I know, two chapters in a day! I'm really excited about this guise! I got the prompt from tumblr and I didn't think I could do it, but lo and behold! I'm going to try to update at the very least once a week. Please review and give me suggestions as to what I should do. Thanks and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Glee is still not mine :\ oh well. It's best that way.
0700-Breakfast.
0730-Dressing.
0800-Drive.
0815- School.
1500-Glee practice.
1600-Drive.
1700-Dinner w/POTUS.
2200-Sleep.
Sam stared at the schedule that had been given to him. It wasn't very strict, and gave for a lot of free time. Free time he was worried about. He didn't like the unexpected, and by the look of this room he was in for a lot of it. It wasn't like any other teenager's room. It was painted gray ("Dior Gray, thank you" Kurt had corrected him) with a single frame over a white desk, a bed, some kind of basket…chair…hanging thing, a table and a laptop. Somehow he thought the First Son would have more…well, more.
The more appeared when Kurt opened the closet doors. The two doors hid more designer clothing behind them than any store did and Sam didn't have to wonder why this kid needed half an hour to dress. The slender boy paced back and forth in his walk-in closet slowly, his eyes scanning over the racks of jackets, sweaters, shirts, vests, slacks, and skinny jeans (organized just so) and humming softly to himself.
Sam tapped his foot lightly. Dressing was easy for him. Black suite, black tie, black shoes, done. But this kid acted like he was going to the Golden Globes or something. He wanted to shove the kid in jeans and a shirt and get the hell out of there. Glancing at his watch he noticed that they only had ten more minutes for this crap before they had to get going.
…
Was that kid humming Beyoncè right now? Really?
"Sir? We really have to get going." "Oh calm down lemon head." Kurt called back. "I'll be ready in a minute. In the meantime your roots could use some touching up." Sam growled, but held in his outburst.
Finally the boy walked in wearing a leather jacket over white shirt with gray stripes (what was it with this kid and gray?), black skinny jeans and dress shoes. All designer no doubt. His brown hair was slightly slicked back, the bangs to the side. Sam's eyebrows raised a bit. He was a good looking kid, he had to give him that. Kurt scowled a bit at him. "Happy, sunshine?" Sam turned to leave. "Very. Let's go." Kurt grabbed his messenger bag and followed Sam out to the front of the White House where the limo was already waiting for him. That alone was enough to break Sam's cranky mood. He held open the door for Kurt and slammed it behind him before practically running to the driver's seat. Keys in the ignition, he started her up. She purred beautifully.
Just as he was about to pull out he felt a kick to the back of his seat. He looked back where Kurt was sitting back a bit, his legs extended. "It's cold." Sam sighed and turned the heater on, pulling out.
He knew the private school well. Most of the politicians on Capitol Hill sent their kids to McKinley so it was a well known place to the Secret Service. It was one of the most protected schools in the country so thankfully Sam didn't have to follow Kurt in. He parked and started to get out, but Kurt got out by himself and slammed the door behind himself. Sam rolled his eyes. There was no way in hell he was getting paid enough to hang around a high school all day. He was going to get some coffee and hang out in the parking lot until school was over. He started to pull out when he passed by the dumpster. For some odd reason there were a bunch of kids there with letterman jackets on hanging around the green dumpster. He braked a little, looking around. Seeing what he did, he immediately put the limo in park and threw the door open.
"SECRET SERVICE, BACK AWAY FROM THE BOY!"
The jocks all took a few steps back and Kurt fell to the ground. He hissed as he landed right on his tailbone. Sam walked over, lifting him up to his feet. "You okay?" Kurt shoved him away, growling, "Don't touch me." He grabbed his messenger bag from the side of the dumpster and stalked off. Sam could have ripped his head off. He'd just saved the brat and that's the thanks he got?
He looked at the stunned group of boys before running after him. "Hey, the least you could do is say thank you." Kurt scoffed. "I didn't ask for your help. I was perfectly fine." Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, as far as impersonations go, that one as a trash bag was flawless. Do you do birthday parties?" Kurt was silent as they walked into the high school halls.
As they walked Sam could identify some VIPs. Children of actors, musicians, politicians, a kid from every circle was there. He hadn't taken fifteen steps inside when a tall blonde woman wearing a black tracksuit with red stripes on the shoulders stopped him. "And where do you think you're going tall blonde and secret?" Sam raised an eyebrow, pulling out his badge. "Secret Ser-" "I know who you are. Hence the 'secret' part of my question." Sam stared at her. "So what's the problem?" "No security of any kind in these halls pretty boy. Not even for the First Gay." "…first gay?" The woman scoffed. "Don't insult me with your pretty boy stupidity. Everyone knows that the president's son is as queer as eight men making love to nine men." "…." "You may be as sharp as your feathery locks but what Sue Sylvester says goes." "…are you Sue Sylvester?" "Very good, Tweety. I'm sure with that shiny badge throwing the light of your incredibly blinding hair you'll be able to find the way out of here." The woman left and Sam was left stunned.
What…what exactly happened?
In any case he didn't want to be stuck here all day anyway, and the kid had escaped him when that woman had been speaking to him. He walked out of the school and found his way to his limo, pulling out.
He found a nearby coffee shop and had a coffee in his hands as he sat in his car. So the First Kid was gay. He wasn't surprised. The lips on that boy gave it away immediately. Not to mention his slightly curved hips, or the way he sauntered in those tight skinny jeans.
Suddenly he felt like it wasn't the coffee that was making his face heat up. What the hell was he thinking, imagining all of those things? Samuel Evans wasn't gay! He wasn't queer like the eight…nine…what had that woman said?
He tilted his head back, sighing softly. No, he wasn't gay.
…right?