A/N: This is the product of reading wayyy too much Teacher!Klaine fanfiction, and unabashedly loving it! This would never be published if AngelIsIgniReluctant hadn't begged me to and bribed me with cookies! Soooo.. If you like it, thank her by reading her stuff and spamming her inbox with reviews! :)
Anyway, here's Chapter one! Hope it was worth the cookies.
-MEOW-
Kurt Hummel strutted into his last period English class the first day back from Christmas break, and stopped dead. A new teacher? What the hell? Why hadn't anyone told him?
A man, no older than twenty-five, sat hunched over papers at a mahogany desk. Kurt stood in the doorway staring until the bell rang, making him jump. He quickly took his seat. The chair squeaked loudly as he slid it forward. The new teacher finally noticed the other person in the room, looking up. It was then that Kurt saw the man's eyes; large, hazel eyes that widened in surprise, then narrowed in curiousity. Kurt flushed under the unrelenting stare as students filled the classroom. "Good morning, class, I'm Mr. Anderson."
-MEOW-
School, for Kurt, had always been easy, a breeze, really. These days, however, he was barely paying attention, every class bored him now, even French. He never spoke if he didn't have to, never volunteered an answer. Except in English. From his first day back, Kurt had been obsessed with learning EVERYTHING there was to know about English. He'd always been competitive, and now, being taught by Mr. Anderson, he just wanted to win. To know something about English that the teacher didn't, he wanted to beat Mr. Anderson.
Now, Mr. Anderson was not oblivious to this, or anything Kurt did, to be honest. No, in fact, Kurt fascinated him to no end.
The whole class would watch in awe as Kurt asked a question intended to spark a debate, and Mr. Anderson always took the bait. These debates usually lasted the last 20 minutes of the class, and were so frequent that, after two weeks, Mr. Anderson began planning his lectures to accommodate them.
One day, a Friday in February, Kurt and Mr. Anderson got so heated in their debate that the bell was unheard. Mr. Anderson was standing in the middle of the classroom, two desks ahead of Kurt's. Kurt had risen out of his seat and was gesturing wildly with his hands. They weren't usually this intense, and the rest of the class filed out quickly.
"Yes," Mr. Anderson said frustratedly, "But if it wasn't censored, small children would have access to that kind of language,"
"Who are you to say my kids can't read Huck Finn if I want them to?" Kurt slammed his fist down on the desk for emphasis.
Neither said anything as they glared, now less then a foot apart. After a few minutes' time, Mr. Anderson sighed and looked down, rubbing a palm over his face. "Sorry, Kurt. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," He shrugged.
Kurt did a mental happy dance. It wasn't technically a win, but he hadn't lost either.
Then something happened that neither Kurt nor Mr. Anderson saw coming. "Okay, Mr. An-"
"Blaine." Kurt gaped at his teacher's back, which had been walking toward his desk. "Uh, Okay, Mist- Blaine." The name tasted odd on his tongue. "Have a good weekend,"
Blaine smiled, "You too, Kurt,"
-MEOW-
As Kurt got into his Navigator, his heart was pounding. "Teacher, teacher, teacher," he chanted in a whisper.
In the same second, Blaine had his head in his hands as he sat at his desk, nice job, Anderson, he thought , groaning, Student, student, student...
-MEOW-
Blaine hadn't been teaching long, but he'd never run across a student like Kurt. It seemed to be Kurt's mission to prove he was smarter than Blaine. Frustrated, amused, and usually a tad flustered, Blaine won most of their arguments debates. But, as smart as Blaine was, Kurt was stubborn.
Blaine always knew when it was coming, when Kurt had found something to question, something to debate. It was his eyes. Kurt's blue-green eyes were magnificent. In Blaine's, purely unbiased, opinion. But When Kurt zoned in on his argument, his eyes sparkled. Shined. And Blaine noticed. Always.
