?

Log in

Previous Entry | Next Entry

FIC: Be Your Downfall (1/2)

Title: Be Your Downfall (1/2)
Authors: kben 
Rating: R
Character/Pairing: Quinn Fabray; Quinntana (and some quick Quick)
Word Count: 3440 (9300 total)
Spoilers: New York
Summary: Quinn has an addiction. It’s just not the one everyone assumed she would have.
Notes: This is something that came to mind one night and just wouldn’t leave me alone. The idea of Quinn as a sex addict makes so much sense to me. On top of that, watching her try to eventually maintain a functional relationship sounds like an amazing, fucked up, angsty, heartbreaking journey. So, let’s take it, shall we?

Part One | Part Two



“As you know, this is our introductory session so I can assess a few things and then we can go from there, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve done therapy before.”

“Have you?”

“When my parents split up.”

“When was that?”

“Uh, the summer between sophomore and junior year. My dad cheated on my mom.”

“Do you feel that impacted you in any way?”

“Not really. I wasn’t living at home when it happened.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

“My mom. I mean, I guess I was closer to my dad when I was a kid, but that stopped.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“A lot of reasons.”

“Any of them stand out more than the others?”

“He kicked me out of the house when I was sixteen. But we weren’t really close for a while before that.”

“What was his reasoning?”

“He couldn’t stand to look at his knocked up little girl, I guess.”

“So, you were pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“How long had you been sexually active before the pregnancy?”

“I wasn’t. Other than when I got pregnant.”

“That was your first sexual experience.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t sound entirely positive.”

“My two best friends and I used to... do stuff. But not sex or anything.”

“But it was enough to make you consider it a sexual experience?”

“We just made out sometimes. I didn’t really do that much, because I wasn’t as into it as they were.”

“Were they involved with each other?”

“Kind of. They were weird about it.”

“In what way?”

“They never actually dated, but San was really into Britt for a long time.”

“I see. Did you feel you were excluded from anything?”

“Why, because they were all over each other all the time?”

“That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“Yeah, it sucked watching them be all in love with each other, sometimes. And I had my own boyfriend, but I couldn’t really get it on with him at a girl’s night sleepover.”

“Were they sexually active in front of you?”

“Sometimes, but it was always when they thought I was asleep.”

“But you were awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And aware of the situation.”

“The sounds Santana makes, it’s kind of hard to miss.”

“But you let them believe you were unaware.”

“I guess.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t really tell my friends to stop doing it. They would have been mad at me.”

“Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes... at first. Then I just got used to it.”

“Tell me about the encounter that let to your pregnancy.”

“I was stupid and feeling lonely and worthless, so I slept with my boyfriend’s best friend.”

“And how did you feel afterward?”

“Like crap. I just wanted to forget about it. Everything about it just seemed stupid.”

“Given the reason why you’re here, am I correct to assume that your opinion on sex has changed?”

“Yeah, but it has nothing to do with Puck.”

“At this point in your life, what is it about sex that appeals to you?”

“I’m in control, I know how to get off, and it makes me forget about all of life’s bullshit while I’m doing it.”

“Do you think the pregnancy was a result of loss of control?”

“The pregnancy was the result of believing a dumbass guy when he told me to trust him.”

“Do you sleep with men or women?”

“Both.”

“Do you want relationships with any of them?”

“Sometimes.”

“When was your last relationship?”

“I fucked up the best one I’ve ever had a few weeks ago.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

“Yeah. It’s exactly why I’m here.”


-

They’re just shy of sloppy drunk, though they’re sloppy enough to not be shy about much of anything. Which is standard for Santana, but not so much for Quinn.

It’s been almost a year since Nationals in New York and they’ve been so good at being friends, it’s ridiculous. Okay, they weren’t trading lockets or getting BFF tattoos or anything, but they were closer than ever.

“You,” Santana says, digging her index finger into Quinn’s chest. “Are a lightweight.”

“No. No, I’m not. I had so many of those Jello shots.” She slaps the hand away, but grabs Santana’s arm.

The party was at Puck’s and they’ve made the eight block trek back to Santana’s house, on foot, in heels. Well, Santana’s in heels, Quinn’s technically in wedges. Whatever the case, it’s a small miracle.

“Hold on, I need my keys.” Santana fumbles with her purse, then pulls out a huge wad of key rings.

Something within the collection begins to make a mooing sound, which strikes Quinn as absolutely hilarious. “What is that?” she giggles.

“It’s a fucking cow, you pre-school drop-out.” There’s another moo and a jangling of the assortment before the door’s actually unlocked.

“I graduated from pre-school, asshole.”

