Somewhere There's Speaking (3/10?)
Title: Somewhere There's Speaking (3/10?)
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade (GlassParade)
Rating: PG-13 to mild R
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Jeff Pauling (aka Jeff Warbler)
Genre: Romance, AU
Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide.
Spoilers: While events and references from all three seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Currently 13,000+
Summary: A mini-sequel to the Kurt/Blaine story 'Nothing's So Loud'. When Quinn flies out to visit Jeff at UC Berkeley, they find out that all it takes is one night to completely change everything you thought you knew you wanted.
Additional Notes: After 'Nothing's So Loud' ended, I was surprised at the number of requests I got to spin Quinn and Jeff off into their own sequel. After a lot of thought, I decided that was indeed a story I could tell. The title of this mini-sequel comes from the song 'Everything You Want' by Vertical Horizon.
“Sprite with cranberry,” Quinn ordered from the flight attendant before popping her earbuds in and sinking back into her seat. With a push of a button on her Discman, Courtney Love's screaming guitars filled her ears and reverberated through her brain, obliterating both rational and naggingly irrational thought.
It was possible that she had taken her determination to have fun this weekend a little too far.
Quinn closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose against the headache that was beginning to throb behind her eyes. She'd just wanted to overcome one last personal hurdle. Visiting Jeff at school and hooking up with some guy she'd never have go see again had seemed like the perfect solution. It wasn't supposed to have turned into hooking up with Jeff.
She'd missed a pretty crucial step in there.
A sigh bubbled up from the pit of her stomach, catching the flight attendant's attention. “Everything all right, hon?”
“It's fine.” Quinn nailed a smile onto her face as she pulled one of her headphones out. “Cookies, please.”
“Certainly.” Her drink and a packet of Oreos were placed on her tray table, joined shortly by a second packet of cookies and a wink from the attendant. “Love the hair,” he whispered before pushing his cart on. Quinn forced another smile and a nod before shoving her earbud back in and closing her eyes.
The hair, the clothing, the makeup, the plans for the weekend - all calculated to make her look and act different in the hopes that she'd feel different, that she'd shake the restless irritability that had dogged her footsteps since she'd returned from Europe months ago. And it had worked, to a degree, she did feel lighter and a little more optimistic, and less...arranged somehow. All the punky stuff from the last several years had been fun, but it had become effort, like an armor she was getting tired of wearing. Yet she hadn't wanted to go back to being cheerleader Quinn, seeking popularity and power at any cost. That Quinn had actually been as desperately unhappy as riot grrl Quinn had looked, and wasn't an experience that today's Quinn was interested in repeating in the least.
But not knowing who she really was had left her with that nagging aimless drift, and then had apparently led her to sleep with one of her best friends. A good idea at the time, as all alcohol fueled ideas tended to be, but worrisome in the cold light of day. Sleep with Jeff! her jello-shot addled brain had squealed. It's perfect! You know Jeff! Jeff is nice, you trust Jeff, this is a big step that should totally not be taken with a stranger.
And while she did appreciate the logic of it, and while it had been in fact an incredibly good experience - the Jeff she and Blaine had sent off to Berkeley as a slightly oblivious virgin had obviously spent the last year making up for lost time and how - it just seemed like the kind of thing that could rock and change a friendship. And that was the last thing Quinn wanted. She felt anchorless enough already without losing one of the people who had pulled her through the darkest time of her life.
She loved Jeff, of course she did, but not like that. She couldn't afford to. Hadn't ever thought about it - well, maybe once or twice, when she was feeling really down, she'd wondered a little if it might be nice to date him. He might have been up for it, who knew? Quinn knew it would have been a sweet experience. Because Jeff was a sweet guy. You knew what you were getting with him.
But in the end she needed him more as a friend. It was too scary to think of doing anything that might lose her that friendship.
So she'd begged him to forget it had happened, and he had agreed, and she hoped that it would be enough. Enough that it wouldn't change their friendship and enough that maybe it would get her over the hump of reaching out and dating again.
Hopefully whoever was next would know what they were doing as well as Jeff had. Quinn squirmed in her seat at the memory of callused fingers scuffing across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, slipping and curling under the leg band of her panties, sinking into the soft, wet warmth of her -
Quinn's eyes flew open and she took a large gulp of her drink, cursing that she wasn't old enough for alcohol. The best she could do was to take a Tylenol PM and turn her music up even louder, ignoring the frown of the business man in the next seat. Whatever, he hadn't had her life, he could suck it up.
Yeah, okay, this wasn't good. No matter how good the actual sex had been (and oh God it had been so much better than it had ever been with Finn or even Puck, and she was finally wholly grateful to Rachel for taking Finn off her hands), it just made things awkward. Quinn Fabray did not need awkward. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying not to think about how it had felt to have Jeff nibbling and sucking at it, catching her gasps as his fingers moved inside - no, no, no.
Damn it.
She refused to dwell on this. Yes, she'd wondered what it might be like to date Jeff. Yes, she had wondered once or twice what it might be like to sleep with him. But it had to stop there. At wondering. And if she knew what was good for her, Quinn would stop doing even that. Bad enough she was considering dating. That was plenty frightening without thinking about dating in conjunction with one of your best friends.
Okay. Fine. It would take some time to put it behind them, but they'd do it. They'd survived much worse, they were both adults, everything was going to be fine. There had been a discussion, agreement, and they wouldn't see each other until at least Christmas, if the Paulings decided to stay in Ohio. Plus Kurt and Blaine would be home, too, it would be just like old times, just like it had always been.
Everything was going to be fine.
No sweat.
They were going to forget it ever happened.
Now, why was that such a depressing thought?
“What did you do to Quinn?” Nick shoved the door to Jeff's dorm room open with so much force, it bounced off the wall and swung back to hit him smack in the knee. A grimace creased his face as he tried again and limped through the doorway. “Fuck, ow.”
Jeff didn't look up from his Spanish take-home quiz, partly because he actually was trying to finish it before class, but mostly because he didn't trust himself to lie to Nick with a straight face. “I didn't do anything.
Lies, his brain mocked, making his cheeks burn at the memory of Quinn grabbing his hands up to cup her breasts, showing him how she liked to have his thumbs brush over - no. No. They had agreed to forget it. Jeff reached discreetly to adjust his suddenly too-interested dick while Nick ranted.
“Bullshit,” his friend was griping, pacing the tiny room with his thick brown hair sticking out in all directions from where he'd agitatedly combed through it with his fingers. “It's an hour drive from here to the airport, and I didn't get a word out of her between 'hey there' and 'have a safe trip back.' So what gives, Pauling?”
Picking up his yellow highlighter, Jeff concentrated too intently on outlining the 'Points To Remember' section in his textbook. “It was a really busy weekend, man. You know Quinn gets quiet when she's tired.” And noisy when she - damn it, no. Jeff was resolutely not remembering how he'd had to cover Quinn's mouth with his own to silence both her moans and his.
“Yeah, well, if that's really all it was, you'd be looking at me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff watched Nick crossing his arms over his chest, looking belligerent and clearly not prepared to let this topic drop any time soon. “So, how come you won't look at me?”
“I'm doing my homework,” Jeff mumbled, knowing full well that he wasn't going to get away with evasion for much longer. Still, he owed it to himself and Quinn to give it his best effort.
He'd promised her he would forget it. No matter how much it had hurt, he had made that promise.
“You speak better Spanish than anyone but the head of Linguistics,” came Nick's exasperated snap seconds before he stomped over to yank Jeff's textbook right off the desk. “So fuck that, Jeff. Tell me what's going on.”
Jeff held up his hands and pushed back from his desk. “Dude, I know you have a thing for Quinn, but you're crossing the line here. She's my best friend -”
“Yeah, well, she's my friend too, so fuck you.” Nick's face was red as he hauled Jeff to his feet by his shirt front. “What the fuck did you do?”
Now Jeff was just as angry as Nick as he pulled himself free, shoving his buddy hard into the closet door. “Get out.”
“Not until you tell me what's going on!” In seconds, Nick was right back in Jeff's face, and that was it.
“I slept with her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I slept with Quinn! That's what happened, Nick.”
The words bounced and echoed around the tiny room and landed between them with a thud. The only sound was Nick's swift sucking intake of shocked breath as his eyes widened - and then burned with fury. And to make matters worse, the door swung open again at that moment to reveal Jeff's roommate Sebastian, hands full of lacrosse gear and a sardonic grin on his face.
“I hope you did that in your bed, Pauling, because I kind of thought the 'no fucking' thing was implied when I agreed to let your friend sleep in mine.”
“Girlfriend!” Sugar Motta's piercing shriek made Quinn cringe, but she dutifully accepted the other girl's enthusiastic hug. It didn't last long, fortunately, as Sugar pulled back with her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Girl. You smell like coach class.”
“Not all of us care what seat we sit in to fly from one place to another, Sugar.” Quinn couldn't help but be amused by Sugar's spoiled brattiness sometimes. It was like observing an entirely different species of human. Homo riche, maybe. “All I care about is that I didn't go Greyhound.”
“You'd be walking if you did, babe. No offense, but I'm pretty sure I can't get bus stench outta leather upholstery.” A delicate shudder racked her tiny frame, setting the miniscule bells tied into her perfectly highlighted brown hair to jingling. She'd adopted a sort of India-hippie-mystic vibe as of late that made Quinn's head hurt when she thought too hard about the Gucci purses and Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that Sugar saw no problem accessorizing her 'distressed genuine peasant cotton' ensembles with. “I'm gonna get the Bug detailed after this as it is.”
Quinn let out a chuckle despite her general off mood. “Suit yourself, it's your money.”
“It's Daddy's,” Sugar corrected, grabbing at Quinn's wrist and pulling her towards baggage claim. She was practically vibrating with impatience, and Quinn dreaded the interrogation that was without doubt right around the corner. After all, it had been Sugar and a stack of Cosmos that had helped prompt this weekend in the first place - obviously the younger girl had a vested interest in the results.
Quinn just...didn't quite know how to explain it all.
But too late. Sugar was speedwalking to baggage claim, forcing Quinn to trot to keep up. “Okay, so, you gotta tell me everything. Don't spare a detail. Did it work? Did you do the deed?” She bounced like an overexcited Chihuahua, squeezing Quinn's arm in her enthusiasm. “Did you wear the dress? What was the guy like? You didn't pick a gorilla like Finn, right? Omigod, Quinn, you gotta tell me all of it now or I will like, die.”
“Okay, okay.” Quinn racked her brain for a way to prolong the reveal as long as she possibly could. “Um, can it wait till we're in the car, though? Because I do not want you screaming all about my private business in public and you know you will, because you do that when you're excited.”
Sugar sulked, but did not deny the truth of Quinn's point. “Ugh, fine.” Her lower lip pushed out in a pout as she slowed her roll down to a grumbling stalk. “Was it good, at least? Tell me it was good.”
“I like how you assume it happened.” They arrived at baggage and Quinn was gratified to see that the luggage gods were with her once again, as her enormous travel pack came scooting down the conveyor belt as soon as she was standing next to it. She heaved it onto her back without even a token offer of help from her friend - not that, in all honesty, she'd really expected one. She scooped her little carry-on back up and they set off for the parking garage.
Sugar rolled her eyes. “Of course it happened. I don't make plans that don't happen, Fabray, even if I am not there to enforce them. Anyway, I know you did it, it's all over your face. So there.”
“Still not talking till we're in the car with the windows rolled up.” God, she had no idea how she was going to survive the two hour car ride from Columbus to Lima. This was going to be the most miserable interrogation ever.
“Honey, we're stopping for lunch. No way am I going to try concentrating on driving and listening to you tell me how my awesome plan worked. At least an hour. Don't worry, Daddy's treat.”
Great.
“So...you knew how I felt about Quinn, and you slept with her anyway.”
Nick's voice was gritty with barely repressed anger, and it made Jeff drop his head and sigh, running his hands through his hair. “It wasn't like that, Nick. It just happened. We'd both had kind of a lot to drink and there was a situation that night with Seth -”
“Yeah, I know, he totally won't stop talking about how he's gonna get you for cockblocking him.” Nick snorted from his supine position on Jeff's bed. “Didn't know you did it just so you could get her for yourself.”
“It wasn't. Like. That,” Jeff repeated with a snarl, tired of trying to calm Nick down. Sebastian had pretty quickly excused himself when he realized the situation was not going to be something he could defuse with jokes. Citing a desperate need for a shower, he'd dumped off all his lacrosse equipment and ditched them about 45 minutes ago. Even given Sebastian's penchant for cleanliness that rivaled Jeff's, that seemed a little long for a shower, and Jeff wished he'd come back to try breaking up the tension again. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“I don't know, man.” A sneer twisted Nick's normally openly friendly face. “Till I believe you didn't do it to be a dick.”
“Dude!” Jeff yanked his head up out of his hands and stared at his friend. “We've known each other for way too long for you to even think that! What the fuck?”
“There's a code, man! You don't sleep with girls you know your buddy's interested in!” Nick shook his head. “You broke the code.”
Wow. Seriously, just, wow. He'd had more than enough of this - Nick had been whining for the last thirty minutes straight, and Jeff was already on edge. “Okay, as you pointed out? You have known Quinn for years. The statute of limitations on whatever claim you think you had has totally run out, Duval.”
“She was with Finn for -”
“And second of all,” Jeff went on, overriding Nick's rebuttal, “She's never shown any return interest in you despite you being super embarrassingly obvious that you like her, okay? Plus really...you barely know her. I've had a better chance than you from day one, so just shut up, okay?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don't want to fight about this. It's just a thing that happened, it wasn't on purpose, I didn't do it to dick with you. Nick...” Jeff swallowed, hard. “I could actually use a friend right now.”
But Jeff knew right away he'd pushed it too hard before asking for help. Because the way Nick was turning red with his anger at the logic let him know he wasn't going to get a friend. Nick lunged to his feet. “Fine,” he snapped, slamming out the door. “Whatever helps you live with yourself, asshole.”
With that, he was gone, and Jeff trudged wearily over to flop down on his bed. Yay. More complications. Just what he liked.
Sebastian poked his head in. “Coast clear?”
Jeff glared up at his roommate. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”
“Mediating skater-bro fights is totally not in the roommate contract.” He sauntered through the little room in a towel and flip flops, headed for his closet. With the nonchalance of an athlete who'd grown up in locker rooms, Sebastian stripped off his towel and stood around naked while poking through his wardrobe. “So you slept with your best friend? Was that the plan?”
“No.” Sitting back up, Jeff glared again. “The plan was to have fun.”
“Okay.” Sebastian shrugged. “Was it not fun, then?”
“Not the point, dude!” He was pretty sure he'd never felt so misunderstood in his life. Then again, he'd rarely been so incoherent in explaining himself. God, what an incredibly confusing several days this had been. “It wasn't supposed to happen.”
Sebastian pulled a pair of boxers out of his closet and slid into them. “Alcohol has a funny way of facilitating shit that's not supposed to happen,” he replied mildly. It was hard to rattle Sebastian, which was usually one of the good reasons to have him as a roommate. Today, however, his preternatural calm was positively irritating. “I mean, I assume alcohol was involved, anyway. Whatever. The real trick is dealing with the fallout sober. How's that working out for you?”
“Like a charm. You saw.” Jeff waved a hand at the door. He was pretty sure he could actually see smoke trails left in Nick's wake. “Nick's pissed.”
“He have a claim on her?” His roommate tugged a rugby shirt over his head before rummaging out a pair of jeans. “Or did he just want one?”
Watching Sebastian reminded Jeff that he still had one more class for the day to get through, and he hauled himself off of the bed, frowning at his incomplete Spanish test. Well, Señora Weber liked him, he could probably wheedle an extra day for the damn thing. “He just wanted one,” he answered absently. “He's crushed on her since she came with Blaine and me to our first meet ages ago. Never did anything about it.”
“So it'll blow over, then. Eventually.” Reaching under his bed, Sebastian yanked out a pair of Adidas and began lacing them on. “How long have you crushed on her?”
Jeff opened his mouth to object, but one look at his roommate's too-knowing expression had him snapping it back shut just as fast. There was never putting anything over on Sebastian Smythe, he had a bullshit detector that was a legend campus-wide after even just a single year at Berkeley. He'd cultivated it out of necessity - you didn't become Dalton Academy's premier supplier of flawless fake ID's without knowing who you were selling to. The Westerville police had never been able to catch him.
And so the only possible answer was the truth. “Since sophomore year,” he admitted, turning away to stuff his books into his backpack. “I never meant to do anything about it. She had too much going on.”
Sebastian kept watching him while getting his own books together. “So what do you do now?”
“I don't know. She wants to forget it.” Two days and it still hurt. “I guess that, for now.”
“Is that gonna work for you?” Slinging his pack over his shoulder, Sebastian tipped his head, looking curious. “Like, are you going to be okay?”
“It'll work for now.” But Jeff kept his head down, searching through his backpack to find his earbuds for the long walk to Spanish class. “I'll figure it out later.” Remembering he'd gone to sleep with music on last night, he turned towards his bed to feel under his pillow, checking to see if they were there.
He pulled out both his earbuds - and the shirt he'd loaned to Quinn after they left the party. Lifting it to his nose, he sniffed at it.
