A/N: Well, this is my first piece of fan fiction, so hopefully you'll all be gentle. In all seriousness though, any constructive criticism is welcomed. And any praise is even more welcomed. It's been edited somewhat since first publication, mostly in terms of grammar but also some dialogue. What can I say, I'm a perfectionist. I think I should give a shout out to the likes of DryadSpeaks, GLEEful Heart, and Jaiaelle (who has reviewed!), who don't know it, but really inspired me to write about Artie/Quinn. Guys, I guess this one is for you.
I, of course, do not own Glee or any of its characters. But don't worry, I'm working on it.
The choir room was silent whenever the 'New Directions' Glee club had finished practicing for the afternoon. It was inevitable. Bereft of Rachel Berry's explosive tones, of Mercedes Jones' soulful keening, or even the chronic platitudes of Will Schuester, the hush was stifling; repressive, even.
Not so for Artie Abrams. Embracing the quiet as a rare opportunity for solace, he was situated next to the choir's piano, while Brad, McKinley's omnipresent pianist, sat calmly at it. Given the musician's proclivity for muteness, however, Artie disregarded his presence and considered his status as 'alone'. They weren't bothering each other.
They never did, actually. After all, it wasn't the first time Artie had been left in the choir room, the last one to exit the room; given his disability, it was a common occurrence. And he learned quickly that, for whatever reason, Brad was always there, quiet and irascible. Sometimes, then, he decided to linger.
He found it easy to relax in the empty room, and on occasion he was accompanied by a random member of the club; usually, there late presence there was in direct correlation with the degree of angst they were experiencing at the time. On one particularly memorable occasion, Puck's late stay had resulted in an impromptu jamming session.
With this in mind, Artie glanced at the electric guitar, leant carefully against the piano, and was inspired to pick up and play. For a few seconds, no particular song came to mind, until he settled for one of his personal favourites. Strumming with concentration, he began, almost absentmindedly, to gently sing the lyrics.
What do you do when you get lonely,
And nobody's waiting by your side?
The familiar chords were suddenly accompanied by the beautiful keystrokes of the piano, with Brad expertly amalgamating the sound of the two instruments. It was a fantastic medley, and Artie found himself enthused to improve his vocal performance in response to the skill of Brad's playing.
Having reached the piano-driven stage of the song, Artie subsided with satisfaction, placing the guitar carefully back in its original location. Having leant down to do so, he struggled slightly in returning to a comfortable position in his chair. As he dealt with that, the sudden presence of a familiar figure caught his attention.
"What are you doing here, Quinn?" he asked cautiously.
Of all the various Glee members he had spent time alone with there, Quinn Fabray was one that had never graced the choir room with her presence. It was with great surprise then, that he saw her sitting in her usual seat, observing him attentively. She didn't answer.
"I didn't hear you come in," Artie continued awkwardly. By this point, Brad had discontinued his playing. "How... how long have you been here?"
Her brow was furrowed slightly, but she was, to Artie's relief, smiling softly. With an intent expression, she finally responded.
"Long enough. That was really good, Artie. Why haven't you ever sung that for the club?"
Blushing slightly, a slight grin graced Artie's face, mirroring the one on Quinn's. Resisting the urge to look down at his lap, he glanced instead at Brad, then, abashed, back at her.
"Well," he began, scratching his nose self-consciously. "Mr Schuester has never given us an Eric Clapton assignment, so I couldn't quite work it in."
"That doesn't mean you couldn't volunteer it," countered Quinn, looking at him peculiarly. "You know Mr Schue's open to anyone having a solo."
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Artie questioned perplexedly.
"Just... you're probably the best male vocalist we have, and I don't think I've ever heard you volunteer to sing. I volunteered for the Funk assignment, and I'm not even in your league."
Artie wheeled over to her sheepishly. For some reason, he found himself feeling both guilty and nervous; perhaps it was the exposure in being caught performing.
"Guess I never got around to it," he answered evasively. "What are you doing here?"
"I forgot my bag. So do you guy's duet a lot?"
With a teasing smile, she was peering over his shoulder at Brad; following her gaze, he grinned again, more widely this time; the mysterious pianist was looking as unfazed and detached as ever, to his amusement.
"On occasion, I guess. Brad's real fly, yo."
Quinn snorted shamelessly at his lingo, prompting him to chuckle good-naturedly. They both subsided with a gentle sigh, and Artie found himself relaxing again.
