A/N: Um. . .minimal, minimal spoilers. Mostly just the songs, and then my maniacal, Klaine fangirl version of how they should come out. I. . .don't know what's going on in this prologue. It are crack. Following is better written and just. . .better. I think the Warblers make me crack.

Kurt wasn't entirely thrilled to be at Warbler's rehearsal. Regionals was in less than a week, and the council had decided that twice daily practices were the way to go. Of course, none of the Dalton teachers cared about the additional stress. It was the same crushing load of homework as ever, and on top of it, the stress of a cappella. He was pretty sure his throat was worn sore. Poor Blaine had been downing water and lemon like it was his job. Even so, he was sounding progressively sexier every day.

Wait. . .not sexier. Hoarser. That was what he meant. Hoarser.

The banging of a gavel (Kurt's new least favorite song, overcoming even the incessant beeping of his alarm clock and Finn's snoring) brought his thoughts back to the present. Even Wes, David, and Thad were showing signs of stress. David's face was covered in stubble, Wes had dark circles under his eyes, and Thad's tie was knotted twice.

"Attention, Warblers," Wes said. "We have both good news, and bad news. Thad, would you care to share the good news?"

"Certainly, good sir," Thad said pompously, before clearing his throat. "We have received the names of the judges for Regionals."

A smattering of half-hearted clapping travelled throughout the room. Kurt didn't have the energy to lift his hands. Glancing to his right, he saw Blaine's eyes at half-mast. The other boys' chin drifted dangerously close to his chest.

"Excellent, Thad," Wes said, and banged the gavel again. Kurt didn't know why. For good measure? It seemed to work, however, as Blaine jerked back awake, glancing around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed his near disastrous nap. Kurt studiously avoided looking at him. "David, the bad news, if you will."

"The judges are," David paused dramatically, "Rod Remmington. . .Sr. Mary Constance. . .and Representative Tammy Jean Albertson."

Kurt gasped, and lifted one hand to cover his mouth. Wes hadn't been kidding. That was bad news.

"Wait. . ." Jeff raised his hand, looking thoroughly confused. "How is that a disaster?"

"Thad," Wes said. Thad nodded his head. He stood up and adjusted his tie, appearing confused when he encountered the second knot.

"Firstly. . .Sister Mary Constance is a nun. Secondly, Representative Tammy Jean Albertson is only the most conservative woman in the state. She's against gay marriage, premarital sex, pop music, puppies cuddling with kitties. . ."

"I think we get the point," Wes interrupted. He turned to address Jeff. "What Thad is saying is that Bills, Bills, Bills is out. They'll crucify us. They'll call us a gay choir. It will be worse than the hippie incident of 1972, when three Warblers were"

"Wait." Blaine had apparently woken up completely, since he was now standing up. He lifted one hand, probably to protest, but Nick, who had been his lackey for the last two days, hastily placed a glass of water with lemon in his hand. Blaine seemed surprised, but took a sip anyway. "You're saying we're going to change our set list because some of the judges are homophobic?"

"It would be prudent, yes," Wes said.

Which Kurt got, he really did. They had to play to the audience that they were given.

"No," Blaine shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Too much lemon?" Nick asked nervously.

"Look," Blaine said, putting the glass of water down. Nick looked utterly devastated. Kurt sighed and patted the other boy on his shoulder. Blaine set his shoulders back, in what Kurt had classified the "Dapper Blaine Speech-Giving Pose."

"The Warblers have never let other people define who we are," Blaine said. "When people said we couldn't cover songs originally performed by women, we defied them with the greatness that is Katy Perry. When people said that we couldn't dance, David learned how to breakdance. When we were told that we aren't sexy, we got phone numbers from a bunch of private school girls. We can't change who we are just because someone doesn't like us."

"Actually," Wes said, "when that someone decides whether we go to Nationals or not, we can. And we will."

"Fine," Blaine said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Maybe you should find another soloist then, because we wouldn't want to risk a gay guy singing in front of them."
"Blaine. . ." Wes sighed, and banged his gavel. Kurt jumped a little in his seat.

"That's not what we're saying," David protested.

"Actually, comrade, that is precisely what we're saying," Thad piped up. "Perhaps we should have someone a little less. . .flaming. . .sing lead. Perhaps junior member Kurt Hummel?"

There was silence in the choir room for a full two minutes.

"Oh. . .my. . .God. . ." Wes put his head between his hands. "We are so doomed."

"What?" Thad looked around, apparently confused. "It was a joke. I was making a joke!"

"The last time Thad made a joke was the Disastrous Egging of 2009," Wes mumbled. David pat him on the back. Kurt just sighed. He wondered how New Directions was handling the stress. Finn had probably forgotten, actually. There was probably some kind of baby drama, or lesbian antics that had them more occupied. In fact, Kurt would have put money that New Directions wasn't the least bit freaked out about Regionals. He kind of wished he were there now.

"Okay, fine," Wes said, sitting back up. He seemed a little more composed now.

"Over under," Blaine hissed, "on the gavel. I put it at seven."

"Over," Kurt whispered back. Wes banged it again.

"We'll keep Bills, Bills, Bills, and pray that we don't all get sent to a scared straight program. Now then, moving on. . ."

"No," Blaine interrupted, standing up again. "That's not enough. We have to make a point. It's go big or go home, right?"

"Blaine, we are absolutely not singing It's Raining Men," David said. "I put my foot down. The judges may think we're a gay choir, but I want to remind you that most of us are straight."

Blaine raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. . ." he muttered under his breath. "Anyway, that's not my point. I think we should do a duet."

Kurt bit his lip and waiting for pandemonium. Even he knew that the Warblers had never done a duet before. After all, there were virtually no duets between two men, and he himself knew of none if songs between gay men were eliminated. It simply wasn't done in an all-male a capella group. But as he glanced around, there was no chaos. Granted, most of the members were staring around dazedly, perhaps not even conscious, and the other half were circumspectly attempting to do their homework. Still, he expected more from the council. But Wes looked thoughtful, as did David. Thad, meanwhile, was just playing with his tie.

"Okay," Wes said finally. "We can do that. It's edgy. You and Kurt work out an arrangement, and we'll begin practicing tomorrow. Warblers dismissed."

Kurt let out a long breath. Thank goodness. . .rehearsal had gotten out a full hour early. That meant another hour before the library closed. Maybe he could get the essay on Jane Eyre finished tonight after all. . .

"Wait a second."

Kurt stopped moving halfway through the door. Most of the boys managed to dodge around him, but Blaine crashed full-on into his back.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

Normally Kurt would have been more than okay with the brush of Blaine's breath against the back of his neck. His mind, however, which had been rendered virtual mush from the lack of sleep, was trying to work itself around something.

"Did I just get a solo?"

"Yeah. . .you're kind of blocking traffic. . ."

Kurt turned around. His eyes must have been huge, and his breath was coming in quick little pants. It was wholly possible that he was going to hyperventilate. He grabbed Blaine by the shoulders, and shook the shorter boy.

"I'm singing a solo at Regionals?" Blaine just nodded, looking confused. Kurt balled his hands into fists and thrust them toward the ceiling.

"I freaking love the Warblers!"