The Way Old Friends Do (Artie&Quinn)
Title: The Way Old Friends Do (one-shot)
Author: kait1987
Pairing,Character(s): Artie and Quinn, friendship
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,231
Spoilers: Through 1.04
Summary: Quinn is stuck in bed and Artie drops by to provide her with some much needed entertainment. Written for the Glee_BFFs exchange
Disclaimer: I don't own them, Ryan Murphy does!
Comments much appreciated!
Quinn sighed heavily, resting her hands on her rounded abdomen. Pregnancy sucked. Her back hurt and she was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep because apparently her baby thought kicking her in the bladder every fifteen minutes was hilarious. Despite the fact that she felt miserable, she closed her eyes and silently thanked God that she still had a rounded abdomen to rest her hands on. Just a week earlier, she'd doubled over in pain from contractions during glee rehearsal and thoroughly terrified everyone, most of all herself. She'd never seen anyone drive as fast as Mr. Schuester did that day and she had certainly never prayed so much in her life. A trip to the hospital resulted in the diagnosis of preterm labor at 30 weeks and an order from the doctor for "strict bed rest" until the baby was, as the doctor put it, "fully cooked". So now, instead of going out for breakfast and then heading to rehearsals with Rachel like she usually did, she was spending her Saturday lying alone in the Berry's guestroom.
"Guess it's just you and me today, kid," she whispered softly, rubbing small circles on her belly with her index finger. She'd been making a conscious effort to talk to the baby more ever since Rachel had pointed out in one of her pregnancy books that the baby could hear the world around her. "What should we do today? We could read a book, watch some TV, take a nap…."
A familiar voice cut in from the doorway, "Have a movie marathon."
Quinn jumped with a start, "Artie? God, you scared me."
"Sorry, that wasn't my intention," he said, wheeling himself towards her bed.
"How did you get up here anyways?" she asked as the realization that the Berry's guestroom was on the second floor of their house sunk in.
"Very slowly," he said with a smirk. Quinn's eyes grew wide in horror and it made him laugh, "I'm kidding. Rachel's dads were downstairs. They helped me up."
"Oh," she sighed in relief, "not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"
"I just thought maybe you could use some company since you've been couped up all week." Artie said with a shrug of his shoulders
Quinn smiled widely and appreciatively, "I could definitely use some company."
"Great," he said, tossing a few bags onto her bed. "I brought movies and snacks."
Quinn was busy looking through the bags when she glanced at him, raising her eyebrow suspiciously. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at glee practice?"
"Yep," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Does Rachel know you're ditching?"
"Nope," Artie said, biting his bottom lip.
"Artie," Quinn gasped, "she's going to kill you!"
"No she's not, her bark is worse than her bite."
Quinn laughed, "That may be true, but she still won't be happy."
"Eh, spending the afternoon with a friend who is stuck in bed is more important than glee practice." He looked at her when he said this, and his eyes were so genuine and kind that Quinn thought she might cry.
They were friends, always had been. It was sort of their little secret because they weren't friends in the traditional sense of the word. But they'd known each other forever and Quinn was pretty sure at one point he'd even been designated her future husband and she his wife by their mothers. Even though they didn't hang out much, he knew her and she knew him. She was, in fact, one of the few people who knew what Artie considered to be both versions of himself (the Artie he was before his accident and the Artie he became). She could still remember the way the elevator smelled when she went to visit him in the hospital.
"Mama?" Quinn asked, clutching her hand tightly.
"Yes, baby?"
"Will Artie look different?" her green eyes were wide and darted quickly over her mother's face in search of answers.
"No, Quinny, he's got some bruises and cuts, but he still looks like Artie."
"The same old Artie?"
Her mother smiled and nodded, "Yes, the same old Artie."
"Good," she whispered as they stepped off the elevator. They walked together, hand in hand down a hall painted in a colorful mural and Quinn decided maybe the hospital wasn't so scary after all.
"Judy!" Artie's mother cried, emerging from a hospital room. "Thank you so much for bringing Quinn."
"Oh, Alice," Quinn's mother replied as she embraced the woman in a hug, "it's the least I could do."
