Title: The Perils of a British Boarding School: House Meetings
Author: lil-miss-chocolate
Rating: NC17
Warning: Boys getting it on. Three of them.
Disclaimer: I may be the puppet master, but I'm just borrowing these puppets.
Word Count: 4,350 ish. This fic has ballooned majorly.
Author's Notes:
The word 'fag' is used in this story as explained in the previous chapter.
I made Artie less severely injured in this story so that he could use crutches. This is because British boarding schools are invariably in old manor houses that are utterly impossible for people in wheelchairs to traverse, so no-one in a wheelchair would ever go to one. I didn't want to write him out completely, or ignore his disability, so I put him on crutches instead.
Will is actually a student in this fic, because there was a character I hadn't cast and he was just perfect for it. He's still doing the whole 'teacherly' thing, just as a prefect, not a teacher.
To save confusion, I would like to point out now that Gloucester is pronounced "Gloster".
Because of the nature of the school, there are going to be multiple hook-ups because many and various pairings. The endgame is still Puckurt, though, don't worry!
Puck woke up the next morning to his own pillow being flung in his face.
"Wake up, Puckerman! The rising bell'll be going any moment. The staff are lax, but they're not gonna be happy if they find we switched beds on the first night."
Puck made a noise that sounded like "Schnumufferwannawiggle."
His second pillow hit his head. "Puckerman, get out of my bed, now!"
Puck staggered over to his own bed and slumped down on it, curling up into the duvet. Kurt picked up Puck's boxers (he himself was already immaculately dressed in his spotless suit) and dropped them onto Puck's snoozing body.
"Get dressed, you loaf. Breakfast's in fifteen minutes, and I imagine it'll take you that long just to tie your tie."
"Need coffee..." Puck mumbled into his bed sheets.
"Get up then! Don't make me cold sponge you."
That did not sound at all pleasant, and the first bell had just started to ring, so Puck rethought his first decision (stay in bed until physically dragged out of it) and fumbled around to pull on his boxers.
"Ah-ow!" he exclaimed as he rolled into a sitting position.
"Yeah, you might be walking funny for a bit."
Puck groaned as he stood up, walked over to the cupboard and started rummaging for clothes. "Can't believe I have to wear a monkey suit every day..."
"Monkey suit?"
"You know, pants, shirt, tie, jacket."
Kurt laughed. "You should see the junior uniforms. You're lucky; in Sixth Form you can wear any suit you want as long as you wear a regulation tie."
"What?"
"Did no-one explain this to you?"
"Nuh-uh. I just got packed up with these and sent off to England."
Kurt could hear the bitterness in Puck's voice as he said this, and wisely decided to investigate no further on that front. Instead, he explained the uniform as Puck pulled on his trousers.
"Right, well. The junior boys have to wear the school uniform, that's the blue, grey and yellow atrocity you'll see the small fry wearing around school. Which reminds me..."
Kurt opened the door, stuck his head out and bellowed in a surprisingly deep tone, "FAAAAAG UP!" There was a pattering sound, and about eight boys, aged about thirteen, scurried to the spot. "Who was last?" Kurt asked. The boys all stared at the ground. "It was you, Lye, wasn't it?" The round faced, chubby boy at the back nodded sheepishly. "Make the beds. Make sure they're aired properly," Kurt instructed him, then turned back to Puck, who had watched the entire exchange with a baffled expression.
"The junior boys act as fags. That means they have to be like servant for us older boys. Obviously, the prefects each get their own individual one - the rest of us have to share the rest between us. We all had to do it when we were juniors."
"Fags?" Puck asked incredulously. It seemed so strange to hear Kurt use the word. When he'd used it last night to refer to a cigarette, that had been weird enough, but for that to be what the junior boys were actually referred to as? Definitely evidence that the world had gone bizzarr-o.
"Yeah, why?"
"It's just, in the States, 'fag' means... you know..."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "American bastardisation of a perfectly acceptable word." He turned to the chubby kid, who had finished making the beds and was standing by the door with his head down, clearly awaiting his next instruction. "Alright Graham, just nip down to the fags' kitchen and make a cup of the Nescafe Gold. Not the crappy stuff the kitchens sent up."
Kurt turned back to Puck. "How'd you have it?"
"Erm... black, no sugar."
The boy nodded and darted out of the door.
"So the last one to arrive when you shout for 'em has to do what you say?"
