What You Want (Episode 3.02) (2/2)
* * *
Will stood by the piano to address the kids in the choir room.
“Okay, guys,” he said, “we're going to end rehearsal today with our next audition. Abby?”
Excited, Abby got up from her chair and rushed to the front of the room. Rachel gave her a wink of encouragement. Abby smiled broadly back, and signaled to the jazz band.
“ I'm every woman,” she sang, cutting straight to the up-tempo part of the song. “It's all in me. Anything you want done baby, I'll do it naturally.”
From their seats, the girls started grooving along to the music and adding background vocals.
“I´m every woman.
It´s all in me.
I can read your thoughts right now,
every one from A to Z.
I can cast a spell
of secrets you can tell,
mix a special brew,
put fire inside of you.
Anytime you feel danger or fear,
instantly I will appear, 'cause
I´m every woman.
It's all in me.
Anything you want done, baby,
I'll do it naturally.
Oh I consent your needs
Like rain on to the seeds
I can make a rhyme
Of confusion in your mind
And when I come down to some good old fashioned love
I got it
I got it
I got it,got it,got it
baby, baby . . .”
For the last few passes through the chorus, Abby pulled the rest of the glee girls to the front of the room with her to have a group sing-a-long. They finished just as the bell rang.
“Great job!” Will said. “I like to see that team spirit!”
“Thanks!” Abby said. She stood by the piano as the rest of the glee clubbers congratulated her on their way out. Rachel, Finn, and Kurt were among the last.
“That was excellent!” Rachel beamed at her. “You took my advice to a tee.”
“I couldn't have done it without you,” Abby said.
“You're too modest,” Kurt said. “You sing wonderfully for a freshman.” Finn nodded in agreement.
“Thank you!” Abby replied. She walked over to the chairs to collect her things.
“Wow,” Kurt said as he followed Finn and Rachel into the hallway, “Rachel Berry is actually helping someone else get a solo. It's like a lion tucking a gazelle in for bedtime and giving it a kiss goodnight.”
“I did it for you,” Rachel pointed out.
“When I went to a different school.”
“Hey,” Finn interrupted, “all that matters is that she's helping now.” He smiled at his girlfriend proudly and put his arm around her.
“Exactly. We can't leave the glee club with no strong female vocalists when we graduate. I'm securing the program's legacy!”
Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. “At least you're not developing a whole complex about this.”
“Why would I do that?” Rachel asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Well,” Kurt laughed, “I mean, this is maybe a little bit like how All About Eve, started, isn't it?”
Rachel thought about that for a second, and then she got the most horrified look on her face.
“Oh my god,” she gasped.
“But that would be ridiculous,” Kurt said. “You know that would be ridiculous, right?”
“Oh my god,” she repeated. “She's going to take over my life and ruin my career and steal my boyfriend and how did I not see this sooner?”
Finn pulled Rachel closer and started stroking her hair. “Thanks, dude,” he said, glaring at Kurt.
“Sorry,” Kurt replied grumpily.
* * *
The next day, Santana was whistling to herself as she opened up her locker. Karofsky looked over at her from his own locker suspiciously.
“What are you so happy about?” he asked.
“Who says I'm happy?” she shot back.
“Only happy people with perfect lives whistle. It's like you just walked out of The Andy Griffith Show or something.”
“You know my life's not perfect.”
“But you're still whistling,” he pointed out. Santana tried to pout at him, but she broke into a smile.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked. Karofsky just raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, dumb question,” she agreed. She scanned the hallway quickly before saying in a low voice, “I have a date tonight. With a girl. In Dayton.”
“Really?” Karofsky asked, surprised.
“We're going to this alternative café/bookstore thing or somewhere equally super-gay, I don't even know. But it's an hour-and-a-half away, and no one there knows who I am, and I'm . . .” She looked away shyly. “I'm really excited about it.”
Karofsky's face seemed caught between a variety of emotions, but he gave her a small smile that pushed it toward being supportive.
“That's good,” he said. “I hope you have a good time.”
“Thanks,” Santana returned his smile. “I, uh, appreciate it. Or whatever.”
“Whatever,” Karofsky agreed, and they went back to finding their books, a task that they both found much more comfortable than talking about their emotions.
* * *
“. . . and now Emma won't talk to me,” Will finished. He was sitting at the desk in his office, with Beiste sitting in the chair in front of him.
“She won't talk to you, or you haven't tried talking to her?” Beiste asked.
“Um . . . yes,” Will replied. Beiste shot him a look.
“Seriously?”
“I don't think she wants to talk to me right now,” Will said. “I don't want to push it.”
“You're like a cat who's landed on his back and has to face the bag-pipers,” Beiste shook her head.
“I don't know what that means.”
She leaned forward. “You're the one who screwed up, buddy. You're the one who has to apologize.”
“I didn't just screw up, Shannon. I devalued her. I was condescending. I took this amazing thing she did and made it all about me.”
“Just talk to her. Explain that you realize what you did wrong, and how you're going to be better about it in the future. It's not that hard to figure out what you need to do to fix this, Will.”
“No,” Will agreed. “What's hard is finding the words to actually do it.”
* * *
The glee club sat in the audience of the auditorium.
“I wonder why Lola wanted to do her audition in here?” Luke asked to no one in particular.
Suddenly, the stage lights went down, and an instrumental introduction started. A figure dressed in a long fur coat walked onstage and into the spotlight, keeping her back to the audience.
“I hope that's fake fur,” Rachel said to Finn.
When the last note of the intro popped, the girl spun around and opened her coat, revealing a slinky red dress slit high up her hip.
“ Whatever Lola wants,” she purred, taking off her coat, “Lola gets. And little man, little Lola wants you.”
“Who is that?” Brittany wondered aloud, and for once, Quinn didn't look at her like she was crazy for it.
“That's one hell of a transformation,” she said instead. The usually nerdy Lola Kenney was sexified with full make-up, high heels, and curly hair.
“Make up your mind to have,” she slunk forward on the stage, “no regrets. Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're through.”
