enigmatic frequencies [4/?]
Title: Enigmatic Frequencies
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
16.
In his third week of class, Quinn meets a girl that's seventeen years old with the biggest fucking nose he's ever seen. It's unfortunate, but she rocks it well, even if the septum piercing really doesn't make it look any smaller.
"Amelia," she says after class one day, when Quinn's sitting in the library with a nose poked in a book he's supposed to read for psychology. "You're in Wright's writing class."
"That I am," Quinn says, offering her his hand and a smile. "You're-" he chokes back 'the girl with the big nose', which is what he's taken to calling her in his head, and instead says, "the one he doesn't like much."
Her expression explodes into one of enjoyment and she invites herself to sit down with him. "It's a sign he's a good teacher. All the best ones don't like me that much."
"Sort of an odd way to judge character, don't you think?" he asks, except it's sort of the way Scott works with everyone.
"I'm hardly the one doing the judging," she says, winking at Quinn.
17.
Tiny accidentally meets Scott when he comes to pick Quinn up for lunch one day.
"Sorry!" Quinn tells him, not really feeling it. Tiny just grunts in response as Scott approaches them.
"Interesting profession," he says, looking at the warehouse. Quinn doesn't even feel distinctly judged, because, hey, he'd paid for their last date, you know.
"Interesting paycheck," Quinn counters. "Lemme just get my coat."
He leaves Tiny and Scott alone for maybe a minute, but when he comes back, shoving his arms into his jacket, Tiny's grinning widely and Scott's clearly trying to hide one of his own.
Quinn knows better than to ask. "All right," Quinn says, patting his pockets for his keys. "Let's go."
Tiny sings Bryan Adams' Heaven as they leave. Quinn decides to bring music of his own into the warehouse.
18.
"All right, why do you have the alphabet tattooed down your torso?" Scott asks one night, lying on his stomach next to Quinn, who's staring at the ceiling still trying to catch his breath.
Quinn grins, because this, this is his favorite one to tell, always. "Exes."
"Exes?"
"Well, their initials."
"And why the hell do you have the initials of your exes on your side?" For emphasis, Scott pokes one of them.
Quinn shrugs as best he can when he's lying down with his arms above his head. "To remind me of why we broke up." Scott's silent for so long that the air around them starts to get fairly serious, so Quinn rolls over onto his side, exposing his back to Scott. "This one's my favorite." He feels Scott's fingers trace along the words-'there's someone in my head but it's not me'-and tries not to shiver at his touch. "Got it when I was eighteen," he murmurs, closing his eyes.
He hears Scott swallow, rest his hand on Quinn's shoulder and guide him onto his back again. "Why?"
"Why when I was eighteen, or why the tattoo?"
"Both."
"Eighteen because I was old enough to do it." He doesn't answer the other bit, though, instead leaning on top of Scott and biting at the skin around his neck.
After a few moments, Scott, though his voice is rough again with arousal, asks, "All right, why'd you get it?"
Quinn grins into Scott's shoulder. "Nuh-uh," he says. "Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?"
"That's really more of a story you hear after a few months, not after a few weeks."
It's not, really; Quinn's not ashamed or anything, but it's always more fun to get Scott worked up than it should be.
19.
As it turns out, Amelia and Tiny get on extremely well. "You are," Amelia says, shaking Tiny's hand, "without a doubt, the largest man I have ever come across." When Tiny starts to look a little offended, she says, "Height wise. And, I mean, muscle wise. And, well, every thing else wise, too, but-No, look, that's a good thing, honest!"
It's funny to watch them interact, because Amelia is four-foot-nine and Tiny towers over her six-foot-two, but as intimidating as Tiny looks, Amelia doesn't look intimidated at all.
"It's just-" She grins, if a bit shyly. "All of my friends are fairly short, y'know."
"Hey!" Quinn protests, because, hey, six-foot is not short.
She just winks at him.
"Well, Amelia, if it makes you feel any better," Tiny says, pulling his hand away finally, "many of my friends are fairly tall."
The world rights itself again at Tiny's words.
20.
"Amelia," Quinn says good-naturedly when she leaves after having met Tiny for the twentieth or so time, not that Quinn's keeping count. Tiny just shoves him in the side. "So, whatever happened to that girlfriend of yours?"
"What girlfriend?" Tiny asks with a grin. "Broke up."
Quinn lets that sink in for a moment, piling more boxes onto a dolly, and then says, "Amelia turns eighteen next month, you know."
Tiny perks up, but seems to lose interest just as quickly. "Well, sure, but, y'know."
"I don't know."
"That's… weird."
"Six years isn't weird, Tiny."
As he drops off the boxes into a truck, Tiny says, his voice echoing a bit, "It is at her age. And besides, she's gotta not be mature at all, right?"
Quinn snorts. "And you are?"
When Tiny's sweat-damp t-shirt comes flying out of the back of the truck, Quinn barely manages to step out of the way to miss it.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
16.
