Another paper found its way to the "graded" stack on the corner of Blaine's large, wooden desk. He sighed, pushing his rectangular, tortoise shell glasses up, so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. Why did people even do that? It did nothing but leave little, greasy smudges on his lenses. He took them off, pinching the glass between the fabric of his favorite cardigan, it was a deep maroon and Blaine was positive it was made from some magical material from another world because it was the softest thing he had ever felt. He scrubbed at the smudges before holding his specs up to the bright fluorescent lights, replacing them when he found them clear of any imperfections.

He'd just picked his pen up, poised over what was sure to be another essay as bland as oatmeal, -he wanted dinosaur eggs, but the most he ever seemed to get was sugar free banana bread- when there was a knock on the frame of his office door.

Curse his open door policy. He really didn't have time right now.

He flung his pen at the desk, and pushed his papers away forcefully- a little too forcefully. The "done" pile fell and spread across the floor like butter on toast.

"Shit."

The little, "oh," from the hall was what finally made Blaine look up.

He knew the voice well, mostly because if he didn't have Kurt Hummel in his Literature of Music class he would have been having "class discussions" with himself for the last two weeks.

It had nothing to do with the way he would imagine that voice, high and breathy against his neck as he-

"Hi, Mr. Anderson, I was just coming to see if we could talk about the paper that you assigned today?" Kurt asked setting his pen and notebook on the chair across from Blaine's desk before helping Blaine to gather his graded work.

When the papers were in a neat pile on his desk, his cardigan smoothed down, and his bowtie straightened, he took a seat gesturing for Kurt to do the same. "Uh-" he pulled his chair forward, trying to forget about last night. Think of a car crash, think of your mother finding your porn, think about dead puppies, Blaine…ok, maybe not dead puppies you don't want to start crying for no reason, he'll think you're insane. With his brain clear of everything but a stalled out stretch of highway and a plume of smoke in the distance, he laid a hand on the stack of papers that he had marked with his favorite red pen and said, "thank you for helping me pick these up. I uh," he pushed his glasses up his nose, "I'm sorry about that, that was completely uh-" he chucked out a laugh, before scrubbing a hand over his face, as if it could erase the blush that colored his cheeks. "Never mind, just thank you."

"I can come back if this is a bad time? I know it's usually compulsory to make an appointment, but I had a last minute shift change at work, and I was hoping you could squeeze me in?"

Oh god.

"Uh-" a thin layer of sweat formed on the slope of his nose, causing his glasses to slip. He pushed them up in the middle. "No, that's completely fine Mr. Hummel, happy to help! What was it you um-" a smudge on his right lens caught his eye, "um," he removed his glasses, scrubbing at them again, "what was it you wanted to talk about?" He looked up from where he'd been watching himself wear down his prescription with the thick cotton of his sweater, seeing a blurry outline of the man-boy; he's still just a boy for god's sake- across from him. He was graced with a tight-lipped smile when he replaced the heavy frames on his face, everything a little clearer but only one thing was in focus.

"Well, Mr. Anderson, I just wanted to run an idea by you, maybe get some feedback? It would be a big help."

"Sure, Kurt-uh, Mr. Hummel, I mean."

"Kurt's fine," he said a smirk appearing on his face for a flash, gone in an instant, but leaving a hit of something in his eyes. He crossed one leg over the other, his foot bobbing at a steady beat, but as a singer and a dancer he was required to have perfect rhythm. Kurt flipped his notebook open to a clean page and uncapped his pen, scribbling a title in the top margin.

"Take it away then, Kurt."

"I- well I guess I just kind of want to talk about what you're expecting. Every teacher is different, I just want to get an idea about what's going to make you happy," Blaine could see Kurt barely keeping a straight face when he blanched, all of the blood in his body traveling below the border, without a passport. He pulled his cardigan down over his lap as far as it would go. He pushed he glasses up, the shaking in his hand knocking them askew. He fixed them again, and again, until they were straight on his face. He scratched the top of his cheek, ducking his head; he tried to hold back a smile.

"Well- I- I expect a lot from my students, obviously," he paused shifting uncomfortably in his plush, brown leather, rolly-chair. "You have the syllabus, you know the requirements for this assignments, so I'm not exactly sure what you're looking for," he said, giving Kurt a shrug.

"How about a little 'get to know you' talk? This first assignment is about sharing our favorite songs, and artist and how we relate to them, I-there are some things I can't share with people who I don't trust."

"You don't trust me Mr. Hummel?"

