A/N: I own nothing. No monetary profit is made from this fanfiction, ever. (scared, trembling in a corner at the prospect) Written for glee_fluff_meme, which apparently had someone take it from the puckurt meme.

This Is

"Hey, quick pop quiz: What city has American Idol visited nine times, has given us Fantasia, Clay Bayten, Carole Hudson, and Roy Glenfield, and is the birthplace of yours truly?"

"Greenacres, Florida?"

Nope.

"Hollywood?"

Double nope.

"Ambrose, Georgia."

Thaaat's a bit closer.

"Jacksonville, Illinois? Nah, Boston!"

No and no.

"Tampa?"

No.

"New York?"

No.

"San Diego?"

Not it.

"Brazil?"

...Not even close.

"ATLANTA!" the massed crowd of fourteen thousand people shout, and the camera pans across them all.

I mean, come on. Was it really that hard?

This is...American Idol.

American Idol is back in the Beach State.

"Welcome back to Atlanta!"

Thanks for the welcome, guys. It's lovely to be here.

Every time we come here, the crowds are bigger than ever. Ready to show us the true talent that lies in the Deep South.

Sue and Sandy arrived first, raring to go, but Shannon needed a little more me-time.

"This is going to be a bad bad day...I can feel it from here. This is going to be a bad bad day..."

Poor baby.

Well, this is familiar. Here in Atlanta, contestants will walk into this elevator, then hit the...thirty-second floor, and once they reach the top, the judges will listen to their song.

It's going to be a long ride down if they don't get a golden ticket.

The judges were set, and our first contestant, twenty-three year old Gavin Romano.

"Music. It's my life, my soul. When I get up there, I'll sing with everything I've got! I will be, the next American Idol!"

"Your voice sounds like seagulls dying in a polluted harbor. Quite frankly, after hearing that, I want to pollute that harbor further, by squatting and beeping in your mouth."

"Sue!"

"Shut your face, lard-hair."

"I don't think you're quite right for this competition," Will Schuester said, smiling gently. "So that's a no from me. Sandy?"

"No, but, Sue, did you have to use that metaphor? It makes me want to retch."

"Get over yourself, sequins. Shannon?"

"No."

"That's four nos, Gavin, go on out the door."

"No, wait, what?"

"Out. Out."

"I can't believe it's ooooooooooooover-"

Oh, yes it is, Gavin. But Atlanta's still got talent to show us. Right? Right?

"Aaaaaa-"

"Eeeeeee-"

"Iiii waaaaaaant to flyyyyyy-"

"Iiii waaaaaant to diiiiiie from-your-wretched-singing-"

"SUE!"

"Aiii see green, red roses too-"

"I see red, the color of your blood, after I cut your throat, take your bleeding heart,"

"SUE!"

"Ooooooooohhhh!"

"Ohhhhhhhh!"

"eeeeee!"

"Aaaaaaaa-"

Ah, maybe not.

Comin' up, some real talent from Atlanta, Georgia!

"Your voice is the most amazing thing we have heard all day."

"I...love you!"

"You're goin' to Hollywood!"

"You're not bad...I guess."

We are...deep in the South. And the Southern Belles are a-tollin'.

"...It's like somebody made a foghorn out of a toilet bowl and sucked the water out of the bottom."

"...Sue."

"Why'd you have to be so mean? You crushed all of my dreams! I lost my job for this!"

"You could go to Hollywood..."

"Yes!"

"But not with us."

This is A-T-L, Hotland. It's in the 70s midsummer, and in the 40s in winter. Right now? In terms of the talent? Right now, the judges are feeling about...zero.

But maybe this girl could heat things up a little.

Twenty-one year old Quinn Fabray is a waitress from Cleveland, Georgia. Her cheerleading squad, in full uniform, calls her the 'hottest girl' of Cleveland! Maybe this 'hottest girl' could warm up the judges?

"Hi there, Quinn," Will Schuester said. "It says here that you entered the 'Miss America' competition and won?"

"You?" Sue Sylvester said, lifting her nose. "...Maybe you have a chance. Go on. What are you singing?"

"I Say A Little Prayer," Quinn said, and took a deep breath. "The moment I wake up..."

"Cute," Sandy said, tilting his head. "And quite minxy. I'm going to say...yes."

"You would," Shannon said, whacking him in the back of the head. "But it's a good voice, girl, and at least it was better than sunglasses boy two contestants ago."

As one, the judges shuddered.

"Alright, it's a yes from me. Sue?"

"I like you," Sue said. Quinn stared back, defiant. "You seem to have a backbone. Yes. Moose-curls?"

"...Four yeses from us. Welcome to Hollywood!"

Quinn held up the golden ticket silently as she walked into the waiting room. As her minions squealed in happiness and hugged each other, she smiled and walked out of the door.

"Well, Quinn?" Ryan asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Happy," Quinn said. "But it was just as I expected."

Kurt Hummel rested his head on his hands, kicking his legs idly as he stared at the door. He played with his number, 100562, tracing the '2' absent-mindedly. He'd come such a long way, all the way from Port Clinton in Ohio, to audition in Atlanta thanks to his aunt, Olivia.

Aunt Olivia rested a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be alright, Kurt. I know you will. Why don't you mix around a little?"

"I guess," Kurt said.

A boy with a piercing his his eyebrow walked by.

"Ooh, that boy looks cute."

"Aunt Olivia!"

The boy stopped, looked around. Grinned.

"Hey," he said. His eyes widened. "Has anyone ever told you you look just like Anne Hathaway?"

"A couple of times," Aunt Olivia said, smiling.

"And I think Anne Hathaway is hot," the boy - no, man - said, grinning with his hands tucked into his pockets of his jeans. His number read '100466'.

"Why, thank you," Olivia said. "Why don't you sit down here? You with anyone?"

"Yeah, my sister. Sarah! Over here!"

A girl came running up. She must have been seventeen, or eighteen; only a little bit younger than Kurt's nineteen years of age.

"What?" she asked.

"We're sitting here."

"Alright...Puck."

They sat down in the free seats, Puck leaning back, a vision of ease. In contrast, Kurt stiffened, all the lines of his body radiating tension.

"Hey, ease up, little guy."

"What?" Kurt said, uncurling out of the ball of tension he'd been a second ago. The man - Puck's - hand was outstretched.

"I'm Noah Puckerman, but everybody calls me Puck. What's your name?"

And he was smiling. Gods above, he was attractive. But probably straight. Kurt bit his lip and screwed up his courage. "I'm Kurt Hummel. Everyone calls me Kurt. And this is my Aunt Olivia."

Puck laughed. "I like you!" He ruffled Kurt's hair.

Inner Kurt did a little happy dance. He touched me!

Normally he'd have been more than a little concerned about his hair, but he'd run his hands through it in nervousness so much that it was a pretty big mess by now anyway.

"I like you, too," Puck added to his Aunt Olivia, and gave her a leer.

"I like you, boyo," she said. "But I'm a lesbian."

"Oh?" his eyes lit up. "So's my sister."

"...PUCK!"

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"It. Is. Not!" Sarah lunged at him, hitting him over the head with her fist.

"Sorry," Puck said, unrepentant, blocking her flailing arms with his ... muscular...arm...okay, Kurt was salivating about now... "She's still in the closet."

"I am not! Because! I! Am! Not! A! Lesbian!"

"Well, you seem to be bringing a lot of girls back home..."

Aunt Olivia was laughing, and gradually Kurt was smiling too, a little bit.

"You look better when you smile," Puck said to Kurt, quietly.

Kurt smiled wider, his heart pumping faster in his chest.

"What do you sing?" Aunt Olivia asked, after Sarah had plonked back into her chair, crossed her arms, and huffed.

"Rock, mostly," Puck said. "I like ballads as well, but Marley, Hendrix-"

"Puck has this thing about singing stuff by Jewish people," Sarah cut in. "He's obsessive about it."

"I'm not obsessive," Puck said. "I just like things I can identify with."

"You're...Jewish?" Aunt Olivia said.

"Kind of lapsed," Sarah said, grimacing. "We're definitely not Orthodox."

"So...like Leonard Cohen?" Kurt said, poking his head up. "That man's voice is sex on two legs."

"I know!" Aunt Olivia and Sarah said, then grinned at each other.

Puck eyed Kurt with a narrowed gaze. "Yeah..." he said, slowly. "I sing Leonard Cohen, too."

"First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin..." Kurt sang, putting it an octave higher so he could actually reach it.

"-I'm guided by a signal in the heavens, I'm guided by this birthmark on my skin..."

They eyed each other.

"You're a good singer," Kurt said, and dropped his head again. "I hope you'll go to Hollywood. 'Cause I probably won't."

"...You've got a good set of pipes, Kurt," Puck said, his voice focused and serious. Sarah and Aunt Olivia looked at each other. Olivia was smiling, slowly.

"Don't give up so early," Puck said. "In fact...I'm going to wait for you until you get into Hollywood. If I have to barge in and complain until you get there, I will."

Kurt looked at him with widening eyes.

