AN: This was written for the Artina Ficathon, for Miss Maggie. The prompt was:

An attempt at a sexual/romantic intimacy and/or a date night where Murphy's Law reigns supreme. What can go wrong, will, a comedy of errors at its finest (that hopefully ends on a funny/fluffy note). Word vomit, confusion over proper hand placement, the works.

I hope I filled the prompt, lmao. :3

Trust me, Tee, you'll love it.

He would say something like that to get me to go. Just the words "family dinner" had been scary enough, but he'd convinced me. I didn't realize he'd meant the whole family. Every single one of them, from his great grandfather (who had to be about 100 and still lived in a rented townhouse in Brooklyn), to the littlest cousin (who was barely three months old and who ended up throwing up sour milk all over me). And right now, they were all staring at me.

"What did you say?" Mrs. Abrams swallowed the insides of her words self consciously. Not at my table, she warned silently.

Of course I hadn't meant to say it. If it was up to me, I probably wouldn't have said anything all night, but my boyfriend happens to have a big mouth and I had to defend my good name, right? So I said it. I can be in his bed in three minutes. That sounds so wrong out of context.

Maybe I should go back a bit and explain?

In case you haven't caught on yet, hi, I'm Tina Cohen-Chang. Confusingly, my Jewish grandmother moved to Japan during World War 2 and married Woo Chang. My other grandmother was from China and married Mark Cohen. Figure that one out. I live in the boondocks, Ohio. I'm shy, I'll admit that much, but I'm willing to try anything once. Literally. There was a time freshman year when a girl came up to me at lunch and asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I decided what the heck, you only live once... and I liked it. I saw a sign for the school's glee club and made the same decision. It's not like I had any friends anyway, so something as lame as the glee club sure wouldn't hurt anything. At the first rehearsal this kid in a wheelchair just started talking to me like we were best friends. I hadn't even known his name. It's not like McKinley is that big of a school, but he was in all Honors' classes and I was barely scraping by with C's. I know I can do better. I think I just don't want to stand out. I want to be average – C's are average. I think I just don't want anyone to notice me and get too attached to me. I'm kinda scared of what will happen at the end. You know, the real end, not the 'movie's over, let's go get dinner' end.

But it happened. Getting attached I mean. I'm attracted to three things in guys, I think. 1. glasses. 2. good singer. 3. perseverance against all odds. Artie Abrams had all three down pat. Glasses – obvious. He was near-sighted, so technically he didn't have to wear his glasses all the time, but it helped him avoid ramming his wheelchair into things. I knew he was a good singer ever since that first rehearsal; it didn't matter what Rachel Berry thought. And the clincher was that he had overcome so much and actually smiled about it. He smiled because he could do almost anything he wanted; because he had made it through. Maybe I'll get him to write a book eventually, but I know this much – there is only one thing that gets him depressed. Dancing.

That's probably what started this whole let's go to my parents house for dinner thing. We've had our ups and downs like any high school couple, but the real trouble started when Mike Chang called me last week.

"Hey Tina," his voice was smooth on the other end of the cell phone. I could tell he probably wanted something from me.

"How did you get my number?" It's not like we were friends or anything.

"I asked Puck, who texted Mercedes for it. Did you know they actually dated each other?"

"Yeah, for like two seconds." I shook my head at the old news. "Anyway, is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually there is. Me and Brit signed up a dance competition this weekend, but she got sick again. Her mom won't let her go, and honestly I don't know if I want her to go. Anyway, I was hoping you'd go with me."

I should have said no. I knew how Artie would react. Even as I held my cell phone to my ear, I knew he would be pissed off. As he so often told me, dancing was the one thing he couldn't do and why did I always have to go and flaunt how good I was? I guess that's supposed to be some sort of compliment, but the truth was, I loved dancing. I loved the release of just letting all my reservations fly out the window and getting down to the beat.

"We paid 50 dollars to register and it's non-refundable." Mike must have taken my silence for indecision. "We can do the tap dance we planned for Glee."

"I'll do it," I said shortly.

I didn't even stop to reconsider and that Saturday, I drove up to Ft. Wayne with Mike. It was the first time I'd really been alone with a guy. Sure, Artie and I have gone on tons of dates to the movies and to Breadsticks, but I never really felt alone with him. Artie would spend half the time looking around self-consciously and I kinda always felt like I was on display. What was he so ashamed of? He'd spend the other half of the time talking about nerdy things that I pretended to love, but really had no clue about. No, I'd rather not play strip Dungeons and Dragons, thank you very much. This was different; quiet. Mike and I only saw each other in glee practice (again, he was in honors classes, me not so much) and we never talked. Not even when we were practicing our dance. "Do you mind?" I asked, my fingers reaching towards the radio.

He glanced down and just shook his head.

I surfed the airwaves. Hated that new rap song that was so popular. Not really in the mood for harmless oldies. Didn't want to listen to the angsty teenage music that I usually loved. I finally settled on the light rock station, a catchy 90's song was playing that I fondly recalled from my childhood. I giggled softly. "I used to love this song."

Mike smiled up at me and softly lowered my hand from the radio dial. "Me too," he said simply, his tender eyes saying everything. Artie never looked at me like that anymore.

I pulled my hand away quickly and turned to the window. The trees never seemed so interesting. "This isn't right," I muttered. "I have a boyfriend." I felt for my favorite necklace, a simple key threaded on a piece of black string. The key itself was worthless; I'd found it on the sidewalk one day last spring. Despite that, it was marred by scratches and nicks and when I picked it up, it actually sparkled in the sunlight. It reminded me of Artie in some odd way. Nothing would ever shine so bright without its scars.

Mike nodded, backing off quickly. "Just remember you are special, Tina. It's something to think about, at least."

"Thanks, Mike," I smiled to myself, staring out the car window. Mike acted like a gentleman until we reached the dance hall and while we waited until it was our turn to compete. All the acts were amazing and most were in their 20s and seemed to be professional dancers. I knew we had no chance; we were just two kids who liked dancing. It turned out the judges must have appreciated stuff like that, because we got third place.

I was really proud of the trophy and put it on my dresser, right next to our first place trophy from Sectionals last year. I didn't think about it again until a week later when Artie came over. It seemed that the trophy was the first thing he noticed. He stared at it, criticizing it. "Where did you get this?"

"I went to a dance competition last week. We got third place."

"Who's we?" He looked up suspiciously.

I just shrugged, "Mike Chang."

His eyes narrowed for a long moment, but he quickly caught himself and shook his head. "Let's watch that movie I brought."

"Wait, Artie, this isn't about dancing, is it? I thought you were OK with that."

"I am OK." His dark look returned. "I mean, this isn't about dancing. It's about Mike. I don't know if you should be hanging out with him."

"Why not? He's my friend." And Artie always said I could use more friends. Maybe it was only acceptable if my friends were girls... or gay.

"I just don't think you should hang out with him." His eyes traveled back to that trophy. Was he jealous?

"Artie, I have just as much right to do what I want to as you do. I came to that film festival with you, didn't I?" I love movies because they are so creative, but to be honest, a lot of the time I feel like I have no clue what's going on, especially during the artsy stuff that Artie likes watching. Does this make me stupid? Probably. I still go with him. The last time we went, Artie's eyes were on a couple of girls in the row in front of us more than on the screen.

"Whatever, it's not the same." I could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes at me. "Let's just watch the movie, OK?"

Hesitating, I put the DVD in while Artie got comfortable on my bed. I turned towards him and watched as he transferred from his wheelchair to the bed. He looked up at me and I just smiled. I always admired when he did stuff like that. I knew from experience how hard it was just to get around in a chair. I'd even tried transferring myself, but I knew I couldn't know what it was like, not really. I snuggled close to my personal hero and proceeded to watch the movie.

In one of the very first scenes, the disabled main character threw a fit about not getting proper care and I gave Artie a quick look. He was staring wide eyed and glanced over at me. "Sorry, I didn't know about this. Hopefully it gets better." But his eyes were focused a little too intensely on the screen. He might be relating to the movie a bit too much.

I just muttered and kept watching. Most of the movie was actually kind of cute. The guy was playing wheelchair football. He went to the store and got hounded by kids. The couple flying a kite on the beach. And than they went to the bedroom. Artie moved a bit closer to me. "Artie," I muttered, pulling back a bit. "This isn't a very good idea."

"I think it's the best idea," his smile was sly like Puck or one of those annoying jocks, not like the sweet kid I had met a year ago at all.

"I think you should go home, Artie."

"But... the movie. I just wanted to watch the movie," he said nervously.

I pushed myself away from him. "That's not what this is about. We'll talk about this later, OK?"

