Author's Notes: Long overdue, but I just want to thank gllover22 and images-in-words for being extremely supportive of my writing. Kind reviews, generous praise... even joining me as I embark on this little rowboat of a rarepair away from the main Faberry ship. Thanks, guys.
The other major thing I wanted to note here is about the update schedule. Yes, I don't have the best reputation when it comes to multichapters; that's the main reason why nearly all my Glee fics are oneshots. As with nearly every other writer on this site, I work faster with reviews. Currently, I have an update schedule of roughly a month and a half, to two months between chapters.
In the interim, I'm usually on Tumblr! The extended author's notes are there too; hit me up at yumi-michiyo.
Part Eight: Never found the deep end of our little ocean
Marley waits outside the door. She feels like the princess from a Disney movie she watched with Brittany a couple of years ago, about princesses and snow and locked doors. It's already happened, come to think of it; Quinn behind locked doors (of her own making), Marley outside waiting for her to open up.
After a long long moment, she finally gathers her courage to knock; but before her knuckles can touch the wood of the door, it swings open.
"Marley," says Quinn. She leans against the door frame, arms around herself. Her eyes look red. "What are you doing here?"
She opens her mouth, and then closes it again when the words don't immediately come. "Can I… can we talk?"
"We're talking," points out Quinn in acid tones.
"Yeah. I just… I'm sorry." Marley winces at the words that come out of her mouth.
"Sorry? For what?"
Marley winces again. She's seen Quinn hurt and angry before, certainly, but it's never been directed at her. "For a lot of things." She shifts her weight from one foot to another. It hasn't been lost on her that Quinn hasn't asked her to come in. "For accusing you of pushing people away. Of saying that you don't care – because you do. I – "
" – good that you know," interrupts Quinn.
"Y-yeah. And I was being dumb about the entire thing, but it's Los Angeles. It's the other end of the country, and I'm scared. I guess I must've taken it out on you." Quinn's expression doesn't change, but she doesn't slam the door in Marley's face, or tell her to shut up. She supposes it's as good a sign as any. "I, uhm… I accepted Atlantic's offer."
"Okay? And you want a medal for that?"
Marley grits her teeth, feeling alarmingly close to tears. "Quinn, I hurt you. I know I could have avoided all of this just by being a little less stupid about you trying to be supportive. You were right from the beginning; I know that now." She takes a few deep breaths. "I just wanted to tell you that. I'm sorry I hurt you. That's all I wanted to say."
Quinn doesn't move. "Are you done?"
"I leave for LA next Thursday." She adjusts her bag strap. "I don't want to leave us like this, Quinn." Standing there, fingernails digging into the material of the strap, Marley has never felt this emotionally vulnerable – not even when she was kneeling, alone and scared, in front of a toilet bowl.
She sees Quinn purse her lips a fraction. "I'll call you," says Quinn at last. "Good night, Marley." And she clicks the door shut.
Marley knows better than to pressure a cornered Quinn, and so she leaves. The cold night air is refreshing on heated skin.
"Didn't go that well, huh?"
Marley shrieks.
Santana hastily steps forward, hands raised. "Whoa! God, Rosie, it's just me. Jumpy, ain't you? Too much coffee this morning?"
She feels like her chest is constricting. "It's New York, Santana," she gasps, rubbing her chest. "Don't do that."
"Wuss."
Once she gets over the shock, Marley manages a smile. "Thanks for waiting up for me, though."
"Pfeh. Rachel made me." Santana glances up at the apartment. "So, going home?"
"I guess." Marley blows out her bangs. "There's no point in me hanging around here like a creep. I need to give Quinn space."
"Yeah. Fair."
They fall into step, hands shoved into pockets. Marley tries not to think about everything she's got on her plate at the moment. A large part of her hopes that they'll make up before she has to go. She knows long-distance relationships, knows how hard they are – how badly she'll miss Quinn.
But at the same time, she'll always put Quinn's feelings before her own. She'll go to LA with the pieces of her heart in a pocket if that's all Quinn is capable of giving her.
From watching Rachel and Santana bicker, Marley's learnt that couple arguments always have two sides. This incidents proved that she knows nothing about being in a serious relationship, that her definition of trust is a lot more than sex.
Though – is that what she and Quinn are? A serious relationship? Marley's back to where she was two weeks ago; a naive child not ready for love. The way Quinn loves her – cares about her – is how a mature adult loves. In comparison, she's throwing an unhealthy amount of effort into her heart and not her head, into a relationship not even six months old.
Santana clears her throat. "This is your stop," she says, nodding at the subway entrance.
Marley blinks in surprise. "Oh."
Before she can say her goodbyes, Santana steps in front of her. "Hey, listen… I don't do a lot of talking about feelings, but if you ever need someone to talk to, and it's when Rachel makes you want to crawl out of your skin…" She gives Marley a quick smile. "Give Auntie 'Tana a call, okay?"
"Santana." The gesture takes her breath away, quite literally; she stares, stunned, until she remembers to breathe. "I… that means a lot to me, more than you might think it does."
"I don't doubt that," replies Santana gruffly. She poses stiffly with her hands out and elbows close to her sides. "If you must. Make it quick."
"Huh?"
"This is the bit where people hug," says Santana, wearing an expression that suggests she'd rather be swallowing poison, "so let's get it over and done with."
Marley smiles, shaking her head. "I don't… Santana, I'm really, really touched that you even offered, but I'm good. Honestly. Thank you."
She drops her arms, shoving her hands back into her pockets. "Thank god for that."
Oscar throws up his hands when she approaches him towards the end of her shift. Despite the cloud of misery she's been existing in over the past few days, Marley manages a chuckle for her boss.
"You are leaving us!" exclaims the manager. "Again!"
"For good this time," she says, holding out the sealed envelope. "I'm moving to Los Angeles."
"Whatever for? Is it the celebrity chefs? Are you investing in their wafer food?" Oscar shudders dramatically. "It cannot be that you think their food is better?"
"It's not the food, don't worry. It's… a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came up, and I have to take it."
He makes an 'ohh' sound and nods. "You should have said so earlier. I know those; mine came when I was a young man in the big city for the first time, and now you see? I am still here." He pats the shiny Manager tie clip and beams. "You go find your life calling now."
"Not immediately. C'mon, Oscar, you know me better than that," says Marley, "my flight's next Thursday, and that resignation's effective next Monday. I've gotta train up the next generation."
"Best of luck with that," mutters Oscar darkly. "Do you see how that new boy and girl work?"
"We have a few new workers. Who do you mean?"
"That one." He points at a blonde boy wiping down tables. "That one." His hand waves at another boy wiping cutlery. "All of them. I don't remember names so good now, they always come and go like inside a revolving door."
Marley sighs. "I'll do my best."
"And that's all I need." He pats her shoulder. "Don't forget to take your dinner."
"Actually…" Gavin's out, and Stan has a date. If she goes home now, she'll end up eating out of the bag while watching Bones and drinking whatever stuff she can grab from the fridge. "I think I'll eat it before I go." Plus, with her current mood and lack of witnesses, there's a good chance she'll end up not eating at all, and her disorder is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now.
"Fine, fine. Go on back before my customers think I will serve them meals out of plastic plates." Oscar shoos her back into the kitchen.
Dan grins at her as she comes in. "Leaving already, girl?"
"Nope. I'm having dinner with you tonight."
"Well, fancy that." He washes his hands, and pats them dry on the dish towel he keeps hanging on his apron. "It's my lucky night. But I gotta put you to work before we can have our date. We're a little short-staffed tonight 'cause Allen called in sick."
"Anything's good." She's already reaching for her favourite apron. "What do you need done?"
"I have a sack of potatoes over there that need to be prepped for tonight's gratin dauphinois special."
"Yes, chef."
He chuckles. "Aww, I just love hearing you say that. What say me and you, we leave Oscar and open up our own bistro downtown? Me in the kitchen, you working all the important stuff I don't know how to do? Maybe bring in your ol' mom, make a family business out of it." Dan expertly flips the fillet of halibut he's searing in a pan. "Sound good, or good?"
"Dan…" Marley lobs a peeled potato into the basin with a sigh. "I handed my resignation to Oscar earlier. For good this time. I've been offered a job in Los Angeles, and I'm taking it."
"Oh." He slides the fish onto a plate. There's silence as he drizzles lemon butter sauce over it, and completes the plating. Only when the plate's been handed to a server does Dan turn back to Marley. "That's a good thing, girl. Congrats."
"Thanks."
"But, why are you so sad?"
"I… " Marley heaves another deep sigh. "I was stupid about it. My girlfriend, she… she wanted me to take the job because it was a fantastic opportunity for me, and I accused her of pushing me away."
Dan tuts.
"I know. It was all my fault; I was completely out of line about it. She asked for space; combined with the fact I'll be moving out of town indefinitely, I don't blame her if she wants to break up with me." Tears prick at her eyes.
"Yeah, you screwed up. That's it." Dan tears his eyes from Marley to take the order chit from a waiter. They work in silence for a few minutes until he says: "Hey, Rosie? Your girl sounds like a good one, if she's willing to support you moving out of town."
"She really is."
"She the first girl you dated? I mean, not trying to be nosey and all, but I wanna get the big picture first."
"I've had boyfriends before. Quinn's the first girl I've dated."
Dan selects a cut of chicken from the fridge and places it on the grill. "Anything different from your other relationships? Apart from the whole… girl thing, of course."
"Of course," says Marley, another smile coming unbidden. She likes how Dan (and Oscar, in his own way) always manage to put her at ease. "Quinn, she… before her, I'd never felt about a girl that way. Even then, she's been my best friend for years before we got together."
"There're like a million of those in movies," says Dan. He takes the chicken off the grill and plates it. "'Cept, they're mostly guy and girl best friends. Nothing new." A helping of roasted vegetables go onto the plate. "You two been together long?"
Marley shakes her head. "It'll be six months at the end of September – that is, if she doesn't break up with me first." She finishes the last of the potatoes, and moves over to the sink to fetch a cutting board and knife.
"Not that long, then." He finishes off the dish and sends it off. "Y'know, if you're starting a new job in a new city, you're gonna meet a lot of new people." Dan rinses his hands, patting them dry on his hips. His tone remains nonchalant. "Sounds like a pretty good time to make a clean break of it, then a fresh start."
She almost drops the knife in surprise. "…What?" She can't believe her ears.
"It's only been a few months, right? You said she was hurt bad, that she might break up with you. So why don't you make a clean break of it?"
She takes a deep breath, channeling her anger into the potato. Each slice is perfectly even; she's a professional, and she knows better than to waste food. Only when the work is done does Marley slam her knife down and whirl around to glare at him. "I can't believe you would say those things, Dan."
He meets her eyes calmly. "Marley." It's one of the rare times he calls her by her name and not some pet name, so she puts her anger on hold and pays attention. "I asked you what's different about you and Quinn compared to your other relationships, and it seems to me the answer is that you're willing to fight for it. Okay? That's important."
The prickly anger goes out of her, and Marley mutters: "Not really… she might not feel the same way."
"Rosie, all that matters is that one person isn't willing to give up." After a brief glance in her direction, Dan turns away to take another order chit. "Chin up, alright? It'll work out."
"How do you know?"
The sous chef laughs softly. "I don't, but I know you. Toughest little thing this side of Bowery."
"I thought that was your steak," Marley jokes weakly.
He snorts. "I'm letting you have that one because you need it, but cheap shot."
"... Thanks, Dan."
"Anytime."
With just a few days left before she has to go, there isn't much time for packing. Marley decides to take just the essentials with her. She'll ship the rest over eventually. Saturday morning finds her seated on her bedroom floor, surrounded by boxes. "That corner's for storage," instructs Marley, pointing, "and that's to ship."
Unique yawns. "Yeah." She takes a long draught from the Thermos flask in front of her.
"Gavin and Stan said they'll hang on to the room for a couple of months, but I don't wanna burden them any longer than I have to. Like, they've already found a tenant who'll take Andie's room; I'm sure they won't have a problem renting out this place."
"Mmmhmm."
"I'll transfer you money for the shipping costs. The place looked pretty big in the photos, but I'm not sure if it's really like that. Anyway, it's mostly gonna be books and bulky stuff; the apartment comes furnished."
"'Kay."
Marley arches an eyebrow. "We can get started now."
"Oh, good." Unique hops off the bed and starts sifting through Marley's wardrobe.
"Hey!"
"What?" A mustard-yellow blouse sails out of the closet, onto the box marked 'To Donate'. Marley snatches it up.
"I like that!"
"No," Unique tells her flatly. "I love you, and that's why you're not keeping that."
"'Nique, the only reason you're here is to help me pack, not to clean out my wardrobe."
She rolls her eyes and makes a show of sighing. "Fine. If you say so." Unique walks over to the pile meant for shipping and sits cross-legged, folding clothes and compressing them into the boxes.
Marley shakes her head, smiling faintly. She walks over to the bookshelf, taking book after book off. Her fingers trail down the spines – and pause over Milk and Honey. She bites her lip.
The book's been read enough times to have acquired a slight creasing of the covers, and there's a stain on the bottom pages from when she took it to their favourite coffee place. It was crowded, and Quinn finally managed to find a table; she'd put the book down without checking, and snatched it up a moment too late when she noticed the coffee stain.
She draws a breath; inhale, exhale. Marley crosses the room, hands the book to Unique, returns to the bookshelf.
Next comes two copies of Perks of Being a Wallflower; one new, the other battered, still bearing the stamp of the Lima Public Library. She picks up the battered copy first.
There'd been a book sale the day she and her mom had arrived in Lima for the first time. The library was clearing their warehouse, and they'd set out plenty of rickety tables outside with their books on display. She remembers her mom pulling the last twenty out of her purse and giving it to her, asking her to spend it as a 'welcome-to-town' gift.
Most of the books were meant for children, or were dry works of non-fiction. But she'd found a copy of Perks of a Wallflower which was a surprise, given that it was relatively new. There was a large rip in the front page, and slight discolouration of the cover, but was brand-new otherwise, and only cost a dollar. Marley bought it, and gave the rest of the money back to her mom.
The newer copy wasn't the same edition. It was much less battered than the first – she'd had less time to read – but had sticky notes inside marking her favourite sections. The older copy had her favourite parts dog-eared, but she'd learned to take care of her books by then. Marley places her hand over the book, thinking back to a Saturday afternoon in Central Park.
Both copies go into the 'To Ship' box.
She needs a break. But Marley decides on one last book before she does.
Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore makes her frown. She didn't buy her copy – but then remembers this is Quinn's copy.
Quinn had bought it as part of her quest to finish her reading list. She remembers seeing Quinn reading it here and there, mostly when she wasn't reading manuscripts for work, or magazines for fun. Marley furrows her brow as she tries to remember why the book's on her shelf, comes up empty. The book goes onto her nightstand. "It's not mine," she says when she catches Unique looking. "I'll return it to Quinn later."
"Oh, honey." Unique rushes over to sweep Marley in a hug that has her gasping for air. "I'm sorry!"
"Sorry? For what?" She makes a few cursory attempts to pry her best friend off, then goes limp with a melodramatic huff. Unique giggles. "We didn't break up."
"Doesn't stop you walking around with this miserable expression on your face like you did."
"I have a lot on my mind, okay… I'm gonna be moving to LA in a couple of days. New job, new life, new… everything."
"Don't remind me." Unique tightens her grip, and Marley makes little choking noises. "It seems like everytime I catch up to your city, you're going off somewhere else."
"But you're still my best friend."
"Duh. If I wasn't, I'd cut you." Unique releases her with one last squeeze.
Marley snorts. "Our dynamic is really one for the record books. The mood goes up and down like a yo-yo." She goes back to her things.
"S'fine," calls Unique, "as long as we love each other."
Marley shakes her head, smiling at her packing.
