Watching You (1/?)
Title: Watching You (1/?)
Author: sunflowersdream
Rating: PG-13, maybe light R for later chapters
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/?, Sam/Kurt; Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Mike Chang, Will Schuester, Emma Pillsbury, Sandy Ryerson, Sue Sylvester, Principle Figgins, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson, Dave Karofsky, Blaine Anderson, Azimio Adams, Jacob-Ben Isreal, Brad The Piano Guy, Students at McKinley/Dalton
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Warning: Stalking, violence, talk of attempting non-con, serious character injury, first multi-chaptered fic
Spoilers: First season/Second season, AU after duets
Disclaimer: Do not own the series or affiliated characters, only the DVDs.
Author Notes: I was inspired after seeing an episode of Cold Case not too long ago. First multi-chaptered Glee fic.
Summary: Kurt’s not very happy of late. His dad doesn’t have time for him, Mercedes is wrapped up with Quinn, jocks are worse than ever and he’s still awkward around Finn. But then he’s approached by a secret admirer known only as ‘Romeo’ and is thrilled. He’s romantic and understanding and seems to just know him. The more Romeo infiltrates his life, through phone calls, notes and gifts, the happier our countertenor gets. Only, Kurt forgets that Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy...
Word Count for this Chapter: 1782
Monday. The sun had risen, the birds had sung and millions of Americans seriously considered calling in sick before starting another gruelling week.
On this particular Monday, approximately ten minutes before Glee rehearsal, one Kurt Hummel is having a hard time convincing himself that he had made the right decision to be healthy that morning.
“Which bears major continuity issues seeing as it clearly took a minimum of nineteen years to build the first Death Star-” His hands tightened on the handles of Artie’s wheel chair as he weaved his friend through McKinley’s halls. Kurt could deal with the Sunday school sweaters. He tolerated khakis five days a week. He even survived the belt and suspender combo. But heaven help him if he had to listen to any more technobabble! He loved Artie, he really did. He was probably his only close male friend in this cow town. But there was only so much nerd he could take before lunch! He silently cursed the idiot freshman who had dared wear a t-shirt with Darth Maul on it. Not only was it hideous, but Artie had immediately started on his diatribe against the three more recent Star Wars films when compared to the classic trilogy. Kurt didn’t bother pointing out that, despite his so-called hatred of the colourful toy commercials that were the later films, Artie had still waited in line for three hours outside Lima’s only movie theatre to see the last one and owned ALL of the afore mentioned movies on DVD. Kurt really hates that he knows this.
Kurt finds his salvation in lace. More specifically, he finds his salvation in the approaching black lace clad body of one Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. If anything could distract his friend, it was the sight of his now ex-girlfriend. She smiled at the two of them, albeit warily toward Artie.
Who abruptly decided to welcome her into the conversation with: “Tina! What is the single greatest line in cinematic history?” Kurt jerked the wheelchair to an abrupt halt. Because seriously?
His spectacled companion shot him a dirty look before turning back to Tina. The Asian thought for all of 0.25 seconds before replying with a shrug “‘Luke, I am your father,’ hands down. Who doesn’t love the Empire Strikes Back?” Artie beamed. Kurt rolled his eyes. As if sensing his disrespect to the Force, Artie whipped his head around and demanded Kurt answer the same question.
His response? “I’m on a horse.”
With Tina now pushing the chair, the three continued down the hallway with Artie complaining that commercials didn’t count and Kurt replying that topless, deep-voiced black men with rippling muscles always counted. Tina privately agreed with the male soprano, but knew better than to say so. She did, however, say:
“Kurt, what’s on your locker?”
Both boys promptly shut their traps in order to look at Kurt’s locker, which did indeed have something on it. Not wholly unusual, but this time it wasn’t spray painted profanity of ambiguous spelling. There was a long envelope taped to it; the same kind that the school sent to its students’ homes with report cards or important announcements, only this one had ‘Kurt Hummel’ written in pen on the front and, judging by the bulges, appeared to have an oddly shaped something thicker than paper in it. Kurt took the envelope down and held it, looking at his friends with a confused expression. Artie raised eyebrows at him.
