Part Three: like a bird on the wire (I have tried in my way to be free)
The boys never remember to leave on time. Marley usually has to remind them to be on their way to wherever they need to be; even the important stuff like when Stan had his presentation for half the semester's grade, or when Gavin was supposed to be home in Astoria for an important family dinner. Andie is the other voice of reason in the flat, but Andie's already home in Little Rock, free of the responsibilities of nagging their roommates.
But today, it's Gavin who looks at his phone and says: "Hey Marl, don't you have a bus to catch?"
She blinks. Still in the middle of an animated discussion about audio blending, her mind takes its time to come back to the present, and then –
"Oh, right." Marley takes her duffel bag onto a shoulder, and grabs her keys. "Don't go into my room while I'm away!" she yells over her shoulder, and the boys laugh.
She pauses in the doorway. "No, seriously," she says, deadpan. "Gavin, don't think I've forgotten about the time we let you throw that party and I found three sets of underwear in my room. Three. Two pairs of panties and a set of briefs."
"We never did find the owner of the briefs," sighs Gavin.
"Just… no."
Stan laughs. "Will do, Rose," he says, grabbing Gavin and ruffling his hair, "now git."
This time around, it's easier for her to leave, and easier to come home. Millie picks her up from the airport, and talks the entire way home about the new watercolor class she worked up the nerve to sign up for. She made a few friends there, and actually has standing coffee lunch dates with them on weekends.
Marley smiles. Just before she started her sophomore year, Millie bought a set of home fitness videos (with the money Marley saved up from her job). Marley had insisted her mother spend the money, but wasn't expecting her to reaffirm her commitment to an old goal.
They kept each other updated over the year (Millie with her diet plans, Marley with school), and both have made remarkable progress – both with their endeavors, and with independence.
She's so proud.
On a lazy Saturday afternoon, Marley decides it's too hot to do anything productive. She's glad she had the foresight to restock her fridge and find a good book for the afternoon.
She's all set – or would be, if… It's a long shot, but impulsively Marley reaches for her phone, fires off a quick text.
There's no reply, but Marley doesn't overthink it. She has other things to do.
She wakes abruptly to the sound of her phone ringing. Marley takes some time to really comprehend what's going on – she's a morning person, but it was also morning when she got to bed – but eventually fumbles for the phone.
"H'lo?"
"Hi Marley, it's Quinn – sorry, did I wake you?"
"Yeah, but it's fine. Late night. What's up?"
"I need your help. Do you mind if I come over?"
Marley glances at the time on her phone, tries to calculate the amount of time she'll need to appear decent. "... sure. Give me fifteen minutes."
Quinn appears on her doorstep looking apologetic. "I'm really sorry to spring this on you, but I didn't know who to ask."
"It's alright. Really. What can I do for you?"
"It's my – it's Beth's birthday tomorrow, and apparently Puck promised Shelby he'd get the cake, but that fuck-up forgot and he's out of town today. Rachel was supposed to help me bake one, but something came up and she can't make it." Quinn exhales. "I know I should be buying a cake or something, but... I don't know. I honestly don't know why I want to go to such lengths. She's not even mine."
The last sentence is muttered, but Marley catches it. She pretends not to notice Quinn's lapse. It's not the time for it, just as it isn't the time to ask why Quinn never replied her text. Nodding, Marley says: "Okay. What cake would she like?"
Quinn looks anguished. "I don't know – what kind of cake would a seven-year-old like? Shelby said she's at that stage where she's really picky about food, but I think cake doesn't count, right?"
"My mom says for kids' birthday cakes, you can't go wrong with chocolate."
"Chocolate. Sure. That's good."
Quinn's nervous. She's seen Quinn uncomfortable and brooding, but never like this; then Marley recalls. Beth and Shelby… she's heard those names before.
Her heart pounds. This is Quinn opening up to her.
"Right," she says, grabbing her keys and purse, "let's go get ingredients." Quinn nods, and heads straight for her car.
When Marley slips into the passenger seat, the radio is playing The Pointer Sisters' I'm So Excited; she laughs. "Not the most apt," she says, nodding at the radio.
Her friend frowns and listens intently for a moment, cracking a tight smile of her own. Quinn pulls out of the quiet street and towards the town center.
She is tense. The attempt at a joke – something she's still beating herself up over – failed miserably. Marley goes back to safer waters. "Are you getting her anything else apart from the cake?"
The corners of Quinn's mouth turn down. "No," she says after a pause, "I don't know her well enough… Puck's the one who sees her regularly. Rachel and I are at school most of the time and we only come back to Lima for summer break; even then, I was in London on exchange last year, and Rachel was at some special theater summer program." She takes the next turn so hard the car jerks. "I don't even think she knows who I am."
Marley has to think carefully about what she's going to say next – but quickly, before the moment's lost. "I don't know the whole story, and it's not my place to comment anyway, but… I don't think it matters as much as you think it does."
Quinn doesn't say anything; emboldened, Marley continues: "She's not gonna remember what kind of cake she got, or how many people came to the party. But she'll remember the important things, like you, Puck, and Rachel were there, even if she doesn't know who you guys are to her right now. Maybe she'll learn the whole story when she's older, but…" She makes a vague gesture with her hand. "That's then. This is now."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does."
"Can we not talk about this?" Quinn practically snarls.
"O-of course."
Quinn keeps her eyes fixed on the road ahead. They park outside the grocery store in silence. "Get whatever you need, and I'll pay for it," says Quinn quietly. Her eyes don't meet Marley's.
She puts ingredients into the cart on autopilot, still in shock from Quinn's outburst – not the first time she's experienced it, but definitely the first time she's been the target. "Uh, you mentioned Rachel's vegetarian, right?"
Quinn's answer is a terse nod.
"... Okay."
She keeps her head down, pushes the cart. Quinn walks a little ahead of her, never looking at her once. She's stiff, in a way she's never been with Marley before.
"I'm sorry," she offers.
"It's fine." But it's not fine at all, because Quinn still won't meet her eyes, and her tone is calculated politeness. Marley feels helpless.
Together, they pay for and load the groceries into the trunk of Quinn's car. When the car starts up, Quinn reaches over to turn the radio off.
Only when the bags are set up on the counter of Marley's kitchen does Quinn turn to Marley and ask quietly, "What do you need me to do?"
Marley starts. She was expecting Quinn to leave. "You don't need to stay if you're uncomfortable. I can manage, and you can come pick up the cake tomorrow morning."
"Don't be ridiculous, Marley," says Quinn curtly. "I can help. I'm not as good at baking as you or Rachel, but that doesn't mean I can't sift flour or stir ingredients. I can do that, at least."
