Notebooks and Cartoons: Rachel, Artie, PG
Title: Notebooks and Cartoons
Author: Kelsey / marliskelsey
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel, Artie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,987
Spoilers: Through 1x22, Journey
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I can only dream.
Summary: The scene before him is certainly not what Artie expected to find in the choir room.
A/N: Written for this prompt at the glee_fluff_meme. I'm always in need of some Rachel/Artie friendship fic, because those two as BFFs would make my life complete. Hope you enjoy!
“Guys, this is it. I want you all to relax tonight, get some rest. I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow morning. Seven thirty sharp, no exceptions. That means you, Puck.”
Artie smiles. He’s so excited for Sectionals, he can hardly contain himself. What with the fact that their set list is safe and they’ve got one victory already under their belt, he’s pretty confident that they’ve got it locked. And perhaps the fact that he has a solo beyond a couple words makes him jittery with happiness too.
The others seem to be excited as well. There’s an air of anticipation in the choir room. Even Puck, who’s already grumbling about the early morning, seems to have a little bit of nervous energy in him.
Everyone moves to collect their bags, only to be interrupted by a streak of dark hair to the front of the room.
Of course, no one is more excited than Rachel.
“Everyone, if I could have your attention, please?”
Several people groan for posterity, but the entire club obligingly returns to their seats. They’re used to Rachel’s antics now, and have (more or less) grown to accept them as part of Glee and their little family.
“As I’m sure you can tell, I am extremely excited for our second showing at Sectionals, and I am also positive that you all are just as excited as I am! Furthermore, I would like to stress to each and every one of you to practice,” Mr. Schuester clears his throat behind her and Rachel rolls her eyes a little before continuing, “however, you should all relax as much as possible too, because it’s important to rest your voice.” She glances over her shoulder at Mr. Schuester, who nods approvingly.
“Anyways,” she begins again, with a bright smile replacing the look of annoyance, “I still believe that just a tiny bit of practice couldn’t hurt. In any case, we should all feel very confident that we are going to do exceptionally well tomorrow. The competition is weak without our carefully crafted choreography and impressive song choices to aid them, and I truly believe that they do not have a leg to stand on. Everyone should be very proud of themselves for their accomplishments.” Rachel ends with a little head nod, as if to say she’s actually finished.
Kurt, beside Artie, leans over to Mercedes. “I think in the midst of that there was a compliment.”
With Rachel’s pep talk out of the way, everyone leaves the choir room exceptionally quickly, and Artie is no exception. Actually, he books it out of there like something’s chasing him. Maybe it’s the nervous energy, or maybe it’s because Tina’s coming over for a celebratory barbeque (Artie’s dad is making his famous Ten-Alarm Burgers, and that stuff is too good to be late for) but Artie just wants to get home.
But before he can leave, Rachel calls his name. She’s waiting as Finn collects his stuff.
Rachel smiles. “Have a good night, Artie! See you tomorrow!”
In his confusion, Artie doesn’t notice the blue notebook as it bounces to the floor from his hastily closed backpack. He just smiles and waves, and leaves the choir room shaking his head. He hardly ever speaks to Rachel.
But hey, she was being nice. Artie can respect that. He’s not going to question it.
Besides, Artie sees Tina up ahead.
“Slow your roll, girl! I’ll give you a ride to my dad’s van.”
* * *
The scene before him is certainly not what Artie expected to find in the choir room when he went to retrieve his notebook.
The jazz band practicing scales, maybe. Mr. Schuester clearing up from the Glee rehearsal that ended just minutes before, possibly locking this year’s set list in an impenetrable safe. Coach Sylvester taking measurements for her new private sauna.
Not Rachel Berry sitting primly in a chair and looking very much like someone just kicked her puppy.
Artie stops quickly in the doorway so that she can’t see him. She doesn’t, instead just sobbing quietly to herself.
There are a variety of ways he could handle this. Most of them involve actually making her aware of Artie’s presence, and the thought of that isn’t exactly thrilling.
