Author's Notes: Somehow, the delay in this new chapter gave it time to mushroom into an extra-long one, bless its heart. This latest installment is brought to you by Mike Ownby, who sifted through 3 drafts with me, pointed out horrible logical errors, and cleaned it up enough for me to think about actual plot. The extended author's notes can be found on my Tumblr at yumi-michiyo.

There is something… different, the next morning – although Quinn can't put her finger on it – and she's certain it's not just her. Marley is always so lively and bubbly and smiling, and today? Today, she's not. She's smiling, that's for sure. But there's something forced about it. Quinn would know. Quinn has forced plenty of smiles in her time. And if she didn't know better, she'd say that Marley's dawdling. Certainly, it explains why it takes longer to get to places than what Quinn's Maps app cheerfully predicts – even by Marley's standards.

But Quinn certainly isn't complaining.

Quinn wonders if Marley's just as unwilling to go home as she is. While she's not happy about it, she's mostly resigned to it now; coming to terms with uncomfortable truths is something she's been getting plenty of practice doing since embarking on this road trip (and letting Marley Rose in).

In any case, it would be presumptuous of her to say that she knows Marley well after – close to two weeks, thinks Quinn with a wince – when she's hardly in touch with her own feelings most of the time, for God's sake.

Now that they aren't taking the scenic route, the time it's taken them to get here from Nashville seems relatively short. Marley pulls over at a picturesque rest stop just outside of Indianapolis to switch over, bringing Quinn out of her rambling thoughts.

But instead of immediately getting behind the wheel, Quinn leans against the side of the car. Marley joins her shortly after.

"You're quiet," says Marley.

Quinn suppresses a faint snort of amusement. "I do remember telling you some time ago that I'm not the most talkative person."

"Neither am I, but you're being more quiet than usual."

"I don't think it's possible for me to be more quiet than I normally am," observes Quinn dryly. "I would have to be mute." To be fair, Marley does have a point; Quinn has noticed that she's talked more with Marley over the past two weeks than in four years of high school. But some things are still impossible, like telling her the truth – that I'm being especially quiet because I did a lot of thinking last night and realized that I might be in love with you – is too much, even for this new and improved Quinn.

Marley's lips twitch, clearly amused at the thought of Quinn being mute. "Good thing you're not," she says. "Mute, that is. I'd miss your voice."

"My voice, or the things I talk about?"

"Both," replies Marley with a nod. "You have a lovely voice; singing and otherwise."

The compliment makes her smile. "Rachel once told me I have a tremulous alto and a Belinda Carlisle glamor; I'm sure she'll be happy that someone else agrees with her," she says. Before Marley can respond, she hastily rushes out: "Anyway, I'm hardly in your league. You're an amazing singer, I hope you know that."

Marley pinks. "Thanks."

And there really isn't anything she can add to that, so they lapse into silence. The flavor of their silence has changed subtly over the days of the trip; when they're not talking now, it feels less oppressive and more natural, no longer a gap to be filled in with music and distractions. Quinn enjoys the solitude, looking over the hills in the distance, closing her eyes when the wind ruffles her hair. She's chosen to have her hair down today, her bangs braided out of her eyes.

She hears Marley humming softly to herself. Quinn glances over, and notices Marley has her camera in her hands. She isn't looking at it, though.

Marley smiles, seemingly unbothered by being caught looking at Quinn. "This is nice."

"Yeah," Quinn says. She returns the smile. "It is."

"I don't understand why you won't let me drive," grumbles Marley. "It's my turn. This was supposed to be a joint venture, remember?"

Quinn just pretends to ignore her, smiling faintly at Marley's expression. She can't very well say that she's not letting Marley drive because their next stop is a surprise, but keeping the other girl in the dark turns out to be more fun that she'd anticipated. "Maybe I like driving," says Quinn. "Maybe I realized I'm gonna miss my car when I'm in New Haven."

"You're a terrible liar," Marley scoffs. "But between the two of us, you're less likely to go down unmarked country roads, so I trust you. You have some surprise destination planned, don't you?"

Quinn purses her lips. So she's more transparent than a window; she can't help that, but at the very least they're almost there. "Good to know," she mumbles, pretending to be absorbed in the road ahead.

But in spite of all that, her surprise is spoilt when Marley spies the road sign for the turn-off and squeals. "I thought we skipped it!"

"Well," says Quinn mulishly, "we do need to go back up north to get home, it's kind of on the way, and you seemed awfully bummed we didn't go. So, surprise?" She's still slightly put-out that Marley figured it out so fast, but it seems insignificant in the face of Marley's excitement.

Marley scrambles out of the car the instant they're parked, and makes her way over to the driver's side. "You're sweet," she says; she glances left and right, making sure the coast is clear, before pecking Quinn on the cheek.

Quinn hums, trying not to look too pleased.

"Don't let it go to your head," Marley cautions playfully. She starts off towards the large shed housing the ball of paint, Quinn following closely. She leaves Marley to circle the giant ball, looking around for any information signage.

"Photo time," commands Marley, hands on her hips.

Quinn doesn't look up from the sign explaining the history of the giant paint ball. "Give me the camera, then."

"Not of me, silly; of us. I need to commemorate this moment." She motions for Quinn to join her in front of the ball.

Quinn blows out her bangs. "Seriously? It's too big to squeeze into a selfie. You won't be able to tell what it is."

"Quinn, surely the biggest ball of paint in the world speaks for itself." Marley gestures grandly at the massive ball behind her like she's Vanna White on the Wheel of Fortune TV show. "Think of how many years it took for this baby to reach its size."

"Oh, sure. That's because this one is in captivity; they don't get that big in the wild," says Quinn dryly.

Marley, who has picked the wrong moment to drink some water, chokes; Quinn smirks. "... You're not funny."

"Au contraire. You would've laughed if you hadn't been drinking." Quinn's smirk widens. "Also, I seem to recall a certain someone insisting that I was the funniest person in the galaxy…"

"I changed my mind. Your title is hereby rescinded." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I now think you were waiting for me to take a sip so you could kill me in retaliation for putting this on the itinerary." Marley bumps into Quinn's side, grinning at her. "Now hold still. If anything happens to me, the police will have a lovely selection of mugshots to put on your wanted posters."

She rolls her eyes. "If I actually wanted to kill you, it'll be a lot more subtle than choking on water. No one would ever find your body, for one."

Marley cackles. "C'mon then; give me your best serial killer smile," she says, and holds up the camera.

(Re-)Adding the giant ball of paint to their itinerary puts them about three hours' drive away from home, which unsettles Quinn a lot more than she's willing to put into words. Resigned as she is to reality, she's still not ready for this to end, and so Quinn stalls. "Hey," she says.

"Hmm?"

"How about we go to Cincinnati? I've always wanted to see what it's like there."

Marley shoots a quick, amused glance her way. "You've never been to Cincinnati?"

