It had taken a lot of convincing for Puck and Quinn to get Artie to the party. Although the three had been friends for almost as long as they could remember, and did a lot of things together, parties always involved some degree of compromise between the three of them, especially on Artie's part, since he hated large social gatherings of any kind. They had finally gotten him to agree that yes, he would go. But, of course, he didn't give in without a lot of complaining.

"Party of the year," Artie grumbled as he followed along behind Quinn and Puck on the way to the party, glaring at the poster advertising the party, which he had sitting in his lap. "I hate frats."

In unison, both friends replied, "We know."

Glancing over her shoulder at her long-time friend, Quinn watched as Artie stopped to pick a piece of lint off his sweater vest. When he lifted his eyes, she blushed and quickly shifted her eyes in front of her again.

"Remind me again why I said I'd come?" he muttered, continuing to look for lint on his vest that might need to be picked off, but finding none. "You guys promised me something awesome, right?"

"Chili fries and my homemade brownies," Quinn said quickly, while, at the same time, Puck grinned slyly, saying, "A private party with Q."

Anger flashing in her hazel eyes, she elbowed Puck hard in the gut. Grabbing his stomach, Puck laughed, and Artie stared between both of them, confused.

"Uh, chili fries and your homemade brownies…can't I get anything else out of this?" Artie asked as they rounded a corner, coming into sight of the party, which had already spilled out onto the frat house lawn.

Still laughing, Puck smirked at Quinn. "Q might have some ideas."

Grinding her teeth, Quinn walked faster, leaving them behind. She regretted telling Puck about her feelings for Artie, which she had only recently become aware of herself. She should have known he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself, and would tease her about it continually. At least Artie seemed completely oblivious.

"What was that about?" Artie asked Puck, while shifting in his chair. "Did I say something wrong? Is she offended that chili fries and her homemade brownies aren't enough?"

Puck just stared at him for a moment, thinking that, for someone so smart, he was pretty dense sometimes. "Dude," he said, finally. "Um..." he trailed off, remembering that he'd told Quinn he wouldn't say anything to Artie. "Yeah. Offended. Right."

Tilting his mouth down, Artie started to say something when he heard a girl's voice calling his name. "Artiiiiiiiiiiie!"

Turning his head from left to right, he finally spotted who was yelling for his attention. A long legged blonde was running towards him, her dark-haired friend following behind, a scowl on her face. "Artie!" said the blonde again when she was closer, throwing her arms around Artie.

"Uh, hey Brittany," Artie greeted her, patting her back in a semi hug.

Glancing over her shoulder, Quinn saw the two embracing and grimaced. It had been Artie spending so much time with the ditzy sorority sister, tutoring her, that alerted Quinn to how she felt about her friend, how she had probably always felt.

Puck watched the display for a moment, before heading over to Quinn. "You gotta say something," he said, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. "I don't think he has any idea."

"Obviously," Quinn said, through gritted teeth, watching as Brittany sat herself in Artie's lap, while her friend Santana glared at them. "I'm not telling him. I shouldn't have told you." When it appeared Brittany might kiss Artie, her head bobbing toward his, Quinn spun on her heel. "I need something to drink," she declared, walking away from them and closer to the house.

Inside, she found her friend Rachel handing out bottled water. "These have never been opened and are safer for everyone," she told Quinn, handing her one.

Arching an eyebrow, Quinn grabbed a can of beer out of the hands of someone passing by. Ignoring his protesting, she popped the tab. "This is unopened too, so also safe."

Behind Rachel, she saw that Puck and Artie had just entered, Brittany and Santana in tow. Narrowing her eyes, she chugged the beer.

Artie rolled in, just in time to see Quinn downing a beer. What was that about? He wasn't quite sure. He'd been about to go in search of a beer of his own, deciding that he could have one and just make sure not to take any medication that would interact with it, when Rachel forced a bottle of water into his hands, saying something about it being healthier for "those in his condition." He didn't really know her too well, but she seemed to be sincere, so he took the water without much comment.

Since Brittany seemed intent on tagging along after Artie, Quinn decided that meant she should drink more and more, never taking a beer that had already been open. Artie stuck with his water, putting it down only once to use the bathroom, and then grabbing it off the shelf once he came back out.

After that things got a little hazy.

Or more like a lot hazy.

And then it was the next morning, the bright sunlight streaming through the window onto Artie's face. Groaning, he shifted, then looked around. He was in an unknown room, in an unknown bed with…a known blonde head on the pillow next to his.

"Qu-quinn?" he croaked, pushing the blankets down a little. That's when he realized he didn't have a shirt on.

Neither did she.

"Hmmm?" Quinn murmured, nuzzling her head closer to his shoulder, her eyes still closed. "So warm and cozy. Wait..." She opened her eyes, a shocked look spreading across her face as Artie came into focus. "A-Artie-what?" she stammered, looking at him.

Looking under the blanket, she saw her pink bra, the one with white hearts on it, and, her eyes travelling further down, she saw the matching underwear. Her eyes went wide and she drew the blanket to her chin, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of her clothes.

Embarrassed, next to her, Artie was also searching for something, but not his missing shirt, as he was still clad in his khaki pants.

"Wh…where's my chair?" he stuttered.

"Um," Quinn said, looking around the room. "I don't know. I don't remember how we got here. Where are we?"

As if in response to her question, Puck stumbled in, grinning at the two of them. "Finally awake," he said. Reaching into the closet, he withdrew their clothes, tossing the garments at them. "I've been waiting for hours."

"What happened last night?" Quinn demanded, dressing under the blankets.

Amused, Puck stroked his chin. "A lot, but I missed some of it. I was trying to keep an eye on you, but you kept disappearing. Finally found you again…uh, this morning, in this bed, just like this."

"You didn't sneak a peek, did you?" Quinn asked, glaring at him and sliding off the bed onto her feet.

"Nah," Puck said, shrugging. "Wasn't really in the mood for seeing whatever Artie's got goin' on down there," he added, grinning and nudging Artie slightly, causing the horrified look on his friend's face to intensify. Glancing around, Puck realized something was missing. "Dude, where's your chair?"

"I don't know!" Artie exclaimed. "It wasn't here when you found us?" he asked, lowering his voice as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Nope," Puck replied, leaning back against the wall, and crossing his ankles.

"If you hadn't noticed," Artie went on, gesturing toward his legs. "I kind of need it."

Slipping her feet into her shoes, Quinn said, "We'll find it."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Artie cried, his eyes flicking between his two friends.

"Dude, got it under control," Puck said, grabbing the rolling office chair from the desk in the room. "Just sit on this and we'll push you."

"Are you crazy?" Artie asked, sitting himself up. "Unless you're going to hold my feet, and keep me balanced, and push all at the same time, that's not going to work! What are we going to do? Am I just going to be stuck lying here forever?" he asked, dramatically, before flopping back down onto the bed.

Ignoring Artie, Quinn moved the curtains back, peering out the window. "Are we at the frat house?" Quinn asked rhetorically, since it was obvious that's where they were.

"Yup, and in my room."

Their eyes were soon fixed on the guy who just entered the room.

"Bro!" said Puck, slapping him across the back. "Guys, this is Matt. He's in my Soc class, and he's an awesome dude."

"Nice to meet you. Do you know what happened to my chair?" Artie asked, skipping all preamble.

"Chair?" Matt asked, looking between them.

"Yeah dude, wheelchair. Red and black. You seen it?" Puck said, gesturing to Artie.

"No," Matt said, after thinking a moment. "Can't say that I have. But we have one kicking around here somewhere that one of the guys borrowed when he broke his leg. You want me to go get it?"

"Please," Artie requested. Once the other boy was gone, Artie glanced at Quinn, then averted his eyes. Waking up half naked in a bed next to her had been the last thing he expected. He hoped that nothing had happened between them. "Uh, guys. We need to find that chair. It was specially customized and is expensive!"

"Chill out," Puck responded, as Matt returned with the chair.

After he was situated in it, Artie turned his gaze to Quinn once more. Feeling his eyes on her, she bit her lip, raising her eyes to his. And the she ran out of the room.

"Do you think we should go after her?" Artie asked, glancing up at Puck. "We should, right? My chair can wait."

"Yeah, I guess," Puck said, nodding as Artie began to attempt to move the bulky chair, which looked like it had been rejected from a hospital fifty years before. "Dude, you're going to lose a finger. Let me," he added, taking the handles of the chair and pushing him out the door.

They found Quinn in the main room of the frat house, talking to a guy with dreads who wasn't wearing shoes and had a hemp bracelet and necklace.

