FEMME FATALE . QUINN FABRAY

chapter twelve . cleaning

Quinn and Nat were mostly back to normal.

They made fun of each other, teasing and joking. They sit together at Glee, occasionally whispering jokes. They had those rare moments of intensity that made both of them giddy. Life was good.

It was nice.

Before Glee started, Kurt walks in, "Where’s Rachel?"

Nat stands with Quinn, feeling a tension in her shoulders. All because of Kurt. Him and his stupid rant to Nat. About how she was never going to be good enough for Quinn. How she was delusional. How she was too damaged to be fixed. Nat had thourghly regretted becoming friends with Kurt. She regretted making friends.

"She's not here yet."

"Perfect. Glee club stands on a delicate precipice. We have all felt the cold humiliation of a slushie in the face," Kurt begins, "But as of right now, our relative anonymity as a club shields us from more severe persecution: swirlies, patriotic wedgies…"

"What’s a patriotic wedgie?"

"It’s when they hoist you up the flag pole by your undies."

"Strangely, it did make me feel more American." Artie says. Finn looks guilty and Nat nudges him in the ribs lightly and looks at Artie, "Tell me who and I'll slash their tyres."

Artie can't help but smile and Quinn seems to be stuck in some sort of trance, her eyes resting adoringly on Nat. Kurt feels fear strike him as he realises Nat was feeling particularly violent today.

"Based on my investigation, I am of the opinion that a yearbook photo would only fuel the flames of anti-glee-club terror. I’ve done a little library research," Kurt opens the first yearbook, "Peter Gellar. Glee club second tenor, 1998. He can be seen here with both a drawn on Hitler mustache and rice paddy hat. Shortly after the yearbook came out, Mr. Gellar had a nervous breakdown. He is now the homeless man who sleeps in front of the public library."

"Patches?" Quinn questions, her eyes still on Nat.

"Patches." Kurt confirms.

"He barks at my mom." Brittany says. Nat nods, "I dealt him weed once. It was a weird experience."

Kurt opens a different book, "Exhibit B: Tawny Peterson, glee club class of 2000, seen here in her photo with a cartoon knife stuck in her head, in a macabre tableau that, in four years would prove eerily prescient. I think I speak for all of us when I say that not having to pose for a yearbook photo might be a blessing in disguise. I suggest not fighting Figgins’ ruling."

Nat smiles, bitter and spiteful, "That is a difficult request, Hummel," Nat tuts and sighs dramatically, leaning on Quinn's shoulder, "I mean... obeying a teacher... could I ever? I am from the wrong side of the tracks, too damaged to be fixed... just as delusional as my poor, mother."

Kurt flinches.

Quinn looks at Nat, an eyebrow raised, "What are you talking about? Do we need to have a chat or something?"

"Or something," Nat sits up, her eyes darkening in mischief, "can you be more specific? Because I know there's a couple of 'or somethings' that we could do, right down the hall, in a small, dark, rather secluded closet."

"Nat, stop," Quinn chooses to ignore the delighted spark she feels, "Is something wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong," Nat smirks, leaning close to Quinn. Her voice lowers so only she could hear her, "darling?"