A/N: Please read: WARNINGS - mentions of rape, ephebophilia, really fucking creepy teacher, ANGST ANGST ANGST. DISCLAIMER: The poetry used here is not mine. The first poetry used is "The Angel" by William Blake. Then "'It was wrong to do this,' said the angel" by Stephen Crane is quoted throughout the whole thing, and then finally "God permits industrious angels" by Emily Dickinson is used. CREEPINESS ALERT.
Prompt (from the kink meme, from the angst meme, and from the K/Bl meme): The English teacher at Dalton is kinda creepy. All the guys agree that there's just something not right about Mr. Hopper. He's looks normal yeah, but he *touches* and *stares.* He also has this weird hobby of collecting porcelain figurines. They're all over his desk. Then one day, Kurt Hummel walks in Mr. Hopper's classroom door. Mr. Hopper has never had a real, live porcelain doll before. Mr. Hopper starts getting really inappropriate with Kurt (up to anon how far it goes, but I would like it to get pretty...intense). Blaine finds out. .it.
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After he unpacks the pencils, the globe, the worn text-books with the frayed, abused edges, the poster that reads "Big Brother is Watching YOU," the poster with that one cat that hates Mondays, and his desk calendar, only one box remains.
He opens it slowly, carefully, and pulls out four tiny, winged figurines. He places them in a row at the front of his desk.
Big, blue eyes peer up at him from under thick, plastic eyelashes.
He hates the new job immediately.
For private school students, they're so obviously uninterested in education. They slouch in their seats and look at him with bored eyes, they chew their gum and whisper loudly, they text and they shuffle and they're so uncoordinated, why can't they just sit still - this is interesting, English is interesting, and the worst part of his first day is when this blonde haired hooligan steps up to his desk and says "What's up with the dolls?"
Mr. Hopper looks at him coolly and says "What's up with the grammar?"
The bell rings and the blonde moves out of the classroom, talking with a shorter boy with large teeth and over-the-top hair.
"The dolls are creepy," Mr. Hopper hears the short boy chuckle. "But Jeff, you can't talk like that to a teacher."
He's got more of the dolls at home, of course he does, and he touches them all the time because they're so soft and unmarred, no one has ever touched them but him and oh God, sometimes, sometimes he just pulls them close and he feels the glass press smoothly into his skin, feels their eyelashes bat up against his cheek and they live like flowers, hold malice like puppies and wage wars like lambkins, and this world doesn't, this world is cruel and vulgar and he'll set them back down again and they just keep looking, looking, looking, never closing their eyes to his love and they'll always be there, he takes such good care of them and their wings still remain in tact, shielded to a world of gracelessness and hate.
It continues on like that, for awhile. Dalton is prestigious and classless all at once.
So it continues on. But not for long.
He comes to class three days later, pale and pretty and porcelain. Mr. Hopper looks back at his desk to make sure each angel is still there, that one of them didn't decide to shuck their wings and join the hopeless.
They're still there, as pretty and pale and porcelain as ever.
The new boy shakes his hand – calls himself Kurt, Kurt Hummel – and he sounds like every bit the fallen angel he is, shattered and meek, and his hand is cold, cold like smooth glass and when he goes to sit down he is graceful and attentive, looking up at the board with glassy blue eyes.
The original assignment for the day? Turn to page thirty-two in your literature textbooks and do a close reading for "The Monkey's Paw."
Mr. Hopper tells the class to turn to page seventy-four.
Analyze "The Angel" by William Blake. Use TPCASTT format.
Soon my Angel came again,
I was arm'd, he came in vain.
(Mr. Hopper doesn't like eavesdropping, really – but he can't help it. That short kid is so loud, and Kurt Hummel is so beautiful.
"I love poetry. Don't you?" Soft and lilting.
"It's alright. You know me! I prefer it with a beat." Cocky and obnoxious. Unappreciative.)
That night he goes home and he lies in bed and thinks about the papers he has to grade and the meeting with the principal and that perfect boy who belongs on his desk, in his home, on a shelf. That perfect boy whose eyes are like the sky and whose hair is shiny and light, whose smile beams like salvation but his posture oozes terror and anxiety and his wings are bruised and dirty but not for long, not for long, he's so frail and lonely but not for long for angels never fall far, never ever ever.
Mr. Hopper shakes when he spills over his hand and he mutters "redemption redemption redemption."
