Summary: Four times Brittany surprised Artie and one time Artie surprised everyone else.
AN: Um, not my usual pairing but it was actually kind of fun to write. Just a couple of drabbles strung together in a quick one-shot. Other than that I don't know anything about Call of Duty, or how it's played, or speaking Dutch.
This is for Nancy, I hope it's up to snuff!
They had been dating for almost two months first time Brittany tells Artie that she can't go out with him on a Friday night because she has motocross he laughs, just a little bit. The girl is grace embodied in movement, she takes notes with a pink glitter pen, and cheerleads for goodness sake, she most definitely doesn't sweat in mesh and plastic armor or race circuits or jump a dirt bike. The mere thought is ludicrous, so he chuckled and spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what word she had confused with 'motocross' without any success. The thought that she was simply blowing him off to do something else with someone else occurred to him, but then he remembered it was Brittany and she couldn't lie her way out of a paper bag so it was dismissed almost immediately.
She smiles along with him, even though the look in her eyes tells him she doesn't get the joke, and just goes with his semi-patronizing laugh. His next offer is an extension of his parents' invitation for Sunday dinner because he knows that Saturday's are almost exclusively dedicated to Sue Sylvester and dance classes, which she happily agrees to. They part ways before the bell rings and he tell her to enjoy motocross practice, resisting the urge to use finger quotes and laugh while he says it. He wheels away before he can see the confusion settle on his girlfriend's feature as she extends the syllables in 'okay'.
On Sunday he waits in the front room slightly on edge. This won't be the first time his parents had ever met Brittany, nor was it the first time since they had started dating. But Sunday dinner's were a big thing in his family and it wasn't something he had thought about when his mom had mentioned bringing the blonde by for it three days earlier. This meant they were going to be serious about him being serious with a girl and that girl was Brittany. Dim, if sweet cheerleader Brittany. Brilliant and polite Tina had been invited once, and then never again and if she couldn't impress his family then Britt didn't stand a chance.
There is a roar of an engine in the distance and Artie tenses, glancing out the window and checking the time on his watch. Brittany is four minutes to being late which is not going to sit well with his punctual and prompt mother. He reaches for his phone to tap out a text to ask about her location, or to find out if she had forgotten about it altogether when his younger brother, Mitchell, skids into the room and points out the window Artie is parked by, "Who's that?"
The wheel-chair bound boy looks out to see a cherry red Kawasaki ninja parked behind his father's pick-up, it's rider dressed in dark jeans, black riding boots and a dark leather jacket. The helmet is colored to match the bike with a black visor and is lifted off to reveal blonde hair and Brittany's smiling face. Artie's jaw drops and the low wolf-whistle behind him alerts him to the fact that his sport's nut father already approves.
So, maybe she meant motocross after all.
Artie knew he shouldn't have started the game about twenty minutes into it. He and Brittany had planned a movie night while his dad was visiting his older brother, David, in Columbus with his younger brother for an OSU football game in the morning and his mom was taking his little sister over to a friend's house for a play date. But Britts had come straight from a three hour after school Cheerios practice, freshly showered and in street cloths but with her cheerleading duffle bag thrown over one shoulder. His mother caught one sight of the bag and decided they were kindred spirits.
They began trading camp war stories and talking about competitions and Artie hadn't even known his mom was a cheerleader in high school.
It took Jesse crossing her chubby little five-year-old arms and pouting to pull his mother from the conversation and get them moving. She hands Artie a twenty for pizza and Brittany moves into the room with him.
So here he was, thirty minutes into Call of Duty: Black Ops with Brittany sitting next to him on the couch, filing her nails. He should stop the game, should just shut it down and put in the movie, except that this kid in California is talking some serious smack and he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of just walking away. Figuratively that is.
"Oh hellz to the nah!"
"What happened?" the blonde asks in her in her quiet, disinterested manner as she leant forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her palms.
"He just tricked me out of my spot so that his buddy could snipe me," he replies distractedly and then cringes. This is right around the time Tina would huff, ask him to turn off the game and get back to their plans.
Instead of replying Brittany picks up the second controller, shaking Artie for a second when the 42" goes to split screen and within four minutes she's picked up more head shots than the punk in Cali and his friend.
He hits pause and kind of stares in awe, "Where-?"
"I used to play all the time with Santana's brother, Hector, when I was waiting for her to finish with Puck," she shrugs.
He grins and gestures towards the television, "Do you want to keep playing? Or watch the movie?"
She matches his grin and reaches over to un-pause the game from his controller, "I'm going to kick your butt."
The only fight they end up having is who has to get the door when the pizza is delivered.
He's spending his Sunday night parked next to Brittany at his kitchen table with books upon books open before them. Brittany has a Geometry test on Monday and Artie is trying to teach her some tricks, but nothing he says sticks and after more than an hour they are both getting frustrated.
"You know what? Let's just take a break," he pushes the book away from him and takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Artie," she frowns at him, "I thought I had it."