Marley puts her hands on her hips, surveying the almost-empty room. With the organizational capability of Rachel and Unique combined, the packing of Marley's life proceeded seamlessly until now – the night before she leaves – all she has left is a backpack and two suitcases.
"I'm gonna miss you."
She turns to see Gavin leaning against the door jamb, expression somber. "I'll miss you too," says Marley, crossing the room to give him a quick hug. "Keep posting your scandalous party photos on Instagram, okay, so I can live vicariously through them?"
"You kidding me? You're moving to LA to work for a record company. You'll be the one posting scandalous party photos of all the stars you'll be hanging out with."
She levels a look at him. "Do I really look like the partying sort to you?"
"Never too late to start," says Gavin brightly. "I'll remind Stan to drop you off tomorrow."
They're interrupted by a knock on the door. Gavin wrinkles his nose. "Were you expecting visitors? Because my delivery isn't supposed to be here until eight, Cassidy at nine, and Rahim's due at ten."
Marley rolls her eyes. "Packed schedule," she comments. "It's seven-thirty, maybe the food came early?"
"Mmm, maybe I will too if the delivery person's cute."
"Gross, Gavin!"
Gavin laughs at her and goes to answer the door; Marley returns her attention to packing the last of her clothes and toiletries.
"Uh, Marley?" Gavin calls from outside, in a tone of voice she's come to associate with things going wrong.
She sighs. "Yeah?" When she stands up and turns around, her breath catches in her throat when she sees Quinn standing in the doorway of her room.
"Hi," says Quinn.
"Hi. I…" Marley closes her mouth, and opens it again. "I thought I wouldn't get to see you before I leave."
"I thought about that too, and I realised that I didn't want that." Quinn takes a step forward. "I'm sorry I took this long."
"No, I'm sorry," says Marley hurriedly. "I shouldn't have said those things in the first place."
"Can we both be sorry?"
"Sure." She takes a step forward, and another. They meet in the middle. Marley reaches out, palm grazing Quinn's cheek, and her fingers tremble. Quinn leans into her touch; it's all the reassurance Marley needs to bring her other hand up to gently bring Quinn's face to hers for a kiss. She pours as much love and relief and gratitude into it as she can as their lips meld together, heart pounding as Quinn reciprocates with almost as much fervour.
She leans her forehead against Quinn's, unable to stop the big dopey grin from spreading over her face. "I've missed you so much."
"Me too." Quinn pecks her lips, and pulls away to survey the room. "It's so empty."
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."
"Quinn, you needed your space. I totally get that. Don't worry about it, okay?" She tucks a lock of hair behind Quinn's ear. "You're here now. That's all that matters to me."
Quinn's eyes are shimmering when she looks back at Marley. "You just – I should've known you'd forgive me just like that."
"I could say the same for you," replies Marley quietly. "Anyway, it hardly matters because all I wanted was to see you before…" She trails off.
Quinn blows out a quiet breath. "I should've done this right from the start rather than let Santana and her vodka into my house."
"I got Rachel, Unique, and wine."
"Sounds like I got off easy."
She chuckles along with Quinn. By this point, her hands have dropped to curl loosely around Quinn's waist. Her thumb idly strokes along the base of her spine. Quinn's expression is pensive. In an attempt to lighten it, Marley kisses her cheek and the bridge of her nose (Quinn wrinkles it). Her fingers hook onto Quinn's. "You can help with this last bit," she says, gesturing at the suitcases, trying to lighten the mood. "I need to start folding the rest of my clothes."
"Okay."
She starts handing things to Quinn, who folds and tucks them into the case. They work in silence, only the occasional comment or shared memory on articles of clothing passing between them.
Marley sets another pile on the bed as Quinn closes the suitcase. "This one's full."
"Right. I've got a shirt or two left inside; lemme empty out the wardrobe before I get the other one." She turns back to the wardrobe – and pauses, inhaling slowly when hands slip around her middle, and a gentle pressure on her shoulder.
Marley straightens. She leans back, hands wrapping around Quinn's, melding their bodies together. "I hate this."
"I know." She feels lips on the side of her neck. "I hate that you're leaving, even though…"
"I know," she interrupts softly. "No regrets. Quinn, I… I'll understand if you want to break up." Marley feels the small intake of breath, and rushes to clarify: "Long-distance is hard; it's gonna be painful for the both of us."
It's something she's been dwelling on for weeks, the moment Atlantic made their offer. The terrible weight of her words hang in the air.
The hands on her waist pull insistently; she moves as they direct her so she's facing Quinn and her intense hazel eyes. "I don't want to break up," she says fiercely, and then uncertainty shows through. "... Do you?"
Hope flares in her chest. "No! I don't want – I would never. It would be like losing a part of me for good."
"Then we do long-distance." Quinn's fingertip traces Marley's face; her brow is furrowed, as though she's trying to memorise every inch. "Calls, emails, texts… we're both working now. We can afford the flights."
"It's gonna be hard. But," she says, more firmly, "we'll do it." Marley glances down at their joined hands. "I'm not ready to let you go just like that."
Quinn ducks her head, and Marley catches the smile there. "... You're impossible. You always know the right things to say, that make everything better."
"I do my best." She clears a space on the bed and sits down, motioning for Quinn to join her. "I still think that we could've had more time together if not for me being clueless."
Quinn shakes her head. "I don't blame you. It took me years to accept the truth of what I felt for Rachel… what I feel for you. You were still with Alex, you'd never shown an interest in girls…"
"Honestly? I've always been open, but Kitty jumping me kinda put me off for a while."
Quinn laughs weakly. "How are we having this sort of conversation the night before you leave?"
"Very soon, conversations will be all we're having."
The gloomy thought sobers the mood immediately. Marley lets go, turning her attention back to her packing so Quinn won't see her cry. There's a taut silence in which Marley refuses to look up.
She forcefully pulls Marley back to her – Marley catches a glimpse of hazel eyes so intense they could burn – and kisses her hard. Quinn's touch is no longer gentle, or loving. A whimper escapes Marley's parted lips; an opportunity Quinn seizes to deepen the kiss, and tangle her fingers into Marley's hair.
"Oh – "
She kisses back hard, almost desperately. They tumble onto the mattress. Clothes go everywhere. One of Quinn's hands have migrated to the exposed patch where her shirt's ridden up. Fingers tense. "Please," says Marley, and tugs hard so she can latch her lips on Quinn's neck; she's rewarded by a low moan, and the press of Quinn's body into hers.
A palm presses over her abdomen, skin to skin; the simmering arousal in her belly erupts. She gasps. Marley's driven by the desire to inflict as much as she's feeling, and her hands settle on Quinn's hips, fingers tugging her shirt up and away.
Quinn shakes her head. "No," she says, pulling away Marley's hands.
She whines – which gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as that hand slides into the front of her panties and strokes her clit. The sound is swallowed by Quinn's mouth on hers. "Quiet," she breathes against Marley's lips, "you have to be quiet."
She nods, once. Her legs fall open, willing Quinn's hand to move faster, and she hooks her ankles around Quinn's calves for leverage.
One finger slips in. Marley hisses. "More." Her fingers find their grip somewhere, anywhere – she can't think about that now.
Another finger. She rocks against Quinn's hand. There isn't much room for it, even with the elastic waist of Marley's sweatpants. Marley moves her hips as much as she can to facilitate the movement she needs, breathing becoming laboured as she fast approaches her peak.
"Quinn… feels so good."
Quinn presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. It's almost gentle. She bucks her hips against Quinn's hand one final time, and lets the pleasure surge through her.
Above her, Quinn finally meets her eyes, and smiles sheepishly; she slides her hand from Marley's pants as discreetly as she can. Marley ignores it; she focuses on Quinn, tries to return the smile as much as she's able, and reaches up to hold Quinn's face. "I don't want to go," she mutters once she's regained the ability to talk.
"Marley…"
"I know I have to. I will. I'll be on that plane tomorrow, but… that doesn't mean I'm okay with leaving you." She scrunches up her face, willing the tears not to come. "I hate this."
"I know." Quinn supports herself on one elbow, hovering over Marley. The back of her hand trails down Marley's face from hairline to jaw; she catches the scent of herself on Quinn, and blushes.
They lock eyes. Marley pulls Quinn's face down to hers for a bruising kiss, releasing her almost immediately in favour of tugging upwards, getting her where Marley wants her to go.
"What are you…?" Quinn settles against the headboard, sitting up straight. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her cheeks are flushed.
Marley kneels on the bed. She nudges Quinn's legs apart, crawling between, sitting up on her haunches. "Trust me," she says, and pulls her shirt over her head.
"Fuck," says Quinn when Marley reaches around herself to undo her bra. Quinn rarely swears around her, and Marley is rarely this bold; it gives her the confidence to continue.
Both her shirt and bra get discarded off the bed. Marley rises on her knees, putting both hands on Quinn's for balance as she leans forward. Quinn's head tips backward and her lips part as she anticipates the kiss.
Marley doesn't close the distance between their faces. She hovers; the tip of her tongue darts out, licking her lips; she watches Quinn's eyes follow the movement.
"You…"
"I had something else in mind." She smiles wickedly when Quinn visibly swallows hard.
"What did… oh." The sentence is lost in a ragged exhalation as Marley withdraws, ducking her head under Quinn's skirt. "Oh god."
She sucks at the skin of Quinn's inner thigh first, loving how damp it already is. Kiss after kiss is dotted up her leg, until the first lick through Quinn's ruined panties. Quinn curses luridly; it boosts Marley's confidence that she can do this. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties, and Quinn obediently lifts her hips so Marley can slide them off. She swipes her tongue over Quinn's clit, wrapping her arms around Quinn's thighs to hold her steady.
There's a loud thunk. Marley glances up, startled.
Quinn lifts her head from the headboard, looking sheepish. "I'm fine. Don't stop," says Quinn urgently.
And she would laugh, except she's never seen her girlfriend like this; eyes dark and unfocused, hair mussed, lips red and moist. Quinn looks almost desperate with desire. Marley doesn't stop what she's doing, but she takes her own sweet time with it. Quinn lets out a muffled curse. She returns to Quinn's clit again, picking up where she left off. Marley pays close attention to each sound Quinn makes, using it as a guide to determine what her girlfriend likes.
Quinn's thighs start to quiver. Marley continues to lap at her, hands firm on her girlfriend as she comes hard.
Marley pulls herself up more comfortably. She presses a kiss to the inside of Quinn's left knee. "Are you okay?"
She receives a nod. "More than okay. That was... you're good at this."
Marley can't help but blush as she always does when they talk about sex. "I did some research online."
"That's... unexpected." It's hard to tell if Quinn's blushing too, given the heat in the room. "But really good."
"Mmm." Everything they've done is starting to catch up to her. Marley crawls next to Quinn, sprawling on the pillows. She puts her arms around Quinn's waist. "Come here."
A kiss is pressed to the top of her head, and then Quinn snuggles into her side properly so they're curled up in each other. The shoulder of Quinn's shirt gets pulled down; Marley's fingers start to trace patterns on the patch of exposed skin.
"Do you think they heard us?" Marley asks, suddenly self-conscious.
"Maybe. Even if they had, I think they'd know to give us some space."
"Mmmhmm." She tips her head forward. Marley closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of Quinn's shampoo, arms tight around her girlfriend's waist. "I love you."
"I love you, too," replies Quinn softly. "So much it scares me."
She's never known time to drag on so slowly. Normally, she would've fallen asleep a long time ago, but the knowledge she'll be moving across the country away from this woman in her arms keeps her awake. Every second she spends asleep is a second she isn't appreciating Quinn's physical presence while she still can.
Quinn's probably dozed off some time ago. Marley thinks it's a good thing, so she won't be awake to judge her for being weird. They've shifted to lie down properly, still in each other's arms, and so she buries her face into Quinn's hair. "I'm going to miss you so much," she whispers.
The next thing she knows, gray daylight filters in the window. Someone's drawn the curtains – though it can't be Quinn, because her girlfriend is still asleep in her arms, in front of her.
Quinn's expression is smooth in sleep. Marley smiles to herself. The situation isn't new, but she could definitely get used to waking up to it every morning for the rest of her life. They're together, Quinn loves her, she's pretty sure she's in love with Quinn, she's leaving...
The smile falls from her lips.
It's early enough that they can afford to sleep in a little longer. She doesn't have much left to do, anyway; most of her things are packed up...
... apart from the clothes they knocked off the bed last night. She cringes to think of how crumpled they'll be, but at least she can iron out wrinkled clothing. Relationships are a lot more complicated.
Marley stands outside her gate. This is it.
She looks back at Quinn, who's standing behind her. The rest of her friends have disappeared to goodness knows where to give them some privacy.
"Go," says Quinn, smiling wide. "We'll see each other soon."
She nods and starts walking. Marley hesitates, just before the path bends, and turns back.
Quinn hasn't moved. She lifts her hand in a farewell gesture, and Marley returns it.
She can't even blame the job for how miserable she is. Her new boss has been thoroughly briefed on her performance as an intern; he practically shakes her hand off in his excitement when she walks into his office. Marley's put to shadow one of the senior producers on an up-and-coming talent (a guy with a guitar who speaks with a Midwestern twang even though he's from Florida), and it's hinted that she'll be taking over the project completely sooner or later.
Midway through her first week in LA, she gets asked out to dinner by Finn Hudson – in typical Finn Hudson fashion.
"I, uh, heard you were in town," he says as soon as she picks up the phone. "Hey, so – do you wanna grab dinner or something, this week?"
She blinks in surprise. "Uh, sure?"
"Oh, awesome. Is today too last minute?"
Up until this moment, Marley's dinner plans involved persuading herself to buy a sandwich on her way home. "Today is good for me."
"I get out at six today. Where exactly do you work?"
"Just off Hollywood Boulevard. Atlantic Records."
"Sweet, I know the place," he says without a hint of astonishment. "Then – meet you downstairs of your building at seven? That okay, or is it too late?"
"That's fine," says Marley. Being the new hire, she's absolutely swamped with work and she anticipates that's the earliest time she'll be able to leave. "I'll see you at seven."
When she exits the lobby at two minutes after seven, the first thing she spots is the unmistakable figure of Finn; standing slightly slouched, with his hands in his pockets. The only difference from the last time she saw him is that he's wearing baggy jeans, and a navy T-shirt that says LAFD over the left breast.
He lights up when he spots Marley. "Hey!" says Finn excitedly, coming over to kiss her cheek. "It's been a while. How're you doing?"
"Good," she summarizes, squeezing him in a hug. "I'm so happy to see you."
"Yeah, likewise." He stoops to pick up a duffel bag. "Let's go. I'm starving, how about you?"
"Famished." Her appetite has been sparse these days, but she eats; the thought of Quinn and what she would do to her if she knew she hasn't been eating is a major motivation. Seeing someone familiar causes a pleasant warmth in her stomach, though.
"Cool." He hops into a open-top convertible and motions for her to follow suit. "It's not far, but I wanna take you around the city and back. I'll bring you back here to get your car later."
"Sure. Nice car, by the way," says Marley, running her hand over the smooth upholstery.
"Yeah? Britt thinks so too." Finn pulls out of his lot and onto the road, driving with both hands on the wheel. "She picked out the colour."
"That explains why it's pink."
"She said it reminds her of cotton candy and unicorns, and it'll remind me of her when she's out of town." Finn cruises down the famous boulevard lined with palm trees. "So for dinner, there's this place that serves amazing diner food. Sound okay?"
"Sounds great."
Finn is clearly a regular; the waitress motions him to a corner booth, and brings him a chocolate milkshake without needing to ask. "And a menu for your friend," she says, handing it to Marley.
"Thanks, Loretta."
"What'll you have today, Hudson? Pancakes? Surf n' turf? We got specials on club sandwiches and cheeseburgers."
