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: As high as the show itself, plus extra for swearing, and violence in later chapters.

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.

Later, Artie would plant his face in his hands in embarrassment for listening to Jesse St. James, and Kurt and Artie would add it to their growing list of Reasons Why Jesse Is A Douchy Spy From Vocal Adrenaline. They were assembling the list with the intent to present it to Rachel sometime before Regionals, so she wouldn’t be so God-damned shocked when he inevitably broke her heart.

But spy or not, at the time it was a Senior in a leather jacket telling them a way to act like bad-asses, and that was pretty intoxicating. So they put the video up.

And Jesse wasn’t only a Senior in a leather jacket, but also a Senior that Mr. Schuester kept giving the male lead vocals to in rehearsal, whenever they tried on a new song for Regionals. Jesse had to be doing something right in his attitude to keep getting the leads, right? It wasn’t like his voice was that much better than anyone else’s. The same way Rachel got leads because she pretty much demanded them, despite Mercedes being just as good a singer but much less pushy.

Or maybe, Artie thought quietly to himself and didn’t share with anyone, maybe Mr. Schuester kept unconsciously giving the lead to whichever student reminded him of himself on a given day. Brittany had even point out that Jesse and Mr. Schuester looked related.

In the meantime though, in the fucking meantime, they had posted Coach Sylvester’s video of Let’s Get Physical to Youtube, half for the laughs, and half hoping it would alter their reputation at school for the better.

But no one really cared that they were the ones to risk Coach Sylvester’s wrath by posting it, except for Coach Sylvester herself, and she was taking it out on Mr. Schuester rather than them.

So the question was, Artie thought, come clean to Coach Sylvester in public and gain the reputation of daring risk-takers, or keep quiet and enjoy watching the Coach ripping into Mr. Schuester even more than usual?

…okay so maybe that wasn’t a difficult choice. Too bad he couldn’t just follow both teachers around school with a tub of popcorn.


“This is ridiculous,” Tracer said. He’d gotten a box of milk from the lunch-line today and had opened the top up all the way so he could dip his twisted-open Oreos into it after scraping their frosting off with his teeth.

“Tell me about it,” Susie Saunders muttered from her end of the table. Tracer was still refusing to sit next to her since The Incident, but they were speaking again.

“Mr. Schuester thinking the Glee club has a bad reputation,” Tracer said, gesturing with his free hand. “It is the most ridiculous thing he has ever said. And he’s said a lot of ridiculous things, like…um…”

“Anytime he opens his mouth,” Susie Saunders said flatly.

“But the Glee club reputation is terrible,” Johnny said, puzzled.

“Not like, bad as in losers,” Susie Saunders said. “Bad as in misbehaving. Hoodlums. That sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Johnny said. “…yeah that is weird.”

“They posted one video of a teacher dancing to a song from like, the eighties,” Tracer said. He dipped the last empty Oreo, and popped it in his mouth. “Big deal.”


This whole fiasco with songs of poor reputation was a wake-up call really, Rachel thought. A chance to re-assess her standing at school, and online. A moment to look at how she represented herself, and really shake things up.

She’d seen Kurt and Mercedes’ Vogue video, which they had posted online after Madonna week was over, having never been given the chance to show it in club. The credits listed Artie as the director, so Rachel marched over to him and outlined her desire to alter her reputation at school.

To her delight (and also secretly to her relief, since she was never quite sure how the other Glee club members felt about her in a given week) he was more than willing to help her out.


Artie barely kept from rubbing his hands together and laughing evilly after his idea-storming session with Rachel. And that restraint was mostly because he knew from practicing in a mirror that when he tried to imitate a Super Villain he looked exactly that; he looked like a nerd trying to be intimidating and evil, and failing, rather than like any sort of Diabolical Mastermind.

So instead, after Rachel left to get her dads’ smoke machine, Artie hit play on his Evil Laughter playlist, gleaned from movies and TV shows, leaned back, and basked smugly.

If Rachel didn’t want to acknowledge that Jesse St. James was a Vocal Adrenaline spy, he could at least get her to see that he wasn’t Mister Perfect. And if that meant making an incredibly cheesy video that was sure to mock Jesse’s Alpha Male status in Glee club, well, that was something Artie was willing to do.

It was up to Rachel to get Jesse and Puck to their rehearsal times without tipping their hand. It was up to Artie to get the others. He paused the Evil Laughter playlist, and pulled out his cell phone.


“You want us to be what?” Santana asked, not sure if she should sneer from incredulity or smirk from amusement.

“The Guardian Angels of My Sexual Adventures,” Rachel said. “You’ll just be credited as “Angels” in the on-screen credits and all official sources, as I would like to leave the nuances of interpretation up to the audience.”

Santana crossed her arms, glanced at Brittany, who’d simply raised both her eyebrows at Rachel, and sighed. “What’s in it for us?”

“You get to wear Sexy Angel costumes,” Rachel said. “And you get to keep them for any future use you’d want them for. And your current level of attractiveness will be recorded forever on film in high-definition for you to revisit when your glory days are over.”

“Okay, first of all, my glory days will never be over,” Santana said. “Second of all, if I wanted a Sexy Angel costume I could just go buy one. What’s really in it for us?”

Rachel sighed. “Fine. Fifty bucks each.”

“One hundred,” Santana said. “And you buy us dinner at Breadstix when we’re done filming.”

“Fifty, plus the dinner,” Rachel countered.

Santana looked to Brittany, who nodded. “Deal,” Santana said, and shook Rachel’s hand, and got the info on when and where to meet up for filming. Then Brittany took her arm, and they strolled away.


Kurt slipped into the choir room, waved to Brittany, and sat down at the piano to practice scales. After a couple of runs, Brittany spoke up.

“Why did you come in through the ceiling?”

“I came in through the door,” Kurt said. He abandoned piano scales, and pointed up. “That’s the ceiling.”

“Oh,” Brittany said. “So I’m not on the floor right now?”

Kurt twisted around on the bench and looked at her. “You’re in a chair,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I have a cold,” Brittany said. “And I wanted to get over it fast so I can get back to practice, so I took all the cold medicine at once. I don’t think it worked right.”

“Not supposed to do that,” Kurt said, while pulling out his cellphone. “You should go to the nurse.”

“It’s not the lady with the vitamin D pills still, is it?” Brittany asked, while Kurt texted a request for help to Santana.

“Nurse Terri? She got fired,” Kurt said.

“That’s good,” Brittany said, nodding a little. Then she frowned, and let put her hands on her head. “My ponytail is way too heavy.”


Mercedes was the one to take pity on Mr. Schuester first, and say they should confess to Miss Sylvester about posting her video. Once she said so, Artie agreed, but saying any retaliation Miss Sylvester could take against them would only help their reputations at school. Tina nodded her agreement.

Out of the four of them though, Kurt was the one chosen as messenger; it was better for a Cheerio to talk to her, which crossed out Artie and Tina as messengers, and after the pep assembly mutiny, it was better for Mercedes to lie low for a bit.

That left Kurt.

Kurt steeled himself with support from Artie, because Tina and Mercedes were nice, but Artie was the one who knew which reactions he could give to Miss Sylvester’s wrath would help or hinder their goal of a reputation as bad-asses among the general student population. Screaming was right out, as was fainting. Impromptu rapping was encouraged, but not actually in Kurt’s wheelhouse.

Artie hadn’t given any advice on how to react if Miss Sylvester thanked him for posting the video though, and Kurt remained frozen as she walked away, before the shock wore off a smidge and he was able to spin back and look to the others for help.

They looked equally as shocked, though. Which was unhelpful, but reassuring.

This would clearly require some research.


Trent hid his face in his hands as soon as Puck appeared on the screen, peeking out in time to see the video switch to Jesse. After that the role of Joey fell to Matt, then Trent himself, then Mike. Puck and Jesse were the only two in the first half, with Matt appearing in time for Rachel’s character to get shot. Trent and Mike had only had to film the hallway scene.

Artie’s directing instructions from the day of filming were still stuck in his head. “Okay, now you need to pick between heartbroken or vengeful, and stride down the hall. Either’s fine.” Trent had opted for heartbroken, since he was pretty sure he couldn’t pull off vengeful. Matt and Puck had gone for the same choice, though Jesse and Mike both chosen to stride vengefully.

“That was just embarrassing,” Puck said. Behind Trent, Matt and Mike were stifling laughter. Jesse, on the other hand, seemed ready to murder all four of them and Artie too, and was upset with Rachel.

“I think it was perfect,” Santana said, from her seat between Brittany and Matt in the back row. Trent didn’t need to turn around to tell that she was smirking.

“Are you kidding?” Puck said.


“Jesse’s still not talking to Rachel,” Mercedes said a week after the Run, Joey, Run debacle, sliding into her seat at the lunch table. On her lunch tray was a balanced meal, as nutritious as one could get in McKinley’s cafeteria. Artie was relieved; he’d been trying to keep an eye out since that day she fainted.

“And she’s pining,” Kurt said. “I caught her writing terrible poetry about it. We have to do something.” Kurt’s tray was an exact copy of Mercedes’, except for the lines of dressing on the salad, which fell victim to Chaos Theory. Artie had seen Kurt following Mercedes down the lunch line, picking up each item she did, ever since that one pep assembly. Except on the days where Kurt didn’t come to the cafeteria, the days where he vanished into the depths of the school and turned his phone to silent.

“Not even Rachel can pine forever,” Artie said. Next to him, Tina snorted.

“Trust me, she can,” Santana said, taking the seat across the round table from Artie, Brittany next to her. They each had a bottle of Coach Sylvester’s Master Cleanse. They only sat at tables with jocks in Letterman jackets, or Cheerios in uniform. Which meant depending on how Kurt and Mercedes were dressed on a given day, Santana and Brittany might deign to sit with them.

“Rachel’s one of those girls that gets way too attached to the first boy they sleep with,” Santana continued. “And he had her wrapped around his finger well before that. She’s gonna pine over his spying ass no matter how long he goes on ignoring her.”

“Back up a second,” Mercedes said. “When did our little Miss Berry grant that dude a visa to her pants?”

“They boinked right before he transferred,” Santana said. “Wasn’t their last time either.”

“No way,” Mercedes said, holding up her hands and shaking her head.

“No, totally,” Brittany said, nodding.

Santana scrunched up her eyebrows and surveyed the table, arms crossed. “You guys can’t tell?”

“I try not to think about Rachel Berry and sex at the same time,” Kurt said.

“Your loss,” Santana said with a shrug. Next to her, Brittany waved to Becky Jackson, who was sitting a couple of tables away with Matt, Mike, Finn, and Quinn. Finn had on his Letterman jacket today, and he and Becky were checking their math homework answers against each other’s.

“Anyway,” Santana continued. “Rachel’s not gonna get over that pretty-boy unless he like, kicks a kitten in front of her. And if he told her it was an accident because the kitten scratched him, she’d probably forgive him.”

“Well, fuck,” Artie said.


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

January 2013

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