the second first kiss is the one that counts
the second first kiss is the one that counts - Quinn/Will; G
It's almost two a.m. when his phone rings, and he fumbles it from his bedside table, squinting at the display before pushing the button to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Schue?"
He frowns. The voice on the other end is familiar; what's not familiar is the slurred way she says his name.
"Quinn?"
"Mmm, yeah," she mumbles, her voice a little muffled. "I, um - can you come get me?"
His frown deepens. "Quinn, are you drunk?"
"I think so. Just a little bit."
There's a pause, and then she giggles.
"Focus," he says, torn between amusement and concern. "Where are you?"
"Um. Gomer."
He holds back a sigh as he stands to find something to wear; Gomer's right on the edge of town.
"Where, exactly?"
"Diller. Hang on."
He hears what sounds like footsteps on grass, and realizes she's outside.
A moment later, her voice returns. "Okay, it's, um, 1310. Diller."
"All right, stay there. I'll be there soon."
She hangs up, and he sighs again before dressing quickly and leaving his apartment.
When he arrives at the address, it's a minute before he sees her, sitting cross-legged on the lawn of a very large house with darkened windows.
Her head is bowed so low he almost wonders if she's asleep, and he frowns as he parks along the curb, turning the ignition off and opening the door to get out.
"Quinn?" he says, trying not to be too loud.
Her head comes up, and a slow smile curves her lips. "Hey, Mr. Schue."
"Hey," he says, giving her a small smile in return. "Okay, up you get so I can take you home."
"No," she protests, scowling as she allows him to pull her to her feet. "I don't wanna go home. I don't wanna listen to my mom's bullshit."
"So where else can I take you?" he asks as they start across the lawn, his arm tight around her waist. "Tina's, maybe?"
"No," she says again, sounding increasingly petulant. "Take me home with you. I can just - just like, sleep on the couch."
"Quinn, I don't think -"
"It's either your place," she says, her voice rising slightly, starting to resist him a little bit, "or I sleep on this person's really soft lawn."
"Okay, okay," he says quickly, not wanting to risk them being heard. "Just come on."
He gets her into his car, and tries to hide his smile as they drive back to his apartment, listening to her as she prattles on about any and everything that comes into her mind.
When they reach his building, he moves around to open her door for her, and she stumbles as she gets out, wincing as she whacks her elbow against the door and then giggling wildly, her hair obscuring her face as her head falls forward.
"Come on," he murmurs, shaking his head as he slides his arm around her waist again.
He gets her upstairs and inside, pushing her to sit on the couch before he goes into the kitchen to get her a glass of water.
"Not thirsty," she mumbles when he returns and extends the glass to her.
"Yes, you are. Drink it."
She sighs and obeys, slowly draining the glass as he sits patiently beside her.
"Feel better?" he asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes the glass from her.
She nods. "Little bit." A pause, and then she adds, a little sheepishly, "Sorry, Mr. Schue."
He shrugs and smiles. "That's why I gave you guys my number last year, so you could call me if you needed to. I'm glad you did."
"You're a really good teacher, Mr. Schue," she murmurs, lifting her gaze to his face.
Her hair covers one eye, and he almost lifts his hand to the short blonde strands to push them behind her ear, and then stops himself.
A beat later, and without warning, she leans forward, and before he can fully register what's happening, her lips press against his in a surprisingly soft kiss.
For a split second, he wants to kiss her back, and then he catches himself, quickly setting the glass on the coffee table and raising his hands to her shoulders to gently push her away.
"Quinn?"
She stares at him, her brow creased in confusion, and then she shakes her head, pressing her fingers to her forehead.
"Beer is stupid."
A short laugh almost slips from him, but he just nods. "Yes, it is."
He stands to refill her water glass, and smiles when he returns to the living room to see her curled on the couch, her back to the room.
The glass clinks quietly as he sets it on the coffee table once more, and he grabs the blanket from over the back of the couch to spread it over her.
"Get some sleep," he murmurs.
She nods, mumbling, "Night, Mr. Schue," as she tugs the blanket up around her ears and shifts to get more comfortable.
"Night, Quinn," he replies, still smiling as he turns to walk to his bedroom, flipping off the living room light as he goes.
It's not long after she graduates from Yale that they run into each other in New York.
