Here you go, several deleted scenes and some talk about Sam's family!

.

.


HOW THINGS WORK

Bonus Features


.

Deleted Scene: Winky

Originally, this scene was meant to follow the break-up scene in chapter 25. Unfortunately, the tone was just too different for the rest of the fic for it to fit, but it's too fun to leave out entirely.


When Will walked into the choir room, Kurt was sitting right in the middle of the other Glee clubbers, his fingers linked through Mercedes', leaning against her side. Finn and Puck sat just behind him on either side, while Matt and Mike flanked him in the row ahead of him. Quinn sat to his right, while Rachel sat directly behind him and Artie directly in front with Tina cross-legged on the floor by his feet. Santana and Brittany were sitting in the back corner, near Puck, as usual, though they both kept darting glances Kurt's way when they weren't looking at something just over Will's shoulder. The whole club, actually, seemed to keep looking over his shoulder.

Will raised an eyebrow, but aside from a few snickers, none of the kids said anything. He hoped the trepidation wasn't too obvious on his face as he turned around.

There, on a shelf behind the piano, was the unmistakable form of a stylized red plastic penis. And it was wearing a tiny, hand-knit sweater with the McKinley Titans' logo. "What the..."

"We call him Winky," Puck dead-panned. "He's our new mascot."

"I think he's hot," Brittany chirped. "I'd totally do him."

Will cringed, raising a hand to rub his forehead as Kurt spoke up.

"I'm sure you'll find morale greatly improving with him around to help out."

"It's been a rough year, Mr. Schu," Rachel said. As Will turned to eye her speculatively (which of these twelve had brought that thing in!), she leaned forward, putting her hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We could all use the laughter and..." she grinned a little, "pleasure that Winky can bring us."

More snickers broke out at Rachel's words. Kurt gave a hasty cough into his hand before reaching up to touch Rachel's fingers.

Will sighed. "Look, guys, I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves, but I don't think this... Winky is an appropriate mascot."

Santana huffed from her corner, rolling her eyes and giving her ponytail a toss. "Don't worry, Mr. Schu. Coach Sylvester already knows he's here, and she thinks it's a great way to throw you off your game by rubbing your nose in your blatantly obvious sexual proclivities, as implied by your ridiculously curly wannabe 'fro. No one's going to get in trouble for it."


Deleted Scenes: Humiliation

Originally, Kurt was going to successfully break up with Sam after learning the full extent of Sam's manipulation. This was going to upset Sam—he's the dumper, not the dumpee—so he set out to make Kurt regret his decision to leave. Here are the two first drafts of the confrontation in the Spanish room (chapter 16)… and what could have happened to Kurt if he had dumped Sam before Sectionals.

Take One

Sam just squeezed harder, making Kurt wince. "Oh no, Hummel. You don't get it. No one dumps me."

For the first time in Sam's presence, Kurt felt a flicker of fear, and he yanked harder on his wrist. "Let me go!" His fingers were already starting to throb from Sam's grip cutting off circulation.

"So Puckerman talked to you," Sam said, sliding off the table and dragging Kurt closer. "What did he tell you?"

"Let me go!" Kurt threw a punch at Sam, but the taller boy grabbed his fist and slammed it to the table, twisting until he had Kurt pinned against it. Kurt thrashed, but Sam held him down, bent over the table, arms stretched above his head. Kurt's heart was pounding in his chest, but there was none of usual lustful haze accompanying this position. Kurt's mind was only too clear, his body cold beneath Sam's weight.

"You do not want to break up with me," Sam growled into Kurt's ear. "I'm the only thing keeping those homophobic mammoths off of you. You dump me, and they'll break you over their leg. If they don't fuck you first. For some reason, they think that the best way to shut up a fag now is to stuff their dick in his mouth. You want that, baby? Want to be their little cockslut?"

SING, Kurt thought. Stomach, instep, nose, groin. He was trying to ignore Sam's words, focusing instead on getting out of this situation. Stomach and groin were out of the question in this position, but Kurt could feel Sam's feet by his, and his nose was, of course, right behind Kurt's head. Kurt bucked up with a shout, driving his head back into Sam's face even as he stomped as hard as he could on the other's foot. Sam howled in pain, releasing Kurt's arms and staggering back, clutching at his face. Kurt didn't even look back. The moment he was freed, he bolted, running from the room, from the school, as fast as he could.

The parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars belonging to people with after-school clubs and some of the teachers. Finn was sitting in his truck, seat reclined, long legs stretched out the open door of the cab, texting someone on his phone. He had promised to wait for Kurt to talk to Sam, and Kurt was never more grateful to see the taller boy. He flew to the passenger's side, yanking the door open and all but throwing himself into the seat, his whole body shaking.

"Kurt!" Finn swung his legs into the truck, twisting around to face the smaller boy. "Kurt, what's wrong!"

Kurt had curled forward, hunched over his legs, his hands tentatively creeping over the back of his head. "I think I broke his nose," he whimpered, prodding the tender spot on the back of his skull where he had made contact with Sam. Finn stretched out one hand toward Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt flinched violently away, pressing up against the door. "Don't touch me!"

"What the hell happened, Kurt?" Finn demanded. "You're shaking! Did you run into some of those muscle-heads?"

Kurt shook his head, pressing his hand over the sore spot, wishing he could erase this slimy feeling.

"Was it Sam?" Finn asked, his voice so earnest, just trying to be helpful. Kurt sucked in a breath and nodded a little. "Did he hurt you?" Kurt nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut. "Where?" It was another demand, and one that had hints of Burt-Hummel scariness. Kurt mutely held out his right arm, showing Finn the wrist that was already bruising.

"He grabbed you," Finn said, wisely not trying to take Kurt's arm. There was a definite growl to his voice now, and he was yanking out his phone. "Dammit, that's it. Me and Puck are taking him down."

"N-no, Finn, don't do that," Kurt said, lifting his head to look at the taller boy, his face completely ashen, eyes unusually bright with the pain he was trying to fight down. "Just don't. I want to go home. Please. I just want to go home..."

Finn looked at Kurt, his fingers frozen over the buttons of his phone. Kurt reached out slowly, taking the phone from Finn's grasp and shutting it. "I ended things with him. He... didn't like it. But it's over now. It's all over. Like I said, I think I broke his nose." The more he talked, the easier it was, sliding into a character who was cool and collected and in control of the situation. "He just bruised my wrist. It's okay, Finn. He won't hurt me again. I just want to go home now."

"That's all he did?" Finn asked, looking Kurt over. "You're shaking like my old washer. And you look like crap."

Kurt nodded, forcing himself to straighten his back and return to his usual perfect posture. "He just grabbed my wrist harder than he intended, Finn. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"How did you break his nose?" Finn narrowed his eyes now, looking like he was struggling to put the pieces together.

"I... ran into him," Kurt said. "Er. Backwards. Also on accident."

"Kurt..."

"It's fine, Finn. We're over."

"Are you sure?" Finn asked. "Because that doesn't sound very fine to me..."

"He... said some things," Kurt said, looking down at his bruised wrist. "Hurtful things. I... Finn, please. I just want to go home."

Finn continued to watch Kurt for several minutes, and Kurt continued to watch his wrist (was it swelling?), unwilling to look Finn in the eye. Eventually, Finn gave a heavy sigh and readjusted his chair, swinging the truck door shut and starting the engine. "Okay. We can go home."

The drive home was spent in complete silence. Finn was scowling, and he kept glancing over at Kurt. Kurt just curled up as much as his seatbelt would allow, closing his eyes and trying his best to shut out the world. It wasn't until he was climbing out of the truck that he spoke again.

"Crap."

"What now?" Finn asked, slamming his door shut.

"I left my bag." Kurt remembered setting it down when he sat down to talk to Sam, but he hadn't bothered to pick it back up in his haste to get away.

"Where'd you leave it?" Finn asked.

"With Sam."


Take Two

"You don't get it-" Sam started, but he shut his mouth abruptly when Mr. Schu walked in, releasing Kurt's arm. Kurt yanked it back quickly, rubbing his sore wrist as he looked over at the Spanish teacher.

"Kurt, Sam! What are you two doing here?" Mr. Schu looked surprised to see them as he headed for his desk. "Did you need something?"

"We were just talking, Mr. Schuester," Sam said, getting to his feet. "Isn't that right, Kurt?" He draped his arm over Kurt's shoulders again.

Kurt ducked out of the embrace, backing away from Sam. This was far too reminiscent of the jocks chatting with Mr. Schu before throwing him in the dumpster. He picked up his bag and turned to Mr. Schu. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About Glee."

"Yeah, sure," Mr. Schu said. "I have to run these over to Figgins, but then we can talk. You want to wait in my office, or...?"

