Author's Notes: Brought to you by Mike Ownby and his invaluable beta + Americanization work. He's also made the cover image for this fic!

This fic now has extended author's notes and meta thoughts on my Tumblr, yumi-michiyo.

This morning differs from the rest in that there's a still-warm empty spot in the bed beside Quinn, and there's singing coming from the bathroom.

Quinn doesn't mind. Even though she's getting used to not having her walls up, she does relish her personal space now and then. Although, as far as Marley is concerned, personal space is starting to feel overrated.

She frowns when she notices that her phone screen is full of messages, nearly all of them from Santana (thankfully not the Glee club group chat, she wouldn't be able to show her face there again). It appears that Santana has been busy in her absence.

Quinn jumps when her phone goes off in her hand; she reflexively hits the answer button without checking caller ID. "Hello!"

"Quinn, I can't believe you!"

Quinn sighs. "Hi, Rachel."

There's a pause as Rachel struggles – rather audibly, much to Quinn's amusement – between her manners and her indignation. "Hello, Quinn," she says eventually. "Are you and Marley dating?"

"Wow, direct much?"

Rachel huffs. "Considering that I have to find out that you and Marley are together from Santana, yes. I would have understood if you chose to keep such news of momentous importance from me, given our complicated history, but you thought it was okay to tell Santana?"

"I didn't tell Santana, she jumped to conclusions," says Quinn sulkily.

"But was she right?" Rachel presses.

Quinn doesn't say anything. Her silence speaks volumes.

Rachel suddenly lets out a squeal. "I am so happy for you, Quinn!"

"Thanks, Rach." It is far too early for Rachel Berry antics, but Quinn's missed her insane best friend, and it's difficult not to be touched by Rachel's happiness on her behalf.

"She is so adorable! You have no idea how excited I am for the both of you! I want all the details when you get home," Rachel orders.

"I think I have some idea," says Quinn dryly. "And yeah, no." She can picture it; all the girls gathered on her bed, listening to a blow-by-blow account, the feminine version of an accounting of a football game. "Santana's going to be a pain." She glances down at the unread messages. "She already is."

"Don't worry, Quinn. If she's too overbearing, Brittany and I will take care of her. We have proven to be quite the effective team."

"That's what I'm afraid of," says Quinn, smiling in spite of herself. "Look, Rach, I have to go."

"Of course! Have fun, Quinn! Tell Marley I said hi."

When Quinn terminates the call, Marley is already out of the bathroom. "All yours," she says. She has her hair in a partial updo today, a loose ponytail flowing back into her long brown hair.

"No hat today?" Quinn asks, her eyes following Marley as she moves around the room.

"Not today. Why? Do you wanna borrow it?" She visibly perks up at the idea.

Quinn snorts. "No thanks."

Marley tugs playfully on the green bracelet Quinn is wearing. "I'll convert you yet."

Quinn laughs outright. "You can try."

Marley just pouts at her, which – wow – for the sake of Quinn's sanity, she needs to stop doing that. Quinn has the sneaking suspicion that Marley knows how much it affects Quinn, given how she keeps on doing it.

But then she stops pouting to come closer and peck Quinn's cheek, pulling away with a smug smile. Too late, Quinn remembers that she doesn't need to hide what she feels for Marley anymore.

Pretending not to be affected, Quinn shakes her head and gathers her things, heading into the bathroom.

"Quinn? Hang on a sec, would you?"

"Yeah?"

"So," Marley begins… and doesn't continue.

One of Quinn's eyebrows slowly rises as she waits patiently. When the pause drags on too long for it to still be considered as such, she prompts Marley gently with a: "So…?"

"I was wondering if you – I know we planned an itinerary and everything, but…" Marley trails off.

Quinn's attention falls on the telltale redness creeping up Marley's neck. "Yes?" She does her best not to sound too teasing.

"IwaswonderingifIcouldtakeyououtonadateinstead."

"...what? I'm sorry, I don't speak Garblish," Quinn teases her.

"I was wondering if you could take you out on a date instead today," Marley repeats, this time at a normal pace. She clasps her hands together in front of her.

"When?" Quinn asks – gently, in the face of Marley's abject embarrassment. "We're already out, in case you haven't noticed, not to mention we'll be driving the entire day…"

"We're spending the night in Louisville, right? So from now until then." Marley's lower lip juts out in a stubborn pout Quinn recognizes. "I'll drive. You can just relax and let me take care of everything today."

She can't say she'd much rather follow the itinerary they'd painstakingly planned. Quinn has never been spontaneous before, but every part of her is urging her to listen to this crazy, beautiful girl with a smile that makes the world seem brighter, especially when she's trying to ask Quinn out.

"Yeah, okay," she finds herself saying.

"Great!" Marley bounces a little, grinning like a maniac. "Now go get dressed."

"I was going to," retorts Quinn, "until someone asked me out."

She's halfway through doing her hair when there's a knock at the door that causes Quinn to jump.

"Quinn? Are you decent?"

"Yes," she replies automatically, too surprised to ask why.

