Author's Notes: I wasn't kidding about reviews and comments fueling updates. I can be found on Tumblr at yumi-michiyo!

Part Nine: I need to make distance a while/But miles don't make your image fade

"You still haven't told me where we're going."

Marley rolls to a halt at the red light and glances over at Quinn. She's resplendent in a white off-shoulder top and skirt, and Marley wonders how they even made it out of the house (and, to a lesser degree, where all these thoughts are coming from).

"Somewhere nice, I promise."

Quinn smiles. "Give me a hint?"

"Okay." The lights change; she takes a right on the next intersection. "It's a tourist destination."

She hears a groan from beside her. "Not the Hollywood sign?"

"Wait and see. We're almost there, anyway."

Quinn twists in her seat. "Really? But we've only been driving for a short while."

"It's touristy."

"How specific."

Marley laughs. "We're here."

"Here?"

"The Broad." She finds a vacant parking spot close by the entrance and guides the car in. "I thought you might like to spend the hot afternoon in an art museum."

"And what makes you think I love art museums?"

"I don't know – five years of friendship, six months of dating maybe?"

Quinn chuckles. "You have a point. Now, c'mon, I'm dying to see what they have." She gets out of the car and –

"Wait!" She jogs forward, grabbing Quinn's wrist. "There's a surprise for you first."

"For me?"

"Yep. You're not allowed to take the guidebook until I let you." Marley grins when Quinn's mouth falls open in surprise. "And you have to follow me until I say so."

"Okay, now you've piqued my interest." Quinn adjusts their hands until their fingers are tangled together firmly. "Lead the way, and you'd better not keep me waiting any longer than I have to."

Marley has a hard time trying not to laugh as they go into the museum; Quinn fidgets like a small child, especially when they bypass the regular ticket queue for the reservation counter. After a few words with the receptionist, Marley collects a pair of tickets with something scribbled on the back of each.

"You booked tickets?"

"Of course I did," says Marley in mock indignation. "I planned today in great detail. But we probably would have missed our reservation if I hadn't kicked you out of the shower this morning."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Okay, well, I officially forgive you for that now."

"Good to know." Marley reaches for a guide book – smiling at the look on Quinn's face – and shoves it into her bag. "For later."

"I get the feeling you've taken the wrong part of the Cheerios power motto to heart."

"I learned from the best," replies Marley. She tugs Quinn along in the direction of the entrance, handing their tickets over to the attendant.

Marley doesn't miss the little intake of breath from the woman beside her as they walk into the museum – nor the muted disappointed sound when Marley leads them past. They walk until they reach a darkened room, and stand in front of a black curtain.

"We're here," announces Marley. "Hang on a minute."

"You're lucky you're cute," says Quinn teasingly.

Still smiling widely, Marley steps forward to show their tickets to the young woman standing beside the black curtain. She makes a few notes on the clipboard in her hands before motioning for them to go in. Marley turns back to Quinn. "Ready?"

"Ready." Together they push aside the curtain and go in, Quinn before Marley.

The reviews Marley read about the room don't do justice to the real thing. She feels weightless, drifting in an endless starfield of bright lights and brilliant colours.

Beside her, Quinn gasps.

"This is…" She trails off, at a loss to describe their surroundings. Slowly, she twirls in place. The lights illuminate her radiant expression. "This is amazing."

"We've got forty-five seconds, so make full use of it," says Marley. Their reflections, multiplied endlessly, move in sync with them, creating shadowy contrasts to the stars.

Together, they walk around the entire room, gasping as the lights blink on and off, marveling at the constellations created. It's not too long before the young woman comes in to usher them out, stopwatch in her hand and an apologetic expression on her face.

Outside, Quinn turns to Marley, eyes sparkling with happiness. "Thank you."

"I guess you liked your surprise?"

"I love it." Quinn kisses her cheek, and then the corner of Marley's mouth. "I forgot Yayoi Kusama has an Infinity Room on display here in LA, and I can't believe you remembered."

"You were quite devastated we couldn't get tickets for her exhibition in New York." Marley brushes a stray lock of hair from Quinn's face. "But… this isn't her only Infinity Room here."

Slowly, the smile spreads over Quinn's features. "You're kidding."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Marley fishes the guide book out of her bag, hands it to Quinn. "It just got installed a couple of months ago. Here. I'll even let you take us there."

She takes the book from her, but before Marley can start walking, Quinn grabs the back of Marley's neck and pulls her in for a kiss. "I love you," she whispers against Marley's lips.

"I love you, too," responds Marley automatically.

They tumble into the car, noisy and tired. Marley's head rolls on the car seat in Quinn's direction. "I really, really hope you enjoyed the afternoon."

Quinn blinks owlishly. "Okay, now I know you're joking. I've never been so spoiled in my life." She sighs happily. "... Did I ever tell you why I was so excited for the Infinity Room?"

"You… like shiny things?"

Quinn shoots her a look, swatting at Marley's arm. "It reminds me of that line from Perks of a Wallflower. About feeling infinite."

"That's really deep." Marley tips her face up. "It reminded me of that night in Lima, years ago, in the railyard."

"I remember. You and me in my car looking up at the stars through the sunroof." A hand brushes Marley's cheek. She leans into the touch. "It's one of my fondest memories."

"I remember wanting to stay in that moment forever," says Marley. "At that time, though, I had no clue we'd end up like this – no complaints, though."

Quinn makes a soft sound of agreement. "Funny how life turns out, right? I never dreamed I'd be with a woman, let alone you; and now I can't imagine my life without you in it." Quinn's eyes are bright.

She can't speak.

"Are you crying again, Marley?" Quinn laughs, brushing at the corners of Marley's eyes with her fingertips.

"What? It's normal to cry when you're feeling emotional. And anyway, I just have tears in my eyes, that's different." She breaks into a smile. "I'm just so happy right now."

"Me too."

Marley wipes away the last of her tears with the heel of her hand. "I, uh," she says, pausing to clear her throat, "I guess we should go."

"Oh? What else have you got planned?"

She chuckles. "Nice try, Fabray." Marley turns the keys in the ignition and shifts the car into drive. "You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?"

"Fine. Can I at least ask how long I'll be waiting?"

Marley laughs. "It's about… twenty minutes from here?"

"That could be anywhere!"

"Then you'll have to be patient, won't you?"

Quinn huffs, in a manner very reminiscent of Rachel. "Fine. I guess I can control myself for twenty minutes." She reaches over to turn on the radio.

