A/N: So here it is. Sort of an intro, backstory, it all flew out in a couple of minutes, so I’m still not that sure what it is. I guess this piece is supposed to explain the start of Quinn’s attraction or whatever he has for Elliot. It was actually tough at some points because I’m so used to writing Elliot’s thoughts!

Thanks again to FrozenDew for helping out here! Haha, so yeah, enjoy? :)

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BECAUSE ELLIOT RHYMES WITH IDIOT

o1. THE FIRST MEETING

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The first time Quinn saw Elliot Foster, he was on his way to the apartment after breakfast and a talk with his aunt. He had told her he was planning on staying in the area for a month and a half so he could work for her, so he could earn more travel money. Fortunately, she was more than willing to have him stay a while – it probably helped that he was her one and only nephew.

“Elliot Foster, that’s his name.”

Quinn looked up from his aunt’s dining table and set his bagel down. He had called and asked if they could meet at the café, but she had insisted to meet up at her house for breakfast. His aunt set her folder down and reached for the strip of bacon on her plate. She nibbled on its end as she continued to read the file behind her glasses. “He’s a… journalism major. He said he wanted to find a temporary job while he settled himself.”

Quinn spread more cottage cheese on his bagel. So that meant this Elliot guy was bumming around for a while, before he got serious and actually got a job.

“I think you two will get along,” his aunt said. “He’s a nice boy. Chatty.”

As long as he brushed his teeth and took baths, Quinn would be fine living with him. He nodded. “Thanks again for everything.”

His aunt had insisted to let him stay over at their house for his entire visit, but Quinn didn’t want to be a bother since he knew she was just starting the café and she didn’t need to worry about him. She couldn't give him an entire apartment to himself though, so he would have to live with someone during his stay. He didn't really mind, he understood that she was still running a business, and it wasn't like he was going to stay that long.

He just didn't expect to see his flat mate so soon.

While Quinn wasn't one for stereotypes, most journalism graduates he knew were high strung editors of their respective high school papers, some always had a new book in their hand or bag, they had that I-don't-mind-writing-for-a-living vibe, and sure, some wore glasses.

But when he saw his flat mate, he looked more like the guy working behind the counter at 711, rather than an actual college graduate. Surely, his aunt must have been mistaken.

The guy was sprawled on the hallway, his back against the door to the apartment with his knees pulled up to his chest. One hand was set atop his knee, closed around an empty plastic cup of strawberry jello – his breakfast, apparently. His head was tilted back, his mouth wide open as he snored lightly, and he was in a state of sleep so deep he didn't even wake up when Quinn stopped right in front of him.

Quinn raised an eyebrow as he scanned the duffel bag beside the guy and two cardboard boxes with his things. Quinn could vaguely make out a lava lamp poking out from the top of one box. Great. He was a lava lamp kind of guy.

Quinn ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Elliot Foster?"

Almost immediately, the guy jerked awake, his cup of jello nearly falling over. His head shot up to look at Quinn, his eyes squinting before they widened when he realized he was not having one of those dreams where you wake up in them – no, he really was awake. He scrambled up to his feet, brushing himself off before transferring the cup of jello to his other hand so he could stretch his right hand out for Quinn to shake. "Oh, hey, yep, that’s me!"

Quinn just stared at Elliot, still not able to comprehend he'd be living with the lava-lamp-guy/711-worker for a month and a half.

The guy's frame crumpled slightly, not expecting the indifference to his chirpy greeting. He pulled his hand back and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. "So... you don't talk much?"

Quinn was occupied with his thoughts, glancing Elliot over. Despite the disheveled appearance, he didn't give out any strange odors, and his breath didn't smell – so he was probably aware of basic hygiene and took showers like a normal person. Good. Quinn’s eyes traveled up to his face, at the wide, curious expression. Judging by the slight redness in his eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he probably had very little sleep from the night before.

Quinn snapped out of his case study only when his new flat mate cleared his throat. "So... you've got the key?" he asked, waving a hand in front of Quinn’s face as he jerked a thumb over at the door.

Not saying anything, Quinn turned to face their apartment and pulled the aforementioned key out his pocket. After opening the door, Quinn was nearly knocked over when Elliot barreled his way inside, holding his cardboard boxes out in front of him. "NO WAY!" he exclaimed, his mouth wide open as he stopped in front of the television and looked around the furnished apartment. Yes, being the nephew of their employer did have some perks. "WE ALREADY HAVE A TV! AND A COUCH! AND A FRIDGE!"

