A/N: This idea came from a four hour conversation between two of the writers at 1 in the morning.
So you know how Glee has three writers? This fic has three writers. And like Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan, we don't talk to each other when we write these.
Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy (AO3)
Rachel Berry hates jocks almost as much as she hates cheerleaders.
She can't believe she's spent the last two and a half hours of a Friday night sitting in cold bleachers, watching a bunch of helmet-wearing meatheads determined to smash the two brain cells between them out of existence. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and these are desperate times.
"TITANS, TITANS, T-I-T-A-N-S Yeah! Rah! Rah! Rah!" Her thoughts are interrupted by the inane chants of the Cheerios, who had captured the audience with the kinetic explosiveness of their halftime performance but are now reduced to trying to rally a crowd of a few dozen remaining supporters to urge on a team that's losing by three touchdowns.
Serves them right. Rachel can't deny the cheer squad has talent - certainly more than the collection of neanderthals that they're ostensibly there to support, who did nothing on the field to earn their spot at the top of McKinley's food chain - but the smug visage of their captain, Quinn Fabray, who somehow manages to be an arrogant bitch straight out of a Taylor Swift song and the world's most boringly sanctimonious virgin at the same time, has been haunting Rachel's nightmares for years. Never has such a raging hypocrite been so rewarded just for looking like every guy's dream girl and being kind of good - ok, very good, - at the Stepford Wives version of gymnastics.
"Fourth down and five, 1:51 to go, last chance for the Titans." The sound of a very bored announcer trickling through the crackly PA system snaps Rachel's eyes back to the field. "Hudson takes the snap. Back to pass, fires complete to Puckerman, who is decked short of the sticks. The ball will go over on downs, and the McKinley Titans are going to drop this season opener to the Carmel Camels by a score of 38-17."
That's a polite way to say they got their asses kicked, Rachel thinks as she makes her way down to the field. She's been dreading this all day but there was no way she sat through that pathetic display of failed masculinity for nothing.
As the clock hits zero and the Titans and Cheerios begin to disperse to their respective locker rooms, Rachel takes a furtive glance to confirm that tyrannical cheer coach Sue Sylvester's nowhere in sight (the new director, Will Schuester, was supposed to be keeping her occupied right now. Rachel figures it's fifty-fifty whether he's still alive). Finding the sidelines appropriately free of brightly colored track suits, she jumps the barrier and steps onto the sideline.
"Attention, Cheerios!" she calls out, drawing snickers from the remaining football players and looks from the cheer squad that ranged from disinterested to murderous. But she can't spend time worrying about that; she has a job to do, and as much as she wanted to be anywhere else, her future might depend on whether she succeeds or not. "I'm Rachel Berry, and I'm the captain of the McKinley High School Glee Club."
"We know who you are, trash queen." Santana Lopez, Quinn's second in command and a girl who thinks the first act of Mean Girls is aspirational, steps forward with a textbook sneer no doubt drilled into her by Lesbian George McArthur herself. "And I think I speak for all of us when I say that none of us are going to join your precious little Losers Club."
"Now, now, Santana, no need for that." Quinn steps forward, and her sickeningly insincere smile makes Rachel's vision narrow and her blood boil. A predictable reaction, and so frustrating, but Quinn's been able to get under her skin like no one else for as long as she can remember. "It's not Rachel's fault her only talent gets her stuck in a club with a bunch of friendless apostates with no future. Why don't we hear her out?"
Rachel can't tell if the Catholic superiority complex or the backhanded compliment was more infuriating, but she isn't going to pass up the invitation to make her pitch, even a sarcastic one. "Thank you, Quinn. I'd like to issue an official invitation to any member of the Cheerios interested in expanding their creative horizons to audition for McKinley High's newly-reformed Glee Club, this Friday at -"
She hears the laughter before she processes the impact of the gatorade crate being emptied over her head. It's pathetic, really. Two dozen teenagers in size zero red jumpsuits, gleefully celebrating the humiliation of a girl who was going to get farther in life than any of them. But with her hair plastered to her face, her body temperature dropping and the smell of the vilest drink ever devised by mankind enveloping her senses, Rachel isn't in any position to appreciate the irony.
"Each and every one of you is going to regret that. I swear it," she sputters, which only makes the Cheerios laugh harder as they prance off to their locker room. Whatever. They're insignificant regardless. There's only one person she needed to get revenge on. There has only ever been one person. She locks eyes with Quinn.
