Fic for sangerin: Victory Is Ours, Glee, Mercedes/Quinn
Title: Victory Is Ours
Author: overthetiber
Recipient: sangerin
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Mercedes/Quinn
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1000
Disclaimer: I hella don't own Glee.
Warnings: underage girls possibly eventually doin' it with other underage girls, but nothing explicit
It begins, as many things do, during a game of truth or dare.
“So what’s Quinn like in bed?” Santana Lopez leans back on her elbows, smirking like the evil bitch she definitely is.
Mercedes blinks. “What?”
“In bed. Is she, like, frigid, or crazy?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” says Mercedes (who, for the record, is pretty drunk by now).
“You haven’t done it,” Santana crows. (She’s probably drunk too, or at least tipsy, because she cannot usually be said to crow.)
“That’s none of your beeswax!”
Brittany looks around wildly. “Where?”
Kurt is passed out in the corner.
“Okay, it’s my turn,” says Tina, trying to defuse things. “It’s my turn, right guys?” Though she’s had five glasses of wine, her words are still the least slurred. Tina’s alcohol tolerance is quickly becoming legendary, at least among those who drink.
Those who drink do not include Quinn, even if she’s no longer pregnant. That doesn’t mean she won’t take Mercedes’ drunk texts and dials, or give her a ride if she needs it.
So the night, at least the parts of it that Mercedes still remembers, ends with a text to Quinn: why haven’t we had sex yet?
-
Between the baby-daddy drama, the gayventions, and the perpetually-in-motion share-care-learn-grow carousel that is glee club, Mercedes and Quinn haven’t really had time for sex. Right?
Maybe.
Mercedes finds Quinn at the lockers before school.
“Hey, girl, I was wondering-”
“Mercedes?” Quinn says pathetically, and when Mercedes meets her eyes she sees they’re red and swollen.
“What’s the matter?” Mercedes automatically puts an arm around her shoulders. Quinn blinks away tears, smiles briefly up at Mercedes through her lashes, and then her face crumples again.
“Oh, honey.” Mercedes sighs. “Come here.” She pulls Quinn closer, and Quinn sniffles and hides her head in Mercedes’ neck.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, baby girl,” says Mercedes. But after she walks Quinn to class, after Quinn smiles for real and chastely kisses her cheek, she can’t stop thinking how nonsexual the embrace was. How she couldn’t stop the little bloom of desire in her chest, but Quinn felt as solid and unpliable as a stone.
-
Mercedes’ second and third classes are right next to each other, so she goes to the bathroom during passing period.
As she’s washing her hands, she hears muffled giggles from the accessible stall. Four white sneakers are visible under the door, two belonging to a pair of pale pink legs and two to a pair of nut-brown ones.
There’s shushing, more giggles, the sound of a kiss. It takes a moment for Mercedes to realize the water has turned blazing hot.
Brittany comes late to class, red-cheeked and beaming. Mercedes digs her nails hard into her palms, and then curses under her breath, because they’re acrylic.
-
At lunch, Quinn has to see Ms. Pillsbury. Mercedes sits with Kurt and Sam. Mistake! They’re so busy eating face, Kurt can’t even finish his pomegranate seed and fennel salad.
-
Arriving to glee club early, Mercedes walks in on Artie and Tina making out.
“You will never realize how much I did not need to see that.”
“Sorry,” squeaks Tina, smoothing down her skirt.
Artie shrugs. “Be glad you weren’t here five minutes ago.”
“What?” he yells after Mercedes’ retreating back. “We’re hormone-crazed teenagers! It happens!”
-
After glee club, Mercedes finally corners her.
“Quinn, we’ve been dating for two months now and the only time I’ve seen you naked is in the obstretics ward. What’s up?”
Quinn is immediately defensive. “It’s not what you think, Mercedes.”
“How do you know what I think?”
“I know you.”
“Is it because of Beth?”
“No! At first, but not anymore.”
“Do you find me gross or something?”
“Far from it,” Quinn pleads, but Mercedes can’t believe her.
“Do you just not want to? Because…” Mercedes swallows the end of her sentence. There’s a horrible cold numbness tingling up from her stomach, and every second that Quinn doesn’t answer is another second that it spreads.
