse," I corrected.
"I could do that," her voice was dangerously low.
"I… I don't think that'll be necessary," my voice shook. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep giving her hope. We can't be together. "Look, Santana," I closed my notebook, "thank you for helping me.. but I think we can be done for the night."
She nodded. "You can just borrow my notebook."
"You're a really good friend, Santana," I told her. She scrunched up her nose, and I couldn't help but think it was adorable.
"I'm not your friend, Quinn," she said. Before I could react, she'd moved to be right in front me, and leaned in to kiss me. For a few seconds, I gave in. I don't know if it was because of the dream, or because I really wanted to. No, I do know. It's both. When she pulled away to breath, I pursed my lips. She tried to kiss me again, but I turned my head at the last second. She pressed her lips firmly against my cheek, then rested her forehead against the side of my head. "You want me just as much as I want you. One fight isn't going to change that," she said softly.
When I didn't speak, she slowly slid out of my bed, then room, leaving her notebook behind.
"Quinn Fabray! Quinn, is it true you're avoiding school because you couldn't figure out a way to tell Sam Evans that you don't want to be his date to the dance?" JBI shoved his stupid microphone in my face, but I shoved it away.
"I was sick," I said simply. "No further comments."
Life inside the music box ain't easy, the mallets hit the gears are always turning
and everyone inside the mechanism
is yearning
to get out
Walking down the hall with Brittany by my side felt forced. She's my best friend, but she doesn't know me at all. No one here knows me. I keep walking though, with a stoic expression on my face, I walk the same halls that I've strutted in for the last three years.
And sing another melody completely
so different from the one they're always singing
I close my eyes and think that I have found me
Noah Puckerman rests his back against the lockers, and points at me. Santana turns, and gives me a wink. Noah kisses the air. They're having fun. When I look at the Jocks and Cheerios that surround me, and down at my hand which Sam has taken upon himself to hold… it doesn't feel fun. It feels scripted. Now that I think about it, that's all high school has been so far. Don't let the Black Jacks win, don't let the Black Jacks win, don't-
But then I feel mortality surround
I want to sing another melody
So different from the one I always sing
I pulled my hand away from Sam's. I can't do this today. When he asks if I'm okay, I nod. I step away from the group, but they just keep walking. I watched them, well aware of the students who were staring at me. I spin on my heel to find Santana, but they've already gone. I see them turn the corner of the hallway. I turn again, only to see the J's and C's turning the opposite corner. I'm alone. Somehow, I've never been more at peace within these walls.
But life inside the music box ain't easy
The mallets hit the gears are always turning
And everyone inside the mechanism
Is yearning... to get out
I think Quinns starting to see how her life has really become, what do you think?
If any of you are curious, the song is called Music Box by Regina Spektor. I listen to it all the time, and it inspired this chapter. I imagined it playing in the background as Quinn walked through the hallway, and looked at her surroundings in a new light. I think you should listen while reading, it'll make it more dramatic ;) haha. Well, see you soon! (One more thing, I'm reading The Fame Killer (buffy46143) Thanks Mia, for recommending it! Ok. Bye. For real this time.)