"He's been asking about you," Alice said, kneeling down to Quinn's level. "He's going to be so happy to see you."
"Baby, why don't you go in and see Artie while Mrs. Abrams and I talk out here?" she suggested as she placed her hand on Quinn's back and guided her to the door. Quinn stood up tall and marched bravely through the door.
"Hi," she said, walking straight towards his bed.
"Hey, Quinn!" he waved excitedly.
"We brought you this stuff," she said, extending the bag she was clutching in her hand towards him. "It's some cookies and a Happy Meal because my mama says hospital food is yucky. There are movies in there too; she said maybe we could have a movie marathon if you wanted to."
"Thanks," he said as he took the bag. He patted the bed beside him, "do you want to sit with me?"
Quinn nodded eagerly but then hesitated, "What if I hurt you?"
"You won't," he promised, so she carefully climbed into his hospital bed.
"Hey," she greeted him again now that they were face to face. She looked him over and grinned, "Same old Artie." Quinn sighed contently, taking her pointer finger and gently pushing his glasses up so they were sitting correctly on his nose.
"Same old Quinn," he replied, flipping some of her blonde curls with his hand.
"Hey, guess what!" she demanded excitedly, bouncing a little beside him.
"What?"
"Guess!" she insisted.
"I don't know. Tell me," He knew Quinn; she'd make you guess for hours if you let her.
"Miss Huff let me take Mr. Wigglesworth home last weekend and he got out of his cage and chewed on Elizabeth's diary." There was a hint of mischief in her voice as she recounted the tale of the class rabbit and her older sister. "She was so mad!"
Artie's eyes were wide, "What did she do to you?"
"Nothing, she just yelled at me and called him stupid. I told her Mr. Wigglesworth is probably smarter than the boys she writes about in that diary."
"Nice one," Artie said, holding up his hand for a high five. She gently tapped her hand to his, afraid a normal high five might hurt him.
"Everyone at school really misses you," she offered suddenly, not quite sure of what else to say.
Artie nodded, "I really miss school, too." For the first time since she'd gotten there, his voice was quiet.
"You're going to come back soon though, right?"
Artie shrugged, "I really hope so. I guess it's just up to my doctors."
Quinn looked down at the bed, her voice quiet to match Artie's, "Mama says your legs don't work anymore."
"They don't." He stated simply.
"Will they get better?" she was focusing intensely on the hem of her dress.
"No."
Quinn blinked hard, her eyes stinging with tears. She knew that already but for some reason she needed to hear it from him. "I'm really sorry you got hurt, Artie."
"It's okay," he said, taking his hand and wiping some of the tears from her cheek. "It's not your fault."
"I know, but I'm still sorry," she replied, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently.
"Do you remember the last time we spent the afternoon watching movies together?" she asked him.
Artie smiled, "How could I forget? I'm pretty sure we watched The Lion King three times in a row. You cried every time Mufasa died," he teased her playfully.
"Hey," she exclaimed, and Artie was pretty sure she would have elbowed him had he been closer, "no fair, you cried too!"
Artie's cheeks turned red, "Oh, you remember that part, huh?"
She giggled, and for a minute she looked and sounded very much like her eight year old self to him, "Yeah, I remember."
"Can that be our little secret?"
"Of course," what was one more secret between friends, she thought to herself. "So," she said, shuffling through the pile of DVDs, "what have we got here? The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Shall We Dance, and It Happened One Night." She raised her eyebrow, "I would have never pegged you for a black and white movie fan, Artie."
"I raided my mom's collection. I know after my accident I ran out of new stuff to watch pretty fast, so I figured you'd probably seen everything recent. Are those okay?"
"They're perfect," she reassured him. "Want to load them up in the DVD player?"
"Will do," he said, taking them from her hands and rolling towards the TV. "Wow, a five disc changer? You've got a nice set up here!"
"Yeah, I know. Rachel and her family have really gone above and beyond for me."
"Are you tired of show tunes, yet?" He turned around, winking at her.
"Actually," Quinn laughed, "she really doesn't listen to them as much as you'd think."
"Okay, lady's choice. Which one do you want to watch first?"
"It doesn't matter, surprise me." Artie made his selection and came back over to Quinn. "Do you want to sit?" She indicated the space beside her in bed. "I can get Rachel's dads…."
"It's okay," he said, "I can do it myself." He positioned his chair next to her bed but then stopped, worried. "I'm not going to jostle her out of you, am I?"
As hard as she tried Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "No, you're good. She's not just going to fall out, you know."
"Alright then," he laughed too and then quickly and efficiently transferred himself from his chair to the bed beside Quinn. "Hi," he said once he was settled.
"Hey," she greeted him cheerfully. As usual, his glasses were sliding down his nose. It made her unreasonably happy and she smiled broadly.
"What?" he inquired as he noticed her grin.
Quinn shook her head, her blonde hair falling in a cascade around her face. "Nothing," she said, pushing his glasses back up on his nose and sighing contently, "you're just the same old Artie."
He smiled and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "And you're the same old Quinn."
"I'm not so sure about that," she replied, looking down and touching her belly.
"I am," Artie said confidently.
"What did you pick first?" Quinn asked, turning her attention to the television.
"Shall We Dance. I thought it was a good first choice since we're not at practice actually dancing like we're supposed to be," he took the DVD remote and pressed play.
Quinn laughed and shook her head, "I still think Rachel's going to make you pay for skipping today."
Artie shrugged, "It's alright. Tina can totally take her."
"Oh, yeah?" Quinn's voice was playful and she nudged his shoulder with her own, "how is Tina, anyways?"
"She's good," Artie said, a smile lighting up his face. "We're good. My mom and dad really like her and we have a lot of fun together. It's nice."
"I'm really happy for you, Artie."
"Thanks," he said, pulling a pack of Twizzlers from his bag of snacks and offering her one. "Rachel said you have to stay in bed until the baby's born. I guess that means no Regionals, huh?"
"Well, not technically. I have to stay in bed until she's considered full term, which is 38 weeks. I'll be 38 weeks a few days before competition, so I can go. It's just that once I get out of bed and start moving around, there's a good chance I'll go into labor fairly quickly."
Artie nodded, pretending to understand everything she said even though most of it sounded like gibberish to him, "I see."
"I don't care what happens though. I'm going to Regionals even if I have to go in a wheelchair." As soon as she said it, her hands flew to her mouth and her cheeks turned pink, "Oh, my God, Artie. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
Artie waved his hand in dismissal, "Please, Quinn. You know me better than that. I was just going to offer you my spare wheelchair if you wanted to borrow it."
She laughed, obviously relieved. "I may just take you up on that offer."
"What's that, homework?" He asked, pointing to a stack of papers sitting on her nightstand.
Quinn sighed, "No, I wish. They're family profiles from the adoption agency."
"Oh," Artie silently kicked himself for asking. Rachel had warned them all not to stress Quinn out if they visited, and he'd managed to mention the single most stressful thing in her life within a matter of minutes.
"It's okay," she said, sensing his discomfort. "I don't mind talking about it. Talking actually helps sometimes."
He nodded understandingly, "Do you know what you're going to do yet?"
"No," Quinn admitted quietly. "All these people seem really nice and stuff and they really want a baby, but I always manage to find something wrong with them. None of them seem good enough."
"What does Puck think?"
"He calls them all freaks," she said with a slight laugh.
"That's……not entirely helpful."
Quinn shook her head, "No, but I think it's just his way of expressing that he's feeling the same way I am."
Artie nodded, "Who knew Puck could be so deep?"
"I didn't….." Quinn broke off mid sentence and winced.
"You okay?" Artie asked, his eyes wide with concern.
"Yeah," she said, massaging a small spot on her belly with her fingers, "she just kicks really hard sometimes." She paused for a minute and looked at Artie, "do you want to feel?"
Artie furrowed his brow, "I don't know, Quinn."
"It's neat," she promised, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her belly. "Sometimes you can feel the outline of her whole foot."
He waited for a minute and, sure enough, felt a tiny foot press into his palm from beneath Quinn's skin. He smiled widely and looked at Quinn, "That is pretty amazing!"
