Disclaimer: we wish. no, seriously. you have no idea.
Dedication: to the fantastic amount of plot-holes. we have cement, and we're planning to do some filling.
Notes: this is going to be long. Really, really, really long.
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"Did you hear Kurt got a sex change?"
Quinn froze in her steps. She could not have heard that properly because surely the Cheerios gossiping behind her knew that she was there and knew that gossiping about any member of New Directions was the fastest way to land on her dark side.
"Seriously?" the second Cheerio, a taller girl with badly bleached hair giggled, "I'm not surprised; he was always so girly."
"But isn't he at an all-boys school now?" a third Cheerio jumped in.
And Quinn had heard enough.
She straightened her back and put on her best Sue-face, rounding on the other members of the squad with her arms crossed and her hip out and her right food tapping on the floor. As always, it only took a few moments for the others to feel the shift in the air, all eyes turning to her.
"Go change into some workout clothes," she ordered, her voice never rising above a soft-spoken murmur but she knew they all heard her.
"Um," the badly bleached Cheerio nervously raised her hand, "Why do we need to do that?"
Quinn grinned with very bit of bitchiness she could muster, "Because I don't want you ruining your uniforms with sweat stains."
She knew she was being a bit rough, but she needed to wear them out to get them talking. If she'd learned anything in the past year, it was how to manipulate the grapevine. After the Gorilla vs Kurt debacle and the recent Finn/Rachel drama and the ongoing saga of Shue and the counselor and Puck going to juvy and Be—
No, stop right there, Quinn. No thinking about that, about her.
She took a deep breath before turning around and leaving the gymnasium. She stopped at the door and wrote down the instructions, leaving Becky in charge. She knew she could trust the mini-Sue to carry out her torture. She, on the other hand, had more important business to attend to.
Like hunting down Mercedes.
Because that would really be a difficulty.
Quinn trotted towards the Glee room.
Well, this was Mercedes she needed, and, really, where else would she be?
And Quinn was not to be disappointed.
Mercedes was sitting at the piano, fingers splayed out thoughtlessly across the keys. She was humming softly—not any tune in particular, or, at least, not one that Quinn knew, and pressing the keys down, one at a time.
She looked very lonely.
At the sound of footsteps, she looked up, and blinked, "Oh. Hey, Quinn. What's up?"
"What's this about Kurt having a sex change?"
"Ex-cuse me? Kurt? Sex-change? When?"
Quinn's hands were on her hips. "That's what the Cheerios are saying."
"You've gotta stop talking to those morons, girl. I saw him yesterday. He still looked like a he," Mercedes replied, flapping her hand.
"Those 'morons' are usually more informed than the teachers...and when has Kurt ever looked like a he?"
"They're ditzes, and you know it. He has a penis, honey. There has been no sex change."
The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Sometimes it was better not to ask how information was found.
"Okay, so they're wrong. That doesn't change the fact that that rarely happens, so something must be going on," Quinn paused, and wrinkled her forehead, "Is he seeing anyone? Has he taken up drag?"
Mercedes flapped her hand again, as if she was warding off an irksome fly, "No, no, he's not! I mean, he's still sorta-dating Blaine, right. And I only wish for the drag."
"You and the rest of us," but the wrinkle remained on the Cheerio's forehead, "Hmm, they're never outright wrong. Are you sure nothing has changed?"
"Completely sure. C'mon, Quinn, think about it—Finn, at least, would have said something."
"You're forgetting I dated Finn. The boy couldn't tell his textbook from his toaster if someone didn't tell him," Quinn replied, deadpan.
"Honey, that still doesn't explain why you dated him in the first place. He's dumber than a post," Mercedes said, and tapped her nose to send the point home.
"He's moderately pretty and he was the quarterback. I was the head cheerleader. It's all politics," because that totally explained everything. Quinn paused, to shrug, "Is it maybe something about this Blaine?"
"Politics smolitics, that boy can't tell his Prada from his poochies. Blaine... I dunno. Kurt... likes him a lot."