Marley comes in. "Hi," she says, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist from behind. "You look very pretty today."

Quinn looks at herself in the mirror; her eyes travel upwards from her white skirt, to her chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and the top buttons undone, and finally to Marley and her smile, standing behind her, chin resting on Quinn's shoulder. "I'm wearing a skirt and a shirt."

"And you look very pretty in those," replies Marley. "But I'm gonna have to ask you to change."

"... what? There's a dress code for today? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Marley looks sheepish. She doesn't meet Quinn's eyes. "I would've said so earlier, but I wasn't expecting you to say yes to me, so while you were in here getting ready I was frantically Googling stuff we can do today."

Quinn squints at her. "If you say we're going off-road biking, I will smother you with a pillow."

"We're not, but that honestly sounds fun. I mean," Marley says hastily on catching the look on Quinn's face, "wear jeans, if you have them."

Quinn sighs, mildly exasperated, yet intrigued. "This better be worth it, Rose," she warns lightly, going to retrieve the pair of black jeans she packed.

"I'm counting on it," says Marley. "I'm too young to die."

When Quinn re-emerges from the bathroom, she does a little twirl for Marley's benefit, and gets a giggle. "Is this acceptable, Miss Rose?"

"Very much so, Miss Fabray. You should've worn your glasses out today, they match your outfit."

Quinn squints at her. "Match this? I'm not a librarian."

"You could be," says Marley, "I know I'd check you out." She grins and points a finger gun at Quinn, who groans.

"It's a good thing you're going into business and not comedy," Quinn grumbles.

Instead of taking the direct route to Louisville, Marley follows the scenic backroads. "You can't sing on an interstate highway with all the trucks belching exhaust," says Marley.

"Yes, because when I see a highway, my first instinct is to roll down the window and sing," quips Quinn.

"I'm being serious, Fabray!"

"So am I! Seriously, what universe do you live in where cars are for karaoke? Are you related to Rachel somehow?"

Marley shoots her a look. "And I ask you, what of it if they were?"

The early morning sun glints through the windows; Marley pulls out a pair of sunglasses and slides them on her face. "I'm starving."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to say so."

"I was distracted."

Quinn looks away, fighting a smile. "Really? By what? Choosing country roads to sing on?"

"You're not funny. This is all part of the plan, because we're stopping at the next town to get breakfast."

The next town happens to be Lafayette, which Quinn recognizes immediately. "This is where Purdue is," she says.

"Purdue?"

"College."

Marley shakes her head. "Did you go through the entire list of college rankings?"

"No," says Quinn hotly.

"Mmhmm."

"... Okay, maybe one or two lists."

Marley nods. "That sounds more like you."

"Well, how'd you pick where to go for college?" Quinn asks defensively.

"I shortlisted schools in and around New York and Los Angeles, 'cause that's where the internships and jobs are. I had a couple schools accept me but only Marymount, CUNY, and NYU offered me full scholarships too, so I picked the one I'd actually heard of before I started college-hunting," says Marley immediately.

"Oh."

"I was going to ask how you picked your college shortlist, but you're going to Yale." Marley whistles. "You must've started at the very top of the rankings and worked your way down. I imagine an Ivy League school must be pretty pricey, but I'm sure the education you get out of that is worth it."

"I was offered a grant, but that's nowhere near a full ride," says Quinn bitterly. "My mom still couldn't afford it. I had to ask my dad for help."

Marley rubs Quinn's arm sympathetically.

"She had to twist his arm a little, but he finally agreed to cover the rest of my tuition for my freshman year, at least. I'll need to get a job in case he changes his mind next year." Quinn scoffs at the memory. "Frannie barely scraped together the grades for OSU. He paid for her without blinking, and bought her a new car as a reward for getting into college."

"I'm sorry," says Marley.

Quinn purses her mouth. "I'm mostly over it," she says, drawing a surprised laugh from Marley. "I mean – my problems are pretty small compared to yours."

Marley shrugs. "I don't think we can fairly compare our problems. Like, being broke isn't on the same scale as getting pregnant."

"Touche."

The eatery they're standing outside of looks pretty upscale, unlike Marley's usual greasy spoon picks. "This looks a little pricey," Quinn comments.

"Google said it was nice."

"And we should trust Google," says Quinn with mock-seriousness. Marley swats her arm. "No, seriously; why here?"

Marley gets shifty-eyed. "They have a really good selection of food."

Quinn gives the menu a glance. "You mean, pricey vegetarian food."

"We've been eating a lot of unhealthy food on this trip," says Marley defensively. "We could do with a few healthy meals."

"This place isn't cheap, Marley."

Marley shrugs. "I should be eating healthier anyway. My mom's been talking about losing some weight; it'll be good to pick up a few ideas for dishes I could teach her."

She's touched. She's never had anyone go out of their way to accommodate her (except Rachel, who doesn't really count because she's Rachel). "Thank you," she says.

"Oh, don't thank me. Today's all about you, so it makes sense we have something you like."

After having been squinting out the window for the past ten minutes, Quinn realizes why the place seems familiar. "Why are we here?"

