Fic: Sun-Sue and The Art of War (Prologue + Chapter 1 of 6)

Jun 06, 2011 11:52

Title: Sun-Sue and The Art of War (Prologue + Chapter 1 of 6)
Author: kappamaki33
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairings: Full ensemble (Sue, all Glee kids, Mr. Schue, Emma, Brad and the band, Burt, Carole, Coach Beiste, Blaine, and Jesse); canon pairings as of the end of “Prom Queen”
Spoilers: Through 2.20 (Prom Queen)
Word Count: ~4,500 (this chapter); ~20,000 (complete)
Summary: AU after “Prom Queen”. Sue is running out of time to destroy the Glee Club before Nationals in New York City. She finds guidance in an ancient Chinese treatise on military strategy and tactics. This inspires her to join New Directions on the eleven-hour bus trip from Lima to NYC in an unusual capacity.
Posting Plan: I plan to post new chapters every other day (possibly every day if I get ambitious).


Prologue: All warfare is based on deception.
Chapter 1: Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.
Chapter 2: We are not fit to lead an army on the march unless we are familiar with the face of the country-its mountains and forests, its pitfalls and precipices, its marshes and swamps.
Chapter 3: If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them.
Chapter 4: At first, then, exhibit the coyness of a maiden, until the enemy gives you an opening; afterwards emulate the rapidity of a running hare, and it will be too late for the enemy to oppose you.
Chapter 5: Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
Chapter 6: Do not interfere with an army that is returning home.
Epilogue: ...There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.

Notes: I placed this story in an AU after “Prom Queen” because it really required Sue to be over-the-top and devious, which I couldn’t make work in my mind post-“Funeral.” The epigrams are all excerpts from the real The Art of War by Sun-Tzu.

Also, two notes on plausibility: Yes, it is absolutely, positively plausible that New Directions would take a bus rather than a plane to the competition. My high school marching band did, for a drive twice as long as Lima to NYC. And yes, I have played “Hey Cow.” The cows are usually not as impressed with me as they apparently are with Brittany. Finally, I am aware of DADT’s repeal, but I had to tell the joke anyway.

Sun-Sue and the Art of War





Prologue

All warfare is based on deception.

Dear Journal,

As you know, lately I’ve been in the throes of a deep, dark depression, due to Schuester and his horde of pimply, awkward teens that caterwaul like howler monkeys in heat. They robbed me of my hard-earned seventh consecutive cheerleading national championship title, and the resultant loss of all my endorsements is taking its toll on my self-esteem. This past week, I’ve been especially low, because Schuester’s merry band of misfits is leaving for their little national show choir competition on Thursday. I had despaired that I wouldn’t be able to devise a plan to destroy them by then, especially since Wednesdays are buy a handgun session, get a longbow session free night down at the shooting range, which I don’t miss for anything.

Just thinking of all the great things I could have done with the hovercraft my motivational speaking tour would have paid for makes me weep, Journal. Instead of yelling from the ground through a megaphone at a Cheerio at the top of the human pyramid for an unevenly tied shoelace, I could have hovered and yelled through a megaphone right at eye level, inches from her face. I could have traversed the hallways in it, soaring above the heads of students, freed from the fear of catching mono, chlamydia, or uncoolness via contact with one of McKinley’s myriad carriers of said diseases. I could have flown directly above Schuester’s car on his daily commute and dropped golf balls on his hood and roof, then lied about freak mini-hailstorms becoming a prevalent Ohio phenomenon. I’d already gotten my hovercraft operator license as part of the add-on package to my license to kill! TRAGEDY.

But today, BREAKTHROUGH! While scouring McKinley High’s accounting records for new clubs and gratuitous departments to bleed dry to finance my Cheerio Suntan, Massage, and Ponytail Maintenance Fund, I ran across an odd notation. Apparently, not only does McKinley have a library; the library has a budget.

Journal, I was stunned. No one reads anything longer than a text message anymore, so really, the only thing the library should need is a few volumes of haiku. Even worse, children don’t even read their textbooks. Why should the school expend so much on buying even more books the students don’t read? And if a student or two is really so dweebish as to voluntarily read Lord of the Rings, the school would be doing him, her, or it a favor by forcing them to go off-campus and read it in one of the chairs Barnes & Noble provides for just such situations. Ensuring that their more well-adjusted classmates don’t see them acting nerdy is beneficial to their health and well-being. Ensuring that I don’t see them at all is beneficial to my health and well-being as well.