"I have, for Cheerios stuff. As a matter of fact, if not for Cheerios and Glee, I hardly ever get the chance to leave town. Apart from boba tea runs, but we go to Columbus for those."

"What did you wanna see in Cincinnati?"

Quinn is stymied. "Uh… what was that again?" she stalls, thumbs flying over her phone screen as she Googles Cincinnati on her phone. "Cincinnati chili. Yes. Santana said it was the best thing."

Marley laughs. "Going somewhere for food? And not a museum?"

"Why not?"

"But, by the time we reach Cincinnati, it'll be late," says Marley, frowning. "We won't be able to see anything, and anyway, we're due back home tonight."

She knows full well that their trip is already at an end; she's the one who planned the entire thing. But Quinn looks at Marley, focusing on the road, and she doesn't want any of it to end. But her problem now isn't that the trip is ending; it's telling Marley that.

She can be selfish. She has been selfish before. Quinn's no stranger to lying and manipulating people to get what she wants.

It's just down to her, now, whether she can do it to Marley.

But Marley saves her the decision by saying: "I'm okay with getting back a little later than planned, if you are; but I'll need to call my mom and check with her." She starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

Quinn's heart soars. "You don't mind?"

"Nah. I've got nothing planned for the rest of the summer apart from working for my mom." Marley cocks her head to the side. "I need to save up as much as possible because I don't think l can get a job in New York before school starts, so I won't be heading out until the last minute."

Her plans sound so grown-up. Quinn is almost embarrassed by how immature hers are in comparison. "Oh. Cool."

"It's incredibly boring. What about you?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know. I need to plan for moving to New Haven, I guess. But I have to be there two weeks before the semester starts, because of orientation stuff, and I'm planning on pledging to a sorority."

"Hey, that's pretty cool." Marley sits up, eyes bright with interest. "Are you planning on ruling the world?"

"That's not what a sorority does, you dork." Quinn pauses. "My mom used to be in one when she was at college. She says it's great, having a bunch of sisters that always got your back." Her mom also picked up her drinking habits from her sorority sisters, but Quinn chooses not to mention that.

"Like Glee, but all girls."

Quinn smiles. "Yeah. Like Glee." She wonders at the strange fascination Marley has with the club. "Honestly, though, I'm not gonna miss everyone the same way."

Marley's expression changes. "Can I tell you something?"

"You know you can tell me anything," says Quinn, smiling when Marley grins at her.

"I really love everyone in Glee. Like, sometimes I want to smack Jake, and Santana still really scares me – and Rachel, for that matter – but… it's like a family, right? With squabbling brothers and sisters, and Mr Schue's like our dad." Her gaze drops to her hands, loosely clasped in her lap. "I know that's kinda weird, but… that's really how I feel."

Quinn realizes then that Marley's never really had a family outside her mom. "I… yeah. I guess so." On further reflection, she realizes that she's pretty much the same way, in that Glee has been more of a family to her than her real family has been. "Maybe I'm not as creepily obsessed with the family part as you are…" She laughs aloud when Marley scowls at her. "But, you're right. They're family. Sort of."

"You know, the main argument I had for not thinking of Glee as family is all the dating," says Marley. "It borders on creepily incestuous, at times." She frowns. "Was it that bad in freshman and sophomore years?"

"Worse," replies Quinn. "Yeah, don't get me started on that. It's as though we can't find anyone else to date outside of the choir room."

Marley laughs easily. "I can see why now, though. You're quite the catch." She playfully brushes her fingers through Quinn's hair. The touch, feather-light, tickles; yet, Quinn leans into it.

It makes her traitorous thoughts jump back to that pit of anxiety that lives in her stomach now; that everything they do, so simple now, won't be the same when they get back. "You're not so bad-looking yourself," quips Quinn, pushing away her unease.

"Mmhmm. Sure."

"Take it from me. Because if I'm quite the catch, as you put it, what does that say about you now that we're… together?"

And it's worth it, tentative and hesitantly-phrased as it was, because the smile on Marley's face can only be described as incandescent. "It says that I'm extremely lucky," says Marley, catching Quinn's hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over Quinn's knuckles. "But, Quinn? Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah?"

"I… I don't wanna go back either. Not just yet."

Quinn feels like she could laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry," says Marley, looking contrite, clearly misinterpreting Quinn's relief as anger. "I just… this has been so wonderful, being here with you, and I'm not ready for any of this to end."

She feels… relieved. That at least one of them can be honest about their feelings. "No, don't be sorry. You're just the only one brave enough to say it out loud."

"… Oh." She sees hope flare in Marley's eyes. "I thought you wanted to go back."

"Marley, I'm definitely not in a hurry to go back. I wouldn't suggest Cincinnati if I were."

Marley snorts.

"Maybe I was, at the beginning of this trip, but not now." Quinn tangles their fingers together properly; partly as a gesture of reassurance, mostly because she finds holding Marley's hand to be a unique type of comfort. "This is nice. More than nice," she adds when she catches the amusement in Marley's expression.

"You know, one of the things I really like about you is how you're so remarkably expressive. Just what one expects from an Ivy League student," Marley quips, without any real malice.

Quinn smiles. She'll take it.

With the truth out, they've given up all pretence of sightseeing, and are checked into a cheap motel in Cincinnati.

"Your mom said it was okay?"

Marley shakes her head. "She didn't pick up the phone, but it probably means she's busy. She'll call me back when she can." She dumps her things in the corner and sprawls on the bed closest to the door without hesitation. "It doesn't matter, though; it's too late to go back to Lima by today"

Quinn, much less uninhibited, contemplates their sleeping arrangements. The receptionist had given them two beds without needing to be asked, something Quinn is grateful for. Thinking of sharing one bed with Marley – even though that's what they've been doing – makes her think of sleeping together, and it makes her face hot and her head spin.

"C'mon," says Marley, interrupting Quinn's thoughts. "Don't just stand there." She pats the mattress of the bed she's currently occupying, grinning widely.

Quinn slips off her shoes and sits down on the bed, folding her legs under her. Marley wraps her arms around Quinn's waist and tugs her down until she's lying flat.

"Hey!"

"No one sits on a bed, for goodness' sake," Marley grumbles, smirking at Quinn.

Quinn scowls. "You didn't have to tackle me down, Quarterback."

Marley furrows her brow. "Wow, you're grumpy." She straightens up when her phone rings. "Shoot, sorry, I should take this, it's probably my mom. She's got great timing." Marley shoots Quinn a quick smile on her way outside.

Quinn stares at the ceiling, contemplating the cheap plaster; now she doesn't have the distractions of traveling and sightseeing and being busy, her thoughts are free to revolve around Marley. She already regrets being short with Marley. Quinn doesn't really understand why she has to prolong this trip, when they can just go back home. They'll have personal space, more things to do. Privacy that they don't have to pay for.

