A/N: QuinnAbrams wrote me about 1000 words to set the scene for this! Shout-out! And yes, this chapter's been delayed by my life just being generally crazy.
Sugar Motta lived on the newer, more expensive and trendy side of town. The gated neighborhood featured a variety of large, new homes with plenty of space between each home. They probably all sat on no less than an acre per lot. Sugar's was the only house in the middle of a huge cul-de-sac, which left plenty of space for parking.
A ton of cars were already lined up outside when Artie and Quinn pulled up at 9:15. They'd driven together, as she'd winded up just going back to his house to hang out after meeting up with him and Betty at the Lima Bean.
"What time did this thing start again?" Quinn wondered aloud, tugging her jacket tighter around herself to retain her warmth as she waited on Artie to assemble his chair. "Are we late?"
"Nine," Artie answered, popping the second wheel onto the frame and transferring from car to chair. "So, no, we're not late. But between current New Directions, alumni, some Cheerios, and plus ones like Betty, the guest list is just… extensive. I guess people decided to be punctual tonight."
They went ahead and let themselves in once they reached the front door, as they weren't sure that anyone would be able to hear them if they'd knocked, thanks to the sound of the music already blasting. Quinn's shoes joined the ever-growing pile in the home's grand foyer as she slipped them off upon entering. Artie kept his on, instead using the spare moment to unzip his coat and hang it on the back of his chair.
Artie busied himself by picking a stray piece of lint off of his sweater– one of the new ones he'd received for Christmas– which Quinn noticed. "You look great," she told him, squeezing his arm encouragingly. "She'll think so too."
He was going to argue that he wasn't dressing for anyone, but they would both know that was a load of crap. He'd even trusted Quinn with the task of helping him pick out his outfit for the night, something he only very rarely did. Along with the new blue sweater that Quinn said brought out his eyes, she'd picked out khakis that were maybe a little snugger than Artie would have usually chosen, and the blue shoes his sister had gifted him for Christmas, after demanding he retire his beloved saddle shoes. They'd also made a compromise: in exchange for the tight pants, Quinn had to allow Artie to layer a white collared shirt underneath his sweater.
The truth was, of course he was hoping to catch Kitty's attention, and of course he hoped that she'd think he looked nice. Artie knew that talking to Kitty tonight was important if they intended to rekindle whatever spark they had before the two incidents on the ramp– both the fall and the way he'd dismissed her and her rock salt when she'd been only attempting to make his day a little easier. He was far enough removed from the second incident by now that he could recognize his shortcomings in the way he'd reacted to that. He knew that she deserved to hear that from him, too. He only hoped that she wanted to talk to him. That she'd seen the newest episode of Fondue for Two and listened to every word he'd said.
"Quartie's here!" Tina announced, digging up that ancient moniker that she'd bestowed upon them two years ago this very night as Quinn and Artie appeared side by side in the entryway to the kitchen.
"Oh, please, let's not," Quinn begged, clearly hoping that the old ship name wouldn't ruin Artie's chances of reconciling with Kitty. The last thing he needed was for rumors to circulate and be misconstrued, and for Kitty to think something had gone down between them too. The Betty drama was enough for one winter break. "I had a feeling parking would be crazy here tonight, so I asked Artie for a ride."
"Bo-ring," Becky Jackson sang out, handing Quinn a red Solo cup– presumably a mixed drink containing a mysterious amount of alcohol. "You two are no fun at all."
It seemed like everyone who had arrived at the party was crammed into Sugar's kitchen. Well, not crammed exactly. It was a really big kitchen. Many people were standing around, some were sitting on chairs or stools, and others were even perched on the countertops. It felt like everyone was yelling to one another, trying to be heard over the music that was filtering through the house's surround sound system. The room opened up to a dining area, which featured an oversized dining room table that was currently home to the wide array of catered food Sugar's parents had ordered. Definitely a step up from Rachel's typical basement parties, Artie noted.
From his disadvantaged point-of-view among all of the tall people in the room, Artie couldn't entirely tell who all was here. But he was still fairly certain that there was no sign of Kitty just yet. It was still early in the night, Artie was telling himself, but he was secretly starting to worry she'd opted to skip out.