"Santana calls him furniture," Quinn informed him, before again looking at the pianist. "No offence."
Brad shrugged.
"I see him more as an alien life form," Artie joked. "Here to observe, but not interfere. Right Brad?"
Another shrug.
"Did he just shrug again?"
"Yes." Quinn stated, laughing.
"I figured he would."
Again they subsided into a companionable silence. Several seconds later, Quinn's voice perforated the quiet.
"Why are you here, Artie?" she enquired.
"I... I stay behind sometimes, whenever I've had... whenever I want to get away from everything."
"I know the feeling." she lamented gloomily.
Registering her tone, Artie glanced at Quinn attentively; there were certain, minute details on her expression that suggested something was amiss. Subtle differences that very few would notice; Artie, being one of ten other students that spent several days of the week with Quinn, did notice. Her angular cheekbones were slightly more gaunt than usual, and her usually fair skin was pallid, and dark circlets had taken up residence below her eyes.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
"Been better," she replied, before embarking on a bitter tirade. "I don't think Finn and I are going to be Prom King and Queen. Or that he even cares about it anyway. I mean, do my feelings just not matter or is he too dense to realise how important this is to us?"
Bereft of an appropriate response, Artie floundered and settled for looking at a wall, while tapping his fingers gently against the arm of his wheelchair. Not that it mattered; Quinn wasn't paying him much attention, engrossed as she was in her diatribe.
"We're either losers or we're cool, and he needs to realise that. Being in Glee club is all well and good, but we have to compensate for that if we don't want to get a slushy in the face every day."
It wasn't that Artie didn't sympathise with Quinn. To an extent, he did. While her eternal desire to be popular was somewhat vacuous, it was also pretty natural for someone their age. Still, her raging insecurities did nothing to endear her to Artie, or anyone in Glee Club for that matter; and in response to yet another of her diatribes, Artie rolled his eyes in annoyance. To his misfortune, Quinn noticed.
"Sorry," Quinn snapped, sounding anything but. "Am I boring you? Or is it just that you want to be left alone with Brad?"
"What?" he stammered stupidly.
"It just seems to me," Quinn continued bitingly, "that you shouldn't ask a question if you don't want to hear the answer."
She stood up morosely, and walked towards the door.
"Wait," implored Artie, his tone penitent. "You're right, I apologise. I just wasn't expecting such a... lengthy response." Glancing at her seat, he noticed her bag, forgotten once again. "And you've left your bag behind."
Pausing in the doorway, she sighed exhaustedly, and placed her hand on the door frame. Sympathetically, Artie grabbed her bag and wheeled towards her. He tapped her on the back and offered it sheepishly. Quinn's sulky expression, scowl and all, did nothing to alleviate the tense moment.
"You should get some sleep," Artie recommend kindly. "You look tired, and it's been a long time since I've seen you explode like that."
Grabbing her bag, she smiled weakly.
"I'm a totally selfish person," she abruptly stated.
"No you're not." Artie replied reflexively.
"You're sweet, Artie," Quinn complimented softly, "but you're a terrible liar. Who starts telling all their problems to a guy-"
"To a guy in a wheelchair?" he interrupted bitterly.
Suddenly, the bygone tension returned, fully-fledged and vengeful; from his perspective, at least. Quinn, by comparison, expressed only bewilderment. Raising her eyebrows, she answered with admirable composure.
"Er, no. To a guy whose just broken up with his girlfriend."
"Oh." Artie said dumbly.
"Oh," mimicked Quinn sardonically, now walking back to her seat. "So how did it happen?"
Still somewhat flabbergasted, it took Artie a moment before he spun around and wheeled back towards the seats. He found himself, with understandable reluctance, hesitant to answer her. Instead he settled for exhaling.
"I called her..." he began after a moment, dithering uncomfortably. "I called her stupid."
"You called her stupid." Quinn repeated disbelievingly, her mouth agape. "You called Brittanystupid."
"Yeah," he answered mournfully.
"Could you, like, be more of an idiot?"
"Guess not."
Artie found he was unable to meet her judgemental gaze; he was, however, someone peeved, given the source of said judgement; Quinn's track record was hardly immaculate. But then, adultery was small fry compared to wronging Brittany. Wronging Brittany was sacrilegious.