The afternoon sun has lost most of its momentum by the time they left The Broad. The breeze in their hair is warm, not stifling. Marley keeps her attention on the road for the most part, but every free moment she can spare is focused on Quinn. Quinn's consternation grows visibly as they whiz past the turn-off towards Hollywood Boulevard; it makes her smile. Remarkably, though, her girlfriend doesn't say a word.

Close to their destination, Marley notices a change in Quinn's demeanour. "The Griffith Observatory?"

"Smart." By this point, their surroundings are distinctly suburban.

"I thought it would be better to go at night?"

"They have quite a few exhibitions inside." The car winds its way up the hill. "Plus… I thought you'd like to see this." Marley pulls over so they can admire the view.

Quinn laughs softly. "How many times did you watch La La Land before you planned this?"

"Enough times."

They're lucky; the heat of the day has given way to a beautiful sunset and a rapidly cooling evening. "The view's better from the top," says Marley, and resumes the drive up towards the observatory.

"I'm looking forward to coming here."

"Yeah. I thought it would be nice to go if the weather's good." She keeps an eye out for a parking spot. "Everyone keeps telling me to go, and I… I didn't want to come alone," she finishes almost as an afterthought. "It's silly, but I've only been here a couple of months, and I've spent all that time working. I don't know that many people."

Quinn doesn't say anything, and Marley focuses on backing the car into a vacant lot. Once she's killed the engine, a warm hand covers hers on the gear shift.

She glances at Quinn, lips lifting in a smile, which Quinn returns.

But soon enough, Quinn's shy smile widens, and a familiar spark of mischief springs into her eyes. "So," she says coyly, "I'm glad you waited for me. Shall we?"

"Of course." She lets Quinn lead the way into the observatory.

They flit from room to room inside, and before they know it, it's night. Quinn seems to have taken a leaf from Marley's book; she's filled with childish enthusiasm, practically dragging Marley outside.

"Wow."

"Yeah," agrees Marley.

It's like the Infinity Room, except the lights are confined to the land, and they're less dazzling than the room had been. Quinn rests her hands on the railing as she looks out on the city.

"Beats the lookout point outside Lima, huh?"

Quinn laughs. "Almost as good as the railyard, even."

"It's really spectacular." A breeze ruffles through; for a moment, they are quiet, savouring the view together.

"For some reason," says Marley at last, "this reminds me of your field. Where you took me to get away from everything."

In the dim light, she sees Quinn nod. "I think I know what you mean. It feels removed from everything else, like a breathing space in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm glad I'm not alone in experiencing this."

Quinn moves closer, rests her head on Marley's shoulder. "Me too."

"Now what, Miss Planner?"

"Now, dinner." Marley grins at her. "I was thinking either a nice dinner downtown, or Chinese takeout and movies at home."

"Both sound really great."

"Since you're my guest, you pick one."

"Is the hostess on the menu?"

Marley gasps in mock outrage. "Quinn!"

"I was kidding!" Quinn's eyes roam over Marley's body with a deliberate slowness that makes Marley bite her lip. "Maybe not dinner. Perhaps dessert."

"You, Miss Fabray, have a filthy mind."

"Mmm. Perhaps that's why I can't seem to stop talking dirty."

"It's not a good thing, stop looking so smug."

Quinn giggles. "I'm not looking smug!"

"Yes, you are. I know what your smug face looks like," insists Marley. "Santana told me."

"I have loads of dirt on Santana Lopez. She should have thought of that before she started spreading false rumors about me."

Marley smirks. "I still think you're adorable either way."

"You're a biased party." The unmistakable sounds of Motown play on the radio; it's a girl group. The Supremes or The Shirelles. Quinn's face lights up and she starts humming along to the melody. "I love this song. I think we did this once."

"Do you miss Glee?" She does, and she's interested in finding someone to commiserate.

"A little. I liked the fact that we were all so different, with our goals and places on the social hierarchy, but in that room, we could be regular kids who loved to sing." Quinn smiles to herself. "We were all so dramatic back then. Well, Rachel's still dramatic, but she's Rachel." She glances at Marley. "What was your favourite part?"

"The music. Definitely. Like, I was a really shy kid so part of the reason I joined was 'cause my mom thought it would be good for my self-confidence, but I stayed for the performances. When we pulled off a flawless routine and we sounded so good… goosebumps." She averts her eyes, blushing. "Plus… Elvis was in Glee club in high school."

Quinn, much to her credit, doesn't laugh. "Can't argue with the King," she says, nodding.

"My dad used to put on Elvis on Sundays." Marley keeps her eyes on the road. "He had this huge collection of vinyl records. But it was always this particular record on Sundays. When I was in eighth grade, we had to do a project about a cultural icon and my mom suggested Elvis. That's how I knew what my dad always played on Sundays."

She can feel Quinn's eyes on her. "I'm sorry."

"When he left, Mom gave all the records to the thrift store before we moved out of town." Marley shrugs. "Which is too bad. I'd have liked to listen to his collection."

"Yeah. It sounds like it would have been pretty interesting."

They get Chinese takeout on the way home; it's Quinn's idea, and Marley's happy to go along with it. She's a little fatigued from the week leading up to this, plus the anxiety of making sure the day went exactly as planned is catching up with her. She's already thinking of a nice long shower and bed when she pulls into her designated lot and kills the engine. "I'll get dinner," Marley says, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening her car door.

"Let me help."

"I'm fine, it's just a few bags – oh." She cuts herself off when Quinn opens the other door and slides in. "... What are you doing?"

"Here, let me…" Quinn takes the takeout cartons out of her hands and sets them in the now-vacant passenger seat. Marley, completely dumbfounded, lets her.

"What are you… what are you doing?" she asks again.

Quinn's hands are soft on her forearms, but her touch sears as they move higher. "What do you think I'm doing?" she says, holding her gaze the entire time.

"... in here? You're crazy. We're not horny teenagers anymore." And yet Marley doesn't make a move to stop her.

"You can't tell me you're not turned on by this," responds Quinn with a devilish smirk. She leans forward, tugging away the collar of Marley's shirt to scrape her teeth over the sensitive skin.

"I'm not having sex with you in the backseat of my car." And yet, with every word, Marley can feel her resolve crumbling – especially when Quinn artfully undoes a button on the front of her shirt so she can slip her hand in. "Oh my god. I can't believe you're doing this. I can't believe we're doing this."