Anyway, I ventured down to the library to investigate further. While I was performing duck-roll-and-cover maneuvers amongst the shelves to shelter myself from the gazes of the library’s only occupants, Porcelain, the Jolly White Giant, and WALL-E McWheels, I stumbled upon a book that caught my attention. After cursing said book for nearly breaking my toe when I stumbled on it, I looked at the title: Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Intrigued, I opened it and began to read.

Journal, this book renewed my will to live.

It is the single best book ever written, even better than The Anarchist’s Cookbook and Cinderella (though the latter really doesn’t belong in the same class, since the ending is such a letdown). It’s like a collection of those sayings you see on inspirational posters with pictures of sunsets and mountains, only they’re all about killing people effectively. Several lines spoke to me on a deeply transcendent level, but this one is my greatest inspiration:

He who can modify his tactics in relation to his opponent and thereby succeed in winning may be called a heaven-born captain.

I don’t really believe in heaven, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get called a heaven-born captain at some point during my career. Sure, I’ve been called ‘cheerleading’s Attila the Hun’ and ‘Stalin with bangs’ in the popular press, but ‘heaven-born captain’ would nicely round out the bunch. So, I’m modifying my trusty playbook of ways to destroy the Glee Club with some help from the Good Book. My new scheme requires a good deal of travel and planning ahead, so I may not be able to update on my progress until the mission is completed.

In closing, thank you, dear Ms. Tzu, for giving me a new lease on life.


Chapter 1

Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

Will was hoping their trip to Nationals in New York City would end better than it started, because if it didn’t, it was not going to be a fun trip. It was bad enough that New Directions had to do its own send-off performance to itself at the big assembly, because apparently Dulcimer Club members still hadn’t recovered from their injuries from the train accident. Since no club in school was lower on the social food chain than Glee Club except Dulcimer Club, the others had all refused to perform.

All that was going to change after they took Nationals by storm, though, Will was certain. That was, if the bus and driver they’d rented for the trip ever arrived.

Will had managed to keep the kids’ spirits up for a while, pretending that the assembly had let out a little early and the bus wasn’t due yet, then distracting them by having Emma take lots of group photos. That had only worked for so long. Now, they were in the empty school parking lot, sitting on their suitcases and grumbling.

Just as Will was about to call the bus service for the fifth time, Burt Hummel tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Mr. Schuester, me and Carole got that utility trailer with the jazz band’s instruments all hitched to the SUV and ready to go. Do you want us to head out, or should we wait for the bus and follow it the whole way?”

“The bus should be here any minute,” Will said. “Thanks again, Burt, for volunteering to be a chaperone in New York. Carole, too. I really appreciate both of you helping Emma, Brad, and me with the chaperoning.”

“It’s no big deal. We were gonna go out there to see Kurt and Finn perform anyway, so why not help look after ‘em and the others while we’re there?” Burt looked around. “Speaking of which, have you seen Kurt lately?”

Will furrowed his brow when he noticed that Kurt wasn’t among the grumpy glee clubbers and jazz band members sniping at each other on the sidewalk. “No, I...”

Will saw something over Burt’s shoulder. The back door of the utility trailer hooked to the Hummel-Hudson’s SUV swung open. He watched a pair of Doc Martens hit the pavement, the door still obscuring the wearer from view. This was followed by a pair of smaller black men’s shoes stepping out.

Will barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. There was no way he was going to risk the possible fallout of Kurt’s dad getting angry at Kurt, though. Kurt was singing a duet in the competition, and Will wasn’t going to let any drama happen that might change the set list at the last moment, the way it usually did. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere...”

Burt’s eyes narrowed. “And Blaine is nowhere to be seen, either...”

Will watched Kurt quietly close the trailer door behind Blaine. It looked like they were about to rejoin the group, but just as Blaine was rounding the corner, Kurt tugged him back, pushed him against the trailer, and from the looks of it, attempted to suck his tonsils out through his mouth.

Will added quickly, hoping to distract Burt, “Oh, speaking of Blaine, I just wanted to reassure you that even though he’s coming along as a guest, he won’t be sharing a room with Kurt. In fact, I’ve put him with our show choir consultant, who is a very...responsible young man.”

“Mmhmm,” Burt said, scanning the area over Will’s shoulder like the head of a pioneer wagon train looking out for wild animals or Indians. Thankfully, Burt headed off to talk to Carole, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, when Kurt and Blaine snuck around the other side of the vehicle and joined the other kids.

Will sighed in relief when he heard the rumble of a large vehicle coming down the road. The kids heard it, too, and immediately perked up, their we’re-off-to-New York excitement rebounding.

That excitement deflated again when the bus pulled into view. It wasn’t exactly what Will had been expecting when he purchased the “semi-luxury tour bus package.” Though admittedly, it probably was semi-luxurious back when it was built in 1962.

The students stared at the bus in slack-jawed horror.

“That isn’t a bus. That’s a giant sardine can,” Artie said.

“That’s a death trap,” Santana corrected.

“Actually, it’s a piece of film history,” Sue said as she stepped out of the bus. Will’s eyes bugged out. She continued, “This is the actual bus used in the classic New York City film, Midnight Cowboy. I thought following in the footsteps of Joe Buck as played by John Voight would be very fitting inspiration for your kids dreaming of success on Forty-Second Street.”

“Isn’t Midnight Cowboy about a man who goes to New York City in hopes of becoming a prostitute?” Emma, who was still standing beside Will, whispered to him.

“I didn’t know you were joining us, Irma,” Sue said, smiling. Will tensed; Sue smiling was usually a very, very bad thing. “I must admit, I’m a little surprised.”

Will could tell Emma was forming her answer carefully, trying to figure out Sue’s angle. “I wanted to support the kids. They’ve worked very hard this year, and they deserve to have a fun and safe trip to Nationals.”

“That wasn’t what surprised me, Edie. I’m surprised at how fast the electroshock therapy must be working for you, if you’re willing to spend three days in the Grime Capital of the U.S. of A.,” Sue said.

Emma’s eyes widened, but she held her ground. “Will assured me the performance venue and hotel will be very clean, and I brought my emergency hand-sanitizer bottle.” She pulled a bulk-size Purel container out of her purse. Will didn’t even want to think about what her pre-counseling emergency hand-sanitizer bottle looked like.

Sue didn’t appear dissuaded. “Not to mention spending eleven hours in a poorly ventilated, un-air conditioned bus with twenty-some hygiene-challenged, sexually-overheated teenagers and their bodily fluids. Talk about ‘unwashed masses’!” She gave Emma a friendly punch in the arm, which made her jump.

“Um...” Emma said, backing away.

“Also not to mention how the bus owner didn’t put that blue formaldehyde liquid in the toilet, and I didn’t schedule any time to empty the holding tank. So any urine and fecal matter is getting the full round trip.”

Emma’s face turned the same shade of green as her sweater.

Will tried to do damage control. “We won’t let anyone use that toilet. We’ll make them hold it until the rest stops.”

“That would be a good idea, William,” Sue said. Will braced himself; getting a compliment from Sue usually turned out worse than when she led off with an insult. “But the homeless gentleman who was using this bus as an apartment didn’t have the courtesy to empty out the tank when I evicted him, either. On the up-side, he did leave some of his housewares, in case any of the kids are interested in cooking rat-kebabs, too.”

Will put out a comforting hand, but he knew there was no hope. Emma whimpered a barely audible excuse about not being able to go to New York because she forgot she had a haircut tomorrow before clamping her hand over her mouth and bolting back into the school. Will didn’t blame her in the least. If not for his responsibility to the club, he would’ve been hiding in a toilet stall right about now, too.

“Aw, looks like you’re a red-headed woodland creature short of enough chaperones, William,” Sue said, patting him on the back. “I’d offer my services, but school policy clearly dictates that a bus driver cannot double-dip as a chaperone. I suppose you could always reduce the number of students you take. Personally, I’d start with dumping Babs and Frankenteen. The height differential when they duet gives me vertigo.”

Will recoiled in horror. “Wait, did you just say you’re our bus driver?”

“Congratulations on finally noticing the obvious. It only took you...five minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” she said, looking down at the stopwatch around her neck. “That’s a new personal record for you.”

“But...why? How?”

“I’ll have you know, William, that I am a fully-certified charter bus driver. The license came as a part of the add-on package to my license to kill. I can also operate construction equipment, pilot hovercraft, and officiate marriages in seven states.”

