typical
title: typical
fandom: Glee
summary: Quinn is yet to realize that no one ever completely figures out what someone is or isn't capable of, or how driven hormones can be in a situation that fits into too many boxes of stereotypical-impulsive-teenage-shit-that-makes-up-the-bulk-of-statistics.
character(s)/pairing(s): Quinn Fabray (mentions of Quinn/Puck, Quinn/Finn)
genre: General
rating: pg-13
note: I don’t know why I’m writing Glee fic. I just know that this is the first mildly cohesive thing I have written in weeks, so for that alone I’ll stop questioning it. For now, anyway. And then I’ll blame Tori (torigates). I’m awesome like that. Also, as for Quinn's age, that is the given right of artistic license. Again, that is owed to Tori.
;;Sixteen is the middle, the even age where you’re not slipping from being a 12 year old kid to a 13 year old girl. Where you’re not jumping from the 19 year old sinking ship of teen days gone past to the 20 year old, train on the adult tracks. Maybe it’s a pinnacle, or the last days of innocence, if not both, but right now it’s just taking too long to get the hell out high school. It’s too tangible and real, whereas the future is imaginary but bright-looking enough to seem just perfect.
Sixteen is not the age to get pregnant.
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Puck was typical. She never even paid enough attention to him to categorize him as attractive or not--that was for girls not on her level or not on Finn’s to figure out.
But they had their words, less than decent conversations, but sufficient to pass as friends (he was after all Finn’s best friend, and she was smart enough to recognize that she had to be nice to her boyfriend’s acquaintances).
Once in a while she would catch his wavering gaze, but it would be below her to recognize her awareness--barring any lingering glances and touches that went more alongside the route of sexual harassment.
Boys clearly want what they can’t have, as was the case with Puck, this Quinn knew.
.
She didn’t necessarily fantasize her first time, but neither could she imagine giving it up to anyone less than up to par with her expectations of the life she deserved.
Finn was great in the ‘nice guy with good ambition and skills to get him somewhere’ way--he was just a little too young and obviously still in high school. So she would wait.
(Quinn is yet to realize that no one ever completely figures out what someone is or isn't capable of, or how driven hormones can be in a situation that fits into too many boxes of stereotypical-impulsive-teenage-shit-that-makes-up-the-bulk-of-statistics. She‘s closer to realizing this now, though.)
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Finn was exceptional in a typical profile.
What with his dreams and desire for more, whilst remaining that boy who couldn’t help but be drawn in by the “good” pretty girl who somehow exuded sensuality. Even Quinn found herself tangled up some, because the more days she spent as his girlfriend, the more concerned she was as to whether she had manipulated him or whether he had been reeled in accidentally.
But all it takes is a shrug of the shoulders. He’s hers, and that’s that.
It’s when glee club happens that manipulations rears its head and tells her it’s the way to go in this instance.
.
Quinn is not someone to figure out.
You’ve seen her before. Her type. Her “aspirations”. There is no complex puzzle or question when it comes to her.
Hell, if there hasn’t been a Quinn Fabray in your life, then it won’t be long before there is.
(In fact, Quinn thrives off these people who “know” her type. So it’s just all too disconcerting when the type she supposedly inhibits switches to a more extreme degree. Babies were not in the plan yet. She isn’t supposed to be in this situation.)
You don’t feel for Quinn, much less see the inside of her mindset.
.
Finn was at rehearsal (here goes a scoff), but Puck was in his front lawn, wiping his brow, watching his older female neighbor across the street as he drank wine coolers (because seriously, that makes him appear so much more mature).
Puck’s mother was always at work, and his dad was…somewhere, but clearly not there. Surprisingly, none of his friends were in sight.
Quinn rolled her eyes and hardly acknowledged him when she and her two cheerleader buddies, but he called her out, and she gave in.
She sent her two friends along, strode over to Puck, and clicked her tongue.
“Doing your part for the community?” she said vainly, tilting her head at the woman who kept looking over at Puck with a cocked eyebrow.
“Just sucking the ordinary out of their lives,” he said, leaning back into his beach chair.
“And blowing this town lower on the scale of decency.”
Puck moved his arm over his chair to pick up a wine cooler, and handed it to Quinn.
She looked at him suspiciously, and he told her, “you’re here already. What else are you going to do?”
“There aren’t enough seats.”
“There are out back,” and he pointed to his house.
She could make up another excuse or just blow him off altogether, but really, there wasn’t anything else to do.
Puck and Quinn were there because of Finn, but neither bothered to say it aloud. Empty bottles of coolers rolled between them, laughs accompanying the emptiness.
Eventually she bit the inside of her cheek, choking back a laugh, and his lips were on hers, and a second or two later, on the nape of her neck.
She heard voices, but they were incoherent and they were shouting, so she shut the voices up and started kissing him back.
Two weeks later, she sat on her toilet seat cover, visiting her land of denial while a pregnancy stick turned pink.
.