Quinn kisses her hard. Her hand slides under Marley's bra, cupping a breast, toying with the nipple. Marley gasps into the kiss, back arching. "Quinn…"

The hand withdraws. She bites her tongue to stop the frustrated groan. "Okay, I was wrong. Now please keep doing that."

"Wrong about?"

"Wrong about me not having sex with you in the backseat of my car. Don't you dare stop now." Marley sucks on the skin of Quinn's neck. She doesn't care if she leaves a mark; it serves her right for initiating this entire thing in the first place.

Quinn chuckles. While her hand continues to palm Marley's breast, the other undoes the clasp of Marley's skirt, fingers teasing at her panties.

Marley sucks in a breath. Her breathing starts to get ragged, hips jerking into Quinn's hand. Marley yanks Quinn's face back to hers for another kiss.

Quinn nudges her legs apart with a knee, smiling into Marley's mouth when Marley eagerly spreads her legs wide. She straddles her thigh, one hand slipping into damp panties, fingers finding her clit and rubbing.

Marley lets her head fall back on the seat. She gives in completely to the mounting pleasure, as Quinn plays her like a violin. "Oh, god," she pants, gripping Quinn's shoulders when her girlfriend enters her with two fingers. Her hips rise to meet each thrust.

Quinn's head drops to Marley's shoulder. Her hot breath tickles Marley's neck; the sensations provide that last little urge she needs to push her over the edge and she does so, gasping "Quinn" as she comes, hard.

She feels a tender kiss where her shoulder meets her neck. Quinn sits up on her knees, combing hair from where it's plastered to Marley's forehead. "You're really good at this," is the first thing Marley can think of to say once she's caught her breath.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I think that's because we've been doing it almost constantly over the past few days." She presses a kiss to the underside of Marley's jaw and settles more comfortably in her lap; automatically, Marley wraps her arms around Quinn's waist.

"Your turn."

"Once you recover," replies Quinn, smirking.

After the day they had – and the night after – Marley thought it perfectly justified to have a lazy day in. Quinn, of course, agreed wholeheartedly.

She wakes surrounded by afternoon sun and Quinn. Marley blinks slowly as she tries to locate herself in the present, letting the vestiges of her dreams fall away – which is easy, seeing that the woman before her is far better.

Smiling, Marley presses a kiss to the upper arm she's currently using as a pillow, and settles in more comfortably.

"You're staring," says Quinn without opening her eyes.

"Uncomfortable?"

"Physically, no. With the staring, yes."

Marley giggles.

"Stop grinning like that."

Marley adjusts the position of her chin on her hands. "How do you know if I'm grinning or not?"

"Seriously? You always have this way of smiling when you're looking at me." Quinn opens her eyes. "I used to find it creepy, but now I think it's… endearing."

"You must really love me," says Marley, grinning wider. "From creepy to endearing."

"I suppose. Don't push it." Quinn closes her eyes again, and drapes her arm over them. "What time is it?"

"Nine. I think."

"Why are we awake?"

"I'm awake because I can hardly believe you're here with me," replies Marley matter-of-factly, "and you're awake because my staring and grinning woke you up."

The blankets covering Quinn rise and fall as she huffs her displeasure; Marley's eyes drift to her chest briefly. "You were doing so well, you know." She uncovers her eyes, using her now unoccupied arm to draw Marley closer to her. "Learn to quit while you're ahead."

"Excuse you, I am awesome at flirting." Marley kisses her jaw, and snuggles in.

"Fine. Can we go back to sleep now?"

She can't resist a last, "Man, you're grouchy in the morning" before she wraps an arm around Quinn's middle and closes her eyes again.

Surprisingly, when she next wakes, it's to an empty bed…

… and the sounds of running water coming from the bathroom.

An evil smirk appears on her face. It's the perfect opportunity to get back at Quinn for yesterday night in the car – and to make up for yesterday morning's rush. She rolls out of bed – almost tumbling out due to her hastiness – and sneaks into the bathroom, making short work of her clothing as she goes.

The cabinet is fogged up from the water. Marley doesn't waste time; she opens the door, and closes it behind her before she has a chance to lose her nerve.

Quinn has her back to the door, treating Marley to an unimpeded view. She takes a step forward, arms encircling Quinn's waist. "Hey," she says into Quinn's ear.

"I really should throw you out like you did to me yesterday," says Quinn without turning around.

"Is there any way I can change your mind?" Marley's fingers skim down Quinn's thigh; the older woman shivers despite the warm water cascading around them.

"Mmm. You're doing pretty well, so far."

Marley turns her around. She covers Quinn's mouth with her own in a heated kiss, one hand pressed against the wall for balance. "How about now?" she asks, her free hand tracing patterns in the water over Quinn's skin.

"Still could be better."

She guides Quinn backwards, not breaking the kiss. Her thigh presses in between Quinn's legs; Quinn moans into her mouth, rubbing herself against Marley's leg. Her hands grip at Marley's shoulders.

It's hard to breathe in the hot foggy air. Marley focuses on Quinn's neck, sucking and nipping. Their bodies slide together, slick with water; she thrusts back and forth until she feels Quinn come with a breathy cry.

Her arms wrap around Quinn's shoulders, holding her up. "Now should we focus on getting clean?" she asks cheekily.

"LA has been a terrible influence on you," murmurs Quinn, but she kisses the side of Marley's face sweetly. "Initiating shower sex? How daring."

"You attempted to initiate shower sex yesterday," insists Marley, "so I think it's less LA and more Quinn Fabray influencing." She lets Quinn rub shampoo into her hair, sighing as she massages her scalp. "Mmm. Shower sex and pampering; I really fail to see how any of this is a terrible influence."

"The terrible influence part is when you see your water bill at the end of the month."

Marley gasps. "Don't even joke about that."

"I wouldn't dare." The hands that, up until that moment, have been shampooing her hair, glide lower until they cup her breasts. "... oh. Is this one of those happy ending massages they talk about?"

Quinn chuckles throatily in her ear. "Do you want it to be?"

A pleasant shudder ripples through Marley's spine.

"Now," says Marley, already bustling through her kitchen, "let's figure out brunch."

"I'm not that hungry, I already ate."

Marley peers at her around a cupboard door. "Really, Quinn? Do you really wanna go there?"

Quinn snickers. She licks her lips – Marley's attention is drawn to the movement of her tongue – and lifts her mug to take a sip of her coffee. "No. You're right. That was terrible."

"I wish you weren't leaving so soon. I'm gonna miss all of this so much."