She reached the edge of the stage and began singing straight at one particular person. “I always get what I aim for. And your heart and soul is what I came for.”
Rachel leaned over and whispered to Kurt. “Is she singing to you?” It was true that Kurt was sitting in Lola's line of sight. But Kurt just artfully raised an eyebrow.
“I'm going to go out on a limb and say no.” He tilted his head at the person who was sitting in front of him: Sam.
“Oh, good point,” Rachel replied. As she looked back up at Lola, Kurt turned to his other side, where Tina was sitting. She wasn't looking at the stage. She was looking in front of her at Mercedes, who had gone rigid with anger in her seat.
“What was the name of that song Mercedes wrote, again?” Kurt said.
“'Hell to the No'?” Tina asked.
“Yes. I think we may be hearing another chorus of that shortly.”
“You're no exception to the rule,” Lola sang, and she carefully lowered herself so she was sitting on the edge of the stage with her legs hanging off. “I'm irresistible you fool. Give in.”
She slid off the edge of the stage and walked right up to Sam, leaning over the front row of chairs so she was singing in his face. “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.” She reached over to cup his cheek, and that's when Mercedes lost it.
“Okay, hold up, y'all,” she shouted, and the jazz band immediately stopped playing. Lola jumped back, looking alarmed. Mercedes pointed a finger at her.
“First of all, step off my man,” Mercedes warned. There were a few audible gasps behind her.
“Hey!” Sam said. “You said we weren't going to--” Mercedes talked right over him.
“But second of all, I don't blame you for trying to get some of this because he is super-fine, but you would have known not to try if somebody,” she narrowed her eyes at Sam, “hadn't insisted that we stay on the DL.”
“Which we agreed to,” Sam said angrily.
“Well, maybe I don't want to date somebody who's clearly ashamed of being with me,” she practically spit in his face, and she stalked out of the auditorium. Sam looked shocked.
“For the first dramatic storm-off of the year, that was pretty good,” Artie said quietly. “I'd give it an 8.5.”
“Maybe even a 9,” Lauren added.
“Mercedes!” Sam called out, and he started to go after her, but Kurt grabbed his shoulder.
“Nuh-uh,” he glared. “You sit here and think about what you did.”
Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but Kurt was already climbing out of his row and heading after Mercedes.
* * *
That night, Jen and Santana sat across from each other at a tiny table inside a coffee house.
“So, what is there to do in Lima, Ohio, anyway?” Jen asked.
“Nothing,” Santana rolled her eyes. “I mostly stay busy with stuff at school. I'm a cheerleader, for one thing--”
“No way,” Jen said. “You're on the McKinley High Cheerios?”
“Yup.”
“With that crazy lady, Sue Sylvester?”
“Oh, yeah,” Santana said. “I could tell you so many stories.”
“I hope you will,” Jen said earnestly. Santana smiled at her, and there was a moment of awkwardness while they just looked at each other that giddy way new couples do, but Jen finally broke it. “Um, what else do you do?”
“I'm in gl-- show choir,” Santana said, hoping the second name would sound less terrifically lame than the first. “Competitive show choir.”
Jen laughed.
“I know it sounds dorky . . .” Santana began, but Jen cut her off.
“Yeah, it does,” she said. “But it's cool, too, y'know? Music is music, even if it sounds a little sunshine and puppies and 'Kumbaya' for my tastes.”
Santana let out a snort. “I thought it would be for me, too, but it's actually really fun. Not that I admit that to most people.” She paused. “It's where . . . I can really be myself, I guess.”
“Personal expression is always a good thing,” Jen agreed. “So, you're a singer, then?”
“Hells yes. A damn good one, too.”
Jen eyed the stage at the end of the room, where a microphone and a guitar were set up, but no one was playing. “It's a pretty slow open-mic night,” she grinned. “You wanna get up there and do something together?”
“Wha? I--” Santana looked nervously around her, but they were surrounded by hippies and women who looked like Tegan and Sara. There was no danger here.
Jen grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the stage. “C'mon,” she said.
“I don't even know what to sing,” Santana protested, but she was laughing.
“You know any Beatles' songs?” Jen asked.
“I live on planet Earth, yeah.”
“Pick one; I'll play along and you sing.” They stepped onstage and Jen picked up the guitar. “Introduce us,” she whispered as she adjusted the strap.
“Uh, hi,” Santana said. “I'm Santana, and this is Jen, and we're going to be singing . . .” She looked at Jen questioningly. “. . . 'Here Comes the Sun'?”
“Works for me,” Jen replied. She started playing the opening riff.
“ Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.”
Santana sang lead and Jen joined in on the harmonies.
“Little darling,
it's been a long cold lonely winter.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Little darling,
the smiles returning to the faces.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Little darling,
I feel that ice is slowly melting.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been clear.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du)
Here comes the sun
It's all right.
It's all right.”
In the beginning, Santana tried to perform for the audience, but by the bridge, she was singing only to Jen. When the song ended and they got their applause, Santana was the one who reached for Jen's hand as they took a bow.
* * *
Mercedes walked up the steps to the porch and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Hey,” Sam said when he answered.
“You've left me seventeen 'we-need-to-talk' voice mails,” Mercedes said. “Can you just break up with me and get this over with?”
Sam glanced over his shoulder and took a step onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.
“I don't want to break up with you,” he said. “I thought you broke up with me at glee today.”
“I don't know,” Mercedes said, and she sank down onto the porch-bench. Sam sat down beside her.
“I didn't mean to make you feel like I was ashamed to be dating you,” he said quietly. “If you had told me that's how it was making you feel, I would have said we should be open about it right away.”
“Well, why did you want to keep it a secret, then?” Mercedes asked. “I mean, today clearly proved that nothing is safe from glee-club drama, even if nobody knows about it, so what other reason could there be?”
Sam looked away. “It's stupid,” he muttered.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He sighed. “Since we've been homeless, I mean, I've kind of gotten over my whole thing with status. Like, I just feel lucky to have anything, much less try to be cool and popular or whatever. It's not worth it. But--” He took a moment to collect himself. “It shouldn't have to affect the girl I'm dating, y'know? You shouldn't have to suffer because I can't take care of you the way I ought to be able to. I didn't want anyone to know because I was embarrassed that . . . that I can't be the guy you deserve.”
