Tear the Roof Off the Sucker
Title: Tear the Roof Off the Sucker
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,486
Spoilers: Through 2.10, "A Very Glee Christmas." Assumes all relationships stay as they were left at the end of that episode.
Summary: For this prompt at glee_fluff_meme . Basically, New Directions and the Warblers get funkified before Regionals, and they join forces to get Vocal Adrenaline back.
Author's Note: I tried to describe this mash-up I have in my head in words, but I'm not sure how well it worked. So, I'm linking to recordings of the two songs where they appear in the fic, and I would recommend listening to them to get at least and idea of what it's supposed to sound like.
Tear the Roof Off the Sucker
Overall, it wasn't a bad performance, Kurt supposed.
The new kid was no Jesse St. James, that was for sure. He hated to admit it, but Jesse had been a consummate performer. New Guy had the looks, he even had the dance moves, but his voice wasn't quite as good Jesse's and he had nowhere near the charisma or attitude to pull off “Another One Bites the Dust.” Kurt was surprised that Sunshine wasn't the one to sing the funkification number; although, he reasoned, Vocal Adrenaline probably wasn't too concerned about an a cappella group and was saving the big guns for New Directions.
Also, he noticed with some satisfaction, Sunshine was kind of a terrible dancer. At least Rachel's special brand of crazy hadn't cost them too dearly.
Or, rather, hadn't cost New Directions too dearly.
New Guy gave them some parting jibe Kurt refused to acknowledge, and Vocal Adrenaline left the stage. The Warblers sat in the auditorium, stunned.
“We are so screwed,” Blaine said, putting his head in his hands. Kurt resisted the urge to point out that, considering none of their songs had actual choreography, they were screwed even without the existence of Vocal Adrenaline.
“How did a group that size, with a bunch of girls in it, even manage to get in here?” David asked.
“It's best not to contemplate the powers of the dark arts,” Kurt mused. “It's the same thing that makes Jessica Simpson keep putting out records and KFC develop the Double Down 'sandwich'.” The rest of the group was freaked out. Kurt was just bored by the whole thing. Vocal Adrenaline was supposed to be about spectacle, not this recycling nonsense. “Come on, we should probably go clean up the meeting room.”
Everyone else shot him funny looks. “What do you mean?” Blaine asked.
Kurt sighed. “They pulled the same trick on New Directions last year. They sang 'Another One Bites the Dust' and TP-ed the choir room. Since they couldn't be bothered to change the first part of the prank this year, I can't imagine they bothered to change the second.”
The Warblers grumbled at each other and walked back to their rehearsal space. Sure enough, toilet paper covered everything.
“What the hell?” Wes said, slamming his fist on a table. “What gives them the right to do this?”
“They're the evil empire,” Kurt said, resigned. “And we're just Alderaan caught in the way of the Death Star.”
“Bummer. Nice reference, though.” Blaine put up a hand for a high five. Kurt rolled his eyes, but gave him one. They had watched Star Wars last night. There were at lot of things Kurt was willing to do for this crush.
“Well, I guess we'd better start cleaning up then,” David said. As the rest of the Warblers began tearing down toilet paper, Kurt slipped away to make a phone call.
“Kurt!” Rachel said when she picked up. “You'll never guess what happened this morning!”
“Vocal Adrenaline funkified you guys?”
He could practically hear the look of disappointment on her face that he had guessed correctly. “How did you know?”
“Apparently they're doing a grand tour of Ohio; they got us this afternoon. What'd they do for you guys? We got the same thing as last year, only the new male lead is frankly a little disappointing.”
“Um,” Rachel began, sounding a little conflicted. “You know how last year, for the Cheerios, you did fourteen-and-a-half minutes of Celine Dion in French?”
“Rachel, how could I forget a thing like that?”
“Well, that's what Sunshine did. The whole thing. While Vocal Adrenaline did the most insane contemporary dance choreography around her.”
Kurt's jaw dropped. “You're joking.”
“They must have found out that you'd transferred, and they hit our weak spot.” She paused. “Not that that's your fault, of course--”
“No, I know,” Kurt said, although he felt a familiar tug of sadness in his chest at her words. “I didn't take it like that.”
“Good. Oh, and the other thing they did? They egged all of our cars, even Mr. Schue's.”
Kurt let out a disdainful laugh. “Wow, Vocal Adrenaline is just a font of originality this year, huh? That might be a good thing; it shows that they're weaker than they were in 2010.”
“Agreed, although Sunshine is still a formidable threat.”
“True,” Kurt said. “It would be in the best interests of both of our clubs, then, to do our own bit of intimidation before Regionals.”
“Agreed on that, as well. You sound like you have a plan.”
“I do,” Kurt smirked. “It's going to take some convincing on my side, but how do you feel about fraternizing with the enemy?”
* * *
It hadn't actually taken much convincing at all. The Warblers were all for any plan that could potentially humiliate Vocal Adrenaline, and when Kurt had shot down their original plan (“Trust me, you do not want to mess with these people's cars.”), they were willing to team up with New Directions to produce an epic performance that would reduce their shared foe to tears.
Kurt met his McKinley friends at the front gate and, after a great number of hugs were given and a great number of visitor's passes were secured, the group made their way to the Dalton auditorium.
“Oh my god, Finn was actually right about something. This place is like Hogwarts,” Santana said, marveling at the size of the campus and checking out a not insignificant number of students (most of whom were checking her out right back).
“I told you so,” Finn said. He had come with Burt and his mother to Family Day a few weekends previously, and had not shut up about how he was convinced that Kurt was training to be a wizard now.
“Yes, yes,” Kurt said, “you are all the very first people to make that joke. Now come on, it's just down this hallway.”
Kurt opened the door and led them into the Princeton J. Merriweather Memorial Theatre. As awesome as McKinley's auditorium was (which was strange, considering how poorly the school supported the arts), Dalton's was larger, more high tech, and just generally more impressive. They had chosen to rehearse at Dalton simply because there were less people to transport in New Directions than in the Warblers, but Kurt could tell from the looks on his friends' faces that there were other advantages to the arrangement, too.
“This is pimped out,” Artie said with amazement.
“The auditorium surround sound is hooked up to a computer backstage, so we can look anything we need to up on Youtube and locate any backing tracks we might need,” Kurt informed them. The Warblers, sitting in the first few rows of the audience, turned around when they heard Kurt's voice.
“Hey,” Blaine called, giving the group a wave. New Directions was soon face-to-face with the Warblers, and Kurt stood between the two groups, feeling incredibly awkward to be literally stuck between his old family and his new one.
“Um, everyone?” he gestured at New Directions. “This is everyone,” he gestured at the Warblers.
“Dude, you are terrible at introductions,” Finn said.
