*I wanted this to be as close to something that would actually happen on the show as possible. Tell me if I even came CLOSE.
*I don't own Glee. If I did it would be porn :/
Bitch-Slapped By an Iceberg
His first day. The bright red metal doors of the McKinley High entrance way lacked the warmth of Dalton's ornate mahogany ones; perfectly mirroring the mentality of the students within each. Blaine Anderson swallowed and ran his hands up and down the rough leather of his steering wheel starring at the doors as if willing them to soften.
"Courage, dammit. Courage," he whispered to himself, digging his fingernails into the wheel. Leaning over the passenger seat to grab his messenger-style bag, Blaine heard a tap on the window. Looking up he saw Puck and Lauren standing outside his navy blue Volvo, waving animatedly. Smiling in relief at having at least two familiar, "friendly" faces to walk into the building with him, Blaine opened the door and greeted them.
"Jesus, Anderson. It looks like you got body-snatched by an Albino hobbit. You have a run-in with an over eager vampire on your way here?" Puck clapped a hand on Blaine's shoulder, looking him up and down as they walked toward to the harsh, red doors. His comments, however, had been mostly drowned out by the blood thumping loudly in Blaine's ears and he looked at Puckerman with a look of genuine confusion.
"He means," said a soft, nasally voice from his other side, "that you look pale." Quinn leveled with Blaine and gave his elbow a soft squeeze. "It's gonna be fine," she whispered, getting very close to his left side. Blaine reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go and holding both hands firmly on his messenger bag strap.
"Listen, Warbler. Anyone gives you trouble, and I mean ANYONE, you come to me, ok? I got your back." Puck looked down at Blaine fiercely, a hand still gripped on his shoulder, guiding him through the hallways like a Blaine was dog on a leash. At that moment they turned a corner, and for the first time that day, Blaine's feelings of dread lessoned. There he was, dressed head-to-toe in Burberry that he had been saving especially for the first day of school, and carefully taping what looked like a photo to the inside of a locker door. Mumbling farewells, the Blaine's escort scattered to their assorted lockers in the same hallway as Blaine walked with purpose to stand directly behind his boyfriend.
"I love that picture," Blaine said quietly. Kurt turned around, surprised, and smiled at him. It was a picture taken that summer by Brittany at her 4th of July pool party. The sun was in the final stages of setting as Blaine and Kurt were curled in a single pool chair, Blaine holding a sparkler lazily and smiling sleepily while Kurt's head lulled on his shoulder.
"Yes. Yes, it's one of my favorites, "Kurt breathed, looking over his shoulder at the picture, fondly. Kurt smiled at him, melting Blaine and gluing him in place. How had he been scared to come here? Kurt was here. He belonged with Kurt. "So how does it feel to be in a learning environment without a blazer on?" Kurt smiled coyly at him, tweaking Blaine's collar on his forest green polo and looking over his dark jeans and brown athletic shoes with an approving nod. "Even though, you've gotten about as close as you could to blending in without physically wearing a uniform, so that's pretty impressive."
"I just wanted to be comfortable today. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the blazer a little when I first walked in."
Kurt grabbed his hand. "And now?" he asked, squeezing his hand.
"Better. Just need to keep reminding myself to take my own advice about courage. That, and I can smell what smells increasingly like a medium drip coming from your locker." Kurt blushed and reached inside the locker, pulled out two large cups of coffee, and handed one to Blaine.
"I thought you might need a little pick-me-up on your first day." Blaine smiled and was about to make a flirty comment about Kurt knowing his coffee order, when the bell rang. "What class do you have first?" Blaine dug around in his bag for his schedule.
"Trigonometry with Mr. Gregory, you?" he said, looking back up at Kurt like a lost puppy.
"French. They're close, I'll escort you." They walked slowly, Kurt pointing out various rooms and teachers to Blaine on the way, and the hallways were virtually empty by the time they reached Mr. Gregory's room. "Here you go, I'll see you at lunch and then glee practice ok?" Kurt gazed at Blaine as he flashed him a reassuring smile. Blaine's fear had pretty much dissipated while walking the halls with Kurt and he felt himself getting more and more excited about this new chapter in his life.
"Ok! See you." Blaine grabbed and squeezed Kurt's hand before he turned and walked towards the classroom door.
"Blaine, wait! I forgot to tell you something!" Blaine turned suddenly to see Kurt bouncing towards him.
"What is it?" Blaine asked, figuring it was something along the lines of 'Don't use the bathroom on the third floor unless you want to smell like smoke for the rest of the day' or 'The third snack machine from the left ALWAYS steals your money'. But before he had the chance to imagine any more scenarios, his mind became fogged and his senses dulled. Kurt was kissing him. In the middle of the (albeit, empty) hallway.
Kurt pulled away after a few seconds, far too soon for either's liking, but kept one hand resting on the hook of Blaine's collar bone and the other on his nonfat mocha. He took a sip, never letting his eyes leave Blaine- who looked like he'd just been socked in the gut- and licked his lips. Smiling, he whispered, "Good luck," and walked away. Blaine's mind finally returned to him as Kurt swung around the corner and he stumbled into Trigonometry just as the tardy bell rang, buzzing with adrenaline.
The rest of the day passed with relative ease. The New Directions had seemed to receive some sort of secret memo from Kurt to shadow Blaine's every move that day, so there was hardly a moment when at least one of them wasn't around. And after the third time in a row Artie wheeled over his new shoes when he attempted to pass him, Blaine realized there was slim chance of shaking them off, even if he had wanted to.
Blaine quickly realized that not everyone at McKinley was as rampantly homophobic as he had built them up to be. He got some weird looks, yes, but they were mainly because of the fact that he was a new kid whose hair looked like it had been carved off an Elvis statue and stuck to his head with shellac. (He made a mental note to go a little lighter on the gel tomorrow morning.) Some of the brave souls that spoke to him in his classes were actual quite nice. Many of them in theatre, band, or a variety of arts could care less about the fact that he was gay, and some even complimented him and Kurt as a couple. Others remarked about the other times Blaine had appeared at McKinley.
"Ohmygod, you're gay?" whined a girl in his English class. "What a waist. Damn. Hummel is one lucky guy. He gets out of this rinky-dink shack and comes back with a hottie."
"The way you sang to him on the stairs? And stood up and danced with him at prom? Ugh, I so wish a guy would do that for me," said another girl in his Chemistry lab.
By the time glee practice rolled around, Blaine was feeling almost at home at McKinley. Not only did he have his friends in the glee club, but he had at least one person in every class that he felt comfortable enough with to talk to. A small, mousy girl named Bernie in his History lecture had even slipped him a gum wrapper on his way out the door with her phone number and the message "If you and Kurt ever want a third party ;)" scribbled on it in purple ink. Flattered, but mildly aghast, Blaine pretended he thought it was simply a gum wrapper and thanked her before spitting his gum into it and throwing it away hurriedly.
Yes, everything seemed to be going quite swimmingly on his first day, and there was a certain spring in his step as he made his way from Italian to glee practice that afternoon; fifteen minutes late due to a chat with Mrs. Lombardi about how yes, he was qualified to be in Italian level 4 due to the fact that he had completed Italian level 3 at Dalton and could speak it fluently. And then, as he was walking past the boy's locker room, it hit him. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced, worse than a punch in the face or kick to the stomach; like a thousand little knives tearing his face apart at once. Blaine simply stood there, literally frozen, as cherry slushie oozed down his face.
"Welcome to McKinley, Dancing Queen!"
The last bell of the day had wrung and the New Directions twittered and hummed around the choir room, excited to be back together and preparing for competition yet again. Kurt was among them, gossiping about fellow students' summer haircuts and tans gone wrong, but anxiously checking his phone every few seconds, attempting to will a respond from Blaine to appear on it. Practice started five minutes ago. Was he lost? Was he with a teacher? Ten minutes ago. Did he have to go home early and forgot to tell Kurt? Did he have to talk to Principal Figgins? Fifteen minutes ago.
"Welcome to McKinley, Dancing Queen!" The entire club jumped to their feet as they heard the biting catcall and barking laugh of Azimio Adams echoing from the hallway, Kurt the first one up. They all screeched to a halt as they saw Blaine standing there, perfectly still, eyes squeezed shut, as drops of red slushie dripped, dripped, dripped to the floor. Then, movement.
"Oh HELL nah!" cried Mercedes watching Azimio strut down the hall.
"That is NOT OK man," growled Sam, as he, Finn, Puck, Mike, and Artie stormed after the lumbering jock, clearly not minding if things turned violent. Mr. Schue and the rest of the glee girls grabbed the boys as Azimio broke into a run. Lauren on the other hand, broke free of the crowd and ran after him. Seconds later they heard several *SLAM*s and cries of pain (that were decidedly male).
"Mess with Hummel or his boy toy again I will teach your ass exactly what it means to ruffle the feathers of the AA Ohio State Wrestling Champion!"
Meanwhile, Kurt was trying to console Blaine. He motioned to Mr. Schue that he was taking Blaine into the restroom to clean up before grabbing his newly-sticky boyfriend by the arm and guiding him to the men's room. Leading him to the sink, Kurt turned on the water and wet a cloth that he dabbed on Blaine's face just enough so he could open his eyes without subjecting them to red food-coloring and high fructose corn syrup. When his eyes were open he looked at Kurt, who smiled at him with that beautiful, sorrowful smile.
"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" Blaine laughed at the tone in Kurt's voice.
"I had no idea it would feel that bad," he smiled and sighed as he cupped warm water in his hands and splashed it onto his face. "Crap, it's all down my shirt too. I should've worn a poncho." Kurt laughed and unbuttoned the last few buttons at Blaine's neck, but the sticky redness crawled down even farther.
"Ugh, it's no use Blaine it's all down your chest and even your stomach."
"Whatever, I'll just shower when I get home." Blaine stood up straight from where he'd been crouching over the sink, cleaning slushie out of his ears, and cringed.
"What is it? Are you hurt?" Kurt went into panic mode. Bracing Blaine against himself and holding a wet towel to his forehead, just for good measure.
"It's just," Blaine let out a tiny laugh, "it's just a little…sticky." He held his shirt out away from his chest. "On my hair." Kurt looked at him point blank, before breaking into a fit of giggles.
"Take it off then," Kurt laughed.
"Wait. What?" Blaine was laughing and looking at Blaine with his 'you can't be serious' face.
"You can't dance to Mr. Schuster's unbearably tacky choreography if the hair is being ripped off your torso with every jazz square, cant you? Take it off! We're gonna clean off the slushie." Blaine smiled and pulled his shirt over his head, winking at Kurt as he did so just to see him blush uncontrollably. Even after several months of dating, there was just something about Blaine that did something to Kurt; a chemical reaction that sent blood formerly used to keep him from going lightheaded into his cheeks. Blaine loved it.
Kurt wet another paper towel with scalding hot water and pressed it against Blaine's chest, wiping the sticky, red substance off little by little. His face was inches from Blaine's and he looked up at him and planted a kiss on the side of his mouth.
"Will I live?" asked Blaine, sweetly smiling at Kurt, who's eyes had moved back to his chest.
"I've certainly had worse. At least you didn't get blue. It turns everything blue. And when I say everything, I mean…everything." He had looked back up at Blaine for just a split second with a smile, but it faded at the look of pity and heartache written all over Blaine's still slightly red face.
"Why are people so stupid? I mean, slushies? Who thinks of that?" Blaine and Kurt both looked at each other for a moment before laughing. "Not to mention a waste of a perfectly good beverage." Kurt, still laughing, twisted his arms around Blaine, who held him there, cheek to Kurt's forehead. This is how they were, how they could be, when no one else was around.
"Don't leave," Kurt whispered.
"What? Kurt, I think we have to go to glee eventually."
"No. Not that. I mean, don't leave McKinley. We can do it, we can stand up to them together. We can turn the crowd in our favor. I know you might regret coming now, but just…stay. Please."
"Kurt…" Blaine said, hand firmly placed on the back of Kurt's neck, rubbing tension out of it with his thumb. "Kurt, I'm sure I'll love it here. We can overcome them, together, like you said. I'm not quitting. Not this time." And then they were kissing, and it was blissful. Nothing else mattered: not the slushies, or the glee club, or Bernie, with her creepy sexual advances, or those damn red, metal doors.
"Hey, how's it going in he- whoa!" Sam had just walked into the bathroom and Kurt and Blaine detached themselves long enough to look at him, eyebrows raised.
"I just…a clean shirt…used to be Blaine's anyway…thought maybe…here." He held the old Dalton Academy t-shirt out to Blaine, smiling with his adorably awkward smile, clearly feeling bad about walking in on them.
"Thanks, man," said Blaine, smiling genuinely up at him and reaching up for the shirt, the other hand still quite at home on Kurt's hip, thumb tracing tiny circles there.
"Mr. Schue says practice starts in five minutes. For real this time. He said something about how you still technically have to audition, Blaine." Sam chuckled, knowing it was ridiculous.
"We'll be down in a minute, thanks Sam," said Kurt in a sing-song voice, making it clear to Sam that it was time for him to go.
After the door had close behind Sam, Kurt looked back at Blaine, now dressed in his old t-shirt, hair still slightly damp.
"What if we're wrong and we can't make any difference? What if things just get worse?" Kurt looked at Blaine with real terror in his eyes. What if they couldn't be together? What if love wasn't enough?
"You know what? I genuinely don't think it will. And even if it does? To me, you're worth it."
"You're worth a lot more than this." Kurt leaned in a pressed a soft kiss on Blaine's lips, and as he did so Blaine let out a little musical sigh of content. "Courage, Blaine."
"Courage," Blaine said as he smiled and took Kurt's hand, pulling him out of the bathroom to the choir room with the rest of the New Directions. It was a new year. It was going to be their year.