Re-uploaded since it was removed by admin and I've had a few requests for it to be put back up. And its also being published again since it will be eventually getting a part two.


(Written for Quinntana Week 2012 back in March)

Day 2: HBIC Cheerios!Santana/Pink Hair Skanks!Quinn

Note: As this is an AU story, just for the sake of fiction Quinn is an exaggerated version of who she was in The Purple Piano Project and I Am Unicorn.


She picked absently at her nails, the black polish flaking off in the corners as the woman clicked away on her keyboard. She was sitting in an uncomfortable upholstered chair across from her, those beady eyes looking up from the screen and taking in her appearance. They flicked over her pink hair and nose ring, then down to her leather jacket and her worn combat boots, a look of unease coming across her squat face as she continued to type.

It was the same at every school. Teachers and students would judge her on her appearance, and not even take the time to get to know her. The old administration workers would clutch at their pearls and look at her in disgust, already deciding on what kind of girl she was before she even opened her mouth. But most of the time their assumptions were correct, and Quinn didn't care one single bit. One day she just grew tired of pleasing everyone else, and she wasn't about to apologise for that. So she just smirked at her and flicked her tongue crudely against her teeth, watching as the woman pursed her lips and averted her eyes.

They're so easy.

She turned her gaze to the right and leant back, a man in a sweater vest pacing back and forth in the next office. He was waving his hands in the air and then jabbing them out toward the hall without turning around. He seemed angry, but the darker man behind the desk just sat back and rolled his eyes. She couldn't hear what was being said, but it seemed like the Principal had heard it all before and wasn't paying this guy any mind whatsoever.

After a moment the man turned on his heel and pushed through the glass door, storming out into the crowded hall. Quinn laughed softly to herself and looked back to the woman behind her desk. She was up out of her chair with her back to Quinn as the printer went off in the corner. The woman grabbed the fresh sheet of paper and sat down with a tight smile.

"Okay, here is your timetable," she said in a clipped tone, passing it to her. "You're due in Geometry now with Ms. Bletheim, I've marked down the room on your map."

Quinn simply nodded and took the offered pages from her outstretched hand. She slung her black satchel over her shoulder and turned to leave. The sound of incoherent chatter met her ears as she swung the door wide, people pushing past her in a flurry of varsity jackets and pom poms.

"Welcome to McKinley High, Miss Fabray."


She leant against the cubicle door and slowly exhaled the white smoke. It swirled in front of her, before joining the haze that had settled above her head. Quinn brought her dying cigarette back to her lips, taking another satisfying drag. The bathroom was completely empty, most of the students already in class, or on their way there. She could hear the stragglers catcalling from the hall, and the squeak of their sneakers against the linoleum.

She flicked her metal lighter back and forth, the sound echoing off the tiles. It probably wasn't the best idea to be in here smoking on her first day considering it was the reason she was expelled from her first school. But she was never one to learn from her mistakes as it got her kicked out of the next two after that as well. The last time had actually made the local paper, even though Quinn thought the situation had been blown completely out of proportion.

She'd just been playing with her lighter in her fifth period Biology class, watching the small flame as it flickered in the air before her. She'd already completed the work written in messy scrawl on the whiteboard when some snotty brownnoser turned around in her chair and accused her of trying to start a fire in the science lab. From there she was rushed straight to the Principal's office. Her parents were called, the guidance counselor was brought in; Quinn was surprised they didn't call the Fire Department on her.

Such bullshit.

Quinn heard the squeak of the bathroom door swinging open and the pretentious click of heels across the tiles. Stubbing out her cigarette on the cubicle wall, Quinn slid the lock open and stepped out. She was met with a short girl with brown shoulder-length hair and a questionable fashion sense. She had her back to Quinn as she reapplied her lip-gloss and straightened her fringe. The girl caught a glimpse of her in the reflection, her eyes going wide. Spinning around, she looked Quinn up and down with apprehension, her gaze landing on the cigarette butt between her fingertips.

"Hey, you can't do that in here," she reprimanded, her brow furrowing.

