A/N: Let's be blunt. This story has a teenager wetting himself and reference to the use of diapers. If that's not your style, don't waste your time here. I'm also ignoring that Sam has siblings and a father because I started this before the episode that introduced them aired. This isn't slash unless you want to see it that way. Characters may be OOC, but I guess that's up to you as well.
Childish Acts
"All right, everyone. Great rehearsal. I will see you all Monday," Mr. Schuester bid his Glee students farewell. The club had stayed late that Friday and had made a considerable amount of progress, inevitably raising everyone's spirits.
Organizing the sheet music, the Spanish teacher hummed softly as he listened to his students say their good byes to each other. The door clicked shut, leading Mr. Schuester to believe he was alone. As he turned, he was a bit surprised to see Sam still there, face hidden behind his hands. Concerned and puzzled, Mr. Schuester walked over to the boy.
"Sam?" the man inquired gently. "Is something wrong?" Hearing a sniffle, Mr. Schuester sat in the chair closest to the boy. Something on the floor caught the teacher's eye. Upon further inspection, Mr. Schuester knew exactly what had upset the boy so.
The man held back a sigh and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's okay, Sam. You just had an accident." Yes, Sam had wet himself. The puddle on the floor was a clear indication.
"Uh!" Sam tried to hold back a sob. He was so embarrassed! The blond attempted to speak but only managed a strangled cry. The teen didn't know what to do, so he resigned himself to sobbing.
Having abandoned his seat, Mr. Schuester kneeled in front of Sam, gently moving his hands from his face. He looked directly into the blond's watery hazel eyes. "Sam, it's all right. We'll get you cleaned up and get you home. Now, do you have any spare clothes in the locker room?"
Sam's lip quivered as he sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head no. Tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his face. The teen tried to tug his hands away to hide again, but his teacher had a firm hold on them. When he realized he wasn't able to conceal himself again, Sam turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately wanting to disappear.
"Oh, Sam," Mr. Schuester murmured and pulled Sam into a hug. Though Sam appreciated the gesture, it only caused him to cry with renewed vigor. The two remained embraced for some time. Sam's sobs were still steady but had lessened in intensity. Mr. Schuester finally pulled back, but kept his hands on Sam's shoulders.
"Come on, buddy. No one should still be wondering the halls," Mr. Schuester cooed. "You don't have to worry about anyone seeing you."
Sam nodded and shakily stood causing drops of urine to drip down his legs and to the floor. Quickly turning away from his teacher, he then saw the puddles in the chair and on the floor. Mortified yet again, Sam hesitantly spoke, "I-I'm sorry..."
Mr. Schue gave the boy a comforting smile. "Don't worry about it, all right? I'm going to go to a janitor's closet to get some stuff to clean this up. You stay here, okay?" Sam sniffled, biting his lip as he nodded and watched his teacher walk through the door.
Mr. Schuester promptly returned with the necessary cleaning supplies. Sam tried to convince the man that he would clean his own mess, but Mr. Schue insisted that Sam just try to calm down more as the boy was still crying a bit. So Sam awkwardly watched on as his teacher cleaned and sanitized the soiled areas while trying to stifle his tears and occasional hiccup. Hours later, or so it seemed to Sam, no traces of the incident remained.
With the same kind smile on his face, Mr. Schuester gestured for the boy to follow him. Sam did so, grabbing his backpack and using it to cover his front. Noticing the stain on the back of the boy's jeans, the man let Sam walk out before him to further shield him, just in case.
Approaching Mr. Schuester's car, the two were faced with another predicament. Seeing as Sam's jeans were soaked, he couldn't just sit in the man's car. He'd make the seats stink. The blond took a step back and timidly said, "I-it's all right, Mr. Schuester. I'll just walk home; I don't want to ruin your seats. T-Thank you though." Much to his frustration, Sam's eyes started to smart again.
Mr. Schuester frowned. "Nonsense. You can't walk home like that." He gestured to the boy's wet bottom half. "Your skin will get more irritated than it already is, and you'll get a rash."
Sam groaned and mumbled something as he buried his face into his hands. Why did his teacher have to be so...blunt? Reluctantly, Sam trudged over to the door of the back seat, yanked it open, and threw himself inside.
That was a tad unexpected. "You can sit in the front, Sam. I don't mind." The response to Mr. Schuester was a firm shake of the head and a pout. The man had never seen this type of behavior in his student before; it was a bit troubling. Perhaps Sam was just cranky from the recent happenings and wanted to go home. Walking around wearing wet pants couldn't be comfortable. Shrugging, the man fished his keys out of his pocket and made his way to the driver's side.
