Author's Note: Still truckin' on. Thanks to Mike Ownby, this draft didn't malinger in my Google drive for another month or so because I couldn't think of anything to write. Here's hoping he'll be able to pull that of until this story's done, cheers

"Quinn!"

Quinn's smirk is barely suppressed. "Yeah?"

Marley's eyes flick between the road and the radio. "Just how many verses does this song have!"

"I'm sorry, was that a question?"

"God!" Marley exclaims. Her hands twitch on the steering wheel.

Quinn tries not to laugh. She'd never intended to torment Marley like this; she'd only thought Leonard Cohen's music would be ideal to distract herself from her thoughts. And since Marley had no reverence for the greatest song of all time, it made sense to put Hallelujah on.

The full version, naturally.

"This is the song that never ends – literally!"

"Oh, it ends. There are just seven verses."

"Seven!"

"Leonard originally wrote fifteen," says Quinn sweetly. She pretends to be focused on her phone, when in reality she's watching Marley slowly lose her mind – yet remain focused on driving.

Marley briefly risks their lives to glower at Quinn. "If you thought this aural warfare was gonna make me forget about Damien, you thought wrong."

Unfortunately for Quinn and her teenage hormones, aural and wrong thoughts were exactly the triggers she did not need. "It was worth a try," she says lamely, now feigning deep interest in the view from the passenger window. Perhaps if she concentrates hard enough on the trees, she'll actually be able to stop thinking about Marley in her tank top…

Damn!

"I get to choose the next song," announces Marley.

"Shotgun seat is the DJ. Those are the rules."

"Those were the rules before you put on the song with seven freakin' verses!" Marley takes her eyes off the road again to glower at Quinn. "You know what? We're swapping over at the next rest stop."

Quinn just smirks. "While you were talking, the song ended. And since I didn't get to enjoy any of it, I'm restarting it."

"No!"

It amuses Quinn greatly that Marley made good on her threat and pulled over at the next gas station they found. Funnily enough, Marley insists that she does need to take a bathroom break regardless of song choices, and so pulling over is completely necessary. Quinn takes that at face value; she just smirks, though; it's her new favorite facial expression because of the effect it has on Marley.

It's not exactly the effect she wants to have on Marley, but still. It's something.

Somewhere on the road between Cleveland and here, Quinn had decided that she'll allow herself these little thoughts about Marley for the duration of the trip. Sure, she knows it's unhealthy and unrequited, but the amount of time she'll be spending with Marley has its limit. Before she knows it, she'll be in New Haven and Marley will be in New York, and this crush of hers will be something they can laugh at over glasses of wine at their ten-year high school reunion.

And if anyone wants to lecture her about repression (the little voice in Quinn's head sounds a lot like Rachel), Quinn doesn't need to hear it; she's the uncrowned queen of repression.

Just ask anyone who knew her in sophomore and junior year.

Marley marches back from the bathroom. "We are putting Damien on now," she huffs at Quinn.

"Okay."

"And you are gonna listen."

"Sure thing."

"You will not doze off."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Quinn taps the steering wheel. "I am driving, after all. It would be bad if I dozed off."

Marley narrows her eyes at Quinn. "Are you mocking me?"

"Absolutely not," says Quinn cheerfully, and pulls back onto the highway.

Quinn's getting used to the routine now; roll into town, find their motel, check in, dump their things.

She's considerably excited for Ann Arbor. There are plenty of things she has planned here, and there's no Santana to bribe/bully into compromising. Quinn would have been apprehensive about letting her nerd flag fly in front of Marley, but Cleveland has mostly erased her worries.

But for now, there's her phone buzzing angrily at her as Santana sends text after text in their group chat. Quinn idly scrolls through the messages. Without her around, Rachel and Santana seem to be at each other's throats more frequently.

Marley laughs. She has her phone out as well, face-timing with someone called Wade, who Quinn assumes is the best friend in Austin, judging by how familiarly they talk to each other. Marley has also regained her Texan drawl, which Quinn resolves to tease her about later.

