ONESHOT: something more this time (than sweet sweet lies)
Title: something more this time (than sweet sweet lies)
Author: only_because3
Rating: M
Word count:1681
Summary: There’s a picture of them from before in her locker (she ignores the fact that she’s unnoticeably pregnant) and, no, saying thank you to Finn Hudson isn’t enough, not when he has been so good to her for so long.
Author's Note: So I've literally had this idea in my head ever since season 2. The Finn/Quinn hallway scene near the end of 'Born This Way' spoke volumes to me and I just always thought that Quinn had to have at least thrown him a handjob after what he says to her. So that's this story! Enjoy!
--
“I think this is the first picture you can actually see her.”
She crumbles in on herself when he says that.
Her mask, the one she wears practically 24/7, the one that makes everyone believe that she’s confident, beautiful, and fine, slips just a little. (She’ll wonder for the rest of the day if Finn realized then, at that very moment, he was getting only his second look at the real Quinn.) Emotions swell in her head and in her heart; it’s simultaneously nauseating and amazing to her that she is still capable of feeling so much when she thought that she would feel numb for the rest of her life.
She thinks of doing things that happens only in movies but she’s already made a fool of herself enough today and, after all, Quinn isn’t one to make a spectacle of herself.
She cups his cheek and kisses him instead, trying to pour everything she has into this one small gesture. “Thank you,” she whispers but it doesn’t feel like enough. Finn smiles at her, that smile that’s always made her knees a little weak, had made her freshmen self set her sights on making him hers. If he were to tell her at the very moment that he loves her, she would believe him without a shadow of a doubt.
“I’ll see you in Glee.” He pulls away after she nods and she suppresses the urge to clutch to him, wrap herself in him entirely. It’s disgusting to feel so dependent on him but this irrational fear has developed inside her that if he leaves, she’ll go back to feeling nothing. He squeezes her hip firmly, nods just slightly himself, and when she finally turns back down the hall, she sucks in a breath.
There’s a picture of them from before in her locker (she ignores the fact that she’s unnoticeably pregnant) and, no, saying thank you to Finn Hudson isn’t enough, not when he has been so good to her for so long.
--
She has him drive out to where there is next to nothing instead of taking her home after school.
They don’t say anything at all as they drive even though Quinn can feel words building up in her throat. Humiliating memories about Lucy, stories about Quinn that will do little to prove she’s not the same girl she was when she was 12. There’s a lot of things she could say, she knows there are things she should say, but she can still hear her parents in the back of her head. Fabrays did not air their dirty laundry to anyone.
She sighs as Finn takes a left onto a dirt road, the unpaved road causing them to bounce in their seats. They drive until they read the turn off, Finn parking behind the abandoned barn so that Mrs. Hollings can’t see them from her house half a mile up the road. Unbuckling before he can even turn off the truck, Quinn slides across the bench, her head finding purchase on Finn’s shoulder. Her hands lace against his arm, her skirt folding instead of fanning out when she folds her legs on the seat.
Finn picks at the fabrics, gingerly spreading the skirt flat. “Don’t want it to wrinkle or anything.” he mumbles, smiling sheepishly when she looks up at him, her eyebrow quirked. She smiles back at him, her cheeks stretching in a way that she doesn’t think they have since freshmen year when everything was normal and it’s silent for just a moment before Finn starts talking.
He tells her about the time Mrs. Hollings caught him and Puck out here. She’s always had a love/hate relationship with this part of Finn. Silence makes him uncomfortable while she relishes it. There have been so many moments during they’re relationship where she’s wanted it quiet and he’s always started telling some pointless, random story just as she’s about to feel at peace. But then there are times like this, when silence isn’t something she wants but a real conversation isn’t something she can take either, and Quinn is suddenly thankful for Finn’s never ceasing mind.
“She was waving her shotgun around like a maniac,” he laughs, shaking his head. “And I swore the board I was balancing on was gonna snap. There was literally one nail holding it up on one end.” Quinn closes her eyes, imagining Finn’s lanky, uncoordinated form snaking up to the hayloft in a hurry and laughs just as ungraceful as Finn looks in her head.
