A/N: Sorry for the late update. I know I originally promised that I'd be updating everyday... But that's not really an option right now. My computer's broken and I'm currently using my aunt's for a few days. I will be updating everyday (hopefully) until I have to give it back. My own new computer arrives in roughly two weeks or less, but even then I might not get a new chapter up every day. I'm also working on another fanfiction with one of my friends. I will be working on both this and that. It's another Glee one with Blaine, Kurt and Sebastian as well as a few other characters. Please do look out for it. I'm not abandoning this story, don't worry! Thanks for understanding guys! :)

WARNING: Derogatory language.

I'm quite sick right now and I decided to try and get a new chapter up for you guys. Tell me what you think (please view author's note at the bottom).

Chapter 6:

"First Impressions"

Lunch time was over and Mr Anders' fist class was about to begin. He had been sat at his desk twidling his fingers for the past twenty-or-so-minutes. "Nervous" wouldn't even cover what he was feeling right now, he couldn't even explain it. It was a new feeling. Almost as if there was a knot in his stomach and in his heart. Ignoring it, he decided to get the class register opened up on his laptop so he can start straight away and learn a few names.

The grounds of McKinley were clearing. Students were rushing through corridors and flooding into classrooms like they were prey running away from its predator. Most would guess it wasn't because they were eager to get to class, but rather they just didn't want to end up at the front of the class where the teacher would constantly ask them to answer questions. "The nerd row" as it's more commonly known. After all, whichever seat they were in on their first day back was the seat they'd be in for the rest of the year.

- Rebecca Hanson
- Gareth Henders
- Finn Hudson
- Kurt Hummel
- Ja...- Wait, what?

Blaine's eyes darted back up to the previous name on the screen. He re-read it over and over. Kurt Hummel. The Kurt Hummel? It can't be. No way. He lifted his sweater's sleeve up enough to read the first name on his left wrist. Kurt. He pulled it back down again and inhaled deeply before unveiling the opposite. Hummel. Pulling down the other sleeve, he exhaled. He could hear students' voices parading down the corridor. His eyes instinctively went back to that name. "Please God don't let it be a student. It can't be him!" Blaine thought to himself before looking up and noticing that the students were already entering the class, some already in their seats. He was quite surprised to see that some of the girls of the class were closer to the front with their heads in their hands and staring at him with what seemed to be stars in their eyes. It was slightly awkward but with this school's history of bullying and homophobia, he wasn't going to reveal his sexuality any time soon. Especially if Kurt was really going to be in his class. That would just make things awkward.

Oh my God. Oh my... That's definitely him. It has to be. Something went off inside Blaine. It was as if an alarm was blazing in his heart. A boy walked into the classroom. A beautiful boy. A boy with brunette hair, pink lips and gorgeous diamond like eyes. Blaine felt like his insides were on fire. He couldn't look away. This boy was an angel. His feelings completely overwhelmed him as his eyes followed the boy to where he sat, two row from the back. He felt strangely complete and had the urge to push the kids out of the way, grab him and kiss him into oblivion. Coughing to clear his throat twice, he reluctantly pulled his gaze away from this angel and scanned the class to see the other students. The girls had smiles on their faces and the boys' expressions were either symbolizing boredom or unreadable. He wasn't quite comfortable with the female attention. During his highschool years when he was finding out who he was, he was classed as a dork. Hell, he had the fashion sense he had now back then. He still gelled his hair back with almost a pot full of gel, just like the way he had styled it today as well. He constantly wanted to look professional when in public so he gelled it all to tame his wild dark-brunette curls. He was wearing a bow tie for crying out loud.

"Right. Hi. Nice to see you guys." Blaine greeted the crowd. Like a magnet was pulling them, his eyes went back to the boy that captured his heart a few seconds ago. "Mr Anderso-... Anders... Mr Anders... That's me... Hi..." He stammered out, giving one wave of his hand on the final word. 'Oh, smooth. Very smooth.' Clearing his throat once again, he stood up and began his lesson. "I'm your new US History teacher this year. This is indeed my first time teaching. Ever. So I hope you guys will go easy on me." He said, adding in a nervous chuckle. "I'm looking forward to working with you guys."
"How old are you, sir?" A female voice inquired. Blaine located the source of the voice and noticed it came from a long, curly haired blonde girl one row from the front. She had on striking red lipstick and a crap load of eye liner. He faked a smile and replied.
"I'm twenty-two."
"Wow. You don't look it. You age well." She commented in a flirtatious tone, lifting her pen to her mouth. She bit the top and twisted it from side to side, not breaking her eye contact with the teacher.
"Yes. Well. Thanks. Moving on," he tried to change the subject. Well, end this conversation completely more like. "This week, we will be looking at-"

He was cut off midsentence by the door of his classroom swinging open. Another boy with a hat on carrying books burst through and headed straight to an empty seat. He was quite happy with it's location. It was next to him. They were smiling at each other... But, not in a friendly way. In a flirty way. Oh, fantastic. This is going to be a long lesson.

Half an hour went by and Blaine could pick up on random snippets of their conversation. The angel was giggling at some of the things that that idiot was saying. "Come on Blaine, they're your students. You shouldn't be calling them things like that." After mentally slapping himself, he had an idea. He was going to find out a little bit about that boy without coming across as a perv.
"Okay guys." He declared quite loudly so he could grab the attention of the class. They all looked at him, placing their pens on their desks. "I think that since this is the first day back, that's enough history for now. Let's focus on the present shall we?" He opened on the draws of his desk and pulled out a plush soccerball toy that was about the size of a tennis ball. He guessed the previous owner of this room left it here because it surely wasn't his. He stood up and walked in front of his desk. Leaning back into it, he broadcasted his plan to the class. "I'm going to throw this ball to someone. You'll each have a turn. Once you've caught it, tell me your name, age and two facts about yourself." Great plan Anderson. At least now I can tell if he really is Kurt.

After many students' names and stuff he couldn't even remember, he found it a suitable time to throw it to the brunette boy and his friend. The glasz-eyed boy easily caught it but hardly anyone turned to acknowledge him.
"Well... My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm seventeen. I'm a countertenor-"
"-and a fag." Chimed in a boy wearing a Letterman jacket from the very back. Karofsky, he thought his name was. Blaine was furious. He could hear him and his friend chuckling, clearly pleased with themselves. Kurt, however, didn't seemed knocked by the insult at all. It was as if he got them all the time.
"Get out. Get out of my classroom this instant." Blaine demanded, staring coldly at the jock in question.
"What? What did I do?" Karofsky asked, his tone seemed creepily quite mellow.
"I will not tolerate language or behaviour like that in my classroom!" Blaine responded. The jock pushed the table forward, disturbing the stationary and books that were placed on it, and shot to his feet. Heading straight for the door, he kept his eyes locked onto Blaine's form, his lips pursed. You could hear his feet storming down the corridor. Blaine turned back to Kurt. Kurt. Oh no.
"I'm sorry about that Kurt," apologising didn't seem enough. He wanted to sweep this boy up in his arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. Student Blaine! Student!
"It's alright. I'm used to it." I'm used to it. Those words repeated themselves in Blaine's head for the rest of the day. How could anyone as angelic as Kurt be used to such vulgarity?

'Angelic? God, you just got out of a serious relationship Anderson! You haven't even had a conversation with this kid and you're already falling head over heels in love with him? Get your shit together you moron! He's just a teenager.' Seventeen. After debating with himself, he remembered that Kurt was seventeen. Maybe he could find a way to see if his name is on Kurt's wrist. After all, it's not like Kurt would be suspicious. He thinks his name is Anders.

The ball landed in his hands. He couldn't really believe that he had caught it. Yes, he'd been a great kicker on the football team for one game last year but he was hopeless at anything else to do with sports. He had to tell this gorgeous new teacher his name, age and two facts. Two facts. He had to think of two impressive ones that wouldn't paint him in a bad light. 'Who are you kidding Hummel. You are impressive.' Kurt mentally praised himself. Immiediately, he thought about his talents. Singing. Definitely. Not many people are countertenors nowadays. They're quite rare. He could also mention something about fashion. He was a male fashionista. "Well... My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm seventeen. I'm a countertenor-" Surprise, surprise, Karofsky had something to add.
"-and a fag." The boy that had been harassing him for the past two years. Great. Queue the laughter and "inventive" comments from these meatheads. These neanderthals will be regretting this someday.
"Get out. Get out of my classroom this instant." Wait... Hang on. No one's ever stood up for him before. Kurt looked back at his teacher. The beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed, quite short but adorable man before him had stopped this? No teacher's ever done that. Apparently Mr Anders and Karofsky had exchanged a few more words because Dave had left and Mr Anders was talking to Kurt directly.
"I'm sorry about that Kurt." No one's ever apologised either. That weird feeling was back again. The one that Kurt had when he entered the classroom. He was crushing on the young, hot, history teacher. He felt his boyfriend's hand on his side. "Crap. I'm melting into a puddle of goo in front of this god whilst my boyfriend is sat right beside me." He thought to himself. He had to snap out of this. He wanted to say something to cut the conversation off then and there. "It's alright. I'm used to it." Something changed in Mr Anders' eyes. Kurt didn't know why he noticed, but he did. That warmth that was so inviting and intoxicating turned sour within seconds. Did he really care? Wow.

That creep better keep his eyes in his sockets. Chandler stared at their teacher. He noticed the funny way he was looking at his man. The same thoughts were revolving around his head all lesson. That damn teacher was gawking at his man. His jaw was practically on the floor for the majority of the afternoon. "He was staring at Kurt, but shot down the slutty blonde girl at the start of the lesson. Okay, my gaydar is going off, major," Chandler thought to himself. He stared lovingly at his boyfriend - his boyfriend - and rubbed his lower back so no one would really notice to verify the fact that Kurt was his and no one elses, secretly hoping that the history teacher would see and back off. When it was Kurt's turn to share his information and fun facts, Chandler kept his eyes on Mr Anders. The older man seemed to actually absorb what Kurt was saying. He sensed that the man actually cared about the diamond-eyed boy because no teacher had ever dared go up against Karofsky. Chandler was forgotten about during those minutes. He could practically feel the man's crush and sneaky glances piercing drowning him throughout the hour when he was trying to concentrate. "If that perv thinks he has a chance with my man, he has another thing coming. He better stay away, or else..."

A/N: I'm not really sure about this chapter... Quite a bad meeting scene maybe... What do you guys think? Shall I rewrite it? I've tried it four different ways but this is the one that's closer to being worth publishing. The others are worse. Please review, I really appreciate your time guys! :) Thanks again for reading, etc.!