The words are out of Marley's mouth before she can think twice about what she's said. When it sinks in, she closes the cupboard to look at Quinn properly. "I mean – I know we agreed to do this, but – "

"– can we… can we not talk about this now, please?" Quinn's expression is pleading; she wraps an arm around herself. "Let's just enjoy being here together."

"... Okay. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to apologise." Quinn gives her a small smile, and then returns her attention to her coffee.

Marley nods. She rubs her hands together in an attempt to motivate herself to revive the mood, and goes back to digging through her food supplies. "So, I was thinking," she begins, "since I have plenty of packaged stuff but no fresh food, we could go on a grocery run? It's been a while since we've gone to the store together, and it'll be just like old times. But if you're not feeling up to it, we can eat out too," she tacks on as an afterthought.

"The grocery run sounds fun." Quinn walks over to the sink to rinse out her mug. "You're right; it's been a while."

"Oh, good. Uh, would you be okay going out like that, or do you wanna change?" Marley's eyes glance over the sweater and pants Quinn's wearing.

"This is fine."

"Great. Well, not so great for me." She picks at a hole in her shorts and winces. "These shorts are ancient; I'll be arrested for public indecency if I wear this out. Give me a minute to go change…" To get to her room, Marley has to bypass Quinn. She can always make a trip around the kitchen table, but…

She gnaws on her bottom lip. The memory of their last real fight is fresh in her mind, as is Quinn's hurt expression. Marley turns her back to Quinn to walk around the kitchen table –

"Marley."

She pauses.

"Don't… I'm sorry."

"Quinn, when have I ever held anything you've said or done against you?" She turns around so she can hold Quinn properly, even as Quinn's arms remain around herself. Marley rests her chin against Quinn's hair. "We kinda needed to have this conversation, anyway."

"Yeah, but… it totally killed the mood."

"Serious talk usually does. I get it. I really do," she confesses. "I don't want to talk about us either, but…"

"... but we have to eventually. You're right," admits Quinn, voice muffled against Marley's neck. "It's not easy. And I hate it sometimes, I… I resent it, even. I used to be okay on my own. I didn't have to depend on anyone to be happy, and it was better that way."

Marley makes a soft sound.

"It makes me feel like I'm losing control, sometimes. That being dependent on someone to be happy makes me weak." She feels Quinn shudder in her arms. "I don't like feeling like this… being vulnerable."

"Don't push me away," murmurs Marley. "When I thought you were doing it, I… it was the worst feeling in the world. I can't imagine what it must have felt like for you at the time."

"I… I'm doing my best not to."

Marley places two fingers under Quinn's chin, nudging her face up. "I really think it's good that you're telling me this, because it means that you trust me. And to me, that doesn't mean you're losing control or being weak and vulnerable; it means that you're strong enough to let me in. We're in this together, alright?"

"Alright," says Quinn softly. "I get all of that. It's hard not to when you tell me constantly…"

Marley grins sheepishly.

"... But I'm alright. I am coping. It was just… I forgot, for a moment, I don't have a home to go to at the other end of the country."

"I know. Me too."

Quinn leans into her briefly, then looks down. "Maybe we could talk about this later?"

"Of course." She disappears into her room in search of a pair of intact pants. Marley moves on autopilot, her thoughts otherwise occupied. She won't lie; she's a little worried about Quinn now.

Marley is fairly certain they've weathered the crisis with Mrs Fabray well enough. But it had been followed almost immediately after by her move to Los Angeles, which would already be a strain on a normal close friendship.

In short, there was no way she would be able to provide Quinn with the emotional support that came with friendship – let alone with a relationship.

She checks her skirt in the mirror, deems it satisfactory, and rejoins Quinn outside. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

Marley leads the way, but she keeps one hand relaxed at her side – just in case. "So, I don't have any particular places I go to, but we could go to Ralph's, 'cause they have a really good ice cream place nearby."

"That sounds great."

They reach the car. Marley unlocks it and they climb in. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Anything would be good. You can go ahead and pick."

"I have a better idea. We'll see what's on special offer and figure out something from there."

This gets a smile from Quinn. "Adventurous."

"Why not? We've got all day today to recover if something goes wrong. Besides, we're us; we're definitely capable of feeding ourselves without screwing up too badly."

Quinn shakes her head, but Marley catches the fleeting glimpse of a smile as she glances over at the rearview mirrors, and that's good enough for now. She trusts Quinn not to run from her issues as she used to.

Marley blinks, excited. "I'll, uh, get a cart." She glances left and right until she spots the lanes, and goes to retrieve one.

When she comes back, Quinn meets her with an appraising look. "When was the last time you were here?"

"Um." She's not liking the direction of this line of enquiry, but answers anyway: "Couple of weeks ago? I shop at other stores too."

"You don't cook much, do you?"

Her jaw sets. "No. I'm busy with work, and I buy takeout home most of the time." Marley struggles with not going on the defensive. "Look, Quinn… I understand that you're concerned about me eating, but I really don't think now's the time to be talking about that." She sighs; her grip on the cart relaxes. "I do want to talk about it. Honest, but we kinda have a lot on our plates right now."

Quinn exhales softly. "Alright. I'm… I didn't mean to make it sound like an inquisition, especially after earlier. I know I have issues."

"Yeah, you do," says Marley, and is gratified when Quinn smiles back.

"Okay. I guess I deserved that."

Marley sets off; Quinn matches her pace. "Food first, talking later?"

"Sure."

Marley clears her throat. "So… veg. Do you have any violent opinions on those?"

"Not after nearly a decade of being friends with Rachel, no," replies Quinn. She focuses her attention on a head of broccoli, seemingly absorbed with finding an unblemished one.

"Right. Should have expected that." Marley snags a bag of carrots off the display. "It's been a while since we last went grocery shopping together – and when was that, exactly?"

"Sometime last year? When you were working so much you forgot to eat."

Quinn glances sideways at her, but thankfully, doesn't say anything. "Yeah, I remember. Oh yeah, that reminds me – Ethan, the guy that was hitting on me? He got fired a month ago, for harrassment."

"Good riddance. If it was enough for him to get fired, I guess he must have made the working environment pretty toxic."

"It was. Apparently, I got off easy." Quinn walks off towards the meat display; Marley struggles to keep her face straight.

"I'm surprised you restrained yourself this long," says Marley dryly, nodding at the package of smoked bacon in Quinn's hand.

Quinn shakes her head. "Don't push your luck."

