D is for Drummer Boy
"Hummel, you have to," Santana insisted, rolling her eyes and shifting her weight to one hip as she adjusted the wings sticking out the back of her gown, attempting to make them stick out more fully. "You're the only one who can actually both play the drums and pull off the look."
"There are no iron clad, written in stone rules saying that anyone who is singing or playing that solo HAS to look like anything," Kurt maintained, his voice tight, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as though afraid that Santana might attempt to pull his shirt off without his permission. And given the conversation at hand, it wasn't an unrealistic fear. "I'm not doing it, Santana. Period."
"Kurt, you would look fine, you would look good, even. Aren't you happy with your body?" Rachel attempted to reason with him, absently reaching up to touch her slightly wobbling halo as she moved closer.
Kurt shook his head vehemently, putting up both hands in front of him, as though to stop her coming any closer. "I'm more than happy with my body, Rachel, that doesn't mean that everyone in the venue will get to see it. I don't do half clothed performances, and I certainly don't do them dressed in THAT. What is that, a stained dish towel?!"
"It's supposed to be a loincloth, sorry if we don't have a historical artifact from the ages of Christ's birth for you to cover your man jewels with," Santana rolled her eyes, shaking her head back at him in exasperation. "Just put it on and drum your bum, Hummel. Everyone's gonna be too busy trying to see the outline of my bra to look at your man nipples anyway."
"Really, Kurt, it wont' be so-" Rachel started, but Kurt spoke over them both, almost shouting.
"I am NOT wearing nothing but a TOWEL to perform "The Little Drummer Boy" for the band's first and probably ONLY Christmas concert!"
Seeing how insistent he was, Santana rolled her eyes again, and Rachel sighed, defeated.
"Fine…I still think it would have been really cute, though…"