"Exactly. Anyway, back to the uniforms. The juniors have to wear the whole blue blazer, grey shirt, yellow cording fiasco that you saw Lye wearing. As a Sixth Former, can wear any suit you like for everyday, though we have to wear the regulation PE kit. You can change into mufti in the evening."
"Mufti?" Puck raised his eyebrows suggestively as he buttoned his shirt.
"I don't know what you're thinking about, but mufti means your own clothes. Jeans, t-shirts, whatever no-name brand you choose to slum it in."
There was a knock on the door. "Come!" Kurt called over from his position seated gracefully on his chair. The boy from earlier was back, carefully carrying a mug of steaming black coffee. Kurt nodded over at Puck, who took it eagerly and started to drink. The boy turned back to Kurt, who was clearly in charge.
"That's all, Graham. Try to get here faster in the future," he said kindly. "Being a good sprinter saves a lot of hassle - maybe join the fitness club or something." The kid nodded gratefully and left.
"And the tie thing? How come mine is blue and yours has green on it?" Puck asked, his coffee finished as he attempted to tie his own around his neck.
"The base colour is your house. In our case, blue for York. Windsor is red, Gloucester is yellow. You're allowed to wear extra colours when you earn them. Prefects have a black fleur-de-lys, the head boy has a black and white one. Mine has a green stripe 'cos I'm in the cricket team. Rugby is burgundy, football is navy, tennis is white, athletics is purple." Kurt paused, then said, "Oh, for heaven's sake, let me do it," as Puck nearly strangled himself. Kurt took hold of the tie and started to deftly tie a Windsor knot.
"Thanks. So, what if you're in all of them?"
"No-one's in more than one team per term anyway, because there wouldn't be enough time for practices and matches and things. Some guys, like Chang and Rutherford, are in rugby and cricket, but one's summer and one's winter, so they wear whatever tie is right for the season."
As Kurt patted down Puck's collar with a flourish, the breakfast bell went, and they filed down multiple flights of stairs to the oak panelled dining room. They joined the queue forming behind the serving hatch, and gradually shuffled forward in line. Puck noticed a gaggle of young boys peering around the corner from one of the myriad corridors that criss-crossed the school.
"Hummel, why are all the kids huddled around the corner?"
"If a junior ever tried to go in front of a senior in the breakfast line, you don't even want to know what would happen to him."
Puck laughed, "What would they do?"
Kurt looked him levelly in the eye and said, "I said - you do not want to know."
Puck's laughter cut short as he saw the look in Kurt's eyes and a slightly scared expression crossed his face. "You serious?" he asked, incredulously.
Kurt's expression was unreadable. "The worst two were Azimio and Karofsky. Two mutton-headed gorillas, the props on the rugby team. Luckily their marks were so bad they weren't allowed to stay for Sixth Form. It wasn't so bad for me, I was in their year. But some of the younger kids really suffered. You know Lye? The fag who did our beds this morning?"
Puck nodded.
"Yeah, he had it really bad from them. But unfortunately for kids like him, the staff overlook that as much as they overlook the other stuff. They don't draw the line."
"Shit..." Puck exhaled. One of the cooks looked askance at him as she served his scrambled eggs.
"Watch your language, Puckerman," Kurt rebuked him. "If one of the staff hears you you'll get an order mark."
"A what now?" Puck picked up his tray and followed Kurt to a table where a few other boys in blue ties were seated.
"An order mark. If you behave badly, you'll get an order mark. That means we lose two house points. Good behaviour will get you a house mark, when we gain two house points. If you don't do your prep, or hand in really terrible work, you'll get a demerit, which loses four house points, and a really good piece of work gets you a commendation, which adds four house points."
Puck looked at him like he'd just said, 'And if you dance the flamenco naked at the quarter moon, you'll be able to speak fluent Mongolian standing on your head.'
"How is this all so new to you, Puckerman? What kind of school were you at in America?"
"I dunno, the normal kind? We didn't have all this house point sh-"
Kurt had thumped him on the arm and hissed at him, "Language."
Puck rolled his eyes, but didn't finish the swear word.
"Hey Kurt? Who's the new kid?" A tall, slender Asian boy had spoken from the other end of the table, the inhabitants of which had been watching this exchange with some amusement.
"Right, sorry, Mike. Guys, this is Puckerman. He's my new roomie. Puckerman, this is Abrams, Hudson, Chang and Rutherford." Kurt gestured to each of the boys in turn. Puck summed them up in the following fashion: "dweeb/nerd", "jock", "skinny jock", "black jock".