But she's selfish. She always has been. And while she has the power to do so, she wants Marley all to herself for as long as possible, in this bubble away from the real world. In a town where no one knows them (or worse, her father) and no one's going to talk behind their backs. As long as they're on their road trip, college is one whole step further away.

A small part of her wonders if Marley will turn and run the moment they're back. The moment they're not obligated to stick together. Quinn knows it's highly unlikely, but it's still a valid thought, as much as it stings, and she's okay with that. She's selfish, and she doesn't have to be sensible and rational for another day, at least.

The door clicks open. "Hey, you." Marley flops back on the bed (and Quinn's legs).

"What did she say?" Quinn asks, trying to sound as agreeable as possible.

"My mom said she's okay with us extending the trip, but I have to be home by Monday," says Marley regretfully. "She's booked a big catering job and she was counting on me being home to help."

"Oh." It's Friday night, and they have the whole weekend; it's better than what Quinn was expecting. But… even as selfish as she is, despite everything that's gone through her mind, she can't bring herself to take advantage of what Marley's offering her. "Uh, but your mom needs help. We should get back."

"We?"

Quinn flushes dull red. "It's only a weekend; besides, I remember someone promising me a summer catering gig…" She clears her throat self-consciously. "I don't have anything better to do in Lima anyway. I wouldn't mind helping you and your mom, if you needed me to."

Marley just stares at her. Then Quinn's vision is obscured by brown hair as Marley launches herself into Quinn's arms.

"You're so – Quinn, I can't believe how wonderful you are," Marley gushes. "I love you. I'm gonna – I need to call my mom back and tell her, gimme a sec." She ducks back outside, already punching on her phone screen, oblivious to how Quinn is staring blankly after her.

It's probably fortunate – for Quinn and her jangled nerves – that Marley doesn't notice the state she left Quinn in. She probably doesn't mean it, comes Quinn's first thoughts. Heck, she probably won't remember saying it. But Quinn heard it, and just the memory of it makes her stomach roil, in a way that's neither pleasant nor painful.

In hindsight, given that this is the complete opposite of what Quinn wanted at the beginning of the trip, this isn't ideal, but Quinn couldn't care less.

A part of her still regrets even letting Marley in in the first place, even though another part of her, very contradictorily, wouldn't trade it for anything. That same part of her that is currently turning cartwheels, because that unrequited love suddenly isn't very unrequited anymore, in spite of Quinn's last ounce of common sense.

But then – a thought washes over her like a cold shower: there's no point to holding onto things that leave her eventually.

Quinn struggles to keep those unpleasant thoughts imprisoned, and not spilling out into her interactions with Marley. The other girl deserves everything good and wonderful, and Quinn knows that even on her good days, she doesn't always fit into those categories.

It dawns on Quinn, then, that she has no idea how to be alone with Marley. There's always been something else, things to do, places to go, food to eat. Anything and everything else to talk about. So far, she has no idea how to act like a normal human being with Marley; and by normal human being, she means not spilling some traumatic childhood secret/fucked-up thing about herself.

What do normal people with regular family lives talk about anyway? With Rachel, most of the time Quinn listens when Rachel talks. It goes both ways, of course, and Rachel is an attentive listener, but Rachel definitely talks more than she listens, and Quinn's okay with that. Santana's never been one for talking in case it leads to feelings – very much like Quinn. And Brittany… well, Quinn has yet to have a perfectly lucid conversation with Brittany lasting more than ten minutes but she doesn't care.

She's run out of friends to compare herself to. Quinn doesn't know how to feel about it.

Marley inadvertently announces her return with a clatter. "Mom told me to thank you," she tells Quinn jubilantly, "and that she'll cook you a feast, no holds barred, when we get back."

"That's not necessary," says Quinn. She's uncomfortable, as always, by any outpouring of gratitude that's directed towards her.

"And she wanted me to give you this." Marley throws her arms around Quinn, squeezing her exaggeratedly. "This is from me, though." She kisses Quinn deeply.

"For a moment there, I thought your mom asked you to kiss me," says Quinn, still dazed.

"Eww. Gross. Thanks for that mental image, I really wanted it."

"No problem."

Nevertheless, Marley doesn't let go of Quinn. And Quinn isn't in a hurry to push her off, either.

"Hey, um." Quinn clears her throat, aware that she's flushing red. "My favorite movie is Crossroads."

It takes a beat. Marley frowns. "I don't know that movie. Should I?"

"It's the one with Britney Spears," Quinn confesses. She can feel her face burn so hot, like she's about to spontaneously combust. Normal human beings talk about movies that they like, she reminds herself.

"Oh. Ohhhh." Marley's frown deepens. "Okay? Is that supposed to be something embarrassing? I don't know what the movie's about."

Quinn scowls. "I don't… don't make me explain it."

Marley turns to meet Quinn's gaze. "Why not? It's your favorite movie; why wouldn't you wanna tell me about it?"

The question is innocuous, and makes perfect sense. The answer, of course, is because Quinn's been mocked for liking things that others didn't in the past, and she's also a fucking coward. This is Marley, possibly one of two people in the world who will never judge Quinn (three, if she counts Brittany. But Brittany doesn't have a judgemental bone in her body).

Quinn sighs. "Crossroads is this cheesy teen movie about growing up and things. I like it because… the three girls in the movie? They're all me. The girl with an overbearing dad, the girl who gets pregnant, and the girl who just wants to find someone who loves her. All of them desperate to get out of their small town." Her lips twitch. "And then they go on a road trip."

Marley bursts into laughter.

"I wasn't being entirely honest with you about wanting some life experiences before Yale. Like yes, but I was also hoping that something might happen on the trip, some revelation about myself." She waves a hand before her, as though brushing away the idea. "A bit silly, I know."

"Well, something did happen," says Marley, looking sheepish, and squeezes Quinn's hand. "I don't know if it was something you wanted, but…"

Quinn squeezes back. "It's more than I expected. Better."

Marley smiles, starry-eyed. "Good. I mean – this is gonna sound really dramatic, but I think I'd die if you didn't feel the same way."

"That doesn't sound dramatic. It is dramatic," Quinn snorts. Her stomach flutters.

"I did warn you." Marley puts her cheek on Quinn's shoulder. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way… What's gonna happen when we get back?"

The bottom drops out of Quinn's stomach. "We'll spend the rest of the summer in Lima," she says, voice deliberately even. "We'll still hang out."

"I don't wanna go back to a world where you aren't the last thing I see before falling asleep, and the first thing I see in the morning," says Marley bluntly.

And she's never been good at putting what she feels into words, especially not now when the inside of her head is such a mess, but Quinn knows she has to try this one time. "I'm not thinking about it that way. We still have the rest of the summer. We'll be going to colleges eighty-three miles apart; it's not goodbye, but see you later."

Marley just stares at her as though Quinn hung the moon and stars; just as Quinn starts to fidget, uncomfortable with the attention, Marley presses a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. "You're such a poet sometimes."