Quinn just smiled at her and took a step closer, the brunette stiffening and backing up further against the sink. Quinn could tell she was frightened by the way those wide brown eyes weren't quite meeting hazel. Her grin grew just that much more as she moved even closer, watching as the girl's hands gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white. She was only a foot away from her when she flicked the butt into the wastebasket near the door. Quinn didn't take her eyes off her as she leant in, feeling the small puffs of air hit her skin.

"Bite me, Dwarf," she husked against the girl's quivering lips, before grabbing her satchel and walking out the door. She could hear the girl let out an exaggerated breath before it swung shut behind her. She didn't usually take pleasure in intimidating people, but when they blatantly judged her like that girl was and the office lady before that, something in Quinn just snapped.

She wandered slowly down the hall, her thick soles echoing against the polished floors. Girls in cheerleading uniforms side eyed her as she passed, Quinn watching them walk a little faster to their first class. She'd always had a problem with those kinds of girls with their perfect hair and tiny polyester outfits. Boys fawned over them and all the other girls wanted to be them; it made Quinn sick. All they cared about was popularity and what other people thought. They were walking personifications of everything she hated.

Fucking sheep.

When she reached Geometry, the elderly teacher was scribbling on the whiteboard, her students flicking paper across the room and chatting lowly amongst themselves. But as soon as she came into view the whole room went dead silent, twenty-five pairs of eyes trained on her. The sudden shift had Ms. Bletheim swiveling around to see who, or what had caused the change. She looked her up and down with a tightlipped smile, before crossing to her desk.

"You must be Quinn Fabray, correct?" she asked, slipping her glasses onto her nose and reading off a sheet of paper that sat next to her computer. Quinn just eyed her with a raised brow in response. "Well, why don't you introduce yourself, young lady?"

"Think you just stole my thunder there, Miss."

A low snickering went round the classroom, the teacher just scoffing at her and letting her glasses fall back to her neck. From the corner of her eye Quinn noticed another cheerleader staring at her in mild disgust. She could tell just by looking at her that she was the captain; being at four different high schools in two years had taught her a thing or two. But even with the sneer on her lips, Quinn's mouth went slightly dry, the girl faltering when those dark eyes met hers.

Well, maybe I don't hate all of them.

"Just sit down, Miss Fabray," Ms. Bletheim chastised, jabbing her finger to a spare desk a row back from the brunette.

Quinn just smiled at her new teacher, and paced down the aisle. She kept her gaze on the girl as she passed by her desk, her brown eyes following her with a furrowed brow and a grimace on her lips. Quinn sat down in the empty seat, her chair screeching against the floor. She watched as a Jock sporting a Mohawk and a smarmy grin leaned into her, and pulled down his letterman jacket that was slung over her slight shoulders. She seemed disinterest in his advances as he began kissing along her neck. With a huff, she elbowed him in the chest and continued to file her nails.

Wow, that's just cruel.

"Santana, for the last time, no PDA in my classroom," Ms. Bletheim called from the front, her back still to the class. "I'm not going to tell you again."

"But Ms. B," she exclaimed.

"I don't want to hear it, Miss Lopez," she dismissed in a flat tone, writing another equation on the whiteboard. The boy just chuckled and went back to his work. Santana turned and punched him in the shoulder which only made him laugh harder.

"Ass," she hissed.

Quinn continued to look at them, not even bothering to get out her textbook, or be subtle about her leering. She was beautiful; there was no denying that. But something told Quinn that the girl knew it and played it to her advantage, especially when it came to the opposite sex. Which in turn made her like every other cheer bitch she'd ever met.

Time for a little fun, I think.

The boy was still laughing quietly to himself when Santana noticed her staring. She turned on her with her eyes narrowed into slits, those perfect lips turned down at corners. "Problem?" she spat.

"No, no problem," Quinn told her innocently, before a smirk crossed her lips. "It's just, has anyone ever told you how fuckable you look when you're angry?"

Santana's jaw dropped open. Quinn was leant forward on her wooden desk, a few of their surrounding peers looking on in shock. She was starting to get the impression that not many people would dare talk to her, or treat her like anything other than royalty. This was only further proven by the look on her boy toy's face. He was covering his mouth with his closed fist, trying to stifle his snicker as Quinn just chuckled at her. Santana swallowed thickly, before rolling her eyes and facing the front.

My day just got a whole lot more interesting.


The fumes from the black marker in her hand were making her slightly light-headed. She was dragging it across the metal door of her locker, creating flowing loops as she wrote on the cold surface. People stared at her as they passed, the bell signify end of lunch sounding only moments ago. With a satisfied grin, she clicked the lid back on and threw the pen amongst her books, admiring her handy work.

After a minute she shoved her hand into the front of her bag and pulled out a photo, clipping it under a magnet on the back wall. She looked at the girls in the worn black and white picture, thinking back to when it was taken. It seemed like it was years ago, or perhaps just from another life. It was of her and a girl named Mack from her last school. They had their arms around each other, Quinn's lips pressed to her cheek as the brunette grinned at the camera in her outstretched hand. A slight ache began in her chest at the memory, the corners of her eyes stinging. She took a breath and slammed the locker closed, a few freshmen jumping out of the way.

It was then that Quinn saw Santana coming towards her down the other end of the hall. She locked eyes with her briefly, the cheerleader just shaking her head in irritation, before disappearing into a classroom to her right. Quinn shouldered her bag and glanced down at her timetable in her hand, then back up to the sign on the side of the door.

"Science Lab 1," she read, and looked back down at the small colored square on her piece of paper. "Science Lab 1."

Perfect.

Quinn clicked the lock closed and wandered off toward the room. It was dark inside, the overhead lights switched off as the teacher wheeled in a TV. She skimmed the black benches, spotting Santana up the very back. She smiled to herself, the seat next to her conveniently empty. She was filing her nails again in a bored manner, not paying any attention to what was happening around her. She had her legs crossed at the ankles as Quinn approached her, sitting down on the spare stool. If it wasn't for the chair skipping across the cold concrete the girl mightn't have noticed her presence. But when the sharp sound met her ears, her head snapped up to Quinn, her eyes instantly rolling.

"Can I help you?"

Her tone was very hostile as she continued to stare at her nails. But Quinn didn't flinch, swinging her bag onto the tabletop and settling in. She watched the brunette's ministrations with a grin as her fingers brushed the outline of her metal lighter in the pocket of her leather jacket.

"No," Quinn breathed after a beat, leaning her elbow on the bench top.

By this time their teacher had plugged in the TV and was now fiddling with the DVD player at the front of the class. He was straining as he bent over with his back to them, nothing but static playing on the small screen. The piercing scratch filled the crowded room, numbing all the chatter from the students at the other tables.

Quinn's gaze stayed fixed on Santana, those dark eyes flicking up to her every few seconds. The girl's features were set in a hard line, Quinn leaning in and getting in her space. Santana ignored her for the most part, only shaking her head in annoyance every so often when their eyes would meet. And for a moment Quinn wondered just how far she could push the girl until she snapped, almost able to see the wires that were holding her together.

This girl is so high strung.

"So, that boy in Geometry," Quinn said in low voice. "The one with the ferret on his head." Santana stayed silent, but she could see her jaw clench tighter and her eyes narrow. "Is he like your beard, or something?"

That did it.

Santana fumed, dropping her file to the counter and turning on her. "You know, I've heard about you," Santana seethed. "You're the freak who got expelled for trying to burn down Bellville High."

"My reputation precedes me," Quinn jested unfazed, placing a mocking hand over her heart.

Santana opened her mouth again, presumably to verbally castrate her when the teacher began flicking the lights on and off in an attempt to achieve silence. Her heated words seemed to get stuck on her tongue as the older man's dreary voice cut through the chatter.

"Okay class," he intoned, waving the remote in the air trying to get his students attention. "We're going to watch this short documentary on the lifecycle of-"

A collective groan went round the room, cutting him off. But he didn't seem to care, pacing to the DVD player and pushing in the disc. "Yes, yes," he hushed. "It's all very riveting, I know."

