Fic: Fund-Razor
Title: Fund-Razor
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,500-ish
Pairing: Aside from Finn’s epic man crush on Will’s hair, this is pretty gen. Pre-slash.
Summary: The teachers are raising money for charity, and Will is going to shave his head. Written for the prompt meme.
Notes: I wanted to call this fic ‘My Hair Lady’, but a title like that really deserves a musical number and better costuming than this fic offers. Also, between starting this fic and finishing it I got all icky and sick. See if you can spot the point where I took three days off to lie in bed and blow my nose.
This whole situation is, like usual, all Rachel’s fault. In addition to being the most involved student in the school, she suddenly decided that she needed some out of school activities that would look good on her college applications. And what would be a nicer example to set then collecting for charity? So far this year she has sold badges for Veterans’ Day, wristbands for amputee rehabilitation, and chocolates for diabetes awareness week. And then she found out about Shave for a Cure. Rachel’s hair is, apparently, one of her more desirable features, so of course she went around to every single teacher in the school and asked if they would be willing to sacrifice their locks for charity.
And, of course, Mr Schuester said yes.
And perhaps less obvious, Finn was heartbroken by the idea. He had an investment in that hair. He spent at least two hours in every week staring at it, wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it, marvelling at the way the light caught in the thick waves, trying to determine the exact perfect shade of brown that it was. There were many reasons why Finn wasn’t doing spectacularly in Spanish, and the distraction that was Mr Schuester’s hair was certainly one of them.
Finn wasn’t the only one upset about it. He’d overheard Mrs Schuester and Mr Schuester in Towels ‘n’ Things. Not that he’d meant to, but his mother’s birthday was coming up, and she really loved those massive towels that you get in hotels. Everything else was just a happy, slightly stalkerish coincidence.
“Oh honey,” Mrs Schuester had said, “why did you agree to that? I’ve seen you with your hair cut off. You look ridiculous.”
“It’s just hair,” Mr Schuester had replied. “Hair grows back. And it’s for charity.”
“You know what would be a charitable act? Not embarrassing your wife by walking around looking like a weirdo for several months.”
“I am a weirdo,” Will had replied, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and kissing her forehead. “You should know that by now.”
“That doesn’t mean I want everyone else to know,” she had hissed back. “If your hair messes up my chances of making manager...”
“You can’t blame my hair for everything,” Will had said. “That’s Sue’s job.”
Even Coach Sylvester had reservations about the whole idea.
“As much as your hair scares and sickens me, William, the idea of it being freed from your scalp and allowed to roam around unsupervised repulses me even more. What if gets into the water supply? I don’t want your hair in this school, let alone clogging up my drains, crawling through my pipes in a desperate attempt to gain greatness from the raw success I wash off my body every evening with the day’s sweat. And how will it gain sustenance if not stealing nutrients from your own brain? Will it go after children? Is that what you want, William, your hair feasting on the flesh of the living?”
Mr Schue had smiled at her, that lazy playful smile that he gets sometimes. “If you’re so concerned, Sue, why not take up the challenge yourself?”
“And take your place? Oh no, you’ve signed up for this reign of terror and you’ll be the one to suffer for it.”
“Why not a competition then?” he’d asked
Coach Sylvester paused. “Competition?”
“Sure. If I raise more money than you, you shave your head. If you raise more, then you can shave mine.”
“Alright. But when I win, I demand the right to burn the remains, salt the ashes, and scatter them into the ocean.”
“Agreed.”
“Fine.”
And then they shook on it. And Finn felt a spark of hope.
The rules were laid out and published in the school paper - neither participant could contribute from their own pocket and all donations must have a receipt so as to be accounted for. Whoever had the greatest amount by the start of school on Friday, a fortnight from the deal, would count as the winner, and the losing head would be shaved the following Monday morning, on school grounds. Jacob Israel kept a fairly accurate tally of the donations on his blog. Finn checked it several times a day.
Rachel, of course, annoyed and coerced most of the glee-clubbers into donating for Mr Schue, and Finn prompted whoever was left with a mixture of stony looks and puppy-dog eyes. Kurt donated three times as a result of their combined efforts. He pulled the boyfriend card on Quinn to get her to donate to Mr Schue, while Santana of course donated for Coach Sylvester. Brittany got confused and donated to the guide dog association instead.