"Cheeseburger sounds good. Make mine a double with bacon, and extra fries on the side."
Marley hands her menu back. "I'll have the roast beef club, and… a chocolate milkshake, please." Her free hand fidgets in her lap as she fervently hopes no one notices the pause.
"Sure, sweetheart," says the waitress, not batting an eyelash. "Be right back with that shake."
"Thanks, Loretta." Finn turns his attention to his milkshake, taking a slurp. He lets out a contented 'ahh', and grins at her over the top of his shake. She only spent a maximum of ten minutes with him in Lima, but it's clear to see that the years have passed him by; his boyish grin and exuberance remains unchanged. Even his worn attire and five-o-clock shadow do nothing to make him look any more mature than the nineteen-year-old she remembers. "They have the best milkshakes in town. You'll love it," he stage-whispers, making Marley laugh.
"Can't wait." And she really can't; the smells around her are whetting her appetite, and she pushes down her nausea with practiced ease.
"So… Atlantic, huh?"
"Yeah. I went for an internship last year and applied back for a permanent job after graduating. The New York office was full but they offered me a place here."
"You must be really good. I had to Google Atlantic Records after you told me the place this afternoon, and I was seriously amazed. Like, The Rolling Stones! AC/DC!" Finn's eyes suddenly go wide. "Do you see them around?"
"What? No! I mean – I'm still a junior producer, so they don't let me near the big artists, y'know." She tries not to smile at Finn's expression. "If I ever see them, though, I promise I'll get you an autograph."
"Cool. Thanks, Marley. You're the best."
The clicking of heels announces Loretta's return. "Here's your milkshake, honey," she says, setting the tall glass in front of Marley.
Under the watchful eye of both Finn and Loretta, she takes a sip from the straw. The shake is thick and rich – made with plenty of good-quality milk and syrup and ice cream – and Marley immediately makes a note to bring her mom here when she visits. "Mmmm. This is the best milkshake I've ever had."
Finn beams. "Told you." He stands his straw upright in the shake. "Look at that "
She tries very hard not to think about the number of calories she's ingesting. "They take a lot of pride in their food, don't they?"
"Uh-huh. Which is awesome, because I get to enjoy it." He glances at the counter, and adds in a conspiratorial tone: "It's so good that most of the time, I don't even last until my food comes. Then I have to order another shake."
"Well, I'm sure you can afford the calories."
"Not according to Britt. She says I've gotten jigglier around the middle. Just because dancing burns way more than firefighting, because she eats just as much as I do."
Her eyes go to Finn's middle involuntarily. "She's still a touring backup dancer?"
"Yep. She teaches when she's not on tour. She's still on Taylor Swift's current tour; that's why she couldn't make it tonight."
"That's really impressive."
"Yeah, but so many of us Glee clubbers are doing pretty good. You with Atlantic, and Rachel's killing it on Broadway." He pauses to take a sip of milkshake. "Is she still in Aladdin?"
"Yep. She got to go on as Jasmine once, even, after the actress called in sick."
Finn laughs. "Did she make plans for keeping her that way?"
"Of course – then she felt bad about it, and sent her a pack of herbal teas."
"She hasn't changed a bit," he smiles, shaking his head.
Marley feels a bit uncomfortable. She's only ever spoken to Finn about Glee stuff, never about their personal lives. It complicates things now that she's fairly close to his circle of friends – more specifically, ex-girlfriends. Especially since his girlfriend is her girlfriend's friend's ex-girlfriend, and –
She stops thinking about it when their food arrives, saving the day. "That's a lot of food," notes Marley nervously, looking at the small mountain of fries beside her sandwich.
"I'll help you eat whatever you don't want," offers Finn immediately. His extra fries are in a basket beside the mountain on his plate. Finn tucks into his double cheeseburger with a ferocity that makes Marley wonder aloud if he's part snake to unhinge his jaw like that, which makes him snort.
The sandwich is good; almost as good as Defonte's, and – she really needs to stop thinking about Quinn. She shakes her head, smiling at herself.
Finn misinterprets. "Good, huh?"
"It's really awesome."
"Cool."
They make small talk exchanging updates about Glee clubbers they both know. She manages half of everything before passing her plate to an excited Finn.
"I got the bill," he insists, pulling his wallet from his pocket. "Think of it like a welcome to town meal."
"Thanks, Finn."
The cool night air greets her when they go back outside. "Still up for that drive?" he asks, turning his key in the ignition.
"Actually, yeah. I don't think I'll be able to walk for a while."
"You'll get used to it. Loretta's always generous with the portions." The lights of the city start to come alive as he drives. "I know you only just got here, but how's everything? Is the city treating you alright?"
"I guess." Marley shakes out her hair, enjoying the sensation of the wind. "Honestly, I've been trying to keep busy."
"It's always hard, being in a new place on your own." The car slows to a stop at an intersection. "I know exactly how that feels." Finn drapes both hands on the steering wheel. "I mean, I didn't ask you out tonight because I felt sorry for you, but…"
"But you asked me out tonight because you totally felt sorry for me?" she smiles.
He chuckles self-consciously. "I guess. Still no good at outsmarting girls."
"It helps that you're about as transparent as a window."
Finn groans. "It's that bad?"
"It is."
"Ugh." They drive along the freeway; Marley catches a glimpse of the Hollywood sign. "Hey, if you're not too tired, do you wanna get a drink? There's this great little place Britt and I always go, and it's not that far from here. What do you say?"
Marley smiles. "I don't really drink, but I guess… I could go for a drink."
"Sweet." He takes the next exit.
The bar is really more of a jazz club, but it's cosy and the drinks are delicious. Marley makes her cranberry vodka last. "Thanks for everything, Finn," she says. "I had a great time tonight."
"No worries. I definitely enjoyed the company. Like – we didn't really talk that much when I was coaching Glee, and we didn't get a chance to catch up after that." He sips his beer. "It's really good to have some familiar faces in town, y'know."
"Yeah." The pianist onstage launches into a solo piece. "Everything's going great with you and Brittany?"
Finn's face splits into a huge grin. "Oh, yeah. She's really great. I mean… sometimes I wake up and I can't believe it's me and her, after everything we went through in high school."
Marley lets out a snort despite her best efforts. "Trust me, I know exactly how that feels."
"Yeah. And you." He gestures in her direction. "You're like, friends with all my exes. My exes are dating each other. You're dating my ex. It's like some really weird sitcom." Finn knocks back his drink.
"Believe me when I say I have no idea how it happened."
Finn smiles. "I'll drink to that." They clink glasses, and he signals the bartender for another beer. "You're good for Quinn, y'know."
She dares not comment.
"I barged in on her and Britt's coffee thing because I was worried about her. Mrs Fabray is hella intimidating, and I don't think Quinn ever forgave me for outing her pregnancy to her parents through song. Anyway," he continues, going a little pink, "even though she was sad as hell because of everything that went down between her and her mom, talking about you really made her happy. You make her happy."
"She makes me happy, too."
"She's a good person. I was an immature asshole in high school, and I wasn't the best boyfriend to Quinn. But she's a good friend, and I'm glad she's found someone who treats her right. She deserves to be happy and all."
"Thanks for saying that, Finn." Marley pats his elbow. "Immature asshole or not… you're a pretty great guy now. And I'm not saying that because you took me out for dinner."
He chuckles.
"Seriously, though… I'm glad we're friends."
"I'll drink to that," he says, tapping his beer bottle to Marley's glass.
As soon as she's able, she takes advantage of a long weekend and tacks on a day's leave for good measure. Marley flies out to Columbus.
Doctor C seems glad to see her. "I presumed your new job would mean that you'd be switching therapists to one based in LA," says the therapist, eyes crinkling into a smile.
"Nah," says Marley warmly. "I can't imagine confiding in anyone else but you. Good thing our sessions are annual."
"I appreciate your confidence in me." The therapist inclines her head. "By the way, congratulations; it sounds like it's the perfect job for you."