Quinn nodded and smiled slightly but shifted uncomfortably. "She's not just kicking; she's treating you to a full out stretch." She gently poked the spot where the baby's foot was sticking out, "Stop it, please. We're trying to watch a movie."
"Are we?" He asked, pointing to the screen.
"Oops," Quinn said, looking at the TV and realizing they'd talked through the entire beginning of the movie. "It's just been so long since we've talked. I'm really glad you came over today, Artie."
"So am I."
Quinn yawned and rested her head on Artie's shoulder, "What's this movie about, anyways?"
"Basically it's about these two dancers who fall in love."
"Oh," Quinn replied, and Artie could tell by the sound of her voice that sleep was overcoming her. "It sounds good," she yawned again. "I'm sorry, Artie. I'm just really tired."
"It's alright," he said, sinking back into the pillows and making himself comfortable. "Just get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up."
Quinn's water broke all over Mike's shoes during dance rehearsals a week after New Directions won first place at Regionals.
"Thank God," she'd murmured in relief before apologizing to Mike for getting amniotic fluid all over his shoes. She had (irrationally) convinced herself that the medicine they'd given her at the hospital to stop her labor nine weeks earlier had taken away her body's ability to go into labor ever again and that she would be pregnant forever.
Eighteen hours and thirty-nine minutes later (not that Quinn was counting), the baby girl entered the world, 7 pounds 5 ounces and 20 inches long.
"Hey," Artie whispered softly, wheeling into her hospital room later that day. "Do you two feel up for another visitor?"
Quinn's face was glowing and she happily waved him over to her bed, "Of course. Get over here!"
He wheeled as close to her hospital bed as he could get and handed her the paper bag that was sitting in his lap, "I brought you something to eat. A good friend of mine once told me hospital food was 'yucky'." Artie winked at her and she giggled.
"Thank you," she replied, taking the bag and sitting it on the tray next to her bed.
He glanced at the pink bundle resting in Quinn's arms and smiled, "You did it!"
She nodded proudly, "I did."
"Puck said she has a mohawk."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he thinks she does. It's been the hot debate all day. We've polled everyone who has come by so far."
"What's the score?"
"Rachel, Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury, Mr. Schue, and Brittany say it's not a mohawk and Mercedes, Mike, and Finn say it is."
Artie laughed, "It sounds like no mohawk is winning."
"So far," she paused and scooted over to one side of the bed. "Come sit with me so you can see her better."
Artie obliged without hesitation and was soon sitting beside Quinn in her hospital bed, "Better?" he asked once he was settled beside her.
"Much," she said, pulling down the blanket the baby was wrapped in to provide Artie a full few of her face and then gently tugging off the pink hat that was covering her head. "Artie, I'd like to introduce you to Charlotte Rose Puckerman Fabray."
He picked up her tiny hand and shook it, making Quinn giggle. "It's nice to meet you, Charlotte." He stared at her for a few minutes, slowly taking in all her features. She definitely had Quinn's nose, lips, and chin. "She's absolutely beautiful," he whispered, "mohawk and all."
"Oh no," Quinn's mouth hung open in mock indignation, "you're Team Mohawk?"
He glanced at the strip of soft, light brown hair that was sticking up from the middle of Charlotte's head, "Yep. That's a baby mohawk."
"I'm not sure we can be friends anymore, Artie Abrams." Quinn joked.
"It's okay," Artie offered, "she just needs to borrow some of Kurt's hair gel."
Quinn laughed and fussed a little with the hair on the top of her daughter's head, "We may have to resort to that." She paused for a minute, looking at Artie, "Would you like to hold her?"
Artie shook his head nervously, "What if I drop her or something?"
"You won't."
"But she's so tiny."
"You'll be fine," she reassured him, placing the squirming baby in his arms before he had a chance to protest again. "There you go," she encouraged softly as Charlotte quickly settled down in Artie's arms. "Just hold her close to your chest so she can hear your heartbeat."
Artie smiled as Charlotte snuggled into his chest, "Hey, she likes me!"
"Of course she likes you," she said, reaching over to push Artie's glasses up so they were sitting correctly on his nose, "you're Artie. The same old Artie."
