Glee Fic: The Last Resort (Brittany, Kurt, Tina) (PG)
Title: The Last Resort
Author: invalidattempt
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,400
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Tina, Brittany (Brittana, of course).
AN: I may have made Brittany a little smarter than they do on the show... Just a little fluff piece. Also, this is me procrastinating on my Kurt/Mike fic *headdesk*
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Therefore, according to federal law, I can't sell Glee on Ebay. Damn.
Summary: Tina and Kurt are at their wits' ends. Where are they going to find another (single) dancer?
Rehearsal was done, which meant Brittany could stop pretending to listen to Mr. Schue. She really tried, she did, but he’d start going on about musical theory, and quarter notes and sixteenth notes and it was all too much like math.
Brittany loved Glee Club. The people in it sometimes made her feel sick to her stomach, but she really liked singing, and she really loved dancing. But sometimes it was hard. She’d never taken music lessons before, so she’d never learnt how to read music. Mr. Schue didn’t seem to notice, so sometimes she had to fake along with the others until she had time to learn the songs. Thank God for Santana. She was always ready to help Brittany.
As she reached her locker, Brittany reached a hand into the top of the Cheerios uniform. She fumbled around briefly until she found what she was looking for. A slip of paper was hidden in her bra with the numbers she needed to remember to undo her lock. She’d gotten the idea from the book she’d been reading the week before; in Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom wrote down all the passwords so that he could still get into the dorms if he forgot them. She liked Neville, because he never seemed to be able to do anything right either- not in class, and not with other people.
Undoing her lock, she rifled through her locker quickly, searching for her lip gloss. She couldn’t afford to take too long, because Santana had asked to meet up in the auditorium. After every Glee rehearsal, Santana would make time to help her with the music. Even though Brittany couldn’t read the sheets Mr. Schuester handed out, Santana could. And just like Brittany never forgot a dance once she’d danced it, she never forgot a song once she’d sung it. She just needed a little help first to learn the tune.
Where was her lip gloss? It had to be here somewhere. She really didn’t want to be late for San, but looking good is always number one. She hushed her canary as it cheeped at her, sitting in a cage she kept hanging from the coat hook in her locker, and knelt down to search the bottom. She was pushing aside her (unused) math book when Kurt and Tina walked by, arms linked. Were they dating? But he was totally Capital G! (Although he was not Artie ‘G’, because that stood for ‘gangsta’.)
“So Mercedes is out,” Kurt said in a low voice to Tina. “She says she can sing like Beyoncé, but there’s no way she’s, and I quote, ‘shakin’ her moneymaker like Bee.’”
Brittany froze in her search. She can shake her moneymaker! She’s good at it!
Tina sighed, tugging Kurt towards her own locker, across the hallway from Brittany’s. “Who else c-c-can we get, then? We de-definitely need one more person to r-recreate the video.”
Tina entered her locker combination in one swift, smooth move, not even pausing to remember. Brittany envied her.
Leaning against the locker adjacent to Tina’s, Kurt tugged at the hem of his coat, adjusting it until it lay properly. “Well, I’m not asking Rachel. Did you see her in practice? That girl wants to be front and center, but this is one spotlight she won’t be stealing. I have worked too hard to learn this dance to let her ruin my video.”
“But Kurt,” Tina argued, “She’s the only p-person we can ask, if Mercedes is out. She’s the only other girl in G-Glee who is single. Quinn is with Finn, Santana is with Puck, and Brittany… is Brittany. And do you think any of th-them would want to dance the Single Ladies with us? Quinn would laugh us out this sch-school. Santana… she scares m-m-me. And, she totally ignores us during re-rehearsal. Rachel is our last resort, Kurt.”
Brittany stood up abruptly. “I could totally do it!”
Kurt spun around, a look of shock on his face. Maybe he didn’t notice that she was listening. That made sense- Brittany could be very quiet sometimes. Coach Sylvester once made her go to school with a cowbell around her neck for a week because she hadn’t heard her entering a room. The cheerleading coach had written in her journal for a whole minute before she realized Brittany was reading over her shoulder. Coach Sylvester really did make plans for world domination in there. That wasn’t just a rumor.
Her cowbell-wearing phase sparked the “More Cowbell” fad. Seriously.
Kurt interrupted her thoughts. He spoke with a fake smile plastered on his face. Brittany thought that had to hurt- like duct tape when you stick that over your mouth. That was another Coach Sylvester thing; she decided the Cheerios needed to work on their breath control. She made them run routines breathing through their nose only.
“I’m truly sorry, Brittany,” Kurt said, although he didn’t really seem very sorry, “But for authenticity’s sake, no one who is currently dating is allowed in our video.”
“Oh, that’s okay, then!” Brittany clapped her hands together happily. “You know, sex isn’t dating. So I can totally still dance with you guys.”
Kurt looked like he still had some doubts; one super-finely plucked eyebrow was raised (and God did Brittany ever want him to do hers someday- they were really fantastic), but then, Kurt always kinda looked doubtful. Tina, though, she looked curious.