"I try."

Quinn doesn't know how she's going to drag out a hundred and twenty-six miles (according to Google) unless they get out of the car and walk. The idea makes her snort in amusement.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," says Quinn, shaking her head. "Just… wondering how we can drag out the drive home. Maybe we should find some unmarked roads to follow."

"Quinn!" Marley's laugh ripples through the air. "I don't wanna end up a horror movie victim. Or the murder victim in those cheesy campfire murderer stories."

"Those aren't real. Those are cautionary tales to scare people."

Marley waves her off. "We could do this the logical way," she says, as though Quinn hasn't spoken.

"Which would be?"

Marley turns her head, and Quinn finds herself looking into intense blue eyes. "Driving straight home, unpacking our things, and meeting up again somewhere."

"Or," replies Quinn, trying not to entertain the thoughts Marley is making her think of, "we could take those unmarked country roads I've heard so much about..."

"Or, you could let me drive."

Quinn laughs. "Are you admitting to being a slow driver?"

"Like I said, I really don't want this to end," replies Marley softly. Her gaze is redirected out the window behind Quinn's head as she pretends to be interested in the view outside.

"Oh." She wasn't expecting the conversation to take an emotional turn. Under normal circumstances, Quinn would've brushed it off; a week ago, she might have stayed silent. But now, she is different. Her feelings – all the more powerful for being acknowledged and accepted – lend her strength. Quinn reaches across the center console of her car, resting her hand on Marley's knee and squeezing until she retrieves Marley's full attention. "Or… we could find some places to stop by along the way."

Quinn knows she's doing it again; the whole being selfish vs. not being selfish thing. It practically gives her whiplash with how quickly she changes her mind. Quinn chews on her lip contemplatively.

But surely she's allowed this small thing? Surely it's okay for her to reach out with both hands and take what she wants, when it's clear that Marley wants the same thing?

A pang of annoyance, tempered by anxiety, flares up when Quinn recognizes the town of Dayton. She knows Dayton is halfway between Cincinnati and Lima – meaning they're halfway home. She sighs, putting her chin on her hand.

The butterflies in her stomach intensify with every mile that flies past the window, every minute they come closer to the end. It doesn't ease up, despite how many times her logical brain presents the facts; white noise buzzing incessantly inside her skull, like angry hornets wanting to break free –

Marley's voice breaks through her thoughts. "Hey," she says, "are you alright? You looked a little overwhelmed for a second back there."

Quinn wonders what all these feelings have done to her; she hasn't stopped using her words, and now she's actively sharing how vulnerable she's feeling. "Just… thinking about college," she says, forcing a smile.

"Okay." Marley's attention goes back to the road when the traffic lights change, and she thankfully doesn't question further.

Quinn knows better than to be surprised when she sees the same sign over again. "We're going somewhere?"

"It's a surprise," says Marley, in the same dry tone Quinn recognizes from yesterday.

"For me or for you?"

"Why can't it be both?"

Quinn shakes her head. "The Boonshoft Museum of Discovery," she reads off the next sign they pass. "That sounds more up your alley than mine."

"Okay, fine."

Quinn waits until Marley's parked the car, and they're crossing the lot to the entrance before she nudges Marley's side. "Thanks." She hopes that Marley doesn't need her to articulate what she means by that.

"You're welcome, Fabray," says Marley lightly.

"How'd you find this place, anyway?"

Marley shrugs. "Saw a brochure in the motel lobby in Cincinnati," she says. "I saw the words Museum and Discovery and decided it was perfect."

"So it had nothing to do with the fact that this place also has fossils, dinosaurs, and otters?"

It quickly becomes apparent that Marley had no idea so many of her favorite things were present; her growing excitement reminds Quinn of the first day of the trip, of the first time she'd come face to face with Marley's childlike excitement. "You're joking," she says, reaching for Quinn's hand.

"I'm not."

"How'd you know?" she demands.

Quinn arches an eyebrow and points at the various posters, banners, and billboards around the parking lot which advertise the museum's attractions. Otters and dinosaurs smile at them from the signage.

"Oh," says Marley a little sheepishly.

Quinn presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

Seeing the Welcome to Lima sign at the town boundaries causes Quinn a pang of nostalgia; she knows she'll stop seeing it as such in the years to come, but right now in her current frame of mind, it represents so much of the formative years of her life.

Perhaps it was no coincidence that their last stop on their road trip was someplace that holds so much for them both; planets and otters and fishes in aquariums. Dinosaurs, fossils, and T-shirts with cheesy slogans. It seemed appropriate, somehow, that they would buy each other trinkets; a shirt that features a picture of Saturn and the legend Put a Ring on It for Quinn ("You need a cheesy shirt of your own to match my Michigan U shirt, Quinn"), and a magnet with an otter on it for Marley. It feels like they've come full circle.

She pulls up outside Marley's house. It echoes the same scene from when they started, except the late afternoon sun paints everything in reddish hues, and Marley seems much less enthusiastic.

"So… I guess this is it," says Quinn, around the lump in her throat.

A muscle pulses in Marley's jaw. "I guess," she replies, shouldering her duffle bag. "Thanks for dropping me off."

They both crack grins at the inanity of that, but sober shortly after. "You're sure you don't need any help?" Quinn presses. "I can go home, get changed, and come back."

Marley shakes her head. "Nah. Mom wasn't expecting us to be back today, so she hasn't got anything for either of us to do until Monday."

"Oh."

Marley winks. "See you later?"

"See you later, Marley." She expects Marley to kiss her, but instead, Marley gives her a tight little smile and walks into her house. Quinn tamps down the pang of disappointment. They're in Lima, now; they're not in their bubble anymore.

The Fabray home is vacant and smells of dust. Quinn knows her mom won't be back for another couple of weeks, and that leaves her free rein of the house.

She fishes for the silver key out of the bowl in the hallway, and goes up the stairs to a room normally locked tight.

Russell Fabray's study has been locked since its owner moved out. It looks just the same as Quinn remembers, being a small girl sneaking into the room, older but intensely curious to whatever kept her daddy inside. There was a time she was unashamedly a daddy's girl.

The records sit on their shelves. They are meticulously filed in alphabetical order of the artists' names, filling two large oak bookcases. At random, Quinn pulls out a copy of The Four Seasons' Chameleon, blows off the dust, and lays it on her father's old desk. She is surprised he even has a copy, given his ideas of what constitutes good music.

Now that Quinn thinks of it, the list of things Russell considered "bad" included a lot more than the mistakes she's made – and gives her the sneaking suspicion that even if she hadn't gotten pregnant, he would have found something wrong with her eventually.

The silence is oppressive and deafening. She needs to fill that void with something, anything. Ideally, something that won't remind her of Marley. Already, she misses her comfortable silences.

