AN. I'm starting to wonder why I get all these writing ideas when I'm sick.
Oh well. Enjoy! And reviews are always nice :)

Title comes from the quote:

Curiosity is as much the parent of attention, as attention is of memory.
-Richard Whately.

"So remember to have your essays finished for Monday. And revise your quotes!" Kurt raised his voice over the bell that signified the end of his class. He began to pack up his desk and head out for lunch, smiling at the passing students and even accepting Noah Puckermans passing high-five with a laugh. "Catch you later, Mr Hummel!"

He really did love his job. Kurt never expected English literature to appeal to him, but he was glad it did. Finding students with a genuine passion for literature and helping others gain their passion was always fulfilling.

Once ready, Kurt left the classroom – making sure to lock the door behind him – and hoisting his bag strap up he made for the school exit with a smile on his face.

A small form sped across the corridor in front of him, making Kurt stop. He was positive he recognised those red pants and unruly curls… Curious as ever (Kurt's biggest flaw), he headed toward the corner the student had turned.

"He's right there!" echoed a deep voice down the emptying corridor.

"We've got him cornered now." another harsh sneer said.

Kurt barely had time to process the deep voices approaching from the adjacent corridor as he turned the corner to see the student –Blaine Anderson? – and the fear openly displayed on his face before he was slammed with a wave of cold ice.

Kurt tried to open his eyes and figure out what the fuck just happened, but when it burned to open them he stopped and instead wiped with his hands. When he could finally see again he recognised the cold mush as one of the schools signature slushies. Kurt felt a lump of ice fall off his hair and slip down the back of his shirt. Mr Hummel also finally understood the phrase, 'like being bitch-slapped by an ice berg.'

"Oh my god, Mr Hummel-" one of the three boys in letterman jackets holding slushy cups beside him started. Kurt promptly raised his hand and he shut up immediately.

Licking his lips, Kurt ignored the explosion of flavour within his taste buds, and his jaw clenched as he carefully turned to face them.

"Principal's office." He stated quietly, but when the three looked as if they were about to protest, his voice rose to an alarming level (something he never done) "Now!" the jocks swiftly scampered off to the office.

Kurt remained still, breathing heavily in an attempt to reign in his anger, when a light and warm touch made a presence on his arm.

"Mr Hummel?" asked a small voice.

Kurt cast his eyes toward Blaine (in all honesty, Kurt had forgotten he was even there) but when their eyes met, every ounce of burning anger inside of Kurt disappeared. Blaine's eyes were the kind you could stare into over and over again and each time still end up hopelessly lost. Warm and golden with flecks of lighter gold surrounding them. They were full of love and admiration, which at that moment were overpowered by the concern and fear he showed.

Blaine cleared his throat and looked away, attempting to shake the suddenly thick air surrounding him.

"I, um…I have a towel." He said as he pulled open his bag.

"You say that as if this is a regular occurrence." Kurt said jokingly, a smile teasing at his lips.

Blaine only shrugged in return, pulling out a towel which Kurt thought must have been white once, but was now littered with multi-coloured stains. Kurt's brow furrowed in concern, but before he could ask, his face was promptly covered in the soft material Blaine was holding.

He could feel Blaine's fingers through the towel, slowly wiping away at the red slush melting off of Kurt's face and he inwardly sighed, this will be a bitch of a stain to get out… Blaine worked upwards, slowly massaging the towel through Kurt's hair in an attempt to remove the worst of the ice lumps.

All too soon however, Blaine was taking the towel away again, his warm touch with it and in a moment of need, Kurt stopped Blaine's hands as the towel fell away from his face.

At the sudden contact, Blaine looked up at his English teacher and kept still. Mr Hummel's hands were deliciously smooth and firm around his as his fingers delicately traced up the side of his wrist. Blaine could feel the slight pulse emanating from their tips and all he wanted to do was turn his palm and link their fingers together.

Kurt stared at Blaine again, not in a creepy stalker way though, and all he longed to do was to sweep the small curly haired student into his arms and protect him from the obvious bullying he was going through.

"Bullying," Kurt thought. The thought that someone would want to hurt – physically or emotionally – someone as delicate and perfect as Blaine made his stomach clench. His grip on Blaine's hands tightened and he looked deeply into his eyes.

"Blaine…you know if you need to talk, I can listen." he didn't get a chance to hear a reply. The doors to the cafeteria burst open and a group of noisy students jostled out together.

Before he knew what was happening, Blaine had practically thrown the towel at Kurt and with a mumbled "Sorry Mr Hummel," he was gone.

And that was that. The students filed by noisily, some side-eyeing Kurt, still standing in his puddle of slush as he watched Blaine disappear through a doorway.

He looked down at the towel in his hands and smiled. Blaine Anderson.

After all, curiosity was Kurt's biggest flaw.