Hello, this is cowritten by me and Beca, a.k.a. WoolWooker here on Fanfic.
Mainly I edit and write Kurt/Blaine interaction because I'm a controlling bitch.
Be prepared for more to come. :3
PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS!
"Anderson!"
Blaine froze. He turned, a careful but slightly cocky smile plastered on his face.
"Sir? Can I help you?" he asked, oozing charm from nearly every pore.
"You're not wearing your blazer; where have you abandoned it now? I'd better not find it on fire like last time," the teacher stated, referring to an incident of the previous year where a bonfire had appeared on the sports field, fueled by an array of items. Including many of the boys' clothes.
"Definitely not, Sir. It's safely tucked in my locker right now," he returned confidently. His blazer was in fact not in his locker at all, but currently buried beneath a broken table in the school basement. "I'll put it on before my next class," he added with a sure, relaxed smile. In his head, however, Blaine was begging the teacher not to question any further.
"Well . . . be sure that you do," the teacher finished rather lamely, leaving Blaine standing in the corridor alone. Blaine immediately ran in the other direction, predictably enough, toward a door nearby marked 'PRIVATE – STRICTLY NO STUDENT ACCESS'.
"Blaine, where've you been?" questioned David, eyes wide with concern. Blaine glanced quickly at the clock, noting lazily that he was late.
"I got held up," he replied, slightly defensive as he threw his hands up. "Teacher noticed I didn't have my blazer. I mean, I tried to get down here without being seen but, hey. I'm not a ninja."
"Who was it?" Thad demanded anxiously. The future of their group could depend solely on who they had encountered along the way. Blaine considered the question a lot more than he had the teacher he'd been spotted by. Paying attention to adults was not his forte', as any and all adults were 'the enemy in his eyes'. He preferred to keep them as a collective.
"I have no idea, might be new."
A low murmur began to flood through the group. A new teacher could only be one of two things: chaos, or disaster. A new set of eyes on the corridors, a new head in the classrooms, a new enemy to keep on watch . . . any of this could mean the end of the underground choir they had carefully set up, away from the teachers, and definitely away from the other students.
At Dalton Reformatory School for Boys, being in a show choir was suicide. Literally.
The rehearsal had gone smoothly enough, and Blaine glanced at the clock nervously. Free period was almost over and he hadn't yet managed to free his trapped blazer from beneath the heap of furniture at the back of their basement choir room. The other boys had trickled out of the room slowly, in twos and threes to avoid being noticed, so as usual he was the last to leave.
"Need a hand?"
Blaine spun around in surprise. Jeff was still there, sitting at the top of the steps up to exit. "Please. It's stuck." Blaine begged desperately. He couldn't afford another detention this week, not after last week's lunch time fiasco. Jeff stood up and helped Blaine move the broken bits of desk across the room, something he most definitely could not have done alone.
"How did it even get under there?" Jeff asked Blaine curiously. Jeff was the quiet kid, usually the first to leave the room at the end of rehearsal and the first to arrive the next day. Blaine had noticed he wasn't the kind to confront a situation; he was very much a follower and not a leader. This lead Blaine to wonder why he was here now, offering his assistance when many times before he'd ducked down at a chance. It was suspicious enough as it was.
"These desks weren't broken before," explained Blaine. "I've got a habit of climbing on furniture. Don't know if you've noticed." Jeff just smirked at him in reply, and he glared back.
"Anyway, I got carried away. One minute I was on a desk, and the next I was trapped under it. I crawled out easy enough, but the back of my blazer got snagged on something. I had to shrug it off to get out."
"Jesus Christ, are you okay?" Jeff questioned shakily, his eyes full of- was that fear? Blaine stared at him. It was certainly normal for Jeff to be concerned about his welfare, in this group it was of vital importance they all looked out for each other. But . . . there was something else here, something he couldn't quite find a name for.
"Yeah," Blaine replied quickly, avoiding Jeff's eyes as he went back to work on the desk debris. "I'm fine. It was nothing."