Finn reaches up, moving the rearview mirror down so that he can see her face plainly. “She had to have seen the both you,” Quinn comments before he can say anything more.
He looks like he might compliment her, or worse, turn the conversation to Lucy, but he instead just cracks a small smile. “She’s blind in one eye and has that cat thing in the other,” he explains. “She did shoot at Puck though when he was in the tree.”
Quinn’s face screws up. “I thought he was in the hayloft with you.”
“Yeah, after she shot at him. He jumped from the branch he was on through that window.” He points at the wide window on the side of the barn, the glass broken and missing completely on one side. “I bet if we were to go up there, Puck’s beer can that he was holding when he jumped would still be there.” Quinn rolls her eyes because, of course, Puck would keep the beer. Finn squeezes her shoulder and meets her eyes. “Hey, he made that jump one handed. You have to admit, that’s impressive. I mean, look at the space between the tree and window!”
She shakes her head, her hands falling against his thigh. She says a few more words here and there while he finishes the story but otherwise stays silent, just listening to the excitement in his voice. The story ends like most Finn and Puck stories do, with the two narrowly getting away and ending back at the Hudson household where Carol makes them brownies and Finn surprisingly stays quiet once his story is over. He just smiles at her with that damn boyish grin she loves and it just reaffirms her decision.
There is no pretense for what she does. She pulls her legs underneath her (tries to ignore the fact that she’s done this once before, with a boy she never should’ve touched in the first place), his hands coming to rest on her hips like it’s still second nature to him. She can feel them relax into one another and when he tilts his head to kiss her, she sighs against his lips, a smile threatening to erupt on her face. She licks her lips and when he finally kisses her, he bites down on her bottom lip, his arms starting to wrap around her waist. He stops when her arms snakes between them, biting down harder when he feels her hand find the zipper on his jeans.
He tears away from her lips, his hand going to sit on hers. “Quinn-”
“Shut up.” She pulls down his zipper. He’s soft under her touch and she tries to kiss him again but his head falls to her chest the moment she cups his balls. He groans and his dick twitches against her. “Unbutton your pants,” she instructs, the teeth of his zipper scraping along her hand as she pulls away from him. He does it slower than she expected but then she notices him staring at her as she licks the length of her hand. She spits into her palm. It’s disgusting but necessary and Finn grips his dick through his boxers when she does so. She bats his hand away with her dry hand and then pulls back his boxers, squeezing her thighs together when she sees his hardening cock against his thigh. She wraps her hand around the base of his dick, her grip firm as she strokes him once. Her thumb swirls over the tip of his dick and she can feel an evil grin stretch her lips when his hips buck up into her hand.
She sticks to short, half strokes, her grip tightening just so around the head of his cock until he’s completely hard in her hand. His breath is wetting the skin on her neck, his fingers digging into her hip almost painfully. He pulls her closer to him and she drapes her free arm around his neck, his head falling to her collarbone. He drags his lips along her exposed skin so softly that a shiver runs through her entire body. She feels it in the tips of her toes, all the way up to her scalp, like a thousand little pinpricks reminding her that she’s here, in this moment, giving this boy back just a little bit of all that he’s given her.
Precum starts to run down his cock and it adds just enough moisture to let her pump him faster. Her name comes out garbled just before a wet, open mouthed kiss burns the skin over her heart and she twists her wrist just so halfway through the next stroke. His hips jump again and she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “I’m gonna-” His words die in his throat and his hand wraps around hers. It only takes two more strokes before warm, thick liquid coats her fingers. She drops a kiss on top of his head as he gasps, pumping him slowly until he’s given all he can and pushes her hand away. “What,” he breathes out, shaking his head before he looks up at her. His face is red and a little sweaty, his hair mused. “Thanks.”
She smiles softly, tries to fix his hair as he fumbles beneath her, apologizing about the mess in their hands. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice small. “Good?”
He looks up at her like she’s insane. “Great.”