It’s not that he doesn’t like Rachel. She’s okay, but they’ve never been friends. As far as interaction goes, Artie and Rachel are practically strangers, except for the “Run Joey Run” incident last year (which Artie still feels guilty about). The thought of attempting to comfort her? Not the most appealing thing.
But Artie wouldn’t feel right doing nothing. It’s not how he rolls.
And besides, Sectionals is in a day. That’s why Mr. Schuester called the extra rehearsal today. And it is Artie’s duty, as a responsible member of the club, to ensure that the person singing most of the songs is okay.
Also, this whole staring from the shadows thing is starting to border on creepy.
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Rachel’s head snaps up, eyes wide. The sobs stop immediately, but she visibly exhales when Rachel sees that it’s him. “Oh, Artie. I was worried you were a football player or a cheerleader.” Her voice is thick, and she’s playing with a button on her (bright, eye-assaulting red) sweater.
“Nope, not much chance of me being one of those.”
Rachel stares at him and he grimaces.
“Bad joke. Sorry.”
Okay, using humour is out. Artie debates for a moment before wheeling slowly so that his chair is parked next to Rachel, before turning to look at her. She’s looking back down at her lap, gnawing on her bottom lip. The button on her cardigan is about to rip off.
Artie reaches out and moves her hand slowly away.
Rachel sniffles a bit before breaking down into sobs again, her face crumpling. She sobs and sobs and hunches over so that the tears make little dark spots on her skirt, her entire body shaking with each gasping breath.
Artie panics. “Rachel, Rachel, its okay! Don’t cry, its okay.” He lifts his hand to pat her back but only drops it awkwardly back into his lap.
“I’m s-sorry, Artie. I d-don’t know what’s c-come over me.”
He shrugs. “No biggie.”
She suddenly glares at him. “It’s a m-major biggie, Artie. I’m a f-fantastic actress and trained v-very carefully. I should be able to get c-control of myself within an instant.”
They sit there for a few minutes as Artie tries to think of what to do next.
He realizes fairly quickly that he has no idea why the heck Rachel is crying in the first place. It makes sense to, you know, find out.
This comforting business is hard, okay?
“So, um, do you wanna talk about it?”
Rachel sighs and bites her lip again, standing abruptly from her chair and beginning to pace. With every short, frantic step, her shoes make little clicking noises on the linoleum and Artie is reminded of an over-active puppy, scuttling along on its little legs and making the same sounds with their paws.
But then she stops, just as abruptly as she stood, and turns to face him. Her face is a weird mix of sad and calm, like she can’t decide what she’s feeling.
“I’m nervous, Artie.”
The statement is so silly that Artie almost laughs. Rachel Berry never gets nervous. At least not that he’s seen. He’s seen her cry, he’s seen her mad. But never because she was nervous. It’s an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp. He tells her this and she laughs humourlessly.
“I’m not a robot, Artie. I feel nervous and other various emotions like a normal human being.”
Artie looks down at his shoes before he rolls over to where she’s standing. Because, oh yeah, Rachel Berry is a person with feelings that are probably hurt more often than not.
He’s also pretty much thinking that this is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone who knows her - including those that don’t like her very much - is positive that Rachel has the talent to do anything. And everyone knows that if you look up confidence and drive in a dictionary, Rachel’s picture will be smiling that million-watt smile back at you.
“Rachel, you’re going to do great. You’re easily our best singer.”
She sighs and throws herself back down into a chair, and Artie is beginning to resent all this making-him-move stuff. But Rachel’s lower lip is trembling dangerously, so Artie follows her once again.
“But that’s not true. Mercedes is just as, if not more, talented than I am in the areas of R&B and Soul, two genres I have never really been able to perform to my full potential in, and with the exception of Barbra Streisand’s catalogue, she equals me in almost everything else. The rest of the girls are all exceptional as well. I can’t shake the feeling that there are several other members that can sing my numbers better than I can.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Mercedes is awesome, yes. We as a team are awesome. But you? You’re Broadway. Sold-out concerts, millions of fans, all that stuff. That’s going to be yours.”
Rachel looks at him for a moment, sobs turning to little sniffles. Suddenly, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes.
