A/N- I was so pleased by the response to my FLIRT one-shot, I thought I'd like to explore it more. I'm glad to see that there are others who like Klaine, but are open to something new. Also, I might have a bit of a author crush on the various forms of Flint floating around. Especially I've Worn That Face. Read it. Seriously. Right now...well...after you read this. Then go read it. Love the FLIRT!

Disclaimer- Do not own.

Flint ran his pen over the already dark lines of the treble clef in the margins of his notebook. He was listening to his biology teacher review the different types of reproduction in the plant and animal worlds. Right now it was the thrilling world of fungus. He'd already studied this last night, so he let his mind wander slightly.

Kurt was sitting in the second row from the front, on the far right side of the classroom. Which was almost as far away from Flint as possible. Which kinda sucked.

This was the only class he had with Kurt this semester, aside from study hall, which didn't count. On a good day he got to smile and say hi on his way to the back left corner of the room with Jeff. Most of the time he could only hope to catch the other boy's eye and smile at some point in the lesson. It was lame. He was lame. Jeff had told him that all his romantic attempts ever could be summed up by the word "dorktastic," and as depressing as it was, it still made Flint laugh. Even right now. In the middle of class. Crap.

"Is there something amusing about spores that I am unaware of Mr. Wilson?" Flint looked up, feeling his neck flush at being called out in class.

"No sir."

"Do you think you could refrain from spontaneous chuckles in the middle of my lesson then?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir." watched him for another moment before turning back to the board. Flint ground his eye with the heel of his hand and looked to Jeff for sympathy, knowing he wouldn't get it. Instead he saw Jeff's pen pointing at a note in the margins of his paper

"Good job nerdo." Flint scowled and wrote his own note back.

"U suck." Jeffrey saw it and just grinned to himself.

There was still twenty minutes in class and Flint had to get through it without raising the ire of Mr. Wolosky again. If he missed Warblers again because of detention, Wes was going to find him, flay him alive and use his skin to make a decorative gavel cover.

Not that he was in detention a lot. Maybe just slightly above average. He didn't do anything wrong really, he just had a short attention span, which led to a few after-school detainments for inattention rather than disobedience. His performance reviews mid-semester always seemed to say that he was a good student, he did have a 3.8 GPA even though he was circling the drain right now in Algebra, and a very nice boy. But they always said he would do much better if he would apply himself.

Flint hated that phrase. He'd had six years by now at Dalton being told to "apply himself." Really, he wanted to "apply" his foot in the shins of the next person who told him that. But his mom would kill him if he did and nag him about manners and respect until his ears inverted into his head so he just tried to ignore it.

The bell rang and Flint closed his text book, tucking his paper inside and turned to Jeff.

"You've got dance til six right?" Jeff glanced up from jamming his books into his shoulder bag and nodded.

"Yeah. Three hours of ballet, and then I plan to cut off my feet. Why?"

Flint shrugged, glancing at the doorway as Kurt was joined by Blaine outside in the hall. He could see Kurt's eyes light up as the other boy slung his arm around his shoulders. Flint looked back to Jeff.

"Just wanted to know if you wanna watch a movie tonight."

Jeff looked interested, moving towards the front of class.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Khaaaaaaaaaaan?" Flint said, changing the movie's yell to a steady question. Jeff grinned.

"Totally up for that. Eight? Dorm commons? I need time to get back from the studio and shower."

"Sounds good." They parted outside the classroom. Jeff had to drive in to Columbus, but Flint had nowhere to go right now except back to his dorms to work on his geography paper. Tectonic plates. Thrilling.

Flint climbed out of the shower, towelling dry and pulling on a pair of sweats and a long sleeve tee that read "Warblers do it stripped down. A Cappella State Champs '09" across the back. Flint looked in the mirror. He tugged at his hair, pulling it over his forehead rather than pushing it into the Dalton sweep he kept up during school and Warbler hours. It was longer than he usually let it grow to and fell into his eyes. He wondered if Kurt would like his hair like this. Kurt's hair was always perfect. And so was Blaine's. With the help of some industrial strength adhesives. But he remembered one time Kurt had seemed to like Blaine's a lot when he'd left it curly.

