Find Me, Want Me, Remember Me
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from glee. You would know if I did.
AN: WHAT EVEN IS THIS. *hides*
"I knew I'd find you here."
Quinn barely looked up when Will spoke, busying herself with dropping her cigarette and grinding it into the earth with a steel capped boot.
"Come to join the skanks?" She asked scornfully, "I'd have thought that just being within a half mile of one would be too much dirt for your girlfriend."
"Don't." Was all he said, and she watched him with her frown furrowing deeper as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged, leaning heavily back against the bars behind him.
"Got any gum?" Quinn asked, less harshly this time, and even taking a tentative step towards him when he looked down at his shoes.
"You want some?"
"Erm… that's why I asked," she was taken aback that he grinned at her response.
"You really want some?"
"What the hell are you doing Schuester?" She asked bluntly, "And, before I forget to ask, what the hell is with the 'look at me and all my testosterone' act you've been parading around?"
He raised an eyebrow, expression still amused.
"Do you like it?" He asked lightly, flicking a cigarette butt away from beside his leg.
"Do I like it?" She repeated, incredulously.
He shrugged, loosening his tie and running a hand through his hair so that the perfect curls were disrupted into dishevelment.
"Look, Quinn- do you want some gum or not?"
"You make it sound as if I have to pass some sort of test to get you to give me a stick of gum."
He merely smiled, removing his tie completely and letting it hang, undone, around his neck.
"Will, I'm serious, do you have some gum, or do I have to try and find where I spat some out this morning?"
He made a retching noise at that, and she suppressed the urge to laugh.
"Jeez Quinn, that is disgusting!"
She tapped her foot irritably, glaring down at him.
"So- what you gunna do 'bout it? Run crying to your girlfriend?"
He growled, scrambling to his feet. "Don't Quinn," he muttered darkly, "I said don't."
She stared back at him, daringly, and they stood just a foot apart now, and his jaw was set in a firm line, his eyes hard and dark.
"If you're such a 'bad girl'- why don't you come get it?"
His voice was rough, something like anger burning through the space between them.
"Come and get what?" She returned, coolly. "You? Because you've made it pretty clear where that stands."
"Is that a nose ring?"
He had stepped forward, the tip of his forefinger flicking out to her nose as fiercely as he had flicked the cigarette butt away a moment earlier.
She barely flinched. "Yes. Though I'm surprised you didn't notice that already, with all the pathetic longing glances you've been sending my way."
He scowled. "Right. You really think I'd want you now, all dressed up like some failed hooker, with hair the colour of some tortured 'my little pony'."
"Ouch," Quinn said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hit me where it hurts, why don't you?"
He slammed his hand into his pants' pocket and pulled out a half packet of gum, half-throwing it at her shoulder.
It dropped to the ground.
"You should get that," she taunted, "Or it will go on your record… I think they have a check box for 'litterer' right below 'slept with a student'."
He seemed to falter for a second, but recovered quickly.
"Is that why you're doing all this?" He demanded, gesturing to her desperately, "Is it just another thing to cross off your list of regrets you have to have before you're 21? Teenage pregnancy? Seduce a teacher? Have a wild punk phase?"
"You say that like you think you're better than me, Will," she sneered, "Who are you trying to fool? Miss Pillsbury? Yourself? 'Cos you can't fucking fool me- I know exactly who you are- you're the same guy that sat with me for 4 hours watching back to back episodes of Gilmore Girls, and playing 'snog, marry, avoid' for members of the cast of F.R.I.E.N.D.S."
There was a pause.
"Did it hurt?"
"What?" She hissed, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. "When I fell from heaven?"
He laughed. "Yeah right. More like, when you fought through the fires of hell… I meant your nose ring- did it hurt to get it done?"
She dragged her eyes down his body and back to his face.
"Did you really grow some balls? I thought that was just a rumour?"
When he didn't rise to the bait, she continued. "Yeah it hurt a bit… you couldn't handle it."
"I don't think it's really my style," he said drily.
He suddenly dropped down, grabbing the packet of gum and deftly extracting two strips, taking one himself and holding out the other between his thumb and forefinger, his eyebrows waggling in question.
She smirked and tipped forward onto the balls of her feet to enable her to take the proffered gum between her teeth.
This time, when he sat cross legged on the ground once more, she sat down beside him, legs stretched out in front of her, chipping off black nail varnish with her thumb nail.
"So do they function? These new balls of yours?"
It had been so long since either of them had talked, her voice sounded abnormally loud in the still air.
"I wouldn't know." He replied heavily.
She turned away to hide the smug smile.
"You didn't make me pass a test to get gum off you," she reminded him after a while.
