Glee Fic--Assumptions
Title: Assumptions
Summary: William makes assumptions about Kurt.
Rating: PG-13 for suggestive language
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
A/N: I'm not sure about the style on this. But I think it's okay.
3rd Person POV
Mr. Shcuester didn't care how other teams did it, boys would share a room and girls would share a room. That's just the way it was. He knew that Kurt preferred to room with the girls, and he even knew that on some level the boys made him a little uncomfortable. But he had the parents to think about. He didn't want a lawsuit on his hands because questionable pictures tagged on Facebook, or Myspace. Kurt didn't take the news well, he never did. Will was getting tired of it. He expected Kurt to pair with the boys, like he asked, without putting up a fuss. He expected cooperation as respect as an educator. But every single time Kurt had to fight him. He had to complain and stamp his feet like a child. He just didn't understand. Kurt got up on a soapbox and preached about how being gay didn't make him a woman but he was always so damn insistent on pairing with the girls on every little thing.
So when Will made his announcement he was already pulling Kurt aside with a firm hand to the bicep. He watched the scowl work it's way onto Kurt's face and the watched the way his teeth clicked in anger. He waited patiently for Kurt to start screaming, to cause a scene here where at least five other chaperones would be on hand to judge him. But instead Kurt listened to his reasoning quietly. He folded in on himself and looked resolutely over Will's shoulder, but said nothing. And when Will had finished his speech Kurt looked him in the eye and said “You just don't understand.” That was it. No righteous anger or indignant fussing, just one calm remark and he was walking away. Will watched him shake away the girls and take out his phone. For a brief moment Will worried that he was calling his father but he dismissed the fear. Mr. Hummel would understand.
He laughed and joked with the kids on the way to the rooms, losing track of Brittany once, and herded them all inside of the girls' room. Kurt joined them last, still on his phone, even as Will clapped to get everyone's attention. He ignored Kurt's blatant disrespect and pushed forward. With a set of goals in place Will headed out to work on April's show. He knew his kids would stay in. New York was a large and terrifying place and Will was sure that even Kurt wouldn't feel brave enough to wander out on his own.
It was just after dark when Will got back to the hotel. After climbing out of his taxi he took a deep breath and laughed. New York was wonderful, it was big and bright and everything he'd wanted as a teenager. It made him want to dance through the streets and sing at the top of his lungs. But he reined himself in and clapped his hands together for warmth. He'd spent the whole day out and about while the kids toiled away in the hotel room. He felt a bit guilty and vowed to make it up to them the next day, possibly with pizza. But his good mood shattered when he spotted Kurt Hummel standing on a street corner, bag in hand, leaning into a strangers car. Will took in Kurt's clothes, different from the ones he'd come in. He was wearing long boots, tight pants, and a flimsy cotton tee, tight across his chest under an open black peacoat. Will's face flushed with anger. He'd trusted his kids. He'd trusted Kurt and here he was throwing that trust back in his face. As Will rushed forward he thought about how stupid Kurt was to trust strangers, to put himself in that type of situation. Will had always thought Kurt had more respect for his body. But the way Kurt stumbled into the black Chrystler 300 made him jump to alcohol. He remembered Kurt's problem the previous year and cursed.
Will hailed another cab and mumbled to himself that Burt Hummel would be the one picking up this tab. “Can you follow that black Chrystler 300, the one with the decorative plate?” Will impatiently buckled his seatbelt and drummed his fingers across his knee as the cabbie did nothing.
“You want me to follow someone mister?” Will sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. Every minute they sat here was another minute Kurt got farther into danger.
“My kid is drunk. He snuck out and got into that car. I just want to get him back home.” The cabbie twisted back to face the road, obviously still hesitant. But when a crumpled twenty floated into his lap and turned the wheel and started following. Will spent most of the ride shaking his head and talking quietly to himself about the foolishness of teenagers. He thought whole-heartedly that Burt needed to be firmer with Kurt and that the snarky teen thought far too much of himself and far too little of authority. Once the cab fair got to thirty dollars he considered just heading back to the hotel on foot, Kurt be damned. He knew it would teach Kurt a lesson, but he didn't want to risk the consequences.