"And you're the same old Quinn," he replied, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.
Author: kait1987
Pairing,Character(s): Artie and Quinn, friendship
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,231
Spoilers: Through 1.04
Summary: Quinn is stuck in bed and Artie drops by to provide her with some much needed entertainment. Written for the Glee_BFFs exchange
Disclaimer: I don't own them, Ryan Murphy does!
Comments much appreciated!
Quinn sighed heavily, resting her hands on her rounded abdomen. Pregnancy sucked. Her back hurt and she was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep because apparently her baby thought kicking her in the bladder every fifteen minutes was hilarious. Despite the fact that she felt miserable, she closed her eyes and silently thanked God that she still had a rounded abdomen to rest her hands on. Just a week earlier, she'd doubled over in pain from contractions during glee rehearsal and thoroughly terrified everyone, most of all herself. She'd never seen anyone drive as fast as Mr. Schuester did that day and she had certainly never prayed so much in her life. A trip to the hospital resulted in the diagnosis of preterm labor at 30 weeks and an order from the doctor for "strict bed rest" until the baby was, as the doctor put it, "fully cooked". So now, instead of going out for breakfast and then heading to rehearsals with Rachel like she usually did, she was spending her Saturday lying alone in the Berry's guestroom.
"Guess it's just you and me today, kid," she whispered softly, rubbing small circles on her belly with her index finger. She'd been making a conscious effort to talk to the baby more ever since Rachel had pointed out in one of her pregnancy books that the baby could hear the world around her. "What should we do today? We could read a book, watch some TV, take a nap…."
A familiar voice cut in from the doorway, "Have a movie marathon."
Quinn jumped with a start, "Artie? God, you scared me."
"Sorry, that wasn't my intention," he said, wheeling himself towards her bed.
"How did you get up here anyways?" she asked as the realization that the Berry's guestroom was on the second floor of their house sunk in.
"Very slowly," he said with a smirk. Quinn's eyes grew wide in horror and it made him laugh, "I'm kidding. Rachel's dads were downstairs. They helped me up."
"Oh," she sighed in relief, "not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"
"I just thought maybe you could use some company since you've been couped up all week." Artie said with a shrug of his shoulders
Quinn smiled widely and appreciatively, "I could definitely use some company."
"Great," he said, tossing a few bags onto her bed. "I brought movies and snacks."
Quinn was busy looking through the bags when she glanced at him, raising her eyebrow suspiciously. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at glee practice?"
"Yep," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Does Rachel know you're ditching?"
"Nope," Artie said, biting his bottom lip.
"Artie," Quinn gasped, "she's going to kill you!"
"No she's not, her bark is worse than her bite."
Quinn laughed, "That may be true, but she still won't be happy."
"Eh, spending the afternoon with a friend who is stuck in bed is more important than glee practice." He looked at her when he said this, and his eyes were so genuine and kind that Quinn thought she might cry.
They were friends, always had been. It was sort of their little secret because they weren't friends in the traditional sense of the word. But they'd known each other forever and Quinn was pretty sure at one point he'd even been designated her future husband and she his wife by their mothers. Even though they didn't hang out much, he knew her and she knew him. She was, in fact, one of the few people who knew what Artie considered to be both versions of himself (the Artie he was before his accident and the Artie he became). She could still remember the way the elevator smelled when she went to visit him in the hospital.
"Mama?" Quinn asked, clutching her hand tightly.
"Yes, baby?"
"Will Artie look different?" her green eyes were wide and darted quickly over her mother's face in search of answers.
"No, Quinny, he's got some bruises and cuts, but he still looks like Artie."
"The same old Artie?"
Her mother smiled and nodded, "Yes, the same old Artie."
"Good," she whispered as they stepped off the elevator. They walked together, hand in hand down a hall painted in a colorful mural and Quinn decided maybe the hospital wasn't so scary after all.
"Judy!" Artie's mother cried, emerging from a hospital room. "Thank you so much for bringing Quinn."
"Oh, Alice," Quinn's mother replied as she embraced the woman in a hug, "it's the least I could do."
"He's been asking about you," Alice said, kneeling down to Quinn's level. "He's going to be so happy to see you."
"Baby, why don't you go in and see Artie while Mrs. Abrams and I talk out here?" she suggested as she placed her hand on Quinn's back and guided her to the door. Quinn stood up tall and marched bravely through the door.
"Hi," she said, walking straight towards his bed.
"Hey, Quinn!" he waved excitedly.
"We brought you this stuff," she said, extending the bag she was clutching in her hand towards him. "It's some cookies and a Happy Meal because my mama says hospital food is yucky. There are movies in there too; she said maybe we could have a movie marathon if you wanted to."
"Thanks," he said as he took the bag. He patted the bed beside him, "do you want to sit with me?"
Quinn nodded eagerly but then hesitated, "What if I hurt you?"
"You won't," he promised, so she carefully climbed into his hospital bed.
"Hey," she greeted him again now that they were face to face. She looked him over and grinned, "Same old Artie." Quinn sighed contently, taking her pointer finger and gently pushing his glasses up so they were sitting correctly on his nose.
"Same old Quinn," he replied, flipping some of her blonde curls with his hand.
"Hey, guess what!" she demanded excitedly, bouncing a little beside him.
"What?"
"Guess!" she insisted.
"I don't know. Tell me," He knew Quinn; she'd make you guess for hours if you let her.
"Miss Huff let me take Mr. Wigglesworth home last weekend and he got out of his cage and chewed on Elizabeth's diary." There was a hint of mischief in her voice as she recounted the tale of the class rabbit and her older sister. "She was so mad!"
Artie's eyes were wide, "What did she do to you?"
"Nothing, she just yelled at me and called him stupid. I told her Mr. Wigglesworth is probably smarter than the boys she writes about in that diary."
"Nice one," Artie said, holding up his hand for a high five. She gently tapped her hand to his, afraid a normal high five might hurt him.
"Everyone at school really misses you," she offered suddenly, not quite sure of what else to say.
Artie nodded, "I really miss school, too." For the first time since she'd gotten there, his voice was quiet.
"You're going to come back soon though, right?"
Artie shrugged, "I really hope so. I guess it's just up to my doctors."
Quinn looked down at the bed, her voice quiet to match Artie's, "Mama says your legs don't work anymore."
"They don't." He stated simply.
"Will they get better?" she was focusing intensely on the hem of her dress.
"No."
Quinn blinked hard, her eyes stinging with tears. She knew that already but for some reason she needed to hear it from him. "I'm really sorry you got hurt, Artie."
"It's okay," he said, taking his hand and wiping some of the tears from her cheek. "It's not your fault."
"I know, but I'm still sorry," she replied, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently.
"Do you remember the last time we spent the afternoon watching movies together?" she asked him.
Artie smiled, "How could I forget? I'm pretty sure we watched The Lion King three times in a row. You cried every time Mufasa died," he teased her playfully.
"Hey," she exclaimed, and Artie was pretty sure she would have elbowed him had he been closer, "no fair, you cried too!"
Artie's cheeks turned red, "Oh, you remember that part, huh?"
She giggled, and for a minute she looked and sounded very much like her eight year old self to him, "Yeah, I remember."
"Can that be our little secret?"
"Of course," what was one more secret between friends, she thought to herself. "So," she said, shuffling through the pile of DVDs, "what have we got here? The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Shall We Dance, and It Happened One Night." She raised her eyebrow, "I would have never pegged you for a black and white movie fan, Artie."
"I raided my mom's collection. I know after my accident I ran out of new stuff to watch pretty fast, so I figured you'd probably seen everything recent. Are those okay?"
"They're perfect," she reassured him. "Want to load them up in the DVD player?"
"Will do," he said, taking them from her hands and rolling towards the TV. "Wow, a five disc changer? You've got a nice set up here!"
"Yeah, I know. Rachel and her family have really gone above and beyond for me."
"Are you tired of show tunes, yet?" He turned around, winking at her.
"Actually," Quinn laughed, "she really doesn't listen to them as much as you'd think."
"Okay, lady's choice. Which one do you want to watch first?"