But his didn't curl. It just sort of...was.

Flint pushed and pulled at his cheeks for a moment, wondering if he should bother shaving before bed or wait til morning. He decided to leave it. He was just going to be in the lounge. It's not like he would be trying to impress anyone. Definitely not Kurt. Ugh.

He kept staring at himself in the mirror. He wasn't handsome like Blaine. He knew that Blaine had this...thing...that drew people to him. He was a front man, charming and smooth and polite. Even his insecurities were more endearing than off-putting. He so rarely did or said the wrong thing, and when he did, more often than not people tried to find excuses for him rather than blaming him for his actions. He rolled with the top Warblers, got on with the athletes and the science nerds and the teachers without seeming like a twat. He was special, and the worst part was it didn't even seem like he did it on purpose. It just came to him.

Flint wasn't special. Flint was loud and out there, some times too much. He could still burn in embarrassment at a few moments in his past where he had been too much, and though he'd tried to play it off, he had been internally mortified. He told good jokes and terrible jokes in equal proportions, often at inappropriate times when he didn't know what else to say. He wanted to be affectionate, but didn't have anyone to be affectionate with, and was mildly petrified to put himself out there. Which is why he nursed a huge crush on Kurt Hummel, but outside of group scenarios, hadn't really had more than casual conversation with him so far.

It had been during Kurt's first try out for a solo that Flint had really noticed him. Kurt had that special thing that Blaine had, but there was something in him, in his need to be noticed rather than a talent for it that Flint just...felt. When he had gotten a bit diva with the whole hands thing during his Evita piece, and Blaine had subtly shook him down from it, Flint could just feel the acidic embarrassed flush that Kurt tried to hide. It had happened to him on his first solo try out, except he had forgotten a line from a song he had known for years and had to make up something else on the spot. No one had said anything about it, but they knew, and they knew he knew what had happened. Flint had gone back to his dorm room that night and smacked his head into his pillow, feeling like a total moron.

"Hey, you in?" Flint took a last look in the mirror and grunted out an affirmative as Jeff shut the door behind him. There was a familiar thump as Jeff's dance bag hit the floor and he hit his bed.

"Tough rehearsal?" Flint called out, just shaking out his hair and letting it fall where it may as he left the bathroom.

Jeff groaned as he stretched out his feet.

"Paul is an absolute unmitigated asshole." Paul, Jeff's ballet teacher, was an absolute slave driver and perfectionist, and while Jeff admitted it made him better, it also made him really sore.

"What were you working on today?"

"Lifts. So many lifts." Flint wandered into his room, nudging the sports bag Jeff had dropped out of his way. He sat in his desk chair and looked at his roommate. Jeff was lying in exhaustion on his bed, still in his singlet and sweats.

"Your emo hair is a mess." Jeff opened his eyes to glare across the room. He and Jeff had a running argument over his shock of blond hair. It was scene, thank you, Jeff insisted. That was not the same as emo, no matter how many times Flint called it that.

They seemed confrontational and sharp with each other at first glance, but they had been roommates and each other's best friend for five years now. Behind their barbs and arguments, Flint had helped Jeff through his mom's breast cancer and his grandfather's death. And Jeff was the only person at Dalton who had seen Flint cry when he'd been called to the principal's office because his baby sister was in a car crash on the way to her gymnastics class. Jeff had been the person who cleaned up the glass and lied to the maintenance staff after Flint threw a book at his dresser mirror when he'd had to go visit his grandma with his father and she hadn't remembered either of them because of the Alzheimer's. And together they had driven to a stream nearby at 6 am the next morning to throw the pieces into running water and prevent seven years of bad luck.

Jeff sat up, crossing his legs and stretching his arms out in front of him.

"Whatever. And now Allie's pissed at me because I got paired with Larissa for practice, and those two have got a mad hate on for each other. I didn't get to choose, and it's not like I could tell Paul no. That girl is so crazy, it drive me nuts sometimes." Flint snorted in amusement.

"She'll get over it by tomorrow. And so will you." Jeff rolled his eyes in acquiescence. Flint was right, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. They were both aware he just wanted to have his little bitch fit.

"So are we going to go rock the Wrath of Khan?"

"Only if you plan on showering first. You're making the room reek like you." Jeff looked over his shoulder as he grabbed a towel off his footboard.

"I thought you preferred a more manly musk." Jeff teased him, grabbing a clean t-shirt and pyjama pants from his laundry basket.

"There's a difference between that and the smell of your feet twinkle toes. Hurry up. I'll go save the tv." Flint pulled the dvd from a shelf on his bookcase and grabbed a hoodie as the sound of the shower came on through the bathroom door.

Flint had been able to hijack the tv and grab a spot on one of the couches in the lounge, saving a spot for Jeff. When he'd finally arrived, they'd started up the movie, and now there were at least fifteen boys from their dorms splayed across parts of the room.

Blaine wrinkled his nose at the screen. He was sitting next to Kurt on a love seat, and clearly not enjoying the wonders of Star Trek.

"Why are we watching this?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. He had watched old Star Trek episodes with his grandfather when he was young and his mom was sick. When his dad had to take her to the hospital in Columbus, his grandpa had taken care of him, introducing him to the wonders of the Enterprise. He had called him Captain Kurt for the next two years, until he passed away.

"Cause it's a classic. And it's hilarious." Kurt informed him. He caught Flint's eye, who looked grateful that someone was defending his movie choice.

"And Flint has a crush on Leonard Nemoy." Simon added. Flint snapped away from Kurt's face, looking at Simon with wide eyes.

"What? No I don't!" Flint reached over the arm of the couch and punched Simon in the arm with a frown. Jeff laughed and coughed out something that sounded like "Does too." Flint groaned, glaring at his roommate.

"One weird dream and you go jumping to conclusions. That dream totally wasn't me either. It was the suicide wings."

He saw Kurt's face scrunch up across the room.

"What?" The other boy looked interested, but Flint just had a feeling of dread. He glared at Jeff, warning him against telling this particular story right now. To this crowd. Not that all of them except one hadn't heard it already. But that one person was Kurt. And if anyone was going to embarrass him in front of a crush, it was going to be Jeff.

"Flint went out for food with some of the senior Warblers last year and ate a full pound of suicide wings on a dare. And then he had a sexy Spock dream and woke up screaming in a cold sweat."

Flint crossed his arms, tolerating the playful teasing and trying to make sure Kurt didn't realize he was embarrassed.

"In response to which you comforted me by falling off your bed laughing."

"I was laughing with you?" Jeff tried, giving him a lop-sided grin.

"No, it was definitely at. And then I got sick. I still can't eat wings. Or hot sauce." Flint grimaced and rubbed his stomach at the memory. He also snuck a glance at Kurt, who luckily was smiling widely, rather than looking disgusted. He caught Flint's eye momentarily.

"It's okay Flint. I once got so sick I cried about Bambi and threw up on my guidance counsellor's feet." Flint snorted in amusement.

"Okay, now I feel a little better."

"I once drank two jugs of red kool aid at my friend's and then threw up at home. I'm pretty sure my mom thought I was dying for a while." Carter offered.

"One word." Adam held up his hand to silence them all. "Cheetos." There was a chorus of disgusted noises, but Adam silenced them again. "Second word. Tire swing."

"Ew! I totally did not intend to start up a round of worst throw up story." Kurt grimaced.

"But I've got a good one!" Simon complained, but one look from Kurt silenced him. "That I can save for later..."

There was a ripple of laughter through the room, followed by a heavy shushing as a flurry of action erupted on the screen. Flint watched as Kurt scolded Blaine playfully about causing the interruption. And maybe just a little, or maybe a whole lot, wished he was sitting next to Kurt on that loveseat instead.