"You'd better enjoy while it lasts, Fabray. One day, when your quarterback boyfriend drops you for someone who can afford more expensive cosmetic surgery, and you're stuck raising some nobody's kids in this dead end of a town with the Catechism as your only friend, I'll be in the greatest city in the world, sparing you not a single thought."
Quinn's expression hardens, her hazel-green eyes shining with a dangerous magnetism. "You know, it's funny. I actually have a couple girls with some serious pipes. I could have convinced them to help you out. But given your disappointing approach to negotiation, I don't think I will."
Yeah, because having your lackeys assault me with energy drinks is a great way to establish good faith bargaining, Rachel thinks, but the sensory overload of the gatorade attack and the chilling reverberations of Quinn's voice leave her unable to muster any more words. Finally breaking off her signature icy glare, Quinn turns away with her patented hair flip; Rachel can never decide if it was the sixteenth or seventeenth most annoying thing about her (she kept a list; it was constantly in flux). With one last glance over her shoulder, Quinn delivers her parting shot.
"You know, Berry, you should be careful how you treat people. It would be a pity to waste that pretty little voice of yours on such a regrettable personality."
With that, the Cheerios captain disappears into the night, with Rachel's head left spinning from the cold, the cumulative insults, and the fact that, maybe, just a little, from a certain point of view, Quinn Fabray had just given her a compliment. Kind of. God, she thinks. Having a nemesis is exhausting.
It's not like there isn't anything to like about Quinn. Rachel can't care less what bullshit social hierarchies deems to be cool or uncool - talent is talent, and Quinn has been doing perfectly balanced cartwheels since she could walk, with back flips and the ability to fold herself into a pretzel following shortly after. She works her ass off to stay in the kind of shape her eldritch monster of a coach demands, and she commands the Cheerios with the kind of natural charisma of someone who was born to take charge of a room.
As much as Rachel hates to admit it, she's beautiful too. Sure, Quinn's constantly aware of it and spends ridiculous amounts of money to optimize it, but there's a real skill to the way she always gets her hair to frame her face perfectly, the way her deceptively slim frame is powered by seriously well-developed muscles, and a striking natural beauty to those eyes, which have a piercing quality that seems to freeze people in their tracks. Just like Medusa.
And that's the thing, really. For all that Rachel knows that she can be a bit on the abrasive side, it's seriously rich for Quinn goddamn Fabray to be criticizing her personality. It's not her fault that the school worships her for her talents, but it's definitely her fault that she acts like being the center of attention is her birthright and uses her social capital to punch down on everyone who can't stand up to her. Not to mention how badly she treats that pathetic puppy dog of a quarterback, who will probably end up in a seminary by the time Quinn's done with him. The Celibacy Club she runs makes the Mormon Church look like a bunch of hippies.
Rachel does her best to dislodge Quinn from her thoughts, but as she makes her way toward the field gates, right by the boys' locker rooms, which has surely cleared out by now, the depth of her failure's beginning to sink in. The Glee Club needs to be able to field a roster of ten in order to compete at sectionals. Including Rachel, McKinley has four, and reinforcements are nowhere in sight. Mr. Schuester had promised to try to recruit the football team earlier, and Rachel wouldn't have been surprised if his recruiting pitch went worse than hers did. The other three members had tried the AV Club, the nerds at the school paper, and the anime club. All had gone bust. This had been their last best chance, and it had been no chance at all.
Once more, Quinn's arrogant smirk enters her mind unbidden, gloating at her futility. Just like it has been ever since they were kids…
"I can't fight this feeling any longer
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow
What started out as friendship has grown stronger
I only wish I had the strength to let it show"
The sound freezes Rachel dead in her tracks. The voice is coming from the team locker room, piercing through a night so silent it seemed almost ghostly. It's loud - not only loud, but clear, and enunciated well enough that Rachel can make out every lyric of R.E.M.'s And it is beautiful. Unpolished, rough around the edges, and absolutely beautiful, immersed in the sheer freedom of whoever's in there, thinking they're singing only to God and themselves. Whoever he is, Rachel knows she's just been thrown a lifeline. She pulls her phone from her still damp jacket pocket and shoots a text to her dads. She's going to be getting home a little late.
When he finally emerges, Rachel's jaw drops.
Finn Hudson? The golden boy quarterback? Quinn's arm candy accessory to her ten year master plan to win Prom Queen? There's no way a hunk like that sounds that good without any training.