He knows he shouldn't respond because his backs been hurting him all weekend and he hasn't gotten much sleep so his ability to Brittany-filter what he says isn't at a hundred percent. He's been making little comments all night, but she hadn't given any indication that she recognized them for what they were so he's gotten bolder, reverting back to not thinking before he speaks. "Good thing you're pretty," he mutters blandly, but regrets it as soon as the book in front of the blonde is snapped shut.
She stands abruptly, shoving books into her bag and grabbing her bright red helmet off the counter behind her. "Ik kan nu niet dit recht," she mumbles walking past him.
"Wait, Britt," he reaches out but misses, "Wah- was that German?"
"Dutch," she stops and turns back to shove a finger in his chest. "I might not be the smartest person in the world, but I know when someone is being a jerk. I get that you're in pain, you wince every time you move, but you don't have to take it out on me. And I don't have to sit here and take it."
"But- your test-" he fumbles around for something, anything, to keep her from storming out.
"I'll get Santana to help me," she deadpans, pulling on her leather jacket. "Let me know when you're done being mean."
She's out the door before he can think of anything else to say, too stunned to even move. Apparently even ever-loving and sweet Brittany had a breaking point and he'd reached it with horrifying certainty. He's reaching for his phone before he has time to think about it and taps out a message that he's never said to anyone outside of his parents, and never meant more.
I'm so sorry
There was a party at (surprise, surprise) Puck's house on a Friday night. Now that he was on the football team, and Puck's self-proclaimed boy, Artie had garnered the invite he'd been dying to receive for the last two years.
Too bad it fell on the night of his parents' anniversary.
"Hey," Brittany is leaning against the locker in front of him, books held to her chest, "Are you going to Puck's tonight?"
"Can't," he sighs, maneuvering back so that he can close his own locker, "The 'rents are going out tonight and I have to stay home with the rug rats."
She actually looks disappointed that he won't be there and Artie feels a warmth in his chest at the thought that she wanted him to be. "If you get bored at Puck's though," he offers with a shrug, "You could always come hang out with us."
She gives him her own brand of half-smile and leans down to kiss him on the cheek, "Maybe."
He knows that it's a pity answer. Brittany's been going to Puck's parties with Santana since before they were the precedent-setting events of drunken teenage shenanigans and this one would be no different. She was a Cheerio before she was his girlfriend and he wasn't about to make her choose between the two, mostly because he was sure he wouldn't like the answer.
Which is why he couldn't keep that stupid-happy smile off his face when the familiar purr of her motorcycle pulled into his drive a little passed seven that night. She spent the evening coloring, playing dolls and dress up with his baby sister while he played video games with his brother and he thought it might be even better than any party at Puck's house.
They're sitting in the choir room waiting for Mr. Schuster to show when Puck claps a hand down on Finn's shoulder, "Guy's day at my place this Saturday, dude. We're playing video games and chillin' all day long."
"Sounds awesome, man, I'm in," the long-limbed quarterback glances briefly at Rachel, knowing full well that Saturday's are foreign film night with her dads. She huffs, but for once settles on the silent treatment.
"Sam? Mike?" the mo-hawked teen glances between the two.
"Sure," Mike shrugs earning him an eye roll from Tina at the same time Sam gives the thumbs up prompting a look from Quinn.
"Excuse me? We had plans," she reminds him, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised.
"Ah, come on, babe," he shoots her an imploring look, "It'll be a good bonding experience. For the team."
She crosses her arms and turns slightly away from him, "Whatever."
Behind her back Sam grins at Puck and mouths 'I'll be there.'
"Good," the dark boy settles his hands on Artie's shoulders, "Cause I know my man Artie is in."
"Sure," Artie bumped fists with the boy, "Can Britt come?" Ten head swivel to look at him. "What?" he asks defensively, "She's my co-op partner." He grins when she leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek.
"Uh, no, dude," Puck states slowly, "Cause it's a guy's day, which means no chicks, no girlfriends."
The wheel-chair bound boy's reply was cut off by Brittany's hand on his arm, "It's okay, Artie, I couldn't go anyway. Hannah has a soccer tournament Saturday, remember?"
"Oh yeah," he tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand, "I completely spaced about that."
She shrugged but didn't look particularly upset by it, "I did too, but she reminded me this morning before I left. Don't worry about it, go have fun with Puck and the boys."
He frowned at her, thinking about what she said. Brittany always said what she meant so he wasn't worried about hidden meanings or tests, but he shook his head anyways. "No way," he grinned suddenly, "She's been talking about how awesome she is for weeks, I have got to see it for myself. Besides I'm pretty sure I promised her a banana split if she scored."
Everyone's eyes were laser focused onto him, but it was only Britt's wide grin that mattered.
Up in the corner of the bleachers Mercedes is snapping her fingers in front of Tina's face, but the gothic girl is stuck blinking rapidly, "No-freaking-way."