Sue led Will towards the bus. “When I heard the Glee Club was struggling to raise sufficient funds to go to their national competition, I remembered how devastated my Cheerios were to be deprived of their opportunity to go to a real national competition. I decided, Sue Sylvester, it’s time to turn over a new leaf in your tempestuous relationship with the Glee Club. It’s time to be a hero and save them from the fate they heartlessly and thoughtlessly subjected you to, and crush them with guilt.”

Sue cleared her throat and schooled her scowl back into a smile. “Thus, I offered my bus-driving services at a discount. Figgins was absolutely tickled with the prospect of our reconciliation, and of saving fifty-two dollars.”

Will blinked, barely able to process all that information. He finally stuttered, “We’re okay on chaperones. We figured it would be best to have chaperones that would actually speak to the kids, but Brad will do in a pinch.”

Sue’s expression was inscrutable. “Well isn’t that wonderful.” Then she lifted her megaphone to her mouth (Will couldn’t help but wonder where it had come from-he’d sworn she hadn’t had it in her hand a minute ago.). She yelled far too close to Will’s ear, “Okay, maggots! Single file, starting right here! Let’s move, move, move!”

The three most recently de-pom-pommed Cheerios snapped up and fell into line immediately; the other kids shuffled into order a little slower.

Brittany raised her hand. “Mr. Schuester?”

“Yes, Brittany?”

“Why are we letting Coach Sylvester kidnap us?”

Will sighed. “She’s not kidnapping us, Brittany. She’s our certified bus driver.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “You are all so gullible.”

If Will had been paying better attention, he would have noticed a look of surprise and worry flit across Sue’s face.

“Load up!” Sue shouted. She put down the megaphone and took Will’s clipboard from him so she could check each student off as they boarded the bus. “Q, thanks for the Prom Queen pen; I expect it to serve as a great reminder of a failure I can nettle you with when you inevitable try out for Cheerios next fall. Countess von Boobenhausen, I take back what I said about the uselessness of your surgery; it must be handy to be installed with your own personal airbags. Brit-Brit...”

Brittany glared at Sue, then did the “I’ve got my eyes on you” fingers at her before flouncing past and up the steps.

Sue continued, “Jazz band kids whose names no one has bothered to learn, so why the hell would I, check. Wheels, go to the back of the line. We’re going to have to haul you in through the emergency exit once everyone else is on.”

“Is this bus even equipped to tie my wheelchair down once I’m in?” Artie asked.

“Of course it is. I tore out half a seat and welded a couple C-clamps to the floor. You’ll be fine.” Sue ignored both Artie’s and Will’s looks of terror and started with the list again. “Aretha, no potato-based products allowed on this bus. I had to hire a Le Car whisperer to undo the damage you caused.”

Sue recoiled at the next grouping of students. “My god, it’s like a live Lord of the Rings porno. Try not to get hot and bothered, William,” she muttered. Then she said much more loudly, “Break it up, Legolas!”

Kurt detached from Blaine’s lips with a loud smack. He was flushed, but it didn’t appear to be from embarrassment. He folded his arms over his chest and said primly, “I thought we agreed my nickname is Porcelain.”

“I couldn’t be sure it was you with the hobbit stuck to your face.”

Kurt muttered to Blaine, “What is she even talking about? What’s a Legolas?”

“I watched the movie with Artie. It means you look like Orlando Bloom,” Brittany called out helpfully from a bus window.

Kurt preened. “So what does Blaine being a hobbit mean?” he asked.

“Please don’t answer that!” Blaine yelled up to Brittany.

Brittany never got a chance to respond, because that was when Sue’s brow furrowed and she stepped into Blaine’s personal space. “I don’t recognize you from the photos on my dartboard. Or you, either,” she added, pointing to Jesse.

Jesse stepped forward with a smile and an outstretched hand. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. Jesse St. James, former star of four-time national champion show choir Vocal Adrenaline, and New Directions’ professional show choir consultant.”

Sue turned away without shaking Jesse’s hand and glared at Will. “You whine and groan for months about not having enough money to even travel to the competition, and then you hire a consultant? Really, Will, you come so close to self-destructing that I feel silly for having gone to the trouble of trying to destroy you myself.”

“Mr. Schuester and I devised a non-standard contract for services rendered,” Jesse said. “In exchange for my insights and coaching, I received an hour-long interview on an extremely popular web series-”

“His episode of ‘Fondue for Two’ got more hits than any other episode except for Lord Tubbington’s Guide to Style,” Brittany called out from her perch inside the bus again.

“-a free trip to New York City, a spot in the chorus and also as Mr. Schuester’s understudy in CrossRhodes, and most importantly of all, hours upon hours of quality time with the most talented, beautiful, special girl I know.” Jesse said the last part while making goo-goo eyes at Rachel, then punctuating his last word with a kiss on her nose. Rachel fairly swooned, particularly at the word “most talented.”

“All right, that’s it. There’s no way I’m wasting my energy prying you two off each other-or you two, either,” Sue said, pointing at Blaine and Kurt as well. “The school handbook states that no one besides students and school employees may ride in vehicles hired by the school or a school organization for an educational or co-curricular event. Since I highly doubt someone paid in smoochy-time with a student qualifies as a school employee, that means get outta my sight, Siegfried and Roy.”

Blaine started to ask Kurt a question, but Kurt shushed him gently. “Darling, don’t even try to make sense of Coach Sylvester. It’s hazardous to your mental health.”

“School rules or not, my contract clearly includes a free trip to New York,” Jesse reminded Will.

“And I paid for my trip,” added Blaine.

“You can ride with Carole and Burt Hummel-Hudson,” Will said, proud of himself for thinking on his feet so well.

It took a while to extricate the two couples from one another-and even Will had to admit, the level of mushiness was verging on indecent-but eventually, they directed Jesse and Blaine over to the SUV and got Kurt and Rachel on the bus.

“I’m surprised I’m not prying you two apart with a crowbar, too. You spend so much time at school attached by the lips I’d started suspecting you were the world’s first opposite-sex Siamese twins,” Sue said when the next two in line, Mike and Tina, stepped up.

Not only were they not making out for a change; they weren’t even looking at each other. Tina had her arms folded across her chest and her nose in the air. Mike appeared to be groveling.

“That’s racist, Ms. Sylvester,” Tina said. “They’re called conjoined twins nowadays, and Siam has been Thailand for a long time. But most importantly,” she glanced over her shoulder at Mike, “I’m Korean, not Thai, or Chinese. Korean. Not all Asian-ness is interchangeable.”

“I get it!” Mike said. “I never meant it that way in the first place, but I get it.”

Tina was unimpressed. “Brittany?” she yelled up at a bus window. “Can I sit with you? Boys are stupid.”

“Sure!” Brittany replied.

Tina marched past, Mike trailing after her forlornly. Mike pleaded, “When I said, ‘How can you not like thousand-year-old eggs,’ I didn’t mean how can you not like them because they’re Asian! I meant how can you not like them because they’re delicious!”

Sue rolled her eyes. “Hot Lips Houlihan! You darn well better not have plans to put your most prominent feature to use while on my bus, either.”

Sam looked startled. “What? No! I don’t even have a girlfriend. What makes you think-”

“I’m bored already, get on the bus. Same goes for you-” Sue looked up from her clipboard at Finn. Then she looked up higher. “Now I know what the Ghostbusters felt like when one of them let loose the giant Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man on Manhattan.”

Finn sighed. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sylvester. I have every girl who might possibly be interested in kissing me so pissed at me right now. Neither Quinn or Rachel have really spoken to me outside of Glee since Prom, and-”

“Do they always do this, just start blathering at you when you address them?” Sue asked, turning to Will. “Though there’s no excuse for your staying in a situation like that, it does explain a lot about you.”

Then someone in line cleared their throat. Sue turned back.

“Ms. Sylvester,” Lauren said evenly, nodding.

“Zizes,” Sue said equally dispassionately, returning the nod.

“We loaded Artie onto the bus for you. Also, I’ll keep Puckerman out of trouble while we’re in transit.” She linked her arm through Puck’s. Puck switched his gaze back and forth between Sue and Lauren, his jaw hanging open the whole time.

“All right. Proceed.”

“Thank you.”

As they started up the steps, Puck said exactly what was on Will’s mind. “What the hell-how did you do that?”

“Do what?” Lauren asked.

“With Ms. Sylvester-she just-how?”

“You don’t seriously expect me to give away all my secret ways, do you?” Lauren answered. “I read in a book that that’s a very bad military strategy...”

While Will was still trying to process that, Sue slapped him on the back with the clipboard. He could tell from her expression that it was at least intended to be superficially friendly, but the metal clippy part had hurt. “Everyone is onboard, so let’s get going.”