"It was like…outta this world, man," the boy was saying to Quinn, waving his hands around in a nonsensical manner. "I saw rainbows, butterflies and other sh-"

Scrunching her nose, Quinn interrupted him. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But you should take a bath…"

The boy leered at her, lifting his top lip while the bottom stayed in place. "I don't do that, man. I told you and that guy that last night. You guys were like…enlightening. What happened to the little dude? He was high as -"

"I'm sorry?" Quinn interjected again. "What little dude are you talking about?"

"Little dude in a wheelchair," the boy said, nodding. "You were all over each other. I think you're hot," he added. "Oh, hey!" he continued. "That's the dude there!"

Rolling up, Puck and Artie looked at the foul smelling boy.

"You are an awesome little dude," the boy said, grinning at them. "Last night you said a lot about love and what it means, and I took notes on the pad in my head."

"Who are you?" asked Artie, twisting his mouth around.

"Joe," the boy said, holding out his hand.

Artie put his hands on the rims of the wheelchair, so he wouldn't have to shake it. "Um...nice to meet you," he said. "Have you seen a red and black wheelchair anywhere?"

"You were in it last night!" Joe laughed, throwing an arm around Quinn and pulling her closer to him.

Alarmed and stunned, Quinn allowed him to do so, not sure how to react and inwardly cringing at his touch.

Something like jealousy bubbled in Artie's chest at the sight.

"You smell so good," Joe murmured in Quinn's ear. "Wanna get outta here?"

At his question, Quinn shoved him away, resisting the urge to knee him in the crotch.

"No, we have to find Artie's wheelchair," she said. "And have a shower," she added quietly, turning away from him and shuddering.

"Maybe later," Joe said with a shrug, meandering away.

"Only if later is never," Quinn added under her breath.

Glad that he was gone, and elated about Quinn's actions toward the boy, Artie allowed himself a small smile.

"Well…that was not helpful," Puck muttered. "Except we learned that last night you two were all over each other. Guess that explains you two in bed, clad in nothing but your…whatever you were wearing under there. I didn't look!"

Artie rolled his eyes, laughing a little, before realizing what Puck had said, which caused him to blush.

"We have to find my chair," he mumbled, looking down, not able to bring his eyes to meet Quinn's. Her and Artie being all over each other probably wasn't high on the list of things Quinn wanted to think about, he thought.

"OH MY GOD!" shouted the most annoying voice Artie had ever heard. A small woman, clothed in leopard print, appeared out of nowhere, embracing first Quinn, then Artie. "You two! Did you hook up last night like your palms said you would?" Without giving them time to answer, she went on. "You both had lines that told me it would totally happen last night. But jealous! He's such a cutie, even if he is disabled!"

"What does that mean?" Quinn asked, staring at her. "Even if he is disabled. What is wrong with you?"

"Aspergers," the girl said, nodding. "Self-diagnosed. But don't worry...I'm abled!"

Artie just stared at her, unable to form anything into coherent words.

"ANYWAY, you two were soooo wasted last night," she told them. "You probably don't even remember. My name is Sugar. I read your palms and told you your futures! Part of your future involved hooking up in the bedroom, so I put you in the only empty one I could find! I know the guy who lives there, and he was at his girlfriend's so you had lots of uninterrupted time to make my palm readings come true!"

Touching a hand to her temple, Quinn closed her eyes. There had been a faint headache forming but this girl's shrill voice was only making it worse. The way Artie winced made her think that maybe that was what was going on with him.

"Do you know where my wheelchair is? It's red and -"

"I remember!" Sugar exclaimed. "I don't know where it is but I can help you psychically find it! Follow me!"

"What is with this chick?" Puck asked, the three of them tailing her outside into the bright sunlight.

"I don't know," Quinn said, squinting as they stepped out into the sun. "But if she doesn't shut up, I'm going to throw her into the pond," she said, pointing over to a pond across from the frat house.

"Good call," Puck said, nodding as he pushed Artie along in the clunky wheelchair.

"I'm not usually one for violence, but I agree too," Artie said, nodding. "I wonder if she's going to find my chair...psychically. And does anyone have sunglasses? I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"My senses are telling me," Sugar was saying, dancing around the lawn and off in her own little world. "That your wheelchair was feeling burdened from your butt being on it all day, and it decided it wanted to be free! "

"Are you for real?" Puck shot out, eyeing her.

A frat boy making his way across the lawn rolled his eyes at the girl, pushing his Bieber style bangs out of his eyes as he did. "Hardly," he quipped, coming to stand next to the trio. "Hey, Artie, Puck, Quinn. Wassup? Why you hanging out with crazy girl?"

"Hey, Sam," they greeted their old friend.

"Um," Artie grunted in reply to Sam's question. "She's helping me find my wheelchair…"

While Sam was talking with the boys, Quinn got a call from her closest friend, after Puck and Artie. "Hey, 'Cedes," she greeted the person calling. "You should be so glad you didn't come to the party last night. You'll never believe what happened."

On the other end, she heard Mercedes chuckle. "Q, I kinda do. Girl, you called me at two a.m. going on and on about how you were with Artie, and you loved him, and he was singing. Just callin' you to make you're alright."

"I...what?" Quinn asked, thinking, trying to remember. "I'm fine," she said, walking a little further away from the boys. "I mean...we can't find Artie's wheelchair, and neither of us remembers anything, but I'm fine. We're fine. I'm not in love with Artie."

"That's not what you were saying last night," Mercedes said, laughing a bit. "Not what he was saying either. I could hear him in the background, serenading you with love songs. You gotta go for it, Q."

"I need to remember what happened first, and we need to find his chair!" Quinn said, looking back over at the boys, seeing that they were starting to head in the direction of the parking lot. "I have to go, but I'll call you later, ok?"

After she'd said goodbye to Mercedes, she followed the boys, catching up with them after a moment. They were almost at the parking lot, when one of the maintenance workers called to them, before approaching them.

"You looking for a wheelchair?" he asked, regarding the group. "Red and black?"

"Yes!" Artie said, nodding. "Have you seen it?"

"Locked it in the maintenance shed," the man said. "Caught some kid racing down the hill in it last night. Knew it wasn't his because his legs were about four feet too long for it and he got up and ran away when security stopped him."

"That has to be Finn," Sam said, grinning.

"Finn?" squeaked Quinn, flushing. "Um, I know him."

Noticing the red coloring Quinn's cheeks, Artie huffed, wondering how Quinn "knew" this Finn person. But Puck beat him to the punch, asking the question on his mind.

"How d'you know Hudson?" he asked, arching both eyebrows.

Scraping her foot along the ground, Quinn glanced away, her cheeks turning an even darker crimson. "He's on the university football team and he was failing a class, which he can't do if he wants to stay on the team, so I helped him out by tutoring him, and…" Hesitating, she chewed on her bottom lip, remembering how they had taken a small break that had involved a couple of beers and some heavy making out. But that had been over a year ago.

Overcome by some sort of anger, Artie pushed at the wheels of his chair, attempting to get away but having difficulty with the chair he was in. "You don't have to finish that sentence. We get it," he practically yelled, still trying to flee the scene, as if that would make him not think about whatever had occurred between Quinn and some random football player.

Frowning, Quinn retorted, "Why are you yelling? I'm sure it's no different than what goes on with you and Brittany during your tutoring sessions."

"Obviously my definition of tutoring and yours are quite different," Artie said, still trying to get away, but finding that difficult, since the chair was ridiculous and Puck was holding onto it. "And I'm not yelling! I was just talking loudly because we're outside!"

Puck had to bite back a laugh as he let go of the wheelchair, wondering if Artie could maneuver it at all where they were, which he really couldn't. "I think that hit something," he said, leaning over closer to Quinn as Artie suddenly became very interested in some fluff on his pants.

Waving Puck off, Quinn started to follow Artie, then stopped, watching him. Clearly, he had figured out what she wasn't saying and it had upset him. But her mind was stuck on what he had stated. Did that mean that his tutoring relationship with Brittany was strictly…hands off?

From the maintenance shed, which was fairly close, Sam, who had gone to investigate, called out, "Hey, there's no chair here."

"Please tell me you're kidding," Artie said, as they got closer, covering his eyes with his hand again when Sam assured him that no, there was definitely no chair there. "I actually can't believe this is happening," Artie went on, his hand still over his eyes, trying to block out the sun, before remembering that he was in some monstrosity, and not his own chair, and needed to shift. He removed his hand, bracing himself on the chair, and shifting.