Sam didn't speak except to mumble out some directions to his house. His tone, his teacher noticed, had a sad tinge to it. It seemed like his earlier moodswing had become blue once again. The two arrived at the blond's home quickly enough. Mr. Schuester noticed there weren't any cars parked in the driveway. Parking the car, the man asked before the teen had a chance to scurry away if he could come in. Sam seemed unsure at first but then nodded, exiting the car.
It didn't seem like anyone was there. Maybe Sam's parents had gone out; it was a Friday after all.
"Um...would you like s-something to drink?" It seemed Sam still remembered to be polite to his guests, regardless of the circumstances.
"Thank you for offering, Sam, but don't you think you should go get cleaned up first?"
Mr. Schuester watched as the blond turned red. It was endearing, the man decided, to see this boy behave so. Things like this always managed to stir up some fatherly instincts within him. Those feelings were occurring more and more often each time he comforted one of his Glee kids. This incident had been Mr. Schue's first time consoling Sam, and the paternal feelings seemed to be more intense. Snapping out of his thoughts, the man noticed Sam had yet to leave the room. Thinking that the boy was still worried about being a good host, the Spanish teacher assured him that he could go on to his room. The boy lingered a few seconds more before turning toward his room.
While Sam was changing, Mr. Schuester found himself looking at the pictures in the living room. There were typical pictures, like Sam in his younger days and what seemed to be vacation photos. The man sadly noted that there didn't seem to be any sort of father within the frames. With a sigh, he took a seat on the couch and waited for his student to return.
After fifteen minutes passed, Mr. Schuester began to worry a bit. Standing, he made his way to where he thought Sam's room might be. He came across a door with the boy's name on it. That was simple enough. Mr. Schue raised his hand to knock when the door opened. Both jumped at the unexpected sight of the other.
"I was getting a little worried," Mr. Schuester stated simply.
Sam's eyes widened. "I-I didn't mean to make you wait. I just decided to take a shower. Sorry."
The man smiled at the boy's sheepish expression. "That's fine. It was probably a good idea to wash off. Do you feel better?"
Smiling a bit, the blond replied, "Yeah...Thank you, Mr. Schuester. Uh, you can come in here, if you'd like..." Sam opened the door further to let his teacher through. "It's not much though."
Sam's room was that of your average teenage boy. Posters adorned the walls and the floor had a few random items scattered about. Figurines and toys of various types were lined up on the boy's desk.
How cute, the man thought to himself. He turned his eyes to the bed which was messily made. It wasn't the bed's appearance that caught his attention though, but rather what lay upon the wrinkled sheets.
There on the bed was a pack of night time protection intended for bed-wetting teens. The accident that occurred earlier that day suddenly made sense to the teacher as a wave of sympathy washed over him. He quickly averted his eyes and cleared his throat causing Sam, who was busily collecting his action figures, to turn his way.
The toys in Sam's arms fell to the floor. "Oh, God." The phrase was drawn out and miserable. Sam turned his back to his teacher and again buried his face into his hands. The blond's voice was slightly muffled and shaky as he said, "Please don't tell anyone."
"Of course I won't tell anyone, Sam." He paused before gently asking, "Have you always had this problem?"
Nodding, Sam answered, "Uh-Uh huh...but I haven't had daytime accidents for a few months. I thought that I had finally gotten control of it..." He trailed off, leaving Mr. Schuester to take in his words.
The man considered the boy in front of him. Would he accept any comfort, or would it best if he left the teen to calm himself? Looking down, Mr. Schuester saw the toys that were now in a jumble on the floor then back up to his student's heaving back. The blond looked so much younger, so innocent. Sam was no longer that confident and easy going jock Mr. Schuester saw so much of at school; he was a little boy in need of guidance and affection, proof that he was still loved. With these thoughts in mind, the teacher made his decision.
Acting on instinct, the man pulled the distraught boy into a hug, offering his support through the embrace. At first, Sam wanted to resist but soon enough, he allowed himself the comforting touch. He nuzzled his face in his teacher's chest, soaking in the feelings of warmth and affection. Sam couldn't remember the last time he had been held like this. The thought caused him to let out a small whimper as he felt the tears fall from his eyes. He gripped his teacher tighter, never wanting to let go.
Feeling a slight tremble run through the young one in his arms, the man began stroking Sam's back, gently shushing his student. He murmured nonsense words of comfort and began to lightly sway back and forth.
Eventually, Sam had calmed enough to pull away, though the man kept a firm hand on his shoulder. He was unable to look Mr. Schuester in the eye at that moment and turned his head to the side, mumbling in a dejected tone, "I'm sorry..." Had he really just cried all over his Spanish teacher and club director?
"Now Sam, you have no reason to apologize." Mr. Schuester softly took hold of the boy's chin, causing Sam to look everywhere else except his teacher. "Sam? Look at me."
Slowly, the blond moved his eyes to look at the man before him. The concerned, caring look in his teacher's eyes nearly made him burst into tears anew. Sam couldn't remember a time when he had been on the receiving end of such a warm, loving gaze.
