OKAY I WAS THINKING, "WHAT PARING WOULD BE THE MOST ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING PAIRING IN THE WORLD" AND I THOUGHT OF THIS. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. I HOPE YOU DON'T HAVE NIGHTMARES.
I still don't know how to work the doc system and I am really, really bad at writing endings to humor-fics. So excuse the crappy ending.
Everything but the plot (c) Glee.
Sandy kicked the side of one of the bleachers. He needed to get laid. Badly.
A tiny freshman boy flinched as he walked up to him, obviously looking to score some marijuana. Sandy took one look at the kid – he was short and scrawny with mousy red hair and green eyes. Freckles littered his face and he just oozed dork and desperate. Immediately, Sandy knew that the kid was getting the marijuana to try to fit in and seem cool.
The kid hoisted his books closer to his chest and looked up at Sandy nervously.
"Well?" Sandy asked. "What do you want from me?"
The boy flinched. "Someone…someone told me that you, uh, you sell pot…," the kid mumbled, fidgeting. His eyes darted every which way. "Was he lying? Please don't turn me in. I don't want to – "
Sandy waved the kid off. "No, no, quiet down. You've come to the right person. I've got enough to help you out." Sandy flashed a smile. "But how are you willing to repay me?"
A flush crossed the boy's face. "I was thinking that it would be something like 20 or 40 dollars? Something like that?"
Sandy pursed his lips. This was his chance – he knew that. He could probably coerce this kid into giving him a blowjob. Actually, it'd be easy. This kid looked so desperate for the pot and he still had the light of nativity in his eye.
The kid looked so sad and needy. Sandy opened his mouth to tell the boy that it wouldn't cost him much more than a blowjob, but then he stopped. He sighed. He did have that damn restraining order that kept him away from kids (even if he didn't pay close attention to it). Forcing the kid to give him a blowjob wouldn't be a good idea. No matter how invincible Sandy felt, it would still be dangerous and risky to do it.
"It'll be 20," Sandy said, crossing his arms. The kid eagerly dug into his pocket and pulled out a bill. He handed it to Sandy, who took it graciously. Sandy uncrossed his arms and reached deep into his pocket, taking out a tiny baggy of weed, and handed it over to the kid.
"Thanks!" The kid scattered off, obviously slightly terrified of Sandy.
Sandy kicked the side of the bleachers once again. He had to get laid, and fast.
Of course, Sandy was not one for women. He could have easily found a woman who needed sex more than he did, and he could have gotten with her. But, no; Sandy may have been bisexual, but he had a preference for men. He just couldn't ever find a guy who would willingly have sex with him.
He leaned against the side of the bleachers, deep in thought. He wracked his brain for the kids at McKinley High, any kid that seemed deprived of sex, bicurious, or just gullible.
First, he thought of the sports clubs. He ran through the kids on the basketball team and almost laughed at himself. Even if some of those kids were gay or bisexual or even just curious, they were so far up their own ass of masculinity that they'd never succumb to the teasing charms of Sandy.
But as he thought harder, he remembered that kid who joined the football team because he could kick really well when dancing to Beyonce. What was his name? The kid was on the Glee club, too. After a moment, it came to him: the kid's name was Kurt. Kurt, H-something.
A grin spread across Sandy's face. That kid was gayer than gay. Extreme gay. He even went through a short period where he thought he was straight but quickly got over that phase. Sandy knew that he'd have no problems landing that poor sucker in bed with him. The kid had never landed any action with a guy to begin with – it'd be an easy lay, and one with a virgin, no doubt.
Sandy clapped his hands together. He was suddenly excited by the prospect ahead of him.
The following few days were confusing and just plain weird for Kurt Hummel. It seemed like no matter where he went, a weird, creepy old guy followed him. When Kurt walked home, the man kept a distance of about 20 yards. But he was there.
Kurt stood still – and the man would stand still as well. Kurt would spin quickly and he'd see the man rush into one of the nearby bushes.
Despite his constant reassurance to himself that the guy was just a fruitcake, he was starting to get a little worried and paranoid.
By the third day of this happening, he ran home. The man kept up behind him for the first few minutes, but he quickly slowed down and clutched his side in agony. Kurt silently thanked the rigorous dance routines he had been doing since he was a young boy for helping him be such a quick runner.
He dashed into his house and ripped his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed his dad. After the second ring, he heard his dad say "yeah, what's up, Kurt?"
