Hello!

WOW this was suppose to be another Wevid Anachronicals short but it sort of ran away from me... Plus it real centers around all the Warblers, not just Wes and David.

A little short of the light and fluff this time and Wes is a little more serious in this one. But he's still Wes and I hope you guys still love him!

Enjoy,

Bree Z Claire

I don't own anything. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters, quotes, references, and etc. belong to their respected owners.

"He's inhuman—"

"A devil in disguise—"

"The Scrooge of all Scrooges—"

"And probably the Grinch who stole Christmas too!"

The boys half-ran down the hallway, exceptionally eager to get out of class, knocking bags and shouldering one another as they dodged looks from passing teachers. Preferring to stay out of the open where their insults could be heard from all angles, they all ducked into the senior commons.

David crashed into a large armchair and sank in as the plush leather ate him up. He was too distracted to be frustrated as he usually would be. Nearby, Blaine sunk down on the piano bench as Kurt paced the hardwood floors, heels clicking with obvious annoyance and barely contained rage. The few boys that had been in the room before the angry teenagers barged in sensed the tension. They packed up their bags and made a hasty escape.

No one wanted to get their heads bitten off by a pissed off Kurt Hummel. Not after the time some unfortunately soul spilt chocolate pudding on his uniform in the cafeteria line…

"Well? What are we going to do? I am not spending an entire term with that man." That man was Mr. Harris, their new English teacher, and one of the most terrifying teachers in all of Dalton Academy history.

"We're seniors now; we shouldn't have to put up with this anymore, especially not here." Blaine ran a hand down his face and looked pass his boyfriend to the small brunet near the window, sitting with his legs tucked into his chest.

Even though Dalton had a strict zero-tolerance harassment policy, there were still ways to get around it and get off Scott free. The school had a reputation of being 'a rich-boy school,' which more often than not brought on unwelcomed taunts and teases. One teacher in particular loved bringing them down a peg or two, and though on rare occasions it was warranted –Sebastian's father was the state attorney and because of it the boy walked around like he owned the damn place – Blaine wouldn't wish the treatment on anyone. Especially not on one of his own friends.

Jeff sat on the bay window seat as well, a hand placed on his friend's shoulder, whispering small words of encouragement and comfort. Mr. Harris was respected among the teachers and staff, but he could be cruel and harsh as shown through his profuse use of insults hidden in undermined encouragement. On top of that, as an English teacher, the man was like an human thesaurus with a vocabulary extending beyond what the boys could comprehend. He did it on purpose, they all knew that, and loved making them all feel like a class of idiots.

Kurt had the best chance of keeping up, but his biting comebacks often left him with a trip to the Dean's office. A few boys on the couch grumbled something about slashing tires but Thad scolded them saying something along the lines of ungentleman-like behaviour and "We're better than that."

"Thad's right," Sebastian admitted reluctantly. "Stunts like that would only make things worse for us."

"Can't we sue him or something, isn't that what your daddy's good for?"

"My dad has better things to do than to deal with a bunch of school-kid problems."

Blaine raised his head and turned to David, ignoring the rowdy back-and-forth between the Warblers. "Where's Wes?"

"What?"

"His royal highness, what the hell is he going to do?" Sebastian quipped but Blaine didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he rolled his eyes and asked David again.

"Wes, where's he at right now?"

"Student council office with his pen of doom," Wes' 'pen of doom' matched his roll of student council president just as the gavel fit his position of Warbler councilman. It was an infuriating device, half-pen-half-recorder, which Wes kept on his persons at all time to record class lectures and club debates. David hated that stupid blinking light almost as much as the Warblers feared the gavel.

"He's still in school?"

"Of course."

Thanks to his stellar GPA and love of summer school – read: C.R.A.Z.Y – Wes only needed to take half the courses the others were taking. Blaine remembered thinking that the boy must really have loved school because even though he could've gone home by mid-morning, he stayed the entire day to tutor and organize school events along with tending to the student council affairs. "Why?"

Blaine and Kurt shared a look. Their eyes spoke a silent exchange:

"What are you thinking?" Kurt narrowed his eye.

"Wes."

"What about him? He won't do anything, would he?"

"To protect the Warblers, he'll do anything."

The couple nodded after a few seconds and Blaine stood up. "Guys," his classmates looked up at the smiling boy. He gave Jeff a nod, a simple gesture telling the blond to stay with his friend, and waved a hand to David who hesitantly sat up. "I have an idea."

~ oOo ~

"No."

"C'mon, Wes, you didn't even think about it."

"Fine, I'll think about it," The Asian looked up in thought, tilting his head for good measure and hummed. "No."

Kurt shoved his boyfriend out of the way. It was the end of the day and the three boys walked down to the student council room where Wes was just wrapping up a meeting. David stood by the door to keep watch because technically they weren't suppose to be in there; just like the Warbler room was open only to Warblers, such was the same about the student council room. Blaine and Kurt were left to the negotiations – if you could call it that. Mostly because Kurt with raging something furious and Blaine was there to keep his boyfriend from tearing out someone's throat.

David knew it was long shot, asking Wes to go against a teacher. The boy had a borderline unhealthy allegiance to rules, regulations and those enforcing said rules and regulations. For him to agree to go against Mr. Harris, as horrible a man as he may be, it was like asking Wes to go against a part of himself. He sighed and stood under the doorway. It was after hours but a few teachers were still around.

"Wes," Kurt snapped and pressed his palms down on the table, splay his long fingers against the hard surface. His voice echoed down the stone halls when he all but yelled, "That man is a terror. He said fashion was dead and that's why we have uniforms! Dear lord, it was like my worst nightmare come to life." Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Uniforms do keep up all in a state of unity." The head Warbler was in the middle of organizing forms for the next school fair, placing page after page in its respected pile. Wes placed a green form down before continuing in his usual calm tone, "Kurt, I appreciate you came to me to voice your concerns and though I understand your position, I simply cannot help you. Please, not now." The last bit was a hasty whisper, barely audible.

"Why not?" Blaine leaned and held out his hand, palm facing upwards in a plea of confusion. "Wes, this man is harassing students."

"Mr. Harris is a respected member of the school board who handles the funding of student clubs as well as coordinates parent-teacher events. Even if I were to speak out against him – which would be strange as I don't have him as a teacher — it would be his word against mine." He placed down a pink form before moving a few piles around the table.

"But you know what he's like." Blaine's voice wasn't as loud as Kurt's, but it carried all the same and David faintly wondered if he should be closing the door.

Wes paused a moment, seeming to debate whether or not there would be enough room to fit another pile onto the small rectangular desk before giving up and turning around to grab another folder instead. There was an irritating amount of paper shuffling until the boy spoke again. And of course he knew what they were talking about.

Mr. Harris had a way about him that was condescending, but in such a wiredrawn way that those around him were left in a constant state of unease without knowing why. It was for this very reason no one could ever report him or have him fired.

"Yes, but I personally haven't had any problems with him." I've grown up with enough men like him to know how to hold my own.

"What if we went to the Dean about it?" Blaine furrowed a brow and Kurt nodded.

"Surely if there are enough complaints they'll listen."

"And do what?" Wes took the papers out of the folder and began sorting them again. Blue, pink, green, yellow—where'd yellow come from? "For one thing, you have no proof of abuse, which won't exactly hold up in court if you decide to take it that far. It's your word against his, a respected and highly educated member of Dalton's high-society – he's an alumnus, by the way, and graduated valedictorian on his year."

He looked his friend in the eyes and continued in a low voice. "Even if you did notify the Dean about it he'd change tactics, maybe even claim his methods are a writhen way to motivate. Under the eyes of the Dean he wouldn't dare play his cards, and then the next thing you know the Dean turns his back and things are right back where they started."

"No one's ever spoken out against a teacher before. If there's an uprising now, obviously they'd know it's the teacher and not us!"

"It's well known that Dalton Academy prides itself on having the best of the best whether it be a student's grade point average, our school's room and boarding conditions, the keeping of our team equipment and club reputation, or the students and teachers themselves. These accusations of yours can't just be thrown around willy nilly unless you're prepared to face the consequences of the actions you intend to take."

Blaine frowned and took a long hard look at his friend. It was in Wes' nature to be formal, he knew that. He'd been raised as such and was preened into taking over the family business after school and it seemed like he was always stepping on the golden bricks leading him to his carefully planned destination. Blaine knew he would graduate at the top of their class on more reasons than one.

Wes was a treasured student and everyone recognized it. He was fair and just and stood up for what was right. Yes, he could go a little overboard with uniform dress code and scare his Warblers into silence with a single look and bang on his gavel, but he was never cold. Cold was not in the boy's heart. But what he was seeing now was very much touching that line.

"Why are you acting like this?" he narrowed his eyes at his friend and Kurt gave him a sideways glance, unsure what his boyfriend was talking about. David seemed to catch on though.

"And what," Wes straightened his papers and tossed them to the side, a loud flopping slap that snapped David out of his daze; he thought he saw shuffling in a classroom down the hall. He dismissed it as a figment of his active imagination. "Exactly would you have me do? I can't go around solving everyone else's problems when I have my own things to take care of."

"Yes, Wes, sorting through a multitude of paperwork must really take it out of you." Kurt hollered and stepped forward with an accusing finger. "You're student council president; you're Council Head of the Warblers; you're the student representative of the Westerville school board! Your students –your friends—are being bullied by some vainglorious arrogant elitist with a whack-job haircut that makes him look like a Backstreet Boys reject and you're just going to sit here and do nothing?"

Blaine pulled him back before things got physical and was surprised to see no fight in Wes' eyes. David had left his perch by the door at the start of Kurt's tirade and now stood halfway between the two boys, a hand squeezed gently on his best friend's shoulder. The four of them stood in tense silence and Blaine could've sworn he could hear a pin drop from across the courtyard it was so quiet.

A voice at the door startled them all.

"Mr. Hummel," a familiar teacher stood against the door frame. He sighed and shook his head, looking regretful. "A very interesting use of your quick-witted quips, though highly inappropriate on school grounds. Perhaps if you put more effort into your last paper as you did with your incivility towards me there would be less cause of such an uproar." More than one of the boys stifled a curse. This would not end well.

He sauntered into the room and Wes tensed out of sheer habit of having an unauthorized body in his council room. He moved around a few of his papers, signing his signature on a few sheets with his pen before slipping it inside a folder to keep his place.

"Mr. Harris," The student council president stepped forward. "Kurt was just blowing off steam after a stressful day. He has a few unit tests next week as has been studying hard while balancing his duties in the Warblers. I'm sure he meant no disrespect."

"Ahh, yes, the self proclaimed Rockstars of Dalton. I've heard a lot about them. Tell me Mr Montgomery, you're the Council Head of various clubs, how would you hold your Warblers to the conventions of the others?"

"Well—"

"Because from what I see from them reflects on to you does it not? A lack of discipline, a complete and utter disrespect for authority, and a horrid excuse of a Dalton student."

David lunged forward, barely contained by Blaine and Kurt as a last minute response to the blatant insult just thrown directly at their friend.

This was no longer the subtle hyena in class make small nips here and there; it was a looming, boorish creature going for the jugular with Wes straight in his path. Wes shot back a look that couldn't be read as anything other than calm yourself and David complied only because he knew he'd be on grounds of expulsion if he were to strike a teacher. However warranted it may be.

"The Dalton Academy Warblers are held in high regards throughout the school. I've worked with them all personally and professionally and there isn't any other group that I've encounter – though the debate team does come in a close second— that has more energy or drive than the boys you so quickly brush aside. I'm sorry if they have caused offense—"

"Speaking out of turn and rowdy classroom behaviour – energy indeed."

"Perhaps the reason you're acting this way stems a sort of resentment?" His voice was soft when he spoke, a low rumble of thunder; the calm before the storm. The teacher scoffed and stepped forward and Wes backed up to his desk, hand resting on his folders.

"You know, things weren't so different in my days. Sports teams and the Warblers were at the top of the proverbial food-chain and walked around as if they owned the place. Zero-tolerance bullying policy my ass, you think we had that sort of thing back then?

"You children these days are so protected, so coddled, from the real world. You don't know what it's like working day in and day out, eating lunch out on the bleachers because you just got tossed out of the cafeteria for just being you. Did those jocks ever get punished? Did the Warblers ever get fruit pelted at them? Where was the justice then?"

Kurt bristled at the sight on his friend being cornered and took a step forward. Wes held him back but could stop the words trailing from the countertenor's lips, "Stop it, just stop! This is it isn't it? The reason why you seem to hate the Warblers so much, it's because you were bullied by then in the past? Well taking it out on us isn't going to make things any better and you should be ashamed!"

"Using your power and authority in such a way could get you into serious trouble, Mr. Harris." Blaine's voice was as dark and chilling as David's glare.

"And what proof would you have?" Mr. Harris took a hand from his pocket to push up his thick rimmed glasses, shoulders relaxed in confidence. "I believe that's three outbursts in one week, Kurt, and such unwarranted shows of disrespect I can't let pass. I'm afraid I may have to call your father so we can all have a sit down with Dean Jones to discuss this… behavioural issue. But until then, I'll see you in class tomorrow yes? Boys," he gave a nod to Blaine and David before disappearing into the hall as if he were never there.

They waited until the tap-tap of the man's shoes had faded away and waited some more till the sounds of a large wooden door clicked shut. Kurt crumpled to the ground, eyes wide in shock and lips pressed tight. "My dad's going to kill me."

"Kurt…" Blaine knelt down beside the porcelain boy, swallowing down the tightness in his throat. "Let's get out of here." The boy went without a fight, Blaine casting back a wary glance before they too disappeared into the hall.

David waited until their footsteps faded before closing the door. Turning around, he spoke in a hushed tone, "You knew he was still here. You knew he'd hear us—"

"I tried to warn you." The council head picked up the discarded forms and finished his organizing, clicking his pen before shoving it into his breast pocket. In the back of his mind, David swore he spotting the faint flashing of a blinking light, but dismissed it.

"—and that's why you couldn't do anything."

"Kurt stands up for what's right, but he lacks restraint and timing. You can't speak like that when there's the possibility of getting caught."

"And you agreeing with him and Blaine would've gotten you in trouble as well."

"I can't be of any help to you guys if I'm stuck sitting in detention now can I?"

David laughed. It was humourless and more like a scoff than anything else. So he wasn't just imagining things when he saw movement down the hall earlier. He wanted to hit something but couldn't bring himself to do it, plus Wes would probably yell at him for messing up the room. He leaned back against the wall and sighed.

The two of them shared the silence as David watched his friend pile the coloured forms and place them into carefully marked folders, signing off and jotting down notes here and there. David never really paid attention to Wes' busy paperwork; all the tiny words made his head spin.

"How long has this been going on?" Wes asked quietly as he typed something up on his laptop.

"Ever since he started teaching," it was like the man came out of nowhere really. The start of senior year had come to a startling halt when the students were introduced to the new Dalton teacher. "I can't believe you haven't heard anything yet. Everyone hates the guy. Basically called Nick pathetic and useless today in class…"

"The start of the year brings in a lot of paperwork," Wes spoke, distractedly and absently, as if it explained it all. David glared.

About a half-hour past before Wes had finished whatever he was doing and packed up. David resisted catching the boy by the collar and shaking him.

He finally threw up his arms as they walked out into the parking lot and threw their bags into Wes' car. "Well?"

"Well, what?" The boy turned his keys and drove. He didn't turn to face him until they'd reached David's driveway and Wes cut the engine.

"What are you going to do about this, Wes?"

"Is it always up to me to do something?" he asked without heat, soft and in a way where it was almost teasing and David resisted the urge the shaking him once again.

"You've always known how to make the hurt go away. You've always known what to do."

"What do you need?"

"Make it go away. Far. Far. Away."

Their eyes met and Wes couldn't help but feel his heart ache. He wondered if this teacher had done anything to David in particular. He tore his eyes away and twisted his keys. The engine roared to life.

"Consider it done."

~ oOo ~

"A valiant effort Mr. Anderson, but made in vain I'm afraid."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" The next day had rolled around, the second ticking by painfully slow. The class had pulled out their books; they were just starting Hamlet, and were getting into their pre-class discussion. Though, why it was called a discussion was the real question here because it was more like them offering points and thoughts about what the hell these Shakespearian people were talking about and then getting gunned down in a fiery heap of — it was just a bad, bad day to say the least.

Blaine sat closer to the front of the classroom so it was predictable that he'd be one of the first ones called upon by the English teacher. The lead Warbler, ever the calm and dapper young man, tried his hand with caution.