In his third week of class, Quinn meets a girl that's seventeen years old with the biggest fucking nose he's ever seen. It's unfortunate, but she rocks it well, even if the septum piercing really doesn't make it look any smaller.
"Amelia," she says after class one day, when Quinn's sitting in the library with a nose poked in a book he's supposed to read for psychology. "You're in Wright's writing class."
"That I am," Quinn says, offering her his hand and a smile. "You're-" he chokes back 'the girl with the big nose', which is what he's taken to calling her in his head, and instead says, "the one he doesn't like much."
Her expression explodes into one of enjoyment and she invites herself to sit down with him. "It's a sign he's a good teacher. All the best ones don't like me that much."
"Sort of an odd way to judge character, don't you think?" he asks, except it's sort of the way Scott works with everyone.
"I'm hardly the one doing the judging," she says, winking at Quinn.
17.
Tiny accidentally meets Scott when he comes to pick Quinn up for lunch one day.
"Sorry!" Quinn tells him, not really feeling it. Tiny just grunts in response as Scott approaches them.
"Interesting profession," he says, looking at the warehouse. Quinn doesn't even feel distinctly judged, because, hey, he'd paid for their last date, you know.
"Interesting paycheck," Quinn counters. "Lemme just get my coat."
He leaves Tiny and Scott alone for maybe a minute, but when he comes back, shoving his arms into his jacket, Tiny's grinning widely and Scott's clearly trying to hide one of his own.
Quinn knows better than to ask. "All right," Quinn says, patting his pockets for his keys. "Let's go."
Tiny sings Bryan Adams' Heaven as they leave. Quinn decides to bring music of his own into the warehouse.
18.
"All right, why do you have the alphabet tattooed down your torso?" Scott asks one night, lying on his stomach next to Quinn, who's staring at the ceiling still trying to catch his breath.
Quinn grins, because this, this is his favorite one to tell, always. "Exes."
"Exes?"
"Well, their initials."
"And why the hell do you have the initials of your exes on your side?" For emphasis, Scott pokes one of them.
Quinn shrugs as best he can when he's lying down with his arms above his head. "To remind me of why we broke up." Scott's silent for so long that the air around them starts to get fairly serious, so Quinn rolls over onto his side, exposing his back to Scott. "This one's my favorite." He feels Scott's fingers trace along the words-'there's someone in my head but it's not me'-and tries not to shiver at his touch. "Got it when I was eighteen," he murmurs, closing his eyes.
He hears Scott swallow, rest his hand on Quinn's shoulder and guide him onto his back again. "Why?"
"Why when I was eighteen, or why the tattoo?"
"Both."
"Eighteen because I was old enough to do it." He doesn't answer the other bit, though, instead leaning on top of Scott and biting at the skin around his neck.
After a few moments, Scott, though his voice is rough again with arousal, asks, "All right, why'd you get it?"
Quinn grins into Scott's shoulder. "Nuh-uh," he says. "Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?"
"That's really more of a story you hear after a few months, not after a few weeks."
It's not, really; Quinn's not ashamed or anything, but it's always more fun to get Scott worked up than it should be.
19.
As it turns out, Amelia and Tiny get on extremely well. "You are," Amelia says, shaking Tiny's hand, "without a doubt, the largest man I have ever come across." When Tiny starts to look a little offended, she says, "Height wise. And, I mean, muscle wise. And, well, every thing else wise, too, but-No, look, that's a good thing, honest!"
It's funny to watch them interact, because Amelia is four-foot-nine and Tiny towers over her six-foot-two, but as intimidating as Tiny looks, Amelia doesn't look intimidated at all.
"It's just-" She grins, if a bit shyly. "All of my friends are fairly short, y'know."
"Hey!" Quinn protests, because, hey, six-foot is not short.
She just winks at him.
"Well, Amelia, if it makes you feel any better," Tiny says, pulling his hand away finally, "many of my friends are fairly tall."
The world rights itself again at Tiny's words.
20.
"Amelia," Quinn says good-naturedly when she leaves after having met Tiny for the twentieth or so time, not that Quinn's keeping count. Tiny just shoves him in the side. "So, whatever happened to that girlfriend of yours?"
"What girlfriend?" Tiny asks with a grin. "Broke up."
Quinn lets that sink in for a moment, piling more boxes onto a dolly, and then says, "Amelia turns eighteen next month, you know."
Tiny perks up, but seems to lose interest just as quickly. "Well, sure, but, y'know."
"I don't know."
"That's… weird."
"Six years isn't weird, Tiny."
As he drops off the boxes into a truck, Tiny says, his voice echoing a bit, "It is at her age. And besides, she's gotta not be mature at all, right?"
Quinn snorts. "And you are?"
When Tiny's sweat-damp t-shirt comes flying out of the back of the truck, Quinn barely manages to step out of the way to miss it.