She's living and working there now, while he's just visiting, and he accepts her invitation to dinner without hesitation; after all, he's not her teacher anymore.
They spend most of dinner catching up on the last four years, and he smiles when their conversation finally winds down a little bit, raising his wine glass to his lips.
"I'm really proud of you, Quinn. You've done amazingly well for yourself."
She shrugs modestly. "Just finally got my shit together. Some long overdue therapy."
A grin curves her lips, and he laughs quietly.
They lapse into an easy silence, and then she grins again.
"Remember when I got drunk my senior year, and called you?"
He grins too, and nods. "Very well."
She giggles and shakes her head. "That was so horrible; I woke up feeling like death. And I couldn't even remember calling you at first, and I was so confused when I woke up on your couch."
"I could tell when I came into the living room," he says, laughing and nodding, and then raises his eyebrows. "I also remember you kissed me."
"Oh, god," she groans, covering her face with her hand, though she's laughing. "I had hoped you'd forgotten about that."
He snorts. "Please, like I'd forget about one of my favorite students kissing me. Even if she was drunk at the time."
One eyebrow is arched when she looks at him again. "I was one of your favorites?"
"Mmhmm," he hums, sipping his wine again.
"The things you find out after you leave high school."
He grins, and she shakes her head, raising her hand to flag down the waiter for their check.
"So is this the end of our night?" he asks when they're outside, hands in his pockets as he looks down at her.
"It doesn't have to be," she replies, arching an eyebrow. "I was actually thinking about asking if you wanted to come back to my place."
"Why, Miss Fabray," he teases. "I think you're drunk again."
"Not even tipsy," she counters with a grin and moves close to him, lifting her hand to the back of his neck and pushing onto her toes to touch her lips to his.
Unlike four years ago, he doesn't hesitate to kiss her back, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulls her a little closer.
She makes a contented sound against his mouth before she pulls away, licking her lips as her eyes meet his.
"I think this is the first kiss that's going to count."
He hums his agreement, and she grins again as her hand slides down his arm to weave her fingers through his.
"Let's see how many other firsts we can knock out tonight."
His lips curve and he nods, squeezing her fingers as they start down the sidewalk.
It's almost two a.m. when his phone rings, and he fumbles it from his bedside table, squinting at the display before pushing the button to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Schue?"
He frowns. The voice on the other end is familiar; what's not familiar is the slurred way she says his name.
"Quinn?"
"Mmm, yeah," she mumbles, her voice a little muffled. "I, um - can you come get me?"
His frown deepens. "Quinn, are you drunk?"
"I think so. Just a little bit."
There's a pause, and then she giggles.
"Focus," he says, torn between amusement and concern. "Where are you?"
"Um. Gomer."
He holds back a sigh as he stands to find something to wear; Gomer's right on the edge of town.
"Where, exactly?"
"Diller. Hang on."
He hears what sounds like footsteps on grass, and realizes she's outside.
A moment later, her voice returns. "Okay, it's, um, 1310. Diller."
"All right, stay there. I'll be there soon."
She hangs up, and he sighs again before dressing quickly and leaving his apartment.
When he arrives at the address, it's a minute before he sees her, sitting cross-legged on the lawn of a very large house with darkened windows.
Her head is bowed so low he almost wonders if she's asleep, and he frowns as he parks along the curb, turning the ignition off and opening the door to get out.
"Quinn?" he says, trying not to be too loud.
Her head comes up, and a slow smile curves her lips. "Hey, Mr. Schue."
"Hey," he says, giving her a small smile in return. "Okay, up you get so I can take you home."
"No," she protests, scowling as she allows him to pull her to her feet. "I don't wanna go home. I don't wanna listen to my mom's bullshit."
"So where else can I take you?" he asks as they start across the lawn, his arm tight around her waist. "Tina's, maybe?"
"No," she says again, sounding increasingly petulant. "Take me home with you. I can just - just like, sleep on the couch."
"Quinn, I don't think -"
"It's either your place," she says, her voice rising slightly, starting to resist him a little bit, "or I sleep on this person's really soft lawn."
"Okay, okay," he says quickly, not wanting to risk them being heard. "Just come on."
He gets her into his car, and tries to hide his smile as they drive back to his apartment, listening to her as she prattles on about any and everything that comes into her mind.
