A/N: Another amazing contribution from my co-author, QuinnAbrams, is tucked in here. I happen to think our styles blend pretty well, except that she far outpaces me in the inner monologue. See if you can tell who is writing what ;) Enjoy!

It wasn't easy but, after sitting down with his co-directors, taking the weekend to mull it over, and working up the nerve to post a list... he did it. He'd cast his very first show. (And, with any luck, he'd get a chance to apologize to his "Baby John," otherwise known as Kurt Hummel, with a spring show more suited to his talents.)

Though he'd strongly considered both Santana and Mercedes, he'd gone with Rachel, figuring that she'd ultimately carry the role of Maria best in the end, and it had nothing to do with anyone's race or body type or any kind of favoritism. (Because, if it were favoritism, he would have gone with Mercedes.)

And though, in a perfect world, he might have tried double casting the role, he couldn't do that because he'd only been given an opening night and a matinee, since the school was too cheap to run the air and power in the auditorium for multiple weekends, for the sake of a show that might not sell out its performances in the first place. He'd take what he could get. That was sort of his mantra these days, wasn't it?

Mercedes hadn't taken it well. He'd explained how he would have double-cast the roles, if that had been an option, at which point she promptly shut him down and reminded him she "wasn't anyone's second choice" and that "she didn't need that." And then Artie had made the mistake of asking her not to turn it into a stupid pride thing.

"Oh, it's a pride thing!" was her retort, as she'd slammed her locker for emphasis. "But it's not stupid." And over her shoulder, he could see Shane glaring at him as though he probably wouldn't have been above hurting Artie, had Artie not been ironically offered protection by virtue of being in a wheelchair already.

Oddly enough, it was Santana, the one person he'd expected to blow up at him over not being cast in the lead role, whose indifference took him by complete surprise. Rather than going all Lima Heights on his ass, she'd merely shrugged and walked away from the casting list, linking pinkies with Brittany and tossing a casual "your loss" in his direction as the pair flounced away.

He'd frantically wheeled himself after them. "Wait!" It seemed Artie was always having to beg people to wait. Luckily, she stopped in her tracks for him today. "I-I still really need you for Anita."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what makes you think I'm not planning on playing Anita?"

Wait, what? "Uhhh..." He looked between Santana and Brittany, who looked just as mystified by her response. "Because you said 'your loss?'"

"Yeah, I meant your loss because you don't get to have me as Maria." Santana just smirked. "Look, Artie, I know we've had our... differences... in the past. But I'll do your little show. I know you need me. Way more than I need you."

"Well... well, thanks." They'd come an awfully long way, he and Santana, since that fateful day when she'd smugly informed him that he couldn't offer Brittany much more than super-choice parking. And now here she was, casually accepting a supporting role in his musical. And she'd even called him by his name.

Mercedes eventually came around, as Artie came to understand a hard lesson. It could be lonely at the top. Especially when your only companions were two socially-awkward teachers and your two talented yet equally awkward leads.

He'd made a mistake by not pairing Rachel and Blaine for auditions, because by the time he fully realized their complete lack of sexual chemistry, they were well into rehearsals.

"Are you gonna cry every time we sing?" Blaine asked, after he and Rachel concluded another technically-good-yet-definitely-lacking performance of 'Tonight.'

"I'm such a girl," Coach Beiste blubbered, as she dabbed the corner of her eyes and then blew her nose loudly. Artie cringed as she pocketed the used tissue.

"My only note is more teeth," Ms. Pillsbury added, in her usual chipper tone, proving that she was going to be incapable of any sort of criticism, just like her teary-eyed sidekick.

It was down to Artie to do the dirty work.

"Can I be honest?" Artie began, as Rachel and Blaine hung on his every word. "This song is about sexual awakening, as is the entire musical. You two lack passion. Have either of you two actually…?"

"Wow. Okay. I have to go." Ms. Pillsbury gave a quite predictable response, rising to go.

"Those footballs ain't gonna inflate themselves," Coach Beiste added, joining her in high-tailing it out of there.

"Look, I remember my first time with Brittany," Artie went on, not phased by his co-directors abandoning him. Of course they didn't want to hear about high schoolers having sex. "The excitement, the way it made me feel like a man. Even though she called me the wrong name like, four times. During and after. What was it like for you guys?"

"W- um…" Rachel stammered.

"I'm waiting for the right time," Blaine explained.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, me too," Rachel said, leaning over to Blaine to add, "So glad that you're my Tony."

Artie feigned surprise. "Look," he said. "As your friend, I support your strange aversion to fun. But, as your director, I'm concerned."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Rachel was already on edge, seeing as they'd had a costume fitting a day ago, and she hadn't liked any of Artie's suggestions then either.

"Well, how do you expect to convey the human experience to an audience when you haven't even opened yourself up to one of humanity's most basic and primal ones?" Artie settled back and folded his hands in his lap, as though it should be obvious.

Though in reality, he was one to talk. It had been awhile since his last sexual encounter, which left Artie with a certain longing. He longed to somehow feel like a man again. But it was hard when his only option saw him as something definitely less than, just because his head stopped at her waist.

And it was especially hard when competition came from overseas, in the form of a wimpy-looking, unintelligible Irishmen who showed up out of the blue one day, introducing himself as Brittany's new "brother" and foreign exchange student for the year. Rory Flanagan.

After Joe Hart and Sugar joined the Glee club, securing them two more members than the bare minimum they needed to compete, Artie assumed that they would be the last new people to join. (Quinn surely showed no signs of coming back.) And then came Rory, the ninth guy to join a club with only six girls, solidly confirming the fact that Artie wouldn't ever be getting a dance partner and would instead be wheeling to the back or even off-stage in those moments during performances.

But the final straw was when the new kid set his sights on Sugar. It all started during a lunchroom conversation, during which someone casually asked Rory who he wanted to take to Homecoming, which was that weekend.

"Sugar," he'd said proudly.

"Hold up." Artie leaned forward to peer around Kurt, who was seated between them. "I'm all over that. I already asked her over a month ago, and she said yes. And besides, no offense, Irish, but no one understands a word you say."

"Baloney, chicks dig accents," Rory said, smugly.

"Sorry, what was that? Couldn't quite make it out."

Artie received a glare from the Irishman, but what more could he even say to that? Artie already won this one. Sugar had agreed to go with him long before Rory even showed up at school. Even though Artie had noticed Sugar reciprocating a few of Rory's long looks in her direction during Glee Club and smiling or twirling her hair while trying to look unaware. But too bad for him. She was already Artie's date.

So, all Rory did then was produce a four-leaf clover from his pocket and hold it out. "See this, kid?" he asked Artie, who was most definitely older than him. "Here's a four leaf clover, kid. 'Cause you're gonna need all the luck you can get."

"Do you people just carry those things around?" That was Kurt, who was still beaming over the fact that someone in a gorilla costume had brought him a "gorilla-gram," inviting him to attend the dance with Blaine.

Artie narrowed his eyes. There was no way he was letting someone steal another girl from him. Let's roadhouse, Flanagan.

...

If there was one thing that McKinley High did moderately well, it was put on school dances. Which was unexpected, especially for a school that rarely had the budget for anything outside of their losing sports teams and tenured teachers who were about eighty years old and could hardly teach anymore.

Artie knew that – somewhere – there was a school dance committee that had agonized over every painstaking detail of the event so that all of the students could enjoy the night, and for them he was grateful. The gymnasium had once again been completely transformed into a venue that you would never guess most often served its purpose as a dodgeball court. The stage was adorned with instruments, just waiting for some Glee Clubbers and band kids to perform their rehearsed sets. (They never could quite get out of performing at all of the school functions, as they were a cheap and – as luck would have it – available crew.) There was a photo booth with a fun backdrop, and twinkle lights that hung from the ceiling and draped above the open space that was serving as the dance floor. Of course, Coach Sylvester was standing beside the refreshments table, arms crossed over her chest as she guarded her precious punch bowl. Artie had made the mistake of "messing" with that exact bowl last year at prom (giving into the pressure from his friend with the mohawk, of course), and needless to say, he wouldn't be trying that again.

After the empty threat of competition from Rory Flanagan, Artie couldn't have been happier to be entering the venue with Sugar on his arm. Well, she would have been on his arm, if she hadn't once again insisted on taking control of his handles and pushing his chair from behind. Though it was one of Artie's biggest pet peeves (almost as bad as the good ol' silent gawk-and-stare as he rolled by, but not quite), he allowed her to steer him inside as he rested his hands awkwardly on his knees.

The homecoming dance wasn't as formal of an event as prom typically was; girls were wearing shorter cocktail dresses, and a nice shirt and tie did it for the boys. It made it a lot easier to get down on the dance floor – at least for Artie – so he couldn't complain.

Every time he would find himself having a good time moving to the music, however, he'd glance up and find that his date was nowhere to be found. One minute she'd wander off to the snack table, the next she'd disappear to the ladies' room without warning, then later on he'd find her on the opposite side of the dance floor from where he was. Artie wasn't the type of guy to bring a girl as his date and spend the whole dance without her (he was far too polite for that), so he kept finding himself having to stop what he was doing in the moment to go off and search for Sugar. It was like he had brought along with him a brand new puppy who wasn't potty trained: she's very cute and lots of fun, but she's got a short attention span and you never know what she may be doing around the corner. This feels an awful lot like babysitting, Artie thought to himself after losing Sugar for the fourth time.

Though his peers had never been his favorite crowd to sing in front of, Artie found himself breathing a sigh of relief for the three minutes off-duty from being the Sugar Chaperone when it was time for him, Sam, and Puck to perform their rendition of Hot Chelle Rae's "Tonight Tonight". Once again Artie was grateful to whoever had planned this thing, because for the first time since he'd been a student at McKinley, someone had remembered to include a ramp leading up to the stage. It was a little on the steeper side, but it was manageable and he couldn't complain. Artie grinned at the ease and independence that this simple bout of accessibility brought to his night, and didn't take it for granted. He had a sneaking suspicion that this wouldn't happen again, though, so he relished it in the moment.

Lucky for him, Artie didn't have to spend time worrying about where Sugar was while he was performing, because she was right in front of the stage, smiling broadly and cheering for him. If he could make her that happy, then he had to be doing something right, he concluded.

"Artie! That was so good!" Sugar exclaimed moments after he'd come rolling down the ramp attached to the stage. "With a little more practice you'll be able to sound as good as me!"

Artie tried to keep his face from contorting into a confused expression at her… compliment? Well, it sounded like a compliment, anyways.

"Thanks, Sugar, so you liked it?" Artie forced himself to smile. "Hey, do you wanna go da-"

"Oh, look! There's Rory!" Sugar cut him off with an ear-splitting squeal as she turned sharply on her hot pink baby high heel and strutted off in the Irishman's direction. And with that, Artie was – sigh – alone again.

As he watched her walk off, though, another girl caught his eye.

Pink-haired Quinn and her entourage of Skanks were congregating in the far corner of the gym. He could tell that she felt out of place based on the way that her arms were crossed protectively over her simple black dress. Under normal circumstances, he was sure that last year's Homecoming Princess would be giving Lauren Zizes a run for her money in the race for Homecoming Queen. But, as far as Artie knew, the old Quinn was gone for good.

Just a few months ago they had been each other's prom dates. She'd spent the entire night dancing with him, between sipping on glasses of lemonade and dragging him by the hand towards the photo booth. The goofy photos they'd taken were still taped to his bathroom mirror. They used to be his favorites, but every time he looked at the photos now, he just felt a twinge of sadness.

When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from Quinn and glance to his right, he couldn't help but envy Sam, who had no date and was just having the time of his life dancing on his own in the middle of the dance floor with whoever would have him. He had loosened his tie and undone the top few buttons of the nice dress shirt that Artie's own mother had purchased for him to wear to the dance in the time since they'd gotten off of the stage. He heard his goofy blonde friend preface one of his moves as a "White Chocolate signature," whatever that meant. Regardless, it looked like Sam was having a great time. After all, he didn't have to worry about being ditched.

Their newest Glee Club member, Joe Hart, took to the stage just then for a slow song. As everyone partnered up with their dates, Artie glanced around looking for his own – a task made exponentially harder when your view was limited to four feet tall and all of the people around you looked like trees from where you sat.

He eventually spotted Sugar after a bit of searching, but she wasn't alone.

"Sugar?" Artie called, successfully getting the girl's attention away from the foreign exchange student for the first time since he'd walked in the function. "Do you want to dance? The song's almost over..."

Sugar stared at him blankly for a moment and Artie resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. He decided earlier on that he was keeping his sassiness in check for the night, and he intended to hold himself accountable.

"Look, Artie, you're really sweet, but I just don't think you're my type. I just think we look really weird together," Sugar said with an unapologetic shrug. "It's not 'cause you're disabled. It's 'cause I'm abled, and people are really mean. I'm really worried that people are gonna think your legs look thinner than my arms. Sorry. Asperger's!"

Wait… what?!

Artie was unable to hide the shocked expression any longer. Not only did she ask him to the dance in the first place, but now she was (loudly) calling it off in public with hundreds of other students within earshot. And did she have to add the part about his legs?! They'd been a source of insecurity for him beginning almost immediately after the accident. He didn't need a girl who may-or-may-not have self-diagnosed herself with her own disability to point out the way that his lower half wasn't quite proportional to the rest of his body anymore.

"Plus, I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to dance with you. Your wheels will just crush my toes!" She added, pulling the metaphorical knife out of Artie's heart and shoving it right back in.

With that, Sugar turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around Rory as Artie swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He made brief eye contact with Rory just then, who looked equally as surprised at what Sugar had just said, and maybe even a little apologetic too.

Artie felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and he knew that the tips of his ears were probably bright red – the tell tale sign that he was humiliated. He opened his mouth to reply, but absolutely nothing came out. Instead he closed it and twisted his lips to the side, willing himself not to start crying or something, as he firmly planted his hands on the push rims of his wheels. He tried to remind himself that he hadn't actually wanted to attend the event with Sugar in the first place, in an attempt to make himself feel a bit better, but it did little to help. The sharp cut of rejection stung. A lot.

He'd almost made it to the door when someone stopped him. A figure clad in black stepped right in his way. He couldn't even look up in time to see who it was. Before he knew what was happening, two hands had grabbed his face and the figure was now straddling his lap and kissing him. He drew back and gasped when he saw who it was.

Mackenzie smirked right back at him, looking pretty proud of herself. "Hopefully your date saw that."

"Uh..." Artie was at a loss for words. At which point, Mack just tossed her head back and laughed. She'd let go of his face but her arms were still draped around his neck and she was still firmly planted in his lap. She drew him again.

"I've been thinking about doing this for awhile anyway," she confessed, and Artie didn't know whether to be terrified or flattered. "Let's show her what she's missing."

He didn't have time to decide on a response, because she went back to making out with him right there on the edge of the gym floor.

He finally went with being flattered, to think that this girl he'd known for so long had actually been pining for him all this time. He'd never felt so downright desirable in his whole life. It felt good. It felt right. And just like that, as the stars aligned, Artie found himself with the last person anyone on earth would ever pick for a guy like him. Artie the Nerd and Mack the Skank. The stars didn't just align that night... they collided.