"Leave it," he warned, but half-heartedly.
She thought for a moment, then tried again.
"Did I tell you I dated a 40 year old skater?"
"You did what?"
His response was so immediate she couldn't stop the grin turning up the corners of her mouth, and when he caught her, he looked away, embarrassed.
"Do you think I would actually do that?" She questioned him, stretching her chewed gum out into a line before pushing it back into her mouth.
He watched her, his eyes burning through the layers of black eyeliner.
"Why wouldn't you?"
She scoffed. "Learnt my lesson… a few shags with you was enough to teach me older guys just aren't worth it."
"Bitch," he spat out, and her nostrils flared.
"Why do you believe everything I say?" She jeered, "I'm not your perfect girlfriend remember?"
"For fuck's sake Quinn would you shut up about that," he shouted.
Her eyes widened, but she swallowed a scathing remark.
There was a long silence.
"Do you remember those black lacy knickers with the tiny pink bows on?"
She brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her as he regarded her with a mixture of incredulity and suspicion.
"I'm wearing them right now," she commented flippantly.
"Am I supposed to be impressed."
She snorted. "No. If anything, I should be the one impressed… I seem to remember you taking them off with your teeth."
She didn't really know what kind of reaction from him she was looking for, but he didn't give her anything.
"Why did you come to find me anyway?"
She leant forward to reach for her bag, dragging it over by the handle, catching Will's attention with the bumping noise it made over the stones.
"You want some?"
He gave her a pointed look.
"Jack Daniels? Really?"
She rolled her eyes, "Don't even think about launching into your 'I thought you weren't all that keen on alcohol' speech mister, jeez, I can practically hear it forming in your curly head already."
"My curly head?" He snapped back, "Seriously? That's low, even for you, Quinn, real low."
She ignored him, unscrewing the cap and dropping it into the dirt, raising the bottle to take a large swig.
And when she offered it to him, he took it without a word, gasping as the liquid burned down his throat.
There was a sudden banging sound and Will froze rigid.
Quinn touched his arm gently. "It's okay, that's the janitor leaving, his car always backfires."
He shrank away from her touch, snatching the bottle back for another drink.
"Does that mean the school's all locked up?"
"No one around now," she added, casting a glance to him. "Just you and me."
He exhaled sharply, hissing again as he swallowed.
"Great," he said dully, "Now we can find out if my balls work."
She glared at him. "Don't be such a pussy, I'm not even attempting to touch you, I'm all the way over here."
He mumbled something that she didn't quite catch.
"What was that?"
"Maybe I want you to," he gritted out, fixing her with a dangerously dark look.
"Well shit," Quinn whispered conspiratorially, "Just when I decide I'm no longer looking for a man, you step up and decide to be one."
He gulped at the whiskey, taking a few deep breaths as he felt momentarily light-headed.
"Argue with me," he ordered, shifting to point his body towards her, and his tie was still just hanging loose around his neck, leaving the v of his open collar to show enticingly unmarked skin beneath it.
"I want that spark, that flare, that passion…"
She swirled a mouthful of Jack Daniels around, before swallowing it in one, gritting her teeth as it washed down.
"We don't have to argue to have that," she told him, even though he already knew it.
"Well let's do the other thing then," he countered.
She stared back at him, boldly, raising herself to her knees and using the bottle as a third leg to shuffle over to him.
He remained motionless, passive, just licking his lips only to taste the harsh tinge of alcohol combined with salt.
Twisting her mouth, her hands found stability by grasping his thighs, attempting to swig a mouthful as she knelt before him, their faces inches apart.
He gulped audibly, inhaling deeply, the smell of alcohol this time dominating over the stale smell of cigarettes and urine.
Her hot breath danced over his wet lips.
"Jeez, Will, you actually want me to kiss you," she teased, fingers finding the hard muscle of his shoulders to hold onto, allowing her to lean into him.
His mouth opened a little wider.
She laughed, a breathy laugh, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
But the touch of lips never came.
He struggled to his feet, stumbling and barely righting himself, tripping after her, catching her up and grasping her shoulder tightly, spinning her round.
She raised her eyebrows.
"Not here," she explained.
He took the bottle and drank a few mouthfuls steadily, barely wincing.
She spun back round, eyes narrowed.
"You're serious aren't you?"
He growled, something that sounded strangely like her name, and long fingers found purchase in black material, forcefully pulling her into him, lips finding hers with bruising intensity of need.
She hesitated only for her alcohol hazy reactions to catch up, opening her mouth to him, responding to the pliant push and pull of his lips with her hot tongue snaking out to meet his, a kiss that was nothing like their haunting memories, but in other ways was exactly the same.
