A short, coda for Born This Way, because I wish this is what the episode ended upon.

Dave and Santana stared as the New Directions danced to GaGa's anthem to end all anthems. Santana, brave enough to wear the t-shirt that Brit made her yet still terrified to get up on the stage and dance with her, shuffled in her seat and glanced at her t-shirt – and Lebanese stared back at her.

The meaning, lost on anyone else, was as obvious as the day is long, in Santana's eyes. Yet she chose to wear it. For Brittany.

Dave, on the other hand, was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt and a sleeveless bomber jacket, arms crossed defensively across his chest as he watched Homo Explo – New Directio – Kurt charge across the stage as if he owned the place. He would never admit it, but he had missed the countertenor and his claim of ownership to McKinley High.

But he'd overheard of the glee clubs plan for their performance and, after a late night work out, helped himself to the machine, creating his own phrase that he was ashamed of that would be his power.

So, when the performance came to an end, bar Hummel and Schue, Dave and Santana edged themselves towards the stage. Schuester smiled down at Kurt, patted his shoulder in gratitude and appreciation, grabbed his button-down shirt and exited stage right.

Santana, being the more forward of the closet duo, pushed Dave forward – that girl was a lot stronger than she appeared.

"Yes, David?" Kurt asked, grabbing his shirt from the front of the stage, before he withdrew a compact to check his hair.

"I just wanted to... apologise again. I promise, when you start that PFLAG thing, I'll be there, sat front and centre. I'm just... not as sure of myself as you are."

Santana was not subtle as she released a bark of laughter.

"Well, I'm kinda sure... what was I saying?"

"You were apologising, Mr. Tumnus. I seriously think you've taken too many hits to the head," Santana snarked, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a nail file from her back pocket.

"I'm a jock, it's kinda what happens when you play contact sports. Hell, wasn't Coach Bitch out to kill Brittany during the championship game? I'm getting sidetracked... again. Thanks, Hopez."

"No problem, plain-y Dave-y."

Kurt, one eyebrow raised and hands on his hips, stared at the fake-couple for a few seconds before commentating, "You two are so well suited, it's a shame that Hamhock here is the wrong kind of homosexual."

Dave took a deep breath, staring down at his hands.

A moment later he's taking the jacket off, removing his sweatshirt and revealing the white shirt with his own phrase beneath.

"This is me," he simply states, and Kurt can't help but gasp as the words come back to him.

NOT HIS TYPE