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Quinn smiled shyly at the guy who had come up to her and started flirting.
There were students from at least three schools scattered through the house and Artie had only recognized about a dozen people in the last half hour. He went to the kitchen to grab another beer before heading back out to the Halo tournament that some of the guys were playing in the over-crowded living room.
On his way back, he saw Quinn still standing in the corner with the flirty guy, but her smile had changed to her Cheerio-perfected bitch face, not that the guy was really taking the hint. Quinn pushed him back but he closed in on her again. When Artie saw that the jerk was taking advantage of Quinn’s size and pushing her into the corner with his broad chest, he had seen enough.
Fighting his way through a crowded house like this was no easy feat (it didn’t help that the house was never meant to have a wheelchair in it, so he had to move things out of his way or go around). By the time he finally got to the pair, the guy was putting his hands all over Quinn’s body and she was having a hard time moving him at all.
Artie pushed his chair forward and rammed hard into the guy’s shins with the footrests. He yelled out and lost his balance long enough for Artie to hit his legs again and push him backward when he started to stumble. “She said ‘no’!” He looked over at Quinn to make sure she was okay before turning his attention back to the idiot on the floor. “When a girl says no, you leave or I guarantee, she will have plenty of friends who will make you leave.”
The guy pushed himself off the floor and hobbled toward the stairs, his leg obviously throbbing from the sharp attack.
Artie turned his full attention back to Quinn. She was physically unharmed, but visibly shaken. “Thank you,” she said softly, just barely audible over the noise of the party.
“Come on, let’s get out of this mess, get some fresh air,” he suggested.
She nodded and held the handles of his wheelchair, ensuring that they wouldn’t be separated. When they got outside, there were a few guys in letterman jackets who helped Artie down the steps and they moved down the driveway where it was a little quieter.
“Thanks,” Quinn said again, leaning back against a car door. Her eyes wandered around them, still a little afraid.
“Let me just apologize on behalf of the male species for being total jerks more often than is ever acceptable.”
Quinn shook her head. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. You’re actually one of the few decent guys out there who doesn’t try to pull that kind of crap.” She shook her head and picked at her fingers. “I don’t know why I even come to these parties anyway.”
“Well, I would offer to take you home, but…” he glanced at the beer can still resting between his legs. “I kinda figured I’d have a couple of these tonight so I told my parents I would call them later.”
“Your parents are okay with you drinking?”
“Sorta. They trust me to be responsible if I do choose to drink. But it’s not like they’re going to just buy me beer or give me money for it or anything.” He shrugged. “I know I can always call them for a ride and they’ll never get mad.”
She nodded once. “They sound cool.”
A long silence passes between them after that. They look at each other, at the people around them, at the cars lining the street, at the blackened night sky filled with stars.
“Well,” Quinn shruged, breaking through the quiet. “I think I’m going to head home. Not really my idea of a fun night anyway.”
Artie nodded his ageement. “Yeah, I can play Halo at home where I will actually get a turn to play. I think I’m gonna call my dad and get out of here.”
“I can give you a ride if you want. I don’t drink at these parties,” she glanced back at the house, “for obvious reasons; I prefer to know I can get home when I want to.” She nodded in the general direction of the street. “My car is just down the block.”
He nodded and they weaved through the cars as Quinn shuffled her feet on the sidewalk. When they got to her car, she opened the passenger side door and stepped back. Artie handed his still closed beer can up to her while he maneuvered himself into the seat. Quinn handed the beer back to him. “Don’t open that in the car please.” She stepped back and grabbed his wheelchair, collapsing it and shifting it into the back seat, wiggling it to make sure it was settled in.
When they had weaved through the winding neighborhood and got out to the freeway, Artie looked over at Quinn. “Why do you go? If you don’t drink and don’t like the parties, why go?”
She shrugged, glancing over at him and then switching on her blinker to change lanes. “Gets me out of the house. My mom worries that I don’t have enough of a social life without Cheerios. I think she just wants me to forget last year ever happened and having a normal life is apparently the solution.”
“I know last year kinda sucked but…”
“I won’t ever forget it. Wouldn’t want to.” She saw him nod from the corner of her eye. “I want to remember it, and remember that I’m not a screw up.”
“You’re not a screw up.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said quietly. She guided the car off the highway to a small neighborhood of short streets with custom, unique houses. “I’m just different than everyone’s expectations.” She tossed him a half smile. “I’ve learned that that’s okay too.”
She turned onto Oak Street and leaned forward as she peered into the darkness. “Maple, right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
Once she was on Maple, Quinn recognized Artie’s house and pulled into the drive. She killed the engine and sat back, staring at his garage door. After a moment she turned and gingerly picked up the beer can that was resting between Artie’s knees. When she pulled up on the tab, the can opened with a crisp ‘pop’. She brought it to her lips and took a sip, slightly warm but still satisfying somehow. “It’s not that I don’t drink, I just don’t like the idea of being taken advantage of, which happens way too easily when alcohol is involved.
When she handed it back, he shrugged. “You can come in and play Halo with me, finish that one if you want.” He shot her a small grin. “I promise the only way I’ll be taking advantage is kicking your butt in the game.”
She laughed. For the first time in a long time, she thought, the chance to just be a normal teenager and let loose was standing in front of her, flagging her down. Who was she to turn down an opportunity like that. “Sounds like fun.”