"It'll be quick," Kurt said with a shake of his head. "I can walk with you. Good-bye, Sam."

"This isn't over," Sam said, taking a step toward Kurt, but Kurt took another step back, shaking his head.

"Yes, it is."

Mr. Schu looked between the boys, frowning slightly. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's just peachy, Mr. Schu," Kurt said, turning away from Sam and heading toward the door. "Shall we go?"

After they had turned the corner out of the language hall, Mr. Schu looked down at Kurt. "'Just peachy?'"

Kurt gave a little shrug. "No, things aren't okay, but they'll be okay. It's nothing you have to worry about, Mr. Schu."

"Fair enough. What did you want to talk about?"

"Ah... actually, I can't even remember now." There was nothing Kurt had wanted to talk to Mr. Schu about; he had simply wanted to get away from Sam. Mr. Schu had been a convenient excuse. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll let you know if I remember."

"Okay..." Mr. Schu was frowning down at Kurt now. "You know, Kurt, you can talk to me if you need to. Or to Miss Pillsbury-"

"I don't need a counselor," Kurt said quickly. "I just... it's been a bad day."

"Slushies?"

Kurt shook his head. "No... but I got kicked off the Cheerios, so those'll probably be coming back." He sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Schu."

"Yes... wait... what? Kurt!"

"See you tomorrow!" Kurt called back firmly, ending the conversation as he turned and hurried away.


Finn was waiting for Kurt in the nearly-empty parking lot, his seat reclined all the way back, feet braced on the dash, looking surprisingly comfortable as he fiddled around with his phone. He had promised to stick around until after Kurt was done talking to Sam after class so Kurt wouldn't need to bum a ride off of his ex-boyfriend.

"You don't look too happy," Kurt commented as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Rachel having more drama?"

"Nope," Finn said, dropping his legs and putting his seat back into the proper position. "It's Puck."

"Puck's having drama?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow as he set his bag at his feet and buckled up.

"Puck cornered White after all," Finn said.

"Sam mentioned that," Kurt grumbled.

"Here." Finn passed his phone over to Kurt. "Read."

Kurt scrolled through the texts as Finn started the engine, frowning at the conversation.

You n me tonite

Gonna fuck up white

Y?

Had a litle chat w him b4 lunch

Fuckers fucking chicks

Pcss there?

"Pcss?" Kurt asked.

"Princess," Finn said. "You know, what he calls you."

"Just because I like tiaras doesn't make me a girl," Kurt muttered, looking back at the phone.

"Yeah, but... it's Puck. That just means he likes you. Not likes you, likes you, but, you know. He thinks you're cool."

"Puck thinks I'm cool?" Kurt found that hard to believe.

"Well... he's stopped beating you up, right?"

"I guess..." Kurt sighed, returning to the texts.

Hes talkin 2 white now

I told that shit to come clean to him

If he doesnt tell hummel im gonna

What time 2nite

9?

Sounds good

Kurts comming

Kurt scrolled up through the texts again, rereading Puck's. Fuckers fucking chicks. "You know," he murmured, "that really doesn't surprise me now."

"Are you mad?" Finn asked, glancing over as he drove.

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not... not anything. I did break up with him."

"I'd be mad."

Kurt sighed, leaning over to rest his head against the window. "I just feel empty."

Finn glanced over again, then reached over and squeezed Kurt's knee. "I'm sorry, bro."

"Don't beat him up tonight," Kurt murmured, covering Finn's hand with his own. "He's not worth it. Just leave him be."

"Puck's awfully pissed."

"Puck has no right to be," Kurt said. "I'm the one he hurt. I don't want Puck fighting my battles."

"You know he's just trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected. Especially not from Sam."

Finn frowned a little, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "What are you gonna tell your dad?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "Probably no details." He closed his eyes, squeezing Finn's hand. "Thank you."

Finn squeezed Kurt's knee again. "No problem, dude. You just let us know when it's okay to beat him up, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, his lips quirking up in a little smile. "I'll let you know."


Sam had tried calling Kurt several times after school on Monday, but Kurt refused to answer. Eventually, the blond resorted to texting.

Im sorry, baby. I miss you. Can we start again? Ill be the perfect boyfriend.

Kurt had rolled his eyes at the message that interrupted his moisturizing routine (a broken heart was no excuse for bad skin). He picked up the phone and composed a reply, giving himself a moment to make sure he really wanted to send it before shooting it off.

We're through. It's over. Consider yourself dumped.