Various 'Hi's were said, and most went back to their breakfast. Kurt introduced each of them to Puck in greater detail. He started with Abrams, a skinny kid with crutches.
"Abrams is an IT wiz. Any problems with your laptop, or any of the school computers or printers, and he can fix it. You're supposed to ask Mr Wooller (he's the head of IT) if you've got technical problem, but there's only about ten kids in the school that he'll actually pay any attention to. And he hates the small fry, so all the juniors are terrified of him. The rest of the seniors he'll just treat as though they are A grade idiots. And he treats most of the staff the same way he treats the juniors. So most people come to Artie with computer troubles."
Artie smiled at Puck, nodded, then turned his attention back to his black pudding.
A strange smile spread across Kurt's face as he introduced the next along the table, a tall, gangly boy with dark hair. "This is Hudson. He's captain of the rugby team. I mentioned him last night?"
Puck's eyes widened as he took in the goofy grin on the boy's face. This was not who he had imagined when Hummel had said that he'd had the entire rugby team. Yeah, the guy was tall, but he was completely unassuming, trying to blend into the background. Not the alpha male he'd had in mind.
The reminder of last night also recalled to mind Kurt's mention of Abrams. So that was the kinky dude? He wasn't particularly surprised.
Kurt moved on: "That's Chang and Rutherford. They're both on the cricket and rugby teams; Chang's a wicked fast-bowler. He's also freakishly good at badminton. Rutherford's in charge of the basketball club - it's only an afterschool club at the moment 'cos there's no other schools to play against."
Puck exchanged nods with the two boys, who had been talking quietly to each other, then asked Kurt whilst jerking his head in Chang's direction, "How come you called him by his first name? And that Lye kid? You've only told me their surnames."
"You only call someone by his Christian name if he specifically asks you to. When you've been here a while, made a few friends, then maybe some guys will let you. Some guys never do, though. See that guy over there? The short-arse with the sideburns. That's Butler. No-one even knows his first name. On a side note, that guy next to him, that's Hissey. He's even shorter and has serious Short Man Syndrome about it. He might be tiny, but he once took Azimio to the floor. He's got a surprising amount of muscle, so don't piss him off."
Just as Kurt finished speaking, a short Indian man in a tweed suit entered the dining hall. All of the boys facing the door, whether they were eating or not, immediately stood up. The rest turned as they followed the lead and stood, recognising the headmaster. Kurt dragged Puck to his feet by his elbow (he had been gazing around in baffled amusement).
"Thank you, gentlemen! Please be seated and continue with your breakfasts as I tell you the timetable for this morning." Mr Figgins paused to allow the shuffling to cease before he continued. "First there will be house meetings in the usual places at nine o'clock. There are lots of interhouse competitions that you will need to work on, and your housemasters will distribute your timetables. You'll then all have PE until break at five to eleven. We will then start normal lessons with third lesson at eleven twenty. Thank you!"
Puck looked at Kurt in confusion. "Translation, please?"
Kurt sighed. "I'll explain as we go along; I don't want your brain to explode from too much to think about at once. We've got house meetings first. You'll get your timetable and they'll tell us about the House competitions this year. The big one this term is the Interhouse Music Competition. It's probably the most hotly contested one of all."
"Dude, music?"
"Yes, Puckerman, music. Not all of us are talentless Neanderthals. There are two halves to the final concert. First is the solo section, which no-one really cares about 'cept the people who are in it, then there's the choir section. I think people care about it just because they have to put so much work in. Basically, every single person in the school is a member of their house choir, which sings one song at the concert. Then there's also the singing group, which has thirty or so of the best singers in the house. I've been in the York singing group since I was in Year Seven.
"Anyway, the house choir and the singing group both perform a song. The house choir usually do a rocky, poppy kind of song. We've done Bon Jovi, Tina Turner, The Rembrants, all sorts. The singing group usually do some kind love song. Last year we did Bryan Adams' Everything I Do.
"But because the songs usually have pretty complicated arrangements, and because a lot of the boys have no singing training at all, we spend basically the entire half term rehearsing. All your lunch breaks and evening time are spent rehearsing." Kurt paused to consider this. "Well, if you're only in the house choir, then I suppose it's less. But when you're doing both songs you put so much time in that winning House Music really is all that matters by the end of it all."
Puck tried to take this all in: "So, everyone in the school has to sing?"
"Yep."
