V is for Vintage
“Hey, hey Brittany.” She turned at Blaine’s words. “So, Mike and I” Mike waved, feeling oddly self-conscious. He’d offered to ask Brittany, but Blaine had been determined. “were thinking about maybe doing a song, one that we might be able to perform at Nationals. The theme is Vintage, and I have a lot of vintage stuff so we should be able to find something.”
Brittany cocked her head to the side. “Is that why you sing about alcohol all the time?”
“So I - wait, what?”
“You sing about alcohol all the time.”
“I… do?” He looked at Mike. Mike thought about it, and had to nod. Huh, he’d never realized that before. Blaine blinked, surprised, and turned back to Brittany. “I do. I hadn’t realized that before. But I didn’t mean vintage like wine, I meant vintage like old. I have a lot of old music.”
Brittany sighed, and it sounded like it should be angry but it mostly just sounded tired. “People should just say what they mean. Or use subtitles. Those help sometimes.”
Mike nodded sympathetically. Words were hard.
“We were thinking about You Should Be Dancing.” Blaine said after a moment.
“You should be dancing!” Blaine said, waving the record like a flag. Mike clapped so hard his hands ached with it.
Brittany side-eyed them, confused. “I’m always dancing.”
Mike grinned at her over Blaine’s head. Me too he mouthed.
Blaine nodded. “Which is exactly why we need you. But I meant the song, You Should be Dancing, not that you, specifically Brittany, should be dancing right now. Though we would like you to dance with us, during the number.”
“Wait, do you want me to dance or not?”
“Sorry.” Blaine said automatically, and then again, more softly. “Sorry. I meant, we want you to dance with us, for the song You Should Be Dancing from the album Saturday Night Fever.”
“I had a fever on Saturday Night once. It didn’t make me want to dance. It made me want to throw up.” Brittany sucked her pen thoughtfully; Blaine suspected he’s find it painfully erotic if he swung that way. Hell, even gay as the rainbow it made him have to clear his throat a few times.
“So, do you think you can come over tonight and help us choreograph the song? We could really use your help with the dance moves, everyone knows you’re the best.” They’d both decided that flattery would never go amiss with Brittany.
Brittany nodded. “It’s true, I am the best. But you’ll have to check with my schedule. Call Lord Tubbington, and he’ll see if he can fit you in.
“But isn’t he…” Blaine trailed off, and looked helplessly at Mike.
Mike stepped forward. “We already talked to Lord Tubbington. Apparently you have a three hour window between your last class and your sister’s ballet recital, so you can come. If you want to.”
“We’ll have fondue.” Blaine piped in. Mike had reassured him that fondue was Brittany’s catnip. It was apparently Lord Tubbington’s too.
Brittany lunged forward and caught them both in a hug. “Sure! That sounds awesome. We’ll definitely have the best old wine ever.”