It still smelled faintly of flowers. Jeff closed his eyes and sighed.
A hand hit him flat in the center of his chest. “Here. Use one of these tonight, compliments of the house.” Sebastian was pressing what felt like a selection of drivers' licenses to his chest. “I think you'll look most like Aldous Hustler, but the name might tip 'em off if you go anywhere halfway decent. Maybe try the Chaz Donaldsworth one. No one's used it yet.”
Prying his eyes back open, Jeff inspected the cards. “Yeah...not your best work. I'll pass.”
“Gimme a couple of days. I never thought you needed one before, but man, if anyone can use a night of cheap beer, it's you. Because buddy, you are gone.” Sebastian gestured to the shirt in Jeff's hand. “If you don't know that yet, you better come to terms with it and figure out what you're going to do about it.” With a wink and a shoulder clap, he was out the door, loping off to his Biology class.
Jeff just covered his face with his hand again and sighed, grateful that at least Sebastian hadn't been there that morning when he found Quinn's lip balm in his laundry basket.
Vanilla. He'd never taste it again without thinking of her.
Sugar's eyes were wide - never mind seeing them from right across the table, Quinn was pretty sure even the Hubble telescope was picking them up from space. “That wasn't in the plan,” Sugar was gasping, clutching at her glass of Coke. “Sleeping with Jeff wasn't in the plan. We had a plan, Quinn!”
“Best laid plans of mice and men...” Quinn offered, only to sigh when Sugar continued to gaze at her in horror. “Alcohol! There was alcohol in the plan, I had alcohol, the plan changed.”
“Uh, yeah it did.” It was a testament to how appalled Sugar was that she put her forehead right down on the tablecloth at the Mexican restaurant they'd stopped at - and she didn't even wipe it off first. “Oh, my God. What a fuckin' mess.”
Quinn privately agreed, but she took a deep breath and maintained the calm, Zen smile she frequently found herself employing in Sugar's presence. “We talked about it and we both agreed that we were going to forget it happened. No mess. It's fine.”
The look on Sugar's face when she lifted her head back up begged to differ. “Yeah, um, no, it's not. Hi, were you not watching 'When Harry Met Sally' with me just last week?”
“Er...” No, she hadn't exactly been paying attention. It had really not been her kind of movie, though Sugar had sure seemed to eat it right up. Quinn had kept her nose stuck in one of the copies of Cosmo Sugar had brought over, growing increasingly grossed out over a lot of the sex tips and horror stories she was finding in it.
Getting on the plane to go to California at all with those memories haunting her had been sort of an accomplishment, really.
“Ugh, totally hopeless.” Sugar grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them right into her mouth, speaking around the crumbs and rolling her eyes. “So, like, suffice it to say? Best friends sleeping together leads nowhere good. It fucks everything up for a long time. And, like, Harry and Sally got through it but I don't think you got any long term plans with Jeff, right?”
“No.” Quinn failed to see what that had to do with anything. “Which is fine, because we agreed that it didn't happen.”
Sugar looked like she wanted to lunge across the table and strangle Quinn. Quinn almost hoped she tried, she hadn't been to gymnastics class in a while but she was pretty sure she could take Sugar on and right now, she was so annoyed that she needed an outlet for her irritation. Bring it, she silently thought, only to be disappointed when Sugar simply reached for another handful of chips.
“You don't get it, 'cause you never dated anyone but Finn. And Puck, if you can count that, I guess.” This time, Sugar took a minute to chew and swallow before continuing with her explanation. “Hooking up with buddies is always a no-no unless you plan on making it a thing, Quinnster. Because I'll lay ya 10 to 1 odds that Jeff's got some kinda crush on you.”
Quinn could not help but snort. “You have got to be kidding. I'd know if he did.”
“Nah. Maybe he doesn't even know.” Sugar shrugged. “But guy friends can't just be guy friends. Doesn't happen. Deep down, every straight guy wants to sleep with his lady friends. Even if he never says it out loud. And then stuff gets messed up because he's in love. Or he thinks he's in love. Or he thinks he wants to be in love.”
“You officially watch too many girly movies and I'm cutting off your subscription to Cosmo,” Quinn retorted, picking up her diet Coke. “That is completely ridiculous. And totally insulting! All guys are not the same, Sugar.” She shook her head, still amazed. “Besides. I told you. We're on the same page. Jeff would never have agreed to forget about this...thing...if he didn't mean it.”
“Jeff would start collecting Beanie Babies if you were the one telling him to do it, Quinn.” The look on Sugar's face said, quite eloquently, You are a total dumbass if you think otherwise. “Even if he doesn't have feelings for you - and I still say he does, because you're hot and he's a guy - he's just super nice in general. Even nicer than Blaine. He'll go along with anything if we just smile at him pretty. Remember how I could always get him to take my shifts at the skate shop?”
Quinn did. For a while it had made her think that Jeff had a thing for Sugar, but then she realized it was just Jeff being Jeff. He interacted around girls so rarely back then that it had been confusing.
He was nice. And agreeable. The kindest guy she knew, as Sugar had pointed out, next to Blaine.
Oh, God, this conversation was exactly as painful as she had thought it was going to be. And it was confusing her no end. Quinn took a deep breath and set her cup back down. “This is stupid, Sugar. Jeff is my friend. He's not an idiot, he doesn't have feelings for me, and we're going to be fine. This weekend was a thing that happened, and you know, maybe I can use it to my advantage. It wasn't bad, it was nice that it happened with someone I trusted. Now maybe I can branch out.”
Just like she'd told herself on the plane. Good girl, Quinn thought to herself, giving herself a little mental pat on the back. Stick to your guns.
And hope to God Sugar doesn't start asking questions about your feelings.
Because that, Quinn was starting to realize, might be a bigger problem.
Media: Fic
Author: a_glass_parade (GlassParade)
Rating: PG-13 to mild R
Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Jeff Pauling (aka Jeff Warbler)
Genre: Romance, AU
Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide.
Spoilers: While events and references from all three seasons of Glee may be adapted and worked into the story occasionally, it's otherwise fully AU.
Word Count: Currently 13,000+
Summary: A mini-sequel to the Kurt/Blaine story 'Nothing's So Loud'. When Quinn flies out to visit Jeff at UC Berkeley, they find out that all it takes is one night to completely change everything you thought you knew you wanted.
Additional Notes: After 'Nothing's So Loud' ended, I was surprised at the number of requests I got to spin Quinn and Jeff off into their own sequel. After a lot of thought, I decided that was indeed a story I could tell. The title of this mini-sequel comes from the song 'Everything You Want' by Vertical Horizon.
“Sprite with cranberry,” Quinn ordered from the flight attendant before popping her earbuds in and sinking back into her seat. With a push of a button on her Discman, Courtney Love's screaming guitars filled her ears and reverberated through her brain, obliterating both rational and naggingly irrational thought.
It was possible that she had taken her determination to have fun this weekend a little too far.
Quinn closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose against the headache that was beginning to throb behind her eyes. She'd just wanted to overcome one last personal hurdle. Visiting Jeff at school and hooking up with some guy she'd never have go see again had seemed like the perfect solution. It wasn't supposed to have turned into hooking up with Jeff.
She'd missed a pretty crucial step in there.
A sigh bubbled up from the pit of her stomach, catching the flight attendant's attention. “Everything all right, hon?”
“It's fine.” Quinn nailed a smile onto her face as she pulled one of her headphones out. “Cookies, please.”
“Certainly.” Her drink and a packet of Oreos were placed on her tray table, joined shortly by a second packet of cookies and a wink from the attendant. “Love the hair,” he whispered before pushing his cart on. Quinn forced another smile and a nod before shoving her earbud back in and closing her eyes.
The hair, the clothing, the makeup, the plans for the weekend - all calculated to make her look and act different in the hopes that she'd feel different, that she'd shake the restless irritability that had dogged her footsteps since she'd returned from Europe months ago. And it had worked, to a degree, she did feel lighter and a little more optimistic, and less...arranged somehow. All the punky stuff from the last several years had been fun, but it had become effort, like an armor she was getting tired of wearing. Yet she hadn't wanted to go back to being cheerleader Quinn, seeking popularity and power at any cost. That Quinn had actually been as desperately unhappy as riot grrl Quinn had looked, and wasn't an experience that today's Quinn was interested in repeating in the least.
But not knowing who she really was had left her with that nagging aimless drift, and then had apparently led her to sleep with one of her best friends. A good idea at the time, as all alcohol fueled ideas tended to be, but worrisome in the cold light of day. Sleep with Jeff! her jello-shot addled brain had squealed. It's perfect! You know Jeff! Jeff is nice, you trust Jeff, this is a big step that should totally not be taken with a stranger.
And while she did appreciate the logic of it, and while it had been in fact an incredibly good experience - the Jeff she and Blaine had sent off to Berkeley as a slightly oblivious virgin had obviously spent the last year making up for lost time and how - it just seemed like the kind of thing that could rock and change a friendship. And that was the last thing Quinn wanted. She felt anchorless enough already without losing one of the people who had pulled her through the darkest time of her life.
She loved Jeff, of course she did, but not like that. She couldn't afford to. Hadn't ever thought about it - well, maybe once or twice, when she was feeling really down, she'd wondered a little if it might be nice to date him. He might have been up for it, who knew? Quinn knew it would have been a sweet experience. Because Jeff was a sweet guy. You knew what you were getting with him.
But in the end she needed him more as a friend. It was too scary to think of doing anything that might lose her that friendship.
So she'd begged him to forget it had happened, and he had agreed, and she hoped that it would be enough. Enough that it wouldn't change their friendship and enough that maybe it would get her over the hump of reaching out and dating again.
Hopefully whoever was next would know what they were doing as well as Jeff had. Quinn squirmed in her seat at the memory of callused fingers scuffing across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, slipping and curling under the leg band of her panties, sinking into the soft, wet warmth of her -
Quinn's eyes flew open and she took a large gulp of her drink, cursing that she wasn't old enough for alcohol. The best she could do was to take a Tylenol PM and turn her music up even louder, ignoring the frown of the business man in the next seat. Whatever, he hadn't had her life, he could suck it up.
Yeah, okay, this wasn't good. No matter how good the actual sex had been (and oh God it had been so much better than it had ever been with Finn or even Puck, and she was finally wholly grateful to Rachel for taking Finn off her hands), it just made things awkward. Quinn Fabray did not need awkward. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying not to think about how it had felt to have Jeff nibbling and sucking at it, catching her gasps as his fingers moved inside - no, no, no.
Damn it.
She refused to dwell on this. Yes, she'd wondered what it might be like to date Jeff. Yes, she had wondered once or twice what it might be like to sleep with him. But it had to stop there. At wondering. And if she knew what was good for her, Quinn would stop doing even that. Bad enough she was considering dating. That was plenty frightening without thinking about dating in conjunction with one of your best friends.
Okay. Fine. It would take some time to put it behind them, but they'd do it. They'd survived much worse, they were both adults, everything was going to be fine. There had been a discussion, agreement, and they wouldn't see each other until at least Christmas, if the Paulings decided to stay in Ohio. Plus Kurt and Blaine would be home, too, it would be just like old times, just like it had always been.
Everything was going to be fine.
No sweat.
They were going to forget it ever happened.
Now, why was that such a depressing thought?
“What did you do to Quinn?” Nick shoved the door to Jeff's dorm room open with so much force, it bounced off the wall and swung back to hit him smack in the knee. A grimace creased his face as he tried again and limped through the doorway. “Fuck, ow.”
Jeff didn't look up from his Spanish take-home quiz, partly because he actually was trying to finish it before class, but mostly because he didn't trust himself to lie to Nick with a straight face. “I didn't do anything.
Lies, his brain mocked, making his cheeks burn at the memory of Quinn grabbing his hands up to cup her breasts, showing him how she liked to have his thumbs brush over - no. No. They had agreed to forget it. Jeff reached discreetly to adjust his suddenly too-interested dick while Nick ranted.
“Bullshit,” his friend was griping, pacing the tiny room with his thick brown hair sticking out in all directions from where he'd agitatedly combed through it with his fingers. “It's an hour drive from here to the airport, and I didn't get a word out of her between 'hey there' and 'have a safe trip back.' So what gives, Pauling?”
Picking up his yellow highlighter, Jeff concentrated too intently on outlining the 'Points To Remember' section in his textbook. “It was a really busy weekend, man. You know Quinn gets quiet when she's tired.” And noisy when she - damn it, no. Jeff was resolutely not remembering how he'd had to cover Quinn's mouth with his own to silence both her moans and his.
“Yeah, well, if that's really all it was, you'd be looking at me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff watched Nick crossing his arms over his chest, looking belligerent and clearly not prepared to let this topic drop any time soon. “So, how come you won't look at me?”
“I'm doing my homework,” Jeff mumbled, knowing full well that he wasn't going to get away with evasion for much longer. Still, he owed it to himself and Quinn to give it his best effort.
He'd promised her he would forget it. No matter how much it had hurt, he had made that promise.
“You speak better Spanish than anyone but the head of Linguistics,” came Nick's exasperated snap seconds before he stomped over to yank Jeff's textbook right off the desk. “So fuck that, Jeff. Tell me what's going on.”
Jeff held up his hands and pushed back from his desk. “Dude, I know you have a thing for Quinn, but you're crossing the line here. She's my best friend -”
“Yeah, well, she's my friend too, so fuck you.” Nick's face was red as he hauled Jeff to his feet by his shirt front. “What the fuck did you do?”
Now Jeff was just as angry as Nick as he pulled himself free, shoving his buddy hard into the closet door. “Get out.”
“Not until you tell me what's going on!” In seconds, Nick was right back in Jeff's face, and that was it.
“I slept with her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I slept with Quinn! That's what happened, Nick.”
The words bounced and echoed around the tiny room and landed between them with a thud. The only sound was Nick's swift sucking intake of shocked breath as his eyes widened - and then burned with fury. And to make matters worse, the door swung open again at that moment to reveal Jeff's roommate Sebastian, hands full of lacrosse gear and a sardonic grin on his face.
“I hope you did that in your bed, Pauling, because I kind of thought the 'no fucking' thing was implied when I agreed to let your friend sleep in mine.”
“Girlfriend!” Sugar Motta's piercing shriek made Quinn cringe, but she dutifully accepted the other girl's enthusiastic hug. It didn't last long, fortunately, as Sugar pulled back with her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Girl. You smell like coach class.”
“Not all of us care what seat we sit in to fly from one place to another, Sugar.” Quinn couldn't help but be amused by Sugar's spoiled brattiness sometimes. It was like observing an entirely different species of human. Homo riche, maybe. “All I care about is that I didn't go Greyhound.”
“You'd be walking if you did, babe. No offense, but I'm pretty sure I can't get bus stench outta leather upholstery.” A delicate shudder racked her tiny frame, setting the miniscule bells tied into her perfectly highlighted brown hair to jingling. She'd adopted a sort of India-hippie-mystic vibe as of late that made Quinn's head hurt when she thought too hard about the Gucci purses and Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that Sugar saw no problem accessorizing her 'distressed genuine peasant cotton' ensembles with. “I'm gonna get the Bug detailed after this as it is.”
Quinn let out a chuckle despite her general off mood. “Suit yourself, it's your money.”
“It's Daddy's,” Sugar corrected, grabbing at Quinn's wrist and pulling her towards baggage claim. She was practically vibrating with impatience, and Quinn dreaded the interrogation that was without doubt right around the corner. After all, it had been Sugar and a stack of Cosmos that had helped prompt this weekend in the first place - obviously the younger girl had a vested interest in the results.
Quinn just...didn't quite know how to explain it all.
But too late. Sugar was speedwalking to baggage claim, forcing Quinn to trot to keep up. “Okay, so, you gotta tell me everything. Don't spare a detail. Did it work? Did you do the deed?” She bounced like an overexcited Chihuahua, squeezing Quinn's arm in her enthusiasm. “Did you wear the dress? What was the guy like? You didn't pick a gorilla like Finn, right? Omigod, Quinn, you gotta tell me all of it now or I will like, die.”
“Okay, okay.” Quinn racked her brain for a way to prolong the reveal as long as she possibly could. “Um, can it wait till we're in the car, though? Because I do not want you screaming all about my private business in public and you know you will, because you do that when you're excited.”
Sugar sulked, but did not deny the truth of Quinn's point. “Ugh, fine.” Her lower lip pushed out in a pout as she slowed her roll down to a grumbling stalk. “Was it good, at least? Tell me it was good.”
“I like how you assume it happened.” They arrived at baggage and Quinn was gratified to see that the luggage gods were with her once again, as her enormous travel pack came scooting down the conveyor belt as soon as she was standing next to it. She heaved it onto her back without even a token offer of help from her friend - not that, in all honesty, she'd really expected one. She scooped her little carry-on back up and they set off for the parking garage.
Sugar rolled her eyes. “Of course it happened. I don't make plans that don't happen, Fabray, even if I am not there to enforce them. Anyway, I know you did it, it's all over your face. So there.”
“Still not talking till we're in the car with the windows rolled up.” God, she had no idea how she was going to survive the two hour car ride from Columbus to Lima. This was going to be the most miserable interrogation ever.
“Honey, we're stopping for lunch. No way am I going to try concentrating on driving and listening to you tell me how my awesome plan worked. At least an hour. Don't worry, Daddy's treat.”
Great.
“So...you knew how I felt about Quinn, and you slept with her anyway.”
Nick's voice was gritty with barely repressed anger, and it made Jeff drop his head and sigh, running his hands through his hair. “It wasn't like that, Nick. It just happened. We'd both had kind of a lot to drink and there was a situation that night with Seth -”
“Yeah, I know, he totally won't stop talking about how he's gonna get you for cockblocking him.” Nick snorted from his supine position on Jeff's bed. “Didn't know you did it just so you could get her for yourself.”
“It wasn't. Like. That,” Jeff repeated with a snarl, tired of trying to calm Nick down. Sebastian had pretty quickly excused himself when he realized the situation was not going to be something he could defuse with jokes. Citing a desperate need for a shower, he'd dumped off all his lacrosse equipment and ditched them about 45 minutes ago. Even given Sebastian's penchant for cleanliness that rivaled Jeff's, that seemed a little long for a shower, and Jeff wished he'd come back to try breaking up the tension again. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“I don't know, man.” A sneer twisted Nick's normally openly friendly face. “Till I believe you didn't do it to be a dick.”
“Dude!” Jeff yanked his head up out of his hands and stared at his friend. “We've known each other for way too long for you to even think that! What the fuck?”
“There's a code, man! You don't sleep with girls you know your buddy's interested in!” Nick shook his head. “You broke the code.”
Wow. Seriously, just, wow. He'd had more than enough of this - Nick had been whining for the last thirty minutes straight, and Jeff was already on edge. “Okay, as you pointed out? You have known Quinn for years. The statute of limitations on whatever claim you think you had has totally run out, Duval.”
“She was with Finn for -”
“And second of all,” Jeff went on, overriding Nick's rebuttal, “She's never shown any return interest in you despite you being super embarrassingly obvious that you like her, okay? Plus really...you barely know her. I've had a better chance than you from day one, so just shut up, okay?” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don't want to fight about this. It's just a thing that happened, it wasn't on purpose, I didn't do it to dick with you. Nick...” Jeff swallowed, hard. “I could actually use a friend right now.”
But Jeff knew right away he'd pushed it too hard before asking for help. Because the way Nick was turning red with his anger at the logic let him know he wasn't going to get a friend. Nick lunged to his feet. “Fine,” he snapped, slamming out the door. “Whatever helps you live with yourself, asshole.”
With that, he was gone, and Jeff trudged wearily over to flop down on his bed. Yay. More complications. Just what he liked.
Sebastian poked his head in. “Coast clear?”
Jeff glared up at his roommate. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”
“Mediating skater-bro fights is totally not in the roommate contract.” He sauntered through the little room in a towel and flip flops, headed for his closet. With the nonchalance of an athlete who'd grown up in locker rooms, Sebastian stripped off his towel and stood around naked while poking through his wardrobe. “So you slept with your best friend? Was that the plan?”
“No.” Sitting back up, Jeff glared again. “The plan was to have fun.”
“Okay.” Sebastian shrugged. “Was it not fun, then?”
“Not the point, dude!” He was pretty sure he'd never felt so misunderstood in his life. Then again, he'd rarely been so incoherent in explaining himself. God, what an incredibly confusing several days this had been. “It wasn't supposed to happen.”
Sebastian pulled a pair of boxers out of his closet and slid into them. “Alcohol has a funny way of facilitating shit that's not supposed to happen,” he replied mildly. It was hard to rattle Sebastian, which was usually one of the good reasons to have him as a roommate. Today, however, his preternatural calm was positively irritating. “I mean, I assume alcohol was involved, anyway. Whatever. The real trick is dealing with the fallout sober. How's that working out for you?”
“Like a charm. You saw.” Jeff waved a hand at the door. He was pretty sure he could actually see smoke trails left in Nick's wake. “Nick's pissed.”
“He have a claim on her?” His roommate tugged a rugby shirt over his head before rummaging out a pair of jeans. “Or did he just want one?”
Watching Sebastian reminded Jeff that he still had one more class for the day to get through, and he hauled himself off of the bed, frowning at his incomplete Spanish test. Well, Señora Weber liked him, he could probably wheedle an extra day for the damn thing. “He just wanted one,” he answered absently. “He's crushed on her since she came with Blaine and me to our first meet ages ago. Never did anything about it.”
“So it'll blow over, then. Eventually.” Reaching under his bed, Sebastian yanked out a pair of Adidas and began lacing them on. “How long have you crushed on her?”
Jeff opened his mouth to object, but one look at his roommate's too-knowing expression had him snapping it back shut just as fast. There was never putting anything over on Sebastian Smythe, he had a bullshit detector that was a legend campus-wide after even just a single year at Berkeley. He'd cultivated it out of necessity - you didn't become Dalton Academy's premier supplier of flawless fake ID's without knowing who you were selling to. The Westerville police had never been able to catch him.
And so the only possible answer was the truth. “Since sophomore year,” he admitted, turning away to stuff his books into his backpack. “I never meant to do anything about it. She had too much going on.”
Sebastian kept watching him while getting his own books together. “So what do you do now?”
“I don't know. She wants to forget it.” Two days and it still hurt. “I guess that, for now.”
“Is that gonna work for you?” Slinging his pack over his shoulder, Sebastian tipped his head, looking curious. “Like, are you going to be okay?”
“It'll work for now.” But Jeff kept his head down, searching through his backpack to find his earbuds for the long walk to Spanish class. “I'll figure it out later.” Remembering he'd gone to sleep with music on last night, he turned towards his bed to feel under his pillow, checking to see if they were there.
He pulled out both his earbuds - and the shirt he'd loaned to Quinn after they left the party. Lifting it to his nose, he sniffed at it.
It still smelled faintly of flowers. Jeff closed his eyes and sighed.
A hand hit him flat in the center of his chest. “Here. Use one of these tonight, compliments of the house.” Sebastian was pressing what felt like a selection of drivers' licenses to his chest. “I think you'll look most like Aldous Hustler, but the name might tip 'em off if you go anywhere halfway decent. Maybe try the Chaz Donaldsworth one. No one's used it yet.”
Prying his eyes back open, Jeff inspected the cards. “Yeah...not your best work. I'll pass.”
“Gimme a couple of days. I never thought you needed one before, but man, if anyone can use a night of cheap beer, it's you. Because buddy, you are gone.” Sebastian gestured to the shirt in Jeff's hand. “If you don't know that yet, you better come to terms with it and figure out what you're going to do about it.” With a wink and a shoulder clap, he was out the door, loping off to his Biology class.
Jeff just covered his face with his hand again and sighed, grateful that at least Sebastian hadn't been there that morning when he found Quinn's lip balm in his laundry basket.
Vanilla. He'd never taste it again without thinking of her.
Sugar's eyes were wide - never mind seeing them from right across the table, Quinn was pretty sure even the Hubble telescope was picking them up from space. “That wasn't in the plan,” Sugar was gasping, clutching at her glass of Coke. “Sleeping with Jeff wasn't in the plan. We had a plan, Quinn!”
“Best laid plans of mice and men...” Quinn offered, only to sigh when Sugar continued to gaze at her in horror. “Alcohol! There was alcohol in the plan, I had alcohol, the plan changed.”
“Uh, yeah it did.” It was a testament to how appalled Sugar was that she put her forehead right down on the tablecloth at the Mexican restaurant they'd stopped at - and she didn't even wipe it off first. “Oh, my God. What a fuckin' mess.”
Quinn privately agreed, but she took a deep breath and maintained the calm, Zen smile she frequently found herself employing in Sugar's presence. “We talked about it and we both agreed that we were going to forget it happened. No mess. It's fine.”
The look on Sugar's face when she lifted her head back up begged to differ. “Yeah, um, no, it's not. Hi, were you not watching 'When Harry Met Sally' with me just last week?”
“Er...” No, she hadn't exactly been paying attention. It had really not been her kind of movie, though Sugar had sure seemed to eat it right up. Quinn had kept her nose stuck in one of the copies of Cosmo Sugar had brought over, growing increasingly grossed out over a lot of the sex tips and horror stories she was finding in it.
Getting on the plane to go to California at all with those memories haunting her had been sort of an accomplishment, really.
“Ugh, totally hopeless.” Sugar grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them right into her mouth, speaking around the crumbs and rolling her eyes. “So, like, suffice it to say? Best friends sleeping together leads nowhere good. It fucks everything up for a long time. And, like, Harry and Sally got through it but I don't think you got any long term plans with Jeff, right?”
“No.” Quinn failed to see what that had to do with anything. “Which is fine, because we agreed that it didn't happen.”
Sugar looked like she wanted to lunge across the table and strangle Quinn. Quinn almost hoped she tried, she hadn't been to gymnastics class in a while but she was pretty sure she could take Sugar on and right now, she was so annoyed that she needed an outlet for her irritation. Bring it, she silently thought, only to be disappointed when Sugar simply reached for another handful of chips.
“You don't get it, 'cause you never dated anyone but Finn. And Puck, if you can count that, I guess.” This time, Sugar took a minute to chew and swallow before continuing with her explanation. “Hooking up with buddies is always a no-no unless you plan on making it a thing, Quinnster. Because I'll lay ya 10 to 1 odds that Jeff's got some kinda crush on you.”
Quinn could not help but snort. “You have got to be kidding. I'd know if he did.”
“Nah. Maybe he doesn't even know.” Sugar shrugged. “But guy friends can't just be guy friends. Doesn't happen. Deep down, every straight guy wants to sleep with his lady friends. Even if he never says it out loud. And then stuff gets messed up because he's in love. Or he thinks he's in love. Or he thinks he wants to be in love.”
“You officially watch too many girly movies and I'm cutting off your subscription to Cosmo,” Quinn retorted, picking up her diet Coke. “That is completely ridiculous. And totally insulting! All guys are not the same, Sugar.” She shook her head, still amazed. “Besides. I told you. We're on the same page. Jeff would never have agreed to forget about this...thing...if he didn't mean it.”
“Jeff would start collecting Beanie Babies if you were the one telling him to do it, Quinn.” The look on Sugar's face said, quite eloquently, You are a total dumbass if you think otherwise. “Even if he doesn't have feelings for you - and I still say he does, because you're hot and he's a guy - he's just super nice in general. Even nicer than Blaine. He'll go along with anything if we just smile at him pretty. Remember how I could always get him to take my shifts at the skate shop?”
Quinn did. For a while it had made her think that Jeff had a thing for Sugar, but then she realized it was just Jeff being Jeff. He interacted around girls so rarely back then that it had been confusing.
He was nice. And agreeable. The kindest guy she knew, as Sugar had pointed out, next to Blaine.
Oh, God, this conversation was exactly as painful as she had thought it was going to be. And it was confusing her no end. Quinn took a deep breath and set her cup back down. “This is stupid, Sugar. Jeff is my friend. He's not an idiot, he doesn't have feelings for me, and we're going to be fine. This weekend was a thing that happened, and you know, maybe I can use it to my advantage. It wasn't bad, it was nice that it happened with someone I trusted. Now maybe I can branch out.”
Just like she'd told herself on the plane. Good girl, Quinn thought to herself, giving herself a little mental pat on the back. Stick to your guns.
And hope to God Sugar doesn't start asking questions about your feelings.
Because that, Quinn was starting to realize, might be a bigger problem.