Coach Sylvester had the Cheerios on side, who outnumbered the glee kids by a whole lot. But Finn managed to rally most of the football team which evened things out. Sue started accosting kids in the hall and liberating their lunch money, but then Artie managed to use some of his sway with the jazz band and AV club to scrounge a few more dollars.
And then Sue spoke about charities on Sue’s corner. And Team Schuester never quite managed to catch up. There was a bake sale, and begging to parents, and Puck even offered to refrain from throwing geeks into dumpsters if they donated (a fourth donation from Kurt ensued). But by the end of glee rehearsal on Thursday Mr Schue was down nearly a hundred dollars.
“Wow,” Mr Schue said. “Between me and Sue we’ve raised a lot.”
Puck scowled. “But you’re still getting shaved like a poodle come Monday.”
Mr Schue smiled. “So? It’s just hair. And look at how this has brought you all together as a team? See what you can accomplish if you work together.”
Puck gave Mr Schue a look. “If you even think about saying ‘charity is the real winner’ I’m so out of here.”
Mr Schue laughed. “It’s not about winning - it’s about doing something good and having fun.”
Santana pursed her lips. “If you relate this heart-warming lesson back to glee, then we are out of here too.”
“Alright, alright. You all know me too well. Have a good evening, guys, and don’t forget to go over your lyrics before tomorrow.”
As much as Finn knew he’d get in trouble and have to deal with Mr Schue’s disappointed face, he didn’t go over his lyrics when he went home. He put his X-box on e-bay with a sob story about being in college and needing rent. He spent the four hours of the auction compulsively refreshing the listing page, and Jacob’s blog. Sue’s donations spiked another two times during the evening. Eventually Finn forced himself to go to bed, and spent the night tossing and turning.
Finn got to school a little later than usual, the thickness of the one hundred and forty dollars his X-box was worth burning a hole in his pocket. He sprinted through the halls of McKinley high until he finally found Mr Schue talking to Miss Pillsbury outside her office.
“Here,” he gasped, thrusting the envelope from the bank at Mr Schue. “For your hair.”
Mr Schue looked inside the envelope, and raised his eyebrows. “Finn, there must be at least-”
“You’ve got four minutes until the bell,” Finn said, giving Mr Schue a shove in the direction of the staff room. “Move.”
And Mr Schue took off at a run, skidding around the corner at the end of the corridor as Miss Pillsbury yelled after him. “Go Will! Yay!”
Finn barely made it to math on time, slouching in his seat in front of Mercedes and trying to collect himself. His whole body was tingling with nerves. What if Coach Sylvester had raised even more overnight? What if she didn’t play fair? What if Mr Schue decided to shave his head anyway? Finn learned absolutely nothing that lesson, which wasn’t abnormal in itself, but it was nice to have a reason not to pay attention.
Ten minutes before the lesson ended the school PA crackled into life. “In an event that has gained the attention and participation of the entire school,” Figgins began. Finn willed him to skip over the boring bits and get to the good part. “And with the final count of donations completed, I am pleased to announce the winner of this friendly competition.”
“Come on, Come on,” Finn muttered.
“Winning, with a difference of three whole dollars... Is Mr Schuester.”
“Yes!” Finn and Mercedes yelled in unison, and Finn turned around to high five her. And then they realised that the entire class was staring at them, and spent the rest of the lesson with their heads bowed under a small cloud of embarrassment. But Finn was singing inside, and Mercedes was singing softly outside, and Finn was confident that if there had been two more gleeks in math, there would have been a group hug.
After class, Finn spotted Tina doing an excited jig around Artie’s chair until Mercedes caught up with her, and the two girls clutched at each others arms and jumped up and down yelling happily. And, slightly disturbing, Finn spotted Kurt and Rachel sharing a spontaneous hug in the corridor before they both pulled away and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. A win over Coach Sylvester was a big thing to everyone.