"Artie, thank goodness you made it," Betty said. He'd been so concerned with locating Kitty that he hadn't even heard the other girl approaching. Artie's eyebrows raised as he watched her take a long swig out of her Solo cup before tucking it safely between her knees. "This is crazy! You glee kids really know how to party. The theatre kids at my school could never."
Artie nodded, knowingly. "We're a pretty tight bunch, so we aren't afraid to get messy in front of one another. Well, some of us. I usually try to behave myself."
"Of course you do." Betty rolled her eyes. "I guessed that there was an outlier somewhere, but I was hoping you weren't that much of a loser. I knew it was too good to be true."
"What can I say?" Artie asked, playing along with her (somewhat correct) assumption. He tended not to drink at these functions, but he could still bring the 'Artie Party' when he wanted to. "I'm just a loser in a chair. No wonder you'd never date me."
"Okay, first of all, bzzz," Betty said, pretending to push a button to 'shock' him, continuing their game from earlier that Artie had all but forgotten about (oops). "And second of all, you're taken. Allegedly. Almost. Even if you weren't in a you-know-what–" (She carefully avoided saying the word so that he couldn't buzz her back.) "– it wouldn't be an issue because of that. I'm not interested in being a homewrecker."
Artie twisted up his face. "Yeah, well, we'll see about that. Speaking of, have you seen her anywhere? I haven't gotten the chance to go off searching for her yet."
"Party's moving upstairs!" Someone shouted over the music and was met with a cheer as many of the guests began to file out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Betty," Ryder said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He wasn't as tall as Finn or anything, but the freshman surely towered over the two of them. "Me and some of the guys are gonna head upstairs. Someone said Sugar's got a pool table up there. Wanna come? We can give you a lift."
"Only if you're up for teaching me how to play," she replied in her effortlessly flirty way that Artie had deduced was a part of her personality. She went to follow him, but then, seemingly remembering the conversation she had been in the middle of, Betty called over her shoulder: "Catch ya later, Artie. Good luck!"
Thankfully, Betty had just been whisked away by Ryder when Artie glanced up and saw the girl he'd been looking for slip in. Kitty was wearing skinny jeans and a pink sweater. Her hair was down and curled, being kept out of her face by a headband. She looks so pretty. She had arrived alone, it seemed, so Artie guessed that she'd been dropped off by that brother of hers that was always giving her rides.
She immediately chatted up Marley and Jake, seemingly not even noticing Artie. He caught Quinn watching him watch Kitty.
"If you want to go upstairs, go, and don't worry about me," he said. And Quinn – probably not wanting anyone to bring up the 'Quartie' thing again – nodded and did just that.
As for Artie, he didn't want to just sit and awkwardly watch Kitty. He approached the kitchen island, which was a bit higher than most and definitely higher than his own, which was lower than most for his benefit. He couldn't exactly reach the row of 2-liters or the ice bucket easily, not without a real risk of making a mess. He was debating what to do when someone stepped up behind him.
"Need a hand?" The offer came from Lauren Zizes, who was accompanied by Unique, made up in a full face of makeup and a pink sequined tunic top over black leggings, which surely amounted to a lot of... careful tucking, not that Artie wanted to think too much about that.
"Sure, Pepsi with ice, please," Artie said, as Lauren nodded and went to work on his drink. "And... three cherries." Because Sugar, or whoever she had enlisted to arrange the soft drinks, had included a bowl full of maraschino cherries. And Artie had an affinity for Cherry Pepsi. Since there wasn't any, he'd make his own.
"Didn't want to assume you needed help or anything," Lauren said, under her breath. "Not after what happened on the last day of school. Sorry if I, like... violated you by picking you up the way I did."
"No, I was super thankful you were there, actually." Artie was grateful for her concern but honestly, he was glad she had been there. Because of course, she was capable of picking him up. It just would have been easier if Lauren could've been the only witness. She would have put him right back into his seat, seen to it that he got to the nurse, and would have had the decency to never mention it again.