When Kurt got excited, he flushed, his cheek grew rosy, his eyes widened, and Blaine had to remind himself again. Student. Teacher. Wrong. But despite his, now daily, reminders, Blaine found himself thinking about Kurt, dreaming, even. Waking up on Friday with sticky pajamas was the last straw for Blaine. He decided Kurt was going to transfer classes. It wasn't fair to anyone, the way Blaine felt about him.
-MEOW-
Kurt was always the first one in class, so that Friday, Blaine waited for his student to be seated before he stood up and strode to his side. He cleared his throat and Kurt glanced up, "Yes Blaine?" Blaine froze. He'd forgotten about their conversation last week. Regathering himself, his voice broke slightly, "S-see me after class, ok?" Kurt's eyes held confusion and... hurt? He nodded slowly, "Okay, Miste- Blaine," Kurt drew out his name, now unsure. Blaine turned away and frowned at his desk as students filled the classroom. He didn't want to hurt Kurt, but he knew he would. Damn it.
-MEOW-
At the end of class, Kurt closed the door and sat in front of his teacher's desk. He was confused, but the look on Blaine's face told him this was important. . . and probably bad. "Kurt," Blaine started, licking his, now dry, lips. Opening his mouth once more, the words he'd practice died on his lips. Kurt look hurt and so confused, and Blaine just. . . Couldn't. Nevertheless, he spoke. "Kurt, how old are you?"
What the hell, Anderson? Kurt's confusion grew, but the hurt dropped away quickly. "I turned 17 on November 8th. Why?" Kurt's nose crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed. Blaine licked his lips again, and Kurt hoped Blaine had missed how closely he'd watched the motion. "Kurt," he repeated, searching for anything in Kurt's eyes. "Blaine." His name again. God, why do I like that so much?
Swallowing, Blaine continued, "Do you, um, argu- debate, with all of your teachers like that?"
Oh, God. Kurt's throat was tight with embarrassment. I'm in trouble! Kurt was stuttering again, something he hadn't done since middle school. "N-not u-u-usually, no," "Oh." Kurt didn't miss the realization in Blaine's eyes. He knows. And Blaine did know. He now understood the competitiveness, the barely-visible looks. Kurt wanted him, too. Well, damn.
So, yes, Kurt saw realization in Blaine's eyes, and for a split-second, that was the most horrifying experience that had ever plagued him. But then Kurt saw something else, something that was definitely not rejection. Was it. . . Retaliation? Lust?
Oh.
-MEOW-
"Blaine?" Kurt asked, as innocently as possible, given his flushed, lust-filled state. Blaine cleared his throat. "Y-yes, Kurt?"
"Do you... Debate with all of your," Kurt, who had moved forward, a hand now resting on Blaine's desk, leaned in so his face was an inch away from Blaine's, "students. . . Like that?" Kurt's head was cocked to the side, eyes narrowed slightly. A challenge. "No,"
"And why is that, do you suppose?" Where this courage came from, who knew, but Kurt wasn't about to let it go to waste.
Blaine was having trouble breathing with his student, his beautiful, sexy, smart, witty, student so close to him. "I d-don't know," Kurt chuckled somewhat menacingly. "Oh, I think you do. I think it's because. You. Want me." Kurt growled the "Want" and Blaine whimpered. He actually whimpered.
Kurt smirked. Thought so.
Kurt backed off, gathering his messenger bag, and strutted toward the door. As he crossed the threshold he looked back over his right shoulder at Blaine. "Have a good weekend," Kurt paused, summoning the last of his courage, "Blaine," He moaned the name, obscenely sexually.
Not being able to properly respond, Blaine laid his face in his hands and groaned, listening to the hard click of Kurt's designer boots in the hallway. At this point, even the dapper gentleman in him was screaming "GET SOME!". He drove home quickly and uncomfortably, hopping in the shower immediately.
-MEOW-
A/N: I wasn't sure what to rate this, but it will be M eventually, so I'm just gonna leave it. :)