"Pick whatever you want. We should cook more while you're here; I don't use my kitchen enough anyway, and I've missed your cooking."

"My cooking? Seriously?"

"Hopefully, you've come a long way from desecrating my mom's recipes, right?"

Quinn tilts her head to the side, contemplating Marley. She smirks suddenly. "I hope so."

By the time they arrive home, most of the strange tension from the morning has dissipated, and Quinn seems perfectly comfortable again. "I'll cook, you assist," she says, taking the grocery bag out of Marley's hands. "Okay?"

Marley giggles. "How can I say no when you're being forceful and adorable like this?"

"I'm not sure those two adjectives go together, but okay." Quinn surveys the groceries they've just bought, and have set out all over the kitchen table and counters. "How about… stir-fry?"

"Sounds nice."

"I thought brunch, but I think I've had enough of pancakes… no offence."

"Only the slightest taken." Marley smooths down the front of her shirt and pushes up her sleeves. "So, chef, what do you need me to do?"

"Break down the broccoli, please." She fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove. While waiting for the water to boil, she busies herself with the packages of noodles. She glances around, eyes lingering on Marley, and the contentment in her expression is unmistakable.

Marley sets down her knife. "Quinn?"

"Mmm?"

"To answer your question before, I don't go to the grocery store much. I've been working a lot to keep my mind off things, and most of the time I didn't feel like cooking. Even when I was living with my mom, we cook for two or more, and there're always leftovers in the fridge."

"You've done a good job of staying busy, though." Quinn casts a quick look at the pot, before she walks over to Marley's side of the kitchen. "I know how hard it can be to stay focused, and to remember to maintain a structure. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, but… Quinn, I have something to tell you."

Quinn's facial expression stills.

"It has to do with what we talked about this morning."

Quinn's face goes from stoic to a calculated blankness that Marley recognizes as hiding a wealth of emotion.

"I… I went back to Columbus last month," says Marley.

"Columbus? I thought you went to Lima to visit your mom?"

She nods. "I did. But I also went to see my therapist. I used to go weekly, when I was struggling with my disorder; now I go once a year or so just to check in with her."

Quinn nods.

"I talk to her. About you. I've been telling her almost everything from the beginning… when you came into my life, when we were becoming friends. It helped with everything." Marley lifts her gaze to Quinn's concerned eyes. "You're the first person I could talk to about my disorder after her."

"I'm glad you trusted me," says Quinn.

"You don't mind I talked to her about you? I mean – " she struggles to find coherent words for her jumbled thoughts, "– I know you value your privacy, and I don't want you to feel betrayed that I talked to a stranger about you."

"I don't mind." Quinn comes closer, close enough that their foreheads touch. "I know she's a big part of your life, Marley, and I'm grateful that she's helped you so much."

Relief floods through her body. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me so quickly. I can tell that there's something else on your mind."

"Yeah? I'm pretty much an open book, aren't I?"

Quinn chuckles. "And I'm closed-off and aloof. We're so meant to be."

Marley smiles, bumping her girlfriend playfully with her shoulder. "As I was saying… I talked to my therapist about us, now. Our doing long-distance. And she said something that I didn't fully understand until now." She takes a deep breath. "Everything we left behind in New York; my insecurities, your emotional issues, our future… she told me to make sure it stays there."

She can feel Quinn searching her face, mouth twisted as she slowly processes what Marley is telling her.

"I wasn't sure what she meant until this morning. We both agreed to do this, but I know it's not fair to the both of us to act like nothing has changed when we do get a chance to see each other. Because it has. We live on opposite ends of the country and that means I can't be with you when you need me, when you had a crappy day and you want someone to hold you and watch trashy TV with you. You can't tell me everything's gonna be okay when I'm crying over something that went wrong at work."

Marley waves her hand at their surroundings. "As much as I love that you're here now, you're too important to me for us to try and cram an entire relationship into the few days whenever one of us visits the other."

"So what are you asking me to do, Marley?" Quinn's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I want you to wait for me. I… I'm not asking for us to break up, but – I'm just having a really hard time trying to put all this in words, so please be patient with me? I…" Marley shakes her head, and tries again: "I want a real relationship with you. But we won't stand a chance if we don't work on those issues that you and I have…"

"... which is impossible right now, because we're not even living in the same city," finishes Quinn.

"I know I'm not meant to be here." She breathes in. Marley closes her eyes, and opens them. "My home is where you are."

"Marley…"

An angry burble from the pot on the stove causes them both to jump. Quinn crosses the kitchen in quick steps to turn down the heat, and put the noodles inside. Marley resumes vegetable prep, now julienning carrots.

They don't speak again until they're both seated with plates of noodle stir-fry, and Marley feels a hand on hers. "I want this, too," says Quinn, with a quick glance at their joined hands, "I want to make it work."

Marley smiles. "Okay," she says, squeezing back.

"Marley?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you talked to Finn or Brittany lately?"

Marley looks up from the soapy dishes in the sink. They've both been quiet for the rest of the afternoon, preoccupied with their own thoughts; it takes her a while to get back into a functional frame of mind. "Uh… I was texting Finn the other day. He thinks Junior Mints are the best movie snack of all time, which I don't agree with when Starburst exists. Why?"

Quinn doesn't bat an eyelash. "Well, I think… it would be nice if we could all go out while I'm in town. It's been a while since I talked to Brittany, and I think it would be good to reconnect with Finn again."

Marley rinses her hands, wiping them on the dry dishtowel hanging from the cupboard railing. "Oh! I mean – that'll be good. I can go ask if they're free, and we could meet for dinner." She reaches for her phone, unlocking it and tapping on the screen.

Quinn hums. "Okay." She takes a wet dish from the rack and wipes it dry. "You should go do that elsewhere."

"But, the dishes."

"We're almost done. I can finish them on my own. Go, shoo, you're blocking the sink." Quinn waves her hand at her in a dismissive motion.

"Rude," says Marley, smiling widely. But she exits the kitchen, sending the text as she goes. Her phone rings as she settles comfortably on the couch. "Hey, Finn."

"Marley! Got your text," says Finn warmly. "Britt and I would be glad for all of us to meet up. Though, you sure it's Quinn's idea?"

"She kicked me out of my own kitchen to text you, so yes." She talks loud enough so Quinn can hear her.

He chuckles. "That's actually… sounds like how she was like back in our sophomore year; all bossy and stuff. I'm convinced."

From the kitchen, Quinn calls: "Tell Finn to pick someplace other than the diner. As much as I love unpretentious diner food, there are only so many milkshakes and breakfasts-for-dinner any sane person can consume in four days."

