FANFICTION : QUINN/RACHEL : "LIKE A GRENADE FORGED ON KRYPTON" : 1/2 : PG
Title: Like A Grenade Forged On Krypton
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel with a healthy dose of Fabang (Mike/Quinn) bromance.
Fandom: Glee
Author: Amie
Tumblr: HERE
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Glee, they belong in Ryan Murphy's toy box.
Word Count: 1673
Rating: PG for now, may change, but I doubt it.
Summary: Quinn gets assigned as Rachel's tutor, forcing her secret identity into light.
Author's Note: I haven't written fic in... God knows how long. This is rather dialogue heavy, something that I'm not used to doing, so I'm a little nervous. It's complete fluff. It contains many of my favourite things - including nerdy!Quinn. Faberry is my OTP, but Fabang (pewpewpew) nerdmance is my broship. There isn't enough Quinn/Mike in the world, so I finally found the inspiration to write some myself. I hope you enjoy it and that you find it at least a little funny. Thank you to paintchips for doing the beta job.
-----------------------
“Is something wrong?”
“Huh?”
Mike watched as Quinn was gunned down yet again - she hadn’t even bothered to take cover.
“Are you okay?” He asked, retreating back to meet her as she respawned. “You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay then, let’s do this.” They both headed in the direction of the closest flag, assault rifles raised. Mike tensed as he stalked down the decline in terrain, eyes trained into the distance for any subtle movements of enemies that may be lurking in the shadows.
Suddenly, Quinn took off running ahead of him. He had no choice but to follow, “At least throw a smoke grena- dammit, Quinn!” He resisted the urge to toss his controller at the wall as they were both killed in quick succession by two camouflaged campers.
“Sorry,” Quinn muttered distractedly when they respawned, already taking off towards the same destination.
“Wait!” He yelled. “You’re going to get us killed again. You don’t usually storm into open areas guns blazing; you’re tactical to a fault. What’s going on here?”
His eyes narrowed when all he heard in reply was the distant sound of gunfire and her erratic breathing over the headset.
“I’m only asking because we’re getting owned. And their highest level is a twelve - a twelve, Fabray! Your kill/death ratio is taking major damage in this massacre.”
After a long silence, her on-screen avatar stilled completely. “I’ve been assigned as a tutor.”
Mike took out an approaching member of the opposing team with a finely aimed headshot. “So, what’s the deal? You tutor all the time.”
“I’ve been assigned to tutor Rachel.”
“Oh.” Neither of them saw the small icon notifying them that a grenade had been tossed at their feet. “That sucks,” Mike mumbled as they were both promptly thrown like ragdolls by the blast.
“You suck,” crackled across the headset from an unknown voice.
“I will end you!” Quinn growled in his ear.
He didn’t bother pointing out that they could only hear the chatter from their own teammates across the connection. He simply sighed as she sprinted forward again, resigned to his fate. He’d have a lot of Call of Duty to play over the weekend if he wanted to restore his stats to Pre-Quinn-Fabray-Meltdown.
*****
“I can’t do this,” Quinn breathed as they left the choir room together. “Did you see the way her skirt billowed when she was dancing? Those thighs - I think my heart lagged.”
Mike chuckled beneath his breath, “Say stuff like that around her and I don’t think it will be long before she outs you, Fabray.”
“You’re right.” She shook her head at herself, “I meant to say flared or hiked up or... something other than billowed.”
“Yeah, that’s totally what I was talking about.” He fondly bumped his shoulder against hers as they paused at his locker so that he could collect the textbooks he would need for the night’s homework. “So when is this tutoring sesh going down?”
“Tonight.” She suddenly lurched forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt to steady her footing. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she whispered in a voice that displayed her evident panic, “She’s coming to my house.”
“It’s no big deal, man.” He tried to reassure her as her eyes widened comically at his nonchalant tone. “You’ve just gotta play it cool - keep her downstairs and away from your room and everything will be fine.”
“Fine?!” She yelled incredulously, “My mouth can’t be trusted around her!”
She had delayed approaching Rachel Berry for as long as she possibly could, but during the break between third and fourth period, she figured she may as well get the conversation over with.
The brunette was at her open locker, rifling through it for some seemingly untraceable object. Quinn approached silently.
“Berry, I hear you need tutoring in Math.”
Rachel turned her attention to the blonde, her face flushed from the annoyance of not being able to find whatever it was she was looking for. “You heard correctly,” she answered curtly, subtly correcting the wording that Quinn had already known was wrong.
“I’m here to service yo-“ She mentally facepalmed, cursing her brain for short-circuiting whenever she was in Rachel’s presence. “Offer my services. Well, I’m not actually offering. What I mean to say is; I’ve been assigned to tutor you.”
Rachel’s expression became adorably perplexed; she hadn’t ever seen the Head Cheerio so flustered. “O-okay. When would you like to meet? Sooner would be much more productive, rather than later, as I do believe Mrs. Garrison has concocted a stealthy ploy to surprise my class with a pop quiz sometime before the end of the week.”
“I’m free whenever,” Quinn quickly replied. She fought the urge to roll her eyes for sounding so eager. “Tonight?” Damn her brain, she made a note to look into self-lobotomising.
“Tonight is fine,” Rachel sounded suspicious. “Actually no, I can’t - my fathers are having guests over. I don’t think that the environment would be conducive to studying, their social gatherings have a tendency to get a little... rambunctious.”
Quinn let the word settle in her mind, “We can totally do it at my place. And by it, I clearly mean the tutoring.”
“What else would you have meant?” Rachel frowned; Quinn was acting extremely out of sorts. When the cheerleader didn’t answer, she continued on, “Anyway, I fully appreciate you giving up your valuable time in order to help me, Quinn. I would offer you payment for your services, but I already spent all of my allowance on new sheet music.”
Quinn stared at the girl before her blankly, desperately attempting to keep her brain from rolling into the gutter of her favourite sexual fantasy. She’d aptly named it Save the Cheerio, Save the World. She wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to play the damsel in distress, but she would sure as Hell give it her best shot if she could get Rachel Berry into a cape.
“I could repay you for your time with vocal lessons!” She clapped her hands together happily, obviously impressed with herself and turned back to her open locker.
Quinn stood there dumbly, half listening as Rachel went on a tirade about her problems with Math. A few words caught her attention and she mumbled out, “I wish you were a derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.”
“You actually said that?” Mike asked before collapsing against the row of lockers and laughing manically.
“It’s not funny!” Quinn groaned, covering her cheeks as they became tinged with pink.
“Did she hear you?” He sobered quickly, sensing that his best friend was truly embarrassed.
“Yes! She just... looked at me.” Her face crinkled at the memory, “She looked like an owl.”
Mike stuffed his books into his backpack and shouldered it, “That’s harsh, dude. But you know, this could turn out to be a good thing.”
He slammed his locker door closed and she was forced out of her thoughts. “In which dimension would it possibly be a good thing?”
He gripped the strap of his bag with one hand, and threw the other arm loosely over her shoulder. “You. Her. Alone.” He let the corner of his lips turn up into a small smirk, “Finally.”
“I can’t do this,” she repeated, shrugging out from beneath his arm and sounding like she was moments away from hyperventilating. “I’m so obvious, this -“ she pointed at the lettering across the chest of her cheerleading uniform “- may as well be a huge red S.”
“I doubt she’d get the reference,” he joked. When she turned her icy glare on him, he immediately softened his voice. “Look, you like her right? Like, really like her?”
“Unfathomably.” She replied breathlessly.
He took an extra step forward and stopped in front of her, holding her gaze with his own. “So what do you have to lose here? I’ll tell you, Fabray - nothing. What do you have to gain? Everything.”
She looked as if she was considering it, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and glancing down at the ground. “What would I have to do?”
He smiled at her warmly, “Step one: she needs to see you.”
“She’s deaf to anything that isn’t her own voice, she’s not blind, Chang.”
He rolled his eyes at her expected snarkiness. “I mean, she needs to see you. You need to show her Quinn, not Quinn Fabray: The Woman of Steel.” He gestured down at the red, white and black of her uniform, “You need to show her that you’re a hero, despite the villainess attire you hide behind.”
“While I appreciate the reference, that’s not going to happen.” She shook her head slowly, “But - hypothetically - what’s step two?”
“Step two is... there is no step two. Just be honest with her, I’m positive that you’ll at least survive the situation and have gained a new friend.” He punched her bicep gently, “Seriously, Quinn, she could make you happy.”
“I’m happy,” she huffed.
“Yeah, you are - when you’re with me and we’re going all black ops on the local comic book store.” He started walking towards the exit again, “But Rachel could make you really happy.”
“If you were anything like Puckerman, I’d think you were being a skeeze.” She sighed heavily, glancing at his profile briefly as they exited the building. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
He bit back a laugh as she faltered on the steps. He didn’t even bother looking towards her car; he knew that he would find Rachel waiting near it. Quinn Fabray had perfected her disguise over the years - to the untrained eye, she was nothing but the graceful, bitchy ice queen. But - and he usually prided himself on making more obscure references - Rachel Berry was the Head Cheerio’s Kryptonite. Put the two of them together in close proximity, and you were sure to witness the reality that was the awkwardly charming girl behind the facade.
“It’s time to put Operation: Unmask Quinn Fabray into motion.”
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel with a healthy dose of Fabang (Mike/Quinn) bromance.
Fandom: Glee
Author: Amie
Tumblr: HERE
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Glee, they belong in Ryan Murphy's toy box.
Word Count: 1673
Rating: PG for now, may change, but I doubt it.
Summary: Quinn gets assigned as Rachel's tutor, forcing her secret identity into light.
Author's Note: I haven't written fic in... God knows how long. This is rather dialogue heavy, something that I'm not used to doing, so I'm a little nervous. It's complete fluff. It contains many of my favourite things - including nerdy!Quinn. Faberry is my OTP, but Fabang (pewpewpew) nerdmance is my broship. There isn't enough Quinn/Mike in the world, so I finally found the inspiration to write some myself. I hope you enjoy it and that you find it at least a little funny. Thank you to paintchips for doing the beta job.
-----------------------
“Is something wrong?”
“Huh?”
Mike watched as Quinn was gunned down yet again - she hadn’t even bothered to take cover.
“Are you okay?” He asked, retreating back to meet her as she respawned. “You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay then, let’s do this.” They both headed in the direction of the closest flag, assault rifles raised. Mike tensed as he stalked down the decline in terrain, eyes trained into the distance for any subtle movements of enemies that may be lurking in the shadows.
Suddenly, Quinn took off running ahead of him. He had no choice but to follow, “At least throw a smoke grena- dammit, Quinn!” He resisted the urge to toss his controller at the wall as they were both killed in quick succession by two camouflaged campers.
“Sorry,” Quinn muttered distractedly when they respawned, already taking off towards the same destination.
“Wait!” He yelled. “You’re going to get us killed again. You don’t usually storm into open areas guns blazing; you’re tactical to a fault. What’s going on here?”
His eyes narrowed when all he heard in reply was the distant sound of gunfire and her erratic breathing over the headset.
“I’m only asking because we’re getting owned. And their highest level is a twelve - a twelve, Fabray! Your kill/death ratio is taking major damage in this massacre.”
After a long silence, her on-screen avatar stilled completely. “I’ve been assigned as a tutor.”
Mike took out an approaching member of the opposing team with a finely aimed headshot. “So, what’s the deal? You tutor all the time.”
“I’ve been assigned to tutor Rachel.”
“Oh.” Neither of them saw the small icon notifying them that a grenade had been tossed at their feet. “That sucks,” Mike mumbled as they were both promptly thrown like ragdolls by the blast.
“You suck,” crackled across the headset from an unknown voice.
“I will end you!” Quinn growled in his ear.
He didn’t bother pointing out that they could only hear the chatter from their own teammates across the connection. He simply sighed as she sprinted forward again, resigned to his fate. He’d have a lot of Call of Duty to play over the weekend if he wanted to restore his stats to Pre-Quinn-Fabray-Meltdown.
*****
“I can’t do this,” Quinn breathed as they left the choir room together. “Did you see the way her skirt billowed when she was dancing? Those thighs - I think my heart lagged.”
Mike chuckled beneath his breath, “Say stuff like that around her and I don’t think it will be long before she outs you, Fabray.”
“You’re right.” She shook her head at herself, “I meant to say flared or hiked up or... something other than billowed.”
“Yeah, that’s totally what I was talking about.” He fondly bumped his shoulder against hers as they paused at his locker so that he could collect the textbooks he would need for the night’s homework. “So when is this tutoring sesh going down?”
“Tonight.” She suddenly lurched forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt to steady her footing. Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she whispered in a voice that displayed her evident panic, “She’s coming to my house.”
“It’s no big deal, man.” He tried to reassure her as her eyes widened comically at his nonchalant tone. “You’ve just gotta play it cool - keep her downstairs and away from your room and everything will be fine.”
“Fine?!” She yelled incredulously, “My mouth can’t be trusted around her!”
She had delayed approaching Rachel Berry for as long as she possibly could, but during the break between third and fourth period, she figured she may as well get the conversation over with.
The brunette was at her open locker, rifling through it for some seemingly untraceable object. Quinn approached silently.
“Berry, I hear you need tutoring in Math.”
Rachel turned her attention to the blonde, her face flushed from the annoyance of not being able to find whatever it was she was looking for. “You heard correctly,” she answered curtly, subtly correcting the wording that Quinn had already known was wrong.
“I’m here to service yo-“ She mentally facepalmed, cursing her brain for short-circuiting whenever she was in Rachel’s presence. “Offer my services. Well, I’m not actually offering. What I mean to say is; I’ve been assigned to tutor you.”
