A/N: So this chapter came out a lot differently than I thought it would. It's also my longest one - ever.

I just hope I did Kurt justice, I love him but I've never written him before and I feel like I might have completely screwed up.

D: Oh well, hope you guys like it anyway. Oh and thanks for the reviews I really appreciate them!

He was lying on a can of some sort. He could feel it digging into his lower back as he tried to adjust himself to make the experience a little more comfortable. Artie had been cornered after practice by a bunch of faceless jocks who had nothing better to do after practice than throw a wheelchair kid into the dumpster. Artie couldn't have gotten away even if he tried. There were five of them and they had left him with no escape, so he had just braced himself when he felt his body lift out of his chair.

At this point in his life, Artie knew better than to attempt to get out on his own. He may be able to lift himself up fairly easily but he couldn't get himself over the dumpster without landing on the ground and hurting something. He had to wait for someone to help him out. The wait wasn't long, not usually at least, because more often than not, someone was thrown into the dumpster with him, and they were more than willing to help pull him out.

But he was alone today and school was over so no one would notice him missing. The last time he ended up in a dumpster alone it had taken 30 minutes to get out and afterwards he had considered getting a Twitter so he could alert his friends when he needed help.

Artie pulled his phone out of his pocket, he may not have a twitter but he did have unlimited texting and that was kind of better anyway. So with several clicks of a button he sent a mass text message to several members of the glee club that read "S.O.S In a Dumpster" in case they were still loitering around school.

And now it was just a waiting game. The majority of the people he texted were probably halfway home or at the mall, and he'd have to wait for them to double back - if they doubled back, to pull him out. He gave his phone a quick glance to see if there were any replies yet before placing it on his chest and pulling his hands behind his head as he did the only thing he could at the moment.

He watched the clouds.

He had spotted an elephant, something that looked suspiciously like Sue Sylvester and a unicorn horn before he heard an obnoxious banging on one of the metal sides that trapped him. Someone was purposely ramming the side of the dumpster with their hands. And it was annoying.

"Hey!" Artie shouted, desperately hoping that this mystery person was not another jock getting ready for a round two, "Could you help me out here?"

He notice two hands curl over the top of the dumpster and his heart thumped a little faster, but the fear he had was dispelled when he saw Puck's head pop up. "Hey Abrams"

"Puck?" Artie greeted eyebrows furrowed, he had not texted Puck, he didn't even have his number. "How'd you know I was in here?"

"They left your wheelchair out in the open. Amateurs." Puck answered holding out a hand

Despite himself, Artie snorted and let the stronger boy drag him out. Puck was not careful like Kurt or gentle like Tina but he got the job done and for that Artie was grateful. Besides, the scratch on his side would heal and he only knew his knee banged up against the metal because of the sound it made.

"Thanks" Artie said when he was back in his chair examining the damage on himself. He was still in one piece and none of the trash bags had leaked, thank god. That was one mess he did not want to deal with.

Puck shrugged as if to say, don't mention it.

Artie smiled nervously, "And not just for the dumpster."

Puck shrugged again leaning up against the dumpster, "You wanted to be a man and poker's a man's game."

Artie nodded but said nothing.

"Speaking of your man lessons, you should start dressing like a man."

"Are you insinuating that I dress like a woman?"

"No, but you dress like a dweeb. And if you didn't look like a dweeb maybe people would stop throwing you into dumpsters."

"People throw me in dumpsters because I'm in a wheelchair."

"Hey, you said it yourself, there are other people in wheelchairs at this school and you don't see them getting thrown in dumpsters."

Artie gave Puck a look of disbelief.

"Okay, fine, they don't get thrown in dumpsters as much as you do."

That was a little more believable.

"I swear, you like, give yourself a reason to be thrown in those damned things, and I've been in one, they are not fun"

"Tell me about it." Artie sighed dejectedly.

"Look, you're a dweeb but maybe if you stop looking like one people will forget that. We're jocks, we target dweebs. It's what we do. If you looked normal, well then you'll be alright."

There were so many things wrong with that logic. The major points being, Artie's an active member of glee club, he's in a wheelchair, and the jocks already knew him as Artie. And besides, he liked the way he dressed.

