Will and Finn commiserate about how their womens keep leaving them at the altar and, like, what if it’s not the womens who are the problem? What if it’s actually them? Santana busts up their tearful embrace — “No, Mr. Schue, you are the best guy in the whole world!” “No, Finn. No. You are.” — to ask if there’s going to be a reception or what. Emma’s parents are already knee-deep in champagne and since they’re the ones who paid for it, maybe all the Old New Directions can hang out for a while and get tipsy and get laid? Will gives it a go.
I can’t be sure, but there’s a very real chance that what I’m going to write about next never happened in the real world on real TV. I may have fallen through some kind of vortex at fanficiton.net and now I’m recapping my own gay fever dreams.
At the reception, Santana takes one look at Brittany and Sam dancing and drags Quinn to the bar where they both whip out fake IDs from their cleavage. Santana is giving a thumbs up in her fake ID photo and Quinn’s is cloaked in a gay pride flag. And then:
Santana: We always were two ends of the same bitch-goddess spectrum. Maybe that’s why we love each other so much. And slap each other.
Quinn: Hmm. You know, I have to say, Rosario, you are killing it in that dress.
Quinn touches Santana’s arm that way that means “second base, at least” and Santana’s face is like: “Really?!” But also: “Finally.”
Also finally: Kurt and Blaine are back on stage together, dueting on “Just Can’t Get Enough.” It is clearly something they practiced in their pajamas in the mirror on more than one occasion because their choreography is flawless and so is their harmony. By the end of the song, Blaine is practically draped around Kurt’s shoulders, and Santana and Quinn are tipsy as hell, and Rachel and Finn are doing whatever dance they’ve been doing since the pilot, and Artie and Ali Stroker are wheeling around in a euphoric haze. The stage is set for sexin’, is what I am saying.