Atlanta. Beautiful Atlanta. Home to some of the most amazing talent, like yours truly.

Or maybe, like this guy.

"Hi, I'm Noah Puckerman, but everybody calls me Puck."

"So why do you think you should be the next American Idol, Puck?"

"Well, Ryan? I don't. I think a guy I just met should be. He's about yay-high and yay-wide, his name's Kurt Hummel, and he's the best singer I've ever heard. But I also want to see how far I can go."

"That's...kind of you."

"When you hear him sing, you'll understand."

"So you're a Jewish boy from Atlanta itself, are you?"

"Yep."

Sue rolled her eyes. "Alright, sing."

"...Yo, cut it. Sooooooooooy uuuun perdedor! I'm a loser baby, so why don'tcha kill me-"

"Stop. Just...stop. Rapping is not singing."

"I disagree, Shannon. For once, I'm actually on lard-hair's side. He's got a fairly decent voice, he could make a living at this sort of thing."

"Hmm..."

"Well?" Sarah asked, tapping her foot on the ground. Kurt leaned against the wall, biting his lip. Aunt Olivia grinned and uncoiled from her lotus position.

Puck held up the golden ticket.

Sarah screamed and attacked him, knocking him over in a great big hug. Ryan looked rather bemused at it all. "Is this normal?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged. "I've only just met him, but it seems like he's used to it."

From the ground, Puck gazed up at him. "You're next," he mouthed.

Kurt smiled.

From Port Clinton, Ohio, comes Kurt Hummel, the boy we all just heard about from earlier, with Puck. Will this boy be the best singer we've all ever heard?

"So, you're from Port Clinton in Ohio, but you're auditioning in Georgia?" Will Schuester asked.

"Yes," Kurt said. "I am."

"Why?"

"Because my aunt took me in, and she lives here."

"Your lesbian aunt," Shannon Beiste said.

"Yes'm," Kurt said.

"Aww," Sandy said. "Family love!"

"And it says here," Sue Sylvester said, "That you're out and proud and flaunting off your bits."

"Sue!"

"Yes'm," Kurt said. "I'm gay. I'm proud about being gay. I'm not ashamed of it."

"Well, you've got spirit," Sue Sylvester said, narrowing her eyes. "Continue."

"It won't be easy, you'll think it strange," Kurt sang, his voice floating on every note.

Will blinked. Shannon shifted ever so slightly forward in her seat.

"When I try to explain how I feel - that I still need your love after all that I've done."

Sue's mouth dropped open, just a little.

"...All you will see is a girl you once knew..."

Sandy sniggered a little, before Shannon whacked him across the back of the head and he subsided, groaning in pain.

Kurt's voice rang in the small space, making even the deliberately horrible acoustic ring with the overtones and undertones to his voice, making it sound rich and uniquely him.

Will Schuester sat straight upright in his chair, rapt, captured by the emotion Kurt was projecting with every line, every word, every note.

"-I never expected it to -"

Sandy opened his mouth to stop Kurt there, before Shannon casually laid a hand over his mouth and kept him from speaking.

Eyes closed, Kurt didn't notice.

"Don't cry for me Argentina-"

Sue Sylvester had frozen in the act of reaching for her glass of water.

"...That every word is true."

It felt like the entire room took a gasp of breath when Kurt Hummel opened his eyes and smiled.

"...That was alright," Sue Sylvester said, grudgingly.

"Alright?" Will said. "Sue! That was phenomenal! Yes! A thousand times, yes!"

"Yes from me," Sandy said, smiling.

"And yes from me," Shannon said. "Sue?"

"...Yes."

"Four yeses!" Will said. "Welcome to Hollywood!"

Kurt screamed with joy, grabbed the golden ticket, kissed the judges on the cheek, and ran out of the room.

"I'm tellin' you, if Kurt doesn't get through, I'm going to march up there and give them a piece of my mind."

The lift door opened.

"Well?" Ryan asked.

"They said...I was phenomenal." Kurt bared the golden ticket.

Olivia and Sarah both screamed and tackled him to the floor. Puck tucked his hands into his tight jeans and smirked at the camera. "Guess I won't have to be angry after all."

"Puck?" Kurt asked, from the floor.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to Hollywood. With you."

"I'm glad."

Of course, how could Kurt Hummel lose, with Anne Hathaway as his lesbian aunt?

Just joking.

In the end, out of the fourteen thousand hopefuls who auditioned in Atlanta, the judges decided that just twenty-five would go to Hollywood. This is only going to make the pressure tougher on those who survive!

Next week, the Biiiiiiiig Apple. Stay tuned, to American Idol!