INT. SCHUESTER DINING ROOM – EVENING
Mrs. Schuester smiles across the table. "When did you start cooking, Terri?"
Terri replies modestly, "Oh, it's just hamburger casserole. Look out for bones."
Will can't help but grin, laughter bubbling up. "I'm sorry. I, um—" he chuckles— "I can't hold it in any longer. Mom, Dad. Terri's pregnant."
Terri blinks in surprise. "What?"
Will turns to her with a smile. "It's a boy."
Mrs. Schuester gasps, clapping her hands. "Oh! Our first grandbaby!"
Mr. Schuester beams. "That's fantastic."
Terri recovers quickly. "Thank you, yeah. Sweetheart. Honey?"
Will glances over. "Yeah?"
Terri whispers, a bit flustered. "I thought we weren't going to tell anybody yet."
Mr. Schuester grins. "Oh, your secret's safe with me. I spent six months in the Hanoi Hilton, never said a word. Am I right, doodle?"
Mrs. Schuester chuckles. "That's right, honey."
Mr. Schuester laughs heartily.
Terri nods. "Yeah, we're going to turn the craft room into the nursery."
Mrs. Schuester gasps again. "Show me!"
Terri smiles and stands. "Okay."
As the women head out, Mr. Schuester rests a hand on Will's shoulder. "I'm really happy for you, son."
Will sighs, his voice quiet. "Tell you the truth, I'm terrified. I don't know how to do this."
Mr. Schuester offers a gentle smile. "No one does. Look at me. I was a mess. I worked all the time, traveling. I was too strict."
Will groans. "Okay, you're not instilling me with a great deal of confidence here, Dad." He exhales deeply. "I mean, I'm already up all night thinking about this."
Mr. Schuester nods knowingly. "That's my fault—the confidence thing. Boys learn that from their fathers. I started at Zuckerman and Zuckerman in college. Needed some extra cash. I was saving up for law school. But I never went. I never even applied. Didn't have the balls. So I settled for insurance. I mean, who was I to become a lawyer?"
Will looks at him sincerely. "You would have been a great one. You're the smartest guy I know."
Mr. Schuester shakes his head. "It's not about brains, son. Being a good father—hell, being a man—is all about one thing: guts. And you've got about six months to figure out if you have any."
INT. CHOIR ROOM – DAY
Will claps his hands. "Five, six, seven, eight. Step and step. Step and step. And turn it around. Down and up. And hit, hit down hit."
Rachel raises her hand. "Can we stop, please?"
Will glances over, confused. "You don't have to ask me every time for permission to go to the bathroom, Rachel. You can just go."
Rachel shakes her head. "It's not my bladder. It's the choreography."
Will frowns. "Okay, what's wrong with the choreography?"
Rachel crosses her arms. "It sucks."
INT. HALLWAY – DAY
Quinn leans against her locker. "It sucks."
Santana nods. "It's completely unoriginal."
Elena walks up, arms crossed. "What even is original these days, though?"
Rachel glances between them. "Are you guys going to get shunned for talking to me?"
Quinn shrugs casually. "Sweetie, we're a team now. But you've got to do something about Mr. Shue's dance routines."
INT. CHOIR ROOM – DAY
Rachel speaks confidently. "We can't compete with Vocal Adrenaline with these steps. You're a great vocal coach, Mr. Shue, but you're not a trained choreographer. That's what we need to be the best. We need Dakota Stanley."
INT. HALLWAY – DAY
Quinn nods. "He's the best show choir choreographer in the Midwest. He works with Vocal Adrenaline."
Santana links arms with Elena and drags her along. "You can't take regionals without him. He was the understudy to the candelabra in Beauty and the Beast on Broadway."
INT. CHOIR ROOM – DAY
Will folds his arms. "Just because he understudied doesn't mean he ever performed."
Quinn tilts her head. "Did you ever perform, Mr. Schuester? After high school. Did you even try?"
Elena grins from the corner. "Damn. Burn."
INT. EMMA'S OFFICE – DAY
Will sits across from Emma, looking exhausted. "I wanted to. That was my dream, you know? I—I just never had..."
Emma finishes his sentence softly. "The guts? They say it takes more certainty than talent to be a star. I mean, look at John Stamos."
Will chuckles. "I don't know. I guess I'm also just nervous about being a dad. You know, I want my kid to be proud of me. I want to set a good example, you know? I—I hope it's cool—me unloading on you like this. I don't want there to be any awkwardness."
Emma shakes her head quickly. "Oh, no. No, none at all. I mean, you know, especially since… we're, um, we're both in relationships now. It's both of us."
Will nods. "Right. I'm in a relationship. You're in a relationship."
Emma smiles. "Exactly, yeah."
Will leans in slightly. "How's it going with Ken?"
Emma forces a smile. "Great. It's great. It's wonderful. I mean, you know, he's—he's flawed, but he knows who he is, and that's—that's great. And there really is nothing sexier in a man than confidence, you know?"
INT. STAFF BREAK ROOM – DAY
Will walks in with a wry chuckle. "Sandy! I thought you weren't allowed on campus."
Sandy waves him off dramatically. "No, William. I'm not allowed within 50 feet of children. Besides, Henri and I go way back. I got him a job before we even had a shop class. I told Figgins that you are going to have a school full of nancies unless you get some hot wood in those teenagers' hands. Here comes Henri."
Will glances toward the door. "Ah, shoot. Terri was supposed to bring a cake."
Henri steps inside, missing his thumbs. "I'm back."
Will narrates in voiceover, "Henri had a little problem with over-the-counter cough medicine. He ended up cutting off his thumbs. It was a real tragedy."
Henri looks down solemnly. "I'll never hitchhike across Europe. That was a dream, man."
Howard enters holding a cake and flashes two thumbs up.
Will raises a brow. "Where's Terri?"
Howard shrugs. "Doing inventory. I can't count higher than 30."
Will chuckles as he looks around the room. "You know, this is nice. I can't remember the last time I just hung out with the guys, really talked about our feelings."
Ken leans in. "Want to know what I'm feeling? I live at the YMCA. I only have one pair of long pants."
Sandy waves his hand dramatically. "Oh, please. My life is a disaster with no creative outlet other than writing my Desperate Housewives fan fiction."
Howard looks sheepish. "I'm afraid of my vacuum."
Will sighs. "I know how you guys feel. I apparently don't know how to dance."
Henri lifts his hands. "I don't have thumbs."
Will immediately apologizes. "Uh. Sorry."
Henri begins to sob. Sandy tries to lift the mood by singing, "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow."
The others join in, harmonizing through sniffling and awkward smiles.
Will grins. "Hey, that was pretty good." He starts to sing, "♫ This is how we do it ♫."
The men join in with beat boxing.
INT. WILL'S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Will sits on his couch in a janitor uniform, surrounded by the guys.
Voiceover Will reflects, "Two weeks ago, I would have agreed that four grown men rehearsing a cappella hip-hop in my living room was embarrassing. But busting out some white-hot New Jack Swing—I'll tell you, I've never felt more confident."
Henri holds a notepad. "We should call our group Crescendudes."
Ken shakes his head. "Testotertones. Way more manly."
Howard stands up proudly. "Acafellas."
The group pauses.
Will grins. "And we knew we had our name."
They all break into song. "♫ Yo, we made it, it feels so good ♫"
Sandy beams. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille."
Will opens the front door. "Sandy, we voted. When you're in the group, it's creepy."
Sandy tries to protest. "Wait. I…"
Will closes the door in his face.
The men continue singing, beat boxing in rhythm. "♫ This is how we do it ♫ This is how we do it. ♫"
Terri yells from the bedroom. "Will! If I don't get some sleep, I could miscarry."
Will jumps up. "I'm sorry, Terri. I'll be right in."
Terri calls again with irritation. "I hope so."
Voiceover Will reflects again, "Being in a boy band did wonders for our love life. Seeing me feel so good about myself made my wife more attracted to me in every way." He sighs with wonder. "It was amazing. I mean, we started doing it once a week. It was like she was trying to make a twin."
INT. CUT TO: CHOIR ROOM - DAY
The bell rings as students shuffle into the room.
Rachel walks in first, arms crossed. "He's not coming."
Finn frowns. "What happened?"
INT. CUT TO: WILL'S SPANISH ROOM
Rachel places a tin on Will's desk. "They're my famous sugar cookies. I bake them for the poor during Christmastime, but I whipped up a special batch just for you. I wanted to say how sorry I was for what I said."
Will shakes his head with a half-smile. "Don't be. You were right. Truth is, Rachel, if you weren't so hard on me, I never would have had the guts to start Acafellas."
Rachel sits on the edge of the desk. "But we need you, Mr. Schue. You've missed six rehearsals in the past couple of weeks, and when you're there, you're not really there."
Will sighs. "Which is why I think you should go ahead and hire Montana."
Rachel corrects him. "Dakota."
"Whatever," Will mutters. "I'll still be there to help you guys sing and stuff, but I just don't have time for all of it anymore."
INT. CUT TO: CHOIR ROOM - DAY
Finn glances around, frustrated. "Of course he doesn't want anything to do with us after you kicked him in the nads."
Rachel folds her arms. "Then why did he thank me?"
Santana rolls her eyes. "The goal is to win. And now that Mr. Schuester has agreed to let us hire Dakota Stanley, we can."
Finn protests. "But he doesn't want us to. He just doesn't have the confidence to coach us anymore. Guys are real sensitive when it comes to this kind of stuff."
Rachel raises a brow. "And that's my fault?"
Finn gestures at the cookies. "Do you see anyone else in here with a plate of 'I'm sorry' cookies? I don't. Just you."
Before anyone can respond, Elena walks over, casually plucks the plate of cookies off the table, and heads back to Brittany, Quinn, and Santana. She plops down beside them, already munching. "These are good. Drama and dessert? Count me in." She nudges the plate toward Brittany. "Want one?"
Brittany smiles and nods, taking a cookie without hesitation. "Thanks, babe."
Elena blushes slightly, her cheeks warming as Brittany's words sink in. She quickly shakes her head, brushing off the strange flutter in her chest and focusing intently on the cookie in her hand.
Quinn flips her hair. "I'm bored. All those in favor of hiring Dakota Stanley?"
Everyone except Finn raises their hand—including Elena, who's sitting near the back. She mutters, "As long as he doesn't make us dress like clowns."
The bell rings.
INT. CUT TO: HALLWAY - DAY
Finn jogs after Rachel. "Hey, wait up. You can't do this to Mr. Schuester."
Rachel turns. "What? Make him a hero? Once we hire Dakota and win nationals, he'll thank me for it. You heard Santana. It's all about winning."
Finn narrows his eyes. "Since when?"
Rachel pauses. "Look, you have your popular clique and your football and your cliché of a blonde girlfriend. Glee is my one shot. If this doesn't work out, then my whole high school life will be nothing but an embarrassment."
Finn looks confused. "What's a cliché? Is that a bad thing? Wait—Is this one of those chick things where you're pissed about one thing, but you're just pretending you're pissed about something else? 'Cause…"
Rachel cuts him off. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Finn tries again. "Well, for a while there, you were kind of all over me, and now you just yell at me all the time. It makes me think that you're still upset about what happened in the auditorium."
Rachel lifts her chin. "I'm not. I've moved on and I'm focusing on my career now."
Finn looks at her hopefully. "So you want to talk about it?"
Rachel shakes her head. "No. And neither do you. It's kind of ironic how you're Mr. Popular, and I'm just this nobody that everybody makes fun of, but I have enough confidence to say out loud that what happened between us in the auditorium was real. You have feelings for me, and you just don't have the guts to admit it. We're hiring Dakota Stanley."
Finn stares at her. "Even if it means me quitting?"
"Yes."
As Rachel walks off, Elena watches from a distance, arms crossed. She mutters to herself, "Damn. Drama club's got nothing on this."
Elena pulls out her phone and texts Santana: "Janitors closet, 10 minutes?" Then, glancing up briefly to make sure no one is paying attention, she smirks slightly as she hits send.
Santana, leaning closer to Elena once she spots the notification, grins and quickly types back a reply: "Yes." A few minutes later, both girls slip away from the group. They meet in the janitor's closet, where the teasing glances and tension from earlier finally bubble over. With the door locked behind them, they waste no time in hooking up, the moment charged and electric.