"Are you saying you want to take me shopping?" Artie asked raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

"Hell no." Puck said scrunching up his face as he threw Artie a scowl, "You're friends with Hummel right? Get him to do it."

"Do you know how long he's been waiting to do that? It'd be like Christmas came early"

Puck rolled his eyes, "Anyway," he said taking out his keys and pointing them at Artie as he spoke "You need a ride home?"

Artie honestly considered it for a moment, but declined, he didn't live very far away anyway.

"Later Abrams"

Artie spent the night considering Puck's suggestion. In the end he decided to go with it. It couldn't hurt and if he didn't like it he could always change back and maybe this way he could get Kurt to finally shut up about his clothes. He'd have to handle this very carefully though, he didn't really want to change, he just wanted to do a little adjusting and he needed to let Kurt know that otherwise the boy could get a little carried away.

He approached his fashionable friend at school that Friday and asked him to come over to his house afterwards. Artie didn't tell him why yet but Kurt agreed with little hesitation anyway.

"So, is there a reason I'm here?" Kurt asked crossing his legs when he finally settles on Artie's bed.

Artie parked himself directly in front of Kurt and twists his hands together, "Well, actually, I've need a favor." He'd been saying that a lot lately.

Kurt's ears perked up, his curiosity had peaked.

"I need some help with my clothing"

Kurt's eyes lit up, and Artie could practically see the gears turning in his head. Kurt started to open his mouth but Artie was quick to stop the explosion of fashion tips.

"WAIT!" He shouted throwing his hands in front of him, "Don't say anything until I'm done. I do not want a makeover. Alright? No makeovers. At all, you are NOT to 'reinvent' me. I just want to look..." Artie thought it over for a second before settling on Puck's description, "more normal."

Kurt huffed in annoyance, his arms crossed, he resembled a deflated balloon. "Can I talk now?"

Artie nodded cautiously, slowly returning his hands to his lap.

"So let me get this straight, you want me to help you with your clothes, but you don't want me to give you a makeover."

Artie nodded again, inwardly sighing in relief. He was afraid his friend would purposely skip over that point.

"Are you sure you don't want a makeover?" Kurt was eyeing Artie up and down, Artie felt naked under his gaze.

But Artie's mind was set and a firm "Kurt." had gotten the other boy to agree.

"Alright fine," Kurt relented uncrossing his legs and standing up, "You're lucky I'm a fashion genius. Now let's go raid your closet"

It takes ten minutes before all the contents of Artie's closet are lying on his bed. Kurt stood over one hand on his chin and examined all the articles of Artie's clothing as Artie watched on, suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"First thing's first Artie, lose the suspenders." Kurt says finally, turning to look at him.

"What? No!"

"Artie, they're tacky. Lose them."

"I need the suspenders." Artie mumbles, he wasn't getting rid of his suspenders, ever. And Tina liked the suspenders so he really wasn't going to lose them, but he wasn't about to tell Kurt that.

"Okay, okay. I see this is going to be harder than I thought." Kurt sighs in defeat, "But at least promise me you'll never wear them with a belt."

"What?"

"Artie, suspenders and a belt are a big no no. Both serve the purpose of keeping your pants on but you only need one of the two. You wouldn't wear a tie and a bow tie at the same time would you? Well, you might but you're not supposed to."

"Okay, I might be bad, but I'm not that bad."

"I beg to differ."

Artie said nothing and frowned instead. Kurt didn't notice, he had already turned back to the pile of clothing on the bed. "Do you own anything other than these?" He said as he picked up several hangers all holding his white dress shirts. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with them it's just a little, much, don't you think? You could get them in different colors, in fact you should get them in different colors. I think a blue one would suit you perfectly and it'd give you more variety."

Artie contemplated the suggestion for a second. "That's actually not a bad idea." And it wasn't, because it wouldn't be something out of his comfort zone, he'd be able to look nice according to Kurt and he'd still be Artie.

"And you're sweater vests, god forbid you're sweater vests!"

"Hey, I like the sweater vests." He voiced, slightly wounded looking down at the one he was wearing. A simple black one with a white stripe going across the middle.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with sweater vests, well except for this one this is hideous." Kurt replied holding up an argyle sweater vest his mom had gotten him a while ago.

At Artie's look of confusion Kurt continued onwards. "Artie, I wear sweater vests, you just need to find a way to match them up and make them shine."

Kurt spent the next two hours teaching Artie how to match colors and accessories together to make outfits without getting rid of any of his clothes. Whilst Artie spent the same two hours pleasantly surprising Kurt when he pulled out things like T-Shirts -admittedly nerdy T-shirts (One had a T-Rex on it) and hats that he never got around to wearing.

By the end of their lesson Artie had all the tools he needed to make a nice outfit without feeling like someone completely different. He was still distinctly Artie, Artie the nerdy suspender wearing guitar playing gleek but he was a slightly better dressed nerdy suspender wearing guitar playing gleek.

"I still wish you would have let me throw away that god awful vest." Kurt said from behind Artie referring to the argyle sweater vest he had held up earlier.

"No, Kurt." Artie responded firmly, buttoning up a plain black vest, "My mom bought that for me."

"Well, you don't have to wear it." Kurt retorted snarkily.

Artie turned his attention from fumbling with his buttons to glaring at Kurt.

Kurt completely ignored this and played with the phone in his hands "You still have to come shopping with me and Mercedes"

"I'll think about it." Artie replied finally finishing with his buttons. Out of the corner of his eye, Artie sees Kurt tapping out a text message. "What do you think?"

"Not bad, not bad at all, you look good in vests Artie."

"Thanks" Artie said grinning, he did look pretty good and that felt really good. He didn't even know he owned the vest until Kurt pulled it out from under a pile of T-Shirts.

It was quiet for a second as Artie continued admiring himself in the mirror and then out of nowhere "I didn't know you liked football."

Artie turned around and saw Kurt standing beside his desk observing an old worn football.

"I don't," Artie said wheeling over to where Kurt was standing, he grabbed the object and held it out for Kurt to take "Well, I mean, I do but I'm not really into it you know? My dad and I toss that around sometimes."

Kurt continued to stare at the ball, he seemed a little lost in his thoughts.

"You wanna-" Artie cleared his throat, "You wanna throw that around a bit?"

This snapped Kurt out of his reverie, "Yeah, sure." It was the quietest voice he had ever heard Kurt talk in, and it wasn't because it was whispered or that the volume was low, Artie has heard the boy whisper before, but it was because Kurt said it in a way that sounded very vulnerable and very unKurtlike. Artie didn't bring it up, he just led the way out of the house. Now didn't seem like the time to talk about it, not that he really knew what "it" was.

The two of them made their way towards the backyard in silence. Kurt had carried the football out but paused to pass it to Artie so he could take off his blazer. He frowned for a moment looking at the grass he stood above. Artie, sensing Kurt's dilemma quickly unbuttoned his vest and threw it onto the grassy ground haphazardly.

Kurt smiled at Artie as a silent thank you as he gently folded and placed his blazer on top of the vest along with the hat that was on his head. Artie returned the smile before positioning himself on the other side of the grass as he waited for Kurt to do the same.

They tossed the ball back in forth filling the space between them with casual small talk. This was Artie's favorite part of catch, the easy conversation between the players. There was no requirement to talk but they almost always find something to say. It's how he talks with his dad sometimes, they connect with a little football.

As they played on Artie couldn't help but notice that Kurt was good, really good, but Artie shouldn't have been so surprised. Kurt was on the team after all, something that Artie often found himself forgetting.

"You know, it's nice playing with someone who knows what they're doing" Artie says when they slipped into a silence, "I don't have to chase after the ball like I do when I'm playing with Tina or my sister." Footballs had this bad habit of flopping around on the ground which made it very difficult to retrieve, especially in a wheelchair.

"You're good too, who taught you to play?" Kurt asked. The football does a perfect spiral right into Artie's arms.

"My dad, you?" Artie pivoted his upper body and lets the ball soar. "Who taught you?"

"My dad but I wasn't any good until Finn helped me perfect my throw"

They fell into another silence, and then,

"Hey Kurt...You wanna stay for dinner?"