Finn skipped out of his last class early, and went to the choir room. He wanted to soak in joy and excitement for a while. Mr Schue was already there when Finn arrived, sorting sheet music into smaller piles and stapling parts together. He looked up when he heard Finn enter, and smiled.
“So,” Mr Schue said.
Finn grinned in response. “I know that this is about charity, and it’s not meant to be about winning... but it feels really good to win.”
Mr Schue grinned. “It does.” He moved to sit on the piano seat. “But, sadly, Coach Sylvester found out this morning that a relative of hers had passed away during the night. So she won’t be at school on Monday.”
Finn groaned. “She’s skipping out, isn’t she? But you know what, I don’t care. Your hair is safe, and that’s what matters.”
Mr Schue’s grin softened into an amused smile. “My hair? You scraped together a hundred and forty dollars for my hair?”
“Uh,” Finn searched his mind for a rational and reasonable explanation. “I like your hair?” was the best he could come up with. When he got home, he and his brain were going to have a serious talk about not making Finn sound like a loser.
Mr Schue’s mouth quirked at one corner. “That’s very... sweet.” Mr Schue ran a hand through his hair, and Finn instantly zoned in on the way his long fingers combed through the thick waves.
Without thinking, Finn reached out to follow the movement with his own fingers before stopping with his hand mid-air. Mr Schue smiled up at him, and tilted his head closer, giving Finn permission. Finn reached that bit further, and the tips of his fingers touched the softness of Will’s hair, tracing the curves of the waves, tugging at the tip of a strand of hair, seeing how long it was when pulled straight. And then he moved his hand back to Will’s forehead, and he ran his fingers through Will’s hair, from the front of his scalp right to the back, his fingers getting caught in the thick, soft, hair, feeling the smooth slide of product - wax, maybe - petting his teacher’s head. Will’s eyes closed, and they both had soft, happy smiles.
When Finn finally pulled his hand away, his heart was thumping in his chest. He was trying to remember everything about that moment without actively thinking about it, because he was pretty sure he’d just made enough of a freak of himself without going and getting hard over touching Mr Schue’s hair or something girly like that.
“Um,” Finn said, to break the silence.
“On a completely unrelated note,” Mr Schue said, as if nothing had just happened. “My wife happened to buy an X-box on e-bay last night.”
“Did she? I didn’t know she was into gaming.”
Mr Schue rolled his eyes. “It’s more that she’s into a good buy. And a hundred and forty dollars for an X-box is pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, with a horrible feeling he knew where this was heading.
“But the weird thing is, even though the person selling it is apparently in college, the name of the bank account the money was transferred into was ‘Finn Hudson’.”
“Huh,” Finn said weakly. “That’s a coincidence.”
“And the branch was here in Lima.”
“You don’t say.”
Mr Schue gave Finn a very long look.
“Okay, okay,” Finn slumped. “I sold my X-box. I just...” he gave Mr Schue a pleading look. “I didn’t want you to have to get shaved. Like a poodle. Because then you’d look stupid and Glee looks stupid enough as it is, you know? And I don’t want you to look stupid and I like your hair and I don’t play X-box every day, well, not usually, so I suppose it’s not that big a deal. And I guess now I don’t have to worry about posting it, I can just bring it in to school.”
Mr Schue shook his head. “I’ll sort everything out with Terri. I’m sure she’ll agree with the sentiment, at least.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Mr Schue smiled, and Finn grinned back at him, and it was an easy moment that slowly grew longer, grew warmer with the afternoon sun coming through the small windows at the back of the room, grew bigger and more important as the silence stretched and Mr Schue reached up to run his hand through his hair again, pushing his curls back into place, and Finn felt the slick grease of hair wax still on his own fingers. They both jumped slightly as the final bell rang.
“Well,” Mr Schue started.
“I should,” Finn stopped and gestured at the door.
“Right.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll see you, uh, in a bit then.”
And Mr Schue grinned at him. “Right.”
Finn almost fled to his locker, and considered slamming his head in the door a few times. But all the same, Finn knew that it had been a good day. A small victory, a small moment, a small touch. He had no idea where any of this was going, but. Yeah, it was going somewhere good.
Continued in Slippery When Wet
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,500-ish
Pairing: Aside from Finn’s epic man crush on Will’s hair, this is pretty gen. Pre-slash.
Summary: The teachers are raising money for charity, and Will is going to shave his head. Written for the prompt meme.
Notes: I wanted to call this fic ‘My Hair Lady’, but a title like that really deserves a musical number and better costuming than this fic offers. Also, between starting this fic and finishing it I got all icky and sick. See if you can spot the point where I took three days off to lie in bed and blow my nose.
This whole situation is, like usual, all Rachel’s fault. In addition to being the most involved student in the school, she suddenly decided that she needed some out of school activities that would look good on her college applications. And what would be a nicer example to set then collecting for charity? So far this year she has sold badges for Veterans’ Day, wristbands for amputee rehabilitation, and chocolates for diabetes awareness week. And then she found out about Shave for a Cure. Rachel’s hair is, apparently, one of her more desirable features, so of course she went around to every single teacher in the school and asked if they would be willing to sacrifice their locks for charity.
And, of course, Mr Schuester said yes.
And perhaps less obvious, Finn was heartbroken by the idea. He had an investment in that hair. He spent at least two hours in every week staring at it, wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it, marvelling at the way the light caught in the thick waves, trying to determine the exact perfect shade of brown that it was. There were many reasons why Finn wasn’t doing spectacularly in Spanish, and the distraction that was Mr Schuester’s hair was certainly one of them.
Finn wasn’t the only one upset about it. He’d overheard Mrs Schuester and Mr Schuester in Towels ‘n’ Things. Not that he’d meant to, but his mother’s birthday was coming up, and she really loved those massive towels that you get in hotels. Everything else was just a happy, slightly stalkerish coincidence.
“Oh honey,” Mrs Schuester had said, “why did you agree to that? I’ve seen you with your hair cut off. You look ridiculous.”
“It’s just hair,” Mr Schuester had replied. “Hair grows back. And it’s for charity.”
“You know what would be a charitable act? Not embarrassing your wife by walking around looking like a weirdo for several months.”
“I am a weirdo,” Will had replied, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and kissing her forehead. “You should know that by now.”
“That doesn’t mean I want everyone else to know,” she had hissed back. “If your hair messes up my chances of making manager...”
“You can’t blame my hair for everything,” Will had said. “That’s Sue’s job.”
Even Coach Sylvester had reservations about the whole idea.
“As much as your hair scares and sickens me, William, the idea of it being freed from your scalp and allowed to roam around unsupervised repulses me even more. What if gets into the water supply? I don’t want your hair in this school, let alone clogging up my drains, crawling through my pipes in a desperate attempt to gain greatness from the raw success I wash off my body every evening with the day’s sweat. And how will it gain sustenance if not stealing nutrients from your own brain? Will it go after children? Is that what you want, William, your hair feasting on the flesh of the living?”
Mr Schue had smiled at her, that lazy playful smile that he gets sometimes. “If you’re so concerned, Sue, why not take up the challenge yourself?”
“And take your place? Oh no, you’ve signed up for this reign of terror and you’ll be the one to suffer for it.”
“Why not a competition then?” he’d asked
Coach Sylvester paused. “Competition?”
“Sure. If I raise more money than you, you shave your head. If you raise more, then you can shave mine.”
“Alright. But when I win, I demand the right to burn the remains, salt the ashes, and scatter them into the ocean.”
“Agreed.”
“Fine.”
And then they shook on it. And Finn felt a spark of hope.
The rules were laid out and published in the school paper - neither participant could contribute from their own pocket and all donations must have a receipt so as to be accounted for. Whoever had the greatest amount by the start of school on Friday, a fortnight from the deal, would count as the winner, and the losing head would be shaved the following Monday morning, on school grounds. Jacob Israel kept a fairly accurate tally of the donations on his blog. Finn checked it several times a day.
Rachel, of course, annoyed and coerced most of the glee-clubbers into donating for Mr Schue, and Finn prompted whoever was left with a mixture of stony looks and puppy-dog eyes. Kurt donated three times as a result of their combined efforts. He pulled the boyfriend card on Quinn to get her to donate to Mr Schue, while Santana of course donated for Coach Sylvester. Brittany got confused and donated to the guide dog association instead.
