HSN Exchange Fic: Light Up My Room, for justtowrite
Title: Light Up My Room
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn
Warnings: Spoilers for all of season one
Word Count: 2300
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: An unrequited crush and a glee club assignment bring Artie and Quinn closer together.
A/N: Title taken from the Barenaked Ladies song of the same name.
Artie Abrams was not a morning person, so when the sunshine began creeping in between the curtains of his bedroom window, he groaned and rolled over onto his side, checking the time on the clock. He blinked a few times until the red numbers came into focus. It was a little after eight; plenty of time to go back to sleep if he wanted to. Artie yawned and wondered if it would be worth the effort to get up into his wheelchair in order pull the curtains closed tighter, all so he could go back to sleep comfortably.
Even though his vision was fuzzy, he recognized a bright glint of light against his glasses, and reached for them where they sat on his night stand. After he put them on, he yawned and stretched, his hand coming up against an unfamiliar sensation beside him. Confused, he stretched out his fingers, and realized he was touching someone else's hair - and, judging by the length and soft texture, it belonged to a girl.
His breathing sped up rapidly as he turned his head to see who it was. She was facing away from him, but her blonde tresses were strewn all over the pillows. She sighed in her sleep, and Artie recognized her by her soft voice.
Too bad he now had more questions than answers. How did Quinn Fabray end up in his bed, and what exactly had happened last night?
***
It had all started with a glee club assignment.
They'd been teamed up once before, to come up with ballads, but back then she'd been preoccupied with her pregnancy, and Artie was with Tina. They'd never really gotten their act together that week to practice.
Since then, however, Quinn had given her baby up, and Tina dumped Artie for Matt Rutherford, because apparently she was more into the strong, silent type, so they certainly had more time on their hands this time around.
Quinn had come over to Artie's house on a Friday night, while his parents were out. She sat alone at the kitchen table with a few snacks and sodas while Artie got his guitar from his room.
"So what do you think we should do?" Quinn asked.
"Well, the assignment was a duet," Artie replied. "So I think we should do a duet."
"I know that, Artie," Quinn said, seriously. She wasn't sure if Artie was joking with her or not. "What I meant was should we do just one song, or a mashup, or a medley or whatever.”
"I don't even know any duets that aren't love songs," Artie said.
"Is that a bad thing?"
The question caught Artie off-guard. "I guess not."
"I'm a sucker for a guy with a guitar, you know." Quinn leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand and smiling. "Maybe if you played something for me, it would help us come up with something together."
"Are you flirting with me?" Artie asked, earnest, but Quinn only laughed in reply. It wasn't the taunting sort of laugh he was used to hearing, though - it was teasing, but gentle, and he wondered if he'd said something unintentionally funny. "Do you like Barenaked Ladies?"
"Um, sure, I guess," Quinn said, cocking her head a little. "It's been a while since I've heard a song by them."
"If you question what I would do," he began, singing and strumming his guitar. "To get over and be with you... Lift you up over everything, to light up my room."
"You haven't shown me your room yet," Quinn suddenly interrupted.
"You really want to see it?" Artie asked, setting the guitar down. "It's just, you know, a bedroom. With a bed and some posters and stuff."
"It would be cool, I think," Quinn said. "Because you're pretty cool."
"Okay," Artie said, smiling shyly and adjusting his glasses. "Follow me, I guess."
***
She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over onto her back, turning her face towards him and pulling his comforter tighter to her chest. Before she did so, however, Artie got a clear view of her bare shoulder, her bra strap slipping down towards her arm.
Oh my god, he thought, she's not wearing a shirt or anything.
His memories of the night before, though still blurry, were coming slowly into focus.
***
He pushed open the door to his room with the front wheel of his chair. When he flipped the switch to the light in his bedroom, there was a bit of a buzz and a flicker, and the light in the ceiling fixture went out.
"Oh shit," Artie said without thinking. "I mean - sorry."
"Sorry that the light went out, or sorry for cursing?" Quinn asked.
"Both?"
He could hear her laughter again, the only source of brightness in the dark bedroom. "Don't worry about it."
"There's a lamp by my bed," Artie said. "It'll just take me a minute to go turn it on."
"It's easier to talk in the dark," Quinn said, putting her hand on his shoulder and stopping him.
"I thought you wanted to see my room," Artie said. "Kinda hard to do in the dark."
"It's just, you know, a bedroom," Quinn replied. "With a bed and some posters and stuff."