"Oh? And why has nothing happened? And politics are very important in high school," Quinn tried.
"Because this is Kurt we're talking about. And they are not, they're pointless."
When you were at the bottom, the hierarchy was pointless. When you were at the top, it was still pointless—Mercedes wasn't about to back off on that point.
"So? This is Kurt. Nothing stops that boy when he wants something. And they are not pointless. They're how you network for the future," Quinn replied, prim.
"You didn't see him when it came to Finn. He angsts, darling. And they so are—hello, we are in Lima. There is no such thing as—" Mercedes raised her hands, and air quoted her next words "—'networking' here, if you recall."
Quinn looked pained, "I wouldn't want to see anyone pining after Finn. Rachel is painful enough. And Kurt knows the meaning of angst? Since when?" she shrugged, and continued, "If you don't learn networking now, how will you survive outside of Lima?"
Mercedes raised an eyebrow, "It was worse than Rachel, if that's even possible. Since always. It might be important for Real Life, but this is high-school, Quinn, remember."
Both girls thought about this prospect for a moment.
Both felt slightly sick.
"...I think I just lost what appetite I had," Quinn said, with an ugly twist to her mouth.
"Mmm, it had that effect on a lot of us. Tina almost puked," Mercedes paused, shook her head, and added, "Twice."
"Urgh. Okay, so Kurt angsts. Maybe that's what's changed? He's gotten over Blaine? He is in college now, isn't he?"
There was a very long pause.
Mercedes stared, "Are you kidding me?"
"It's possible," Quinn said, with a tilt to her jaw, "Emotions mean nothing when you're a teen."
"That would be like a heroin-addict quitting cold-turkey," Mercedes replied, bored.
"Mercedes, if you actually care, then you'll end up just loving someone who can never love you back and wishing for..." Quinn broke off, looking guilty, "Are you absolutely sure his 'feelings' haven't changed?"
Mercedes sighed, almost sad, "Quinn, I honestly wish I could say they had. Blaine's in college miles away from here now, but it's made it worse, I think. Kurt was talking about him with that star-struck look he reserves for the people he's in love with. And don't tell me about love, because you, miss, know how I feel about that."
"Oh god, it's that bad? And please tell me you aren't going to give me another tooth-rotting ballad about love."
Quinn did that look very well, Mercedes thought—that I'm about to be sick, you disgust me look, "It's worse. And don't make me get my Gaga on."
"Worse?" Quinn paused to think, "As long as it's not Bieber."
"Worse," Mercedes confirmed, "That kid's balls still haven't dropped. I can't hit half the notes he squeaks."
"I'm not even sure I can squeak that high."
"Who the hell would want to?"
"Rachel?"
"Don't be mean," but Mercedes really couldn't blame her, so she said nothing more. Those sweaters were ugly.
"You know I like her as much as I can, but she's such an easy target," Quinn said, almost smiling.
"We burned those sweaters of hers for a reason," Mercedes shuddered,
"But she just replaced them. I thought Kurt had promised to take her shopping for real clothes."
Mercedes sighed again, this time infinitely more sad, "I thought so, too."
As if that closed the subject.
It was a normal day: yelling at freshies in the hallway, torturing Will Shuester about his girly hair, reading through her many pieces of fanmail—including one that involved using poor Kurt Hummel for some dastardly deed (she promptly snorted and ignored this one)—and just generally making life difficult for those poor unfortunate souls who weren't Sue Sylvester.
She cracked the vertebrae in her neck by tilting her head from left to right before standing, scowl set in place. She only had twenty pieces of fanmail.
That was unacceptable.
Becky was off helping Quinn run the Cheerios and that gave her the time she needed to hunt down a one William Shuester for some much needed stress relief. Telling him to get some personal hygiene in the form of less hair gel was always a good way to blow off steam.
She loved the way the students backed away in fear when she walked down the halls, thrived in it. It showed that there was some order in the mayhem that was adolescence, something Figgins had no respect for. The mindless, sex-addicted fools needed a figure to fear and respect and Figgins was too easily manipulated and Shuester too weak and Dough-Girl too neurotic.
