Yikes, huh?
I've had the thought "I should write one more chapter of PoDVD, for a laugh" for about five years now. I have no idea why I'm doing it right now — COVID? Avoiding university work? Both? — but I am so here. I hope you enjoy.
. . . GLEE . . .
Season ONE
Episode ELEVEN
HAIROGRAPHY
. . . GLEE . . .
The Warblers watched as Blaine stormed out, blazer on the floor and phone in hand.
No one said a word.
"Is he…?"
"He'll be fine," said Nick. "Stressed?"
Jeff shrugged, "I guess it's hard to watch the person you like go through a hard time."
"No, remember, he doesn't like Kurt, remember?" said David, settling back down into a pile of cushions, reaching to open a new bag of chips. "Kurt is his 'good friend' and 'mentoree'."
"Whatever their relationship status is at the moment, I don't care," said Trent. "Just start the next disk. I want to see more McKinley drama. Press play!"
Wes bit his lip, looking out the door that Blaine just exited.
He pressed play.
. . . GLEE . . .
"Uh, is this the right disk?" said Nick, turning to Wes. "Did you put the right one in?"
"Yes I did," Wes scowled, pressing the arrow buttons on his remote.
The screen had started with, not shaky video and images of friends and acquaintances as normal, but a full screen magazine cover. SPLITS! Magazine's cover proudly displayed a girl in a Cheerio's union, jumping and smiling a thousand-Watt smile. As Wes pressed buttons, the pages flipped, slowly, one by one, revealing the entire ten page write up of The Amazing Sue Sylvester: Coaching Secret to Help You Make the Team! and Cheerio Power! McKinley Team Continues to Dominate Mid-West Cheer!
"Why does every sentence in this magazine end in an exclamation point?"
David grimaced, "Because cheer."
"I think you mean—" Jeff grinned, smiling wide, "because cheer!"
"Skip!"
"I'm trying!"
Finally the magazine blinked away from all of Sue Sylvester's diet plans and tips for guilting your cheerleaders into unpaid labour to shot of the choir room, clearly from someone's phone.
Mr Schuester was leading the New Directions in a new dance routine. "Five, six, seven, eight. Step ball change, step, step, unh and seven, eight. You guys go. Step ball…Brittany?"
Schue looked over, directly into the camera. The Warblers jumped.
Brittany spoke from behind the phone. "Coach Sylvester didn't tell me to do this."
"Oh god, is Sylvester recording the New Direction's set list? What could she possibly want with it?" said Jeff.
"Something nefarious, most likely," said Thad. "She's a weird one, that woman."
The TV continued to play various snippets from rehearsals — some choreography here, some singing there.
"Truly, Sue Sylvester needs to chill," said Jeff. "It's just glee club."
Wes, David, and Thad immediately shot the junior dirty looks.
He back peddled. "I—I just mean that, y'know, it's not worth cheating and stealing over!"
"You forget how well Dalton's arts department is funded," said Trent. "At my old school, you had to fight the fencing team for a single spare penny. It's basically the same at McKinley, just with the cheer squad."
"Public schools are so bizarre."
Finally, the screen stayed on one shot for longer than a minute. Someone had set a camera up in the McKinley auditorium, facing the stage. An unfamiliar group flooded onto the stage, a glee club of girls, all in mismatched yellow and black outfits.
Flint whistled.
"Okay, guys, so first of all I want to welcome Ms. Hitchens and the Jane Addams glee club. We're all very happy to have you guys here. So, um, we're going to let you guys start us off. Let's see what you got."
Shadonda,
Can you handle this?
Aphasia,
Can you handle this?
Jayelle,
Can you handle this?
The girls launched into an energetic and frankly, good performance of Destiny Child's Bootylicious, complete with hair flipping and a little too much twerking for a teenage choir.
Wes frowned, "I don't know if the Glee Choir Association of America would allow this song at Sectionals."
"Yeah, they're way too stuck up," laughed Nick. Jeff hit him on the shoulder. "Ow!"
Read my lips carefully if you like what you see
Move, groove, prove you can hang with me
By the looks I got you shook up and scared of me
Hook up your seatbelt, it's time for take-off
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this
Cause my body's too bootylicious for ya babe
David was nodding his head along to the beat, while Flint eyed the girls on screen appreciatively.
