Author's Note: Longest chapter yet! I don't know how that happened...but it did! Reviews, leave them...please. Tell me if you think this is progressing along at a non-rushed pace...and other things. I love/need feedback!

Part Ten: This is the Plan

"This is your plan?" Sam asked incredulously, after Santana had explained everything to him. "I don't see how this is going to work at all."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." A hint of a smile played across her lips and Sam swore he could see a malicious glint in her brown eyes.

"Santana's the smartest person I know," Brittany stated, placing a hand on Santana's shoulder. "She'll help to sorbet Quinn and Artie."

For a second, Santana's haughty expression seemed to falter then she lifted her chin high, telling Brittany the word was sabotage.

Still skeptical, Sam raised an eyebrow. "I guess we'll just see if this works," he muttered, eyes on the house where Quinn was scheduled to arrive at any moment.

"I guess we will," Santana snipped back, leaning against her car.

"This is like a movie!" Brittany said cheerfully, clapping her hands.

Both Sam and Santana rolled their eyes at her exuberance. A moment later, Quinn was pulling up the curb across the street. They all watched as she exited her vehicle and marched up the path to the door.

"They'll see they're not meant to be," Santana said quietly, though inwardly she was thinking the exact opposite would happen. Santana had been intent on undermining Brittany and Artie as much as she could and attempting to stop Quinn and Artie's slow gravitation toward one another was not beneficial for her in that regard. Not that she felt, in all honesty, that any plan could bring that gravitation to a halt. Fate, progress and technology were all conspiring together to make sure that didn't happen, it seemed.

Quinn knocked three times on the door, then pulled on her light pink skirt, eyes on the note she had found in her locker earlier that afternoon.

"Meet me at my house for dinner, Artie."

Though the writing didn't look exactly like his, as the words were more loopy than Artie's usually were, Quinn had decided to come. She couldn't figure out why anyone else would have put the note in her locker anyway. When Artie opened the door, her face lit up. "Hey, Artie," she greeted him sweetly, noting the tuft of hair that was sticking out by his ear. She had an urge to reach forward and smooth it down but it was pretty adorable so she hesitated.

"…and so there's food in the kitchen," Artie had just finished saying.

Realizing that thinking about Artie's stray hair had made her grow distracted, Quinn blushed a little. "What did you say?"

Gesturing for her to come inside, which she did, Artie repeated himself, "Santana came over about a half an hour ago and said you were on your way over. I started to panic but she said she had it all covered and had food and everything. So there's food in the kitchen."

Following along behind Artie, Quinn glanced at the note that had been deposited in her locker. That's why the writing hadn't looked like Artie's. It was Santana-pretending-to-be-Artie script. Frowning, Quinn's mind went over possible reasons Santana could have had to set her and Artie up and couldn't come up with anything. She was about to ask Artie if he had any ideas when they entered his kitchen and she forgot, for a moment, that this had been arranged by Santana. There were two candles on the set table and a shiny chair cover on Quinn's chair. The lights were dimmed and the whole atmosphere seemed romantic. "Artie…"

He quickly flipped on the lights. "It was Santana's idea to turn the lights low. I brought out the candles and she said-"

"It looks nice," Quinn interrupted, feeling awkward all of a sudden. She started toward her chair but Artie got there first, pulling it out for her. "Thanks," she murmured, sitting down.

Artie went to the other side of the table then let his eyes wander over the plates of food Santana had brought over. "Smells good."

"Well," Quinn said, removing the covers off the plates. "I'm guessing Santana's mom made all of this and she has like the magic touch or something. Everything she makes is amazing."

"I love tacos!" Artie exclaimed, grabbing a taco from one of the plates. "Oh and amazing, huh?" His cheeks turned a light shade of crimson.

"I like that you get so excited over food," she laughed, selecting a taco for herself.

Grinning, Artie took a huge bite from his taco. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

After going back and forth about how the spread of food was amazing, they began an actual conversation which eventually turned to "Most embarrassing moment ever."

Biting her lip, Quinn got lost in thought before finally revealing her most embarrassing moment. "First of all, never tell anyone." When he nodded his head, telling her he wouldn't, she continued. "Though I'm sure some people remember… It was in fifth grade and I was on a field trip to the zoo with my class. I had to wear some of my mom's clothes because I didn't have any. Unfortunately, they were slightly too big so, when were by the lion cages my skirt fell down. Then…my underwear almost did too. I wanted the ground to like swallow me whole."

