Author's Note: Two updates in two days? Crazy! lol I'm on a roll? Or something...anyway, read and review please! :)

Part Nine: TGIF

Friday night Sam found himself at Finn's, watching as the other boy tried to impress him by playing a particularly hard level of Halo. Trying not to roll his eyes at the way Finn kept glancing over at him, Sam turned his own gaze to his cell phone. Every time, he expected a text from Quinn but every time he was disappointed. He had sent her a message reading "Can we talk?" earlier in the evening and she had yet to respond. He kept telling himself that she was probably just busy but he still felt uncomfortable with her lack of a reply. Shifting, he lifted his eyes to Finn, who was staring at him.

"You okay, man?" Finn asked, his voice filled with concern.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I kind of feel like things with Quinn are coming to an end and that's not what I wanted. Thing is, I can't blame it on myself. I guess partially, if I hadn't gone off the handle about her feelings for you. But this whole paired by survey thing still would've happened and…Quinn and Artie…you see them together, right? You see something there?"

Pausing his game, Finn turned and flopped on the bed, kicking his feet in the air. "I'm not sure but Quinn got all…upset when I mentioned her liking Artie. She said he was…I can't remember but good things."

Grinding his teeth a little, Sam sat up straighter. "So what do I do? Nothing? Or fight back?"

Placing his chin in his hand, Finn said, "Depends on how much you like her, I guess."

Nodding, Sam looked at his phone once more before sending another text, this time to a different person.

Brittany looked as if she was about to cry as she sat on Santana's black comforter, clenching and unclenching her hands into fists. "I called him and he said he had plans tonight."

From her place in front of her extensive DVD collection, most of which were action or comedy movies, Santana murmured, "Oh, so that's why you're here…"

"What?" The back of her heel hit the bottom part of the frame of the bed, making a repetitive thud, thud, thud. "What if he's with Quinn right now? What if he loves her? I…I love him!" the blonde cried, real tears springing to her eyes.

Spinning around, Steven Segal movie in hand, Santana narrowed her eyes. "You love him? Like you thought you loved Puck last year? Ricky, Josh, Jonathan, that girl whose name you never knew in your P.E. class, me, a slew of others? You always say you love people, Brittany! Does it really mean anything?" Walking to her TV/DVD player, she put the movie in then sat down, hard, on the bed. "You're all upset now but in a week or two you will completely forget."

Brittany was quiet for awhile before whispering, "But Artie's different. He doesn't treat me like I'm stupid. Even when I don't understand what he's talking about which is most of the time. I think he gets…um…flustrated but he never says that."

Taking a breath, a sharp one that almost seemed to cut into her diaphragm, Santana kept her eyes focused on the TV screen in front of her, muttering too quietly to hear, "That's what you always say." Out loud she said, "Frustrated," the tone of her voice even. "And if people treat you like you're stupid, that's their problem. You're not. But there's a difference between explaining things to you and treating you like you're stupid. You know that, right?" She wasn't sure whether or not Brittany had planned on saying anything in return because before Brittany could, or not, Santana's phone buzzed. Furrowing her brow, her eyes scanned the incoming text. "Hmmm…" she hummed, an almost evil smile forming on her lips. "Looks like we're going to have to continue this movie later."

It hadn't been Quinn's plan to invite herself over to Artie's house on Friday but that's what happened. Mr. Schuester had not yet arrived to the Friday afternoon glee club meeting and the teens were all sitting around, chatting or being uncharacteristically quiet, in Quinn and Artie's cases, when Quinn had blurted out, "We should hang out. I could come over to your place tonight. Um, unless you have plans or whatever." She didn't like how vulnerable she felt as she waited for him to agree or tell her he couldn't.

"Uh…yeah, that sounds like fun." The boy reached up as if to adjust his glasses then dropped his hand to his side. "I don't have a lot of fun things to do other than video games though…"

"I could bring over some movies and pizza or something," Quinn offered, quickly. "How does that sound?"

"Good, good," Artie said, bobbing his head up and down.

A few hours later, she was standing on his porch, balancing two pizza boxes, three DVDs and a liter of Coke. She was trying to figure out how to ring the doorbell when Artie's mom, a friendly looking woman with light brown hair and eyes the same shade of blue as Artie's, opened the door.

"You must be Quinn," she said, warmly. "I'm Lauren. Here let me help you with that." Leaning forward, she grabbed the pizzas and DVDs, leaving Quinn with only the bottle of soda.

"Thanks." Feeling somewhat unsure of herself, Quinn stepped into the Abrams' home, twisting her head to the left and the right, taking in the family photos on the walls and the brightly colored rugs below her feet. She followed Lauren into the kitchen, where Artie was sitting with his dad.

Upon spotting them, Mr. Abrams stood up and took the boxes from his wife, placing them on the counter. "Hello, Quinn, I'm Jim." Taking his extended hand, she shook it, then looked at Artie out of the corner of her eye.

"What movies did you bring?" he asked, rolling towards her. "Not that it matters," he added when his mother sent him a warning look. "I'm cool with anything."

"Well, I wasn't sure what you might like so I just brought my favorites. The Princess Bride, The Goonies and The Breakfast Club," she told him, counting the movie options off on her fingers. "I figure you have movies too so we don't have to watch one I brought."

"Are you kidding?" Artie exclaimed. "The Princess Bride is a classic and I hardly ever get to watch it since we don't own it. We are so watching that!"

Quinn laughed, plucking that particular DVD off the top of the pile. "And I got pepperoni pizza and chicken garlic pizza. I hope you eat meat…"

"I'm not Rachel," he quipped, eagerly taking a plate from the counter. "I'm starved. Let's put the movie in and get our eating on."

Laughing again, Quinn put food on her own plate, grabbed two glasses and the soda, along with the DVD, which she tucked under her arm, and padded along behind Artie to the living room. "Are your parents okay with us hijacking the living room?"

"Yup, they're fine with it." After taking a big bit of pizza, Artie continued, his mouth full of pepperoni, crust and cheese, "They said, hijack the living room, yo."

Grabbing a pillow, she hit him with it. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to talk with food in your mouth…yo?"

Wresting the pillow from her, he threw it at her head. "No, no one has ever told me that before."

"I'm sure they haven't." She was reaching for the pillow, which she intended to use as a projectile like he had, when his fingers danced across her midsection. "Nooo!" she squealed, relinquishing her hold on the pillow to cross her arms defensively over her stomach. "I'm so ticklish!"

"Interesting," Artie mused before moving his fingers to her sides and skimming them up.

For a couple of minutes she squirmed and giggled as he tortured her until she freed herself, leaping to her feet and pointing a finger at him. "This is not fun!" she said, breathlessly, a huge smile on her face. "Stop it!"

"Fine," Artie relented. "But only because I like my pizza hot and I want to watch the movie. Put it in!" Under her withering glare, he amended himself, adding a, "please."

A few minutes later, they were cozy on the couch, eating their food and watching the movie, Quinn completely oblivious to the many texts from Sam, since her phone was in her purse which she had left in the kitchen, and Artie completely aware of how Quinn's fingers were lightly brushing up against his own as their hands rested on the small portion of cushion between them.

In a diner not far away, Brittany, Santana, Sam and Finn were all sharing a table, sipping thick ice cream shakes through bendy straws.

"You want to do something about Quinn and Artie," Santana was saying. "Then you're going to have to listen to me…"