Enigmatic Frequencies [2/?]
Title: Enigmatic Frequencies
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
6.
It's a while before Quinn sees Scott Wright again, though he visits often in Quinn's fantasies. Sometimes, he's a fireman, stripping sensually for Quinn in his bedroom. Sometimes, he's a policeman, lecturing Quinn rather sexually about why he should obey the law, lest he be punished. Sometimes, he's his regular self, the College Writing teacher at Reinhart, giving Quinn his lesson over his desk, in front of the class.
Tiny, skilled as he is at noticing things changing, especially when it cones to Quinn, asks about it when Quinn comes into work one morning particularly grinny.
"New dreams," he says simply, lifting one of the boxes onto a dolly. "Great dreams."
Tiny just laughs the way he always has, no judgment, and whistles 'Here Comes the Bride' for a full five minutes before Quinn shoves against his shoulder "accidentally", but only because Tiny can't whistle worth shit.
7.
Ivy's mother is a beautiful woman. Sure, he might not want to sleep with her, but Quinn's not so gay that he can't appreciate a woman's beauty when he sees it. High cheekbones and the darkest brown eyes he's ever seen, red, red lips and long eyelashes.
Fortunately for Ivy, her mother passed on a fair few of her genes. This means that, even at age five, she's beating off like-aged boys with a stick, which, Quinn thinks, is probably good considering at her age, boys all want to tug on her hair and chase her around playgrounds to prove their love.
Tiny doesn't have to worry about Ivy reciprocating those crushes, though, because a. Ivy is a very smart young girl and b. her eyes are explicitly set on a man seventeen years her senior.
"Quinn!" she giggles when Quinn scoops her up and tickles until tears run down her face. "Quiiiinn, s-stop, pl-please!"
So Quinn does, exchanging Ivy for a bottle of beer that Tiny offers him, and pops off the cap with the opener. "You know," he tells Ivy after a drink, "You'll be the prettiest girl in high school, the ones all the boys want."
"Not as pretty as you, Quinn," Tiny murmurs, and Quinn remembers the picture Tiny took when they were seniors of Quinn wearing his prom date's dress, when they were all wasted at Tiny's cousin Lionel's after-prom party.
His date didn't seem to find it all that funny, but everyone else, including her best friend, did.
He tries to hide the blush, but lets the grin out full blown.
"Quinn, when I go to school and they have dances where the girls dress up as princesses and the boys dress up as princes, will you go with me?" She bats her eyelashes and swings herself back and forth all adorable, and yeah, she'll get whoever she wants when she's older.
"Oh, of course I would, sweetie, but you'll have a boyfriend that'll get mad if he knew his girl was going to the prom with a guy like me."
"Besides," Tiny jumps in, waving Ivy close and resting a hand on her shoulder. It's huge, covers all of her shoulder and a fair bit of her back, and Quinn feels a flare of possessiveness travel his spine at the thought of any boy putting his hands on her. He suspects Tiny feels the same way. "Quinn needs to find a boy to bring to dances himself."
"Oh," Ivy says, then wrinkles her nose. "Boys are icky, anyway. Daddy, can I bring a girl to my dances?" She leans her head up to look at her father.
He tries holding back his laugh, but can't. "Sweetie, you can do whatever you want."
8.
"When are you going to cut that hair?" Mrs. Betty Hardy says to her grandson, picking up a limp strand hanging out of place by his eyes.
Grinning, Quinn looks up at his grandmother and takes the strand from her fingers. "When you stop asking that question."
She clicks her tongue, moving back towards the stove. "Donald tells me you've found another partner."
"You should stop listening to Donald," Quinn says, continuing to chop vegetables for the salad. "His information isn't credible."
Betty sighs, mashing potatoes with a metal utensil Quinn's not sure he's ever seen before. "I do wish you could find someone and settle down with them, Quinn. It's hard seeing you alone."
"I'm twenty two, Nan. I've got at least another three years before I should worry about being alone for the rest of my life."
Besides, Quinn sort of likes the single life. Sure, it sucks having to sleep alone and jerking off with his right hand instead of his left does start to feel normal again after a while, but it's nice not having to deal with all the responsibilities that come with dating someone. Anyone, because unless it's just fucking, there are all sorts of things that need to be remembered, whether because he doesn't want to be an asshole or he doesn't want to piss his boyfriend off, it doesn't matter.