She would eventually tear apart this administration. It was only fair, after all, since the one time she finally succeeded and took control, that Karofsky boy went and ruined it all. She still hadn't found proper retribution for that since the expulsion failed. Hmm, perhaps adding the board of governors to that list would be a good idea...
Yes, that would do. It would take some time, but no one messed with-
She shook her head, trying to get the insane thoughts out of her head. Hummel was none of her concern since he left for Dalton...but he was one of the Cheerios and she was responsible for them. Her steps slowed as she considered her options. She could, on one hand, keep standing up for him on grounds that he was a Cheerio at the time the Karofsky Incident occurred. That he was also a charter member of New Directions could just be a minor technicality. On the other hand, she could ignore the whole thing on grounds that he was a charter member of New Directions and could sweep the whole "Kurt was a Cheerio" thing under the rug. But she had to keep Quinn happy because she needed her head cheerleader in a good mood to keep said head cheerleader because Quinn was wicked in more ways than one. There was also the fact that she needed to keep Brittany and Santana on the squad. Certain transgressions aside, the three were a pinnacle of power needed to keep the lower Cheerios under control. She'd already experienced the mayhem of loosing Quinn and knew she couldn't put the team at risk like that again.
And keeping Quinn happy meant standing by Hummel.
She scowled, not liking that defending this boy, no matter how much she liked him, would mean siding with that pansy Spanish teacher.
And Miss Married-in-Vegas.
Sue stopped, leaning back to look into the counselor's office. The girl was tugging at her coat, looking guilty as she could be. Finally she turned around and pulled it off, the movement tugging her collar down enough that Sue could see the discolored skin running over her shoulder.
She couldn't resist.
"Rough time last night?" she greeted, a smile in place because this would so find its way into her next conversation with Shuester.
"I- I- no, I just-"
Her grin turned dark, a predator sauntering into the office as the little mouse cowered behind her desk, eyes wider than her forehead could accommodate, "It's nothing the ingrates coming in and out of your office don't do."
"It's- not quite like that, Sue," Dough-Girl tried to defend, her shoulders squaring in what was surely a failed attempt at seeming bigger than her measly size.
"If you're ashamed of it..." she taunted.
The girl actually glared, "I'm not ashamed of anything."
Her head was held too high, her voice too strong, but her eyes still too wide with fear. This one had gotten brave since marrying the dentist.
"I'll be sure to pass that on to Shuester later. Perhaps he'll stop putting so much hair gel in those princess curls of his if he's too busy crying about this."
"I- Sue, no," she insisted, "That's cruel. And Will and I- we're just friends."
She was about to respond, to put this uppity mouse in place when someone knocked on the door of the office. She spun around, glare set and lips twitching to insult whatever pathetic piece of hormonally drenched adolescence had dragged itself to-
"Callahan?"
One of her Cheerios, a short thing with badly bleached hair that clashed horribly with her uniform-she would have to remember to have this fixed-was panting at the door, "Hello, Coach."
"I- Is there something you need?" the shaky voice behind her was quickly silenced with a well-placed scowl.
Smartly, the Cheerio ignored Mrs. Dentist, "Coach, can you do something about Fabray?"
"What's she done?" it wasn't the first time she'd dealt with complaints about her head cheerleader from the others, but most were simply jealous that the once-exiled girl had reclaimed the top position with no effort.
"She made us run around the school six times and then do core exercises before repeating the six laps."
...
That was new.
Very new, actually, because Sue happened to know every exercise routine she'd approved for the Cheerios and that one was crueler than anything she'd heard of.
...she liked it.
"She's showing initiative, which is more than you're doing, Callahan."
"Sue!"
"She's being vindictive," the Cheerio snapped.
"So what did you do to her?"
"Nothing!"
Sue just arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow, "Fabray doesn't act without provocation."
"I mean," the Cheerio continued, not really hearing her Coach, something she would need to pay for later, "She might have heard us talking."
"About?"
The Cheerio blinked a few times before speaking.
