Simply Elementary Chapter 4: I Don't Have a Future Figured Out, a glee fanfic

Chapter 4

I Don't Have a Future Figured Out

-:-:-:-:-:-

Finn wasn't ashamed to admit he was not entirely comfortable with the subtle changes happening in the glee club. And by changes he meant Karofsky, and by subtle he meant…Karofksy.

Because while that was a small change it felt like the most bizarre thing in the world, for him and Sam to be all buddy-buddy all of the sudden.

Dave and Mike, Finn could understand that. Mike was a nice guy. He made a point to be welcoming and kind to others (even to others that had spent the majority of the past two years throwing slushies in their faces). Finn could understand why Karofsky would be okay with hanging out with Mike, because Mike was legitimately a good guy who knew the importance of keeping things quiet, who had mastered the art of blending in and avoiding trouble so easily it had become second nature. Low profile wasn't even an adjective anymore when it came to describing Mike, it simply was him (except when it came to Puck but, let's face it, that described practically everyone's interaction with the mohawked teen).

So Mike and Dave, that made sense, kind've. Dave…reforming (yeah, that was a good word for it) enough to actually reach out and help Mike with his relationship problems, that was…that showed some maturity. Some respect. A generosity the rest of the glee kids couldn't actually bring up without fear of getting thrown in the dumpsters, but still nice.

Karofsky and Sam on the other hand…

Finn couldn't wrap his head around it. There was no logic to it. No reason.

Sam had hated Karofsky. And not just, "Man, that guy's such a jerk, I hate him," but legitimate, I-throw-a-curse-upon-you-and-your-ancestors kind of hate that was beyond personal. Karofsky was a bully. And not only that, he was a bully that had gotten off scot-free. He had threatened Kurt so badly he had to leave (Kurt, who Sam was fiercely protective of, because Kurt had always stood beside the blond, had never talked down to him or doubted him), so how was it that now, only like, seven odd weeks after he was trying to destroy Karofksy's umbrella through the sheer power of glaring, that Sam and Dave had become the bestest of friends?

It wasn't an act. Sam wasn't being forced into it. He honestly enjoyed hanging out with Karofsky. Saw no reason for it not to happen, did so many- and Dave was humoring this.

Except he wasn't. Because that was the first thing Finn had looked for. That was the first thing Artie and Rachel and Rory had all looked for, when that twosome officially became a regular thing. To see if Dave was just playing Sam, if this was just some new kind of prank or joke or drawn-out form of hazing.

And Finn, just like Artie and Rory and Rachel (Rachel, who had gone so far as to actually talk to Dave) had come to the undeniable conclusion that it was none of those things. Karofsky was hanging out with Sam because he wanted to hang out with Sam. He was tutoring him (correctly, Artie had made sure, the other teen had not been leading Sam astray) because Sam needed it and he came over to watch Avatar for the fifteenth-million time because he and Sam weren't quite able to quote the entire movie verbatim (well, Sam could; but he would not be satisfied until Dave had a better handle on his Na'vi).

Dave was the one who called to remind Sam about that report that was due and Dave was the one that suggested songs for Sam to cover in glee club and Dave was the one who nodded to Kurt as though he both acknowledged and respected their suspicions of him, like he was glad that so many people had Sam's back.

And clearly, they all knew it, (even if they didn't say it, even the ones that only cared enough to pay like, the most microscopic amount of attention), knew that something had either happened or some kind of knowledge had been dropped that made it acceptable for Dave to be welcomed into their group so easily. Something that only Kurt and Dave and Mike and those guys knew.

Finn wasn't…he got it. There had to be boundaries right? He respected that. So it wasn't like he was going to barge in and demand to be let in on the secrets, because he didn't need to. He trusted Sam and he especially trusted Kurt and if they said Karofsky was okay then Finn wasn't going to question it.

But this detective thing? Whatever it was? Yeah, Finn had a lot of questions about that. And all of them seemed pretty reasonable in the grand scheme of things. Especially considering how Sam kept on like, sizing everyone up during glee rehearsal when he thought they wouldn't notice. And then there were the hushed conversations with Mike and the way he kept jotting notes down on his tiny notepad that he refused to let Finn look through…

It could only mean one thing.

There was a mystery afoot.

Sam and Dave had actually found a mystery. With Mike, probably. And the way Sam was eyeing all of them suspiciously made Finn think that just maybe…okay, definitely, they were the suspects.

Which was bad. If someone in the glee club was a crime-committer that would make for more issues, and they did not need more issues, not with Nationals coming just around the corner and finals and-

They were doing a good job, keeping it on the downlow. But for some odd reason this did not bring any sense of comfort to Finn.

He thought about it.

And slept on it.

Then thought about it some more.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was just a more hands-on kind of guy. He was like, the leader of the Glee club right? If anyone should be concerned with their well-being it should be him, right?

So if anyone should be solving glee-related mysteries, it should be him. With a delicate hand.

Because they didn't want it to be obvious, right?

Finn decided he would investigate the investigation, keeping tabs on Sam and Dave and maybe, just possibly solving the mystery (whatever it was) before they did and initiating damage control. Or like, getting Quinn and Rachel to initiate damage control, because girls were better at that kind of stuff anyway.

And there was the slightest chance that if Finn followed them around he would get to know that super-secret thing that made Karofksy acceptable, or maybe he would find out Karofksy really was just messing with them all along, but either way, Finn figured he would win. They had more people working on the possible mystery, he could chaperone Sam and Dave from a distance, and he would finally be able to sleep at night without feeling lousy for not taking proper care of all the Glee club members.

Finn considered this responsible leadership. It would make up for all the times he had slacked off on the job.

Truly, this was a perfect plan.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Hey."

The voice startled Finn from his position against the wall, posed so that he could peak around the corner to where Dave and Sam were huddled and talking quietly but still able to retreat quickly if they looked in his direction. When Finn managed to calm himself, he turned to see that his intruder was Brittany, hugging a unicorn notebook to her chest possessively as she stared at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Did you get stuck?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she glanced down to his hands, pressed against the wall behind him. "Or lost?" She frowned, shifting her weight from side to side uneasily. "I really hate it when that happens. I can call Santana though, or Rachel, if you want. Though Santana will probably yell less."

Finn blinked for a moment, trying to follow along Brittany's train of thought and eventually giving up, shaking his head. "No and no, I'm good Britt," he explained, holding his hands up and moving away from the wall to demonstrate. "See? Thanks for the offer though."

Brittany's response was to tilt her head to the other side, eyebrows furrowing quizzically. "There are better places for standing Finn. I have a few favorites by the air conditioning vents," Brittany explained, then squinted her eyes, looking thoughtful. "Or maybe you would like the vending machines better. Anyway, I can show you."

"No-" Finn began to protest, pulling his arm back gently as the cheerleader attempted to lead him off. "I'm not just-" he looked both ways quickly, checking to see if the coast was clear, then leaned forward. "I'm spying," he whispered, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, vague but so…eerily still Finn wanted to wave a hand in front of her face, almost did, until she broke out of her trance, replying, "Like that James Bond movie me and Santana snuck into?"

Finn smiled at her brightly, glad they were getting somewhere. "Right."

The thoughtful look was back, this time accompanied by some chewing on her bottom lip. She looked at him, looked down the hallway, then back to him, confused. "Then shouldn't there be running?"

Finn blinked and tilted his head to the side. "What?"

"And car chases," Brittany continued, not hearing him. "They should be running and then you chase and then something explodes and then I get bored and start trying to pick out all the yellow Skittles." Finn furrowed his eyebrows, trying to keep up with her, and Brittany shrugged. "You are not very good at spying."

"I am-" Finn began to protest on reflex, then shook his head, trying to focus on the more important things. "No Britt, like, what detectives do. You know, that kind of spying."

"Like Sherlock Holmes?" Brittany asked, brightening up. "Lord Tubbington loves watching those movies, even though I never know what's going on, I like his hat though-"

"Yes," Finn exclaimed, cutting her off. "Yeah, that's exactly what it's like."

"You mean…" Brittany leaned so that she could peak around the corner, pulling back quickly with a nod. "Like Sam and Dave." She frowned, then clutched her notebook closer to her chest, rocking back and forth in some odd attempt to comfort herself. "I wanted to play with them but Santana said I couldn't. It makes me sad Finn," she said, looking at him imploringly. "I got the hat and everything."

She paused, looking off to the side, sad expression on her face until a thought dawned on her. She looked up at him carefully, eagerness in her eyes. "If you're detectiving, can I play with you?" Before Finn could say anything Brittany kept going, all excitement and energy, bouncing up and down in place with barely contained enthusiasm. "I promise I'll do whatever you say Finn, and I'll take good notes and say 'Elementary' a lot and I even have my own telescope Finn-"

"Okay, okay," Finn surrendered, before he could ask exactly what they would need a telescope for. "You can be my partner Britt."

Two heads were better than one right? Even if one of them was Brittany, she still had connections and access to things Finn didn't, and extra power as the President of the student council…

Besides, it was hard to pass up on enthusiasm like that.

"Thank you, thank you!" Brittany cheered, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a brief hug, pulling away in time to do a quick happy dance. "We are going to be the best detectives ever Finn, I can feel it."

"Awesome," Finn said, smile widening on his face. "Now we're looking into-"

"Brittany?"

Finn didn't jump, which was awesome because normally he would have (check out his mad sleuthing skills), at the sound of Sam's voice. The other blond had just come around the corner, his own notepad clutched in his hand. He looked between Finn and Brittany, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Can we talk to you?" he finished, nodding over to where Dave was standing by the empty choir room. Brittany nodded in return, smile still plastered on her face, but Finn reached and snagged her shoulder just as she was about to pass by.

"Just uh…" he began, trying to think of an excuse. "Homework stuff," he explained to Sam. Before the blond could question that Finn leaned forward, whispering quietly into Brittany's ear. "It's a secret okay? Tell them nothing."

When he pulled back Brittany just beamed at him, nodding excitedly. "You got it," she chirped, and without further ado made her way towards Dave, not even bothering with Sam anymore. The other blond gave an annoyed huff but didn't question their whispered conversation, instead choosing to follow after Brittany with an irritated look, leaving Finn to his own devices.

Well, that was fine. It wasn't like Finn didn't have a man on the inside anyway.

Even if that "man" was Brittany.

And…

Yeah, on second thought, maybe he should brush off his eavesdropping-through-doors ability. Or better yet, he was willing to bet anything the windows behind the risers were still cracked open. If he ran fast enough he could get outside those windows by the time they finished introductions.

He would even take his own notes.

Take that Evans.

Finn was on his way up in the world. Doing a proper job of leader-ing.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Dave didn't think it was all that unfair to assume that nothing would come from their "interrogation" with Brittany. And that was just what it was going to be, an "interrogation", quotes and horrible sarcasm intended. Dave had tried to figure out what kind of questions Sam wanted to ask Brittany but the blond had assured him he had it covered. All Dave needed to do was, to quote Sam verbatim, "Stand there and look pretty."

To which Dave had been unable to respond because his head was a panicked, over-enthused prick like that and far too please and simultaneously conflicted that Sam had used the word "pretty" (even though of the two of them Sam would obviously be considered the pretty one) so unfortunately Dave had been unable to address any of his concerns and had resigned himself on nodding dumbly because he was particularly stupid like that.

So for the moment Dave was tasked with sitting on the sidelines, observing and making his own notes to catch the things Sam had missed, and watching the door in case any of the other glee kids looked like they were going to show up. When Dave had asked why they didn't seek out a more secluded interrogation space, somewhere all their prime suspects didn't visit on a daily basis, Sam had simply replied that he didn't want to look too suspicious. He wanted his friends to feel safe and comfortable, be somewhere familiar so they would give the most honest answers.

So yeah, choir room, that was where they were doing this. Which made sense, and also no sense, but Sam had been so insistent and determined that Dave couldn't find the voice to fight him. There was logic to it. Besides, Sam knew these people better than he did.

And Dave trusted Sam.

So here they were.

Brittany all but pranced into the room, shashaying over to where they had set up two chairs facing each other. She plopped into one without being told, giving them both with a cheerful grin before turning her attention to the sparkling unicorn notebook in her hand. She settled into the chair, pulling her legs up in the ever-familiar criss-cross-applesauce and set the notebook on her lap, pulling a glittery pink gel pen out from where it was tucked behind her ear and flipping the spiral notebook open. Once she had settled on the page she looked back up at them, eyes wide as though they were the ones holding up this affair (and they were, but still, it was an odd look for her).

Sam blinked quizzically, then shook his head, sharing a quick look with Dave before he strode forward, all charisma and ease like he was still totally in charge of the situation. He pulled out his own smaller notepad; hand sized, and flipped open to a clean page, settling into his chair gradually while staring her down. Or, attempting to stare her down. Whatever his intentions, Brittany was completely oblivious. If anything she looked excited.

Yeah…this was probably going to be bad. Dave almost wanted to stop and call it a day now. They could go to Santana maybe, get her to ask Brittany. That would probably work better. Of course, then Dave had to remember that they would be asking about a fictional notebook, and that would probably lead to the kinds of questions he didn't necessarily feel like answering.

"Hi Sam," Brittany said in that cheerful, almost-monotone voice she always used. "Hi Dave."

She wiggled the fingers of her pen-free hand at Dave as a form of greeting, earning a small humph from Sam. Whether it was because of her lack of focus or her attention to Dave, the jock would never know.

Or hey- how about the crazy idea that Sam might have just been sighing. Wouldn't that be a strange turn of events?

Sam cleared his throat and looked down at his notepad, reviewing his interview outline. "So Brittany-"

"We should have nicknames," Brittany decided, clapping her hands together in excitement as though she had every idea of whatever Sam was going to ask her, and that was definitely it. "You can be…Sam the Man," Brittany continued, pointing her pink gel pen at Sam's look of growing confusion. "Because that rhymes and rhymes are cool. And I'll be Rainbow Sparkledust, because all unicorns are required to have first and last names." She looked at Dave in confirmation, as though these were facts he actually knew. "And Dave…Dave can be Big Bear. Because everyone knows bears are mean and snappy until you hug them, and then they'll love you forever and keep you warm in bed at night with their big, snuggly goodness."

She rocked back in her chair, infinitely pleased with herself, and nodded. "And that's how hibernation works."

Dave was…ever so glad he hadn't been able to follow that. Because he would, eventually, be able to process that and then turn the appropriate shade of red, but that wouldn't be until later and Sam was looking at him now and all he had was a blatant look of confusion with an added dash of disbelief and wonder to bring it on home.

Sam looked at him for a few seconds as though considering this (of course he would be able to follow Brittany's spiel) and looked like he was about to say something before Brittany interrupted, tapping her pen against the palm of her hand.

"Can I hug him later?" Brittany asked, eyes sincere. "I like loveable teddybears and it isn't fair that you get to hog-"

"Okay Brittany!" Sam interrupted, perhaps more loudly than he needed to. "I have questions for you, which is why you're here and I'm here, so let's do that..." Sam dropped off, staring intently at the notepad in his hand. "Let's do that question-asking thing."

"Okay," Brittany replied brightly, not at all bothered by Sam's interruption and subsequent avoidance of her question. "How may I please the people of my fine nation?"

Sam, being the wise person that he was, didn't waste any time with fine details like what-the-hell-that-meant that would lead them on any other irrelevant sidetracks. He cleared his throat again and started up at his normal talking volume, sounding a bit more composed. "Have you and Mike been working on any choreography lately?"

Brittany thought about this and shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes he tries to convince me not to do all my homework in crayon." She leaned forward, glancing side-to-side quickly and whispered, "He's the one who switched me to gel pens. He got me an entire pack!" She sat back with a smile, flipping her pen in one hand triumphantly. "It's like a rainbow."

Sam stared at her, at a loss for words, and tilted his head to the side. "…What?"

"Like rainbows," Brittany repeated, thinking he had misheard her. After a few seconds her eyes lit up, like she discovered something, and she tilted her notebook up towards her chest, pen posed on it to begin to write something. "Have you been working on any choreography with Mike?"

"What?" Sam asked, then shook his head, trying to clear it. "No."

Brittany shrugged and began to scribble across her paper, eyebrows lifted in what was perhaps exasperation. "Well you should consider it. You're not very good."

"What?" Sam echoed, this time incredulous. "I am not-"

"No, you're not," Brittany repeated, nodding sagely, and Dave had to stifle a laugh at Sam's indignant sputter. The blond turned and threw a small glare at him, only mildly sincere, before returning his attention to Brittany. His cheeks were flushed, Dave noticed, because that was the kind of thing that he was prone to noticing.

He liked that look. Sort of.

He could do without the ill-will that instigated it though.

"So you have been dancing with Mike lately?"

"Yes." Brittany nodded but didn't take her eyes off her notebook. By the looks of it she had begun doodling a picture.

"Great," Sam replied, somewhat thrown by the fact she actually gave a straight answer. He blinked, then shook his head, checking his notes to see what his next question was. "So when you were-?"

"What's your favorite color Sam?" Brittany asked, eyes still glued on her notebook.

Sam paused, obviously thrown by the question, then furrowed his eyebrows.

Before he could go back to his standby question of "what?" Brittany continued, "It's my turn to ask a question, so what's your favorite color?"

"It is not-" Sam cut himself off as he tried to contain himself, thumping his notepad against his thigh. "That isn't how this works. I ask questions-"

"And then I ask questions and we all get to know things," Brittany finished, swirling her pen around the outside edges of her paper.

Sam blinked, flabbergasted, then set his jaw in determination. "No. It's just one-way."

"Well that's rude," Brittany replied, unimpressed with him. "And also illegal and I won't have any of it. I have freedom to preach-"

"Speech," Dave corrected automatically, earning one frustrated look of you-are-the-epitome-of-unhelpfulness from Sam and a thankful one from Brittany.

"Right," Brittany said with a nod. "You can make speeches and I can make speeches and if you're going to be bad at dancing it's only fair you tell me what your favorite color is."

Sam's fingers clutched his notepad tighter, physically twitching at the accusation. "I'm not-"

"Perhaps," Dave interrupted calmly, because if he didn't step in and play mediator soon he had a feeling there was going to be a catfight that would be very unpleasant to watch, involving way more bruises and less sexiness than desired.

Granted, the idea of fixing up Sam's wounds had a bizarre kind of appeal, but Santana would probably be displeased if so much as one scratch befell upon Brittany. So Dave would take it upon himself, from one overprotective-guy yearning for a same-sex relationship to another overprotective-girl legitimately in a same-sex relationship to put an end to this before things got ugly.

"We should just…take a few deep breaths and take turns, like Brittany proposed." Dave sent his partner-in-crime a meaningful look. "And that way everything is fair and efficient," he explained, emphasizing this last word so Sam could get a feel on how much time they had wasted.

Sam glared at him firmly for a few seconds, protesting on principal, but eventually sat back in his seat with a petulant slump. "Fine."

"Awesome," Brittany chirped, unphased by any negative energy in the room. "So Sam, what's your favorite-"

"Blue," Sam replied, his face resting in his hands, and Brittany made an um-hum noise.

"Great, what kind of blue?"

Instead of answering Sam just gave her an incredulous look, but Brittany would have none of it. "There are lots of types of blue Sam."

Sam sighed and rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling while his fingers played with the side of his chair. "I don't know. Royal, I guess."

"Okay," Brittany said, jotting this down (or, Dave supposed that was what she wrote. It could be something else entirely, for all he knew). "Hey Dave!" Brittany called, cupping one hand around her mouth. "Sam's favorite color is royal blue!"

She finished this with a bright smile and a thumbs up before turning back to her notes, which was amazing because Dave was slightly-confused/growing-very-concerned for how much Santana had told Brittany about…Dave's situation, and what of that Brittany actually perceived and applied to the magical place that was her outlook of the world.

For lack of anything better to say, Dave chose to mutter, "Thank you."

He ignored the confused look Sam gave the entire exchange and the notes that might have followed.

This was going to be a long talk.

"So," Sam started again, sounding only mildly agitated now that they were back on track. "When you and Mike were working on choreography, did he mention anything about a notebook?"

"Yes," Brittany immediately answered (and the suddenness of this answer worried Dave, along with how sure of herself she sounded). "He said it fit my personality." She tapped her pen against her bottom lip, looking down at her notebook. "What's your stance on football?"

"Good, I guess," Sam replied, looking mildly perplexed. "You know I'm on the team right?"

"Irrelevant," Brittany muttered writing his answer down. She sat back with a satisfied look and waved over to the standing jock. "So far it's looking really good for you Dave."

Happy place, happy place, Dave was in his happy place where he was unaffected by less-intellectually-gifted females trying to play wingman.

He needed to have a conversation with Santana when this was all over. A very thorough one.

"Thank you," Dave replied politely. "You said it fit your personality?"

Sam could get mad at him later for "prompting the suspect" but he really needed them to move onto the next subject, post-haste, and it looked like Sam was going to be too busy giving him and Brittany puzzled looks to remember where the interrogation had left off.

"Yes!" Brittany said cheerfully.

"And what exactly does that mean?" Sam asked, snapping out of his bewilderment.

Brittany gave him an exasperated look. "That it's me."

Dave and Sam shared a look that was less of a look and more of a silent quandary, trying to translate what Brittany was trying to communicate.

Sam looked back to the other blond first, eyebrows furrowed and expression properly puzzled. "So it's you because it's full of dance-stuff and you like dancing?"

"Of course I like dancing," Brittany replied.

When she refused to give any further answers Sam went in for the clarification. "So you liked the notebook?"

Brittany looked torn between annoyance and confusion. "Yeah, but I don't see what one has to do with the other."

There may have been some balking on Sam's part at that comment, but the blond quickly shook his head and kept focused, explaining in a calm voice, "The notebook was full of dance notes, you like dancing, so you like the notebook."

For the most part Brittany just looked surprised as Sam broke it down, reaching up to tug on the bottom end of her pony tail in an almost worried fashion. "The notebook has notes in it?"

"Yes," Sam replied tersely through clenched teeth, making an effort to take deep breaths to keep himself from being frustrated. "And you wanted to read them because you like dancing."

Brittany shook her head stubbornly; both hands now tangled in her pony, and furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah, I like dancing but I wouldn't want to read about it. Reading's hard and dancing's easy. Why would I combine the two? It would just make dancing worse."

Sam held a hand up as though he was trying to reach out and shake her, fingers visibly shaking with restraint, but he eventually pulled it back down, shoving it into his lap. He repositioned the notepad in his hand and sighed, trying to keep collected.

It took great effort on Dave's part not to go over and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, or show some kind of support.

But he didn't want to undermine Sam. This was his show.

His highly convoluted, ridiculously nonsensical, completely devoid of logic and reason, show, but his show none the less.

And Dave did not envy him for that.

"So you don't like the notebook?" Sam asked after a few seconds, pen pressed against his notepad as he waited for the answer, already having a feeling for what it was.

Of course, Brittany was never one to do the expected. Which, in all fairness, was something they should have come to expect by now.

"Of course I like the notebook," Brittany chirped in response, going from anxious to the epitome of joy in about half a second, looking absolutely pleased that they had asked. "It fits my personality."

Dave knew that in the next second Sam's only question would be, "What the hell does that even mean?!" which would lead them on yet another preposterous goose-chase and scrambled to think of something new to ask, something to say that would keep that would-be cat fight from coming into existence.

Thankfully, ever-so thankfully, Brittany chose to blithely carry on, holding up her own unicorn notebook by the front end and flipping through all the pages, thoughtful expression on her face. "Though I don't see any of these dance notes you keep talking about. Makes sense though," she continued, plopping the notebook down as she got back to the page she originally started writing on. "Why would Mike give me a notebook if it was already full? That's just rude."

In the few seconds Sam took to gawk at Brittany, mouth hanging slightly open, Dave made his way across the room, grabbing onto the blond's shoulder before he could erupt in a fiery burst of frustration.

"Mike gave you your unicorn notebook?" he asked, calm and reasonable, trying to move past the general ridiculousness that was Brittany. The cheerleader nodded at him, so he continued, "Okay, did you know that Mike had another notebook, a notebook that was his that he had written choreography in?"

"Mike started writing down his choreography?" Brittany asked in response, legitimately surprised by this turn of events, and Dave shared a quick look with Sam. That answered any of the questions they might have had.

Sam shrugged, letting out a quiet sigh as he began to calm down. "Yeah, but it's nothing you need to worry about."

"So he didn't start writing down his choreography?" Brittany pressed, leaning forward on the seat of her chair, urgent look on her face.

Of course, of course she would care. Mike was her buddy. Brittany took care of her buddies. So if one of them happened to be stolen from…

Dave looked back down at Sam, sharing a quick, silent communication, and made the call. It wasn't a call he particularly liked, but it was necessary none the less.

"Right," Dave said casually, nodding to Sam. He could tell the blond didn't like it either, but wasn't going to object. His nerves had already been frazzled enough for one day; he could not continue trying to handle Brittany.

"Okay," Brittany replied, brightening up instantly. If there had been any sign of worry anxiousness it was a distant memory as Brittany flipped her own notebook closed and popped up from her chair, hugging the spiral notebook close to her chest and shifting her weight from side to side, content expression on her face. "Are we done questioning?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, shaking his head slowly as he finished up his notes on Brittany. It most likely said something of "OMG no" and ended with a couple of stick figures fighting each other.

There was the slightest chance Dave had a small stack of similar stick-figure doodles in the same desk drawer he had kept the Beauty and the Beast tickets, scavenged from the many times Sam had simply discarded them, or balled them up and deemed them unworthy to grace anyone's eyes, but that was a secret Dave didn't intend on sharing with anyone.

"Then I'm off!" Brittany declared with a nod and a fist pump. With a casual spin (which Dave didn't think was possible, but hey- Brittany was magical), the blond began her exit of the room, cheerful hop in her step as she made her way towards the door. Halfway there she stopped, paused for a moment, then turned back around suddenly. A second later Dave had his arms full of Brittany, the cheerleader having thrown her arms around his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug. She only held on for a brief moment, then stepped back, triumphant grin on her face.

"And now you love me forever too," she decided, bopping him on the nose lightly with her index finger as she said it. With that she finally left the room, breezing into the hallway with an air of joy that was probably unattainable by normal human beings.

Dave sort've…envied her for that. Like a lot.

It was like she was emotionally bulletproof.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Sam groused quietly, flopping his head back until it whacked against the top of his chair.

Unconsciously, Dave reached out and ran a hand through his hair, like he had done for his smaller cousins whenever they were feeling frustrated, eyes still locked on the door. He didn't realize what he was doing until he earned an appreciative hum from Sam, and when he looked down the blond had gone from aggravated to pleased, eyes closed and hands no longer threatening his notepad with a death hold.

Boundaries- there had to be boundaries, right? And Dave didn't want to treat Sam like a cousin he wanted-

He wanted a Brittany to his Santana.

Immediately Dave stilled his hand and withdrew it, making himself busy with putting Brittany's chair back on the riser. Behind him Sam made no comment, he simply followed in suit, putting away his own chair, and the two of them were re-backpacked up and heading for Dave's car in no time, walking in companionable silence.

"It wasn't a waste," Dave said, startling Sam as they got into the car. He ignored the confusion and moved on, adjusting his already perfectly-positioned mirrors. "We have to cover all our bases, so…"

"It wasn't a waste," Sam agreed, nodding. He studied Dave for a few more seconds, for what, Dave couldn't figure, but eventually shifted his focus to fiddling with the radio. He settled on one of his usual country, honky-tonk stations he seemed to love so much and settled back in his seat with a happy sigh, fingers drumming against the armrest on the passenger door.

And, because Dave had already surrendered to the sappy stupidity that was the state of his emotional well-being, he went ahead and thought that any time with Sam wasn't ever really a waste.

But he was allowed that thought, because he was sappy. And it wasn't like he was going to be spouting off any love songs anytime soon anyway so…

Yeah, he figured he was good. The world was good.

For now.

-:-:-:-:-:-

With Kurt off with Rachel on the prowl for new sheet music and Brittany off doing…whatever Brittany did when he wasn't tutoring her (painstakingly, ever so painstakingly tutoring her), Blaine hadn't expected anything too lively to come from his afternoon alone. He had thought that maybe he would go rehearse a few songs in the auditorium before heading home, or maybe hit the locker room to do some weight lifting (it never hurt to do a little bit extra, anything to get him in the best shape for Nationals) but other than that, there wasn't much that called for his attention.

There were no warring factions in the Glee club that needed to be appeased, no last-minute cram sessions for tests, no mid-teen crisis, senior-itus; everything had been, surprisingly enough, pretty calm for the last few weeks. After the Mike/Puck/Tina ordeal that had lasted for what was at the very least six months, everyone had just fallen into line. There was no more in-fighting or permeating sexual frustration, only…harmony.

And that was nice.

…Yeah, that was what Blaine had come to. Perceiving these quiet moments of peace as "nice" and "pleasant" and "atypical".

Sometimes Blaine missed being in a private school composed entirely of guys. It made for less drama. Not the complete abolition of the concept, of course, just…less.

Blaine made it a point though to keep his eyes open for the inevitable behavior that would shatter this small reprieve, so when he spotted Finn leaning against the wall outside of the choir room, furiously scrawling across a spiral notebook with no one around him, Blaine had the uncanny feeling that something was up.

And he had just been trying to take a shortcut to the auditorium, cut in between buildings to save himself some time. He didn't necessarily have to stop…

But Blaine couldn't, in good conscious, not stop and see what Finn was doing. He just…just a quick check-in. That was all. He'd just see what Finn was up to and then it'd turn out to be nothing and he would be on his way, boring solo-afternoon appropriately nondescript and boring as they are always were.

"So Finn," Blaine began casually, nothing nosy here, just some honest-to-goodness interest in his friend's well-being. "What are you-?"

"Text Brittany," Finn said quickly, steamrolling over any of Blaine's attempted inquisition in his hurry. "Tell her we're outside the choir room. Like, outside-outside," he clarified, waving vaguely to their surroundings for a brief moment before turning his attention back to his note-making.

"Now hold on a second," Blaine replied, hands going to his hips on reflex before he realized what he was doing and folding them across his chest instead. "I'm not doing anything-"

"Time is really of the essence here Blaine," the other teen interrupted, not even bothering to take his eyes off of his notebook as he continued his scribbling. "Gotta do a debrief while everything is still fresh in her head." Finn paused and looked thoughtful, head tilting to the side as he stewed something over, then shrugged. "Even if I was here for most of it, I need to get the beginning. You know," he shared a quick look with Blaine, the first since their conversation had begun. "Be thorough and stuff."

"What are we being thorough for?" Blaine asked, even though he shouldn't have because he just- he really wanted to know. There was no harm in knowing right? To have someone with…reasonable sanity keeping an eye on whatever this was.

Despite Finn's gruffness, Blaine whipped out his phone obediently and sent off a text to Brittany, telling her, in explicit detail, where her presence was desired.

Finn paused for another second, actually standing up fully to look Blaine in the eye. "I'm gonna level with you Blaine," he began; rolling his shoulders to work out some kinks he had gotten from his position hunched over his notebook. "Because we bonded right, during Sectionals? We both want the same thing."

"And that's…" Blaine prompted, waving his hand for Finn to fill in the blank, and the other teen happily obliged him.

"No more fighting," Finn replied. "No more problems, no more issues, just-"

"Harmony," Blaine finished, feeling a flood of relief wash over him as Finn nodded. Good, Finn was just…trying to be cautious, like Blaine was.

"Exactly," Finn chirped, then motioned down to his notes. "I'm thinking Sam and Dave actually have a case for their detective business thing, but they're investigating us so-"

"Do you think there's a problem in the Glee club?" Blaine asked, legitimately worried. He knew Kurt and Mike had been scheming over some plans or something to help Dave out the past couple of weeks, but Kurt had refused to let him in on anything. If things were going well for Dave, that was great but…

Blaine didn't like this investigating-the-glee-club business. These were pretty touchy people, excessively prone to overreactions. And then overreactions to those overreactions.

Blaine was just concerned, was all. It was a perfectly valid feeling to have.

"Maybe," Finn replied, shrugging. Any further conversation was literally cut off when Brittany skipped between them, gracing Finn with a quick solute and Blaine with a smile, turning her torso to look back and forth between the two of them as she clutched a sparkling notebook to her chest.

"I did good," she declared, and Blaine had to restrain himself from correcting her grammar, it would only devolve the conversation and it certainly wouldn't take.

He turned his attention to Finn instead, intent to see what he had to say and perhaps become further enlightened.

"Yeah, you did." Finn agreed, smiling at her. "Now, if you could just cover everything that happened before they asked you-?"

"Is Blaine playing with us too?" Brittany asked, studying the shorter male intently, hand rubbing against her chin in a portrait of thoughtfulness. "Because if he isn't he should probably go. This is highly classified information Harry Potter."

"Brittany, I told you to stop calling me that," Blaine replied, trying not to sound long suffered, and made a quick decision. If he was in, he was in for the long haul, for all of the insanity.

But if he was out…

It wasn't that he didn't trust Finn, because he did. He just thought that…well, maybe there should be a guiding force or something. A voice of reason.

A chaperone, his mind supplied for him, but Blaine shook the thought off.

He was simply doing what was civically responsible. Being a good friend. Making sure Finn and Brittany didn't cause more damage than Sam and Dave did.

You know, the small things.

"And yes," Blaine continued. "I am playing with you."

"Awesome," Brittany chirped, giving him a bright smile before turning it to Finn.

The taller teen, for the most part, looked pleased by the newest addition and smiled back, satisfied. "Great, but remember, outside the three of us…"

"No one must know," Brittany finished, ending this declaration with a swivel of her index finger.

They both turned to look at Blaine expectantly and the other teen yielded, deciding to go along with those rules, for now. "No one must know," he echoed.

This would probably come back to haunt him later, but if he was lucky, it would only come back to bite him a little bit. Which was, at this point, really all he could ask for.

"Okay then," Finn replied, clapping a hand against his thigh. "Let's get debriefing."

"Santana says we can only do that in private," Brittany said informatively, eyes wide and Finn, to his credit, simply went with the flow.

"Different kind of debriefing," Finn explained.

As they made their way towards the parking lot they decided they would meet up at the Lima Bean to finish their "debriefing" and start making plans. If all went well, this entire ordeal would turn out to be incredibly harmless. In the best circumstances they would simply have an entertaining story to tell at the end of the day.

And if not…

Well, that wasn't something Blaine was going to think about.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Endnotes:

Yes, I know it was a cheap joke. I did it anyway. It pleases me : )

So just a heads up, things are going to get ridiculous. That's kind've the drill here, but I thought I'd give you fair warning now. Inspiration for the Finn/Brittany/Blaine detective trio is credited to Frosted Heaven, as is the Brittany interrogation scene. You're a peach Heavs, a very manly peachedy-peach.

Jazz hands and sparkledust to everyone who reviewed last chapter! And by that I mean thank you, and also, here is some sparkling lurve and gratitude your way. Specifically to Frosted Heaven, Abby (and here is your second rainbow, as it didn't reach you the first time, a le *wink*), and dosqueen67.

Feeling the love folks, feeling the loooove :D

The origin of Brittany's "bad spying" comment evolved from the fact I had to go see Skyfall. I was not a big fan of Skyfall. If you're a big fan of James Bond, go ahead and see it. If you're not a big fan of James Bond, go ahead and watch the Avengers. Or better yet, just go see Wreck it Ralph and get the soundtrack embedded into your brain. I pretty much had "Sugar Rush" stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this, despite the fact I only know like, five of the lyrics.

"Doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo SUGAR RUSH!"

So…I'm rambling. That's cool. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and…

Until next time : )