Brittany really needs to stop fucking with Santana’s phone.
“Wait, so this is the 4S, right?” Brittany asks when Santana returns from the AT&T store. “So it has that talking lady on it?”
“Why would they name her after Tom Cruise’s daughter? That’s kind of weird.”
upper hand (the a team)
[a history of quinntana. because i had unresolved quinntana feels after the last ep. it’s faberry/brittana for sure, although some of the early lines are blurred. title from ed sheeran (like, who hasn’t listened to him?). listen to “my oldest friend” by andrew belle to increase the feels.]
upper hand (the a team)
people are screwed up in this world. i’d rather be with someone screwed up and open about it than somebody perfect and ready to explode.
—ned vizzini, it’s kind of a funny story
one. there are two tragedies in life. one is to lose your heart’s desire. the other is to gain it
The first time you meet Quinn is at cheer camp, before Freshman year. You notice her right away, because she’s striking—literally, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen—but she’s also talented. Right away, Coach puts her into a group with returning Varsity seniors, and then she puts Brittany into that group, and then she puts you in it too.
Within the first two days, Quinn doesn’t say a word. She nods when given directions, but at water breaks or after camp ends, she just sits by her stuff silently, playing with a fraying little pink ribbon tied on the end of one of the zippers on her duffel bag, tucking a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear with gentle, thin fingers.
On Wednesday, Coach calls the group of girls obviously on her radar for Varsity to sit down in a circle after camp has supposedly ended. Quinn sits by Brittany, primly, criss-cross-apple-sauce, her back impossibly straight, and only looks up when Coach starts barking out orders.
“We’re going to get to know each other. Tomorrow we’re starting stunts, so state your name, your age, your favourite fictional character, and your favourite movie. I don’t care about these things but you all seem too, and the only thing worse than your sniveling faces right now is your sniveling faces after one of you drops someone else. Play nice,” she finally instructs, then marches off somewhere else.
Margaret, a senior and the obvious shoe-in for captain, goes first, then the rest of the girls in the circle go in order. They like A Walk to Remember and Mean Girls, and most of their favourite characters are from Twilight.
When it’s your turn, you say, “I’m Santana Lopez. I’m fourteen years old. My favourite character is Daisy Buchanan, and I like The Breakfast Club.”
Quinn smiles at your choices. It’s the first time you see her make such an expression. It’s breathtaking.
Brittany goes next, and she giggles and says some nonsensical things, but she’s Brittany, so it’s charming.
Then Quinn clears her throat. Her eyes get a shade darker and she raises her chin slightly, and the change is incredible. “My name is Quinn Fabray,” she says, and her voice is commanding. “I’m fourteen. My favourite character is Janie Crawford from Their Eyes Were Watching God, and my favourite film Hitchcock’s Rear Window.”
Everyone in the circle looks captivated and then entirely disinterested, and Quinn goes back to staring at the floor.
They finishes and then Margaret dismisses you, and you stand, grab Brittany’s hand, and move to leave, but Quinn’s breathless, “Santana, wait!” and then her warm fingers against your arm cause you to stop breathing for a second.
You turn around and glare at her, and the shy smile on her face disappears in a second.
“You—you’ve read The Great Gatsby?” she asks.
You roll your eyes. “I saw the film. Mia Farrow was excellent.” Your tone is biting, and Quinn mumbles an oh, but you realize minutes later in Mrs. Pierce’s car that that probably wasn’t really a deterring response for Quinn, because you said ‘film’ and knew Mia Farrow’s filmography.
And then you silently acknowledge that Quinn really does look like Grace Kelly and that that makes your heart race and your breath catch, and you almost hate her for it.
What you hate her for more is the fact that you desperately want to be her friend, mostly because you just hate desperately wanting anything.
um… (added panels)