Fic: Objectification of My Affections
Title: Objectification of My Affections
Rating: PG
Characters: Most of the ensemble, and the usual amount of Winn.
Word count: 2,00-ish
Summary: Complete and total objectification of Mr. Schue! Will gets slushied and takes his shirt off. The Gleekers are shocked to see that their teacher is a total ripped hottie underneath all the vests and dorky ties. Written for the Winn Prompt meme.
Notes: The prompt meme is awesome. You all need to go over and fill some prompts (especially mine) because it’s a ball.
In all honesty, it was a simple case of bad timing. Kurt had been standing with his back to his locker, his face scrunched up in anticipation as Karofsky and Azimio pulled their arms back, slushies at the ready, and then Mr Schue had to come along, all bright smiles and not attracting any attention to his teacherly self, and called out “Hey, Kurt,” at just the right-wrong moment. Three torsos swivelled. Momentum did the rest. And Mr Schue was left wearing a mixture of cola and raspberry slushie.
Kurt wasn’t sure how, but Mr Schue managed to hand out detention slips even with his eyes pressed closed against the ice and corn syrup.
“But-” Karofsky tried.
“I don’t care,” Mr Schue replied. “All next week. Now go.”
“Don’t worry,” Kurt had said, grabbing at the sleeve of Mr Schue’s shirt while fishing his mobile out of the pocket of his own Versace jeans. “There’s a bathroom right here. You’ll be cleaned up in no time.”
Finn showed up about thirty second later. “Sorry,” he said to Kurt, “but Artie’s all the way over in the library, so he sent me ahead to see if you needed anything.”
“A towel would be great,” Mr Schue said, as he washed his face off, bent over the sink.
“I’ll take care of that,” Kurt cut in. “And I have some shampoo in my gym locker that will get that sugar and food colouring right out.”
Finn stood in silence for a moment, watching his teacher try to clean up. “They got you good,” he said at last.
“They did,” Mr Schue agreed. “Tell me again why we have a slushie machine in a high school?”
“Because the air conditioning keeps breaking down in Summer,” Finn replied, with a small grin.
“Because the football team keeps messing around with the control panel,” Mr Schue shot back.
“Hey, it’s the hockey guys, not us.” Finn looked Mr Schue up and down before shaking is head. “You’re going to have to wash your shirt out, otherwise the sugar will set and you’ll attract bees when you leave the building. There are a lot more bees around here than you’d expect.”
Mr Schue straightened up, wiping water away from his face. The ice had melted, and now he was left with sticky water through his hair and down his front. He looked down at his vest and tie sadly, and the paper towel that was completely failing to erase the mess. “Really?”
“Come on,” Finn said, “I got pretty good at washing that stuff out of clothes for a while.”
So off came the vest, and the tie, and the shirt, and the t-shirt underneath it. “I’m amazed that a slushie goes through so many layers,” Mr Schue said, as he leaned forwards and tried to rinse the sugar water out of his hair.
“It’s deadly,” Finn agreed, rinsing the shirt out in the sink.
There was a knock at the door. “You boys right in there?” Mercedes called.
“Never fear,” Kurt’s voice floated through the doorway. “I have returned!”
“Great,” Mr Schue called back, straightening up and wiping at the sticky mess across his bare chest. “This stuff gets everywhere.”
Kurt pushed the door open, and a small gaggle of gleeks looked into the boys’ bathroom. And they stared.
“Wow,” Mercedes said.
“Thats-” Tina stared, and was then unable to find any words to continue.
“What is it?” Artie asked from behind their backs. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Mercedes said slowly. “Not bad, exactly.”
“The opposite of bad,” Kurt said, a little breathlessly.
“It’s fine,” Tina said absently, trying to calm Artie and block his view simultaneously.
“Damn fine,” Mercedes agreed.
“Nunca me he sentido así,” Kurt murmured.
“That should be noon-kah,” Mr Schue corrected absently, as he tried to wipe dripping water and sticky sugar off his chest. “A long vowel sound and a sharp end. I’m not sure this is coming off.”
“I heard there was a slushie-teacher incident,” Rachel piped up from the back of the crowd. “As I’m sure you all know, despite my talent and vibrant personality, I have become something of any expert in the matter,” she said, pushing her way forwards.