She does her best not to flinch. "Okay. I'm sorry." Marley takes the flour and sugar out of the bag, and sets it on the counter. "The mixing bowl's underneath. The sieve's hanging over there," she points, "and you need to sift one-and-a-half cups of flour into it." She takes her mother's handwritten recipe out of the breast pocket of her flannel shirt, and places it flat between their workstations. "The rest of the dry ingredients are listed here; we have baking soda in the fridge, baking powder and salt are in the jars in the corner. Cocoa's in the upper cupboard to the right."
"Got it."
She busies herself with setting the oven to preheat, and getting the saucepan ready for the cherry filling. As much as Marley wants to crawl into a hole somewhere, she's adamant about completing the job; she agreed to help, and that's what she'll do.
Marley glances at Quinn's side of the workstation. She has a spatula in hand as she mixes the dry ingredients together. "Eggs, milk, and oil," says Marley, fetching the items and setting them to Quinn's right. "Add them a little at a time to – "
"– I know," says Quinn tersely, "it's written on the paper."
In the shocked silence that follows, Quinn's icy demeanor melts a little. "... Sorry."
"It's fine," says Marley quietly, and sees Quinn flush – with embarrassment? Shame? – in the split-second before she turns away.
The rest of the work is done in complete, awkward silence, up until the cake mix is put into the oven. "It'll take about twenty-five minutes," says Marley, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. Out of habit, she's adopted the cool, professional manner she used in high school with Kitty. "What time do you need it tomorrow?"
"Around noon."
Marley nods. "Okay, then. We can frost and decorate it tomorrow morning – say, nine. You don't need to hang around for it to finish baking today 'cause it needs to cool completely before we can decorate it." She busies herself with gathering up the utensils and dumping them in the sink. "Do you want a drink before you go?" asks Marley as she rinses out the mixing bowl.
"Marley…"
"We have more of that lemonade that you like," she continues as though Quinn hasn't spoken, "or there's grape soda. And some cranberry juice."
"I'm sorry."
Slowly, she turns around. Quinn leans against the kitchen counter awkwardly, one hand clasping the elbow of her other arm, expression taut.
"For?" She wasn't expecting this, not after being frozen out for most of the afternoon, and that outburst earlier.
"I made it weird," says Quinn. "I do that a lot, driving people away."
Marley studies her. Freshman, sophomore, and maybe even junior Marley would have shrunk away from this emotional minefield. But she's the new Marley, and she's who she is today partially because of Quinn. "That's fine," she says with a curt nod. "I'm sorry too for saying those things. I was out of line."
The tone of her voice has its intended effect. Quinn wilts a little but pulls herself together with that Fabray composure, shoulders back and head held high. "Okay. So… I'll see you tomorrow morning, then."
"Okay." Marley takes that as her cue to open the front door and let Quinn out. She shuts the door with a click and peeks from behind the curtain, watching Quinn get into her car and drive away. Marley stands there long after the street is empty.
She doesn't understand what happened. They had been getting along so well, and they had gotten over bigger issues – or so she thought – in this friendship. And everything had blown up in her face because she'd expressed concern about an issue her friend was clearly struggling with.
Marley scowls. Sometime during junior year, she'd learned to recognize when things were out of her hands, and to cut her losses. And yet, this Quinn isn't the person who noticed her, years ago.
She needs not to think about this for a while. Marley fishes her phone out of her back pocket and calls Unique.
The other girl shows up in ten minutes, bringing an arsenal. "'Nique, why did you bring this?" asks Marley, taking a pint of chocolate chip ice cream out of the paper bag. "And – oh god – A Cinderella Story."
"Comfort is comfort," replies Unique blithely. She switches on the DVD player.
"I didn't break up with Quinn." Marley cracks open the case and hands her friend the DVD. "In fact, I'm pretty certain I said we had a fight."
"Honey, friend breakups are just as devastating as real breakups."
"We didn't – "
"Shhh." Her friend tugs on her arm, pulling her to sit down on the sofa. "I'll be right back. Do not move from this spot."
Marley huffs. She does appreciate what her best friend does for her, but Unique is a drama queen at heart; ice cream and teenage romantic comedy marathons are her solution for all things ranging from mildly depressing to full-blown emotional crises. And A Cinderella Story is the most potent tool in her library. Popular jock ending up with the diner girl? Unrealistic but heartwarming.
She hesitates; the plot seems oddly familiar, somehow –
"Before we start consuming all these calories, I need to hear all the details," instructs Unique, re-emerging from the kitchen and handing Marley a spoon. "I must know if losing my figure is worth it."
Her train of thought thoroughly derailed, she obediently peels open the tub of ice cream. "It's not a crisis," grumbles Marley. "I just said something and Quinn took offense. That's all."
"Oh, honey. Have you not been listening to She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named's stories about Quinn Fabray?"
"Not as intently as you, apparently," snipes Marley.
Unique waves her off. "She does not do talking. I mean, that's the main reason Rachel Berry got slushied as much as she did, from what I heard; she talked wayyy too much." Counting off on her fingers, she adds: "Quinn Fabray also does not do major feelings. Especially when it comes to her mistakes. So a combination of the both must've done it." Unique sighs. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it happened, babe."
Marley thinks back over the summers of their friendship, and shakes her head. "Me too."
"Well then, she's not worth it," says Unique briskly. She starts up the movie, digging into the ice cream.
"For the last time. It is not a break up."
"Hush," says Unique, eyes glued to the television.
Later that night, Marley gets a text.
Hi Marley, it reads. It's Rachel. Unfortunately, there was a last-minute change in schedule and Quinn isn't available to come over to help you decorate the cake tomorrow, so I hope you don't mind if I come over instead. Of course, I'll collect the cake from there. She said 9AM was the prearranged time to be at your house, is that correct? May I have your address, please?
She's never read a text message that was as unlike a text message as this, so she stumbles on her reply.
Thats fine. 1550 Edgewood Drive. I'll see you tomorrow morning Rachel
Rachel shows up on her doorstep at nine sharp. Marley is even more on edge than when Quinn was coming over to her house for lemonade and a movie; while she's met Rachel before, she still doesn't know her well enough to be comfortable with her.
"Hi, Rachel," says Marley, opening the door.
Rachel gives her a warm smile. "Hi, Marley. While I'm aware I'm only here in place of Quinn, I took the liberty in bringing you a small token of our gratitude for your help; from one baker to another." She has a small Tupperware in her other hand, which is now offered to Marley.
"Thanks," says Marley, "you didn't have to." She leads the way to the kitchen.
"But I wanted to," responds the older girl, smiling slightly. She sucks in a surprised breath when she sees the unfrosted cake sitting on the kitchen table. "That looks amazing. What is it?"
"Uh, black forest," says Marley. "Quinn didn't know what kind of cake Beth would like, so I suggested chocolate. I, uh, understand that Puck and you were also gonna be there, so I thought black forest would be a little more sophisticated for everyone."
Rachel nods. "That sounds wonderful. Did your mom help bake this? I heard she's quite an accomplished cook and baker."
Marley glances at her sideways, alert for any slight. "No, she was busy yesterday. Quinn helped me."
"I see." Rachel claps her hands together. "So, what do you need me to do?"
"Uh, we need to make the icing first," says Marley, fetching the cream from the fridge, "then I have to cut the cake and add the cherry filling in between, before we can decorate it."
"I brought some cake toppers, if you don't mind."
Marley shakes her head. "Not at all."
"Excellent." Rachel turns to Marley, expression bright and eager. "Let's get started. Would you happen to have a spare apron I could borrow?"
Rachel's enthusiasm unnerves Marley a little. "Oh, yeah." She gets one from a drawer and hands it to her. "I'll get the mixer started for the icing, okay?"
"Certainly." Rachel finishes tying the apron with a flourish. "What should I do?"
"Combine the cream and sugar, and a dash of vanilla extract." Marley puts the mixer in her hand. "Mix for about fifteen minutes, or until it forms stiff peaks."
"Stiff peaks," repeats Rachel, "got it." She turns to face the bowl with a look of determination, wielding the electric mixer like a weapon, making Marley want to laugh. "My baking repertoire mostly consists of cookies and pies, I don't usually get to make cakes, let alone make icing from scratch."
"It's fine, Rachel," says Marley, feeling lighter for the first time since yesterday. "You keep, uh, doing what you're doing, since it works for you." She does her best to fight back a smile when Rachel pouts in her direction.
When the work is done, Rachel watches, riveted, as Marley covers the entire cake with the frosting, smoothing it evenly with her knife as she spins the cake table. "This is such a useful skill to acquire," she muses aloud.
Marley laughs. "Not really. I picked it up from watching my mom."
"Nevertheless, you should be proud of it." She beams when Marley steps back, and pronounces the cake done. "My turn."
"You do that, then, and I'll start the cleaning." There isn't much to do, but she wants to keep herself occupied. Rachel's one of the people involved in this mess, and she has no desire to offend another person.
But Marley has no luck. "You and Quinn became friends quite a while back, am I correct?" asks Rachel.
"Uh, yeah. When Finn invited her and some other Glee seniors to visit in my sophomore year."
"I see," nods Rachel. She pushes a pink princess toy into the cake. "She said you were at one of Noah's summer parties too, but we must have missed each other."
"Yeah, I was with my friend Unique."
Rachel nods. "I remember her. She's an extremely talented performer. I look forward to seeing her achieve the fame she's destined for." She frowns, and then changes the position of the princess toy. "She was one of Vocal Adrenaline's best finds; Shelby must have been kicking herself that she didn't have the chance to coach her."
"Shelby?"
"Oh – Shelby Corcoran? Has Quinn mentioned her?"
"In passing. She's your birth mother, isn't she?"
Rachel sighs. "Yes. And Beth's adoptive mother."
"That's… complicated." She chooses not to share how much she knows.
Rachel laughs. "Don't I know it? I'm honestly glad that Quinn and I have managed to maintain our friendship despite the incredibly complex familial ties that we find ourselves in." She takes out a bag of edible gold glitter. "Quinn hasn't had an easy time. I admire her greatly, and I've never regretted my decision to pursue our friendship even when she considered me a rival."
"She's very lucky to have you as a friend," offers Marley.
"I could say the same about you, Marley." Rachel fixes her with a surprisingly penetrating look. "She talks about you, too – Quinn isn't the most verbose person around, but at the very least, she's made an effort." She picks up the cake knife to cover up the dent in the frosting. "I'm glad she has you as a friend. Goodness knows Quinn deserves someone like you in her life."
Marley doesn't know what to say.
Rachel smiles ruefully. "I've spoiled the atmosphere, haven't I? This is supposed to be a joyful occasion," she waves with the cake knife, "and we should be talking about joyful things. So, how are you enjoying classes?"
The next hour is spent with more of Rachel's relentless questions about Marley's life, interests, and music, and her – slightly bewildered – answers. As they talk, the cake slowly acquires a wintry landscape inhabited by a princess and her castle, generously sprinkled with glitter.
Rachel claps her hands together suddenly, startling Marley. "Done," she says, examining her handiwork proudly.
"... Looks good." Marley has some purple icing in a bag, and neatly pipes Happy Birthday on the bottom. As she completes the curve of the 'y', it occurs to her that she isn't sure how to spell Beth's name.
Rachel seems to sense her hesitation, because she says: "Beth. B-e-t-h."
She finishes up the icing and goes to hunt for a cake box. When the cake's packed and ready, she hands it to Rachel with a smile. "Here you go."
"How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing. Really." Marley waves her off. "I'm doing this as a favor to Quinn."
"If you're sure." Rachel loads the cake in the passenger seat of her car, and then – surprisingly – comes back to the house. "I'm a hugger," she warns Marley, "and I'm going to hug you now."
Marley laughs. "I'm well aware," she replies, opening her arms and letting Rachel attack her. She scrunches her face up, hugging Rachel back, until she hears a voice in her ear: "Give her time."
"Huh?"
Rachel pulls away, smiling faintly. "You didn't do anything wrong. She just needs time to get herself together." Her smile fades. "I would know."
"She's talked to you?" The question comes out in a rush, and then she mentally kicks herself. Of course Quinn would've talked to Rachel; Rachel's her best friend, and has known her for much longer.
"As much as Quinn Fabray talks," replies Rachel wryly. "She needs her space. Believe me, she's probably working up the nerve to fix things between you guys. Quinn cares about you a lot."
A pleasant flutter starts in her belly. "I care about her too."
Rachel's smile widens. "I know."
Later that afternoon, Rachel sends her a photo. Quinn and Puck have a grinning little girl between them (presumably Beth), Marley's heavily-smooshed cake in the foreground. White frosting has somehow made its way over all three faces. Noah thought it was funny to teach Beth to throw cake, writes Rachel.
Did evryone get a taste at least?
It was delicious. Beth, Quinn, and Noah say thank you.
The next few days are busy. There is another small job her mom asks her to help with. Her mom gives her a cut of each catering job as an allowance of sorts; but even if she didn't, Marley would be happy to help. Nevertheless, the money is a bonus; she refuses to take any cash from her mother, and her savings from work are running low.