Mr. Schuester began to speak. "You don't need to be ashamed for accepting comfort. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me. Your secret is safe." As he spoke, Mr. Schuester gently ran his hand through the boy's hair, hoping to further comfort him.
Sam sniffled a little before saying, "Thank you, Mr. Schue. I-I really appreciate it."
The man smiled, taking the boy's hand in his own and leading him to the bathroom connected to Sam's room. Blushing, Sam asked, "What're you doing?"
Before responding, Mr. Schuester took a washcloth from the sink and wet it. "I thought you might want to wash your face after all that crying." He tried to hand the cloth to the boy so he could do it himself, but Sam bowed his head to avoid looking at his teacher. It seemed as if he was too embarrassed to do anything about it. Chuckling, the man lifted Sam's face and began to gently wipe away the tears and snot. "There now. All better," he cooed.
Sam couldn't help it; he grinned at his teacher. Part of him liked being taken care of while the other screamed that he should act his age. It didn't help that Mr. Schuester was a natural when it came to caring for people. His train of thought was interrupted when his stomach growled loudly.
"Hungry, are we?" the man asked with a playful lilt.
Flushing, Sam replied, "Ha, yeah. I haven't eaten since lunch."
Mr. Schuester looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I'm here and your parents don't seem to be, so why don't I whip something up for you?"
"Oh, you don't have to. I've wasted enough of your night," the blond answered with a slight frown.
"Sam, it's no problem at all." Mr. Schuester patted the boy on the back. "Come on. Lead me to the kitchen."
While on the way to the kitchen, Mr. Schuester asked Sam what he would like. The boy thought for a moment, but then decided that he would let his teacher fix whatever would be easiest and fastest. Of course, the man disagreed, and eventually weaseled an answer from the teenager. Sam would be eating a simple grilled cheese sandwich with some tomato soup.
After showing his teacher where he could find all of the necessary ingredients, Sam took a seat at the table and waited patiently. His stomach rumbled again. Mr. Schuester had heard, apparently, and laughed. He glanced at the boy and casually asked, "So, Sam, do your parents work late?"
"Y-yeah. Mom normally doesn't get back until really late, and usually when she does I'm already in bed. By the time I wake up she's gone again," Sam finished with a sigh.
Frowning, his teacher asked, "So you're by yourself a lot?"
"Uh huh. It's worse when she goes on business trips 'cause then I don't even get a chance to see her." Sam began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt.
Mr. Schuester flipped the sandwich and said, "Your father's not in the picture, is he?"
Sam shook his head and began to tell his teacher what had happened. The truth was his father hadn't been around since Sam was about nine years old. After the abrupt departure of his dad, his mom had thrown herself into her work, barely leaving time for her son.
The man held back a sigh. Sam was obviously affected by his mother's absence, if his tone was anything to go by. Finishing up dinner, Mr. Schuester placed the dish in front of the boy. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this, Sam."
Sam didn't look up. "It's not your fault, Mr. Schue. I mean, things like this happen all the time, right?"
Running his fingers through the boy's hair, the teacher responded, "It happens more than it should." The was a brief pause where Sam sniffed, but then Mr. Schuester spoke up and told the boy to eat his dinner.
oOo
Roughly fifteen minutes later, Sam had eaten all of the food and stood to place the dirty dishes in the sink. He turned and thanked his teacher, giving the man a smile.
"No problem, Sam. If you ever need me to come over and cook for you, don't be shy about asking. You could even join me at my house sometime if you want."
"Really? Are, are you sure you wouldn't mind?" the boy asked in disbelief.
"Why not? It's not like I have people over very often. It would be a welcome change."
Sam grinned graciously at his teacher. "Okay! That would be great."
Sam's obvious joy was contagious as Mr. Schuester found himself smiling once more. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, the man stated that it was about time for him to be on his way. Sam readily, if not a bit sadly, agreed, and led his teacher to the door. About to turn and leave, the man was stopped by Sam tugging on his sleeve.
"Mr. Schue? I uh..." Sam, flustered, glanced to the floor, then shyly back to his teacher. "Um...Thank you. For...For everything." And with that, Sam through his arms around his teacher's neck and hugged him tightly. Mr. Schuester immediately returned the gesture.
"You're welcome, Sam, and remember that I'll always be there for you. Do you still have my number?"
Sam nodded, remembering the aftermath of the drinking fiasco.
"Good. When you need me, just give me a call." With that, Mr. Schuester waved good bye to his student with a promise to see him on Monday.
FIN(N)
A/N: Finn wasn't even in this... Anyway,that was it. I may decide to continue this later because I have a few ideas. No guarantees though. Hope you enjoyed, and review if you want. Thank you, and thank you!