Coach Sylvester had the Cheerios on side, who outnumbered the glee kids by a whole lot. But Finn managed to rally most of the football team which evened things out. Sue started accosting kids in the hall and liberating their lunch money, but then Artie managed to use some of his sway with the jazz band and AV club to scrounge a few more dollars.
And then Sue spoke about charities on Sue’s corner. And Team Schuester never quite managed to catch up. There was a bake sale, and begging to parents, and Puck even offered to refrain from throwing geeks into dumpsters if they donated (a fourth donation from Kurt ensued). But by the end of glee rehearsal on Thursday Mr Schue was down nearly a hundred dollars.
“Wow,” Mr Schue said. “Between me and Sue we’ve raised a lot.”
Puck scowled. “But you’re still getting shaved like a poodle come Monday.”
Mr Schue smiled. “So? It’s just hair. And look at how this has brought you all together as a team? See what you can accomplish if you work together.”
Puck gave Mr Schue a look. “If you even think about saying ‘charity is the real winner’ I’m so out of here.”
Mr Schue laughed. “It’s not about winning - it’s about doing something good and having fun.”
Santana pursed her lips. “If you relate this heart-warming lesson back to glee, then we are out of here too.”
“Alright, alright. You all know me too well. Have a good evening, guys, and don’t forget to go over your lyrics before tomorrow.”
As much as Finn knew he’d get in trouble and have to deal with Mr Schue’s disappointed face, he didn’t go over his lyrics when he went home. He put his X-box on e-bay with a sob story about being in college and needing rent. He spent the four hours of the auction compulsively refreshing the listing page, and Jacob’s blog. Sue’s donations spiked another two times during the evening. Eventually Finn forced himself to go to bed, and spent the night tossing and turning.
Finn got to school a little later than usual, the thickness of the one hundred and forty dollars his X-box was worth burning a hole in his pocket. He sprinted through the halls of McKinley high until he finally found Mr Schue talking to Miss Pillsbury outside her office.
“Here,” he gasped, thrusting the envelope from the bank at Mr Schue. “For your hair.”
Mr Schue looked inside the envelope, and raised his eyebrows. “Finn, there must be at least-”
“You’ve got four minutes until the bell,” Finn said, giving Mr Schue a shove in the direction of the staff room. “Move.”
And Mr Schue took off at a run, skidding around the corner at the end of the corridor as Miss Pillsbury yelled after him. “Go Will! Yay!”
Finn barely made it to math on time, slouching in his seat in front of Mercedes and trying to collect himself. His whole body was tingling with nerves. What if Coach Sylvester had raised even more overnight? What if she didn’t play fair? What if Mr Schue decided to shave his head anyway? Finn learned absolutely nothing that lesson, which wasn’t abnormal in itself, but it was nice to have a reason not to pay attention.
Ten minutes before the lesson ended the school PA crackled into life. “In an event that has gained the attention and participation of the entire school,” Figgins began. Finn willed him to skip over the boring bits and get to the good part. “And with the final count of donations completed, I am pleased to announce the winner of this friendly competition.”
“Come on, Come on,” Finn muttered.
“Winning, with a difference of three whole dollars... Is Mr Schuester.”
“Yes!” Finn and Mercedes yelled in unison, and Finn turned around to high five her. And then they realised that the entire class was staring at them, and spent the rest of the lesson with their heads bowed under a small cloud of embarrassment. But Finn was singing inside, and Mercedes was singing softly outside, and Finn was confident that if there had been two more gleeks in math, there would have been a group hug.
After class, Finn spotted Tina doing an excited jig around Artie’s chair until Mercedes caught up with her, and the two girls clutched at each others arms and jumped up and down yelling happily. And, slightly disturbing, Finn spotted Kurt and Rachel sharing a spontaneous hug in the corridor before they both pulled away and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. A win over Coach Sylvester was a big thing to everyone.