“Then you should know your farm animals.”

The door shuts and shoes come off before the girls amble upstairs to Santana’s bedroom. Quinn already has her overnight bag stashed in the corner because they knew getting wasted was on the agenda. She sheds her dress before even unzipping the duffel.

“Damn, Q.”

“What?”

“I knew volleyball set you up with some nice guns, but the rest of you’s looking damn good.”

Quinn glances over her shoulder. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Maybe.” Santana’s stretched out on her bed, blouse off, skirt still on. “We should try it, again.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” But she’s already thinking about it.

“Last time wasn’t bad. You were just new.”

Last time had been after Finn’s St. Patrick’s Day party. They’d been just about as drunk (if not more) and determined that making out would be a fantastic idea. That then led to a round of awkward inebriated sex and it took three days for Quinn to even talk to Santana, again.

The duffel bag is abandoned as Quinn turns all the way around and kneels next to the bed. “Why are you so hot for me?”

“Shut up, you want some of this.”

“Admit you want to tap this and I’ll consider it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as an admission.”

It takes another round of banter, but Santana’s comes off and Quinn ends up with a pair of very tan, very strong legs wrapped around her head. She barely has time to feel accomplished at completely undoing her best friend, because she ends up on her back with Santana’s mouth all over her and two very dexterous fingers making her feel things she’s never felt before. The last time they did this, she’d been “pretty sure” she’d gotten off. This time, there’s no mistaking it.

“Jesus, did you black out or what?”

“Huh? No, I just...” she barely has any energy to talk. “Gimme a sec.”

“I didn’t even know you knew half those words, Jesus Freak.”

“Why, what did I say?” she remembers swearing a little, but not really the specifics.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” Santana rubs a hand over Quinn’s already mussed hair. “Now move, I’m not sleeping in the wet spot.”

Lying there with Santana at her back, Quinn feels something she hasn’t felt, like, ever. She’s sated, she’s content, she’s wanted. Even if it’s just for a moment.

A moment she spends the next three years trying to recapture.

-

2

“I’d like to talk more about your parents.”

“They didn’t do stuff to me, if that’s what you want to know.”

“So, you never felt there was any inappropriate contact from either of them?”

“Nope.”

“Care to expand on anything?”

“Not really.”

“All right. Is there any history of addiction in your family?”

“Drinking. My parents were always drinking.”

“Do you mean socially or consistently within the home?”

“Both.”

“Have either of them received treatment?”

“You mean other than the mighty power of prayer?”

“I mean professionally.”

“I don’t think so. Mom hasn’t. I don’t really speak to my father.”

“Since the divorce, correct?”

“Since he kicked me out.”

“You’ve had no contact with him since that day?”

“I’ve seen him around town. And I had to go a custody hearing. But that’s really it.”

“What was the result of the hearing?”

“I was already seventeen and he didn’t want anything to do with me, so Mom was pretty much uncontested.”

“Then you lived with your mother through the duration of high school?”

“Yes.”

“What was that like?”

“A lot like life before my dad moved out, except I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit all the time.”

“Meaning?”

“He wasn’t really around a lot in the first place.”

“But you were close when you were younger.”

“As a kid, yeah. But that changed after middle school.”

“Is there anything about that time period that you think attributed to that?”

“Plenty.”

“Any examples?”

“Uh, I got a nose job--”

“--I’m sorry, this was in middle school?”

“Yeah.”

“Please, continue.”

“I was this gross kid nobody liked, so I took control and asked him for the nose job.”

“And he complied?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you feel you gained by getting the surgery?”

“Confidence. It wasn’t just the nose job. I learned to eat better and got into sports and dance and stuff.”

“Do you feel you could have made the same accomplishments without the nose job?”

“No. I mean, maybe I guess.”

“How much value do you place on your physical appearance?”

“It gets me whatever I want. So... a lot.”

“In what way?”

“All ways. Like, in high school, I wouldn’t have made head cheerleader if I was the same awkward kid I was in middle school.”

“But you also said you found an interest in sports around that time, too. Don’t you think that also contributed?”

“Yeah, but it’s all part of the same thing to me.”

“Do you equate your early social success with appearance?”

“Uh, yeah.”


-

“Tell me, again.”

“You’re so hot, babe.”

She’s on top of him in the bed of Puck’s beast of a truck, out in the middle of nowhere. It’s sometime between one and two in the morning and this is the result of a text messaging conversation that took an unexpected turn.