She got out of the car, got his chair out, and got them both to the front door. Artie unlocked it and let her in first. When he closed the door behind him, he called out into the house, “Mom, Dad, I’m home.”
He guided Quinn into the family room and told her to make herself comfortable. Artie’s dad came into the room as Artie was firing up the game console under the big screen tv. “Hey, I got a ride home with Quinn. The party was kind of a bust.” He nodded from Quinn to his dad. “Quinn, my dad, Jason Abrams.” Then from his dad to Quinn. “Dad, this is Quinn Fabray.”
“Right, from Glee club,” he smiled, obviously remembering her from a competition.
Quinn smiled. “That’s right. Nice to meet you, Mr. Abrams.”
Mr. Abrams looked at the open beer can sitting on the coffee table. “I don’t care whose it is, just don’t do anything stupid.” His tone wasn’t harsh, only parental warning, but serious all the same.
“Don’t worry, nobody plans on driving heavy machinery or making any life-altering decisions, dad.”
Mr. Abrams smirked. “Good call.” He left the room humming.
“Your dad’s cool,” Quinn smiled as she settled into the couch with a controller in hand and her beer wedged between her thighs.
“The best,” Artie agreed. He slid himself from his wheelchair to the couch and made himself comfortable next to Quinn. “Now, how about I teach you a thing or two about Halo, huh?”
Half an hour later, Quinn’s beer was gone, they were both drinking water and munching on potato chips (Artie knew that she had been a bit of a health nut since she had Beth, but he also knew that she was probably looking for an excuse to not care about her diet every now and then) and Quinn was conquering Artie in a game he was sure he’d mastered.
“I don’t understand!” Artie’s eyes were wide as he looked over at Quinn. “How the hell are you doing that?”
“Come on,” she teased lightly, “you don’t go through teenage pregnancy, maintain some kind of friendship with Santana, survive Miss Sylvester’s tormenting, and manage to eventually regain some popularity without having some serious street smarts.” She winked at him.
He put his hands up in surrender. “You got me there.”
She settled back into the cushions and let her controller drop to her side. “This is fun,” she smiled. “We should do this more often.”
He coughed out a laugh. “Sure, but we’re gonna have to pick a different game, because a guy can only get his butt kicked by a girl so often.” He looked over at his gaming partner. She was smiling, but she was looking pretty comfortable leaned back against the plush couch. “Wanna…put in a movie or something?” he asked cautiously.
“What’d you have in mind?” Her question was her agreement to ‘a movie or something’, and she handed her game controller back to him.
He slid into his wheelchair and put the game away and searched through the movies under the tv. “Pick a genre, any genre,” he said playfully.
--
Half an hour into the movie, Quinn was slouching low into the couch and had her head lightly resting on Artie’s shoulder. He wanted to tell her to wake up because she was missing the best part of the movie, but…she smelled really good. Her shampoo, something coconut and vanilla, literally right under his nose. And her breathing had become slow and soft, like she had probably started drifting off. He thought it a bit selfish, but he wanted to keep her right there like that for just a little while. It’s not like he would get many opportunities like this one.
When the movie was over, Quinn still resting against his side, Artie turned the TV off. He debated for a few minutes, but eventually made up his mind to prize Quinn off his shoulder and gently move her to lay on her right side. She started to stir with the movement but he whispered that she was fine and told her to go back to sleep.
“I should get home,” she said even as she snuggled herself against the soft fabric of the couch.
He chuckled. “Crash here. You’re already half asleep; you don’t need to be driving.” Artie maneuvered back to his chair and reached down to pick Quinn’s feet up and help her swing all the way up on the couch. He went to the hall closet for a couple blankets, spreading one on top of her already sleeping form and draping the other over the end of the couch in case she needed it. “Goodnight, Quinn,” he whispered as he rolled out of the room and hit the lights.
Heading for the hallway, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a pad of sticky notes, scrawling out a quick note for his parents. ‘Quinn was too tired to drive home last night. She fell asleep on the couch.’ He stuck it to the wall across from their doorway where they would see it in the morning and made his way to his own room.
Just as he was turning to rest his glasses on the nightstand in his dark room, he remembered something. Sliding his phone open, he scrolled to ‘glee parents’ in his contacts and searched for Ms. Fabray’s number.
(After the glee club had decided to go see a show together in Cleveland once and Santana had passed out from anemia – swearing to cut anybody who opened their mouths about it the second she came to – the group decided they should have some kind of emergency contact information for each other. Rachel insisted it was information friends should keep track of anyway.)
He squinted at the time and saw that it was nearly 1 am, but knew that Quinn hadn’t gone to the party with anybody, hadn’t planned to drive anybody but herself home, and knew that Judy Fabray would probably worry if Quinn wasn’t home by now.
‘Ms. Fabray, Quinn drove me home and fell asleep on my couch watching a movie.’ He tacked his name to the bottom of the message and hit send. He hardly remembered setting his phone back down as sleep took him quickly.
The next time he opened his eyes, the sun was beaming in against his bare chest (it had to be close to ten o’clock) and warming him comfortably. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand when he felt something paper against his hand. He slid his glasses on and looked at the orange sticky note with familiar, neat cursive.
‘Artie, Thanks for letting me crash here and then letting my mom know I was safe. Q. ps I’ll bring snacks for the next game night.’