“Well? Open it.” Rather than give into his desire to stick his tongue out at Artie, Kurt looked down at the envelope in his hands, noticing for the first time that there was about an inch’s worth of a green stick-like thing poking out the top corner. He grasped the end of it, which was oddly wet, and pulled out... a perfect, blood red, long-stemmed rose. Kurt gaped at the magnificent example of aesthetic botany before looking in the envelope for anything else. There was a note, written in black pen, like his name on the envelope. The writing itself was clear, as if the writer had taken great care in making sure that it looked nice. It read:
Kurt,
I can only hope that you smile when you get this.
You are always beautiful, but you’re truly radiant when you smile.
Love,
Your Romeo
He just stared at the paper in his hands, his thoughts going crazy with questions. Who? When? Why? A wheel crushing his baby toe painfully brought him back to reality. Hopping on one foot as he gasped in pain, he glared at the boy who was currently looking at him with annoyance.
“So are you gonna share what’s on that note or what?!” Kurt blinked, and then looked up to Tina, who was shaking with poorly contained curiosity. He looked back down at the note in question, biting his lip as he looked around to see if there were any eavesdroppers. Though still crowded, the hall was void of anyone who seemed even remotely interested in the trio of gleeks. Stepping closer to his friends, Kurt read the note to them as quietly as he could.
Artie and Tina looked at him, then each other, then back to him, stunned silent for an entire minute. Suddenly, they both looked furious.
“Those assholes!” Artie spat out, clenching his hands into fists.
“How dare they? They have no right!” Tina hissed, just as pissed. Kurt just stood there, surprised. Why the hell were they so angry? He was just about to ask that when the Goth girl took hold of Artie’s wheelchair, awkwardness forgotten, and stalked heatedly towards the choir room. The former Cheerio shook his head and jogged to catch up with them, with the envelope, note and flower still in his hands.
In the choir room, Finn was behind the drums, making a slow, lazy beat with Sam half-heartedly plucking strings on his guitar. Rachel was standing at the piano, hitting random keys and humming to be sure that she was on key (which of course she was). Puck, fresh from his stint in juvie, had moved a chair so that he was behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of her panties whenever she bent over to hit a new note (pink ones today). Mercedes was painting Quinn’s nails. Santana and Brittany were talking, pinkies linked. Mike was sitting behind the two, absently tapping his feet to Finn’s beat. Everyone looked up when the door slammed open to welcome Tina and Artie inside, both with murderous expressions on their faces. Finn had just started to ask them what was going on when Artie cut him off.
“The Jocks have gone too far this time!” Confusion mounted when Kurt showed up, his hands full and eyes big.
“Jocks?”
This time Tina spoke, words laced with ire. “I can’t believe they have the nerve to pull a prank like this! Even for them, this is a new low.”
Oh. Oh. Now he got it; they thought it was a joke. Kurt looked down at his ‘gifts’, absently twirling the rose between his fingers. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: the idea that his friends thought any admirer of his would be a humiliating trick, or the fact that they were almost certainly right. He shook his head. Of course they were right. It was just stupid to think otherwise. He looked back up to see Rachel stepping forward.
“While I am certainly a strong supporter of dramatic openings, which you have pulled off pretty well considering the difficulties of staging an entrance with a wheelchair, I have to inquire as to what the actual subject-” Mercedes cut in.
“Tina. What the hell girl?” Tina marched up to her sassy friend and pointed at Kurt.
“Those- those animals went and put a fake love note on Kurt’s locker! There was even a rose there!” Nine pairs of eyes stared directly at the objects in clutched in Kurt’s hands. Silence reigned for a moment, before Puck of all people jumped up and growled.
“That’s it! Karofsky is done for!” he cracked his knuckles for emphasis. Quinn shook her head.
“Karofsky’s too dumb for something like this. If any of them could pull this, it’s Azimio.” Finn offered his solution.