They were very obviously the sole straight boys in the room.
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this jelly
I don't think you ready for this
Cause my body's too bootylicious for ya babe
The Jane Addam's girls eventually finished and filed out of the auditorium, whooping and cheering. Even as regional competition for the coveted show choir titles of the Mid-West, it still made the boys happy to watch another choir have so much fun and revel in their sisterhood. Fun and friendship are, after all, why they all joined glee club.
Wes groaned as he watched Rachel approach Mr Schuester, whispering in his ear. "Is Schue just going to steal the thing that makes that club unique?" asked Wes.
"It's like that debacle in our freshman year, Wes," said David, waving around a partially unwrapped sweet. "When the Columbus Modern School glee choir stole our arrangement for a mash-up between Walk Like An Egyptian and Carmina Burana!"
"What? Did that really happen?" Nick gasped.
"Tragic day," said David "The seniors made us change to the previous year's Regional's song: Tao Cruz's Dynamite."
"Not a great choir song."
"Neither is Bootylicious."
The scene then cut again, to a terrible angle of the McKinley hallway.
"Is that camera attached to someone?"
That someone ran through the hall, eventually catching up and stopping beside—
"Kurt!"
The camera-person voice turned out to be Quinn. "Hey, Kurt, can I pick your pink brain for a second?"
"'Pink' brain?" asked Nick. "What does that mean? Is that…homophobic?"
Jeff shrugged.
"Why hello, Quinn. To what do I owe the honour? I do believe this is the first time you've ever spoken to me."
"Also, why does Kurt look like he's going to sell me a used car and then go to his uncle's wedding?"
"A matching suit and trilby at a public school is a…choice."
"I'm sorry about that. Anyways, I have a proposition to make: A makeover."
"I'm in! Makeovers are like crack to me."
The Warblers laughed.
"My suggestion…Spanx. Or a double-knit camisole with a control top for the baby bump. Also, babydoll dresses – dead giveaway."
"Ouch."
"She literally asked!"
"Not for me, for Rachel."
"Never mind, ouch."
"Why would I want to do that? I admit I like a challenge as much as the next guy, but Rachel somehow manages to dress like a grandmother and a toddler at the same time."
"I mean," said David. "He's not wrong."
"Is this not technically bullying?"
Trent unwrapped a lolly. "This is why uniforms are a good idea. Can't bully someone for their clothes if they all look the same."
"No, they can just be bullied for everything else about them," Wes deadpanned.
"Don't you think the judges are going to take one look at her and maybe want to knock her down a peg or two?"
Kurt smirked. "And to think… I thought you were a dumb blonde. Deal."
"Aw," Jeff groaned, "that's actually kind of mean. Guys," he stopped. "Is, is Kurt mean?"
The boys were quiet. Thad removed his hand as silently as possible from the chips bag.
"He's nothing like this now," said Nick. "We were all different as freshman. He's a junior now. We've all changed."
"Yeah, Nick, you were straight a year ago."
"Shut up!"
The scene changes yet again to a shot of the choir room. Sue must have set up a permanent camera in the rafters. Creepy.
"Some of you, particularly the guys, have come up to me with some questions about hairography."
"Oh yeah, he's actually going through with this stupid plan."
Wes scoffed. "A performance should be that. A performance. Good, talented singing, dancing, and lightning. You don't need this…hair stuff."
"Also it doesn't look good."
"Also it doesn't look good!"
They watched as Brittany let her ponytail down. "All right. So, hairography. It works best when you pretend like you're getting tasered. So, you just move your head around like you're spazzing and stuff."
"Uh, Brittany, you probably shouldn't say that."
"You guys, it's like cool epilepsy."
"Yeah, you definitely shouldn't say that."
The Warblers burst out laughing as they watched the New Directions — girls with their natural hair, boys with cheap, Party City, 80s wigs — head bang and dance wildly.
"Now try sing in four-part harmony doing that," laughed David.
Jeff and Nick stood up and started copying the moves of the glee kids of screen. Nick laughed, trying to sing a pitching A, but struggled as the note warbled and danced around what it should actually be. The boys threw pillows at them until they sat back down.
"Just imagine: 'tenors! More hair! Less singing!"
"Tenors already don't sing."
"Shut up!"
"Okay guys from the top!"
"From what top?"
The camera flicked again and changed to the choir room. Must be a new day as there was now a second group of students in the room, red blazers and skirts, with the glee in…white shirts and denim? Fur vests? Those stupid wigs? What?
"Oh hey! That's the Haverbrook School kids," said Flint. "My sister goes there! Thank god this was last year; I don't know how I'd feel about her being secretly filmed by a manic cheerleading coach devoted to destruction."
"Flint, I honestly don't care about your sister right now," said Thad, leaning closer to the screen. "What on Earth are the New Directions doing?"
The New Directions were always…unique in their song choices and how they performed. Wes should know, he made the dossier on them in preparation for this years Sectionals. But this was a bit much, even for them.
Yes, it's so crazy right now
Most incredibly, it's ya boy Artie
It's ya girl Mercedes
"Are they mashing up Beyoncé and Hair?"
"Not even a good song from Hair."
I look and stare so deep in your eyes
I touch on you more and more every time
When you leave I'm begging you not to go
Call your name two or three times in a row
"This is the definition of second-hand embarrassment."
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why I don't know
"I want to die."
"No, why are they rutting up against each other."
"I'm sure there are show choir by-laws against this."
Got me looking so crazy right now, your love's
Got me looking so crazy right now
"Why is Artie's wig dreadlocks."
David rolled his eyes. "Honestly, not even on the top five questions I have about this."
Give me a head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming
Streaming, flaxen, waxen
"Look at Kurt!"
"Oh, my god!"
"Make it stop!"
Suddenly, a phone alarm started blaring. The boys jumped as Wes ripped out his phone.
"Shit!" He stood up. "Well, it's stopping now. We're late. Everyone needs to be on the bus five minutes ago!"
Curses and groans filled the dorm as the boys scrambled to collect their things. Shit. How had they all forgotten they had a performance tonight. They, the single members of the Warblers, had volunteered to perform at Breadstix tonight for the Valentine's Day Lonely Hearts Club dinner. And they were going to be late.
"Hurry up!" Wes called. "Full performance uniform! Ties and blazers! The Dalton bus should be in the courtyard."
Wes stood by the door as one after one, the Warblers filed out, adjusting their ties and brushing crumbs from their shirts. Together they ran down the halls and into the dormitory foyer.
Wes stopped at the top of the stairs. David looked back at him. "You coming?"
Shaking his hand, Wes took a step back.
"You guys go ahead. I'll go get Blaine."
. . . GLEE . . .
Wes easily spied Blaine. Leaning on the edge of the banister, looking over the stairs and the first floor of the dormitory, frowning. Blaine leant against the wood, absentmindedly running his untied tie through his fingers. Wes didn't approach quietly, but Blaine continued to stare out across the dormitory foyer.
"Hey, man," Wes joined him, turning around and leaning his back against the banister.
"Hey." The red and navy tie snaked through Blaine's hands, crinkling, knotting, until eventually he just let it hang there. "I'm sorry for storming out like that."
Wes shrugged. "It's okay. We know you're—"
"Don't—"
"In love with him."
"Wes—"
"No, I know," Wes waved his hand, "you're protective of him. Not in love. You're into Jeremiah. Or whatever. It can't be easy to watch his friends treat him like, y'know…"
"Like shit?" Blaine huffed. "It's hard, Wes. But it's not just that. It's hard to watch in general. Don't get me wrong, I love being able to…to see things that Kurt went through. To see what crap he went through before coming here, before he was in our lives but. It feels…gross?"
"Gross?"
"Wrong? I don't know, I don't know how to explain it yet." Blaine slowly started wrapping his tie around his hand. "I just think that if Kurt wanted us to know this stuff then he'd tell us. He's already mentioned that there was some…thing that happened. Something that really hurt him and I don't want to pry into something that has seriously hurt him. I don't want people knowing my embarrassing, traumatic, baggage! And I'm sure he doesn't either!" Blaine smacked his hand against the wooden banister. "Ow!"
"Blaine—" sighed Wes, "stop it. I won't lie, it's nice to be able to see what actually happened. But if you think that Kurt, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn't like that we have these DVDs…"
"Of course, he wouldn't like it!" Blaine huffed. "Would you like us watching hidden video of your 15th birthday party catastrophe?"
"Okay, that's uncalled for."
"Would you?"
"…it wouldn't feel great, no."
"Exactly," said Blaine. "I don't think we should watch the rest of them."
Wes grimaced, but straightened up. "Okay. We'll get rid of them. I don't know how we can get this Sue woman to stop secretly recording people like a creep, but, at least we can stop this here."
Blaine let out a breath, and as Wes looked, it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his friend's shoulders. Taking Blaine's tie from his hand, he lightly pushed on Blaine's shoulder until he stood up straight, letting Wes loop the fabric around his neck, tying it swift and tight, and tucking it under his collar.
"A Warbler shouldn't look dishevelled," Wes held back his smile. "I'll meet you at the bus?"
Blaine gave him a soft smile. "I'll be there soon. Just have to take care of something first."
Adjusting his tie, Blaine nodded and stepped back from the banister. A new spring in his step, he made his way back to the dorm room. The boys had left Wes and David's room a mess, chip packets and pillows strewn about the space. Atop the second-hand TV sat the disks, emblazoned with Sue Sylvester's Sharpie vitriol.
With a decisive snap the disk one came apart. Again and again, until every disk was a shattered mess of plastic.
"Thanks for the offer, Coach Sylvester." Blaine said, walking over and opening the windows. "But I think I can learn about my friend on his terms. Not yours."
And the DVDs went soaring out the window, onto the bushes and Dalton grounds below.
"Good riddance."
Blaine shut the window, grabbed his blazer from the floor, and left the room.
He had a performance to give.
. . . GLEE . . .
"What the hell!"
A head emerged from the bushes below the window. Shards of DVD stuck into a disgruntled Cheerio's hair. Rubbing her head, she scowled up at the window, and threw down her boom microphone and headphones.
"Fuck this."
. . . GLEE . . .
"Where have you all been!" said Kurt, running up to the bus as the Dalton-emblazoned doors opened. "We start in ten minutes! I had to run a warm-up by myself — do you know how embarrassing it is to sing scales outside a faux-Italian restaurant?"
A chorus of 'sorry's came from the boys stepping off the bus, filing out into the parking lot of the Breadstix. Glowing with a soft light, the garlic and grease was already wafting over from where the Lonely Hearts Club night was about to begin.
"Sorry, Kurt," said Blaine, smiling softly. Kurt flushed, and turned away.
Wes clapped, "Well then. Shall we get started. Mr Perfect Pitch, give us an A. One run of the first chorus, then we're inside."
The boys merged together, no longer just Dalton students but The Warblers, Dalton's pride and joy. A unit, a solid block of harmony and rhythm, united together in their love of song and joy in performing. Jon started beatboxing the bass, six counts and then they all joined in.
You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs
But I look around me and I see it isn't so
Even just rehearsing, Blaine sang with passion. How could he not? He was happy. He had amazing friends. He was doing what he loved.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs
And what's wrong with that?
I'd like to know
Blaine looked over at Kurt and smiled.
'Cause here I go
He was so lucky to have such a good friend in Kurt Hummel.
Again!
Blaine Anderson never was the most observant person.
. . . GLEE . . .
I'm 22 why the fuck am I still writing Glee fanfiction
But genuinely, thank you all, so, so much for the support and love over the years. I left Glee a long time ago, and, although terrible and provoking a fight-or-flight response every time I see it on TikTok, this show and this fandom in particular played such a decisive role in my childhood and helped form me into the person I am today.
Since abandoning (sorry) this fic, I finished high school, started university, nearly finished university, went through a parent's divorce, came out as bi, got diagnosed with a chronic disease, and moved across the country. Not in that order. Through the years I've received a review and likes every so often, and they never failed to lift my heart and remind me of the memories this fandom inspired.
So, I say this to you, reading this right now, thank you so much for your love and support. I probably won't be updating this story ever again, as I can't watch an episode of Glee without shrieking in pain every 2-4 minutes, but I felt like I owed at least something to all of you.
All my love,
Emily
(I am on AO3 btw, I haven't written anything but if you want to find me, I'm here: /users/emblebeee)