Finn skipped out of his last class early, and went to the choir room. He wanted to soak in joy and excitement for a while. Mr Schue was already there when Finn arrived, sorting sheet music into smaller piles and stapling parts together. He looked up when he heard Finn enter, and smiled.
“So,” Mr Schue said.
Finn grinned in response. “I know that this is about charity, and it’s not meant to be about winning... but it feels really good to win.”
Mr Schue grinned. “It does.” He moved to sit on the piano seat. “But, sadly, Coach Sylvester found out this morning that a relative of hers had passed away during the night. So she won’t be at school on Monday.”
Finn groaned. “She’s skipping out, isn’t she? But you know what, I don’t care. Your hair is safe, and that’s what matters.”
Mr Schue’s grin softened into an amused smile. “My hair? You scraped together a hundred and forty dollars for my hair?”
“Uh,” Finn searched his mind for a rational and reasonable explanation. “I like your hair?” was the best he could come up with. When he got home, he and his brain were going to have a serious talk about not making Finn sound like a loser.
Mr Schue’s mouth quirked at one corner. “That’s very... sweet.” Mr Schue ran a hand through his hair, and Finn instantly zoned in on the way his long fingers combed through the thick waves.
Without thinking, Finn reached out to follow the movement with his own fingers before stopping with his hand mid-air. Mr Schue smiled up at him, and tilted his head closer, giving Finn permission. Finn reached that bit further, and the tips of his fingers touched the softness of Will’s hair, tracing the curves of the waves, tugging at the tip of a strand of hair, seeing how long it was when pulled straight. And then he moved his hand back to Will’s forehead, and he ran his fingers through Will’s hair, from the front of his scalp right to the back, his fingers getting caught in the thick, soft, hair, feeling the smooth slide of product - wax, maybe - petting his teacher’s head. Will’s eyes closed, and they both had soft, happy smiles.
When Finn finally pulled his hand away, his heart was thumping in his chest. He was trying to remember everything about that moment without actively thinking about it, because he was pretty sure he’d just made enough of a freak of himself without going and getting hard over touching Mr Schue’s hair or something girly like that.
“Um,” Finn said, to break the silence.
“On a completely unrelated note,” Mr Schue said, as if nothing had just happened. “My wife happened to buy an X-box on e-bay last night.”
“Did she? I didn’t know she was into gaming.”
Mr Schue rolled his eyes. “It’s more that she’s into a good buy. And a hundred and forty dollars for an X-box is pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Finn agreed, with a horrible feeling he knew where this was heading.
“But the weird thing is, even though the person selling it is apparently in college, the name of the bank account the money was transferred into was ‘Finn Hudson’.”
“Huh,” Finn said weakly. “That’s a coincidence.”
“And the branch was here in Lima.”
“You don’t say.”
Mr Schue gave Finn a very long look.
“Okay, okay,” Finn slumped. “I sold my X-box. I just...” he gave Mr Schue a pleading look. “I didn’t want you to have to get shaved. Like a poodle. Because then you’d look stupid and Glee looks stupid enough as it is, you know? And I don’t want you to look stupid and I like your hair and I don’t play X-box every day, well, not usually, so I suppose it’s not that big a deal. And I guess now I don’t have to worry about posting it, I can just bring it in to school.”
Mr Schue shook his head. “I’ll sort everything out with Terri. I’m sure she’ll agree with the sentiment, at least.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Mr Schue smiled, and Finn grinned back at him, and it was an easy moment that slowly grew longer, grew warmer with the afternoon sun coming through the small windows at the back of the room, grew bigger and more important as the silence stretched and Mr Schue reached up to run his hand through his hair again, pushing his curls back into place, and Finn felt the slick grease of hair wax still on his own fingers. They both jumped slightly as the final bell rang.
“Well,” Mr Schue started.
“I should,” Finn stopped and gestured at the door.
“Right.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll see you, uh, in a bit then.”
And Mr Schue grinned at him. “Right.”
Finn almost fled to his locker, and considered slamming his head in the door a few times. But all the same, Finn knew that it had been a good day. A small victory, a small moment, a small touch. He had no idea where any of this was going, but. Yeah, it was going somewhere good.
Continued in Slippery When Wet