"Even if they don't want to?"
"Yep."
"Even if they can't sing for sh-" Puck stopped as Kurt thumped his arm again. "Dude, that's getting annoying."
"Watch your mouth, then." Kurt was unapologetic.
Puck went back to his original question, "Even if you can't sing in tune?"
"Oh yes." Kurt smiled ruefully as the rest of the boys at the table did the same. "Remember Bottrill?" They all nodded emphatically as Kurt turned back to Puck. "Bottrill couldn't sing. I mean really, couldn't hit a note. But whenever they told us to sing louder, he did. It turned out to be a really effective way to increasing the volume of the rest of us because we all sang louder just to drown him out."
Puck chuckled politely, as the rest of the boys started to gather together their plates and things. Kurt noticed and checked his watch. "It's nearly nine, Puckerman. House meeting.
Kurt got up, gathering his plates and gesturing to Puck to do the same. They deposited them at the clearing hatch and made their way to the corridor with the rest of the boys.
"So Hummel, where's this house meeting?"
"York house meetings are always in the non-fiction library, 'cept when we've got rehearsals for House Music. It's one of the only rooms big entire for the entire house. Windsor go in the fiction library, and Gloucester in the drawing room."
As they walked, Kurt pointed out various rooms. "This is White Hall. It's a corridor really, but it's kind of the central point of the school. Mr Figgins' study's there - be careful if you ever go in there, the door is really well hidden in the panelling when you try to leave. When I first came for my interview I couldn't find it and he had to open the door for me.
"Those are Main Stairs; only staff and prefects are allowed to use them. That's why we came down by the music room stairs.
"This is the Drawing Room - that grand in the corner is free to use whenever if there's no-one in here. Obviously not right now, the Gloucesters have taken it over.
"School office over there - if you ever need permission forms or things like that, that's where you go.
"That's the fiction library. You're supposed to check books out every time, but if Mrs Chapman's not around (she's the librarian) you can just take 'em and put 'em back later.
"And this is the non-fiction library. Art and DT and all that is through those doors at the back. This is kind of a thoroughfare normally. Grab a seat - kick a Year Seven off if they don't move out of the way."
Puck didn't need to resort to that, though - all of the younger boys had scurried away as the Sixth Formers had approached. Puck sat and took in the conversation around him. Friends in different years were reuniting, discussing sports matches, comparing girlfriends, insulting each other, and generally acting like normal teenage boys. Human nature, Puck realised, was the same all over, whether at McKinley High in Lima, Ohio or St Joseph's College in Hertfordshire, England.
The chatter ceased as the doors opened and Mr Skilton strode in, followed by a fairly tall boy with curly hair, a black fleur-de-lys on his tie, and a blue badge on his lapel marked "Y".
All those boys who had been seated rose as Mr Skilton entered, sitting down as he flapped his hand at them.
"Alright, gents, we've got a lot to get through today. For those of you who are new, and I know we have quite a few new boys here, I am Mr Skilton, your housemaster. I think I've spoken to most of you already at some point, and if I haven't, I'm sure I'll see you around the house. I'm here to talk if you need any help with schoolwork or personal matters. I will also come down hard on you if you get too many order marks or demerits." He looked sternly at them as he said this last part.
"This is William Schuester. He's your Head of House, the prefect responsible for York house. He is always happy to talk if you have problems you don't want to talk to a member of staff."
The first part of the meeting went past in a blur of timetables, reminders of rules and introductions of various prefects.
As the clock neared quarter to ten, Mr Skilton took his leave, and left the rest of the meeting to Schuester, who started an eager spiel about the upcoming Interhouse Music Competitions. Most of the new boys listened attentively, but as Kurt had already explained what the competition was, Puck let his mind wander. He'd often enjoyed singing along to his music in his truck and in the shower, but never wanted to sing in front of anybody - he knew the grief he'd have got for it if he'd joined McKinley's joy club, or whatever that choir thing with the Berry chick was. But here, he could sing as part of a choir and not get mocked for it. He quite liked the idea.
Kurt brought his attention back by tugging on his sleeve and nodding in Schuester's direction. He was about to announce the songs to be sung that year in the choir competition.
"Alright, guys. This year we're gonna do a classic for the house choir piece - Queen's Don't Stop Me Now. We can put some nice arrangements in, and it's such an upbeat song I'm sure we won't have any trouble keeping up the enthusiasm. For the singing group, I've picked Mika's Happy Ending. It's got some nice harmonies in it, and Potterton's already got some great arrangements worked out. We need four or five people from each year to be in the singing group, so anyone who wants to be in it, sign up on this sheet on your way out.
