Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Rachel, I know you’re really enjoying…staring at the outside of this theater, but do you think we can go soon? It’s been 45 minutes.”

Rachel broke out of her mesmerized trance and turned towards Finn, whose eyes were glazed from boredom and (she liked to flatter herself) from love. She felt bad for staring at that theater for so long, but Finn had a good view, too — her.“Oh, of course. But first I’d like to go in and see if I can meet one of the managers of this theater. They’ll be so glad one day to be able to say they met the Rachel Berry before she was discovered.”

“Uh huh,” agreed Finn, at this point used to this kind of antics. “Listen, I think I’m going to go meet Puck and go to Portillo’s.”

“The hot dog place? Finn, I don’t think Puck…”

“They have Italian beef sandwiches there too! Oh, crap, is he not supposed to eat Italian food either?”

Rachel just sighed and sent Finn on his way.

Finn turned away from the Nederlander Theater, walking east on Randolph Street towards the lake. He and Puck had planned to meet at the restaurant, and Finn figured he could navigate much easier from Millennium Park. I’ll be able to see the whole city from there, he had cleverly reasoned. Unfortunately, Portillo’s was in the complete opposite direction.

***
“I swear it’s around here somewhere!” Santana sighed, exasperated after searching Pilson, Chicago’s Mexican neighborhood, for two hours. “I remember: there were red booths, and there was a picture of a caterpillar on the window. Or was it a butterfly?”

“If you say it’s here, then I’m sure it is. Unless they bulldozed the restaurant to make room for more of those murals. I heard Lord Tubbington on the phone last week talking with his mural mogul gang, and it doesn’t seem above him to do something like that.”

Santana smiled at her girlfriend. “I’m sure Lord Tubbington wouldn’t bulldoze such a good restaurant. They have the best tamales I’ve ever had! I’ve been dreaming about them ever since I was six years old.”

“What about that place?” asked Brittany, pointing across the street.

“No, that’s not it. But that horchata does look really good.”

“Well, come on, then,” said Brittany, bumping her hip against Santana’s. “Your girl is thirsty.”

***
“Do you think those lions have to use hair gel in their thick, voluminous manes?” asked Blaine, running his hands through his own evidently inadequate hair.

Kurt giggled. “Oh, don’t you know? Those statues were carved before hair gel was invented. They probably use pomade.”

“But of course!” Blaine replied in a ridiculous British accent.

They had been waiting in line outside the Art Institute for what felt like forever, but Kurt was proud of how well they’d been fighting boredom and anticipation. He couldn’t believe that he was finally going to see it. I mean, how often do you get to see a painting that inspired a landmark 1980s Sondheim musical?

Kurt had considered buying a membership just to skip the line, but he was eyeing a particularly expensive Marc Jacobs jacket as a graduation gift to himself, and he had to budget. Luckily, the weather was fair — they’d not quite gotten knocked over by the wind — so waiting wasn’t so bad. Blaine was reading the names of the composers carved on the Chicago Symphony Orchestra building (wondering, no doubt, if there was any way to turn their works into Glee Club numbers next year). Finally, it was their turn to enter.

“Ooh, there’s a paperweight room. And some Greek and Roman statues around the courtyard. Did you know that American Gothic is here?” asked Blaine, perusing the museum map.

“Blaine, of course I know that! I went onto the Art Institute website as soon as I found out we were going to Chicago. Now come on, we have to get to the second floor. 19th-century Impressionism awaits us!” Kurt grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and dragged him along. Blaine, although usually oblivious, knew not to argue.

***
Tina and Mike sat on the ledge of Buckingham Fountain, facing out at the lake and listening to the gushing of the water behind them.
“How about the architectural boat tour?” asked Mike, examining a tourist pamphlet.

“Didn’t you hear what happened with the Dave Matthews tour bus?”

“Uhh…okay. We could go to Chinatown.”

Tina just glared at Mike.

“Ooh, I know! Let’s check out the Bean!”

Tina took the map from Mike. “Yeah, the Bean could be fun. We could get some cute pictures in the reflection. And then we should go shopping at the Miracle Mile, and finish with a ride on the ferris wheel at Navy Pier.”

Mike smiled at Tina. “Why’d I even bother looking at the map?” he laughed.

***
Mercedes’ day had started out rocky. She had asked Santana if she wanted to go around the city with her, but Santana had explained that she had an “important Mexican mission” to attend to with Brittany. Mercedes had tried to point out that Brittany was white, but there was no arguing with that girl. Mercedes loved Santana, but she could be a handful. Anyway, it was probably just an excuse for her and Brittany to make out all day, and Mercedes was happy to miss that.

She had wondered where to go, standing in the hotel lobby trying to look at Trip Advisor on her phone. It didn’t work very well since Sue had launched it across the auditorium back in the fall, and she hoped her parents would buy her a new one for graduation. She was squinting at the screen so hard that she didn’t notice a blond head above her.

“Are you looking for something to do?” Sam smiled at her. “I know someone who’d like to spend the day with you.”

***
“There it is! A Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte, forever memorialized by Stephen Sondheim’s 1983 Broadway musical Sunday in the Park with George.”

“Wow, it’s amazing how all those little dots come together to make such a cohesive picture. It’s like how when I was in the Warblers, each one of us sang a small part, but together we created beautiful acapella music.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Oh please! ‘A small part?’ I seem to remember it being the Blaine and the Warblers show.”

“Yes, well, when you have such a handsome, talented man, naturally you want him to sing lead.”

“Very true. Which reminds me: where’s my solo for Nationals?”

Kurt and Blaine’s banter was interrupted by a voice behind them. “I want to have a pet monkey on a leash like that painting.”

“Artie? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you like Impressionist paintings.”

“They’re okay. I’m here because this is the iconic painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte, forever memorialized by John Hughes’ 1986 film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” Artie explained in his best pretentious film-bro voice.

“You’re here because of a movie?”

“Excuse me, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off happens to be an excellent film. Anyway, why are you here?”

Kurt hesitated to explain, so Blaine jumped in. “Kurt wanted to see this painting because of the musical.”

“Oh, I see, because of a musical. Well, that’s so much better.” Artie smirked.

Kurt decided to calm his pride. He pulled out his map.

“Well, we’re all here now. Who wants to go see some medieval armor?”

***
Brittany and Santana leaned against a wall in a parking lot, staring at a mural. They had scoured every block in Pilson, and still, no special Santana restaurant. They were exhausted, the sugar buzz from their horchata having worn off. The ice was melting in the sun, and every once in a while Brittany took another sip, as if hoping that the water had transubstantiated into sweetened rice milk.

The sun was beginning to set, painting Santana and Brittany’s faces golden and pink. They had kissed for a while, sharing the glow of the sunset with each other, but eventually their exhaustion had slowed them down and they returned to staring at the mural and kissing only in their minds. Every so often they exchanged glances, each probably thinking that the other was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Finally Brittany broke their silence. “How old did you say you were when you and your family visited that restaurant?”

“Six. We went to visit my aunt and uncle here. They had this great apartment, and they took us to that restaurant after a day at the zoo.”

“But Santana, didn’t your aunt and uncle move to Ohio when we were five? I remember because they were at your birthday party and comforted you when you accidentally ate an olive because you thought it was a grape.”

Santana stared ahead for a moment before releasing a tirade of profanity. Finally she picked up her phone and called her mother.
“Mom, where was that great restaurant with the tamales? When I was six years old. Britt and I have been walking around Chicago all day looking for it.”

Santana kicked a trash can as the word Columbus came from the other line.

***
“Tina, I’m pretty sure Navy Pier is in the other direction. Piers are generally attached to a body of water, and the lake is definitely that way.” Mike poked his thumb behind him.

“I know. I just…have something to do first.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.”

Mike didn’t comment on the slight choking sound in Tina’s voice.

A few minutes later, they were standing in front of a revolving door, looking up at a marquis above them.

Mike didn’t need to say anything. It had always been that way with him: he was a man of few words. He expressed himself in other ways, like in making out with Tina probably more than was strictly necessary. And in dance.

Which he’d be doing here, at the Joffrey Ballet, next year. Without Tina.

Ignoring the people passing by there on Randolph Street, he pulled her into a waltz.

***
“And that’s the real difference between DC and Marvel comics,” Sam finished explaining.

Mercedes took a sip of her soda and smiled. They were sitting on a rock by a small beach. Sam had insisted on taking her around to see the sights all day, and only in the late afternoon did she finally get him to do what he really wanted, to swim in Lake Michigan. Sam had this weird obsession with the idea of swimming in every body of water that he encountered. Mercedes found it endearing, especially when he shivered getting out of the lake. It took a while to warm up in springtime: Sam might not have accounted for that, she thought, or he might not have cared.

Now he was wrapped in a blanket, talking to her about comic books. There was something so authentic about that, Mercedes thought. He wasn’t trying to win her back — probably — but it was like he couldn’t help being sweet to her. He had bought her chocolate at the Ghirardelli store, won her a stuffed animal at Navy Pier, and even held her bag all day. The least she could do was listen to him talk about comics.

***
“Those Thorne Rooms were amazing! It felt like being little and playing with dolls again! — Not that I played with dolls,” Kurt hurriedly corrected himself. “But I appreciate the attention to architectural detail and historical accuracy.”

“I guess they were kind of cool, but not worth straining my neck to try to see inside,” said Artie.

“Hey! I offered to lift you up to see better!” replied Blaine.

