Arts and Crafts

By: RavenHeart101

Summary: Blaine was taking it because he loved to draw, Quinn because she loved photography, and Puck and Santana were taking it because they just needed to credits in order to graduate. But, in the end, art 101 has become the class that neither of them would regret taking.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOOOTHING.

Warnings: I don't know specifically what's going to happen yet but I say slash and femslash. No Brittana or Klaine. Come looking for those go somewhere else. Swearing. Probably sexy times. Idk what else.

A: N – Don't mind me. Just starting another fanfic that may or may not be finished. Just keep in mind that I have college and that's a ton of work so if I DO do this it'll MAYBE be an update a week. MAYBE.

Fifth period art class was sure to become his favorite class of the year. As a junior there were only so many classes that Blaine was allowed to pick out himself, one of them being his extracurricular, which was bound to be filled with idiotic Seniors that simply wanted to fill up their credits in order to graduate.

Walking into the class he surely wasn't disappointed. Blaine sighed and scanned the room for at least one empty seat that wouldn't put him next to some obnoxious jock that was sure to mock him for the fact that he was artsy and gay. What a double package that was. He rolled his eyes at himself and hugged his bag closer to his side, biting on his bottom lip and narrowing his eyes.

There was one table, right in the back that only housed a blonde girl. Blaine didn't recognize her, but then again he didn't recognize next to anyone. That was, presumably, due to him being a new student – third high school, party time – and only having known Kurt from the other boy's brief time at Dalton before. Blaine sighed and slowly made his way over to the far corner table, dropping his bag next to an empty chair and propping himself up onto it. He sent the girl a shaky smile when she glanced at him.

She smiled back at him softly for a moment before turning back to her phone. She was rather beautiful now that Blaine could really see her. Her blonde hair had a small wave to it, short and resting just over her shoulders. Her face was aristocratic, just like Blaine was used to from his stays at private schools in Ohio, and her nose upturned just a bit. Her eyes were a soft hazel – much like his own – her lips were pink, and her cheeks had just a small hint of pink to them and were completely unblemished. In other words, she would have been a perfect specimen if Blaine wasn't fervently gay.

Blaine smoothed down his black slacks, leaning heavily on his elbows and playing with the eraser of his pencil.

The two of them opted to sit in silence.

After about three minutes of complete silence, just as Blaine was opening his mouth to try to at least get a name out of the girl, they were joined by another girl. She shot the blonde a look, one full of dislike and disdain and Blaine was taken aback. Why would she sit with them if she hated the girl as much as that look seemed to suggest?

This girl was just as pretty as the blonde, but pretty in a different way. In a way that suggested that she knew just how attractive she was. She wore the classic red and white of the Cheerios uniform, and her dark hair was up in the classic pony tail. She wore very little makeup, but still enough that Blaine could tell it was there. She seemed to have a permanent look of dislike on her face and Blaine was pretty sure she was one of those seniors that only signed up for the class for easy credits.

"Hello class!" The door slammed shut and Blaine tore his gaze away from the two girls and up at the art teacher as he stood at the front of the room. He was older, one the verge of retirement it looked like, but he was dressed down. He wore a loose fitting band tee-shirt and pain splattered jeans. On his finger rested a silver wedding ring. Blaine's lips twitched up in a smile at the thought. Yes, Blaine was a hopeless romantic and the fact that this teacher – this artist – had managed to get married when so few did made him quite happier than it should have. "I'm your teacher, Frank. Just call me Frank. Last names are not required here."

A few of the seniors chuckled and Blaine pulled himself up farther in his seat so that his back was straight. A smile was playing at his lips, and his eyes sparkled just a bit. Yes, if there was one thing to come out of this year it might end up being this class.

"I hope you like the people you're sitting with because you're stuck with them for the rest of the year." The girls and him snuck glances at each other and Blaine tried to send them a disarming smile. The dark haired girl just rolled her eyes at him and huffed. The blonde's eyes were soft and she smiled just a bit when she turned back to the front of the room.

He tried not to show how much it was bothering him that he didn't know either of their names.

"Humor me and turn to each other and introduce yourselves." The blonde turned around readily but the brunette decided it would be more entertaining to take out her phone.

Blaine resisted the urge to recite the class rules to her, instead turning to face the pretty blonde with a smile and holding out his hand for her to shake. Even though it was an old and ignored tradition it was still something he figured he should do. "I'm Blaine."

Her eyes held just a bit of humor and Blaine was pretty sure he saw her glance at the brunette with a look that asked whether he was serious or not. He tried not to be hurt by it. "Quinn."

"That's a great name." And he really did like the name; he wasn't just saying it because he was a gentleman.