"Where else can we look?" he asked, looking between Puck, Sam, and Quinn.

"Weeeell…" said Sam, a lopsided grin on his face. "I heard that someone was filming stuff at the party. Kurt Hummel. You guys know him? He's a theater major so maybe you," he went on, gesturing between Quinn and Artie. "Might know him."

"I know him," Artie said, nodding.

They soon found themselves knocking on Kurt's door, which was luckily in the vicinity, and Artie breathed a sigh of relief when Kurt opened it.

"Hey, Kurt. We heard you were filming stuff at the party last night...did you see anyone making off with my wheelchair?" Artie asked, gesturing to the borrowed chair. "I don't think I need to tell you that I can't rock this look."

Kurt laughed, inviting them in. "Why yes, I did do some filming at the party last night," he said, sitting down. "I got some great footage of the two of you," he added, gesturing to Quinn and Artie. "Although saying it's great may be a bit premature, as I haven't actually watched it yet. Just let me pull it up on my computer."

Kurt started clicking away at his computer, and soon they were watching footage that had clearly been taken the night before.

There were shots of party goers, drinking, dancing, kissing each other. One guy slammed an obviously full beer can into his head, then promptly collapsed to the floor, while his friends stupidly cheered. The focus soon shifted to Sugar, clinging to Sam.

"C'mon, kiss me, Sammi," she was wailing in her god awful voice. "Pleeeeeeeeease!"

Appearing to be disgusted, he disengaged himself from her grasp, quickly walking away.

Next was a shot of what looked like Santana putting a water bottle on a shelf by a bathroom. When Artie emerged from the bathroom moments later, he grabbed it, taking a drink.

Everyone in the room looked at each other, then Quinn said, "Fast forward it a little."

Kurt pressed a button on the computer, speeding it up for a minute or two. When he hit play again, they were shown a circle of people, a now drunk Sugar demanding people's hands.

"Was there something in that water?" Artie muttered, mostly to himself, as he watched Sugar reading his palm and then Quinn's. He was still in his chair at that point, and Quinn was draped across his lap. "Do you remember any of this?" he asked Quinn, looking up at her and frowning as she shook her head.

"Keep going," Quinn urged, as Kurt clicked again, and the video started moving faster.

It raced past Quinn, Artie and a group, which included Joe, all talking. At one point, it seemed that Artie was giving a speech, before he pulled Quinn into his lap, running his hands up and down her back. Then there were random people jumping around. Then a bedroom with two occupants…

"Stop!" Artie said, suddenly, causing Kurt to rapidly stop the film. "You recorded us in the bedroom?"

"I heard singing so I went to investigate," Kurt said, shrugging.

Feeling a little sick, Quinn trained her eyes on the computer screen, not daring to glance at Artie's face.

The camera panned to Quinn, who was bouncing on her knees on the bed, while Artie strummed the chords of a guitar that wasn't his. The words from Love Song were what he had decided to serenade with her. As he sang, Quinn bounced less and less until she eventually stopped altogether.

"That song was for you, Quinnie F! I love yoooou!" Artie crooned.

"Artie!" she cried, springing into his arms. "I love you!" With that, she kissed him deeply, and he kissed her back just as passionately.

"Please fast forward," Quinn urged, eyes wide, breath hitching in her throat.

Hitting times two speed, they watched, in fast motion, as Quinn called someone on her cell phone, then someone pushed past Kurt, and they all heard an oof, as if Kurt had hit something.

When Kurt righted himself, the camera showed Brittany massaging Artie's shoulders, while Quinn, still in Artie's lap, glared up at her.

"Artie, you're soooo soooo sexy," Brittany was saying, as she massaged his shoulders. "Whyyyyy wouldn't you ever let us get it on when we were studying? I just wanted to see what it would be like with you," she said.

"Because you're not the one I want," Artie mumbled, sounding high or drunk, shrugging her hands away from his shoulders.

"But Artie..." she whined, twirling her ponytail around her finger.

Suddenly, the camera shifted slightly, showing Quinn getting off Artie's lap and shoving Brittany out of the room, before closing the door and returning to his lap.

"You're not wanted!" she told the other blonde before slamming the door in her face. Turning, she marched back to Artie. "You're the hottest everrrrrr," Quinn said to Artie, her speech slightly slurred as she flung her arms around him. "Let's get to the bed," she went on.