"Okay," Artie said, wheeling around so he could at least face her. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Can I sit on your bed?" she asked, and she held out her hand to catch the edge of Artie's wheelchair as she stepped carefully into the room.
He almost didn’t detect a change in the tone of her voice, a swift and subtle shift from openly flirtatious to reticent. "Go ahead," he told her, wheeling around again as she went past him.
"Cool," she said as she sank down onto the mattress. The springs creaked a little as she shifted her weight. "Why do you think Mr. Schue put us together for this assignment?"
"I don't know," Artie answered. "I figured it was a random thing, like last time."
Quinn was quiet for a moment. "I think he knows," she said finally.
"Knows what?" Artie asked.
A brief silence, and then: "He knows that I have a crush on you."
Artie was suddenly glad for the darkness - his jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide, and his glasses slid down his nose an inch or two. Had she been able to see such surprise on his face, she'd probably take back what she’d said. He reached up and slid his glasses back up onto his face, practically stuttering. "You have a crush on me?"
"Don't act so surprised, Artie Abrams," she said. "I've done a lot worse, you know."
"But..." Artie stammered, "you're Quinn Fabray. Head Cheerio. Most popular girl in school."
"That's who I used to be," she corrected him. "I'm not like that anymore, and you know it."
"Still," Artie said. "You're the prettiest girl in school, at least. You could probably have any boy at McKinley High."
She was quiet for a minute, and Artie wasn't sure, in the dark, how she was going to react. "It doesn't matter. I like you."
Artie still couldn’t get his head around what Quinn was trying to tell him. “But why? he asked, confused. “I’m not like Finn, or Puck,” he added, not needing to elaborate on the many ways he was different from all the jocks she’d been with before.
“I know,” Quinn said. “That’s why I like you. You’ve had to overcome challenges that no one else at McKinley has had to deal with, and even though you’re sometimes an asshole, you’re still more mature than any guy I know.”
Artie maneuvered his wheelchair closer to the side of the bed and put his hand on Quinn’s knee.
“In a year we’re going to be out of high school and some of us are going to college and some of us are going to be out in the real world,” Quinn continued, taking Artie’s hand in hers. “For guys like Puck and Finn, it’s going to be a trial by fire. For guys like you, it’s going to be a cakewalk.” She paused. “I’m sorry. Maybe that was a bad word to use.”
“Cakewheel?” Artie suggested instead, and Quinn laughed again and Artie had never heard anything so beautiful in his life.
***
Her eyelids fluttered opened and she yawned, her arms reaching up into the space above the bed. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he replied. "Um. How did you sleep last night?"
***
To say "one thing led to another" would be cliche, but it's how Artie would remember it. A conversation led to a kiss, a kiss led to a little light groping, and that had escalated into touching one another more and more feverishly, as though they'd die without contact. While she slipped her dress over her head he lifted himself from his chair to his bed, and while she took off his belt he ran his hands across her breasts, letting the pads of his thumbs cross her nipples.
She giggled, and he stopped, letting his hands slide down her sides and rest on her hips. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just that I'm really, really sensitive there," she reassured him. "Very ticklish."
"So it's okay if I touch them?"
"It's okay."
"Is it okay," he started asking, propping himself up onto his elbows and leaning forward, "if I do this?" He closed his lips around one erect nipple and sucked at it for a moment, letting his tongue play at its very tip.
Quinn shuddered and sighed and tangled her fingers into Artie's hair, knocking his glasses askew. He took it as a good sign and continued.
She straddled him carefully, trying not to interrupt him, and she pressed her crotch against his and rocked back and forth. Even with the worn cotton fabric of his boxers between them, it was the greatest sensation Artie had ever experienced. He tightened his grip around Quinn's waist and fell backwards, gasping - almost gulping - for breath.
"I don't have a condom," he said breathlessly.
"It's okay," Quinn replied. "I think I can make you come without one."
While Artie set his glasses on the nightstand next to the bed, Quinn gently pulled his cock out of the fly of his boxers. She adjusted herself so that it fit nicely into the groove where her inner thigh met the rest of her body, and she was wet enough that she could thrust against him smoothly. She leaned into him, firmly grasping his shoulders and kissing him.
And then she began to move again, back and forth. She started out slowly, rocking like before, and Artie held onto her hips, savoring the sensation of her breath on his ear.
"How does it feel?" she asked.
"It feels good," he told her. "It feels really good."
"You can use your fingers, if you want," she suggested, and it was all the encouragement that Artie needed. He slipped his hand in between the meeting of their lower bodies, and slid his thumb against her soft, blonde hair until he found the point where Quinn started to moan and shudder. He treated it like he had her nipple - slowly, curiously at first, gauging her reaction before doing any more. Soon he was circling her clit with his thumb while his first two fingers lingered at the edge of her heat, tentatively making their way inside as she continued thrusting against him.
He'd become so wrapped up in trying to make her feel good that he'd pushed his own pleasure to the back of his mind. But seeing her shiver and hearing her moan was only making him harder, more desperate - "I think I'm going to come," he told her.
"You better," Quinn answered him, deviously. "If you come, I'll come, so I want you to come hard."
Artie blushed and groaned and erupted, and half a second later Quinn pressed herself against his fingers and blushed and groaned and fell forward onto him. They lay together silently for a few minutes, collecting themselves.
"There's a box of tissues on your side of the bed," Artie said awkwardly, and Quinn passed them to him without saying a word. After cleaning himself up, he tossed the tissues towards the nightstand he couldn't see, and sometime after that he fell asleep listening to the steady sound of Quinn's breathing.
***
"I slept fine. Better than I have in ages, actually," she told him, blinking lazily and yawning. "You?"
"I slept okay," he told her.
"Just okay?"
"Well," he said, pausing, "I slept fine. The waking up part was more of an issue for me."
"You seem kinda freaked out," she said, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair fell loosely across her shoulders, and her side pressed right up against his. "Do you regret it?" She asked it as though she was detached from the situation, as though she wouldn't mind or be offended no matter how he answered. She knew what it was to make a mistake, and she looked at him without judgment, but still her eyes shined with hope.
"People usually start dating before they sleep together," Artie said. "I just... are we together now? Do you want to be together?"
Quinn laughed. "Tell you what - stop thinking so far ahead and let's just start with breakfast."
"Breakfast sounds good," Artie said, putting the question aside for now and smiling back at her. "How do you like your eggs?"
-
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): Artie/anyone (I would love Artie/Quinn)
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: R
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. "trust me."
2. regret
3. post-it note confessions
4. take a stand
5. "If you question what I would do
To get over and be with you
Lift you up over everything
to light up my room." - Light Up My Room, BNL
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): NO SLASH
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn
Warnings: Spoilers for all of season one
Word Count: 2300
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: An unrequited crush and a glee club assignment bring Artie and Quinn closer together.
A/N: Title taken from the Barenaked Ladies song of the same name.
Artie Abrams was not a morning person, so when the sunshine began creeping in between the curtains of his bedroom window, he groaned and rolled over onto his side, checking the time on the clock. He blinked a few times until the red numbers came into focus. It was a little after eight; plenty of time to go back to sleep if he wanted to. Artie yawned and wondered if it would be worth the effort to get up into his wheelchair in order pull the curtains closed tighter, all so he could go back to sleep comfortably.
Even though his vision was fuzzy, he recognized a bright glint of light against his glasses, and reached for them where they sat on his night stand. After he put them on, he yawned and stretched, his hand coming up against an unfamiliar sensation beside him. Confused, he stretched out his fingers, and realized he was touching someone else's hair - and, judging by the length and soft texture, it belonged to a girl.
His breathing sped up rapidly as he turned his head to see who it was. She was facing away from him, but her blonde tresses were strewn all over the pillows. She sighed in her sleep, and Artie recognized her by her soft voice.
Too bad he now had more questions than answers. How did Quinn Fabray end up in his bed, and what exactly had happened last night?
***
It had all started with a glee club assignment.
They'd been teamed up once before, to come up with ballads, but back then she'd been preoccupied with her pregnancy, and Artie was with Tina. They'd never really gotten their act together that week to practice.
Since then, however, Quinn had given her baby up, and Tina dumped Artie for Matt Rutherford, because apparently she was more into the strong, silent type, so they certainly had more time on their hands this time around.
Quinn had come over to Artie's house on a Friday night, while his parents were out. She sat alone at the kitchen table with a few snacks and sodas while Artie got his guitar from his room.
"So what do you think we should do?" Quinn asked.
"Well, the assignment was a duet," Artie replied. "So I think we should do a duet."
"I know that, Artie," Quinn said, seriously. She wasn't sure if Artie was joking with her or not. "What I meant was should we do just one song, or a mashup, or a medley or whatever.”
"I don't even know any duets that aren't love songs," Artie said.
"Is that a bad thing?"
The question caught Artie off-guard. "I guess not."
"I'm a sucker for a guy with a guitar, you know." Quinn leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand and smiling. "Maybe if you played something for me, it would help us come up with something together."