"Haven't you heard? Apparently Kurt Hummel got a sex change."
Ten minutes later, William Shuester had a very unpleasant surprise.
"Sue. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Sue Sylvester stood before him, in all her red velveteen track-suited glory, "Certainly not your sparkling hair. Do you trade beauty tips with Edward Cullen?"
Shue let out a long-suffering sigh. It was too early in the day to play mind-games with Sue Sylvester, "Sue, why are you here?"
"A Cheerio just told me Kurt Hummel is now a woman."
The coffee that Will had been in the midst of imbibing spewed everywhere, "What?"
Sue spared him a single look of utmost disdain, "So I want to know what has been going on among these degenerate choir kids and what you know about that school of his because no Cheerio of mine is getting a sexual reassignment surgery."
"Because you suddenly care about ex-students? And how should his gender matter, hm? Doesn't scare you, does it? The idea of him becoming a girl?" he said. He rested his chin on his palm, and acted as disinterested as possible.
It would likely make her angrier.
And it did.
"I care because he was a Cheerio when he left and he never formally left the team! And as for the subject of his gender, yes, it does matter. Someone had to show these losers how to be a real man!"
"Is this you caring, Sue?" Will asked, mock-surprise written all over his features.
Definitely making her angrier.
"You'll see me caring when I rip all those gel-filled curls out of your head and paste them to Miss Doughgirl's door. Now tell me what you know about this."
Will was almost tempted to study his nails, "Why should I do that, Sue? How is it any of your concern?"
"Will Shuester, you will tell me what I want to know or all your little freaks will find out about you spying on the married fake-shrink and her blow-up dentist husband."
"Sue, you don't scare me anymore," Will chuckled, "Anyway, I saw him yesterday."
"Are you calling my Cheerios liars?"
"Yes, I am," it was as simple as that—yes, he was calling those bleached-brain-dead girls liars, "Because when I saw him—note, this was yesterday, Sue—he was Kurt Hummel, as he always is, and very much a he."
"I'll have you know that my Cheerios are smarter than all your little sideshow combined. If this was some rumour you started to make them look like fools..."
Will's voice was sharp, "Sue. Don't go there."
Because those kids were good kids, and they were his life; he would do nothing to hurt them. Never. Never.
"Don't go where? Tired of sitting back while I do everything I can to take down Glee? Finally decide to start fighting back? Well good for you, but this is the wrong way to do it, buster."
"...I am not having this conversation with you, right now. Kurt's still a boy. Your Cheerios are liars. I have papers to grade. Good day."
"I will relish the day I can rip out that spine of yours and use it to make a ukulele your kids will pass down from generation to generation. Oh wait! You don't have any children and Glee won't last that long."
And with a swish of red velveteen track-suit, Sue and her snarling was gone.
Will sat back in his chair, and chuckled.
Sam Evans was not freaking out.
Okay, so maybe that was something of a lie.
He was pressed against the lockers, trying to ignore his racing heart and trying to erase the conversation he'd just heard from his mind. He was surprised Sue Sylvester hadn't noticed him freaking out next to Mr. Shue's office door when she went sweeping out, then again, Sue Sylvester didn't really notice anything in the spectrum of nondescript football players. He wasn't even sure she'd ever acknowledged his existence and he was almost convinced that she still thought Quinn and Puck were together.
Wait, why was he there?
Right, he needed to talk to Mr. Shue about missing practice tomorrow because of a doctor's appointment. Which would be so easy if not for the fact that Mr. Shue just took on Sue Sylvester and apparently didn't break a sweat.
Which brought him back to the overheard conversation. He knew quite a bit was said, but he only really heard the part about Kurt being a woman. He was realizing that he perhaps should have listened a little more closely. That, or he could just go into the office and ask for a clarification from Mr. Shue. He seemed like a nice enough guy, even if Sam didn't know him all that well. The most he knew about him was what he heard from the other New Directions members and some of that wasn't very good.
Actually, a lot of it wasn't very good.
Which left him with a bit of a problem.
"Who to ask, who to ask?" he mumbled under his breath as he mentally went through everyone he could think of.
There was Rachel, who he knew was close to Kurt. She was a bit too neurotic for him to deal with for any prolonged amount of time or without a third party present. She also didn't seem to like him for taking Finn's spot on the football team, even if that was all dealt with and she was no longer dating Finn.
There was Quinn, who he was dating and who frequently answered his questions about various things at the school. She didn't seem overly close to Kurt, though, and he knew for a fact that the two hadn't crossed paths since Kurt left for Dalton.
There was Mercedes, who he knew was supposedly Kurt's best friend. She kind of scared him, though. There was just something about the way she got along with Santana that just put him on edge.
There was Santana, but she rarely said anything nice about anyone and so he doubted she would be able to help him with anything that wouldn't constitute cheating on Quinn.
There was Brittany-no, not Brittany. Sam doubted she would know the meaning of the term "sex change" or even the word "sex" in a way that didn't mean spreading her legs. That girl was something else and he was still trying to figure out if she was sane because her brain certainly wasn't firing on all cylinders.
There was Tina, but he wasn't sure he'd ever spoken more than two words to her. If even that, actually.
There was Mike, but Mike openly admitted to not knowing Kurt very well, despite being one of the first to defend him. Sam had already tried asking him something about Kurt because Mike seemed to be the nicest and most discreet of the Glee guys, only to be told that Mike and Kurt were never really friends.
There was Puck, who was a strong defender of Kurt, but who likely wouldn't know anything about the boy's personal life.
There was Artie, who likewise was a staunch defender of Kurt and was at least some kind of friend, but he also didn't seem to be close enough to him to know anything.
There was Finn, who was Kurt's brother-
Sam facepalmed as he came to this conclusion. Of course Finn would know. He and Kurt, though not speaking often, did live together. He would be one of the first to know if Kurt were no longer one of the boys. Who wouldn't notice if their brother were suddenly a sister? If something like that had happened, Finn probably knew about it long before.
So it was settled then. He squared his shoulders and set off towards his English class, completely forgetting what he had left class to talk to Mr. Shue about. He was going to talk to Finn before football practice, and that was all he needed to worry about.
He just wasn't counting on the way time seemed to slow down when there was something to wait for, because the rest of the day dragged.
And dragged.
And dragged.
Sam stared at the clock. English class should have ended by now—had time stopped? That would have been an awful thing.
But finally, the bell rang. He grabbed his books, stuffed them into his bag, and nearly tripped over four desks as he rushed towards the door. There was no telling how long it would take Finn to get to the locker room, but it really couldn't take that long, and this was more important that Sam cared to admit.
Finn was stripping his shirt off when Sam reached him.
"Hey... um. Finn. Uh. There's this... thing..."
Finn blinked at him. "What's up?"
"DidKurtgetasexchangewhenIwasn'tlooking?"
Finn stared, looking a little bit punch-drunk, "Kurt, sex change—wait, when were you looking?"
Sam turned bright, bright red and mumbled incoherently.
(This was not helping his case.)
"What's this? The girl-boy finally decided to go all girl?"
Finn's voice was steady, his eyes cold, "Shut the fuck up, Karofsky. That's my brother you're talking about."
"What? I just find it interesting? Is Sammy here happy that he can actually like his little pansy now?"
Finn's gaze turned icier. He was going to pound the fucker to dust when no one was looking, "Interesting is a good fuckin' word for it. It's not true. Now get on the field. I won't lose on account of you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Yes, interesting was a good fucking word for it.
Finn was going to be doing some questioning of his own, when he got home.
Seriously, Kurt? Female?
That was just—no. Just no.
Finn shoved his helmet on his head. He was going to get to the bottom of this, even if it nearly killed him to do it.
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Extra notes:
Sara's nose is itchy: Finn with a backbone? WHAT IS THIS? Also, this was a long-time coming—please don't tell me we're the only ones who see these problems.
Emily is probably annoying her roommate: Shue with a backbone? WHAT IS THIS? I second everything Sara said. Please tell us we're not the only ones.