After that is movie night with Unique, Tina, and Sugar. Then Jake asks her out for mini golf – which is incredibly awkward, because that ship has sailed, and Ryder crashes their not-date anyway. Then Kitty asks to meet at the Lima Bean (which she accepts, against her better judgement).
They're all supposed to be mature adults, and they'll soon be heading back to different parts of the country; Marley reasons that she can sit through one hour.
Being Kitty, she doesn't mince her words. "So. It's been awhile since we left high school."
"Yeah…?"
Kitty stirs her straw through her drink, and directs a coy smile upwards. "You know, I really think we had a good thing going. You and me – it made sense, somehow."
"We got drunk and you kissed me," says Marley flatly. "Then you panicked and told everyone I forced myself on you. What part of that makes you think we had a 'good thing'?"
The other girl has the grace to cringe. "I was scared, okay. It was a difficult time for me. Coming to terms with – you know." She makes a vague gesture. "I'm not like that."
"No, I really don't."
Kitty scoffs. "Oh, come on. Be honest – is this about the puking? Because I get that it was a shitty thing I did, but it's over. You're okay, I'm sorry for what I did. Can we get past that already?"
She pushes her untouched cup away. "I think – this was a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed to meet you. I thought – " Marley cuts herself off, shaking her head. "Never mind."
"Hey, hang on a minute."
Quinn chooses this moment to appear, her tote bag slung over one shoulder, clearly here for a reading session. "Is there a problem here, ladies?" she asks coldly, in full head-Cheerio mode.
"Quinn!" Kitty stumbles, but quickly regains her composure. "No, of course not – it's just such a surprise, seeing you here – do you have any plans for today?"
Quinn doesn't even look in Kitty's direction. "As a matter of fact, I do," she says, "I'm meeting Marley for our book club discussion." She finally meets Marley's eyes; after a pause, Marley nods.
"Yeah, we do. Sorry I didn't mention it earlier." She knows Kitty is no fool, and she just knows Kitty is struggling to keep her composure because of Quinn.
"Fine," snaps Kitty with forced cheer. "I'll see you around, Rose." Her voice turns sweet. "Bye, Quinn." She picks up her bag and disappears. Once she's out the door, Quinn takes a step forward.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Marley smiles. "Thanks for showing up when you did. It was starting to get a little… awkward."
Quinn nods. "I don't have to stay if you don't want me to."
"Oh." She remembers then that they had a falling-out of sorts. "Okay. If you have other things to do…"
"I was planning on my book and coffee. As usual."
"Right."
She's never felt so uncomfortable in her life. Marley just wants to apologize for her words when it wasn't her place to say them, and hope things will go back to what they were. She isn't even sure Quinn's ready to talk to her, since they just happened to meet.
Then Quinn clears her throat and says, "I'm sorry."
"For making it weird?" asks Marley with a half-smile.
Quinn didn't crack. "For being a bitch. I wasn't being fair to you; you couldn't have known about me and Beth. It's been a while, but it's still a difficult topic for me."
Marley takes a deep breath. "I think we should sit down first." Partly because she's afraid Quinn will run – judging from the nervous glances towards the exit – but mostly because her knees are all kinds of unsteady.
Quinn acquiesces.
"Quinn. I'm not asking you to tell me everything." She sees the confusion in Quinn's eyes, and hastens to clarify. "We may be friends, but that doesn't mean you're obliged to share personal details that you're not comfortable with talking about." Marley's hands fidget on the table. "That doesn't mean I don't care about you. I just want you to be comfortable, that's all. No obligations, no pressure."
The older girl's shoulders visibly slump. "I was worried you'd want answers," says Quinn. "I guess I've been spending too much time with Rachel."
Marley laughs. "She was the one who told me to give you time and space."
"She's a good friend." The ducking of her head after Quinn says it makes Marley think Quinn's absence might have been intentional. But she's not going to comment; not when they're talking – really talking – again.
She knows Quinn would talk if she could open up. But Marley also knows that Quinn's still incredibly closed off, and so she decides to change the subject. "So, about the book club," she says, reaching into her bag, "I think we should talk about what this new book club thing means."
Quinn's lips curve into a smile; and just like that, they're okay again.
Much to her surprise, Wade shows up for their standing lunch date instead of Unique. His shirt is buttoned all the way up in spite of the summer heat, he has on his least favorite sweater vest, and the crease of his pants is immaculate.
"Oh, Wade," says Marley.
"Daddy wasn't happy with my friends at Oberlin," he says grimly. "He can't understand why I can only stand to be home for a week of the summer holidays. Accused them of leading me astray." Wade snorts. "The only thing those girls do wrong is contouring; they always look like they've got camo paint on."
She buys him a cinnamon roll. He picks at the glaze tiredly.
"Pack some things," she says after they've eaten, "and come stay over at mine tonight."
She puts on She's the Man because she knows she'll get a smile out of her best friend, at the very least. Wade – who's upstairs changing because her mother took one look at him when he walked in the door and sent him there – won't be down for a while, so Marley goes to throw together some leftovers from their (well-stocked) fridge for them.
The doorbell rings; she frowns. She wasn't expecting further company, but she knows better than to think that way nowadays after being friends with Quinn.
Quinn has a paper-wrapped book in her hand, which she holds out to Marley. "Sorry for dropping by unannounced, but I figured you wouldn't mind," she explains.
"What is it?" It's definitely a book; softcover, she can tell. It only makes her more curious.
"Open it."
Marley gingerly peels off the tape securing the bag, and pulls out a copy of Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey.
Quinn holds up another bag, looking sheepish. "I was at the bookstore picking up a few titles I'd reserved and saw this; thought you'd like it."
It's clear that Quinn's still trying to make amends for the events surrounding Beth's birthday cake, but Marley doesn't care about that. "Quinn, I… thanks." She slips the book back into the bag, careful not to crease the cover. "I love it." Marley enthusiastically slips her arms around Quinn's middle, squeezing her tightly; she closes her eyes and relishes the feeling of Quinn hugging her back.
"You haven't even read it yet," teases Quinn gently, "haven't you ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?"
She laughs into Quinn's shoulder, pulling back to retort –
"Marl? You're out of conditioner, and I – whoa, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Unique, casual in sweats and a T-shirt that reads 'Strong Women Intimidate Boys… And Excite Men', appears in the hallway, blinking. "Quinn Fabray. Wow. Hi."
Quinn lets go of Marley. "Hi. Unique, right? It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise." She turns to Marley. "Invite her in, or I will. Oh my god."
"Huh?"