"Dad, some old guy has been following me home for the past three days."
The other line was silent.
"For serious?"
Kurt stamped his foot. "Dad! Would I honestly lie about something like this? Yes, seriously. I'm scared, Dad."
There was a heavy sigh on the other line, and he could visualize his father shifting his weight to the other foot. "What does he look like?"
Kurt let out a sigh of relief – his dad believed him. "I haven't gotten a good look. He looks old and washed up. He doesn't have a good sense of fashion," Kurt mused. "He thinks corduroys are still in. He's also pretty heavy and sort of bald. Oh, he had glasses, too."
"Alright. I'll call the school tomorrow, okay? I'll let them know what's going on. This won't go on for much longer, I can assure you that."
His dad hung up shortly after that, and Kurt felt his body sink with relief. He couldn't shake the fact that the guy was someone he sort of knew, or someone that he had seen around the school in the past.
Smiling the tiniest bit, Kurt turned around to face the hallway so that he could walk to his basement bedroom. Which, of course, is when he noticed the old man's face leering at him through his window.
Kurt felt faint. The old man was staring at him, a sneer lifting on his face as he took Kurt in. He made a "come hither" motion with his fingers, to which Kurt vigorously shook his head and ran to his basement without a second's delay.
This was so not okay. Stalkers were not appealing to him. Sure, the thought of an attractive, romantic guy stopping by in the middle of the night to talk to him appealed to him in a weird way – it was sort of like how all the teen girls who read Twilight thought it was just so damn adorable that Edward sat in Bella's window and watched her sleep. Sure, it was creepy, but it was also cute because it was welcome by Bella. Kurt felt that he would have the same reaction if a guy like, well, say Finn, tried to watch him sleep or followed him home.
However, this attention by the old man was certainly most unwelcome.
He wondered if he should call his dad again, but decided against it. He didn't want to worry his dad any more than he already had.
Kurt simply contented himself by hiding in his basement, closing his eyes and pretending that the old man was Finn coming to confess his love.
"Sandy! I have already told you that you cannot be around the children!" Principal Figgins' English was broken and slick, difficult to understand – but his meaning rang through Sandy's brain. "You cannot follow kids home from school!"
"I was within my restraining order!" Sandy protested. "And how do you know it was me, anyway?"
"Because!" Figgins leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. "I got a call from a distressed father about a 'nearly bald old man with glasses' following his son home. I only know one old bald man with glasses that would be anywhere near this school, and that's you!" Figgins sat back down and pressed a hand against his forehead. "And, besides, you practically confirmed it by your earlier statement. 'I was within my restraining order.'"
"Damn it," Sandy muttered to himself. He looked up and suddenly pounded his fist against the desk. "I will not stand for these accusations!"
There was a rustle from the corner as Sue chuckled. "Oh, please, Sandy. We know it was you. You're just desperate enough to do something like that."
Sandy felt red with shame and anger. "Why is Sue in here!" Sandy gasped. "She's the old man the father was talking about, not me!"
Figgins looked back and forth between Sandy and Sue, unsure of what to do about the situation. Sue literally snarled – her lips pulled back and her teeth were bared as she glared down at Sandy – while Sandy sat, his arms crossed and his expression defiant. "Sue, get out of my office. Stop hanging around here to give me your two cents about how to do my job!"
"Sexism!" Sue screamed. "You're implying that I can't give good advice because I'm a woman? Next I know you'll make Shuster the head of the Cheerios!, and we all know where that will lead –"
"Sue, get out of my office!" Figgins demanded. Sue glowered at him before slinking out of the room, her hands on her hips and an angry sway to her hips. Once she closed the door, Figgins gave Sandy a cold, hard look. "And you, Sandy. Stay away from my students! If I hear about you messing with my students ever again, I will ban you from school property. For good!"
Sandy attempted to protest, but it was clear the discussion was over.
He would have to think of a new way to seduce this Kurt Hummel.
Kurt wandered by the Rec Center in Lima, Ohio, taking the long way home – just in case that freak was following him again. As he passed by, he saw a sign on the lawn. It was crude, set up recently. It was sort of lopsided and sad, but the words that were stretched across it filled Kurt with hope and excitement. "LIMA'S RENDITION OF WICKED, COMING SOON! TRYOUTS ARE THIS FRIDAY AT FOUR PM SHARP."
Friday…that was tomorrow! Just the thought of being able to play Elphie filled Kurt with a sense of optimism and excitement. He nearly squealed as he read the sign. He looked at the door and back at the sign. Then, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, he ran home to practice his rendition of "Defying Gravity." He knew there was no way he wouldn't get the part.
The following day, he arrived at the doors to the Rec Center 15 minutes early. There were very few people around him. He had kept the news from the Glee club so that that Rachel Berry couldn't come and steal his thunder. He knew it was a mean, manipulative move, but he didn't care. They'd all understand when he got the part and he was the star.
A few minutes later, a young woman peered her head out the door. "Are you all here for the casting call for Wicked?" Everyone around him nodded. She smiled and ushered them all in to sit in the foyer. She attempted to get them into a straight and concise line, but failed in the attempt. After a few minutes, she gave up and decided she would just pick random people from the crowd.
The first person she called was an overweight, greasy looking middle schooler. The girl was whisked away to the back in the auditorium. Kurt bit his lip and tried to ignore the anxiety that was rising throughout his body.
It seemed like days had passed before the woman finally touched Kurt on the shoulder and said "you're turn, dear."
Kurt popped up and immediately smiled. He strode into the back of the auditorium, ready to deliver his killer performance of "Defying Gravity." When he saw who the director of the play was, he stopped dead in his tracks and had a fleeting moment of terror. It was the old guy that had followed him home!
The guy turned around and smiled broadly. "What, are you shy? Come here and perform!"
Kurt hesitantly stepped onto the stage and flinched. "I, uhm…I'll be singing 'Defying Gravity.' I am trying out for Elphie."
The old man nodded. "Good, good," he muttered to himself.
Kurt sang and gave a stellar show, but the whole while he was unnerved at how the old man practically squirmed in his seat. Kurt wondered if the role of Elphie was worth working with the man that was stalking him. He thought about it for a few moments before realizing that yes, of course it was. But he was still anxious and a tiny bit freaked out at how the guy was practically rubbing one out as he watched Kurt sing.
"That was very good, Mr. Hummel!"
How did he know my name? Kurt thought anxiously. He had never told him what his name was. The old man stood up and began walking towards the stairs for the stage. A feeling of terror and revulsion began to rise in Kurt's stomach as this old man walked towards him. The revulsion was due to the fact that the old man was dressed in a coral-and-white plaid tee shirt and navy corduroys. Ew.
Kurt took a step back as the old man came closer and closer. "That was…very good," the man breathed. His eyes were wide and his glasses magnified them even more. Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you, sir," he managed. "But I should get home now…"
"What's the rush?" the man practically croaked. He was only a few steps away from Kurt – arms length. Kurt tried to step backwards again, but the man grabbed his arm. "Kurt, you cannot deny our chemistry. I can feel it coursing through my veins!" The way the old man said it was dramatic, and he shook a tiny bit, as if to demonstrate how he felt this "chemistry" running through his very blood stream.
"Uhm, sir…I really, really need – "
But the old man was on him in a second, trying to kiss him and grab at him. Kurt pushed him back forcefully, freaking the fuck out as he did so. Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. He was trying to avoid a panic attack so that he could get the hell out of this situation and far, far away from this old man.
"You need nothing more than to be with me!" the old man cried out, trying to kiss Kurt again. Kurt closed his eyes, mustered the bit of Beyonce he had inside him, and kicked the old man. Hard. In the chest.
The old man tumbled backwards, howling and flailing the whole time, until he landed on the stage with a thick clack. Kurt took this opportunity to run away. He jumped off the stage and flew up the aisle, not daring to look back as the old man steadied himself and shouted after him, "no, don't leave me! Everyone always leaves me!"
Kurt didn't stop until he was safe at home, breathing heavily. He pressed his hands against his knees and doubled over, once again forcing the panic attack far, far away. He couldn't believe what had just happened. After a moment of heavy breathing, he collapsed on one of the couches and stared up at the ceiling until his dad came home.
The following week, his house phone and his cell phone were flooded with phone calls. Some of them told him that he had landed the part of Elphie, but at that point he didn't care. Those were the initial calls. After about two days of these desperate, frantic calls, he got calls of the old man sobbing and begging him to come back. Some of them said that he needed Kurt in his love. Others were just five straight minutes of the old man sobbing.
Finally, Kurt managed to convince his dad to change their phone numbers and put restrictions on who could call. It took Kurt a long, long time until he was able to stop looking over his shoulder, fearful that the old man was following him home in an attempt to get a second chance.