Quinn was still holding the door and he pressed his forehead against the dark wooden surface as he groaned. He barely knew Elliot, so he couldn't exactly hate the guy already, but he just could not live with someone so loud and who reacted to pieces of furniture like he'd never seen them in his entire life. So instead of keeping that to himself and having to deal with a month and a half of annoyance that he could easily avoid, he closed the door and headed for the couch where Elliot was already sprawled on. He was going to ask for a transfer the next morning… or maybe he’d just stay with his aunt.

"Listen, Elliot," Quinn said, crossing his arms in front of him as he looked down at the guy. "This isn't going to work out."

"Holy crap," Elliot said suddenly, swinging his legs off the edge of the couch as he sat up. "Did... did Mrs. Costello tell you my condition? Wow… I didn’t know she’d take it so seriously… I mean, it was more of a joke, you know? I’ve controlled it…"

Oh, God, so the guy had some disability? Quinn let out a mental groan when he realized he couldn't leave anymore – Elliot would probably think he was transferring because of his disability. "Condition?" Quinn repeated. He recalled the mental disabilities, physical ailments, and other illnesses he had studied during his premed years. Was Elliot diabetic? Did he require special medical attention? Oh, God, what if he had an addiction? To alcohol? Drugs, Cannabis sativa – oh,that would explain the lava lamp.

"Yeah." Elliot frowned and looked away, as if he was ashamed. "I kinda hog the television."

Quinn's mind stalled for a moment. When it got back up, the first word that popped into his head was, Fuck. He shook his head, as if asking himself if he had heard right. “What?”

Elliot's eyes lowered to the floor. "I mean, I've tried to share it, but back in college, even my room mates said they could barely watch their porn because I kept watching sharks on Discovery Channel – but don't worry, if you're wondering, I never miss the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show – yeah, nothing on Discovery Channel can beat that – "

Quinn ran a hand through his hair. "You know what... I'm taking the room to the left."

Elliot shut his mouth, and looked back at the rooms. "Oh," he said, looking back at Quinn with a sheepish look on his face. "Sure, go ahead. And you know what, don’t worry about – “

Quinn cut him off as he headed for his new room. “I’m not worrying about anything.”

Maybe a bit for his own sanity.

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The next day, Quinn returned to their apartment later than Elliot had. Elliot went straight there after their shift ended, while Quinn had visited his aunt’s house to have dinner with her and his uncle. When Quinn finally got back to their flat, he wasn’t alone. He was holding a cardboard box under his arm and when Elliot asked what was inside, a small, furry head popped out from the top as if on cue, its paws set on the box’s edge while its small, wet nose sniffed the air.

Elliot nearly knocked the couch over at how fast he stood up. “Woah – what the, woah! A dog? Are we even allowed to have one?”

Quinn set the box on the coffee table and stepped back, finding himself curious to how Elliot would react. “Well, this place is better than the street I found him in.”

Elliot peered down at the box like a five year old before reaching his arms down to pick the German Shepherd pup up and lift it to his face. The pup wriggled and squirmed in his hands before it poked out its small, velvety tongue to lick Elliot’s face. Elliot was biting his lip, trying to control the smile that was already cracking at the corner of his lips. “Hey, Quinn, what are you going to name...” Elliot trailed off. Quinn watched as he slowly lifted the pup’s hind leg and quickly set it down. “Him? Uh, what are you gonna name him?” Elliot finished, looking away from the pup with a blush on his cheeks, as if he violated the dog in some way.

Quinn narrowed his eyes at Elliot before glancing at his shoes. “Chuck,” he said simply.

Elliot raised an eyebrow and looked down to see what Quinn was focused on. When he found out, he looked back at Quinn and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I know, how about we make his middle name Taylor?” he asked dryly. “Very creative. Does he have a cousin named Converse?”

“No,” Quinn said, turning away from him. “I like Chuck.”

Elliot frowned, but soon shrugged and looked back at the dog. Chuck blinked innocently back at him, his short tail wagging side to side. “Well, hello there, Chuck,” he greeted, taking a set back on the couch and setting the pup on his lap. He took a tiny brown paw in his hand and shook it. He looked back at Quinn. “So, what do we do now?”

Quinn headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.”

Elliot rolled his eyes. “I mean the dog. What do we do about Chuck?”

“He could use a bath.”

Elliot wrinkled his nose. “Why does it sound like I’m gonna do it?”

“Because you’re already holding him.”

Then Quinn shut the door.

