An authors note...A short little ficlet written for the Quartie ficathon based off this prompt from(Justine)Starz of Draco...spider, tennis racket, curtain, newspaper, lemon juice.

Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers.

Little Mr. Muffet

"Hey Artie...," Quinn called from the other side of the pantry door, "does your Mom have any lemon juice?"

"I don't know, why?" he asked, glancing up from his cereal.

"Because I think I want honey and lemon in my tea," she replied all sweet and innocent and playful.

Artie beamed, then shrugged. "If it's not in the pantry, you could try the fridge. Or there's that cabinet she...AGHHHH."

"Artie was is it?" Quinn gasped, and forgetting all about lemon juice, ran to his side.

There he sat, frozen in fear, staring up at the wall. "Sss-sspid-der."

It took an extra second or two for Quinn to decipher the shaky, stuttery whisper. "A spider, where?"

He pointed toward the widow of the breakfast nook with his left hand, his right still tightly clenched around his spoon. "Th-there, on the...curtain."

"Where? I don't see it."

"There Quinn...up there."

She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all if her boyfriend didn't sound so freaked out. "That little thing?" she queried, with only a hit of teasing.

"That...thing Quinn, is not little," he countered incredulously. "It's like the size of a half dollar...and hairy."

"It is not," she chuckled dismissively.

"Yes it is," he grumbled in reply. "Big and hairy, like a tarantula."

This time she did laugh, out loud...and hard. "Oh my God Artie..."

"Here." She looked over to find him holding out a rolled up newspaper. Their eyes met and she could see those beautiful blue orbs pleading with her through the lenses of his glasses. "Please Quinn."

Quinn's expression softened and she smiled at him before taking the makeshift club in her hand. Lifting her arm only halfway, she knew it wouldn't work. "I can't reach."

"Here, stand on a chair," Artie instinctively pulled out the chair that was closest to him and offered it to her.

Quinn climbed up, but as soon as she did, the spider scampered higher. "Great, now what?"

"Hold on, I'll get something," Artie offered and took off in the direction of the laundry room. He returned a few seconds later with an old tennis racket in his lap. "I couldn't find the fly swatter. This was on the floor of the closet. It's the best I can do."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

Artie shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he groaned out of utter desperation, all while keeping a watchful eye on the currently dormant pest. "Maybe you could wrap the newspaper around the tennis racket and hit it with that."

"Artie, I'm trying to kill a spider, not put a hole in your kitchen wall," she teased playfully.

"This isn't funny Quinn."

Quinn couldn't help but take pity on him as she quickly got to work on his idea. Climbing back onto the chair, she raised her arm again, then hesitated. "Are you sure about this?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Yes Quinn, please, just do it."

She heard his gasp in unison with the smack. Lifting the racket from the wall, she was immediately relieved to notice there was no damage...but there was also no spider. Nor was it on the the underside of the swatter. Then she noticed Artie take one giant pull backwards and immediately hopped down from the chair.

"Is it dead?"

"Yes, it's dead."

She turned her head to see Artie straining to look over her shoulder.

"Could you please get rid of it now?"

She smiled sweetly at him and nodded.

"Sure."

Scooping the dead spider up into a sheet of newspaper, Quinn carried it to the powder room down the hall. "There...all gone." At the teasing lilt in her tone Artie knew she was probably never going to let him live this down...and braced himself for the taunting to begin.

When it didn't, he looked up to find her staring lovingly at him. Her eyes darting from him to the steaming mug sitting next to a bear shaped bottle and a wedge of lemon . "You made my tea."

"It's the least I could do," Artie grinned and shrugged sheepishly. "I really hate spiders...especially ones I can't reach." Quinn sat down next to him and reached for the mug, cradling it's warmth between her hands before tentatively taking a sip. "Is it sweet enough?"

She smiled and returned the mug to the table. Then bringing her hands back up, Quinn cupped his cheeks in much he same manner. "It's perfect," she stated, leaning in for a soft kiss, "just like you."

...

ANx2...Okay there was not a lot of time or thought put into this...just a lot of love. I saw this prompt and just knew I had to write this. A fitting tribute to Kevin(I think) who in an interview, revealed that he is terrified of spiders.