It started with Wes and David. While probing their new comrade at Dalton when they were sophomores and he was a freshman, they found out that he had a peculiar talent. Well, maybe not a talent. It was a party trick, in the style of "look what the new kid can do!"
Blaine could list the first ladies of the United States in order, starting with Martha Washington and ending with Michelle Obama.
He went ahead and did it because he could, it got him a little bit of attention, and it fit with the image of the intelligent, sophisticated new gay kid he was trying to create. It was one of those things that made his prep school classmates respect him, and won him over to his teachers when he was prompted to do it in class.
Blaine loved first ladies. He had his favorites: Eleanor Roosevelt's sense of duty, Jackie Kennedy's sense of style, Betty Ford's marvelous defiance and Lady Bird Johnson's name. He loved the entire concept of being devoted and doing all you could for the person you loved while they struggled with the issues of the world.
Yeah, Blaine liked the spotlight, but he'd rather share it.
First ladies weren't even a fascination new to Blaine in his teenage years. When he was four, his grandfather had asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. Blaine's answer had been an excited declaration of "Hillary Clinton" that abruptly resulted in his bedtime and later chastisement.
None of this was included in the party trick. It just consisted of the face value, the mindless prattling off of name after name. The only one who ever asked him why he knew them and genuinely wanted to hear the answer was Kurt. The taller boy had asked him question after question, leading to a full on conversation about Jackie Kennedy's days in the White House and the calendar Jack gave her as a thank you for her support during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Kurt's interest was one of the first times Blaine felt himself being pulled toward almost physically toward Kurt, warm with attention and inexplicably led to seek more from him.
So when he was over at Kurt interrupted his impromptu pity party (or pep-talk party, as Blaine referred to it, as he was never going to put pity on Kurt) after meeting other candidates for NYADA to wonder aloud if he could possibly win a position in student government, Blaine immediately and enthusiastically encouraged him.
"You absolutely should! Senior class president would be a great position for you, Kurt. You have so much to offer this school, and you know it from the very bottom of the social structure. Everyone in this school who has ever been picked on would rather vote for you than that Rick guy any day. And that's the thing, Kurt. We're not the only ones. Everyone's suffered some in this school. And you're the one who's kind and sweet enough not to have ever bullied anyone." Blaine had said, sitting up with his excitement and gesticulating wildly.
"Well, on occasion insult Azimio thoroughly and irreconcilably in flawless French while he gapes and struggles with infinitives." Kurt had answered, shaking his head. Blaine only laughed.
Blaine sputtered out a laugh, because of course Kurt had.
"If everyone knew that, they would probably want to vote for you even more."
"This is just your lifelong dream of being a first lady coming out, Mr. Anderson. You have only selfish interest in me becoming president."
"I think it's impossible for me to be a first lady." Blaine had scrunched his face, and Kurt had maybe gone a little pink and swallowed a giggle. "And I do have selfish interest in you becoming president, because next year I want to be able to say that my boyfriend is in the most prestigious musical theater program in the country."
"So you really think I should do this?" Kurt had asked, sobering a bit and leaning forward while he braced himself up with an elbow. "It's not just some stupid idea that's going to get me humiliated and slushied and voted senior prom queen this time?"
"I'd hope that would lose its appeal in repetition. But since when do you care what anyone's response is going to be?" Blaine had cocked an eyebrow, trying not to smile too brightly just yet.
"Since I have a boyfriend at this school who could be forced to suffer for my offenses." Kurt had said, wrapping his arms back around Blaine's waist.
"Hey." Blaine had said quietly, tilting Kurt's chin back up with a gentle hand, "We take it all on together. I came here so you can have the greatest senior year possible and so you can help me face my fears. We're not doing either of those things if you let fear hold you back."
Kurt had smiled a little bit then, holding Blaine just a little bit tighter.
"Would it be too far along your first lady way of thinking if I responded to that with, 'the only thing we have to fear is fear itself*'?" Kurt asked in a semblance of seriousness. Blaine had just chuckled and pressed a kiss to his head lightly.
"You're going to be one hell of a president, Candidate Hummel."
It wasn't news to Blaine that potential first ladies made sacrifices on the campaign trail. He had totally expected to make sacrifices for Kurt from the beginning, leading him to wake up and make the drive to McKinley even earlier so he could help pass out buttons and stay at Kurt's even later so he could help plot strategies now that Brittany was spearheading her own campaign. But there was one surprise sacrifice in store for him, namely the large hickey clearly over his collar as he sat front and center at the class president speeches.
Finn was sitting next to him, though no one could say they were really there together. Finn hadn't really established whether he was supporting his girlfriend or his stepbrother, and Blaine didn't envy his confusion. He felt lucky that he had walked into the first practice for West Side Story to a big hug from Rachel and a declaration that just because they were starring together she didn't expect him to have any allegiance to her over Kurt, actually it would be tragic if he felt any confliction, and he couldn't vote anyway so it didn't matter.
Besides, Rachel had asked him almost every day how Kurt was doing. She tried to disguise it as small talk, but Blaine knew it went deeper than that. He didn't push it, though. Rachel and Kurt were just obstinate enough to put up with each other, and they'd get over it soon enough.
Blaine didn't have to be obstinate to get along with Kurt, because Kurt was completely unguarded around him. It scared him, really. But it also made it almost entirely impossible to tell the boy no, hence the hickey.
"Holy fuck, Anderson."
Blaine looked up to see Santana standing over him, pointing one of her talons at the bruise. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Yes?"
"That is not a make-out hickey, Anderson."
"I really had no clue, Santana. Thanks for the diagnosis." He bit out, a little bit stressed because of course he had gone and let his boyfriend use the destruction of his calculated appearance as a campaign ploy.
