Last night on Tumblr, Lauren (livinginastrangeworld) put out a fic prompt. I really liked the idea and asked if I could write it. I honestly wasn't expecting to have something out so quickly, but here it is.
This is for Lauren.
(Please excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes, as this is unbeta'd.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
The McKinley High School glee club—all six members—were still a state of shock when their teacher, Will Schuester, left the auditorium after announcing that he would be leaving. Even after only a few weeks together, the fact that their club was basically finished was like a sharp blow to the gut. Or a slushie to the face. It hadn't taken long for the teenagers to bond together, however different they were. They all had one thing in common.
They were losers.
Well, maybe not the football quarterback, Finn Hudson. But the other five, definitely. Losers.
The fact that they liked to sing and dance was about the only thing they had in common with each other. If one was to ask any of them, they would readily agree that they'd never had an outlet for their interests. They had never found any other people that shared that love with them. Maybe they weren't looking in the right places or maybe they were scared to show it, but now that they had found people like themselves, how could they possibly go back to what they had before?
They didn't discuss what had just happened, because there really wasn't anything to say. They had start making other arrangements, other plans to spend their time. And whether that was alone or with each other remained to be seen.
Rachel Berry left the auditorium lightning fast, going on about needing to find a replacement before the club was permanently disbanded. An act that she would not stand for. This left the others, just staring at each other in disbelief.
The shock probably wouldn't wear off for a few more hours.
Mercedes Jones followed after Rachel, not to go with her to find a new faculty advisor, but to work through the defeat written clearly on her face.
Finn Hudson and Kurt Hummel both moved to leave as well when Tina Cohen-Chang stuttered out, "W-w-wait! You c-c-can't l-l-leave Artie h-h-here."
Just an hour ago, Mr. Schuester and Finn had carried the wheelchair bound student into the school's wheelchair ramp-less auditorium. They'd been able to get him in there without a problem. But what now?
"Oh, right," Finn stopped and jogged back down the stairs he had already climbed, "Kurt, help me lift him up."
Kurt sighed and put his designer messenger bag down on one of the many seats surrounding him before pulling up the sleeves of his sweater.
The main issue with this was that their was not only a major height difference between Kurt and Finn, but also a difference in strength. While Finn was able to get his side up easily, Kurt's sagged to the point that Artie had to grip his armrests for fear of being flipped right out his chair.
The two boys crashed the wheelchair down with a thump, but Artie seemed unharmed as he rearranged himself.
"Well, I knew that wasn't going to work," Kurt said, "It's too heavy."
"Sorry, dude," Finn said as he picked up his backpack and started toward the exit once again, "I have to get to practice or Coach will make me run laps."
"Y-y-you c-c-can't just l-l-leave!" Tina insisted.
"Why don't you try?" Kurt asked, almost all the way out of the door at this point.
"I'm n-n-not strong enough!"
"It's okay, Tina," Artie said once the two remaining members of the club had fled, aside from them, "I'll just wait here for my dad."
She plopped herself down on the floor next to his chair, "I c-c-can't b-b-believe they'd m-m-make you s-s-sit here."
"I'm used to it," he replied, "This really isn't the first time this has happened to me. Usually I'm quicker to ask for someone to carry me out but today I…got distracted." By you, he added in his head. But he would never say that out-loud.
"It m-m-must b-b-be frustrating. It's n-n-not even m-m-me and I'm a-a-angry."
"There's no use in getting angry about it," he told her, "I like to spend my time focusing on better things. I mean, it's not Finn's fault he had practice or Kurt's fault that he has the strength of an eleven year old milkmaid. I'm actually kind of surprised you wanted to stay with me."
"W-w-why wouldn't I?"
"No one has ever offered before," he replied, "I mean, this is kind of boring."
"It's m-m-more exciting th-th-than g-g-geometry."
"Everything is more exciting than that."
"It's r-r-really n-n-nice in h-h-here, too. Quiet. It's l-l-like w-w-we're the only p-p-people on earth."
"Yeah, I see what you mean."
She smiled, looking down at her lap for a moment, "S-s-so when is your d-d-dad c-c-coming?"
"What, bored of me already?" he teased.
She shook her head.
He pulled his shirt sleeve back a bit and examined his watch, "Maybe fifteen minutes."
"H-h-how d-d-do we f-f-fill f-f-fifteen m-m-minutes?" she inquired, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"Have you ever played red hands?"
She shook her head again.
"It's really easy," he told her, "Give me your hands."
She held out her hands to him and he turned her palms so they were facing upward toward the ceiling. Then he put his hands above hers so their palms were nearly touching, "The only thing you have to do is try to slap the backs of my hands before I move them away."
She nodded and concentrated on moving her hands when he would least expect it. He must have had a lot of practice, because he was too quick for her to even think about winning that round. They played quietly for a few minutes, their occasional laughs when she missed the only sound between them.
It had to have been five minutes before her hands made purchase on his.
She noticed that the skin on the back of his hands was surprisingly soft, for a boy. He balled his hands into fists slowly and her hands curled around his before his hands straightened out, and heir palms were touching. He intertwined their fingers before smiling and twisting her arms.
"Mercy! Mercy!" she giggled as she turned around, their hands still clasped together. She got caught in a mess of arms as she tried to escape, "N-n-no f-f-fair, Artie! Y-y-you h-h-have upper b-b-body strength!"
They still had their hands above their hands, her still twisted up and in a fit of laughter when they heard, "Artie, it's time to go home."