"I think you should stop recording now," Puck's voice could be heard, in the background.

Surprised, Quinn sat up straighter. "You were there Puck?"

"Uhh…no?" Puck rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, eyes on the ceiling.

Appalled, Artie narrowed his blue eyes at his supposed friend. "Are you-"

"Wait!" exclaimed Sam, pointing at the screen. "Looks like Kurt went back later."

Bile started to rise in Artie's throat as he witnessed Quinn ripping his shirt off and running her hands down his chest. In turn, he helped her out of her shirt and pants. "Quuuuuuuin, you're soooo…pretexy and beutihot!"

Giggling, Quinn lightly peppered Artie's chest with kisses.

"Can we please not watch this?" Artie begged, mortified beyond words. He would need months of therapy due to all of this, plus he was probably going to lose one of his best friends.

"But look there, in the corner of the screen. Looks like someone taking your chair," Sam commented, pointing at the screen.

"Who is that?" Quinn asked, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the girl the wheelchair out of the room, when it became clear that Artie was too mortified to say anything or even look. "Is that Brittany's friend?"

"What?" he asked, finally, looking up. "She was in the room while we were getting all..." he trailed off, his face growing even redder. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"You are not," chided Puck, making sure Artie didn't see him roll his eyes. "Yeah, that's Santana," he told Quinn. "Why would she take my little Jedi's chair though?"

At the words, Sam burst out laughing. "Quite the pet name," he sputtered.

"Shut up," Puck shot back.

On the screen, the camera angled up a little, showing Quinn and Artie getting pretty hot and heavy. Suddenly, Quinn pulled away and sang, "You are the most best best guy I know!" The words were barely uttered when she fell back against the bed, asleep.

Reaching a hand forward, Artie tenderly stroked her cheek, lightly depositing a kiss there. Drawing her near to him, he put both of his arms around, soon sleeping beside her.

There was more after that, but Quinn wasn't paying any attention, her eyes glazed over, replaying what she had just seen over and over in her mind.

"I-I-" Artie stammered, staring at the screen. He glanced over at Quinn, not really sure what the expression on her face meant.

"I have to go," he said quietly, putting his hands down and trying to get the borrowed wheelchair to move, but finding that it was, in fact, stuck.

"Why don't you two stay here and talk," Puck suggested, quickly standing and ushering the boys out of the room. "We'll track down Santana and your chair."

"But this is my room," Kurt protested, right before Puck shut the door.

Once Puck, Sam and Kurt were gone, Artie stared at his hands. He wanted to say something to Quinn, but he didn't know what.

Before he could say anything, Quinn spoke. "Why was Kurt filming us?" she asked, realizing as soon as the words left her mouth that that wasn't what she had meant to say. "I mean..."

Laughing, albeit a little nervously, Artie replied, "Yeah, I thought that was a little weird."

Licking he lips, Quinn moved in her chair. "Yeah. So…I guess we should talk about last night."

"No, no, it's okay," Artie hurriedly said. "It was just a drunken mistake."

His words felt like a physical blow. Standing, she turned to the door, brushing away the tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, right. Drunken mistake."

Artie was struggling to understand why Quinn had reacted like that, as the words replayed in his mind.

"Wait, that came out wrong," he said, after a second, when she was almost at the door. "I meant...You don't...want to do those things with me, do you? That's what I meant by mistake. Not that it was one in the traditional sense of the word..." he trailed off, overcome by word vomit. "I mean...I don't think it was a mistake. Do you?"

"Oh, Artie," she whispered. "I…wanted you. But you and Brittany…"

"Me and Brittany?" Confused, he struggled to push his chair forward, unsuccessfully. "There is no me and Brittany." Remembering something, he accused, "Unlike you and Finn whoever!"

"What?" Quinn asked, stepping back. "I don't know what you think happened there, but it was...we just made out, and...yeah. That was a mistake," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Artie wasn't really sure how to respond to that, so he didn't say anything. "Wait..." he said softly, after a moment. "You...wanted me?"