"Huh? Do you know where we are?"

"Yep. Carmel."

Marley glances at Quinn. "I'm sensing a story."

Quinn laughs. "There's not much to tell. Carmel High is where Vocal Adrenaline is. We came over here once to spy on their rehearsal."

"Oh. Ohhhh." Marley wrinkles her nose. "You did?"

"They had quite the reputation," says Quinn lightly. "We stole their choreographer – it didn't help." To this day, she'll never admit that the highlight of that episode had been Rachel losing her temper in spectacular fashion.

Marley surprises her by laughing uproariously.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Did we tell you?" She frowns, and mutters inaudibly to herself.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, we… we kinda pranked Jesse St James at Nationals a couple of months back."

Quinn gapes at her. "You what? We who?"

Marley shakes her head, still laughing. She wheezes a little as she tries to catch her breath. "Tina and Artie told me about the whole egging thing that happened to Rachel, and how they got back at Vocal Adrenaline by singing at them."

Quinn snorts at the memory. She'd had plenty of better ideas for revenge than just singing at them, but she was pregnant, and there'd been more pressing things on her mind. "Not one of Mr Schue's finest moments."

"I know, right? It's already a crime that he thinks La La Land is the gold standard for jazz." Marley makes a face. "Anyway, back on topic: being seniors and all, we thought it was the perfect time to prank him back."

"Two years afterwards?"

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, right? He definitely wouldn't have been expecting that."

Quinn presses her lips together to stop herself from laughing. "Who was in on it, and why am I only hearing about this now?"

"Not everyone," says Marley. "Rachel wasn't, for obvious reasons, 'cause Puck said she'd probably try and warn him."

"Yeah," Quinn sighs, "she's dumb like that."

"We didn't tell you too because Santana said not to. Just Puck, Santana, Tina, Artie, Mike, Jake, Kitty, Ryder, and me," Marley says, frowning as she counts off on her fingers.

Quinn sizes Marley up thoughtfully. "I'm looking at you in a whole new light, Rose," she says at length. "I never figured you for the vengeful scheming type."

"That's because I wasn't in on it from the beginning. I ran into Puck and Santana when they were sneaking out of the hotel," replies Marley matter-of-factly. "They told me the whole plan on the condition I kept their secret but I insisted on tagging along. That's why Ryder got mixed up in it too; he went along 'cause he was worried about me."

The revelation throws an additional twist into Quinn's image of Marley. "What? Why?"

"Because that's what Glee club is about," she says simply. "We're there for each other."

"What did you do to the poor man?" Since Puck and Santana are a deadly combination, Quinn is certain Jesse is mentally scarred for life.

"We lured him into the parking garage, then we threw him into a dumpster and pelted him with trash," says Marley with obvious relish. "We let him stay there for an hour before giving security an anonymous tip to find him."

"That seems rather mild, considering the people who are involved."

"Puck and Santana did something else, but they wouldn't tell us what they did."

That sparks a memory of Puck and Santana being unable to look at each other without dissolving into hysterical giggles before their performance, which in turn brings back a memory of Jesse going bone-white upon spotting the New Directions.

She'd been irritated with them at the time, but Marley's revelation explained everything. Quinn makes a mental note to torture the information out of Santana later, before murdering her for keeping her in the dark. "I can't believe this. Puck and Santana would definitely pull off a stunt like this, but Tina and Artie? Mike?"

"I was surprised too. But they were really enthusiastic about it. I mean, the whole thing was Tina's idea in the first place."

Quinn holds up a hand. "Okay, I'm gonna stop you there before you drop any more bombshells on me." Her friends have a lot of explaining to do when she gets back to Lima, but mostly she just wants to give them a hug. "I'd never have expected Tina to be capable of such a thing."

"She looks innocent, but she's quite the criminal mastermind," jokes Marley.

Quinn snorts. "Seriously, though, evil plans aside; why are we in Carmel? Are we spying on Vocal Adrenaline? Is this part of the amazing day you planned?"

"Two words, Quinn: ice skating rink."

"That's three words."

Marley waves her off. "Do you know how to skate?"

Quinn shrugs. "I guess so." She doesn't mention she took lessons as a child. "Do you know how to skate?"

"No." Marley pulls into the parking lot, kills the engine, and smiles her most winning smile at Quinn.

Quinn blinks at her. "... You don't know how to skate, but you want us to go to an ice skating rink?"

Marley is undeterred. "No better time to learn, right?"

"If you say so," replies Quinn, shrugging a shoulder at her. Although made apprehensive by Marley's logic, she finds herself in the unique position, for once, of not being at a disadvantage.

"I mean, Vocal Adrenaline aside, this town isn't that bad if they have an ice rink," offers Marley. She is bouncing with excitement the entire time, as they go inside. The teenage boy manning the skate rentals (who straightens up and smooths down his hair when they walk in) is exceptionally helpful, offering to come out of the booth to help them lace up their skates.

"We'll be fine, thank you," says Quinn in her best Head Cheerio voice that has him hastily excusing himself.

Marley chuckles at her. "Are you jealous?"

