Disclaimer: As much as I wish it, I own nothing.

Pairing: Tartie, of course!!!

Written because I just had to write one before the season ended :-)

"Blond."

"Big chest!"

"Pale skin."

"Jeans and tight tees, definitely."

"Cool. She has to be cool."

"Not too much makeup..."

Artie had two older brothers, and he had been hearing their definitions of 'beautiful' for as long as he could remember. He followed them around, desperate to be included, and would listen silently as they discussed their latest crush or girlfriend. When they read poems in english and the word 'beauty' came up, his brothers' definitions were what he thought of.

His twin brothers, one year older than him, had been his idols for as long as he could remember. They seemed to be two of the most popular guys in school, with huge groups of friends and three girlfriends at a time and football and decent grades. Artie had always been left in the dust, though his brothers occasionally made an effort to include him. But this only furthered his vision of them as near gods. And the day he lost this idealized vision of them was the day he came up with his own definition of beauty.

It was at a football game, when they were seniors and he was a junior. After the game, Andrew and Alex often got a little... well, rowdy was probably the best word to describe them. Their parents let them find their own way home, because they didn't want to deal with the two teenagers. And on this occasion, they had left Artie with them.

The twins had disappeared into the locker room a while ago, and Artie was starting to get annoyed. They were not still changing.

"Guys?" he called, pushing into the room. It was dark and empty, full of dirty socks and thick with the stench of sweat and hormones. Face wrinkled up in disgust, he wheeled back outside and around the bleachers. And there he found them.

The football players had formed a ring around a dumpster. From the center, he could he a trembling voice pleading with them.

"Loser," said a player Artie didn't know. The boy in the wheelchair held his breath, waiting for his brothers to stick up for whoever it was. But a defense didn't come.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Alex. "And what do we do to losers?"

"Trash them like the trash they are!" the rest of the boys chorused.

"May I do the honors?" asked Andrew, rolling up his sleeves and grinning like a maniac. And despite his fear, Artie couldn't remain silent any longer.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, rolling forwards. His brothers exchanged a glance.

"Go away, wimp," Alex said. "Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Yeah," said another nameless player. "The only reason you're not the one in the dumpster is your big brothers."

"Alex," he pleaded. "Andrew. Don't do this."

"Shut up," commanded Andrew. "Go away, little bro. Or you can find your own way home."

"Fine," said Artie, straightening his back. Anger pulsed through his body. How could his perfect big brothers do this to that poor person?

Andrew shrugged, turning back to his victim. He picked them up easily- they must be small.

"Heave- HO!" the twin grunted, swinging them up and into the big green box.

"Catch ya later," Alex called to Artie. Arms linked, the team walked away. Body shaking with anger (at least from the waist up) Artie wheeled over to the dumpster.

"You alright in there?" he yelled.

"F-f-fine," a stuttering voice answered from inside. Female. "C-c-can you help m-m-me get out?"

"Sorry," he said, embarressed. "I wish I could, but... I'm kind of... in a wheel chair."

There was a pause, then the voice asked, "A-A-Artie Abrams?"

"Yeah. Two of the idiots who threw you in there were my brothers." He was still furious at their betrayal.

"H-H-Hang on, I th-th-think I can get out from here," the girl called. "I'm T-T-Tina Cohen-Chang, by the way."

"Alright, Tina Cohen-Chang. I'll make sure you get out okay."

"Th-th-thanks," she called, then there was a blur and a girl came tumbling out, landing hard on the ground.

"Ow," she whimpered, staring up at him, but Artie was struck dumb. This girl was... amazing.

"You... You okay?" he asked finally, regaining his voice.

"Yeah," she said, wincing. He helped pull her up.

"Sorry about my stupid brothers," he said, unable to take his eyes off her.

"It's alright," she replied softly, staring at the ground. "D-D-Did they just ditch you?"

"Uh-huh," he sighed. "But it's okay. I'll get home somehow."

"I'll help you," she offered, pulling a banana peel out of her hair. "It's p-p-pitch black."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

The two walked- or, well, rolled- to Artie's house in silence.

"Can you get home from here?" he asked.

"Yeah. Listen, thanks for s-s-sticking up for me earlier. I guess I'll s-s-see you at school."

"Yeah. See you then."

And as he watched her retreating back, her streaked hair swinging slightly, he smiled. He didn't need his brothers. And he sure as hell didn't need their definition of beautiful.

"Blond."

Black hair, black as moonlight, with light blue streaks running through it.

"Pale skin."

Tan skin. No, cinnamon skin was a better description.

"Jeans and tight tees, definitely."

Black and red and chains. Oh, and a bit of garbage as well.

"Cool. She has to be cool."

Loser? Maybe. Stutter? Definitely. Perfect? One Hundred.

"Not too much makeup..."

Oh, plenty of makeup, especially around the eyes. Dark, glittering... captivating.

Maybe his definition of 'beauty' was different, but his was twice as correct. Theirs were based off lust. His? His was love.