Summary: A series of oneshots starring English!Kurt. Because, come on – I'm not the only one thinking about it. This story features an awesome, confident, Doctor Who inclined Kurt Hummel. Not to mention he has a very sexy accent. Canon pairings
BACK STORY TIME
Alrightie, so, this is a Kurt Hummel who, after his mother died, got taken away by his grandmother and shipped away to London. While there, he didn't need to hide himself behind clothes. His still wears awesome clothes, so don't worry, especially bowties and the occasional fez, because, hey, bowties and fezzes are cool. He's confident, clever and has some snappy retorts that leave idiots gaping. He takes shit from no one. After his grandmother dies, he goes back to his father, in Lima, Ohio, and goes to school at McKinley High. Let it be said, they won't know what hit them. THERE SHALL BE NO BASHING. YE BE WARNED.
I personally fell in love with the idea. English!Kurt. Come on, who wouldn't. Also, warning: there will be epic Kurt/Puck BFF friendship. Or, no. No, more like fuck you, man, no, fuck YOU, man, except one of the "fuck you's" is going to be more eloquent because it's Kurt we're talking about.
X Chapter 1: English
Rewrite of Pilot
"Bunch of apes," Kurt muttered as he was surrounded by a gang of jocks.
"What was that, new kid?" the one with the Mohawk and the stupid face asked.
"You're a primate," Kurt elaborated, smiling at him coldly. His bag was hanging on his shoulder while his hands were tucked in his pockets, his body the very image of superiority.
"Ooh, look, guys, he's British!"
"English," Kurt hissed, narrowing his eyes. Why did people always make that mistake? "I'm from England, you stupid ape."
Mohawk laughed a bit, before he smiled at Kurt predatorily. "The point is that you're new. Thus, you need to learn some rules. You mess with us, and your popularity is going down the drain. See that kid over there?" He pointed to some poor sod with mess for hair climbing out of a dumpster. "You're gonna end up like him."
Kurt sighed, closing his eyes in annoyance. "I do apologize, Mr. Mohawk, sir, but rules are meant to be broken," he said sarcastically, with a twinge of ice. His lips rose in a smirk. "Or does the 'breaking rules' thing only work for you and your pack?"
One of them hissed. The tall freak was standing there, unsure if to look insulted or not. Mohawk's face twitched. "We'll see, Tish."
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Tish?"
"From British," Mohawk smirked. "I thought you Brits were supposed to be smart."
Kurt breathed in deeply, annoyed, and said, "It's English, you ignorant sod."
Mohawk smirked. "Come on, guys," he said to the rest of the smelly apes. "Let's leave Tish alone."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Kurt muttered, rolling his eyes.
"See ya around," Mohawk called.
Kurt huffed, puffed, and walked forwards, teeth gritted together. He headed for the headmaster's -, no, principal's office, where he was told to go to get his schedule. Along the way, he spotted the tall, idiot looking guy standing beside what could be his locker with a pretty blonde girl, smiling stupidly at her.
He quickly made his way into the open glass door, where he was invited to take a seat. The principal, a certain Mr. Figgins, smiled at him. Kurt, hesitantly, smiled back. Figgins' smile stayed the same. Kurt started to worry.
"Sir-"
"You're Kurt Hummel, yes?" Figgins asked, smile fading a bit.
Startled, Kurt nodded.
"Okay," Figgins smiled again, showing his teeth. "Here is your schedule, your first class is Spanish with Mr. Schuester, but that has started already so I'll allow you to get familiarized with the school."
Well, that was abrupt. "Sir, I-"
"Off you go," Figgins said, smiling that blank smile again.
Kurt blinked several times, making sure he was seeing alright. "Thank you, sir."
As he had one foot out back in the hallway, he heard Figgins yell after him, "Welcome to McKinley High! I knew I forgot something…"
Kurt had to stifle a hysterical giggle. Such a strange place, America. He walked around, stopping briefly at what was his locker, and noticing with a grimace it had a piece of gum stuck to it. He'd have to clean that. Somehow, he made his way outside, where some cheerleaders (both male and female, he noticed), practice their routine. He leaned on the door frame, listening to the catchy tune. The routine wasn't that hard, really. He'd been a cheerleader back in London. Not for long, but enough for him to learn the moves.
