mzminola: knees-down view of a kid in white stockings and black shoes who is standing on tiptoe. (Default)
[personal profile] mzminola
Title: Drummer Boy
Author: mzminola
Fandom: Glee!
Genre: Alternate Universe
Premise: What if Finn never sang in Glee club, because he was already in Jazz Band?
Rating: high as the show itself, plus extra for swearing.

Warnings for the fic as a whole: Anything the show has is likely to show up here, so pretty much all of the bullying and phobias and barfing and other issues. If you are worried about specific triggers please let me know and I can give you a heads up.

Kurt hadn’t expected to become Quinn and Finn’s regular ride to the Planned Parenthood clinic out of town, but when the second appointment came up, Finn got the shakes again, and Quinn was just as nervous, though she hid it a lot better.

Since he didn’t need to be read the directions anymore, Kurt let the radio play at regular volume while they drove. He liked to play the pop station in the mornings on his way to school, armoring himself in diva-beats before stepping out of this Navigator and onto the asphalt.

Classic rock was a good way to calm down on the way home, though, and so he’d developed an auto-pilot habit to switch to that station when he got in the Navigator in the afternoon.

The second time they drove to the clinic, Don’t Stop Believin’ came on, and Finn sang along. Kurt joined in for the part he’d taken back during that week of early Glee, the original five and the band.

Quinn hadn’t been there for that, but she was smiling at Finn from the back. The next song was Pat Benatar’s Invincible, and Finn smacked out a rhythm on his knees while Kurt and Quinn sang along.


Rachel Berry was training herself to deflect the paparazzi, and of course as a star she would get questions about her co-stars, and of course she would need to convincingly deny all rumors. And if anyone counted as paparazzi in this horrible little town, it was Jacob ben Isreal.

She wasn’t expecting him to follow her down the hall though, and say “Everyone knows that Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray are the big stars of Glee. The faces of the club.”

“Do you have a point, Jacob, or are you just going to start talking about my lips again? Because twice was two times too many.”

“My point is that none of the rumors about Fabray being preggo started until after she joined Glee club,” Jacob said.

There were fifty different implications in that sentence. Or if not implication, fifty different horrible little gossipy spins Jacob could turn it into on his trashy, disgusting blog.

“What do you want?” Rachel snapped.


Terri was glad that Will has never friends with any of his coworkers that had children. He was mad and tense and irritable from work, and rude to Kendra, but he was still taking Terri at her word for everything about the pregnancy.

Kendra was still looking. They got one response to their subtle add, but it turned out Kendra had been too subtle for Lima, because the response was from a dog-owner whose bitch had gotten unexpectedly pregnant, and was now looking for good homes for the puppies.


“Hey Quinn,” Rachel Berry said, stepping up next to Quinn in the hallway. Rachel didn’t link arms with Quinn the way Santana or Brittany or even Mercedes would have, just stepped in pace with her.

“What do you want, Rachel?” Quinn asked. She was on her way to the library.

“I have twenty-four hours to get Jacob ben Isreal a pair of my panties, and it involves you,” Rachel said. Her tone was business-like on the surface, but you don’t get to be captain of the Cheerios your Freshman year without hearing all the various flavors of misery underneath.

“If you’re asking my advice, get some new ones from the store,” Quinn said.

“I was planning on that,” Rachel said.

“And don’t forget to take the tag off.”

“Advice isn’t what I actually wanted to talk to you about,” Rachel said, sounding mildly insulted. “No. He was going to run a story about your pregnancy, and spin it to slander the Glee club.”

Quinn’s footsteps came to a sudden halt, and Rachel was a few feet away before she noticed and turned around.

“How. Did. He. Find. Out.”

“I don’t know, and I wish I did,” Rachel said, and okay, that was sincerity in her voice. “Glee club has your back Quinn, and I’ll do everything I can to keep this story under wraps until…well, until it becomes a moot point.” Rachel’s eyes went pointedly to Quinn’s abdomen, and Quinn thanked her nerves of steel that kept her hands at her sides, instead of coming up to cover her stomach.

Rachel caught the flicker of aborted movement in Quinn’s hands, though.

“You don’t like me,” Quinn said.

“But I do like Glee club,” Rachel said. “Which is why Jacob’s point that you’re a very high-visibility member made me concerned. I’m hoping that by the time…by the time your situation reveals itself on its own, you won’t be the club’s strongest representation.”

“Oh, my god,” Quinn said. “This is about the solos, isn’t it? You want more lead parts.”

“That would assist in shifting representation of the club from you to me, yes,” Rachel said.

“You know what? Fine,” Quinn snapped. “If you can pry the solos out of Mr. Schuester’s hands, you’re welcome to them.”


Trent thought it wasn’t so bad, having Miss Sylvester as co-director. She was terrifying, but everyone else was just as terrified of her as he was, so he didn’t feel so alone in his fear.

It was still a relief not to be picked for her team, though.


Santana thought having Sue in to co-direct was great. Her involvement would really speed up the process Santana was going for; either New Directions would fall apart, and Puck and the Cheerios would be free to work on their reputations again, or the Glee club would succeed like a motherfucker and good reps would come to all within.

Seriously, Santana was cool with either outcome. She just maybe wanted one or the other to happen faster than it was.

What Santana wasn’t cool with was Coach Sue splitting up her and Brittany.

So when all the kids showed up for practice earlier than the directors, Santana thought screw it, stood up, and said “I need to catch up with my girls,” to the room at large. “You in?”

Everyone was in, and when Artie wheeled into the room he pointed to Finn Hudson, who was sitting at this drum set chatting with Puck, and said “Hit it!” Then Artie started singing Ride Wit Me, everyone just went with it, and yeah.

Maybe this fucking club was the best part of her day.


Promising to not fight Rachel for the lead parts was easy; it wasn’t like singing with Puck was high on her list of priorities right now anyway.

That didn’t mean watching Mr. Schuester hand Rachel the solos and main vocals without a thought wasn’t annoying, though.

Miss Sylvester thought Quinn was capable of captaining the Cheerios.

Mr. Schuester thought Quinn was capable of swaying in the back.


“I guess Miss Sylvester was right,” Quinn said backstage. “He clearly doesn’t like minorities.”

Brittany looked over at Puck, and quietly said “That’s so not fair. I can’t help that I’m not twenty-one yet, I didn’t pick when I was born.”

Puck said maybe they could go talk to Miss Sylvester about it.


“Call Dr. Wu,” Kendra said, her voice firm on the other end of the phone. “Cancel the appointment. Friday morning tell Will that Dr. Wu cancelled on you because he got the flu or something.”

“But what if he calls Dr. Wu’s office to reschedule and they tell him I’m the one who cancelled?” Terri hissed into the phone, trying to keep her voice down, despite the panic trying to claw its way out.

“Shit,” Kendra said. “Okay, I gotta sleep on this one. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t panic. It’s gonna be okay, Terri.”

“Okay,” Terri said. “Okay.”

Kendra would think of something. She was so smart, she had to think of something.

After hanging up, Terri stayed in the craft room for another hour, staring at the phone.


Trent stared at the lyrics and music in his hands.

“Mr. Schuester, I don’t think I can handle singing the male lead yet,” Trent said. That would mean standing on stage singing on-level with Rachel Berry, who still made him want to hide under the piano sometimes, and sing with everyone else in club looking at him.

Trent liked being part of the group. He did not want to be in front of the group.

“You can do this, Trent,” Mr. Schuester said. “I believe in you.”

“Can’t you talk Puck into coming back?” Trent asked. “Or give the part to Quinn?”

“Just practice,” Mr. Schuester said. “You’ll be fine.”

“I can help you,” Rachel said. “I know it’s intimidating for your first duet to be with someone as talented and experience as myself, but trust me, it’s better to work with someone who knows what they’re doing than with another singer who’s as new as yourself.”

Trent nodded tentatively. He did want to learn more.


From her left, Rachel heard the smallest voice she had ever heard say “I want to go home.”

Rachel’s eyes darted to the left, and she saw Trent staring at the shouting teachers with a miserable expression, lips parted just the tiniest bit. He probably didn’t even realize he’d spoken. Her eyes darted to the right, and Rachel noted that Quinn looked disgusted.

The rest of New Directions was frozen by or in their seats, looking quite shocked.

Rachel took a deep breath.

“EXCUSE ME,” Rachel…didn’t shout, she projected, because she was on stage after all. There was a sudden silence, a nasty buzzing sort that would be filled again soon by angry teachers if Rachel couldn’t fill it herself soon enough.

“Much as I appreciate your critique of our performance, Miss Sylvester, I must register my complaint in the manner you presented said criticism.” Rachel jerked her chin a little higher upwards on the word presented, and noted that Miss Sylvester had raised both of her eyebrows.


In the audience, Artie was taking advantage of the teacher’s distraction to gather the rest of New Directions, and Kurt was motioning to Quinn and Trent. Rachel, always on the alert for unexpected changes to choreography from her teammates, noted all this with her peripheral vision, while keeping her own gaze directed firmly on Miss Sylvester and Mr. Schuester.

“I am also quite disappointed in your response to the criticism, Mr. Schuester,” Rachel said, still using her most commanding voice.

“Wha- me?” Mr. Schuester said, eyebrows going higher than Miss Sylvester’s, jaw dropping. Rachel could see him straightening his back to respond, and she continued forward.

“Yes, Mr. Schuester,” Rachel said. Quinn had reached behind Rachel and taken Trent’s hand, and was slowly pulling him towards the side of the stage. “As co-directors, the two of you are supposed to be able to offer and receive constructive criticism, working together to enhance our performance as a whole. Even if New Directions is split up for two numbers, we’re still one group.”

Rachel kept her haughtiest face on, but made a mental note to congratulate herself on that last line later.

Puck, Matt, and Mike had just gotten Artie out of the auditorium door and the rest of the group was streaming out, and Quinn had taken the band with her when she got Trent offstage.

Mercedes was the last one out from the auditorium doors, and she paused to give the teachers a piece of her mind on “this whole minority business.” It was a beautiful, succinct speech, and Rachel felt a sort of giddy joy coming up from her toes that this was her teammate, no matter how the adults tried to divide them.

“Thank you for summing that up, Mercedes,” Rachel said. “Now, Miss Sylvester, Mr. Schuester, when the two of you are ready to discuss our performance in a civilized manner, we shall be in the choir room.”

With that, Rachel exited, stage right.


Trent couldn’t quite believe Mr. Schuester said everyone in Glee club was a minority just for being there. Or that he said all they have is each other, because Trent knew he had his parents too, and he had met Artie’s, though he had to admit he had no clue if the other ten club members had parents. No, wait, Mercedes had said her dad was a dentist. So Mercedes had her dad, at least, along with Glee club.

“So it doesn’t matter if Rachel is Jewish,” Mr. Schuester was saying. “Or Trent is…”

Fat, Trent’s brain supplied, as it had been doing since his metabolism changed after fifth grade and his face grew rounder.

“…shy,” Mr. Schuester said, and Trent wondered if Mr. Schuester had paused for so long because he was trying to think of something to say, or because he had expected Trent to say something.

Then Miss Sylvester told the room at large that Quinn was pregnant, and that everyone was going to know and…


Quinn started crying, and Miss Sylvester left, and Mr. Schuester was just sitting and staring blankly at the floor instead of saying anything, and Trent remembered that Mr. Schuester hadn’t been there when Tina had figured it out.


The rest of the club didn’t know what to do, and Puck could not sit there and watch Quinn silently cry. Especially not with their blackmailing teacher sitting there looking like he was the one who’d been betrayed in front of everyone.

“C’mon, Fabray,” Puck said in a low voice, holding out a hand, which she took, and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go find that boyfriend of yours.”

They hit the hallway right as class got out, and got to Finn’s locker at the same time he did.

“Fucking Coach Sylvester just told the Glee club that’ Quinn being preggo is gonna be all over the internet,” Puck said abruptly, stepping back as Quinn stepped into Finn’s arms. “That means it’s gonna be all over school by tomorrow.”

“Oh God,” Finn said. He wrapped his arms around Quinn and started stroking her back as she sobbed into his chest.

Puck didn’t know what to say after that, so he turned and walked away.

He spotted Rachel Berry hissing angrily at Jacob ben Isreal, who looked more morose than usual. Suddenly, Miss Sylvester’s comment about the blogosphere made a lot more sense.

“Hey Rachel,” Puck said, looming behind Jacob. “You know, you never cashed in that offer I made to beat someone up for you if you rejoined Glee club.”

Jacob squeaked, and began saying “oh God oh God oh God” over and over again.

“You’d get expelled,” Rachel said. “And we need you for competition.”

“Suspended, two weeks, max,” Puck said. Rachel looked disbelieving, so Puck added “Trust me, I know this shit.”

Jacob, meanwhile, was still frozen, and mumbling incoherent pleas for something to save him.

Rachel sighed. “I don’t think he’s worth wasting your talents on, Noah.”

“Saving the beat-down for a rainy day?” Puck asked. “Smart, Berry.” With that, Puck continued walking down the hall, letting Jacob ben Isreal flee.

He made a mental note to toss him in the dumpster as many times as possible over the next week, though.


Will accepted the beer from Terri without question tonight, and when she asked what’s wrong, he started by saying “You would not believe the day I’ve had.”


mzminola: knees-down view of a kid in white stockings and black shoes who is standing on tiptoe. (Default)

January 2013

20212223 242526
27282930 31  

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 19th, 2017 06:57 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios