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Tina isn't sure how or why they fooled themselves into thinking Vocal Adrenaline would be a joke this year.
Sure, they lost Jesse St.James to UCLA and apparently their coach with him- Show Choir blogs supects illicit affairs- but more than half of the members didn't graduate and their coreographer is apparently still in the game.
Moreover, they apparently pulled a shorter, more hyper, more top 40 Jesse St.James out of their ass.
It's just an invitational, and it feels like they're doing the half show at Super Bowl.
Just when Tina thinks she’s had enough, that’s it, it can’t get any worse than a sexy voice crack strategically planted in the last verse of Teenage Dream, here they are, wrapping the Katy Perry up and diving into Don't Stop Me Now. She knew there had to be a reason why they're all dressed in thight leather pants.
The Queens performance is clearly a message to anyone who ever tried and made the assumption Vocal Adrenaline was dead. The new lead might not be Jesse St.James, but he doesn't try to be.
He doesn't need to when he’s that good.
The second the song dies and the boy let himself fall from the top of the stairs into the arms of the other members, Tina decides that A, they're doomed, B, she needs to go to the bathroom in case the nausea really turns into puke.
All the New Directions follow her when she sprints out of the auditorium, instantly flocking up in dire times.
"Who is that?" Rachel shreeks, off tune, marching into the bathroom.
It's a stupidly nice bathroom. There’s a shared hall with unbroken mirrors and some sink, girls door on the left and boys on the right. It's big enough they can all fit in there.
Tina would fill Rachel in with her show choir blogs knowledge, and tell her his name is Blaine Anderson, but Santana is bitching.
"Where do they pull them from? Are they a metrosexual mop head business?"
"Metrowhat?" Finn asks off topic, and Kurt fills him in, and the whole conversation breaks in small bursts until Rachel is putting her foot down.
"We have to do something! What if we meet them at Sectionals? They're gonna end us!" she panics, and Tina does have to give credit when it's due: Rachel is a mood setter.
Usually, it's a positive attribute. As annoying as she is, some of her determination rubs off of them and give them confidence even as she tells them they suck. There’s always a backhanded compliment to be gripped, as she tell them they have the potential to be great, if only they didn’t have misguided work ethics. But when Rachel is panicking, there's no light at the end of the tunnel.
Tina sobs. Mercedes shouts. Puckerman punches the wall.
"We could make aliens abduct them." Brittany shrugs.
"Or we could poison them." Kurt follows.
"Or get them all mononucleosis." Santana adds.
"Or send the lead singer to a crack house!" Rachel lits up, pointing a finger to nobody.
There's some silence as they all turn to her.
Tina doesn't know the numbers exactly, but she knows while some are shocked, some are actually considering the plan. She herself isn’t sure where she stands on the topic.
"Or we could, you know, reharse." Quinn muses with her breathy indoor voice, somehow managing to sound the loudest.
All heads turn to her.
"Cheerios aren't National champions because we're hot, and Vocal Adrenaline aren't that good because they were born with it. I know sweat when I see it."
Somehow Tina's brain suggests her the very notion of reharsing is outrageous, but rationally she knows Quinn's right.
"Yes!" Rachel point at her. "That's the attitude I’m searching for!"
"Shouldn't we, like, have fun? They don't look like they have fun." the new blonde kid asks and everyone blinks at him.
Just as Rachel is shouting back that show choir is serious business, the bathroom door opens and Tina almost has an heart attack.
It's Blaine Anderson.
She's seen photos online, but they don't give him justice. He's a fucking disney prince. There's sweat on his forehead, and his hair are acting out around his hairline giving him a vibe reminiscing of post orgasm. He pulls off neon yellow suspenders like Tina didn't know was possible to do, and most of all it's absolutely, outrageously unfair how he wears those leather pants. He's too short and his legs to torso ratio shouldn't make him any favour, and yet his thighs look sinful and Tina would reach for Mike's abs to steady herself, if she wasn't paralized. Because if other than looking unfairly hot, Blaine is not looking particularly treacherous, Sebastian Smythe is standing behind him, an arm around Blaine's waist and a finger hooked in the belt loop of Blaine’s pants.
She heard the stories.
Coreographer. Son of a state attorney and a french actress. Enough mean, creative quotes to have a dedicated fan page in the show choir blogoshpear.The worst thing is, Tina can see it all- the moment Sebastian's smile turns to a smirk, the way his back straightens, his eyes narrows, and the cruel unforgiving way he gives them all a onceover. There's something familiar in the way he's looking at them.
"Oh, look." he says in a drawl, ducking his head. "The lovable little band of mistfits. Here to ask for some private lessons?"
Oh, yes. It's like being double targeted by both Quinn and Santana. Vicious and condescending.
"Sebastian." Blaine raises a hand to tap his knuckles against the other's chest. "Be nice."
Sebastian rolls his eyes but he scoots Blaine closer to him, his hand palming Blaine's hips and damn, that is an unfairly narrow waist.
"Tina?" Mike whispers in her ears when she feels his abs up. It's washed down by Santana snickering, loud enough to make Sebastian know it's mocking.
"Someone's on a leash."
Blaine closes his eyes like he's preparing for the worst, and Tina can tell Sebastian's weighing his options, but he's seemingly in a good enough mood.
"Kinky." he shrugs off, his thumb hooking in the waistband of Blaine's pants and oh. Oh. Oh.
Blaine sighs and Tina aks herself again why she's underestimating Vocal Adrenaline.
"You do look like you'd know all about leashes,-"
"Sebastian." Blaine cuts him off, and the tension's is thick enough Tina can feel it weighing down her chest.
"We didn't come here for this, did we?" he asks, titling his head up to look at him, and Tina hates those lashes and that soft jaw with a burning passion.
"Fine. I'll be nice. Hope you enjoyed the show." he flashes them a toothy smile that couldn't ooze more sarcasm.
"I think you were great at Regionals." Blaine smiles to them, and it's sickenly sweet how genuine his small, polite smile looks. "I'm really sorry we got drafted in the same turn last year, I would have loved to see what you’d have done at Nationals. Let's hope we can all make it this year."
The silence is thick as they all wait for the punch.
"I think you broke them." Sebastian smiles, and it's weirdly not hostile. "What is that they say? Kill them with kidness?"
"I'm serious." Blaine says, but there's a little smug line in his smile that wasn't there before. "We might be rivals, but there's no reason for us to be enemies. Well, not anymore." he adds, scrunching his nose, his eyes going up to his right like he's reviewing their history.
"The espionage was mostly for personal reasons that aren't on the table anymore, and Blaine is against egging, so that's also an off deal. Right, killer?" Sebastian elaborates.
"No bullying or assaults this year." Blaine confirms, and it's reassuring. "The one who'll win will do it fair and square." he adds, his head tilting and those doe-eyes of him wide and friendly, his smile perfectly polite, and suddenly Tina's bones are chilling and she's never been more terrified in her life.
They all stare as Rachel flips her hair and steps towards Blaine, extending her hand. He takes it and they shake on it.
"Deal."
"Deal." Blaine smiles, and suddenly the air turns breathable again. "Oh, and they're opening a new karoke bar down the fifth. We should all go sometimes. Have fun together."
"That sounds like a great idea." Rachel replies with a stage smile, and no one moves a muscle.
"Are you going to stay in the bathroom much longer?" Sebastian asks. "Because I have at least ten jokes about why yall apparently like to stand in here so much, but I wouldn't want to ruin Blaine's lesson in diplomacy."
There's a nervous jitters of limbs as Rachel fumbles with perfect enuntiation: "Oh, yeah. Sure. See you soon!"
Sebastian and Blaine step aside and look at them going trough the door, and Tina makes sure to be the last one in line. She turns over her shoulder and tries to sneak a last peek of Blaine in the pants, possibly from the back.
She almost freezes when she sees Blaine turns in Sebastian's arm, a hand behind Sebastian's neck to get him to lean down. He stands on the tip of his toes, flushing their bodies together, and their mouth crash against each other in a kiss that wouldn’t be allowed on national television. Sebastian’s hands are quick to lift Blaine’s shirt up until his hand is flat against Blaine’s unfairly tanned and muscular back, and she’s pretty sure Blaine’s free hand isn’t so free where it disappears between their bodies.
It’s an image she won't forget.
When she lets the bathroom door close behind her, the New Direction are some feet down the hallway. She jogs to catch up, just as Rachel's march reaches her top speed.
"Fair and square my ass." Tina hears her say not using her indoor voice. "We're sending them both to a crack house."