“That doesn’t even dignify a response.”

“You would have looked like a kangaroo holding a joey,” said Kurt.

“I don’t even know which one of us should be more offended,” Artie scoffed.

“Where should we go next? We could go see the Roy Lichtenstein exhibition,” Blaine suggested. “Although Sam would probably be bummed out to miss it.”

“No, that doesn’t open for a couple days,” Kurt corrected him. “Let’s go look at some Greek and Roman statues.”

“I wonder why you’d want to look at statues of naked men,” said Artie.

“Wait, look who it is!” Kurt pointed across the hallway, towards the paperweight room.

“Quinn! You’re here too!”

***
“I can’t believe we spent all day looking for a restaurant that’s in a completely different city! Apparently I’ve never even been to Chicago. And I wasted all this time just walking around here.”

They were standing at the platform at the train station, waiting for the L. Santana leaned on Brittany’s shoulder, and Brittany bounced side to side, shifting her weight back and forth between her legs.

“You know,” Brittany said tentatively, knowing that Santana was stubborn and her anger had to be melted slowly, “we got to see all those murals. And that horchata was delicious. I mean, we walked through every single street of the neighborhood. Plus, we got to watch the sunset and make out in that parking lot.”

“So…” Santana kicked an invisible rock. “Are you saying we still had a good day?”

“Our best day in Chicago ever.”

“I guess it wasn’t that bad.” There was a pause, then Santana’s face widened in that irresistibly happy smile that seemed reserved only for Brittany.

Of course, Santana complained again when there weren’t any seats left on the L train, but Brittany didn’t mind holding her up.

***
Finn and Puck were walking down Michigan Avenue when Finn got a text message from Rachel.

I’m finally done staring at the theater. I also stopped in a few music stores and ran a quick mile along the lakefront. Shall we meet for dinner?

As he was typing a response, Rachel called, as she always did. Finn sometimes wondered what the point of texting him was, if she was just going to call a minute later, but he could never bring himself to mind Rachel’s idiosyncrasies too much.

“Hi, Finn. Did you get my text? Where are you? Let’s meet for dinner.”

“I’m, uh, on…”

“Michigan Avenue.” Puck helped him out, pointing at the street signs.

“Michigan Avenue. How about we get some deep-dish? I see a place across the street called—”

“Giordano’s?”

“How did you know?”

“Look up.”

There was Rachel, waving from across the street.

A minute later, they entered the pizza place, and Finn was about to bring out his most grown-up sounding voice to ask for a table when he spotted a familiar group of people.

“Hey, Kurt!” Finn accidentally yelled with excitement.

***
The argument between Kurt and Artie had only abated long enough for the group to place their order.

“All I’m saying is that Ferris Bueller’s Day Off manages to capture the exact same emotion in two minutes that Sunday in the Park with George does in two and a half hours.”

Kurt gasped. “Artie, how can you say that? That’s blasphemous! Stephen Sondheim is listening.”

“Wait, where?” asked Finn, wearing his patented confused expression.

Rachel chimed in. “I personally have never seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, but I have to agree with Kurt.”

A voice appeared behind them. “What do you mean you’ve never seen that movie? We’ve gotta do a movie night when we get back to Lima.”

“Sam! How did you find us?” asked Finn.

Mercedes responded, “I could recognize Rachel’s voice from a mile away. I heard her and Kurt duetting ‘We Both Reached For the Gun’. Those poor waiters.”

***
Those poor waiters, two hours later, had had to push together four more tables to accommodate everyone. Somehow the entire Glee Club had ended up at the same restaurant: Brittany had dragged Santana there, claiming that she wanted to make Lord Tubbington jealous since he’d always wanted to try deep-dish pizza. Joe and Sugar had brought Rory in order to confuse him about American culture, and Sugar tried to negotiate with the hostess about buying the pizzeria. Kurt eventually texted Tina telling her where they were, and she could barely stop Mike from pirouetting all the way there.

They talked over each other and exchanged notes from their days. They argued over music and movies and whether deep-dish is real pizza and exchanged lighthearted insults. Sam and Finn blew bubbles in their sodas and Kurt tried to admonish them, but sooner or later they were all playing music on their half-empty bottles. They sang songs from their old competitions, teaching the new kids their entire Journey setlist. They burned the roofs of their mouths on pizza and didn’t care.

Nationals were the next day. Mr. Schue wanted them back at the hotel by 9:00, but no one really thought he’d mind if they were a bit late, as long as they brought him some pizza. They should have been nervous, Rachel realized. She should have been nervous, with her whole future resting on her solo, and everything she (and, she admitted, everyone else) had worked for those three years reflecting in the performance they were to give. Strangely, though, she couldn’t bring herself to worry.

They ambled back to the hotel, laughing and looking out at the lake.