"Right, you've all got PE next, so I'll let you go ten minutes early to get your kit on. The first house choir rehearsal will be tomorrow lunch break, so make sure you all go to first serving and be in the music room at one o'clock. I think that's everything, so off you go!"
The crowded room gradually emptied as the boys filed out (in strict hierarchical order, of course). Kurt signed up for the singing group as he left, as did all of the York boys Puck had met at breakfast. As Kurt approached the door with his mates, he turned to check that Puck was still with them. He was surprised to see the shaven-headed boy signing his name on the bottom of the list, and making some comment to Schuester about Queen. Puckerman, the self-proclaimed 'badass' joining a singing group... who'd have thought it?
Kurt waited at the door for Puck to reach him, then led the way back to their dorm to get their PE kit.
"Normally, we'd change for PE in the changing rooms, and we keep our kit down there, but everything's kinda floopy today so we're changing in our dorms. I should probably warn you now - we aren't normally allowed up to the dorms between breakfast and lunch, and lunch and tea, so make sure you bring all your stuff down with you in the mornings."
"Okay," Puck answered as they climbed yet another staircase. "How long does it take to learn your way round this place, dude? It's like fuckin' Hogwarts."
"Language!" Kurt hissed at him. "There's Year Eights just down there, set an example!"
Puck jerked his head non-committally. As soon as they were in their dorm, Kurt fished out a sports holdall from his wardrobe and made his way for the door. "You have all your PE kit, right? Tracksuits, shirt, trainers, all that jazz? And please tell me you do have the right colour house stripe..."
Puck rummaged in his own wardrobe and grabbed the articles described. "All here, Hummel."
"Right, well, you get changed in here. I'm just nipping down the corridor, I'll be back in..." Kurt checked his watch. "Five minutes. Then I'll show you the way to the PA Hall."
"The what now?"
"The PA Hall. Prince Albert Hall. The sports hall!" With which words, Kurt darted out of the door and down the corridor.
Puck picked up his clothes, and started dressing. He was surprised that Hummel was such a prude about getting dressed in front of him, since they'd fucked the night before.
Kurt walked down the corridor past a door on his right, and knocked at the next.
"Mike? Matt? You in?" Kurt opened the door, and a disgruntled expression appeared on his face. "You started without me!"
Matt was lying on his back halfway down his bed, shirtless, but with his trousers still on. Mike was naked, straddling Matt's face, his cock slowly easing in and out of the bigger boy's mouth.
"Sorry, mate," came Mike's strangled reply. "Not much time..." the words devolved into a groan as Matt started to move his tongue, his hand reaching up to fondle the Chinese boy's balls.
"Well, I'd best catch up, then, hadn't I?" Kurt said, removing his clothes much haste and laying them over the back of a convenient chair. He grabbed a pillow from Mike's bed, placed it on the ground at the foot of Matt's, and knelt between Matt's legs. He quickly divested Matt's legs of trousers, shoes, socks and pants, and took the black boy's cock into his mouth in one smooth motion, the familiarity of the movement coming back sharply as he did so. He worked his mouth quickly around Matt's cock, knowing exactly what worked best to get him off quickly. He could tell it was working when deep groans started reverberating from Matt's throat, which in turn caused Mike to start gasping with pleasure. No sound could be heard but the rhythmic thrusting of the boys against each other, and their muffled cried of pleasure as they tried not to yell aloud. The three of them hadn't been together for two months - this was going to be over fast. Mike was the first to come, spilling into Matt's throat. They had all been tested, and they all made sure to use protection when with anyone but the other two, so they never used condoms when it was just the three of them. As Mike recovered, he felt the first waves of Matt's orgasm rush over the boy beneath him. Mike slid quickly off the bed, and around to kneel behind Kurt, his legs spread to fit the pale boy between them. As Kurt sucked down the last of Matt's come, Mike reached around to jerk Kurt's cock. It only took a few strokes before Kurt was coming, spurting over Mike's hand. Kurt leaned back and twisted round to kiss Mike.
"God, I've missed you," Kurt murmured as he pulled away. He rubbed his hand affectionately on Matt's thigh. "Both of you."
"Fuck!" This came from Matt, who had just rolled over onto his side and noticed the clock. "We've got two minutes to get down to the PA Hall!"