"It is the perfect job." Marley's good at what she does, to the point that she's handling as much work as senior colleagues. She gets to work with interesting and talented musicians, she's met new people with whom she can geek out about the finer aspects of her profession… in her spare time, she's even dabbling in songwriting. All this, she relates to Doctor C, who nods at all the right parts.
"... I get the feeling that you want to say something," says Marley when she's done.
Doctor C shrugs. "Not at all."
"Really?"
The therapist holds up both hands, palms up. "Marley, our sessions are all about you," she says. "I won't offer anything unsolicited unless I feel that it would benefit you."
"Oh."
"That goes for your personal life as well," adds Doctor C, smiling faintly.
She colours crimson. "I, uh, oh."
"We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to," says the older woman.
Marley stares down at her hands, which are resting on her knees. She continues to stare as they tighten into fists and her knuckles turn white.
"Marley?"
"I do want to," she says at last. "I need… I don't know where to start. About Quinn and me. There's been a lot going on, and we… long story short, we're in a long-distance relationship now."
"And how do you feel about that?"
She exhales. "Conflicted. I didn't want to go. But, rationally, it was the best move. It was the only move."
"Conflicts between head and heart are normal," says Doctor C serenely.
"Yes, but – I can't help but feel like I'm leaving at a very complicated time. Like – I don't know where I stand, how serious this is, what exactly we are to each other…" Marley throws up her hands. "I don't wanna – it took her this long to open up to me. I don't wanna lose that."
Doctor C is silent. "Yes, I agree relationships are complicated – especially this one, given what I've heard about Quinn – but I'm here about you." She leans forward, steepling her fingers. "My purpose here is to help you with your personal recovery process; which I feel is going wonderfully."
Here Marley manages a smile. "You just like the idea of me and Finn being friends."
"If that young man can convince you to consume half your daily recommended caloric intake in a sitting, I would encourage you to marry him." The therapist smiles briefly on seeing the expression on Marley's face. "Just kidding."
"The only insight I can offer you is personal," continues the older woman. "Long-distance relationships are completely different from regular ones, and require a different approach; mainly because true intimacy is nearly impossible to achieve, even though it is more important than ever."
"So… you're saying that I have to reevaluate my priorities in this relationship to sustain it."
"Something like that." Doctor C slides a bowl of hard candy over her desk towards Marley. "Be with her when you can be. Do you know what I mean?"
Marley nods slowly. "I… think I do."
Doctor C hesitates, and then reaches over to pat Marley's hand. "How often do you talk? Texts, calls, emails?"
"Almost every day." Marley ducks her head sheepishly.
"For what it's worth? I think you're doing fine."
Marley slides her headphones onto her shoulders. "Okay, Trent, that was good."
The man inside gives her a thumbs up.
"So all we got left to do is a retake of your single before we call it a day. Sound good?"
Trent nods. "Sure thang, boss lady," he drawls.
Marley laughs. "I know you're supposed to be the next Blake Shelton and all, but it's just you and me, bud, and we both know you're from Florida." She checks the soundboard. "I just need to record your vocals, and then you let me take over."
"Oh, I'd let you take over anytime."
Trent's persona has always reminded her of Puck, but she tries not to let it bother her; Puck is Puck, and Trent is the sweet up-and-coming country music star whose debut album is her baby. She starts up the backing track and cues him in.
As he launches into the song, she smiles at the lyrics. Trent is undeniably gifted, born to be playing his guitar and sing about long winding lanes and the girl he left back home – even if he is from Florida – and has the potential to be one of the best songwriters in the industry. But he was stuck on a melody, and it was Marley who helped him turn it into a song.
As the outro of the song plays, she cuts the recording and motions for him to take off his headphones and come out of the booth. "Good job, Trent," says Marley.
"Naw. It was all you." He takes the vacant leather chair beside her as she replays the recording.
At the end, Marley nods. "I guess that's a wrap. We'll call it a day." She's halfway out of her chair when he catches her hand.
"So, uh," he starts with an awkwardness that's achingly familiar, "I was wondering if you'd want to go out for coffee sometime."
"Trent…"
"Like, not now. Even I can see you're in a mighty hurry to go somewhere – with someone special, if the look in your eyes anything to go by – but I just had to ask. Put myself out there."
Marley sighs. She glances down at their joined hands. "I…"
He lets go. "No, it's okay. You're a sweet girl, Marley." Trent grins at her. "I really appreciate you trying to let me down as gently as possible. He must really be something, yeah?"
"She," says Marley softly. "Her name's Quinn." She holds her breath and waits.
"She must be really something," corrects Trent. "I had a girlfriend back home – LaBelle. Tiny town, middle of nowhere. I left town because I believed in all this – " he gives a careless wave of his hand, "– and she stayed. Broke up with me right before I got on that Greyhound."
"I'm sorry."
He shrugs. "Don't be. More material for songs. You know how it is, with us musical people. Right up there with John Mayer and Taylor Swift." He grins abruptly. "No hard feelings, Marley?"
"None whatsoever."
She's at least half an hour early, but she doesn't care. The scheduled flight arrival time can't come fast enough, and she's excited beyond belief. This is the first time Quinn's visiting LA, and she's looking forward to enjoying every minute of the time with her.
Marley finds a good spot outside the arrivals gate and sits down, phone out. She planned to go through her emails while waiting; there are a few she hasn't gotten round to replying yet, all because she's been holed up in the studio with Trent. But every minute or so, Marley's eyes stray to the gate.
The announcements board refreshes. Marley interrupts her email-writing for the seventh time (she's stuck somewhere around 'Dear Sir') and grins when she notices the flight status for AA 117 from JFK has switched to landed. She saves her draft and shoves the phone into her pocket, getting up to hover close to the gate –
– and jumps a little when it chimes. She fumbles the phone back out of her pocket.
Just landed. Can't wait to see u
me too im waiting oustide e baggage carousel
Marley's finger itches to call Quinn, but she successfully quashes the impulse, and stashes away her phone. She keeps her eyes fixed on the corner from where she knows the terminals connect to.
It was difficult enough stealing time for each other when she was a student and Quinn was working; it got a little easier when she was working the full-time stint at the restaurant because shift work complemented Quinn's working hours. But long weekends didn't really justify the twelve-hour round-trip either of them would have to make.
There were other methods of communication, of course. She texted daily, even if it was as simple as sending a cute animal picture or something amusing about her day. They had weekly Skype calls, and the occasional phone call to check in that always turned into a few hours; that had been an expensive affair.
But it all paled in comparison to this; finally seeing Quinn in person, being able to spend time with her. Nearly three months after she'd left, Quinn had been able to scrape together enough leave to fly out and visit.
She snaps out of her thoughts when a steady stream of people appear around the corner. Marley waits patiently, heart pounding wildly with anticipation. There are a few false alarms; varying shades of blonde, a coat similar to Quinn's, young women of similar build.
And everything stops when she spots Quinn.
It takes Marley every fibre of her being not to rush through the gates and throw her arms around Quinn – especially when Quinn, searching the crowd, meets her eyes, and a dazzling smile spreads across her face.
And so Marley grips onto the shoulder strap of her battered messenger bag, willing herself to stand still until Quinn collects a small rolling suitcase from the baggage carousel and walks out of the gate.
Marley doesn't remember starting to walk. All she sees is Quinn, smiling brighter than the sun, and she is Icarus. Marley dashes the last few feet separating them, and flings herself forward, trusting Quinn will catch her.
She does.
Warm, strong arms hold her tightly. She buries her face into soft blonde hair, letting herself be surrounded by Quinn. Marley can't speak around the lump in her throat. When she's certain it's not a dream, she releases her hold slightly.
"You're crying."
Marley laughs, ignoring the prickling at her eyes. "Maybe a little." She strokes the side of Quinn's face. "So are you."
"Nonsense."
Quinn's eyes aren't red, but her lips taste of salt and everything she's been dreaming of.
When they've both calmed down a bit, Marley immediately grabs Quinn's suitcase and leads the way to the car. "I'm so happy you're here," she says, unlocking the boot and putting the case inside.
"Me too."
"Are you hungry?"
Quinn looks sheepish. "A little. I had something on the flight, though…"
"It was a long flight, though." Marley starts the car. "I know the perfect spot."
Quinn looks completely enthralled as they walk into the diner; Marley bites back her amused smile.
"Oh, hey, it's Hudson's buddy!" Loretta holds out menus, smiling warmly at them. "And you brought a buddy of your own."
"Hey, Loretta. Quinn's visiting from New York."
"A friend from back home. Gotcha." She leads the way to a booth and sets the menus down. "Holler when you're ready."
Once the waitress leaves, Quinn turns to her with wide eyes. "When she said 'Hudson', did she mean Finn Hudson?"
"Yeah. He and Brittany are regulars here; Finn brought me here for dinner when he heard I was in town."
Quinn blows out her bangs. "Small town."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? What for?" Quinn's expression changes as understanding dawns. "Oh – no, Marley. I didn't mean that you shouldn't have brought it up, or that you shouldn't be friends with them… it was just a surprise, that's all. I haven't spoken to Finn in a while." Her eyes crinkle in a rueful smile. "We didn't do much talking in Lima."
"Oh." She'd gathered as much, but the most pervasive memory of that night will always be Quinn – dark-eyed, smiling wickedly – hovering over her. Marley flushes.
Quinn clears her throat. A dusting of colour decorates her cheeks, presumably from the same memory. "... You know what I mean. Anyway… " She pauses. "I think it'll be nice if I could catch up with them while I'm here."
"Yeah, I think so too."
Loretta walks over. "Ready to order, honeys?'
"Uh…" Marley gives her an embarrassed smile. "Five more minutes?"
"Take yer time." She goes to another table, pulling out her order pad.
Quinn mirrors Marley's sheepishness as she reaches for her menu. "So… what's good?"
"The milkshakes," says Marley immediately. "They're thick enough you can stand a straw in them, and they taste fantastic. I usually have one every time I'm here."
Quinn's expression softens suddenly. "That's good," she murmurs. Her hand comes up to cup Marley's cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone. "I was worried you weren't eating."
Even though she's uncomfortable with the unexpected mention of her diet, Marley meets Quinn's eyes. "I didn't want you to worry."
They place their orders quickly. Two milkshakes soon arrive; a chocolate one for Marley and strawberry for Quinn. Marley bursts out laughing when she sees Quinn's milkshake.
"What?" Quinn asks, peering at the glass skeptically.
"Nothing, just… the colour is exactly the same as the shade of pink you dyed your hair in your senior year."
Quinn scrunches up her nose, but laughs as well. "Wow. Now there's a memory I don't mind forgetting."
"Really? You owned that look, though. I was equal parts terrified and awestruck every time you stalked down the corridors."
"Awestruck, huh?" There's a wickedness to Quinn's smile that makes Marley squirm in her seat, and wish they weren't in public. "Even back then?"
"Of course. Quinn, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met." It's something she has said multiple times, and Quinn always has the same reaction; she looks away, and darts a quick look back as though embarrassed to acknowledge it, a faint smile on her lips.
Today, though, Quinn meets her gaze straight on. Her hazel eyes sparkle with warmth. "I'm glad you think so," says Quinn, interlinking her fingers with Marley's, resting their joined hands on the table. "God, I've missed you."
The moment is interrupted when Loretta comes back, balancing two plates. "That's a breakfast special for you, sweetie," she puts a plate in front of Marley, "and the bacon cheeseburger." Loretta wipes her hands on her apron. "Enjoy."
"Thanks, Loretta."
Quinn stares at Marley's food, looking amused. "Breakfast for dinner?"
Marley shrugs. "The best diner experience." She uses her knife to spread her butter pat over her pancakes to melt it. "Yours looks good."
"Going out with Rachel means i get guilted into going meatless." She pops a fry in her mouth. "This is kind of a guilty pleasure thing. It's been years since I had a cheeseburger – especially one this generous."
Marley grins at her. "I know, right?" She takes a mouthful of pancakes and chews.
Quinn starts laughing. "You should see your face. You look exactly like a little kid now." She grabs a paper napkin and dabs at the syrup smear on the corner of Marley's mouth.
"That makes you a pedophile, doesn't it?"
"I hope not. That would severely limit the things I wanted to do tonight." And she goes back to her food, but not without a last heated look that makes Marley's pulse quicken.
Marley made it a point not to give away too many details about her house in their conversation over dinner. The excitement she's been keeping under wraps is completely justified when she unlocks her door and steps aside to let Quinn in.
"Wow." She walks into the house, heels clicking on the wood flooring. "This is all yours?"
"Yep." Marley grins. "No roommates."
"Oh, good."
"Why?" she asks, already anticipating the answer.
Suddenly Quinn is too close, and Marley's breathing quickens. "So I can do this," says Quinn. Her voice sounds at least an octave lower than normal.
Entranced, she leans in to bridge the gap. Her lips roam the seam of Quinn's mouth, tongue tracing full lips. Marley's hands are already fumbling with Quinn's coat. Quinn shrugs it off without breaking the kiss.
She finds herself pinned against the door. Her hands slide up the back of Quinn's shirt, grabbing onto heated skin. Marley's taller, but Quinn's ankle boots put them at roughly the same height. She takes advantage of that now to curl her leg around Quinn's, thigh pressing into her centre.
Quinn moans. The sound sends liquid heat rushing through Marley.
"You were thinking of our first time at the diner," murmurs Quinn. She dips her head, nipping at Marley's neck; Marley moans and arches into her, completely forgetting what she was in the middle of doing.
"So were you."
She chuckles. Quinn undoes the top two buttons of Marley's shirt, tugging away her bra to kiss a hardened nipple. "I was thinking of doing this to you for months."
Marley's chest heaves.
Quinn continues to lavish attention on the sensitive bud, alternating teeth and tongue. The sensations are driving Marley wild, but all she can do is gasp and clutch at Quinn, trying to direct her mouth where she wants it.
"Are you gonna ravish me all week?"
"If you want." She presses her body up against Marley's to hold her in place against the door. One hand cups her other breast; Marley makes a choked noise.
"I want that. So much." The pressure in her centre is almost at boiling point. She cants her hips forward into Quinn's, trying desperately to relieve the tension. "Please, Quinn."
"Let me help you."
Quinn kisses down her chest, fingers making quick work of the top button of her pants. Marley whimpers when fingers brush her over-sensitive folds.
"Touch me."
"Here?"
She yelps when Quinn grazes her clit. "Yes. I need you to make me come."
Quinn kisses her. Her fingers start a rhythm that Marley's hips follow. Her head falls backwards with a thud against the door. "Don't stop."
"I won't. Come for me."
She does, hard. Quinn's name flows off her tongue like a prayer as her walls clench and pleasure rolls through her body like a wave. Stars blink behind closed eyelids with increasing desperation until she remembers that breathing is necessary.
Quinn laughs softly at her. "I've missed this, too," she says, leaning her forehead against Marley's. One of her arms comes to rest loosely around Marley's middle, the other behind Marley's head to cushion it from the door.
By this time, Marley's patience has run out. She draws closer. "I need to taste you," she whispers against Quinn's lips, and feels her shudder.
She leads Quinn into her kitchen and draws her closer; Quinn's front presses against the countertop. "I've had a lot of dreams about you," says Marley nonchalantly into Quinn's ear.
"You did?"
"Mmhmm." She rolls her neck on her shoulders, languid, before she bends her head. Her tongue darts out from between reddened lips and licks a delicate trail where Quinn's neck meets her shoulder. "Tasting you."
Quinn's head falls back, boneless. Marley cups her face so she can continue to kiss her neck. "Touching you," she says. Her hand, previously resting over Quinn's stomach, starts to slide upward, cupping a breast.
"Yes," says Quinn. Her body melds to Marley's, yielding to every movement.
Marley turns her around. Her fingers curl underneath Quinn's thighs, boosting her up onto the counter. "Finally taller," she says with a grin.