"I heard Quinn. What'd she say?"

"She said not to pick the diner."

Finn makes a disappointed sound. "Awww, man. Fine. I'm sure Britt has plenty of ideas for other good places we can go. When's good? Tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, that should be okay with us," says Marley.

"Cool. I'll get Britt to text you the address. Looking forward to it! Bye, Marley."

"Bye." She ends the call, and picks up a throw cushion from beside her to hug.

They have a knack for navigating difficult conversations – especially ones conducted at the wrong time and place – but that last one has to take the cake. Strangely, she feels lighter; like she can enjoy the moment properly without worrying about the long-term.

"You look comfortable."

From the light and casual tone Quinn's taken, Marley guesses she feels the same. She doesn't bother arguing with Quinn; Marley's smile just widens, and she tosses the cushion aside unceremoniously, patting her lap. "Sit down."

"You know, just because you're taller doesn't mean you get to be the guy." Nevertheless, Quinn does sit carefully in her lap.

Marley laughs. She spreads her legs so Quinn can sit comfortably in between, curling an arm around Quinn's waist to encourage her to lean back into her body. "What have you got there?" she asks, catching sight of the book in Quinn's hand.

Quinn holds up the book so Marley can read the title Sudden Death in black on lurid green. "Finally getting round to good writing."

"Haven't found the next great thing yet?"

"Far from it." She cracks open the book to the first page. "Now hush."

Marley does. She snuggles into Quinn, her free arm joining the other, resting her chin on Quinn's shoulder to read.

"Are you reading over my shoulder?"

"Yep."

"Get your own book."

"I was going to, then someone sat on top of me and made herself comfy."

Quinn giggles. "Someone, huh?"

"A certain someone," confirms Marley.

"I brought you books," points out Quinn, "there's no excuse for you reading over my shoulder."

"Not even when there's a beautiful woman on my lap crushing me?"

Quinn swats at her with her book. "Are you just gonna heckle me, or are you gonna let me read in peace?"

Marley's laughing so hard, she has to press her face to Quinn's shoulder to try and calm herself down enough to speak. "I'll make you a deal," she says at last, "you get me one of those books of which you speak, and I'll leave you alone."

"Okay, but there's no guarantee I'll come back to put myself at your mercy," says Quinn. She tucks her bookmark inside her book, and stands up, heading for the room. When she returns, it's with a trim travel-sized paperback which she hands to Marley. "My boss recommended this to me. I thought it was pretty good, so I bought a copy for you."

She takes the book from Quinn. "Thanks," says Marley, already engrossed with reading the blurb on the back of the cover.

Quinn settles beside her, curling her body into Marley's.

When she climbs into bed at the end of the day, Quinn is already on the left side, which she's claimed as her own. Marley gets under the covers, near Quinn but not touching. She's tired from everything that's happened.

Quinn rolls over. She rests her head on Marley's chest, fingers gripping the fabric of Marley's shirt. Marley holds her. She strokes the back of Quinn's neck until Quinn's breathing evens out.

"This is gonna be awkward, isn't it?"

Marley blinks in consternation. Between following the robotic directions of the GPS and maneuvering the car through LA traffic, it takes a while for her to process what Quinn's saying. "I think it'll be as awkward as we make it," she replies. "We've hung out with them before."

"Yes, but individually. Not as – not together." She ducks her head immediately after, as though embarrassed. "... No, you know what? Never mind. You're right. I don't even know what I'm saying right now."

Marley sighs. It's been some time since she's seen Quinn this insecure, but it's never a good feeling. "You have a point," she says. The lights change, and Marley puts her hand on Quinn's lap, grateful for the opportunity. "Like, I know how weird this is to an outsider – Finn and I, we've talked about that…"

Quinn narrows her eyes. "You talked about all of this with Finn?"

"Uh… yes?"

"Well, that's – " Quinn cuts herself off, and then begins again: "Sorry, I'm just a little – you talked about something that wasn't football or food, in considerable depth, with Finn Hudson. The last time I had a conversation with him that was deeper than that, he was breaking up with me to date Rachel in our sophomore year."

Marley has never been more happy to see a green light. "I, uh, I don't think I'll ever get used to how complicated all your back history is – or how everyone's still friends."

"You're technically one of us now."

"Oh, I know." The GPS announces that they're at their destination. Marley pulls off the street into the lot, and makes short work of parking. She checks her phone. "They're here, they got a table. Ready?"

"I should be asking you that," replies Quinn.

"Quinn!"

The look on Quinn's face as she gets swept into a massive hug by Brittany makes Marley want to simultaneously tear up and laugh. She forgets all about that when Finn pats her shoulder. "Hey, Finn."

"Hey, guys. Glad you could make it."

"Same here," says Quinn, because it's Marley's turn for a Brittany hug, and she's not currently capable of speech. "Hi, Finn."

"Hi," he says softly.

"I've missed you both!" exclaims Brittany. She seems oblivious to whatever's between Finn and Quinn. "Especially you, Quinn."

"Same, Britt."

"Could you answer a question for me real quick? Where exactly in New York is the big apple kept?"

Quinn and Marley exchange looks; Finn looks unperturbed, flagging down a waitress to place their drink orders. "Uh… There's no big apple."

"I know that," she quips, "I was making a joke. The both of you look really tense."

They both start laughing.

"Y'know, it's a shame they had to leave so early."

For once, Quinn's driving. Marley was persuaded into having something harder than her usual lemonade (and a few more of those somethings), and thus is lounging in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio. "Don't lie," says Quinn distractedly, "you're as eager as I am to go home."

"Am I?" Marley rests her hand on Quinn's knee.

Quinn chuckles. "And to think you used to be so innocent. I've corrupted you."

"I'm not as innocent as everyone thinks I am. I did a lot of corrupting on my own, thank you very much. You're a lot less dirty than you make yourself out to be."

"Sex is a completely normal thing, and so is having a healthy attitude towards it." Quinn smirks. "Plus, Santana was the only person I knew who had Cosmo magazines under her bed."

"Mmm. Isn't everything much better than the Celibacy Club?"

"You're ridiculous when you're drunk. It's a good thing I'm driving, otherwise I'd film this for Santana."

Marley pouts. "I'm not drunk."

"Which is what drunk people say."

"I want you."

"We'll see how you're feeling when we get home." Quinn still looks amused as she follows the GPS instructions, signalling for a left turn. "I think it's been a while since you've drank that much; you're gonna regret it tomorrow."

