The Mesmerizing Mr Anderson

by Ezra.A.Bradley

When Kurt met gorgeous, funny, Lead Warbler Blaine on his first day at Dalton Academy, he thinks they hit it off great. But as the day progresses, Kurt sees Blaine's friendly demeanor and charming personality shift in and out, and he has to wonder, what the hell is going on with Blaine Anderson?

The Mesmerizing Mr. Anderson

"Well, here we are," Burt Hummel said as the worn blue pick-up truck slowed to a stop in front of Dalton Academy. When the truck halted in the shadow of the red-brick edifice, Kurt finally looked up from where he'd been focusing on his fidgeting hands. He'd been trying to mentally prepare himself for this, for what he might behold, but just one glance out the truck's window was all it took to immediately crumble the weak front of confidence he'd been trying to muster up. This place was insane.

Dalton Academy seriously looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel. All tall and foreboding with pointed windows and stone statues and perfectly manicured shrubbery. If he didn't know better, Kurt would have thought this was some sort of English castle where Prince William goes to play polo. Or, at the very least, one of those luxury retirement homes for crazy-rich old people. It even had gargoyles, for Christ's sake.

But, of course, he did know better. Kurt knew exactly the type of place this was. It was a prep school. One of the most prestigious in the country, to be precise, and it was filled to the brim with the brightest and the richest kids around. And now it had Kurt, who was neither of those. He wasn't dumb my any means, but it's not like he'd be headhunted for the academic decathlon team. And he definitely wasn't one of the richest, which was already being made painfully obvious by the fact that he'd just shown up in a fifteen-year-old Chevy pick-up with a faded paint job.

But as much as Kurt's self-preservation instinct was telling him to slouch down in the seat and hide from view, he knew that Dalton was more than just a stupidly intimidating high school; it was a second chance. It was an opportunity for a new start after everything he'd faced back at his nightmare of a public school. The zero-tolerance for bullying policy would make it safe for him to walk the halls. This year, at this new school, he would no longer have to be terrified every time he set foot inside. For Kurt, Dalton was a sanctuary.

He made himself sit up a little straighter in his seat and let out a long exhale.

"You ready, kiddo?" Burt asked him.

"No, but I guess it doesn't really matter." He tore his eyes away from the daunting scene that awaited him and looked at his father. "This is what we wanted, right? This is a good thing."

Burt's lip twitched. "Well, what I wanted was for that Neanderthal to be expelled like he should have been, so you could have been spared the hour-and-a-half car ride to and from here every day."

Kurt's eyes snapped back down to his hands. "Also would have spared you and Carol your entire savings…"

Burt reached out and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kurt, I told you not to worry about that for another second."

Kurt chanced a look back at his dad.

Burt smiled when he met his eye. "My kid wasn't safe. I got him out of that situation. I don't regret any of it, you hear me?"

Kurt put on a sad smile. "Yeah, Dad. Got it."

"Good." He squeezed the teen's shoulder approvingly and then let go, placing his hands back on the steering wheel. "I think this place will be great for you, Kurt. They've got all kinds of stuff that McKinley didn't even have half the budget for."

Kurt let out a laugh that was more like a grunt. "Yeah, maybe I'll go out for fencing or archery," he teased. "Become a true sixteenth-century gentleman."

Burt's boisterous laugh boomed at that, filling the cabin of the truck with a familiar sense of easy-goingness that set Kurt a little more at ease. "Yeah, well, the point is that you have the option here. You have the option to do a lot of things here, Kurt."

His father's blue-green eyes fixed on him with a knowing, meaningful expression. Kurt wanted to scoff at the totally obvious nudge at the unspoken perk of a zero-tolerance, all boys' school.

"I know I can be out here, Dad!" he said in an annoyed tone, even though he could not have been more grateful that he had a dad that was not only okay with his being gay, but encouraging him to act on it. "And I know you and Carol seem to want me to get a boyfriend even more badly than I do. But for now, I think I'll just work on finding all of my classrooms, okay?"

Burt shook his head, still smiling. "I'm not saying I want you to go boy-crazy. I just want you to know that I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to have a little fun your senior year. You deserve it, after all." Then Burt's smile took on a shrewd quality. "And you're a Hummel, you know. And if that means anything at all, it means that you're gonna have to start fighting 'em off with a stick."

"Okay!" Kurt interrupted. He started reaching for the door handle. "That's great, Dad. Really. But we already had the sex talk and I would really prefer not to do that again right here, right now, okay?"

The chuckle remained. "Okay, Bud. But I just want you to know…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Dad. I matter. And be safe. I got it. I still have the condom you gave me in my wallet," Kurt said with a furious blush on his cheeks. "Can I go now?" He found himself suddenly ready to bolt into the terrifying school if it meant he could leave this even more petrifying conversation.

Burt just shook his head, his smile wide as ever. "That's not was I was gonna say, but good to know."

Kurt ran a hand over his beat-red face. "Oh my god, Dad…"

Burt chuckled a little more. "What I was going to say was that I'm proud of you, kiddo. And I believe in you. And I think you'll do great here."

Kurt's embarrassment ebbed and he smiled at his father's encouragement. It was crazy, he thought, how far the pair of them had come over the past year. They'd gone from Kurt's guise of singing John Mellencamp songs and making out with a ditzy blonde cheerleader in the basement to get Burt's approval to Burt telling him he was proud of him for being exactly who he is. It was a point Kurt was afraid he'd never reach with his father, but now that he had, he wouldn't trade it for all the Tony awards in the world.

"Thanks, Dad," he said. The words felt simple, but they were sincere.

Then Burt leaned over the center console with his arms open wide, and Kurt responded immediately by meeting him in the middle for a firm, albeit awkwardly hindered-by-the-console hug. When they parted, Kurt could have sworn he saw a tear threatening to fall from his dad's eye.

"Oh, Dad!" Kurt whined, really not wanting it to turn into a sentimental melodrama right there in the truck. "It was a good moment. Don't make it too sappy!"

"Sorry, bud," Burt replied, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. "Now, are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

Kurt stared at him. "Yes, Dad. I would love for my daddy to come in and walk me to the office in front a bunch of guys I don't know like it's my first day of kindergarten. I'm already gonna stand out as it is without the uniform blazer," Kurt added bitterly. He was still extremely upset that the tailor they'd taken his new blue blazer to hadn't finished the alterations in time for his first day.

Burt just smirked back at him, having grown strangely fond of his son's sass.

"And I still don't get why you insisted on driving me. I'm going to be driving myself the rest of the year and…"

"So sue me for wanting to see my boy off on his first day," said Burt, putting his hands up.

Kurt sighed. "Okay. Whatever. I appreciate it, I guess, but I can go in by myself."

Burt nodded in agreement. After the year they'd had, he was beginning to believe that his son could do anything.

"Alright, Kurt. Good luck, then."

Kurt reached for the handle and popped the door open.

"I'll be right here at 3:30 sharp to pick you up."

Kurt inwardly groaned at the idea of being picked up in the faded truck again in front of all these snob-balls, but he kept his poker face on. "Great. See you then." He stepped onto the curb and shouldered his leather messenger bag. He was just about to close the truck door behind him when his dad called out from behind him.

"I love you!"

Kurt's back when rigid in horror when several of the boys nearby looked over with raised eyebrows at the declaration and at the new, un-blazered boy getting out of the truck.

Already feeling his face flush red for the second time that morning, he turned back to the truck and said "Love you too," in a voice he hoped was quiet enough not to be too much more embarrassing. Then he shut the door and turned to face Dalton once more.

He took in the austere exterior before him and tried not to be intimidated. This is a safe place, he reminded himself. This will better than it was before. It has to be.

Then, placing his hands securely on the strap of his messenger bag, he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

—

You have got to be kidding me with this place. Kurt thought as he held out the joke of a map the woman in the office had given him. It's seriously a fucking maze.

He had just finished signing himself in in the front office, which was easy enough to find. The receptionist at the desk had welcomed him warmly, handed him a schedule, locker assignment and map, and then wished him luck. Kurt was wondering when that luck would kick in as he squinted down at the ridiculously tiny print on the map, trying to locate G hallway where his locker was supposedly waiting for him. He maneuvered through the labyrinth of mahogany-trimmed corridors and the throng of blazered boys slowly, constantly looking back down at the map like a total n00b and just silently hoping he was going generally in the right direction.

He thought he was doing all right until he was met with the top of a huge spiral staircase where he was sure there was supposed to be a cafeteria.

"What in the…" he muttered. "How did I even get upstairs?" He lifted the map even closer to his face to see if he could make out where he went wrong.

Suddenly, he felt a light shove on his shoulder and immediately gasped and leapt out of the way in a learned, automatic response. He plastered himself flat against the wall, dropping his map in the process, and watched in momentary terror as a gaggle of boys ran past him and down the stairs.

A wave of relief crashed over him when he realized the shoulder brush was a mistake, and no one was trying to harass him. But the short-lived terror was quickly replaced with utter confusion. Suddenly droves of boys were headed down the staircase. They all seemed like they were in a rush, and they were all hooting and hollering, obviously totally excited for some reason. Like they were at a carnival or strip tease or sports game/match thing… whatever it was that got straight prep-school boys so wound up.

Kurt peered down to the bottom of the staircase and saw more students flocking to one end of the hallway down there. It seemed like everyone in the whole school was rushing to get there, but Kurt had no idea why. No one had mentioned anything about an assembly or anything…

Then he glanced down to where he dropped his map to see that it was completely trampled. He sighed at the crumpled mess and just decided to give up on it then and there. His locker would still be there later. It seemed he could just follow the commotion for now.

Kurt set off down the stairs, still clutching the strap to his shoulder bag nervously. More boys were running past him, and his voice rose in throat to ask them what was going on, but they were gone too fast.

Without a second thought, he reached out touched the shoulder of the next boy who passed him. "Excuse me," he said in a rush, quickly withdrawing his hand.

The other boy spun around on the stairs to look at Kurt, and the breath in Kurt's throat caught again. This. Guy. Was. Gorgeous. The first thing that caught his notice was the boy's dark hair, which he had clearly tried to battle down with a ridiculous amount of gel, but the late summer humidity had allowed some rogue curls to bounce free. Then it was his eyes. Sweet honey-glazed hazel and so big and welcoming Kurt thought he could just stare forever. But that would be creepy…

Stop being a creep, Kurt! He scolded at himself.

"Um, can I ask you a question? I'm new here," he managed to articulate.

A bright smile came across the boy's face, and Kurt actually a pathetic moment where he wanted to swoon and faint like a helpless summer belle in an old musical.

"My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson." He spoke in a smooth, sultry voice that made the hair on Kurt's neck stand on end. He offered his hand to Kurt to shake.

"Kurt Hummel," he replied, and took the proffered hand. "So, what exactly is going on?" he managed to say instead of reveling too much in how soft this Blaine's hand was.

"The Warblers," Blaine replied with a grin. "They're throwing an impromptu performance in the Senior Commons. Tends to shut the school down for a while."

Kurt narrowed his eyes skeptically. He'd heard of the Dalton Academy Warblers, certainly. Rachel hadn't shut up about them for weeks when she came across a You Tube video of them last year. She was terrified of they day the New Directions would have to face them in competition. But why was the whole school so jazzed about a Glee Club show? It just didn't make any sense.

"So, wait. The Glee Club here is kind of cool?" Kurt asked, flummoxed.

"The Warblers are like rock stars," Blaine stated matter-of-factly.

Kurt felt a small smile creep onto his face at how cute Blaine's enthusiasm was. It was already easy to tell this guy was pretty excitable in the most endearing way.

"Come on," Blaine was suddenly saying, "I know a shortcut."

Before he knew what was happening, Blaine had snatched Kurt's hand and was pulling him into the painted corridor that ran alongside the main hallway. If Kurt thought his heart was pounding hard before, it was nothing compared to how hard it was beating now.

Oh my god, he thought. Is this how people roll at Dalton? Boys just grabbing boys' hands and whisking them away? … I don't hate it…

They rounded the corner into the packed Senior Commons and Kurt reluctantly dropped the boy's hand. He looked around at all the uniformed guys in the room in a kind of awe, blue eyes wide and even a little scared.

"Woah," he said, "I stick out like a sore thumb."

Blaine smiled hugely at the comment, making Kurt hope he wasn't about to make fun of him, but noting the way his knees went weak at the sight anyway.

"Well next time, don't forget your jacket, new kid." Blaine reached out boldly and straightened a wrinkle from the shoulder of Kurt's pressed white shirt. "You'll fit right in," he assured him with a wink, his confidence surprising Kurt. He'd never been winked at before. Not… like that, anyway. His knees felt a little weaker.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" Blaine said as he stepped away from him. He turned to the group of gathering Warblers behind him, all smiling widely and gratefully at him.

Kurt watched him go and found that he quite enjoyed the view. Blaine's Dalton uniform pants clung to his legs in the most spectacular way as he moved and if Kurt hadn't been so mesmerized, he might have been jealous because he was sure the only thing those damn pants did for him was make him look like a shapeless string bean.

He was broken out of his fixation on his escort's ass when all of a sudden, that sweet tenor voice began to sing. And God if it wasn't the sexiest damn voice he'd ever heard.

The song was Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." And although Kurt thought the song choice itself was a little been there, done that, he couldn't deny the straight-up delectable sound that met his ears. These Warblers were good. Damn good. And this Blaine? The front man with a voice like liquid gold, the ass of an angel and confidence rolling off him in sexy waves? Well, Kurt had always wondered how he would die. And now he knew. This Blaine Anderson would be the death of him.

The performance came to a close and the room erupted in cheers. Kurt snapped himself out of his comatose fixation and started clapping furiously. He kept his eyes trained on Blaine as he high-fived some other Warblers to cheers of "You go, Anderson!" and similarly bro-like salutes, and flashed his million-dollar smile around the room. Kurt was content to just watch from afar—that's all he expected to do anyways. But then, all of a sudden, Mr. Honey Tenor was walking back over to him. Kurt threw cautious glances over both shoulders, positive that a guy who was clearly one of the most handsome, most popular in the school, couldn't have been heading back over to talk to him.

"What did you think?" Blaine asked.

Kurt gulped. "Me?" he squeaked, pointing to himself in question like a nerdy wallflower who had never experienced human interaction before. He did a mental face-palm. He knew he needed to pull it together. Don't. Be. A. Spaz.

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, you! I didn't oversell it, did I?"

Kurt shook his head 'no.' "You guys were great."

"Thanks!" Blaine replied brightly. "Do you sing?"

"Yeah, actually. I was in Glee at my old school."

His hazel eyes widened. "Really? You should totally try out for the Warblers!" Blaine actually tipped up onto the balls of his feet as he spoke. His excited posture was only enhanced by his eager expression. It was already clear that he totally wore his emotions on his sleeve.

Kurt smiled. "Um, maybe. I think I should find my locker first, though."

Blaine chuckled. "Right. What's the number? I'll help you find it."

He could feel his cheeks flush. "Uh, it's G-32."

"Oh," he said knowingly. "That's a good locker."

"Is it?" Kurt humored with a crook of his eyebrow.

Blaine nodded, a goofy grin growing on his face. "Oh yes. Very spacious. Three bedrooms, two baths, a home gym and a spectacular view of the park. It's truly the jewel of G Hallway."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the cheesy joke. God, this guy was a total cornball. And honestly, it was exactly what Kurt needed to put him more at ease.

Blaine showed Kurt to his locker (without holding his hand this time, much to Kurt's dismay), and Kurt asked him how to get to his first-period French class. Blaine pointed out the way, smiling a big white smile like some kind of goddamn toothpaste model as he did so, then he said he'd better get going to his own first class, which was across the building.

"Well, Kurt," he said, and then paused, looking at Kurt for second.

Kurt noticed the way the honey-colored eyes took a super-quick pass of his whole body, and his breath caught in his throat. Is this guy checking me out?

"It was really nice meeting you," Blaine added, smooth as butter. "I guess I'll see you around." And then he turned to leave.

Seriously. Swoon. Kurt thought again. "See you," he said in a rush that sounded much more frantic than he'd wanted. "Blaine."

He caught himself still smiling like a dope when he got to his first-period class.

—

The 40-minute French class went fine, as Kurt suspected since he was practically fluent anyway. He'd had a lot of time to study and watch French films before he joined Glee and made friends. But as much as he prided himself on his self-taught fluency, and as much as he liked the movies, he was hoping that the school transfer away from all his friends wouldn't end up with him having to break out the foreign DVD collection again.

He asked the red-haired guy who'd been his speaking partner that day where he could find his second-period classroom, and he'd kindly pointed him in the right direction. So, Kurt ended up getting to Calculus a few minutes early. He took a seat near the back and watched the other boys trail in.

Almost every desk was full when the teacher, Mr. Griggs, a balding man in his forties, walked in and told everyone what page to turn to. He started writing a problem on the board when a sudden crash sounded from the doorway.

Kurt's head snapped up in surprise at the noise, and he almost gasped aloud when he saw its source. There in the doorway, bending down to retrieve the book he'd dropped, was Blaine. Kurt immediately recognized the dark mass of gel-sleeked curls and strong jaw line—it was undeniably Blaine. But he was now sporting a pair of almost comically oversized black glasses. It was an unexpected, but not unwelcome change. The glasses looked good. Scholarly in a sexy professor kind of way. Kurt decided he approved, even if they were a bit too ironic-on-purpose-looking.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered in a voice that sounded softer than it had that morning. He stood back up from retrieving his book. "I got caught up after my last class." He clutched his book and notebook to his chest hand pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. The whole demeanor was so stereotypically nerdy that Kurt wondered if the boy was putting it on on purpose. Like it was some kind of acting exercise or something.

Mr. Griggs just shook his head disapprovingly. "You're lucky you're one of my best students, Anderson. Take a seat and turn to page 103."

Blaine nodded and headed for an open seat in the front row. Kurt tried to catch his eye with a smile, but the other boy didn't seem to notice.

Kurt watched Blaine's back as he whipped out his notes and started scribbling vehemently. He was clearly listening to the teacher with what seemed to be a palpable sense of determination. Man, he really is doing this nerd act up right, Kurt thought, amused and intrigued.

About halfway through the class, Kurt found himself paying way more attention to Blaine than he was to the teacher, so he was caught pretty off-guard when Griggs asked him the answer to the insanely difficult problem he'd put on the board.

"Mr.… Hummel, is it?"

Kurt's head snapped to the teacher. "Yessir," he answered in a rush.

"Mr. Hummel, have you solved for X?"

"I… uh…" Kurt stammered, staring at the problem as if it were written in Chinese. "I'm sorry. No. I don't know," he concluded lamely.

Mr. Griggs let out a small sigh. "Does anyone know?" he asked the rest of the class.

Blaine's hand immediately flew into the air. He raised it high and proud and even wiggled his fingers a little bit in a Hermione Granger sort of way.

No one else raised a hand.

"Anyone besides Mr. Anderson?" Griggs asked, sounding just a little desperate.

Still no more hands.

"Mr. Jenkins, how about you?"

The sweaty guy he called on looked like a deer in the headlights. "Ummm, four?"

Griggs shook his head and let out a larger, defeated sigh. "Alright. Show us what you've got." He held out the chalk towards Blaine and the boy jumped up and took it like this was a familiar ritual.

Blaine practically ran up to the board and began reciting exactly how he'd solved the problem as he wrote out the steps for everyone to see. It really was pretty remarkable, and Kurt couldn't believe how quickly Blaine was able to go. It seemed like "smart" didn't even begin to explain it. For the second time that day, Kurt found himself mesmerized by this boy. And for the first time, even a little intimidated.

Kurt almost felt like he should clap again once Blaine finished and turned back around to face the class, but he caught himself before he let himself do that.

As Blaine headed back to his seat, he looked up and his bespectacled hazel eyes landed on Kurt's baby blues. Kurt put on bright smile, expecting the same enthusiastic grin he'd seen that morning in return. But that didn't happen. Instead, Blaine's eyes narrowed in what seemed like discomfort at Kurt's friendly smile. Then he ripped his eyes away and sat back down.

Kurt's face fell in hurt bewilderment.

The class progressed in a deluge of half-hearted note taking and more staring at the back of Blaine's head. Maybe he'll talk to me after class, Kurt thought, but that didn't happen either. The bell rang, and Blaine simply stood up, gathered his books, and left the room without so much as a glance in Kurt's direction.

—

Kurt would have let the interaction—or, rather, the lack thereof—hang over his head and eat at him the rest of the morning, but he had to focus instead on finding and getting through his European History and English classes. It was becoming obvious with each new class that Dalton expected a heck of a lot more out its students than McKinley did. By lunchtime, he had already accumulated what felt like more homework than he would have had in a week at his old school. And he still had half of his day to go.

He stood up from his desk at the end of English class and let out a sigh as the other boys gathered up their things and made for the door. He leaned down and started loading his new batch of homework into his shoulder bag. It was fifth period now. Kurt's lunch period. And he didn't have anyone to eat with. He was thinking that maybe he'd just buckle down and get started on this ludicrous amount of homework over lunch period when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey… Kurt?" a friendly, slightly familiar voice said.

Kurt turned around to see a blond guy that had been in both his history and English classes. What was his name again? Gene? John?

"My name's Jeff," he said with a smile, seeming to sense Kurt's uncertainty.

Kurt smiled back politely and extended his hand for a handshake. "Hi, Jeff. Nice to meet you."

Jeff shook his hand and his big smile grew even bigger. "Hey. I just wanted to introduce myself. I was the new kid last year, so I know how much it sucks at first."

Kurt's polite smile melted into an expression of genuine, thankful relief. "Oh, really? That's awesome," he said with a laugh. "I've been pretending to know what the hell I'm doing all day, but this place is nothing like my old school. It's so… It's so much more…" Kurt trailed off, searing for the right word.

"…stuck up?" Jeff guessed.

Kurt let out another laugh. "Yeah, that. But I was gonna say intimidating. I don't know how I'm ever gonna catch up and get used to this homework."

"Yeah, it's a lot at first. But I swear it gets easier. Once you get in the swing of it."

Kurt sighed again. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Jeff shrugged. "Helps if you join a study group. Dalton's big on those. Group cooperation and all that."

"A study group," Kurt repeated.

"Yeah. You could probably join ours, if you wanted. It's me and my boyfriend and a couple of other guys. We have room."

"That sounds great." Kurt couldn't help but smile at the mention of Jeff's boyfriend. So natural and casual—he definitely wasn't at McKinley anymore. There was a real gay couple here walking the halls, out and proud, and no one was allowed to say or do anything shitty about it. In the next instant, Kurt's mind flashed back to that morning —to running down the hallway hand-in-hand with Blaine. To how safe and welcome and unconditionally accepted he'd felt. It was like some kind of dream come true.

"So, do you have lunch now?"

Kurt broke out of his reverie at the question. "Yeah. Doesn't everybody?"

Jeff shook his head, making his blond locks sway a little. "There are three lunch periods. Fifth, sixth, and seventh."

"Oh," said Kurt. "Yeah, I have fifth period."

Jeff cracked yet another cheek-splitting smile. "Me too! Come eat with me and Nick."

Kurt felt his eyes bug with gratitude. "Oh my god, thank you. I still don't even know where the cafeteria is."

Both boys laughed as they left the room.

—

As it turned out, Nick and Jeff were fucking adorable together.

Kurt watched as Jeff greeted the brown-haired boy with a kiss on the cheek outside the cafeteria and noticed the way both boys' eyes glimmered as they held each other's gaze just a second longer than "just-friends" would. What Kurt would give to have a guy look at him that way.

The cafeteria (it did exist after all!) was even more ostentatious than Kurt envisioned. The three-story ceilings arched up into exposed buttresses like some kind of gothic cathedral. There were even stained-glass windows. Fucking red and blue stained glass with Dalton's seal in the middle. This place is just begging to have a George Clooney movie shot in it, Kurt thought as he waited in line for his tray of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus. Asparagus. In a school lunch!

Lavish as the cafeteria was, though, most of the boys actually opted to eat outside in the adjacent courtyard since it was still warm and sunny. Kurt, Jeff, and Nick claimed one of the concrete tables under a massive maple tree planted squarely in the middle of the courtyard. It was so huge that its leaves stretched almost the entire span of the space, casting lovely, speckled shade across the ground. As they sat down (Jeff and Nick sharing a bench seat on one side of the table and Kurt on the other), Nick informed Kurt that this huge tree was fondly known as Martha Washington, and she had been planted the year Dalton opened, all the way back in 1870.

"Every senior class has taken a photo in front of Martha for almost 150 years. She's a Dalton icon," Nick elaborated.

"And she makes a pretty comfortable study spot," Jeff added. "In case you ever need some fresh air. Most teachers will write you a pass to come out here during study hall."

"Noted," Kurt replied, grateful for all the Dalton intel he could get.

The three of them fell into easy conversation about Dalton, music tastes, and Ryan Gosling's undeniable animal magnetism. Kurt reveled in the feeling of being able to talk openly with other gay kids. It was something he'd never experienced before, and it felt like a floodgate inside him had opened. He felt like he never wanted to stop.

As the lunch period was nearing its end, Kurt started hearing gentle guitar strums coming from across courtyard. He looked around for the source as Nick and Jeff kept chatting, but he didn't see a guitar anywhere amongst the crowd of boys. After another moment of listening, the faint, random strums transformed into the first chords of a melody, and even though it was soft, Kurt was able to determine that it was coming from somewhere directly behind Martha Washington's giant trunk, out of view. And then, his heart lurched when he heard an already unmistakable voice start singing.

"Little town… it's a quiet village…"

It was Blaine. No doubt about it. Kurt already felt he would know that voice anywhere. And, as if he couldn't be any more adorable, Blaine was singing "Belle" from Beauty and the Beast. One of Kurt's all-time favorite movies.

"Every day… like the one before…"

Kurt wanted to lean farther over to peer around the tree and get a good look, but he was immediately pulled out of his trance when he heard Jeff say:

"…Warbler practice."

Kurt's attention snapped back to his tablemates. "You're in the Warblers?" he blurted.

Jeff chuckled, seeming surprised by Kurt's sudden snap to attention. "Yeah. Nick and me both."

"That's awesome," Kurt said, trying to regain his calm. "I saw you guys perform this morning. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were in it! You were great."

Jeff and Nick shared a very quick knowing look.

"Thanks, Kurt," Nick said with a smile. "And no worries about not noticing us. We all know Blaine tends to pull focus."

Kurt's cheeks immediately went pink. Play it cool, Hummel. Play it cool. Don't go shouting your crush from the rooftops on your first day. Especially when he's right across the courtyard.

"Oh, yeah…" Kurt said in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, "Blaine was good, but I mean, I could tell it was a team effort. You guys must practice a lot, huh?"

"Oh, a ton," Nick said. "Usually at least an hour and a half per practice Monday through Thursday, and then competitions on Saturdays, and strategy sessions on some Sundays."

"Strategy sessions?" Kurt asked.

"Oh definitely. We need to scout other teams, pick original songs, create arrangements, assign parts…"

Kurt let out a deep breath as he half-listened to the response, glad that Nick had taken his bate for a quick subject change. As much as he would have absolutely loved to talk about Blaine for the remainder of the lunch period, he recognized that it would be supremely un-chill of him to storm into Dalton and start demanding juicy details on a guy he'd talked to once.

It wasn't until the three boys stood up to take their trays inside that Kurt was finally able to walk around Martha and lay eyes on Blaine.

Sure enough, there he was again, sitting on top of one of the concrete tables, surrounded by a group of unfamiliar boys, and holding an amber-colored acoustic guitar. And now, instead of those bookish wire-rimmed glasses he was wearing in calculus, he was sporting a pair of playful hot pink Wayfarer sunglasses. Kurt also noticed that his hair seemed bigger and curlier. Like it had less gel in it.

Must be the humidity out here, he thought.

Kurt could tell he was full-on staring at the singing boy now, and he was about to look away and play it totally cool, but then he noticed Blaine's fingers.

Is that… nail polish? Kurt squinted at Blaine's hand where it was moving on the neck of the guitar, and sure enough, he was indeed wearing black nail polish on all five fingers. The dark color now stood out against his pale skin like a beacon all the way across the courtyard, but Kurt definitely hadn't noticed that earlier—not even when Blaine had grabbed his hand for the glorious run through the hallway. He must have put it on sometime that morning. Kurt's thoughts immediately drifted into a dreamy vision of a bored Blaine having a rebellious moment in study hall and absent-mindedly painting his nails á la Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. Kurt already knew he probably didn't need the time to actually study, if his performance in calculus was any indication.

As Nick, Jeff and Kurt edged closer to Blaine's table on their way back into the cafeteria, Kurt was having a moment. He had never realized he was particularly attracted to nail polish on men—always thought it was a little too 2002 emo—but, it turned out the juxtaposition of nail polish on a masculine hand against the dapper Dalton uniform made for a preppy-punk combination that he was now finding frustratingly hot. And damn if Kurt Hummel didn't love a sexy expression of gender nonconformance.

They were almost to the cafeteria doors when Blaine finished the song he was playing by holding his last note in perfect pitch while playing two final, powerful notes on the guitar. Kurt watched as the friends surrounding Blaine at the table broke out into enthusiastic applause, and most of the other boys in the courtyard clapped as well. Blaine, clearly soaking up the adoration, actually stood up on the table and took a bow.

As much as he appreciated a good flourish, Kurt was surprised at the bold action. It seemed different from the nervous boy who had dropped his books in calculus that morning. He even seemed different from the Blaine he saw high-fiving his teammates after the Warbler performance. That Blaine was confident, sure, but this one was downright basking in the spotlight. Kurt had to admit, it was all a little over-the-top.

He heard Nick laugh beside him and looked over to see him nudge Jeff with his shoulder. "I'll give you one guess for who'll be the lead in the musical this year. Again." He nodded his head toward Blaine.

Jeff also laughed in response. "Oh, no question. His Majesty King Anderson of the Theatre Department is on three-year streak. I can feel it." The two boys kept moving through the French doors back into the cafeteria.

Kurt paused for a moment behind his new friends. This was a lot to process. Lead Warbler, math genius, king of the Theatre department? Kurt couldn't begin to fathom how one person juggled all that when he could barely figure out the layout of this school.

He couldn't help but turn back for one more look at this enigma of a person.

Kurt watched Blaine hop down from the table to the ground, and he and his posse of admirers started heading toward the door where Kurt was standing. Kurt took a deep breath as they approached, trying to prepare himself not to do something stupid when Blaine passed by. He clutched his tray and mustered up a smile toward Blaine as the curly-haired tenor reached up and pushed his pink sunglasses up onto his head.

Then Blaine's honey-colored eyes finally caught Kurt's once again, and Kurt opened his mouth to speak. His mouth had gone inexplicably dry, though, so the "Hey" he managed came out much quieter than anticipated. He could feel his damn cheeks going pink again.

An amused smile came over Blaine's face. "Hey yourself," he replied smoothly. And then he winked that charming little wink of his and moved past Kurt into the cafeteria without another word.

Kurt stood dumbfounded in the doorway. That was possibly the shortest, dumbest interaction he'd ever had with a guy he liked, and he had no idea what to make of it.

That morning, this guy had grabbed his hand and basically talked his ear off, had he not? And then he'd totally iced him out in calculus class without so much as a glance, only to then wink at him (for the second time that day!) at lunch, but then walk away with just a "hey yourself"? What could it all mean?

Blaine Anderson, Kurt thought, who in gay hell are you?

—

Kurt didn't get much homework done in his sixth-period study hall. In addition to his never-ending spiral of thoughts about Blaine, he was seated behind a guy who had fallen asleep with his head tilted backward toward Kurt, practically blocking out his whole desk. Kurt had attempted to tap his shoulder, poke him lightly with a pencil and even pull his hair to wake him up, but then gave up—partly because he knew he would just spend the 40 minutes thinking about Blaine anyway and partly because he was just downright impressed at the kid's ability to stay asleep.

Seventh and eighth period were combined for Kurt into a double-period chemistry class. He only got slightly lost on the way to science wing, but luckily it was easy to find once he realized that all one had to do was follow the smell of formaldehyde. Apparently, Kurt had the honor of arriving at Dalton during cat dissection week for the Anatomy classes, so the entire science wing reeked like a morgue.

He made it into the large lab room right before the tardy bell rang, slightly out of breath from booking it through the stinky hallway while trying to breathe only through his mouth. Immediately, he noticed that none of the other boys were seated at the rows of desks, but rather they were all standing around the large black-topped lab tables positioned around the sides of the room. There were about four boys per table, and they were all donning white lab coats, blue exam gloves, and clear plastic goggles. Kurt just stood bewildered for a moment, not sure where he was supposed to go.

His eyes quickly scanned over the 20 or so boys in the room, and then abruptly stopped when they landed on one boy's already very familiar profile. Kurt didn't know if it made him unusually observant or just down right creepy to be able to pick Blaine out from the side from across a room after having only known him for about six hours, but regardless, he was certain the boy at the farthest lab table was Blaine. His mop of brown curls had completely escaped their gel cage by this point, and he was now sporting a pair of the oversize plastic lab goggles, but Kurt felt like could recognize that hair and small-but-muscular frame anywhere. And when Blaine smiled that 1000-watt smile at one of his lab partners, Kurt's breath caught in his chest the same way it had that morning.

Apparently unable to resist this boy's magnetic pull, Kurt unconsciously took a step toward Blaine's table when suddenly, a lilting female voice finally crashed through his awareness.

"You must be Kurt Hummel," the voice said from behind him.

Kurt turned on the spot to see a petite brunette woman with bright red lips approaching him.

"Yes, that's me," Kurt said in a rush, disappointed to have his Blaine time interrupted, but simultaneously relieved to know he was in fact in the right place.

"I'm Miss Diaz," the woman said with a small smile. "Happy to have you in class, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt took a moment to marvel at this chemistry teacher. She couldn't have been older than her early 30s. All of the teachers at Dalton that Kurt had encountered so far were old stuffy guys in their 40s and 50s, so this woman was definitely an outlier and, frankly, a breath of fresh air (even if her classroom was in a hallway that stunk like hell).

"Thanks," he replied with a smile. "Um, where should I go?"

"Let's see," she said, glancing down the clipboard she had in her arms. "Table Three has been short a lab partner since the beginning of the semester. Why don't you join them?"

She gestured toward a table on the right side of the room, far away from Blaine's table. Kurt nodded, trying to keep the immediate wave of disappointment from showing on his face.

"There should be an extra lab coat and goggles in this cabinet over here." She started walking over to a locker-like cabinet in the corner of the room, and Kurt followed. "Have you taken Chemistry before?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I started it at my old school, but we didn't get too far." Kurt answered honestly. Truth was, Chemistry at McKinley had been a bit of a nightmare for him since it was the one class he'd shared with Karofsky. Turns out it's hard to concentrate on balancing chemical reactions with someone sending you death glares across the room throughout the whole class.

"I was one of the only kids in class that could get the Bunsen burner lit with that little striker thing, though," he added.

Miss Diaz smiled and handed him a fresh white lab coat. "Well, that bodes well for you," she said. "Today we're starting a series of chemical reaction experiments. Move through the experiments with your group, and for each one, write the chemical equation and note the type of reaction. Composition, decomposition, single replacement, or double replacement. Sound good?"

Kurt nodded as he shrugged the lab coat over his shoulders. The words she was saying were all terms he was pretty sure he'd heard before at McKinley.

"Good," said Miss Diaz. "Here's the assignment." She unclipped a piece of paper from her clipboard and handed it to Kurt. "The boys in your group should have a pretty good handle on everything, but let me know if you have any questions."

The first period of class went pretty quickly. Turns out Kurt's lab partners were friendly enough and pretty on top of the experiment, and they didn't require much of him. He did get to light the Bunsen burner, though.

"Single replacement," the blond-haired boy named Ted, or Tad, or Todd (Kurt couldn't quite remember) called out, observing the beaker in front of him.

Kurt started writing it down in the appropriate spot on his sheet, but dropped his pencil when a loud BANG suddenly sounded from across the room.

He whipped his head around to see a huge green-blue flame engulfing the beaker on Blaine's lab station. There was a collective gasp in the room at the sight.

"Back away!" Miss Diaz called out, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall. In the next moment she was rushing over to the huge flame and spraying it down with the white foam.

Kurt's eyes immediately snapped over to Blaine, instantly terrified that he'd see the beautiful boy enveloped in a huge fireball of death.

But he was fine. And to Kurt's surprise, Blaine didn't look shocked or scared or even embarrassed, but rather, he just started laughing.

Kurt watched in abject confusion as Blaine and one of his lab partners looked at each other and doubled over in laughter as Miss Diaz extinguished the fire.

"Dude!" he heard Blaine gasp out between waves of laughter. "That was insane!" He raised his gloved hand in the air, and the other boy slapped it in a high five.

Dude? Kurt though, incredulous that Blaine would use such a word.

"I told you, man," the other guy said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Mr. Anderson. Mr. Patz," Miss Diaz said in a firm tone once the fire was out. "How many times am I going to have to tell you to stop treating my lab like a playground?"

Blaine and the other boy managed to stop laughing, but the couldn't keep the mischievous smiles off their faces. "Sorry, Miss Diaz," they said in unison in a practiced way that made Kurt feel like this wasn't the first time they'd had to apologize to the teacher.

Miss Diaz just shook her head. "I hope you're satisfied with your little stunt, because you'll both be receiving zeros on today's lab."

Their faces finally fell at that, and Kurt saw Blaine open his mouth to protest, but he didn't get a word out before Miss Diaz spoke again.

"And you'll both be in detention today."

"What!" Blaine said, amber eyes now wide with panic. "No, Miss Diaz, we can't do detention. Coach will kill us if we're not at practice."

"Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to try and burn the building down," Miss Diaz said firmly.

"But it's the play-offs this weekend!" Blaine pleaded. "If I'm not at practice, I can't start the game."

Kurt could only see the back of Miss Diaz's head, but he could practically feel the giant eye roll she must have given Blaine at that statement.

"I'm sure the team will survive, Mr. Anderson. And contrary to what you might believe at the moment, there is more to life than just lacrosse."

Kurt felt his eyebrows shoot up at that. Blaine was on the lacrosse team too? How would possibly have time for that?

He saw Blaine's shoulders fall in defeat. He looked truly dejected, and Kurt found himself starting to feel bad for the boy with the dazzling voice and perky butt that just wouldn't quit, but he stopped himself. If he was being honest, Blaine really did bring all that on himself. And for the life of him, Kurt couldn't understand why.

"Back to work everyone," Miss Diaz instructed the rest of the class. "Anderson and Patz, clean up this mess."

Kurt turned back to his lab station in a daze. This simply didn't make any sense. How could Blaine—happy, engaged, math-genius, guitar-guru Blaine—also be a troublemaker? And not to mention a jock, for god's sake?

Although, it does explain the muscles… Kurt found himself thinking in the next minute, but then cut himself off again.

The rest of the class passed in a haze of uninterested note taking, confused thoughts, and glances over his shoulder at Blaine, who was endlessly scraping heaps of white foam off the table and into the trashcan, too focused on his punishment task to look up and notice Kurt was there at all.

It was getting hard to maintain any real perspective on Blaine. So many things didn't add up. For instance, how was it that Blaine was more concerned about missing practice than he was about getting a zero on the day's lab? Had he not been the star pupil of calculus class that morning? Surely that nerdy-but-still-cute, bespectacled Blaine who'd solved the problem on the board would certainly give a shit if he got a zero on anything. And how on earth did the lead Warbler and proclaimed "King of the Theatre Department" also have time to be a star lacrosse player? Why had he been so warm and welcoming that morning, but then so cool and indifferent at lunch with nothing but his suave little "Hey yourself"?

By the end of class, Kurt hadn't really learned anything about chemical reactions, but one thing had definitely become crystal-clear: he never, ever been so intrigued, intimidated, or flustered by anyone before—let alone all of those things at once—than he was by one Blaine Anderson.

—

Kurt's last class of the day was the one he'd been looking forward to the most—Music Theory. Besides French, it was the one subject he was completely confident about, and the only class at Dalton he was truly, genuinely excited to start. So, once the bell rang at the end of Chemistry class (and he was sure Blaine was still too busy cleaning up to make eye contact with him), Kurt found himself practically jogging to the classroom, which was easy to find since the music wing was right next to the smelly science wing.

Unsurprisingly, the music theory classroom, much like rest of Dalton, was also stupidly opulent with antiqued wood wainscoting, vintage black-and-white tile floor and huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that let in so much light that the overhead lamps didn't even need to be turned on. A huge grand piano sat in one corner, and auditorium-style staggered desks lined the opposite wall. Kurt immediately smiled at the room, already feeling sure he'd found his new home base in his new school.

He took a couple steps toward the desks, thinking he'd just take a seat and wait for the rest of the boys to filter in before class started. He found himself vaguely wondering if Blaine would be this class, too, since he obviously loved music.

Turned out his question was answered before he even sat down.

"Kurt! You're in this class!" that familiar voice called from behind him.

Kurt turned to see Blaine in all his dapper glory entering the room and heading straight toward him, dazzling smile firing full-blaze. He had apparently decided to forgo his glasses again, and his hair was back to being just as heavily gelled as it had been that morning.

Kurt stood dumbfounded. He had just seen Blaine a minute ago in the chem lab, and he'd still been elbow-deep in fire hydrant sludge. There was no way he'd finished cleaning and made it to the room just seconds after Kurt—not to mention the time it must have taken him to stop in the bathroom and re-gel his curly hair.

'"Wha-… how… I mean, what are you doing here?" Kurt managed to say as Blaine approached.

Blaine cocked his head with a curious, amused expression. "What do you mean? I'm in Music Theory too."

Kurt shook his head, still willing his brain to catch up to and sort out the information it was being provided. "No, I mean… I just… you were still cleaning up after chem lab."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. "Chem lab?"

"Yeah. We both just came from there."

Blaine's amused expression shifted a more skeptical one. "Um, no? I have chem in the morning."

Kurt paused, unsure how to react to that. He was absolutely certain Blaine had been in his chemistry class. Unless… was it possible he had hallucinated the whole thing? Was the stress of moving schools causing him to have some sort of bananas mental breakdown?

"But I…" he started, frantically trying to put the pieces of this nightmare puzzle together. "You were there. It was you with the laughing and the bang and the blue fire."

"Blue fire?" Blaine questioned.

"Yeah. There was an explosion!"

"Explosion?" Blaine reached his hand out and rested it gently on Kurt's shoulder, now definitely looking more concerned than amused. "Kurt are you ok?"

Kurt just stared at the amber-eyed boy in front of him. Was he ok? He felt ok physically, but he honestly wasn't so sure. He couldn't have made all the events of the day up in his head could he?

"I'm so confused," Kurt stated, looking down at the black and white tiles on the floor. "Just… wait. Are you on the lacrosse team?" he asked.

He watched Blaine's expression as the gears turned in his head, and suddenly, as if a light bulb had come on, it shifted from concern back to amusement.

"Oh, I see what's going on," he said, a knowing smile growing on his face,

"What?" Kurt asked, honestly desperate for answers by this point.

"Nobody told you?" Blaine asked, incredulous.

"Told me what?"

Blaine just let out a soft, sweet laugh. "That's crazy."

"What's crazy?" Kurt said calmly, but inside he wanted to scream for a straight answer.

"That no one mentioned it. I mean, I don't mean to sound egotistical, but I guess I figured someone would say something. It's usually the first thing anyone knows about me."

"Blaine. What is it?" Kurt felt like he could reach out and shake the other boy by this point.

"Well, I'm a…"

"Blaine!" a very, very familiar voice called from the doorway, cutting Blaine off.

Kurt looked away from Blaine to see who had called him and saw… Blaine?

The gelled curly hair. The honey eyes. The sweet tenor voice. The boy entering the choir room was undoubtedly Blaine in every way, except… Blaine was already standing in front of him.

Kurt felt like maybe he was having a stroke as his eyes whipped back and forth between the two Blaines. He watched the new Blaine quickly cross the room toward them, and he felt like he absolutely couldn't believe what he was seeing. And yet, at the same time, it all suddenly made perfect sense.

Of course. Blaine was a twin. There were two of that gorgeous boy roaming the halls of Dalton.

"Do you have your spare glasses on you? Mine just broke in gym class," Blaine Number 2 said as he approached Blaine Number 1.

"Yeah," Blaine replied, and he started digging in his shoulder bag. "I don't know why you don't just wear your contacts. Mom's gonna go ballistic when she hears you broke another pair," he added, now handing over a sleek silver glasses case.

Kurt watched Blaine's twin roll his eyes as he took the case. "Tell me about it." Then the boy slid the black-framed glasses onto his face, and it suddenly clicked. The black frames. The slightly less-intense gel helmet. Kurt felt goosebumps run up his arms. This was the genius from his calculus class. Not Blaine. That's why he hadn't so much as returned his smile that morning.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine said, bringing him back into the conversation. "This is Everett." He gestured to the other Blaine. "My brother."

"Everett Anderson," Everett said politely, holding out a hand for Kurt to shake.

Kurt shook his hand, feeling a bit dizzy from the whirlwind revelation. "Nice to meet you," he managed to say, sounding a little breathy. "Sorry, I didn't realize there were… more than one of you. I'm a little bit in shock."

Everett and Blaine smiled identical white-tooth smiles. "Yeah, I guess we're kind of a novelty around here," Everett said with a laugh.

Kurt smiled back, already feeling relieved that he wasn't in fact going bat-shit insane after all. "So you were in my calculus class, and that also must have been you in chemistry," he said to Everett.

Everett furrowed his brow in the exact same way Blaine had when he mentioned chem lab. He shook his head. "No… I took chem last year. I'm in AP physics this year."

And just like that, Kurt's wave of confusion crashed right back over him. "Oh, uh, then…"

"Wait," Blaine chimed in. "Did you mention lacrosse?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied.

Blaine and Everett shared a look, and then both nodded almost unperceptively, like they'd just had a whole conversation and agreed on something without speaking a word.

Blaine turned back to Kurt. "That would be…"

"Everett!" another oh-too-familiar tenor voice called out from the trickle of boys still entering the choir room.

Kurt turned to see—he really couldn't fucking believe it—another Blaine jogging across the room toward them.

Triplets, he thought immediately. Real-deal, honest-to-god, super-hot triplets. Right here before my very eyes.

This third Blaine seemed just as identical as Blaine and Everett, but was looking slightly more disheveled than his brothers as he approached. His wild curls were completely free of product and bit frizzy, and Kurt noticed the sleeves of his blue blazer looked wet. As if he'd spent the last class period cleaning fire hydrant foam off a lab table, perhaps.

"Ev," the third Blaine said, slightly out breath once he reached them. "I need you to be me in detention today. I'll give you a month's allowance," he pleaded.

"What? Devon, again?" Everett asked in an annoyed tone.

"Oh come on! You know it's perfect! I won't have to miss practice and you can just do your precious homework. And what do you care? It's all under may name. You perfect record will stay clean."

Everett sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Well," he said, sounding defeated. "What did I do this time?" he asked.

Devon did a dramatic fist pump in triumph and opened his mouth to answer, but Blaine quickly cut him off.

"Wait! Let me guess. Big explosion in chem lab with blue fire, right?" he said with a smile, throwing Kurt another quick wink.

Devon looked taken aback. "That's right," he said, eyeing his brother skeptically.

Blaine laughed. "Kurt thought it was me," he conceded.

Kurt blushed deeply at the callout, and Devon turned to look at Kurt for the first time since entering the room. "Oh yeah. I saw you come into class," he said. And then he stood up a little taller and started straightening his tie in the most dapper manner possible. "Well, Kurt, I'll forgive the slip-up once, but I'll have you know it's a widely accepted fact that I'm the best-looking Anderson brother. I don't think you'll have trouble making the distinction in the future."

Kurt laughed, put at ease by the corny joke. It seemed that being mistaken for each other was nothing new for the Andersons, In fact, it seemed like they even knew how to take advantage of it from time to time with that detention scheme.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I only met Blaine this morning, and no one told me he was a triplet," Kurt said, throwing a playful look at Blaine. "I was so confused all day."

"Uh actually…" Blaine started to say, but Kurt kept going.

"So, which one of you was playing the guitar outside at lunch?" he asked. "It sounded so good."

The three Andersons all looked at each other with a knowing look, the same way Blaine and Everett had minutes earlier, and Kurt instantly sensed that they all knew something else he didn't.

It was then that Kurt suddenly had the wherewithal to look at the brothers' hands. He did a quick sweep of all six hands—not a hint of the mystery guitarist's black nail polish in the bunch.

"No…" Kurt said as this next revelation hit him. He looked back to Blaine, who was grinning amusedly at him.

"Four?" he asked quietly—his voice becoming almost incapable of making sound out of the pure, sustained shock he'd been under.

Blaine nodded, clearly enjoying Kurt's astonishment. "Yep."

Kurt just blinked, taking a moment to recalibrate. He took a deep, controlled breath, trying to keep his cool and not totally spaz out at the fact that the hottest teenager he'd ever seen in his life was actually only one of not two, not three, but four identical copies.

Holy. Flaming. Shit.

When he found his voice again, he said, "So the one playing guitar was…"

"Darren," all three Andersons said in unison.

And just like that, the crowd of mingling boys that had gathered in the room for class seemed to part before Kurt's eyes, and out of the throng from near the grand piano emerged the final Anderson, guitar still in hand, heading right toward them.

"Did someone say Darren Anderson?" Darren asked as he approached, amber eyes wide and smile bright. The pink sunglasses he was wearing at lunch were nowhere to be found, but Kurt noticed the black nail polish was still intact, if a little chipped.

"Hey Dare," Blaine said with a fond eye roll. "Meet Kurt Hummel. Today was his first day at Dalton."

"Oh yeah, hey!" Darren said, extending his hand and shaking Kurt's like Everett had. Kurt silently noted the way Darren's hand felt much rougher than his brothers'—probably on account of guitar callouses, judging by the way he apparently brought the thing everywhere. "I saw you at lunch," Darren added with a charming smile.

Kurt smiled back at the recognition, while simultaneously hoping he hadn't come off like too much of a weird lurker watching him like he was. "That's right. Your rendition of 'Belle' was amazing," he said. "That's one of my favorite Disney songs."

Darren visibly perked up at that. "Oh yeah? You like Disney music?"

Kurt heard the other three Andersons groan at the question. "Uh, yeah," he answered cautiously. "I do."

"Then you should check out my You Tube channel!" Darren said, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

"Oh, uh… okay," Kurt replied, trying to hide his surprise at Darren's abrupt excitement behind a curtain of politeness. He was already getting the feeling that Darren must be a lot to handle. In fact, he was actually reminding him a lot of Rachel Berry. It was suddenly no wonder at all to him that Nick and Jeff had called Darren the King of the Theatre Department.

"I do all sorts of covers, but mostly Disney stuff. A few originals. I'm up to 5,000 subscribers …"

Just then, the final tardy bell rang, signaling the beginning of class and effectively cutting Darren off.

The rest of the boys in the room scrambled off to their seats, but Kurt wasn't sure where to go, so he just sat next to Blaine in the back row, and no one seemed to mind. On Blaine's other side were his three brothers, all sitting in a line.

For the rest of class, Kurt found it pretty hard to take notes on the lecture because he couldn't stop himself from looking over to marvel at the four Andersons. They all looked more alike than he'd ever seen any twins look. Eyes? Identical. Face shape? Identical. Noses? Positively identical. Even their mannerisms as they sat and listened were similar. Kurt couldn't help but grin at one point when he noticed that all four brothers were sitting with their left legs crossed over their right knees. And all four were tapping their left feet along to silent tunes, all just slightly off-beat from one another.

At the end of the class, which also marked the end of the day, Kurt slowly slid his notebook into his bag while observing the way Everett, Devon, and Darren all unconsciously bit their lips while packing up their own things. He was broken out of his trance on the brothers when he felt a gentle nudge on his arm.

"Hey," Blaine said, catching Kurt's eye with a smirk. "See something you like?"

Kurt felt himself blushing wildly. He'd been caught staring. "Sorry," he said back. "I've just never seen…" he started to say, but then felt like if he continued that thought he might make Blaine feel like some kind of circus attraction. "I'm just so surprised," he amended.

Blaine nodded and chuckled under his breath. "That's fair. I guess it's not every day most people see identical quadruplets. I forget new people aren't used to it."

Kurt returned the chuckle. "It's like, really rare, right?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

Blaine nodded again. "Monochorionic spontaneous quadruplets," he said in a rehearsed tone, like he'd explained it a thousand times before. "One egg, four babies. We're one of only three living sets in the US."

Kurt's jaw actually dropped. "What!? That's incredible. How do you guys not have a TLC show?"

Blaine snorted out loud at that, causing the other brothers to look over at them. Kurt only glanced in their direction, but he didn't miss the way all their faces took on the same sly, knowing little smirk at the sight of him and Blaine. Blaine, on the other hand, was beaming a wide, brilliant, genuine smile right at Kurt—totally oblivious to his brothers' looks.

"I don't think that would be as interesting as it might sound," Blaine said.

"Oh, I disagree. I think you underestimate your charm," Kurt countered.

He noticed the way Blaine's cheeks reddened at that remark, and how he looked away for a second in the first act of shyness Kurt had seen out of the boy.

Is he seriously blushing because of me? Kurt thought, surprised at both his own boldness and that anything he said could possibly make such a handsome boy blush.

"Oh, uh… I don't know," Blaine said with a soft laugh, still smiling brightly. He really was downright adorable.

"Uh, I hate to interrupt," a voice said, causing Kurt to break his eyes away from Blaine and look to his right, where he saw—Darren? Devon? (a quick glance at the fingernails and the guitar case strapped his back told Kurt it was Darren)—standing there.

"But Blaine, you have the car keys. What time are you gonna be ready to go home today?"

"I have Warblers 'til 5:30," Blaine answered.

Darren nodded. "Perfect. We'll meet by the car then?" he asked the other three brothers.

"Sounds good," they all said in almost eerie unison, sending a small shiver up Kurt's back.

"If they let Devon out of detention by then," Everett added with a playful eye roll.

"Hey, you're being paid handsomely," Devon retorted. "And don't act like an hour and a half of reading in silence isn't your ideal after-school activity."

"Speaking of which," said Everett, looking down at his watch. "I better get going."

Kurt watched as Everett then fished Blaine's borrowed glasses case back out of his backpack, quickly tucked the black frames away, and then reached up to his lightly gelled hair and rubbed at the curls until they broke free. Then he pushed the sleeves of his blazer and shirt up to his elbows and un-buttoned the top button of his shirt, completing the transformation. The result was an absolutely indistinguishable copy of Devon standing before him.

"Man, that is handy," Kurt marveled aloud, causing all the Andersons to chuckle.

"It really is," said Devon. "You have no idea."

"It was nice to meet you, Kurt," Everett said, heading toward the classroom door with the last of the boys still filtering out.

"Yeah," Devon added, following Everett. "Welcome to Dalton!"

"Thanks!" Kurt called after them, and watched their identical backs disappear out the door.

"I have to go too," Darren said. "Drama club is voting on what the fall musical will be this year. Gotta make sure I get there in time to submit 'How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying'."

"Oh, that would be a great one," Kurt said, genuinely impressed with the choice. "Especially for an all-boys' school. 'Brotherhood of Man' would be perfect."

Darren smiled a big, charming smile that was almost as disarmingly adorable as Blaine's. "Right? I know!" he said enthusiastically. Then he turned to Blaine. "You're right, Blaine. Kurt is really cool. And just as cute as you said."

Kurt's breath caught in his throat at the nonchalant statement. Had Blaine really said that? The idea that Blaine had already mentioned him to his brothers seemed insane, but the fact that this gorgeous boy had actually complimented him on top of it? Called him cute? Impossible. Right?

When Kurt chanced a look over at Blaine, he was stunned to see that that endearing blush from earlier had deepened dramatically, and he was staring daggers at his brother.

"Anyway," Darren continued as if he were oblivious. "I hope you had a great first day at Dalton, Kurt. I know we're all very excited to have you here." He threw a cheeky smile Blaine's way before turning back to Kurt and giving him that damn signature Anderson wink one more time. "I'll leave you boys to it," he said, and turned to walk toward the door.

"Thanks, Dare," Blaine said, voice seething with sarcasm.

Kurt just laughed. It was half from finding the interaction funny and half from pure disbelief that any of this was actually happening.

"Uh, sorry about him," Blaine muttered once Darren was out the door. He reached up to scratch the back of his head in what looked to be a nervous habit.

"Oh, don't worry about," Kurt reassured him, immediately sure Blaine was about to dive into a well-meaning clarification that it wasn't what it looked like—that he hadn't meant cute like cute-cute, and that he didn't really have any particularly warm feelings toward him beyond wanting him to feel welcome. "You don't need to explain…"

"I think my brothers take some kind of perverse pleasure in embarrassing me in front of cute guys," Blaine said before Kurt could finish, his honey eyes looking back up at Kurt with a nervous, but devastatingly sweet and hopeful expression.

Kurt stopped mid-sentence, mouth slightly agape in shock. So, Blaine wasn't denying the cute comment. In fact, he was doubling down on it.

It only fully sunk in at that moment that Blaine's immediate, enthusiastic friendliness might be a little more than just being welcoming to the new kid. That maybe he wasn't this excited to talk to every new face that walked through the door. That maybe he actually really wanted to talk to him—to Kurt—in particular.

"Oh…" Kurt managed to articulate through his frenzied thoughts. "That's… kind of mean of them." The words were out before he could filter the thought. His brain was really starting to fry after this insane, confusing, wonderful day.

Blaine burst out a beautiful, melodic laugh. "Yeah, it kind of is, right?"

Kurt laughed along with him, unable to fight his damn animal magnetism. It was so easy, he thought, to like Blaine. To be around him. He felt like he should probably feel intimidated. He was so good-looking, so talented, and obviously popular. And for some crazy, unknown reason, he had apparently decided to take a liking to Kurt. Kurt certainly didn't have much experience hanging around anyone remotely like him before. And yet, he felt totally at ease with Blaine.

"So, what do you have going on right now?" Blaine asked, looking genuinely interested.

"Uh, nothing. My dad's picking me up," said Kurt.

"Ah, okay. Can I walk you back to your locker, then?" That sweet, hopeful expression returned to Blaine's face.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at that, but he could feel himself blushing. He'd never had another boy express any sort of honest interest in him, and then all of the sudden, in the course of one day, he had a supremely hot one wanting to escort him endlessly around the school. "Twice in one day?" he asked, chancing a mischievous little smirk at Blaine.

Blaine laughed again. "Yeah, I guess so."

"That's very chivalrous of you, but isn't Warbler practice here in the music hallway?" Kurt pointed a finger toward the hallway.

Blaine just shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't mind. And I'm the lead singer. They can't really start without me."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Oh, polite and humble, I see."

Blaine smiled, stepped back, and bent into a graceful bow at the waist. "After you," he said, and gestured toward the door.

Kurt shook his head. Blaine really was just as much of a cornball as he'd been that morning. "Chivalrous indeed," he said as he stepped toward the exit.

Once they were in the hall, there was moment of awkward silence in which Kurt racked his brain for something clever or interesting to say. He had no real idea why Blaine had seemed to take a shine to him, but now he felt like he needed to live up to some sort of unspoken expectation to keep him interested.

It was Blaine, though, who broke through the silence first.

"So how was your first day?" he asked as they walked. "Was Dalton everything you expected?"

"Ha!" Kurt guffawed before he could hold it back. "Everything I expected and so much more."

"Really?"

Kurt nodded. "It's not quite as snobby as I expected, but it's every bit as over-the-top fancy as I thought it would be. I have more homework tonight alone than I think I had all year at McKinley…"

Blaine smiled and bobbed his head in agreement as Kurt went on.

"The cafeteria food was far above any expectations I had, and…" Kurt paused. He wasn't sure if he should say the next thing he wanted to say.

"And what?" Blaine asked with genuine eagerness in his voice.

Kurt bit his lip. Did he dare? He'd practically never flirted with anyone before in his life, so he didn't have strong frame of reference to know if his next comment would land or scare Blaine off forever. But when Kurt let himself look back into those warm, honey-brown eyes, he felt nothing but safe. Blaine really did make everything easy.

"And…" Kurt began, holding eye contact with the other boy. "I met this really cute guy."

Kurt saw Blaine's eyes widen. He held his breath as he watched Blaine's expression shift from intrigue to surprise at the words, and then quickly melt into another giant, radiant grin.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, clearly game to play along. "Do I know him?"

Kurt exhaled the breath he'd been holding, more relieved than he'd maybe ever been before that Blaine had taken the flirt bait.

"You might," he replied coyly, deciding stretch the game out a bit. "His last name is Anderson."

Blaine chuckled under his breath. "I know a few of those. Which one is it?"

Kurt cast his eyes to the ceiling, feigning an indifferent expression. "You know? I don't know if I should tell you," he said.

"Can I guess?"

Kurt shrugged. "I suppose you can try."

"Let's see," Blaine said, rubbing his hands together. "Is it Devon? You're into jocks, aren't you? Or you love a class clown."

Kurt laughed and shook his head 'no.'

"Alright. Everett then? So smart. He got early acceptance to Yale already, you know. He's really going places."

Kurt shook his head again. "Nope."

Blaine sighed. "Well, it must be Darren then. Everyone loves Darren with that damn guitar. So talented. So dreamy."

Kurt smirked at that. "The one I like is definitely talented and definitely dreamy, but it's not Darren." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

Blaine smiled, but kept feigning ignorance. "Hmm, I'm running out of options here. Can I get a hint?"

They rounded the corner into G hallway and approached Kurt's locker. Kurt mimed locking his mouth with a key before entering his combination on the lock.

"You're making this difficult."

"Do you give up?" Kurt asked, rummaging in his locker for the books he needed to take home, and silently marveling at how willing Blaine was to play along in his silly flirting.

Blaine crossed his arms and leaned causally against the locker next to Kurt's. "Tell you what," he said with a roguish little smirk. "How about I buy you a coffee after school tomorrow. You can tell me then."

Kurt was glad his head was buried inside his locker at that moment because otherwise, Blaine would have seen him actively holding back a scream of pure happiness. He bit his lip for a second, allowing the thrilling sensation of a boy—a sweet, kind, funny, corny, gorgeous boy—finally asking him out for the first time. When he pulled his face back out of the locker, he could tell he must be flushed, but he composed his features as best he could into a calm smile.

"I guess I could be persuaded."

Blaine's smirk grew into a sexy half-smile. "Great. We'll head out right after Music Theory?

"Sounds good," Kurt replied, shutting his locker with a metallic crash. Then he turned to Blaine as he lifted his heavy shoulder bag onto his shoulder. He allowed himself to give the shorter boy one more solid once-over, just to try to make sure he hadn't hallucinated anything that had just happened. He boldly let his eyes do a quick head-to-toe scan of Blaine's body as he remained leant against the lockers. Yep, he was real alright. This whole whirlwind of a confusing, strange, surprising day had actually been real.

"I um..." Blaine paused, blushing a bit under Kurt's apparent scrutiny. "I guess I'll see you then," he said.

"Yeah," Kurt replied with a smile. "I'll be the one without a jacket again," He added, gesturing to his white button-up. "The tailor won't have it done 'til next week."

"Oh, well if it would make you feel more comfortable, I can let you borrow mine," Blaine said, immediately straightening up from the locker and starting to peel his blazer off.

Kurt gulped, caught off-guard by the impromptu stripping. "No, that's okay!" he tried to protest as Blaine slipped the jacket off his shoulders. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense," Blaine said, holding the blazer out to Kurt to take. "I don't mind. And I want you to feel comfortable."

Kurt slowly reached up to take the proffered blazer, as if afraid to touch it. "But… what will you wear?"

Blaine laughed. "I live with three other Dalton students. Our house is literally covered with navy and red clothing. I'll find another blazer."

Kurt smiled warmly, genuinely touched by the kind gesture. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't feel a lot more comfortable if he had the same uniform as everyone else. "Well, if you're sure," he said, finally accepting the jacket and folding it reverently over his forearm.

"I'm sure."

"Thanks," Kurt said, looking up to meet Blaine's eyes once again, and immediately falling into a mini-trance on the other boy's long, dark eyelashes. He definitely noticed the way Blaine seemed to be staring back at him, too.

"So, tomorrow, I guess," Blaine said, finally blinking after a quiet moment. "I'll finally guess which Anderson it is you like."

Kurt smiled, still feeling emboldened by the fact that his first real attempt at flirting seemed to have worked.

"Yep. See you then, Mr. Anderson," he said, making sure to draw out the name Anderson as coyly as he could. He was gonna milk this moment for all it was worth. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Kurt chanced a quick wink at the other boy, giving him a taste of his own medicine. Then he turned and walked toward the exit doors at the end of the hall, not daring to look back. The rush that ran through his body was exhilarating.

He couldn't believe he'd started this day as a nervous, discombobulated baby penguin, and then somehow, managed to successfully flirt his way into an actual date by the end of it. A date with an actual boy. An actual live, hot, human boy.

—

Kurt was still floating in a sort of awestruck daze by the time he reached the pick-up circle in front of the school and saw his dad's faded blue pickup waiting for him.

"Hey, Kiddo," his dad greeted him as he climbed into the passenger seat. "How'd it go?"

Kurt just let out a long exhale, unsure of exactly how to answer that question. This had, without a doubt, been one of the most eventful days of his life. How could he adequately explain to his dad that the cute boy he'd met before class at an impromptu glee club performance was in fact a secret quadruplet, setting into motion one of the most confusing sequences of events he'd ever experienced? And by the end of it all, it turned out said boy wanted to take him out for coffee?

"It was… good, I guess," Kurt said, bucking his seatbelt and still trying to parse his racing thoughts.

"Good? That's it?" Burt pushed, seeming to sense his son was leaving out a lot of pertinent details.

"I was a very long, very confusing day," Kurt said slowly. "But I met some pretty nice guys, and I found all my classrooms."

"Hey, that is pretty good," said Burt with a smile, putting the truck into gear, ready to pull out into the street.

A couple moments of silence passed as Burt drove away from the school, and Kurt stared out the window, still thinking about the day—still trying to believe it was all true.

"You look pretty lost in thought there, Bud," Burt commented as they got on the on-ramp to the highway. "Are you sure nothing else happened today?"

"Dad?" Kurt began, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever heard of monochorionic spontaneous quadruplets?"

Burt looked over at Kurt like he had three heads. "Uh, no. Can't say I have," he replied, tone laced with amusement. "Why?"

Kurt just shook his head, still looking a bit dazed. "No reason."

Burt chuckled under his breath. "Okay then."

"Dad?" Kurt said again, this time keeping his gaze directed out the window at the passing cornfields.

"Yeah Bud?"

"I have a date tomorrow."

There was another moment of silence before Burt's boisterous laugh filled the truck's cabin once again, causing Kurt to break his trance on the corn out the window and turn to face his dad.

"What?" Kurt asked, finding it hard to fight the urge to join in his dad's contagious laughter.

"Nothing," Burt said through his laughing. "Just that Carol owes me twenty bucks."

"What? Why?"

"She bet me you'd have a date by the end of your first week. I told her you'd have a date by the end of the first two days."

Kurt's mouth dropped open and he reached over to slap his dad playfully on the shoulder. "Dad! You guys took bets on me?"

"Sorry, we couldn't help it! And look. Turns out I was right."

Kurt just shook his head, sitting in disbelief for what felt like the millionth time that day. "I thought you said you didn't want me to go boy crazy."

"And I don't. But I also said you'd be beating 'em off with a stick, didn't I?"

"I don't know about that. It's just coffee."

"Well, I'm really proud of you, son. Like I said before, I think this could be the beginning of something great."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, looking down at the navy blazer in his lap. His eyes scanned along the collar to the tag, where he noticed an extra strip of fabric was sewn in. B. Anderson, the makeshift label read in handwritten cursive. And Kurt let his fingers trace back and forth over the name a few times.

"I think so, too."