She exhales with her whole body and presses her body against his again.
Author: only_because3
Rating: M
Word count:1681
Summary: There’s a picture of them from before in her locker (she ignores the fact that she’s unnoticeably pregnant) and, no, saying thank you to Finn Hudson isn’t enough, not when he has been so good to her for so long.
Author's Note: So I've literally had this idea in my head ever since season 2. The Finn/Quinn hallway scene near the end of 'Born This Way' spoke volumes to me and I just always thought that Quinn had to have at least thrown him a handjob after what he says to her. So that's this story! Enjoy!
--
“I think this is the first picture you can actually see her.”
She crumbles in on herself when he says that.
Her mask, the one she wears practically 24/7, the one that makes everyone believe that she’s confident, beautiful, and fine, slips just a little. (She’ll wonder for the rest of the day if Finn realized then, at that very moment, he was getting only his second look at the real Quinn.) Emotions swell in her head and in her heart; it’s simultaneously nauseating and amazing to her that she is still capable of feeling so much when she thought that she would feel numb for the rest of her life.
She thinks of doing things that happens only in movies but she’s already made a fool of herself enough today and, after all, Quinn isn’t one to make a spectacle of herself.
She cups his cheek and kisses him instead, trying to pour everything she has into this one small gesture. “Thank you,” she whispers but it doesn’t feel like enough. Finn smiles at her, that smile that’s always made her knees a little weak, had made her freshmen self set her sights on making him hers. If he were to tell her at the very moment that he loves her, she would believe him without a shadow of a doubt.
“I’ll see you in Glee.” He pulls away after she nods and she suppresses the urge to clutch to him, wrap herself in him entirely. It’s disgusting to feel so dependent on him but this irrational fear has developed inside her that if he leaves, she’ll go back to feeling nothing. He squeezes her hip firmly, nods just slightly himself, and when she finally turns back down the hall, she sucks in a breath.
There’s a picture of them from before in her locker (she ignores the fact that she’s unnoticeably pregnant) and, no, saying thank you to Finn Hudson isn’t enough, not when he has been so good to her for so long.
--
She has him drive out to where there is next to nothing instead of taking her home after school.
They don’t say anything at all as they drive even though Quinn can feel words building up in her throat. Humiliating memories about Lucy, stories about Quinn that will do little to prove she’s not the same girl she was when she was 12. There’s a lot of things she could say, she knows there are things she should say, but she can still hear her parents in the back of her head. Fabrays did not air their dirty laundry to anyone.
She sighs as Finn takes a left onto a dirt road, the unpaved road causing them to bounce in their seats. They drive until they read the turn off, Finn parking behind the abandoned barn so that Mrs. Hollings can’t see them from her house half a mile up the road. Unbuckling before he can even turn off the truck, Quinn slides across the bench, her head finding purchase on Finn’s shoulder. Her hands lace against his arm, her skirt folding instead of fanning out when she folds her legs on the seat.
Finn picks at the fabrics, gingerly spreading the skirt flat. “Don’t want it to wrinkle or anything.” he mumbles, smiling sheepishly when she looks up at him, her eyebrow quirked. She smiles back at him, her cheeks stretching in a way that she doesn’t think they have since freshmen year when everything was normal and it’s silent for just a moment before Finn starts talking.
He tells her about the time Mrs. Hollings caught him and Puck out here. She’s always had a love/hate relationship with this part of Finn. Silence makes him uncomfortable while she relishes it. There have been so many moments during they’re relationship where she’s wanted it quiet and he’s always started telling some pointless, random story just as she’s about to feel at peace. But then there are times like this, when silence isn’t something she wants but a real conversation isn’t something she can take either, and Quinn is suddenly thankful for Finn’s never ceasing mind.
“She was waving her shotgun around like a maniac,” he laughs, shaking his head. “And I swore the board I was balancing on was gonna snap. There was literally one nail holding it up on one end.” Quinn closes her eyes, imagining Finn’s lanky, uncoordinated form snaking up to the hayloft in a hurry and laughs just as ungraceful as Finn looks in her head.
Finn reaches up, moving the rearview mirror down so that he can see her face plainly. “She had to have seen the both you,” Quinn comments before he can say anything more.
He looks like he might compliment her, or worse, turn the conversation to Lucy, but he instead just cracks a small smile. “She’s blind in one eye and has that cat thing in the other,” he explains. “She did shoot at Puck though when he was in the tree.”
Quinn’s face screws up. “I thought he was in the hayloft with you.”
“Yeah, after she shot at him. He jumped from the branch he was on through that window.” He points at the wide window on the side of the barn, the glass broken and missing completely on one side. “I bet if we were to go up there, Puck’s beer can that he was holding when he jumped would still be there.” Quinn rolls her eyes because, of course, Puck would keep the beer. Finn squeezes her shoulder and meets her eyes. “Hey, he made that jump one handed. You have to admit, that’s impressive. I mean, look at the space between the tree and window!”
She shakes her head, her hands falling against his thigh. She says a few more words here and there while he finishes the story but otherwise stays silent, just listening to the excitement in his voice. The story ends like most Finn and Puck stories do, with the two narrowly getting away and ending back at the Hudson household where Carol makes them brownies and Finn surprisingly stays quiet once his story is over. He just smiles at her with that damn boyish grin she loves and it just reaffirms her decision.
There is no pretense for what she does. She pulls her legs underneath her (tries to ignore the fact that she’s done this once before, with a boy she never should’ve touched in the first place), his hands coming to rest on her hips like it’s still second nature to him. She can feel them relax into one another and when he tilts his head to kiss her, she sighs against his lips, a smile threatening to erupt on her face. She licks her lips and when he finally kisses her, he bites down on her bottom lip, his arms starting to wrap around her waist. He stops when her arms snakes between them, biting down harder when he feels her hand find the zipper on his jeans.
He tears away from her lips, his hand going to sit on hers. “Quinn-”
“Shut up.” She pulls down his zipper. He’s soft under her touch and she tries to kiss him again but his head falls to her chest the moment she cups his balls. He groans and his dick twitches against her. “Unbutton your pants,” she instructs, the teeth of his zipper scraping along her hand as she pulls away from him. He does it slower than she expected but then she notices him staring at her as she licks the length of her hand. She spits into her palm. It’s disgusting but necessary and Finn grips his dick through his boxers when she does so. She bats his hand away with her dry hand and then pulls back his boxers, squeezing her thighs together when she sees his hardening cock against his thigh. She wraps her hand around the base of his dick, her grip firm as she strokes him once. Her thumb swirls over the tip of his dick and she can feel an evil grin stretch her lips when his hips buck up into her hand.
She sticks to short, half strokes, her grip tightening just so around the head of his cock until he’s completely hard in her hand. His breath is wetting the skin on her neck, his fingers digging into her hip almost painfully. He pulls her closer to him and she drapes her free arm around his neck, his head falling to her collarbone. He drags his lips along her exposed skin so softly that a shiver runs through her entire body. She feels it in the tips of her toes, all the way up to her scalp, like a thousand little pinpricks reminding her that she’s here, in this moment, giving this boy back just a little bit of all that he’s given her.
Precum starts to run down his cock and it adds just enough moisture to let her pump him faster. Her name comes out garbled just before a wet, open mouthed kiss burns the skin over her heart and she twists her wrist just so halfway through the next stroke. His hips jump again and she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “I’m gonna-” His words die in his throat and his hand wraps around hers. It only takes two more strokes before warm, thick liquid coats her fingers. She drops a kiss on top of his head as he gasps, pumping him slowly until he’s given all he can and pushes her hand away. “What,” he breathes out, shaking his head before he looks up at her. His face is red and a little sweaty, his hair mused. “Thanks.”
She smiles softly, tries to fix his hair as he fumbles beneath her, apologizing about the mess in their hands. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice small. “Good?”
He looks up at her like she’s insane. “Great.”
She exhales with her whole body and presses her body against his again.