"I mean, come on Artie, you're one of the smartest guys in this school." Quinn asserted incredulously, "and of all the words you could use, 'stupid' is your choice? Seriously?"
"In my defence," he countered with appropriate defensiveness, "I didn't mean to imply she was stupid in general. Just that she was being stupid about something in particular."
Shaking her head, the former Cheerio clucked her tongue discontentedly. Rarely had Artie felt such shame, as he was reduced to staring into his lap with indignity. Still though, he felt the withering stare of Quinn.
"I thought you, of all people, would know not to judge someone like that, Artie. You're better than that. You don't judge people. What made you start now, with your girlfriend, of all people?"
"Look, it doesn't even matter anymore, Quinn," Artie claimed, dejected. "We're done. Finished. Kaput."
His tone was one of such defeat, that even Quinn, glacial as her visage was, changed her approach to him.
"I thought that about me and Finn," she countered consolingly, "But we're back together, going strong. And what I did... well, you calling Brittany 'stupid' doesn't even compare to that."
"Who are you trying to convince." Artie muttered spitefully.
"I don't need to convince anyone," Quinn answered uncertainly, brow furrowed. "Finn and I are great together, and the whole school will know it once we're King and Queen."
"God," Artie groaned irritably, tilting his head upwards. "Why do you care so much about the stupid prom? It is one night of our lives. We've had plenty before it and should have plenty after it."
"I get that you've just been dumped," Quinn snapped angrily. "But I'm making an effort here, so stop being so damn argumentative."
"I will, if you stop being so repetitive. None of this will even matter if Rachel has her way."
Deathly silence. Having once again managed to say the most offensive thing possible, Artie chose to maintain gazing upwards, attempting to find something distracting on the ceiling; anything to elude the glacial atmosphere. It became impractical after a while, though, given the rapidly developing crick in his neck; so, he looked apprehensively downwards.
Quinn was surprisingly calm; surprisingly calm, save for the look of total devastation on her face.
"I'm sorry Quinn," Artie said quickly, for what felt like the fiftieth time. "Really. I shouldn't have said that."
His apology was totally genuine, but he didn't envisage it being accepted. Unable to look at her with such a distressed expression, he took the cowardly option, and prepared to leave.
"You're right."
It was with incredulity that Artie, halfway towards the exit, spun around for the second time that day. He found it difficult to comprehend that Quinn was agreeing with him; that Quinn was, by extension, accepting that Rachel had the better of her. But then, taking into consideration the scenario he suddenly found himself in, he was finding all of this incomprehensible.
Several tears, at this point, had cascaded down Quinn's face, her usual pallor replaced by slight rosiness. She seemed, though, to have composed herself, as she wiped the tears from her eyes defiantly. Artie developed a newfound respect for Quinn in that moment.
"Finn and Rachel obviously want each other." Quinn acceded with a defeated tone. "And it's only a matter of time before Finn leaves me. I just... I just want this one thing before he does."
"So you're with him just so you can be Prom Queen" Artie asked, praying he didn't sound judgemental. He certainly didn't mean to be. "Is it that important to you?"
"I guess. But it's not the only reason I'm with him. I... I love Finn."
By this point, Artie had again positioned himself next to her seat. He was surprised at her statement; though he could see a certain chemistry there, he'd never associated the word 'love' with the Finn and Quinn; but then, was he really that perceptive when it came to romance? He had called Brittany stupid, after all. Still, though, he felt the need to ask:
"Do you?"
Quinn looked at him, her eyes still watery; her expression, though, revealed more fortitude and resolution than he had suspected possible of her.
"I don't know. I wish I did." she whispered, almost bitterly. "Maybe I just answered your question. I should know."
"Why? Not many people do." Artie pondered bemusedly.
She looked at him sceptically, as though he had said something particularly idiotic. Maybe he had; it was something, it seemed, of a habit for him that day.
"Of course they do. I can, at least."
"You just said you couldn't." Artie responded, perplexed.
"Not with Finn, but... I've looked at someone, and known I've loved them. Straight away, no doubts. And I've realised since then that you can't mistake love."
Quinn spoke with such unbridled passion, and with such inflexible resolution, that Artie was driven momentarily speechless. No small accomplishment. Quinn realised this, and grinned with self-conscious embarrassment. Artie felt as though she had nothing to be embarrassed about. It wasn't often three simple sentences made him re-evaluate something as immense as the subject that is love.