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The next day, Quinn decided that instead of leaving Chuck at the apartment, he’d bring the pup to work. He was leaving their apartment to head for the café when he looked back at Elliot’s door. He still hadn’t left his room. Quinn walked up to the door, carrying the pup under one arm, his other hand poised to knock when he stopped. If Elliot didn’t want to go to work, then that was his decision. Quinn had only met the guy two days ago, so who was he to tell him to go to work if he didn’t want to? Quinn set his hand back to his side and glanced at the door one last time before leaving their apartment.

Elliot didn’t go to work the entire day.

Even worse, Quinn occasionally found himself wondering if Elliot was going to show up, which he thought was pretty pathetic of him, since he concluded earlier that it wasn’t his problem if Elliot did or didn’t. But whenever he served a table or took someone’s order, every time the door would open, Quinn found himself glancing toward it, wondering if Elliot was going to show up, all haphazard and out of breath since he had run straight from the apartment when he realized he was so late for work. That never happened.

Shit.

Did Elliot move out?

He had brought Chuck to their apartment with the honest-to-God intention of providing the pup a better life – never did he plan on doing it just to get Elliot to leave. So the guilt he felt was definitely not supposed to be there. Quinn was ambitious, but he wasn’t ruthless. He never wanted Elliot to leave, he never wanted Elliot to quit – if that was the reason why Elliot wasn’t showing up. He had wanted Elliot to tell him to leave… but maybe that just wasn’t part of Elliot’s personality.

That was something Quinn hadn’t taken into account.

Shit.

He had just made Elliot quit job.

Quinn’s behavior didn’t go unnoticed since during lunch break, one of the waitresses sidled close to him and asked, “Is something wrong?”

He looked up from his plate and glanced at her. She was the redhead with the flirtatious laugh. Allison, if he remembered correctly. “Nothing,” he replied stiffly, turning away from her to focus on the food in his plate.

“You sure? I mean, you’ve been looking at the door the entire day,” she pressed on, raising an eyebrow. “Is your girlfriend coming to visit?”

“No.”

“Boyfriend, then?” Allison asked, laughing lightly as she leant back on her seat.

Quinn prodded his pasta with his fork. When the door opened, he looked up, and scowled when he saw it was only one of the chefs. He knew he was acting like an idiot. If Elliot had decided to leave, he should have been happy that things had gone his way, right? His scowl deepened when suddenly, a hand waved in front of his face. “Hello?” Allison asked. “Anyone there?”

He vaguely remembered her asking a question. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” he finally answered.

Almost immediately, Allison’s shoulders sagged and her mouth fell open. Quinn raised an eyebrow and wondered if he had said something wrong, or if he had misheard her question, but he was pretty sure he had gotten the gist of it – so why the reaction? Allison smacked a hand over her forehead. “You’re gay, aren’t you?” she asked.

When Quinn didn’t answer and only narrowed his eyes at her, she groaned loudly. “Of course. When I asked about a girlfriend, you said no. But when I asked about a boyfriend, you said you didn’t have one – which means you’ve either had one before or you’re open to having one in the future. Am I wrong?”

Quinn wasn’t aware of any proper reply to her statement, and he really didn’t feel like answering anyway, so he kept quiet and let her continue. “I swear to God,” Allison said, sitting up straight after having composed herself. “You guys need to have signboards above your head that should say something like, ’I AM GAY. FEMALE TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT DOWN’. You’re like, the third gay guy I’ve hit on this week! Why are all the hot guys gay these days?”

Quinn prodded his pasta with his fork once more. It was already cold and he never really liked marinara sauce anyway. When the door opened another time and his head instinctively looked up only to find out it still wasn’t Elliot, the same guilt lurched in him as he gave himself a mental slap and told himself to stop acting like an idiot.

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On his way to their apartment that night, Quinn was already planning to call his aunt the second she got home. He’d ask if Elliot quit or resigned and he’d explain that it was Quinn’s own fault because he was being a bitch – and that he brought a dog to the apartment and maybe Elliot was a cat person.

When he opened their door, Quinn didn’t know how to react when he found Elliot standing in the middle of their apartment.

Elliot looked up at him with a wide smile on his face. “Hey, you’re back!” he asked, setting his hands on his hips. In front of him was a large cardboard box set on the coffee table.

Quinn was still standing at the door, and after the shock wore off, anger stepped in for the unnecessary guilt and torment he had gone through the entire day. “Where the fuck have you been the entire day?” he asked, much louder than he had intended.