"It doesn't matter, surprise me." Artie made his selection and came back over to Quinn. "Do you want to sit?" She indicated the space beside her in bed. "I can get Rachel's dads…."
"It's okay," he said, "I can do it myself." He positioned his chair next to her bed but then stopped, worried. "I'm not going to jostle her out of you, am I?"
As hard as she tried Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "No, you're good. She's not just going to fall out, you know."
"Alright then," he laughed too and then quickly and efficiently transferred himself from his chair to the bed beside Quinn. "Hi," he said once he was settled.
"Hey," she greeted him cheerfully. As usual, his glasses were sliding down his nose. It made her unreasonably happy and she smiled broadly.
"What?" he inquired as he noticed her grin.
Quinn shook her head, her blonde hair falling in a cascade around her face. "Nothing," she said, pushing his glasses back up on his nose and sighing contently, "you're just the same old Artie."
He smiled and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, "And you're the same old Quinn."
"I'm not so sure about that," she replied, looking down and touching her belly.
"I am," Artie said confidently.
"What did you pick first?" Quinn asked, turning her attention to the television.
"Shall We Dance. I thought it was a good first choice since we're not at practice actually dancing like we're supposed to be," he took the DVD remote and pressed play.
Quinn laughed and shook her head, "I still think Rachel's going to make you pay for skipping today."
Artie shrugged, "It's alright. Tina can totally take her."
"Oh, yeah?" Quinn's voice was playful and she nudged his shoulder with her own, "how is Tina, anyways?"
"She's good," Artie said, a smile lighting up his face. "We're good. My mom and dad really like her and we have a lot of fun together. It's nice."
"I'm really happy for you, Artie."
"Thanks," he said, pulling a pack of Twizzlers from his bag of snacks and offering her one. "Rachel said you have to stay in bed until the baby's born. I guess that means no Regionals, huh?"
"Well, not technically. I have to stay in bed until she's considered full term, which is 38 weeks. I'll be 38 weeks a few days before competition, so I can go. It's just that once I get out of bed and start moving around, there's a good chance I'll go into labor fairly quickly."
Artie nodded, pretending to understand everything she said even though most of it sounded like gibberish to him, "I see."
"I don't care what happens though. I'm going to Regionals even if I have to go in a wheelchair." As soon as she said it, her hands flew to her mouth and her cheeks turned pink, "Oh, my God, Artie. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
Artie waved his hand in dismissal, "Please, Quinn. You know me better than that. I was just going to offer you my spare wheelchair if you wanted to borrow it."
She laughed, obviously relieved. "I may just take you up on that offer."
"What's that, homework?" He asked, pointing to a stack of papers sitting on her nightstand.
Quinn sighed, "No, I wish. They're family profiles from the adoption agency."
"Oh," Artie silently kicked himself for asking. Rachel had warned them all not to stress Quinn out if they visited, and he'd managed to mention the single most stressful thing in her life within a matter of minutes.
"It's okay," she said, sensing his discomfort. "I don't mind talking about it. Talking actually helps sometimes."
He nodded understandingly, "Do you know what you're going to do yet?"
"No," Quinn admitted quietly. "All these people seem really nice and stuff and they really want a baby, but I always manage to find something wrong with them. None of them seem good enough."
"What does Puck think?"
"He calls them all freaks," she said with a slight laugh.
"That's……not entirely helpful."
Quinn shook her head, "No, but I think it's just his way of expressing that he's feeling the same way I am."
Artie nodded, "Who knew Puck could be so deep?"
"I didn't….." Quinn broke off mid sentence and winced.
"You okay?" Artie asked, his eyes wide with concern.
"Yeah," she said, massaging a small spot on her belly with her fingers, "she just kicks really hard sometimes." She paused for a minute and looked at Artie, "do you want to feel?"
Artie furrowed his brow, "I don't know, Quinn."
"It's neat," she promised, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her belly. "Sometimes you can feel the outline of her whole foot."
He waited for a minute and, sure enough, felt a tiny foot press into his palm from beneath Quinn's skin. He smiled widely and looked at Quinn, "That is pretty amazing!"
