Blaine dismounted his motorcycle, strutting through the doors of his new playground… William McKinley High School. Dalton became boring after a while, so he pulled a stunt to get himself thrown out. Way too strict for Blaine's tastes. He loved to push the envelope. He could say that he was an adrenaline junkie, most likely because of his pure hatred for rules and limitations. It wasn't like his parents gave a shit about him in the first place. His father was rich enough to cover up anything he did to keep up the good Anderson name. And of course his mother was the little trophy wife, always standing behind her husband like some sort of obedient fucking dog. It was disgusting. Cooper was the golden child of the Anderson family, if you could even call it a family. He wasn't even sure if anyone knew that Blaine was an Anderson. His father's coworkers sure a hell didn't as they sent him confused glances if they came to the house for drinks. Blaine wouldn't be surprised if his dad told them he was the fucking maid.
He ran his fingers through his loosely gelled curls, making a young girl swoon next to her friend. Blaine chuckled and gave her a wink, earning a squeak from the young blond. He continued his course through the halls, turning into the guidance office. The first thing he set eyes on was a perfectly sculpted ass in the tightest jeans he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. His eyes trailed upward taking in the outfit in full. The boy was wearing black denim skinny jeans with white calf-high boots, paired with a white Henley shirt and a silky maroon vest. Blaine couldn't get a look at his face, but his voice was high pitched with a note of desperation in it. He couldn't help but be interested in the boy, so he listened in on the conversation he was having with the plump woman behind the desk.
"I understand that. Really, I do. I just can't be in that class. Can't you, I don't know, make an exception?" The boy's hands were moving frantically to keep up with the pace of his words.
"I'm sorry. Unless you are able to give me a valid reason as to why I need to switch your class schedule around, you are required to attend. It's already mid October, so it is too late for you to drop the course." The brunette answered, in a bored tone. He suspected she had to repeat this more than once to the kid.
Unexpectedly, the brown haired boy slammed his palms down onto the countertop, "I can't be in that class!" He exclaimed, his voice rising several octaves.
The woman's eyes widened, "You need to calm down or else I will be forced to call security."
The boy took a step back, "What?" His voice incredulous, "I wasn't… I mean- I'm not usually… Never mind. Thanks, I guess." He snatched his satchel off of the counter, swinging it over his shoulder before turning in the opposite direction and stalking out the door.
Blaine was so invested in watching the boy continue down the hall, it took him a moment before he realized the woman was speaking to him, "Can I help you?"
Blaine blinked over to her, flashing a brilliant smile, "Yes. I need my class schedule. My name is Blaine Anderson."
"Oh, yes. We've been expecting you. First two blocks are over though, so you will be heading to French once the bell rings." The portly woman explained.
Blaine nodded and took the offered sheet of paper from her, reviewing his schedule. "Thanks." He turned on his heel and left the office, taking in the empty halls. He started wandering down each hall until he found the hall that held the row of lockers with numbers similar to his. Standing in the middle of the hall was the same boy from the office, with his head in the top row of lockers, rummaging around. Blaine adjusted the collar of his leather jacket before walking towards him, his boots squeaking slightly on the scuffed linoleum. He shifted so that he was on the other side of the hall and leaned on the bank of lockers on the opposite side of the boy, catching a view of his rear.
He cleared his throat, "That must be pretty hard to keep up."
The boy twirled around, his wondrous eyes wide. Blaine wasn't sure if he could detect a specific color of the brilliant orbs, but he figures they were closest to blue. The other boy furrowed his brow, "What must be hard to keep up?"
"Your toned ass of course. I mean, damn." He sent him a wink, causing a flush to color the boy's porcelain cheeks.
The boy rolled his unique eyes and turned back to his locker, though Blaine didn't miss how he angled his body so that he was more sideways than before, disrupting his view. "Aren't you charming." His voice was laced with sarcasm.
"I can be." Blaine persisted, crossing the hall and placing a hand on the boy's denim covered rear and offering up a light squeeze. The boy swatted his hand away before slamming his locker door shut. He was about to say something, but Blaine noticed that the locker right under the boy's was the one assigned to him. "Oh, lookie here! That's my locker right under yours." He sent the boy a smug grin.
The boy shut his eyes. His thick eyelashes fanning out against his pale skin, "That's just…" He let out a tired sigh, "As if my day couldn't get any worse." He turned and started down the hall.
