Hey guys,
This is just a plot bunny that came to me and I just needed to write it.
And to all of those who are waiting for The Power of DVD, I apologise. The universe seems to be against me and I shall explain that ALL when I manage to update :)
. . . GLEE . . .
"Face it, Mr Schue," Ellie-Rose Ford sighed, picking at a loose thread on her designer jacket, "we can't win. Not against that."
The atmosphere in the green room was solemn and constricting, pushing in on the thirteen teenagers dotted around the room. The Show Choir Nationals Competition was here ― hell, they were there ― and the kids of New Directions were giving up. After watching the monsoon of talent that were the Whistling Suns, not a single one of the kids believed they could win.
They'd come all the way from Lima, Ohio to New Orleans, Louisiana just to lose.
"No. No, guys, we can beat them!" William Schuester exclaimed as he sprung up from his stone-hard armchair, and spinning to face his kids. "We've made it this far, guys. We got passed the Melodies at Sectionals; we stormed the Mockingbirds at Regionals―"
"And now we proceed to become mere particles under the monarchic feet of the rival Suns. The laws of the universe dictate this so."
Everyone in the room turned towards Aaron Wills ― or, Apollo, as he attempted to get everyone to call him, since "names are powerful things, you nonbelievers!". The dark-haired boy just continued to stand calmly in the corner, as everyone's attentions were drawn back to their teacher.
". . . yes, thank you Aar―Apollo."
Apollo nodded.
"Save your spooky mumbo-jumbo crap, Wills," an orange-skinned girl (spray tan gone wrong, but that was a different story) scowled from by the door. "I say, one of us should fake an injury and all of us, as loving, compassionate friends, refuse to perform without him―or her―" her glower directed towards Ellie-Rose did not go unnoticed. "―and, boom! Problem solved."
"Good idea, Joanna. I vote Mary."
"Oi!" Mary Buchwald exclaimed in her Australian accent, smacking her boyfriend, Parson, over the back of the head.
Will shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Suddenly he grinned, his eyes lighting up. "You can't win."
Natalie leant over to whisper in Georgia's ear, "Pep talk of the year, award."
"No, nononono. Guys, uh . . ." Mr Schue bit his lip, before snapping his fingers in replacement for the light bulb above his curly head. "You all know the picture in the choir room?"
"How could we forget?" Isaac laughed. "McKinley's best glee club."
"Yeah," Mr Schue smiled at the memories. "They were the original New Directions. Are you going to let them down by saying that you can't win?"
"Mr Schue," Joanna sighed, "we get what yous is tryin' to do, but they're the original New Directions. Like we could ever live up to them."
Will laughed. "Rachel Berry. Favourite show?"
"'Quick-Kind', Sondheim, '16," the petite Sarah Rowe announced instantly.
Katie rolled her eyes, "Pah-lease. 'STAR' was by far her best."
"You're just biased because you've only seen 'STAR' and not the wonder that is 'Quick-Kind'."
"Yeah, but the wonderful Miss Berry wrote 'STAR'."
"Co-wrote."
"Wrote."
Will interrupted Mary and Katie before they began to tear each other apart. "Kurt Hummel?"
Ellie-Rose hugged her Hummel™ jacket. She'd managed to get it cheap in a thrift store. The owner had no idea it was a 2021 original Hummel. If he had he could have sold it for thousands on EBay or even millions if he released it to the NYC Institute of Fashion. They were always looking to display designs from one of the world's greatest designer.
"Mike Chang."
Almost immediately, all of the teenagers in the room began doing their version of the Grimmson ― the dance that had originally wow-ed the crowds of Carnegie Hall and shocked managers, as Chang had defied his managers and danced the dance that he wanted to.
"MerCEDES."
"La-la-la. La-la-la. La-la-la lady fab-ou-lous!"
"You can't even hit those notes, Kevin."
"I attempted to."
"Well you shouldn't have."
William cast a fond eye around at his kids, spying two hidden in the background. He smiled, saying the name he knew would get the final two into action. "Blaine Anderson."
Dominic and Emily's head's shot up at the name. Dominic pulled Emily close, holding her tightly. They both had Mr Anderson to thank for them being together. After World War Two and a Half, Blaine Anderson had made it possible for Emily ― or more accurately, Ethan ― to be able to live his life as a Trans, legalizing adoption and anti-homophobia rights across the Northern Hemisphere.
"They were all in the position you are, right now. I remember sitting in the green room in LA with no set-list, no costumes and two performers down. And they never once said that they would lose. It was the senior year for some of the greatest stars you kids have ever known, and they barge through it. We have costumes. We have all of our best performers primed and ready and we have a kick-butt set-list!" Will looked out around at the new New Directions and grinned. "Now who wants to get out there and show them what we've got!"
"NEW DIRECTIONS!"
. . . GLEE . . .
Like it? Hate it? Review it!
I won't say I will continue this, for the sole reason that whenever I say I will, I never follow through. If you guys send me something I might write it, but I'm leaving this as a one-shot for now.
~Emily