"Well do you trust me? How could you possibly, we don't know each other at all," A minute passed as Blaine thought about what was transpiring. Of course we don't know each other, you're my student, and I'm your professor! We shouldn't be friends! "Well, Mr. Anderson? Do you trust me?"

"How could I possibly, Kurt?" He said with a casual smirk, "I don't know you at all."

"I'm glad we're on the same page!" He said, excitedly, sitting up a little straighter, an adorable smile taking over his beautiful-youthful Blaine, I think you mean youthful-face.

Was that another smudge on his glasses?

"So uh, ahem, what do you-what do you want to know? Or what do you want to share?"

"Well, I'm Kurt Hummel, I was born and raised in Lima, Ohio. I am a sophomore here at NYADA, majoring in Theater & Performing Arts. I have an internship at . And I currently play Monkey #12 in Wicked."

Blaine looked at the young man with an open mouth and eyes that wouldn't stop picturing him in a skintight monkey unitard, "That's-that's amazing, Kurt!"

"Well, we all have to start somewhere right? It's not the most glorious part, but it's something to put on my resume."

"It's incredible, Kurt, I just don't think it's what you really want to talk about."

Kurt inhaled deeply, a distance that wasn't there before appeared in his eyes. "You're right. I didn't come here to talk about that," he paused, his eyes turned to slits, as if he were appraising him. His shoulders were stiff, and his voice was shielded when he spoke, "I came here to tell you that I'm gay," he said, his gaze unrelenting, "I usually don't come out to my professors, not like I think it's a big surprise to anyone, but I'd rather tell you in person than in my paper. I want to be able to be 100% honest in this paper Mr. Anderson. I guess I thought you should have a little warning, that's all."

It took Blaine a moment to get over the initial shock of the situation. It's not like he hadn't made assumptions, it's just kind of nice to hear him say it. Oh. My. God. Blaine. Stop! He's in his early 20's. He's your student, and he's trusting you with this, and he's probably expecting some kind of response right about now.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Kurt. It takes a lot of courage to come out. I would know."

"You're-"

"Gay? Yes. I came out-oh what? 17 years ago, and to this day it's still hard to tell people sometimes."

Kurt nodded, blinking, looking like he was still trying to process it all, "I mean-I hoped but…?" It was said under his breath, and Blaine couldn't really make out any of the words.

"Excuse me?"

"A complete gaydar malfunction, I mean look at your bowtie for Christ's sake!"

"I-"

"Always clean, and well put together."

Blaine blushed furiously because Kurt had noticed these things. He wasn't the only one that had been looking. Kurt had noticed him too. He removed his glasses, just needing something to do he started cleaning them again.

"And these glasses," Kurt said, taking them from his hands as he moved to push them back onto their resting place, "they're always spotless, but you clean them when you're nervous."

He wanted to protest, he most certainly did not, the smudges drove him crazy, and that was that. His protest got lodged in his throat as Kurt slipped the frame onto his own nose. He was just a fuzzy blob to Blaine but he could tell Kurt was looking around the room.

"Oh my god, you're blind!" He said, the sound of his uninhibited laugh made Blaine's stomach flip in a way he'd never felt before.

"Yes, and I'd very much like to not be blind, so if I could have them back please? That'd be lovely."

He held his hand out, waiting to feel the cold plastic's weight on his overheated skin. Instead he felt a warm hand pushing his own away. A glasses sized blob approached him, a pair of hand-sized blobs on ether side. He closed his eyes as he felt the smooth plastic slipping through his curls, coming to rest on his ears, and on the bridge of his nose.

He was blushing before he could even open his eyes. But when he did he blushed that much harder, because Kurt was right there. They had a mirrored look of blow pupils, and cracked open mouths.

"I was hoping you were," Kurt said in a rush of released breath.

"What?"

"I was hoping you were gay," he clarified, never breaking their eye contact. Blaine didn't ever want to look at anything else, not now when he was still trying to figure out if Kurt's eyes were blue or green, and was that a speck of gold? "I know it's never gonna happen, not now, or even while I'm still in this school, but it's nice to know it's an option for later," Kurt said, a smirk and a wink making Blaine's heart flutter.

He swallowed thickly, and before he could even raise a hand Kurt was pushing his glasses back into place. "See you tomorrow, Professor Anderson," he said, before backing away and leaving the room before Blaine even knew what was going on.

…

Professor's comments for the Opening writing Assignment:

As heartfelt, and honest as one could imagine, thank you so much for trusting me enough to share this, Kurt. This is no sugar free Banana Bread, this is Dinosaur Eggs all the way! (Please come during office hours sometime this week so I can explain what I mean by this.)

P.S. Never say never, Kurt.