“Wait,” Will said before Sue could mount the steps. He knew it was silly, but he had to say it. “I’m sorry, Sue, but given our history, I’m having a hard time believing that you’ve genuinely turned over a new leaf and want to help us. Remember how last time you wanted us to be friends, you turned on a dime because you were bored?”

“Whether or not I’m doing this due to a change of heart or a nervous breakdown, I’m still being consistently nice to you. Have I belittled your hair or made reference to creatures living in it all day, William? No. That should be the best proof of my sincerity that you can ask for.”

She did have a point, Will thought.

Will surveyed the kids in the seats one last time when he climbed on the bus behind Sue. At the back of the bus, right in front of the toilet (which thank goodness did not smell as bad as Sue had said), Mike sat in the modified seat beside where Artie’s wheelchair was hooked to the floor. Brittany and Tina sat in front of them, then Kurt and Santana (God help them all), and Puck and Lauren. Finn couldn’t fit in a seat without bending himself so his knees were up by his ears, so nobody seemed to object to him taking up two seats at the front. On the other side of the bus, Brad had claimed two seats all to himself at the very back and was already wearing ear buds and a sleep mask (which-wait a minute, how had he gotten on? Will wondered. He didn’t wonder for long, though; Brad had a way of popping up wherever you needed him.). The jazz band kids clustered in the seats in front of him, along with, strangely enough, Quinn. Sam and Mercedes sat in front of her. That left a seat at the front of the bus open beside one student.

“Mr. Schuester! I saved this for you!” Rachel said, patting the seat beside her excitedly.

Will took a deep breath and settled himself into the seat, plastering a smile on his face. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you, Rachel.”

“Actually, I was saving it in case Ms. Sylvester reconsidered Jesse’s status as a school employee and allowed him to board, and also so a certain person could not sit beside me,” she glared very pointedly across the aisle at Finn, who shrugged and looked like this wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. “But sitting with you was definitely third on my list of reasons to save the seat.”

“That’s...nice,” Will forced out.

As the bus’s engine roared to life, Rachel turned around and knelt on her seat. “Everyone, may I have your attention! Though I’m absolutely thrilled that we’re so much more prepared for Nationals than our other competitions in light of having our set list decided a whole week beforehand, I think we should use this crucial eleven hours to practice.”

“No!” a chorus of voices shouted in unison.

“I didn’t mean for the full eleven hours-”

“No!”

Rachel was clearly taken aback, but she recovered quickly. “You’re right. We don’t want to over-rehearse and get stale. But in the grand tradition of road-trip movies, we should celebrate our journey to New York with a sing-along-”

“No!”

“How about a rousing game of I-Spy, then?”

“Sit in your seat properly and keep your singing voice to yourself, or you’ll be riding to New York tied to the luggage rack on the outside of the bus,” Sue growled from the driver’s seat.

“You’d better do what Coach Sylvester says, Rachel,” Will said. “Plus, you don’t want to wear out your voice before the competition, right?”

Rachel smiled weakly. “Right.” She drummed her fingers in her lap. “It’s just...my dads and I always sing on car trips, or at least play games. All three of us were already so crushed that they can’t come to the performance in New York, because they’re busy brokering a hostage negotiation in Bogotá.”

This wasn’t the first time Will was taken aback by Rachel’s excuses for her fathers so rarely attending her performances. Rachel had never exactly said what it was they did for a living, but based on the stories, Will had his suspicions. His best guess was pathological liars, followed by CIA special ops. Maybe being so obviously gay was a great cover for spies working for a country with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?

Rachel continued, “If I could just do that, it would feel like, in a way, they could be with me on this most important journey in my life to date.”

Will gave in and smiled. “I’d like to take this journey on the inside of the bus, so singing is out, but I’d be honored to play I-Spy with you.”

Rachel clapped giddily. “I spy with my little eye something...talented!”

Will did his very best not to groan. This was going to be a long trip.

~*~

For once in her strange, strange little life, Brittany was actually perceptive, Sue thought to herself as she put the bus in gear. No matter. Schuester fell for the friendship shtick hook, line, and sinker. Phase One complete.

On to Chapter 2...

carole, emma, sue, santana, beiste, mike, ensemble with canon pairings, will, blaine, fic, puck, jesse, brittany, glee, quinn, sam, mercedes, finn, brad, burt, fanart, rachel, kurt

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