Rachel’s expression became adorably perplexed; she hadn’t ever seen the Head Cheerio so flustered. “O-okay. When would you like to meet? Sooner would be much more productive, rather than later, as I do believe Mrs. Garrison has concocted a stealthy ploy to surprise my class with a pop quiz sometime before the end of the week.”
“I’m free whenever,” Quinn quickly replied. She fought the urge to roll her eyes for sounding so eager. “Tonight?” Damn her brain, she made a note to look into self-lobotomising.
“Tonight is fine,” Rachel sounded suspicious. “Actually no, I can’t - my fathers are having guests over. I don’t think that the environment would be conducive to studying, their social gatherings have a tendency to get a little... rambunctious.”
Quinn let the word settle in her mind, “We can totally do it at my place. And by it, I clearly mean the tutoring.”
“What else would you have meant?” Rachel frowned; Quinn was acting extremely out of sorts. When the cheerleader didn’t answer, she continued on, “Anyway, I fully appreciate you giving up your valuable time in order to help me, Quinn. I would offer you payment for your services, but I already spent all of my allowance on new sheet music.”
Quinn stared at the girl before her blankly, desperately attempting to keep her brain from rolling into the gutter of her favourite sexual fantasy. She’d aptly named it Save the Cheerio, Save the World. She wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to play the damsel in distress, but she would sure as Hell give it her best shot if she could get Rachel Berry into a cape.
“I could repay you for your time with vocal lessons!” She clapped her hands together happily, obviously impressed with herself and turned back to her open locker.
Quinn stood there dumbly, half listening as Rachel went on a tirade about her problems with Math. A few words caught her attention and she mumbled out, “I wish you were a derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves.”
“You actually said that?” Mike asked before collapsing against the row of lockers and laughing manically.
“It’s not funny!” Quinn groaned, covering her cheeks as they became tinged with pink.
“Did she hear you?” He sobered quickly, sensing that his best friend was truly embarrassed.
“Yes! She just... looked at me.” Her face crinkled at the memory, “She looked like an owl.”
Mike stuffed his books into his backpack and shouldered it, “That’s harsh, dude. But you know, this could turn out to be a good thing.”
He slammed his locker door closed and she was forced out of her thoughts. “In which dimension would it possibly be a good thing?”
He gripped the strap of his bag with one hand, and threw the other arm loosely over her shoulder. “You. Her. Alone.” He let the corner of his lips turn up into a small smirk, “Finally.”
“I can’t do this,” she repeated, shrugging out from beneath his arm and sounding like she was moments away from hyperventilating. “I’m so obvious, this -“ she pointed at the lettering across the chest of her cheerleading uniform “- may as well be a huge red S.”
“I doubt she’d get the reference,” he joked. When she turned her icy glare on him, he immediately softened his voice. “Look, you like her right? Like, really like her?”
“Unfathomably.” She replied breathlessly.
He took an extra step forward and stopped in front of her, holding her gaze with his own. “So what do you have to lose here? I’ll tell you, Fabray - nothing. What do you have to gain? Everything.”
She looked as if she was considering it, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and glancing down at the ground. “What would I have to do?”
He smiled at her warmly, “Step one: she needs to see you.”
“She’s deaf to anything that isn’t her own voice, she’s not blind, Chang.”
He rolled his eyes at her expected snarkiness. “I mean, she needs to see you. You need to show her Quinn, not Quinn Fabray: The Woman of Steel.” He gestured down at the red, white and black of her uniform, “You need to show her that you’re a hero, despite the villainess attire you hide behind.”
“While I appreciate the reference, that’s not going to happen.” She shook her head slowly, “But - hypothetically - what’s step two?”
“Step two is... there is no step two. Just be honest with her, I’m positive that you’ll at least survive the situation and have gained a new friend.” He punched her bicep gently, “Seriously, Quinn, she could make you happy.”
“I’m happy,” she huffed.
“Yeah, you are - when you’re with me and we’re going all black ops on the local comic book store.” He started walking towards the exit again, “But Rachel could make you really happy.”
“If you were anything like Puckerman, I’d think you were being a skeeze.” She sighed heavily, glancing at his profile briefly as they exited the building. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
He bit back a laugh as she faltered on the steps. He didn’t even bother looking towards her car; he knew that he would find Rachel waiting near it. Quinn Fabray had perfected her disguise over the years - to the untrained eye, she was nothing but the graceful, bitchy ice queen. But - and he usually prided himself on making more obscure references - Rachel Berry was the Head Cheerio’s Kryptonite. Put the two of them together in close proximity, and you were sure to witness the reality that was the awkwardly charming girl behind the facade.
“It’s time to put Operation: Unmask Quinn Fabray into motion.”