GLEE FIC AGAIN
BUT NOT JUST BLAINE/KURT THIS TIME. NO, SRSLY, HEAR ME OUT.
A long time ago, before we knew basically anything about season 2, Nicole and I were dreaming up a fake Glee episode (as we are wont to do). The way Glee does their ~themed episodes makes that pretty easy to do, because you just take a theme and kind of run with it. And I was like, What if there was a "telephone"-themed episode? The original take on it was that the ep would be set over a holiday/break/couple days off from school, where none of the glee club kids would actually get to see each other face-to-face, so they would be calling and texting each other instead. Problem is, there were a lot of them who wouldn't want to talk, so while one set of people would be like "answer damnit!" the other half would be like "stop calling me!" Because, you know, drama. Then they'd get back to school and have to deal face-to-face with all the shit they'd started via cell phone over the break, and that would be awkward and shit. And I had made a list of songs I really wanted to use, and it was awesome.
Well, obviously, that all went out the window when a) season 2 started and b) season 2 used "Telephone" by Gaga & Beyonce in the first damn episode. But since I'm on such a Blaine/Kurt high, and since I REALLY wanted to do a multi-part fic for this fandom, I decided to revisit the telephone shit, and figured I could still work in "Telephone" as long as it was referencing the original Rachel vs. Sunshine version. Then there was the Blaine/Kurt storyline, of course. But then there was suddenly a Tina/Artie storyline. And a Rachel/Finn - Finn/Santana storyline. And I wanted boybands. And then I kind of vomited up this fic in the last 48 hours.
So here's chapter 1.
CHAPTER 1: Don't Wanna Think Any More
Rachel sat in the front row of seats in the choir practice room right across from the piano just like always. On her right was Finn and on her left was Mercedes, and she was just checking her buff-pink nail polish when Mr. Schuester walked in brandishing a little bit of sheet music and already giving her a significant look. It excited Rachel - she felt a solo coming on.
"Okay, gang," said Mr. Schue. "I know we kind of hit on Lady Gaga a bunch already with our theatricality assignment last year, but, well, that's a lot of the reason I want to go back to her today. You guys were so on when that happened, I could tell that a lot of you were really feeling it. I think if we periodically go back to the stuff that makes us happiest - " he nodded pretty specifically to some space behind Rachel, where Rachel assumed Kurt was sitting - "we can scoop some of that good mojo back into this year's performances too. For today, I think this one is pretty perfect for Rachel and Mercedes. You two wanna come up and give me a hand?"
"Absolutely," Rachel said. In the same moment Mercedes answered with "Hell yeah." They bounced up, flashing each other an excited look as they crossed to the piano, and took the music from Mr. Schue.
Rachel glanced down at the one-word title printed across the top and absolutely froze.
Telephone.
"I'd figured that you could be Gaga and Mercedes could be Beyonce, but if you'd rather reverse parts that's fine too," said Mr. Schue, misconstruing Rachel's alarm. But being racially typecast had nothing to do with her moue of panic. No, Rachel's alarm and dismay was all a direct result of flashing back to the very first day of junior year, and that horrible, wonderful, horrible girl.
Unfortunately, Brad started playing out the piano part before she could catch her bearings, and without being prepared to refuse Rachel's mouth sort of began to operate on autopilot.
Hello hello baby you called I can't hear a thing
I have got no service in the club, you see
Whaaat did you say, boy you're breakin' up on me
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy
Mercedes stared her down, grinning in a way that looked part fun and challenging and part totally evil, and when she opened her mouth to continue Rachel began to lose it.
Stop callin' stop callin' I don't wanna think any more
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor
Stop callin' stop callin' I don't wanna talk any more
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor
And Mercedes was continuing to sing, but suddenly the voice that was coming out of her mouth wasn't hers any more, and Quinn and Brittany joined in on some weird backup vocals that totally shouldn't have been in this arrangement and her nail polish turned bright man-eater red like Santana's and all Rachel can hear any more is Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine everywhere -
"This is a disaster!"
Rachel flies upright in her bed, cold sweat seeping into her favorite nightie, and decides she can't take this any more. Her hand is clammy as it reaches under her pillow to grasp at her cell phone.
"Finn!" she hisses into the darkness of her room.
"Rachel?" he says groggily from the other end. "What are you, it's like three in the freaking morning - "
"This cannot go on any longer," she declares, clutching the phone to the side of her face with both hands. "I am having nightmares, Finn. Nightmares!"
"Rachel - "
"Do you understand what this means? I never have nightmares, Finn, because my dreams are too full of me and my goals for negative thoughts to intrude!"
"Okay, my brain doesn't even work that fast when I am awake, so you're really gonna have to back up."
"I just cannot get over that little miracle Sunshine girl," says Rachel, practically sobbing. "She was so...so good. Which is bad!"
"Good is bad - "
"Have you noticed we've barely heard anything out of Vocal Adrenaline this season? They are up to something, they're being way too quiet to not have something explosive up their sleeves for sectionals!"
"Quiet is explosive - "
"I just can't take not knowing! It is going to go around and around in my head until I can triangulate in on exactly what it is they're doing."
"Round is triangle - look, Rachel, can you just go back to bed? And then at bowling tomorrow - uh, tonight I guess - you can tell me all about it."
"You think I can bowl like this?" she demands. "No, Finn, I'm going to have to back out of date night to go spying, or at least go talk to my mom. I adore you, but in the place I'm at right now my sanity is more important." She hangs up, trying to figure out why she even called him in the first place, and, knowing she will never make it back to sleep with the haunting beats of Beyonce and Gaga ringing in her mental ear, decides to get a couple of extra hours in on her elliptical.
They got into her dreams.
And this means war.
-xxx-
Mercedes scopes out the crowded cafeteria for a moment, tray in hand, until she spots Kurt and Tina already seated at a table back in the absolute crappiest corner. But they'll take it if it means they get to all sit together. Awkwardly, she maneuvers her way through the press of people until she can sit down. Tina smiles and says "hey" immediately, but Kurt's peering down into his lap as discreetly as possible, no doubt looking at his cell phone. It takes about two seconds for Mercedes to interpret the warm glaze over his eyes correctly - he's got a text from Blaine.
"Git it, lovebird," she says, tearing open a ketchup packet.
"It's - it's nothing," says Kurt, a little too vehemently, flicking his phone closed again and snapping out of his mini-trance. Tina giggles at the face he makes.
"Sure, sure. Kurt, how much longer are you gonna go on pretending you're not totally head over heels for this guy?"
"As long as I have to," Kurt says with a groan. "I just keep remembering the shit we flipped when Rachel was dating Jesse, and we're the sane ones in this group. If things between me and Blaine start going down before sectionals, neither of us will probably make it to sectionals. It's very literally a kiss of death."
"I can take her," says Tina, brandishing the chopsticks from the bento box her dad packs her every other day (her mom lets her have normal food). "Seriously. Give me an excuse and I will punch her in the face."
"Besides," says Mercedes, dunking a chicken nugget, "we always knew Jesse was bad news. Blaine is cool. I'm pretty sure every Warbler is enough of a gentleman not to pull the crap that Jesse was pulling. People will understand."
"Rachel isn't people," Kurt and Tina say at once. Kurt leaves his mouth open like he's going to continue talking, but his phone buzzes in his grip and he looks back down at it, way too excited.
"Oh. Oh my god."
"What is it?" Tina demands, crowding up to him to read over his shoulder.
"The Warblers are doing their top-secret a cappella initiation ritual this week and - and Blaine just invited me to come get initiated as an honorary member!" Kurt's face is paler than he and his MAC products have let it get in years, and Mercedes would be worried if it weren't so adorable. The boy is in love.
"It can't be that top-secret if he's broadcasting it to you openly in a text," says Tina.
"Sounds like hazing," says Mercedes with a laugh.
"Deluxe, awesome, super-exclusive hazing," Kurt says, a swoon in every syllable. "Ladies, this is deathly serious. What do I say?"
"Say yes, duh!" Mercedes says. "What in the world have you got to lose?"
"Problem," says Tina, still staring down at Kurt's phone. "It's in the middle of the night, on a Thursday. My curfew may set the bar for freaking ridiculous, but I know even yours won't be lenient enough to allow that. And I've only met your dad like twice."
"He'll understand though, won't he?" says Kurt, voice weakening. "He's got to!"
"Not if you can't tell him," Tina points out. "It's supposed to be a secret."
"Yeah, you probably shouldn't have even told us," says Mercedes.
"But what do I do?" says Kurt, beginning to panic. "The Warblers only initiate non-Dalton students on the rarest and freakiest of occasions. Blaine's probably pulled so many strings to get them to do this for me..." His eyes are getting misty again and Mercedes can't stand to watch him go through this.
"Just tell him you're spending the night with me," she says.
"Lie, to my dad? Did you miss the part where he already had one heart attack?"
"No, this could totally work!" says Tina. "Say you're working on a time-sensitive project for glee, that Mr. Schue sprang on you last-minute, and if you don't have the costumes you'll be royally screwed. Well, don't say royally screwed to your dad."
"And I'll totally cover for you," says Mercedes. "We got this."
"Oh, what would I do without you," he gushes, pressing one gauntlet-gloved hand to hers across the white plastic table.
"You would never get any," she teases. He rolls his eyes, but with her smiling at him and Tina leaning over his shoulder again, he texts back an assurance to Blaine that come Thursday night, he will most definitely be there.
-xxx-
Puck's one of the last people to lope into the choir room after school, snagging his favorite seat at the back-left and chucking his backpack carelessly to the floor, and he likes it that way because he's able to scope out the room a little bit before Schuester gets there. Santana's looking extra-fine today. Rachel's looking particularly annoying. He can already tell this is going to be a long practice. With a sigh, he slouches back in his chair and just tries to resign himself to getting it all over with.
Down at the other end of the row, Brittany and Quinn hunch over their fingernails, chattering away about Britt's pink versus Quinn's pink when really? They are seriously just freaking pink. Mercedes is twisting some weird braid thing into Tina's hair in the row ahead. Mike tries to lean in for a kiss and Mercedes slaps him away.
"Cockblocked," says Puck as Mike slumps into the seat next to him.
"It's been really hard to get close to her lately," says Mike. "The girls are going crazy."
"I know what you mean," says Sam from Mike's other side, leaning in. "Quinn and Santana keep talking about how much they really just need to plan a girls' night. What the heck do girls even do when they're all alone and girly, anyway?"
"Pillow fights," says Artie from down in front, and for a second there they all glaze over, picturing it. Puck's got a specific bra of Brittany's in mind, but he can't decide if she should be wearing it or Santana should. Shit.
"And they never invite us," groans Mike.
"Well can you blame them?" says Sam. "I mean, if I were there for some of that stuff, every other word outta my mouth would have to be Beiste."
"Screw that," says Puck suddenly. "Why don't we just plan a dudes' night?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But instead of staying in, we're going out."
"I dunno," says Mike. "Tina's been pretty close to busting my balls for less, and my parents are super-Asian."
"Look, guys, this is what you need to understand," says Puck, picking up steam. "Do you know what happens two weekends from now?" No one answers. "Really? 'Cause I bet you Finn and Princess sure do."
"Kurt's dad and Finn's mom are having that engagement party!" says Artie.
"Exactly. And you know who else knows it? Every single chick in this room." Still hunched in together, the four of them turn their gaze outward, where Santana is showing Brittany and Quinn something on her cell phone and they're all giggling, Mercedes has moved to the other side of Tina's head, and even Rachel seems to have gotten obsessed with filing her nails to nitpicky perfection in the front row.
"Engagement means wedding," says Puck. "And wedding means that all the girls we know are going to suddenly get it into their heads that they want to be even freaking girlier then they already are. If we don't get out soon, we may lose our only chance at having a true bro outing before we fall slave to this ocean of estrogen again."
"Puck's right," says Artie. "I'll even DD, if y'all don't mind cruising in my cripple car."
"Done and done," says Puck. "I'll text it when I work out the deets."
"Text what?" says Finn, the last to lumber in, with Schuester right on his heels.
Sam and Puck exchange a grin, and it spreads to Mike and Artie too. "The night of your teenage life."
-xxx-
tbc.
download music from this chapter: Telephone - Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce
A long time ago, before we knew basically anything about season 2, Nicole and I were dreaming up a fake Glee episode (as we are wont to do). The way Glee does their ~themed episodes makes that pretty easy to do, because you just take a theme and kind of run with it. And I was like, What if there was a "telephone"-themed episode? The original take on it was that the ep would be set over a holiday/break/couple days off from school, where none of the glee club kids would actually get to see each other face-to-face, so they would be calling and texting each other instead. Problem is, there were a lot of them who wouldn't want to talk, so while one set of people would be like "answer damnit!" the other half would be like "stop calling me!" Because, you know, drama. Then they'd get back to school and have to deal face-to-face with all the shit they'd started via cell phone over the break, and that would be awkward and shit. And I had made a list of songs I really wanted to use, and it was awesome.
Well, obviously, that all went out the window when a) season 2 started and b) season 2 used "Telephone" by Gaga & Beyonce in the first damn episode. But since I'm on such a Blaine/Kurt high, and since I REALLY wanted to do a multi-part fic for this fandom, I decided to revisit the telephone shit, and figured I could still work in "Telephone" as long as it was referencing the original Rachel vs. Sunshine version. Then there was the Blaine/Kurt storyline, of course. But then there was suddenly a Tina/Artie storyline. And a Rachel/Finn - Finn/Santana storyline. And I wanted boybands. And then I kind of vomited up this fic in the last 48 hours.
So here's chapter 1.
CHAPTER 1: Don't Wanna Think Any More
Rachel sat in the front row of seats in the choir practice room right across from the piano just like always. On her right was Finn and on her left was Mercedes, and she was just checking her buff-pink nail polish when Mr. Schuester walked in brandishing a little bit of sheet music and already giving her a significant look. It excited Rachel - she felt a solo coming on.
"Okay, gang," said Mr. Schue. "I know we kind of hit on Lady Gaga a bunch already with our theatricality assignment last year, but, well, that's a lot of the reason I want to go back to her today. You guys were so on when that happened, I could tell that a lot of you were really feeling it. I think if we periodically go back to the stuff that makes us happiest - " he nodded pretty specifically to some space behind Rachel, where Rachel assumed Kurt was sitting - "we can scoop some of that good mojo back into this year's performances too. For today, I think this one is pretty perfect for Rachel and Mercedes. You two wanna come up and give me a hand?"
"Absolutely," Rachel said. In the same moment Mercedes answered with "Hell yeah." They bounced up, flashing each other an excited look as they crossed to the piano, and took the music from Mr. Schue.
Rachel glanced down at the one-word title printed across the top and absolutely froze.
Telephone.
"I'd figured that you could be Gaga and Mercedes could be Beyonce, but if you'd rather reverse parts that's fine too," said Mr. Schue, misconstruing Rachel's alarm. But being racially typecast had nothing to do with her moue of panic. No, Rachel's alarm and dismay was all a direct result of flashing back to the very first day of junior year, and that horrible, wonderful, horrible girl.
Unfortunately, Brad started playing out the piano part before she could catch her bearings, and without being prepared to refuse Rachel's mouth sort of began to operate on autopilot.
Hello hello baby you called I can't hear a thing
I have got no service in the club, you see
Whaaat did you say, boy you're breakin' up on me
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy
Mercedes stared her down, grinning in a way that looked part fun and challenging and part totally evil, and when she opened her mouth to continue Rachel began to lose it.
Stop callin' stop callin' I don't wanna think any more
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor
Stop callin' stop callin' I don't wanna talk any more
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor
And Mercedes was continuing to sing, but suddenly the voice that was coming out of her mouth wasn't hers any more, and Quinn and Brittany joined in on some weird backup vocals that totally shouldn't have been in this arrangement and her nail polish turned bright man-eater red like Santana's and all Rachel can hear any more is Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine everywhere -
"This is a disaster!"
Rachel flies upright in her bed, cold sweat seeping into her favorite nightie, and decides she can't take this any more. Her hand is clammy as it reaches under her pillow to grasp at her cell phone.
"Finn!" she hisses into the darkness of her room.
"Rachel?" he says groggily from the other end. "What are you, it's like three in the freaking morning - "
"This cannot go on any longer," she declares, clutching the phone to the side of her face with both hands. "I am having nightmares, Finn. Nightmares!"
"Rachel - "
"Do you understand what this means? I never have nightmares, Finn, because my dreams are too full of me and my goals for negative thoughts to intrude!"
"Okay, my brain doesn't even work that fast when I am awake, so you're really gonna have to back up."
"I just cannot get over that little miracle Sunshine girl," says Rachel, practically sobbing. "She was so...so good. Which is bad!"
"Good is bad - "
"Have you noticed we've barely heard anything out of Vocal Adrenaline this season? They are up to something, they're being way too quiet to not have something explosive up their sleeves for sectionals!"
"Quiet is explosive - "
"I just can't take not knowing! It is going to go around and around in my head until I can triangulate in on exactly what it is they're doing."
"Round is triangle - look, Rachel, can you just go back to bed? And then at bowling tomorrow - uh, tonight I guess - you can tell me all about it."
"You think I can bowl like this?" she demands. "No, Finn, I'm going to have to back out of date night to go spying, or at least go talk to my mom. I adore you, but in the place I'm at right now my sanity is more important." She hangs up, trying to figure out why she even called him in the first place, and, knowing she will never make it back to sleep with the haunting beats of Beyonce and Gaga ringing in her mental ear, decides to get a couple of extra hours in on her elliptical.
They got into her dreams.
And this means war.
-xxx-
Mercedes scopes out the crowded cafeteria for a moment, tray in hand, until she spots Kurt and Tina already seated at a table back in the absolute crappiest corner. But they'll take it if it means they get to all sit together. Awkwardly, she maneuvers her way through the press of people until she can sit down. Tina smiles and says "hey" immediately, but Kurt's peering down into his lap as discreetly as possible, no doubt looking at his cell phone. It takes about two seconds for Mercedes to interpret the warm glaze over his eyes correctly - he's got a text from Blaine.
"Git it, lovebird," she says, tearing open a ketchup packet.
"It's - it's nothing," says Kurt, a little too vehemently, flicking his phone closed again and snapping out of his mini-trance. Tina giggles at the face he makes.
"Sure, sure. Kurt, how much longer are you gonna go on pretending you're not totally head over heels for this guy?"
"As long as I have to," Kurt says with a groan. "I just keep remembering the shit we flipped when Rachel was dating Jesse, and we're the sane ones in this group. If things between me and Blaine start going down before sectionals, neither of us will probably make it to sectionals. It's very literally a kiss of death."
"I can take her," says Tina, brandishing the chopsticks from the bento box her dad packs her every other day (her mom lets her have normal food). "Seriously. Give me an excuse and I will punch her in the face."
"Besides," says Mercedes, dunking a chicken nugget, "we always knew Jesse was bad news. Blaine is cool. I'm pretty sure every Warbler is enough of a gentleman not to pull the crap that Jesse was pulling. People will understand."
"Rachel isn't people," Kurt and Tina say at once. Kurt leaves his mouth open like he's going to continue talking, but his phone buzzes in his grip and he looks back down at it, way too excited.
"Oh. Oh my god."
"What is it?" Tina demands, crowding up to him to read over his shoulder.
"The Warblers are doing their top-secret a cappella initiation ritual this week and - and Blaine just invited me to come get initiated as an honorary member!" Kurt's face is paler than he and his MAC products have let it get in years, and Mercedes would be worried if it weren't so adorable. The boy is in love.
"It can't be that top-secret if he's broadcasting it to you openly in a text," says Tina.
"Sounds like hazing," says Mercedes with a laugh.
"Deluxe, awesome, super-exclusive hazing," Kurt says, a swoon in every syllable. "Ladies, this is deathly serious. What do I say?"
"Say yes, duh!" Mercedes says. "What in the world have you got to lose?"
"Problem," says Tina, still staring down at Kurt's phone. "It's in the middle of the night, on a Thursday. My curfew may set the bar for freaking ridiculous, but I know even yours won't be lenient enough to allow that. And I've only met your dad like twice."
"He'll understand though, won't he?" says Kurt, voice weakening. "He's got to!"
"Not if you can't tell him," Tina points out. "It's supposed to be a secret."
"Yeah, you probably shouldn't have even told us," says Mercedes.
"But what do I do?" says Kurt, beginning to panic. "The Warblers only initiate non-Dalton students on the rarest and freakiest of occasions. Blaine's probably pulled so many strings to get them to do this for me..." His eyes are getting misty again and Mercedes can't stand to watch him go through this.
"Just tell him you're spending the night with me," she says.
"Lie, to my dad? Did you miss the part where he already had one heart attack?"
"No, this could totally work!" says Tina. "Say you're working on a time-sensitive project for glee, that Mr. Schue sprang on you last-minute, and if you don't have the costumes you'll be royally screwed. Well, don't say royally screwed to your dad."
"And I'll totally cover for you," says Mercedes. "We got this."
"Oh, what would I do without you," he gushes, pressing one gauntlet-gloved hand to hers across the white plastic table.
"You would never get any," she teases. He rolls his eyes, but with her smiling at him and Tina leaning over his shoulder again, he texts back an assurance to Blaine that come Thursday night, he will most definitely be there.
-xxx-
Puck's one of the last people to lope into the choir room after school, snagging his favorite seat at the back-left and chucking his backpack carelessly to the floor, and he likes it that way because he's able to scope out the room a little bit before Schuester gets there. Santana's looking extra-fine today. Rachel's looking particularly annoying. He can already tell this is going to be a long practice. With a sigh, he slouches back in his chair and just tries to resign himself to getting it all over with.
Down at the other end of the row, Brittany and Quinn hunch over their fingernails, chattering away about Britt's pink versus Quinn's pink when really? They are seriously just freaking pink. Mercedes is twisting some weird braid thing into Tina's hair in the row ahead. Mike tries to lean in for a kiss and Mercedes slaps him away.
"Cockblocked," says Puck as Mike slumps into the seat next to him.
"It's been really hard to get close to her lately," says Mike. "The girls are going crazy."
"I know what you mean," says Sam from Mike's other side, leaning in. "Quinn and Santana keep talking about how much they really just need to plan a girls' night. What the heck do girls even do when they're all alone and girly, anyway?"
"Pillow fights," says Artie from down in front, and for a second there they all glaze over, picturing it. Puck's got a specific bra of Brittany's in mind, but he can't decide if she should be wearing it or Santana should. Shit.
"And they never invite us," groans Mike.
"Well can you blame them?" says Sam. "I mean, if I were there for some of that stuff, every other word outta my mouth would have to be Beiste."
"Screw that," says Puck suddenly. "Why don't we just plan a dudes' night?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. But instead of staying in, we're going out."
"I dunno," says Mike. "Tina's been pretty close to busting my balls for less, and my parents are super-Asian."
"Look, guys, this is what you need to understand," says Puck, picking up steam. "Do you know what happens two weekends from now?" No one answers. "Really? 'Cause I bet you Finn and Princess sure do."
"Kurt's dad and Finn's mom are having that engagement party!" says Artie.
"Exactly. And you know who else knows it? Every single chick in this room." Still hunched in together, the four of them turn their gaze outward, where Santana is showing Brittany and Quinn something on her cell phone and they're all giggling, Mercedes has moved to the other side of Tina's head, and even Rachel seems to have gotten obsessed with filing her nails to nitpicky perfection in the front row.
"Engagement means wedding," says Puck. "And wedding means that all the girls we know are going to suddenly get it into their heads that they want to be even freaking girlier then they already are. If we don't get out soon, we may lose our only chance at having a true bro outing before we fall slave to this ocean of estrogen again."
"Puck's right," says Artie. "I'll even DD, if y'all don't mind cruising in my cripple car."
"Done and done," says Puck. "I'll text it when I work out the deets."
"Text what?" says Finn, the last to lumber in, with Schuester right on his heels.
Sam and Puck exchange a grin, and it spreads to Mike and Artie too. "The night of your teenage life."
-xxx-
tbc.
download music from this chapter: Telephone - Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce