So this was going to be longer, and posted earlier, but then Harry Potter happened.


Blaine sat in the Principal's office, waiting to pick up his schedule and map of the school, his fingers nervously twisting in the fabric of his uniform pants. The only sounds were the constant tick of the clock and the sound of a keyboard as the receptionist typed away. Occasional shouts from the hallway drifted into the office, but otherwise it was quiet.

Suddenly the Principal's door opened and the boy who owned the motorcycle stepped out. Blaine tried not to stare, he really did, but the boy was just so different. He definitely didn't look like he belonged in a reform school. He was too… beautiful to be here; too sharp and proper, with his perfect skin and blue eyes.

Oh, his eyes were blue.

And then, for the second time that day, Blaine was frozen in place as the boy's blue eyes locked with his. His eyes were intense, and now that they were focused on him, Blaine could see flecks of green and grey in the irises as well. They were the most spectacular pair of eyes Blaine has ever seen. He was so caught up in the boy's eyes that he almost missed the subtle wink, before the boy sauntered out the door.

"And if you make an entrance like that again, you'll have detentions for a month!" A tall, scary, angry looking woman with short, curly brown hair yelled after him as he left. She let out a huff and looked around the office, her eyes narrowing at Blaine.

"You," she said, pointing at him, "here, now."

Blaine stood quickly, picked up his bag, and followed the woman into her office, trying to control the shaking in his hands.

Did he really wink at me? No, there must have been something in his eye.

"Sit." The scary woman commanded, pointing at the chair across from her desk. He sat, smoothing the non-existent lines from his pants. The nameplate on the desk read PRINCIPAL BEISTE. "So," Ms. Beiste started, "Blaine Anderson, transfer from Wooddale Secondary, sent here because of-" She brought the paper closer to her face, "-problematic behaviour." She raised her eyebrows at him.

Blaine had no idea what to say.

Ms. Beiste frowned and threw the papers on her desk. "Alright, here's the deal. I don't care what went down in your old school, you're here now." She leaned forward, "this ain't some honkey tonk fun house where young offenders gather to take a vacation-"

"You wanted to see me?" A familiar voice from the door interrupted. Blaine turned to see who it was, blinking when he recognized the mohawk. The boy noticed Blaine sitting in the chair and smiled, raising a hand in greeting, "Hey, Newbie!"

"Puckerman!" Ms. Beiste growled. Blaine blinked again at the name. Puckerman? "Wait out there until you are called in."

"Aww come on, Shannon!" Puckerman groaned, "This here's my boy."

"That's Principal Beiste to you." She said, standing up and walking to the door while Blaine just sat there confused. Ms. Beiste pushed Puckerman out the door, "Get out."

"But Shannon! I thought we had something special! Come on, Shannon don't do this-"

She slammed the door in his face.

Ms. Beiste moved back to her desk, picked up a few pieces of paper and handed them to him. "There's your schedule and a map." Blaine took them and stood, moving towards the door. "Oh, and Anderson?" She called. Blaine turned and was met with he supposed was a smile, "Welcome to Dalton."


"Hey, Newbie!" A voice called from behind Blaine. He turned, and once again saw the boy with the mohawk, Puckerman, Blaine remembered, only this time he was pushing a boy in a wheel chair.

Oh god, there's a guy in a wheelchair. He could probably walk before he got sent here.

Blaine waited for them to catch up to him, hoping and praying to anyone who would listen that he didn't come home with a black eye on his first day of school.

"So, this him?" The boy in the wheelchair asked, looking him over with mild curiosity.

"Yup," Puckerman answered, nodding at Blaine. "Shit, you look even more scared than Artie did on his first day."

Blaine looked back and forth between them; the wheelchair boy raised his hand, "Artie, Artie Abrams." He said, smirking a little. For a kid in a wheelchair, the boy sounded really tough, Blaine thought as he nodded in greeting.

"So, you got a name," Puckerman asked, "Or am I just going to keep calling you 'Newbie?'"

"Um… Blaine." Blaine answered lamely.

Puckerman sneered at him, "that's not a very tough name. Ooh, here comes Blaaaaaaaine!"

Artie laughed, "Not everyone has a badass name like Puck, Puck."

"Puck?" Blaine asked, "is that it?"

"Noah Puckerman," Artie answered, still laughing at Puck.

"But if you call me Noah, I'll have to kill you."