I am so sorry to those who have been waiting for an update. All I can say is that I lost inspiration for a while, got distracted by some other stories, but I have finally found my way back to this one. :) I will try to update more often, but we all know how I can be with that. :-/ Anyway, thank you guys so much, genuinely and from the bottom of my heart. You are all so awesome! xD Please leave me a review to let me know what you think; which pairing is your favorite so far, whether romantic or friendship? What would you like to see happen? (Suggestions will definitely be taken into consideration, and may even help me be more inspired and thus able to update faster!)

This chapter is pretty long, and I hope it was well worth the wait. So, I'll stop babbling now and let you get on with the story. *You all shout unanimously like that one episode of Spongebob:"That's what we've been waiting for!"* ;D Enjoy!

Chapter Ten

Early Saturday evening.

"Knock, knock," Puck called out as he opened the door of their motel room. He didn't actually knock at all, but rather just spoke the action.

"We've brought provisions!" Rachel sang. "And they smell dee-licious." As she was carrying the two giant pizza boxes in her arms, she had to use the heel of her hiking boot to close the door behind her.

"Thank God," said Quinn dramatically. "I'm so starved."

"Everyone come gather near the sultan's throne," said Puck, flopping onto the end of his bed – the old springs groaned in protest at the weight of his well-muscled body – and beckoning the three toward him as if they were his royal guests.

"'The sultan'?" Artie echoed, his eyebrows shooting skyward.

"It's better than Mack Daddy Big House, though, right?" said Puck earnestly.

"Yes, Noah, we'll give you that," Rachel said diplomatically. She sat down cross-legged next to him, close enough that her bare thigh touched his jeans; Puck found himself wishing he were wearing shorts instead. Even the dorky denim cut-offs buried in the back of his drawer back home.

Rachel balanced the two pizza boxes on her right knee and Puck's left. She opened the top and immediately the amazing smell of cheesy, saucy, baked-bread goodness drifted through the room.

Artie rolled over to the end of Puck's bed; Quinn sat down next to Artie, the top of her head for once level with his.

"Yum," said Artie, closing his eyes and taking a great whiff of the wonderful aroma.

"I'm going to start drooling if you don't give me a piece right this second."

"Okay, Quinn, hang on; there's enough of Puckzilla to go around. Maybe even enough for seconds." He waggled his eyebrows in a manner that was both ridiculously cocky and just plain ridiculous.

Everyone groaned at Puck's behavior, but laughter punctuated the sounds of disgusted protest.

Rachel handed the bottom pizza box to Quinn so she could share with Artie. Quinn opened the top, inspected the goods. Cheese pizza. She would've preferred pepperoni, but this looked too delectable to whine.

She handed Artie a large slice before selecting one for herself. She wished she had a napkin to blot off some of that grease, not wanting it to smear all over her mouth. But maybe the sheen it left behind could pass as a particularly shiny lip gloss?

She took one bite and her eyes rolled backward in ecstasy. Screw appearances, she thought. This is too damn good for worrying about grease.

Puck and Rachel reached for the same piece in their box – the biggest one – and their fingers brushed. Lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary. A nervous giggle from Rachel as she yanked her hand away as if Puck's were an open flame.

"You can have it," said Puck in his best I-can-be-a-gentleman voice.

"You go ahead," said Rachel.

"No, for real, I insist."

"Um, okay," she said, hesitantly picking up the piece. Strings of hot cheese dripped from the end.

Puck watched Rachel's mouth as she took a hearty bite off the end. The way her perfectly-cared-for, straight teeth clomped down; the way a teardrop-sized splash of sauce stuck at the side of her lips.

"Uh," he said. "You've got…" He motioned toward the area between his mouth and chin.

Rachel lifted her eyebrows and continued chewing. She swallowed before speaking. "What?"

"Uhm," he said, moistening his lips. "You've got some sauce on your…" He pointed toward the drop of red on her face. "…Yeah."

Rachel took a napkin and wiped at every place but the damn bit of sauce. "Here; hold still," said Puck, leaning in and using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe it away.

Their eyes locked. Their stomachs suddenly dipped with a nervous feeling. Are we having…a moment? Rachel thought.

But of course, right when the thought jumped unwelcome into her mind, Puck proved her wrong by dramatically licking the sauce off his thumb and winking at her.