And no man around Quinn's age would be particularly excited about Quinn spending so much time with his best friend's daughter over them. But Quinn has been friends with the Keller family longer than he has anyone else; it's only normal to spend most of his time with them, right?
"Quinn, you do know that you would attract more suitors if you cut your hair?"
She's probably all sorts of right, but Quinn can't bring himself to care. Instead, he sends her a grin. "Sure I do, Nan."
She just sighs and shakes her head.
9.
August 22nd finds Quinn under a short list or assignments, all courtesy of Mr. Scott Wright, who seems to dislike Quinn the more he sees him.
Which is sort of funny, because the more Quinn sees him, the more fantasies he has about him and the harder it is to concentrate, particularly because the desk just in front of him, Scott Wright's desk, is the perfect height that Quinn could bend over easily, and, well, /fuck/, getting an erection in college shouldn't be much different than getting one in high school, right?
He writes a paper-"Persuasive. Let's see how much you guys remember about high school."-on gay rights and equality, not because it's true to his heart (it is) or because he expects a good grade (he does), but because he still has the references from his paper in senior year and he's fairly certain be can bring up more recent information quite easily.
"You're an exceptional writer," Scott Wright (Quinn can't bear to call him 'Mister Wright' or 'Scott' or 'Professor' just yet) tells him as he slides the paper over his desk towards Quinn. Quinn can imagine something else entirely sliding across the desktop, and isn't that a fun image? "But you lack passion about this topic." Scott Wright purses his lips and tilts his head the littlest bit. "Passion is clearly something you have regarding other things. There is no doubt about that."
"I was told that in high school a lot," Quinn says, surprised he can still make words. "Good at writing but terrible at persuasion. Which I always thought was funny, because I can convince the minds of many when I speak."
He swears he sees the corner of Scott Wight's lips twitch up, but he waves Quinn towards the door anyway. "You'll be fine this semester," he says, almost encouragingly when Quinn leaves.
He looks down at the paper in his hands. 96-percent.
10.
"Just like your father," his grandmother says when he starts telling her about his classes. "Full of everything. Talent, knowledge, and yourself."
Quinn thinks he's a fair bit off from arrogance and an inflated ego, but it's best not to argue with her about these things.
"I'm happy either way," Quinn tells her. She just sighs and pats his knee.
"Of course you are, sweetheart."
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
6.
It's a while before Quinn sees Scott Wright again, though he visits often in Quinn's fantasies. Sometimes, he's a fireman, stripping sensually for Quinn in his bedroom. Sometimes, he's a policeman, lecturing Quinn rather sexually about why he should obey the law, lest he be punished. Sometimes, he's his regular self, the College Writing teacher at Reinhart, giving Quinn his lesson over his desk, in front of the class.
Tiny, skilled as he is at noticing things changing, especially when it cones to Quinn, asks about it when Quinn comes into work one morning particularly grinny.
"New dreams," he says simply, lifting one of the boxes onto a dolly. "Great dreams."
Tiny just laughs the way he always has, no judgment, and whistles 'Here Comes the Bride' for a full five minutes before Quinn shoves against his shoulder "accidentally", but only because Tiny can't whistle worth shit.
7.
Ivy's mother is a beautiful woman. Sure, he might not want to sleep with her, but Quinn's not so gay that he can't appreciate a woman's beauty when he sees it. High cheekbones and the darkest brown eyes he's ever seen, red, red lips and long eyelashes.
Fortunately for Ivy, her mother passed on a fair few of her genes. This means that, even at age five, she's beating off like-aged boys with a stick, which, Quinn thinks, is probably good considering at her age, boys all want to tug on her hair and chase her around playgrounds to prove their love.
Tiny doesn't have to worry about Ivy reciprocating those crushes, though, because a. Ivy is a very smart young girl and b. her eyes are explicitly set on a man seventeen years her senior.
"Quinn!" she giggles when Quinn scoops her up and tickles until tears run down her face. "Quiiiinn, s-stop, pl-please!"
So Quinn does, exchanging Ivy for a bottle of beer that Tiny offers him, and pops off the cap with the opener. "You know," he tells Ivy after a drink, "You'll be the prettiest girl in high school, the ones all the boys want."
"Not as pretty as you, Quinn," Tiny murmurs, and Quinn remembers the picture Tiny took when they were seniors of Quinn wearing his prom date's dress, when they were all wasted at Tiny's cousin Lionel's after-prom party.
His date didn't seem to find it all that funny, but everyone else, including her best friend, did.