Quinn nodded and smiled slightly but shifted uncomfortably. "She's not just kicking; she's treating you to a full out stretch." She gently poked the spot where the baby's foot was sticking out, "Stop it, please. We're trying to watch a movie."
"Are we?" He asked, pointing to the screen.
"Oops," Quinn said, looking at the TV and realizing they'd talked through the entire beginning of the movie. "It's just been so long since we've talked. I'm really glad you came over today, Artie."
"So am I."
Quinn yawned and rested her head on Artie's shoulder, "What's this movie about, anyways?"
"Basically it's about these two dancers who fall in love."
"Oh," Quinn replied, and Artie could tell by the sound of her voice that sleep was overcoming her. "It sounds good," she yawned again. "I'm sorry, Artie. I'm just really tired."
"It's alright," he said, sinking back into the pillows and making himself comfortable. "Just get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up."
Quinn's water broke all over Mike's shoes during dance rehearsals a week after New Directions won first place at Regionals.
"Thank God," she'd murmured in relief before apologizing to Mike for getting amniotic fluid all over his shoes. She had (irrationally) convinced herself that the medicine they'd given her at the hospital to stop her labor nine weeks earlier had taken away her body's ability to go into labor ever again and that she would be pregnant forever.
Eighteen hours and thirty-nine minutes later (not that Quinn was counting), the baby girl entered the world, 7 pounds 5 ounces and 20 inches long.
"Hey," Artie whispered softly, wheeling into her hospital room later that day. "Do you two feel up for another visitor?"
Quinn's face was glowing and she happily waved him over to her bed, "Of course. Get over here!"
He wheeled as close to her hospital bed as he could get and handed her the paper bag that was sitting in his lap, "I brought you something to eat. A good friend of mine once told me hospital food was 'yucky'." Artie winked at her and she giggled.
"Thank you," she replied, taking the bag and sitting it on the tray next to her bed.
He glanced at the pink bundle resting in Quinn's arms and smiled, "You did it!"
She nodded proudly, "I did."
"Puck said she has a mohawk."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he thinks she does. It's been the hot debate all day. We've polled everyone who has come by so far."
"What's the score?"
"Rachel, Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury, Mr. Schue, and Brittany say it's not a mohawk and Mercedes, Mike, and Finn say it is."
Artie laughed, "It sounds like no mohawk is winning."
"So far," she paused and scooted over to one side of the bed. "Come sit with me so you can see her better."
Artie obliged without hesitation and was soon sitting beside Quinn in her hospital bed, "Better?" he asked once he was settled beside her.
"Much," she said, pulling down the blanket the baby was wrapped in to provide Artie a full few of her face and then gently tugging off the pink hat that was covering her head. "Artie, I'd like to introduce you to Charlotte Rose Puckerman Fabray."
He picked up her tiny hand and shook it, making Quinn giggle. "It's nice to meet you, Charlotte." He stared at her for a few minutes, slowly taking in all her features. She definitely had Quinn's nose, lips, and chin. "She's absolutely beautiful," he whispered, "mohawk and all."
"Oh no," Quinn's mouth hung open in mock indignation, "you're Team Mohawk?"
He glanced at the strip of soft, light brown hair that was sticking up from the middle of Charlotte's head, "Yep. That's a baby mohawk."
"I'm not sure we can be friends anymore, Artie Abrams." Quinn joked.
"It's okay," Artie offered, "she just needs to borrow some of Kurt's hair gel."
Quinn laughed and fussed a little with the hair on the top of her daughter's head, "We may have to resort to that." She paused for a minute, looking at Artie, "Would you like to hold her?"
Artie shook his head nervously, "What if I drop her or something?"
"You won't."
"But she's so tiny."
"You'll be fine," she reassured him, placing the squirming baby in his arms before he had a chance to protest again. "There you go," she encouraged softly as Charlotte quickly settled down in Artie's arms. "Just hold her close to your chest so she can hear your heartbeat."
Artie smiled as Charlotte snuggled into his chest, "Hey, she likes me!"
"Of course she likes you," she said, reaching over to push Artie's glasses up so they were sitting correctly on his nose, "you're Artie. The same old Artie."
"And you're the same old Quinn," he replied, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.