She looked away, feeling foolish. She suddenly missed Finn so much that it was a physical ache all through her bones. Finn would never make her feel so stupid. He wasn't one for flirty mind games. Well, he wasn't one for flirting at all, really. At least not with her.

Puck grabbed a slice of pizza for himself; now they were all chowing down. It was silent for a while as they dug into the food.

"So, what do you guys think the rest of the Glee Club is up to right now?" asked Artie curiously.

"Something boring," said Puck simply. "Haha, I just imagined like, every single person of the other members of the Glee Club sneezing at the same time! Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

Rachel, Quinn, and Artie gave the sniggering Puck a collective look of 'um…you're weird.'

"Whatever," Puck shrugged. "It was funnier in my head."

"I imagine that's true of every joke you make," Quinn quipped.

"Oh, and like you're Miss Hilarious? I don't recall you having a PhD in Joke Making."

"I wonder if a clown college would have that as an option," Artie said thoughtfully, not mocking.

"You're quiet," Puck said to Rachel, almost accusingly.

"I'm eating," she said snootily, "and thinking. Not that you'd know much about the latter."

"Ooh, burn!" Artie chuckled.

"Hardly," Puck scoffed.

"No, she got you pretty good," said Quinn.

"What, so you guys are ganging up on me now?"

"Pretty much," shrugged Artie.

"It really shouldn't surprise you, Noah."

Quinn just gave Puck a 'what-did-you-expect?' half-smirk.

"Fine," said Puck. "I'll be you guys' punching bag. But how about I start saying how annoying you guys are? Huh? Could you guys handle the epic put-downs of the Mighty Puckmeister?"

"Bring it," Quinn challenged.

Rachel quickly swallowed her last bite of pizza before holding out her hands and calling, "Wait!" When their attention was on her, she continued.

"Don't you think this all sounds a little mean-spirited?"

"Um…duh," said Puck. "It's gonna be a lot mean-spirited. That's the point of a Roast, Rachel."

"I'm vegan."

"No, not like a meal," Quinn said, surprisingly not sounding annoyed by Rachel's lack of knowledge. "It's when you insult people with jokes made at their expense."

"You've seriously never heard of a Roast?" asked Artie.

"No." Rachel said the word stiffly, her eyes narrowing. She hated feeling left out, which happened much too often for some reason. "But it sounds like something I wouldn't like. Poking fun at people for laughs? How low has society stooped?"

Puck and Artie started to argue with her, but Quinn spoke up. "No, you guys, Rachel's right." Even she looked surprised by her word choice. "Um…yeah, Rachel's right." She chuckled to herself and muttered under her breath, "Never thought I'd ever say that."

"But that's not fair," said Puck. "You guys got to rip into me, so I should get to rip into you."

"How about a compromise?" Artie bit into another piece of pizza. "We each say something we don't like about each other…but, we also say something we do like about each other."

Rachel twirled a lock of hair around her finger and nodded slowly. "Hmmm…I think that could be…interesting. We would be able to find out negative aspects of our personality that we need to work on, but the blow will be cushioned by a compliment following the insult."

Puck chuckled. "You said 'blow.'"

That got him a nice extra-agitated eye-roll from Rachel.

"So, who's going to be the first victim?" asked Quinn.

"I'll go," said Artie. "Or, I guess I mean, you guys go. Do me first." He quickly shot a look at Puck. "Don't take that out of context."

"All right, so who's going to insultiment him first?" Puck inquired.

"'Insultiment,'" Quinn repeated, "as in 'insult' combined with 'compliment'?"

Puck nodded.

Quinn gave an approving nod back. "Nice."

"I will," Rachel said eagerly, sitting up straighter and folding her hands in her lap. She loved doling out her opinions; she figured everyone could do with some privileged Rachel Berry Constructive Criticism.

"Oh, great," Artie groaned jokingly. Quinn winked at him and patted his arm.

Rachel cleared her throat importantly. "I am a firm believer in 'the bad news first.' That way, you are left hearing the positive, so you aren't dwelling on the negative. So, Artie, here is what I think you need to work on: when we are in group performances, your facial expressions tend to not be as expressive as the oth– "

"No, Rachel," Puck interrupted. "You're supposed to tell him one thing you don't like about him, and one thing you do."

"That's what I was doing!"

"You were about to tell him what he needs to do to be a better performer in the Glee Club," Puck said with exasperation. "That's something Mr. Schue would do. You're supposed to be, like, mini-Roasting him first."