He tries to hide the blush, but lets the grin out full blown.
"Quinn, when I go to school and they have dances where the girls dress up as princesses and the boys dress up as princes, will you go with me?" She bats her eyelashes and swings herself back and forth all adorable, and yeah, she'll get whoever she wants when she's older.
"Oh, of course I would, sweetie, but you'll have a boyfriend that'll get mad if he knew his girl was going to the prom with a guy like me."
"Besides," Tiny jumps in, waving Ivy close and resting a hand on her shoulder. It's huge, covers all of her shoulder and a fair bit of her back, and Quinn feels a flare of possessiveness travel his spine at the thought of any boy putting his hands on her. He suspects Tiny feels the same way. "Quinn needs to find a boy to bring to dances himself."
"Oh," Ivy says, then wrinkles her nose. "Boys are icky, anyway. Daddy, can I bring a girl to my dances?" She leans her head up to look at her father.
He tries holding back his laugh, but can't. "Sweetie, you can do whatever you want."
8.
"When are you going to cut that hair?" Mrs. Betty Hardy says to her grandson, picking up a limp strand hanging out of place by his eyes.
Grinning, Quinn looks up at his grandmother and takes the strand from her fingers. "When you stop asking that question."
She clicks her tongue, moving back towards the stove. "Donald tells me you've found another partner."
"You should stop listening to Donald," Quinn says, continuing to chop vegetables for the salad. "His information isn't credible."
Betty sighs, mashing potatoes with a metal utensil Quinn's not sure he's ever seen before. "I do wish you could find someone and settle down with them, Quinn. It's hard seeing you alone."
"I'm twenty two, Nan. I've got at least another three years before I should worry about being alone for the rest of my life."
Besides, Quinn sort of likes the single life. Sure, it sucks having to sleep alone and jerking off with his right hand instead of his left does start to feel normal again after a while, but it's nice not having to deal with all the responsibilities that come with dating someone. Anyone, because unless it's just fucking, there are all sorts of things that need to be remembered, whether because he doesn't want to be an asshole or he doesn't want to piss his boyfriend off, it doesn't matter.
And no man around Quinn's age would be particularly excited about Quinn spending so much time with his best friend's daughter over them. But Quinn has been friends with the Keller family longer than he has anyone else; it's only normal to spend most of his time with them, right?
"Quinn, you do know that you would attract more suitors if you cut your hair?"
She's probably all sorts of right, but Quinn can't bring himself to care. Instead, he sends her a grin. "Sure I do, Nan."
She just sighs and shakes her head.
9.
August 22nd finds Quinn under a short list or assignments, all courtesy of Mr. Scott Wright, who seems to dislike Quinn the more he sees him.
Which is sort of funny, because the more Quinn sees him, the more fantasies he has about him and the harder it is to concentrate, particularly because the desk just in front of him, Scott Wright's desk, is the perfect height that Quinn could bend over easily, and, well, /fuck/, getting an erection in college shouldn't be much different than getting one in high school, right?
He writes a paper-"Persuasive. Let's see how much you guys remember about high school."-on gay rights and equality, not because it's true to his heart (it is) or because he expects a good grade (he does), but because he still has the references from his paper in senior year and he's fairly certain be can bring up more recent information quite easily.
"You're an exceptional writer," Scott Wright (Quinn can't bear to call him 'Mister Wright' or 'Scott' or 'Professor' just yet) tells him as he slides the paper over his desk towards Quinn. Quinn can imagine something else entirely sliding across the desktop, and isn't that a fun image? "But you lack passion about this topic." Scott Wright purses his lips and tilts his head the littlest bit. "Passion is clearly something you have regarding other things. There is no doubt about that."
"I was told that in high school a lot," Quinn says, surprised he can still make words. "Good at writing but terrible at persuasion. Which I always thought was funny, because I can convince the minds of many when I speak."
He swears he sees the corner of Scott Wight's lips twitch up, but he waves Quinn towards the door anyway. "You'll be fine this semester," he says, almost encouragingly when Quinn leaves.
He looks down at the paper in his hands. 96-percent.
10.
"Just like your father," his grandmother says when he starts telling her about his classes. "Full of everything. Talent, knowledge, and yourself."
Quinn thinks he's a fair bit off from arrogance and an inflated ego, but it's best not to argue with her about these things.
"I'm happy either way," Quinn tells her. She just sighs and pats his knee.
"Of course you are, sweetheart."