"Glee club has shown a lot of us at our best and our worst, Quinn," began Artie, reaching forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. "And I'd say I've just seen you at your best. You should let it show more often. That was one of the most poetic things I've ever heard anyone say; though, granted, I come from a family that don't even know the difference between William Wordsworth and William Wallace."
She laughed at that. And he found his guilt somewhat alleviated.
"Thank you, Artie. It takes a lot of talent to make a girl laugh and cry within a five minute period."
"It's a gift," he joked with false smugness, prompting her to laugh again. "You should laugh more often, too. It suits you."
"Am I that miserable?"
"Just a smidgeon," he jested. Finding his lower back hurting, he was required to remove his hand from her shoulder in order to lean back in his chair. "Really, I just think you try too hard to not let anyone affect you; in a good or a bad way."
"I'm a good person, Artie," she declared sadly. "I'm not evil, and I'm sick of trying to pretend otherwise. I want to let my good side show more; I'm trying harder to... stop being such a bitch all the time."
"I've noticed. What you did for Sam was a good thing. I'm sorry I implied you were... sleeping with him."
"Well, I do have form in that department," Quinn answered, sounding somewhat defeated.
"But you've learned from it," Artie stated without doubt. "And it's made you stronger. Pre-baby Quinn wouldn't have talked to me so openly."
Quinn beamed, her smile dazzling this time. Once again they subsided into a pleasant quiet, until the gentle sound of precise keystrokes emanated from the piano. Artie shifted slightly, having half-forgotten about the presence of Brad. Quinn, even less used to the omnipresent man, jumped slightly, but made no comment. The tune was familiar to both of them; it was in fact, the song they had once planned to sing a duet of.
They say we're young and we don't know
We won't find out until we grow
Artie listened to the gentle, saccharine tones of Quinn's voice, and turned towards her with a grin.
Well I don't know if all that's true
'Cause you got me, and baby I got you
He sung his part in his typically understated, soulful pitch, before they amalgamated for the chorus.
Babe
I got you babe
I got you babe
They sang the entirety of the song with great pleasure, having been disappointed not to showcase it the first time round. Artie in particular had been particularly disenchanted at the missed opportunity; but then, it had led to him performing the memorable rendition of Lean on Me for Finn and, of course, Quinn. He had been particularly proud of his vocal performance that day, and both his fellow members had thanked him gratefully.
Having finished their spontaneous performance, Artie raised his hand in demand of a high five; Quinn complied, her bright smile mirroring that of her nerdy partner.
"We bring that to the New Directions," he affirmed confidently, "and we'll tear the house down, yo."
Quinn stood abruptly, only to kneel down in front of him. She placed her hands over his, placed on each arm of his chair, and looked up at him with a secretive smile.
"You know something, Artie," she said happily, "I don't think the world is ready for our performance. Let's keep this one just for us, yeah."
"Alright," he agreed begrudgingly. "Hold up, woman: what do you mean 'this one'?"
"Well, we have, as Rachel would put it, 'amazing proven harmonies'." Quinn explained, smirking mischievously. "And hey, the less solos she gets the better."
"But if you duet with me, who's going to duet with Finn?"
Standing up, Quinn's smirk didn't slip an inch as she answered. Turning around, she grabbed her bag, sliding it over her shoulder carefully.
"Rachel can have him back."
"Really?" Artie questioned, eyes narrowed sceptically.
He, by comparison to Quinn, was much less cautious in collecting his bag; his process, basically, consisted of picking it up and dropping it onto his lap.
"Really," Quinn repeated decisively. "My life doesn't revolve around Finn. She can have him, for the duets at least. I figure that's the most important aspect to her anyway."
"That would be my guess." Artie agreed genially. "Only Rachel Berry could reduce the complexities of a relationship down to 'proven harmonies'. Speaking of which, what do you think we should sing as a duet?"
"Why don't we think about it on the way out? Seriously, it's been over an hour since school ended."
Glancing at his watch, Artie's eyes widened.
"Wow," he exclaimed with surprise. "Time does fly. Seems we should be getting home."
"Let's go, then" Quinn implored, her tone pleasant but mocking.
They exited the room, Quinn careful to switch off the lights on their way.
At the piano, Brad remained sitting, his hands idle without a song to play. He'd be there tomorrow though; and it seemed as though he would have a duet to cater to.