"But I don't want to just tell him something pointlessly mean, just for the sake of being mean," Rachel frowned. "That doesn't sound very nice."

Quinn smirked. "That's kind of the point."

"I'm not going to get offended," Artie said, giving Rachel a kind smile. She may be super annoying at times, but until now, he hadn't realized how much she really cared for others.

"None of us are allowed to get mad at each other," said Puck. "We can get offended, because watching people freak out is fun, but no more fighting like earlier in the car, got it?"

Quinn and Artie nodded their ascent, but Rachel still looked uncertain.

"All right," she said, biting down on her lower lip. "Well, Artie, um…something I don't like about you…." Her mind went blank. Artie was a good guy – nice, funny, and generous. There wasn't really anything to not like about him, unless you were a heartless jerk.

Well...there was one thing...

"I don't like how you talk badly about me behind my back," Rachel said.

"What? I do not!"

"Yes, you do," she insisted, gaining a sense of indignity in her tone and posture. "I once overheard you telling Tina that I am an insufferable know-it-all, and you're always rolling your eyes at me like I'm the most annoying person on this planet, and when I gave everybody in the Glee Club candy canes for Valentine's Day out of the kindness of my heart, you muttered the word 'lame' under your breath!" With each listing of the mean things Artie had done to her, her words burned more and more fiery.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Rachel!" Artie held up his hands and raised his eyebrows. "Settle down!"

"See? Now you're being condescending!" She threw her arms up in the air with exasperation, nearly knocking over the balanced pizza box half on her lap. She drew in a sharp breath and exhaled it slowly. "I just wish you weren't so judgmental, I guess. You don't really know me like you know the others, but you tend to pass more judgment on me than on any one else."

Artie sputtered, trying to grasp at some sort of epic comeback, but he realized that he really shouldn't be the one who was offended here. Rachel was right; he was rude to her. Way ruder to her than any of their other friends. In fact, he had never even considered Rachel as a friend before, and he could now see that was because he hadn't given her a fair chance.

"You're right," said Artie, shamefaced. "I'm sorry. You do annoy me a lot, but I don't pay attention to the nice stuff you do. I only focus on the irritating parts. But to my defense, there are a lot of those!"

"Gee. Thanks." Rachel bit into her pizza slice violently.

"Sorry, sorry; there I go again. Just forgive me, okay? … Please?"

Rachel made him sweat it out for a few seconds before gracing him with a small but genuine smile and saying softly, "Okay."

"Booooo!" Puck gave a thumbs-down.

Quinn shot Puck a dirty look; why ruin such a sweet moment?

"Hey!" Rachel protested, whacking Puck in the arm with her pizza crust.

"You guys suck at Roasts! Seriously! Way too much lovey-dovey goo-goo crap, and not enough punch-to-the-gut-truthful insults!"

Artie scoffed. "Come on, Puck! If we flat-out insulted each other, we'd go back to fighting again. And pizza is far too sacred of a food to put through shouting matches."

"Fine, whatever; go all Dr. Phil. See if I care. But I'll have you suckers know, when it's my turn, Puckzilla ain't gonna go easy on ya."

"We'll keep that in mind right after we decide to actually care," said Quinn with a roll of her pretty, green eyes.

"Okay, so you insulted me," Artie said to Rachel. "Now compliment me."

"That's an easy one," Rachel smiled. "You're the best hip-hop singer of the group!"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Puck turned his head with each word. "Rachel! Your insultiments cannot have to do with school in any way, shape, or form. That includes the Glee Club. It's too boring that way."

Rachel huffed and finished off her crust before reaching for another. "Fine. Okay, Artie, I like your dry sense of humor. It may not make me laugh in particular, but I can understand its appeal, and from what I gather, you are quite good at sarcasm and deadpanning."

Artie smiled, a foreign warmth for Rachel unfurling in his chest. It was…friendly affection. Huh.

"Thanks, Rachel."

"You're most welcome." She smiled to herself, proud of her work, and took a hearty bite of her new piece of pizza.

"Okay, now I'm going to go, so I can show you kiddies how to really school someone," said Puck. He tossed the entire crust of his slice into his mouth and wiped his hands together eagerly.

Rachel turned away in revulsion as Puck chomped down on the crust, mouth veering open a few times, but finally he had swallowed it all and could talk. Wait…finally he could talk again… On second thought, Rachel preferred his eating with his mouth full better.

"Artie, your wardrobe looks like it was picked out by a blind librarian's assistant in the old man's department of a shop for teachers' clothes," Puck said. He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "Seriously, dude, what is up with those dorktastic suspenders? What are you, Mr. Rogers' socially inept grandson?"

Artie chuckled good-naturedly, but his cheeks were noticeably a bit pinker than before. "Nice; you got me good. Haha."

Quinn turned to Artie and offered him a sweet, close-lipped smile. He noticed how it changed everything about her when she smiled like that, so warm and genuinely kind and caring: her eyes became greener, brighter, crinkling adorably at the edges; her precious baby-angel lips became smaller and daintier.

Artie's heart skipped a beat.

"I think your style works for you," she said. "It's quirky. Cute. Kind of cool, actually."

A smile spread across Artie's entire face at this. "Thanks, Quinn," he said, surprising himself with how shy his tone was. Strangely enough, he blushed harder at Quinn's compliment than he had with Puck's insult.

"Ugh," Puck groused. "A Roast is no time for interjections of sunshine-and-rainbows from other people after someone's insult."

"You got him good, Puck," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. She still didn't approve of this game. It still felt too mean-spirited and rather pointless; she just hoped the compliments from everyone would help them all bond, at least. "Now share your compliment so we can move on to the next person."

"All right, fine, fine," Puck huffed. "I guess it's pretty cool how you're in a wheelchair but you, like, handle yourself with, you know, like, dignity." He ran his hand through his jet-black Mohawk, his tone edged with discomfort. It felt seriously lame to be buttering up another dude like this, in such a…'bromantic' way.

"Like, I don't know, if I were in a wheelchair, I would probably bitch about it more than you do," he finished, apparently very interested with watching as he twirled a loose thread from the hemline of his clean white T-shirt around and around his forefinger. "It's cool how I kind of sometimes forget you're even in a wheelchair, ifthatmakessenseIdon'tknowyeahwhateverman."

Puck looked up from winding the thread around his finger to find three faces inspecting him with varying expressions: there were Artie and Quinn right across from him, the boy's face a cross between amusement and gratitude, while the girl wore this soft smile and gentle pride in her eyes directed toward Puck. And then there was Rachel, those long-eyelash-framed amber eyes of her eyes bearing into the side of his profile, and when he turned and caught her gaze, those damn eyes might as well have been bearing into his soul now, too.

Rachel's eyebrows were drawing together, marking a tiny crease between them; her mouth was a small, thoughtful pucker; her head was cocked to the side, like a curious animal cautiously approaching a foreign object…it was all of this, but mainly, it was the unabashed inquiry gleaming in her eyes. Like she were cupping Puck in her hand, holding him up to the light and turning him around to take note of how the light caught his every angle and every shadow.

He didn't like being looked at like he was some difficult math equation Rachel was trying to solve; he wasn't anybody's damn mystery, and he hated the way her expression veered onto borderline disbelief, as if she were genuinely surprised that he even had feelings, let alone was able to dole out a sincere compliment to Artie, one of his sort-of-friends.

"Thanks," Artie said, breaking the starting-to-become-awkward silence. "That's nice of you, Puck."

Puck bristled at this, resentment sizzling through his veins like hot oil.

But his snapping point arrived when Rachel had to lean forward to reach one of the last slices of pizza toward the back of the box, and her thigh pressed right up against Puck's, her hipbone pushing against his. Her shoulder brushing his for just a second; then, her elbow passing over his forearm, making the black leather of his jacket make a soft crinkling noise.

"Yeah, well, I'm a fucking nice guy!" he snapped. "I'm more of a saint than frigging Gandhi, so stop acting all surprised, as if I'm, like, the king of all dickwads and have just surprised you by doing something…none dickwaddy, or whatever. … And, God, Rachel, could you take any longer to get a fucking piece of pizza?" For her thigh and hip were still against his, as she had frozen midway through selecting a slice when he had started shouting.

She sprang back into action, grabbing one of the last at random, and when she pulled back from the box, she discreetly pulled away from Puck too, scooting a few inches away from him. But he noticed.

Boy, did he notice.

And it only pissed him off more. … And…strangely enough…it made this stupid, awful, unfamiliar sensation of what could only be shame, maybe even embarrassment, prickling all along the hairs of his body. And her shaming him only made him even more pissed off at her, at the world. God, what an endless, tiring cycle!