“There are a lot of you!” Kurt tried to defend himself, but he sighed and began introducing everyone individually.
“Okay, that did take a long time,” Finn conceded when Kurt had finished.
“Anyway, our first order of business should probably be picking a song,” Kurt said.
“Yes,” Wes agreed. “The Warblers' Council--”
“Council?” Santana stage whispered, but simultaneous glares from Kurt and Mercedes stopped her from outright mocking the Dalton boys.
“--would like to propose an a cappella version of 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love'.”
To their credit, no one in New Directions laughed out loud at that suggestion. A few people bit their lips, others sucked in their cheeks, some took a deep breath and held it, but no one actually cracked up, even if they were shooting each other the most epic “WTF?” glances. Kurt would have to thank them later. And possibly buy them all ice cream, or their favorite low-fat equivalents.
“So, you were going off the Queen theme, then?” Artie ventured.
“Um, yes.” The Warblers looked at each other. This clearly was not the response they'd been expecting.
Rachel took a deep breath to speak, and Kurt automatically winced. Rachel was not known for her diplomatic criticism.
“While that is a very . . . existent option, we've found in the past that Vocal Adrenaline are the absolute pinnacle of what they do. Another Queen number is not going to scare them. We have to show them that we can do what they can't.”
“What is it that they can't do, exactly?” Blaine asked.
“Funk,” Rachel replied. The other members of New Directions nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” said Wes, “then what song do you guys suggest?”
“Well, I was thinking of singing lead on 'I'm Every Woman' by Chaka Khan,” Rachel said.
“That's a terrible idea,” Mercedes replied. “If we do Chaka Khan, then I'm singing 'Tell Me Something Good.' I would kill that.”
“Come on,” Artie said, “Stevie Wonder is clearly the superior--”
“I don't know,” Quinn cut in, “Parliament-Funkadelic worked pretty well last time.”
“I still think--” Rachel said. Everyone began talking over each other and the volume escalated. It made Kurt smile.
“Oh my god,” David leaned over and whispered to him. “I'm so sorry we looked at you weird during that first Warblers' meeting. If we had known that this was where you were coming from . . .”
“Don't worry about it.” Kurt waved a hand dismissively.
“How do they ever decide anything?”
“It's like natural selection: survival of the fittest song choice, you know?”
“I'm a little annoyed they didn't come prepared,” Wes muttered.
Kurt laughed out loud. “Trust me,” he said, “they work better when they're loose. Their set at Sectionals? Was prepared in about a week. Probably less.”
“No way.”
“Yup.”
The din in front of them began to die down.
“We've decided,” Rachel Berry said, “to suggest a performance of Stevie Wonder's 'Higher Ground.'” At this, Artie pounded his fist to his chest twice and flashed a peace sign. Kurt laughed. He really missed these people.
Wes looked at his other Council-mates. “That sounds . . . reasonable. Do you have an arrangement in mind?”
“Well, we know a cappella is your thing . . .” Rachel started.
“. . . but Vocal Adrenaline will laugh our asses off-stage if we do that, so we'll just get the McKinley jazz geeks over here and you guys can sing harmonies,” Santana finished.
“For now, though, we can find a karaoke version online and work through who's singing what,” Rachel added.
“You didn't bring them with you?” Kurt asked. A couple of the Warblers chuckled at this, but he was being absolutely serious; he'd asked them to get the band, or at least Brad, to come out.
“No. I guess they had a concert tonight? It turns out they actually have other stuff they do besides play for glee. It was weird.”
“Huh. Anyway, let's get set up at the computer.” Kurt pulled himself onto the stage. “Wes? Blaine? If you guys could grab some staff paper so we can write down parts?”
“Uh, sure,” Blaine said. Wes came up behind him.
“I thought we were the bigger group, we were going to be in charge. How did this happen?”
“I don't know,” Blaine admitted. “But they've made some good points so far, and they showed at Sectionals that they're talented. I guess we just go with it?”
“I don't think we have much of a choice now.”
* * *
“This isn't going to work. They can't dance.”
“I know.”
“I mean, seriously. They cannot dance.”
“I work with them every day. I'm aware of this fact.” Rachel and Kurt were watching as Mike tried to teach the rest of the boys the choreography for “Higher Ground.” The New Directions guys were at least getting the hang of it, but the Warblers looked clueless.
“I mean, Blaine is their best dancer, and no offense, but he dances like a penguin. A talented penguin, sure, but one that's really only talented at dancing once you consider the fact that he's a penguin.”
“. . . That's an accurate if slightly belabored metaphor--”
“It was a simile.”
“--whatever, but why would I take offense at that?”
Rachel just gave him a look.
“What are we talking about?” Santana asked, coming up behind them.
“We're bemoaning Blaine and the Warblers' lack of dance skills,” Rachel replied.
“You mean how they look like their hips have been surgically fused into their pelvic sockets? Even the black guys?”
“Yes,” Kurt sighed.
“Yeah, that's gonna make it pretty tough for you to sex the lead singer, huh?”
“What?” Kurt shrieked, and the only reason the entire auditorium didn't turn to look at him was that he had managed to yell at the exact same time as a super-loud cymbal crash. “Who told you that?”
“Your body language, Queer As Folk. Anyone who's spent five minutes in the same room as you two has seen you both eye-fuck enough to know you want to get it on with each other.”
“I--” Kurt started, but he stopped. Wait, both of them?
“Watch this,” Santana said. “Hey, Sam!” she called. Sam, who had been trying not to run into a particularly uncoordinated member of the Warblers, gratefully broke ranks with the dancing guys and jogged over to the edge of the stage.
“What's up?” he asked, kneeling down to talk to Santana, Kurt, and Rachel.
“Of all the guys on stage right now, which one do you think Kurt has a crush on?” asked Santana.
“Oh, that Blaine guy,” Sam said. Kurt blushed scarlet in response. “Yeah,” Sam continued, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder, “and he's a pretty cool dude, and he seems like he's into you, too, so you should totally go for it.” He gave Kurt a friendly pat on the shoulder before getting up to rejoin the dance routine.
“That's why I said 'no offense',” Rachel said.
Kurt pouted. “Did Mercedes plan this with you all? I feel like she might have planned this with you all.”
“Nope,” Santana said. “But if we've all come to the same conclusion, it might mean you should tap that.”
Kurt scowled.
“No, seriously, you need to tap that. It might be the only way he'll loosen up enough for us to actually pull this off.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. He still wasn't convinced that Blaine returned his feelings, and even if it was mutual, it seemed like a terrible idea to start a relationship with Regionals so close at hand.
“He's actually not a terrible dancer.” Rachel and Santana gave him identical “bitch, please” looks. “He's good at . . . spinning.”
