Author's Notes: Those of you who follow me on Tumblr may know I've been talking about writing this fic for quite a while now... well, here it is!
Major credit goes to Mike Ownby, who in addition to his regular duties of grammar Nazi-ing, spellcheck, and Americanization, came up with a feasible roadtrip plan as I live far, far away from the USA, and ensured I didn't abandon this fic. Without him, it's safe to say you wouldn't be reading this.
"– Seriously, Santana?"
The other woman shrugs. "Look, Q. I'm sorry, I really am."
Quinn sighs. "I know. But at the very last minute, how am I gonna find another road trip buddy?"
"Take Berry. She'll love singing in the car at the top of her lungs, you'll love being able to push her out somewhere in rural Montana where no one will ever find her body." Santana grins, nudging Quinn's arm not-so-subtly.
"You're not funny," says Quinn, barely suppressing a smirk.
"Yes, I am." Santana pulls a nail file out of her bag and started buffing her nails. "Seriously, though. Why not her?"
"She's got vocal camp in Columbus," replies Quinn. "I asked her ages ago."
"Oh, well, in that case thank God I couldn't make it. You were trying to kill me. Cooping me and Berry Tiny in an enclosed space for a week is a recipe for Snixx."
"She's not that bad," says Quinn, rolling her eyes. "She's a lot better now after she got over herself and over Finn."
"Mmm, yeah. You two got a lot more bearable after you both realized that you could do so, so much better than Finn Constipated Hudson." Santana waggles her eyebrows at Quinn. "Too bad it didn't work out between you two, eh?"
Quinn shrugs in lieu of giving a verbal answer.
"Aww, don't be like that…"
The bell rings, and Quinn breathes a sigh of relief. "Go away. Don't you have Spanish with Brittany now?"
"I'm Latina," says Santana with a shrug. "Goodness knows how this school let me sign up for Spanish. You know I could ace that class in my sleep. I'm only in it 'cause that's an easy A, and Britt-Britt needs my help." Much to Quinn's annoyance, she follows her out of the class and down the hallway. "But we got bigger problems than my girl not knowing the difference between yo soy and yo' mama. You," she pokes Quinn's arm, "need a road trip buddy pronto."
"I'll be fine," grumbles Quinn.
"No, you won't."
"Yes, I will."
"Nuh-uh."
Quinn scowls. "What are you, five? Shut up and go to class."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. Jeez. Yes, Mom." She walks a few steps, before suddenly whirling on her heel and almost clocking a poor freshman in the face with her bag. "Excuse me for trying to help you solve this major fucking problem."
Quinn ignores her, walking into Mr Fletcher's AP History class and sinking into her usual seat with a sigh. As much as it pained her to admit it, Santana is right; she does need a replacement. Reimbursing Santana for her half of the costs was the easy part, but Quinn won't be able to drive the entire planned itinerary on her own now that she's paying for fuel herself.
Financials aside, it was incredibly pathetic taking a road trip solo.
But it doesn't help to worry about it now. Quinn was raised to solve problems, not worry herself sick for a solution. Tuning Fletcher and his nasal drone on the Great Depression out, she opens her notebook and starts listing down all the senior girls she knows.
It looks promising initially, but after she's crossed out all the girls she doesn't actually like, she's left with a handful of names. Quinn reviews her list; Tina has a summer job lined up, Mercedes is going to Fort Wayne for summer camp. Brittany is going on vacation with her family. Idly, she wonders how someone who was pretty, popular (and most of all, blonde) ended up not having enough friends to fill out a notebook page.
It's hopeless. She wants to go wring Santana's neck; it won't actually solve anything, but it'll make her feel a lot better.
"She loves me, she loves me not…" says Santana when she walks into Glee.
"What?"
Santana smirks. "Amy Lewis told me about your list of eligible bachelorettes. Getting desperate, are we?"
"Shut up," she mutters.
Rachel walks in and upon spotting Quinn, immediately makes a beeline for her. "Quinn, I really am sorry I can't join you on your road trip," she says earnestly. "Trust me, a prolonged bonding session with you is something I would value greatly. Our friendship is extremely important to me, and you know I would do anything to maintain it."
"Don't worry about it, Rachel." She smiles at Rachel, who returns it with a megawatt grin of her own.
