A/N: These stories are all based on my RL professional experiences.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Oh the things I would do if I did.

When Everything that Could Go Wrong …

Blaine stared at the computer screen, squinting his eyes at the email he'd just received. Pulling his glasses from his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and picked up the phone, dialing the three digit number that would connect him to Wes.

In rang five times before the attendance secretary picked up. "Student Services."

"Hi Moira, it's Blaine."

"Hey, Blaine."

"Is Wes in his office? I have a quick question for him," Blaine asked, leaning back in his chair. He could hear Moira sigh before answering.

"He is, but he's on another line. It's been kinda crazy today. If you want, I'll let him know you're looking to talk to him. You here for a while or are you taking off?"

Blaine glanced over at the ungraded stack of tests and essays on his desk. "I'll be here until about 5. You can tell him I was wondering why Donnie was suspended pending expulsion. I got an email from Wes, and then one from Donnie's mom an hour later requesting homework. Kid earned less than a 30% in my class last semester, so I'm wondering how much effort I should put in gathering up three weeks worth of assignments for a kid who isn't likely to do them anyway."

Moira chuckled knowingly. "Will do."

An hour later, Blaine heard the sound of someone using a key to enter his locked classroom. Looking up, he waved in greeting to Wes Montgomery, Dean of Students at Dalton Academy for Boys. Quickly reading over the last paragraph of the essay he'd been grading, Blaine highlighted the rubric for the student, wrote a D minus at the top of the paper along with 'eligible for rewrite' and dropped it on the small pile of graded papers he'd managed to complete.

Wes ran his hand over the top of his head, staring at the colorful decorations Blaine had hung on the walls of his classroom. Vocabulary terms on construction paper, student work examples, and Wes's favorites – old calendar pages showing various scenes made entirely of fruits, vegetables and other edible items. When Blaine picked up his messenger bag, Wes finally met his friend's gaze. "You and Kurt have plans tonight?"

Cocking his head to the side, Blaine studied Wes. "No."

"Good. Call him. Tell him to meet us at Capriccio's. Drinks and dinner are on me, tonight." Seeing Blaine's protest rising up, Wes held out his hand. "Stop. Uh uh. I need to decompress with my friends and I'm paying. End of argument. You two can buy dessert if we still have room."

"That bad," Blaine said, pulling his cell phone out and hitting Kurt's speed dial number.

"Worse."

They asked for a secluded booth towards the back – which is where Kurt found Blaine and Wes, sitting across from each other, well into a bottle of white wine. Sliding into the booth next to Blaine, Kurt subtly signaled the waiter, asking for a glass and placed an order for fried calamari and the antipasto platter. "Let's get some food in your tummies as well as that Chardonnay," he remarked quietly, rubbing Blaine's stomach briefly."

"Thanks, Kurt," Wes said glumly staring into the pale yellow liquid in his glass.

Waiting for Wes to begin talking about his day, Blaine dropped his hand beneath the table, squeezing Kurt's knee gently. "Thanks for meeting us here, Babe," he said with a soft kiss to Kurt's cheek.

"You two … even after all this time you're still two love struck dorks, aren't you?" Wes smiled at his friends, dropping his chin into his hand to stare at them.

"He's a dork," Kurt teased, pointing at Blaine. "I'm fabulous."

When they all had finished laughing at Kurt's words, the waiter arrived with the antipasto platter. Wes picked up several olives, popping them into his mouth. "So … today. Today was … interesting, he began slowly.

"We had a couple kids come in to report their friend was threatening to kill himself with a gun, and take a few more classmates out when he did."

Blaine sat up straight, all business. "Someone I know?"

"Nah. Don't think so. Freshman." Wes dished a few more items from the platter on to his plate, chewing slowly. "He'll be out on a five day suspension for 'terroristic threats' but I don't think we'll be pushing for expulsion. Right now that's not the kind of help he needs. Mental health services was interviewing him and his family – he'll be going to the hospital on a psych hold."

Kurt shook his head. "That's rough, Wes."

Wes laughed humorously. "That was the beginning. Then we dealt with Donnie – your Donnie, Anderson – who brought a five inch knife to school and then made the stellar choice to show it to a bunch of kids in math class. That's mandatory expulsion. And then – over the walkie – Nick radios in that he needs us to come out to the field because he's caught four kids smoking pot behind the baseball dugout."

"That's what I was dealing with when you called. Talking to parents, talking to the students. Searching everyone's locker and PE locker, bringing in their backpacks and searching them in front of the kids and their parents. Marijuana, bongs, and one kid at a huge butane blow torch. He'll go up for expulsion for having something that was explosive on campus."

Wes downed what was in his glass, pouring himself another glass. "Just – fuck."

Blaine tapped Wes's foot with his own. "Well, if there's a bright side to any of this, you didn't catch anyone having sex in the porta-potty on the track, or in the school bathrooms, or teachers' offices. No staff members being fired for downloading porn using the school computers. No cars crashing into classrooms. No drunk teachers trying to teach."

Kurt's eyes widened as Blaine's list grew longer. "You're shitting me. That has not happened at Dalton," he said incredulous.

"Um, all in the last year," Wes said with a snort. "Okay, you're right. I guess it could have been worse. So Kurt, tell me about your day. What was the biggest problem you handled today."

Kurt grinned. "Deciding what I'm having for dinner."

Wes tossed an olive pit at Kurt. "Asshole."

"I'm an asshole who has the perfect blind date for you."

"Christ! And the hits just keep coming."

Kurt waggled his finger at Wes. "Don't bitch. You know getting laid regularly will help with your stress levels. And fucking your own hand doesn't count."

Wes glared at Blaine. "Why did we invite him?"

"You invited him," Blaine replied, holding his hands out to placate Wes.

"Yeah, but you're the one who found him in the hallway, grabbed his hand and went skipping to off to eye fuck him while singing 'Teenage Dream'." Despite trying to sound angry, Wes couldn't keep his lips from twitching up at the sides. "Worst spy ever."

"Feeling better?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow at Wes.

"A little. Thanks."

"Anytime."