Will thinks this might be the time to turn in his resignation.

They've been experimenting with a lot of medleys recently, if only because it appeases Rachel in her theory of showing their range without totally blowing everyone's vocal cords for the week to go through 8 or 9 songs in a go. The latest one they're working on is kind of a progression – the kids developed it themselves and it seemed like a good idea. "Tango: Maureen" from RENT segueing into the bridge from "El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge before sliding into the ending verse of "Roxanne" by the Police. It's retro, but modern, and covers pop and Broadway. He thought it might have made rehearsal run smoother.

It, unfortunately, does not.

Halfway through Finn and Rachel rehearsing choreography for their portion of the song, him spinning her into a dip and her leg around him, Quinn bursts from her position in the back in outrage. "Excuse me!" she calls.

Will ducks his head into his hands with a sigh. "Yes, Quinn?"

She chuckles. "Mr. Schuester, Rachel is throwing herself at my boyfriend."

Rachel arches a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a lesbian or something?" Quinn turns to Will. "Mr. Schuester, isn't her character like a lesbian or something?" Rachel rolls her eyes as Quinn clicks her tongue against her teeth with a sound of disgust. "Finn and I are still dating, Rachel," she says, brushing her nails quickly against her jeans in a look of boredom. "And who choreographed this anyway? What, you did?" She turns to Mr. Schuester. "You really should hire someone who knows what they're doing."

"What she's doing, Quinn. Subject-verb agreement is not your strong suit."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

"I tried to aim for something you would understand."

Simultaneously, they both perch their hands on their hips and turn to him, sighing, "Mr. Schue!"

"Rachel, we'll run it again, and you should try to be less…whatever."

"Remember you're a lesbian," Quinn says, hopping back to her spot.

"Shouldn't be hard," Quinn's friend chirps. Rachel's face colors.

Finn brushes his thumb along her arm. "Hey," he says, "Sorry about Quinn. I don't know why she's – yeah, you know."

They run it through again, Rachel and Finn trying more complex dance combinations as their song switches, Kurt parades towards the front of the stage from the back, belting out Ewan McGregor's part of the song.

Puck breaks out in laughter then and Will groans. "Yo, Mr. S, this is gay."

"What, Puck?" he asks, wearily.

"This song." He gives Kurt a violent shove. "The fruit picked it, right? Moulin Rouge?" He snorts.

Mercedes bursts forward, pushing his shoulder. "No, bitch, I picked it. You want to start something?"

Santana rolls her eyes then. "Of course the freak would defend the song. Where'd you get that outfit, 1975?"

"Better than your weave."

Rachel sniffs. "Mr. Schue, don't you think we should be getting back to rehearsal?"

"Who asked you?" Quinn snaps.

Say what you like about Rachel Berry but she does not take attempts to usurp her power lightly. "I don't know if you learned anything about how performance works with the Cheerios, Quinn, but art requires focus and practice. Ignoring that means our inevitable failure as a group and if you're not into glee, then maybe you should leave. If you're done throwing a fit, then we should run it again." Quinn rolls her eyes but stomps back, a little too harshly, back to her spot. No one takes Rachel's power and gets away with it.

Will sighs with a quick glance at the clock – just fifteen minutes to go before he can finally go home. He cues the music.