Fortunately, none of this was said out loud, but the football captain's caught her staring. and Rachel braces herself for another round of verbal abuse. But the tension fizzles when she realizes the expression on his face is, for some reason, one of utter confusion. After several awkward beats too many, he finally opens his mouth.
"I thought you weren't into guys."
Well, that was unexpected.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, I'm really flattered, and I'm not saying I'm not used to this, it's just, I know you know I have a girlfriend. And I always thought we were on different teams, anyway. Cause you know, with how you're obsessed with Quinn. But I guess maybe you're bi? Which is totally cool. I know the other guys are assholes about it, but I think it's pretty cool that you get to have more options. Hey, you look cold. You need a ride home?"
"Ok, enough," Rachel interjects, her brain scrambling to make sense of everything that had just been thrown at her. "First of all, I'm not gay or bi. I'm straight. And even if I was attracted to girls, never in a million years would one of those girls be Quinn Fabray. You can keep her. And second, I'm not here to proposition you, you sorry excuse for a misogynist. I'm here to recruit you."
Finn's frown deepens, somehow making him look even more confused than before. "Recruit me to what? The only thing you do is that singing thing. Glee, or whatever."
"Yes, genius. I'm here, at midnight on a Friday, sacrificing my precious rehearsal time to watch every snap of that deeply boring and confusing sport and having been assaulted by your satanic girlfriend and her hive of breakfast cereal pun-based freaks, because I need you to join Glee."
He smiles, which is actually a nice surprise. At least this one's too oblivious to be cruel, and it draws attention to the fact that he's naturally handsome in a way that jocks typically aren't. "Look, I wish I could help you out. You seem nice." Yeah. Oblivious is the right word. "But Mr. Schue already came by to recruit us. We told him it would be pretty awkward to join up with the kids we're always throwing slushies at. Or at least that's what I said. The others called him a word that's really bad, cause it implies he's gay and that's it's a bad thing. "
"Slur, Finn. They used a slur."
"Yeah, that's the word! I wish I could tell them not to do that, but Puck says it's not in the Bro Code." Oh god. She never realized football did its damage this quickly. "But anyway, even if I could, I don't know what you'd do with me, anyway. I can't sing."
Rachel sighs and waits. One beat. Two beats. And the penny drops.
"Oh, god, you heard me?"
"I did. Your projection is excellent. And it's not the only thing that is." God, this is pointless. There's no way she was going to convince him. But she's already here, and he had sounded so damn good. She's worth less than nothing if she went down without one more try.
"I know you don't need this. I know you have no reason to want this. I know I'm asking you to throw away the thing that's made you the most popular guy in this godforsaken town, even if you are shaving a couple years off your life-span every time you put on those silly, oversized shoulder-pads. But we need you Finn. Hell, I'll never admit I said this, but I need you. I can't get to New York if I can't actually use my voice for anything, and that only happens if the Glee Club gets off the ground. If you join, it would prove that the Glee Club isn't just for those of us on the bottom; it would encourage so many more kids who are talented in multiple ways to try out. And more than numbers, we need a male lead, someone whose voice is strong enough to match up with mine. And I know that voice is yours. Please, Finn. Don't deny your gifts just because it's inconvenient to have them."
Finn turns silent for what feels like an eternity. Rachel waits for him to laugh her, and she won't even blame him. If someone had given her that kind of insufferable plea, she would have done the same.
Instead, he says, "Wow. That was a really good speech."
This can't be happening. "But?"
"But Coach Shannon would kill me if I quit, and then Puck would probably kill me again. I can't abandon my bros. Even if they are kind of jerks sometimes"
And there it is. Such a waste, to turn such a decent-seeming guy into a superstar athlete. McKinley's economies of cruelty has rotted his brain, and the damage has nothing to do with his limited vocabulary.
"Fine. If that's your decision, my business here is done. Good night." Rachel tries to keep her voice steady, but the tears appearing unbidden at the corners of her eyes makes it impossible. God, I really am pathetic. She turns as quickly as possible and takes two large strides towards the exit. This has been a really bad day, and she needs it to be over.
"Wait, stop! It's really nothing personal, alright? I just have too much going on to be able to do something like that on a whim, you know? I mean, even if I could take that hit to my reputation, I can't really commit to learning a whole new skill when I'm on the verge of getting academic probation if I fail Spanish."
Rachel freezes. There's the opportunity. It's conniving and underhanded as hell, but she has no choice. Sincerity has failed. If she has to manipulate her way to New York, so be it. She slowly turns around.
"Spanish, huh? You know, Mr. Schue is infamous for giving extra credit to people who join his extracurriculars. A lot of extra credit."
His eyes widen, which is exactly what she was looking for. Thank god being a quarterback doesn't come with a minimum brain cell requirement. The night's quickly turning in her favor; it's time to drive in the final nail. "So really, the Glee Club is the only way to make sure you stay on the team. Sure, your reputation will take a hit. But you won't lose your chance at a scholarship. You'll have an excuse to do something you're actually really good at, and no one will have to know that you actually enjoy it. Everything comes up roses."
She knows she's won before she even finishes. Of course, she'll have to take additional steps to magic this completely made up extra credit into existence. But manipulating Will Schuester will be one of the easier things she has to do this week.
As he mulls over the offer, Rachel can practically see his brain trying to make the calculations. It's honestly a little endearing. And then he speaks the words she knew were coming, the words that maybe, just maybe, are about to change her life.
"I'm in."
Kurt Hummel's used to carrying the burden of art alone. Sharing it with Rachel Berry makes him want more than anything to shoulder it himself again.
"Hi, everyone! I just want to say how excited I am to welcome you all to the 2009-2010 season of the William McKinley High Glee Club. My name is Rachel Berry, and I'll be your captain on this journey." The painfully-rehearsed delivery might have been cute, if it didn't come from a girl who has been an exhausting constant in all of their small-town lives since birth.
"Rachel, we know who you are." Mercedes Jones, a powerhouse vocalist and one of the few friends Kurt can count on in this dead-end town, somehow looks even more bored than he feels. "And it's not a journey if we can't even get off the ground. Look around, 'Captain.' We're six members short. Even if we somehow got our chemistry together, no one else is walking through that door."
"Hi guys!" Finn Hudson, indeed, walks through the door.
Oh dear. Kurt only humored Rachel when he agreed to try to recruit the anime club - he knew she was taking on the worst job of all in trying to break up the Cheerio-Titan alliance that rules the school with an iron fist. He knew he wouldn't succeed, but he had been even more certain that Rachel wouldn't either. But Mr. Schue came back from football practice with a null result and no indication that any of them might change their mind. Which meant Rachel went to the game in a desperate attempt to snag a few D-list cheerleaders, and instead managed to reel in the single most popular teenage boy in Lima, Ohio. And given what the football team has put him through since they were old enough to understand that society will affirm their cruelty as long as he's on the other side of it, this is about the worst possible outcome he could have imagined.
Rachel, as always, is completely failing to read the room.
"Quite the contrary, Mercedes. This is Finn Hudson, quarterback of the McKinley Titans, who I have successfully recruited to be my male lead - and given his considerable influence on the social dynamics of this school, it's only a matter of time before the rest of McKinley is begging us to let them audition." The beaming smile that follows this is sickeningly smug, but also somehow so achingly sincere that it's downright heartbreaking.
"Bit presumptuous to declare him the male lead before any of us hear him sing, isn't it?" Kurt knows this isn't a battle worth fighting, but sometimes it's just impossible to be in a room with Rachel Berry and not end up indulging in confrontational instincts.
"Well, as someone who has heard Finn sing, I think it's anything but. He has the voice, he has the charisma, has the physicality to be a commanding stage presence. He's exactly the kind of piece we've been missing to make us a viable choir."
"Hey, Rachel?" The quarterback speaks, and Kurt's taken aback by the gentleness in his voice. Not that it's ever done a damn thing for him since his football teammates make a habit of throwing him into dumpster without any resistance from their precious quarterback. Even if Finn does always offer to hold his jacket first.
"Look, I don't know what you mean by charisma or physicality, but you should know that I can't dance. And I'm not saying that in the same way that I said I can't sing. My mom refused to let me dance at my cousin's wedding. She said it was a safety hazard."
"Well, isn't this a refreshing dose of humility." Kurt steps forward and offers a handshake. Might as well break the new kid into the real world before Rachel Berry spends too much time with him. "I'm Kurt Hummel. This is Mercedes Jones and Artemis Abrahams. I see you've already met Rachel Berry. And we are prospective members of the McKinley High School Glee Club."
"Don't let Rachel make you think this is her club." Mercedes gives Finn her best stare down. "It's my voice as much as hers that you'll have to keep up with. If you can do that, you'll be golden."
"My friends call me Artie." The reliable guitarist, refreshingly competent harmonist, and Kurt's frequent partner in victimization pushes her wheelchair forward. "But you can start on a probationary basis, on the condition that you cease your participation in the slushie squads."
Finn nods intensely. "I can do that." He surveys the choir room, and when their eyes meet, Kurt thinks they contained something like remorse. "And I'm really sorry for the what the guys have been doing to you. It's not cool."
There's no way on Earth that apology should have sounded sincere. But something about the delivery, such softness coming from such a gargantuan frame, communicates such incredible earnestness that Kurt can't help but believe it, at least a little.
Still, at McKinley High, lowering one's guard too easily is a dangerous mistake. Finn will have to be kept at a distance, and that means he can't be handed the male lead without a fight.
"Look, as much as I appreciate Rachel's enthusiasm, and as much as we're all excited to have fresh blood in the Glee Club, the actual process for determining your role is a little more professional than that. You may well be good enough to be a male lead, but you'll have to prove that you can displace me first."
"Well, that is true, in that it will take time for all of us to solidify our teamwork. But you won't actually have any competition for the lead. Kurt has a lovely voice, but he can't actually be the centerpiece of a show choir."
The fact that it is, in a certain sense, completely true only makes Kurt's anger more impossible to contain. Leave it to a girl with two gay dads and the biggest closeted denial-crush in history to be homophobic, but the girl has learned ruthlessness with the rest of them. Most days Kurt's capable of putting up with it without a fight. This was not one of those days.
"Oh, you can just say it's because I'm gay Rachel. Listen, I know I'm not a conventional lead and won't appeal to the real Blue Collar Americans of this Midwestern nowhere, but it's not like this club can be any further down the bottom of the ladder than we already are. What are they going to do? Throw more slushies at us?"
"Kurt, Kurt, it's not like that all!" Rachel, unlike Finn, is constitutionally incapable of communicating sincerity. "It's not because you're attracted to boys. It's because you're a countertenor."
He doesn't know why he's so surprised. The logic checks out, because that's what it always is with Rachel Berry - a series of calculations and optimizations designed to get her away from all the losers she has no time for.
"Look," he sighs, flipping his green plaid scarf from one shoulder to the other. "I'm not saying we're going to give Finn any high harmonies. I'm certainly not asking to have any duets of love songs with you, but the rest of us should at least have the opportunity to see what Mr. Finn Hudson brings to the table."
"You're absolutely right Kurt. And in fact, Finn has taken the liberty of preparing a showcase for what the five of us can achieve together. Finn, take it away!"
Finn smiles nervously. "So first of all, I just want to apologize again for the way the team has treated you, all of you. I know you have every right to be wary of me, and that I haven't exactly stood up for you when some of the football guys were pushing you around just for who you are. So however long it takes for you to trust me, just know that you're all on my team now. And I'm gonna have your backs, no matter what."
Well, then. This one might just be the real deal. As Kurt takes in the expressions of his teammates, he feels the collective realization pass through the room that this kind of energy, totally lacking in any kind of cynicism, is something they haven't felt for a long, long time.
"Yeah, so, I have a single mom," Finn continues. "And when I was growing up, she dated this guy Darren, who would paint our lawn, and we really kind of bonded; it was super sad when he left. But his favorite band was Journey and this is a song we used to sing together."
It's a cliche, to be sure, but to be honest, it's kind of sweet that this jock's first move is the quintessentially sentimental dad rock song. And it's ubiquitous enough that, even with just the five of them, they'll have no problems performing it cold.
Finn steps into line, Rachel's signature narcissistic smile plastered across her face, Mercedes and Artie's skepticism slowly being overtaken by genuine hope. It's still a million-to-one shot, and Kurt still doesn't know quite how to feel about any of it, but there's nothing left but to take the leap.
The lights dim. The band, infinite in their patience, finally ready their instruments. Kurt and his friends effortlessly launch into their acapella harmonies, the result of years worth of futile repetition in the pursuit of impossible dreams. And then Finn Hudson steps forward, carrying himself with a confidence that has never been seen on the football field, and with an unpolished but legitimately beautiful tenor, begins the verse that might just change all of their lives.
"Just a small town-girl… "
Notes: We moved Tina to the second generation of Glee kids (Marley and co).
We didn't feel comfortable with the casting of an able-bodied person (Kevin McHale) for Artie so now Artie is played by Ali Stroker, who actually was on the show for one episode due to being a runner-up on The Glee Project. This is why Artie is now a girl. Don't worry Kevin McHale fans, he'll still be in this rewrite series. Somewhere.
Ken Tanaka has already been replaced by Coach Shannon.
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