storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2010-10-12 08:57 pm
storypaint) wrote2010-10-12 08:57 pm
Entry tags:
[Glee] straight teeth and crooked morals (Rachel and Quinn gen)
Title: straight teeth and crooked morals
Fandom: Glee
Length: 490 words
Prompt: bechdel test comment ficathon: Glee - Rachel, Quinn - high school sucks
Pairing: Quinn and Rachel gen
Other: Set mid season 1.
Excerpt: Quinn blinks but that doesn't stop the tears, so she swipes a hand across her eyes and wraps her arm back around her bump, her gestures pointed, as if she's daring Rachel to comment. Rachel doesn't. She sits down on the bench beside Quinn without asking.
"High school sucks," Rachel says.
Quinn blinks but that doesn't stop the tears, so she swipes a hand across her eyes and wraps her arm back around her bump, her gestures pointed, as if she's daring Rachel to comment. Rachel doesn't. She sits down on the bench beside Quinn without asking.
"I know that you're used to school being totally amazing. Captain of the Cheerios, popularity through the roof, quarterback boyfriend. And it's hard to lose that. But you shouldn't worry about it."
Rachel's tone is matter-of-fact. Quinn's feet are pounding with pain, she was slushied after third period, and the remaining members of the Celibacy Club keep passing her in the hallway and scrunching up their noses like they smell something awful. She'd even gone into the bathroom to make sure she'd remembered deodorant this morning. So Rachel's easy voice hurts.
"Easy for you to say. High school always sucked for you. Everyone hated you already. They used to love me," she answers. She doesn't know what to do with all of the fear and anger she has now, sitting in her stomach along with the baby. Sometimes she gets scared it will hurt her daughter if she cries too much. She does have hours of peace, sometimes even full days, but this isn't one of them.
"It doesn't matter," Rachel says, shrugging it off. It's as if Quinn's joining of Glee Club made them friends, made her easier to forgive. "Because, Quinn, this is only four years. We'll have the rest of our lives after this. The people who slushy me now will one day be on Entertainment Tonight insisting that they were my best friend. It doesn't matter. We're getting out of Lima."
Rachel is great at assumptions, and most of the time Quinn would add the little phrase her dad used to say, back when he was talking to her - "Assumptions make an a-- donkeybutt out of you and me." But now Rachel is assuming that they'll get out of her, this nowhere town, and be somebody. Be someone worth talking about again.
"I want lasting fame. Not this temporary kind. So I just count down the days we still have," Rachel continues. She pulls a planner out of her bag and flips pages until today's. Under her math homework, she's written a number in purple gel pen.
"That's how many more days until we graduate," she says to Quinn. "And then our real lives begin."
"Yeah," Quinn manages to say, her voice breathy. "Who cares about high school? Whatever. After that we'll just be Facebook friends."
"I'll send you tickets to my first show," Rachel says warmly. The bell rings. "But first, biology. Do you want some help?"
Quinn struggles back to her feet on her own, but she does give Rachel a small smile as she does.
"I got it," she says, picking up her bag, and the smile lingers through the afternoon.
Fandom: Glee
Length: 490 words
Prompt: bechdel test comment ficathon: Glee - Rachel, Quinn - high school sucks
Pairing: Quinn and Rachel gen
Other: Set mid season 1.
Excerpt: Quinn blinks but that doesn't stop the tears, so she swipes a hand across her eyes and wraps her arm back around her bump, her gestures pointed, as if she's daring Rachel to comment. Rachel doesn't. She sits down on the bench beside Quinn without asking.
"High school sucks," Rachel says.
Quinn blinks but that doesn't stop the tears, so she swipes a hand across her eyes and wraps her arm back around her bump, her gestures pointed, as if she's daring Rachel to comment. Rachel doesn't. She sits down on the bench beside Quinn without asking.
"I know that you're used to school being totally amazing. Captain of the Cheerios, popularity through the roof, quarterback boyfriend. And it's hard to lose that. But you shouldn't worry about it."
Rachel's tone is matter-of-fact. Quinn's feet are pounding with pain, she was slushied after third period, and the remaining members of the Celibacy Club keep passing her in the hallway and scrunching up their noses like they smell something awful. She'd even gone into the bathroom to make sure she'd remembered deodorant this morning. So Rachel's easy voice hurts.
"Easy for you to say. High school always sucked for you. Everyone hated you already. They used to love me," she answers. She doesn't know what to do with all of the fear and anger she has now, sitting in her stomach along with the baby. Sometimes she gets scared it will hurt her daughter if she cries too much. She does have hours of peace, sometimes even full days, but this isn't one of them.
"It doesn't matter," Rachel says, shrugging it off. It's as if Quinn's joining of Glee Club made them friends, made her easier to forgive. "Because, Quinn, this is only four years. We'll have the rest of our lives after this. The people who slushy me now will one day be on Entertainment Tonight insisting that they were my best friend. It doesn't matter. We're getting out of Lima."
Rachel is great at assumptions, and most of the time Quinn would add the little phrase her dad used to say, back when he was talking to her - "Assumptions make an a-- donkeybutt out of you and me." But now Rachel is assuming that they'll get out of her, this nowhere town, and be somebody. Be someone worth talking about again.
"I want lasting fame. Not this temporary kind. So I just count down the days we still have," Rachel continues. She pulls a planner out of her bag and flips pages until today's. Under her math homework, she's written a number in purple gel pen.
"That's how many more days until we graduate," she says to Quinn. "And then our real lives begin."
"Yeah," Quinn manages to say, her voice breathy. "Who cares about high school? Whatever. After that we'll just be Facebook friends."
"I'll send you tickets to my first show," Rachel says warmly. The bell rings. "But first, biology. Do you want some help?"
Quinn struggles back to her feet on her own, but she does give Rachel a small smile as she does.
"I got it," she says, picking up her bag, and the smile lingers through the afternoon.