“Let’s just give them both a smack down!” Most of the group seemed to like that option. Mike and Sam both stood, ready for a fight. Mercedes nodded, taking her earrings off so that the hoops wouldn’t get caught in her weave while she turns those Neanderthals inside out. Their glynch mob was almost ready when...
“Why do you guys think it’s a prank?”
Every head in the room twisted around. Arms crossed across her chest and head cocked to the side, Santana Lopez was a young, hot, Latina cheerleader version of Dorothy from Golden Girls. She rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed at their apparent stupidity.
“Come on! A moronic love note, okay, but a long-stem rose? Those idiots won’t even give a girl they like a dandelion. Why would they get a rose for a prank? That shit’s expensive! They won’t even be in season for months now.” Brittany nodded beside her.
Everyone kind of stared at them. Quinn asked Tina “Did you guys see them put that stuff up?” Artie looked sheepish.
“Well, no. It was already taped to Kurt’s locker by the time we got there.”
Finn spoke up. “So it was a mistake then? I mean, Kurt’s locker is number 271. Right?” He waited for Kurt to nod before he continued. “Quinn’s locker is 217. Maybe someone was leaving it for Quinn. I mix up my ones and my sevens all the time.” Kurt looked insulted.
“Finn, it has my name on it.” That shut the tall boy up. After a quiet moment, Mercedes strolled right up to her boy and snatched the note up out of his hands. She proceeded to read it aloud to the rest of the Glee Club. Once finished, she read it again to herself before handing it back to a stunned Kurt.
“Ain’t no way a jock wrote that. It’s all spelt right.”
“So, it’s not a trick then? Does this mean that there’s another gay dude?” Puck asked. Kurt had promptly stopped paying attention to the rest of the club at those words. Not a trick. Another guy liked him. He dazedly walked to his seat, sat down and brought the bloom up to inhale the soft, musky scent; the smooth petals tickling his nose as he breathed in. He glanced back at the note. Love Your Romeo. This guy might actually like him. Like him. Like him. He couldn’t help it.
He smiled.
“So are you seventeen or seventy one?” Brittany asked Finn.
TBC
Author: sunflowersdream
Rating: PG-13, maybe light R for later chapters
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/?, Sam/Kurt; Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Mike Chang, Will Schuester, Emma Pillsbury, Sandy Ryerson, Sue Sylvester, Principle Figgins, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson, Dave Karofsky, Blaine Anderson, Azimio Adams, Jacob-Ben Isreal, Brad The Piano Guy, Students at McKinley/Dalton
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Warning: Stalking, violence, talk of attempting non-con, serious character injury, first multi-chaptered fic
Spoilers: First season/Second season, AU after duets
Disclaimer: Do not own the series or affiliated characters, only the DVDs.
Author Notes: I was inspired after seeing an episode of Cold Case not too long ago. First multi-chaptered Glee fic.
Summary: Kurt’s not very happy of late. His dad doesn’t have time for him, Mercedes is wrapped up with Quinn, jocks are worse than ever and he’s still awkward around Finn. But then he’s approached by a secret admirer known only as ‘Romeo’ and is thrilled. He’s romantic and understanding and seems to just know him. The more Romeo infiltrates his life, through phone calls, notes and gifts, the happier our countertenor gets. Only, Kurt forgets that Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy...
Word Count for this Chapter: 1782
Monday. The sun had risen, the birds had sung and millions of Americans seriously considered calling in sick before starting another gruelling week.
On this particular Monday, approximately ten minutes before Glee rehearsal, one Kurt Hummel is having a hard time convincing himself that he had made the right decision to be healthy that morning.
“Which bears major continuity issues seeing as it clearly took a minimum of nineteen years to build the first Death Star-” His hands tightened on the handles of Artie’s wheel chair as he weaved his friend through McKinley’s halls. Kurt could deal with the Sunday school sweaters. He tolerated khakis five days a week. He even survived the belt and suspender combo. But heaven help him if he had to listen to any more technobabble! He loved Artie, he really did. He was probably his only close male friend in this cow town. But there was only so much nerd he could take before lunch! He silently cursed the idiot freshman who had dared wear a t-shirt with Darth Maul on it. Not only was it hideous, but Artie had immediately started on his diatribe against the three more recent Star Wars films when compared to the classic trilogy. Kurt didn’t bother pointing out that, despite his so-called hatred of the colourful toy commercials that were the later films, Artie had still waited in line for three hours outside Lima’s only movie theatre to see the last one and owned ALL of the afore mentioned movies on DVD. Kurt really hates that he knows this.
Kurt finds his salvation in lace. More specifically, he finds his salvation in the approaching black lace clad body of one Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. If anything could distract his friend, it was the sight of his now ex-girlfriend. She smiled at the two of them, albeit warily toward Artie.
Who abruptly decided to welcome her into the conversation with: “Tina! What is the single greatest line in cinematic history?” Kurt jerked the wheelchair to an abrupt halt. Because seriously?
His spectacled companion shot him a dirty look before turning back to Tina. The Asian thought for all of 0.25 seconds before replying with a shrug “‘Luke, I am your father,’ hands down. Who doesn’t love the Empire Strikes Back?” Artie beamed. Kurt rolled his eyes. As if sensing his disrespect to the Force, Artie whipped his head around and demanded Kurt answer the same question.
His response? “I’m on a horse.”
With Tina now pushing the chair, the three continued down the hallway with Artie complaining that commercials didn’t count and Kurt replying that topless, deep-voiced black men with rippling muscles always counted. Tina privately agreed with the male soprano, but knew better than to say so. She did, however, say:
“Kurt, what’s on your locker?”
Both boys promptly shut their traps in order to look at Kurt’s locker, which did indeed have something on it. Not wholly unusual, but this time it wasn’t spray painted profanity of ambiguous spelling. There was a long envelope taped to it; the same kind that the school sent to its students’ homes with report cards or important announcements, only this one had ‘Kurt Hummel’ written in pen on the front and, judging by the bulges, appeared to have an oddly shaped something thicker than paper in it. Kurt took the envelope down and held it, looking at his friends with a confused expression. Artie raised eyebrows at him.
“Well? Open it.” Rather than give into his desire to stick his tongue out at Artie, Kurt looked down at the envelope in his hands, noticing for the first time that there was about an inch’s worth of a green stick-like thing poking out the top corner. He grasped the end of it, which was oddly wet, and pulled out... a perfect, blood red, long-stemmed rose. Kurt gaped at the magnificent example of aesthetic botany before looking in the envelope for anything else. There was a note, written in black pen, like his name on the envelope. The writing itself was clear, as if the writer had taken great care in making sure that it looked nice. It read:
Kurt,
I can only hope that you smile when you get this.
You are always beautiful, but you’re truly radiant when you smile.
Love,
Your Romeo
He just stared at the paper in his hands, his thoughts going crazy with questions. Who? When? Why? A wheel crushing his baby toe painfully brought him back to reality. Hopping on one foot as he gasped in pain, he glared at the boy who was currently looking at him with annoyance.
“So are you gonna share what’s on that note or what?!” Kurt blinked, and then looked up to Tina, who was shaking with poorly contained curiosity. He looked back down at the note in question, biting his lip as he looked around to see if there were any eavesdroppers. Though still crowded, the hall was void of anyone who seemed even remotely interested in the trio of gleeks. Stepping closer to his friends, Kurt read the note to them as quietly as he could.
Artie and Tina looked at him, then each other, then back to him, stunned silent for an entire minute. Suddenly, they both looked furious.
“Those assholes!” Artie spat out, clenching his hands into fists.
“How dare they? They have no right!” Tina hissed, just as pissed. Kurt just stood there, surprised. Why the hell were they so angry? He was just about to ask that when the Goth girl took hold of Artie’s wheelchair, awkwardness forgotten, and stalked heatedly towards the choir room. The former Cheerio shook his head and jogged to catch up with them, with the envelope, note and flower still in his hands.
In the choir room, Finn was behind the drums, making a slow, lazy beat with Sam half-heartedly plucking strings on his guitar. Rachel was standing at the piano, hitting random keys and humming to be sure that she was on key (which of course she was). Puck, fresh from his stint in juvie, had moved a chair so that he was behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of her panties whenever she bent over to hit a new note (pink ones today). Mercedes was painting Quinn’s nails. Santana and Brittany were talking, pinkies linked. Mike was sitting behind the two, absently tapping his feet to Finn’s beat. Everyone looked up when the door slammed open to welcome Tina and Artie inside, both with murderous expressions on their faces. Finn had just started to ask them what was going on when Artie cut him off.
“The Jocks have gone too far this time!” Confusion mounted when Kurt showed up, his hands full and eyes big.
“Jocks?”
This time Tina spoke, words laced with ire. “I can’t believe they have the nerve to pull a prank like this! Even for them, this is a new low.”
Oh. Oh. Now he got it; they thought it was a joke. Kurt looked down at his ‘gifts’, absently twirling the rose between his fingers. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: the idea that his friends thought any admirer of his would be a humiliating trick, or the fact that they were almost certainly right. He shook his head. Of course they were right. It was just stupid to think otherwise. He looked back up to see Rachel stepping forward.
“While I am certainly a strong supporter of dramatic openings, which you have pulled off pretty well considering the difficulties of staging an entrance with a wheelchair, I have to inquire as to what the actual subject-” Mercedes cut in.
“Tina. What the hell girl?” Tina marched up to her sassy friend and pointed at Kurt.
“Those- those animals went and put a fake love note on Kurt’s locker! There was even a rose there!” Nine pairs of eyes stared directly at the objects in clutched in Kurt’s hands. Silence reigned for a moment, before Puck of all people jumped up and growled.
“That’s it! Karofsky is done for!” he cracked his knuckles for emphasis. Quinn shook her head.
“Karofsky’s too dumb for something like this. If any of them could pull this, it’s Azimio.” Finn offered his solution.
“Let’s just give them both a smack down!” Most of the group seemed to like that option. Mike and Sam both stood, ready for a fight. Mercedes nodded, taking her earrings off so that the hoops wouldn’t get caught in her weave while she turns those Neanderthals inside out. Their glynch mob was almost ready when...
“Why do you guys think it’s a prank?”
Every head in the room twisted around. Arms crossed across her chest and head cocked to the side, Santana Lopez was a young, hot, Latina cheerleader version of Dorothy from Golden Girls. She rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed at their apparent stupidity.
“Come on! A moronic love note, okay, but a long-stem rose? Those idiots won’t even give a girl they like a dandelion. Why would they get a rose for a prank? That shit’s expensive! They won’t even be in season for months now.” Brittany nodded beside her.
Everyone kind of stared at them. Quinn asked Tina “Did you guys see them put that stuff up?” Artie looked sheepish.
“Well, no. It was already taped to Kurt’s locker by the time we got there.”
Finn spoke up. “So it was a mistake then? I mean, Kurt’s locker is number 271. Right?” He waited for Kurt to nod before he continued. “Quinn’s locker is 217. Maybe someone was leaving it for Quinn. I mix up my ones and my sevens all the time.” Kurt looked insulted.
“Finn, it has my name on it.” That shut the tall boy up. After a quiet moment, Mercedes strolled right up to her boy and snatched the note up out of his hands. She proceeded to read it aloud to the rest of the Glee Club. Once finished, she read it again to herself before handing it back to a stunned Kurt.
“Ain’t no way a jock wrote that. It’s all spelt right.”
“So, it’s not a trick then? Does this mean that there’s another gay dude?” Puck asked. Kurt had promptly stopped paying attention to the rest of the club at those words. Not a trick. Another guy liked him. He dazedly walked to his seat, sat down and brought the bloom up to inhale the soft, musky scent; the smooth petals tickling his nose as he breathed in. He glanced back at the note. Love Your Romeo. This guy might actually like him. Like him. Like him. He couldn’t help it.
He smiled.
“So are you seventeen or seventy one?” Brittany asked Finn.
TBC