She doesn't understand why Quinn is being so difficult. After all, she was the one who jumped her in the backseat of her own car, for goodness' sake. And now she's declining sex? Marley realises she's slumped low in the car seat, and pushes herself up.

"Hey, I didn't jump you. I thought it would be fun, and you were all for that," says Quinn.

Marley frowns. "... Did I say that out loud?"

Quinn bursts out laughing. "Ridiculous and adorable. Such an attractive combination." She kills the engine and takes the keys.

"Wait, why'd you do that?"

"Because we're home?"

"Oh."

"Wait here," says Quinn, unbuckling her seatbelt. Marley rubs her face as the car door on the far side slams shut, and then the door to her right opens. "Can you stand?"

"Of course." Marley gets out. "See?"

"Good. Let's go."

Marley clings to Quinn's arm, humming to herself.

"That's nice."

"It's off Trent's new album."

"Isn't that the guy whose album you're producing? I should get a copy."

"I'll send you one." Marley fishes in Quinn's bag for the keys. "You need to unlock the door so we can get in."

Quinn watches as Marley fiddles with the door, and gets the lights. "You're surprisingly well-organized for a drunk," she says as she follows Marley inside.

"I have a pretty good alcohol tolerance, but I don't like using it." Marley drops her keys into the bowl in the hallway. "Now, c'mon. Bed."

"How can I resist?" she hears Quinn say, as she heads to her room.

Marley kicks off her shoes, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. She doesn't care to see where she drops everything as she makes her way to the bed, collapsing face-first on the pillows.

The mattress depresses beside her. Marley reaches out blindly until she finds solid warmth. "You still have clothes," she says, rubbing fabric between finger and thumb.

The world spins. When it settles, she's lying flat on her back, looking up at Quinn. "I make it a policy not to sleep with people when they're drunk," says Quinn, still smiling.

"I'm not drunk."

"Yes, you are. And there'll be plenty of time to continue this discussion tomorrow." As she talks, Quinn simultaneously reaches for the bottle of water from the bedside table and swats Marley's hands off her shirt. "Drink."

"Why are you being so responsible?" grumbles Marley. She drinks.

"Trust me, drunk sex only looks good in the movies. I know this, sadly, from experience," says Quinn, deadpan. She turns off the lamp and kisses Marley on the forehead. "Good night."

Her mouth tastes disgusting.

When Marley cracks her eyelids open, she's alone. There's two aspirin on the side, together with a bottle of water, and the sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen.

By the time she's showered and brushed her teeth, she feels considerably less hungover; enough to find Quinn – or, more accurately, the kitchen table.

"Good morning," says Quinn. "How're you feeling?"

"Better." Marley cracks open an eye to smile at Quinn sheepishly. "I was really fun to be around last night, huh?"

"The best," replies Quinn very seriously. She sets a glass of milk on the table. "Did you drink the water?"

"Yes, and took the aspirin. Thanks for taking care of me."

"You don't need to thank me for that."

When she's a little more awake, she notices Quinn is fully dressed, as though going somewhere… a cold sinking feeling makes itself known in the pit of her stomach. "Oh. Shit. It's Tuesday today, isn't it?"

Quinn has two plates in her hands; one goes in front of Marley, the other for herself. "Yeah."

"Oh."

An insistent pressure under her chin coaxes her into looking up at Quinn. "Don't make this harder than it already is," she says quietly.

She forces a smile that fools no one. "I'm trying not to. I just can't believe that time passed so quickly."

"I know, sweetheart."

Marley chuckles softly. "I thought you don't do endearments."

"Yes, but you like them regardless." Quinn's fingers brush her cheek briefly, and then she's leaning away, attention back on her breakfast. Marley suspects it might be forced. "I've got something for you after we're done eating."

"So do I."

The food is solid and tasteless in her throat, but she eats every last bit anyway. Marley puts the plate in the sink the minute she's done, and then heads for the wrapped box in the back of her dresser.

Quinn hands her a flat box once she returns. "I realised that in all the time we've been friends," she starts, "we've never really celebrated each other's birthdays."

"It wasn't really important." Birthday cakes were luxuries growing up, and the day off school was usually what Marley would get on her birthday until midway through high school, when she had friends to celebrate the occasion with. Marley gives her own gift to Quinn. "I didn't really have your birthday in mind when I got this; I was just thinking that you'd like it."

Quinn has this look on her face, like she's been handed a pipe bomb; like she doesn't know what to do with the object in her hands because it's completely unexpected, but she knows better than to throw it to one side like instinct dictates. "Marley, I… you didn't have to."

"Great minds think alike," she says. The hangover is lingering long enough that she feels like she's detached from her emotions – which, for today only, is a blessing. Marley's fingers run over the paper, finding the tape that holds it all together, fingernails peeling it away.

Quinn is a little less careful. There are rips in the wrapping paper, and she has the box open in her lap before Marley has even gotten the paper off her gift. "A thumbdrive?" she asks, holding it up.

"It has songs on it that remind me of you and us," explains Marley. "A mixtape seemed really small and old-fashioned."

Quinn gives a watery laugh. "The wonders of modern technology."

Finally, Marley lifts the lid of her box and pulls out a scarf. It's white and gauzy, and it has intricate black patterns all over it, which on closer inspection… "They're words," says Marley, awed, and holds it up to the light.

"You love your hipster scarves," says Quinn. "I thought this would have a more personal touch."

"But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there," reads Marley, and looks up, amazed. "Is this… did they print the entire book on this?"

"Yeah." Quinn smiles shyly. "I'm glad you like it."

"So much." She winds the scarf around her neck, fingers trembling as they arrange the material neatly. "I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You haven't opened your other gift yet," says Marley.

"Huh?"

"I'd only intended to give you the mixtape, but I happened on it in the shop," explains Marley. In front of her, Quinn returns to the box, removing the thumbdrive and the layers of cushioning tissue. "Stars are kind of our thing now, but this was how we became friends."

Quinn lifts a chain from the box; a tiny silver pendant glitters on it. It's in the shape of a book. "It's beautiful. Help me put it on?"

She has to get up. She does, slowly. Marley walks around to stand behind Quinn's chair; her hands cover Quinn's, taking the ends of the chain from her. She brings it around Quinn's neck, skin brushing skin; the fine hairs of Quinn's head tickle her fingers. She fastens it and lets go, so she's not touching Quinn more than she has to.