The same way she weakened for more of him, the same way he steadied her and moaned for her, a sound a hundred times more potent with the intoxicating flavour of both substance and just the sense of desire that she hadn't tasted in so long.
She pushed him back, shoving the bottle to his heaving chest and dropping to the ground, fumbling about until she found a large rock, lifting it with both hands.
Will followed her, bewildered, as she approached the outside of the school, and threw the rock against the window, the pane fracturing and sliding to the ground with a loud smash.
"What the'll are you doing? You're gunna get us caught!"
"Think about it Will, when Figgins put Coach Sylvester in charge of the security budget, did you really expect there to be working cameras around the school?"
"You're fucking hot," he said darkly, his eyes flicking between her and the broken window.
She smirked in the half light.
"How about your office?" She suggested, in a sing song voice.
He groaned loudly.
"I'll wear your tie," she purred.
He pushed past her, sloppily rolling his sleeves up and only just ducking his head in time to fit through the jagged space.
Quinn tumbled after him, laughing uproariously, a sound that was not quite alien to her ears.
It was deathly quiet inside, long shadows cast across the linoleum floor, their footsteps strangely loud and echoing all around.
She leant against him then, and he pulled her into a fast spin, dipping her and nearly dropping her before hauling her to her feet again, their chests pressed against each other, hearts beating out of synch.
"Kiss me," he ordered, "Kiss me like you want it to go further. Kiss me like you don't want to stop and go to work."
Quinn grimaced, holding onto him with a vice-like grip.
"It's going further whether you like it or not," she warned him, fisting his shirt at the shoulders to angle his head down to hers. "You're not running away now. You can't run away from me."
He nudged her nose with his, dark smouldering eyes imploring her, probing her for information she wanted to give, only she didn't know what it was.
She tugged on either end of his tie, draped over his shoulders, and kissed his mouth wetly, deeply, a kiss full of heat and regrets that weren't really regrets at all.
She would never regret him.
His hand was clammy when she clasped it in hers, and they ran down the corridor, Will forcing her to stop at intervals to take sips of whisky and tastes of her mouth.
His office was somehow quieter, too tidy and oppressive. Shelves of neatly labelled ring binders watching them. Silently judging them.
Will closed his eyes and tugged Quinn to him, so close they were nothing but a tangle of too many limbs, some sort of nonsensical no start and no finish creature.
"You're not a skank Quinn," he informed her, fingers slurring as they tried to figure out her belt buckle.
"Shut up," she bit back. "Stop talking."
He pushed her away, fumbling over his buttons and beaming at her as she pulled the black dress over her head and dropped it ceremoniously on the floor.
He clucked, exasperated, as his fingers failed to understand the need for haste, and Quinn chuckled softly, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him like she'd never even stopped kissing him, before deftly undoing the remaining buttons, pushing the shirt off over his shoulders and letting it float out of her reach.
He fell upon her with kisses, her instantaneous reciprocation feeding his rapidly building appetite. And he was hungry for her.
His hands revelled in the smoothness of her skin, the dips and curves of her body humming under his touch.
She moaned as his fingers sought the gathering wet heat between her legs, curling around her underwear.
His forehead rested against hers as he turned his eyes down, stumbling over words as he breathed heavily.
"I like these ones," he mumbled. "Yeah, I remember I like these ones."
She smiled against his lips, fingertips exploring the hard plains of his abdomen as she scraped his undershirt upwards.
"I wear them for you," she whispered, tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "Even if you can't see them I wear them for you… and I imagine that you can see them."
"Don't," he stuttered, falling backwards to wrench his t shirt off over his head and crash into her again, willing the ability to be in contact with her body, just… everywhere. "You… no, don't do that."
"Don't tell me what to do," she spun back at him, already mapping out the expanse of bare torso pushing against her, taught and ready.
He chuckled, and holding her firmly at her sides, he walked them backwards, unknowingly seeking the cool metal of the side of the filing cabinet, that had Quinn gasping as he squashed her hot skin to it.
He kissed her, long and hard, tongue languorously exploring her mouth.
When he pulled away, panting for air, Quinn pressed the heel of her hand to his chest, between his pectorals, and pushed him lazily, leaving room for her to arch gracefully against the filing cabinet, twisting one arm behind her back to unclip her bra, shimmying out of it and slumping back again, eyes bright and expectant as they reflected to blue light from outside.
He tore angrily at his zipper, sinking forward as her spread hands sought her own breasts, watching her for a prolonged moment before flapping her away and lowering his eager wet mouth to favour her aching nipples, swirling them into hard peaks.