It’s August and she leaves for OSU in two days. They had one previous tryst earlier in the summer when they were both depressed about Beth and traded handjobs in the cab of the truck while parked behind the 7-11. That was all the contact she allowed because she definitely didn’t want a repeat of the last time they hooked up. Now, though, she’s on the pill (Santana drove her to Planned Parenthood herself and said it was a prerequisite before heading off to college) and she even watched Puck open a brand new box of LifeStyles before assisting him with the application of the condom.

The best thing about sex with Puck, she decides, is that he always tells her exactly what she wants to hear.

“My name... use my name.”

“Quinn. You’re fucking hot.”

He’s also not afraid to let her have control, which is why she’s working the cowgirl position to her full advantage. Her hands brace against his chest as she comes and he’s right behind her, grunting as his strong grip on her hips holds her tightly against him.

She collapses on top of him, letting his arms wrap around her. He smells a little bit like cigarettes and a lot like Old Spice body wash. His pants are down around his ankles and his shirt’s somewhere, hers is still on but otherwise she’s undressed.

“Coulda been doing that for a long time, Q.”

“Yeah, your girlfriend would have loved that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Wouldn’t have worked.”

“I guess.”

“Would you just shut up and hold me for a minute?”

He does. For the whole twelve minutes they lie there under the stars, she feels invincible.

-

“You what?”

“Slept with Puck.”

“That is so insane. Fuck, Q. Like, why?”

Santana’s laughing at her. Quinn just shrugs. “We were talking. I’m leaving. It just seemed like a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you didn’t make another kid.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“You’re a slut.”

“I’ve had sex with two people. I hardly qualify. Unlike others I know.”

They haven’t hooked up since that night after the party. Even though the morning after was significantly less awkward, they both decided it was fun, but not worth their friendship.

“Yeah, but... Puck?”

“Shut up. You’ve been there so many times.”

“Yeah, and then I realized I was such a homo.”

“Whatever. He’s always been a good guy to me. And he tells me I’m pretty.”

“Telling a girl she’s ‘totally fuckable’ isn’t the same.”

“That’s not what he says to me.”

“Oh, ew. Are you in love?”

“No! God, no.”

“Good, because it’s one thing to get off with the guy, but you’re so beyond him. Have you seen his credit score?”

“Is that what it takes to get close to you?”

“Yeah. Plus a great rack and a rockin’ bod. Too bad you’re only two for three.”

“I’m beside myself.”

“Hey, Q? Can I ask you something?”

Santana rarely ever asks permission for anything. “Uh, yeah.”

“Do you think you’re, like, bi or whatever?”

She doesn’t answer right away, because she’s not really sure. What she hasn’t told Santana is that she definitely had a crush on Rachel through just about all of high school. But she figured that was just some weird repressed Christian shit. In light of the question, it was starting to make sense. “I... maybe?”

“Well, if you get to college and decide you’re going to get in there with the ladies, just don’t expect them all to blow your mind like I did. I’m really good at what I do.”

“Whatever. What makes you even think my mind was blown?”

“Uh, I don’t know. You screaming my name, repeatedly?”

“There was no screaming.”

“There was totally screaming.”

-

3

“Tell me about college.”

“Okay, uh... just... like, all of it?”

“Start at the beginning.”

“I got into OSU on partial academic scholarship. I pledged and was initiated to Tri Delta, which made my mom really happy.”

“Was she part of the same sorority?”

“No. She was Kappa Kappa Gamma. Or she still is, maybe. They have reunions.”

“How did you enjoy Greek Life?”

“I loved it. Parties, events, being important on campus.”

‘So, again, the focus was on your social status.”

“Of course.”

“Are you still a member?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It was... suggested I not return after the fall semester of sophomore year.”

“Suggested?”

“They didn’t want to publicly kick me out.”

“Why did they want to remove you?”

“Well... so there’s this joke around campus that suggests the Tri Delta girls will try anything...”

“Were you involved with one of your sorority sisters?”

“A few, yeah. But it wasn’t just me.”

“This was a common practice within the house?”

“Kind of. Like, at parties and stuff. Usually just to get attention from the guys. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Then what led to your ejection from the sorority?”


-

“You what?”

“I had a threesome with Kari and her boyfriend.”

“Isn’t she like the... queen or whatever?”

“The chapter president, yeah.”

Santana shakes her head as she jabs at her salad with her fork. “You’ve got balls, Q.”

“Actually, I think it was the lack of them that got me wrangled into it.”

They do lunch a three times a week between classes and it’s the only consistent contact they have. Sometimes they end up at the same parties, but they run in such different circles that it’s rare. They tried harder during freshman year, but it all ended up feeling like more like an obligation rather than just hanging out. This year, though, their Monday/Wednesday/Friday classes aligned just right for a decent window of time for girl talk and catching up.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Quinn asks, picking the bacon off her BLT and eating it before abandoning the rest of the sandwich.

