"Young Adult Friction" - Kurt/Quinn (Glee)
~
Title: "Young Adult Friction."
Author: C’est moi, naturellement. ;{
Rating: T.
Summary: Kurt/Quinn. Oneshot. Set during “Bad Reputation”, with a slight AU twist. After confessing their guilt to Coach Sylvester failed, it was every man and woman for themselves, and Kurt was no less determined to get himself on That List. And how better to do it than with a little “help” from the girl at the very top of said list?
A/N: Not at all a canon pairing, I know, but watching how Chris and Dianna interact, I can’t help but love it. They just look so good together. ♥
[Kurt, Quinn. “Half As Much As You.”]
--
When Kurt tasks himself with finding her, it’s in the library. The setting is entirely intentional--he’s realised now that he’d had the location right during their previous attempt, it’s what they’d chosen to do there that had been off. The Glist ratings were based on a “hotness quotient of sexual promiscuity, with a point awarded for each perpetuated act of depravity”; so of course, just dancing the way they’d done wouldn’t register on anyone’s radar. Their rendition of “Push It” way back when had been more along the right lines, but a slightly more contemplative look at the name heading That List had provided an even better idea, and one that wouldn’t require hours of rehearsal: just a straight shot right to the top in a matter of seconds. After all, a self-professed gay guy making out with a pregnant girl in the stacks during school hours? That had to be worth some serious points.
Part of him somewhere deep down feels a little bad about doing this to Mercedes, kissing another girl instead of her, but he figures she would understand. (He could very well get another rock smashed through the windshield of his Navigator--one that he actually might deserve a little this time--but still, ultimately he knows she’d understand.) It isn’t that he wants to kiss Quinn, it’s that he has to, for the sake of his social reputation. All was fair in love and war, after all, and although this isn’t really either of those things, it’s definitely on the same level of importance.
Kurt Hummel would get on this week’s Glist and make his mark on the school’s social charts, or die trying.
--
“Quinn?”
Quinn looks up from the book in her lap--Great Expectations, for her Honors English class--and from her expression it’s obvious she hadn’t expected him to approach her here and now. Outside of Glee Club, they still don’t interact all that much--they haven’t started eating lunch together or willfully sitting next to each other in regular classes or anything. They’re not really friends, but then again they sort of are. After all the times they’d been partnered up for musical numbers, the way they’d occasionally ended up hanging out together during Glee Club, and mainly their Make-Over-Rachel-Berry Conspiracy which had started it all…after all that, even if they can’t say they are friends, they can’t really say they aren’t, either. They’re more than just acquaintances, but still somewhat less than true companions.
Teammates, perhaps, is the most fitting term. They’ve similar goals in mind, after all.
(Then again, the other cheerleaders had been her teammates as well, and where were they all now? Moreover, she knew that not a one of them would have been above stabbing her in the back if it meant they’d get even the tiniest shot at her former position as head cheerleader. But maybe Glee Club really is different. Maybe they really were more of a family, and not a dysfunctional one either. Whatever the case, they’re all she has left right now, so she has no choice but to wait and find out.)
“Kurt. I do believe this is the first time you’ve spoken to me this week outside of Glee Club.” It’s only Tuesday, so that isn’t so bad, really. Schoolwork has been brutal lately, and having to pick out and practise a ‘hello’ song doesn’t make the workload any lighter, and the only song she can think of is Evanescence’s “Hello”, which is pretty but also pretty slow and kind of depressing. Probably not what Mr. Schue is looking for. Maybe she should ask Kurt if he wants to work together on their ‘hello’ assignment…
Despite her faintly teasing tone and how close it was to his response the first time she’d specifically sought him out, the first time they’d really talked, Kurt doesn’t acknowledge her statement, getting straight to the point even as he comes to stop in front of her chair, standing with his hip cocked and his arms akimbo.
“I propose a temporary alliance.”
“For what?” She wants to think it’s about their song assignment for Glee club, but she knows better. Kurt’s got a better (or stronger, anyway) voice than she does, and he never seems to have any trouble picking out or performing his own songs; there’s no reason for him to approach her for something like that.
His lips momentarily thin with impatience before he hits her with his trademark deadpan sarcasm. “To take over the world. Ours will be an extremely stylish and benevolent dictatorship, unless a person is simply too irritating to deserve to continue breathing. Or if they’re on the hockey team.” He rolls his eyes a little, then clarifies, “I’m talking about the Glist, of course. I have a plan, and you need to be in on it.”
Quinn’s faintly skeptical little laugh doesn’t quite manage to be a scoff, though it’s a near thing. She really is losing her touch, if she’s forgetting how to laugh at other people even when it’s nearly the last thing she feels like doing. “I passed you and the others in the hall earlier.” His unwarranted condescension has struck a nerve, and she eyes him like a champion boxer sizing up an opponent, doubtless a carry-over from her days beneath Sue’s tender tutelage. “You know, just because no one sees me anymore, not even you, doesn’t mean I can’t still hear everything you say.” Her smile is small and cold, and makes it even more obvious to the ever-observant Kurt that being socially invisible bothers Quinn deeply. But he hardly pities her, because he’s been there his whole life (unless the person looking at him was standing near a dumpster or holding a Big Gulp, that is--then he only ever wished he were invisible). “You said it yourself. It’s every man and woman for themselves now.”
“True. But that doesn’t rule out a provisional collaboration where both parties stand to gain more from working together than trying to work separately. If this plan succeeds, the end result will be mutually beneficial.”
Quinn’s expression remains closed, but she raises an eyebrow in a nonverbal go on, I’m listening, I guess.
“I want on That List by any means necessary, and you’re at the top of it, so it makes the most sense for me to collaborate with you.” His eyes drop just enough to linger meaningfully on the gold cross at her throat; she still wears it all the time, despite the trials her faith has been put through. “Of course, you probably don’t really deserve to be at the top, since unlike certain other members of the Cheerios, you purportedly have strong morals, but that’s beside the point.”
“And what is the point, Kurt?” She’s starting to get an idea of what it might be-at least, she thinks she is-but with all she knows of him, she can’t quite believe she could be right.
“We should make out. Publicly.”
Quinn blinks twice rapidly, wondering if she’d heard him right but already knowing quite well that she had; Kurt doesn’t give her a chance to recover, calmly laying out his logic before she can manage even so much as a disbelieving excuse me?
“You want to stay at the top of That List since it means you’re finally getting some attention again, albeit negative attention, so you need to do something obvious. I’m your safest bet since, unlike Puck-” he says the school delinquent’s name with a curl to his lip and clear distaste in his tone “-or any of the other males at this school for that matter, you know I won’t use the situation try to take advantage of you.” He raises his chin slightly, without breaking their solid eye contact or his even tone. “And as for me, deserved or not, you are at the top of That List, which makes you the best target…and unless I’m mistaken, a new relationship is the last thing you’re looking for right now, so there’s little enough chance of you wanting anything more from me afterward. As for the aftermath…I’m gay, so it doesn’t really count as cheating, if he's delusional enough to think you’re somehow 'together.' Still, despite that, and how…little he thinks of me, I know Puck could prove to be a problem, though since I’m a Cheerio now, I do have some small measure of protection from the local meatheads--even Karofsky knows better than to get Sue pissed at him, and he makes a box of rocks look like member of MENSA. So I wouldn’t worry about Puck.”
Quinn is inwardly reeling a bit by now, so she drops her eyes to stare sightlessly down at the book in her hands, absorbing everything he’s said and sort of hating how much sense it all makes. He’s clearly thought this out, and while the idea is strange, even outright weird, a part of her can’t help being intrigued. It sounds…logical, plausible even. And since she’s the one who made the Glist in the first place, if she wanted to, she could guarantee that it’ll work…though she has to act like she still needs to make an effort to stay at the top, or Kurt will know something’s up.
She wants to ask about Mercedes, because they’ve bonded a little recently, both over the cruel and unusual trials of being a Cheerio and the more commonplace horrors of teenage insecurity, but Kurt is still far closer to the other girl than Quinn. He knows better than she does what will or won’t hurt his best friend’s feelings. Besides, this is nothing more than a publicity stunt, and since Kurt is obviously gay and Quinn is just as obviously off the market right now, surely Mercedes will know they’re not really going to be hooking up.
And a guy going after a pregnant girl-for Kurt-and girl going after a gay guy-for herself-is pretty impressively depraved, she thinks. Or would be, if they were for real.
Still, she has to at least put up a token resistance and try to get out of this more or less gracefully, in a way that won’t feel like a rejection to Kurt and won’t expose her as the creator of That List, either. Again she forces the small smile onto her face, the skeptical chuckle into her words, though she can’t bring herself to raise her eyes just yet. “Why do you care about this so much all of a sudden?”
There’s a half-second pause before he answers--unmistakably deliberate, meant to make her look up at him, which she does--and though the words are the same, his inflection is different, more pointed, his expression perfectly poised. “Why do you care about this so much all of a sudden?”
It’s not really fair, answering a question with another question (the exact same question no less), turning her own words back on her; but conversations don’t have rules, and he’s made his point, put her a bit off-balance, and avoided having to give any real answer in one deft stroke. If she genuinely wants to know his reasons, she’ll have to admit her own, and she can’t do that, so his true motivation for seeking her out will just have to remain a mystery.
Unless he really does just want to get on That List.
Quinn draws a slow, deep breath, knowing she’s out of options. All but one, anyway.
“Okay,” she says simply, closing her book with a quiet thump and setting it aside. Getting out of her chair takes a bit more effort than it used to, but Kurt doesn’t move to help her, doesn’t move, period, until she’s standing in front of him. “Where are we doing this?”
With a florid right this way sort of gesture, Kurt turns and heads off down the row of books, starting slow enough that she can follow behind him easily; his stride doesn’t waver as he speaks over his shoulder, giving her an explanation for their relocation. “After careful observation, I’ve determined that the place where we’ll get optimal visibility is right…” He stops near the end of an isle and pivots on his heel to face her. It’s so abrupt, Quinn finds herself staring right into his eyes, and she can’t help but marvel a little at that pale shade of delicate blue-green; Kurt doesn’t even seem to notice their sudden proximity. “…Here. We don’t want to do this in plain sight--say, the middle of the cafeteria--because things done in the dark are often considered more risqué due to the element of the unknown. But we do still want to be found, and for enough people to see us for the rumours to spread. This hour is a busy study period, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”
That said, he rests his hands rather awkwardly on her shoulders, then hesitates, and for the first time she sees uncertainty on his face. It’s…kind of cute, actually, how nervous he suddenly seems, and Quinn finds herself smiling up at him with warm, open amusement.
“Just relax,” she says, and this situation is just so ridiculous that she can’t help but be a little playful about it. She’s the one who knows what to do here, and that makes her feel powerful. And Quinn Fabray likes feeling powerful. She hasn’t felt in control of anything for months now, and finally, here is something (someone) that she can take charge of with confidence. Reaching out, she hooks two fingers into the waistband of his Cheerios pants and pulls him closer. Now he notices, and is clearly startled (unsettled?) by their sudden proximity, those pretty blue-green eyes going wide, and he tenses as she presses up against him, the gentle swell of her slightly distended stomach unmistakable at this range.
The whole school wants to think of her as some sort of scarlet woman, and even though she only made one mistake, all things considered, she doesn’t really have room to argue. But Kurt (and maybe only Kurt out of everyone around her) has said that he doesn’t think she deserves that spot at the top of the Glist; and while a part of her appreciates it and thinks it’s kind of sweet that he’d think so highly of her, in her way of thinking, right now it still amounts to a challenge.
His hands are still on her shoulders, but it’s less awkward now, shifted into more of an embrace thanks to how close they’re standing. She lets her thumb trace its way across the top edge of his pants, brushing against surprisingly smooth skin, pausing at the curving dip of his hipbone. At the same time, her other hand slides up his chest, making both his flinch and the way his breath catches that much more obvious, then she cups the back of his neck, a gentle attempt at pulling him down to her.
“Well,” she half-whispers with a smile, watching from beneath long eyelashes as Kurt swallows hard, “aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Again he wavers, and she watches his face steadily as he works himself up to it; she has to remind herself not to be offended by the way he’s so obviously steeling himself (after all, she would hesitate if she had to kiss another girl for some reason, and this probably feels similar to Kurt), and after just a few seconds, she lets her eyes close to wait it out, keeping her face turned upward, tilted slightly with expectation.
When his mouth finally finds hers, it’s light and chaste, a mere brush of startlingly soft lips against her own. He kisses her like she’s glass, priceless crystal, like he’s afraid she’s going to shatter--or maybe he’s the one who’s feeling fragile and breakable. It’s brief, a bit fumbling and awkward-feeling (it’s probably his first), the slightest bit sticky from whatever lip gloss he’s wearing, and she’s never had anyone kiss her like that before, with that kind of breathless carefulness.
Her eyes flutter open as she feels him start to pull back, and she finds him staring at her uncertainly, frowning slightly, cheeks quickly heating from alabaster-pale to a vivid, almost neon, pink, looking like he’s about ready to change his mind about this or bolt for the door or both.
But she’s still riding that power high, and he won’t get away that easily, especially after a first kiss like that. Pregnant stomach or not, she presses herself closer to him, both arms sliding up and wrapping around his neck as she goes up on her toes to press her mouth to his, harder, needier, but for the moment still chaste. The sudden shift has him nearly falling forward, then overbalancing and rocking back on his heels, and his hands reflexively drop to her waist to steady her, steady them both. Though he’d initially tensed in startlement, her mouth moves against his with a regular, patient sort of persistence, and finally his eyes fall closed again as he accepts and eases into the kiss.
And with that acceptance, her reserve falls away, and the backlash of months of feeling unwanted and ignored hits full force; fingers digging into his back, she slides one foot half a step forward, forcing him to either allow her to straddle his leg, or to take a step back against the bookshelf, pinning himself there, after which she straddles his leg anyway. Despite the ease with which she accomplishes this, Quinn’s not really used to being the one pushing the boundaries in this sort of situation-she’s used to being the one who teases and entices and lets it go just-so-far, then pulls back before either party can really lose control. But right now, she can’t think of any reason to hold back. None of the former ones apply--she’s already pregnant, her reputation is shot to hell, her perfect (ex)boyfriend is in love with someone else and she can’t hurt him any worse than she did before--and she can’t think up any new reasons worthy or weighty enough to take their place.
So she kisses Kurt with a fiery, hungry sort of desperation that’s like nothing she’s ever felt before.
Her hands are everywhere, despite the fact that he risks upsetting their delicate balance to make a grab for them once or twice when she gets a little too daring (she’d never noticed what a nice ass he has before; now she knows firsthand, literally.) They slide along his sides, over his stomach, gripping his hips, smoothing over his shoulders, his lower back, and in that heated moment she wants nothing so much as to feel warm skin beneath her fingers, not the rough polyester of a Cheerios uniform. But he keeps catching her wrists when she tries to slip a hand beneath his shirt, and he only has to stop her twice before she gets the message and gives up. On that particular front, at least.
The kiss itself has grown deep and passionate, largely uncontrolled and fairly messy, but it only gets even messier. She runs her tongue along the seam of his lips, and when she gives the lower one a nip, his mouth opens in response, though whether that response is due to genuine yearning, or more simple surprise is anyone’s guess. Either way, she exploits it fully, and soon the kiss that had started so chaste and gentle isn’t at all chaste anymore.
They don’t fit together perfectly, like Quinn had sometimes thought she felt when Finn pulled her in close, though a large part of that can probably be blamed on the new bulge to her stomach, starting to show now in earnest; but it feels good, so good, just to be held. To feel wanted, if not quite desired.
Feeling wanted is wholly new ground for Kurt, and even if she’s nothing at all like what he’s always sought after, it’s too giddy and gratifying a feeling for him to push her away just yet. Half-pinned as he is against the bookshelves, there’s nothing he can do about the way the insides of her legs are brushing against his upper thigh, and the sensation is strange and alien but not at all unpleasant. Regardless, they have to break off that long, desperate kiss sooner or later, two sets of lungs burning for air; and that’s when it becomes obvious, who the more worldly one here is. Quinn knows precisely what to do, how to move and where to touch to make him shiver and gasp and jerk and even try to pull her closer, higher up on his leg. But while lacking experience, Kurt proves to be a fast learner, determined and perceptive enough to get the hang of things quickly.
Her lips move along his jaw, briefly nipping at his ear, then she settles on the curve of his neck. Kurt grits his teeth to bite back a surprised gasp, his grip on her waist tightening as he pulls her flush against his hip; his head tips back reflexively, a tiny sort of surrender that grants her further access to his neck. And Quinn takes full advantage of it, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath her mouth as she suckles his pale skin, leaving her mark on him: the kind of evidence he’ll need if he wants to get on something like the Glist.
She finishes with a kiss and another mostly-gentle nip; he responds by grinding his hip into her, and it’s her turn to gasp, clutching at his shoulders as unexpected pleasure shudders through her. Tightening his grip on her waist, he does it again, and she counters by rocking against him before going for another kiss, this one no less desperate and certainly no more reserved than the last. Kurt meets her halfway this time, his mouth opening to hers nearly as soon as their lips meet, one hand coming up off her waist to cup her face and bury his fingers in long, soft blonde hair. She gives a hum of satisfaction, and they’re both so lost in the heat of the moment, the raw feeling, the pure and simple sensation of it all, that neither notices the way the rather rickety bookshelf Kurt is leaning back against has started to wobble.
Quinn edges in another half-step, her leg starting to come up to wrap around his hip, and Kurt only pulls her closer, leaning back a little more to keep them balanced-then his eyes snap open as the shelves behind him suddenly give way with a loud, groaning, drawn-out creeeeeak.
It is a crowded study period, and that many books, not to mention the shelves themselves, hitting the floor makes enough noise that every eye in the room is turned towards them. Rather disbelievingly for the most part, since not only have they managed to push over an entire bookcase, both culprits look decidedly disheveled. Kurt’s perfectly-coiffed hair is mussed, and Quinn’s is messy as well, sticking out oddly instead of smoothly held back by her decorative hair clip, and both their lips are damningly reddened. Add to that their wide eyes, their proximity---they’d both jumped back from the fallen bookcase, only to cling to each other reflexively--and especially the very visible hickey blossoming on Kurt’s neck, and what had been going on isn’t hard to put together at all.
The whispers have begun already as a scowling teacher and the ancient librarian both start in their direction, expressions promising doom, and while staying to receive their punishment would probably get them more attention, Quinn’s first reflex is to bolt. Her guilty conscience won’t allow otherwise, she’s used to being a good girl who doesn’t get in trouble for things like this, and she’s breathless and more than a little muddled from that unexpectedly intense make-out session. Without a word she grabs Kurt’s hand, the shell-shocked look on his even whiter than usual face a perfect mirror image of how she feels inside, and jerks him back into the stacks, then around and out one of the other doors. By that time he’s snapped out of it, running just a half-step behind instead of being dragged down the hallways; he makes no move to free his hand, however, following without question, and for once he doesn’t seem to have anything snarky or sarcastic to say. Probably because what’s just happened hasn’t really processed, and his thoughts are every bit as jumbled as hers.
Already half-breathless from all the kissing, they’re both panting by now-they need a place to hide, and Quinn knows the perfect spot. On rounding a corner, they find the subsequent hallway entirely empty, and take advantage of that temporary lull to duck into one of the Cheerios supply closets, hurriedly closing the door behind them the instant they’re both inside. Quinn fumbles in the pitch-black darkness for a moment, feeling along the wall for the light switch, and they blink a bit as the single bare bulb illuminates the narrow space. Both struggle to catch their breath, leaning their backs against the wall, most of a good two feet between them. He’d dropped her hand as soon as she’d turned on the light, so there was no red-faced OH-am-I-still-holding-your-hand? moment.
Quinn’s a little surprised just how much she misses that warm pressure. It’s been a while since anyone held her hand, both literally and figuratively; she’s pretty sure Finn will never willingly hold her hand again (and though she does miss it, that innocent show of affection, his hands were always sort of dead-fish clammy, and got sweaty really fast), and Puck isn’t exactly the hand-holding type. Who knew where his hands had been anyway.
Kurt’s hands, while almost unbelievably soft, were warm and dry, not clammy in the least, his grip firm but not crushing. Strong hands, from years of playing the piano and working in his father’s auto shop. Hands she certainly wouldn’t mind holding again…
She glances obliquely at Kurt, finds his right hand pressed against the wall within easy grabbing distance, and weighs the risks and rewards of sliding her own hand just a trifle to the side and reaching for him. And why not? She really doesn’t have anything left to lose, she tells herself, but her hand has only covered half that distance before she stops it. Because she knows she does still have something left to lose here, something she’s really only just recently gained: Kurt’s friendship. Amazing as it had been, that kiss hadn’t really meant anything to either of them. As much as she-they?-might want it to, it couldn’t, or things would change in ways that neither of them could even begin to think about.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt watches Quinn’s hand twitch towards his own, and exhales a silent, inward sigh when she checks herself with perhaps an inch still separating their fingers. He’s not sure if it’s more a sigh of relief or disappointment, and that lack of certainty is troubling for more than one simple reason. Musical numbers for Glee club aside, he hadn’t really held hands with anyone who wasn’t related to him; the feel of Quinn’s small, delicate hand clasped inside his own had been both comfortable and comforting, an innocuous sort of intimacy that he isn’t entirely averse to resuming. But for whatever reason, she had pulled herself back, and while he can assume with a significantly probable degree of accuracy that she’d done it for his sake, not her own pride or anything else, he can’t be entirely certain.
Still, he wants her to know that should she ever need (not simply want, that still isn’t quite how things work between them just yet) a hand to hold, he’s there for her. So as he shifts his weight off the wall, his hand brushes against hers briefly, his pinky finger crossing over hers for a bare instant, and then he’s folding his arms over his chest, hands tucked in close against his ribs; Quinn blinks at his touch, lips pursing thoughtfully, then follows suit, though she’s more hugging the swell of her midriff.
Silence continues its reign for another moment, broken only by the sound of the bell ringing outside, signaling the start of the next five-minute passing period. Neither dares look at the other, both feeling uncertain and a little off-balance and kind of wondering what they’d just done, what had just happened. It certainly hadn’t gone off as planned, neither had expected that sort of reaction from the other, and yet…regret isn’t something that either feels amidst the whirl of confusing emotions the last few minutes have kicked up inside them both.
The slightly uneasy silence is finally broken by an effeminate little throat-clearing hem from Kurt. “Well,” he turns to her resolutely, his expression tranquil, his tone, if not his appearance, entirely unruffled. “If that didn’t work, nothing will, and it’s clearly pointless to keep trying.”
Quinn laughs a little in spite of herself as she (slowly, pointedly) reaches out to smooth his hair down. The sound is genuine, not at all cruel, and her touch is gentle to match. “No, I think it’ll work, but…honestly, I don’t think you really belong on that list.” Despite the passion and intensity he’d shown her just minutes ago, Kurt’s still just too nice, too…innocent? Maybe, though inexperienced would probably be a better term, she thinks as she lets her hand fall back to her side, his hair as close to the way it was before as she can make it without a comb and a significant amount of hairspray. (Which isn’t very, but at least it’s not so obviously mussed anymore.)
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says drily, returning the favour by helping her with her own hair, plucking the pretty little hair clip from her blonde locks, “though I’m not entirely convinced you meant it that way.” He takes his time straightening and re-pinning her hair, and somehow she doesn’t doubt that it looks much better than it had before their little encounter in the library. “Now come on. The bell’s going to ring soon, so the halls should be mostly empty by now. We’re going to be late for class.”
She’s caught a bit flatfooted by his straightforwardness--after what just happened, it feels so odd knowing that things will go on exactly as they have before--and it takes her a fraction of a second to move towards the door after him. “I did mean it that way,” she says plainly, if a bit too late. “As a compliment.”
He just smiles at her, shaking his head a little, and they head out together. The library is right on their way, so Quinn stands watch while Kurt slips in to grab their bags, then they both hurry to their next class, content with the comfortable quiet that’s fallen between them now, as well as dealing with their own thoughts for a while.
“Kurt,” Quinn blurts suddenly, stopping right outside their classroom. Hand on the door handle, Kurt half-turns and looks back at her composedly, not even flinching when the bell rings. As the tinny echoes fade, Quinn hesitates, seeming like she wants to say something she doesn’t quite dare give voice to; after a split-second struggle, the conflict fades from her expression, and she settles on a simple, “Thank you.”
He smiles a little awkwardly, a little uncertainly, and not only because of her too-noticeable pause. He’s reasonably certain that he already knows the gist of what she wanted to say (is there really no chance for us--are we not even going to try?), and he’s caught between curiosity, temptation, freaking out over making out with a girl, and contemplating doing it again…as well as the fact that he has to admit that he’d rather liked it. But that’s all inward. Outwardly, he looks at her with raised eyebrows, mostly successful in keeping up his coolly confident front, and says, “For what?”
Quinn smiles, and though there’s the barest hint of sadness to it, it’s mostly grateful, mostly heartfelt and happy. “For seeing me.”
His smile grows more solid, less tentative; reaching out, he lightly touches the side of her arm, letting his hand rest there for just a short moment, a friendly and respectfully platonic gesture. Then, after sharing a secret smile that is more smirk than anything, Kurt tugs at the collar of his shirt to make the mark she’d left there more visible, and together they step into class. They don’t hold hands, but their arms brush, and they slip into seats side by side in the back row.
A moment later, while the teacher’s back is turned, a carefully-folded note drops onto Kurt’s desk. An amused glance to the side shows Quinn very much focused on the book open in front of her, though there’s the hint of a barely-repressed smile about her mouth. Unfolding the note, he finds only a short message:
Sit with me at lunch? Mercedes too.
He looks back at Quinn, finds her looking at him obliquely; he smiles, nods, then kisses the note and mimes tucking it away into the non-existent breast pocket of his Cheerios uniform in a way that would be sexy if it weren’t quite so camp. Quinn gives a silent laugh at that, and though the rest of that class seems to drag on forever, and though people still carelessly bump into her in the hallway, it doesn’t bother her as much, especially once Kurt and Mercedes show up to flank her, like her own personal escort to their table in the cafeteria. Because they are her teammates, fellow Gleeks, and they look out for their own; now she knows that really and truly, this time and for always, she has friends who will stick with her regardless of her social status. And whatever the next few years may bring, even if her parents never come around or take her back and she never makes it as head cheerleader again and it looks like she’ll end up stuck in this cow-town forever, she can still know with absolutely certainty that she isn’t alone, and that here beside her is one person, at least, who will always see her, regardless of how small and unimportant she’s feeling.
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Kurt, Quinn. Now that you feel, you say it's not real.
Title: "Young Adult Friction."
Author: C’est moi, naturellement. ;{
Rating: T.
Summary: Kurt/Quinn. Oneshot. Set during “Bad Reputation”, with a slight AU twist. After confessing their guilt to Coach Sylvester failed, it was every man and woman for themselves, and Kurt was no less determined to get himself on That List. And how better to do it than with a little “help” from the girl at the very top of said list?
A/N: Not at all a canon pairing, I know, but watching how Chris and Dianna interact, I can’t help but love it. They just look so good together. ♥
[Kurt, Quinn. “Half As Much As You.”]
--
When Kurt tasks himself with finding her, it’s in the library. The setting is entirely intentional--he’s realised now that he’d had the location right during their previous attempt, it’s what they’d chosen to do there that had been off. The Glist ratings were based on a “hotness quotient of sexual promiscuity, with a point awarded for each perpetuated act of depravity”; so of course, just dancing the way they’d done wouldn’t register on anyone’s radar. Their rendition of “Push It” way back when had been more along the right lines, but a slightly more contemplative look at the name heading That List had provided an even better idea, and one that wouldn’t require hours of rehearsal: just a straight shot right to the top in a matter of seconds. After all, a self-professed gay guy making out with a pregnant girl in the stacks during school hours? That had to be worth some serious points.
Part of him somewhere deep down feels a little bad about doing this to Mercedes, kissing another girl instead of her, but he figures she would understand. (He could very well get another rock smashed through the windshield of his Navigator--one that he actually might deserve a little this time--but still, ultimately he knows she’d understand.) It isn’t that he wants to kiss Quinn, it’s that he has to, for the sake of his social reputation. All was fair in love and war, after all, and although this isn’t really either of those things, it’s definitely on the same level of importance.
Kurt Hummel would get on this week’s Glist and make his mark on the school’s social charts, or die trying.
--
“Quinn?”
Quinn looks up from the book in her lap--Great Expectations, for her Honors English class--and from her expression it’s obvious she hadn’t expected him to approach her here and now. Outside of Glee Club, they still don’t interact all that much--they haven’t started eating lunch together or willfully sitting next to each other in regular classes or anything. They’re not really friends, but then again they sort of are. After all the times they’d been partnered up for musical numbers, the way they’d occasionally ended up hanging out together during Glee Club, and mainly their Make-Over-Rachel-Berry Conspiracy which had started it all…after all that, even if they can’t say they are friends, they can’t really say they aren’t, either. They’re more than just acquaintances, but still somewhat less than true companions.
Teammates, perhaps, is the most fitting term. They’ve similar goals in mind, after all.
(Then again, the other cheerleaders had been her teammates as well, and where were they all now? Moreover, she knew that not a one of them would have been above stabbing her in the back if it meant they’d get even the tiniest shot at her former position as head cheerleader. But maybe Glee Club really is different. Maybe they really were more of a family, and not a dysfunctional one either. Whatever the case, they’re all she has left right now, so she has no choice but to wait and find out.)
“Kurt. I do believe this is the first time you’ve spoken to me this week outside of Glee Club.” It’s only Tuesday, so that isn’t so bad, really. Schoolwork has been brutal lately, and having to pick out and practise a ‘hello’ song doesn’t make the workload any lighter, and the only song she can think of is Evanescence’s “Hello”, which is pretty but also pretty slow and kind of depressing. Probably not what Mr. Schue is looking for. Maybe she should ask Kurt if he wants to work together on their ‘hello’ assignment…
Despite her faintly teasing tone and how close it was to his response the first time she’d specifically sought him out, the first time they’d really talked, Kurt doesn’t acknowledge her statement, getting straight to the point even as he comes to stop in front of her chair, standing with his hip cocked and his arms akimbo.
“I propose a temporary alliance.”
“For what?” She wants to think it’s about their song assignment for Glee club, but she knows better. Kurt’s got a better (or stronger, anyway) voice than she does, and he never seems to have any trouble picking out or performing his own songs; there’s no reason for him to approach her for something like that.
His lips momentarily thin with impatience before he hits her with his trademark deadpan sarcasm. “To take over the world. Ours will be an extremely stylish and benevolent dictatorship, unless a person is simply too irritating to deserve to continue breathing. Or if they’re on the hockey team.” He rolls his eyes a little, then clarifies, “I’m talking about the Glist, of course. I have a plan, and you need to be in on it.”
Quinn’s faintly skeptical little laugh doesn’t quite manage to be a scoff, though it’s a near thing. She really is losing her touch, if she’s forgetting how to laugh at other people even when it’s nearly the last thing she feels like doing. “I passed you and the others in the hall earlier.” His unwarranted condescension has struck a nerve, and she eyes him like a champion boxer sizing up an opponent, doubtless a carry-over from her days beneath Sue’s tender tutelage. “You know, just because no one sees me anymore, not even you, doesn’t mean I can’t still hear everything you say.” Her smile is small and cold, and makes it even more obvious to the ever-observant Kurt that being socially invisible bothers Quinn deeply. But he hardly pities her, because he’s been there his whole life (unless the person looking at him was standing near a dumpster or holding a Big Gulp, that is--then he only ever wished he were invisible). “You said it yourself. It’s every man and woman for themselves now.”
“True. But that doesn’t rule out a provisional collaboration where both parties stand to gain more from working together than trying to work separately. If this plan succeeds, the end result will be mutually beneficial.”
Quinn’s expression remains closed, but she raises an eyebrow in a nonverbal go on, I’m listening, I guess.
“I want on That List by any means necessary, and you’re at the top of it, so it makes the most sense for me to collaborate with you.” His eyes drop just enough to linger meaningfully on the gold cross at her throat; she still wears it all the time, despite the trials her faith has been put through. “Of course, you probably don’t really deserve to be at the top, since unlike certain other members of the Cheerios, you purportedly have strong morals, but that’s beside the point.”
“And what is the point, Kurt?” She’s starting to get an idea of what it might be-at least, she thinks she is-but with all she knows of him, she can’t quite believe she could be right.
“We should make out. Publicly.”
Quinn blinks twice rapidly, wondering if she’d heard him right but already knowing quite well that she had; Kurt doesn’t give her a chance to recover, calmly laying out his logic before she can manage even so much as a disbelieving excuse me?
“You want to stay at the top of That List since it means you’re finally getting some attention again, albeit negative attention, so you need to do something obvious. I’m your safest bet since, unlike Puck-” he says the school delinquent’s name with a curl to his lip and clear distaste in his tone “-or any of the other males at this school for that matter, you know I won’t use the situation try to take advantage of you.” He raises his chin slightly, without breaking their solid eye contact or his even tone. “And as for me, deserved or not, you are at the top of That List, which makes you the best target…and unless I’m mistaken, a new relationship is the last thing you’re looking for right now, so there’s little enough chance of you wanting anything more from me afterward. As for the aftermath…I’m gay, so it doesn’t really count as cheating, if he's delusional enough to think you’re somehow 'together.' Still, despite that, and how…little he thinks of me, I know Puck could prove to be a problem, though since I’m a Cheerio now, I do have some small measure of protection from the local meatheads--even Karofsky knows better than to get Sue pissed at him, and he makes a box of rocks look like member of MENSA. So I wouldn’t worry about Puck.”
Quinn is inwardly reeling a bit by now, so she drops her eyes to stare sightlessly down at the book in her hands, absorbing everything he’s said and sort of hating how much sense it all makes. He’s clearly thought this out, and while the idea is strange, even outright weird, a part of her can’t help being intrigued. It sounds…logical, plausible even. And since she’s the one who made the Glist in the first place, if she wanted to, she could guarantee that it’ll work…though she has to act like she still needs to make an effort to stay at the top, or Kurt will know something’s up.
She wants to ask about Mercedes, because they’ve bonded a little recently, both over the cruel and unusual trials of being a Cheerio and the more commonplace horrors of teenage insecurity, but Kurt is still far closer to the other girl than Quinn. He knows better than she does what will or won’t hurt his best friend’s feelings. Besides, this is nothing more than a publicity stunt, and since Kurt is obviously gay and Quinn is just as obviously off the market right now, surely Mercedes will know they’re not really going to be hooking up.
And a guy going after a pregnant girl-for Kurt-and girl going after a gay guy-for herself-is pretty impressively depraved, she thinks. Or would be, if they were for real.
Still, she has to at least put up a token resistance and try to get out of this more or less gracefully, in a way that won’t feel like a rejection to Kurt and won’t expose her as the creator of That List, either. Again she forces the small smile onto her face, the skeptical chuckle into her words, though she can’t bring herself to raise her eyes just yet. “Why do you care about this so much all of a sudden?”
There’s a half-second pause before he answers--unmistakably deliberate, meant to make her look up at him, which she does--and though the words are the same, his inflection is different, more pointed, his expression perfectly poised. “Why do you care about this so much all of a sudden?”
It’s not really fair, answering a question with another question (the exact same question no less), turning her own words back on her; but conversations don’t have rules, and he’s made his point, put her a bit off-balance, and avoided having to give any real answer in one deft stroke. If she genuinely wants to know his reasons, she’ll have to admit her own, and she can’t do that, so his true motivation for seeking her out will just have to remain a mystery.
Unless he really does just want to get on That List.
Quinn draws a slow, deep breath, knowing she’s out of options. All but one, anyway.
“Okay,” she says simply, closing her book with a quiet thump and setting it aside. Getting out of her chair takes a bit more effort than it used to, but Kurt doesn’t move to help her, doesn’t move, period, until she’s standing in front of him. “Where are we doing this?”
With a florid right this way sort of gesture, Kurt turns and heads off down the row of books, starting slow enough that she can follow behind him easily; his stride doesn’t waver as he speaks over his shoulder, giving her an explanation for their relocation. “After careful observation, I’ve determined that the place where we’ll get optimal visibility is right…” He stops near the end of an isle and pivots on his heel to face her. It’s so abrupt, Quinn finds herself staring right into his eyes, and she can’t help but marvel a little at that pale shade of delicate blue-green; Kurt doesn’t even seem to notice their sudden proximity. “…Here. We don’t want to do this in plain sight--say, the middle of the cafeteria--because things done in the dark are often considered more risqué due to the element of the unknown. But we do still want to be found, and for enough people to see us for the rumours to spread. This hour is a busy study period, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”
That said, he rests his hands rather awkwardly on her shoulders, then hesitates, and for the first time she sees uncertainty on his face. It’s…kind of cute, actually, how nervous he suddenly seems, and Quinn finds herself smiling up at him with warm, open amusement.
“Just relax,” she says, and this situation is just so ridiculous that she can’t help but be a little playful about it. She’s the one who knows what to do here, and that makes her feel powerful. And Quinn Fabray likes feeling powerful. She hasn’t felt in control of anything for months now, and finally, here is something (someone) that she can take charge of with confidence. Reaching out, she hooks two fingers into the waistband of his Cheerios pants and pulls him closer. Now he notices, and is clearly startled (unsettled?) by their sudden proximity, those pretty blue-green eyes going wide, and he tenses as she presses up against him, the gentle swell of her slightly distended stomach unmistakable at this range.
The whole school wants to think of her as some sort of scarlet woman, and even though she only made one mistake, all things considered, she doesn’t really have room to argue. But Kurt (and maybe only Kurt out of everyone around her) has said that he doesn’t think she deserves that spot at the top of the Glist; and while a part of her appreciates it and thinks it’s kind of sweet that he’d think so highly of her, in her way of thinking, right now it still amounts to a challenge.
His hands are still on her shoulders, but it’s less awkward now, shifted into more of an embrace thanks to how close they’re standing. She lets her thumb trace its way across the top edge of his pants, brushing against surprisingly smooth skin, pausing at the curving dip of his hipbone. At the same time, her other hand slides up his chest, making both his flinch and the way his breath catches that much more obvious, then she cups the back of his neck, a gentle attempt at pulling him down to her.
“Well,” she half-whispers with a smile, watching from beneath long eyelashes as Kurt swallows hard, “aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Again he wavers, and she watches his face steadily as he works himself up to it; she has to remind herself not to be offended by the way he’s so obviously steeling himself (after all, she would hesitate if she had to kiss another girl for some reason, and this probably feels similar to Kurt), and after just a few seconds, she lets her eyes close to wait it out, keeping her face turned upward, tilted slightly with expectation.
When his mouth finally finds hers, it’s light and chaste, a mere brush of startlingly soft lips against her own. He kisses her like she’s glass, priceless crystal, like he’s afraid she’s going to shatter--or maybe he’s the one who’s feeling fragile and breakable. It’s brief, a bit fumbling and awkward-feeling (it’s probably his first), the slightest bit sticky from whatever lip gloss he’s wearing, and she’s never had anyone kiss her like that before, with that kind of breathless carefulness.
Her eyes flutter open as she feels him start to pull back, and she finds him staring at her uncertainly, frowning slightly, cheeks quickly heating from alabaster-pale to a vivid, almost neon, pink, looking like he’s about ready to change his mind about this or bolt for the door or both.
But she’s still riding that power high, and he won’t get away that easily, especially after a first kiss like that. Pregnant stomach or not, she presses herself closer to him, both arms sliding up and wrapping around his neck as she goes up on her toes to press her mouth to his, harder, needier, but for the moment still chaste. The sudden shift has him nearly falling forward, then overbalancing and rocking back on his heels, and his hands reflexively drop to her waist to steady her, steady them both. Though he’d initially tensed in startlement, her mouth moves against his with a regular, patient sort of persistence, and finally his eyes fall closed again as he accepts and eases into the kiss.