“Any advice you have would be appreciated,” Mr Schue replied, turning to look at her.
Rachel never quite made eye-contact, instead staring intently at the torso area. “Um,” she said, as her eyes wandered over the flat stomach, the toned sides, the defined chest. “There’s, uh. It’s.” She paused to lick her lips. “Hair,” she said at last.
“Hair?”
“Right!” Rachel’s eyes finally snapped up. “When it’s in your hair, it’s going to drip down over your well-defined shoulders and run down across your broad, delightfully masculine chest,” she said, her eyes following the path as she narrated.
“Shampoo!” Kurt said suddenly. “I have shampoo. I said I’d get it, and I did, and now I have it,” he stopped babbling long enough to hold the bright green bottle out. “For you.”
“Thanks, Kurt,” Mr Schue smiled as he took the bottle, needing to tug it sharply from Kurt’s grasping fingertips.
“Okay, losers,” Santana snapped as she came upon the group in the doorway. “What’s the deal with not turning up to Glee practice? You left all of us sitting there, like we’re the one who care about this lame - what are you all staring at?”
“Wow,” Brittany said, peering through the gap between Tina and Mercedes. “Are all teachers like that when they’re naked?”
“I hope not,” Tina said with a happy sigh.
“The school would ignite from the hotness,” Mercedes agreed.
“It’s not physically possible,” Kurt added.
“What are you guys all staring at?” Artie whined as Santana climbed up onto his chair, trying to get a good vantage point.
“Have I got all of the shampoo out of my hair?” Mr Schue asked, bent over the sink.
“No,” a chorus of voices called back.
“Here,” Finn said, “there’s still some at the back of your neck.” And then he stepped over, cupping his hands under the running tap water and gently washing the last of the suds away. Mr Schue rested his hands on the edge of the basin, flexing his back and stretching his legs as he let Finn wash him off, pulling his jeans tight across various areas, the waistband of his underpants peeking out as denim was pulled low and firm.
“Wow,” Rachel said.
“I’m forced to agree with you,” Kurt replied.
Brittany tilted her head to one side in thought. “Does it make you gay if you’re watching two guys?”
“No,” Santana replied at the same moment as Kurt said “Definitely.”
“There’s a whole other word for it,” Tina said vaguely, her eyes tracking the line of Mr Schue’s spine. “On the internet.”
“Done?” Mr Schue asked, straightening up, stretching his arms out above his head, arching his back to get rid of the kinks that come from being bent over for so long.
“Yeah,” Finn replied. “Now we just have to deal with the rest of you.”
Mr Schue held a wad of paper towel under the running tap, and then began wiping the last remnants of sugar and colouring from his neck, from his clean jaw down past his Adam’s apple, wiping over the smooth lines of his collarbones before continuing further down, across the soft skin and hard muscle of his pectorals, eventually slipping further down, past the bottom of his rib cage and over the first defining lines of a six pack. And the eyes of the glee club followed his every move. Followed each swipe of damp paper, each running droplet of water, each flex and shift of skin over muscle, catching on the sight of damp nipples, hard in the cool air of the bathroom. Until he was clean, and Mr Schue threw the wad of paper into the trash can, shaking the members of the glee club out of their stupor.
“Towel,” Kurt said, thrusting his hand out. “For you, also. I also got this for you. The towel, that is. For you.”
Mr Schue took it with a wide smile. “You’re a lifesaver, Kurt.” To which Kurt responded with a tight smile and a noise not unlike a whimper.
“Here,” Finn said, digging around in his backpack, “I’ve got a spare shirt in here.”
“Great,” Mr Schue said, tossing the used towel back to Kurt. “You know, in retrospect, I should have just taken a shower.” He pulled on the shirt, and as such missed Kurt clutching at the doorframe, and Mercedes and Tina holding each other up, and Rachel biting delicately at her knuckle.
“Well,” Santana said, holding on to Brittany’s shoulder as she jumped down from Artie’s chair. “I guess that shows over.”
“It’s okay,” Brittany said. “I have it on my phone.”
“Girl, you have got to send that baby to me.”
“And me.”
“You know, Kurt, it really was kind of you to help Mr Schue out. It’s only fair that I help you out in turn by taking care of the clean up of the clean up, so to speak.”
“Back off, bitch, the towel is mine.”
“What exactly happened in there?”
“I like guys who are buff and can sing,” Brittany said lightly.
“No, you don’t,” Santana shot back firmly.
“Well then, I like guys who have hair that smell like fruit.”
“You like them even less,” Santana assured her.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Will watched as the teens filed towards the choir room with a bemused look on his face. “What was that all about?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Finn said, wrapping his arms around his teacher’s waist, letting a hand slip under his shirt to touch warm skin. “I think they were just weirded out by seeing a teacher topless.”
“So I suppose I should be glad I didn’t traumatise them,” Will replied.
“Really glad,” Finn replied, dipping his mouth down to speak against the skin of his teacher’s neck. “And you should never take you clothes off on school grounds again. You know, just in case someone has a fit or the whole school gets an asthma attack or something.”
“It would be horrifying,” Will agreed.
“Devastating,” Finn confirmed, pausing to kiss the exposed skin.
“And there’s no way you could fight all of them off at once,” Will added.
Finn looked up, and locked eyes with Will in the mirror. “I could have taken them,” he said, with all seriousness.
“Could you now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Finn agreed, dropping more kissed against skin. “Mercedes was the real threat. Kurt and Rachel would have taken each other out. I could probably distract Tina and Brittany by making out with you, and Santana thinks she’s too cool to get involved.”
Will smiled. “You sound like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
Finn looked up, locking eyes with Will again. “You’re mine,” he said firmly, taking a moment to enjoy the shiver those words sent through Will’s body. “And I think about that all the time.”
Will gently extracted himself from Finn’s embrace. “We need to get to practice,” he said.
“Alright,” Finn pulled Will close for one firm kiss. “But the second it’s over, I’m going to dirty you up again. Assuming you’re able to get away after practice, that is. Rachel wasn’t the only one looking a little crazy.”
“Don’t worry,” Will said, “I have my secret, most un-sexy weapon up my sleeve.”
“Nineties white-boy rap?”
“Exactly.”
Translation note: According to the internet, Kurt’s line‘Nunca me he sentido así ’ is Spanish for ‘I've never felt this way before’.
Rating: PG
Characters: Most of the ensemble, and the usual amount of Winn.
Word count: 2,00-ish
Summary: Complete and total objectification of Mr. Schue! Will gets slushied and takes his shirt off. The Gleekers are shocked to see that their teacher is a total ripped hottie underneath all the vests and dorky ties. Written for the Winn Prompt meme.
Notes: The prompt meme is awesome. You all need to go over and fill some prompts (especially mine) because it’s a ball.
In all honesty, it was a simple case of bad timing. Kurt had been standing with his back to his locker, his face scrunched up in anticipation as Karofsky and Azimio pulled their arms back, slushies at the ready, and then Mr Schue had to come along, all bright smiles and not attracting any attention to his teacherly self, and called out “Hey, Kurt,” at just the right-wrong moment. Three torsos swivelled. Momentum did the rest. And Mr Schue was left wearing a mixture of cola and raspberry slushie.
Kurt wasn’t sure how, but Mr Schue managed to hand out detention slips even with his eyes pressed closed against the ice and corn syrup.
“But-” Karofsky tried.
“I don’t care,” Mr Schue replied. “All next week. Now go.”
“Don’t worry,” Kurt had said, grabbing at the sleeve of Mr Schue’s shirt while fishing his mobile out of the pocket of his own Versace jeans. “There’s a bathroom right here. You’ll be cleaned up in no time.”
Finn showed up about thirty second later. “Sorry,” he said to Kurt, “but Artie’s all the way over in the library, so he sent me ahead to see if you needed anything.”
“A towel would be great,” Mr Schue said, as he washed his face off, bent over the sink.
“I’ll take care of that,” Kurt cut in. “And I have some shampoo in my gym locker that will get that sugar and food colouring right out.”
Finn stood in silence for a moment, watching his teacher try to clean up. “They got you good,” he said at last.
“They did,” Mr Schue agreed. “Tell me again why we have a slushie machine in a high school?”
“Because the air conditioning keeps breaking down in Summer,” Finn replied, with a small grin.
“Because the football team keeps messing around with the control panel,” Mr Schue shot back.
“Hey, it’s the hockey guys, not us.” Finn looked Mr Schue up and down before shaking is head. “You’re going to have to wash your shirt out, otherwise the sugar will set and you’ll attract bees when you leave the building. There are a lot more bees around here than you’d expect.”
Mr Schue straightened up, wiping water away from his face. The ice had melted, and now he was left with sticky water through his hair and down his front. He looked down at his vest and tie sadly, and the paper towel that was completely failing to erase the mess. “Really?”
“Come on,” Finn said, “I got pretty good at washing that stuff out of clothes for a while.”
So off came the vest, and the tie, and the shirt, and the t-shirt underneath it. “I’m amazed that a slushie goes through so many layers,” Mr Schue said, as he leaned forwards and tried to rinse the sugar water out of his hair.
“It’s deadly,” Finn agreed, rinsing the shirt out in the sink.
There was a knock at the door. “You boys right in there?” Mercedes called.
“Never fear,” Kurt’s voice floated through the doorway. “I have returned!”
“Great,” Mr Schue called back, straightening up and wiping at the sticky mess across his bare chest. “This stuff gets everywhere.”
Kurt pushed the door open, and a small gaggle of gleeks looked into the boys’ bathroom. And they stared.
“Wow,” Mercedes said.
“Thats-” Tina stared, and was then unable to find any words to continue.
“What is it?” Artie asked from behind their backs. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Mercedes said slowly. “Not bad, exactly.”
“The opposite of bad,” Kurt said, a little breathlessly.
“It’s fine,” Tina said absently, trying to calm Artie and block his view simultaneously.
“Damn fine,” Mercedes agreed.
“Nunca me he sentido así,” Kurt murmured.
“That should be noon-kah,” Mr Schue corrected absently, as he tried to wipe dripping water and sticky sugar off his chest. “A long vowel sound and a sharp end. I’m not sure this is coming off.”
“I heard there was a slushie-teacher incident,” Rachel piped up from the back of the crowd. “As I’m sure you all know, despite my talent and vibrant personality, I have become something of any expert in the matter,” she said, pushing her way forwards.
“Any advice you have would be appreciated,” Mr Schue replied, turning to look at her.
Rachel never quite made eye-contact, instead staring intently at the torso area. “Um,” she said, as her eyes wandered over the flat stomach, the toned sides, the defined chest. “There’s, uh. It’s.” She paused to lick her lips. “Hair,” she said at last.
“Hair?”
“Right!” Rachel’s eyes finally snapped up. “When it’s in your hair, it’s going to drip down over your well-defined shoulders and run down across your broad, delightfully masculine chest,” she said, her eyes following the path as she narrated.
“Shampoo!” Kurt said suddenly. “I have shampoo. I said I’d get it, and I did, and now I have it,” he stopped babbling long enough to hold the bright green bottle out. “For you.”
“Thanks, Kurt,” Mr Schue smiled as he took the bottle, needing to tug it sharply from Kurt’s grasping fingertips.
“Okay, losers,” Santana snapped as she came upon the group in the doorway. “What’s the deal with not turning up to Glee practice? You left all of us sitting there, like we’re the one who care about this lame - what are you all staring at?”
“Wow,” Brittany said, peering through the gap between Tina and Mercedes. “Are all teachers like that when they’re naked?”
“I hope not,” Tina said with a happy sigh.
“The school would ignite from the hotness,” Mercedes agreed.
“It’s not physically possible,” Kurt added.
“What are you guys all staring at?” Artie whined as Santana climbed up onto his chair, trying to get a good vantage point.
“Have I got all of the shampoo out of my hair?” Mr Schue asked, bent over the sink.
“No,” a chorus of voices called back.
“Here,” Finn said, “there’s still some at the back of your neck.” And then he stepped over, cupping his hands under the running tap water and gently washing the last of the suds away. Mr Schue rested his hands on the edge of the basin, flexing his back and stretching his legs as he let Finn wash him off, pulling his jeans tight across various areas, the waistband of his underpants peeking out as denim was pulled low and firm.
“Wow,” Rachel said.
“I’m forced to agree with you,” Kurt replied.
Brittany tilted her head to one side in thought. “Does it make you gay if you’re watching two guys?”
“No,” Santana replied at the same moment as Kurt said “Definitely.”
“There’s a whole other word for it,” Tina said vaguely, her eyes tracking the line of Mr Schue’s spine. “On the internet.”
“Done?” Mr Schue asked, straightening up, stretching his arms out above his head, arching his back to get rid of the kinks that come from being bent over for so long.
“Yeah,” Finn replied. “Now we just have to deal with the rest of you.”
Mr Schue held a wad of paper towel under the running tap, and then began wiping the last remnants of sugar and colouring from his neck, from his clean jaw down past his Adam’s apple, wiping over the smooth lines of his collarbones before continuing further down, across the soft skin and hard muscle of his pectorals, eventually slipping further down, past the bottom of his rib cage and over the first defining lines of a six pack. And the eyes of the glee club followed his every move. Followed each swipe of damp paper, each running droplet of water, each flex and shift of skin over muscle, catching on the sight of damp nipples, hard in the cool air of the bathroom. Until he was clean, and Mr Schue threw the wad of paper into the trash can, shaking the members of the glee club out of their stupor.
“Towel,” Kurt said, thrusting his hand out. “For you, also. I also got this for you. The towel, that is. For you.”
Mr Schue took it with a wide smile. “You’re a lifesaver, Kurt.” To which Kurt responded with a tight smile and a noise not unlike a whimper.
“Here,” Finn said, digging around in his backpack, “I’ve got a spare shirt in here.”
“Great,” Mr Schue said, tossing the used towel back to Kurt. “You know, in retrospect, I should have just taken a shower.” He pulled on the shirt, and as such missed Kurt clutching at the doorframe, and Mercedes and Tina holding each other up, and Rachel biting delicately at her knuckle.
“Well,” Santana said, holding on to Brittany’s shoulder as she jumped down from Artie’s chair. “I guess that shows over.”
“It’s okay,” Brittany said. “I have it on my phone.”
“Girl, you have got to send that baby to me.”
“And me.”
“You know, Kurt, it really was kind of you to help Mr Schue out. It’s only fair that I help you out in turn by taking care of the clean up of the clean up, so to speak.”
“Back off, bitch, the towel is mine.”
“What exactly happened in there?”
“I like guys who are buff and can sing,” Brittany said lightly.
“No, you don’t,” Santana shot back firmly.
“Well then, I like guys who have hair that smell like fruit.”
“You like them even less,” Santana assured her.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Will watched as the teens filed towards the choir room with a bemused look on his face. “What was that all about?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Finn said, wrapping his arms around his teacher’s waist, letting a hand slip under his shirt to touch warm skin. “I think they were just weirded out by seeing a teacher topless.”
“So I suppose I should be glad I didn’t traumatise them,” Will replied.
“Really glad,” Finn replied, dipping his mouth down to speak against the skin of his teacher’s neck. “And you should never take you clothes off on school grounds again. You know, just in case someone has a fit or the whole school gets an asthma attack or something.”
“It would be horrifying,” Will agreed.
“Devastating,” Finn confirmed, pausing to kiss the exposed skin.
“And there’s no way you could fight all of them off at once,” Will added.
Finn looked up, and locked eyes with Will in the mirror. “I could have taken them,” he said, with all seriousness.
“Could you now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Finn agreed, dropping more kissed against skin. “Mercedes was the real threat. Kurt and Rachel would have taken each other out. I could probably distract Tina and Brittany by making out with you, and Santana thinks she’s too cool to get involved.”
Will smiled. “You sound like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
Finn looked up, locking eyes with Will again. “You’re mine,” he said firmly, taking a moment to enjoy the shiver those words sent through Will’s body. “And I think about that all the time.”
Will gently extracted himself from Finn’s embrace. “We need to get to practice,” he said.
“Alright,” Finn pulled Will close for one firm kiss. “But the second it’s over, I’m going to dirty you up again. Assuming you’re able to get away after practice, that is. Rachel wasn’t the only one looking a little crazy.”
“Don’t worry,” Will said, “I have my secret, most un-sexy weapon up my sleeve.”
“Nineties white-boy rap?”
“Exactly.”
Translation note: According to the internet, Kurt’s line‘Nunca me he sentido así ’ is Spanish for ‘I've never felt this way before’.