“Can’t. Breathe.”
Rachel pushes away and smiles at him, the biggest smile she has, one she reserves for Finn and for when she wins and for when she’s proud.
“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”
And if that breaks Artie’s heart just a bit, he doesn’t say it. He just lets Rachel crush him again in another hug and awkwardly pats her shoulder. This time when she pulls away, Rachel laughs and swipes at her eyes. “I don’t know what happened,” she chuckles, smoothing out her skirt and adjusting her sweater. Artie shrugs a little bit.
A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells Artie that he’d better get his butt into gear and get home, because his dad’s van is still parked out front with Tina inside and god knows what his father is trying to make conversation about.
“Well, I’m - I’m glad you’re okay.” And he is, truly. Something about Rachel being sad was making him sad too.
Rachel nods, all-business, and sticks a hand out to shake with him. Artie stares at it like an alien. “Girl, I just listened to you cry for a good ten minutes. You’d better give me a hug,” which makes Rachel laugh and lean down to hug him again before pulling away to get to her book bag. Artie clutches the notebook and goes to secure it in his bag.
A shocked gasp echoes through the room and Artie spins frantically.
Rachel is standing there staring, a finger pointed towards his book bag and her mouth hanging open. Artie waves his arms.
“Rachel? Earth to Rachel?”
She swallows. “Was that - was that a School House Rock notebook?”
Artie pulls the notebook from his bag again to stare at the cover. It was plain blue, spiral-bound with a picture of the logo on the front. He’d had it since his dad introduced the tapes to him, stuffed it in the back of his closet with only a few pages filled and forgotten about it until his mother found it and demanded that he use it up before getting a new one.
“Uh, yeah. I used to love that show.”
Rachel is still staring in shock. “I absolutely adored that show. It was on permanent repeat while I was growing up.” She giggles a little bit, reminiscing.
Artie smiles. “See you tomorrow, Rachel.”
She shakes her head and sighs, smiling and hoisting her bag up on her shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, Artie.”
And as Artie leaves, he finds that despite the constant rambling and difficult words, Rachel Berry isn’t that bad.
Author: Kelsey / marliskelsey
Pairing,Character(s): Rachel, Artie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,987
Spoilers: Through 1x22, Journey
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I can only dream.
Summary: The scene before him is certainly not what Artie expected to find in the choir room.
A/N: Written for this prompt at the glee_fluff_meme. I'm always in need of some Rachel/Artie friendship fic, because those two as BFFs would make my life complete. Hope you enjoy!
“Guys, this is it. I want you all to relax tonight, get some rest. I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow morning. Seven thirty sharp, no exceptions. That means you, Puck.”
Artie smiles. He’s so excited for Sectionals, he can hardly contain himself. What with the fact that their set list is safe and they’ve got one victory already under their belt, he’s pretty confident that they’ve got it locked. And perhaps the fact that he has a solo beyond a couple words makes him jittery with happiness too.
The others seem to be excited as well. There’s an air of anticipation in the choir room. Even Puck, who’s already grumbling about the early morning, seems to have a little bit of nervous energy in him.
Everyone moves to collect their bags, only to be interrupted by a streak of dark hair to the front of the room.
Of course, no one is more excited than Rachel.
“Everyone, if I could have your attention, please?”
Several people groan for posterity, but the entire club obligingly returns to their seats. They’re used to Rachel’s antics now, and have (more or less) grown to accept them as part of Glee and their little family.
“As I’m sure you can tell, I am extremely excited for our second showing at Sectionals, and I am also positive that you all are just as excited as I am! Furthermore, I would like to stress to each and every one of you to practice,” Mr. Schuester clears his throat behind her and Rachel rolls her eyes a little before continuing, “however, you should all relax as much as possible too, because it’s important to rest your voice.” She glances over her shoulder at Mr. Schuester, who nods approvingly.
“Anyways,” she begins again, with a bright smile replacing the look of annoyance, “I still believe that just a tiny bit of practice couldn’t hurt. In any case, we should all feel very confident that we are going to do exceptionally well tomorrow. The competition is weak without our carefully crafted choreography and impressive song choices to aid them, and I truly believe that they do not have a leg to stand on. Everyone should be very proud of themselves for their accomplishments.” Rachel ends with a little head nod, as if to say she’s actually finished.
Kurt, beside Artie, leans over to Mercedes. “I think in the midst of that there was a compliment.”
With Rachel’s pep talk out of the way, everyone leaves the choir room exceptionally quickly, and Artie is no exception. Actually, he books it out of there like something’s chasing him. Maybe it’s the nervous energy, or maybe it’s because Tina’s coming over for a celebratory barbeque (Artie’s dad is making his famous Ten-Alarm Burgers, and that stuff is too good to be late for) but Artie just wants to get home.
But before he can leave, Rachel calls his name. She’s waiting as Finn collects his stuff.
Rachel smiles. “Have a good night, Artie! See you tomorrow!”
In his confusion, Artie doesn’t notice the blue notebook as it bounces to the floor from his hastily closed backpack. He just smiles and waves, and leaves the choir room shaking his head. He hardly ever speaks to Rachel.
But hey, she was being nice. Artie can respect that. He’s not going to question it.
Besides, Artie sees Tina up ahead.
“Slow your roll, girl! I’ll give you a ride to my dad’s van.”
* * *
The scene before him is certainly not what Artie expected to find in the choir room when he went to retrieve his notebook.
The jazz band practicing scales, maybe. Mr. Schuester clearing up from the Glee rehearsal that ended just minutes before, possibly locking this year’s set list in an impenetrable safe. Coach Sylvester taking measurements for her new private sauna.
Not Rachel Berry sitting primly in a chair and looking very much like someone just kicked her puppy.
Artie stops quickly in the doorway so that she can’t see him. She doesn’t, instead just sobbing quietly to herself.
There are a variety of ways he could handle this. Most of them involve actually making her aware of Artie’s presence, and the thought of that isn’t exactly thrilling.
It’s not that he doesn’t like Rachel. She’s okay, but they’ve never been friends. As far as interaction goes, Artie and Rachel are practically strangers, except for the “Run Joey Run” incident last year (which Artie still feels guilty about). The thought of attempting to comfort her? Not the most appealing thing.
But Artie wouldn’t feel right doing nothing. It’s not how he rolls.
And besides, Sectionals is in a day. That’s why Mr. Schuester called the extra rehearsal today. And it is Artie’s duty, as a responsible member of the club, to ensure that the person singing most of the songs is okay.
Also, this whole staring from the shadows thing is starting to border on creepy.
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Rachel’s head snaps up, eyes wide. The sobs stop immediately, but she visibly exhales when Rachel sees that it’s him. “Oh, Artie. I was worried you were a football player or a cheerleader.” Her voice is thick, and she’s playing with a button on her (bright, eye-assaulting red) sweater.
“Nope, not much chance of me being one of those.”
Rachel stares at him and he grimaces.
“Bad joke. Sorry.”
Okay, using humour is out. Artie debates for a moment before wheeling slowly so that his chair is parked next to Rachel, before turning to look at her. She’s looking back down at her lap, gnawing on her bottom lip. The button on her cardigan is about to rip off.
Artie reaches out and moves her hand slowly away.
Rachel sniffles a bit before breaking down into sobs again, her face crumpling. She sobs and sobs and hunches over so that the tears make little dark spots on her skirt, her entire body shaking with each gasping breath.
Artie panics. “Rachel, Rachel, its okay! Don’t cry, its okay.” He lifts his hand to pat her back but only drops it awkwardly back into his lap.
“I’m s-sorry, Artie. I d-don’t know what’s c-come over me.”
He shrugs. “No biggie.”
She suddenly glares at him. “It’s a m-major biggie, Artie. I’m a f-fantastic actress and trained v-very carefully. I should be able to get c-control of myself within an instant.”
They sit there for a few minutes as Artie tries to think of what to do next.
He realizes fairly quickly that he has no idea why the heck Rachel is crying in the first place. It makes sense to, you know, find out.
This comforting business is hard, okay?
“So, um, do you wanna talk about it?”
Rachel sighs and bites her lip again, standing abruptly from her chair and beginning to pace. With every short, frantic step, her shoes make little clicking noises on the linoleum and Artie is reminded of an over-active puppy, scuttling along on its little legs and making the same sounds with their paws.
But then she stops, just as abruptly as she stood, and turns to face him. Her face is a weird mix of sad and calm, like she can’t decide what she’s feeling.
“I’m nervous, Artie.”
The statement is so silly that Artie almost laughs. Rachel Berry never gets nervous. At least not that he’s seen. He’s seen her cry, he’s seen her mad. But never because she was nervous. It’s an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp. He tells her this and she laughs humourlessly.
“I’m not a robot, Artie. I feel nervous and other various emotions like a normal human being.”
Artie looks down at his shoes before he rolls over to where she’s standing. Because, oh yeah, Rachel Berry is a person with feelings that are probably hurt more often than not.
He’s also pretty much thinking that this is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone who knows her - including those that don’t like her very much - is positive that Rachel has the talent to do anything. And everyone knows that if you look up confidence and drive in a dictionary, Rachel’s picture will be smiling that million-watt smile back at you.
“Rachel, you’re going to do great. You’re easily our best singer.”
She sighs and throws herself back down into a chair, and Artie is beginning to resent all this making-him-move stuff. But Rachel’s lower lip is trembling dangerously, so Artie follows her once again.
“But that’s not true. Mercedes is just as, if not more, talented than I am in the areas of R&B and Soul, two genres I have never really been able to perform to my full potential in, and with the exception of Barbra Streisand’s catalogue, she equals me in almost everything else. The rest of the girls are all exceptional as well. I can’t shake the feeling that there are several other members that can sing my numbers better than I can.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Mercedes is awesome, yes. We as a team are awesome. But you? You’re Broadway. Sold-out concerts, millions of fans, all that stuff. That’s going to be yours.”
Rachel looks at him for a moment, sobs turning to little sniffles. Suddenly, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes.
“Can’t. Breathe.”
Rachel pushes away and smiles at him, the biggest smile she has, one she reserves for Finn and for when she wins and for when she’s proud.
“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”
And if that breaks Artie’s heart just a bit, he doesn’t say it. He just lets Rachel crush him again in another hug and awkwardly pats her shoulder. This time when she pulls away, Rachel laughs and swipes at her eyes. “I don’t know what happened,” she chuckles, smoothing out her skirt and adjusting her sweater. Artie shrugs a little bit.
A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells Artie that he’d better get his butt into gear and get home, because his dad’s van is still parked out front with Tina inside and god knows what his father is trying to make conversation about.
“Well, I’m - I’m glad you’re okay.” And he is, truly. Something about Rachel being sad was making him sad too.
Rachel nods, all-business, and sticks a hand out to shake with him. Artie stares at it like an alien. “Girl, I just listened to you cry for a good ten minutes. You’d better give me a hug,” which makes Rachel laugh and lean down to hug him again before pulling away to get to her book bag. Artie clutches the notebook and goes to secure it in his bag.
A shocked gasp echoes through the room and Artie spins frantically.
Rachel is standing there staring, a finger pointed towards his book bag and her mouth hanging open. Artie waves his arms.
“Rachel? Earth to Rachel?”
She swallows. “Was that - was that a School House Rock notebook?”
Artie pulls the notebook from his bag again to stare at the cover. It was plain blue, spiral-bound with a picture of the logo on the front. He’d had it since his dad introduced the tapes to him, stuffed it in the back of his closet with only a few pages filled and forgotten about it until his mother found it and demanded that he use it up before getting a new one.
“Uh, yeah. I used to love that show.”
Rachel is still staring in shock. “I absolutely adored that show. It was on permanent repeat while I was growing up.” She giggles a little bit, reminiscing.
Artie smiles. “See you tomorrow, Rachel.”
She shakes her head and sighs, smiling and hoisting her bag up on her shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, Artie.”
And as Artie leaves, he finds that despite the constant rambling and difficult words, Rachel Berry isn’t that bad.