A/N: I don't own Glee or anything else you might recognize.

[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: So, here's what you missed! NewsNine has wrapped on their big story of the week, and even Michael Anderson's happy with it – good job, guys (and gals)! The weekend's off to a good start; turns out Dave had nothing to worry about with wowing Sebastian, and Cooper's new job sounds great. So, that's what you missed!]

"You really managed to talk the football team and the Cheerios into giving up part of Saturday morning for a practice?" Kurt mused, nuzzling his boyfriend's neck again.

"Well, Coach Sue deserves most of the credit for the Cheerios," Blaine admitted, his breath a gasp as Kurt took a nibble. "And Coop, showing up at the end of practice and offering selfies and autographs –"

"I know!" Kurt laughed.

"Right?" Blaine joined him, laughing as he recalled the stunt. "He did insist he was only trying to help."

"Who knew he had that many fans at McKinley?"

"Oh, he assured me it was no surprise to him," Blaine smirked.

"Personally, I prefer the younger Anderson," Kurt murmured, moving over to cover Blaine's mouth with a kiss.

Blaine could only murmur an answer. Soon they both forgot about Cooper.

"How long have you known?" Mindy asked, her face wet with tears. She accepted the tissues her husband handed her.

"Only a couple of days," Paul admitted, looking down at their feet. He waited while she blew her nose a few times, wiped her face, and turned to face him again.

"What a week," she sniffed. "Why wouldn't he tell me? Why didn't I know?"

"I didn't know either," he sighed, fighting his own tears, and reached over to wipe away a fresh tear from his wife's face. He didn't need to say it. They both knew that Dave knew what went on at her church.

She straightened up and shook her head. "He's my son. Nothing changes that."

"I know, I know," he reassured her, his voice soft.

"He's a good boy!" she cried.

Fresh tears, he thought. Ah well. He reached out to hold her, glad that there was no resistance. "He still is," he whispered.

"Of course he is," she choked into his chest. "Am I a bad mother?"

"God, no!" he blurted out, backing away from her so she could see his face. "He was afraid to tell me too, Min, and he knows I don't even agree with your church." He wiped away another tear. "No one who knows you would think that."

She nodded, and managed a watery smile. "I have to make plans."

He furrowed his brow, not following. "Hon, don't you think a little time –"

"No. I mean I need to talk to him, but, you know, when I can hold it together better than this."

"Okay, that makes sense," he agreed. "But it can wait until we get home."

She sighed, leaning back into him. "It can."

Friday night (all right, technically Saturday morning, Sally had to admit). It had been the most exciting week of her career, and as she went around the office, turning off lights, she felt satisfied. The adrenaline was finally calming down, and the congratulations to the team and pizza and beer that followed had been good. She'd turned down the offer to join the gang at a local bar; the party they'd already had was enough for her. She wondered if Salem would notice that she'd be much later than usual. Probably not, she thought; Salem was tolerant of her variable schedule, and meowed just as loudly, early or late.

"Hey!"

She startled, hearing Rod Remington's voice come from a darkened corner.

"Oops! Sorry, boss!" she stammered.

She flicked the light back on and Rod stood. "Not up for the party after the party?" he asked, his voice sounding gently amused.

"Oh no, it's not that. I mean, I need a little quiet time to, you know, take it all in, relax … well, that's more my thing." She was thinking longingly of the sparkly bath bomb that awaited her.

"No need to explain. I know just how you feel," he assured her.

"You do?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. Rod had always struck her as the social butterfly type.

"Sure. This story, it was the real deal. A lot to think about. A lot to be proud of, too. I'm proud of all of you," he smiled, extending his arms as if to embrace the whole newsroom. He exhaled, then went on. "This feels better than any drug. I lived through some wild times," he chuckled, nodding his head, "but this beats them all."

"Glad to hear it," she laughed. "Saves me the trouble of trying all that stuff out."

"I suppose it does," he said, joining her in her laughter. "You did a lot of the work on this. You're aces at research."

"Um, well, thanks, Rod," she said, knowing that her face was flushing.

"Just telling it like it is. You know, you'd be an asset anywhere. Any time you want a reference, you've got it, kid."
"You showing me the door, boss?" Sally asked.

"Not today. But don't imagine I don't know. This place is where you start, someone like you. Not your retirement home."

"Rod..."

"It's okay, kid. I'm a big fish here, and I like it. Thanks to my team, we get to do great stuff sometimes. But I'm starting to get on in years." He grinned his perfect, news anchor grin. "Not that it's obvious or anything."
"Of course not," she agreed. She'd seen flashes of his self-deprecating humor before, and always loved him for it.

"But honestly, this work was solid, and I know you'll go far. And when you do," he insisted, "I'll be cheering the loudest." He bowed to her. "You learned from the best, why shouldn't you knock their socks off?"

"You know, that speech doesn't really make me want to leave. I like it here," she said, in a quiet voice.

"I'm glad you do, Sally. But remember, this is a great place to start. And it can be a good place to stay. But you're not disloyal if you spread your wings someday."

She flashed him a genuine smile. Rod's face lightened at the sight, as he reflected on how rare her smiles were. "You're a really good anchorman. And a fantastic boss."

"Ah well. Thanks, Sally." He frowned, looking at her closely. "You do look tired."

"Weren't you just trying to tell me to go out and party?" she smirked, then yawned.

"Always believe the body language," he reminded her as he succumbed to his own yawn.

"Fine," she agreed. "Monday morning?"

"You know it, little lady. Next week's news won't write itself."

"Coop, get out of my room!"

Christine smirked at her husband as she sat across from him, cradling her precious first (and now that she was pregnant, only) coffee of the day.

Michael smiled at her, and then looked towards the stairs. "Like old times."