Artie sighed, muttered but eventually left. The truth was that I didn't want to talk about it. I hadn't even been looking for a boyfriend. I was glad I'd gotten so lucky, but Artie could be so serious sometimes. It seemed it was all or nothing with him – no gray area. I tried to avoid him the next few days in school, but it was pretty hard to do in between glee club, lunch and him basically following me through the halls all day. "Don't you have to get to class?" I finally turned on him before math class a few days later.

"I can come whenever I want to."

I just shook my head, "That's the only thing on your mind, isn't it?"

He knotted his eyebrows. "That's not what I meant." But I watched as his eyes traveled away from me, onto a passing cheerleader. "I mean – Tina, how come you won't talk to me? The movie wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Artie, obviously this isn't about the movie." I rolled my eyes. "Why are you so desperate? It's like you don't notice me here."

"Of course I do, Tee. I really like you." Did he? Did he even know who I was, really? "Look, I wanna prove this to you. I think we really have a future together."

Did he really just propose to me again? No one wants to hear that one again. I'm only 17. Maybe in ten years I would think about marrying him. Maybe if he got his act together. I crossed my arms, "Well, what did you have planned?"

"Come to my parents for dinner. I promise you'll love it."

And that's how I ended up sitting at his packed dinning room table, trying to wiggle my way out of this sticky situation. Artie had mentioned something about me maybe staying at his house for the rest of the summer while my parents went away to Asia, but I wasn't really listening. Until he said, "She could be in bed in three minutes." And somehow I knew exactly what he was thinking about.

"I can be in your bed in three minutes," I had quipped, not really thinking about what I was saying.

And now they were all staring at me. Without thinking, I ran out of the room, ran out of the house and onto the porch. I leaned against the railing and I breathed hard, my face in my hands. I'd really messed it all up in there, I'd probably never be able to face them again. A few long moments passed and finally I looked up. The sun was starting to set and the fireflies floated around me. The air was still gloriously warm; it was thick with the smell of pine needles, even though there wasn't a real forest around for miles. I couldn't stay down for long.

"He really likes you, you know?" I turned quickly, startled by the girl's voice. It was Julia, Artie's cousin from Troy, Indiana. I didn't really know her, but apparently her and Artie were pretty close. He talked about her all the time. She went to Notre Dame and had a cute little face and the same square glasses that Artie had. Just looking at her reminded me of him.

"I know," I muttered. "So do I. It's just that... he needs to grow up a little, you know?"

"Yeah, but he's a guy," she just laughed. "All guys want the same thing. Trust me, my boyfriend makes sex jokes. Doesn't mean he doesn't love me."

"Artie doesn't love me," I muttered. I looked out on the yard, anywhere but into her familiar blue eyes.

"He can't if you don't give him the chance." She whispered softly.

I turned to her and she nodded, understanding completely. "It's just scary, you know? What if he gets sick? I read there's a lot of complications with – you know, these type of things. What if he dies?"

"What?" She shook her head and just shrugged. "That's a chance you have to take. It could happen to anyone. I think you should try again. Come inside with me, I'll explain everything, OK?"

I just nodded and followed her into the house. Thankfully, everyone was smiling and laughing and my comment had already been forgotten.

Later when everyone had left, I found myself in Artie's room, staring down at my boyfriend on the bed. "I'm sorry about before," I muttered, not sure why I was apologizing to him.

"No, it's OK. Come sit down." He patted the bed next to him.

I stared at his galaxy defender sheets for a moment too long. I knew I should give this a chance. I looked into his piercing blue eyes. He looked so innocent, I almost expected him to apologize for being jealous, for sometimes jumping to conclusions, for sometimes wanting things to be perfect. When would he realize that nothing could ever be perfect? I finally sat down and to my surprise, he leaned closer to me. He smiled and kissed me softly. I kissed him back, but something was missing. I pulled away, "I think we should talk about this."

"About what, baby? I just wanna be with you."

I just sat there, staring at him. He was special, unique and sometimes it seemed like no one else could see that but me. I wanted to be with him. He reached over tentatively and smiled. He was completely innocent and somehow, it all seemed wrong. I shook my head and stood up. "Artie, I really like you, I do. I'm just not ready for all of this."

"Girl, we're 17." He gave me a sly smile and reached up to take my hand. "We're not getting any younger."

I shook my head. "That's exactly it. We're only 17. We have time." I slipped my hand away from his. "I think we should see other people."

His look of confusion nearly killed me. Did I really just say that? I liked Artie. And if Julia was right, he liked me too. So what was I doing?

Artie was quiet, so I said, "I'd better go."

And I left.