And with that acceptance, her reserve falls away, and the backlash of months of feeling unwanted and ignored hits full force; fingers digging into his back, she slides one foot half a step forward, forcing him to either allow her to straddle his leg, or to take a step back against the bookshelf, pinning himself there, after which she straddles his leg anyway. Despite the ease with which she accomplishes this, Quinn’s not really used to being the one pushing the boundaries in this sort of situation-she’s used to being the one who teases and entices and lets it go just-so-far, then pulls back before either party can really lose control. But right now, she can’t think of any reason to hold back. None of the former ones apply--she’s already pregnant, her reputation is shot to hell, her perfect (ex)boyfriend is in love with someone else and she can’t hurt him any worse than she did before--and she can’t think up any new reasons worthy or weighty enough to take their place.
So she kisses Kurt with a fiery, hungry sort of desperation that’s like nothing she’s ever felt before.
Her hands are everywhere, despite the fact that he risks upsetting their delicate balance to make a grab for them once or twice when she gets a little too daring (she’d never noticed what a nice ass he has before; now she knows firsthand, literally.) They slide along his sides, over his stomach, gripping his hips, smoothing over his shoulders, his lower back, and in that heated moment she wants nothing so much as to feel warm skin beneath her fingers, not the rough polyester of a Cheerios uniform. But he keeps catching her wrists when she tries to slip a hand beneath his shirt, and he only has to stop her twice before she gets the message and gives up. On that particular front, at least.
The kiss itself has grown deep and passionate, largely uncontrolled and fairly messy, but it only gets even messier. She runs her tongue along the seam of his lips, and when she gives the lower one a nip, his mouth opens in response, though whether that response is due to genuine yearning, or more simple surprise is anyone’s guess. Either way, she exploits it fully, and soon the kiss that had started so chaste and gentle isn’t at all chaste anymore.
They don’t fit together perfectly, like Quinn had sometimes thought she felt when Finn pulled her in close, though a large part of that can probably be blamed on the new bulge to her stomach, starting to show now in earnest; but it feels good, so good, just to be held. To feel wanted, if not quite desired.
Feeling wanted is wholly new ground for Kurt, and even if she’s nothing at all like what he’s always sought after, it’s too giddy and gratifying a feeling for him to push her away just yet. Half-pinned as he is against the bookshelves, there’s nothing he can do about the way the insides of her legs are brushing against his upper thigh, and the sensation is strange and alien but not at all unpleasant. Regardless, they have to break off that long, desperate kiss sooner or later, two sets of lungs burning for air; and that’s when it becomes obvious, who the more worldly one here is. Quinn knows precisely what to do, how to move and where to touch to make him shiver and gasp and jerk and even try to pull her closer, higher up on his leg. But while lacking experience, Kurt proves to be a fast learner, determined and perceptive enough to get the hang of things quickly.
Her lips move along his jaw, briefly nipping at his ear, then she settles on the curve of his neck. Kurt grits his teeth to bite back a surprised gasp, his grip on her waist tightening as he pulls her flush against his hip; his head tips back reflexively, a tiny sort of surrender that grants her further access to his neck. And Quinn takes full advantage of it, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath her mouth as she suckles his pale skin, leaving her mark on him: the kind of evidence he’ll need if he wants to get on something like the Glist.
She finishes with a kiss and another mostly-gentle nip; he responds by grinding his hip into her, and it’s her turn to gasp, clutching at his shoulders as unexpected pleasure shudders through her. Tightening his grip on her waist, he does it again, and she counters by rocking against him before going for another kiss, this one no less desperate and certainly no more reserved than the last. Kurt meets her halfway this time, his mouth opening to hers nearly as soon as their lips meet, one hand coming up off her waist to cup her face and bury his fingers in long, soft blonde hair. She gives a hum of satisfaction, and they’re both so lost in the heat of the moment, the raw feeling, the pure and simple sensation of it all, that neither notices the way the rather rickety bookshelf Kurt is leaning back against has started to wobble.
Quinn edges in another half-step, her leg starting to come up to wrap around his hip, and Kurt only pulls her closer, leaning back a little more to keep them balanced-then his eyes snap open as the shelves behind him suddenly give way with a loud, groaning, drawn-out creeeeeak.
It is a crowded study period, and that many books, not to mention the shelves themselves, hitting the floor makes enough noise that every eye in the room is turned towards them. Rather disbelievingly for the most part, since not only have they managed to push over an entire bookcase, both culprits look decidedly disheveled. Kurt’s perfectly-coiffed hair is mussed, and Quinn’s is messy as well, sticking out oddly instead of smoothly held back by her decorative hair clip, and both their lips are damningly reddened. Add to that their wide eyes, their proximity---they’d both jumped back from the fallen bookcase, only to cling to each other reflexively--and especially the very visible hickey blossoming on Kurt’s neck, and what had been going on isn’t hard to put together at all.
The whispers have begun already as a scowling teacher and the ancient librarian both start in their direction, expressions promising doom, and while staying to receive their punishment would probably get them more attention, Quinn’s first reflex is to bolt. Her guilty conscience won’t allow otherwise, she’s used to being a good girl who doesn’t get in trouble for things like this, and she’s breathless and more than a little muddled from that unexpectedly intense make-out session. Without a word she grabs Kurt’s hand, the shell-shocked look on his even whiter than usual face a perfect mirror image of how she feels inside, and jerks him back into the stacks, then around and out one of the other doors. By that time he’s snapped out of it, running just a half-step behind instead of being dragged down the hallways; he makes no move to free his hand, however, following without question, and for once he doesn’t seem to have anything snarky or sarcastic to say. Probably because what’s just happened hasn’t really processed, and his thoughts are every bit as jumbled as hers.
Already half-breathless from all the kissing, they’re both panting by now-they need a place to hide, and Quinn knows the perfect spot. On rounding a corner, they find the subsequent hallway entirely empty, and take advantage of that temporary lull to duck into one of the Cheerios supply closets, hurriedly closing the door behind them the instant they’re both inside. Quinn fumbles in the pitch-black darkness for a moment, feeling along the wall for the light switch, and they blink a bit as the single bare bulb illuminates the narrow space. Both struggle to catch their breath, leaning their backs against the wall, most of a good two feet between them. He’d dropped her hand as soon as she’d turned on the light, so there was no red-faced OH-am-I-still-holding-your-hand? moment.
Quinn’s a little surprised just how much she misses that warm pressure. It’s been a while since anyone held her hand, both literally and figuratively; she’s pretty sure Finn will never willingly hold her hand again (and though she does miss it, that innocent show of affection, his hands were always sort of dead-fish clammy, and got sweaty really fast), and Puck isn’t exactly the hand-holding type. Who knew where his hands had been anyway.
