watchmakersylar | Back to School - Sylar/Glee Crossover Fic

Character: Sylar, Kurt, and Shuester
Genre: Gen
Author:

sylar
Fandom: Heroes and Glee
Word count: 1075
Rating: G
Prompts: Meme #7 Alternate Reality for

a_muse_meme
Notes: At the end of Villains instead of going to the beach for a BBQ with Elle, Sylar ends up at McKinley High School. So much crack that I should be arrested.

Hiro grabbed me, and before I could stop him I was someplace else. He smiled at me and popped out of time, leaving me standing in the middle of a high school hallway. Signs for begging for votes for the McKinley High School Prom King and Queen were plastered to the walls, covered in glitter and streamers, and there was the cloying, greasy, stink of Tater Tots in the air.

I looked down at my t-shirt that was clinging to my skin from the blood that was soaked into the thin white fabric. My throat had healed from Noah’s blade, but I looked like an extra in a John Carpenter movie. I needed to find something clean to wear before someone decided they needed to call 911. I didn’t want anyone’s help. I wanted to find Hiro, Elle and all the rest of those sons of bitches and tear them apart.

It didn’t take much effort for me to rip the doors off a row of lockers. I’d done it before after all. The memory of the terrified look on Petrelli’s face brought a smile to mine as I snooped through the lockers looking for one that wasn’t full of My Little Pony and the boy I want to marry shit taped up inside of it. I found a black shirt in one and a letterman’s jacket in another that would fit me. I’d always wanted a lettermen jacket, and I didn’t feel at all guilty for stealing some kid’s pride and joy. Fuck him. If it mattered he should’ve been wearing it.

I ducked into the locker room, stripping off my ruined shirt and stuffed it into a trash can. There weren’t any kids around as I took of my jeans that were thankfully dark enough to hide the blood that got on them. This is why I wear black. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking wearing a white t. I’ll blame that on Elle. Might as well stack the deck on the bitch. I stole some soap, got cleaned up and nearly dressed completely when the kids came in from the gym. I swapped the letterman jacket for a blazer that was hanging on a hook by the door and escaped.

There was a familiar buzz in the back of my head. There was someone special at McKinley, and far be it from me not to find out who it was. If it was a student, I’d pass. I don’t kill kids, but if it was a teacher, some substitute teacher would be very thankful for the long term assignment they’d be picking up. I slipped into the crowd of kids as they rushed into fill the hall to capacity, lockers slamming open and closed, doing my best to look like a teacher wandering the halls between classes.

There were shouts about the bank of lockers that I’d broken into, not that I cared. I had to find the special. Or specials, it felt like there was more than one. I’d have to thank Hiro for leaving me at the buffet. I wasn’t sure when the call of the special was replaced by the sound of singing. No, not, replaced, enhanced by the music.

I paused at the doorway to the choir room. It was small and cluttered with about 20 kids on plastic seats on the risers. They were a mismatched group, a little bit of this and that in their group. I was shocked to see cheerleaders in the mix. When I’d been in high school their kind didn’t mix with the choir. The specials were here. There were three in the room, and one was doing a solo for the class.

“Can I help you?” My attention was torn from the kid who was singing his heart out. His voice was incredible, although I wasn’t so sure about the shawl he had pinned over one shoulder. It was an interesting fashion choice not that I had any taste in clothes. The man who was talking to me had a friendly smile on his face. He was obviously the teacher, and I could feel his pride in his prodigy. I could also see that certain something that made him special.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” I pasted on a bright friendly grin of my own and held my hand out. “I’m Gabriel Peters.” Do not snicker, Sylar. It wasn’t as if I could say I was Peter Gabriel. “I’m your student teacher. I’ve been assigned to you.”

“Really?” He blinked, still smiling like crazy. “I’m Will Schuester. Nice to meet you, Gabriel. Let me introduce you to the class. Figgins didn’t tell me I was getting a student teacher.”

“Nice to meet you too.” I stepped into the room, letting my eyes travel over the students who were now clapping for the soloist. “He’s incredible. His pitch is perfect.”

“That’s Kurt Hummel. He is one of our stars.” Schuester slapped me on the shoulder and brought me around the edge of the piano. “This is Gabriel Peters. He’s a student teacher.”

“Isn’t he a little old to be a student teacher?” Scoffed the Latina cheerleader. “I mean no offense, but aren’t they usually barely older than we are?”

“I’m a returning student, student teacher,” I told her. I also didn’t look that much older than the sullen one in the Mohawk. He must have been in his tenth year of high school. She wasn’t the other special, so I lost interest in her quickly. Instead I held my hand out to Kurt. “You were great.”

“Thanks.” Kurt smiled and shook my hand, and then his boyfriend came to say hello too. That one wasn’t special either, or it might have been the five gallons of hair gel blocking my ability to read him.

I waited through all the introductions, being Mr. Friendly, Mr. Charming. I was good at it. The other special in the room was a kid in a wheelchair. He’d get a free pass too. It was a shame. I hate going out to a new restaurant and not eating.

“Mr. Schuester,” I asked while he wiped down the whiteboard where he’d scrawled their plans to go to Nationals, whatever that is. “If you’re not too busy, I thought maybe we could get some coffee, and you could tell me about your teaching methods? I’ve got so much to learn from you.”