Mercedes just looked at him for a minute. “You were right,” she finally said, “that is stupid. But sweet.” She pursed her lips. “But stupid.”
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall of the motel. “I just--”
“Sam Evans,” she said, “I want you to look me in the eye right now.” He complied. “Do you think for one minute I give a damn how much money you have?”
“No.”
“And do you think any of your friends are going to judge you just because you can't take me to the movies right now?”
“No,” Sam admitted.
“It's a pride thing, I get it,” Mercedes said. “But once your parents get jobs and you have some spending money again and we go to a fancy restaurant to celebrate?”
“Yeah?”
“We're going Dutch because that's how I roll,” she said. “I don't need to be treated any special way, you understand me?”
“Loud and clear, ma'am,” Sam smiled.
“Good, because I'm looking for a partner, not a protector, all right?”
Sam linked their hands together.. “I can do that,” he said.
* * *
Santana walked out of the coffeehouse with Jen's arm around her waist. “I had a great time,” she said as they got to her car.
“Me, too,” Jen said.
They gazed into each other's eyes, and after a moment's hesitation, Santana leaned in for a kiss.
In the middle of a parking lot.
Where anyone could see them.
The kiss turned into full-on making out, and Jen had her pushed up against the side of the car.
“My parents,” she breathed, making her way down Santana's neck to her collar bone. “Gone this week. Business. Do you want--”
“Yes,” Santana said immediately. Jen straightened up and looked at her.
“Then follow me,” she grinned, and gave Santana one more kiss on the lips.
* * *
“All right,” Will said, “I would like to officially announce the winner of our pep rally auditions. Drumroll, Finn.” Finn began drumming on his legs. “The solo and song choice goes to . . . Miss Abby Washington!”
The rest of the club applauded as Abby bounded up to the front of the room, but Rachel just looked morose.
“Oh, god,” she muttered. “This is it, the beginning of the end. Now that she's had a taste of the business--”
“For this song,” Abby said, “I want to choose two other people to sing with. The girl who inspired me to join glee club: Mercedes,”--at this, Mercedes looked surprised but pleased--“and the girl who helped me with my audition: Rachel.”
Rachel raised her head. “You mean, like a trio?” she asked.
“Of course!” Abby replied. “I would be honored if I could sing with the two of you.”
Mercedes and Rachel made very confused eye contact.
“You're going to share . . .” Mercedes started.
“. . . the spotlight . . .” Rachel continued.
“. . . with us . . .”
“. . . voluntarily?”
Abby looked at them, perplexed. “. . . Yes?” she said. “Is that not allowed?”
“No, it's allowed,” Mercedes said quickly.
“Unorthodox, perhaps, but allowed,” Rachel agreed.
“Then that settles it,” Will said. “Let's get to work.”
Rachel smiled at Abby as the other girl returned to her seat. As Abby passed her, she caught Kurt's eye across the room.
“Told you,” he mouthed at her.
To Rachel's credit, she looked appropriately contrite in response.
* * *
“I still can't believe you joined freakin' glee club,” Azimio said, shaking his head. He was sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the football team, waiting for the pep rally to start. Karofsky stood in front of him, wearing an olive green military-style jacket and some ripped up khakis with combat boots, all of which were clearly part of the costume for the performance.
“I told you,” Karofsky said, “I'm doing it to get Santana back.”
“The only way that sentence could get gayer is if you replaced 'Santana' with 'Finn'.”
Karofsky rolled his eyes. “Shut up. She's a good lay.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Will waving him toward the stage. “Look, I've gotta go. Don't make fun of the glee club, all right?”
Azimio sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
Backstage, Rachel stood leaning against Finn.
“I'm an idiot, aren't I?” she said. Finn looked down at her.
“I'm not sure if there's a way for me to answer that question without you getting mad at me.”
“To think that Abby wanted to ruin my life,” she clarified. “To assume that everyone else is as selfish as I am.”
“Okay, none of this self-pity stuff,” Finn said, and he turned Rachel around so she was facing him. “Do you remember what you did this time last year to someone who threatened your career?”
“I sent her to a crack house,” Rachel muttered.
“Yeah, but this year? You just kind of moped about it. By next year, I bet you won't even be letting it faze you.”
Rachel smiled. “I have been making some personal growth, haven't I?”
“Yep.” Finn leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You're my awesome, personally-growing girlfriend.” He made a face. “That came out weird.”
She squeezed his hand. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
Just behind the curtain, Quinn was doing stretches.
“Break a leg out there,” Lola said as she took her position behind Quinn.
“Thanks,” Quinn replied. “And, y'know, except for the obvious, your audition was really good. It sucks you didn't get this solo.”
Lola shrugged. “I probably would have had a better shot at it if I hadn't tried to hijack my audition to get a boyfriend.”
“What was that all about, anyway? You barely even know Sam.”
“There was this guy who threatened me and Abby with slushies,” Lola said, “and I realized--that's high school. That's especially high school if you're a smart girl in a dorky club who prefers jeans to mini-skirts.” She sighed. “I just wanted someone to protect me from all of that. And I thought he was available.”
“I get where you're coming from. Believe me,” Quinn said. “But you learned your lesson, right?”
“What lesson?”
Quinn just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Freshmen,” under her breath as the house lights went down and the rest of the glee club scurried to their spots.
“Silence, children,” Principal Figgins said, tapping on the microphone. “Silence.” The small amount of noise that had existed in the gym stopped. “Thank you. Before we begin, I would like to remind you that the staff parking lot is for staff only. We can tell your car doesn't belong to a staff member because none of our teachers can afford to drive a Navigator.”
Backstage, Kurt let out an indignant huff.
“Now today, to celebrate what will hopefully be another winning football season,”--Coach Beiste beamed from her seat next to Emma--“the glee club will be performing a selection by popular recording artist Re-hannah. Please welcome, New Directions!”