The TV lit up the dark room, casting blue light over both girls. Santana had a scowl on her face, her body angled slightly away from Quinn. The taller girl didn't make a habit of baiting people, but there was something about Santana that intrigued her. Her bark was clearly worse than her bite, but she seemed more defensive than anything. Quinn had met plenty of girls just like her at her previous schools, though none of them were as obviously beautiful as she was. The others were all just superficial and fake, each of them with rich daddies that bent at their every whim. Any one of those girls would have told her to fuck off by now.

So why haven't you?

"So, who is it then?" Quinn asked, leaning even closer to her. "Someone from your squad, or are you into the nerdy girls?"

Santana turned on her, her eyes blazing in the dim light. She had her jaw clenched tight as she kicked off of her chair, the hard rubber tips screeching across the floor. Quinn sat up straighter, and watched her storm to the front of the room and pluck the hall pass from the teacher's lab bench. All eyes were on her as she disappeared out the door, most looking on in curiosity and shock at her somewhat abrupt exit.

"Miss Lopez?" the teacher called after her, but only received a dismissive wave of her hand and the back of her head.

Think I touched a nerve.


Quinn was leaning her head against the paneled wall two hours later, her legs crossed loosely in front of her. She could feel the cold linoleum against her bare legs, her small denim shorts riding up her thighs. The hall was completely empty as she sat outside the classroom door. She could hear the teacher inside instructing the class full of students on the day's lesson, her voice loud and enthusiastic. The woman sounded very eccentric and open-minded, but Quinn guessed all Drama teachers were cut from the same mold when it came to teaching.

She wanted to go in when she arrived, albeit ten minutes late. But when she neared the door, she saw the brunette sitting at the table in the back, and just couldn't. Usually she would've had no problem just going up to her and taking a seat. Quinn had done this to a few girls in the past, always taking pleasure in their reactions. But this was different. Santana was different. She fully expected her to just go off on her like everyone else, not storm out.

Call it buyer's remorse.

"You and your partner can venture as far as you want, just keep it within school grounds," the bubbly teacher called from inside the room. "I want you back here before end of period."

Students started to filter out through the open door, each of them holding a script in their hands. Some turned right to the exit and out toward the parking lot, and others went left to the cafeteria. Quinn stayed sitting on the ground, some giving her strange looks as they passed. Santana was one of the last to leave the room, her eyes on the page in her hands as she walked.

"Hey," Quinn said softly, half smiling when she passed in front of her. Santana's shoulders seemed to sag when she saw her, her eyes finding the ceiling and her hands going to her hips.

"Seriously," she exclaimed. "Are you just stalking me now?"

Quinn chuckled at her with a faint shrug as she got to her feet. She fiddled with her bag strap, unsure of what to say for once. She definitely wasn't going to apologize to the girl; that just seemed redundant. And she wasn't about to let it drop either. Santana was still looking at her with a slight scowl on her lips, though she hadn't made any attempt at walking away.

"Want to pair up?" Quinn suggested lightly.

"Don't you have some crack whores you need to shoot up with?" Santana retorted.

Her tone was still hostile, though there wasn't much ferment behind it, but it still got under Quinn's skin. After the squat office lady, the sweater wearing dwarf, and then their Geometry teacher in first period, the whole Goth girl has a drug problem routine was getting tired.

Same old bullshit.

"How original," Quinn deadpanned, taking a step closer and plucking the script from her hands. "Bet you're going to call me a dyke next, and then you'll be like every other cheerleader I've ever met."

Santana's scowl dropped from her lips, slightly taken aback. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, Quinn definitely striking a chord with the girl. She swallowed hard before she finally found her words. "I wasn't going to say that," Santana assured her, her arms crossed over her chest defensively.

"Forget it," Quinn dismissed, leading her away from the classroom. "Are we doing this, or not?"

Surprisingly enough Santana followed, but that might've just been because she'd taken her classwork. Either that, or the cheer captain was even more screwed up than Quinn was and actually enjoyed her brand of crazy. But either way Quinn liked to think it was by choice, or least she hoped it was. She would never admit it out loud, but the girl was kind of growing on her, which was surprising considering she represented everything she hated about high school.