When they reach his building, he moves around to open her door for her, and she stumbles as she gets out, wincing as she whacks her elbow against the door and then giggling wildly, her hair obscuring her face as her head falls forward.
"Come on," he murmurs, shaking his head as he slides his arm around her waist again.
He gets her upstairs and inside, pushing her to sit on the couch before he goes into the kitchen to get her a glass of water.
"Not thirsty," she mumbles when he returns and extends the glass to her.
"Yes, you are. Drink it."
She sighs and obeys, slowly draining the glass as he sits patiently beside her.
"Feel better?" he asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes the glass from her.
She nods. "Little bit." A pause, and then she adds, a little sheepishly, "Sorry, Mr. Schue."
He shrugs and smiles. "That's why I gave you guys my number last year, so you could call me if you needed to. I'm glad you did."
"You're a really good teacher, Mr. Schue," she murmurs, lifting her gaze to his face.
Her hair covers one eye, and he almost lifts his hand to the short blonde strands to push them behind her ear, and then stops himself.
A beat later, and without warning, she leans forward, and before he can fully register what's happening, her lips press against his in a surprisingly soft kiss.
For a split second, he wants to kiss her back, and then he catches himself, quickly setting the glass on the coffee table and raising his hands to her shoulders to gently push her away.
"Quinn?"
She stares at him, her brow creased in confusion, and then she shakes her head, pressing her fingers to her forehead.
"Beer is stupid."
A short laugh almost slips from him, but he just nods. "Yes, it is."
He stands to refill her water glass, and smiles when he returns to the living room to see her curled on the couch, her back to the room.
The glass clinks quietly as he sets it on the coffee table once more, and he grabs the blanket from over the back of the couch to spread it over her.
"Get some sleep," he murmurs.
She nods, mumbling, "Night, Mr. Schue," as she tugs the blanket up around her ears and shifts to get more comfortable.
"Night, Quinn," he replies, still smiling as he turns to walk to his bedroom, flipping off the living room light as he goes.
It's not long after she graduates from Yale that they run into each other in New York.
She's living and working there now, while he's just visiting, and he accepts her invitation to dinner without hesitation; after all, he's not her teacher anymore.
They spend most of dinner catching up on the last four years, and he smiles when their conversation finally winds down a little bit, raising his wine glass to his lips.
"I'm really proud of you, Quinn. You've done amazingly well for yourself."
She shrugs modestly. "Just finally got my shit together. Some long overdue therapy."
A grin curves her lips, and he laughs quietly.
They lapse into an easy silence, and then she grins again.
"Remember when I got drunk my senior year, and called you?"
He grins too, and nods. "Very well."
She giggles and shakes her head. "That was so horrible; I woke up feeling like death. And I couldn't even remember calling you at first, and I was so confused when I woke up on your couch."
"I could tell when I came into the living room," he says, laughing and nodding, and then raises his eyebrows. "I also remember you kissed me."
"Oh, god," she groans, covering her face with her hand, though she's laughing. "I had hoped you'd forgotten about that."
He snorts. "Please, like I'd forget about one of my favorite students kissing me. Even if she was drunk at the time."
One eyebrow is arched when she looks at him again. "I was one of your favorites?"
"Mmhmm," he hums, sipping his wine again.
"The things you find out after you leave high school."
He grins, and she shakes her head, raising her hand to flag down the waiter for their check.
"So is this the end of our night?" he asks when they're outside, hands in his pockets as he looks down at her.
"It doesn't have to be," she replies, arching an eyebrow. "I was actually thinking about asking if you wanted to come back to my place."
"Why, Miss Fabray," he teases. "I think you're drunk again."
"Not even tipsy," she counters with a grin and moves close to him, lifting her hand to the back of his neck and pushing onto her toes to touch her lips to his.
Unlike four years ago, he doesn't hesitate to kiss her back, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulls her a little closer.
She makes a contented sound against his mouth before she pulls away, licking her lips as her eyes meet his.
"I think this is the first kiss that's going to count."
He hums his agreement, and she grins again as her hand slides down his arm to weave her fingers through his.
"Let's see how many other firsts we can knock out tonight."
His lips curve and he nods, squeezing her fingers as they start down the sidewalk.