“Nothing. My parents are going to Bermuda.”

“Come to my house. You know my mom’s making a killer turkey.”

“Can I just marry Judy?”

“Stop.”

“Oh, shut up. You can sleep with your entire sorority house and half the brother fraternity, but I can’t fantasize about an older woman who know how to handle her meats?”

Santana has a point. Since Quinn’s started college, she’s upped her number of sexual partners from two, to twenty-two. Whatever, though. That’s less than two per month and she knows guys who manage four times that.

“Are you really lecturing me about sex?”

“No, I was just stating a fact.” Santana drops the plastic fork into the bowl and pushes it aside. “You are, like, being safe and stuff, right?”

“Really? Is this a conversation we’re having?”

“I just worry about you, Q.”

“I’m fine.”

They sit in silence until Santana sighs and says, “My roommate’s totally obsessed with watching Dateline or whatever and there was this one about date rape drugs and Greek Life and I just don’t want my best friend to be some stupid headline story.”

“San. I’m careful, okay? I don’t even really drink that much. I just like people.”

“And sex.”

“And sex.”

“Whatever, okay. I can respect that.”

“Come to Thanksgiving. I’ll even let you hit on my mom, as long as I’m not in the room.”

“Careful, Fabray. I’ve been single for a while, I might be in the market for a Sugar Mama.”

-

Thanksgiving dinner actually manages to pass without any major embarrassments, though Quinn does notice that Santana’s repeatedly compliments Judy’s cooking. After dinner, dessert, and dishes, her sister and husband head home, and the two friends are left with a bottle of Merlot that was uncorked during dinner (but everyone seemed to favor the Chardonnay).

“If I drink any more, I won’t be able to get home.” Santana’s on one end of the couch, somewhat crumpled in to the corner by the arm.

“You’re staying here,” Quinn answers as she pours a glass and passes it to Santana.

“Is your mom making breakfast?”

“Probably.”

“Sweet.”

They work their way through the bottle and by the time it’s empty, they’re upstairs in Quinn’s room, sprawled on the floor and flipping though a stack of outdated Teen Vogue magazines they found in the closet.

“Ew. Okay, Quinn Fabray. Tell me, right now, why you have this outfit circled.” Santana holds up the page, even though Quinn’s right next to her.

“I don’t know, I liked it.”

“It looks like something Berry would we-- Wait. Fuck, no. Tell me you weren’t into that.”

“What, knee socks and flats?”

“Rachel.”

“Maybe I was.”

“Gross.”

“You know what? She was kind of hot, in a weird, librarian kind of way.”

“You so wanted to dive right into that.”

“And what, you wouldn’t have?”

“I wouldn’t admit it.”

“Only you kind of just totally did.”

Santana slams the magazine shut and tosses it aside. “Okay, I totally walked in on her doing vocal warm ups on time and she was doing all this crazy shit with her mouth and her tongue and... yeah. I’ve thought about it.”

Quinn smirks and reaches for her phone. “You think she’s in town? Maybe we can call her.”

“I know you just recently discovered the beauty of the threesome, Q, but it’s not really appropriate for all occasions.”

“I don’t even think I have her number, anyway. Too bad. Guess we’re stuck with the traditional twosome.”

“Are you suggesting you want to fuck, Fabray?” Santana’s up on one arm, eyeing her friend.

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” Quinn’s bottom lip tucks between her teeth.

They don’t even bother to try for the bed. Quinn ends up with rug burn on both elbows while Santana’s awarded a patch of the stuff on her back.

“That’s gonna suck tomorrow,” Santana says, wincing as she climbs under the covers.

Quinn shrugs. “Worth it.” She kisses Santana’s shoulder and carefully relaxes against her back, aware of the area of skin that’s rubbed raw. This kind of stuff doesn’t usually happen with her encounters at school. Even in the sorority house, it’s a bad idea to linger in each other’s beds (if they’re even near one in the first place).

Of course, after Winter Break, that won’t even be an issue, because she’ll be caught fucking Kari Johnson’s boyfriend in the second floor bathroom during the annual Non-Denominational Holiday party and that will be the end of her sorority career.


Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
docebarbara
Jul. 9th, 2011 10:13 pm (UTC)
I just loved it. I'm your fan, you know... lol.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

Profile

faberry_R+Q by acidic_ram3n
kben
Ninja Fangirl

Latest Month

November 2011
S M T W T F S
  12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930   

Tags

Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow