Chapter Text
“Welcome Greendale Human Beings! Today is September 10th, and it is a CRISP 68 degrees out on our wonderful campus… We have a special announcement for everyone, as the Greendale Glee Club has been accepted into regionals! Woo! And in the cafeteria, we will be serving chicken fingers oooh…”
“Oh! We made it to regionals!” Annie clasps her hands together in front of her. “I thought Professor Radison looked a bit too chipper this morning- I saw him skip down the hallway!” She stage whispers that last part, and a coughed “Pansy!” is heard from Pierce.
“Well, if we’re going to regionals, I’m bringing my swimsuit, Lord knows I’ve needed some relaxing time away from my boys.” Shirley nods.
Jeffrey Winger finally looks up from his cherished texts, “No way in hell I’m going to do that, have fun being losers at 'regionals'”
“What, are you too busy texting to have fun with your friends?” Britta attempts to high-five Abed, but she misses. Jeff rolls his eyes and continues to text.
“I think he’s afraid people will mistake him for a… Pierce chuckles to himself, looking around. “You know…” Everyone stares at Pierce until he finally blurts out, “A homo!” Troy giggles, then coughs when no one else laughs.
“Come on, I think it’ll be fun, Jeff. What do we have to lose!” Annie chirps.
“My life… my precious texts…” Jeffrey waves his Blackberry around. Annie frowns dramatically, and Britta kicks him under the table. Looking for an out, his eyes land on Abed, who’s vacantly staring at the table. “I want to hear what Abed has to say.” He folds his arms over his chest.
“Normally, I would hate a change in the routine. I was planning on watching Kick Puncher 4: The Secret Fourth Kick…” Abed trails off for dramatic effect. “Regionals would make for a great episode, though, the fans would love it.”
“The fans?” Troy gasps, and Abed clicks his tongue and points to an invisible camera in the corner of the room. Jeff sighs, preparing some response about how he’s just sooooo busy this week with- well… nothing, when someone walks through the door to the study room. The Dean and Professor Radison, the director of the Glee Club.
“Who’s ready for regionals?” Professor Radison lets out a little “eee!” and nearly jumps for joy. The study group looks to Jeff, who lets out a big sigh and turns to Radison.
“We are.” Jeff says with a pinched smile. The whole group cheers, yelling about regionals.
“Well, Glee Club,” Dean steps forward, “The regionals are being held in Toronto, Canada. Just one small issue- we do not have the budget to send you guys there.”
“Well, who do you think you’re talking to?” says Pierce. “I’m the face of Hawthorne Wipes! I can get us a jet there, no problem!”
“Well, there's that then! I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow, Dean-a-loo!” Dean and Radison leave. After they turn the corner, a faint “REGIONALS!” is heard from Radison.
“There is something wrong with that man.” Troy says, earning nods and hm’s of agreement from the group. Britta turns to Jeff.
“Wow, I’m surprised, you’re actually willing to do all that gay singing with your friends.”
“Ha ha.” Jeff rolls his eyes, finally putting his phone away and pulling out his notebook, prompting the others to do the same.
“Okay, so I actually had some ideas for our upcoming assignment. Our paper has to be about something important to us, so maybe-”
“POP POP!” Magnitude, interrupting Annie, stands outside the study room, arms raised. After a moment of applause and cheers from the study group, as well as students passing by, Magnitude walks to the table and slaps down a flier. He yells a final “POP POP!” before walking out. Jeff grabs the flier first.
“Magnitude’s having a party tonight, apparently it's going to be a ‘rager’.” He throws the flyer back onto the table. “Sounds lame, I’d rather be an adult and go to a bar like a normal person.”
“Well, have fun filing your taxes, Mr. Winger. I personally would like to see what this rager is all about. Who’s with me?” Britta raises her hand, to which Annie, Troy, Abed, and Shirley raise their hands. “Uh, Pierce, you don’t want to come with us?”
“I would, but if Jeff and I are going to the bar,” Pierce gestures towards Jeff.” I don’t think we’ll have time to drop by your party.” He guffaws. Jeff glares at Pierce.
“We are not going to the bar together, Pierce, my bar time is my time.”
“Oh, please, like you’d get any chicks anyway. You look gay at a bar alone. You’ll need my help.” Pierce retorts. Jeff groans. Turning to Britta.
“Fine, I’ll go to the stupid party with you guys, but only because I don’t want Pierce showing up at the bar with me.” Pierce mumbles something about going too, at which everyone smiles, talking about what they’re going to do at the party.
“Well, I definitely won’t be doing a keg stand, I probably won’t even drink if there's a keg there. They can't be trusted…” Troy says.
“Well, I won't be drinking a thing. My pastor gave a sermon about how drinking is of the devil.” Shirley says, clutching her purse in front of her and shaking her head.
“Hey, Jeff. Jeff. Jeffrey. How many bitches do you think I can bang in an hour? I bet its more than you.”
“Shut up Pierce.”
“Jeff, what are you going to do at the party.” Britta asks, to which Jeff pulls out his phone, showing it to her before beginning to text.
…
Magnitude’s party, which Magnitude calls his “POP PARTY!”, is actually more fun than Jeff is willing to admit. It’s already dark when Jeff gets there, naturally, he chose to be late, so everyone else is already in the backyard. Someone did bring a keg, so Troy is leaning on the farthest wall he can, keeping a wary eye on it. Star-Burns stands beside him. Pierce is walking up to every woman he can find and attempting to use his old man charms on them. It doesn’t work. Annie and Abed are standing by the keg, taking sips from their not-so-discreet red solo cups. He spots Britta, who’s holding a giant bottle of wine that’s half gone. She and Shirley are having a hushed conversation by the bushes. Jeff walks over to them, grabbing a cup from someone passing him, Todd maybe? He can’t recall his name.
“Hey guys, what a rager.” He says sarcastically. Britta gives him a look; Shirley pulls him by the arm to whisper-shout in his ear.
“This party is a mess, Pierce is trying to sleep with everyone, I think Star-Burns gave Troy some shrooms and now he's so paranoid about the keg he won’t talk to anyone, and I think Annie drank… the devil's piss… You need to fix this, Jeffrey!”
“Why me? They’re all adults, they can fend for themselves.” He takes a sip of his cup only to realize it's water, fucking Todd.
“Well, you are our great and powerful leader, Jeff.” Britta smirks.
“Amen.” Shirley says.
“Fine, Jesus, I’ll grab Pierce, you guys get Troy, Annie, and Abed. We’ll all meet here for a meeting.” The three split, and eventually all meet back near the bushes.
“Alright… uh Glee Club…” Jeff rolls his eyes. “We all need to get our shit together. We’re going to regionals tomorrow morning, and we can’t afford infighting, you know how ruthless those Gleeks can be.”
“Oh my god, we’re getting a Jeff Winger speech.” Abed whispers to Annie, she giggles and hiccups.
“Can it. We need to start acting like a group, a team. Look around, this isn’t a study group ready for regionals. Pierce is a creep, Annie’s drunk, and Troy is terrified of that keg, but no one's done anything. What kind of study group are we if we can’t stick up for our own? We need to kick that keg. Not just for Troy, but for us. That keg is a manifestation of what separates us. That keg will cost us regionals if we let it. Let’s kick it.” Jeffrey ends the speech with a gesture to the offending keg, which Garrett is currently attempting to drink out of. The study group rushes to the keg, Troy attempts to kick it first, but misses. He continues to kick the air next to the keg. Pierce pushes Garrett out of the way and starts chugging what's left from the valve. Annie simply smacks it with her cup a few times, then sits on the ground. Abed kicks it once and then observes the group. Jeff snaps a photo on his phone.
“Tweeting, really?” Britta scoffs.
“Gotta let 'the fans' know we’re at the pop party.” Jeff chuckles.