If you dump me youll regret it

Only thing I regret is trusting you. Kurt had flipped his phone shut and flung it across the room before returning to his face.

That had been last night. Finn walked Kurt out of the parking lot that morning, both of them shooting dark looks toward the jocks gathered around the dumpsters, tossing a frizzy-haired nerd inside. They were joined by Puck just before reaching the door. "Dude, why'd you stop us last night?" he demanded, hands shoved in his pockets.

"My relationship with Sam is none of your business, Puck," Kurt replied, looking up at the jock through his D&G shades (the same ones he had been wearing when he first met—no, he would not think like that). "Defending my honor is also none of your business."

"But you're-"

"Capable of taking care of myself, I hope you were about to say." Kurt stopped walking and waited for Finn and Puck to turn and face him, planting his hands on his hips. "Look. I appreciate your concern, really, I do, and I'm even flattered that I have apparently moved up far enough on your scale of 'people I don't mind' for you to be trying to defend me instead of being the ones pushing me around—yes, Finn, you too. But I don't want your defense. Please, try to understand that. I'd much rather be on my own right now."

"You'll get slushied," Puck said. "You want that?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kurt sighed. "Thank you for your concern, but please... just leave me alone." He dropped his hands and pushed past the two, lifting his chin, setting his mouth. Someday, everyone here will work for me...

People were looking at him, Kurt noticed as he headed to his locker. And not looking in a good way. There was covered smiles, whispering... and far too many glances his way for it just to be a coincidence. Ordinarily, Kurt would have reveled in the attention being bestowed upon him, but there was something vaguely creepy about having snickers directed at you. Kurt was starting to wish he hadn't shaken off Finn and Puck so quickly. Hastily grabbing his books, Kurt slammed his locker and made his way to Mercedes'

Rachel and Mercedes were both at her locker, but to Kurt's surprise, they had Jacob ben Israel pinned against the metal between them, talking to him in low, hissing voices, jabbing their fingers against his chest. Kurt approached slowly, looking around. "What's going on, guys?"

"Kurt Hummel!" Jacob yanked out his pocket recorder, thrusting it into Kurt's face. "Is it true that Sam White broke up with you after finding you in the backroom of your dad's garage, porking with three of his mechanics?"

"W-what!" Kurt stepped back, his eyes wide. "What the hell! No way!"

"So they didn't do you two at a time?"

"Shut up, Jacob!" Rachel snapped, shoving her finger into Jacob's shoulder again. "We told you, all those things are lies! Now take them off your blog!"

"Ooh, boy, you are in for a world of hurt, spreading rumors about my man Kurt!" Mercedes agreed, shoving Jacob back against the lockers again.

"Spreading rumors?" Kurt asked, feeling lightheaded. "Rumors like that one?" He glanced around again, realizing just how many of the other students were glancing his way and snickering.

"The power of the press can't be stopped," Jacob said, not sounding apologetic at all. "I put up a compilation of the juiciest stories on my blog last night. What about the one where Coach Sylvester caught you jerking off on her desk, so she canned you from the Cheerios?"

"That's not true either." Kurt shook his head. "None of them are true... you posted them! How could you?"

"Scandal sells," Jacob informed Kurt, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And you and Sam White were some sort of gender-bending power couple. This could be as big as Quinn Fabray's babygate last year. My number of hits is showing promise. I've whetted McKinley High's appetite, but now I need more meat to feed 'em. Tell me, Kurt, in your own words, what was the best part about sex with Sam White?"

youll regret it. Kurt's phone still had Sam's last text on it. This was Sam's doing. It had to be Sam's doing. At least the rumors were all lies. Kurt reeled in his gaping fish-face impersonation and grabbed Jacob's hand with the recorder, pulling it close, a furious gleam in his eyes. "The best part," he said, "the only part about White attempting sex, was getting to laugh over the ridiculously miniscule size of his penis. And don't get me started on his nonexistent balls. Mercedes! Rachel! Come on. He's not worth our time." Pushing Jacob's hand away, Kurt twisted on his heel and stalked off down the hall.


As always, the choir room was a sanctuary for the Gleeks. Brittany and Santana were sitting there already, leaning over Artie's shoulder as he did something on his laptop. Kurt had a sinking feeling he knew what blog Artie was reading. Tina was pacing back and forth, tugging on a red-dyed lock of hair. They all looked up when Kurt, Rachel, and Mercedes entered the room.

