Despite the rough start, things seemed to fall into place relatively quickly at the Abrams house. Artie still wasn't too excited about the fact that his younger brother had moved into his house because he'd gotten maimed at his job at the museum, but he had stopped commenting on that fact, knowing that everyone knew how he felt.
If he'd been Michael, he probably would have been kind of rude to Artie and then left, but Michael didn't do that. If anything, the shorter Artie was with him, the more Michael seemed to be almost enjoying himself.
They'd fallen into a pretty regular rhythm after a couple of days, and although Artie was starting to feel ridiculously bored and useless, he figured he was probably the best cared-for person in the world.
Artie had physio three times a week, and usually Quinn took him, but occasionally Michael would, leaving Quinn to rest or do something with Avery, or both, since Avery was becoming increasingly concerned that Quinn should be resting a lot to make sure the baby was doing well.
Although reluctant at first, Artie found that having Michael chauffeur him to physio wasn't actually that bad, and he found that they were actually having conversations about all sorts of things, including Artie's job, something that probably wouldn't have happened before. He tended to be a little grouchy by the time he was finished there, the increasing, painful work they were doing on his shoulder taking its toll on him, but he tried to not make that obvious, although he suspected that everyone including Avery had picked up on it.
On one day, he had asked Michael to take him to the museum to say hi to everyone after physio, which Michael had done, somewhat reluctantly. They had only stayed for a little bit, and when they'd come home, Avery and Quinn had just finished baking cookies, which Avery had insisted would make him feel better. Artie remarked to Quinn that the only thing that would make him feel better was painkillers, but that he supposed eating himself into a coma with cookies might be effective too, which had made her laugh.
Quinn was relieved that he seemed to be taking things in stride, rather than wallowing as he had done when he was at the hospital. He was still spending a lot of time in bed, both because she forced him and voluntarily, but he was also spending time out of bed now, in the living room, outside, going places. It was nice.
As much as he would have liked to, he hadn't been able to go with her to her first baby appointment after he was released from the hospital, but he'd vowed then to not miss another one, and he hadn't so far.
Things were moving along the way they were supposed to, which made Quinn feel relieved, since she felt like she kept waiting for something to go wrong, although she never once said that to Artie. She suspected that maybe he was having some o those feelings too, but he never said anything either, and she was grateful for that.
Artie had been home for a couple of weeks, when he'd finally decided that it was probably time to get a new chair. He was growing sick of the spare, which didn't feel quite the same as his old one had, but everyone had told him to wait until he could move both his arms again, because he couldn't really try out anything until he could do that.
He disagreed, saying he wanted exactly what he'd had before. It had worked perfectly, and he saw no reason for a new one with the same specifications not to work equally as well. The occupational therapist he'd been dealing with on the matter had agreed, suggesting that he might want to try something else, but he'd said no, he liked what he had.
It had taken him a couple of days to even notice that he didn't have his chair, and he'd asked Quinn about it. He thought about the conversation, as they drove to his physio appointment.
"My chair didn't make it, did it?"
"No, babe, it didn't."
"It's probably just as well…since it was the reason we're in this situation in the first place."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if I wasn't…like this, I would have been up on the scaffolding instead of one of the other people, and they wouldn't have been hurt, and I wouldn't have been hurt as badly.
"Babe…that's ridiculous. You can't think like that."
"Well, it's true."
"It's not true…Jack said your chair saved you from being totally crushed under everything. If you had been on the scaffolding, it could have been so much worse. If you hadn't had that chair it could have been so much worse. But it wasn't."
He was snapped out of his thoughts by Avery urgently tugging at his sleeve, announcing that they were almost there and asking if he was excited to get a new wheelchair.
He'd been reluctant to agree to Avery coming with them, but she kept asking and asking, and finally he'd decided he might as well just say yes. He decided that she might like to feel like she was helping him pick out his chair, even though he'd already told everyone what he wanted, and the idea had thrilled her.
After his session, they'd headed over to the occupational therapist's office, where Avery had promptly started asking questions and chatting, which made everyone laugh.
"Daddy, are you SURE you don't want purple?" she asked, holding up a colour sample that she'd been given to look at. "The baby and I think you want purple!"
"The baby and I" was a new thing that Avery was doing…it seemed like every second phrase out of her mouth started with "the baby and I", and she was just getting more and more excited as she thought more about the fact that soon the baby would be there. Quinn had told her it would still be a few months before the baby was there, but that didn't seem to matter to Avery.
"I don't think Daddy wants purple," Quinn said to Avery, chuckling slightly as Avery then held up a bright pink sample and said maybe he would like that better.
As delicately as possible, Artie suggested that maybe purple or pink weren't best (because they wouldn't match most of his clothes, as he tried to explain), and finally settled on a dark blue, which Avery said was ok, she guessed, since it would match a lot of his clothes.
