Yeah, yeah. We wrote another Cheerio!Kurt story. Can you blame us? It's not centered around that though, so just go with it.
Anyway, hi everyone and welcome to our new story! This one is a Klaine twist on the traditional Snow White and the Seven Dwarves story! It won't be word for word exactly the same as the movie or fairytale, but it will have nods to both. The story won't be super long (think around 10 chapters) but we are having a lot of fun writing it! Please enjoy and don't be shy, leave a review and give us your thoughts. -A
PS- We received a lovely review on WITF but it was a guest review so we couldn't reply. Thank you for your review! We are grateful for you reading our stories!
Warnings: cussing, some description of injuries, slight violence (not gory,) impure thoughts of teenage boys about other teenage boys lol. Will put individual warnings if anything changes.
Now, without further ado...
Prologue
Arguably, Sue Sylvester was the most patient, calm person in all of Ohio. This could be seen in how she dealt with everyone who irked her (which was quite a lot of people.)
She didn't throttle every idiotic coworker at the news station even though they deserved it. She didn't murder Schuester and his band of caterwauling hooligans that butchered every song they attempted. And she treated all of her Cheerios with grace even when they were being insufferable pansies... like they were at this very moment.
"Enough sloppy babies!" Sue screamed into the mega phone. "We have only been doing this routine for three hours and you have managed to screw it up every time! You think this is hard? Try watching this over and over again and not punching every one of you in the face, that's hard!" Her narrowed eyes flitted across the across all the red faced cheerleaders huffing and puffing and settled on one in particular.
"Do you have anything to whine about, Porcelain? I dare you to question my methods!" The pale boy with the stupidly perfect hair and cherry lips was thrice on Sue's shit list. Not only had his equally annoying father bested her in the election, he was in the glee club determined to make her ears bleed. On top of all that, he was preforming just as poorly as the rest of these dumb asses.
"No, Coach. I don't have any criticisms." He stated with just a hint of sass. He always said things in a way that could be taken as innocent at face value, but she knew he was trying to undermine her. Sue Sylvester was no idiot.
"Good, because I would hate to see you get kicked out of here and have to face all that bullying without that Cheerio uniform to protect you." If it was possible, he got even paler and shook his head. "That's what I thought."
"Coach, Mr. Smith is on the phone for you. From the magazine." Becky lisped. Sue immediately perked up and straightened out her track suit jacket.
"Alright ladies, take five minutes to do whatever it is you need to do to make sure that the atrocity that just happened never happens again while I take this call. I will start throwing pee balloons at whoever displeases me next."
The Cheerios groaned a relived, collective sigh as Sue swept down the hallway to her office (or evil lair as she liked to refer to it in her head.) She settled in her desk chair and snatched up the phone receiver. "This is Coach Sylvester."
"Oh, good! So glad we could have a chat! I was calling to see when we could schedule the photo shoot and write up for the magazine? I have a lot of ideas." Mr. Smith sounded excited, and it was no wonder. Sue was a winner.
He had emailed her a week ago asking if they could do a spread for their cheerleading magazine. She told them yes, of course, and although she was playing things totally cool, she was pretty excited to be featured. Just another accolade to add to her long list.
"Well, my girls are pretty busy practicing most of the time, but you're welcome to come and see how they bust their butts just to be the best. And if you want to do my shoot that same day it's fine. Just give me enough of a heads up so I can schedule a face peel." She was going to be on the cover. He had asked for the fairest of them, so it stood to reason that would be her.
"I understand. It takes a lot of work to win all the championships that they have." Mr. Smith replied. "I thought we would get some pictures of them in action at practice and then do a group shot which you are welcome to be in as well. In fact, we encourage it. Then we will do the cover shoot and interview with Mr. Hummel-"
"I'm going to stop you right there. You told me in the email you wanted the fairest person to be on the cover and you won't find anyone more fair in all of Ohio than old Sue Sylvester! I let Becky be on the team when she sucks at cheering, I let Brittany on the team and she's an air head, and I let Quinn stay on the team when she's a single, teenage mother and if that isn't fair-"
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, Coach Sylvester! When I said the fairest, I was making a joke about Mr. Hummel's skin tone! I apologize, sometimes my humor is hard to follow." Sue digested this for a few moments, already plotting Mr. Smith's demise.
"That seems rather racist..."
"Oh, please don't misunderstand me, Coach Sylvester. We try to show a very diverse number of people in our magazine. I mean, just last month we interviewed an Asian-American cheerleader who talked about stereotypes she dealt with-"
"So why do you want to talk to Por- I mean, Hummel?" She interrupted abruptly.
"Well, as I was saying earlier," the editor said pointedly. "We like to show a wide range of kids and that means sexual orientations as well. We would love for Mr. Hummel to talk about his experience of being a homosexual cheerleader and what he goes through." Sue seethed quietly, debating on canceling this whole waste of time altogether. She tightened her already firm grip on the plastic receiver causing it to squeak in protest.
"And what if Hummel fails to show up? Would you have to pick someone else? Someone who has won six consecutive national cheerleading competitions, for example?"
He was silent for a beat. "Um, well, we would really like to interview a teenager since that's our core audience..."
"Oh, come now, Mr. Smith. Don't be ageist."
"I suppose we could consider it, but we would really like to have Mr. Hummel do the interview-"
"Thank you, Mr. Smith. We will be in touch." Sue hung up before he could protest and glared at the wall across from her. How dare Hummel get what she deserved just because he liked men? She liked men! She was a winner and he was a loser and something had to be done about him. Sue twirled her glasses in between her fingers and thought of a wonderfully wicked plan that would assure that Porcelain would be out of the way for good.
"Becky! Get in here!"
"Yes, Coach?" Becky answered as she came running in.
"I need you to do something for me." The blonde nodded. "Take Porcelain out of town and get rid of him."
"You want me to kill him, Coach?"
"No, at least not until I'm acquitted of my other court cases. Just take him somewhere where he will be disoriented and leave him. By the time he makes his way back, we will have done the interview and he will be taught a lesson."
"But won't his family know he's gone, Coach?"
Sue drummed her fingers against her desktop, loving her nefarious plan more and more by the minute. "No, his baboon of a father will be off in D.C. for a while more so he won't suspect his son is gone." Becky shrugged and wrote this down. Sue stood and clasped her hands behind her back before gliding over to the window to look out. "When you finish the job, bring me back his shoes so I know he's really gone." Becky looked confused momentarily before she nodded again and skipped out the door to go prepare for Sue's bidding. The Coach smiled, her eyes glittering dangerously as she imagined the boy falling into a well or something.
"We will see who is the fairest of them all."
"Now, what super-secret Cheerio training am I supposed to be doing again, Becky?" Kurt Hummel asked as he tugged at his t-shirt. He felt uncomfortable, but not because his clothes were uncomfortable; far from it. They were probably one of the most comfy pairs of sweatpants and t-shirts he owned. He just wasn't used to being out in public this dressed down.
Kurt was riding in the passenger seat of Becky's car and they had been driving for about an hour, far out of Lima. The brunet boy was a little wary of Coach Sylvester's minion, especially since she hated his guts, but he couldn't risk being kicked out of the Cheerios so he had to go along with her plan.
"You'll see, pancake face. It's only a little farther."
"Do you even have a license?" Kurt said derisively. He might not be able to talk back to Coach Sylvester, but he could tell Becky off. The shorter girl rolled her eyes (which barely peeked above the steering wheel) and waved off his question.
"Shut up and take off your shoes."
Kurt looked aghast. "My shoes? Do you know how much these cost?" He crossed his arms.
Becky eyed him with contempt and stuck a finger in his face, causing her to swerve. "You better do what I say or else I'll tell Coach and have her kick you off the Cheerios!"
As the car whipped back and forth into the oncoming lane, Kurt clawed frantically at the handle by the door and tried not to panic. Becky was not a very good driver and she had almost killed him several times. He held his hand up in surrender.
"Okay, okay! I'm taking my shoes off! See?"
"Socks too for being mouthy!"
He carefully slipped them off and tucked his socks into the toes before placing them on the floor beside his feet. "Now what? Am I going to have to walk across hot coals or something?" Becky smirked before slowing down at the perfect spot an hour and a half out of town.
"Even better. You're going for a little ride. Coach Sylvester says to get lost and stay that way."
Before he could question what she meant by that, Becky had pulled off the road, opened his door, and pushed him out. He screamed as he rolled down the extremely steep hill, unable to stop himself as he rolled for what felt like forever. Small rocks cut his body all over and he felt his arm bend back painfully. He bounced down, down the dewy grass and abruptly came to a stop at the bottom as his head collided sharply with a rock.
Kurt's last thought before blackness swallowed him whole was that he hoped Becky took care of his shoes.
Then, nothing.