Fic: That's why we, make a good you and me {Glee-- Tina/Artie} Pt. 2/5
Title: That's why we, make a good you and me (Five times Artie realises he might have fallen for his best friend)
Chapter: 2. We both laugh, at the most random situations
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Artie Abrams/Tina. C
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: If you're up to date with Glee, you're golden.
Word Count: 1000, approx.
Summary: She punctuates the sentence with a 'smiley' face that makes him feel a little guilty, in all honesty. But she looks fine. And the worst-case-scenario is that she falls asleep on his shoulder during the day and he has to keep swatting her awake tomorrow when her eyes droop during Glee club.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual. All song-lyrics mentioned belong to their respective owners, not to me.
Author’s Note: Can stand as a one-shot, but for the sake of whoring myself out, I'll say read part one. You and me, we couldn't stand being normal haha.
I'm not as happy with this, as I would like to be, but I'm just going to post and see what happens. haha. Please, read and review. ^_^
Her room is dark, the faint glow of candles in the background- put out just because she finds it funny on the rare occasions when her mother pokes her head around the door, to see her roll her eyes and succumb to the idea that her daughter might be more of a stereotype (and even less like the rest of her family) than she thought. She’ll flick her hair over her shoulder and murmur goodnight like a curse word and forget to mention that she and her father might not be home for dinner tomorrow night. Tina will work it out later and think about it while she microwaves something for herself and dials Artie’s number.
He stops for a second and types, 'Mom must have cleaned it.'
She nods, 'Mine keeps slipping.'
'If you wrap the chord around something, it should stay.'
'Thanks'
She switches the screen permanently from her chemistry homework to her conversation with him and smiles as he tries to put his webcam into focus, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth with concentration, the familiar organised clutter (and yes, she’s still- and thinks she always will be- kind of unsure as to how a place can be like that, and how his neat-freak of a mother lets it stay it like that) of his room acting like a frame.
She spends the next few minutes working out what she can tie the wire around so that the camera stays perched on top of her computer, looking down. Eventually she sits, wheeling the chair towards the desk and stopping when it hits her stomach. Her eyes land on the small version of Artie in the top-right corner of her screen- now crystal clear.
He waves once, flat palm in a sweep across the camera, 'Hey.'
'Hey. How are you?'
'Good, you?'
'I’m okay. Tired.'
His brow furrows, and he stares intently at her picture, 'Why don’t you go to sleep?'
'I’m talking to you' she punctuates the sentence with a 'smiley' face that makes him feel a little guilty, in all honesty. But she looks fine. And the worst-case-scenario is that she falls asleep on his shoulder during the day and he has to keep swatting her awake tomorrow when her eyes droop during Glee club. 'Today was pretty crazy, huh?'
'Quinn?'
'Mm… She thinks for a moment, before adding, You think she’ll keep it?'
'Doesn’t she kind of have to?'
'I mean, after…'
'Like adoption?'
'Yeah.'
It takes him a while, but he answers in that very Artie-way, 'I don’t know. She can’t take a baby to cheerleading practice.' that blunt way that always stays on the good side of being honest. Before he starts thinking for himself, asking his own question in the form of, 'Maybe her parents will look after it?'
'Do you think they even know…? '
He imagines her voice trailing off the way ellipses always seem to signify, her eyes glancing to the side like an answer will be written on the wall or along the floor or maybe on the inside of that curtain of hair that’s permanently in front of her face. Her chest heaves up and down, fingers flit across the keys, 'I feel sorry for her.'
If he was speaking to anyone else, he’d roll his eyes and bite back the words “or maybe she got what she deserves”
'You do?'
He’s not cruel nor vindictive, and he’s the first person to say ‘accidents happen’ (even when they cripple you) but years of watching Quinn tip Tina’s lunch tray over or order someone else to, have kind of limited any sympathy he could have had for her significantly.
'Yeah.' She nods into the camera, twisting her mouth to the side and scanning over the words again and again while she thinks, then she leans forward, 'I know what it’s like to have a secret that you can’t tell anyone.'
His eyebrows raise, up and together, his eyes bigger for a half-second. And she smiles softly, a breath escaping her lips, 'Everyone does.'
If the camera wasn’t so fuzzy, or he was actually sat next to her, he’d have noticed the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
But it is, and he’s not, so he doesn’t.
'Isn’t she meant to be, I dunno, The Virgin Quinn?'
'Exactly.' She’s all too happy to change the subject, 'And her parents will probably kick her out before they offer to sit.'
Her fingertips tap down onto the keyboard, and she likes how quickly she can make words without people having to wait for her. He finally sees (after a good few moments of trying to work out exactly what’s wrong with this picture) the blue glow of the computer reflected in her now-shiny eyes, though she’s doing a pretty solid job of keeping them low enough for him not to see. If they were talking about something or someone else, he probably wouldn’t think that much of it, but this is Quinn Fabray and he never really pegged them for best friends. Or anything close.
'I’d sit.' She finally says (or types), a faint smile on her lips, 'Babies are adorable. They’re little and helpless.'
'You think?'
She nods into the camera, “Mmhmm” sounding into the room even though he can’t hear it. And this is when he realises that they don’t have to be best friends, or have ever spoken, (maybe she’s really only seen them from one low angle while she scoops bits of sandwich off of the floor) but Tina’s still going to sympathise with her.
Standing next to her or not, he still sees (and sort of loves) the way her eyes glitter while she types, 'And Quinn and Finn’s baby? CUTE.'