"Are you flirting with me?" Artie asked, earnest, but Quinn only laughed in reply. It wasn't the taunting sort of laugh he was used to hearing, though - it was teasing, but gentle, and he wondered if he'd said something unintentionally funny. "Do you like Barenaked Ladies?"
"Um, sure, I guess," Quinn said, cocking her head a little. "It's been a while since I've heard a song by them."
"If you question what I would do," he began, singing and strumming his guitar. "To get over and be with you... Lift you up over everything, to light up my room."
"You haven't shown me your room yet," Quinn suddenly interrupted.
"You really want to see it?" Artie asked, setting the guitar down. "It's just, you know, a bedroom. With a bed and some posters and stuff."
"It would be cool, I think," Quinn said. "Because you're pretty cool."
"Okay," Artie said, smiling shyly and adjusting his glasses. "Follow me, I guess."
***
She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over onto her back, turning her face towards him and pulling his comforter tighter to her chest. Before she did so, however, Artie got a clear view of her bare shoulder, her bra strap slipping down towards her arm.
Oh my god, he thought, she's not wearing a shirt or anything.
His memories of the night before, though still blurry, were coming slowly into focus.
***
He pushed open the door to his room with the front wheel of his chair. When he flipped the switch to the light in his bedroom, there was a bit of a buzz and a flicker, and the light in the ceiling fixture went out.
"Oh shit," Artie said without thinking. "I mean - sorry."
"Sorry that the light went out, or sorry for cursing?" Quinn asked.
"Both?"
He could hear her laughter again, the only source of brightness in the dark bedroom. "Don't worry about it."
"There's a lamp by my bed," Artie said. "It'll just take me a minute to go turn it on."
"It's easier to talk in the dark," Quinn said, putting her hand on his shoulder and stopping him.
"I thought you wanted to see my room," Artie said. "Kinda hard to do in the dark."
"It's just, you know, a bedroom," Quinn replied. "With a bed and some posters and stuff."
"Okay," Artie said, wheeling around so he could at least face her. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Can I sit on your bed?" she asked, and she held out her hand to catch the edge of Artie's wheelchair as she stepped carefully into the room.
He almost didn’t detect a change in the tone of her voice, a swift and subtle shift from openly flirtatious to reticent. "Go ahead," he told her, wheeling around again as she went past him.
"Cool," she said as she sank down onto the mattress. The springs creaked a little as she shifted her weight. "Why do you think Mr. Schue put us together for this assignment?"
"I don't know," Artie answered. "I figured it was a random thing, like last time."
Quinn was quiet for a moment. "I think he knows," she said finally.
"Knows what?" Artie asked.
A brief silence, and then: "He knows that I have a crush on you."
Artie was suddenly glad for the darkness - his jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide, and his glasses slid down his nose an inch or two. Had she been able to see such surprise on his face, she'd probably take back what she’d said. He reached up and slid his glasses back up onto his face, practically stuttering. "You have a crush on me?"
"Don't act so surprised, Artie Abrams," she said. "I've done a lot worse, you know."
"But..." Artie stammered, "you're Quinn Fabray. Head Cheerio. Most popular girl in school."
"That's who I used to be," she corrected him. "I'm not like that anymore, and you know it."
"Still," Artie said. "You're the prettiest girl in school, at least. You could probably have any boy at McKinley High."
She was quiet for a minute, and Artie wasn't sure, in the dark, how she was going to react. "It doesn't matter. I like you."
Artie still couldn’t get his head around what Quinn was trying to tell him. “But why? he asked, confused. “I’m not like Finn, or Puck,” he added, not needing to elaborate on the many ways he was different from all the jocks she’d been with before.
“I know,” Quinn said. “That’s why I like you. You’ve had to overcome challenges that no one else at McKinley has had to deal with, and even though you’re sometimes an asshole, you’re still more mature than any guy I know.”
Artie maneuvered his wheelchair closer to the side of the bed and put his hand on Quinn’s knee.
“In a year we’re going to be out of high school and some of us are going to college and some of us are going to be out in the real world,” Quinn continued, taking Artie’s hand in hers. “For guys like Puck and Finn, it’s going to be a trial by fire. For guys like you, it’s going to be a cakewalk.” She paused. “I’m sorry. Maybe that was a bad word to use.”
“Cakewheel?” Artie suggested instead, and Quinn laughed again and Artie had never heard anything so beautiful in his life.
***
Her eyelids fluttered opened and she yawned, her arms reaching up into the space above the bed. "Good morning."