"Babe, I adore you, but now's not the time to be adorably confused." Unique turns to Quinn. "Are you gonna stand out there, or are you gonna come in? I'm sure my girl's prepped the movie marathon and gourmet snacks, and they ain't waiting for no one; I had a long day today and I need my creature comforts."
Marley's face sinks into her palm. From between her fingers, she sees Quinn shoot an amused look in her direction, and then say: "Sounds lovely. Let me call my mom and tell her where I am first." Her other hand comes up to join the first when Quinn turns her back, and Unique flashes her a quick thumbs up.
"Oh my god," mutters Marley.
Unique tuts. "Stop being so dramatic, woman. Shut that door, and make us more snacks." She tugs on Marley's wrist until she stops hiding her face in her hands, and stumbles into the living room. "Hmm. She's the Man. I approve."
"'Nique! You can't just – she probably has other things to do!" hisses Marley.
"But she didn't, so she's joining us. Besides, I've always wanted to hang out with the Quinn Fabray – suck it, Kitty Wilde – the former HBIC and my best friend's other best friend." Unique wraps her arm around Marley in a half-hug, squeezing briefly. "It's just movies and maybe a sleepover, babe. Don't worry; the third degree comes later."
Marley groans.
Quinn glides into the living room, chatting with an excited Millie. "You didn't tell me Quinn was comin', honey," says Millie almost reprovingly.
"It's not Marley's fault, Mrs. Rose. I'm the one who gatecrashed hers and Unique's movie night," says Quinn smoothly.
"I'm certain I've told you once, if not a thousand times, dear; it's Millie. Are you hungry? I have some red velvet cupcakes." She bustles off to fetch them.
Quinn glances at Marley. "Could you show me where the bathroom is?"
Marley finally snaps out of her daze. "Yeah – of course. Come on up." She goes upstairs, Quinn in tow. "I'm really sorry about Unique," she says, "I mean – I hope you didn't feel obliged to stay, because I really appreciate the book and all, but if you have other plans…"
"Marley," interrupts Quinn patiently, "I'm here because I didn't have any other plans tonight, and I can't think of anything better than hanging out with you and Unique. Besides – you've met my best friend, right? It's only fair I meet yours." With that last parting comment, she disappears into the bathroom.
She joins them downstairs, taking her place on Marley's other side and accepting the large bowl of tomato herb popcorn Unique passes to her. "Just in time," says Unique happily, playing the movie and making herself comfortable.
"I love this movie," says Quinn.
Unique looks pleased. "Good taste."
"Unique!" says Marley, embarrassed beyond words.
"It's fine." Quinn eats a handful of popcorn. "Good taste in movies is important."
"So is Channing Tatum. Hot damn." Unique fans herself.
"I know, right?" Quinn gently nudges her. "How about you? Duke or Justin?"
Marley clears her throat. "Honestly, I've only ever had eyes for Olivia." She's always loved how earnest Olivia is, and how she and Viola interacted.
"Oh, yes." Unique reaches for the tray of potato bites. "She and Viola had a ton of chemistry. But that's what fanfiction is for."
Quinn laughs; Marley is mortified; more so when Unique starts up a running commentary of snark to which Quinn only smiles at. "Sssshhhh," hisses Marley, elbowing Unique, "we're trying to watch."
"Ow! Stop manhandling me." She turns to Quinn. "Some friend. Does she physically abuse you, too?"
"Thankfully, no," replies Quinn, still with the maddeningly wide smile on her lips.
Marley wants to sink into the ground and die, but at the very least Unique shuts up and lets them watch the movie in peace.
Quinn excuses herself once the movie ends. "I need to go pick Blake up from the airport."
"Oh. Yeah, of course. I didn't know he was coming."
"Me neither," mutters Quinn under her breath.
"Sure! Bye Quinn!" yells Unique cheerfully. Marley makes a mental note to kill her later as she follows Quinn to the front door.
At the door, Quinn stops walking and turns around. "I had fun tonight," she says, "so stop worrying."
Marley smiles back weakly. "I'm not worrying."
"Stop contemplating ways of murdering Unique and burying her body, then."
"I wasn't gonna murder her," says Marley, affronted. "Silence her permanently, maybe," she adds in an undertone.
Quinn arches an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed, but breaks character shortly after when she grins. "Sure thing."
"Uh – have fun with Blake. I mean – I don't know anymore," she mutters. "I'm a mess tonight, I don't even know."
"We all have our off days." Quinn wraps her into a hug. "Thanks for having me. Talk to you later, Marley."
"Finally."
"Finally, what?"
Unique rolls over to grin unabashedly at Marley, who promptly swings a pillow into her face. "Ow! You bitch!"
"Stop leering at me like that and get to the point!"
"Finally, I get to hang out with your other best friend."
Marley groans. "So what's your verdict, Your Highness?"
"I like her," pronounces Unique. "No seriously," she continues when Marley gives her a look, "she's pretty cool. Most importantly, she treats you the way you ought to be treated."
"If you say so." Internally, Marley thrills that Unique approves of Quinn; Unique was there first, and her approval means a lot. But mostly she tolerates her best friend's antics because she's worried about the reason she had lunch with Wade.
Unique lies on her back, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. "I met a boy. At Oberlin."
The somber tone she uses gives Marley pause. "That's great, 'Nique."
"His name's Andrew, and he's studying biology. He wants to be a high school science teacher, the big dork." Unique shifts. "I was Skyping with my parents when he came over to help me pack my things for the summer, and they had a minor freakout when they found out about me and him."
"Does he…?"
"Yeah. He's totally cool with it."
Marley presses herself into Unique's side.
"The gist of it is that I'm not allowed to be Unique in Lima anymore."
"Oh, babe."
Unique shrugs. "I'm mostly over it. I'm not staying in this cow town anyways; you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm heading out and never looking back once I've got my diploma."
"I know."
"You make it bearable." She entwines her fingers with Marley's. "Best friends forever?"
Marley squeezes back. "Always."
Marley gets a call right when she's in the middle of helping her mom bake two hundred caramel pecan cookies for a fundraiser; she's about to mute it when she sees that it's Rachel, and excuses herself to take it.
"Hello?"
"Marley, it's Rachel." She's always formal on the phone as though caller ID isn't a thing.
"Hey, Rachel. What's up?"
"It's Quinn." Rachel pauses, and the tiny moment of hesitation causes Marley's nerves to work overtime. "Blake broke up with her."
"... What?"
Rachel exhales. "She's pretty upset about it. Are you free this weekend? We're having a girls' night in; you, me, Santana." For some reason, she omits Brittany; Marley supposes Brittany is on some tour or other, and can't make it.
"Of course," she says. "Thanks for calling me, Rachel."
"Marley, I wouldn't dream of not calling you. Approximately what time will you be here?"
"I need to pick a few things up first. I'll text you when I'm leaving the store."
"Alright. Bye."
She ends the call. Millie is expertly measuring out dry ingredients into a mixing bowl. She doesn't use actual measurements, something that still produces delectable results every time. "You goin' out tonight, sweetheart?"
"Yeah. Sleepover at Quinn's place."
At the mention of Quinn's name, Millie brightens. "Oh, Quinn? How is she? Tell her to come for dinner proper; that girl shouldn't just be comin' for a hi and bye. It's been too long since she sat down and had a good square meal. She graduated from school already?"
"She's still in grad school. And maybe later… she just broke up with her boyfriend." The words sit sour on her tongue.
"That's a cryin' shame – on the kid's part, of course. Any man would be lucky to have a girl like our Quinn." Millie grabs a wooden spoon and starts folding in the ingredients. "Then again, you an' me, we're livin' proof we haven't found that man lucky enough to have us, eh?"
Marley smiles. "Yeah, I guess." She washes her hands, fiddles with her apron strings. "Mom, I'm sorry but I gotta go – I need to buy a few things if I'm gonna head over – "
"Of course, of course. You go an' do your own thing, sweetie." Millie waves her off. "Call me later tonight and let me know when you're comin' home tomorrow, alright?"
"Sure. Bye, Mom." She kisses her mother's cheek and heads upstairs to wash up. She isn't sure why she's feeling the way she is – sympathetic, of course, but it's mixed with an anticipation. Which is perverse, because her friend's upset after breaking up with her boyfriend. She certainly didn't feel like this after Ryder was mad at Unique for catfishing him, or when Jake picked Kitty over her.
She doesn't know anymore. There have been so many tumultuous events in their friendship these few weeks alone.
Her thoughts are preoccupied with Quinn the entire drive. Marley thought her friend was happy with him – thought being the keyword, as Quinn had never talked about him to her. All the same, Marley's thankful for Rachel, and her understanding of Quinn.
She hopes that one day, she'll be privileged with the same.
She arrives with mixers in tow, which is grudgingly welcomed by Santana. "What, no alcohol?"
"I'm underage, Santana."
"And fake IDs exist. What's your point, Baby Rachel?" Santana quips. She looks like she's already wasted.
"Baby Rachel?" She doesn't know how to respond; this is Santana 'Snix' Lopez, and the last time they talked, she gave Marley tips on improving her sex appeal that still make her blush to this day.
The real Rachel appears from the kitchen. "Ignore her," she says, rolling her eyes and leading Santana away, "she thinks she's hilarious."
Santana pouts. "But I am," she whines.
"Yeah, yeah." Rachel ignores her, smiling at Marley. "I'm so glad you came. Quinn is too." She puts out her arms for a hug.
"Where is she?"
"We think she's trying to drown herself in the shower," interrupts Santana. Rachel sighs.
"She went to freshen up. She'll be out shortly; you can go up if you want," says Rachel, glaring at Santana. "We'll pick out a movie while we wait."
Marley nods. "Okay." As she leaves, she eyes them contemplatively as they start to bicker about movie choices, and "you put a musical in there, Rachel Berry, and I will ends you". Rachel just scoffs in the face of danger and throws out another movie title that sparks its own reaction.
She's only been inside Quinn's house a handful of times, enough to remember where Quinn's room is. She knocks on the door, gets no answer, then remembers Quinn's still in the shower and probably can't hear her. She lets herself in.
Quinn's room seems frozen in time – which makes sense, considering she doesn't live here anymore. The photo collage on the wall stops chronologically at Quinn's high school graduation. A photo of Glee club members in red robes and matching mortarboards takes up the lower left corner.
The only sign that this room is currently being occupied is the suitcase in the corner, and the books on the nightstand – and a fresh box of tissues.
She knocks on the bathroom door. "Quinn? It's me."
The sound of running water stops. "I'll be out in ten," comes the muffled reply.
Waiting period defined, Marley searches for something to occupy herself with. She gravitates towards the bookshelf. A Philippa Gregory novel catches her eye, and she pulls it out to read the summary. Next is Nasim Taleb's Antifragile (which looks to be in pristine condition). George Eliot's Silas Marner.
The door clicks open. "Hey," says Quinn, who's wrapped up in a towel. "Give me a few secs to get my clothes." She goes over to the closet on the side.
Marley can only nod. Her face burns, which is laughable, considering how many sleepovers she's had with Brittany and Sugar. She's seen a lot more nudity than what the large white towel reveals. Her eyes stay trained on the first page of Silas Marner as the sounds of rummaging go on in the background.
Eventually, Quinn re-emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed. She still looks tired, flopping face-up on the bed beside Marley.
"Hi." Marley lowers her head to Quinn's shoulder, draping an arm around her in a hug. She hates how Quinn looks like a wreck. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." Quinn presses her nose into Marley's neck. "I should've seen it coming. It was too perfect, and I should've guessed…" She trails off, looking lost.
Marley takes her hand and gives it a fierce shake. "He isn't worth it," she says fiercely, and Quinn blinks. "He's a jerk."
"You barely know him." She has a point. They all met up infrequently whenever their busy schedules permitted, and Marley has hardly any interaction time with Blake in those outings.
She wasn't impressed by what she saw in those brief moments, though, but keeps it to herself. "Well, I'm on your side regardless," says Marley. She gets up. She keeps a tight hold of Quinn's hand, so the older girl's pulled up. Quinn protests vociferously throughout. "Come on. Let's go downstairs, and you can pick a movie so Rachel and Santana won't kill each other."
Quinn sighs. "Are they still fighting?"
"When I left them, they were bickering and Santana was reaching for a throw pillow. Is that what it is?"
"For them, yes." She rolls her eyes. "It's like foreplay or something. Thank god they hated each other in high school otherwise we might not have survived the hormones."
She stumbles over herself. "But that… they…?" Marley knows Santana's a lesbian, but she had no inkling Rachel was anything other than straight as a ruler. Her confusion must show, because Quinn says: "You don't know they're dating? Because they are."
"I do now."
Her friend laughs abruptly. "I had pretty much the same reaction when they told me, don't worry. Like, if you had told me back in high school that Santana would be dating Rachel fucking Berry, I'd have laughed until all my teeth fell out."
She sees the flash of pain in Quinn's eyes, and suddenly understands why Brittany dropped out of this particular circle of her friends.
There's a loud yelp from downstairs, followed by the sounds of a struggle, a screech (which sounds like Rachel), and then silence. Quinn heaves another sigh. "Come on, let's go make sure they haven't killed each other." Her grip on Marley's hand tightens, and she leads the way downstairs.
Another screech greets them as they arrive in the living room. Rachel, panting, lies sprawled on the couch; Santana is climbing off her with a DVD case clutched triumphantly in her hand. Both look considerably more disheveled than from when Marley left them.
"It's settled, Q, we're watching Cabin in the Woods," says Santana. Rachel squeaks but makes no other intelligible sound.
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Isn't that a horror movie?"
In lieu of a reply, Santana slots the DVD into the player, flinging herself onto the couch (and landing on an unfortunate Rachel who hasn't had time to move). Marley decides to avoid that hot mess altogether and takes the armchair on the side.
"Scoot over," commands Quinn, standing in front of her.
Marley gapes at her. "There's an empty chair over there," she points.
"Don't be ridiculous." Quinn wedges herself in between Marley and the side of the chair primly. "I'm not about to sit by myself during a horror movie. Besides, there's plenty of room." She's right, of course – the armchairs are wide and overstuffed – but it is a close fit, and after what she saw earlier, all Marley can think of is Quinn's body against hers.
Enchanted starts playing. Rachel claps her hands together gleefully, and kisses Santana's cheek. "You bitch," says Quinn, aiming a kick at Santana's shin, "you said it was a horror movie."
"Yeah, well, so I lied," replies Santana nonchalantly. "You gonna hold it against me?"
Quinn flips the bird at her, but makes no move to leave the chair; instead, she turns her attention to the movie. Halfway through, she rests her head against Marley's shoulder. Marley feels drowsy and content, comfortable despite the cramped conditions.
Sleeping arrangements aren't in question because Rachel's commandeered the mattress from the guest room and wedged it on the floor.
Quinn takes one look at Santana, and points at Marley. "You can share my bed," she says, "the two shortest should be able to fit on one mattress."
Rachel squeaks indignantly. "You're not that much taller, Quinn."
"My house, my bed, my rules. Besides, look at me and Marley; we'll be miserable tomorrow morning if we have to squeeze onto that mattress."
"Didn't seem much of a problem earlier," Marley hears Santana mutter.
"What?"
"Nothing." Santana, unsurprisingly, doesn't have anything to complain about their sleeping arrangements. She flings herself on the mattress after snagging the choicest pillows from Quinn's bed.
"I don't want either of you on my bed anyway."
"Like I'm gonna fuck Berry in front of all of you, like I'm an exhibitionist or whatever shit."
"Santana Lopez!"
Marley gets under the covers and sighs, gradually tuning out the bickering. It's been a long and confusing day. The bed is warm and comfortable, though, and despite sharing it with someone she's been having confusing feelings about all evening, Marley feels like she can drift off immediately…
Quinn shifts on the other end. It's dark, and quiet. Despite the bed being queen-sized, there's enough room between them to fit another person.
Marley wakes early. She doesn't know where she is for a brief moment; then Quinn sighs beside her, and she remembers.
Over the night, the gap between their bodies has shrunk considerably. Quinn's on her side, facing Marley, body loose in her sleep. There's a tissue clenched in her hand.
Marley frowns. She could have sworn the tissue wasn't there when they fell asleep. Marley's worried about her friend, but also terrified of overstepping her bounds – this, in spite of their friendship. The Beth incident lingers at the back of her mind.
Quinn's brow is unfurrowed when she's asleep. It's heartening, she thinks, to see her relaxed, especially in the light of her break-up. Marley doesn't dare move; her head inclines a little so she can see more of Quinn's face. Quinn Fabray is undeniably attractive, aesthetically speaking. But now, unburdened by the world and its expectations, Marley thinks she is beautiful.
She blushes when she realizes she's been watching Quinn sleep for a while, like a creeper or a Twilight character. Marley slips out of bed, careful not to disturb Quinn.
Santana is barely visible from her nest of pillows on the floor – her face obscured by Rachel, who's also still sound asleep, curled up into her side. She'd attribute it to the girl's natural clinginess, except she spots Santana's possessive hand on Rachel's waist, keeping her close.
Outside is quiet. She navigates a yet-unfamiliar place and finds the coffeemaker. Luckily, it's a relatively idiot-proof model that takes her ten minutes to learn. A brief search turns up the coffee and the mugs, and within minutes the only sound is the gentle burble of boiling water.
"Coffee," rasps a voice. Marley jumps, startled.
Still bleary, Quinn doesn't appear to have noticed the effect her appearance had on Marley. She makes a beeline for the kitchen table and pulls out a seat, still in the clothes she slept in.
Marley takes no offense. Quinn isn't a morning person, especially without the influence of caffeine. She watches, amused, as Quinn's scrunched-up expression begins to soften when the smell of coffee grows stronger.
When the percolating stops, Marley pours the coffee into two mugs (one with a spoonful of sugar and plenty of milk, the other with lots of both). The first mug is set in front of Quinn, who immediately wraps her hands around it.
Marley takes a sip of her own and winces. She's not a big fan of coffee being that it's too bitter for her tastes, but she'll drink frappuccinos and other such drinks.
Quinn, by this stage halfway through her coffee and therefore more cognizant of her surroundings, laughs at her. "Still not a coffee fan?"
"Nope." She adds another lashing of milk and sugar, sips again, and nods grimly.
"How have you survived this long in college without caffeine?"
She shrugs. It's a genuine mystery, what with juggling shifts with school. Marley attributes it to willpower and the genuine fear of being late with her share of the rent.
Finishing her coffee, Quinn stands and washes her cup (with an amused smile and shake of the head at Marley's half-full cup on the way). "Are you hungry?" she asks, drying her hands on the dish towel. "We don't have to wait for them."
"I'm good. Where's your mom?"
Quinn shrugs. "In Minnesota."
Marley recognizes the code, and drops the subject. "Shall we go out, then? I have a craving for Denny's pancakes."
It does the trick; Quinn's expression lightens considerably. "Me too. Let's go, then."
Quinn falls back into a contemplative mood for the trip to Denny's (a forbidden pleasure, Marley understands, given Rachel's vegetarianism and overall healthy lifestyle).
Marley has learned her lesson. She waits it out.
"Have you seen Britt lately?" asks Quinn just after they've ordered.
"A couple of months ago." Unique made the journey up to the city, bringing unexpected guests Brittany and Tina. They all squeezed into her tiny room, giggling madly, for the weekend; much to her roommates' amusement.
"How is she?"
"She's doing okay. She told us she's moving to LA to take up a dance instructor position." She had also seemed a little wistful as she shared the news, but followed it by saying that Lord Tubbington would be moving with her to start his own gourmet coffee business.
Quinn sighs. It's very clear whose side she took when Santana and Brittany broke up – and that she had no choice in that matter. "That's good. I'm glad for her."
"Yeah."
"I love Brittany. But she… the night they broke up, she pulled me aside and told me to choose Santana." She runs a hand through her hair. "I couldn't understand it at the time. But now, I guess I do. They were best friends first; Britt's always known Santana better than she knows herself."
Marley doesn't really follow, but she nods for Quinn to continue.
"Santana doesn't trust easily; she's been let down before. She's surrounded herself with walls and uses her sarcasm to stop people from getting too close – much like me, really." She gives a short laugh. "But Rachel has a way of breaking those walls down, and now they're dating." Quinn snorts. "Unbelievable how life turns out; you know, I slept with Santana in our freshman year of college."
"... What?"
"We were drunk, single, and horny. She was trying to get over Brittany – again – and I was trying to get over Rachel."
"What?" To be honest, she's still processing the first revelation when the second hits her like a runaway freight train. She can only gape at her friend.
Never in a million years would she have imagined Quinn would like girls that way, let alone act on those feelings. Unbidden, the thought What is it with repressed blonde Glee club cheerleaders? comes to mind, and she snorts.
"What?" asks Quinn, laughing herself.
"No, nothing – just, Kitty got drunk and kissed me once." Marley shakes her head. "She panicked and pretended it didn't happen, until last week, when she told me she was interested in starting over with me."
"Is that what happened? I thought she was bullying you again."
"Not exactly," admits Marley. "She was offended I didn't want to try. Thank you for saving me again, by the way."
Quinn glances at her. "You're welcome. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"I'm over it, really. But we're digressing. You and Rachel?"
She looks sheepish. "I had the biggest crush on Rachel throughout high school. Classic repressed bully. It took me a while to get over myself and accept that I wasn't gonna marry the high school football team captain and quarterback – though, Rachel looked great in the uniform."
Marley just stares at her. "Okay. You're completely blowing my mind right now."
"I have photos, if you're interested," says Quinn, reaching for her phone.
"Please." Though she looks at the pictures, making the appropriate sounds when Quinn adds comments or clarifications, part of her thoughts remain fixed on Quinn and the constant surprises the girl throws her way.
Not for the first time, she wonders how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Santana scowls at them when they get back. "You didn't even have the decency to wake us up? Bitch."
Quinn doesn't bat an eyelid; she sets two takeout containers on the dining table. Santana browses through like a starving animal and sighs happily.
"Grand Slam with extra sausage. I love you, Q."
"How quickly your tone changes," smirks Quinn, handing Rachel her fruit salad and getting a wide beam in thanks. "Meanwhile, how's your hangover? I seem to recall you drinking most of my dad's liquor cabinet."
"Oh, much better, after Rachel did that thing I like with her mouth on my – "
"Santana," warns Rachel, "another word and I'm cutting you off until further notice."
"Babe, I was only joking."
"Well, I wasn't only joking about cutting you off." Rachel smiles beatifically, and kisses a shocked Santana's cheek. "Eat your breakfast, sweetheart, before it gets cold."
Marley notices Quinn watching the banter closely, an odd look on her face. She rests her hand on Quinn's knee, squeezing gently.
She's gratified when Quinn smiles back.
With Quinn, Marley now knows to wait it out. Her patience is rewarded when Quinn shows up on her doorstep uninvited the very next day. "Hey."
Marley leans in her doorway, grinning. "Presumptuous of you to assume I don't have plans, Fabray."
"It's you. I can make a pretty good guess."
"You're terrible. I don't even know why we're friends." Marley steps aside to let her in and yells to her mother that Quinn's here, and they'll be in her room. She closes the door behind them.
Quinn sprawls on Marley's bed; Marley is quick to join her. They lie elbow-to-elbow, legs dangling off the edge.
She'll wait until Quinn initiates conversation. That's the way she's learned, how this friendship works. Much like the night at Puck's party, Marley offers her support and understanding with a comfortable silence that demands only what Quinn chooses to give.
It seems, though, that Quinn isn't in a giving mood at all, let alone an opening-up mood. She stares up at the ceiling, tight-lipped.
Marley reaches for her phone and earbuds. She holds one out to Quinn, who pops it into her ear with a soft smile.
After about six songs, Marley notices Quinn has tears streaming down her face. She presses tissues into Quinn's hand. "It's gonna be okay," she whispers, sitting up to tug the earbud out of Quinn's ear and to enfold her in a hug.
Quinn opens her mouth, lets out a choked sob, presses her knuckle to her lips – until Marley rubs at the back of her hand with a thumb. "Don't hold it in," she says quietly. "You're okay."
And she bows her head, lets the tears fall. Marley doesn't hold her tight, just lets her rest her forehead against her collarbone; her hands rest at Quinn's shoulders. She's mindful to give Quinn her space by not trapping her in a hug; she's always hated how suffocated she felt in other people's arms.
But she's not distant. Now and then, Marley strokes Quinn's hair, whispers soothingly in her ear, rubs her back. She doesn't let up even as Quinn fists her shirt in both hands and cries harder.
Marley has a fleeting thought that not all the tears are for Blake. But that's all it is; a thought, and her attention goes back to the girl in front of her.
Shadows lengthen. Quinn's shoulders have stopped heaving, but her face is still buried in Marley's shoulder, and her hands grip at Marley's shirt. Marley has her arms looped loosely around Quinn's waist.
"Feel better?"
Quinn mumbles something into Marley's shoulder.
"Huh?"
"Yeah. Thanks," she says, sounding hoarse.
Impulsively, Marley turns her head to press a kiss to the side of Quinn's head. "You never have to thank me for being here."
"You've been neglecting me," complains Unique loudly and lets herself into Marley's house.
"What? No, I haven't." Marley trails after Unique, confused.
"Lies. You've been spending every free moment with your best friend Quinn." Unique's lips twitch and give the game away.
Marley chooses not to answer. "It's not like you have tons of free time anyway. I'm not the one who blew off Skype to talk to Andrew."
Unique tries to keep her poker face but it wobbles at the mention of the name. "He was only there to comfort me in my time of need."
"And a lot more, I'm sure. Time of need… blatant lies."
"You just wish you had someone to cuddle up to."
"Why are we friends again?" Marley laughs despite her words, and flops into Unique's side. She starts up the movie.
"Separation anxiety." Unique reaches for a handful of popcorn.
Marley just snorts.
Author's Notes: Chapter title comes from Bird on the Wire by the late, great Leonard Cohen. Extended author's notes and further meta about this story can be found on my Tumblr; I'm yumi-michiyo there.