Santana let out an audible groan. “That is the gayest thing I've ever heard. You two are made for each other.”
* * *
New Directions gave it two more rehearsals before they decided they had to stage an intervention.
“It's like . . . it's like . . .” Mike stuttered, clearly traumatized by the experience of choreographing them, while Tina rubbed his back, “I'd say it's like trying to teach zombies how to dance, but zombies rock at dancing. The 'Thriller' video proves it!”
Tina made soothing noises as Mike put his head in his hands.
“Kurt?” Mercedes asked. He was lying in the aisle of the auditorium, his eyes closed. He knew what was coming, and he did not want to deal with it.
“Yes, Mercedes?”
“We need a plan B. They don't work on this kind of music.”
“I know.”
“You need to tell them.”
Kurt sat straight up. “Why do I need to be the one to tell them?”
Mercedes shot him a look. “Because you're the only one who's going to be able to do it in a way that doesn't offend them so much they pull a Rachel Berry-storm out?”
Kurt collapsed back onto the floor. “I hate it when you're right.”
“You must be a pretty hate-filled person, then, sweetie. Look out, here they come.” And indeed, Warblers began filing into the auditorium for the second half of rehearsal.
“Oh, damn it,” Kurt sighed. He got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the stage. He needed to work out what he was going to say to his Dalton friends.
Once all the Warblers had assembled in the first few rows of the audience, the members of New Directions looked at Kurt expectantly. Kurt massaged his temples.
“Okay, everyone. I think we need to admit that this whole funk thing isn't working out,” he said. Thankfully, instead of looking upset, the Warblers all just looked relieved. “We need a new plan, and it needs to be something we both can do, but something Vocal Adrenaline can't.”
“I thought the only thing they couldn't do was funk?” Blaine said dejectedly.
“There has to be something else,” Kurt replied. Everyone sat for a minute, thinking. Suddenly, an idea popped into Kurt's mind. He snapped his head up, just in time to see Rachel do the same thing, her eyes and smile wide with the energy that only comes with a new plan.
“I've got it,” they said at the same time.
“Oh god, they have that scheming look. That look only leads to bad things,” Finn said.
“Yes,” Rachel said, “but only for our enemies. Kurt, your plan?”
“It's true they lack the ability to do funk, but there's something else we have that they don't,” Kurt grinned. He could tell by Rachel's nodding along that they were on the same wavelength.
“And that is?” Wes asked.
“Soul,” Rachel replied.
* * *
And that was how the members of the Warblers and New Directions found themselves walking through the Carmel High with a good portion of the McKinley jazz band (and their equipment), ready to perform a mash-up of “Soul Man” and “Son of a Preacher Man” for the soulless automatons of Vocal Adrenaline.
“The auditorium is just down this hallway,” Rachel said. Mercedes and Quinn nodded.
“I don't mean to be rude,” Blaine said as he adjusted his grip on the crash cymbal he was carrying, “but why exactly are you all intimately acquainted with the layout of Carmel High?”
“There was maybe some . . . premature observation of our fellow performers last year,” Rachel confessed.
Blaine lowered his voice to Kurt. “So, you guys have a habit of spying on the competition, huh?” He made a tsk-ing noise. “And I thought you were such nice, upstanding young people.”
Kurt knew Blaine was joking, but he felt that weird need he'd started getting to stand up for Rachel. “In her defense, there were extenuating circumstances.”
“And for you?” Blaine smirked.
Kurt did his best to glare at him, and then smacked him on the arm. “Shut up,” he said, but he was grinning.
They soon reached the auditorium and took their positions on stage, New Directions stage left, the Warblers stage right. The jazz band set up in the back. Vocal Adrenaline's rehearsal would be starting any minute.
“Wait. What are we going to do about their director?” asked Wes.
“I got it covered,” Puck said. Every head in New Directions (and several from the Warblers who had picked up on Puck's juvenile delinquent behavior) turned to look at him.
“You didn't do anything criminal, did you?” Rachel asked.
“Relax, I just superglued the door of his office shut. It'll take him at least fifteen minutes to get a janitor with a crowbar to pry him out.”
“How can you be sure?” asked Artie.
“I paid the day janitor twenty bucks to ignore his phone until 3:30.”
Almost on cue, Vocal Adrenaline came through the back doors of the auditorium. Of course they all entered as a group, Kurt thought. None of them would dare be late for a rehearsal. It was all part of Vocal Adrenaline's general Stepford Housewife-ness.
They didn't seem too surprised to see the group on stage, though. At least, they didn't until they realized that both groups they'd funkified were there. Then there started to be a few concerned glances amongst the members as they filed into seats in the audience.
Blaine and Rachel stepped up to the front of the stage.
“Thank you all so very much for being on time,” Blaine said in his best smarmy-rich-kid-fake-polite voice. “Now, you may be asking yourselves, 'Why on earth have our two competitors, who are competitors themselves, joined forces?' And I understand your confusion.”
“But what you all apparently don't realize,” Rachel said, taking the proverbial baton from Blaine as they'd discussed on the car ride over, “is that show choir doesn't have to be about back-stabbing, about intimidation, about heartless competition. You can see your competitors and respect their talents,” she smiled at the Warblers, “and wish them well, even while hoping that your group is just a little bit better that day.”
“Because show choir is about more than winning competitions,” Blaine said. “It's about expressing your emotions, your feelings, and making yourself and the people around you feel a little bit better, one three-minute song at a time. It is about opening yourself up to joy.”
Kurt could feel the knowing smiles of the New Directions kids at Blaine's last sentence. He'd given his friend that one the night before, when Blaine had been panicking about what he would say.
“And so, we have decided to team up to teach you all a lesson,” Rachel said. “Your bullying behavior is a disgrace to the institution of show choir, and we intend to show you how great you can be when you lead with your heart and let your performance have soul.”
They returned to their places. Blaine stood in front of the Warblers, who were arranged in a block formation, and Rachel folded back into the semi-circle of New Directions members behind Mercedes, who had the first female lead of the number.
Once everyone was in position, the Warblers began to sing the opening guitar part of “Soul Man” a cappella, snapping their fingers on the beat. Then, three and a half measures in, the McKinley horn section kicked in. The rhythm section joined on beat one of the next bar, and Kurt ran from his place with the Warblers to join the members of New Directions for the partner dance they had choreographed over the introduction. He grabbed Tina, while Mike danced with Santana, Finn danced with Quinn, Sam danced with Lauren, Puck danced with Brittany, and Artie danced with Rachel. Both Mercedes and the Warblers did some freestyle step-twos.
“Comin' to ya,” Blaine sang with his usual lead-singer dance moves, “on a dusty road.” The Warblers echoed the last words of every line gospel-style as they did a routine of spins and steps behind him.
“Good lovin', I got a truck load.
And when you get it, you got something.
So don't worry, 'cause I'm comin'.”
“I'm a soul man,” Blaine sang, and Artie wheeled himself over to sing the low part on the repeat. “I'm a soul man,” they sang together. “I'm a soul man . . . I'm a soul man!”
The horns played, and then the whole group, every performer on stage plus the band, stopped for a beat. When they came back in on beat one of the next measure, it was doing an up-tempo version of “Son of a Preacher Man,” with Mercedes singing lead.
“Billy-Ray was a preacher's son,
And when his daddy would visit he'd come along,
When they gathered 'round and started talking,
That's when Billy would take me walking,
Through the back yard we'd go walking,
Then he'd look into my eyes,
Lord knows to my surprise--”
“They only boy who could ever reach me,” she sang, and the rest of New Directions (plus Kurt, minus Artie) backed her up on, “was the son of a preacher man,” just like on the Dusty Springfield recording. There'd been some argument from the other guys on this, but twin death glares from Kurt and Mercedes and the threat of a lecture on masculinity and tolerance from Rachel had shut them up.
“The only boy who could ever teach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
Yes he was, he was, ooooh yes he was.”
The band immediately went back into the instrumental part for “Soul Man,” and Blaine and Artie came in after two bars, trading lines.
“Got what I got, the hard way,” Blaine sang. “The hard way,” the Warblers echoed as they did on the first verse.
“And I'll make it better, each and every day,” Artie sang, sparing a glance for Brittany as he did a spin in his wheelchair.
“So honey, don't you fret.”
“'Cause you ain't seen, nothing yet.”
“I'm a soul man,” they both sang, this time with the Warblers backing them up. That wasn't the only change to the chorus. The mash-up kicked in on beat one of the next measure, where the horn part had been before, and New Directions began to layer in lines from their song:
“The only boy who could ever reach me.” But before they hit the word “reach” on beat four, the Warblers came back with “Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
The horns hit the their part at the end of the chorus of “Soul Man,” and Santana stepped forward to sing the bridge from “Son of a Preacher Man.”
“How well I remember,
The look that was in his eyes,
Stealing kisses from me on the sly,
Taking time to make time,
Telling me that he's all mine,
Learning from each other's knowing,
Looking to see how much we'd grown.”
“Soul man,” the Warblers sang, launching the song back into the same arrangement of the chorus as before.
“The only one who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only one who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
The music abruptly cut off, and on Blaine's cue, all of the singers began to softly hum a chord. Rachel Berry stepped to the front of the stage.
“The only boy who could ever reach me,” she sang, milking the words for all they were worth, “was the sweet-talkin' son of a soul man.” She took a deep breath. “Soul MAN!” Rachel wailed on this last phrase, hitting the same pitches she had on the end of the “Halo”/“Walkin' on Sunshine” mash-up, only this time she held the ridiculous high note, and the rest of the group, Warblers and New Direction-ers alike, sang an amazing gospel chorus “Yeeeeeeeeeeah” underneath it while the drummer went crazy and the saxophone player played scale runs up and down his instrument.
Kurt Hummel did not believe in God; he never had and he never would. But the sound he heard at the end of that number was what he imagined it would be like to see the sky open and God Himself standing there with all of Heaven spread out behind Him.
And also angels.
Rachel cut off the band by jumping into the air. As soon as she landed, all sound ceased.
Vocal Adrenaline just sat there, completely stunned. The backdoors to the auditorium opened, and their director, Dustin Goolsby walked in. The jazz band began to hurriedly pack up their things.
“What the hell are you people doing here?” he asked.
“Oh, your group was kind enough to perform for us, so we thought we'd return the favor,” Rachel said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
“But we were just leaving,” Blaine added, grabbing one end of the bass amp while Puck grabbed the other. “Anyway, thanks for listening, and good luck to you at Regionals!” he said as inauthentically as possible.
Both groups hurried out of the auditorium and to the parking lot.
“That was freakin' awesome,” Artie said.
“Yeah, it kind of makes me wish we didn't have to compete against each other,” Wes said. Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Well, I guess that's it, then,” Kurt said. New Directions had to get back to Lima, and the Warblers had to get back to Dalton.
Reluctantly, the two groups began saying goodbye to each other. Handshakes and occasional hugs were given to the rest of the Warblers, but Kurt got bear hugs and tears. He realized, sadly, that that was probably the last time he would ever perform with his New Directions friends.
“Good luck to you guys. Seriously,” Blaine said.
“Good luck to you, too,” Finn said.
“Kurt?” Rachel pulled him away from the group for a second.
“What's up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to let you know, we're giving you guys a little present.”
Kurt raised his eyebrows. “What sort of present?”
“Mike Chang dance lessons Monday and Thursday nights.”
“You're lending us Mike Chang?” Kurt asked. “You do realize, that with actual dance moves, we could potentially be competition?”
“We know,” Rachel said. “But we decided that the abject humiliation of Vocal Adrenaline is more important than Nationals. Glee stays whether we get first or second, so as long as we both beat Vocal Adrenaline, it will be a win for everyone.”
“Really? That's a remarkably egalitarian attitude for New Directions.”
Rachel smirked. “Well, we're not expecting you guys to win, of course. We figured that the key to the Warblers' success was your harmonizing, and we've been working on improving our ensemble singing in turn. We even had a whole a cappella week. Puck had a fit. But honestly? Even with Mike's help, I don't think that your group's dancing is ever going to be a threat to us. We just want you to be good enough to embarrass Vocal Adrenaline with a third-place finish.”
Kurt narrowed his eyes at Rachel's comment about the Warblers, but he couldn't really argue with her. “Still, though, you are Rachel Berry. There's a chance that with Mike's help we could beat you, and you don't do second best.”
“Maybe I've experienced some personal growth recently.” Kurt arched an eyebrow at her. She sighed. “Jesse has been flying in from L.A. every weekend to coach their vocals.”
“Ah,” Kurt smiled. Humiliation for Jesse St. James, he could understand. “Now that's the Rachel Berry I know and tolerate.” She swatted him on the arm for that, but they both knew he said it teasingly now. She gave him a quick hug, and they went back to join their respective groups.
“Bye, everyone,” Wes called as the Warblers got into their cars. “We'll see you at Regionals!”
Kurt climbed into the driver's seat of his car, and watched his old friends get into theirs. He sighed.
“You okay?” Blaine asked from the passenger's seat.
Kurt took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah,” he said as he watched Quinn's car pull out of the parking lot, followed by Puck's truck, Mike's station wagon, and Artie's van. “I'll be fine.”
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,486
Spoilers: Through 2.10, "A Very Glee Christmas." Assumes all relationships stay as they were left at the end of that episode.
Summary: For this prompt at glee_fluff_meme . Basically, New Directions and the Warblers get funkified before Regionals, and they join forces to get Vocal Adrenaline back.
Author's Note: I tried to describe this mash-up I have in my head in words, but I'm not sure how well it worked. So, I'm linking to recordings of the two songs where they appear in the fic, and I would recommend listening to them to get at least and idea of what it's supposed to sound like.
Tear the Roof Off the Sucker
Overall, it wasn't a bad performance, Kurt supposed.
The new kid was no Jesse St. James, that was for sure. He hated to admit it, but Jesse had been a consummate performer. New Guy had the looks, he even had the dance moves, but his voice wasn't quite as good Jesse's and he had nowhere near the charisma or attitude to pull off “Another One Bites the Dust.” Kurt was surprised that Sunshine wasn't the one to sing the funkification number; although, he reasoned, Vocal Adrenaline probably wasn't too concerned about an a cappella group and was saving the big guns for New Directions.
Also, he noticed with some satisfaction, Sunshine was kind of a terrible dancer. At least Rachel's special brand of crazy hadn't cost them too dearly.
Or, rather, hadn't cost New Directions too dearly.
New Guy gave them some parting jibe Kurt refused to acknowledge, and Vocal Adrenaline left the stage. The Warblers sat in the auditorium, stunned.
“We are so screwed,” Blaine said, putting his head in his hands. Kurt resisted the urge to point out that, considering none of their songs had actual choreography, they were screwed even without the existence of Vocal Adrenaline.
“How did a group that size, with a bunch of girls in it, even manage to get in here?” David asked.
“It's best not to contemplate the powers of the dark arts,” Kurt mused. “It's the same thing that makes Jessica Simpson keep putting out records and KFC develop the Double Down 'sandwich'.” The rest of the group was freaked out. Kurt was just bored by the whole thing. Vocal Adrenaline was supposed to be about spectacle, not this recycling nonsense. “Come on, we should probably go clean up the meeting room.”
Everyone else shot him funny looks. “What do you mean?” Blaine asked.
Kurt sighed. “They pulled the same trick on New Directions last year. They sang 'Another One Bites the Dust' and TP-ed the choir room. Since they couldn't be bothered to change the first part of the prank this year, I can't imagine they bothered to change the second.”
The Warblers grumbled at each other and walked back to their rehearsal space. Sure enough, toilet paper covered everything.
“What the hell?” Wes said, slamming his fist on a table. “What gives them the right to do this?”
“They're the evil empire,” Kurt said, resigned. “And we're just Alderaan caught in the way of the Death Star.”
“Bummer. Nice reference, though.” Blaine put up a hand for a high five. Kurt rolled his eyes, but gave him one. They had watched Star Wars last night. There were at lot of things Kurt was willing to do for this crush.
“Well, I guess we'd better start cleaning up then,” David said. As the rest of the Warblers began tearing down toilet paper, Kurt slipped away to make a phone call.
“Kurt!” Rachel said when she picked up. “You'll never guess what happened this morning!”
“Vocal Adrenaline funkified you guys?”
He could practically hear the look of disappointment on her face that he had guessed correctly. “How did you know?”
“Apparently they're doing a grand tour of Ohio; they got us this afternoon. What'd they do for you guys? We got the same thing as last year, only the new male lead is frankly a little disappointing.”
“Um,” Rachel began, sounding a little conflicted. “You know how last year, for the Cheerios, you did fourteen-and-a-half minutes of Celine Dion in French?”
“Rachel, how could I forget a thing like that?”
“Well, that's what Sunshine did. The whole thing. While Vocal Adrenaline did the most insane contemporary dance choreography around her.”
Kurt's jaw dropped. “You're joking.”
“They must have found out that you'd transferred, and they hit our weak spot.” She paused. “Not that that's your fault, of course--”
“No, I know,” Kurt said, although he felt a familiar tug of sadness in his chest at her words. “I didn't take it like that.”
“Good. Oh, and the other thing they did? They egged all of our cars, even Mr. Schue's.”
Kurt let out a disdainful laugh. “Wow, Vocal Adrenaline is just a font of originality this year, huh? That might be a good thing; it shows that they're weaker than they were in 2010.”
“Agreed, although Sunshine is still a formidable threat.”
“True,” Kurt said. “It would be in the best interests of both of our clubs, then, to do our own bit of intimidation before Regionals.”
“Agreed on that, as well. You sound like you have a plan.”
“I do,” Kurt smirked. “It's going to take some convincing on my side, but how do you feel about fraternizing with the enemy?”
* * *
It hadn't actually taken much convincing at all. The Warblers were all for any plan that could potentially humiliate Vocal Adrenaline, and when Kurt had shot down their original plan (“Trust me, you do not want to mess with these people's cars.”), they were willing to team up with New Directions to produce an epic performance that would reduce their shared foe to tears.
Kurt met his McKinley friends at the front gate and, after a great number of hugs were given and a great number of visitor's passes were secured, the group made their way to the Dalton auditorium.
“Oh my god, Finn was actually right about something. This place is like Hogwarts,” Santana said, marveling at the size of the campus and checking out a not insignificant number of students (most of whom were checking her out right back).
“I told you so,” Finn said. He had come with Burt and his mother to Family Day a few weekends previously, and had not shut up about how he was convinced that Kurt was training to be a wizard now.
“Yes, yes,” Kurt said, “you are all the very first people to make that joke. Now come on, it's just down this hallway.”
Kurt opened the door and led them into the Princeton J. Merriweather Memorial Theatre. As awesome as McKinley's auditorium was (which was strange, considering how poorly the school supported the arts), Dalton's was larger, more high tech, and just generally more impressive. They had chosen to rehearse at Dalton simply because there were less people to transport in New Directions than in the Warblers, but Kurt could tell from the looks on his friends' faces that there were other advantages to the arrangement, too.
“This is pimped out,” Artie said with amazement.
“The auditorium surround sound is hooked up to a computer backstage, so we can look anything we need to up on Youtube and locate any backing tracks we might need,” Kurt informed them. The Warblers, sitting in the first few rows of the audience, turned around when they heard Kurt's voice.
“Hey,” Blaine called, giving the group a wave. New Directions was soon face-to-face with the Warblers, and Kurt stood between the two groups, feeling incredibly awkward to be literally stuck between his old family and his new one.
“Um, everyone?” he gestured at New Directions. “This is everyone,” he gestured at the Warblers.
“Dude, you are terrible at introductions,” Finn said.
“There are a lot of you!” Kurt tried to defend himself, but he sighed and began introducing everyone individually.
“Okay, that did take a long time,” Finn conceded when Kurt had finished.
“Anyway, our first order of business should probably be picking a song,” Kurt said.
“Yes,” Wes agreed. “The Warblers' Council--”
“Council?” Santana stage whispered, but simultaneous glares from Kurt and Mercedes stopped her from outright mocking the Dalton boys.
“--would like to propose an a cappella version of 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love'.”
To their credit, no one in New Directions laughed out loud at that suggestion. A few people bit their lips, others sucked in their cheeks, some took a deep breath and held it, but no one actually cracked up, even if they were shooting each other the most epic “WTF?” glances. Kurt would have to thank them later. And possibly buy them all ice cream, or their favorite low-fat equivalents.
“So, you were going off the Queen theme, then?” Artie ventured.
“Um, yes.” The Warblers looked at each other. This clearly was not the response they'd been expecting.
Rachel took a deep breath to speak, and Kurt automatically winced. Rachel was not known for her diplomatic criticism.
“While that is a very . . . existent option, we've found in the past that Vocal Adrenaline are the absolute pinnacle of what they do. Another Queen number is not going to scare them. We have to show them that we can do what they can't.”
“What is it that they can't do, exactly?” Blaine asked.
“Funk,” Rachel replied. The other members of New Directions nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” said Wes, “then what song do you guys suggest?”
“Well, I was thinking of singing lead on 'I'm Every Woman' by Chaka Khan,” Rachel said.
“That's a terrible idea,” Mercedes replied. “If we do Chaka Khan, then I'm singing 'Tell Me Something Good.' I would kill that.”
“Come on,” Artie said, “Stevie Wonder is clearly the superior--”
“I don't know,” Quinn cut in, “Parliament-Funkadelic worked pretty well last time.”
“I still think--” Rachel said. Everyone began talking over each other and the volume escalated. It made Kurt smile.
“Oh my god,” David leaned over and whispered to him. “I'm so sorry we looked at you weird during that first Warblers' meeting. If we had known that this was where you were coming from . . .”
“Don't worry about it.” Kurt waved a hand dismissively.
“How do they ever decide anything?”
“It's like natural selection: survival of the fittest song choice, you know?”
“I'm a little annoyed they didn't come prepared,” Wes muttered.
Kurt laughed out loud. “Trust me,” he said, “they work better when they're loose. Their set at Sectionals? Was prepared in about a week. Probably less.”
“No way.”
“Yup.”
The din in front of them began to die down.
“We've decided,” Rachel Berry said, “to suggest a performance of Stevie Wonder's 'Higher Ground.'” At this, Artie pounded his fist to his chest twice and flashed a peace sign. Kurt laughed. He really missed these people.
Wes looked at his other Council-mates. “That sounds . . . reasonable. Do you have an arrangement in mind?”
“Well, we know a cappella is your thing . . .” Rachel started.
“. . . but Vocal Adrenaline will laugh our asses off-stage if we do that, so we'll just get the McKinley jazz geeks over here and you guys can sing harmonies,” Santana finished.
“For now, though, we can find a karaoke version online and work through who's singing what,” Rachel added.
“You didn't bring them with you?” Kurt asked. A couple of the Warblers chuckled at this, but he was being absolutely serious; he'd asked them to get the band, or at least Brad, to come out.
“No. I guess they had a concert tonight? It turns out they actually have other stuff they do besides play for glee. It was weird.”
“Huh. Anyway, let's get set up at the computer.” Kurt pulled himself onto the stage. “Wes? Blaine? If you guys could grab some staff paper so we can write down parts?”
“Uh, sure,” Blaine said. Wes came up behind him.
“I thought we were the bigger group, we were going to be in charge. How did this happen?”
“I don't know,” Blaine admitted. “But they've made some good points so far, and they showed at Sectionals that they're talented. I guess we just go with it?”
“I don't think we have much of a choice now.”
* * *
“This isn't going to work. They can't dance.”
“I know.”
“I mean, seriously. They cannot dance.”
“I work with them every day. I'm aware of this fact.” Rachel and Kurt were watching as Mike tried to teach the rest of the boys the choreography for “Higher Ground.” The New Directions guys were at least getting the hang of it, but the Warblers looked clueless.
“I mean, Blaine is their best dancer, and no offense, but he dances like a penguin. A talented penguin, sure, but one that's really only talented at dancing once you consider the fact that he's a penguin.”
“. . . That's an accurate if slightly belabored metaphor--”
“It was a simile.”
“--whatever, but why would I take offense at that?”
Rachel just gave him a look.
“What are we talking about?” Santana asked, coming up behind them.
“We're bemoaning Blaine and the Warblers' lack of dance skills,” Rachel replied.
“You mean how they look like their hips have been surgically fused into their pelvic sockets? Even the black guys?”
“Yes,” Kurt sighed.
“Yeah, that's gonna make it pretty tough for you to sex the lead singer, huh?”
“What?” Kurt shrieked, and the only reason the entire auditorium didn't turn to look at him was that he had managed to yell at the exact same time as a super-loud cymbal crash. “Who told you that?”
“Your body language, Queer As Folk. Anyone who's spent five minutes in the same room as you two has seen you both eye-fuck enough to know you want to get it on with each other.”
“I--” Kurt started, but he stopped. Wait, both of them?
“Watch this,” Santana said. “Hey, Sam!” she called. Sam, who had been trying not to run into a particularly uncoordinated member of the Warblers, gratefully broke ranks with the dancing guys and jogged over to the edge of the stage.
“What's up?” he asked, kneeling down to talk to Santana, Kurt, and Rachel.
“Of all the guys on stage right now, which one do you think Kurt has a crush on?” asked Santana.
“Oh, that Blaine guy,” Sam said. Kurt blushed scarlet in response. “Yeah,” Sam continued, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder, “and he's a pretty cool dude, and he seems like he's into you, too, so you should totally go for it.” He gave Kurt a friendly pat on the shoulder before getting up to rejoin the dance routine.
“That's why I said 'no offense',” Rachel said.
Kurt pouted. “Did Mercedes plan this with you all? I feel like she might have planned this with you all.”
“Nope,” Santana said. “But if we've all come to the same conclusion, it might mean you should tap that.”
Kurt scowled.
“No, seriously, you need to tap that. It might be the only way he'll loosen up enough for us to actually pull this off.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. He still wasn't convinced that Blaine returned his feelings, and even if it was mutual, it seemed like a terrible idea to start a relationship with Regionals so close at hand.
“He's actually not a terrible dancer.” Rachel and Santana gave him identical “bitch, please” looks. “He's good at . . . spinning.”
Santana let out an audible groan. “That is the gayest thing I've ever heard. You two are made for each other.”
* * *
New Directions gave it two more rehearsals before they decided they had to stage an intervention.
“It's like . . . it's like . . .” Mike stuttered, clearly traumatized by the experience of choreographing them, while Tina rubbed his back, “I'd say it's like trying to teach zombies how to dance, but zombies rock at dancing. The 'Thriller' video proves it!”
Tina made soothing noises as Mike put his head in his hands.
“Kurt?” Mercedes asked. He was lying in the aisle of the auditorium, his eyes closed. He knew what was coming, and he did not want to deal with it.
“Yes, Mercedes?”
“We need a plan B. They don't work on this kind of music.”
“I know.”
“You need to tell them.”
Kurt sat straight up. “Why do I need to be the one to tell them?”
Mercedes shot him a look. “Because you're the only one who's going to be able to do it in a way that doesn't offend them so much they pull a Rachel Berry-storm out?”
Kurt collapsed back onto the floor. “I hate it when you're right.”
“You must be a pretty hate-filled person, then, sweetie. Look out, here they come.” And indeed, Warblers began filing into the auditorium for the second half of rehearsal.
“Oh, damn it,” Kurt sighed. He got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the stage. He needed to work out what he was going to say to his Dalton friends.
Once all the Warblers had assembled in the first few rows of the audience, the members of New Directions looked at Kurt expectantly. Kurt massaged his temples.
“Okay, everyone. I think we need to admit that this whole funk thing isn't working out,” he said. Thankfully, instead of looking upset, the Warblers all just looked relieved. “We need a new plan, and it needs to be something we both can do, but something Vocal Adrenaline can't.”
“I thought the only thing they couldn't do was funk?” Blaine said dejectedly.
“There has to be something else,” Kurt replied. Everyone sat for a minute, thinking. Suddenly, an idea popped into Kurt's mind. He snapped his head up, just in time to see Rachel do the same thing, her eyes and smile wide with the energy that only comes with a new plan.
“I've got it,” they said at the same time.
“Oh god, they have that scheming look. That look only leads to bad things,” Finn said.
“Yes,” Rachel said, “but only for our enemies. Kurt, your plan?”
“It's true they lack the ability to do funk, but there's something else we have that they don't,” Kurt grinned. He could tell by Rachel's nodding along that they were on the same wavelength.
“And that is?” Wes asked.
“Soul,” Rachel replied.
* * *
And that was how the members of the Warblers and New Directions found themselves walking through the Carmel High with a good portion of the McKinley jazz band (and their equipment), ready to perform a mash-up of “Soul Man” and “Son of a Preacher Man” for the soulless automatons of Vocal Adrenaline.
“The auditorium is just down this hallway,” Rachel said. Mercedes and Quinn nodded.
“I don't mean to be rude,” Blaine said as he adjusted his grip on the crash cymbal he was carrying, “but why exactly are you all intimately acquainted with the layout of Carmel High?”
“There was maybe some . . . premature observation of our fellow performers last year,” Rachel confessed.
Blaine lowered his voice to Kurt. “So, you guys have a habit of spying on the competition, huh?” He made a tsk-ing noise. “And I thought you were such nice, upstanding young people.”
Kurt knew Blaine was joking, but he felt that weird need he'd started getting to stand up for Rachel. “In her defense, there were extenuating circumstances.”
“And for you?” Blaine smirked.
Kurt did his best to glare at him, and then smacked him on the arm. “Shut up,” he said, but he was grinning.
They soon reached the auditorium and took their positions on stage, New Directions stage left, the Warblers stage right. The jazz band set up in the back. Vocal Adrenaline's rehearsal would be starting any minute.
“Wait. What are we going to do about their director?” asked Wes.
“I got it covered,” Puck said. Every head in New Directions (and several from the Warblers who had picked up on Puck's juvenile delinquent behavior) turned to look at him.
“You didn't do anything criminal, did you?” Rachel asked.
“Relax, I just superglued the door of his office shut. It'll take him at least fifteen minutes to get a janitor with a crowbar to pry him out.”
“How can you be sure?” asked Artie.
“I paid the day janitor twenty bucks to ignore his phone until 3:30.”
Almost on cue, Vocal Adrenaline came through the back doors of the auditorium. Of course they all entered as a group, Kurt thought. None of them would dare be late for a rehearsal. It was all part of Vocal Adrenaline's general Stepford Housewife-ness.
They didn't seem too surprised to see the group on stage, though. At least, they didn't until they realized that both groups they'd funkified were there. Then there started to be a few concerned glances amongst the members as they filed into seats in the audience.
Blaine and Rachel stepped up to the front of the stage.
“Thank you all so very much for being on time,” Blaine said in his best smarmy-rich-kid-fake-polite voice. “Now, you may be asking yourselves, 'Why on earth have our two competitors, who are competitors themselves, joined forces?' And I understand your confusion.”
“But what you all apparently don't realize,” Rachel said, taking the proverbial baton from Blaine as they'd discussed on the car ride over, “is that show choir doesn't have to be about back-stabbing, about intimidation, about heartless competition. You can see your competitors and respect their talents,” she smiled at the Warblers, “and wish them well, even while hoping that your group is just a little bit better that day.”
“Because show choir is about more than winning competitions,” Blaine said. “It's about expressing your emotions, your feelings, and making yourself and the people around you feel a little bit better, one three-minute song at a time. It is about opening yourself up to joy.”
Kurt could feel the knowing smiles of the New Directions kids at Blaine's last sentence. He'd given his friend that one the night before, when Blaine had been panicking about what he would say.
“And so, we have decided to team up to teach you all a lesson,” Rachel said. “Your bullying behavior is a disgrace to the institution of show choir, and we intend to show you how great you can be when you lead with your heart and let your performance have soul.”
They returned to their places. Blaine stood in front of the Warblers, who were arranged in a block formation, and Rachel folded back into the semi-circle of New Directions members behind Mercedes, who had the first female lead of the number.
Once everyone was in position, the Warblers began to sing the opening guitar part of “Soul Man” a cappella, snapping their fingers on the beat. Then, three and a half measures in, the McKinley horn section kicked in. The rhythm section joined on beat one of the next bar, and Kurt ran from his place with the Warblers to join the members of New Directions for the partner dance they had choreographed over the introduction. He grabbed Tina, while Mike danced with Santana, Finn danced with Quinn, Sam danced with Lauren, Puck danced with Brittany, and Artie danced with Rachel. Both Mercedes and the Warblers did some freestyle step-twos.
“Comin' to ya,” Blaine sang with his usual lead-singer dance moves, “on a dusty road.” The Warblers echoed the last words of every line gospel-style as they did a routine of spins and steps behind him.
“Good lovin', I got a truck load.
And when you get it, you got something.
So don't worry, 'cause I'm comin'.”
“I'm a soul man,” Blaine sang, and Artie wheeled himself over to sing the low part on the repeat. “I'm a soul man,” they sang together. “I'm a soul man . . . I'm a soul man!”
The horns played, and then the whole group, every performer on stage plus the band, stopped for a beat. When they came back in on beat one of the next measure, it was doing an up-tempo version of “Son of a Preacher Man,” with Mercedes singing lead.
“Billy-Ray was a preacher's son,
And when his daddy would visit he'd come along,
When they gathered 'round and started talking,
That's when Billy would take me walking,
Through the back yard we'd go walking,
Then he'd look into my eyes,
Lord knows to my surprise--”
“They only boy who could ever reach me,” she sang, and the rest of New Directions (plus Kurt, minus Artie) backed her up on, “was the son of a preacher man,” just like on the Dusty Springfield recording. There'd been some argument from the other guys on this, but twin death glares from Kurt and Mercedes and the threat of a lecture on masculinity and tolerance from Rachel had shut them up.
“The only boy who could ever teach me,
Was the son of a preacher man,
Yes he was, he was, ooooh yes he was.”
The band immediately went back into the instrumental part for “Soul Man,” and Blaine and Artie came in after two bars, trading lines.
“Got what I got, the hard way,” Blaine sang. “The hard way,” the Warblers echoed as they did on the first verse.
“And I'll make it better, each and every day,” Artie sang, sparing a glance for Brittany as he did a spin in his wheelchair.
“So honey, don't you fret.”
“'Cause you ain't seen, nothing yet.”
“I'm a soul man,” they both sang, this time with the Warblers backing them up. That wasn't the only change to the chorus. The mash-up kicked in on beat one of the next measure, where the horn part had been before, and New Directions began to layer in lines from their song:
“The only boy who could ever reach me.” But before they hit the word “reach” on beat four, the Warblers came back with “Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
The horns hit the their part at the end of the chorus of “Soul Man,” and Santana stepped forward to sing the bridge from “Son of a Preacher Man.”
“How well I remember,
The look that was in his eyes,
Stealing kisses from me on the sly,
Taking time to make time,
Telling me that he's all mine,
Learning from each other's knowing,
Looking to see how much we'd grown.”
“Soul man,” the Warblers sang, launching the song back into the same arrangement of the chorus as before.
“The only one who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only one who could ever reach me.”
“Was a soul man.”
“The only boy who could ever teach me.”
The music abruptly cut off, and on Blaine's cue, all of the singers began to softly hum a chord. Rachel Berry stepped to the front of the stage.
“The only boy who could ever reach me,” she sang, milking the words for all they were worth, “was the sweet-talkin' son of a soul man.” She took a deep breath. “Soul MAN!” Rachel wailed on this last phrase, hitting the same pitches she had on the end of the “Halo”/“Walkin' on Sunshine” mash-up, only this time she held the ridiculous high note, and the rest of the group, Warblers and New Direction-ers alike, sang an amazing gospel chorus “Yeeeeeeeeeeah” underneath it while the drummer went crazy and the saxophone player played scale runs up and down his instrument.
Kurt Hummel did not believe in God; he never had and he never would. But the sound he heard at the end of that number was what he imagined it would be like to see the sky open and God Himself standing there with all of Heaven spread out behind Him.
And also angels.
Rachel cut off the band by jumping into the air. As soon as she landed, all sound ceased.
Vocal Adrenaline just sat there, completely stunned. The backdoors to the auditorium opened, and their director, Dustin Goolsby walked in. The jazz band began to hurriedly pack up their things.
“What the hell are you people doing here?” he asked.
“Oh, your group was kind enough to perform for us, so we thought we'd return the favor,” Rachel said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
“But we were just leaving,” Blaine added, grabbing one end of the bass amp while Puck grabbed the other. “Anyway, thanks for listening, and good luck to you at Regionals!” he said as inauthentically as possible.
Both groups hurried out of the auditorium and to the parking lot.
“That was freakin' awesome,” Artie said.
“Yeah, it kind of makes me wish we didn't have to compete against each other,” Wes said. Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Well, I guess that's it, then,” Kurt said. New Directions had to get back to Lima, and the Warblers had to get back to Dalton.
Reluctantly, the two groups began saying goodbye to each other. Handshakes and occasional hugs were given to the rest of the Warblers, but Kurt got bear hugs and tears. He realized, sadly, that that was probably the last time he would ever perform with his New Directions friends.
“Good luck to you guys. Seriously,” Blaine said.
“Good luck to you, too,” Finn said.
“Kurt?” Rachel pulled him away from the group for a second.
“What's up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to let you know, we're giving you guys a little present.”
Kurt raised his eyebrows. “What sort of present?”
“Mike Chang dance lessons Monday and Thursday nights.”
“You're lending us Mike Chang?” Kurt asked. “You do realize, that with actual dance moves, we could potentially be competition?”
“We know,” Rachel said. “But we decided that the abject humiliation of Vocal Adrenaline is more important than Nationals. Glee stays whether we get first or second, so as long as we both beat Vocal Adrenaline, it will be a win for everyone.”
“Really? That's a remarkably egalitarian attitude for New Directions.”
Rachel smirked. “Well, we're not expecting you guys to win, of course. We figured that the key to the Warblers' success was your harmonizing, and we've been working on improving our ensemble singing in turn. We even had a whole a cappella week. Puck had a fit. But honestly? Even with Mike's help, I don't think that your group's dancing is ever going to be a threat to us. We just want you to be good enough to embarrass Vocal Adrenaline with a third-place finish.”
Kurt narrowed his eyes at Rachel's comment about the Warblers, but he couldn't really argue with her. “Still, though, you are Rachel Berry. There's a chance that with Mike's help we could beat you, and you don't do second best.”
“Maybe I've experienced some personal growth recently.” Kurt arched an eyebrow at her. She sighed. “Jesse has been flying in from L.A. every weekend to coach their vocals.”
“Ah,” Kurt smiled. Humiliation for Jesse St. James, he could understand. “Now that's the Rachel Berry I know and tolerate.” She swatted him on the arm for that, but they both knew he said it teasingly now. She gave him a quick hug, and they went back to join their respective groups.
“Bye, everyone,” Wes called as the Warblers got into their cars. “We'll see you at Regionals!”
Kurt climbed into the driver's seat of his car, and watched his old friends get into theirs. He sighed.
“You okay?” Blaine asked from the passenger's seat.
Kurt took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah,” he said as he watched Quinn's car pull out of the parking lot, followed by Puck's truck, Mike's station wagon, and Artie's van. “I'll be fine.”