Writhing, she buried fingers into his hair, yanking to bring his mouth to hers again.
"I want you," she told him fiercely, "I want you now."
He kissed her heatedly, and there was nothing out there in the world bad enough to offset how good it felt to be in his arms again, to be loved by him again.
"Tell me again," he demanded, licking and sucking at her neck, tasting salt and cigarettes and the tang of a perfume he used to know.
"I want you," she hissed, "More of you, all of you... God I want you…"
They were kissing again, as Will somehow managed to rid himself of his pants and boxers, not bothering to step out of them and just brokenly hopping forward with his ankles bound, hands massaging and caressing all the places he once knew where to find.
Fuck it. He always knew where to find them.
One hand dipped again towards her throbbing core, scrabbling to take her underwear out of the way, before hurriedly pushing two fingers inside her, groaning and stumbling as he struggled to lift her up to be angled just right.
His fingers bruised the tops of her thighs as he lifted her, and Quinn fought against a swirling fog to find some sort of grip on his slippery skin, curling her legs around his thighs and sucking hard on his neck, desperate to blemish the sensitive skin there.
She bucked into his hand, wantonly moaning and forcing her head back against the filing cabinet.
He followed her back, kissing her with brutal, needy kisses, his urgency met with the increased speed of his plunging fingers.
"Yes-Will-yes-Will-yes," she gasped, and every muscle quivered as she arched into him, wishing she could be closer, screwing her eyes shut as she fell apart only for him to be there holding her together, grinding hard against her and searching for her mouth with messy open kisses.
They both moaned loudly, filling the room with harsh frantic breaths as Will, his hands shaking as he fought to maintain his grip on Quinn, smoothly sheathed himself inside her.
"You feel so good," he grunted, rolling his hips gently, causing her to cry out his name and dig her nails deeper into his back.
"So good," she echoed. "Will."
She needed this, she couldn't really remember where she was, or how she'd got there, but she remembered, oh how she remembered, exactly how full and perfect this felt.
They both needed this.
The both remembered just how tightly he held on to her, how they instinctively found such a seamless rhythm, hips slapping together, and barely managing to function as far as to kiss with stuttering breathless kisses.
Will felt his legs weakening beneath him, the pace increasing as he drove harder and deeper with every stroke.
With a final surge of strength, he carried Quinn over to his desk, tripping out of his pants and miraculously managing not to fall.
Quinn whimpered, her hands tightening on his shoulders as she stood on her own, empty without him, as he madly swept everything off the desk and onto the floor with a flurry of fluttering paper and a satisfying series of crashes as everything fell down.
The photo in the frame of him and Emma fell face down so he couldn't see if it had broken.
He couldn't see much anyway, just the way the shadows danced over Quinn's beautiful naked body, as she scrambled up onto the desk, lying out for him, wanting him, wanting him.
He was on top of her, inside her, all over her, whispering lies and truths and her name as his fingers and tongue traced words that were nonsense because they shouldn't make so much sense.
At some point, the hard wood just wasn't enough, and they were on the floor, and she was under him, completely at his mercy and she wanted him and…
And there were gasps and stuttered names and a final discordant harmony.
And then there was darkness.
"Come back to glee?" he asked the darkness.
The darkness laughed back.
He laughed too.
"You choose me and I'll come back," she yawned, fingertips searching for a hold on him, meshing in sweaty skin over curves of satiated muscle.
She laughed again, forced laughter that hurt her throat and her heart. But this time there was no reply.
A bottle of Jack lay on the floor beside them.
She woke up the next morning while the sun was still rising, spread eagled on Will's jacket, face down and arms folded as a pillow for her pounding head.
Will was awake, and maybe he'd never actually gone to sleep, he was curled around her, somewhat protectively, his hands caressing her soft, warm skin.
"Why have you got a Ryan Seacrest tattoo on your lower back?" he asked lowly, tracing around it lazily, before pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder blade.
She scoffed. "I didn't have a photo of you with me," she sent back, rolling away from him, propping herself up on her elbow to face him.
"But you did have one of Ryan Seacrest?" He asked, disbelieving.
That question left him stumped, and he instead roughly grabbed his wrists and pulled her to him, crushing his lips to hers for a hard, insistent kiss.
She was the one who pulled away, and he stared at her for a moment, her face bathed in the striped light through the blinds.
He didn't stop her getting up, rolled onto his back and watched her dress, one item at a time, last of all her boots.
He didn't stop her leaving, almost as if he knew she'd stop at the door, and turn round to him.
"I'll be behind the bleachers."
It was a statement, not strictly an invitation, but he saw it there all the same.
"I know. I'll find you."
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