"Okay, cool," Lauren said, as she dropped the cherries into his drink. She paused. "Want any Jack Daniel's in this? I think Sugar's got access to a stash of the good stuff."
Artie chuckled. "Nah," he said. "I think I'll behave myself. Don't want to get sloppy and, like, start falling out of my chair again." Bzzz, he thought, mentally playing Betty's game again. I have to stop bringing it up.
"Just checking," Lauren said, as she turned to ask Unique what she wanted, serving them both. Artie kind of missed the pair of them as Roger and Jan. Back when they were holding rehearsals, he would have almost bet on the two of them starting a romance off-stage. Their onstage chemistry had been on point from day once, but now offstage, they worked just as well as gal pals.
As Lauren turned her attention elsewhere, Artie realized he'd lost track of Kitty, Marley, and Jake. He looked around and wondered where Kitty had disappeared to while he'd been distracted. He hoped she hadn't gone upstairs to join the crowd.
Artie stayed in the kitchen, since going upstairs wasn't an option without help. A few people did come and go but most of them headed upstairs to check out what was apparently a pretty great game room with an adjoining home theatre. The kitchen was not the main gathering place of this party. Just as Artie was weighing the cost of giving up a bit of his dignity to let one of his buddies scoop him out of the safety of his seat and tote him up there, she entered the kitchen once more. Now was his chance to talk to Kitty, alone. He'd better not blow it.
"Did you see 'Fondue for Two?'" was what he blurted out. He had a reason for leading with that. Had to clear something up first.
She raised an eyebrow, pausing as she'd been about to pour herself a Pepsi. "Brittany's internet talk show?" she replied, as she scooped ice into her cup and tipped the bottle, filling her drink. "No. Not recently. Why?"
"Oh." Artie couldn't hide his disappointment. Most of the Cheerio squad followed Brittany's channel. He'd been counting on Kitty seeing it. Now he just had to sum it up for her. "Well, it just went up today. I went on Brittany's show to clear up the rumor about me and Betty. In short, we're just friends. There is no me and Betty.
She smirked at him. "Well, there's no me and you either," she said, dropping cherries into her Pepsi, one, two, three. "In short, we're just friends." She paused, as though reflecting on her word choice. "I'm not even sure we're that. Friends at least text each other on Christmas, Artie."
"I... like cherries in my Pepsi, too," he said, after a pause, for he could think of no good excuse for not calling her or texting her at Christmas. I was busy in New York wasn't a good excuse nor was it the reason he hadn't called.
She looked at him, unimpressed by his poor attempt at a subject change, but before she could say anything about it, Ryder came bounding into the kitchen. "About to start karaoke," he announced. "Kitty, you want to sing something with me and Betty? Like a trio?"
Kitty paused, and looked at Artie, as though debating whether or not she should leave him alone and stuck down here, away from the rest of the party, in favor of joining this trio. Ryder seemed to read the room well, which was sort of a surprising change of pace for him. Maybe it was the time he'd recently spent with Betty that did it. Because then he looked at Artie and said:
"Want me to give you a lift upstairs, man?"
It was kind of nice of Ryder to use wording like give you a lift, as though he was doing a normal task like driving someone someplace and not carrying them like a sack of potatoes up the grand staircase.
"Uh..." Being carried up to a place he'd yet to explore, surrounded by people, unsure of where he'd wind up sitting was not a simple thing for Artie to agree to. Maybe for Betty but not for him. "I'm good for now, but thanks anyway. Maybe later."
"Sure." Ryder just shrugged and headed out, presumably to return to the real party upstairs. Artie and Kitty were alone again, for who knew how long, and he realized he'd better make the best of this opportunity by doing the one thing he hadn't done well at all, which was to fully explain himself.
"I'm sorry I didn't text you over the Christmas holidays," he said, before she could disappear and leave him down there too. It got her attention. She merely raised her eyebrows, then opted to sit a plain higher than him on the kitchen counter, so that he still had to look up at her. "I..." (She watched him struggle to word his explanation.) "... was in New York with my family, yes, but I didn't ignore you because I was busy... or-or because I don't care..." (She looked doubtful.) "I did it because I was... embarrassed over falling out of my chair in front of you." (Bzzz!)