"No luck," Rachel said, flouncing into a seat near Brittany. "He wouldn't budge. Didn't even offer to let me bribe him with a pair of underwear again!"

"Ew." Santana turned look levelly at Kurt. "Is it true you're off the Cheerios?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, sitting on the piano bench. "Vocal performances have been banned from tournaments. It has nothing to do with Coach Sylvester's desk."

"Is it true that you like bukkake too?" Brittany asked, cocking her head to the side and staring over at Kurt. "That's so cool. I've never met a boy who likes bukkake before..."

"I... don't even know what bukkake is," Kurt replied.

"It's when you get naked and let a whole bunch of guys cum all over your face," Brittany informed him. "It's really good for my skin," she continued, when Kurt blanched.

"I... uh... I'm not into bukkake," Kurt stuttered. "Sorry, Brittany."

"Dude!" The choir room door burst open and slammed into the wall, making everyone already inside jump. It was just Finn and Matt, though, dragging Puck along with them. "Is Kurt here? Kurt! Everyone's talking about you..." Mike came through shortly after the other three, closing the door behind them.

"I know," Kurt said, closing his eyes and covering them with one hand. "It's on Jacob's blog."

"Oh." Finn nodded, releasing Puck's arm. "That makes sense."

"Dude! Why'd you stop me?"

"Kurt said no."

"What did I say no to?" Kurt asked dully. "Because from the sounds of it, I've been saying 'yes' to everything."

"Including a horse," Artie pointed out unhelpfully.

"I have never had sex with a horse." Kurt said, slamming his hands on the piano keys. "I have never done bukkake, never... never porked with the mechanics at the garage, never jerked off on Coach Sylvester's desk, never... probably never any of the other crap he talks about!"

Artie was nodding. "Yeah, none of this sounds like you at all. Er. Except the bit where you're a castrato. Is that true?"

"I am not a castrato," Kurt ground out. "My balls are intact, thank you very much."

"Your boytoy's been smirking it up in the halls," Puck said, shaking Matt's hands off his other arm and stalking over to grab a chair, twisting it around and sitting backwards in it. "Fucking acting like he owns the place now."

"He's not my boytoy." Kurt sank his head into his hands. "I didn't do any of that..."

"We know, Kurt." Tina sat down beside Kurt on the bench, putting her hand on his back. "We know you. We believe you. You don't have to defend yourself to us."

"Tina's right. Jacob's just a big weasel anyway," Rachel said. "He'd do anything to get the popular kids talking about him, thinks he's Perez Hilton or something."

"No matter what Jacob says," Mercedes assured him, "you'll always fit in right here with us. We love you."


Useless Trivia

For more about Sam's family, check out the Dinner Scene fic by Fearful Little Thing! It is an approved addition to the How Things Work universe! http:/ /www. fanfiction. net/s/6323704/1/ How_Things_Work_The_Dinner_Scene

Sam's parents are Eddie Orchard and Candi LeBlanc (I know, I know, no White? It'll come). Eddie is a crimelord with a penchant for killing people and causing pain. Candi is his femme fatale, a knockout blonde beauty with a slight addiction to plastic surgery. Eddie's number one nemesis is a detective named Sam. When Candi got knocked up (by Eddie, and not one of her other beaus), Eddie named the boy 'Sam,' after, yes, his enemy. Why? Because he thought it would be funny. And he respects Sam, even though he hates him.

But Eddie's leaving a double life as a very well-off businessman, Candi his armcandy, and when Sam's sniffing starts getting to be too much, Eddie leaves wherever they're living, just packs up the family and goes off. Sam grows up being used to moving around a lot.

About seven years ago, Eddie married Candi officially in an attempt to throw off the police. He took her surname instead of giving her his, and then, to make it a step more confusing, he used the English version of her French name-LeBlanc = The White. So they became Eddie and Candi White, with little Sam White as their ten year old son.

This odd changing of their last name was what made Sam think that Daddy's doing things he shouldn't be, though Eddie is very good about not bringing his work home.

They settled in NYC for a while, which Eddie loved. Lots of connections, lots of energy, lots of places to hide bodies. But the police eventually started noticing, and now the Whites have moved to podunk town, Ohio, to really lay low. Eddie is trying to content himself with petty robberies and vandalism, with the two parents jetting out on business trips or honeymoons to give Eddie some more space to practice his true business.

And Sam? He's practically fully grown. Eddie and Candi leave him on his own most of the time, with the one instruction: Don't kill anyone or knock anyone up.