He watches the angel in class, watches him giggle and laugh at that short kid – he thinks his name is Blake but he's not too sure – Mr. Hopper watches Kurt blush prettily and speak breathlessly, and it startles him to realize that Kurt is not playing coy, he's truly innocent and Mr. Hopper suddenly feels at peace with the world, even though Blake leers at his perfect angel, even though Blake doesn't stop touching his angel, his arms, his shoulders, his hands and when Mr. Hopper suddenly calls out "Blake, please keep your hands to yourself" it's not about jealously or bitterness because he knows that Blake couldn't know Kurt the way he does, couldn't appreciate the workings of Kurt's beauty like he can.
"Sorry, Mr. Hopper." Blake blushes and it just makes him look tomato-faced and clumsy. "It's – my name is…my name is Blaine, though? You called me Blake, but that's okay-"
"That's quite enough, Blake."
It stops one day, though. Blake keeps trying to touch Kurt and Kurt, bless him, just brushes him off as if he were dirt, as if he were scum. Blake's eyes go all big and stupid and Kurt resolutely does not look at him and the assignment for the day is "The Angel and the Clown" by Vachel Lindsay.
("Kurt, you know that I like you just the way you are! It's just that the council-"
"I'm not mad, Blaine."
"You won't talk to me!"
"I'm just trying not to stand out."
"Blake? Stop hassling Mr. Hummel."
"Go to lunch, Blake. Kurt, would you like to eat here? I could really use some help grading your class' tests."
"I…that'd be wonderful, Mr. Hopper."
Kurt looks gorgeous. Blake looks heartbroken.
"Those dolls are creepy."
Blake is in his mind that night when he palms himself through his pajamas, but only as a demon. He's trying to rip the wings off of Kurt and Kurt cries, it's so pretty and lovely and his eyes are the most gorgeous shade of sea-green. Mr. Hopper steps in throws Blake off of him and hugs him long and hard, and Kurt's still crying but he's grateful, so grateful. They make love by Blake's battered body and Kurt's tears caress Mr. Hopper's skin, healing battle wounds and making promises for a heavenly future.
Kurt stays after class to help Mr. Hopper every day now, and every day Mr. Hopper gets to watch Blake's face fall. It's your own fault, Mr. Hopper things, he's beautiful and he's mine and it's your own fault.
Kurt grades the papers and doesn't stop talking. Mr. Hopper mainly just watches his plump, red lips move, but sometimes he listens:
"Who does he think he is, anyway? I'm tired of people telling me to hide who I am! Who I am is flawless."
"You're new here, Mr. Hopper. Surely you understand how daunting that is."
"They're robots, plain and simple, and this uniform is hideous. The blazers are so bulky and unflattering – you could literally hide a pair of wings under here!"
Mr. Hopper's pen presses so hard into his notepad that it tears.
The dolls aren't enough anymore, their eyes don't move and their lips are too pale and the glass warms too easily, not like Kurt's skin which is always cool and soft and the four little angels on his desk are so expressionless, it's nothing compared to Kurt's pretty, haunted little face and dear God he has to have him now, has to touch him now before anyone else does because anyone else will only hurt Kurt, will only rip off his halo and besmirch that innocence, that holiness. But the dolls' eyes are still so perfect, and Mr. Hopper comes so hard that night, thinking about wings under blazers and shy little smiles and creamy porcelain skin.
When Mr. Hopper finally, finally mentions it, Kurt is sitting beside him and grading papers with a red ink pen.
"Do you believe in angels, Mr. Hummel?"
Kurt's pen stops moving. A perfectly waxed eyebrow is lifted. "I'm more into science, Mr. Hopper. Reality and all that jazz."
Mr. Hopper smiles.
"Kurt, could you close the door?"
He has Kurt stay after class even more after that, not just after lunch. After the school days are over, Mr. Hopper's angel slowly steps into his class and shuts the door behind him, and he's positively shaking in anticipation for what Mr. Hopper is going to show him.
Mr. Hopper's only goal is to show his angel just how beautiful and ethereal he really is.
If he gets to come, too, well – that's only a bonus.
Kurt cries every single time they finish, just like in all of his fantasies. It's beautiful.
Sometimes Kurt even begs – "Please, no Mr. Hopper, no no no, I'll do anything."
Anything to shine.
It's hard work, worshipping Kurt. It's hard work to taste that smooth skin without biting down into it – but Mr. Hopper wouldn't dare, he wouldn't want to leave any imperfections. It's hard work, splaying Kurt over his desk just so, so that the papers beneath him span out like wings. But it's worth it.
Redemption redemption redemption.
When Kurt stops talking to Blake, Mr. Hopper realizes he's in love.