Quinn rolls her eyes at her. "Shut up."
She does – by kissing Quinn, humming contentedly as arms twine around her neck and fingers tangle in her hair. "Seriously though? I wanted you up here so I can do this." Marley slides out of Quinn's arms, and lifts up her sweater to kiss her stomach.
"Oh god."
Marley works at her pants; Quinn obediently lifts her hips to help. "Mmm," says Marley, "I've waited too long." She wastes no time, putting her mouth on Quinn, parting her lower lips with her tongue.
It doesn't take too long before Quinn comes above her with a cry. Marley tries to keep the grin off her face when insistent hands pull her up; she wipes her mouth and chin with the back of her hand as she goes. "That was fast."
"I've been left hanging for a while," replies Quinn, eyes still unfocused. She kisses Marley briefly. "Now can we go to bed? This counter's hard and cold."
"You weren't complaining earlier."
"I also hadn't come in almost a month earlier."
Marley licks suddenly dry lips. "A month?"
Quinn shrugs. "Work was insane." She slides off the counter with as much dignity and grace she can muster – which in Marley's unbiased opinion, is still a lot – and pulls her panties back up from her ankles. "I wasn't in the mood."
"And are you now?" says Marley teasingly. She hooks a finger around one of Quinn's, leading her into her bedroom.
"Oh, definitely. I've got a few things I want to try."
Marley licks her lips again; this time with anticipation.
She feels a little bit insane for even thinking it, but she's a little surprised to find Quinn's still not a morning person. They've only been apart a couple of months so it's impossible that there would be any major changes like that, but Marley still feels like she'll wake up alone any time now to the sound of her phone alarm.
At least she isn't distracted enough to burn breakfast. Especially not the bacon; that would upset Quinn.
Breakfast, twice in a row. Before she got sick, Marley would have happily lived on pancakes and syrup alone. This seems like a luxury after last night…
She gnaws on her lower lip in an effort to rein in her silly grin. God, the things Quinn does to her – emotionally, and physically.
Time and distance – nearly 3000 miles of it – apart has given her some perspective. Marley knows better than try and put a label on what they are, what they can and cannot do, and focus on the important parts.
Like how much in love she is, and that Quinn loves her. Everything else can wait.
Marley wonders if it's too much for her to go wake Quinn; it feels oddly intimate, even compared with everything they did last night. Alone together in her house, with all the time in the world, it feels wonderfully domestic.
She makes up her mind and starts up the stove. Making breakfast takes a maximum of fifteen minutes (inclusive of the fancy plating she'd picked up from Dan), and soon she's heading into her bedroom, butt first to avoid the door slamming into their breakfast.
There's no sign of Quinn apart from tousled blonde hair near the head of the bed. She sets the tray onto the nightstand and ponders her options; playful, cute, sexy…
"Hey," says Marley. She sprawls over the blankets, behind Quinn, an arm on her shoulder.
"Mmph," says Quinn. She snuggles back into Marley, clearly not fully awake yet.
Marley tips her head forward to bury her nose in the crook of Quinn's shoulder. She closes her eyes and loses herself in the moment.
"I'm not awake," mutters Quinn.
She smiles. "I can tell. That's why I brought coffee."
"You brought coffee?"
"You can't smell it?"
Quinn grunts. "No. Sleeping." She turns her face further into her pillow, back now firmly to Marley.
Clearly, cute or playful weren't going to cut it. Marley climbs under the blanket and is pleased to find Quinn isn't wearing anything underneath it. She hooks her ankle around Quinn's while her palm rests on a taut stomach.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing much," hums Marley. "Go back to sleep." She rolls her hips up against Quinn even as her other arm snakes under Quinn's neck, trapping her.
"Seriously?" Quinn tries to roll over but is prevented from doing so by the arm Marley has around her shoulders.
"Seriously. Just relax." Marley pitches her voice low on the last word, and lifts her head to take Quinn's earlobe between her teeth, and tug.
"Tease." Whatever else Quinn thinks of Marley is lost when Marley starts kissing down the side of Quinn's neck. Quinn's pulse feels erratic under Marley's finger tips. Quinn groans and presses back, her head arching back, exposing more skin for Marley to worship. Which is what she does, with teeth and tongue and lips. Her hands, though, are a different story altogether. They settle on Quinn's hips, pulling their bodies together, and then a finger teases the junction of her legs.
Quinn spreads her legs, gasping as fingers play with her dampness. She rolls her hips into Marley's hand. "Three fingers. Inside."
Marley moans into Quinn's skin. The husky words make her thrust forward, seeking to sate the arousal that jolts her core. But nevertheless she complies, and enters Quinn; two fingers, and slipping another in as her body adjusts.
They move together, taking up a fluid rhythm rediscovered last night, until Quinn tightens around Marley's fingers, and the sensation tips her over the edge as well. Marley buries her face into Quinn's hair, breathing gradually evening out.
"What a way to wake up."
Marley grins. "Room service," she quips, easing her fingers out of Quinn – which is met with a delightful shudder – and tucking an arm over her girlfriend.
Quinn rolls over so they're nose-to-nose. "Service," she says flatly.
Marley can't help it. She bursts out laughing; shortly after, Quinn joins in.
When the laughter dies down, Marley kisses her nose, and sits up. "Okay. Bad jokes aside, I made us breakfast, and we should eat it before we shower and get dressed."
"What's the hurry? What do you have planned for today?"
Marley smiles. "You'll find out." She reaches over to grab the tray and ease it over the sheets; Quinn scrambles to sit up and snag a shirt off the bedroom floor. "I hope you're hungry."
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I am. You did make sure of that."
Marley chokes on her juice. "Quinn!" She bumps a laughing Quinn's elbow. "That was terrible."
"Mmm. You thought it was funny, though." Quinn takes a bite of egg and sighs happily. "I've missed this."
The banter is fun, easy; it's been awhile since she's felt this playful. "Not as much as you've missed me, I hope."
Quinn shrugs a shoulder. "What do you think?"
Marley crams eggs into her mouth. "Definitely the eggs," she says, and Quinn laughs.
"Joking aside, though, I think your cooking has gotten better."
"Don't tell my mom. She won't take it lying down." She scoops the rest of her eggs onto her toast. "Oh, by the way, don't worry about getting food on the sheets. I think I have to change them, anyway."
Quinn casts an amused glance sideways. "Okay. And that has nothing to do with me, huh?"
"Not in the slightest." She finishes up the last of her toast, brushing her hands together over the plate. "How's everyone?"
"Pretty good. Rachel was asked to workshop for a new musical – top secret, though. S's not too happy about it, because she got to know about the project from her ex-boyfriend."
Marley wrinkles her nose. "Do I know him? I mean – McKinley's Glee club is fairly incestuous."
"I don't think so? His name is Jesse St. James, he went to Carmel High. He was with Vocal Adrenaline."
"Oh, him. I've heard of him; he was revered as some kind of god by the Vocal Adrenaline iteration we faced."
"That's the one," says Quinn, laughing. "Even though Rachel thinks it's a great opportunity, S doesn't trust him because he egged her before."
"What? But, she was vegan."
"Especially because she was vegan. But you know how forgiving Rachel can be."
Marley nods. "You know… the more stories I hear about you guys, the more I wonder how come you all aren't more messed up. All of you should be in therapy, not me."
"Get Rachel drunk. You'll learn the true meaning of TMI." Quinn puts her fork down with a happy sigh. "Thanks for breakfast."
"You're very welcome. You want to shower first while I take these outside?"
"Are you kidding? You cooked, I'll wash." Quinn scrambles out of bed by the other side, snatching up the things before Marley can protest. "Not to mention you planned the rest of today, and you'll be driving to wherever that is."
"You're my guest!" laughs Marley.
"I'm your girlfriend."
"Guest girlfriend."
"You'd think you'd know not to argue with me by now." Quinn shoots her a last mock-glare over her shoulder. "Go shower," she calls.
Author's Notes: The chapter title comes from Pool by Paramore.