Quinn goes back to the kitchen to make herself a drink before she puts the record on. Perhaps it's a little early to be raiding her mom's alcohol stash, but Quinn doesn't care.

She frowns. Maybe she's still adjusting to the silence, but it sounds like there's someone at the door.

There it is again. The knocking. Quinn frowns. She isn't expecting visitors, but it seems like she has one anyway. She pads to the door and opens it without checking the peep hole, fully intent on chasing whoever is on the other side away .

"Hey!"

Quinn blinks, surprised. She wasn't expecting Marley Rose to be on her doorstep, a couple of hours after parting ways. "Marley?"

"I should've called or texted, but I had to go do something for my mom, and I figured I'd just drop by and see if you were home," she says. Her expression changes abruptly. "Shoot, or maybe you'd be home but you'd be busy. I hadn't figured that. Sorry, I clearly didn't think this through."

"When you said see you later, I didn't expect you to take it so literally," jokes Quinn.

"Yeah, I know. I was just… I missed having you around." Marley sticks her hands in her pockets, looking embarrassed.

It's impossible to say no to Marley, especially now, when Quinn agrees whole-heartedly with her. "I'm not doing anything right now," she confirms. Then, her manners kick in. "Would you like to come in? I was just about to have a drink and go listen to my dad's record collection."

Marley perks up. "I would love to. Come in and listen to the records both. Hey, you said you were gonna let me listen to them, didn't you?"

"No, you kinda invited yourself to listen to them," Quinn teases. She leads the way into the kitchen, fetching another glass from the cupboard. "Do you want wine, or something more kid-friendly?"

"Har har." Marley wrinkles her nose at the glass of red wine Quinn's already poured for herself. "Do you have juice or something like that?"

"Luckily for you, yes." She retrieves a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and pours some for Marley, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

"Why do you even drink alcohol?" Marley grumbles. "It tastes terrible."

Quinn shrugs. "Beer's an acquired taste from years of parties. Wine always makes me feel like I'm a grown-up."

"We're going to college. Can't get any more grown-up than that."

"Point."

Just when Quinn's about to tell Marley to follow her upstairs, Marley moves around the kitchen counter and closes the distance between them.

Her lips taste of orange juice.

"It feels like forever since I last kissed you," says Marley, blushing a little. She cups Quinn's cheek, smiling softly at her. "I've missed kissing you. In case you couldn't tell."

Quinn can't resist a smug, "No wonder you came over," before she kisses Marley again, her hands resting on Marley's waist, fingers catching in the soft fabric of Marley's T-shirt.

"I came over for other reasons too," Marley protests, but it's hard to believe her when her voice is muffled because she has her face buried in Quinn's neck.

Quinn laughs. "Sure you did," she says. She lifts her arms, lightly squeezes Marley's waist, before withdrawing her arms. "I'm all sticky," she says apologetically. "I haven't showered yet."

"It's summer. It can't be helped."

She pushes the frosty glass into Marley's hand. "Yes, it can. I'm gonna go turn on the fan."

"Oh, yay! We can watch movies too, right?" She nudges Quinn. "I can watch Crossroads!"

"How long were you planning on staying?" Quinn asks lightly.

Marley grins sheepishly. "Until you kick me out? We could have a sleepover."

"Marley, we just got back from a road trip. Which is kind of an extended sleepover."

"Yeah, but I miss that. I miss you."

"You can't miss me if I don't go away." She tries for levity, even though she knows that's not what Marley means. Maybe if she wasn't so stupidly closed-off, she'd be spending every last bit of her summer with Marley. Or maybe even telling her all the things she's been wanting to say like thank you and I love you.

Marley sighs. "Summer'll be over before we know it, and we'll be headed to different places. There'll be plenty of time to miss you then."

Quinn nods, throat tight. She's not immature enough to deny that's happening (though she's still allowed to wish for it). Change is part of life and growing up. College is a good thing. She just wishes she hadn't found this other good thing before college is happening. Quinn hates being forced to choose. "Come over tomorrow morning," she says, watching the corners of Marley's mouth turn up.

"Okay – wait. You aren't asking me to stay?" Marley's smile evaporates, replaced by her best childish I'm-a-small-kid-who's-being-denied-candy pout.

"Not tonight," laughs Quinn. "I'm sure your mom's missed you. But we can spend the whole day together tomorrow, I haven't got any other plans. We'll watch Crossroads then."

Guilt mixes with Marley's expression, but the pout doesn't disappear. "Fabray, you shouldn't be allowed to use my mom against me," huffs Marley.

"You shouldn't make it so easy, then," replies Quinn.

The next morning, Marley shows up on Quinn's doorstep, a large brown paper bag clutched in each arm, wearing her biggest smile. She's wearing her Michigan U T-shirt, much to Quinn's mixed embarrassment and fondness.

Quinn knows better than to ask why, and goes straight to the what. "How long are you planning on staying this time?" she asks teasingly, leaning against her door, folding her arms across her chest.

Marley smiles sheepishly. "As long as you'll have me, ideally. I brought some things, they're in the car."

"Things? You're staying over tonight? Don't we have to help your mom tomorrow?"

"I've got it all planned out," says Marley confidently. "We're spending the whole day together. I'll stay over, and then we can head back to my house early tomorrow morning to start the prep work."

Quinn nods. "That would work, but wouldn't it make more sense if I stayed over at your house?"

Marley suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Well… we could, but I'm already here, and I've already brought my stuff," she says. "There's no need to make you go over to mine."

Something tells her that's not the only reason Marley has, but Quinn lets it go. She has other things on her mind, after all, and more than her fair share of secrets. Quinn clears her throat to distract herself from the awkward end her internal thoughts have stuttered to. "I've missed spending time with you, too. Is it too soon to say that?"

Marley beams, all tension gone. "You're cute, so certainly not. It makes me feel better about being so needy." Beaming, Marley fumbles with the bags she's carrying so she can kiss Quinn's temple. She's wearing her sneakers while Quinn is barefoot, meaning their slight height difference is exaggerated. "Help me bring these bags in? There're a couple more in the car."

"What on Earth did you bring? The grocery store?" Quinn takes the bags into her kitchen and then follows Marley out to the old Honda parked in front of the house.

"Ha ha. No, it wouldn't have fit into the car. I brought ingredients for donuts! I thought making them could be something fun for us to spend the day doing." She extracts another bag from the car, passing it to Quinn. "I remember offering to teach you, and there's no better time than now."

Quinn remembers that too – albeit with a much more appealing mental image attached. She grins sheepishly when it sinks in that it's about to become reality.

"And how do I know you're not just gonna eat them all yourself? I've seen you with my gummy bears. Is this just an excuse for making donuts?" Or inviting yourself over again, thinks Quinn, without any heat.

"Would it be so bad if any of those were true?" Marley grins.

"I guess not."

She should've known she can't lie to Marley. "Glad to hear that. Now, help me unpack everything." She fishes a folded piece of notepad paper out of her pocket and lays it flat on the counter. "That's the recipe. Help me find the flour. I forgot which bag I packed it in."

"Marley, you could've called me. I could've gone grocery shopping with you. You didn't need to lug all this by yourself."

"I wanted to surprise you! Are you surprised?"

Marley's expression falters a little; before it can crumple completely, Quinn says, "Very," and smiles.

Marley beams back, before returning to her work. "You could make these when you pledge for a sorority. They'd all be falling over themselves to take you in."

Quinn wrinkles her nose at the idea. "Marley, the sororities at Yale wouldn't do anything as undignified as that."

"Wait 'til you taste these donuts, then you'll change your tune." She emerges, triumphant, with a large bag of flour. "Yes! Okay, we need to find the yeast."

Despite herself, Quinn busies herself with unpacking the bag closest to her; Marley sends a wide smile her way.

"Why did you buy all this stuff? You could've called to ask what I already have so you didn't need to spend that much."

"Quinn, my mom'll be running a catering business all summer. She'll be happy to use up whatever leftovers we have. And like I said, I didn't wanna bother you, this was supposed to be a surprise." Marley puts down the box of yeast she was squinting at and walks over to Quinn. "Is everything okay?"

Everything is decidedly not okay, thinks Quinn. She's already struggling with leaving all of this behind, and adding Marley to that; and then Marley had to go and mention college as though Quinn needed the reminder that their summer together is coming to an end. Her stomach weighs heavy with unexpressed feelings. "I'm fine."

Marley takes Quinn's hand in her own. The other hand drums restlessly on the counter. "You sure?"

And now she is torn. She could divulge what she's feeling, and possibly ruin everything Marley planned for today. Quinn knows Marley wouldn't give it a second thought, because that's how she is, but pricks of guilt already eat at Quinn. Or she could lie and say everything's fine, risking Marley's feelings being hurt that Quinn isn't opening up to her.

She walks the middle path. Quinn gathers up both of Marley's hands and squeezes. "Honestly, I'm thinking about how much I'm gonna miss you when we're at college."

"Oh."

Quinn gives Marley's hands a little shake to recapture her attention. "But I'm not gonna dwell on that. You put so much effort into today, and I want to enjoy it with you."

Marley gives her a warm smile. "Good to hear. Hey, Quinn? Do you wanna kiss me? Wrong answers only." She raises an eyebrow playfully.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I would never kiss you, idiot," she says, then leans in. The idiot is still laughing even as she kisses Quinn back enthusiastically.

"Your donuts," Quinn reminds her, stepping away from Marley, going back to unpacking the bags. There are a lot more groceries than she thought would be needed for donuts, and – perplexingly – items that don't belong at all. "Why did you buy lettuce? What kind of donuts are you making?" she asks, holding it up.

"I didn't just buy the ingredients for donuts," huffs Marley. "I bought stuff for my mom too." She reaches for the head of lettuce, plucking it from Quinn's hands, and sets it on the counter.

"Give me the receipt."

She fishes a folded receipt from her pocket and hands it to Quinn, who pins it to the fridge with a magnet. "Here. I'll pay you back for the donut ingredients later. Now, donuts."

Marley nods, consulting the recipe to sort the wet and dry ingredients, arranging them neatly. "Could I borrow a mixing bowl and a small saucepan?"

Quinn fetches the saucepan easily enough but has to dig the bowl from the back of the cupboard. She can't remember the last time it was used. "What next, chef?"

Marley giggles. "I could get used to this. I need to activate the yeast, so could you get the dry ingredients ready?" She measures milk into the saucepan and puts it on the stove.

Quinn complies. She raises an eyebrow at the items on the recipe. "Am I reading this right? Pumpkin spice and grated nutmeg?"

"Mom's secret ingredients. Don't blab it around town and we're good." She stirs the milk.

"Huh. I'm taking your word for it." Quinn runs her spoon through the dry ingredients, focusing on thoroughly combining them without spilling any of the mixture. It smells wonderful already; she can't imagine how good the donuts will be.

"Mmm, that smells great."

"It's the pumpkin spice." The aroma makes Quinn think of Starbucks' pumpkin spice lattes.

"Maybe we should make lattes with it, to go with the donuts."

Quinn laughs. "I was just thinking about pumpkin spice lattes!"

"Sounds like a plan, then." Marley checks her phone. "Oops, time for the egg and vanilla. I'm almost ready for you now," Marley calls. The kitchen smells of vanilla now, and it whets Quinn's appetite. "Do you wanna do the dough?"

"I'll let the chef handle it," Quinn teases her. Marley sticks out her tongue but moves over to Quinn's bowl of dry ingredients, gradually pouring the contents of her bowl inside and stirring. Quinn watches as the slurry gradually becomes a sticky dough.

While Marley is occupied, Quinn sets out the butter as per the recipe and clears a space on the kitchen table, liberally dusting the surface with flour.

Marley empties out the dough on the floured table, digging her hands into it and kneading vigorously. "I've missed this," she says.

"Baking?"

"Baking for myself," she clarifies. "Baking for my mom's customers is different, 'cause it's a job and I don't know those people. But I know I'm gonna enjoy this at the end of the day because it's not just for me, but people I care about."

"Oh."

Marley huffs as a lock of hair falls out of her ponytail and into her face. Quinn brushes it away; the light contact of her fingertips on Marley's skin elicits a small shiver. Marley looks at her through her lashes, her eyes dark with what Quinn recognizes as desire.

She flushes. She runs her hands distractedly through her own hair, clearing her throat.

"That should do it," announces Marley, turning over the dough. "We need to leave it to rise now." She fetches the mixing bowl, dropping the dough inside. Producing a box of cling wrap from one of her grocery bags, Marley covers the dough and puts it to one side.

"How long should it rest?"

"About an hour or so; it's pretty warm today." Marley wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. "What do you propose we do to pass the time?"

"I'm sure you can think of a few things."

Marley smirks back, and Quinn wishes she hadn't been so cocky. "I can think of a few things; but I'm wondering if we're on the same page."

Quinn beats her to it first. Marley's lips part as she exhales, surprised by the kiss. Quinn presses closer, savoring the taste of the other girl's mouth.

But Marley is quick to reciprocate. She angles their mouths together, her hands gripping Quinn's hips for leverage. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Quinn glances down, noticing damp handprints on her shorts. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," says Marley. "I forgot to wash my hands, and – shoot, it's on your face too."

Quinn shakes her head. "Washing machines exist," she says, snatching up a dish towel and thrusting it into Marley's hands. "Now, we were doing something else." Her touch leaves a floury handprint on Marley's dark blue T-shirt, but she doesn't care.

There's something thrilling about kissing a girl in her kitchen, even though Quinn knows they have the whole place to themselves. It's the excitement of doing something bad, combined with the fear of losing this when summer ends, that drives Quinn onward. She takes control of the kiss, hands on Marley's forearms, nipping at Marley's lower lip.