It's a shame, really. There was a point in time where Quinn thought she liked liked Rachel, and that might be the actual reason for their constant arguing. Once she'd worked up the courage, she'd cornered Rachel in the third-floor girls' bathroom and kissed her. Her findings were mixed; although she's now confident she likes girls a lot more than boys (at least, kissing them), she doesn't actually like Rachel in that way.
On the plus side, the feeling was mutual. Rachel took the kiss in her stride, saying something about getting her college experimentation done early and offering to kiss her again to help Quinn's experimentation – an offer Quinn had managed to graciously decline.
Yeah, Rachel was crazy, but it was a kind of crazy that had grown on Quinn. They were actually friends now, much to Rachel's delight and Santana's dismay. Freshman Quinn would have been horrified if she could see senior Quinn.
She's jogged back to reality by Santana's nail file in her elbow. "What?" hisses Quinn.
Santana's smiling at her as though she's discovered the cure for cancer. "What about Transfer Girl?" She points to the brunette girl seated in the lower row in front of them.
"What about her? Also, she has a name. Stop calling her that."
Santana shrugs. "Quinnifer, stop changing the goddamned subject. Jeezus, you could win the Olympic gold for running if they changed the place from the stupid track to running away from your problems."
Quinn snorts.
"Hey, I'm serious. Ask Marley if she's free this summer." Santana digs in her elbow, prompting a growl from Quinn.
"S, I'm not gonna ask someone I barely talk to outside of Glee on a two-week road trip." Internally, she's a little disgruntled she didn't think of Marley herself, but she's not about to give Santana the satisfaction of knowing.
To Quinn's horror, Santana proceeds to lean down and prod the girl's shoulder. "Hey, Rose. You got any summer plans?"
Marley turns her head a fraction (Mr Schuester is still talking while the entire drama had been going on). "I'm sorry?"
"You. Summer. Free?"
"Shut up, Lezpez," grits out Quinn. She yanks Santana back into her seat. "Ignore her, she didn't take her meds this morning," she says to Marley.
"It's fine," says Marley, smiling (rather bewilderedly) and turning back.
To Mr Schuester, who is now talking about the history of jazz, and the movie La La Land's invaluable contribution to the scene. Quinn screams internally.
Santana, to her credit, shuts up until Glee is over (maybe because she fell asleep, Quinn doesn't know for sure) and then practically leaps out of her chair to bar the door before Marley can leave.
"We haven't finished talking yet, Rosebud," says Santana. Quinn swears she can see the maniacal gleam in her eye. "You see, my BFF over there, that total MILF Quinn Fabray, is looking for a travel buddy for her "Fuck-High-School" road trip after graduation."
Quinn gets to her before Brittany or Rachel can. "Oh my God," she seethes, "you've embarrassed me so much today." She turns to Marley. "I'm so sorry."
"It's really okay…"
Santana's head pops up over Quinn's shoulder. "So, how about it?" she asks.
Marley blinks. "Uh, I'll be helping my mom with her catering business this summer…"
Santana claps her hands together. "Great! That means you got no plans." She turns to Quinn. "Problem solved. Take Lunchlady Jr with you."
Quinn rummages around in her bag for something to throw at Santana. She finds an old MAC concealer, take careful aim, and shoots; it bounces off Santana's shoulder. Ignoring Santana's loud, "Ow! Bitch!", Quinn says: "Just ignore her."
Marley laughs nervously. She glances between Santana and Quinn.
Rachel and Brittany – seemingly sensing that nothing good can come out of this – choose to intervene as a tag team, much to Quinn's relief. "Santana, Brittany and I were thinking that it's time you and I guest-starred on Fondue for Two," says Rachel loudly. "After all, if I'm to achieve my goal of winning a Tony before I'm twenty-five, it is imperative that I insert myself in the public consciousness as soon as possible, and I'm sure the positive press would be beneficial for whatever career you should choose to pursue after graduation."
"Very beneficial," says Brittany with a nod.
Santana eyes them both suspiciously but backs off. "Don't think I don't see what you're trying to do, but I'll play along." She saunters out of the choir room, Rachel and Brittany in tow. Quinn tries not to cringe when Rachel does her best Linda Blair impression to flash her a big thumbs-up and effervescent grin.
Quinn turns back to Marley, humiliated enough to last the entirety of her schooling life. "Sorry about that."
Marley laughs. "No, it's fine. They're like that pretty much all the time in Glee, so I'm used to it. It's cool."