Blaine wasn't having that, "Hey, babe. What's the problem? You don't want me on my knees in front of you?" The boy just picked up the pace. The bell rang and students began filing out of their respective classrooms and the mysterious boy blended into the crowd, "God damn it." Blaine cursed under his breath. Blaine was considering cutting the rest of his classes for the day, but decided against it. He'd already skipped Calculus and Home Ec., so he instead started down the hall in search of his French classroom. The next bell rang and he was left again in the halls alone. He wasn't in any hurry to make it on time in the first place. Once he found the right room, he kicked the door open and his face lit up into a smirk when he saw the pale boy sitting near the back of the room.
"Excuse me. You are disrupting my class!" The teacher admonished in a shrill tone, "What is your business here?"
"New student. Blaine Anderson." He spoke over his shoulder as he was already making his way through the isle of desks to sit next to the blushing boy at the back of the room.
The teacher huffed, "Alright. Don't make a habit of being late young man. I am Mrs. Campbell, just so you know. Okay, class. You are going to be working with your shoulder buddies on conjugations! Get to work." She spoke with false peppiness before sinking back into her chair and pulling out 50 Shades of Grey.
Blaine turned to the boy next to him, "What's your name, babe? Or should I just keep calling you babe?" He joked, inching his seat closer to the other boy.
"Pouvez-vous encore parler français? Je doute que vous le pouvez..." Can you even speak French? I doubt you can… He spoke in a perfect accent, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. Blaine just stared at him, his jeans becoming a bit tighter. All guys should learn how to speak French… it's fucking sexy. The boy rolled his glasz eyes, "Bien sûr je suis jumelé avec quelqu'un qui ne parlent pas français… Mon nom est Kurt Hummel." Of course I'm paired with someone who does not speak French… My name is Kurt Hummel.
"Blaine Anderson." Blaine replied.
Kurt gave him a skeptical look, "Salut, crétin. J'espérais que vous pourriez garder vos mains pour vous-même si ce n'est pas trop de problèmes." Hi, moron. I was hoping you could keep your hands to yourself if it's not too much trouble.
Blaine smirked at his feisty partner, "Je ne voudrais pas avoir un problème de maintien de mes mains pour moi-même si ton cul n'était pas si palpable." I would not have a problem keeping my hands to myself if your ass was not so palpable.
Kurt rolled his eyes, "So you can speak French."
Blaine kicked back in his seat, balancing on the back two legs, "Yup. Sure can. So about that ass of yours…" He trailed off, licking his lips.
"Va te faire foutre." Fuck you.
"Aimeriez-vous donner?" Would you like to?
"Boys! Detention. The both of you. After school today." Mrs. Campbell yelled from her desk, obviously having overheard their conversation.
Kurt looked about to protest but was silenced when Mrs. Campbell placed a pink slip of paper on both his side of the desk and Blaine's. Blaine hummed in satisfaction. Normally he wouldn't bother even showing up for detention, but since he knew Kurt would be there, he'd make an exception.
The bell rang and Blaine followed Kurt out the door. About halfway down the hall, a large guy in a letterman jacket thrust his arm out, propelling Kurt into the bank of lockers.
"Nice one, Karofsky." He heard someone congratulate the beefy jock.
Blaine was then faced with a dilemma. Help Kurt and possibly lose any opportunity he had of ruling the school like he had planned, but possibly get laid in the process… Or just walk away and try to act as if he hadn't seen what had happened and try to get into Kurt's impossibly tight jeans another time. He chose to leave it be and walk away.
The rest of the day continued at a glacier pace. It was a blur of moving bodies and teachers drawling on about topics that Blaine already learned since Dalton was far superior on the education front. When the final bell rang, he walked out to the parking lot and hopped on his bike, planning on grabbing a burger before heading to detention. He was about to pull out of the lot when something caught his eye. Kurt was sitting in a large, black SUV, his hands gripping the wheel. Then, Karofsky stalked over and climbed into the vehicle with him. Blaine was more than slightly confused seeing as though Karofsky had been the one to shove Kurt in the halls. He figured it wasn't his problem anyway and kick started his bike, whipping out of the lot without a second glance.
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Here's my badboy!Blaine fic I promised! I hope that you all like it. :)