Warning: Language in various languages.
Spoilers: Season 1 only
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, I just play with 'em.
Author Notes: Fill for a prompt on the fluff meme (the prompt is now the title)
"Merde!"
Kurt Hummel's clear voice rang through the choir room as he knocked a pile of sheet music off the piano. Mercedes looked at him strangely as she stooped to help him pick them up.
"What d'you just say?"
Kurt coloured slightly as he gathered the sheets together. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
Most of the group paid no attention to their conversation, but Rachel was looking over at him with a scandalised expression. Having returned the pages to the piano, Kurt went to his seat, which was unfortunately next to hers.
"You can't use language like that in front of a teacher!" she whispered furiously.
"Mr Schue's a Spanish teacher, Rachel, not a French teacher. He has no idea what I said."
This was true - they looked over at Will Schuester, who was excitedly explaining about some new idea he had. If he'd understood Kurt, he'd have certainly told him off.
" Ihr seid Dummköpfe!" Kurt yelled in frustration at the jocks as they heaved him into the dumpster - it took three of them now Puck refused to toss Kurt.
"What the hell'd he just say?" Karofsky laughed at they peered over at him.
"I dunno bro, prob'ly some faggy scream of terror!" Azimio laughed with him, then they, along with Langenthal, strolled back to the buildings.
"Ich hasse euch," Kurt said quietly to himself as he went about climbing out of the container.
"Figa," Kurt muttered as he walked past Finn's locker. Santana was back, trying it on for all she was worth.
He shook his head. He admired the girl's bitchiness, and he had admired her refusal to let the opinions of others bother her. But over the summer all her insecurities had come to the surface, and she got herself a boob job. And now she was desperately whoring herself out to try and prove to herself that it had been worth it.
"Eikel," Kurt said under his breath as Mr Schue gave yet another solo to Rachel. The man had actually used the words "We need our strongest singer for this one, so I think it's best if it goes to Rachel." Like he or Mercedes or Tina couldn't have knocked it out of the park.
He heard a shocked gasp from behind him, and he turned around to see Brittany with a appalled look on her face and her hands over her mouth.
"You can't call a teacher that, Kurt! You'll get in trouble."
Kurt blanched. "You understood me?"
"I'm Dutch, remember. You just called Mr Schue a d-"
Kurt's hand flew to her mouth with astonishing speed. "Don't say it!" he hissed.
Brittany looked confused for a moment, then smiled under his fingers. "I love your hands," she mumbled.
Kurt's eyes widened, and he removed his fingers almost as fast as he'd put them there, though not before Brittany had managed to press a kiss to his fingertips. He turned back around in his seat and faced pointedly forwards for the rest of the session, his hand clenched by his side; he knew Brittany would be unbearably offended if he'd wiped them off. Though it had been a useful way to distract her from his use of a Dutch swear word.
"Tu madre es puta!" Kurt burst into the choir room and shouted at Finn, storming across the room towards him. It was one of their early morning practices, and no-one was really awake.
Finn looked suitably confused. Most of the group looked puzzled - first at the way Kurt was yelling at Finn (and seemingly about to tear his throat out), second at the words he had yelled. Of the students, only Santana understood him. Most of them grasped that Kurt had called Finn's mom something, but not exactly what or why.
Mr Schue immediately jumped up and intercepted Kurt, holding back his struggling form.
"Kurt, what are you doing? You can't say things like that!"
"Oh yeah? Well, his mother just broke my dad's heart, so I think he deserves it!" Kurt said, still fighting to get at Finn's throat.
"What?" Mr Schue looked from one boy to the other.
"His mom's been dating my dad for the past four months. Then all of a sudden, she up and dumps him! Out of nowhere! And now he's completely in pieces. So I say, "Tu madre es puta!" Kurt spat this last part in Finn's direction.
Finn looked less confused now, and more annoyed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Schue spoke first.
"Kurt, I think to need to come with me and calm down. The rest of you carry on with that new Bryan Adams song."
Will pulled Kurt into his office and deposited him in the chair.
"Kurt, you can't say things like that."
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Mr Schue held up a finger and carried on, "No, I know you're upset, maybe rightly so, but not only is it a horrible thing to say to someone, but you said it in a way that he couldn't understand. I understand if you want to yell at someone, but doing it in another language is a deceiptful way of doing it. And I've heard you do it a few times recently. It's not nice, Kurt."
Kurt had settleed down a little by now, and he was back in his usual haughty 'Ice Princess' mode.