“We’ve already learned the dance, and we’re planning on filming tomorrow. We really d-don’t have time to teach you,” Tina warned, but Brittany had made up her mind. This was what she wanted to do- it was a fab dance, and the unitard would make her look smokin’.
“That’s so not an issue; I’m, like, really good. Santana says I’m the best dancer in all the Cheerios,” she assured them. She grinned widely as she demonstrated the part she remembered from the video; Comb-through-the-hair and slap-the-butt. Oh, yeah, she was so fine. After a tiny hip shimmy, she stopped dancing, and waited for their approval.
Tina and Kurt exchanged glances. Brittany hated that: when people seemed to say something without actually saying anything; somehow, she’s never really figured that trick out.
Finally, Kurt scanned her from top to bottom, judging (although later she’ll tell Santana he was checking her out. The gay guy wants her? Her rep will be through the roof.) Satisfied, he nodded, like he’d made a decision about her and he liked what he’d found. He said, “You’ll look fabulous in black, and the lighting in my basement will work wonders with your complexion. You’re in. Tomorrow after school, meet in the choir room. Bring heels.”
Tina shut her locker, and they turned to go. At the last moment, though, Kurt turned to face her. There was a weird look in his eyes. Like, respect or something. No one really looked at Brittany like that, not her parents or the teachers or the Cheerios or the guys… no one really but Santana, and Quinn (sometimes). She liked that he looked at her like that.
He paused, then said, “If people know, they’ll judge you. If they know you hung out with Tina and me. Are you okay with that?”
She frowned. Would they? She was a Cheerio. A Cheerio is beyond reproach, Coach Sylvester always said. When she asked Santana later, San said that meant they could do anything they wanted and still be cool. And Coach Sylvester is always right.
Inside her locker, her fingers closed around a small plastic tube.
Brittany grinned, applying it immediately. Then, seeing that Kurt was still waiting for an answer, she explained, “I just want to dance.”
Kurt gave her a short nod (and that look was still in his eyes!), but Tina asked, “And will Santana be okay with that?”
Brittany smiled happily but didn’t reply. Instead, she just grabbed her bag and walked past them. Santana was waiting for her.
And would Santana be mad?
Not so long as Brittany got her a copy of the video, she wouldn’t.
After all, Brittany’s going to look super fine in that uni. Comb-through-the-hair and slap-that-butt.
Santana wouldn’t be mad at all.
AN: I really should be working on The Fame Monster, but this was eating a hole through my brain. Maybe now I can get some work done :) Please leave a review if you liked it or you have any feedback.
Author: invalidattempt
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,400
Characters/Pairings: Kurt, Tina, Brittany (Brittana, of course).
AN: I may have made Brittany a little smarter than they do on the show... Just a little fluff piece. Also, this is me procrastinating on my Kurt/Mike fic *headdesk*
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Therefore, according to federal law, I can't sell Glee on Ebay. Damn.
Summary: Tina and Kurt are at their wits' ends. Where are they going to find another (single) dancer?
Rehearsal was done, which meant Brittany could stop pretending to listen to Mr. Schue. She really tried, she did, but he’d start going on about musical theory, and quarter notes and sixteenth notes and it was all too much like math.
Brittany loved Glee Club. The people in it sometimes made her feel sick to her stomach, but she really liked singing, and she really loved dancing. But sometimes it was hard. She’d never taken music lessons before, so she’d never learnt how to read music. Mr. Schue didn’t seem to notice, so sometimes she had to fake along with the others until she had time to learn the songs. Thank God for Santana. She was always ready to help Brittany.
As she reached her locker, Brittany reached a hand into the top of the Cheerios uniform. She fumbled around briefly until she found what she was looking for. A slip of paper was hidden in her bra with the numbers she needed to remember to undo her lock. She’d gotten the idea from the book she’d been reading the week before; in Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom wrote down all the passwords so that he could still get into the dorms if he forgot them. She liked Neville, because he never seemed to be able to do anything right either- not in class, and not with other people.
Undoing her lock, she rifled through her locker quickly, searching for her lip gloss. She couldn’t afford to take too long, because Santana had asked to meet up in the auditorium. After every Glee rehearsal, Santana would make time to help her with the music. Even though Brittany couldn’t read the sheets Mr. Schuester handed out, Santana could. And just like Brittany never forgot a dance once she’d danced it, she never forgot a song once she’d sung it. She just needed a little help first to learn the tune.
Where was her lip gloss? It had to be here somewhere. She really didn’t want to be late for San, but looking good is always number one. She hushed her canary as it cheeped at her, sitting in a cage she kept hanging from the coat hook in her locker, and knelt down to search the bottom. She was pushing aside her (unused) math book when Kurt and Tina walked by, arms linked. Were they dating? But he was totally Capital G! (Although he was not Artie ‘G’, because that stood for ‘gangsta’.)
“So Mercedes is out,” Kurt said in a low voice to Tina. “She says she can sing like Beyoncé, but there’s no way she’s, and I quote, ‘shakin’ her moneymaker like Bee.’”
Brittany froze in her search. She can shake her moneymaker! She’s good at it!
Tina sighed, tugging Kurt towards her own locker, across the hallway from Brittany’s. “Who else c-c-can we get, then? We de-definitely need one more person to r-recreate the video.”
Tina entered her locker combination in one swift, smooth move, not even pausing to remember. Brittany envied her.
Leaning against the locker adjacent to Tina’s, Kurt tugged at the hem of his coat, adjusting it until it lay properly. “Well, I’m not asking Rachel. Did you see her in practice? That girl wants to be front and center, but this is one spotlight she won’t be stealing. I have worked too hard to learn this dance to let her ruin my video.”
“But Kurt,” Tina argued, “She’s the only p-person we can ask, if Mercedes is out. She’s the only other girl in G-Glee who is single. Quinn is with Finn, Santana is with Puck, and Brittany… is Brittany. And do you think any of th-them would want to dance the Single Ladies with us? Quinn would laugh us out this sch-school. Santana… she scares m-m-me. And, she totally ignores us during re-rehearsal. Rachel is our last resort, Kurt.”
Brittany stood up abruptly. “I could totally do it!”
Kurt spun around, a look of shock on his face. Maybe he didn’t notice that she was listening. That made sense- Brittany could be very quiet sometimes. Coach Sylvester once made her go to school with a cowbell around her neck for a week because she hadn’t heard her entering a room. The cheerleading coach had written in her journal for a whole minute before she realized Brittany was reading over her shoulder. Coach Sylvester really did make plans for world domination in there. That wasn’t just a rumor.
Her cowbell-wearing phase sparked the “More Cowbell” fad. Seriously.
Kurt interrupted her thoughts. He spoke with a fake smile plastered on his face. Brittany thought that had to hurt- like duct tape when you stick that over your mouth. That was another Coach Sylvester thing; she decided the Cheerios needed to work on their breath control. She made them run routines breathing through their nose only.
“I’m truly sorry, Brittany,” Kurt said, although he didn’t really seem very sorry, “But for authenticity’s sake, no one who is currently dating is allowed in our video.”
“Oh, that’s okay, then!” Brittany clapped her hands together happily. “You know, sex isn’t dating. So I can totally still dance with you guys.”
Kurt looked like he still had some doubts; one super-finely plucked eyebrow was raised (and God did Brittany ever want him to do hers someday- they were really fantastic), but then, Kurt always kinda looked doubtful. Tina, though, she looked curious.
“We’ve already learned the dance, and we’re planning on filming tomorrow. We really d-don’t have time to teach you,” Tina warned, but Brittany had made up her mind. This was what she wanted to do- it was a fab dance, and the unitard would make her look smokin’.
“That’s so not an issue; I’m, like, really good. Santana says I’m the best dancer in all the Cheerios,” she assured them. She grinned widely as she demonstrated the part she remembered from the video; Comb-through-the-hair and slap-the-butt. Oh, yeah, she was so fine. After a tiny hip shimmy, she stopped dancing, and waited for their approval.
Tina and Kurt exchanged glances. Brittany hated that: when people seemed to say something without actually saying anything; somehow, she’s never really figured that trick out.
Finally, Kurt scanned her from top to bottom, judging (although later she’ll tell Santana he was checking her out. The gay guy wants her? Her rep will be through the roof.) Satisfied, he nodded, like he’d made a decision about her and he liked what he’d found. He said, “You’ll look fabulous in black, and the lighting in my basement will work wonders with your complexion. You’re in. Tomorrow after school, meet in the choir room. Bring heels.”
Tina shut her locker, and they turned to go. At the last moment, though, Kurt turned to face her. There was a weird look in his eyes. Like, respect or something. No one really looked at Brittany like that, not her parents or the teachers or the Cheerios or the guys… no one really but Santana, and Quinn (sometimes). She liked that he looked at her like that.
He paused, then said, “If people know, they’ll judge you. If they know you hung out with Tina and me. Are you okay with that?”
She frowned. Would they? She was a Cheerio. A Cheerio is beyond reproach, Coach Sylvester always said. When she asked Santana later, San said that meant they could do anything they wanted and still be cool. And Coach Sylvester is always right.
Inside her locker, her fingers closed around a small plastic tube.
Brittany grinned, applying it immediately. Then, seeing that Kurt was still waiting for an answer, she explained, “I just want to dance.”
Kurt gave her a short nod (and that look was still in his eyes!), but Tina asked, “And will Santana be okay with that?”
Brittany smiled happily but didn’t reply. Instead, she just grabbed her bag and walked past them. Santana was waiting for her.
And would Santana be mad?
Not so long as Brittany got her a copy of the video, she wouldn’t.
After all, Brittany’s going to look super fine in that uni. Comb-through-the-hair and slap-that-butt.
Santana wouldn’t be mad at all.
AN: I really should be working on The Fame Monster, but this was eating a hole through my brain. Maybe now I can get some work done :) Please leave a review if you liked it or you have any feedback.