A/N: Thank you again to QuinnAbrams with help in the middle part of this story!

A/N-2: It's been kind of quiet around here lately. Feels a bit like I'm sending this story out into the void. I think everyone is as busy as I am. But a review would be greatly appreciated! And while you're at it, QuinnAbrams' story has a couple of great new chapters, too! You might let her know you're still reading.

A Christmas wedding was what Ms. Pillsbury had said she always wanted. There were Christmas trees everywhere, lining the foyer of the church, all decorated in silver and white. The double doors leading into the sanctuary had wreaths. Artie doubted he'd ever plan someone's wedding, but if you had to do it, why not use multi-purpose decor? It looked like she'd gotten the wedding she wanted and, at long last, the groom she wanted, too.

Artie intentionally waited around in the foyer until he figured most everyone would be seated, to spare himself the awkwardness of trying to find his blind date while everyone was standing around, blocking his way. Betty would be seated next to her mother, Ms. Pillsbury's older sister. And she was a redhead, like her sister. Meanwhile, Betty was blonde with... big boobs.

Before he could scan the bride's side for Betty, however, he happened to find Quinn first. She was sitting in the middle of Santana and Brittany. They'd chosen a seat on the groom's side, even though it would have been fine to pick either.

"Well, well, well," he said, wheeling up to them and stopping next to their pew. Quinn must have just gotten in, Artie figured, or else she probably would've made time to stop by his place first. "Didn't think the Unholy Trinity would be allowed in a church."

"Oh, behave," Santana teased him. Ever since he and Sam had caught her on her college visit to Kentucky and she'd ended up sharing a bunk-bed with him, well, it was like Santana and Artie were old pals rather than former sworn-enemies.

"You look nice, Artie," Quinn told him. She looked especially pretty today in a pale blue dress (always her best color) with long, sheer sleeves and her hair cascading down her shoulders in soft curls.

"Thanks, so do you."

Artie was wearing a plain black suit that he'd paired with a festive red tie and a tartan scarf for the occasion. He'd intended on taking the scarf off, but this church was kind of drafty. He was still sitting in the aisle, but was as close to the girls' pew as he could get, resting his arm on the side of it as he tried not to be in anybody's way. "I kind of got set up with a date for this thing, so I wanted to make a good impression."

"A date?" Quinn repeated, tilting her head to the side. He knew what she was thinking. But what about Kitty? He was glad she knew better than to say anything out loud, though.

"Yeah. It was Ms. Pillsbury's idea," he replied. "Her niece. I don't even have a picture of this girl. I only know that she's my age and blonde and has… very large… um…" How do I go about saying this without sounding like a total creep?

"Spit it out, Abrams," Santana said, rolling her eyes as she checked out her lipstick in a handheld mirror.

"Uh… boobs."

The three girls in front of him sat in stunned silence for a moment before bursting into laughter. Artie joined in after a minute too. There was no denying the ridiculousness of the situation he found himself currently in.

"Well, let's see…" Santana said, tucking her mirror away and scanning the crowd. Most people were in the sanctuary by now, milling about and talking or finding their seats. "Blonde and big boobs… can't be Brittany because you've already been there, done that. Not Quinn because her boobs are smaller now than they were before the lizard baby came into the picture…"

"Santana!" Quinn admonished her. "We're in a church. Have some respect for once, please."

A second later Santana let out a loud cackle that caused heads to turn their way, and it had nothing to do with Quinn reprimanding her. "Found her."

Artie, Brittany, and Quinn curiously followed Santana's gaze.

And then Artie let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Because the girl Santana spotted checked all of the boxes. She looked to be about his age and she had pretty curly blonde hair. She was sitting up front with a gaggle of redheads that Artie inferred were Ms. Pillsbury's family, and her red dress was low-cut enough to show off her… impressive boobs. But what his guidance counselor had failed to mention was the wheelchair her niece was sitting in. Now, Artie wasn't any sort of self-hating disabled person. He didn't have an issue with his disability, or with anyone else's, for that matter. But now it made sense to him why Ms. Pillsbury had selected him for her niece out of all of the single guys in the glee club.

Quinn flashed him a sympathetic smile. Having been in his position for a few months, she had her own fair share of bizarre interactions that had happened due to other people feeling awkward about her chair.

"According to the program, this ceremony is gonna start in, like, five minutes," Santana told him, failing miserably to suppress her amusement at all of this. "Go get your girl before she thinks you stood her up."

Artie wanted to make a bad, self-deprecating comment about her word choice just then, but she was right. The ceremony was going to start soon. He waved to the Trinity before continuing down the aisle toward the infamous Betty. He could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head.

Here goes nothing.

"Hi," he said, interrupting the conversation she'd been having with the person who was sitting at the end of the pew. A grandmother, maybe. "Betty?"

"Yes?" She said sweetly before giving him an up-down. The smile she had been wearing was replaced by a look of horror. "Oh, God. What? Did I beat you to the last handicap spot? Sorry."

"I'm Artie," he went on, determined not to be thrown by her tone. "Ms. Pillsbury said I should look out for you."

"Hell, no."

"Uh…"

"No." She crossed her arms over her (ample) chest and stuck her nose in the air. "Wheel away. Wheel… the hell… away."

Artie opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, she continued to air her grievances about her aunt's matchmaking. "My aunt told me she was fixing me up with someone good-looking. So, that was a lie."

"Oh," he said, almost apologetically. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he just went with: "Some people think I'm kind of nerdy-hot, so…"

"No, no, no," she replied with a laugh that Artie couldn't quite read, as she proceeded to avert her gaze in the opposite direction, as though refusing to even look at him. "Andrew Garfield is nerdy-hot. You are Stephen Hawking's younger brother."

That was one he hadn't heard before.

"Ms. Pillsbury didn't tell you I was in a wheelchair, did she?" Artie concluded.

"Obviously not." Betty finally glanced at him again, and her expression couldn't have been clearer. "'Cause I don't date losers in chairs. I'm blonde, captain of the cheerleaders at my high school, and I've got this going on." She gestured to her boobs and Artie did a terrible job of not staring.

"Mmkay, well, I'll just–"

"You'll just... wheel the hell away," she said again, and it couldn't have been plainer that she didn't want the circus of two wheelchairs crowded together on the end of the aisle. Or she just didn't want Stephen's Hawking's younger brother. Or both.

With one last cross look, he did exactly that. Tina was seated with Sam and Mercedes, Blaine and Kurt, and... Mike. He hadn't told Tina about the Betty thing, which was good for a number of reasons, including the fact that she was now saving his seat. They'd picked the row on Mr. Schue's side with space for his chair. He breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way over to the opposite side, and quickly, for he saw that the ushers were closing the doors into the sanctuary.

Putting his personal drama aside, he concentrated on enjoying the ceremony. Unlike most guys his age, he did enjoy most weddings. He'd only been to a few. And he'd never been more excited to see two people commit their lives to one another. Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester had finally found one another and the stars had finally aligned so that they were both single and ready to take that next step together. Nothing could ruin their day. As Artie turned to watch the wedding party walk in, he spotted the newer members of the Glee club all seated together. Marley was seated between Jake and Ryder, in what had to be the most confusing seating arrangement ever. Unique had opted to sit away from them. He spotted her (the pronoun he though he was supposed to use anyway) a few rows back with Lauren. Missing from the new kid crew was Kitty, who was on that ski trip with her family.

He didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved that Kitty wasn't at this wedding. After how the last two days of school before the holiday break had gone down, Artie wasn't sure if things would be the same when they returned from school. Surely seeing him fall out of his chair, unable to get back up, had opened her eyes to some of the harsh realities about Artie as a potential boyfriend. She'd shoveled all that ice and offered him a make-out sesh "under the stars," but it all hit so differently now.

"It's not that I don't enjoy kissing you, but don't think you realize what you'd be taking on, if we ever..."

"I realize."

He'd played back that dialogue so many times, trying to dissect her casual comment: "I realize." He'd never worried about this kind of thing before. Usually, he'd try to get the girl at all costs. Now he was trying to talk this one out of being with him.

He replayed his response: "I don't think you do."

"I do."

Santana had been betting Brittany that Ms. Pillsbury would make a run for it, just like Julia Roberts in 'Runaway Bride.' Luckily, she was wrong. Their guidance counselor was saying her vows wearing a serene smile, like she didn't have a care or concern in the world.

Before he knew it, Mr. and Mrs. Schuester were being announced before their guests, kissing passionately to seal the deal. It was now time for the reception, and once again, Artie had alienated yet another girl, which meant he'd be sitting this one out, alone.

…

"Hey, Artie?" Tina said, coming to sit beside him at one of the tables that had been designated for the glee kids at the reception.

"What?"

"Not to pry, but she's supposed to be your date, right?" Tina nodded over at where Betty was sitting across the room. Artie followed her gaze and saw that Betty was sitting with a bunch of older people, probably family. Artie had been slyly watching her all night, and she had yet to interact with somebody their own age, aside from shooing him away before the ceremony. "Have you gone over there and talked to her at all?"

Everyone had heard about Artie's date fiasco by now, and some of his friends were more sympathetic to his situation than others.

"Yeah, Artie, what was up with that?" Santana asked, biting back a smirk as she sat herself down in the chair to Artie's right. She'd just returned to the table from the open coffee bar with two drinks in hand. She set the second drink in front of Artie, indicating that it was for him. "You don't like her?"

"She doesn't like me. She called me…" Artie paused before divulging the rest, knowing it would just add fuel to Santana's fire. "… Stephen Hawking's younger brother."

Quinn squeezed his shoulder supportively at that, while Santana almost spit out her drink. Tina and Blaine exchanged a glance, as Lauren looked like she was trying to decide if Artie was actually bummed about this, or if this would be time for one of her incredible jokes to lighten the mood.

"Maybe you should go talk to her again," Sam innocently suggested. "She looks kinda lonely"

To Artie's relief, the subject was dropped when Mike walked over and struck up another conversation with Tina. He was telling her about his experiences thus far participating in 'The Nutcracker' at the Joffrey. She was basically acting as if they'd never broken up, even though she'd gone ahead and gotten a tattoo for the guy, then had to get it altered just a few weeks later. Artie was just glad the current object of her affection was straight, even if he was her ex.

The others had moved on to their own conversations amongst each other, but Artie still caught himself looking over his shoulder at Betty. Sure, she may have been harsh to him earlier, but he was a bit fascinated by her mean-yet-confident side. Hhe supposed he had Kitty's personality to thank for that. Here he was, trying to put Kitty out of his thoughts for the night, and she still found her way to the forefront of his mind. There was no denying that Sam and Tina had a point– Betty did look bored and out-of-place over there, and had their situations been reversed, he'd probably be grateful for anyone to come to talk to him and distract him from that. Like Lucy/Quinn had at his soccer game all those years ago.

Without giving it a second thought, afraid he'd talk himself out of it, Artie unlocked his wheels and set off in her direction. He was gonna make this girl dance with him, and they were both gonna have a good night.

"Oh, my God," she said when he pulled up beside her. "Did you not get it before?"

"Yeah, I did," Artie said, unbothered. "More than you know. You're angry because you're in the chair…"

"Wow, could you be more handi-centric and reductive? I'm fine with my chair. What I'm not fine with is suffering fools."

"You also don't seem to know sarcasm from me when you hear it," Artie said. "There's a lot you probably assume about me, based on how I look, but there's plenty you don't know, too."

"And what don't I know about you?"

"That I'm pretty legendary for my dance moves," he said, as he proceeded to demonstrate some of his crowd-pleasers.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she told him. "One dance."

"That's all I ask," Artie replied, unable to bite back a grin.

One dance became two, then five, then the rest of the night. They claimed a corner of the dance floor for themselves, given that their chairs took up a lot of space. For once, Artie realized that he didn't mind. Betty was a great dancer, probably thanks to being the captain of her cheer team, and Artie even asked her to teach him some of her legendary dance moves. All in all, the second half of his night had been exponentially better than the first half, and he had a feeling the same could be said for Betty.

"Thanks, Artie," she said during a slow song. They'd vacated the dance floor to let other people have a turn, since there was no good way for them to attempt that kind of dancing. Plus, they were just friends. He'd had a great time dancing with Betty this evening, but he hardly knew the girl. "I've had a really good time with you. And, sorry. For being so bitchy at first. When I get nervous, I get kind of mean."

"Kind of mean? You were like Idi Amin mean."

"Yeah, I know, I'm working on that!" she snapped, causing him to laugh with surprise.

"Well, Betty, can I treat you to some eggnog before the night ends?" Artie asked her. "It's not on me, actually, it's on Mr. Schue and your aunt. But it's more about the principle…"

He'd gotten her to laugh again. He was on a roll! "Sure, I'd love that."

They had a fancy eggnog bar with stuff to add in, like cinnamon or peppermint. Plus coffee and hot cocoa as well. They also had lids for the cups that sealed, and Artie commented on the convenience of this while precariously tucking his cup between his legs, as well as Betty's (hey, it was his opportunity to be a gentleman). She followed him to a table that already had some missing chairs, since a lot of the glee kids wanted to crowd at a table together. Speaking of which, he caught Tina's eye as he went over. She gave him a thumbs-up. Which Betty noticed.

"Looks like a friend of yours is already rooting for us," she teased, as they slid their chairs into the empty spaces at their private table and Artie deposited their cups onto the table.

"That's Tina," Artie explained. "And she does root for me. A little too earnestly, I'm afraid, since she still carries some guilt over dumping me after freshman year." And he grinned, showing he wasn't actually upset about it. Anymore. "Though she maintains, I dumped myself. Which... yeah, okay, fair. I wasn't the greatest boyfriend."

"Well, you were like, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?" Betty seemed to be trying to make up for all her prior rudeness to him by giving him some grace.

"Ah, well, no..." Artie smiled, then took a swig of his eggnog. "Sixteen. I had just turned sixteen. I'm a year older than my grade. My accident set me back a year. It happened when I was eight."

"Oh, sorry..." Betty softened even more. "I bet it's your favorite thing to talk about, too, huh? We totally don't have to."

"We don't?" Artie chuckled, arching a brow at her. "Wasn't that the whole idea?"

"Aunt Emma might have put us together because of all the other things we have in common, too," Betty joked. "Like how about our old person names? I bet you were named after a grandparent, too."

"Wow, first she insults my looks, now my name..." Artie let out a low whistle as Betty just laughed appreciatively, giving him a teasing little shove. "Yes. My grandpa, my dad's dad. Dad has four siblings, and every single one of them has a child with 'Arthur' in their name. I'm the only lucky one who got it for a first name."

"My mom named me for her mother, too," Betty explained. "Well, and also for Betty White. Mom, Aunt Emma, and Grandma all love the 'Golden Girls.'"

They shared a laugh at that. Then Artie fixed her with a serious, quizzical expression. "Are you still mad at your aunt for setting us up?"

Betty shook her head. "No, I get it now," she said. "My aunt, she's always been a bit... protective of me. Since my mom's a single mother – my dad, he's in my life, but they were never together... okay, once upon a time, they were, but not in times I can remember... anyway, my aunt, I love her, but she... kind of coddles me sometimes."

"Coddling is the worst," Artie agreed. "If it's not my family, it's my friends who do it." He paused, back-tracking to something else she'd said. "So, you said you get it now? Mind sharing, then? Why'd she set us up?"

Betty sighed impatiently. "Are you fishing for a compliment?" she asked him. "Fine. I'll take the bait. Because you're fun and easy to talk to and we do have a lot in common. Okay? But it doesn't mean I want a one-night stand or anything."

"Who said anything about that?" Artie asked, looking alarmed. "And... thanks. For the compliments. You're pretty fun yourself. And it's kind of refreshing, meeting a girl who gets it."

Betty nodded. "I do okay with guys," she said. "Not that I need to explain that, you can see why for yourself. But..." she trailed off, and it looked like the carefully-guarded Betty was going to let that down a bit. "Well... eventually, they get scared away. Like it gets to be too much for them..."

"The wheelchair or the Idi Amin tendencies to devour your victims?" Artie asked, cutting the tension as she shot daggers at him with her eyes before they both burst out laughing.

"No... I'm sorry..." Artie said, as their cackling died down. They were beginning to draw too much attention to themselves.

"You're just as horrible as me," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

"In all seriousness, I completely understand that problem," he said. "I was kind of starting to get serious about this girl, but the other day, I slipped on some ice and fell out of my chair in front of her and her friends. I blacked out and when I came to, a female wrestler was putting me back in my chair." He gestured to the still-present scrape on his cheek. "That's how this happened."

Betty fell silent at that. Artie could see that she'd either experienced something similar or, if not, that she could fathom the horror of such an experience.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Artie," she said. "Who's the girl? Is she here? It's not Tina, is it? Because she keeps trying to act like she's not staring at us."

"It's not Tina," Artie said, a smile playing on his lips. The thought of him and Tina ever getting back together was super crazy, but Betty didn't know that. "Her name is Kitty. She would have been here tonight, but she's on a ski trip with her family."

"Do you like her a lot?" Betty wanted to know. Artie wanted to know more about Betty, but she kept turning the topic of conversation back to him. And his hopeless love life.

"It's... complicated," he said. "She's fifteen. I don't even know when her birthday is, but mine's in April, and I'll be nineteen. So, that's one thing. And..." he gestured at his chair. "... this is the other thing. Like I think she doesn't mind, but I also think she hasn't really had to think about it, seeing as we've just been... sneaking off and making out in an empty classroom."

Betty breathed. "Wow," she said. "This is good stuff, man. It would make for a good dramatic novel or a show..." (Per usual, she cut the tension perfectly and made him laugh.) "So, you're keeping it a secret because of the age difference?"

"I'm really not sure anymore," Artie said, sighing and staring at his cup, about to be real honest with Betty and with himself. "The truth is, suggesting that we go public with our budding relationship means jeopardizing what we have. She might change her mind, if everyone knew about us."

"She might also change her mind if we show her what she's missing," Betty said, wheeling a bit closer to him. She leaned in, closed her eyes, and before he knew it, they were locking lips in the middle of the reception for all to see. Artie started to pull away but she actually grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back in. He obliged, joining her in what was actually a pretty sweet kiss. When their lips finally parted, she was smiling shyly back at him.

"You're like, the best, I've ever had," she confessed. "And I've had a lot."

"Oh, me too," Artie said, teasingly. "I mean, my sexual prowess is legendary throughout the Great Lake states..." And, before he could talk himself out of it, he added: "Give me your digits, woman."

"Why?" she asked, a playful smile stretching across her face.

"'Cause I'm taking you out sometime."

"Like on a date?"

"If that's okay," Artie said, with mock timidity. "I know you said you don't date losers in chairs."

She pretended to scratch her chin in thought. "I suppose I could make an exception, just this once..."

"We'll grab some dinner, maybe see a movie..." Artie went on.

"Or we could just skip the dinner and movie, and..." she said, leaning across the table and showcasing her impressive cleavage.

"Charter a private jet, fly to Paris, dance under the Arc de Triomphe in the Champs-Elysées?" he continued, putting on a phony French accent as Betty pretended to fan herself. "Yo, when you're rolling with Artie Abrams, anything can happen."