"He looked sleazy," Quinn protests.

"Whatever you say," replies Marley. She undoes her hair, shaking it out, and reties her hair into a neat ponytail. "You're gonna teach me to skate, right?"

"I suppose I'll have to. Wouldn't want you to fall flat on your face and break your nose or something."

"You say the sweetest things," says Marley wryly. She stands up gingerly, wobbling a little as she gets used to balancing on skates. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead the way."

They make their way towards the ice. Despite the floor being lined with rubber mats, Marley almost slips on a slush puddle and has to grab onto Quinn's arm to stop herself from falling. "I'm okay! I'm fine!"

Quinn shakes her head. "We haven't even gotten on the actual ice yet, Rose; I'm concerned."

"Think of it as me getting the falling out of my system," says Marley breathlessly. She's practically hugging Quinn's arm now.

"Marley, you need to let go of me or we'll both fall." Quinn pauses in the doorway, gently prying Marley's fingers off her arm. "Can you grab onto the wall for now? Give me a sec to get on the ice." She steps on the ice, turns to face Marley, and holds out her hands.

Immediately, Marley grabs onto Quinn's hands. "Put one foot on," says Quinn.

Marley does. She squeals when her foot slides away, and hastily withdraws it. "It's slippery!"

"It's ice," says Quinn, deadpan.

"Don't mock me, Fabray."

"I don't need to," replies Quinn, arching an eyebrow. "Put your foot flat on the ice, then slowly shift your weight to it before you bring your other foot on."

Marley manages to stand on the ice without falling this time, though she still has a death grip on Quinn.

"You ready?"

"I guess." Marley casts nervous glances down.

"Okay, sweep your foot forward," she instructs. "Don't lift your feet off the ice. Put your skate flat and sort of – push forward. Lean into it as you go."

She is frowning mightily as she focuses on her feet, attempting to do exactly as Quinn says. Marley moves forward; she's clearly exerting most of her energy in keeping her balance, judging by how her knees wobble, but she does manage to inch forward. "I'm doing it!" Marley exclaims.

"Yeah, look at you go." Quinn skates backward with ease, keeping her grip on Marley, watching Marley's feet. She occasionally casts glances behind her to check for oncoming traffic. "I'm gonna let go of one hand now, okay?"

"No!" Marley grips tighter.

"You're getting it," Quinn coaxes her, smiling at the terror on Marley's face. "I'm gonna be right here, and I'll still be holding your hand. You don't want me skating in front of you, trust me."

Slowly, Marley nods. She doesn't look any less scared, but her grip on Quinn's hands loosens.

"You can hold on to the side if it'll make you feel better."

Instantly, Marley's left hand lets go of Quinn and grabs onto the wall. Quinn skates to Marley's right, adjusting their hands so they fit together more comfortably.

Marley's eyes haven't left her feet the entire time. Slowly, she continues skating, the movements jerky and uneven, but she's skating, and Quinn is proud.

"You're doing amazing, Marley," she says.

"Just don't let go of me," says Marley, sounding panicky.

"You're holding on to the wall as well."

"The wall isn't gonna catch me if I fall."

Slowly, they complete a circuit of the rink, and another. Quinn gradually offers less comment on Marley's skating.

"I think you're ready to try skating on your own," Quinn says.

"No!"

"You'll be fine!" Quinn insists. "We'll stop here, and you can go whenever you're ready, okay?"

Marley sighs. "Fine." She lets herself be guided safely to the side. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna teach me to stop now, or am I just going to have to crash into the wall?"

Quinn snorts with laughter. "But it's a pretty effective method of stopping, and so much better than falling down."

"You're still not funny."

"Dig the toe of your skate into the ice behind you," instructs Quinn. "That's it."

"That's it?" repeats Marley incredulously. "I can barely balance on two feet, and stopping involves balancing on one?"

"Ergo, crashing into the wall."

Marley stares up at the ceiling. "I have so many regrets."

Quinn chuckles. "How about this: if you make it around the rink once on your own, I buy you lunch. Deal?"

"You're serious?" Immediately, Marley straightens, her expression filled with determination. "Prepare your purse." She crouches, pushes off from the wall, and is gone before Quinn's eyes.

She stares, flabbergasted, for a second before she digs her skates into the ice to take off after Marley. "Way to go, Marley!" Quinn calls. She feels proud enough to burst, watching Marley skate. Being Marley, she has to do it in a downright adorable manner; face screwed up in concentration, a hint of tongue poking out of her corner of her mouth. She's going slowly, and more often than not her eyes go wide as she loses control of her feet (but still magically manages to stay upright).

Quinn weaves in and out of the crowd fluidly, keeping her eye on Marley. She slips past a group of guys and skates beside her. "I'm doing it!" Marley says happily. Quinn laughs and agrees, surreptitiously slowing her pace to match Marley's.

When she spots the exit, Quinn easily overtakes Marley and pulls up to a graceful halt in front of the gate. "Try stopping now," she says.

Just as quickly as it disappeared, the panic comes back to Marley's expression. "What?!"

"Dig the toe of your skate into the ice behind you," Quinn reminds her. "Or crash into the wall," she adds as an afterthought. "Whichever one suits you."

"What if I can't stop in time?" Marley wails.

"I'll catch you! You won't fall, I promise!" She spreads her arms.

Marley's face is a mask of concentration. She digs the toe of her right boot into the ice behind her, as instructed, and tries to keep her balance.

Quinn can tell that she's not putting enough weight into stopping, and so she braces herself for impact.

Marley doesn't actually collide into Quinn. She appears to trip on the ice and fall forward; Quinn darts forward to catch her.

"Thanks," says Marley bashfully. "I thought I was a goner back there." She wraps her arms around Quinn's waist, clearly not in a hurry to go anywhere.

"Did you trip?"

"Yeah, I was headed for you way too fast so I really dug in, and – you know what happened." She chuckles awkwardly. "But at least I know how to stop now, so go me?"

"You could've just gone for the wall."

"The wall wouldn't have caught me," she insists. "And you're way cuter than the wall," she adds slyly.

"Compliments will get you nowhere. You were doing just fine on your own," Quinn says. "You're honestly doing really well for a beginner; I didn't pick up skating as quickly as you did."

"How old were you when you first started?" Marley disengages herself from Quinn's arms, taking hold of Quinn's hand, holding on tightly.

Quinn frowns. "Nine, I think. I was already taking ballet; my mom thought it would be a good complement for that." Absently, she leads them around the rink.

"A little ice princess," snickers Marley.

Quinn gives her a frosty smile. "I could let go and leave you here."

"I'm sorry!"

Her icy facade crumbles, and Quinn laughs at her, guiding Marley around a pair of awkward teenagers without breaking their stride.

"I wish I didn't suggest ice skating now that I've found out you're gonna be using your ice superiority to lord it over me," Marley grumbles. Her skates slip over a puddle, and Quinn has to catch Marley around the waist to stop Marley's legs from flying out from under her.

Quinn can't help herself; she's always been unable to resist a challenge. "Ice superiority? You mean this?" Quinn parks Marley by the wall before she pushes off, skating to the empty middle of the rink. She skates in a loop, gathering speed, before she executes a graceful axel jump. Quinn knows the landing was sloppy from the wobbly way she hits the ice; she winces. She's out of practice, and it shows.

But when she makes her way back to Marley, all she sees is undisguised awe. "That was amazing!" Marley exclaims. "You didn't say you were that good at ice skating!"

"That's because I'm not," replies Quinn, flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "I stopped skating when I got into the Cheerios, I'm really out of practice."

But Marley reaches out to grab the hem of Quinn's shirt and tug her closer. "You really should give yourself more credit, Quinn," she murmurs. "You're very talented."

Quinn allows herself a smile. "You're not so shabby yourself, Rose. I'm not the one who learned to skate in half an hour."

"I had a good teacher." Marley pecks the tip of Quinn's nose, and grabs her hands. "Now, are you gonna teach me how to stop properly?"

"Didn't you say you knew how?"

"I lied," says Marley with a cheeky grin.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Let's go, then." She tows Marley along the ice, laughing at the other girl as she clings on to Quinn. Marley, already touchy-feely, shamelessly takes the opportunity to cling to Quinn, even as she gets more confident.

"I suddenly see why you were so insistent we go ice skating," says Quinn dryly.

"Learning a new skill is very important, Quinn," replies Marley, all wide-eyed innocence. She interlinks their fingers and swings their arms between them. Her eyes go wide (with panic, this time) as she momentarily loses her balance, and regains it, in the space of a few seconds, all without help from Quinn.

Quinn's very proud of her.

"If you're out of practice, how are you still so good at skating?" asks Marley once she's caught her breath.

"Muscle memory. It's like riding a bicycle; you never forget." Quinn pauses. "Or at least I'm told."

"What do you mean? Don't you know how to ride a bicycle?"

"No. My dad thought ballet and ice skating were good enough for exercise, and my mom was always worried I'd fall and hurt myself, or tear my clothes."

Marley grins. "Then I know what we're doing next."

"I thought you'd gotten today all planned out."

"Plans change, Quinn. That's what makes it fun." She whips her phone out of the pocket. "Now pause for a bit, we need to take a picture."

"You'll have to catch me first," says Quinn cheekily, laughing at Marley's astonishment.

She recovers quickly. "Is that a challenge, Fabray?" Marley says, a smile spreading over her face. She's pink-cheeked from exertion and the cold, her eyes alight with excitement.

Quinn wants to kiss her. She settles for tossing a smirk at Marley over her shoulder, and taking off over the ice, followed by Marley's laughter.

"This isn't Louisville."

Marley laughs. "Real perceptive. You're on a roll today, aren't you?"

Quinn fishes in the glove compartment and finds a half-eaten bag of gummy bears. She takes one out and flicks it at Marley.

"No throwing food!" Marley gasps in outrage.

"It's my car. I do what I want." She folds the open end of the package neatly, tucking it back where she found it. "So, where are we?"