Marley notices her looking. "Hang on, boo," she says into her earpiece mic. To her roommate, she asks: "Quinn? Am I being too noisy? I can go outside if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'm not doing anything that needs quiet anyway." Quinn glances at her phone. Rachel is online now, and is responding to each and every one of Santana's texts methodically. She puts it away and reaches for her book.

"Do you wanna drive again, or shall I?"

"I'm thinking we haven't finished that Leonard Cohen album…"

Marley makes a face. "Okay, you drive." She hands the keys to Quinn.

As they pull into the parking lot, Marley comments: "You know, I did some research on this place after seeing it in the itinerary."

"Oh?"

"I did a lot of research, actually; I have to say, I wasn't expecting half the places on the itinerary to be places you'd pick."

Quinn shrugs. "So I'm a closet nerd. I'd tell you not to spread it around in school, but nobody'll believe you anyway."

"No! I mean… I think it's cute." Marley's eyes widen. "Cool! I meant to say cool. Sorry."

It's the second time Marley has used that word to describe her, and Quinn thinks she might be able to not hyperventilate the more times it happens. "You think it's cool I'm a nerd?" Quinn asks desperately.

"Yeah? I just think it's really cool when people are so passionate about niche things, and it's fun listening to them talk about their interests with so much detail." Marley tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "Their enthusiasm is cool, especially when they're talking about something you never knew was a thing, but you end up being sold on it too 'cause the nerdiness is catching."

Quinn jerks her head at the entrance to the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, which they're still standing in front of. "Even ancient history?"

Marley shrugs her shoulders. "Sure. History's cool." She follows Quinn inside, fishing out her purse. "I've always liked ancient history more than the modern stuff."

Quinn nods. "I'd have to agree with you on some fronts, but I've always found the Cold War to be one of the most intriguing periods in modern history." She pauses, narrowing her eyes. "I see what you're trying to do, and no, it didn't work. Number one, you're not paying for my ticket: and number two, you can't anyway because admission's free."

"Darn. And here I thought I'd found a good opening." But she slips a couple of fivers into the acrylic donation bin under Quinn's nose. "Whoops. Hand slipped. Now let's check out all that history you've been talking about."

There are many, many reasons Quinn has for visiting. The main one, however, has its own dedicated space carved out among the amphorae and bas-reliefs and sculptures.

Quinn takes her first few steps into the space. She lets out a breath she hasn't been aware she was holding.

"Wow," says Marley from somewhere to her left.

"Yeah," replies Quinn. She doesn't need to wax lyrical about the exhibits here like she has for the earlier part of the gallery; the watercolor paintings speak for themselves.

She feels a nudge to her elbow. "Tell me about this," says Marley.

Quinn frowns. "All the information's there," she says, pointing to the plaque.

"I want to hear it from you." Marley grins at her. "I'm sure you'll throw in some trivia too; it's like my own personal tour guide. Much more interesting than an information board."

"Really?" She arches her eyebrow, making her voice as dry and sarcastic as it will go.

"Uh, yeah." Marley gives a little, awkward laugh, but much to Quinn's surprise, she doesn't back down. She continues watching Quinn intently, a small smile on her face.

Quinn sighs. "So, this is a watercolor replica of a famous series of wall paintings found inside a mansion excavated in Pompeii. The mansion is called the Villa of the Mysteries because…"

"So… why Pompeii?"

Quinn sighs. "Now I get why you offered to buy us ice cream," she says, "you wanted me to talk. This is a bribe," she adds, waving the vanilla cone at Marley.

"Hey, whatever it takes to get you to talk."

Quinn scrunches her face at Marley, making her laugh. "I was a fat kid," Quinn begins. "I spent a lot of time indoors reading. But even before then, I longed to get out of the small town and see the world."

"One of the places I most wanted to see as a kid was Pompeii." Quinn smiles at the memory.

"I can get that," replies Marley. She swings her legs as she eats her ice cream. "It was tragic but incredibly fascinating, having an entire city disappear under volcanic ash and then be preserved until the present."

"Yeah, that. Pompeii is the best source of info on what the ancient Romans were like. Everything else that's survived isn't that accurate. Like, you know that mental picture we get of ancient Greek and Roman white marble statues? That's actually false; they painted their statues in gaudy, garish colors."

"Get out." Marley, who's finished her ice cream by now, gnaws on her cone.

"I'm serious! People just like the aesthetic of pure white statues even though we know that's inaccurate." Quinn snorts. "The New Yorker wrote a great article about it; I've got it bookmarked, I'll link you." She pulls out her phone.

Marley brushes her hands off on the back of her shorts and retrieves her phone from her back pocket as it chimes. "You've got a New Yorker article about Greek and Roman statues bookmarked on your phone?"

"It's good," says Quinn defensively. A hot blush steals up her face.

"I'm not judging or anything. I just think it's interesting that you've got something like that bookmarked." Marley briefly scrolls through the page. "I'll read it," she says, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

Quinn is charmed despite her best efforts not to be. "Thanks," she says. "I appreciate that. You know, it's been a while since I've geeked out that hard." She leans back on the bench. "Archaeology was part of the reason I got into books, in a way. My mom told me that archaeologists had to get PhDs to do what they do, and that meant a lot of reading, plus I liked reading anyway so…" Quinn shakes her head. "When I was older and learned what archaeologists actually do, I was a little disappointed. I thought Indiana Jones was real."

"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a millionaire, so you're in good company," Marley quips. "But archaeologists are still pretty cool. And a lot more realistic than being a millionaire."

The corner of Quinn's mouth twitches upwards. "It's not too late to switch." She stands up. "Ready to move on?"

"Yeah." Marley follows Quinn back on the path. Their surroundings are quiet, with only the occasional passerby. "Michigan U is an interesting choice of tourist destination," remarks Marley. "Are you coming here this fall?"

"No, I'm going to Yale."

She hears a sharp intake of breath. "Ivy League? You're kidding, right?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "I've been lecturing you about ancient history all morning. I linked you an article in The New Yorker about the myth of whiteness in classical sculpture that I happened to have bookmarked. I don't think my attending an Ivy League is such a stretch."

"Yes, but I already knew you were smart," says Marley. "I'm just… wow. I didn't know just how smart."

"Thanks? I think?"

"I'm sorry, I think I'm coming off as sounding dismissive. I'm really not."

"I know," says Quinn. She smiles, irritation quite gone. Marley is the type of person who can't be rude even if she tried. "I thought that it was obvious, y'know?" She waves a hand. "Like, what normal high schooler puts an archaeology museum and a college on a summer holiday itinerary?"

Marley pouts. "Don't make fun of me. Being an ancient history nerd doesn't always translate to being a super-smart Ivy Leaguer, Quinn." It's obvious in the casualness of Marley's tone and the way she nudges Quinn's arm as they walk that Marley's joking. "I mean, savants exist…"

Quinn chokes in mock outrage. "I resent that."

Marley pretends not to hear. "Are we going for a campus tour? Or are we gonna keep on walking in aimless circles until you've, like, memorized the entire campus layout for totally non-savant-y purposes?"

"Aimless circles sounds good." She doesn't actually want to learn more about the campus history or its distinguished alumni. It makes her feel like a student, and she's determined to enjoy her complete freedom while she can. Right now, she's simply soaking up the atmosphere of being associated with a college.

Marley catches up to her a little farther along the path. "I'm keen so long as you promise there are no mountains and we'll get out of here eventually."

Quinn shakes her head. "I think I liked you better when you were afraid that I'd throw a slushie at you."

"Honestly, I think I'll be more afraid of you now. You could quote Ovid at me or something like that."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're a nerd. Ooh, is that a gift shop?" And Marley's gone, hurrying towards the glass doors.

"Gift shop?" Quinn echoes incredulously. "You're kidding me!" She quickens her pace to catch up with Marley.

"The M Den," coos Marley. "That's so cool." Out comes the camera and she snaps a photo of herself outside the shop.

Quinn pulls a face. She makes sure she's nowhere within the camera's field of vision.

"Quinn, look at this." Marley holds up a T-shirt, giggling. "Keep Calm and Go Blue," she reads the printed legend.

"I never pegged you for the tacky souvenir type," Quinn says instead. She eyes the stack of T-shirts dubiously.

"I totally am." Marley folds the shirt neatly and adds it to the stack. "Now I know you're a nerd, and you know I have terrible taste in merchandise. Quid prod quo, and all that."

"That's… not exactly what it means," says Quinn, but it's too late; Marley's off again, looking at a jar filled with lapel pins with the school crest.

"I bet your room is crammed full of horribly tacky things."

Marley pauses. "I couldn't afford it," she says, but her tone lightens. "Kind of a good thing, really."

Quinn chews on her lower lip. She's horrible at banter without coming off as being unintentionally cruel.

Marley doesn't seem to be waiting for an answer, however; she turns her attention to a teddy bear dressed in graduation robes, poking its tummy and chuckling.

"I'm done, let's go," she announces once she's made a round of the shop.

"Hang on." Quinn picks a T-shirt off the stack and pays at the counter.

"I thought you didn't like tacky merchandise," says Marley curiously. She stifles a laugh when she sees the design Quinn picked.

"I don't. But you do." Quinn hands the paper bag to her.

"For me?"

"Yeah." Quinn feels suddenly awkward, like her stomach is full of lead. "Helping you start your tacky collection for college."

Slowly, Marley takes the T-shirt out of the bag. She holds it out. The legend Keep Calm and Go Blue stands out in gold lettering on the navy fabric. She finally meets Quinn's eyes.

"Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to this," announces Marley to no one in particular. Much to Quinn's mixed annoyance and delight, Marley's changed into her new T-shirt already.

"What, lunch?"

"It's not just any lunch. It's Zingerman's Deli."

"Yeah, Santana put that on the itinerary. She said it was good sandwiches or something, and I didn't see any reason not to keep it on there." Quinn, knowing Santana as well as she did, had also done some vetting of her fellow ex-Cheerio's additions to the itinerary. She doesn't mention it; her casualness seems to offend Marley, and she's enjoying it.

"Quinn-it's-not-just-good-sandwiches!" Marley exclaims, her words tumbling out in a rush.

They turn the corner, and find the queue for Zingerman's stretches around the block despite the summer heat. Marley visibly deflates a little.

"What?" Quinn gestures at the queue. "It's not that bad. We'll probably be able to get our food in like… an hour, tops." She tilts her head, squints at the packed street.

"An hour!" Marley throws up her hands. "We've got a packed schedule."

"Hey, I'm sure the food is worth it," says Quinn. She darts in line, narrowly beating out a disgruntled teenager. "C'mon, stand in line. Do you know what you're gonna get? I'm sure the menu is online."

Browsing through the menu takes up all of thirty minutes, and they've only shuffled forward a few people in that duration.

"I forgot to ask where you're headed for college."

Marley smiles at her. "NYU. I'm hoping to major in business."

"Oh, you'll be in New York with Rachel and Kurt then. They'll be attending NYADA." Quinn suddenly feels very lonely.

"I've heard of it. It's a pretty prestigious school for the performing arts," says Marley admiringly. "But Yale's in Connecticut, isn't it? You can always drop by for term breaks. Or, I could go visit you. I heard New Haven's pretty nice."

"You'd come visit?" You'd stay friends with me after this? is the real question Quinn wants to ask.

"Duh," says Marley, and laughs. "We're friends now! Plus, not meaning to brag but I am pretty good at maintaining long-distance friendships. Wade calls me tenacious and says that's the nicest-sounding word he knows for what I really am."

"Wade?"

"My best friend. He lives in Austin. He got accepted to NYU too, so we might consider getting an apartment together if we can find more people to room with."

Quinn smiles. A mental image pops into her head; of Marley, laughing, surrounded by equally happy faces. It suits her. "That sounds really cool."

Marley grins sheepishly. "Yeah, it does. Can't lie, I'm really excited for college but I'm still terrified. I've never been away from my mom for longer than a few days, I'm gonna miss her so much."

Missing one's parents is an alien concept for Quinn, who has wanted to be away from them – and succeeded – for as long as she can remember. Nevertheless, she smiles and nods along with Marley. "It is a little intimidating, leaving home for college. Especially in a city so far away."

Marley rallies fast. "I'm planning on being super busy," she says. "That'll help stop me being homesick. Probably volunteer at a shelter or take up some extra-curriculars." Marley scrunches up her face. "Something music-related, obviously."

There are plenty of tidbits Quinn can follow up with. She picks the safest. "Volunteering? With animals, you mean?"

"Yeah," says Marley, and laughs. "I love animals so much, I'm not even joking. Other kids dreamed about running away to join the circus; I wanted to be the new Steve Irwin. We couldn't afford a pet when I was growing up, though; and I spent my summer holidays working for my mom instead of volunteering with our local animal shelter because she needed all the help she could get."

Quinn is starting to hate how this sad undertone creeps into Marley's voice when she talks about how her family's lack of money caused her to miss out on so many things. It makes her feel guilty for how much she used to hate her life; what the Fabrays lacked in normal family dynamics, they more than made up for financially. She packs all of this back into its box in her mind. She's not ready to talk about any of this; not yet, at any rate. "My parents didn't like animals. Once, I brought a stray kitten home and my mom freaked out because she said it was crawling with diseases."

Marley gasps. "What happened to him?"

"She drove us to the local animal shelter to drop him off. Once we got home, she made me thoroughly sterilize everything that he touched, including myself." Quinn winces at the memory.

"Oh." Marley's mouth twists, like she's trying to keep her words prisoner. "You didn't have any pets growing up, at all?"

"Do school bug projects or county fair goldfish count?"

"Not to me." Marley waves a hand. "Bugs and fish can't really return your affection. And you can't stomp home after a bad day, hug your bug, and feel tons better." She bursts into giggles at her own joke.

"I beg to differ," replies Quinn. "I found stomping my bug much more therapeutic than hugging it." She enjoys the shock and horror in Marley's expression.

"You're joking."

"I don't joke," says Quinn, her lip twitching. She's unable to control herself a moment longer, though, and finally bursts out laughing after a few more tense moments.

Marley shakes her head. "You really got me going for a while back there, you kidder," she says, and lightly punches Quinn's arm.

"Really? I mean, do I look like the kind of person who stomps on bugs to make me feel better?" The question is light, joking; Quinn knows, however, there was a time in their sophomore year Rachel would have answered yes to the question without hesitation.

"Just a little. Your poker face is terrifying, by the way; just so you know." Marley pretends to wipe sweat from her brow. "But now that I know you better, you're way too nice for that."

While they were engrossed in conversation, the queue continued to inch forward; Quinn is pleased to find they're only two people away from ordering. She points it out to a pleased Marley.

But to Quinn's surprise, Marley seems more interested in Quinn than in her lunch now.

"So you really had bug projects, huh?" Marley asks when they're walking away, sandwiches in hand.

"Didn't you?" Quinn spots an empty bench and sits down, Marley beside her.

"Nah." Marley pauses, distracted by the mustard oozing out of her sandwich. "My school was more on the tell, not show side. We got to do a poster on a butterfly's life cycle and that was it."

"That's kinda boring." Quinn can't take her eyes off Marley; her sandwich, to be precise. The sauce problem isn't as contained as Marley thinks it is, and there's a glob threatening to trickle down her wrist.

"Wichita Falls Elementary isn't known for being exciting," says Marley, and smiles.

Quinn nods. The trail of mustard has reached Marley's wrist. Quinn clears her throat, and says: "Hey, you got some…" She jerks her chin towards Marley's wrist.

"Oh. Shoot. Thanks." Marley bends her head and licks the sauce away.

If Quinn thought she was fascinated before, she's mesmerized now. The tip of Marley's tongue darts back out to check for any stray bits of mustard; Quinn sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, hiding behind her own sandwich. "So," she starts. Her voice sounds strange to her ears, so she clears her throat and restarts: "So, how big is Wichita Falls exactly?"

"Bigger than Lima." Marley's attention is still on her sandwich. "I'd say maybe twice the size."

"Any particular reason for moving to the middle of nowhere?" Now she's genuinely curious; it's a long way from Texas to The Middle of Nowhere, Ohio.

Marley shrugs. "My mom just took us wherever there was work," she says. "We lost contact with my dad's side of the family after he died, and Mom's folks never liked my dad."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's fine." Marley neatly folds her sandwich paper into a compact square. "It's been just her and me for almost as long as I can remember."

"I haven't seen my dad since the divorce," offers Quinn. It's a rather generous peace offering, on hindsight, but Quinn deems it fair since Marley's shared about her difficult family circumstances.

Marley casts her a sideways glance which puzzles Quinn. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to," she says. "I know it must be hard for you."

Quinn shakes her head. "I've mostly come to terms with it." Her own sandwich is long gone now, the paper crumpled in one sweaty palm. "I was never his favorite, so he kicked me out when I got pregnant. My mom threw him out and filed for divorce so she could take me back in. It's been just us two ever since."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Although the flash of surprise in Marley's expression lifts her spirits a little, Quinn doesn't smile. "It taught me a lot of things. Like how repressed my life was when he was around. And that not everything is a sin." Quinn toys with the cross hanging around her neck. "I even see my daughter sometimes."

"You do?"

Quinn knows there isn't any tactful way to ask, and so she spares Marley the trouble. "Shelby Corcoran adopted her. She's also Rachel's bio-mom."

"Corcoran?"

"Vocal Adrenaline's coach," says Quinn, naming their neighbouring district's resident show choir and biggest rivals.

Marley wrinkles her nose in recognition. "Oh, her. No wonder she looks so much like Rachel." A frown creases her brow. "Isn't Rachel your best friend? Because that's kinda messed up."

Quinn laughs. Her friendship with Rachel was built on other stepping stones, but that's a story Quinn hopes she never has to share. "Believe me, there are times I don't know how that happened, but that's Rachel Berry for you." She waits, marshalling her thoughts in preparation for when Marley asks her more questions.

"I'm glad you guys are friends," notes Marley.

Quinn's confusion verbalizes itself as a surprised grunt.

"She's very… enthusiastic, but she really cares about you. Like how she made me fill out that compatibility quiz." Marley laughs when Quinn cringes. "Honestly, I thought she was gonna give me the shovel talk too."

Quinn buries her face in her hands. "Oh, my god."

Marley laughs again. She takes the sandwich paper from Quinn's hand and lobs it into a nearby bin. "And now I'm kinda glad it's still a long way before we head back to Lima. Plenty of time to warn Rachel to go into hiding." She links her arm with Quinn, tugging her upright. "Now c'mon. We've got a show to attend."

"We're still early," says Quinn, checking her phone. There are also a few texts from her friends which she ignores, swiping away the notifications with her thumb.

"Honestly, I'm just really excited for tonight," says Marley.

Quinn smiles; she's just as excited. Not just for the performance, but an end to the conversation. "Me too." She switches her phone to the Google map and heads off in the direction of their next destination. She meticulously planned the trip so they'll be in Ann Arbor for the free concert night.

"It's that big building we passed by earlier, right?"

"Yeah."

"No wonder you were so insistent on that particular lot," says Marley, smiling. "Now we won't have to drive again. Smart girl." She catches Quinn's hand in hers, squeezes briefly, and lets go.

"I thought we spent all day establishing that," says Quinn. She hopes her flippant tone makes it clear to herself that no, Quinn Fabray will not be undone by a single touch.

"We spent all day establishing that you're a geek, but now we know that your smarts can be used in the real world."

They're early; the venue is a quarter-full. Tonight's show is free seating, so Quinn lets Marley pick seats close to the stage.

"Do you like the performers?" Marley asks idly as she glances through the leaflet.

Quinn pauses, unsure of how much to disclose. She eventually decides to go for broke, given she's already revealed so much to Marley in the space of a single day. "They came up on my Spotify's recommended list," she says. "I like their sound."

Marley wrinkles her nose. "Recommended list? Meaning, the same sound as Leonard?"

Quinn laughs. "I don't listen to Leonard alone."

"Could've fooled me," quips Marley, mock-grumbling.

"They're pretty good." Quinn fishes for her earphones and calls up their album on her phone. "Here." She pops an earbud in one ear, offering the other to Marley, as she selects Hey Whatever Young Forever and presses play.

Marley listens intently. She nods along with the beat, which relaxes Quinn enough to actually listen to the music.

"They're good," she finally says after the song ends.

Quinn quickly hits pause before the next song can play. "I know, right? I love their sound, and their lyrics are pretty deep when you think about it."

"Yes, okay, I'm sold," says Marley, and laughs. "But we're gonna hear them play in about… half an hour, so we'll save this for the car, okay?"

"So no more Damien?" asks Quinn hopefully.

"Nice try." Marley reaches over to jab Quinn's arm.

More people have trickled in as they were talking. Quinn expects there will be a full house, since it's summer and it's a free concert. "Wait a bit," she tells Marley. Quinn gets up and walks over to the donation bin she spotted someone bring in. She waits until she's caught Marley's eye and maintains eye contact as she dips into her purse and drops two ten-dollar notes inside.

"You stinker!" Marley exclaims as Quinn settles back into her seat.

"Payback for the museum."

"You were my free tour guide, so I think it was only fair I spot you." Marley scrunches her face into a comical pout. "But now I'll have to think of another way to get you back for this."

Quinn makes an exasperated sound. "Marley, it's a donation. Nobody needs to get back at anybody for anything."

"Sshh. Don't be logical at me," says Marley dramatically, in her best Rachel imitation.

Quinn rolls her eyes. She's spared the trouble of replying by the musical duo walking onstage and addressing the audience.

Quinn's a little starstruck at the end of the night. Jim and Sam sound better live. They were also selling their albums, so Quinn bought two, intending one for Marley. She got them both autographed as a souvenir of this stop.

The only snag is that she's lost sight of her travel buddy. Quinn casts a critical eye in the direction of the bar; Marley doesn't have a fake ID, so it's highly doubtful Quinn will find her there.

"Hey! There you are!"

Marley pushes her way through the milling crowd, flushed and sweaty from her efforts. "Here!"

Quinn blinks in surprise. "You didn't," she says, staring at the mass of heathered blue fabric in Marley's outstretched hands.

"I did," she replies proudly.

It's a standard shirt from The Ark, with the music venue's logo splashed across the front in white lettering. But the back of it has two familiar names signed in black Sharpie.

"I didn't see you at the booth," Quinn blurts out.

"What do you mean?"

In answer, Quinn produces the autographed CD. Marley snorts in disbelief.

"Great minds think alike?"

Quinn responds with a snort of her own. "More like you copied my idea," she teases, nodding at the Michigan U shirt Marley's wearing.

Marley laughs. "Can we agree not to buy any more shirts for each other? Because I can imagine how packed my college wardrobe is gonna be if we keep this up." But she follows the words with a soft smile that makes Quinn feel like she is the only person in the room.

"No promises," she manages.

"Here, put it on. I want a souvenir photo of us in our finery."

Quinn snorts, but her body obeys, pulling the T-shirt over her head and smoothing it out. Marley snaps a few shots on her phone and camera in quick succession; Quinn manages to pose with her arm around Marley without freaking out.

It's a major milestone in her books.

Marley sends her the most flattering of the photos. On a whim, Quinn forwards it to her friends.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Quinn shakes her head. "You're always starved."

"I can't deny it. If there's one thing we always had plenty of at home, it was leftovers."

"How are you so skinny?" Quinn genuinely wants to know; her weight has been an issue that has plagued her for as long as she can remember.

Marley shrugs. "I guess I burned it all off in the kitchen. My job was usually food prep assisting and delivery. Hauling eight buffet trays of canapes into a country club without dropping any was no walk in the park."

Quinn spies a neon sign coming up and signals left. "Then we'd better get food or you might end up eating me."

There's a beat in which she reconsiders what she said. A hot blush spreads over her face and neck; she keeps her eyes trained on the road.

Marley, however, just laughs at her. "Just keep me fed, Fabray, and you'll never have to worry about that."

They've been eating a lot of diner food, but Quinn can't bring herself to care. Two weeks isn't going to cause her to balloon up, and more importantly, the sight of greasy plates and breakfast-for-dinner menus seems to spark more joy in Marley than with anyone she's ever known.

Quinn orders herself a turkey club sandwich, arching an eyebrow as Marley orders a cheeseburger and fries. She can't resist a small dig: "I know we agreed to split gas evenly but at this rate, you might need to pay a little more since there's more of you to haul."

Marley's response is to stick her tongue out at Quinn. "You're not getting any of my fries."

"I ordered my own."

"Well, you're not getting any extra."

The waitress brings their drinks. Quinn tries not to comment on the glass of milk Marley has.

"I'm not gonna have coffee at this time of night," she says defensively.

"Mmkay."

"Or a beer." Quinn arches an eyebrow. Marley raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just putting it out there."

"Sure thing," says Quinn. She steals a fry from Marley's plate when their food arrives anyway, just to make a point.

She was never going to admit it, but Quinn has a Damien Rice song she plays on loop at night with her earphones in.

You could be my favourite taste
To touch my tongue
I know someone who could serve me love
But it wouldn't fill me up

Much to her annoyance, the words kept running over in her head when she's not paying attention.

You could be my favorite place
I've ever been
I got lost in your willingness
To dream within the dream

Quinn only has herself to blame, really; she's the one who decided to indulge herself with these feelings. She wasn't even thinking of a summer romance, because that's laughable; Marley isn't gay, and she doesn't think about Quinn in that way.

Not like how Quinn is starting to think about her.

You could hold the secrets that save
Me from myself
I could love you more than love could
All the way from hell

She hates how Damien seems to know what it's like. For all she dislikes the genre, she can't ignore the emotional pang the song evokes, so reminiscent of her troubled junior and senior years after she finally scraped together the courage to stop running from her feelings.

Her mother had taken it badly. Her father had yet to speak to her after she had gotten pregnant; Quinn could imagine the conniption he would have had to find out his youngest daughter was also gay. And she herself was still struggling with accepting everything that she was.

At least Quinn understood herself a little better now, and she had friends she could count on; Rachel was a good friend in spite of having broken Quinn's heart. Santana had gone through the same struggle as she had and was a listening ear Quinn could count on despite her abrasiveness. Brittany was Brittany, and always would be.

But this was something she had to experience on her own – was something she had already experienced on her own: an unrequited crush.

You could be my poison, my cross,
My razor blade
I could love you more than life
If I wasn't so afraid
You could be my favorite faded fantasy
I've hung my happiness upon what it all could be

Quinn closed the music app, put her phone on the nightstand, and closed her eyes.