"Good morning," he replied. "Um. How did you sleep last night?"
***
To say "one thing led to another" would be cliche, but it's how Artie would remember it. A conversation led to a kiss, a kiss led to a little light groping, and that had escalated into touching one another more and more feverishly, as though they'd die without contact. While she slipped her dress over her head he lifted himself from his chair to his bed, and while she took off his belt he ran his hands across her breasts, letting the pads of his thumbs cross her nipples.
She giggled, and he stopped, letting his hands slide down her sides and rest on her hips. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just that I'm really, really sensitive there," she reassured him. "Very ticklish."
"So it's okay if I touch them?"
"It's okay."
"Is it okay," he started asking, propping himself up onto his elbows and leaning forward, "if I do this?" He closed his lips around one erect nipple and sucked at it for a moment, letting his tongue play at its very tip.
Quinn shuddered and sighed and tangled her fingers into Artie's hair, knocking his glasses askew. He took it as a good sign and continued.
She straddled him carefully, trying not to interrupt him, and she pressed her crotch against his and rocked back and forth. Even with the worn cotton fabric of his boxers between them, it was the greatest sensation Artie had ever experienced. He tightened his grip around Quinn's waist and fell backwards, gasping - almost gulping - for breath.
"I don't have a condom," he said breathlessly.
"It's okay," Quinn replied. "I think I can make you come without one."
While Artie set his glasses on the nightstand next to the bed, Quinn gently pulled his cock out of the fly of his boxers. She adjusted herself so that it fit nicely into the groove where her inner thigh met the rest of her body, and she was wet enough that she could thrust against him smoothly. She leaned into him, firmly grasping his shoulders and kissing him.
And then she began to move again, back and forth. She started out slowly, rocking like before, and Artie held onto her hips, savoring the sensation of her breath on his ear.
"How does it feel?" she asked.
"It feels good," he told her. "It feels really good."
"You can use your fingers, if you want," she suggested, and it was all the encouragement that Artie needed. He slipped his hand in between the meeting of their lower bodies, and slid his thumb against her soft, blonde hair until he found the point where Quinn started to moan and shudder. He treated it like he had her nipple - slowly, curiously at first, gauging her reaction before doing any more. Soon he was circling her clit with his thumb while his first two fingers lingered at the edge of her heat, tentatively making their way inside as she continued thrusting against him.
He'd become so wrapped up in trying to make her feel good that he'd pushed his own pleasure to the back of his mind. But seeing her shiver and hearing her moan was only making him harder, more desperate - "I think I'm going to come," he told her.
"You better," Quinn answered him, deviously. "If you come, I'll come, so I want you to come hard."
Artie blushed and groaned and erupted, and half a second later Quinn pressed herself against his fingers and blushed and groaned and fell forward onto him. They lay together silently for a few minutes, collecting themselves.
"There's a box of tissues on your side of the bed," Artie said awkwardly, and Quinn passed them to him without saying a word. After cleaning himself up, he tossed the tissues towards the nightstand he couldn't see, and sometime after that he fell asleep listening to the steady sound of Quinn's breathing.
***
"I slept fine. Better than I have in ages, actually," she told him, blinking lazily and yawning. "You?"
"I slept okay," he told her.
"Just okay?"
"Well," he said, pausing, "I slept fine. The waking up part was more of an issue for me."
"You seem kinda freaked out," she said, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair fell loosely across her shoulders, and her side pressed right up against his. "Do you regret it?" She asked it as though she was detached from the situation, as though she wouldn't mind or be offended no matter how he answered. She knew what it was to make a mistake, and she looked at him without judgment, but still her eyes shined with hope.
"People usually start dating before they sleep together," Artie said. "I just... are we together now? Do you want to be together?"
Quinn laughed. "Tell you what - stop thinking so far ahead and let's just start with breakfast."
"Breakfast sounds good," Artie said, putting the question aside for now and smiling back at her. "How do you like your eggs?"
-
ABOUT THE FIC THAT YOU ARE REQUESTING
Character(s) or pairing(s): Artie/anyone (I would love Artie/Quinn)
Do you prefer R or NC-17 smut?: R
Prompts (minimum of 3, no maximum!):
1. "trust me."
2. regret
3. post-it note confessions
4. take a stand
5. "If you question what I would do
To get over and be with you
Lift you up over everything
to light up my room." - Light Up My Room, BNL
Things you DON’T want in your story (kinks or sex acts that gross you out, characters you despise, etc.): NO SLASH