He leaned to the side and watched from out his window as the Chrystler 300 finally pulled into a parking garage. It was attached to a beautiful highrise building. Will tossed his fair at the cabbie and ran to catch up, thinking 'of course Kurt would pick up someone high profile'. He couldn't help but think how much easier it would be to rescue him if he'd been taken to a more rundown neighborhood. Will just knew Kurt would take solace in the money he'd be offered and he'd hope that this rich stranger would be kind and experienced. He listened closely for the sound of a car and ran towards it. His loafers masked most of the noise, allowing him to get a few rows down unnoticed. He watched the mystery man step out of the car and go around to Kurt's side. He watched as the stranger ran his hands down Kurt's back and arms, lingering for just a bit too long. Kurt didn't lean into it, but he didn't pull away. When the man pulled away and took Kurt's bag he swayed.
Will should have made his case then. He should have called out and made a show of his cell phone to frighten the would-be customer. But he didn't. Kurt was always so damn spiteful, so proud and anti-authority. Kurt liked to pretend that nothing hurt for long, that it all worked out, and that he was enough of an adult already. Will wanted him to learn that he was wrong. Will wanted him to learn that the world was scary and that leaving Ohio didn't mean leaving the risks associated with homosexuality. So he said nothing. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the man lead Kurt inside with a broad hand to the small of Kurt's back.
He peaked at the mans parking permit long enough to get an apartment number and sighed. He tried to tell the sick feeling in his gut that this was all for Kurt's benefit. Will walked slowly to the elevators and with a heavy hand pressed the button for the top floor. Once it lurched into motion he leaned back against the wall and thought about what might be happening. He saw Kurt pressed up against wall, eyes glazed over, arms pressed weakly against his client. He saw Kurt clench his teeth and screw his eyes shut in an attempt not to cry. And he saw the mystery man reach between Kurt's legs and squeeze. It made his stomach roll, the look he imagined on Kurt's face. He just couldn't understand it. Someone with Kurt's looks shouldn't act that way. They should be quite, polite, bashful. It made him angry that Kurt needed something like this to behave properly. Obviously he'd let Kurt get away with too much back home, they all did.
When the elevator lurched to a stop Will ran his fingers through his hair and jogged along the hallway looking for the right door number. He didn't have to look far, as the top floor had been divided into only two apartments. Will rapped his knuckles on the door twice and pressed an ear to the door to listen. He heard something rustling around but couldn't place if it was clothes or something benign. The door opened slowly, giving Will enough time to step back. He was in luck, it was the right apartment. Close up Will could see that the man was rather attractive, objectively speaking. His skin had an olive tone, or maybe yellow, and his hair was dark, thick, and black. Will had to hold back a laugh about Kurt's choice in men, he looked vaguely like the Warbler Kurt was dating. And that thought made Will's teeth click. Kurt was cheating on his boyfriend for money in a city far away from home, for what? Drunken thrills?
“Can I help you?”
Will nodded and clapped his hands together and made sure his expression was properly somber. “Yes, ah, I'm not sure how to put this. The boy you picked up is underage. He's a student of mine. I don't want to have to go to the police but he's only-“ The stranger raised a hand and opened the door a bit farther. Will could just make out Kurt, struggling out of his pants, next to the sofa.
“I'm aware that Kurt is underage. You say you're his teacher? William Schuester correct?” Will nodded once and furrowed his brow. When the man closed his door Will let out a muffled protest and tried to get between the man and his door. “Mr. Schuester, stop. Stop! How did you even find me?” Will stopped struggling and took a step back.
“I saw Kurt getting into you're car.” The man crossed his arms and leaned against his door.
“You saw? So you finally came back?”
“Came back?”
“You're an educator and a chaperone for this trip. You were in the hotel for all of thirty minutes before you left thirteen kids on their own with only the honor system holding them in place.” Will's mouth dropped open at the unspoken accusation. He hadn't been negligent, he trusted his kids, there was a difference. He was sure of it. He was also fairly certain that Kurt was a talkative drunk.
“I trust my kids. My trust was obviously abused by Kurt but you can't lecture me. You picked him up, knowing he's underage and obviously drunk, for sex and you expect-“
“Sex?! You think I picked Kurt up to sleep with him? I know him. He's my little brother's boyfriend. He called me, distraught, because you wanted him to spend the night sleeping in close corners with boys who spent a majority of their time making Kurt feel unsafe? Boys that threw him into dumpsters and called him names? All he wanted was to share a room with the girls. Not because he wants to be a girl, but because the girls have never made him fear for his life.” Will floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock.
“They don't pick on him. They're his friends. And Kurt is still drunk. I can't let him stay with you. I don't know you. I have no evidence that you are who you say you are. And even if you could prove it you don't have his father's permission. Permission that you surely won't get once he realizes Kurt is drunk.” Will stood firm, confident that his reason would win out and that Kurt would be walking with him in just a few moments.
“They're companionable with him. Now. A year of friendship does not erase years of torment Mr. Schuester. Furthermore, I don't know where you've come up with the idea that Kurt is drunk,” Will spat out that Kurt had been stumbling, but was ignored. “He's tired. He called me first to ask if he could spend the night and after I said yes he called his father for permission. Then he took an anxiety pill. That's what you saw. Perhaps if you were more involved in the lives of the students you claim to love so much you'd know that Kurt has anxiety problems, panic attacks. Problems caused by attending William McKinley. Problems that went unnoticed, even by teachers as caring as you.”
Across from Will, Blaine's brother pulled out his cellphone, a sleek blackberry, and handed it to him. “Call Mr. Hummel William. The fact that he hasn't called you himself already is nothing short of a miracle. I had assumed he'd already reamed out.” Will did take the phone and shakily dialed Mr. Hummel's number. He almost wished that this was all a lie, that Kurt really was lying naked in that house ready to render his services.
“Everett? Is Kurt okay?” Will's mouth dropped open at the greeting. He swallowed thickly and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, Kurt is fine Mr. Hummel. This is William Schuester. I was just making sure that this arrangement was okay.” Everett watched smugly as the color drained from Will's face. He had a strong feeling that Burt was arranging their 'exchange of words' for when the trip was over. When Will passed the phone back Everett didn't even try to hide the smirk on his face.
“Of course Mr. Hummel. He's fine. I'll have him call you in the morning. Goodnight.” With a dismissive wave of the hand Everett turned away from Will and went back into his apartment. Kurt was tucked into a ball on the couch, clutching the fleecy blanket to him desperately. Everett sighed as he plucked up Kurt's pants and folded them. When Kurt shifted and whined Everett cooed and brushed his hair away from his face. He was so happy when Blaine had called him. When Blaine explained that his oh so amazing boyfriend was heading to New York Everett had actually giggled. He couldn't wait to actually meet the boy who'd made his brother so happy. Blaine had assured him that Skype and short , hijacked phone calls were not enough to define the worth of Kurt Hummel. He'd spent his whole day frantically checking his phone in hopes that Kurt had finally texted him. But their first face to face meeting was bitter-sweet.
Teachers like William Schuester were worse than the teachers that did nothing. They pretended to care. They gave false hope. And however inadvertently, they trampled all over the hopes and dreams of the students they taught. There was one in every school. Blaine knew one, he had known one, and it seems that Kurt was rather tethered to his. With one last pass though Kurt's hair, Everett sighed and headed to bed.
____________
I made Will kind of a dick but I kind of liked it. I mean, who plants pot in a kids locker for a singing club?
Summary: William makes assumptions about Kurt.
Rating: PG-13 for suggestive language
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
A/N: I'm not sure about the style on this. But I think it's okay.
3rd Person POV
Mr. Shcuester didn't care how other teams did it, boys would share a room and girls would share a room. That's just the way it was. He knew that Kurt preferred to room with the girls, and he even knew that on some level the boys made him a little uncomfortable. But he had the parents to think about. He didn't want a lawsuit on his hands because questionable pictures tagged on Facebook, or Myspace. Kurt didn't take the news well, he never did. Will was getting tired of it. He expected Kurt to pair with the boys, like he asked, without putting up a fuss. He expected cooperation as respect as an educator. But every single time Kurt had to fight him. He had to complain and stamp his feet like a child. He just didn't understand. Kurt got up on a soapbox and preached about how being gay didn't make him a woman but he was always so damn insistent on pairing with the girls on every little thing.
So when Will made his announcement he was already pulling Kurt aside with a firm hand to the bicep. He watched the scowl work it's way onto Kurt's face and the watched the way his teeth clicked in anger. He waited patiently for Kurt to start screaming, to cause a scene here where at least five other chaperones would be on hand to judge him. But instead Kurt listened to his reasoning quietly. He folded in on himself and looked resolutely over Will's shoulder, but said nothing. And when Will had finished his speech Kurt looked him in the eye and said “You just don't understand.” That was it. No righteous anger or indignant fussing, just one calm remark and he was walking away. Will watched him shake away the girls and take out his phone. For a brief moment Will worried that he was calling his father but he dismissed the fear. Mr. Hummel would understand.
He laughed and joked with the kids on the way to the rooms, losing track of Brittany once, and herded them all inside of the girls' room. Kurt joined them last, still on his phone, even as Will clapped to get everyone's attention. He ignored Kurt's blatant disrespect and pushed forward. With a set of goals in place Will headed out to work on April's show. He knew his kids would stay in. New York was a large and terrifying place and Will was sure that even Kurt wouldn't feel brave enough to wander out on his own.
It was just after dark when Will got back to the hotel. After climbing out of his taxi he took a deep breath and laughed. New York was wonderful, it was big and bright and everything he'd wanted as a teenager. It made him want to dance through the streets and sing at the top of his lungs. But he reined himself in and clapped his hands together for warmth. He'd spent the whole day out and about while the kids toiled away in the hotel room. He felt a bit guilty and vowed to make it up to them the next day, possibly with pizza. But his good mood shattered when he spotted Kurt Hummel standing on a street corner, bag in hand, leaning into a strangers car. Will took in Kurt's clothes, different from the ones he'd come in. He was wearing long boots, tight pants, and a flimsy cotton tee, tight across his chest under an open black peacoat. Will's face flushed with anger. He'd trusted his kids. He'd trusted Kurt and here he was throwing that trust back in his face. As Will rushed forward he thought about how stupid Kurt was to trust strangers, to put himself in that type of situation. Will had always thought Kurt had more respect for his body. But the way Kurt stumbled into the black Chrystler 300 made him jump to alcohol. He remembered Kurt's problem the previous year and cursed.
Will hailed another cab and mumbled to himself that Burt Hummel would be the one picking up this tab. “Can you follow that black Chrystler 300, the one with the decorative plate?” Will impatiently buckled his seatbelt and drummed his fingers across his knee as the cabbie did nothing.
“You want me to follow someone mister?” Will sighed and rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. Every minute they sat here was another minute Kurt got farther into danger.
“My kid is drunk. He snuck out and got into that car. I just want to get him back home.” The cabbie twisted back to face the road, obviously still hesitant. But when a crumpled twenty floated into his lap and turned the wheel and started following. Will spent most of the ride shaking his head and talking quietly to himself about the foolishness of teenagers. He thought whole-heartedly that Burt needed to be firmer with Kurt and that the snarky teen thought far too much of himself and far too little of authority. Once the cab fair got to thirty dollars he considered just heading back to the hotel on foot, Kurt be damned. He knew it would teach Kurt a lesson, but he didn't want to risk the consequences.
He leaned to the side and watched from out his window as the Chrystler 300 finally pulled into a parking garage. It was attached to a beautiful highrise building. Will tossed his fair at the cabbie and ran to catch up, thinking 'of course Kurt would pick up someone high profile'. He couldn't help but think how much easier it would be to rescue him if he'd been taken to a more rundown neighborhood. Will just knew Kurt would take solace in the money he'd be offered and he'd hope that this rich stranger would be kind and experienced. He listened closely for the sound of a car and ran towards it. His loafers masked most of the noise, allowing him to get a few rows down unnoticed. He watched the mystery man step out of the car and go around to Kurt's side. He watched as the stranger ran his hands down Kurt's back and arms, lingering for just a bit too long. Kurt didn't lean into it, but he didn't pull away. When the man pulled away and took Kurt's bag he swayed.
Will should have made his case then. He should have called out and made a show of his cell phone to frighten the would-be customer. But he didn't. Kurt was always so damn spiteful, so proud and anti-authority. Kurt liked to pretend that nothing hurt for long, that it all worked out, and that he was enough of an adult already. Will wanted him to learn that he was wrong. Will wanted him to learn that the world was scary and that leaving Ohio didn't mean leaving the risks associated with homosexuality. So he said nothing. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the man lead Kurt inside with a broad hand to the small of Kurt's back.
He peaked at the mans parking permit long enough to get an apartment number and sighed. He tried to tell the sick feeling in his gut that this was all for Kurt's benefit. Will walked slowly to the elevators and with a heavy hand pressed the button for the top floor. Once it lurched into motion he leaned back against the wall and thought about what might be happening. He saw Kurt pressed up against wall, eyes glazed over, arms pressed weakly against his client. He saw Kurt clench his teeth and screw his eyes shut in an attempt not to cry. And he saw the mystery man reach between Kurt's legs and squeeze. It made his stomach roll, the look he imagined on Kurt's face. He just couldn't understand it. Someone with Kurt's looks shouldn't act that way. They should be quite, polite, bashful. It made him angry that Kurt needed something like this to behave properly. Obviously he'd let Kurt get away with too much back home, they all did.
When the elevator lurched to a stop Will ran his fingers through his hair and jogged along the hallway looking for the right door number. He didn't have to look far, as the top floor had been divided into only two apartments. Will rapped his knuckles on the door twice and pressed an ear to the door to listen. He heard something rustling around but couldn't place if it was clothes or something benign. The door opened slowly, giving Will enough time to step back. He was in luck, it was the right apartment. Close up Will could see that the man was rather attractive, objectively speaking. His skin had an olive tone, or maybe yellow, and his hair was dark, thick, and black. Will had to hold back a laugh about Kurt's choice in men, he looked vaguely like the Warbler Kurt was dating. And that thought made Will's teeth click. Kurt was cheating on his boyfriend for money in a city far away from home, for what? Drunken thrills?
“Can I help you?”
Will nodded and clapped his hands together and made sure his expression was properly somber. “Yes, ah, I'm not sure how to put this. The boy you picked up is underage. He's a student of mine. I don't want to have to go to the police but he's only-“ The stranger raised a hand and opened the door a bit farther. Will could just make out Kurt, struggling out of his pants, next to the sofa.
“I'm aware that Kurt is underage. You say you're his teacher? William Schuester correct?” Will nodded once and furrowed his brow. When the man closed his door Will let out a muffled protest and tried to get between the man and his door. “Mr. Schuester, stop. Stop! How did you even find me?” Will stopped struggling and took a step back.
“I saw Kurt getting into you're car.” The man crossed his arms and leaned against his door.
“You saw? So you finally came back?”
“Came back?”
“You're an educator and a chaperone for this trip. You were in the hotel for all of thirty minutes before you left thirteen kids on their own with only the honor system holding them in place.” Will's mouth dropped open at the unspoken accusation. He hadn't been negligent, he trusted his kids, there was a difference. He was sure of it. He was also fairly certain that Kurt was a talkative drunk.
“I trust my kids. My trust was obviously abused by Kurt but you can't lecture me. You picked him up, knowing he's underage and obviously drunk, for sex and you expect-“
“Sex?! You think I picked Kurt up to sleep with him? I know him. He's my little brother's boyfriend. He called me, distraught, because you wanted him to spend the night sleeping in close corners with boys who spent a majority of their time making Kurt feel unsafe? Boys that threw him into dumpsters and called him names? All he wanted was to share a room with the girls. Not because he wants to be a girl, but because the girls have never made him fear for his life.” Will floundered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock.
“They don't pick on him. They're his friends. And Kurt is still drunk. I can't let him stay with you. I don't know you. I have no evidence that you are who you say you are. And even if you could prove it you don't have his father's permission. Permission that you surely won't get once he realizes Kurt is drunk.” Will stood firm, confident that his reason would win out and that Kurt would be walking with him in just a few moments.
“They're companionable with him. Now. A year of friendship does not erase years of torment Mr. Schuester. Furthermore, I don't know where you've come up with the idea that Kurt is drunk,” Will spat out that Kurt had been stumbling, but was ignored. “He's tired. He called me first to ask if he could spend the night and after I said yes he called his father for permission. Then he took an anxiety pill. That's what you saw. Perhaps if you were more involved in the lives of the students you claim to love so much you'd know that Kurt has anxiety problems, panic attacks. Problems caused by attending William McKinley. Problems that went unnoticed, even by teachers as caring as you.”
Across from Will, Blaine's brother pulled out his cellphone, a sleek blackberry, and handed it to him. “Call Mr. Hummel William. The fact that he hasn't called you himself already is nothing short of a miracle. I had assumed he'd already reamed out.” Will did take the phone and shakily dialed Mr. Hummel's number. He almost wished that this was all a lie, that Kurt really was lying naked in that house ready to render his services.
“Everett? Is Kurt okay?” Will's mouth dropped open at the greeting. He swallowed thickly and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, Kurt is fine Mr. Hummel. This is William Schuester. I was just making sure that this arrangement was okay.” Everett watched smugly as the color drained from Will's face. He had a strong feeling that Burt was arranging their 'exchange of words' for when the trip was over. When Will passed the phone back Everett didn't even try to hide the smirk on his face.
“Of course Mr. Hummel. He's fine. I'll have him call you in the morning. Goodnight.” With a dismissive wave of the hand Everett turned away from Will and went back into his apartment. Kurt was tucked into a ball on the couch, clutching the fleecy blanket to him desperately. Everett sighed as he plucked up Kurt's pants and folded them. When Kurt shifted and whined Everett cooed and brushed his hair away from his face. He was so happy when Blaine had called him. When Blaine explained that his oh so amazing boyfriend was heading to New York Everett had actually giggled. He couldn't wait to actually meet the boy who'd made his brother so happy. Blaine had assured him that Skype and short , hijacked phone calls were not enough to define the worth of Kurt Hummel. He'd spent his whole day frantically checking his phone in hopes that Kurt had finally texted him. But their first face to face meeting was bitter-sweet.
Teachers like William Schuester were worse than the teachers that did nothing. They pretended to care. They gave false hope. And however inadvertently, they trampled all over the hopes and dreams of the students they taught. There was one in every school. Blaine knew one, he had known one, and it seems that Kurt was rather tethered to his. With one last pass though Kurt's hair, Everett sighed and headed to bed.
____________
I made Will kind of a dick but I kind of liked it. I mean, who plants pot in a kids locker for a singing club?