Quinn now remembers why she hasn't really talked to Marley; she was usually the first one out of Glee, or she wouldn't show up at all. Now Quinn knows that it's probably because Marley was helping her mom in the cafeteria. "If you could do me a favor and forget about the entire thing, that would be great. I'm sorry that Santana dragged you into that hot mess."
"If you say so," replies Marley. She still has that small smile on her face. "I have to go. I'll see you next week?"
"Yeah. See you."
Santana is definitely on her shitlist now. Quinn replies 'k' to each of the texts she gets from her, knowing that would annoy her more than simply ignoring the messages. She also watches what turns out to be a very entertaining episode of Fondue for Two.
(She wasn't sure if Rachel and Brittany were bluffing to get Santana off her back, but she now knows that while individually formidable, together they are a force to be reckoned with.)
She still hasn't decided what to do with her road trip. She needs this break before the next phase of her life starts; Quinn isn't about to regale her new friends at Yale with her tales of Midwestern life. They'd probably think it was all hay rides and hoedowns. Yee-fucking-haw.
Come Monday, Quinn has all but erased last week's disaster from her mind until lunch.
When the weather is nice, Quinn likes to take her book and sandwich outside. She's a little behind on her reading, thanks to Santana, which irks her; books have always been the most effective thing for drowning out Mr Schue's lectures.
She's deep into the adventures of Pi when a voice interrupts her.
"Uh, hi."
Quinn looks up, surprised. "Marley? Hi."
"Hey. Do you mind if I join you?"
Quinn looks left and right at the empty concrete bleachers. "No, there's plenty of room."
Marley seats herself primly beside Quinn. She has an actual brown paper bag lunch, and she starts unpacking its contents.
Quinn goes back to reading. It's difficult to focus, however, when Marley keeps glancing at her – while trying her best not to be caught glancing at her.
She's mildly irritated. Yet, Quinn resigns herself to another delay in her reading schedule. "Yes, Marley?"
Marley gulps. "I, ah, huh?"
She tucks her bookmark inside and shuts the book. "Did you want to talk?"
"Oh. Uh, Santana said something about a road trip…?"
Her nervousness steadily erodes Quinn's patience. She props her elbow on her book and her chin on her palm to wait for Marley to finish talking. Unsurprisingly, her stance doesn't do much for Marley's confidence.
Screw this. She's treating the poor girl like one of her bumbling freshmen auditioning to be a part of the Cheerios, which Marley definitely doesn't deserve. "I'm sorry," says Quinn, considerably warmer, "let's start over. Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray. Senior, former Head Cheerio, and full-time Gleek." Quinn holds out her hand.
It does wonders to assuage Marley's nerves. Her smile looks less hesitant, and there's a surprising strength to her handshake. "Marley Rose. Also senior and Gleek but only junior lunchlady."
"Oh god," says Quinn, wincing, "I am so sorry about that."
Marley waves her off. "It's okay," she insists with a laugh, "Really. Honestly, I've heard worse at my last school. Santana's not that bad, plus I know she's really a good person deep down."
"Only when Brittany's involved."
"Better than nothing." Marley's expression turns serious. "So, I came looking for you 'cause I wanted to know more about that road trip Santana was talking about."
Quinn shrugs. "Nothing much. We planned one after graduation as a quick fling before we go our separate ways at college all over the country. She had to drop out at the last minute. I'm looking for someone to go with because it's too expensive to afford on my own, but all my friends already have summer plans."
"Oh."
"Yeah. That's it." She finds herself at a loss for what to say next, and shrugs again. "Probably less spectacular than what you were expecting…"
"No, but it's fine," replies Marley. "Santana was very dramatic."
"That's one word for it." Quinn rolls her eyes. "Anyway, thanks for asking me about it." She's expecting Marley to pack up her things – now that there's no real reason for her to be out here – but Marley doesn't move. Instead, she fishes a book out of her backpack and balances it on her lap as she removes the foil from her sandwich.
Quinn just goes back to her book. She's secretly glad for the reprieve as she's not feeling up for further conversation.
With about two weeks to go before graduation and her trip, Quinn's more than a little on edge. She's no closer to finding a travel buddy than before, and she doesn't have enough savings to cover the entire thing. Santana's offered to pay her share anyway but Quinn won't hear of it.
The impending problem looms over her, making Quinn short-tempered and snarky. Even Santana comments on how the Head Cheerio seems to have returned.
She has a wonderful time in Glee. They're supposed to be performing songs from their favorite underrated musicals, and she still hasn't picked one yet, let alone gotten started on it. To make matters worse, Quinn snapped at Rachel when the other girl offered to help.
Quinn's planning on going over to Rachel's house later that evening to apologize. Maybe bring some fancy vegan snack with her. She's halfway across the parking lot when she hears a voice yelling her name.
"Quinn! Wait up!"
Quinn half-turns, expecting to see Rachel or even one of her other friends. She definitely wasn't expecting to see Marley Rose, bulky binder under one arm, jog up to her.
"Hey, Marley," says Quinn, trying not to sound too surprised. Marley didn't show up for Glee that day. Presumably, she was in the cafeteria. Brittany told her that Marley helps out there whenever the cafeteria is short-staffed.
Marley is a little pink in the face from her jog, but she looks jubilant. "Yes," she says.
"Huh?"
"Yeah, I can go on the road trip." She draws herself up a bit and adjusts one strap of her backpack. "I talked to my mom, and she thinks it's a great idea. At first I thought she'd be short-handed with her summer catering jobs 'cause I usually help out, but she talked to the Smiths – our next-door neighbours – and their kids are willing to do it. It'll be a great summer job for them and they don't have to go too far, y'know? I'm planning on going out of state for college too – we've been saving up for years now – and Mom says that it'll be a good experience for me to try being independent and see more of the world."
Marley doesn't seem to pause for breath throughout this entire monologue, and Quinn blinks in surprise, taking it all in. Finally, when Marley stops, Quinn asks: "So… you want to go? With me?"
"I, yeah." Marley reddens suddenly. "That is – only if you're okay with me going with you. We're just acquaintances, and you probably think I'm weird. God, we've barely spent any time together outside of school and Glee." She looks horrified. "Wow, okay, now when I think of it that way, this was a terrible idea."
"No, it's fine," says Quinn quickly. "I don't really have a lot of choice, and honestly? You're a better choice of traveling buddy than the others."
"That doesn't say much for your other choices," quips Marley.
Quinn shrugs. "Yeah. I'm glad that you can go. And I don't think you're weird."
"Thanks."
"Give me your email," says Quinn, unlocking her phone and handing it to Marley. "I'll send you the itinerary and trip details."
"Oh, right. Thanks, I hadn't even thought of that." She tucks the binder under one arm and starts tapping at the screen. "Here."
Quinn forgets that she and Marley share a class until the moment Marley takes the seat to her left in a clatter of books and stationery. She says so, and gets a rueful smile in return.
"Yeah, I normally sit in the back."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. And yet, here she is sitting beside Quinn without notice.
She seems to sense the unspoken thought. "We are gonna be road-tripping soon, right?" says Marley. "I know next to nothing about you, Quinn, and we'll be spending two weeks in a car. I think we should start getting to know each other better, right?"
She does her best to ignore the prickling sensation that the words start getting to know each other better induces in her. Quinn nods, and opens her textbook to today's chapter. "You're right. Can we start with how much I hate math?"
Marley's mouth twists to one side, and another; it's as though she's undecided on what facial expression math deserves. "Quinn, you're pulling an easy A in this class; and this class is AP Math."
"Doesn't mean I actually like it."
Up front, Mrs Medina taps her whiteboard marker on the board to get the class' attention. Quinn acquiesces, albeit reluctantly; she doesn't like math, but she loathes integration with a passion. It so happens to be today's chapter.
She becomes hyper-aware of Marley at her side. The other girl's pen doesn't stop moving as she takes meticulous notes. There's the occasional pause as she frowns at the paper and the hieroglyphics on the board, but her brow quickly smooths over…
… and Quinn snaps herself out of her daydream because she is staring, and it's creepy. She stares at Mrs Medina with a forced intensity as though the teacher is the most interesting thing she's ever seen.
Quinn's very, very good at pretending.
The rest of the lesson passes too slowly for Quinn's liking, but once it's over she loses no time shoving her things into her bag. She has AP English with Rachel, who at least is a known quantity.
"I don't think we share any other classes," notes Marley. She holds out her timetable to Quinn.
"Nope," confirms Quinn, after a quick glance.
"That's a shame." Marley shrugs, and smiles. "I'll see you in Glee then, I guess?"
"Yeah, I'll see you around." Quinn shoulders her bag and walks out.
Rachel's waiting for her in her usual seat. "You look flustered, Quinn," she comments. "Did anything happen?"
"No, nothing." She sinks into her chair.
"Are you sure?"
"Not in the mood, Berry."
Rachel pouts. "That doesn't scare me, Quinn Fabray. Or should I say, Fabray? Your insistence on last names when you are irked and unwilling to talk is a stalling tactic which no longer works on me."
"Interesting theory, Miss Berry," says their English teacher as she passes their desks. "However, I'd like it if you could save the discussion for after my class."
Rachel turned red, muttering, "Of course, Ms Radnick," and turning her attention back to her books.
Just when Quinn thinks the Berry Inquisition is over, Rachel shoves a twist of paper onto her notebook. She sighs and untwists the note to read this is not over, we'll talk later x R in Rachel's impeccable penmanship.
Rachel motions for her to turn it over. She does, and reads: dispose of this
Rolling her eyes, Quinn mouths really? but she tucks it into her jacket pocket. Rachel nods approvingly.
She runs into Marley in the hallways entirely by accident. The other girl has her head buried in her locker, and Quinn is preoccupied with thoughts of her own until the locker door shuts, and she locks eyes with Marley.
"Oh! Hey," says Marley, smiling widely.
"Hi."
"Are you headed to Glee?"
Too late, Quinn remembers that not only she's forgotten there's Glee that afternoon but she's also forgotten about her assignment.
Perhaps she can cite early onset dementia.
"Damn. I forgot there's Glee today."
Marley looks amused. "Didn't Rachel remind you? She sat with me in History today just to tell me that."
Quinn mentally takes Santana off her shit list, and makes Rachel Public Enemy Number One. "Huh."
"She said it was the duty of the club captain. Usually, she sends mass texts or emails, so I was pretty surprised that she told me in person." Marley starts. "Oh! I almost forgot…"
Quinn watches, increasingly bewildered, as Marley opens her locker and pulls out a clear plastic folder. "She also asked me to fill this out and give it to you when I was done," she says, handing it to Quinn. "It's a travel partner compatibility quiz…?"
"She's insane," groans Quinn. "I'm so sorry my friends are insane."
"It's okay." Marley smiles at her again. "I think it's cool that your friends care about you so much."
"Or whatever they call caring," Quinn mutters. "I call it complete and utter humiliation." The thought of walking into Glee and having to deal with both Santana and Rachel, on top of not having her assignment ready…
"Quinn?" Marley stands in the middle of the hallway. "The choir room's that way."
"I'm not going," she says easily, and the words give her a thrill.
"You're not going?" Marley echoes, sounding dumbfounded.
"Nope." Quinn pops the 'p' with relish. "I'm not looking forward to seeing those idiots I call friends, and I also totally forgot about the assignment, so I'm gonna skip." The afternoon stretches out before her. She can finally finish Life of Pi and move on to a new book.
Before she can take another step, an impulse strikes her. "You should skip too," she says, turning back to Marley.
"Huh?"
"We could get a coffee at the Lima Bean," says Quinn encouragingly. The more she talks, the more she convinces herself it's a good idea. "You could experience my driving and decide if going on this road trip was a bad idea or no."
The corner of Marley's mouth lifts. "Quinn Fabray, you're terrible."
"No, this is self-preservation. We're getting to know each other better, right?"
Marley shuffles her feet, adjusting her binder in her arms. "Shoot, okay," she says. "Let's go before I change my mind."
"This is yours?"
"Yeah," says Quinn, opening the door of the red Mini Cooper. "Present from my mom. She was trying to make up for letting my dad kick me out of the house when I got pregnant. The divorce settlement from my dad was really generous."
Marley blinks owlishly. "There's a whole lot to unpack in that sentence," she says diplomatically.
Quinn laughs. She pulls the seatbelt over her chest and clicks it. "Hey, you signed up for this. What you see isn't all you get."
"I'm kinda already invested in this now, so." Marley waves a hand at herself. "It's fine."
Quinn pulls out of the school parking lot. "Important question: what kind of music?" she asks, signalling left and merging into the main road.
"Very important," agrees Marley.
"Shotgun passenger gets to DJ. That's the house rule."
Marley grins, and pulls an AUX cable out of her bag. She plugs in her phone.