The brunette rolled her eyes at them. "If I have to deal with you two flirting this whole class I might just gouge my eye out."

"That's a little extreme." Blaine couldn't stop himself from saying.

Quinn, however, seemed to be used to the other girl's comments and simply shook her head in response. "That's Satan."

The brunette glared at Quinn so fiercely Blaine wondered if it was Quinn's eyes she was picturing gouging out and not her own. "Santana, Lucy."

Quinn's face paled but she shook it off after a moment and turned back to Blaine, opening her mouth to say something else.

When the door to the art room banged open and a boy in a leather jacket all but sauntered into the room. He wore his hair in a tacky '90's mohawk and he wore his face with a smirk that Blaine was sure was supposed to say something about how "badass" he was. "Out smoking again, Puck?" Frank asked with an exasperated tone to his voice.

"Gotta just let that stress go, Frankie." The boy in the leather jacket, Puck, threw over his shoulder as he walked to the only empty seat in the room. Which, of course, just had to be the one at their table, right next to Santana. The girl seemed to cringe in disgust when he walked passed her and when he settled into the seat across from Blaine he caught a good whiff of why she did so. He discretely covered his mouth with his hand and coughed a bit.

"Do you really want to fail this class for a fourth time, Puck?" Frank stated nonchalantly from the other side of the room. A few of the people in the class, including Santana, chortled. Blaine felt his heart swell just a bit for the other boy and peaked at him from the corner of his eye. Besides a small tensing of his shoulders there was no way that anyone would know that he had been at all affected by the teacher's words.

But Blaine had an artists' eyes and he was used to picking up on subtle points of body language. It was what he was best at. Unless it was directed at him but that was another thing for another time. He shifted on his stool and turned so that he was practically facing Quinn completely, deciding that she was probably the kindest one out of the three people he would have to sit with all year. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but it was true enough for him. At least at that moment.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to, Frankie." Puck spoke with a fake cheer. Blaine felt something creep up his spine, warning him that there was just a tad bit of history there. He decided not to say anything about it.

"Then be on time, Puck." Frank responded with equal cheer before shooing them all back to their introductions. Blaine wasn't entirely sure what else they were supposed to be talking about but everyone else seemed to be getting along well enough besides their table. That was probably because everyone else knew at least one person in the class that they could live with spending the rest of the year with. And were probably seniors. And had been at school with each other since elementary school. And Blaine was just the new kid so of course this was bound to be awkward for him.

"I'm Puck." The mohawked boy introduced himself with a nod in each of their directions. Blaine saw Santana discretely shift her body just a tad farther from him.

When neither of the girls opened their mouths to introduce themselves Blaine could feel the static tension fill the air just a bit more. He bit at his bottom lip, unable to help himself for wondering just what it was that was causing them to be so hostile. He heaved in a deep breath and held out his hand for Puck to shake. "Blaine." The other boy – older most likely, just like everyone else in this class probably was – stared at him as though he was born with two heads or something before slowly placing his hand in Blaine's for a moment before letting it drop.

He tried not to notice the way the boy wiped his hand on his jeans not a moment later. Blaine's cheeks flared and his lips pursed.

He wasn't aware that rumors – or gossip or merely news as it was – traveled quite this fast at McKinley.

Santana snorted and gave him a judging look from over her phone, but her eyes held just a bit of genuine curiosity. "Where the fuck are you from?"

Quinn raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her before rolling her eyes once more and turning back down to her own phone.

Seeing that he wasn't about to get any help from her end of the table Blaine tried to come up with an answer on his own. "I-I'm sorry?" He cocked his head just a bit to the side and glanced between Puck and Santana in question.

"Where. The. Fuck. Are. You. From?" She spoke slowly, enunciating each word as though he were a slow child.

Blaine couldn't help the twinge of frustration that traveled up his spine. He pretended not to see Quinn's hazel eyes as they looked at him just a bit from the side of her phone. "Westerville." Blaine was purposely being elusive, no matter what anyone else would say. If he felt like being clever enough he would have thrown out a comment about how he was from his mother. But that was a bit too bitchy for his tastes. At least when he had just met this girl.

"That explains it." Puck observed with a nod of his head and a smirk to his lips. Blaine never wanted to punch a smirk off anyone else's face as much as he did this Puck guy's.

"Explains what?" Blaine couldn't quite keep the bite from his tone this time and he almost instantly regretted it.

"Oh look. Puppy's got teeth." Puck smirked even harder, if that was even possible. He crossed his arms over his chest and the leather over his elbows creaked under the pressure.

Blaine could feel his anger growing but he fought to push it back. He opened his mouth to answer but Frank decided it would be a good time to get everyone's attention back to him. He clapped his hands twice and smiled brightly at them. "First assignment, take a piece of paper and do whatever the hell you want to with it." More than a few of the students looked excited at this news, but Blaine had a feeling it wasn't because they actually cared about art. Probably more because they wanted to make paper airplane's or draw genitals or something equally childish and not related to art in the least. "By something I mean art. I mean not paper airplanes or the female genitals or a penis. Be creative. If you can sneak any of those into there while being creative though, extra points to you."

Blaine huffed out a small laugh at the professor before leaning down to pull out his brand new sketch book. He smiled at the cartoon Cooper had drawn in the front cover and turned to an unused page. His pencil twirled in his fingers a few times before he put it to the paper.

And just like that all other sound was drowned out.

He could still hear it, but it was more like a dull roar in the back of his mind. The pencil tracing over the paper in delicate lines was all that mattered.

Slowly a pencil sketch of Quinn – and Blaine wasn't even aware that he was drawing her – emerged, sitting at the desk as she was now, her blonde hair falling into her face just a bit, and her legs elegantly crossed under the countertop. Her yellow heals and yellow and black skirt and black sweater over her yellow shirt and Blaine couldn't add the colors but he added little notes to tell him what colors they had been when he would go back to color it.

"Hey." He jumped at the finger that poked at his back and he glanced up quickly to find the object of his sketch staring down at him with a small soft smile. "They're idiots. Ignore them."

"Who?" He shook his head, fighting away the cobwebs placed there by his 'art coma' as Cooper had deemed it when he was ten.

Quinn's smile dimmed a little and she nodded in the direction of Puck and Santana, the two of them engrossed in their own world of "art" with their headphones in their ears. Santana seemed to be drawing some flower of some sort, and Puck seemed content to be sketching a crude looking cartoon. Stick people to be exact. "Them. They don't get the whole…" She waved her hand over his outfit as though that was explanatory.

"The whole…?" He found himself asking, looking up at her with curious eyes and his pencil tapping lightly against the page in front of him.

"Gentleman thing." She looked unsure of herself. "That is what you were going for, right?"

"Yes?"

"I mean the look's out there… it's definitely something we don't see at McKinley every day." Quinn carried on as though he hadn't said a thing. Blaine glanced down at his outfit, his cheeks flushing when he realized that she was probably talking about the black flood pants, black dress shoes, tight suit shirt tucked in at the waist, black suspenders, and black bowtie. And probably the gel too.

But Kurt had complimented him on it so surely it wasn't that bad of a look? Right?

"Thanks?" He asked, unsure of whether he should actually be thanking her or not.

Quinn shrugged and turned back to her own drawing and Blaine glanced down at his once more, dragging his pencil over the page and pursing his lips. The shading was perfect, dark around her head but light around her back. He had drawn her frowning and with a sigh Blaine erased the mouth and redrew it, a light smirk that screamed mischievousness taking its place. He sat back, his arms crossing over his chest and ran his fingers over the drawing. Yes, that seemed about as good as he was going to get in a half an hour.

He glanced up at the clock and leaned down to start putting his things away when a hand shot out to stop him. "Hey this is pretty good." Blaine resisted the urge to gag at the sweet smell of smoke that permeated his senses. Puck's hand was clamped down on his wrist and the other boy was looking over his shoulder, staring at the drawing for a moment. "Creepy, but good."

Blaine sputtered for a moment when the other boy planted a large hand directly on the picture, smudging it just a bit before walking off.

He pursed his lips together in anger and glared at his back as the bell rang and he left the classroom. He ignored the irrational urge to either cry or throw a punch, throwing the sketch book under his arm and throwing his bag over his shoulder, tearing away from the seat he had been in and the room all together.

He tried to compose himself as the walked to his locker, pulling open the door with just a bit more force than was necessary. "Hey!" Kurt's chipper voice tugged him out of his angry mental rant, and Blaine deflated looking at his older friend – if he could even call Kurt a friend. They didn't really know each other all that well. "How was your class?" Kurt nudged his shoulder against Blaine's a small smile tugged at his lips. In another world, perhaps this could have been an everyday occurrence for them. Perhaps they could have been best friends, or perhaps they could have been something more. But, as it was, they weren't. They barely even knew each other.

But it was still sweet that Kurt even bothered asking.

Blaine didn't dignify with an answer, though. The look on his face was enough of an answer as it was.

Blaine was pretty sure he was going to hate the class.

A: N – Annnd there's chapter one. Anyone interested in more?

This story WILL be Plaine and Quinntana. And next chapter (if anyone wants a next chapter) will be from one of the girls' point of views because I can.

Reviews? Comments? Questions? Anything?