Except for the really hot part.

They wandered silently through the halls until they hit the double doors to the auditorium. Poking her head inside, Quinn could see it was completely empty, waving Santana in after her. She half skipped down the aisle, hearing the cheerleader's footfalls coming up behind her. When she neared the stage, she skidded to a halt only to pull herself up onto the ledge and sit with her legs dangling loosely over the side. Santana came up beside her, Quinn holding out a hand to help the girl to the stage. She seemed to take a calming breath, before slipping her hand into Quinn's and letting her pull her up. She settled down next to her, but kept her eyes firmly on her white sneakers and away from Quinn.

"What you said back in Bio," Santana began, slightly hesitant. "About Puck-"

"I was just fucking with you," Quinn assured her as she leant back on her hands.

"Yeah, of course," Santana dismissed, picking at her nails, her eyes still not quite meeting Quinn's.

They stayed silent for a moment, the low hum from the spotlights overhead filling the empty auditorium. Quinn watched her carefully, Santana's eyes flicking over the pews in front of them. She seemed more subdued from the girl she met that morning. Quinn's teasing words must have had a greater effect on her than she thought. Or maybe she only showed this side of herself to a select few. Quinn's experience made her lean more toward the latter of the two, knowing girls like her didn't just flip a switch and become instant saints the moment someone stood up to them. She settled her gaze back on the script, a small smile gracing her lips. She tried to stifle a laugh as she read over the few pages the teacher had handed them.

Something tells me Santana didn't get a chance to read this.

"So, are we doing this or what?" Quinn asked, looking over the lines on the page with smile.

"Sure," Santana nodded absently. "I think Ms. H wanted us to start with Act Three, Scene Tw-"

"The moonlight frames both their faces as he moves closer to her on the grassy hill," Quinn recited, her eyes meeting Santana's over the top of the page. The girl quirked an eyebrow as Quinn shuffled over to her on the stage floor. "Their hands brush gently as her eyes catch onto his, unable to look away."

A wide grin broke out on Quinn's lips, Santana looking at her in confusion, that scowl coming back to her face. But Quinn just ignored it, moving her hand over to graze softly over the back of Santana's tanned one. The girl didn't flinch away from the touch, though she didn't appear to like where this was heading either. But she stayed motionless, Quinn staring intently at her as she kept reading.

"She is positively transfixed by him, and his smoldering green eyes."

Santana's mouth quirked a little at those words, though she tried to cover herself. Quinn was finding this all very amusing. She looked back down at the script and smirked, then back into those dark eyes. Santana swallow hard, her nails biting into her palms as Quinn pulled in even closer.

"He leans in ever so slowly, watching as her breath hitches and her mouth goes dry."

Santana's chest started to rise and fall in quick succession; fresh nerves clear on her face. In her four years of high school, Quinn had never seen a girl like Santana's guard fall so quickly; given, this was the first time she'd actually gotten this far in the game with one of them. She continued to lean in as the line instructed her to, the brunette backing up slightly the closer Quinn got.

"And when he's just a hair's breadth away, he whispers softly against her quivering lips," Quinn half read, half whispered. "Lopez?"

"Yeah," she croaked, their faces only inches apart.

"You are so gay," Quinn breathed against her lips.

Her reaction to her words was instant. Two hands connected to her chest and shoved her backwards. Quinn toppled over and hit the stage floor with a thud, unable to control her laughter.

"Fuck you," Santana retorted. "That's not even in the script."

"So gay," Quinn mouthed with a wide grin.

Santana huffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout on her lips. Quinn continued to giggle to herself, tossing the script back to her, it landing squarely in her lap.

"Are you even in this class?" she asked, slightly exasperated.

"Nope," Quinn shrugged. "I'm meant to be in US History right now."

"Bitch," Santana muttered, though she couldn't hide the start of a smile forming on her lips. "What kind of person does that to someone?"

"Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray," she jested, holding out a hand for her to take. But Santana just rolled her eyes and shoved her in the shoulder.

I think I'm going to like it here.


Part Two coming soon...