"Indianapolis! Home of the Indy 500."

"That's not part of today, is it?"

Marley goes wide-eyed. "No. Unless you like racing. Which in that case, we can make some changes…"

"I was kidding." Quinn laughs at Marley's mulish expression. "What have you got planned?"

Marley parks the car, and retrieves the gummy bears from the glove compartment. She pouts exaggeratedly at Quinn as she helps herself to a handful, before roughly folding up the bag and putting it away. "You'll see," she says.

"Is it cycling?"

"No, off-road biking," says Marley in a very good imitation of Quinn. She drags Quinn to a bike rental shop.

She picks out bikes for herself and Quinn. "A lot of people get bikes that are too short for them," she explains, steering Quinn away from the bike she is looking at. "You need one that you should be able to rest your toes comfortably on the ground."

Quinn looks nervous. "That's still too high," she says, mentally measuring the seat against her hip.

"It really isn't. You don't wanna scrape your heels on the tarmac, trust me."

They lead their bikes out to the empty concrete lot behind the store, where there are a few kids learning to ride from their parents. Quinn is nervous, of course, but it's something she's used to when she's with Marley. Except in the previous times she's felt this way, all she had to do was put on a brave face and soldier through.

Right now, with her white-knuckled grip on the handlebars, and one foot on the pedal, Quinn thinks that if she reverts to that defense mechanism, she might not survive the next few hours.

"How on earth do you balance on this thing?" she grouses, standing on her toes as she tries to get used to the bike.

"You can't unless the bike is moving," says Marley, holding onto Quinn's handlebars. She's obviously trying not to laugh at Quinn, but Quinn lets it pass. "Once you get going, you'll balance yourself."

Quinn stares at her. "That doesn't make any sense."

Some of what she's feeling must show on her face, because Marley bursts into a peal of laughter, and has to clap a hand over her mouth. "I'm gonna keep holding on to you, and you focus on pedaling," says Marley, still grinning like a fool. "Just keep going around the lot. Don't worry about falling, okay sweetheart? I won't let go."

"How the tables have turned," Quinn jokes weakly. The endearment barely registers on her already-overloaded emotions.

Marley chuckles. "Ready when you are."

Slowly, Quinn starts to pedal. They lurch forward, slowly at first, as Quinn gets used to the bike. Her heart leaps into her throat whenever it wobbles, but Marley is true to her word, and she doesn't fall.

"Try turning," Marley suggests. Quinn tweaks the handlebars to the left nervously, and then with more confidence.

"That's it." Marley's sneakers squeak on the concrete as they round the corner. "You're getting it," she says encouragingly. "You might wanna try pedaling faster if you think you're up to it; use the brake if you go too fast."

Quinn presses her teeth against her lower lip and decides to go for it. She speeds up, and the bike wobbles accordingly; she has a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars but she doesn't touch the brake. Quinn can hear Marley breathing heavily behind her as she keeps up with Quinn.

She gently squeezes the brake and rolls to a halt. Marley waits for Quinn to stop completely before putting her hands on her knees and gasping for breath.

"That was… you were pretty great," says Marley.

"Because you were holding my bike the entire time." She's amazed that Marley managed to keep up with her.

"Just repaying the favor, Miss Fabray." She straightens up, sweeps her hair out of her eyes, and wipes her hands on the back of her jeans. "Seriously, though, you learn fast. When I was learning to ride, I didn't listen to my instructor and I fell quite a few times because of it."

"How long did you take to learn?"

"Half a year? I think. I wanted a job but most of the places that were hiring weren't within walking distance, and Mom couldn't take time off work to drive me. Mom and I talked it over, and we thought it would be a good idea if I learned how to ride a bike. Then I'd be able to get around on my own. She arranged that I'd help out at the local bike store in exchange for bike lessons, which we'd do in the evening when the store was closed."

"It was really fun, though. I learned all about maintenance and stuff from Mr Olsen – that's the guy who owned the place – though I never did get round to buying a bike of my own. I ended up staying on part-time until we moved to Lima."

"Do you cycle in Lima?"

"Nah." Marley chuckles. "Lima's a lot smaller, we live pretty close to McKinley High, and I'm working for my mom now so I don't need a bike to get to work."

"Oh."

Marley hums. "Focus, Quinn. I don't want you falling and skinning your knee. "

"I'm sure you're a better teacher than that," says Quinn innocently. Marley laughs.

"Great, so does that mean I can let go now?"

Quinn's heart has started hammering in her chest. Marley is watching her with that bright-eyed anticipation that makes Quinn unable to disappoint her. "Uh – okay," she says, and smiles in spite of herself when Marley's entire face brightens.

"That's great!" Marley says again, and – to Quinn's utter disbelief – rubs her hands together. "So, we're gonna go as usual, then when you've built up some speed, I'll let go. Ready when you are."

She throws a look of deep disgust at Marley over her shoulder; it's met with an angelic smile. There's nothing left for Quinn except to focus on the hateful bike. She can do this. If she can be the youngest Cheerio captain in history, if she can get into an Ivy League school… she can definitely ride a bike.

Quinn squares her shoulders. "Ready."

They take off. She focuses on balancing, centering herself as Marley's been telling her to do, keeping her hands steady.

"I'm letting go!"

She feels the difference instantly; the bike wobbles so much, it might as well be made of Jell-O. Marley is no longer a comfortable presence behind Quinn, but she can hear her shouting.

Quinn manages to wobble along for a short distance before she puts her leg down.

Marley catches up with her, looking fit to burst. "You did it!"

"I didn't!"

"You made it all the way here from over there, I saw!" Marley waves vaguely in the direction they came from. It makes no sense, but Quinn doesn't care.

"That's 'cause I got the running start from you!" Adrenaline courses through Quinn's blood, mostly because she's so relieved she didn't fall. That would have been the cherry on top of today's perfect day.

"Hey, the Wright brothers flew for like, a couple of seconds at Kitty Hawk. It totally counts." Marley rests her hands on her hips, grinning at Quinn. "Wanna try again?"

"If I must."

Marley chuckles. "That's the spirit." She glances around at their surroundings, suddenly furtive, and kisses Quinn's cheek swiftly. "Some incentive for you," she says, laughing at Quinn's stunned expression.

Once Quinn has mastered cycling enough to make a few shaky rounds of the concrete lot without needing Marley to hold on to the back of her bike, Marley declares herself satisfied by Quinn's progress, and buys them both ice creams.

"It's too hot," Marley grumbles. She unbuttons her flannel shirt completely and takes it off, revealing a McKinley High PE T-shirt.

Quinn bursts out laughing. "You're wearing that?"

"It's comfy," Marley says defensively, but she's smiling too.

The only concession Quinn has made to the heat is to undo another button of her shirt. Unlike Marley, she isn't wearing another layer underneath it, so her shirt stays on.

Even though Marley's hair is tousled and a great deal of it sticks to her face, Quinn's first thought is: she's beautiful. It makes her realize that now that she has Marley, she wants to hold on tight to her and never let go.

Their time, as a they, is numbered. She can't hold on to any of it, only the memories.

"Quinn? You've been staring at me for quite a while." Marley wears this half-smile, looking at Quinn with unmistakable fondness. "What's wrong? Have I got something on my face?"

"Yeah," breathes Quinn, and brings up her hand to smear ice cream on Marley's nose, giggling in delight. "Now you do."

Marley shrieks. She gives chase, shouting incoherently at Quinn, sounding very much like she's laughing too. The battle is concluded in Quinn's favor when Marley fails to catch Quinn, instead flopping on the grass with a defeated groan to catch her breath.

"Don't fight battles you can't win," says Quinn as she drops to the grass beside Marley.

"Yeah, rub it in, why don't you?" grumbles Marley. She throws a handful of grass half-heartedly at Quinn, chuckling when it sticks to her sweaty skin.

The wind picks up; Marley sighs happily. "I can't believe you didn't know how to ride a bike."

"I still don't," Quinn corrects her.

"Really? Not from where I'm standing." She turns her head to smile at Quinn, one of those effervescent smiles that make Quinn's heart catch. "It's a good thing the store didn't have trikes in your size. That would've been hilarious." Marley laughs at her own joke. "I can see it now: Quinn Fabray, Yale freshman, on her pink Barbie trike." She laughs so hard she goes red in the face.

"Hey, what have you got against pink Barbie trikes? I got one for Christmas when I was six, but it was a bike, not a trike."

"No way."

"It's true!" Quinn insists.

"Then how come you don't know how to ride?"

"I told you, my mom was afraid I'd fall off and skin my knee. Or worse, turn into one of those neighbourhood tomboys with their muddy dungarees and missing teeth." Quinn had actually aspired to be one of those girls. She'd even asked for dungarees for her sixth birthday so she could go play with them. "My parents always put me in nice babydoll dresses which I wasn't allowed to get dirty."

Marley props herself up on one elbow so she can look at Quinn. "What happened?" she asks seriously.

Quinn shrugs one shoulder carelessly. "They gave it away to one of their church friends."

Marley's expression goes still and flat. "Quinn?"

"Mmm?"

"Tell me about the other girl that you used to be."

Quinn sighs. "Why?"

"I'm trying to understand how someone as wonderful as you could come from parents like…" She trails off. "Please, Quinn."

"Her name was Lucy," she begins. "She was fat, but not the cute kind of fat. Everyone said she'd grow out of it when puberty hit, but she never did."

"She was the only one with brown hair, a mousy unremarkable brown, in a family of beautiful blondes. She had a blob for a nose, bad eyes from all the reading she did, and she had terrible acne. On her fourteenth birthday, she asked for her dad to get a transfer so she could make a fresh start someplace new. He indulged her, and gave her another gift: a nose job."

Marley's hand sneaks into hers and holds on tight.

"When the bandages came off and I looked into the mirror…" Quinn's voice wavers, "I told myself that I would never, ever, be Lucy again."

Marley looks as though she is at a loss for something to say; rare for her.

"You could never imagine what it was like for Lucy," Quinn says quietly. "You've always been beautiful."