Blake tries everything to get Kurt to talk to him. An endless amount of coffee is brought. Something about solos is mentioned. Blake keeps talking about thinks like Rent and Barbra and something about – dear God – nude erections, but Kurt just looks ahead.
Kurt's eyes, Mr. Hopper notices, become more and more like his dolls' eyes every day. So wide and blank, but so adoring all the same.
("Kurt. Kurt, I don't know why you're mad, but you can't keep skipping glee club, alright? They're going to kick you out, and I'm so sorry for whatever I did to make you so angry, but I know how happy glee club makes you and you can't do this to yourself."
"Kurt? Kurt please.")
You don't deserve him, you fucking bastard, you stopped him from spreading his wings and now you're trying to take him from me, you little shit? He's mine, all fucking mine and I fuck him every single day over my desk and it's your entire fucking fault. You had your chance but you didn't believe, you didn't believe in him and you didn't worship him the way you're supposed to and now look, now look at me, look at how I protect him and shield him from fucking heathens like you, burn in hell burn in hell burn in fucking HELL!
"It's Blaine – but never mind. I just wanted…I just wanted to ask you about Kurt. He spends an awful lot of time with you and I'm sure you've noticed that something is really, really wrong with him. I just...is there something going on at home? Or, I'm sure you know about his bullying – I just…he's my best friend. Something's really, really wrong."
"I'm sure he's fine."
"Just because he's gotten over his little crush on you doesn't mean he's some damaged little boy, Blake. I think it's time for you to move on. Coming to me about this is incredibly inappropriate."
"He's here every single day, Mr. Hopper!" Blake's eyes go wide and his voice rises. "You don't think that's inappropriate?"
"Are you insinuating that something inappropriate is going on between Mr. Hummel and I, Mr. Anderson? Because that's a serious accusation. I'm sure you're aware of that."
Blake's face fell resignedly. He ran a hand through stiff, ugly curls. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Hopper. I'm just…worried. He's staying here after school all the time now and that means he's missing glee club, if he misses one more meeting he'll be barred. He loves singing, and I just…" He sighed. "I just want him to be happy, and I know he was close to his Spanish teacher at his old school so I can understand how he's…come to you for guidance. He doesn't talk to anyone else though and I'm worried that someone is messing with him."
"No one's messing with him Blake, trust me.")
He grabs a doll and smashes it onto the ground when Blake leaves his classroom, but that's okay because he's got the real thing now and the glass eyes rolling around on the floor are nothing compared to the glasz eyes gazing up at him when he pushes Kurt into the blackboard.
The battle starts like it does in his fantasy.
Blake grabs Kurt by the shoulders and yells "What is wrong with you? Please tell me Kurt, I just want to help!" but Kurt says nothing and Mr. Hopper drags him away, back to his classroom where Blake can't hurt him anymore, can't tear at those precious wings, those wings that have already been marked by so many other people.
When he closes the door behind him his lips immediately seek Kurt's and he can taste the salty tears already and the boy is so strong and firm underneath him, he can feel the boy rejuvenating, coming back to life, he can feel the light radiating from this perfect being, this perfect angel and…
And the door opens then and Blake's standing there in his seething rage with his horns and his hooves and his tail, and Mr. Hopper can see the burning jealousy there, can sense the envy in Blake's eyes as Mr. Hopper shoves his hand down his angel's pants, because all he wants to do is make his angel feel good about himself because Blake never could. Kurt's eyelashes moved against his cheek and he groans and –
And Blake screams. Fire burns in his eyes while he grabs Kurt by the shoulders and pulls him from Mr. Hopper, and he's still screaming, something about being a pedophile but what? Mr. Hopper keeps his eyes on Kurt while Blaine holds his teacher by the throat, repeating "How could you, he's a student, you sick son of a-"
Blake presses Mr. Hopper against the desk and his three remaining dolls fall on the floor with a loud crash, glass scattering all over the floor but Mr. Hopper oddly doesn't feel anything at all because his angel is there and looking on them and it'll be just like his dreams, Blake will perish for his sins and Mr. Hopper wins, he always wins.
And then Mrs. Reyes, a math teacher, pops in the doorway and Blake just keeps yelling "How could you do that to Kurt? All of this time and you were- you were so wrong to do that!"
They take him out in handcuffs, but it's worth it.
He can see Kurt cry while they shove him down the steps of the entrance. His eyes are still so blank, though, through all the tears, and Blake is never going to hurt him ever again. Mr. Copper and Kurt will meet again, in heaven, maybe, where all angels belong.
God calls home - the Angels - promptly -
At the Setting Sun.