“Oh.” Elliot gave him a sheepish look. “I forgot to set my alarm… so I woke up real late, and instead of going to work, I went to…” Elliot bent down to pick some things from the large cardboard box – and pulled out a red dog collar and a bag of dog food. “The pet store!” he finished, looking very proud of himself as he showed the things to Quinn.

To say Quinn was surprised and totally didn’t expect Elliot’s deeds would have been an understatement.

At the smell of dog food, Chuck wriggled under Quinn’s arm. He bent down and let Chuck go so he could race toward Elliot, his tail wagging excitedly as he bounced around Elliot’s legs. Quinn walked over to the box and saw the bags of dog food, the food dish, soap and shampoo, a leash, and other things. “How… much were all of these?” he asked. There was a warm twisting and churning sensation building in his gut as he glanced at Elliot, and Quinn didn't like it. “I need to pay you back. Chuck’s supposed to be my – ”

Elliot was kneeling on the floor, trying to put the collar on Chuck. “Oh, don’t worry about it – let’s just split?”

Quinn nodded and he noticed Elliot was struggling to put the collar around Chuck’s neck, so he automatically kneeled down to help him out. Elliot glanced at him with a grateful smile on his face. Quinn held onto Chuck as Elliot looped the red collar around the pup’s neck. The entire time, instead of focusing on Chuck, Quinn’s eyes traveled onto Elliot, noticing the look of deep concentration in his furrowed eyebrows and at the way he was biting his bottom lip every time he missed sliding the collar through its loop.

Quinn didn’t even realize Elliot had finished putting the collar around Chuck’s neck until Elliot clasped his hands together. “There!” he said, a triumphant look on his face as he watched Chuck. The pup was walking around in circles, trying to get a good view of exactly what Elliot had put around him, his small, wet nose twitching at the new scent.

Elliot turned to face Quinn. “He’s a handsome dog,” he said, grinning widely. “You’re lucky I’m a dog person.”

Quinn nodded and he realized he had barely said a thing the entire time. “Yeah,” he finally muttered, taking a brief glance at Elliot, who was watching Chuck. “I guess I am.” He caught himself and bristled as he looked away. “Whatever.”

When Quinn got to his feet to start cleaning up, Elliot looked up at him. “Uh…”

“What?”

“I kinda spent all my money on the dog stuff,” Elliot said slowly, scratching the back of his head as he offered Quinn a weak, embarrassed smile. “Do you have any money for Chinese?”

Quinn nodded and gave him some money. “Get me the tofu,” he said, taking the collar’s plastic bag and walking over to the kitchen to throw it away.

Elliot flopped onto the couch and pressed the phone to his ear. “Sure thing.”

Quinn turned his head back to the living room. “Don’t give the dog any human food.”

Elliot pursed his lips together, as if he had been looking forward to doing just that. “Uhhh…” he trailed off and slowly glanced at Chuck, and whispered something to the pup that Quinn didn’t hear. He did notice the way Chuck wagged his tail, as if understanding Elliot’s words.

Quinn rolled his eyes.

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The Chinese food arrived less than an hour later. Quinn leaned against the kitchen island counter to eat his chicken and tofu. Elliot was seated on the couch, watching television and trying his best to sneak bits of beef to Chuck without Quinn seeing.

Quinn’s lips twitched when he saw Elliot pick out a vegetable and gave it to Chuck – but the pup squirmed and shook its head.

It wasn’t that Elliot somehow got less annoying, because that was practically impossible in a span of six hours, but maybe living together wouldn’t be… too bad.

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A/N: No, I’m not planning to pull a Stephenie Meyer and write the entire Quinntessential from Quinn’s point of view. Haha! I’m thinking of making this a series of one shots revolving around the main story, not necessarily from Quinn or Elliot’s point of view only, maybe in the next ones they could be from Allison’s view, or Valerie’s, or some random customer in the café! Oh, oh, oh, maybe Chuck's POV too! Hahaha!

I didn’t make this letter thing (haha, so, for once, a real letter!), the awesome FD did in her review, but I wanted to use it so I edited it a bit, and haha, I’ll probably use it again soon.

To the milk bottle,

Did you know that milk is the official state beverage of Arkansas, Delaware, Louisiana, Minnesota, Mississippi, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, South Dakota, Vermont, Virginia, and Wisconsin?

Now it’s time to overthrow Florida and their damn orange juice!

Then the WORLD!

Your calcium deficient friend,

Your name.

Haha, so what do you think? :)
For this set of one-shots, I'm open to suggestions or ideas or that you may have. Maybe particular scenes you might wanna see more. They may help strike inspiration!