Quinn laughs when the familiar sounds of Florence + the Machine fill the car. "I think we'll get along just fine."
"You're a Florence fan too?" asks Marley excitedly.
"I wouldn't say that, but I do like her music. I listen to a lot of things."
Marley nods happily and starts rattling off a list of her go-to musicians and why. It keeps her occupied until they pull into a parking spot a block from the Lima Bean.
"I always thought that was a cute name for a coffee shop," says Marley.
"It could be worse," allows Quinn. Personally, she and Santana both live for the weekends when they can drive into Columbus and indulge in Starbucks. There's something about over-priced sugary coffee-flavored drinks (Santana's words, not hers) that makes them feel like the teenagers they're supposed to be.
"Our local shop back home was called Lone Star Coffee," says Marley, and wrinkles her nose.
"Let me guess. You were from Texas?"
"Yeehaw," says Marley in a fake Texan drawl. She mimes tipping a ten-gallon hat which causes both girls to burst into giggles.
Quinn smiles widely. She and Marley are getting along far better than she had hoped. She's just relieved that the chances of her road trip being ruined seem smaller.
Her phone vibrates. She glances at the screen to find a few texts from Santana:
hey whr r u
r u skipping glee
u totes r
u bitch
Quinn shakes her head. She's not about to dignify Santana with a response. But then she gets texts from Rachel, which frankly speaking, Quinn is more worried about reading.
Quinn, please tell me you aren't skipping Glee.
Santana's hanging on my elbow like a demented flying monkey. She wants me to inform you that she knows you've read her texts, and she wants you to reply to her.
Marley's not here either. Are the two of you together?
NOT IN THAT WAY. AS FRIENDS.
Quinn sighs and switches off her phone. She'll deal with the fallout later. But for now, Quinn's going to enjoy an afternoon devoid of her friends.
"I read through your itinerary," says Marley, over her iced chocolate.
"Okay?"
"It's pretty interesting." She reaches into her bag and pulls out – Quinn blinks in surprise – a printed copy of the itinerary. "Though to be honest with you, I would never have expected you to want to visit Nashville."
Quinn finds her cheeks heating up, against her will. "Sam talked about nothing else when we were dating," she explains. "I thought it would be a nice place to visit."
"Oh, I've got nothing against anything on the list," Marley is quick to explain. "I mean, even if I did, it's kinda impossible to change, right? I'm just the pinch hitter."
"You're a lot more than that. Marley, you're doing me a huge favor. I hope you know how much I appreciate this." Quinn clears her throat. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to make any changes. This is gonna be our trip, so it's only fair you have some say in it."
Marley swirled her straw around her drink. "It's good as it is. As a matter of fact, I think it goes both ways. You did me a favor too, y'know. I've wanted to get out of Lima for a while – just go somewhere new and breathe, if you know what I mean." She laughs.
"I do. Really." Quinn sips her coffee. "I used to be a fat kid. For my fourteenth birthday present, I pestered my dad to get a transfer at work so I could start middle school in a new town where nobody knew who I was."
"You? Fat?" And Marley lets out an inelegant snort. Instantly, she goes beet-red and clamps a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."
"It's fine," says Quinn, starting to laugh herself. "Not many people know that, so… I guess it worked?"
"Yeah, I guess, but – oh god. I'm having such a hard time imagining you as a fat kid. You're like… the farthest thing on earth from that." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear; Quinn's eyes follow the movement. Marley seems to notice, because she grins sheepishly. "Sorry. You must be thinking that I'm the world's biggest dork now."
"I think that title belongs to Rachel, honestly," remarks Quinn.
"Aren't you two best friends?"
And Quinn smiles. "More like she's grown on me. You weren't around in our freshman and sophomore years; you didn't see how much we fought. God, we fought over everything there was to fight about and a few more – solos in Glee, her diva tantrums, Finn…"
"Wait, you and Rachel fought over Finn Hudson?"
Quinn laughs self-consciously. "Not our finest moment, but yes." She neglects to mention that they stopped because Rachel decided to focus on getting into college for the time being and she…
She just wasn't that interested in him in the first place. Or the entire male species, for that matter.
"I guess he can be pretty cute," remarks Marley. "Not my type, but I can understand the appeal."
Quinn responds with a noncommittal shrug.
Marley smiles. "My best friend lives near Austin," she says. "We Skype a lot. Mostly talking about school and books and music."
"Cool."
"Y'know, I'm really glad you think so," says Marley brightly.
Her enthusiasm is infectious. Quinn finds herself hopeful that everything will work out for the best.
Quinn makes the mistake of dropping Marley off at her house; she was supposed to meet her mom after Glee because Mrs Rose has the car, but Quinn convinces Marley that it would be no trouble at all to drive her home.
When Quinn pulls up in her driveway, she sees a familiar car parked in her driveway. She sighs.
"Hi, dear." Judy Fabray looks up from her book when Quinn walks into the house. "Your friends are already here. I sent them up to your room. "
"Okay, mom," says Quinn, defeated. She goes upstairs and opens the door.
"Alright, how did you guys get in here? Rachel, did you bribe my mom with cookies again?"
"Hello to you too, Quinn," says Rachel. "They were muffins, actually," she adds loftily. "While my cookies are good enough to make grown men weep – my fathers, usually – they're usually reserved for occasions when I need to apologize. Besides, your mom seemed very happy with my Aunt Sarah's award-winning mixberry muffins."
"I helped make them," pipes up Brittany.
"Still doesn't answer the first question."
"We're here for a sleepover, of course," chirps Rachel.
"What."
"Don't look at me," quips Santana lightly. She's filing her nails while sprawled on Quinn's bed, looking extremely disinterested. Quinn knows that's a lie; Santana is one of those people who thinks she's being subtle but is actually about as inconspicuous as a neon sign. "Berry seems to think this is mandatory."
"This is a bonding experience for Glee girls."
"I don't see Asian, or Aretha. Heck, even the guest of honor is absent," drawls Santana.
Rachel ignores her. She turns to Quinn, smiling in that frightening way she does. "By the way, I believe you have something for me."
Quinn sighs. She pulls the plastic folder out of her bag and hands it to Rachel. "Mandatory sleepover my ass," she mutters under her breath.
"Suck it up, Quittany," retorts Santana.
Brittany looks thoughtful. "Sounds like the power couple name for me and Quinn if we ever got together."
"Not that powerful. Cueball puts the Quit in Quittany. Sounds more like a shitty political slogan."
"Hush," commands Rachel. She sits herself at Quinn's desk, fishing the quiz out of its plastic sleeve. "I should go over the answers."
"Ooh, what's that?" Brittany hops off Quinn's bed and hovers behind Rachel, who shifts the chair so the taller girl can read over her shoulder. There's a popcorn bowl on the desk which Quinn didn't notice initially; as she watches, Rachel and Brittany both help themselves to its contents.
"Travel partner compatibility quiz for Marley," explains Rachel, then further elaborates for Brittany's benefit: "A list of questions I got her to answer so we can see if she'll be a good travel buddy for Quinn."
"Ooooh, she's filled out all of the lines allocated in the open-ended questions. And the pages I attached at the back for elaboration."
Quinn shakes her head. "This isn't happening."
"She seemed really nice in class today," says Rachel, munching on popcorn. She has a honest-to-God red pen in her hand as she tallies Marley's responses to the quiz. "I have a good feeling about her."
"Too nice," says Santana. She takes the popcorn bowl and helps herself to its contents.
"Santana, this is my popcorn."
"So?"
Rachel sighs. "I made two batches of popcorn: yours has real butter in it. Mine has my special vegan butter that you said tasted funky." She points at a bowl on the nightstand.
"Again, so?" She stuffs a handful of vegan buttered popcorn in her mouth. "Besides, that one's empty."
"I thought so," mutters Rachel.
Quinn sighs. She sits cross-legged on the bed, propping her elbow on her leg and her chin on her palm. "You're telling me you're all here because you wanted that travel quiz?"
"That, and we want the juicy deets on your date at the Lima Bean," says Santana.
"Ugh!" Quinn flings herself on the bed, arm over her face. Brittany pats her leg sympathetically.
"You're not squirming out of this one. Even with your Olympic medal and all."
"To be fair, you did skip Glee this afternoon," Rachel pipes up. "Consider this your make-up class."
"Just finish marking your damn quiz, Berry."
Santana snorts. "You know what? Fuck that noise." She stands up, snags the papers out of Rachel's hands, and rips them up. Rachel makes a choked gasp of outrage. "I don't need a piece of paper to tell that she's… low-key. Drama-free as a bowl of unsweetened oatmeal. And God knows you could use some of that in your life, Suzy-Q."
Quinn peeks out from her fingers to aim a kick to Santana's shin. "Oh, so she's not a serial killer then? Good to know," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"The Keebler elves, then the Trix rabbit. He's creepy," muses Brittany aloud. "I like Tony the Tiger, though."
"Serial killer, babe, like somebody who kills lots of people. Not breakfast cereal."
"Oh."
"My vote is for the Trix rabbit too," chimes in Rachel with a shudder, then adds, defensively: "Just putting it out there, since we're on the subject."
Quinn ignores her.
"Marley's nice." Brittany plays with Rachel's hair as she talks. "She always offers to help me find Mr. Munchkin when he decides to go on an adventure without telling me first. And she knows I like gummy worms, so whenever she has some, she offers to share."
Quinn glances at Santana, who snorts.
"If Britt says she's good, then she's good. Case closed. Now can we move on to more important things?"
"Quinn's road trip buddy is important," says Rachel staunchly. She now sports the makings of an impressive French braid, courtesy of Brittany. "It's a major solo trip before college that will impact her social life and emotional state. It will shape her life experiences. Finding a compatible traveling partner is crucial to Quinn's enjoyment of her vacation." She stares, dismayed, at the remains of the quiz which are now in Quinn's wastepaper basket. "And you shredded my quiz."
"Shortstack, don't make me throw you out." Santana's eyes travel up and down the length of Rachel's body. "I'm sure all of Lima would love to see this disaster." She makes a derisive sound. "I didn't know they made pastel pink footie pajamas in your size."
Quinn groans. She starts Bring It On on her TV because she knows that's the only thing that will appease both Santana and Rachel (Santana likes looking at the girls, Rachel appreciates the dance routines) before there's actual bloodshed.
Quinn lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She's invested in this decision, more or less, and already looking forward to leaving Lima in her rear view mirror.
"Quinn?"
"Rachel, go to sleep," she whispers back.
"I knew you were awake," comes the muttered reply. There's a rustling as Rachel executes some kind of worm wriggle to move closer to Quinn. "Are you thinking about your trip?"
Quinn shut her eyes. "No," she mumbles, "I'm busy sleeping."
"Are you gonna tell Marley about, you know, your – "
"Don't say it," Quinn warns her.
"– sapphic tendencies?"
Quinn lets out a strangled groan. "I told you not to say it."
"Quinn, you know we love you, and we want you to be happy. I just want to make sure that you're comfortable with being yourself while in close proximity with someone whom you're not completely familiar with." Even though they're whispering, Rachel somehow manages to drop her voice lower. "I could make discreet inquiries on that matter, if you'd like."
"No, thank you, Rachel," says Quinn firmly, cutting off the rest of Rachel's sentence.
Rachel huffs. "Fine. Good night, Quinn."
Quinn relents. Rachel may be insane, but she's mostly harmless and Quinn can't deny the other girl only has Quinn's best interest at heart. She catches the edge of Rachel's sleeping bag as she's shuffling away. "I'm sorry, Rach," she says. "It's still hard for me to… y'know, have feelings."
Rachel snorts inelegantly; Quinn chuckles.
"I really am grateful that you're this concerned about me."
"Better," says Rachel. She grunts a little as she turns over to smile at Quinn. She looks ridiculous with the toggle of the sleeping bag pulled to her chin like she's some giant insect cocoon, but Quinn doesn't care.
"I… care about you too."
Rachel's smile widens. "Thank you for saying that. I'm proud of you, Quinn."
"Thanks." Her expression changes. "Please don't ask around. I'll talk to her."
"Okay, but are you absolutely sure? I've been told I'm very discreet when it comes to these matters."
"Very sure."
Rachel beams at her. She gets this expression that Quinn recognizes as the one Rachel has before she tackles people, pauses as she remembers that her entire body is safely encased in her sleeping bag, and does an awkward headbutt into Quinn's shoulder and stays there, forehead pressed into Quinn. Quinn is sure she's still grinning like a maniac.
The entire thing makes Quinn want to simultaneously laugh and facepalm. Instead she slings an arm around worm-Rachel in a loose barely-there hug, and says out loud: "You're such a dork, Berry."
"As someone who knowingly associates with a dork, that doesn't say a lot about you, Quinn."
"Oh, well," says Quinn as she rolls her eyes even though Rachel can't see it, "my loss."