"Sure, I figured as much, but it doesn't excuse what you did." She picked up her cup, hopped off the island, and shimmied past him, as he pivoted in the very tight space he'd found himself in between the island and the cabinets. "Or didn't do."
"I know. Please don't go upstairs," he begged, for it looked like that was what she was about to do, knowing darn well he couldn't just follow her. That got her to at least pause and turn around to face him. "Can... we go someplace more private? Outside maybe?"
"It's freezing out," she pointed out, crossing her arms in front of her body. "Don't you have those issues with your body temperature? You'll freeze."
"It's not snowing and I have my jacket," he reasoned, reaching around his chair to grab his jacket. "C'mon, please? Give me a chance to explain myself better, someplace where we won't be interrupted."
Kitty sighed. "You've got five minutes, Arthur," she told him. "Be right back. I'm going to get my jacket and my shoes. I'll meet you on the back porch."
As she left the kitchen in search of those items, Artie put his jacket back on, plus gloves, a really warm scarf, hat, and ear muffs that he'd stowed in his backpack. He hadn't planned on going outside, especially in the absence of something like a fire, but at least they could guarantee they'd be alone.
He pushed his way out of the back door that led from the kitchen to the wrap-around porch. Sugar's house was on a hill, and her the backyard was a huge, open expanse of acreage with an impressive view of the sun going down. When the world wasn't covered in melting snow, it would probably be a great place for a bonfire. But right now, it was too cold for even that. Luckily, Kitty didn't keep him waiting. She emerged with her pink sweater covered with a long, warm-looking grey jacket and a matching pink and grey hat protecting her head. He pulled his chair up to a swing on the back porch, where he'd noticed that an outdoor heater was available. He turned that on, hoping to prolong the amount of time he could stand the temps. She settled on the swing, facing him at eye level now, and he felt a lot more capable of having this conversation when he could look straight at her.
"Start talking," she said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the swing, her body language communicating the message that it was up to him to fix things between them.
"Okay, look..." he started, hoping his words wouldn't fail him now. But he'd sort of been rehearsing for this moment, ever since he'd gotten the cold shoulder from her at the bowling alley. "You're right, that in no way does it excuse what I did, but I ignored you because I was embarrassed over falling out of my chair in front of you." (Bzzz again. Dammit.) "I didn't think you'd... want me, after you saw how truly helpless I was. I don't like being vulnerable, especially in front of a girl I like, and so I tend to freak out and say and do the wrong thing."
Kitty just tilted her head, her brow furrowed, her expression impossible for him to read, since he barely knew her. If it were Tina, he thought, this was the point where she'd respond with sympathy and instant forgiveness, because he'd reminded her of his disability. Not Kitty though. That was something he actually liked. And respected.
"... And I can see that it still doesn't excuse me," Artie went on. "I should have realized how wrong it was for me to kiss you the way we did... and as often as we did... and then not call over the holidays."
Kitty then looked down at her lap for a long, agonizing moment as Artie tried and failed to figure out what else he could say to get her to forgive him. And then, as she lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears.
"It's just..." her voice shook as a few tears spilled over. She angrily swiped them away, and Artie realized she didn't mean to cry in front of him, yet something he'd said must have struck a nerve and so she couldn't help herself. He waited for her to regain control in stunned silence. "I really needed to hear from a person I cared about. You. I needed to hear from you, because I was starting to care about you and I thought you cared about me."
"I did!" Artie sputtered, moving himself so close that his knees bumped the swing. It was as close as he could get. "I... I still do. I... I'm an idiot, I'm sorry." He hung his head. "I always seem to do this."
Kitty nodded slowly. "Well, you've claimed another victim," she said, hitting him with more of that brutal honesty that she was known for as she wiped her eyes. "Look, I want to forgive you, okay? It's just going to take a lot for me to get over this one. I don't expect you to understand, because it's not like I want to talk about why. Certainly not with someone I don't really trust right now. But there were just... reasons... why I could have used a true friend this Christmas."
"A friend," Artie repeated, a little slighted now because he was pretty sure they'd been more than friends. Luckily, Kitty seemed to catch her own mistake.
"Okay, okay, a friend with the potential to be more than a friend," she said, laughing a little. "Is that what you needed to hear?"
"Well... yeah." Artie twisted his mouth to the side, the way he did when he was thinking hard about how to say what needed to be said. There wasn't really a way not to bring it up now... "I mean, Kitty, let's face it. I know I'm not your usual body type."
"And I assume you noticed that wasn't stopping me before," was her retort. Which, again, wasn't sugar-coated in any way, something he could respect and appreciate.
"I... yeah, true."
"Okay, then." Kitty was actually smiling now, which in turn, brought a cautious smile to his face, too. "But I'm afraid we're going to have to start at square one again, buddy."
He didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but he assumed starting over meant they didn't just go right back to sneaking off to an empty classroom together. Maybe it meant talking about stuff. They hadn't done that, not really. There was an awkward pause as Artie wondered where to begin. He cleared his throat.
"Uh, hi." He stuck out a gloved hand. "I'm Artie Abrams. I noticed you being inexplicably mean to my friend Kurt, the barista who messed up your iced latte, and it instantly drew me to you."
She giggled, shaking his hand in return. "And I'm Kitty Wilde," she said. "I'll just confuse you while you lust after the elusive girl-next-door-type who someone unfortunately named after that dead dog movie. Eventually you'll remember girls like her always want the bad boy in the end, and you wear saddle shoes."
"I got new shoes, in case you didn't notice." Artie pointed indignantly at his feet. It was true. And they were kind of trendy. He supposed he'd have to thank his sister later, as she'd been right: shoes mattered more than he realized.
"Decidedly not bad," she agreed. "Who picked them out for you?"
"My sister," Artie said, smirking. "Next question."
"Mmkay," she said. "Well, I only knew you were going to New York over the holidays to check out that fancy film school because I overheard you talking about with your bestie, Tina." (She couldn't suppress an eye roll, confirming what Artie had always suspected: Kitty wasn't too impressed with Tina.) "So. How'd that go? Are you going to New York next year or what?"
"Maybe," Artie said, shrugging. "If I get in."
"And if you don't?"
"Then... I don't know." A truly terrifying thing to admit out loud. "How was your holiday?" He cringed as soon as he said it. "Other than... me not calling."
"Other than that?" It got a chuckle out of her, thankfully, and he realized she was on her way to forgiving him. "Not bad. Different. We skipped the tree and all the usual stuff. Just... made the long ski trip be our Christmas gift to each other this year. I even tried snow boarding a couple of days."
"How'd that go?"
"I'm glad I wore a helmet," she said, laughing. A beat later, he joined in. "I'll stick to skiing. It's what I'm good at anyway. I learned when I was five."
"Me too!" Artie lit up at the chance to talk about before, which didn't technically count as talking about his disability, but it would inevitably lead there. "My family tried going when I was three, but they quickly found out three year olds can't ski. It was mostly carrying me and all my equipment up a mountain. But once I could take lessons, I loved it. Never snowboarded but I was always curious."
"Not worth it." She paused, and this time, it was Kitty who brought it up. "Have you tried, um, skiing that's like..." she trailed off, looking for the word.
"Adaptive?" Artie put in, helpfully. "Not yet but I want to." He was about to tell her about how he could water ski at the lake while seated, which some people considered cool, when they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Finn.
"Hey, I almost ran out of places to look for you, dude!" he said, completely oblivious to the way he'd interrupted a private conversation. "Sugar's starting karaoke. Sam wants to do 'Billionaire.' I know it's upstairs, so–"
"Sure, sure. Carry me on up."
This time, Artie didn't hesitate. For one thing, nobody else was allowed to do the rap in 'Billionaire' but him. And also, he didn't ever care if Finn picked him up. Hell, he'd let the tall guy carry him all over school if he had to. And now that he'd secured Kitty's forgiveness plus the promise of starting over, karaoke was suddenly way more appealing.
It wasn't even midnight, but the year was already off to a decent start.