"I know, Mr Schue, but think for a moment. I can't say all I really want to say to people, can I? Half the time, if I say anything at all, I'll be shoulder-checked, or swirlied, or dumpster tossed, or worse. This is one way I can get my feelings across without getting beaten up for it."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, if I yell something that someone doesn't understand, they'll get the gist, but not the meaning. So there isn't anything they can call me out on."
Mr Schue nodded. "I see. But I don't like it."
"I don't like getting tossed into dumpsters, Mr Schue, but it happens."
"That's a fair point. But I want you to apologise to Finn."
A contemptuous look flashed across Kurt's face.
"Why? So I don't hurt your golden boy's feelings? So he won't go running out of Glee again?"
"What?"
"Finn's your favourite, Mr Schue. It's obvious. He gets all the male solos, except for a few you give to Artie. Face it, Mr Schue. I've only ever got one solo from you that let me use my lower range, and that was a ten second intro to a funk song we only performed once."
"But you never asked..."
"I told you when I joined the Cheerios, Mr Schue. And still, I shouldn't have to ask. You're our director, it's your responsibility to hand the solos out fairly."
Will sighed. "Alright, Kurt, I'll try to bear that in mind. But right now we're talking about how you used rude language, and that you still need to apologise to Finn. Whatever's going on between your parents, it isn't his fault."
Kurt nodded curtly and rose from his seat, returning to the choir room. Will sighed again. Who would've thought that coaching Glee club would end up here?
The next day at Glee rehearsal, Will stood in front of the group. Kurt and Finn seemed to be friends again. At least, they weren't tearing each others throats out, though they were sitting on opposite sides of the room.
"Alright guys, for your assignment for the week we're going to try something a little different. Someone said to me recently that they felt that sometimes they couldn't always say what they really meant. So what I want each of you to do is sing a song in another language, that says something you would normally find hard to say in front of people. This way, you'll be saying what you mean, but you don't need to worry about other people understanding your meaning."
The group were looking at each other with appreciative expressions. They were usually a bit uncomfortable with singing about their feelings in front of the rest of group - they were still not all friends with each other - but this sounded good. They could put the emotion into the song without worrying about what anyone else would think.
"Kurt, would like to sing first? Do you think you could have something ready by Thursday?"
Kurt smiled and nodded. A genuine, happy smile that Mr Schue rarely got to see. The slender boy turned to Mercedes and they exchanged grins. And they both paid far more attention than usual as Will explained his new ideas for the Bryan Adams harmony.
As the bell rang, and the club finished, Kurt made his way over to Will.
"Thank you, Mr Schue," he said simply.
"You're welcome, Kurt. Do you know what you're going to sing?"
Kurt smiled again and nodded, "It's a piece from this French film, Les Choristes. I found it when I was looking up where Beyonce's French piece that she sang at the Oscars came from. It's a piece that this boy really wants to sing, but isn't allowed to because he's really badly misbehaved because he doesn't feel appreciated. Then the choir director lets him sing it, and the boy realises that he really is worth something, and he starts to behave a lot better. And he becomes a famous musician later on."
Will grinned. "I think that's a great choice."
"O nuit, vient apporter à la terre
Le calme enchantement de ton mystère"
Kurt voice echoed through the silent room, even Brad was still at the piano. The only sound came from the boy standing at the front of the class.
"L'ombre qui t'escorte est si douce
Si doux est le concert de tes voix chantant l'espérance
Si grand est ton pouvoir transformant tout en rêve heureux"
The class sat in silent awe. They had heard Kurt sing before, but never had they heard him sing like this. He usually restrained himself, not allowing anyone to see past his carefully contstructed exterior. Not today. He poured his heart and soul into the music, letting it flow out of him like a never-ending stream.
"O nuit, ô laisse encore à la terre
Le calme enchantement de ton mystère
L'ombre qui t'escorte est si douce
Est-il une beauté aussi belle que le rêve?
Est-il de vérité plus douce que l'espérance?"
He held the last note for several seconds, then his voice faded into silence. There was a gleam in Kurt's eyes as he looked past the seated teens, over their heads, into the distance far beyond the view from the window. He had a joyous expression on his face as he turned to Mr Schuester, who jumped out of his reverie and started to clap. Tumultous applause came from the rest of the group, who had almost been struck dumb by Kurt's performance.
Mr Schuester spoke quietly to Kurt beneath the applause.
"I borrowed the film from the library last night, Kurt. You were right - Morhange was only successful when Mr Mathieu gave him a chance. I'm sorry I never gave you that chance."
"You have now, Mr Schue. And just maybe I'll stop throwing the metaphorical ink balloons at you now," Kurt said with a grin.
Kurt held out his hand. Mr Schue shook it gladly, content that he now understood one of students a little better than he had before.
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