…
About an hour or so later, the party starts to die out. Pierce decides to walk home, Shirley offers Annie and Troy rides home, and since Todd’s water didn’t get him drunk, he offers to drive Britta and Abed home. The ride back is silent, except for the smooth sounds of Daybreak playing through the car speakers.
“Hey Abed, is it okay if we drop you off first?” Jeff says, breaking the silence.
“Isn’t Britta’s house closer than mine is? Seems a little counterproductive, Jeff.”
“Nope, yours is closer, Abed.”
“Okay, cool. Cool cool cool cool.”
After dropping Abed off, Jeff pulls into Britta’s driveway, but she doesn’t get out. Britta instead turns and looks at him with a look, then she leans forward to kiss Jeff. When she leans back and starts to open the door, he says,
“What about Subway?”
“What about him? He’s gone.” Britta climbs out of the car and waves bye before closing the door. As she walks to her apartment she yells, "WE'RE GOING TO MOTHER FUCKING REGIONALS!". Jeff watches as she unlocks the door to the lobby, a little confused. He knew Subway was gone, but it hadn’t been that long. As Britta closed the door, Jeff felt conflicted. Sure, he had always liked Britta, but was this right? He concluded it didn’t matter before driving home himself. It was an early morning the next day, and he was sure no one had packed.
...
Jeff and his suitcase full of button-up shirts arrive on the tarmac. He’s immediately spotted by Pierce, who stands at the door and yells,
“Jeffrey Winger! Welcome to my private jet!” He waves his arms about, motioning Jeff to ‘come aboard’. He watches as Jeff lugs his heavy suitcase up the stairs.
“Gee, Pierce, what a wonderful ‘jet’ you have.” Jeff shoulders past him, and Pierce goes to take a seat where the flight attendants usually sit. Pierce’s private jet looks more like a plane you’d take to some remote, frosty island. It’s tiny as shit, the aisles are more cramped than the Greendale cafeteria on chicken-finger day. Jeff can hear someone humming, he assumes it’s Professor Radison, wherever he may be. He’s about to sit down when a bald head appears over his seat.
“Jeffrey! Glad you could make it, you slowpoke.” Dean pokes Jeff in the arm. “Oh, muscles.” He gasps. “Now that you’re here, we’re just waiting for… Troy and Abed.”
“Great.” Jeff gives a closed smile, before sitting down and assuming his ‘I’m bored’ texting position. Dean sits back down, bugging Professor Radison, who’s sitting right next to him, for a pair of earbuds. Annie and Shirley are sitting across from the Dean and Professor Radison. Annie is breathing hard into one of the barf bags stored under the seat, Shirley is rubbing her back.
“What's wrong Annee? Have you never been in a plane before?” She singsongs. Annie shakes her head, finally lowering the bag.
“No, Shirley, I’m just really nervous about regionals! I mean, what if we… sing off key?” She immediately breathes into the bag again.
"I would never! And if anyone does, we’ll kick their asses.” Shirley and Annie chuckle, the latter finally setting down the bag.
“Thanks Shirley.” Two sets of feet bang up the stairs to the plane. Troy and Abed peek in the door like they’re reoccurring characters on a sitcom from the 90’s.
“This is when you’re supposed to clap.” Abed says.
“I told you it was stupid.” Troy huffs, he throws his bag down, and sits in the chair closest to the door, in the row across from Jeff. Abed sits down next to him, staring ahead. Annie peeks over the seat.
“What took you guys so long?”
“Alarm didn’t go off.” Abed says, continuing his stare.
“I slept through mine. Mushrooms apparently make you stay up forever.” Troy crosses his arms. Annie hums, before sitting back down.
“Alrighty folks!” Dean says, standing up from his seat and standing at the front of the aisle. “It’s time for regionals! Yay!” He claps, Annie claps with him. “Okay, so for the schedule-”
“WAIT!” Britta rushes up the stairs to the plane, she pushes past the Dean, before throwing her bag down and sitting next to Jeff. She has sunglasses on, no doubt hungover, and is trying and failing to catch her breath.
“Oh, Britta’s coming?” The Dean gasps when a middle finger is thrown his way. “Anywho… when we get to Toronto, we’re going to the hotel for a few hours, and then to the competition. I slipped the rest of the schedule under the cockpit for the pilot to read off-” The Dean is cut off by the door shutting and the engine roaring to life. The Dean turns and bangs on the cockpit door behind him. “Hey! Read my note-” The plane begins to move, the seatbelt sign flashing on. The Dean sighs and storms to his seat.
“What’s with the sunglasses?” Jeff says to Britta, not looking up from his phone.
“Too bright.” She groans, slumping in her chair.
“Well, you did finish that whole bottle of wine yourself.” He puts his phone down. “Do you… remember what happened-”
“Shit dude, I’m gonna be sick.” Britta cuts him off. Jeff, full of bright ideas, opens his suitcase and shows Britta his ‘secret’ bottles of whiskey.
“I know something that will cure a hangover.”
“Ewwwww, hand it over.” Jeff hands her the bottle, which she takes a big gulp from. She somehow is able to stomach it, and after handing it back, she rests her head in her hands.
Once the plane is in the air and the seatbelt sign is off, Shirley and her comically large purse go to the bathroom. Right outside, Pierce is messing with the inflatable raft, when he sees Shirley heading for the bathroom, he picks up the intercom and says loudly,
“I banged Eartha Kitt in that bathroom!” Everyone on board groans in unison, and Shirley turns right around and resigns herself to her seat for the rest of the plane ride, a disapproving ‘mm mm mm!” is heard from her as she shakes her head.
“Psst, hey Jeff,” Britta, probably drunker than she should be off one shot, taps Jeff on the wrist. “Jeffffff.”
“Jesus, Britta, what.” He finally looks up from his phone.
“I’m bored.” Jeff huffs at that, not wanting to socialize with a drunk Britta for however long they were on this plane for.
“Take my phone. Play pong or something. Just don’t talk to me, I’m going to take a nap.” Jeff hands her his BlackBerry, and Britta does, in fact, play pong while Jeff ‘naps’.
Troy is staring out the window, watching the clouds with a hand on his chin. Abed finally looks up from his spot on the wall, turning to Troy.
“Troy, did I do something wrong.” He asks.
“Nope.” Troy responds, eyes still on the clouds.
“Are you sure? You didn’t talk to me at the party, and you seemed mad earlier.”
“I’m sure Abed.” Troy glances over to him, before returning to the window.
“Cool. Cool cool cool cool.” Abed stares ahead again, obviously not convinced.
The next two hours pass without issue. Britta ends up asleep, Annie and Shirley are quietly chatting, and Professor Radison is still humming the same damn song. Jeff’s been pretending to sleep this whole time to avoid talking to Britta, despite her being asleep. After his failed attempt at bringing up Britta’s drunken blunder, he really doesn’t want to talk about it at all. Eventually, he drifts off.
…
Jeff wakes up to the sound of an alarm, screams, and something dangling in front of his face. He opens his eyes to see an oxygen mask hanging in front of him, the windows showing the rapidly approaching ground. Around him, everyone begins to yell, the Dean is trying to keep everyone calm, Shirley is mumbling a prayer.
A bang is heard from the middle of the plane, when Jeff looks back, one of the emergency doors is missing.
Jeff grabs his oxygen mask, shoving the other towards a sleeping Britta. He bangs on the door to the cockpit, before attempting to rip it open. Pierce attempts to help but it probably doesn’t do much. When Jeff finally rips open the door, he yells.
“CHANGE THE COURSE! WE’RE GOING TO CRASH!” The pilots seat swivels around.
“I think you mean... Chang the course!” Chang is piloting the plane.
“WHAT THE FUCK CHANG?”
“I thought you guys would need my singing expertise, but Dean wouldn’t let me join so I decided to fly the plane-” Jeff ignores Chang and takes over the co-pilot seat, just pulling at the yoke, but it’s no use.
Abed watches out the window as the trees get closer, and closer. He ducks his head down, bracing for the impact.