"All…riiiiighhhttt," Quinn finally said, breaking through the hard ice that had begun to form through the atmosphere following Puck's outburst. "We will never doubt your nice guy capabilities ever again, Puck." She nabbed another piece of cheese pizza (she was only on her second one, being a slow eater), handed Artie his third slice of cheese he'd been reaching for, and then cleared her throat.

"My turn to insultiment Artie," she said in as breezy a tone as possible. She wanted the tension in the air to melt back into the relaxed comradery that had developed between the group before Puck had blown a gasket for whatever reason.

"My insult to you, Artie, is that…" She suddenly trailed off, realizing that she really couldn't think of anything about him she didn't like.

"Okay…um…I guess my insult to you is that…" She nibbled from her pizza, eyes trained on the ceiling as she racked her brain for something she disliked about Artie. But really, there was nothing; he was a genuinely great guy – she had learned this much just by "bonding with him" for half a day.

"I guess you could style your hair better," she finally decided on, shrugging at him. Apologetically, not because it was an insult, but because it wasn't a good enough insult. She'd failed the game, hadn't made this interesting enough for him.

"I mean, I like your haircut and all, but it's kind of flat." Quinn reached the hand of hers that was unmarred by pizza grease over to Artie's brunette head, and she ran her fingers through his thick, soft hair, fingertips lingering for just a moment when she reached the base of his skull.

Their eyes connected; involuntarily, Quinn's grip tightened just a fraction against his head, bunching the hair like tufts of feathers between her slender fingers.

Her heart throbbed; this slow, aching beat.

Quickly, Artie glanced away, feeling awkward. He was wondering why Quinn was looking at him like that, himself not experiencing the completely unexpected, strange sensation – almost like an electric shock – that had coursed through Quinn's every vein at what she found to be such intimate physical contact with him.

When his eyes broke from hers, she abruptly pulled her hand away, dropped it back into her lap, and flicked a panicked stare over to Rachel and Puck. Had they witnessed her crazy behavior, how she'd been…like…gazing at Artie, and how he had turned away, sort of rejecting her?

Thankfully, no, they had not; they were both in their own world following Puck's outburst.

Rachel was very intently watching as the pizza slice in her hand diminished bite-by-bite; Puck was still worrying away over that loose thread of his, finally yanking it free from his hemline and now weaving it in and out between his fingers as if he were playing with a yo-yo.

"Um, and your compliment is that you're a very nice guy," Quinn said in one great breath, forcing eye-contact and a flash of a fake smile Artie's way before returning to the solace of her pizza crust.

Artie smiled his own fake smile back at her, even though she was no longer looking at him. 'A very nice guy?' Seriously? Ugh, that was the freaking kiss of death! His ultimate kryptonite, the reason Brittany had dumped him: He was too damn nice.

"You know, this game is stupid," he finally said after another uncomfortable, sulking silence from the foursome. "It's making all of us moody, and I don't want to cause any more tension. We're on thin enough ice as it is. Can we talk about or do something else?"

Everyone looked up at him, something almost like guilt in their eyes.

"You're right," Rachel agreed, nodding vigorously. "As much as I love drama, I just feel like we're going about this road trip all wrong. We keep fighting, getting into these awkward arguments. We're all mature enough to handle our emotions, so let's stop taking things out on other people." She had to be careful to swing her stare toward everyone in the group, and not just Puck; she also had to be careful not to make her tone scolding when her stare did land on Puck.

"We're basically finished with the pizza," Quinn said, motioning to the nearly-empty boxes. "How about some dessert?"

"I brought Oreos," said Puck, plucking his backpack up from its spot on the floor next to his bed. He lifted it into his lap, unzipped it, and began rummaging around. He pulled out the familiar shiny dark blue container of delicious chocolate-with-cream snack cookies.

He turned to Rachel, his expression just the tiniest bit shy, a bit remorseful, and his words uttered in the canto of an apology. "They're vegan. I, like, researched vegan snacks online when packing some stuff we could all eat on the road, and Oreos came up."

Rachel's mouth parted; she was touched by this kind gesture. Touched deeply so. She moistened her lips, squinted her eyes as she stared into his. Searching for something, but she didn't know what exactly just yet.

"Thank you, Noah." She graced him with a soft but sincere smile, and all was forgiven from his earlier outburst. "I did in fact know that Oreos were vegan; I enjoy snacking on them at home sometimes."

"Good," he said, returning her close-lipped smile, small but gentle.

"Pass some over here," Artie said. "I want me some choc-o-lat."

Puck opened the container and grabbed a few for himself before sending the box around in a circle: first to Rachel, who passed them to Artie, who passed them to Quinn.

Quinn took off the top of one of her cookies and began licking away at the cream.

"You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat their Oreos," Artie said, mock-wisely. He bit through his like a cookie sandwich, not taking it apart like Quinn had with hers.

Rachel transferred all of the cream of one cookie to the bottom chocolate disc, ate the top dry, then ate the bottom cream-covered part. Puck popped a whole one in his mouth.

"So what does mine say about me?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Artie admitted with a shrug. "Maybe that you're efficient? A thoughtful eater, I guess."

Rachel smirked. "I would like to see you write a college-paper-worthy theory on the hidden symbolic meanings of how people eat their Oreos."

"Like those twin chicks in The Parent Trap," said Puck. "They ate theirs with peanut butter."

"Oh my God!" Quinn laughed. "I used to love that movie. The one with Lindsay Lohan? I had, like, all the words memorized!" She smiled at herself before launching into a decent attempt at a British accent, "At home I eat them with…I eat them with peanut but-tah."

"Yeah," Puck said with a hearty chuckle, grinning and nodding at Quinn unashamedly. "That movie was the shit!"

"I preferred the original," said Rachel, "with Hayley Mills. She was so talented, and she really pulled off that short hairstyle."

"I've never seen either," said Artie, helping himself to another Oreo. But Puck slapped his hand away as he, Quinn, and Rachel all chorused in unison: "You've never seen The Parent Trap?" Everyone had a good laugh at the unintentional synchronization.

"What is wrong with you, man?" Puck demanded. "It's, like, a classic."

"You've got to watch it, Artie," Quinn insisted. Then, jokingly, "It will change your life!"

"But make sure you watch the original version," Rachel put in, using her 'my opinion is the most important' voice. "Remakes are seldom ever better than the first. Like with Wicked on Broadway; there is no way anyone will ever be able to do as phenomenal a job playing Elphie and Glinda than Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth, respectively."

"However," she added, smoothing her hands importantly over her khaki shorts and straightening her already perfect posture. "As there are always exceptions to the rule, I believe it is my destiny to prove to be just as great, if not better, at playing Elphaba when I finally grace the stages of Broadway."

"You know what I like about you, Rachel?" asked Quinn.

"What?" Rachel inquired with an eager, expecting beam.

"Your modesty," Quinn deadpanned.

Artie and Puck sniggered at this, but Rachel's grin twisted into a scowl. "Don't be jealous just because you're not even one-tenth as talented as I am!" she hissed.

Quinn's eyebrows skyrocketed. "You know, Rachel, I also love how you're able to not take yourself so seriously, and can laugh at yourself," she added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Now, Rachel's scowl transformed into a thoughtful frown. After a moment, she said, "You're right, Quinn. I shouldn't take things so seriously all the time, even in regards to my talent. So, I'm sorry for saying you are not one-tenth as talented as me. You're at least two-tenths, maybe even three." She smiled in a way that clearly showed she thought she had just graced Quinn with the greatest compliment ever.

"Gee, thanks," Quinn scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I might not be as talented, but at least I'm saner."

"All geniuses are a little bit crazy, but it only adds rather than detracts from their talent," Rachel shot back. "But again, I am the exception to rules, so I am one of the few sane geniuses, thank you very much."

"You're hardly welcome."

"Ladies, ladies, please!" Artie said, holding up a hand. He shook his head. "Didn't we just get through with yet another truce?"

"Chicks always know how to ruin a perfectly good time," Puck said, "and how to fight over the dumbest shit."

"Oh, please, Noah," Rachel huffed. "Boys are way more immature than girls. It's a scientifically proven fact that the Y-chromosome messes everything up."

"Now that I can agree with," Quinn nodded, pointing an Oreo at Rachel in approval.

"Glad to see you guys are getting along again, even if it's at my gender's expense," Artie sighed.

It seemed like it was going to be a long night. At least they all had chocolate to keep them sane.

But considering the likes of this particular group...

Artie figured they were going to need a whole lot of Oreos.