For a moment, Artie was quiet, then he asked, "Why didn't you have anything to wear of your own?"

Picking at the placemat under her plate, Quinn gave a half hearted shrug. "My mom was always forgetting to wash my clothes. Usually my aunt let me borrow my cousin's clothes but that was one of the only mornings during my elementary school years that my aunt didn't give me a ride to school. Or, you know, I could borrow my sister's but she never would let me and they would have been too big anyway. After that, I insisted on doing my own laundry. I didn't want anything like that to happen ever again."

Artie blinked and nodded, while trying to process her story. "I wouldn't think so."

Leaning forward, her hair almost touching the remainder of food on her plate, she said, "Your turn."

Looking uncomfortable, Artie shifted in his chair. "Um, okay. It was the first day I returned to school after the accident. People were acting…weird around me. But I didn't want to be different, at all. So I tried to play four square with some other kids and…and fell out of my chair." He cast his eyes down to the table. "And everyone laughed."

An expression of sadness and anger arrested her features. "Stupid kids."

Not lifting his eyes, Artie said, "I guess. Finally, someone came to help me up. It was Rachel, actually. She yelled at the other kids. I've never forgotten that. She may be annoying sometimes but that was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me."

Smiling, Quinn nodded. "I remember hearing about that. I was out sick that week but when I got back to school, I think Santana told me about it."

"Oh, what did you say?" he asked, curiously, raising his eyes a little.

Quinn played with the napkin in her lap, clearing her throat. "Um, well, actually, I told Santana she shouldn't have laughed and should've helped you…"

Though he didn't understand Quinn's reaction to the admission, beyond her not wanting to brag about how she would have done the right thing, Artie couldn't help but grin. "Is that right?"

"Yes," she returned, smiling back at him. "That's right."

After cleaning up the kitchen together, they went to Artie's room where, nestled under a blanket, they watched The Other Guys, which Artie owned on DVD. In fact, he owned every Will Ferrell movie ever made, including the Best of Will Ferrell on Saturday Night Live DVD. Instead of actually watching, though, they talked about anything and everything, from his accident to the birth of Beth, from how Arrested Development and Veronica Mars had been canceled prematurely to how the best current TV shows were all on NBC's Thursday night line up. They didn't notice the movie had ended, and had been over for some time, until Quinn glanced at her cell phone.

"Um, it's 1:30 in the morning…the movie must have been over for hours."

"Oh…" Artie trailed off. "Yeah, I guess you should be getting home."

Stretching, Quinn slid to the edge of the bed. "Where are your parents?"

"Um…" Reaching his arms above his head in a stretch that copied hers, Artie took his time to answer. "My dad had this conference thing. They usually last for the whole weekend but this time it's on Tuesday and just one night. He convinced my mom to go for the first time, ever. She was all nervous about leaving me alone but I'm fine…"

Pausing in the middle of placing her flats back on her feet, Quinn turned toward him. "I feel pretty tired. Maybe I should spend the night." At the shocked expression on his face, she quickly added, "On the couch or in the guest bedroom if you have one. I'm not sure I feel up to driving home."

"Right…uh, right. There's a guest bedroom down the hall. To the left. I can show you."

"That's okay," she responding, standing. "I can find it. Thanks for tonight, by the way," she said as she made her way to the door. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Me too."

At the door, she smiled. "Goodnight, Artie."

She really was beautiful, he thought. Probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, if he was completely truthful with himself. "Goodnight, Quinn."

In a car across the street, Brittany was snoring softly in the back seat while Sam and Santana argued over what music to listen to.

"No," Sam was saying. "I think we should - do you realize it's 1:30?"

Yawning, Santana nodded. "I did realize that."

"Where's Quinn?" Sam asked anxiously, eyes on the house across the street. "They've been in there all evening! This was supposed to make them realize they're not right for each other not…make them fall in love!"

"Who said they're falling in love?" Closing her eyes, Santana felt herself start to drift into the world of dreams. "But even if they are, can we really stop it? Can we stop fate? Can we stop something that's impossible to deny?"

By this point, Sam believed that Santana wasn't completely aware of what she was saying but, on some level, he understood the point she was making and also understood that, if that were the case, there was nothing they could do to stop it. Nothing he could do.

Swallowing hard, and pushing Quinn and Artie from his thoughts, he rested his head against the passenger seat, wishing he could fully extend his legs, and started to doze himself.

When the three of them woke the next morning at 7:00 am, stiff and grumpy, Quinn's car was gone.