He hummed along for a while before, abruptly, the music stopped. He watched the cheerleaders stop, stay still for a few seconds, when one from the left lost her footing and fell. She was caught, thankfully, so there was no reason to worry. Getting ready to leave, he paused as he heard a megaphone-amplified voice.
"You think this is hard?" the voice asked, disappointed, amused, and arrogant at the same time. "Try being waterboarded. That's hard!"
Kurt chuckled to himself as he continued walking through the school. He passed the class he was supposed to be in, briefly looking through the glass in the door, watching the professor wave his hands around and smiling while enunciating something. The rest of the class looked, predictably, bored to death. Only an Asian boy bothered to take notes, while the others just stood there, staring blankly.
Continuing on with his tour, Kurt glanced at his schedule, not hearing the speedy footsteps until it was too late. A small girl crashed into him, causing him to take in mouthfuls of hair in his mouth.
"Watch it!" she said angrily.
"Well, even if I had, you're such a little thing I'm afraid I would have missed you!" Kurt shot back, annoyed. He glanced at her attire. Oh sweet mother of God.
Surprise flashed across her features. "Oh my God, you're British!"
"English," he corrected her.
"Are you new here?" she demanded.
"It wouldn't hurt you to be more polite, would it?" Kurt asked, wincing. He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, gently kissing it. "Kurt Hummel, pleased to meet you. And you are?"
She gaped at him, a bit of red rising into her cheeks, before she pursed her mouth and nodded curtly at him. "Rachel Berry, future Broadway star."
"Oh, a Broadway aspirant, I see."
"What?" she asked haughtily. "You think I can't make it? You wouldn't be the first –"
"Oh, no, sweetie," he smiled, correcting her. "You'll make it. I just wonder how difficult I'll decide to make it for you."
Rachel blinked, once, twice, as the words registered. She scoffed. "Please. I'll wash the floors with you."
"Glad to know you'll be putting up a fight, then," Kurt grinned outright. "So, what are you doing?"
She straightened her back. "I am going to Mr. Figgins to report a teacher's inappropriate attitude."
Kurt raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Do tell."
X
"You might laugh because every time I sign my name I put a gold star after it, but it's a metaphor."
"And, of course, for an artist, metaphors are important," Kurt said.
"Exactly," Rachel nodded. "My gold stars are a metaphor for me being a star." The two avoided the hall traffic nimbly. "Are you signing up for Glee club?"
Kurt blinked. "What's Glee club?"
"You don't-," Rachel stopped, and swerved around to look him in the eye. "You don't know what Glee club is?"
"Maybe it's an American thing," Kurt shrugged. "That might explain it. So what's Glee club?"
"Glee club," Rachel grabbed a hold of his arm and turned right into another hall, stopping in front of a trophy case, "is the very definition of opening yourself up to joy." She looked up at him and grinned brightly. Kurt blinked a bit.
"Alright, but it still doesn't explain what we're doing in Glee club."
"We're going to be singing!" Rachel told him. "I'm signing up, but if you want to give me a jump start for my Broadway career by not joining, then, be my guest."
What Kurt was feeling was rather indescribable. To have a girl he met 30 minutes prior say exactly what she'd have to say to convince him to join a club was odd.
Kurt sighed. "Where's the sign-up sheet?"
Rachel grinned even brighter. "I knew it. What will you be singing?"
"For the audition, I suppose?"
"Well, yes."
"I'm thinking something… Sting," Kurt said, thinking carefully.
"Sting?" Rachel piped up.
"You do know Sting, right?" Kurt asked, making sure.
"Of course!" She sounded scandalized. "It's just… I'd have thought you would have sung something Broadway."
"Look, Rachel, just because I want to go on Broadway sometime doesn't mean I have to limit myself to one genre," Kurt pointed out. "But if I were to sing something Broadway, I'd say… Mr. Cellophane, from the musical Chicago."
"That's a great choice!" she beamed. "I'll be singing Les Mis. On My Own, to be exact. I've been singing it since before I could talk," she said.
Kurt chuckled. "Whatever floats your boat."
X
"Hi, I'm Mr. Schuester, and you're here to audition for Glee Club," Mr. Schuester smiled. "First one up!"
The first one up on the stage was an amazing sounding girl called Mercedes Jones who sang Respect by Aretha Franklin. The way she belted the notes bought Kurt's respect. Next to him, Rachel was tch-ing with disapproval.
"Stop it," Kurt told her quietly.
"Stop what?" Rachel asked back, eyes wide and innocent.
Kurt rolled his eyes in reply, turning his attention back to the stage. Mercedes finished the song with a flourish, earning the applause of the not-too-many people in the auditorium. "Alright, thank you Mercedes, that was amazing," Mr. Schuester said. "Next, Kurt Hummel!"
"You're up, you're up!" Rachel said, pushing him towards the stage.
"Yes, I heard that," Kurt said. "I can manage walking on my own, thank you."
Rachel grimaced. "Sorry. Break a leg."
Kurt smiled and quickly got up the stairs. He waited until Mr. Schuester looked at him to speak. "Yes, hi, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be singing Englishman in New York by Sting," he said, shuffling to get the microphone at the right height.
"That sounds great," Mr. Schuester said, "Let's hear it."
"I don't drink coffee I take tea my dear… I like my toast done on one side. And you can hear it in my accent when I talk… I'm an Englishman in New York."
X
After he was done, he got off the stage and rejoined Rachel in the back. "How was it?" he asked, grinning slyly.
Rachel looked him up and down, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out stubbornly. "Passable," she said. "But I've heard better," she said, looking forward to the stage.
"Rach-"
"Ssh," she reprimanded sharply. "There's auditions going on, be respectful."
Kurt couldn't help but snort.
After him came an Asian girl with a stutter, named Tina C, who sang I Kissed a Girl by Katy Perry. After her came Rachel's turn. True to her word, she sang Les Mis, hitting every note as well she was extremely used to singing it.
Kurt wasn't really surprised, really. Rachel did seem a bit overzealous, if not just very, very ambitious. It would be her downfall. That is if he managed to get to her wardrobe first.
X
"Kurt, you might think that all the boys in school would totally want to tap this, but my MySpace schedule keeps me way too busy to date."
Kurt choked on the apple he was eating. "MySpace?"
"Mhmm," Rachel nodded. "I try to post a MySpace video every day just to keep my talent alive and growing. Nowadays, being anonymous is worse than being poor. Fame is the most important thing in our culture now. And if there's one thing I learned, no one's just gonna hand it to you."
In all honesty, Kurt did try not to laugh, really. It's just… "Being on MySpace isn't going to make you famous, Rachel," he tutted. "It'll make you ridiculized. And so will your clothes."
"Kurt, you're supposed to be on my side!" Rachel said, sounding (and looking) betrayed.
"I am!" he replied, laughing. "Seriously, though, you're a pretty girl but you need to get a new wardrobe."
Either he was an idiot or Rachel missed the last half of his statement completely. "I'm pretty, am I?" she demanded. "Kurt Hummel, are you coming onto me?"
Kurt choked on his apple again. "News flash, Rachel," he said after he finished coughing. "I'm gay."
Rachel blinked. "Just so you know, I'm not homophobic. In fact, I have two gay dads."
Kurt chuckled and continued on with his apple. "That's nice to know. I can't believe I'm actually relieved."
X
"So I said to myself 'sit down'!"
"Said to myself 'sit down!'."
"Sit down, you're rocking the boat."
"Sit down sit down sit down sit down you're rocking the boat!"
As they finished, all of them planted fake smiles as they heard Artie crash in the wall. Mr. Schue winced.
"We suck," Rachel said, bringing her arms down.
Mr. Schue, in his defense, tried to reply. "Uh, it… It'll get there. We-we just need to keep rehearsing."
Rachel gave him a pitying look. "Mr. Schuester, do you have any idea how difficult it is to give the lead solo in Sit Down You're Rocking the Boat to a boy in a wheelchair?"
Artie, annoyed, said, "I think Mr. Schue is using irony to enhance the performance," he said, adjusting his glasses.
"There is nothing ironic about show choir!" Rachel burst out.
"Whoa, calm down, Rachel," Kurt said.
Rachel looked at him, huffed and stormed out of the room stiffly. No one actually bothered to stop here except for Mr. Schue who said, "Rachel… Rachel!" before hearing a door slam and looking back at the rest of the Glee club. He sighed.
After a few seconds of silence, Kurt piped up, "But I do agree, we're pitiful."
"Yeah, no one's gonna vote for the team singing Sit Down You're Rocking the Boat," Mercedes said.
"The British guy is right," Artie said, extending a hand. "Hi. I'm Artie."
Kurt grasped it. "I'm English, by the way. Not British. English. And my name's Kurt."