At last he was able to free his blazer, and he followed Jeff up the stairs, pulling his arms through the sleeves and grabbing his bag as he went.
Straightening his Marc Jacobs jacket, Kurt stepped through the front doors of Dalton. He was sure he was supposed to be intimidated by the imposing barbed-wire fence out front, and the guard stations, but he wasn't really. What was the difference between a school and a prison normally anyway? All that really bothered him was how it was all made out of dark brick. Honestly, had they ever even heard of school decor? 40's asylum chic had gone out with the asylums. Sighing, Kurt heaved his messenger bag over his shoulder and continued on through the hall, spotting what appeared to be a fellow student rounding the opposite corner.
Blaine was on his way to class, so to speak, when he spotted him. It took a moment for his brain to register that what he was seeing was real, because there was no way in hell a guy like him could be in a place like this. Down at the end of the hall, strutting in his direction, was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. Hair perfectly coifed, rose lips twisted into a smirk, and clothes that fashion models dreamed of; this boy was simply out of place among Dalton's uniformed delinquents.
Quickening his pace, Blaine strode right up to face this new kid, drinking him in with his eyes like he was the sweetest liquor. This kid wouldn't last a day in their dorms. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled lowly. Yes this boy was taller, but Blaine knew he was definitely the stronger of the two. Either he got this kid to scurry back with his tail between his legs or the other boys would chew him up and spit him out, and Blaine didn't want to see such a pretty face ruined.
"A better question, personally, would be who the fuck do you think you are," Kurt replied nonchalantly, smoothing the cuffs of his sleeves. "I mean honestly, that's not quite the cordial welcome one could have hoped for." Blaine almost took a step back; he hadn't been expecting such a sharp response. The other boys eyes raked lazily down over him and his nose wrinkled slightly. "Are these the uniforms? I guess they could be worse."
"You don't belong here," Blaine told him, getting over his initial shock at the audacity of this soft looking kid. "They'll rip your head off by third bell." Kurt laughed lightly, a sound reminiscent of ringing bells, high and sweet.
"You're cute. But I'll be fine, thanks." He reached out and patted the top of Blaine's head, grimacing lightly before pulling his hand away. "You could do with a little less gel though. I mean, a mop of curls is hardly threatening, but neither is a helmet like this." Blaine was used to people being scared of him, he was used to people listening to him when he talked; what he wasn't used to was this constant wave of insults and lack of respect. It was then that he knew if this boy wouldn't listen to him, he'd have to show him for himself.
It was with rough hands that Blaine gripped Kurt's shoulders, throwing him harshly against the row of lockers in the hall. Kurt hit them with a slight 'unf' but other than that gave no indication that this was unexpected or unwanted. Grinning, Blaine leaned his head up, placing his lips right against Kurt's ear and breathing softly into it.
"Bet you didn't do anything to get here. Bet you're soft, bet you taste soft." His tongue flicked along the edge of Kurt's ear, and he heard his quick intake of breath. "Bet I could have you wrapped around my finger and jelly in my hands before you had the chance to blink."
Kurt's voice was unnaturally high when he responded, but no less sure of itself. "I bet your lack of grammar is not uncommon around here." He leaned his head down and nipped Blaine's neck, hard. Yelping, the shorter boy pulled back, staring into Kurt's blue-green eyes and devilish grin. This time Kurt leaned in to whisper in Blaine's ear. "If it's any indication of the education here, I'd beg to differ. I bet you'll be wrapped around my finger sooner." Shuddering at the feel of the other boys hot breath and lips so close, he released him, stepping back shakily. Kurt cocked his head to the side.
"Yup, you're cute." He winked. "I'll be seeing you around." Then he turned heel on his white and black Doc Martens, striding down the hall like he owned the place and Blaine stood there silently, the image of those lake-water eyes burned into his mind. Maybe this boy wasn't so soft after all.