Letting out a soft whoosh of air, Quinn slowly spun on her heel, facing him. "I do. I think…think I always have, ever since we first met at six years old, when I got pushed in that puddle at school…you helped me out while Puck went to beat up the guys that did it." She smiled a little at the memory. "But I wasn't aware of it until you started spending all that time with Brittany. And I thought…thought…" Lifting her hands, she pressed her palms against her eyes, not sure she could look at him while saying what she wanted to, what she had to. "I thought that I would lose you before I even…before we even… I have feelings for you, okay?"

Artie just stared at her, unsure what to say. "You...have feelings for me?" he asked, looking at her. "But people don't...have feelings for me...ever. I'm just...Artie," he added, looking down at his hands. "I'm a friend for people...or someone to help them study. I'm not someone people have feelings for."

"Well, I have feelings for you," she told him, examining the chipping nail polish on her fingers and trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. "And I'd like to explore them with you, but if you don't want to-"

"I do want to," Artie cut in, trying again to get the wheelchair to move. "I really want to. But if we're going to act on this I'm going to need you to...come here, because I can't get this thing to move."

Biting her bottom lip, Quinn approached him, slowly lowering herself into his lap. Linking her hands behind his neck, she gazed into his eyes. "Do you…maybe have feelings for me?"

Staring right back into her beautiful hazel eyes, Artie thought. There had always been something there but he had never wanted to acknowledge it. He hadn't wanted to ruin their friendship, nor had he thought that she could feel that way about him. "I maybe do," he whispered tucking a hair behind her ear. "Maybe definitely. You are…the most incredible girl I've ever known."

Chest rising and falling with every breath, it was difficult for Quinn to compose herself. "'k, no more talking now," she murmured, leaning towards him.

Artie grinned a little, kissing her back as his arms made their way around her slender frame, pulling her closer.

They kissed for several minutes, before he broke it off. "I don't mean to cut this short," he murmured into her ear. "But we're...in someone else's room, and I'm in this wheeled monstrosity, and can we just...take this somewhere a little more private, so we can...explore it? I don't even care about my chair anymore. And, by the way, this is much better than chili fries and your brownies…not that those aren't good but this is-"

Putting a finger to his lips, Quinn silenced him, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"Did I hear you mention your chair?" sounded out Puck's voice. "Because look what I got. Found it at Santana's. Apparently she was jealous 'bout you and Brittany or something...so she put vodka in your water bottle when you were in the bathroom and. How you didn't taste it, bro, I don't know, but next thing I knew you were totally wasted."

Setting her mouth in a straight line, Quinn gave Puck a stern look, thinking it wasn't appropriate that he had been standing there while they kissed.

"Were you watching us?" Artie asked, eyes round, not even hearing the part about the vodka in his water bottle. "That's…um…thanks for getting it back…"

Stepping into the room, Puck pushed Artie's found wheelchair into a position where it was easy for Artie to transfer into it, setting the brakes. Spinning around, he ejected the disc from the computer then broke it into two halves. "Oops," he smirked.

"Oh thank God," Artie murmured quietly, hoping that no one had heard the words slip from his mouth. He wasn't sure if he meant it with regard to his found chair, or to the fact that the disc had been snapped in half, but it didn't really matter.

Quinn had, of course, heard, and she grinned, playfully running her fingers down his arm before she got up so that he could transfer into his chair.

"It's like being home!" Artie said, somewhat dramatically, once he was situated in his own chair. "Now, if you'll excuse us," he said to Puck, unlocking his brakes and putting his hands on the rims, testing that the chair moved the way it should. "We have some business to attend to."

"'bout time too," Puck commented, grinning at them. Both rolled their eyes at him, then started to leave the room. "Seriously," he went on, following them out of Kurt's apartment and onto the street. "I've been waiting for this for like…a long time! You two were just too stupid and stubborn to actually do anything. Not saying what Santana did was right but it got you to finally act! Or in Quinn's case, was the beer." Still not answering him, Quinn and Artie kept on moving down the street, intent on finding a place where they could alone. Sighing, Puck stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Guess I'm all alone," he complained to the air.

"You still have me!" enthused a cheerful Sam, appearing out of nowhere and slinging an arm around Puck.

Puck glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, that isn't quite what I had in mind," he said, laughing. "But I guess it's better than nothing."

And with that, the two friends strode arm in arm down the street, debating on which pizza place had the best pizza.

The End

A/N: This fic is a collaboration between myself and Jaiaelle, written for Day 4 of Quartie Week, Take II on Tumblr. The topic was: RomCom Quartie.