"Thank you," whispers Quinn, touching the silver book where it rests on her collarbone.

Marley doesn't move away. Her arms slide around Quinn's shoulders, and she buckles forward. "I'll miss you," she whispers, and feels Quinn's quiet shudder.

It doesn't feel like very long before Quinn squeezes her wrist, and says hoarsely: "We should be going."

"Okay." Marley lets go. She grabs the first clothes out of her closet – an old floral-print blouse and a skirt – and marches back out, adjusting the scarf over her new outfit. Quinn looks up, startled, from where she's been sitting on the couch. "Let's go," says Marley, snatching up her keys and bag.

"Marley…"

She meets Quinn halfway, pulling her in for a passionate kiss. Quinn responds, her fingers weaving into Marley's hair and holding on tight.

Just as it was Marley who initiated it, Marley is the one to put space between them first. She does her best not to let her lips tremble. "I don't think I can kiss you like this at the airport," she murmurs. Her hand cradles the side of Quinn's face.

Quinn's mouth parts like she's about to laugh; what sounds like a sob comes out instead. "Then you should do it again."

The tug on her hair was unnecessary. Their lips crash together once more, and Marley holds on like she can stop the world from spinning and time marching on if she holds on tight enough, if she wants it badly enough.

Her eyes flicker open. Marley studies the curve of Quinn's cheek, how her skin trembles when her fingertips trace her features. She inhales Quinn, lets her presence saturate her being. "I'll miss you."

"You can't miss me if I'm not gone yet," says Quinn, expression stoic, eyes vulnerable.

Adapting back to an LA without Quinn is more of a struggle than she'd envisioned. Quinn is conspicuous in her absence, pervasive in memory, and Marley fights to center herself.

But instead of distracting herself with work, she sets herself a goal: sorting out her life priorities, and working towards achieving them.

Trent's album goes on the market with a modest ad campaign to back it up. In the middle of the promo circuit of LA's record stores, she gets a phone call. Marley fervently hopes it's not her boss with more bad news. But then she does a double take on seeing the caller ID.

"Quinn. Hi!"

"Hi. Is this a bad time?"

"Nope, not at all." She catches her colleague's eye and gestures frantically towards the phone in her hand; without waiting for an answer, Marley ducks into the bathroom. "What's up? Did something big happen?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you don't normally call me in the middle of the day, so I'm guessing something big happened."

Quinn laughs. "Very perceptive. Yeah, something big did happen… I got a promotion."

"Quinn, that's amazing! Congratulations!"

"Thanks. Honestly, I'm still in shock… I haven't been working here long, and there were quite a few other people more qualified and experienced."

"You? Less qualified? Sure thing, Miss Masters from Columbia. I'm so proud of you." Marley tucks the phone under her chin. "So, tell me more about your promotion. Do you get a corner office? Personal coffee maker? Personal assistant?"

"I wish," says Quinn with a laugh. "It's more or less the same thing I do everyday except I get a modest salary increase, and people to oversee. I think you're more likely than I am to get that personal assistant. How's your album promo going?"

"It's going," replies Marley. "We're at Amoeba Music now. Trent's actually got a decent group of people here to see him. I'm trying not to let it all go to his head," she adds in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Sounds fun." There's some muffled voices in the background. "Sorry, Marley," says Quinn, "I have to go. My department's throwing me an impromptu lunch party and I may or may not have sneaked off to call you."

"I'm appalled. Thanks for abandoning your party to call, though. We'll Skype later?"

"Of course. Bye."

"Love you, Quinn. Bye."

She contemplates the phone for a long moment after, before tucking it back into her pocket.

Later that evening, Marley dials a number and waits for it to connect – which it does, after three rings.

"Oh, wow," drawls the voice on the other end. "It's little Marley Rose."

"Hi, Santana."

"What do you want? Shouldn't you be like, partying with all the drunk rappers and snorting coke off a hooker's buttcheeks now, instead of phoning home like some sad sack?"

Marley sniggers. "Why can't I be doing all three?" Pushing Santana's buttons is always risky, but commenting that her insults seem to be congruent with Rachel's interests would be an instant death sentence.

"Fair. I repeat, what do you want?"

"Some time ago, I remember you saying that if I needed to talk, I can give Auntie 'Tana a call…"

"Oh fuck no."

"Santana."

"That was a moment of weakness! You can't hold something like that against me!"

Marley tucks the phone more securely against her jaw, waiting patiently for Santana to finish her rant.

"... and I swear I will fly to Los fucking Angeles, just to show you the true power of Snix. You hear me, Rosie?"

"Yep. Anyway, I was just calling to ask if you had any luck with your album."

"Oh, that's old news. We hustled until we broke even, and then called it a day. I'm working on my next one now."

"Santana, that's amazing." Marley pauses. "Wait. How long have you been working on new songs?"

"Couple of months?"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Hey, my producer upped and moved to Los fucking Angeles. What did you think I was gonna do, cling on to a long-distance relationship?"

Marley frowns. "Not cool," she says tightly.

"... Sorry," says Santana, and she can practically visualise the expression Santana gets when she apologises to someone who's not Rachel; like all her teeth are being pulled at once. "That was a low blow. But, you gotta agree, you're more or less dead to me." She chuckles suddenly. "Hey, that had a ring to it."

"I can still help with arrangements and lyrics. You can email me your demos, and I could look them over in my free time."

"Rosie, you 'look over' shitty demos for a living. Now you're telling me you wanna look over awesome demos for free? I know life there is boring without us, but that's just pathetic."

"Hear me out." She adjusts her grip on the phone. "You know who I'm working for, right?"

"Duh."

"If I was awesome enough to work with you while still an intern, imagine how much more awesome I would be as a producer they flew out to LA."

"That's assuming you were ever awesome in the first place, Rosie," says Santana, her tone warm. "True, though."

"So, what do you say?"

"I say that there's still a major part of the puzzle missing. You're scheming something, and trust me, I know all about scheming. I wrote the book on it."

"You got me." Marley tries to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Although I hope your scheming powers have gotten better since high school."

"... Oookay, which dirt did Preggo dish?"

"I'm not telling. How do you even know it was Quinn, anyway? Like, you do realise there were other people in Glee we had in common?"

"Ugh, fine. Back to the point; you tell me what's going on in that little head of yours, and I decide if I wanna play along. Capisce?"

"Fine. I guess I do owe you that much, at least."

Author's Notes: The chapter title comes from Unwritten Letter #1 by Vienna Teng.