"Clearly Hamlet is upset here. He's still mourning after his father's death – even wearing his black mourning clothes as shown in line sixty-seven—and betrayed by his mother's hasty marriage to what was just recently her brother-in-law—"

"And if that's all you can focus on, Mr. Anderson, I dearly fear for the children of your time." Mr. Harris paced the rows and handed out the pop quiz papers, ignoring the groans that emanated around the room. He took his place behind his desk and took a measured glance at each of his students before barking out, "This is a pop quiz. No talking. You may begin."

The class flipped through their pages. Jeff stifled another groan and instead muttered out, "How the hell are we supposed to know theme when we just started?"

"Mr. Sterling, if you're so eager for discussion I strong suggest you reserve what you have to say for tomorrow's readings of the entire act one." Curses were thrown around and Jeff sunk low in his chair. David, who sat in front of him, gave him a sympathetic glance. "If I hear your voice again I may just add in a detention with that discussion. Eyes on your own page, Mr. Thompson."

David turned around, hoping he wouldn't end up with a trip to the dentist after all the teeth grinding he was doing lately. His mother always taught him the importance of treating other with kindness. He wondered if there were exceptions to it.

Mr. Harris paced the aisles again, patting students here and there on the shoulder as he spoke. "Einstein once said, 'Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity,' and I'm not sure about the universe, I myself have encountered infinite stupidity."

David glared as Nick also sunk low in his seat, paling slightly under the weight of the man's hand on his shoulder. Yes, there are definitely exceptions.

A knock brought everyone's attention to the opened door. Mr. Harris barked for them to focus on their own papers before stalking out – and of course they looked down, but they sure as hell weren't paying attention to anything but the voices exchanging a rather interesting conversation just outside their classroom.

"…under investigation from the school board…"

"…what... utter nonsense…"

"…received multiple complaints…"

"…audio proof that supports…"

"…other cases being opened up…"

"…demand to know…"

"…preferred to remain anonymous…"

"…please come with us…"

There were sounds of shuffling feet outside, lots of yelling and screaming, something slammed to the floor, some more scuffling, before things fell silent. A few of them threw questioning glances at one another, but no one dared to get up.

Blaine and Kurt looked back to David, who simply shrugged and looked back at Jeff, who was sharing the same wide-eyed-with-worry expression as Nick. Every one of the boys looked up as Dean Jones strode in, followed by the vice principal.

"Excuse boys, if I could get your attention please." There were a few hushed words spoken but were quickly hushed away. "Mr. Harris will not be returning to class due to certain circumstances. Because of this incident, class is cancelled until further notice. Sorry for any inconvenience." After a bow a silence, the two older men walked out, leaving behind a class of shell-shocked students.

It wasn't until the door closed that the classroom erupted in cheers and applause.

~ oOo ~

"What happened?"

"What did you do?"

"How did you do it?"

"When did you do it?"

"Where're they taking him?"

"Hopefully to lock him up somewhere under the sea, yeah?"

Wes raised a hand to calm the crowd that had assembled in the senior commons. He should've known that he wouldn't get a moment's rest after the events of the day. It was a shame too because he had just started putting together the assignments for the Warblers meeting the coming Friday and he was pretty behind as it is. He jotted down some notes.

"What makes you think I know anything about what happened to whoever you're talking about?" He asked without lifting his head. Maybe if he extended practice hours next week he could fit in an eight-part harmony exercise…

"Wes." David whined and pawed at his friend, gently tugging down the boy's clipboard. He beamed when the Warbler met his eyes with a raised brow. "We talked to the Dean and he told us we had you to thank for getting rid of that crow."

Many of the boys nodded, other anxiously bounced on their feet. "So drop the act and tell us what happened already!"

"I believe that's confidential informal, Trent."

"Screw confidentiality!"

"Yeah! Give us the goods."

"Please Wes?" And damn if Blaine's doe eyes didn't make his heart break.

The pestered boy rolled his eyes and tucked his clipboard back into his backpack before smoothing down his jacket lapels – was it really necessary for them to grab at him and jump all over him? He was positive he'd raised those boys better than that…Wes shook his head, damn; he was mother hen-ing again. A very dangerous habit to get into.

"I did some research and it turns out that your allegations were right. Mr. Harris had been reported for harassment on more than one occasion. In the past year he's been working a string of substitute teaching positions, all of which never lasted more than a few weeks due to the large filing of complaints against him his teaching methods. Men like that have no place in Dalton Academy so I did what needed to be done; I sent him on his way. He won't be coming back." He said matter-of-factly.

When he gazed up again it was to a few dozen beaming smiles and glimmering eyes. He raised both brows and squawked, "What?".

"Wes. I…" it was Kurt that stood up. He was wringing his hands and fidgeting with his cuffs, a slight blush rising in his cream-white cheeks. "I owe you an apology—"

"What you owe me is your countertenor part at our next rehearsal." He shook his pen in the air, earning himself a few snickers from the boys and a deeper blush from the Warbler.

"The other day in the classroom, I thought you were just brushing us off. I guess I got a little defensive."

"Proper paperwork must be filed before such an investigation, Kurt. I typed up a letter directly to the chairman of the school board after yesterday's unpleasantries and made a few phone calls to speed up the process. I couldn't have done that if Harris had me under his watch—"

"So that's why you acted the way you did," Blaine, who sat to his left, shook his head in disbelief. Of course Wes would've been thinking twelve steps ahead at all times. "We never should've doubted you. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's like Kurt said. My position at this school is held in high regards, and so it's my responsibility if anything should happen to my fellow students on my watch. I did what I had to do and I'm sure anyone of you would've done the same if you had half a brain to file the needed paperwork." David bumped his shoulder when he sat down, sliding off the couch arm and half onto Wes as he slung an arm around his friend with a wide grin. "David…"

"Geez, Wes," the boy rolled his eyes, voice dropping low in sarcasm. "Could you be any more sentimental?"

The boys laughed and joined in.

"Maybe we should change our names to the Dalton Eaglets?"

"Yeah, and let Wes be our mama!"

"We could make you a special pin and everything!"

"No guys, remember we must follow strict dress code protocol."

"…"

"Good one, Thad."

"Aww, turn that frown upside down, Mama Warbler, it's all in good fun."

"Thanks to you, we won't have to sit through another day of overly gelled Timberlake hair."

"Hey, what's wrong with hair gel?"

"Everything! You use too much."

"It is a necessity used for the sake of humanity."

"Seriously, Kurt, just wait until the wet season kicks in. Humidity is not his friend."

Wes jostled David off of him and packed his bag; muttering and rolling his eyes too much really could not have been too healthy for him.

On top of all these distraction, he still has tutoring sessions in the library with the first years and then a meeting with the chemistry club with a demonstration on how one could use liquid nitrogen to make ice cream. He had to check all the soccer equipment for his team and make the first round of cuts from the junior volleyball team before his second tutoring session in the sophomore commons.

He sighed as he walked away, trailed closely by his classmates – Warblers and non-Warblers alike — still hassling him about the change from Dalton Warblers to Dalton Eaglets. "Clearly not happening," he explained the history behind James Clarke Dalton and how the man built the school with a beautiful warbler by his side every step of the way. The school's first show choir had named themselves after the noble bird following the passing of Dalton and his singing companion. Since then, the name had stuck.

He ignored the bird cooings and 'oohs' and 'ahhs' to his story, knowing that no one of them would remember the story except him. The so call 'mother hen' of the group rounded the boys up and sent them on their respected ways. School was still in session after all and their lunch break was almost over – "…and half of you have your lockers on the other side of school so get a move on… and you five have gym so go change… and you two have a chemistry lab so go get your equipment cleaned…and I better see all of you at Warblers practice on Friday!"

He did, however, give a reluctant smile when Sebastian gave him his trademark smirk. "What you did…it was pretty cool, I guess."

The boys slowly said their goodbyes, scattering instantly when the bell rung. Wes shook his head. A third of them were going to be late for class and the other two-thirds, by some stroke of luck, would manage to high-tail it into their seats right at the second bell. David would be one of the latter. Jeff and Nick would fall in with the former. He scoffed and shifted the weight of his bag as he walked off.

Mother hen, Wes snorted. A very dangerous habit indeed.

Oh Wes, just admit how much you love those boys XD.

PS- I believe I have a thing for references now haha.

PPS - prompts are being taken