"Me, beautiful?"

"Yeah, you." She's always been very taken by Marley's eyes; like the sea, blue and green, new shades of in-between varying with her moods, deep enough to lose herself in. "I used to wish I had blue eyes like Frannie – like yours."

The pause that follows stretches into an awkward silence. Before Quinn can add something to salvage the conversation, Marley says: "I know it's not the same, but I know what it's like not to fit in. I used to go to school wearing my classmates' old clothes that they'd donated to Goodwill."

Quinn winces. She knows exactly what they would have said to Marley. "I'm sorry."

Marley waves her off. "It's past now. I did what I needed to, and so did you. I believe that everything that's happened, good and bad, should only exist to remind us how much we've grown."

"I just thought you should know that most of what you're looking at isn't real," admits Quinn.

Marley is silent. She sits up calmly, her eyes raking over Quinn from head to toe, expression enigmatic. "Did you get brain surgery too?" she asks casually.

Quinn gapes at her. "Excuse me?"

"Did you fix your brain to make yourself smart? Or maybe heart surgery to make it kind?"

"Of course not," says Quinn, once she's gotten over the absurdity of Marley's questions (and the hilarious mental images). She knows the point Marley's trying to make, but her pride won't stop her from putting up a token protest.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just Quinn Fabray, and I like everything about you. I'm not so judgemental to start disliking you just because you used to look totally different. You're beautiful, Quinn, but you've probably heard that a million times," says Marley with a little self-deprecating laugh. "Anybody with eyes can see that you're objectively pretty, but beautiful doesn't sum up everything I find attractive about you. Like… you're ridiculously smart. You have a wicked sense of humor. You're driven, and secretly nerdy, and for some weird reason, you don't want the world to know how kind and thoughtful you really are."

Quinn, a little pink herself, clears her throat. "We should… we should probably return the bikes, I think the rental time is almost up." She sits up, and pauses when a hand closes around her wrist.

"Hey," says Marley. "Don't ever apologize for being who you are. Because Quinn Fabray is someone special, and I'm glad I got to know you."

"I wish I could see myself the way you see me."

Marley smiles softly. "If you could, you would never stop loving yourself," she says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Quinn's ear.

On their way back to the car, Marley spots it first. "Quinn?"

Quinn, knowing that tone of voice well at this point in the trip, shakes her head. "No."

"You didn't even look!"

"I don't need to look at it, Marley; I know it's something I'm not gonna like."

Marley laughs. "You say that, but I'm starting to think that you don't really mean it. You just like keeping up appearances." She walks over to the storefront. "Thrift stores are fun. Macklemore said so."

"Don't tell Mr Schue that. He might include it in a setlist." But her words are futile, as Marley's already disappeared inside.

"Quinn, look," she says.

Quinn follows her line of sight and then giggles. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

Marley stuffs the ten-gallon hat on her head, throwing Quinn a finger gun and a wink. "Howdy, ma'am," she drawls, her Texan accent suddenly very prominent. "What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

"Marley!" Quinn hisses, swatting at her with a free hand. Her cheeks burn hot, because there's a part of her that finds that irresistible in spite of herself.

"I know you love it. Here, try it on while I take a look at these matching boots."

Quinn hesitantly does. She squints at her reflection in the wall mirror. It's far too big for her, falling comically over her eyes. "I look ridiculous."

"Which is still very cute."

"Did you know we did a cowboy number in Glee once?"

Marley pauses, eyes wide. "No. Really? You're not pulling my leg again, are you?"

"Ask Rachel. I'm sure she has a full catalog of every embarrassing performance the club's ever done." Quinn squints at the garment in Marley's hands. "What's that?"

"Oh! Right. Look, this is a steal. I think it really brings out your eyes." She holds up the white blouse so Quinn can see.

"My eyes?" Quinn fingers the green-and-gold trim of the blouse dubiously. "My eyes are brown."

Marley looks incredibly offended, as though Quinn has insulted her entire family. "They are certainly not plain ol' brown. They're hazel, and they have flecks of green in them. Did you know your eyes turn gold in the sunlight? I…" She flushes, and doesn't finish her sentence. "If you don't buy it, I will," Marley insists.

"You've been spending a lot for a broke college student."

"How often do we go on a road trip together?" Marley fires back.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. She crosses her arms, but she knows she's lost this battle.

Marley smiles smugly. On her way to the cashier, she pauses. "Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

Marley's mouth curves into a smile. "Don't fight battles you can't win."

"Quinn?"

"Mmm?" It comes out as a low and sleepy grumble; she was just about to fall asleep.

"I'm really glad you agreed to go out with me today."

"Me too." Unbidden, a smile comes to Quinn's face.

Marley shifts. "I really wish we could do that more often."

Quinn blinks, suddenly awake. "Marley…"

"I know. I'm just saying. I love it that just when I think I've gotten you all figured out, you still manage to surprise me. I wish that we had more time." She presses closer to Quinn and falls asleep almost immediately.

Quinn has a lump in her throat. She wants that too, so much it hurts.