“No, I-”
“You don’t have to lie. I understand.” I understand why I’m going to spend the next week in my room, listening to a collection of Billie Holiday’s most depressing hits. I understand why Kurt is going to dye your Cheerios uniform puce green. No, burnt sienna. Poop brown? Something like that.
“I’m just confused, Mercedes. Before we started dating, I didn’t even think I liked girls. Let alone, um, curvier girls.” Quinn fidgets. “But I really, really like you. Honestly, it’s kind of frightening. One minute I’m sandwiched between my boyfriend and his best friend, and the next I’m daydreaming about tying you up and having my way with you?”
“Hang on a sec. You want to tie me up?”
“What? No!! I didn’t say that, did I?” Quinn’s eyes widen in panic, though she does a fairly good job of keeping her expression blank.
Mercedes grins with her whole body, feeling calm settle over her bones. “Just saying, I could get into that.”
“Oh.” Quinn blushes.
Mercedes continues, “Anyway. You think this isn’t hard for me too? I thought I was straight. No matter how much Kurt rocks, there’s a huge difference between being an ally, and actually being queer.”
Quinn stiffens. “Do you have to use that word?”
“What, it isn’t right?”
“I never heard anyone use it in a good way.”
“Fuck anyone.” Mercedes pauses. “I guess you could say, “same-gender loving.” That’s kind of more accurate, I mean…”
“Same-gender loving sounds better. Mercedes?”
“Yes?”
“I thought you were straight, too.”
“Guess I’m stealthy like that.”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks. “I think I want to kiss you now.”
“Yeah, you’ve got something to prove to me,” says Mercedes, and meets her halfway.
It feels different from their other kisses. Like the others were just campfires, but this one is a bonfire. Quinn presses and licks and demands-not-requests, and her hand crawls up Mercedes’ shirt before they break apart. This is good. This is fantastic. I am so gay, thinks Mercedes.
“Let’s move this party home?”
“Mmhmmm,” Quinn purrs, and the hungry look in her eyes is definitely something Mercedes could get used to.
Author: overthetiber
Recipient: sangerin
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Mercedes/Quinn
Rating: PG
Word count: ~1000
Disclaimer: I hella don't own Glee.
Warnings: underage girls possibly eventually doin' it with other underage girls, but nothing explicit
It begins, as many things do, during a game of truth or dare.
“So what’s Quinn like in bed?” Santana Lopez leans back on her elbows, smirking like the evil bitch she definitely is.
Mercedes blinks. “What?”
“In bed. Is she, like, frigid, or crazy?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” says Mercedes (who, for the record, is pretty drunk by now).
“You haven’t done it,” Santana crows. (She’s probably drunk too, or at least tipsy, because she cannot usually be said to crow.)
“That’s none of your beeswax!”
Brittany looks around wildly. “Where?”
Kurt is passed out in the corner.
“Okay, it’s my turn,” says Tina, trying to defuse things. “It’s my turn, right guys?” Though she’s had five glasses of wine, her words are still the least slurred. Tina’s alcohol tolerance is quickly becoming legendary, at least among those who drink.
Those who drink do not include Quinn, even if she’s no longer pregnant. That doesn’t mean she won’t take Mercedes’ drunk texts and dials, or give her a ride if she needs it.
So the night, at least the parts of it that Mercedes still remembers, ends with a text to Quinn: why haven’t we had sex yet?
-
Between the baby-daddy drama, the gayventions, and the perpetually-in-motion share-care-learn-grow carousel that is glee club, Mercedes and Quinn haven’t really had time for sex. Right?
Maybe.
Mercedes finds Quinn at the lockers before school.
“Hey, girl, I was wondering-”
“Mercedes?” Quinn says pathetically, and when Mercedes meets her eyes she sees they’re red and swollen.
“What’s the matter?” Mercedes automatically puts an arm around her shoulders. Quinn blinks away tears, smiles briefly up at Mercedes through her lashes, and then her face crumples again.