The curtain opened, and the glee club, dressed in their best post-apocalyptic attire, stepped forward singing, “ Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum.”
“What's wrong with me?” Abby said into her microphone as she hit her mark.
“Why do I feel like this?” Rachel said to her right, striking a pose.
“I'm going crazy now,” Mercedes sang on her other side.
Abby took the lead vocal. “No more gas in the rig.”
“Can't even get it started,” Mercedes and Rachel sang behind her.
“Nothing heard, nothing said.”
“Can't even speak about it.”
“All my life on my head.”
“Don't want to think about it.”
“Feels like I'm going insane, yeah.”
“It's a thief in the night to come and grab you,” Rachel sang.
“It can creep up inside you and consume you.” Mercedes took the second line.
“A disease of the mind, it can control you.” Abby had the third line.
“It's too close for comfort,” the three of them sang together.
The whole group came together for the first part of the chorus.
“Throw on your brake lights, you're in the city of wonder.
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out, you might just go under.
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered.
So if you must falter, be wise.”
The rest of the group went back to the “Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum”s while Abby sang the second part of the chorus, with harmony supplied by Rachel and Mercedes.
“Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is the light.
Disturbia, am I scaring you tonight? (Your mind is in)
Disturbia, ain't used to what you like.
Disturbia, disturbia.”
Will watched the group from the audience. Their choreography was standard for what they had been doing for these types of pop songs; a little racy, sure, but it wasn't inappropriate. At least, it didn't appear to be causing a sex riot this year, although the crowd was getting into the performance.
They did the second half of the song using the same arrangement they had on the first half.
“Faded pictures on the wall, it's like they talkin' to me.
Disconnecting known calls, the phone don't even ring.
I gotta get out or figure this sh-- out.
It's too close for comfort, oh.
It's a thief in the night to come and grab you
It can creep up inside you and consume you
A disease of the mind, it can control you
I feel like a monster, oh.”
Mercedes added some runs over the chorus.
“Throw on your brake lights, you're in the city of wonder.
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out, you might just go under.
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered.
So if you must falter, be wise.
Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is the light.
Disturbia, am I scaring you tonight? (Your mind is in)
Disturbia, ain't used to what you like.
Disturbia, disturbia.”
They ended the song by standing in a row and singing, “Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum.” On the last beat, the group bowed their heads, and the music and lights cut out.
The lights came back on a second later, and New Directions was met with thunderous applause.
* * *
Will knocked on the door to Emma's office.
“Come in,” Emma called absently, reading from a file. When she looked up and saw Will standing in front of her, she started.
“Oh! Hello,” she said coolly.
“Can we talk?” Will asked.
Emma looked a little annoyed, but she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
“Thanks,” Will said, sitting down. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other night. It was a stupid assumption to make, and clearly I was wrong, so . . . I'm sorry.”
Emma studied him. “I know that,” she said. “I knew that the second you said it. The problem, Will, is why you thought you were the reason I wanted to treat my OCD.”
“I'm not--” Will shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “With Terri, everything was about her. With Holly, everything was about nothing, really. And, I think? After giving up Broadway for the kids, and for you? I wanted something to be about me, for once.” He paused. “God, that sounds selfish.”
“A little bit.” Will looked up and checked Emma's face. He was surprised to see the corners of her mouth quirking upward.
“What?” he asked.
“You're needy,” she said, letting herself smile. “I never saw it before, but . . . you are so very needy, aren't you?”
Will deflated. “I'm not some little puppy who needs to be played with more.”
“And I'm not some neurotic kitten who needs to be constantly reassured you still love it or else it'll go crazy.” Emma got up, walked around to the front of her desk, and sat on the edge. “So now that we have that out of the way, how about we make a pact?”
“A pact?”
“We're separate people,” Emma said. “We're separate people who are trying to become better people, and being together is one of the things that makes us better people. Yes?”
“Yes,” Will nodded.
“But we aren't growing as people for each other; we're growing as people for ourselves, because it makes us happier. We can help each other, sure, and we should, but this isn't about fixing each other. This is about living better, happier lives. Do you agree?”
“I agree,” Will said, and he grinned. “No more condescending. We're a partnership of equals.”
“Equals,” Emma repeated, and she leaned over and took his hand. “Now, I read in the paper that there's a Stephen Sondheim tribute concert on PBS tonight . . .”
Will's smile widened, but another knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It was Figgins.
“William,” he said. “I need to see you in my office, immediately.”
In the principal's office, Will was shocked. “But I don't understand,” he said. “This is the first time ever that a school performance went according to plan. What was the problem?”
“The problem,” Figgins said, “was that your song choice did not reflect positively on the school!”
“What?”
“Comparing McKinley to a place where 'the darkness is the light'? Your children saying they feel like monsters? That is not the way to foster school spirit!”
“First of all,” Will said, becoming increasingly befuddled and enraged by this whole argument, “we weren't trying to send a message. We just did that song because the kids knew it and liked it and it lent itself to a choral arrangement. And second of all, who came up with this insane idea that we were somehow damaging McKinley's reputation? Was it Sue?”
“It was me,” Figgins said. Will opened his mouth to speak but shut it again immediately. “And I'll have you know, I'll remember this conversation when it comes time to award that trust money.”
“I--” Will started to say, but he didn't want to dig himself any deeper. “Are you going to take any disciplinary action because of this performance?”
“No,” Figgins said. “But I may be asking a favor of the glee club in the future, and I assume that you will be responsive to any such request?”
“Of course,” Will said. Figgins smiled.
“Very good. Have a nice day, William.”
“You, too.”
Will sighed heavily as he stepped into the hallway. But when he saw Emma waiting for him and she slid her arm around his waist, he felt better than he had in a long time.
* * *
Next time, on Glee: The kids put on a show, Finn and Rachel talk about the future, Tina gets a storyline, and remember that one time Quinn had a baby and Puck was the father? Yeah, the show does, too. Finally.
Will stood by the piano to address the kids in the choir room.
“Okay, guys,” he said, “we're going to end rehearsal today with our next audition. Abby?”
Excited, Abby got up from her chair and rushed to the front of the room. Rachel gave her a wink of encouragement. Abby smiled broadly back, and signaled to the jazz band.
“ I'm every woman,” she sang, cutting straight to the up-tempo part of the song. “It's all in me. Anything you want done baby, I'll do it naturally.”
From their seats, the girls started grooving along to the music and adding background vocals.
“I´m every woman.
It´s all in me.
I can read your thoughts right now,
every one from A to Z.
I can cast a spell
of secrets you can tell,
mix a special brew,
put fire inside of you.
Anytime you feel danger or fear,
instantly I will appear, 'cause
I´m every woman.
It's all in me.
Anything you want done, baby,
I'll do it naturally.
Oh I consent your needs
Like rain on to the seeds
I can make a rhyme
Of confusion in your mind
And when I come down to some good old fashioned love
I got it
I got it
I got it,got it,got it
baby, baby . . .”
For the last few passes through the chorus, Abby pulled the rest of the glee girls to the front of the room with her to have a group sing-a-long. They finished just as the bell rang.
“Great job!” Will said. “I like to see that team spirit!”
“Thanks!” Abby said. She stood by the piano as the rest of the glee clubbers congratulated her on their way out. Rachel, Finn, and Kurt were among the last.
“That was excellent!” Rachel beamed at her. “You took my advice to a tee.”
“I couldn't have done it without you,” Abby said.
“You're too modest,” Kurt said. “You sing wonderfully for a freshman.” Finn nodded in agreement.
“Thank you!” Abby replied. She walked over to the chairs to collect her things.
“Wow,” Kurt said as he followed Finn and Rachel into the hallway, “Rachel Berry is actually helping someone else get a solo. It's like a lion tucking a gazelle in for bedtime and giving it a kiss goodnight.”
“I did it for you,” Rachel pointed out.
“When I went to a different school.”
“Hey,” Finn interrupted, “all that matters is that she's helping now.” He smiled at his girlfriend proudly and put his arm around her.
“Exactly. We can't leave the glee club with no strong female vocalists when we graduate. I'm securing the program's legacy!”
Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. “At least you're not developing a whole complex about this.”
“Why would I do that?” Rachel asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Well,” Kurt laughed, “I mean, this is maybe a little bit like how All About Eve, started, isn't it?”
Rachel thought about that for a second, and then she got the most horrified look on her face.
“Oh my god,” she gasped.
“But that would be ridiculous,” Kurt said. “You know that would be ridiculous, right?”
“Oh my god,” she repeated. “She's going to take over my life and ruin my career and steal my boyfriend and how did I not see this sooner?”
Finn pulled Rachel closer and started stroking her hair. “Thanks, dude,” he said, glaring at Kurt.
“Sorry,” Kurt replied grumpily.
* * *
The next day, Santana was whistling to herself as she opened up her locker. Karofsky looked over at her from his own locker suspiciously.
“What are you so happy about?” he asked.
“Who says I'm happy?” she shot back.
“Only happy people with perfect lives whistle. It's like you just walked out of The Andy Griffith Show or something.”
“You know my life's not perfect.”
“But you're still whistling,” he pointed out. Santana tried to pout at him, but she broke into a smile.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked. Karofsky just raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, dumb question,” she agreed. She scanned the hallway quickly before saying in a low voice, “I have a date tonight. With a girl. In Dayton.”
“Really?” Karofsky asked, surprised.
“We're going to this alternative café/bookstore thing or somewhere equally super-gay, I don't even know. But it's an hour-and-a-half away, and no one there knows who I am, and I'm . . .” She looked away shyly. “I'm really excited about it.”
Karofsky's face seemed caught between a variety of emotions, but he gave her a small smile that pushed it toward being supportive.
“That's good,” he said. “I hope you have a good time.”
“Thanks,” Santana returned his smile. “I, uh, appreciate it. Or whatever.”
“Whatever,” Karofsky agreed, and they went back to finding their books, a task that they both found much more comfortable than talking about their emotions.
* * *
“. . . and now Emma won't talk to me,” Will finished. He was sitting at the desk in his office, with Beiste sitting in the chair in front of him.
“She won't talk to you, or you haven't tried talking to her?” Beiste asked.
“Um . . . yes,” Will replied. Beiste shot him a look.
“Seriously?”
“I don't think she wants to talk to me right now,” Will said. “I don't want to push it.”
“You're like a cat who's landed on his back and has to face the bag-pipers,” Beiste shook her head.
“I don't know what that means.”
She leaned forward. “You're the one who screwed up, buddy. You're the one who has to apologize.”
“I didn't just screw up, Shannon. I devalued her. I was condescending. I took this amazing thing she did and made it all about me.”
“Just talk to her. Explain that you realize what you did wrong, and how you're going to be better about it in the future. It's not that hard to figure out what you need to do to fix this, Will.”
“No,” Will agreed. “What's hard is finding the words to actually do it.”
* * *
The glee club sat in the audience of the auditorium.
“I wonder why Lola wanted to do her audition in here?” Luke asked to no one in particular.
Suddenly, the stage lights went down, and an instrumental introduction started. A figure dressed in a long fur coat walked onstage and into the spotlight, keeping her back to the audience.
“I hope that's fake fur,” Rachel said to Finn.
When the last note of the intro popped, the girl spun around and opened her coat, revealing a slinky red dress slit high up her hip.
“ Whatever Lola wants,” she purred, taking off her coat, “Lola gets. And little man, little Lola wants you.”
“Who is that?” Brittany wondered aloud, and for once, Quinn didn't look at her like she was crazy for it.
“That's one hell of a transformation,” she said instead. The usually nerdy Lola Kenney was sexified with full make-up, high heels, and curly hair.
“Make up your mind to have,” she slunk forward on the stage, “no regrets. Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're through.”
She reached the edge of the stage and began singing straight at one particular person. “I always get what I aim for. And your heart and soul is what I came for.”
Rachel leaned over and whispered to Kurt. “Is she singing to you?” It was true that Kurt was sitting in Lola's line of sight. But Kurt just artfully raised an eyebrow.
“I'm going to go out on a limb and say no.” He tilted his head at the person who was sitting in front of him: Sam.
“Oh, good point,” Rachel replied. As she looked back up at Lola, Kurt turned to his other side, where Tina was sitting. She wasn't looking at the stage. She was looking in front of her at Mercedes, who had gone rigid with anger in her seat.
“What was the name of that song Mercedes wrote, again?” Kurt said.
“'Hell to the No'?” Tina asked.
“Yes. I think we may be hearing another chorus of that shortly.”
“You're no exception to the rule,” Lola sang, and she carefully lowered herself so she was sitting on the edge of the stage with her legs hanging off. “I'm irresistible you fool. Give in.”
She slid off the edge of the stage and walked right up to Sam, leaning over the front row of chairs so she was singing in his face. “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.” She reached over to cup his cheek, and that's when Mercedes lost it.
“Okay, hold up, y'all,” she shouted, and the jazz band immediately stopped playing. Lola jumped back, looking alarmed. Mercedes pointed a finger at her.
“First of all, step off my man,” Mercedes warned. There were a few audible gasps behind her.
“Hey!” Sam said. “You said we weren't going to--” Mercedes talked right over him.
“But second of all, I don't blame you for trying to get some of this because he is super-fine, but you would have known not to try if somebody,” she narrowed her eyes at Sam, “hadn't insisted that we stay on the DL.”
“Which we agreed to,” Sam said angrily.
“Well, maybe I don't want to date somebody who's clearly ashamed of being with me,” she practically spit in his face, and she stalked out of the auditorium. Sam looked shocked.
“For the first dramatic storm-off of the year, that was pretty good,” Artie said quietly. “I'd give it an 8.5.”
“Maybe even a 9,” Lauren added.
“Mercedes!” Sam called out, and he started to go after her, but Kurt grabbed his shoulder.
“Nuh-uh,” he glared. “You sit here and think about what you did.”
Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but Kurt was already climbing out of his row and heading after Mercedes.
* * *
That night, Jen and Santana sat across from each other at a tiny table inside a coffee house.
“So, what is there to do in Lima, Ohio, anyway?” Jen asked.
“Nothing,” Santana rolled her eyes. “I mostly stay busy with stuff at school. I'm a cheerleader, for one thing--”
“No way,” Jen said. “You're on the McKinley High Cheerios?”
“Yup.”
“With that crazy lady, Sue Sylvester?”
“Oh, yeah,” Santana said. “I could tell you so many stories.”
“I hope you will,” Jen said earnestly. Santana smiled at her, and there was a moment of awkwardness while they just looked at each other that giddy way new couples do, but Jen finally broke it. “Um, what else do you do?”
“I'm in gl-- show choir,” Santana said, hoping the second name would sound less terrifically lame than the first. “Competitive show choir.”
Jen laughed.
“I know it sounds dorky . . .” Santana began, but Jen cut her off.
“Yeah, it does,” she said. “But it's cool, too, y'know? Music is music, even if it sounds a little sunshine and puppies and 'Kumbaya' for my tastes.”
Santana let out a snort. “I thought it would be for me, too, but it's actually really fun. Not that I admit that to most people.” She paused. “It's where . . . I can really be myself, I guess.”
“Personal expression is always a good thing,” Jen agreed. “So, you're a singer, then?”
“Hells yes. A damn good one, too.”
Jen eyed the stage at the end of the room, where a microphone and a guitar were set up, but no one was playing. “It's a pretty slow open-mic night,” she grinned. “You wanna get up there and do something together?”
“Wha? I--” Santana looked nervously around her, but they were surrounded by hippies and women who looked like Tegan and Sara. There was no danger here.
Jen grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the stage. “C'mon,” she said.
“I don't even know what to sing,” Santana protested, but she was laughing.
“You know any Beatles' songs?” Jen asked.
“I live on planet Earth, yeah.”
“Pick one; I'll play along and you sing.” They stepped onstage and Jen picked up the guitar. “Introduce us,” she whispered as she adjusted the strap.
“Uh, hi,” Santana said. “I'm Santana, and this is Jen, and we're going to be singing . . .” She looked at Jen questioningly. “. . . 'Here Comes the Sun'?”
“Works for me,” Jen replied. She started playing the opening riff.
“ Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.”
Santana sang lead and Jen joined in on the harmonies.
“Little darling,
it's been a long cold lonely winter.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Little darling,
the smiles returning to the faces.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Little darling,
I feel that ice is slowly melting.
Little darling,
it seems like years since it's been clear.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du).
Here comes the sun.
And I say,
it's all right.
Here comes the sun (dudn du du)
Here comes the sun
It's all right.
It's all right.”
In the beginning, Santana tried to perform for the audience, but by the bridge, she was singing only to Jen. When the song ended and they got their applause, Santana was the one who reached for Jen's hand as they took a bow.
* * *
Mercedes walked up the steps to the porch and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Hey,” Sam said when he answered.
“You've left me seventeen 'we-need-to-talk' voice mails,” Mercedes said. “Can you just break up with me and get this over with?”
Sam glanced over his shoulder and took a step onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.
“I don't want to break up with you,” he said. “I thought you broke up with me at glee today.”
“I don't know,” Mercedes said, and she sank down onto the porch-bench. Sam sat down beside her.
“I didn't mean to make you feel like I was ashamed to be dating you,” he said quietly. “If you had told me that's how it was making you feel, I would have said we should be open about it right away.”
“Well, why did you want to keep it a secret, then?” Mercedes asked. “I mean, today clearly proved that nothing is safe from glee-club drama, even if nobody knows about it, so what other reason could there be?”
Sam looked away. “It's stupid,” he muttered.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
He sighed. “Since we've been homeless, I mean, I've kind of gotten over my whole thing with status. Like, I just feel lucky to have anything, much less try to be cool and popular or whatever. It's not worth it. But--” He took a moment to collect himself. “It shouldn't have to affect the girl I'm dating, y'know? You shouldn't have to suffer because I can't take care of you the way I ought to be able to. I didn't want anyone to know because I was embarrassed that . . . that I can't be the guy you deserve.”
Mercedes just looked at him for a minute. “You were right,” she finally said, “that is stupid. But sweet.” She pursed her lips. “But stupid.”
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall of the motel. “I just--”
“Sam Evans,” she said, “I want you to look me in the eye right now.” He complied. “Do you think for one minute I give a damn how much money you have?”
“No.”
“And do you think any of your friends are going to judge you just because you can't take me to the movies right now?”
“No,” Sam admitted.
“It's a pride thing, I get it,” Mercedes said. “But once your parents get jobs and you have some spending money again and we go to a fancy restaurant to celebrate?”
“Yeah?”
“We're going Dutch because that's how I roll,” she said. “I don't need to be treated any special way, you understand me?”
“Loud and clear, ma'am,” Sam smiled.
“Good, because I'm looking for a partner, not a protector, all right?”
Sam linked their hands together.. “I can do that,” he said.
* * *
Santana walked out of the coffeehouse with Jen's arm around her waist. “I had a great time,” she said as they got to her car.
“Me, too,” Jen said.
They gazed into each other's eyes, and after a moment's hesitation, Santana leaned in for a kiss.
In the middle of a parking lot.
Where anyone could see them.
The kiss turned into full-on making out, and Jen had her pushed up against the side of the car.
“My parents,” she breathed, making her way down Santana's neck to her collar bone. “Gone this week. Business. Do you want--”
“Yes,” Santana said immediately. Jen straightened up and looked at her.
“Then follow me,” she grinned, and gave Santana one more kiss on the lips.
* * *
“All right,” Will said, “I would like to officially announce the winner of our pep rally auditions. Drumroll, Finn.” Finn began drumming on his legs. “The solo and song choice goes to . . . Miss Abby Washington!”
The rest of the club applauded as Abby bounded up to the front of the room, but Rachel just looked morose.
“Oh, god,” she muttered. “This is it, the beginning of the end. Now that she's had a taste of the business--”
“For this song,” Abby said, “I want to choose two other people to sing with. The girl who inspired me to join glee club: Mercedes,”--at this, Mercedes looked surprised but pleased--“and the girl who helped me with my audition: Rachel.”
Rachel raised her head. “You mean, like a trio?” she asked.
“Of course!” Abby replied. “I would be honored if I could sing with the two of you.”
Mercedes and Rachel made very confused eye contact.
“You're going to share . . .” Mercedes started.
“. . . the spotlight . . .” Rachel continued.
“. . . with us . . .”
“. . . voluntarily?”
Abby looked at them, perplexed. “. . . Yes?” she said. “Is that not allowed?”
“No, it's allowed,” Mercedes said quickly.
“Unorthodox, perhaps, but allowed,” Rachel agreed.
“Then that settles it,” Will said. “Let's get to work.”
Rachel smiled at Abby as the other girl returned to her seat. As Abby passed her, she caught Kurt's eye across the room.
“Told you,” he mouthed at her.
To Rachel's credit, she looked appropriately contrite in response.
* * *
“I still can't believe you joined freakin' glee club,” Azimio said, shaking his head. He was sitting in the bleachers with the rest of the football team, waiting for the pep rally to start. Karofsky stood in front of him, wearing an olive green military-style jacket and some ripped up khakis with combat boots, all of which were clearly part of the costume for the performance.
“I told you,” Karofsky said, “I'm doing it to get Santana back.”
“The only way that sentence could get gayer is if you replaced 'Santana' with 'Finn'.”
Karofsky rolled his eyes. “Shut up. She's a good lay.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Will waving him toward the stage. “Look, I've gotta go. Don't make fun of the glee club, all right?”
Azimio sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
Backstage, Rachel stood leaning against Finn.
“I'm an idiot, aren't I?” she said. Finn looked down at her.
“I'm not sure if there's a way for me to answer that question without you getting mad at me.”
“To think that Abby wanted to ruin my life,” she clarified. “To assume that everyone else is as selfish as I am.”
“Okay, none of this self-pity stuff,” Finn said, and he turned Rachel around so she was facing him. “Do you remember what you did this time last year to someone who threatened your career?”
“I sent her to a crack house,” Rachel muttered.
“Yeah, but this year? You just kind of moped about it. By next year, I bet you won't even be letting it faze you.”
Rachel smiled. “I have been making some personal growth, haven't I?”
“Yep.” Finn leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You're my awesome, personally-growing girlfriend.” He made a face. “That came out weird.”
She squeezed his hand. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
Just behind the curtain, Quinn was doing stretches.
“Break a leg out there,” Lola said as she took her position behind Quinn.
“Thanks,” Quinn replied. “And, y'know, except for the obvious, your audition was really good. It sucks you didn't get this solo.”
Lola shrugged. “I probably would have had a better shot at it if I hadn't tried to hijack my audition to get a boyfriend.”
“What was that all about, anyway? You barely even know Sam.”
“There was this guy who threatened me and Abby with slushies,” Lola said, “and I realized--that's high school. That's especially high school if you're a smart girl in a dorky club who prefers jeans to mini-skirts.” She sighed. “I just wanted someone to protect me from all of that. And I thought he was available.”
“I get where you're coming from. Believe me,” Quinn said. “But you learned your lesson, right?”
“What lesson?”
Quinn just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Freshmen,” under her breath as the house lights went down and the rest of the glee club scurried to their spots.
“Silence, children,” Principal Figgins said, tapping on the microphone. “Silence.” The small amount of noise that had existed in the gym stopped. “Thank you. Before we begin, I would like to remind you that the staff parking lot is for staff only. We can tell your car doesn't belong to a staff member because none of our teachers can afford to drive a Navigator.”
Backstage, Kurt let out an indignant huff.
“Now today, to celebrate what will hopefully be another winning football season,”--Coach Beiste beamed from her seat next to Emma--“the glee club will be performing a selection by popular recording artist Re-hannah. Please welcome, New Directions!”
The curtain opened, and the glee club, dressed in their best post-apocalyptic attire, stepped forward singing, “ Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum.”
“What's wrong with me?” Abby said into her microphone as she hit her mark.
“Why do I feel like this?” Rachel said to her right, striking a pose.
“I'm going crazy now,” Mercedes sang on her other side.
Abby took the lead vocal. “No more gas in the rig.”
“Can't even get it started,” Mercedes and Rachel sang behind her.
“Nothing heard, nothing said.”
“Can't even speak about it.”
“All my life on my head.”
“Don't want to think about it.”
“Feels like I'm going insane, yeah.”
“It's a thief in the night to come and grab you,” Rachel sang.
“It can creep up inside you and consume you.” Mercedes took the second line.
“A disease of the mind, it can control you.” Abby had the third line.
“It's too close for comfort,” the three of them sang together.
The whole group came together for the first part of the chorus.
“Throw on your brake lights, you're in the city of wonder.
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out, you might just go under.
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered.
So if you must falter, be wise.”
The rest of the group went back to the “Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum”s while Abby sang the second part of the chorus, with harmony supplied by Rachel and Mercedes.
“Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is the light.
Disturbia, am I scaring you tonight? (Your mind is in)
Disturbia, ain't used to what you like.
Disturbia, disturbia.”
Will watched the group from the audience. Their choreography was standard for what they had been doing for these types of pop songs; a little racy, sure, but it wasn't inappropriate. At least, it didn't appear to be causing a sex riot this year, although the crowd was getting into the performance.
They did the second half of the song using the same arrangement they had on the first half.
“Faded pictures on the wall, it's like they talkin' to me.
Disconnecting known calls, the phone don't even ring.
I gotta get out or figure this sh-- out.
It's too close for comfort, oh.
It's a thief in the night to come and grab you
It can creep up inside you and consume you
A disease of the mind, it can control you
I feel like a monster, oh.”
Mercedes added some runs over the chorus.
“Throw on your brake lights, you're in the city of wonder.
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out, you might just go under.
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered.
So if you must falter, be wise.
Your mind's in disturbia, it's like the darkness is the light.
Disturbia, am I scaring you tonight? (Your mind is in)
Disturbia, ain't used to what you like.
Disturbia, disturbia.”
They ended the song by standing in a row and singing, “Bum bum be-dum bum bum be-dum bum.” On the last beat, the group bowed their heads, and the music and lights cut out.
The lights came back on a second later, and New Directions was met with thunderous applause.
* * *
Will knocked on the door to Emma's office.
“Come in,” Emma called absently, reading from a file. When she looked up and saw Will standing in front of her, she started.
“Oh! Hello,” she said coolly.
“Can we talk?” Will asked.
Emma looked a little annoyed, but she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
“Thanks,” Will said, sitting down. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other night. It was a stupid assumption to make, and clearly I was wrong, so . . . I'm sorry.”
Emma studied him. “I know that,” she said. “I knew that the second you said it. The problem, Will, is why you thought you were the reason I wanted to treat my OCD.”
“I'm not--” Will shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “With Terri, everything was about her. With Holly, everything was about nothing, really. And, I think? After giving up Broadway for the kids, and for you? I wanted something to be about me, for once.” He paused. “God, that sounds selfish.”
“A little bit.” Will looked up and checked Emma's face. He was surprised to see the corners of her mouth quirking upward.
“What?” he asked.
“You're needy,” she said, letting herself smile. “I never saw it before, but . . . you are so very needy, aren't you?”
Will deflated. “I'm not some little puppy who needs to be played with more.”
“And I'm not some neurotic kitten who needs to be constantly reassured you still love it or else it'll go crazy.” Emma got up, walked around to the front of her desk, and sat on the edge. “So now that we have that out of the way, how about we make a pact?”
“A pact?”
“We're separate people,” Emma said. “We're separate people who are trying to become better people, and being together is one of the things that makes us better people. Yes?”
“Yes,” Will nodded.
“But we aren't growing as people for each other; we're growing as people for ourselves, because it makes us happier. We can help each other, sure, and we should, but this isn't about fixing each other. This is about living better, happier lives. Do you agree?”
“I agree,” Will said, and he grinned. “No more condescending. We're a partnership of equals.”
“Equals,” Emma repeated, and she leaned over and took his hand. “Now, I read in the paper that there's a Stephen Sondheim tribute concert on PBS tonight . . .”
Will's smile widened, but another knock on the door interrupted their conversation. It was Figgins.
“William,” he said. “I need to see you in my office, immediately.”
In the principal's office, Will was shocked. “But I don't understand,” he said. “This is the first time ever that a school performance went according to plan. What was the problem?”
“The problem,” Figgins said, “was that your song choice did not reflect positively on the school!”
“What?”
“Comparing McKinley to a place where 'the darkness is the light'? Your children saying they feel like monsters? That is not the way to foster school spirit!”
“First of all,” Will said, becoming increasingly befuddled and enraged by this whole argument, “we weren't trying to send a message. We just did that song because the kids knew it and liked it and it lent itself to a choral arrangement. And second of all, who came up with this insane idea that we were somehow damaging McKinley's reputation? Was it Sue?”
“It was me,” Figgins said. Will opened his mouth to speak but shut it again immediately. “And I'll have you know, I'll remember this conversation when it comes time to award that trust money.”
“I--” Will started to say, but he didn't want to dig himself any deeper. “Are you going to take any disciplinary action because of this performance?”
“No,” Figgins said. “But I may be asking a favor of the glee club in the future, and I assume that you will be responsive to any such request?”
“Of course,” Will said. Figgins smiled.
“Very good. Have a nice day, William.”
“You, too.”
Will sighed heavily as he stepped into the hallway. But when he saw Emma waiting for him and she slid her arm around his waist, he felt better than he had in a long time.
* * *
Next time, on Glee: The kids put on a show, Finn and Rachel talk about the future, Tina gets a storyline, and remember that one time Quinn had a baby and Puck was the father? Yeah, the show does, too. Finally.