She’s tired and sad and there’s something about her that still isn’t right, but she might just be the best person he knows.
Chapter: 2. We both laugh, at the most random situations
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Artie Abrams/Tina. C
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: If you're up to date with Glee, you're golden.
Word Count: 1000, approx.
Summary: She punctuates the sentence with a 'smiley' face that makes him feel a little guilty, in all honesty. But she looks fine. And the worst-case-scenario is that she falls asleep on his shoulder during the day and he has to keep swatting her awake tomorrow when her eyes droop during Glee club.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual. All song-lyrics mentioned belong to their respective owners, not to me.
Author’s Note: Can stand as a one-shot, but for the sake of whoring myself out, I'll say read part one. You and me, we couldn't stand being normal haha.
I'm not as happy with this, as I would like to be, but I'm just going to post and see what happens. haha. Please, read and review. ^_^
Her room is dark, the faint glow of candles in the background- put out just because she finds it funny on the rare occasions when her mother pokes her head around the door, to see her roll her eyes and succumb to the idea that her daughter might be more of a stereotype (and even less like the rest of her family) than she thought. She’ll flick her hair over her shoulder and murmur goodnight like a curse word and forget to mention that she and her father might not be home for dinner tomorrow night. Tina will work it out later and think about it while she microwaves something for herself and dials Artie’s number.
He stops for a second and types, 'Mom must have cleaned it.'
She nods, 'Mine keeps slipping.'
'If you wrap the chord around something, it should stay.'
'Thanks'
She switches the screen permanently from her chemistry homework to her conversation with him and smiles as he tries to put his webcam into focus, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth with concentration, the familiar organised clutter (and yes, she’s still- and thinks she always will be- kind of unsure as to how a place can be like that, and how his neat-freak of a mother lets it stay it like that) of his room acting like a frame.
She spends the next few minutes working out what she can tie the wire around so that the camera stays perched on top of her computer, looking down. Eventually she sits, wheeling the chair towards the desk and stopping when it hits her stomach. Her eyes land on the small version of Artie in the top-right corner of her screen- now crystal clear.
He waves once, flat palm in a sweep across the camera, 'Hey.'
'Hey. How are you?'
'Good, you?'
'I’m okay. Tired.'
His brow furrows, and he stares intently at her picture, 'Why don’t you go to sleep?'
'I’m talking to you' she punctuates the sentence with a 'smiley' face that makes him feel a little guilty, in all honesty. But she looks fine. And the worst-case-scenario is that she falls asleep on his shoulder during the day and he has to keep swatting her awake tomorrow when her eyes droop during Glee club. 'Today was pretty crazy, huh?'
'Quinn?'
'Mm… She thinks for a moment, before adding, You think she’ll keep it?'
'Doesn’t she kind of have to?'
'I mean, after…'
'Like adoption?'
'Yeah.'
It takes him a while, but he answers in that very Artie-way, 'I don’t know. She can’t take a baby to cheerleading practice.' that blunt way that always stays on the good side of being honest. Before he starts thinking for himself, asking his own question in the form of, 'Maybe her parents will look after it?'
'Do you think they even know…? '
He imagines her voice trailing off the way ellipses always seem to signify, her eyes glancing to the side like an answer will be written on the wall or along the floor or maybe on the inside of that curtain of hair that’s permanently in front of her face. Her chest heaves up and down, fingers flit across the keys, 'I feel sorry for her.'
If he was speaking to anyone else, he’d roll his eyes and bite back the words “or maybe she got what she deserves”
'You do?'
He’s not cruel nor vindictive, and he’s the first person to say ‘accidents happen’ (even when they cripple you) but years of watching Quinn tip Tina’s lunch tray over or order someone else to, have kind of limited any sympathy he could have had for her significantly.
'Yeah.' She nods into the camera, twisting her mouth to the side and scanning over the words again and again while she thinks, then she leans forward, 'I know what it’s like to have a secret that you can’t tell anyone.'
His eyebrows raise, up and together, his eyes bigger for a half-second. And she smiles softly, a breath escaping her lips, 'Everyone does.'
If the camera wasn’t so fuzzy, or he was actually sat next to her, he’d have noticed the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
But it is, and he’s not, so he doesn’t.
'Isn’t she meant to be, I dunno, The Virgin Quinn?'
'Exactly.' She’s all too happy to change the subject, 'And her parents will probably kick her out before they offer to sit.'
Her fingertips tap down onto the keyboard, and she likes how quickly she can make words without people having to wait for her. He finally sees (after a good few moments of trying to work out exactly what’s wrong with this picture) the blue glow of the computer reflected in her now-shiny eyes, though she’s doing a pretty solid job of keeping them low enough for him not to see. If they were talking about something or someone else, he probably wouldn’t think that much of it, but this is Quinn Fabray and he never really pegged them for best friends. Or anything close.
'I’d sit.' She finally says (or types), a faint smile on her lips, 'Babies are adorable. They’re little and helpless.'
'You think?'
She nods into the camera, “Mmhmm” sounding into the room even though he can’t hear it. And this is when he realises that they don’t have to be best friends, or have ever spoken, (maybe she’s really only seen them from one low angle while she scoops bits of sandwich off of the floor) but Tina’s still going to sympathise with her.
Standing next to her or not, he still sees (and sort of loves) the way her eyes glitter while she types, 'And Quinn and Finn’s baby? CUTE.'
She’s tired and sad and there’s something about her that still isn’t right, but she might just be the best person he knows.