“Oh, honey.” Mercedes sighs. “Come here.” She pulls Quinn closer, and Quinn sniffles and hides her head in Mercedes’ neck.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, baby girl,” says Mercedes. But after she walks Quinn to class, after Quinn smiles for real and chastely kisses her cheek, she can’t stop thinking how nonsexual the embrace was. How she couldn’t stop the little bloom of desire in her chest, but Quinn felt as solid and unpliable as a stone.
-
Mercedes’ second and third classes are right next to each other, so she goes to the bathroom during passing period.
As she’s washing her hands, she hears muffled giggles from the accessible stall. Four white sneakers are visible under the door, two belonging to a pair of pale pink legs and two to a pair of nut-brown ones.
There’s shushing, more giggles, the sound of a kiss. It takes a moment for Mercedes to realize the water has turned blazing hot.
Brittany comes late to class, red-cheeked and beaming. Mercedes digs her nails hard into her palms, and then curses under her breath, because they’re acrylic.
-
At lunch, Quinn has to see Ms. Pillsbury. Mercedes sits with Kurt and Sam. Mistake! They’re so busy eating face, Kurt can’t even finish his pomegranate seed and fennel salad.
-
Arriving to glee club early, Mercedes walks in on Artie and Tina making out.
“You will never realize how much I did not need to see that.”
“Sorry,” squeaks Tina, smoothing down her skirt.
Artie shrugs. “Be glad you weren’t here five minutes ago.”
“What?” he yells after Mercedes’ retreating back. “We’re hormone-crazed teenagers! It happens!”
-
After glee club, Mercedes finally corners her.
“Quinn, we’ve been dating for two months now and the only time I’ve seen you naked is in the obstretics ward. What’s up?”
Quinn is immediately defensive. “It’s not what you think, Mercedes.”
“How do you know what I think?”
“I know you.”
“Is it because of Beth?”
“No! At first, but not anymore.”
“Do you find me gross or something?”
“Far from it,” Quinn pleads, but Mercedes can’t believe her.
“Do you just not want to? Because…” Mercedes swallows the end of her sentence. There’s a horrible cold numbness tingling up from her stomach, and every second that Quinn doesn’t answer is another second that it spreads.
“No, I-”
“You don’t have to lie. I understand.” I understand why I’m going to spend the next week in my room, listening to a collection of Billie Holiday’s most depressing hits. I understand why Kurt is going to dye your Cheerios uniform puce green. No, burnt sienna. Poop brown? Something like that.
“I’m just confused, Mercedes. Before we started dating, I didn’t even think I liked girls. Let alone, um, curvier girls.” Quinn fidgets. “But I really, really like you. Honestly, it’s kind of frightening. One minute I’m sandwiched between my boyfriend and his best friend, and the next I’m daydreaming about tying you up and having my way with you?”
“Hang on a sec. You want to tie me up?”
“What? No!! I didn’t say that, did I?” Quinn’s eyes widen in panic, though she does a fairly good job of keeping her expression blank.
Mercedes grins with her whole body, feeling calm settle over her bones. “Just saying, I could get into that.”
“Oh.” Quinn blushes.
Mercedes continues, “Anyway. You think this isn’t hard for me too? I thought I was straight. No matter how much Kurt rocks, there’s a huge difference between being an ally, and actually being queer.”
Quinn stiffens. “Do you have to use that word?”
“What, it isn’t right?”
“I never heard anyone use it in a good way.”
“Fuck anyone.” Mercedes pauses. “I guess you could say, “same-gender loving.” That’s kind of more accurate, I mean…”
“Same-gender loving sounds better. Mercedes?”
“Yes?”
“I thought you were straight, too.”
“Guess I’m stealthy like that.”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks. “I think I want to kiss you now.”
“Yeah, you’ve got something to prove to me,” says Mercedes, and meets her halfway.
It feels different from their other kisses. Like the others were just campfires, but this one is a bonfire. Quinn presses and licks and demands-not-requests, and her hand crawls up Mercedes’ shirt before they break apart. This is good. This is fantastic. I am so gay, thinks Mercedes.
“Let’s move this party home?”
“Mmhmmm,” Quinn purrs, and the hungry look in her eyes is definitely something Mercedes could get used to.