Kurt’s hands, while almost unbelievably soft, were warm and dry, not clammy in the least, his grip firm but not crushing. Strong hands, from years of playing the piano and working in his father’s auto shop. Hands she certainly wouldn’t mind holding again…
She glances obliquely at Kurt, finds his right hand pressed against the wall within easy grabbing distance, and weighs the risks and rewards of sliding her own hand just a trifle to the side and reaching for him. And why not? She really doesn’t have anything left to lose, she tells herself, but her hand has only covered half that distance before she stops it. Because she knows she does still have something left to lose here, something she’s really only just recently gained: Kurt’s friendship. Amazing as it had been, that kiss hadn’t really meant anything to either of them. As much as she-they?-might want it to, it couldn’t, or things would change in ways that neither of them could even begin to think about.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt watches Quinn’s hand twitch towards his own, and exhales a silent, inward sigh when she checks herself with perhaps an inch still separating their fingers. He’s not sure if it’s more a sigh of relief or disappointment, and that lack of certainty is troubling for more than one simple reason. Musical numbers for Glee club aside, he hadn’t really held hands with anyone who wasn’t related to him; the feel of Quinn’s small, delicate hand clasped inside his own had been both comfortable and comforting, an innocuous sort of intimacy that he isn’t entirely averse to resuming. But for whatever reason, she had pulled herself back, and while he can assume with a significantly probable degree of accuracy that she’d done it for his sake, not her own pride or anything else, he can’t be entirely certain.
Still, he wants her to know that should she ever need (not simply want, that still isn’t quite how things work between them just yet) a hand to hold, he’s there for her. So as he shifts his weight off the wall, his hand brushes against hers briefly, his pinky finger crossing over hers for a bare instant, and then he’s folding his arms over his chest, hands tucked in close against his ribs; Quinn blinks at his touch, lips pursing thoughtfully, then follows suit, though she’s more hugging the swell of her midriff.
Silence continues its reign for another moment, broken only by the sound of the bell ringing outside, signaling the start of the next five-minute passing period. Neither dares look at the other, both feeling uncertain and a little off-balance and kind of wondering what they’d just done, what had just happened. It certainly hadn’t gone off as planned, neither had expected that sort of reaction from the other, and yet…regret isn’t something that either feels amidst the whirl of confusing emotions the last few minutes have kicked up inside them both.
The slightly uneasy silence is finally broken by an effeminate little throat-clearing hem from Kurt. “Well,” he turns to her resolutely, his expression tranquil, his tone, if not his appearance, entirely unruffled. “If that didn’t work, nothing will, and it’s clearly pointless to keep trying.”
Quinn laughs a little in spite of herself as she (slowly, pointedly) reaches out to smooth his hair down. The sound is genuine, not at all cruel, and her touch is gentle to match. “No, I think it’ll work, but…honestly, I don’t think you really belong on that list.” Despite the passion and intensity he’d shown her just minutes ago, Kurt’s still just too nice, too…innocent? Maybe, though inexperienced would probably be a better term, she thinks as she lets her hand fall back to her side, his hair as close to the way it was before as she can make it without a comb and a significant amount of hairspray. (Which isn’t very, but at least it’s not so obviously mussed anymore.)
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says drily, returning the favour by helping her with her own hair, plucking the pretty little hair clip from her blonde locks, “though I’m not entirely convinced you meant it that way.” He takes his time straightening and re-pinning her hair, and somehow she doesn’t doubt that it looks much better than it had before their little encounter in the library. “Now come on. The bell’s going to ring soon, so the halls should be mostly empty by now. We’re going to be late for class.”
She’s caught a bit flatfooted by his straightforwardness--after what just happened, it feels so odd knowing that things will go on exactly as they have before--and it takes her a fraction of a second to move towards the door after him. “I did mean it that way,” she says plainly, if a bit too late. “As a compliment.”
He just smiles at her, shaking his head a little, and they head out together. The library is right on their way, so Quinn stands watch while Kurt slips in to grab their bags, then they both hurry to their next class, content with the comfortable quiet that’s fallen between them now, as well as dealing with their own thoughts for a while.
“Kurt,” Quinn blurts suddenly, stopping right outside their classroom. Hand on the door handle, Kurt half-turns and looks back at her composedly, not even flinching when the bell rings. As the tinny echoes fade, Quinn hesitates, seeming like she wants to say something she doesn’t quite dare give voice to; after a split-second struggle, the conflict fades from her expression, and she settles on a simple, “Thank you.”
He smiles a little awkwardly, a little uncertainly, and not only because of her too-noticeable pause. He’s reasonably certain that he already knows the gist of what she wanted to say (is there really no chance for us--are we not even going to try?), and he’s caught between curiosity, temptation, freaking out over making out with a girl, and contemplating doing it again…as well as the fact that he has to admit that he’d rather liked it. But that’s all inward. Outwardly, he looks at her with raised eyebrows, mostly successful in keeping up his coolly confident front, and says, “For what?”
Quinn smiles, and though there’s the barest hint of sadness to it, it’s mostly grateful, mostly heartfelt and happy. “For seeing me.”
His smile grows more solid, less tentative; reaching out, he lightly touches the side of her arm, letting his hand rest there for just a short moment, a friendly and respectfully platonic gesture. Then, after sharing a secret smile that is more smirk than anything, Kurt tugs at the collar of his shirt to make the mark she’d left there more visible, and together they step into class. They don’t hold hands, but their arms brush, and they slip into seats side by side in the back row.
A moment later, while the teacher’s back is turned, a carefully-folded note drops onto Kurt’s desk. An amused glance to the side shows Quinn very much focused on the book open in front of her, though there’s the hint of a barely-repressed smile about her mouth. Unfolding the note, he finds only a short message:
Sit with me at lunch? Mercedes too.
He looks back at Quinn, finds her looking at him obliquely; he smiles, nods, then kisses the note and mimes tucking it away into the non-existent breast pocket of his Cheerios uniform in a way that would be sexy if it weren’t quite so camp. Quinn gives a silent laugh at that, and though the rest of that class seems to drag on forever, and though people still carelessly bump into her in the hallway, it doesn’t bother her as much, especially once Kurt and Mercedes show up to flank her, like her own personal escort to their table in the cafeteria. Because they are her teammates, fellow Gleeks, and they look out for their own; now she knows that really and truly, this time and for always, she has friends who will stick with her regardless of her social status. And whatever the next few years may bring, even if her parents never come around or take her back and she never makes it as head cheerleader again and it looks like she’ll end up stuck in this cow-town forever, she can still know with absolutely certainty that she isn’t alone, and that here beside her is one person, at least, who will always see her, regardless of how small and unimportant she’s feeling.
--
Kurt, Quinn. Now that you feel, you say it's not real.