Finding Coach
Summary: Set in Funk, the Cheerios can't find Sue Sylvester, so close to Nationals, where is she? Kurt launches a search and rescue mission that doesn't really pan out. At least he tried right?
It was 2:30 in the afternoon.
And the Cheerio girls –plus Kurt and a few non mentionable guys- were starting to get worried.
Coach Sylvester wasn't there and practice started precisely at 2:30, end coach was never late.
NEVER!
If you wanted to keep your hearing, you were never late either, unless you liked spiraling into a deep depression after the tongue lashing you'd receive. The hand slide to the dot beyond the 6 on the dial.
2:31.
Coach Sylvester was late.
Santana crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left foot, tapping her right in impatience. Even Brittany, the ever oblivious cheerleader knew something was wrong and she began to tug and twirl with the loose golden hairs at the base of her neck. Other girls throughout the room started to bite their nails, twirl their hair or any number of other nervous twitches. With stretches completed, each body was full of energy, waiting for the three hours of hell…er, strenuous workout.
2:32.
Now they were really anxious. Where was Sue? Did something happen, if so what had happened? What was going on? Chaotic thoughts swirled around the cheerleaders' heads. Kurt smoothed back his bangs, than went back to causally observing his nails. Maybe it was time to spring for another mani-pedi. He could call up Mercedes and since she had been talking to Quinn, a lot lately, and something was definately going on between then, something keen to … friendship? So maybe he could invite them both, than they could hit the mall…
2:35.
This was when every member of the Cheerios started to freak.
Something was mostly definately wrong.
She was 5 minutes late!
Nervous chatter brewed and the volume rose into near frantic levels as the girls began to panic. Kurt rose his chin and stepped forward, his eyes burning into every girl, but the hysteria was too much, had taken hold to tightly. He sighed in annoyance, fine, if he must…
Taking a deep breath he let out a screeching note so high in pitch glass would have shattered if any had been present. As the last of the note echoed in the brick building utter silence rang true.
His voice sliced through the new silence, "Now that you have all shut up, Brit, Ashley go check Coach Sylvester's office. Make sure she's not there. Text me if she is, then I'll go and talk with her."
Brittany tilted her head, "Where's-" she began to question but the other brunette cut her off as she dragged her out the double doors.
Turning his faze to his other glee-rio mate, "Santana, take Jessica with you and check the teacher's lounge. Taylor, Becca, go try Figgin's room."
He waited in silence as the three groups rushed to their destinations, one by one each texted back with the same answer.
"Not here."
Apparently Brit and Ashley hadn't found Coach on her elliptical or in her secret office hidden above the ceiling tiles.
As Taylor's texted reached his eyes he gazed at the remaining girls, "Everyone else, search every hall, every classroom, even go as far as looking in the boy's locker room."
There were muttered sounds of disgust, Kurt shared their repulsion, he had lived the horrors of that room last fall, it really was revolting, the smell alone would make any sane person beg to be let out.
"What about you?" Courtney, resident bitch, jealous ex co-captain sneered.
He glowered at her in return, making her iciness tenfold, she never did get over the face that a freak like him was on the team, let alone that Sue liked him better for captain, even if she hadn't officially assigned a new captain since Quinn's dethrone.
"I'm going to the only place left. Sue Sylvester's home."
How Kurt knew where Sue lived was of no importance, just that he did and he was now standing outside her door.
He rang the doorbell.
Its sweet chimes sounded like the death march and his stomach dropped out, maybe if he made a break for it now…
Too late, as a small, round maid? came into sight, "'ello? And you are here for?"
He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbling, "Is Sue Sylvester here?"
"Yes'm." A tentative nod.
"Could I speak with her?"
She starred at him, her eyes lowered to his Cheerio uniform, the William McKinley logo out proud on his chest. She opened the door wider, gesturing him in.
A brow quirked in shock at the amount of trophies littering the walls, even spilling out onto the floor but he refrained from any comments instead asking, "How is she?"
Gingering stepping around the sea of trophies the older woman asked, "Not good, not good at all." But didn't speak any further as she led him back to a room at the end of the hall.
The white door was, for some reason, almost more intimidating than the woman who lay beyond its threshold. Knocking softly, he called, "Coach Sylvester…?"
No answer.
Pushing open the door, Kurt tiptoed in, waiting for the inevitable screams of the barking (mad) trainer. Silence. A pitiful sight greeted his entry, there the tyrant lain, clutching her bullhorn to her chest, face forlorn.
"Coach Sylvester?" Kurt repeated, voice higher than his normal pitch, nervousness clear on his pale features.
"I have no use of show tunes right now Elton John. If you think we can sing away my troubles than maybe you should stop sucking helium that you use to make your voice so embarrassingly high. It's clearly eaten your only remaining brain cells not occupied by musical numbers Ryan Seacrest."
Kurt powered through the mediocre insults; they were definitely inferior to the normal fire she breathed. "What happened Coach?" With the curtains pulled, the room was bathed in lukewarm light, and he was unable to clearly see her face before she rolled away from him.
"If you're looking for another poor soul to defend with your next 'Leave Brittany Alone' video Chris Crocker, than you're looking at the wrong blond, superior, woman."
"Why weren't you there for practice? Nationals is this Saturday, what happened to 'practice so hard you'll all die before you make it to that stage,'"
"We're not going to Nationals, Rosie O'Donnell." She bit back.
Kurt was stunned into silence, his pink mouth falling open and crystal eyes wide in astonishment. "But Coach-"
"Leave me alone Ellen Degeneres," her voice roared, she was no cowardly lion; he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding a collision with a mountain of trophies, "Go!"
He retreated; the slamming of the door solidified his failure.
He found the girls all huddled around each other on the gym bleachers, anticipating his return.
"So?" Santana demanded as he stopped at the base of the stairs, Brit trembling in her arms.
"We…" he gazed at his fellow Cheerios, making eye contact with each girl.
This will crush them…
"Coach said," he started again, chest tight in fear, "Th-that we are not going to Nationals."
The screams that erupted would haunt his dreams for a month and he didn't bother to sweep back his bangs in shame.
What were they going to do now?