Once they were done there, Artie said they should go out for lunch, which Quinn agreed to, even though he looked like he was about ready to pass out. They decided to go for a quick lunch, and before long, they were on their way home.
"Quinn, are you ok?" Artie called out from his position on their bed, the sound of Quinn's violent throwing up unsettling to him, although it wasn't the first time it had happened. "Hold on…I'm coming," he added, as Michael had just appeared in the room, figuring that Artie would be sending him a text asking for a little help if he didn't go in there.
Once he was in his chair, Michael pushed Artie over to the bathroom, stopping when Artie waved him off and attempted to get himself in there with his right arm, which had had the stitches removed and was cleared for some light activity.
Since wheeling himself with one arm resulted mostly in him just going in a circle, he used a combination of wheeling himself and pulling himself forward on the bathroom furniture to get to her, ignoring the pain the movement was causing in his neck and shoulder, both of which were still immobilized.
When he got to her, he reached out, gently placing his hand on her back, rubbing it back and forth until she looked at him.
"Next time I'm going to go with my gut and say no when you say we should go for lunch," she murmured, her eyes closed as she moved to lean against his legs. "I knew we should have come home so you could lie down," she added dryly, smiling slightly as she looked up at him. "Which you should be doing now."
"Had to come check on my woman," Artie said, grinning at her a little. "The baby and I want you to come lie down with me," he added, biting back the chuckle that threatened to escape his lips. "Maybe this whole throwing up thing was the baby's way of telling you that."
"If that's the case, the baby isn't very nice," Quinn said, her smile widening as she looked at Artie's grin. "But I think we would both love to come lie down with you."
They cuddled in bed together for a little while, something Artie was still finding difficult because of his neck brace, but it was a little better than it had been previously, which made him smile.
After helping Artie back onto the bed, Michael had announced that he and Avery were going to go outside and dig around in the garden, something Avery absolutely loved doing. The message was clear, that he was giving Quinn and Artie a little alone time, since it seemed like that was where things were headed, and Artie nodded, hoping the gesture expressed that he was grateful for that.
"Are you feeling better?" Artie asked, his hand finding Quinn's. Seeing that he couldn't actually see her, she sat up a little, leaning over so that he could.
"A little…being rescued off the bathroom floor tends to do that," Quinn said, smiling at him. "What about you? How are you feeling?"
"Oh, great," Artie answered her, although he knew he didn't sound very convincing. His back was sore, and his neck, and shoulder, and arms and basically everything.
"Liar," Quinn said, propping herself up and leaning over and kissing him. "Do you need to take something?"
"No…I'm lying here with my wife…I don't want to be high for this," Artie murmured. "I've been deprived lately and need to make up for it."
"Babe, lying here in pain is not making up for it," Quinn said, leaning forward and kissing him again. "Come on…the baby and I want you to take something."
"The baby does NOT want me to take something," Artie said, laughing slightly as he tried to get comfortable. "The baby wants me to cuddle you and take advantage of our alone time."
"The baby wants you to be feeling better," Quinn insisted. "Which means you have to do whatever you need to in order to be feeling better."
"Well…maybe I could take something," Artie admitted, shifting again.
Before he could say anything else, Quinn carefully got up from the bed, and was about to get him something to drink and his pills, when she suddenly bolted from the room into the bathroom. And Artie was stuck on the bed, and had no way of getting up safely to go to her.
He was about to text Michael to come help him, when he heard water running, and then Quinn came back out, her face pale. But she was smiling.
"That was just the baby telling you that he or she is glad that you agreed to take something," she murmured, moving over to his night table to get his pills, before opening a bottle of water and sticking a straw in it so he could drink from it without sitting up.
Once he'd taken them, she got beside him again, carefully resting her head on his chest.
"Is this ok?" she asked, as she felt his arm go around her shoulders. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"Of course it's ok," Artie said, his hand finding its place on her back. "The baby and I want you to sleep for a little while…maybe you'll feel better then."
"That's strange, because I was just going to say that the baby and I want you to sleep for a little while, so YOU feel better," Quinn said, looking up at him and grinning. "Nap time? I'm sure Michael will keep Avery occupied for a little while."
"But I wanted to take advantage of our alone time and…take advantage of you," Artie murmured, his hand moving slowly up and down her back.
"I think that can wait until later," Quinn said, placing her hand on his chest. "I love you, babe. Sleep for a little while, and so will I."
"I love you too," Artie murmured, feeling the medication hit his bloodstream. "And the baby."
"And the baby loves you too," Quinn whispered, looking up as he closed his eyes.
A/N: Aaaaaand, we're back to ending the chapter with them in bed.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!