TO MY FELLOW GLEEKS: Dudes, I know this is a weird pairing... but I'm totally in love with it. Excuse it's absurdity.

TO MY FELLOW RUSHERS: Okay, I'm super sorry for branching out a bit! But with the new season of Glee coming up... it was impossible not to! Sorry, lovies!

Looking back, it had been a weird day before Puck found him sobbing in the bathroom. His hair had felt especially feathery that day with every shake of the head sending him into a fit of giggles, Kurt had spent an hour yelling at him for his too dry hands (Artie didn't care what he said, he wasn't wearing moisturizing gloves to school), and they were serving something with a traumatizing stench in the cafeteria and, hey, that can't be normal. Of course, none of that was anything to cry over.

What was something to cry over was their most recent glee club dance party. Artie knew that his peers weren't trying to be insensitive. They just hadn't been thinking, and if they had been thinking, Artie would have told them to stop because he knew what it was like to miss out on a good time. He didn't want to wish that feeling on anyone.

But seriously? A congo line? Cha Cha Slide? Limbo? The Cupid Shuffle? Artie understood the want to loosen up and just chill after the week of intense practice they had all endured, but understanding didn't make him wish he was out of the chair any less. For what felt like the millionth time, he had sat in the corner, watching everyone get down with smiling faces and dancing with himself, until all the pain he had been running, or technically rolling, from since elementary school caught up with him again. He gave out a strangled sound of surpise, and somehow he found himself in a not-so-clean, handicap bathroom stall a few minutes later with tears leaking down his cheeks.

His mind buzzed with discontentment and... and pain. That same pain he had been trying to do away with for half his life. Why did he have to be stuck in his seat? Why did he have to sit back and watch as his girlfriend backbended under a limbo pole with another guy? Why did he have to get carried into the auditorium? Wheeled into school by the ramp in the back? Be confined to freaking handicap stalls?

Anger welled within him, and Artie couldn't resist punching the door to the hated little room, wishing he could kick it, if only to hit it harder. He bristled as the flimsy walls around him barely shook in response. Not the reaction he was hoping for. He rattle his chair a bit in frustration, and slammed himself into the tiled wall, his shoes taking most of the impact, but he didn't feel a thing. Artie looked down in dismay to see his feet hanging limply underneath him, nothing but the sight of them dangling to tell him that they weren't still sitting up on the foot rest like usual. Along with the sense of touch, proprioception left the lower half of his body after the accident.

A pathetic whimper escaped his lips, and the sound of it made him want to slap himself in the face. He felt like that same little boy who had to leave the hospital in a wheelchair like everyone else, but never get out of it. He was once again that same weak kid pushing himself around for the first time. It was like he was realizing he would never get the chance to be normal all over again. Tears fell down his face in sheets, Artie helpless to stop them, and he bit his bottom lip to hold back another sob. What was he doing? It had been years! He should be over this by now!

Artie pushed himself into a corner and grabbed his knee, somehow managing to pulled it up and catch his dead foot on his chair to keep it close to him as he did the same for the other, slowly managing to get himself in to the fetal position. He hugged his legs to his chest, hating the way they couldn't feel, and buried his face into his knees, his cheeks aware of how damp his jeans were becoming but the lower half of him not. Why did he have to be in a wheelchair? Why him? Artie could hurt himself for still getting upset over this, for not being strong, but he was on a roll, and there was no stopping him now.

Suddenly, the familiar click of an opening door had Artie holding his breath, hoping the intruder would leave quickly so he could get back to his freak out in peace. He nearly threw up when a soft knock resounded through the silent bathroom. "Yo, Abrams. I know you're in there, man. Open up."

At that moment, Artie would have been perfectly happy if God had chosen to smite him down so he wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment associating Noah freaking Puckerman finding him sobbing about his "missing" legs.

"Come on, Wheels. Let me in," he ordered, his voice too harsh for the situation, but Artie noticed the effort was there. He bit his lip. He debated saying everything was fine, but a quick look at his watch said he had been in there for about twenty minutes. Plus, his voice would be a dead give away. He could also tell Puck to go away, but if he really wanted in, the psycho would probably sneak under the stall's walls. He huffed, rolled over, and unclicked the lock, backing away from the opening door.

He couldn't resist a little chuckle as Puck barged in, stopping in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of his legs up on his chair and tears streaming down his face. Puck turned away, composing himself before he looked back to him again. "What? You a faker like Not-So-Stutterfly?" he asked. Artie smile sadly, dropping his head a little, sick of always looking up.

"No... Just wanted to feel normal..." To cry normal. Puck's jaw tightened, and he side-stepped around him, grabbing his wheelchair and pushing it out into the crowded hallway, kids still milling about despite school being long over. Humiliation burned his cheeks at the weird looks they were getting, but it wasn't too bad. Big Bad Puck pushing the nerdy, wheelchair kid? They probably thought he was about to get thrown into a dumpster rather than whatever the bigger boy had planned. However, the confusion in their stares was still there. Hey, aren't they in glee together? Surely even Puck is above picking on cripples... I thought they were friends. Artie could practically feel their thoughts as he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

After an eternity of rolling through the halls, Puck finally ended their little tour of the school and rolled him into an empty language class. French, if the giant flag in the corner was anything to go by. The senior snagged a chair and dragged it over to him. He sat on it backwards, arms over the back and eyes boring into Artie's own. "You're crying," he stated dumbly, as if it was the first time he was noticing. Artie clenched his teeth, the awkwardness of the situation really setting in. He just nodded and looked to his toes, not sure of what to say. "Why?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, not wanting to admit to letting his bum legs getting the best of him, to being weak. Especially not to Noah. Freaking. Puckerman. What was he even doing here? "What are you even doing here?" he asked, shamelessly switching the subject to something less... shameful. Puck paused for a moment before answering, looking straight at him with a fire burning in his eyes.

"Cause you scared me," he answered blatantly, and when Artie furrowed his eyebrows, Puck continued. "You just like... raced out crying, and I was like, 'Dude.' And the party was lame, and everyone was asking questions... so I found you," he explained, something in his face that Artie hadn't seen on him before, "I- I was worried. Like, really worried." He pressed his lips together in attempt to keep his chin from trembling too badly. Oh god, someone cared. Someone cared and it was Noah freaking PUCKERMAN! He took a gulp of air and dared to meet Puck's eyes, his breath catching when he did.

Puck's face was inches from his own, his deep eyes filled with something Artie hadn't seen since he woke up in the hospital that fateful day. It wasn't relief or concern... it was something stronger than that. Like fear, or... disbelief. That crazy, incomprehensible feeling you get when you realize just how much you care about someone. That insane emotion that fills you when someone your son almost dies in a car crash... or someone important to you rushes out of a party with tears on the verge of falling down his face. "What happened?" Puck asked, his voice coming out low and hoarse, laced with something Artie had thought disabled people didn't get. Well... not really, anyway.

Somehow, Artie found the truth tumbling out of his mouth, his brain currently too busy processing everything else to stop him. "I wanted to dance," he breathed, eyes wide with uncertainty. What he was feeling... this was new. His heart was racing more than it did after pushing himself up a steep hill, the sound of its beats concussive in his ears. His lips trembled and his eyes darted from Puck's eyes to his mouth as the senior started closing the distance. Nausea rolled around in his stomach.

"There's always more fun things to do..." he trailed off, his lips meeting with Artie's as he left the rest up to him to figure out. He nearly recoiled at the kiss, but he soon found himself falling into it despite the conflicting emotions flooding his veins. Wasn't this Kurt's thing? Artie's minority was being disabled... did this mean they were expected to share?

All too soon, Puck was pulling away, his hand cupping his cheek and a thumb rubbing away the tracks of his tears. How did that get there? the back of his brain questioned. Artie struggled to breathe for a moment. The second air flooded into his system, he looked to Puck and responded, "Definitely more fun than dancing." A smirk replaced the uncertain look previously on Pucks face.

"So I've been told," he said immodestly, ruffling Artie's hair and moving behind him to take him elsewhere. "Let's go back to glee... this isn't as fun when I can't show you off." Artie just smiled and mulled over the situation. A bad boy all to himself...

He liked the sound of that.

M'kay... so that could be crap. I'm not sure... I feel like I don't know their characters that well, so I'm not a great judge to say how good that was. (Plus, it's Partie. NO ONE writes Partie... despite it being oober cute and fun.)

Um... I don't know if I want to leave this as is or write more. It all depends on what you guys think, so please review, okay? Just like... one word saying so from one person and I'll write more. I just don't know if it's any good, and I don't want to struggle to keep writing something not any good...

THANK YOU FOR READING!