Marley moans.

Quinn steps forward. Her body arches against Marley's. She presses Marley's forearms back as far as they will go – the kitchen counter, which isn't very far away in the first place – and pins them there. She directs her kisses to Marley's neck, more teeth than lips, feeling Marley squirm.

"Oh." Marley's hands are still on Quinn, but they're no longer guiding her; they're holding on desperately, clinging to Quinn like she's the last rock in a stormy sea. "Oh."

Quinn strokes the insides of Marley's wrists with her thumbs. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," is the immediate answer. Then Marley squeaks as Quinn lets go of her arms, grabs her hips, and hoists her onto the counter, stepping into the space she formerly occupied.

"God, you're strong."

"Athlete," breathes Quinn. The rest of her words – and her ability to speak, really – are lost when Marley's legs wrap around her waist, drawing her closer. It has the side effect of sending her pulse racing. Her hands linger on Marley's thighs, now serving to keep her upright because her knees feel like they could give way anytime.

Their lips meet again. This time, the height difference is exaggerated, and Quinn can taste Marley's smile as she leans over Quinn, her arms draped around her shoulders.

"I like this," she murmurs in between butterfly kisses.

"I thought you might."

Marley grins. "You're cocky." She twists a lock of blonde hair around her finger, tugging until Quinn moves closer. "It's a good look on you."

And Quinn, who has been trying very hard to keep that – facet, of her attraction to Marley under control, suddenly finds breathing difficult. She responds by kissing the knuckle of Marley's hand, biting back a smirk when the fingers let her hair slip through.

Even though Marley's not very much taller than she is, sitting on the counter puts her chest at Quinn's eye level – a temptation that she didn't think through at the beginning, but is grateful for now.

Marley – ever sharp when it comes to Quinn – notices, and laughs softly. "You're terrible," she says, without real rebuke.

Quinn doesn't trust herself to answer verbally. She tugs Marley's mouth back down to hers, kissing her breathless. One of her hands, however, goes to the small of Marley's back, rubbing over her shirt. The other remains on her thigh, but it's not idle; she rubs the heel of her hand up and down the exposed skin (she is very glad that Marley's wearing shorts).

There's a newfound ferocity to Marley's kisses now. Quinn's inclined to think it's because of her.

Marley takes Quinn's lip between her teeth and tugs. Quinn hisses. Her hands flex on Quinn's shoulders. "You can."

"Huh?"

Marley puts some space between their mouths. "You can touch me," she clarifies, sounding like she's run a marathon.

"Bwuh?" says Quinn, very eloquently.

Marley giggles softly. She reaches around her for Quinn's hand, and then pushes it under her shirt.

Quinn's face burns. She's touching soft, heated skin. She moves her hand, fingernails lightly scratching; Marley groans and shifts, but she doesn't shy from Quinn's touch.

Emboldened, Quinn runs her hand back and forth in wider, more sweeping strokes. She alternates pressure with barely-there touches, her heart hammering in her ears, always aware of Marley's reactions.

In contrast to the fevered pace her hands are setting, she kisses Marley unhurriedly; light, chaste kisses and soft pecks. And in contrast to Quinn's pace, Marley is eager, passionate. Her heels dig into the backs of Quinn's legs, somehow closer in spite of the summer heat and physical constraints. "More," she murmurs.

Quinn has always been eager to please. Her right hand (the one under Marley's shirt) inches upwards until it finds elastic. Her sharp intake of breath doesn't go unnoticed.

Marley's head sinks forward, forehead resting on Quinn's shoulder. Hot breath patters on the skin Quinn's T-shirt doesn't cover, before an equally hot tongue laves over the junction between neck and shoulder.

Quinn bares her teeth in a quick grin. Her hand slides upward, over Marley's bra strap, and then glides down, skating over skin, sinuously weaving to touch as much of it as she can. Quinn's shoulder vibrates from the answering groan Marley presses into it.

Then Marley's phone goes off.

From the way Marley stiffens, then slumps with a groan, Quinn realizes that it's just the timer she set earlier for the dough. Marley's disappointment is amusing enough to make Quinn forget her own, and she withdraws her hands. "The dough," she reminds Marley.

Marley grunts in frustration. "Damn."

Quinn shakes her head. She steps away, already missing the other girl, and tugs on Marley's elbows to help her off the counter. She has never been so glad for having the entire house to herself before. She makes a mental note to clean the kitchen thoroughly before her mom gets back, but she knows she'll never be able to look at the kitchen countertops the same way.

Marley, still red in the face and straightening her mussed hair, glances at the dough. "Okay, it's ready." She crosses over to the sink to scrub her hands, followed closely by Quinn.

"What's next?"

"Cutting out the donuts." Marley dumps the dough back out on the floured table. "Wanna do the honors?"

"Fine. You did knead it earlier." Quinn grabs the rolling pin and starts rolling out the dough. "How thick should it be?"

"Quarter inch."

Quinn nods. She concentrates on the dough, dusting it with flour occasionally. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Marley taking her phone out – and pointing it at her.

"Marley!"

"What?" says Marley, faux-innocent. "I want to remember this."

"I look a fright." She can picture how she looks; hair coming out of its bun and plastered to her face, spots of flour and dough all over her clothes. That doesn't even take into account how disheveled she must be after their heated make-out session.

"No, you're beautiful."

She flushes. "Let me see." Quinn puts down the rolling pin and walks over to Marley, who darts away, laughing.

"No!"

"Hey, no fair!" Quinn tosses a pinch of flour at Marley, who squeals in outrage. "Delete it!"

"Make me!"

"Is that a challenge?" Laughing, Quinn chases Marley around the kitchen table, playfully feinting left and right. She's the superior athlete, however, and ends the pursuit with a lightning-quick dart around the table, throwing her arms around Marley's waist. "Gotcha."

"How did you – never mind."

"I barely worked up a sweat doing cheerleading stunts. This was nothing." Neatly plucking the phone from Marley's hand, she deletes the offending photo, wiping the phone and her hands on a dishtowel afterwards. "Done."

"You're horrible." Marley extracts herself from Quinn's arms, pouting outrageously. "Go back to your donuts, I'm hungry."

"Don't you need to get the oil ready?"

"Nah, they need to be chilled for a while before frying. They're really sticky now, they'll be easier to handle when they're cold."

Quinn nods. The instant she turns her back, however, she feels the splash of something cold on her cheek. She shrieks.

Marley turns off the tap, smirking proudly. "That was for the flour," she says. "Honestly, I would've never thought you'd be childish enough to play with your food."

Quinn narrows her eyes. "Don't push your luck, Rose." She bends to wipe her face exaggeratedly on Marley's sleeve; the other girl squawks indignantly, but lets her.

"Donuts," orders Marley, swatting at Quinn.

"They won't be ready to fry for a while, says the chief baker."

Marley scowls at her. It's hard to take her seriously when she still has flour on her face. "You still have to get the oil ready, doofus, and this is your house."

"Oh, right; I knew I was forgetting something." Quinn smiles, all faux-innocence, and produces a bottle of canola oil from one of Marley's bags. She pours a generous amount into a skillet and sets it on the stove. "How long do the donuts need to chill?"

"About half an hour."

"Does that mean we'll have to think of a way to pass the time?"

"Not if we do what we were doing just now." Marley grins. "But this time, you're on top."

The blush comes slow, scalding the back of Quinn's neck. Although Marley blushes too, she doesn't take back her words, grinning defiantly. She advances on Quinn without hesitation.

They collide in a rush of lips and tongues and heat. Quinn hops up on the counter herself, kissing away Marley's indignation. They are bolder this time, as though they've crossed an invisible barrier; flushed with desire, Quinn doesn't hold back, and Marley responds in kind.

Quinn's head falls back when Marley licks her way up her neck. "God," she groans, more breath than sound.

Marley pays her no heed, seemingly completely focused on worshipping Quinn's neck. Her hands grip Quinn's thighs, anchoring Quinn in this moment, keeping her from drowning in the sensations Marley makes her feel. Quinn tries to say something else, but it comes out a whine; Marley redoubles her efforts in response. It feels strange not to be in control.

There is that feeling again in her stomach; hot, curling flames that burn brighter with every kiss, every time Marley touches her. Quinn feels like she can never get enough. Her nails scrape over the back of Marley's neck, urging her on.

Quinn cries out when Marley's mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat. It makes more of her inhibitions slip away, especially when that wicked tongue swirls over her skin. "Fuck," she hisses. She presses herself into Marley, feeling like it is not enough – that there are too many layers of fabric separating their heated skin –

Her hand makes its way back under Marley's shirt, but she is too distracted by Marley's ministrations to do anything. Until Marley reaches the bottom of her collarbone, where skin swells into flesh, and Quinn gasps, pushing at Marley.

Marley immediately stops what she is doing. She jerks her face away as though she's been burnt. "Sorry! Sorry, did I… sorry."

"No, it was…" Color suffuses Quinn's already heated cheeks. "It was a little too much."

"Right. Okay. Sorry. I should've… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't, I just…" Quinn cups Marley's face in her hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks. She smiles reassuringly. "We're in my mom's kitchen."

Marley is already flushed red from the summer heat and their activities, but the crimson of her cheeks intensifies as Quinn's meaning sinks in. "Oh. Oh. Right. Yeah, okay. Good call." She tips her head forward, resting her forehead against Quinn.

Quinn puts her chin on top of soft brown hair. Her pulse is still racing in her ears, and she wonders how far they might have gone if she hadn't stopped Marley… "We should," she starts, and clears her throat self-consciously when her voice comes out a husky growl, "we should check the donuts."

"Yeah, the donuts." Marley worms her way out of Quinn's arms, stepping back to give Quinn space. They make for the sink at the same time, laughing awkwardly when their hips bump together.

In retrospect, letting Marley handle the actual frying was a good idea; she's far more confident than Quinn in the kitchen, flipping the donuts in hot oil like a pro. Quinn is tasked with coating the freshly-fried donuts with cinnamon sugar mix – and not letting either of them sample the fruits of their labor.

"I can't believe we're done," says Marley, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She still has the patch of flour on her cheek, but now there's a smear of dough on her chin and a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar at the corner of her mouth. More flour speckles her brown hair. If Quinn looks closer, there's probably a souvenir of each stage of the donut-making process immortalized on Marley. She finds it unspeakably adorable.

"You've got some…" Quinn kisses her, tongue darting out to lick away the dab of cinnamon sugar on Marley's upper lip. "Wait, how did that get there?"

"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Marley brings their mouths together again, her hand resting on Quinn's cheek.

"I get it now," exclaims Quinn. "We made donuts so you could get me to do that."

"Oh, please; I don't need to do anything special to get you to kiss me." Marley waggles her eyebrows; Quinn snorts and pushes her away.

"Now who's the cocky one?"

Marley grins. "I didn't say I was cocky. I just said you being cocky was a good look on you."

"You're ridiculous," says Quinn.

"Also hungry."

"Do you want real food, or are we just gonna eat donuts?"

Marley shrugs. "They taste best when they're fresh."

Quinn reaches for a donut on the plate. When she picks it up, a bite mark is revealed on the bottom. "So that's how the sugar got there. Busted."

Marley just grins at her, unbothered.

Marley makes a pleased sound when she sits on Quinn's bed. "God, it's so soft," she says, throwing herself fully flat, nearly squashing Nickel the stuffed turtle. "Oh, hello there. It's nice to see an old friend." She turns to Quinn. "I named my otter Otis."

"You would."

"It was either Otis, or Otterly, and Otis just has a ring to it," Marley continues, seemingly oblivious to Quinn's comment. "Seriously, though, why is your bed so soft?"

"Beds are supposed to be soft, Marley."

"Yeah, but yours is the good kind of soft, not the springs-in-the-middle-are-broken soft with a saggy hole that you literally can't get out of in the morning." She sighs happily. "And it smells like you."

"That's creepy. Quit while you're ahead." Quinn reaches for a pillow and bats Marley with it. The casual statement explains why Marley doesn't want Quinn at her house, but Quinn knows better than to say it.

Marley curls up, laughing and protesting weakly, but she does sit up, crossing her legs neatly. "Your room is really nice."

"Thanks." Quinn fetches her laptop from her desk, powering it on. She loads the movie, aware of Marley messing around on the bed behind her. It feels incredibly intimate, having someone over in her room – on her bed. Especially someone who she's with, romantically, who also happens to be another girl. If only younger Quinn could see her now; wearing Cheerios shorts and a cheesy Saturn pun T-shirt, smiling at a certain special someone wearing Hello Kitty pajamas.

She would probably have had a conniption, thinks Quinn.

Marley pushes herself to the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. She gestures for Quinn to sit on the bed beside her; Quinn does, balancing the laptop on her legs.

"Comfy?" she asks, wedging one of Quinn's throw pillows behind Quinn's head.

"Very."

"Good." An arm slips around Quinn's waist, pulling her into Marley's body; it's a little too hot to cuddle, but Quinn doesn't care. She relaxes into Marley and hits play on the movie.

There's a strong sense of deja vu from being here, together, eyes glued to a laptop screen – and it's hard to believe that they last watched a movie two nights ago, days and nights blurring together in Quinn's memories. That despite being back in Lima, they haven't spent more than a few hours apart.

With the day they've had, it's easy to imagine how comfortably the rest of their summer will go. She almost feels silly for being as anxious about coming home as she was, and not trusting Marley.

But right now, she focuses on the here and now.