Wes walked into the council room, shoulders slumped, head in hands and a sigh escaping his lips. As always, the boys of the choir were chasing each other around the room, their behavior the furthest thing from gentlemanly. He liked being a council member, don't get him wrong, but sometimes they could be so infuriating. People just didn't UNDERSTAND how /hard/ it was to be a Senior Council member at Dalton.

He knew why they goofed off, he did Well, at least he tried to. And he tried to make everything work. He tried to concentrate. But with Jeff and Nick gallivanting around the school causing trouble, Thad constantly thinking that everyone is mocking him, Kurt and Blaine having minor lovers quarrels and trying to not imagine himself and David having the aforementioned quarrels, concentration was /kind of/ out of his reach.

"OKAY, WARBLERS!" He yelled. Every head in the room snapped in his direction. If he weren't so used to it, he'd be EXTREMELY creeped out.

"Alright. Sectionals is in a few weeks, and we've only cemented TWO songs. We are WAY behind in terms of our setlist." He sat down at the table in the front of the room, picking up Mr. Gavel. He skimmed his eyes over everyone in the room, noticing that only a few seemed to really be paying attention.

"WARBLERS! This is UNACCEPTABLE! Ideas! NOW!"

Song titles of every genre resounded in the room, in no way an organized fashion, every teen in the room giving their two cents.

"Should it be upbeat? Or slow?"

"Who'll sing the solo?!"

"You mock me sir! Blaine, obviously!"

"Wait, guys, I don't want to stifle anyone's voices!"

"Baby, you're voice is amazing."

"Aww, thank you sweetheart."

"GET A ROOM!"

Wes turned to David, exasperated, hoping for some sympathy from his best friend. (Maybe a little HELP as well) Only to realize that he too was contributing to the outbreak of young male voices. Wow, thanks for being on my side David, he thought, eye twitching. His head fell into his hands. On days like these he questioned the close bond he had with every single one of theses Neanderthals. He chuckled shortly. Sure. The Warblers could sometimes be harsh, immature, sloppy, brain-dead idiots, but that's what made them, well, them. He hoped they'd never change. He loved them.

"At least you understand me, Mr. Gavel." He murmured softly to the object in his hands.

Suddenly, a hand shot out and stole the gavel from his grasp.

Remember what he said about LOVING these Neanderthals?!

Fuck that. Things just got personal.