"Except back then it was usually Blaine doing the early wake up," she reminded him.

"History may not repeat itself, but it does rhyme," he said.

"Still, it's kind of early for Coop for a Saturday morning, don't you think?" she wondered.

"It is. I imagine it won't be a mystery for long."

A few minutes later Cooper bounded down the stairs, followed by a grouchy-looking Blaine, who was rubbing his eyes, curls messy and lop-sided.

"Look, Squirt –"

"Don't call me that!"

"Fine," Cooper said. "Blaine. We can't miss this light," he pointed to the sun glinting on the snow. A light, fresh coating had fallen overnight, leaving a delicate, frosted look on all the trees.

Blaine peered blearily outside, yawned, and put on his glasses. "At least not much new snow. Good, no shoveling."

"Morning, sweeties," Christine beamed at them. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Hi mom," Blaine murmured, walking over to give her a quick hug. "Hey, dad."

"Blainers, c'mon, they'll still be here when we're done!" Cooper was putting on his Bean boots.

"Done doing what?" Michael asked, peering over his glasses, a faint smile on his lips.

"Pictures! For my fans! For my new job! Blaine!"

"Good God, Coop, I'm coming." He tugged on his own boots, reaching for his coat. "You owe me."

"What? I showed up at your school and did autographs," Coop said in an injured tone.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Doesn't count, Coop. That was for you."

"Fine. Pictures now, settle up later," his brother agreed.

Moments later Christine and Michael watched as Blaine took a few pictures for Cooper on Coop's much fancier phone. She giggled, seeing Coop's gestures as he directed his brother.

"What?" she gasped, leaning forward for a better look.

"Oh, honey, it won't kill him," Michael chuckled, returning to his papers.

"But, seriously," she begged.

"More coffee?" he asked, in a bid to distract her.

"Baby," she reminded him, pointing to her belly.

"Saturday," he countered. "Or, well, how about some tea?"

"Maybe later," she smiled. She glanced outside again. "What is he thinking?"

"'Bye, mom, dad," Blaine yelled, hurrying to leave after a quick breakfast.

"'Bye, honey," Christine called, not sure he even heard. She turned to her husband. "Where is he going?"

"Extra practice at school," he reminded her.

She yawned, "oh, yeah, I forgot."

"Listen, love, if you don't want more coffee maybe you need a nap," he said, reaching to caress her hair.

"Maybe," she agreed. "It's been a long week."

"No way!" Amber screamed. "Stop it!"

Her co-worker Hannah sauntered over to peer at the screen. "Pretty excited for a Saturday morning, no?" She leaned in closer. "Oh my." She grinned, giving Amber a gentle squeeze. "You want to take an early break?"

"Yes, please," Amber said, standing and scooping up her phone, then hurried to the break room. She tapped out a caption before re-posting to her tumblr, which she knew would explode today. But holey moley! What a picture, complete with a name-check from the man himself. She felt like in the right era this would have definitely produced a swoon. She considered it a minute, then decided it was fine: her cover as both Millie the Millennial and was blown; why not have a crossover? It was, she rationalized, news – Cooper Anderson as the new face of the Great Lakes region's ad blitz, sharing his first picture as part of that campaign.

"Okay, folks, that's a wrap," Will Schuester called out to the field.

"I don't recall giving them permission to leave," Sue spat out. "Sloppy babies!" she yelled, as the Cheerios and football players exited the field.

"I thought they looked pretty good out there," Will fretted, his brow wrinkling in the late morning light.

Sue straightened up, getting ready to leave. "They weren't good, they were fantastic." She grinned at him, "but this isn't the time to tell them that." She body checked him as she walked by.

"When is?" Will wondered, sighing.

"Blaine, please give my congratulations to your brother on his new job," Rachel said, coming down from her perch on the bleachers. "Also, you both were fantastic on that mashup. Though I do have a few notes –"

Ignoring that last bit, Blaine said, "how do you know about Coop's job?"

Kurt leaned in, curious about this too.

"Oh well, I might have been on tumblr a little bit … you know, on my phone … but not when you were performing! I mean, practicing," she stammered.

"Cool," Finn said. "Good for him." He seemed ready to go, stuffing his gear into his gym bag.

"You can't just leave it at that," Kurt whined. "I mean, it's not like he's working a desk job at a bank or something. It made it to her tumblr feed! Spill!"

Blaine rolled his eyes. He thought it was hardly surprising. Coop told him while he was taking the pictures this morning, and clearly Coop had wasted no time, updating his Instagram, and posting right on his biggest fan's tumblr page.

Rachel grinned, and showed her phone to Kurt.

"Well, he is good to his fans," Kurt breathed.

"Wait, what?" Finn asked, stooping to see. "What kind of a job calls for a pose like that?"

Blaine looked at their expectant faces, and knew he had to tell them. "Well, as Rachel probably already knows, he'll be the new face of the Great Lakes Tourism Board's ad campaign." She nodded happily in agreement.

"Why this pose?" Finn looked confused as he took another look.

Rachel piped in, "Well, he explains here in his note to MrsCooperAnderson, he's a guy with roots in this area, and he was out enjoying some of the weather we get here."

"With no shirt on. Standing in snow, leaning on a snow shovel. I don't get it," Finn shook his head, returning to stashing his gear.

"I think he looks healthy," Rachel countered, "like he doesn't mind the snow."

"Um, yeah, or something," Blaine rolled his eyes again.

"Well, a person could get hot shoveling," Kurt reasoned, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, it's not meant to be realism, it's … advertising."

"Or blatant fan-service," Blaine murmured. "Are we done here?"

Author's note: Sorry, I know. It's been forever. I have missed writing, and miss the fandom. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to write again sooner.