And of course he secretly liked it. A lot.
Santana was obviously pleased by his snappy reply, her mouth slightly open as she smiled.
"Shut up." She said, her eyes scanning the auditorium as though looking for other signs of the apocalypse, and Blaine just rolled his eyes.
"If you already had it figured out, I don't know why you're surprised."
"I'm more surprised you're admitting it. Also, that I feel like I can be seen in your presence, even with that stupid toddler jacket on." She said, perching herself on the seat next to him. Blaine smirked; he didn't like the jacket much, either, but Kurt insisted the hickey be entirely visible, and this was the best he had. Plus, he thought it went well with the "Vote Unicorn" button he was wearing proudly on his chest.
"So, tell me, is Kurtsie into marking, or is there an ulterior motive here?" Santana asked, leaning in close to Blaine. He blushed.
"Our sex life is none of your business, Santana." Blaine said, the reply Kurt had scripted for prying questions from just this oversexed cheerleader sitting next to him.
Kurt had to have known that her only response would have been some indulgent snickering and further pressing.
"Come on, Anderson, tell Auntie Tana if you two are getting kinky yet."
"It's not like that." Blaine said, still blushing.
They'd been twisted up naked in his bed, his father on a trip, his little sister at after school daycare and his mother not due home for another two hours. Blaine was still catching his breath after a fast and messy round, and they were both grinning like crazy and giggling because, really, this was the third time that week and it was only Wednesday; the desperation and haste was totally unnecessary but so, so fun.
"Hmm… so… discussion." Kurt had said, rolling himself up against Blaine and sinking his chin into Blaine's chest and looking up at him.
"Ugh, no discussion, just kiss me until we can do that again." Blaine mumbled, wrapping his arms around Kurt and holding him close as he thought of how awesome and wonderful and perfect it felt to have him naked and all over him, slightly squishy and warm and dense and yes Kurt was perfect and he needed this to become a constant thing.
Kurt snickered and pressed a kiss against his lips, but drew back when Blaine tried to hold him there.
"You're not listening."
"You're not listening." Kurt teased, shaking his head. He folded his arms under his chin and continued to look up at Blaine. "Really, I have something to talk about."
"What?" Blaine asked, just wanting Kurt to snuggle him for God's sake.
"You know how we banned hickeys once I brought out my spring wardrobe?" Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded. Hickeys had been coverable under Dalton issue oxford shirts, but once Kurt transferred back and spring rolled around and so did the racks of lower cut shirts, the biting ended for both of them.
"I'm thinking that it's time we end the moratorium." Kurt said, and Blaine nodded enthusiastically.
"I like this idea." Kurt blushed before speaking again.
"I was also thinking that I should give you one now, and you should have it visible at the campaign speeches tomorrow." He said, and Blaine squirmed to sit up against the pillows a little more, his eyebrows raised.
"Why?" He asked blankly, still too sex drunk to follow where Kurt was going with this.
"Well," Kurt said, blushing, "I was thinking about how the presidential election is mostly a popularity contest, and I think sex has a lot to do with that. Rachel may have slept with Finn –"
"She did."
"Well, her clothing still has five times the effectiveness of your average chastity belt, the hockey player's mullet is hopefully an instant turn off for anyone raised in an environment where soap is a constant, and that just leaves me and Brittany."
"Right."
"Plus, everyone thinks I'm an ice queen. Sex would be a side I haven't shown at this school before."
Blaine knew better than to vocalize an assent to that one, so he nodded.
"But I think the speeches are a venue for professionalism and looking presidential."
"Right."
"Which is why I need a prop." Kurt said, and that grin was just lethal.
"You're really not going to let me decide about this at a time when you're not naked and on top of me?" Blaine asked, and had a feeling this "discussion" was going to be over very, very soon.
"Nope." Kurt said, leaning in and kissing Blaine slowly before leaning up and whispering against his ear. "You know you want everyone to know I have you this way, anyway." And, fuck, yeah, that was it.
"Okay."
Kurt snickered, going back to his lips.
"Don't worry, you're really going to enjoy this. Promise."
"Right." Santana said, and Blaine realized all too late that she was getting far too much enjoyment out of watching his dopey expression. "You two are disgusting. You two are so icky for each other that you make sex unsexy."
"Because you're not icky for Brittany?" Blaine asked, and Santana sighed.
"Don't say that too loud." She snapped, and Blaine nodded.
"Well, you are sitting in the boyfriend section." He said, earning a very large eyeroll.
"Anderson, you are out here sporting a hickey so your boyfriend can let everyone know he's getting laid as he runs for president. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm pretty sure Hummel has the pants in your relationship."
"We both have pants in our relationship, Santana." Blaine snapped.
"But he tops." She said, and Blaine turned scarlet as she laughed.
"Oh my God. You two are too obvious. Now, I have to go make sure Brittany's ready for her encore."
"Dancing again, really?"
"That leather skirt wasn't meant to only be worn once, Blainers. Now make sure everyone can see your pretty hickey so Kurt will be pleased with you." She said, patting him on the cheek and walking away.
No sooner had her skirt spun out of vision behind the gym doors than he was approached by Jacob Ben Israel, camera in hand.
"Blaine Anderson, boyfriend of senior class president candidate Kurt Hummel, transfer from the gayest school in Ohio and a junior so he can't vote, there are rumors swirling around school that your large and rather frightening neck bruise is in fact a testament to the fact that you and Kurt Hummel are actively engaging in sodomy. Confirm or deny."
Blaine fixed the camera with his pearliest smile, because Kurt had scripted this answer, too.
"No comment."
Blaine knew desperate waiting and anxiety was also part of the game for aspiring first ladies, but that didn't make it any better. The news didn't help, either.
He had been sitting in the library with a book when Kurt came running in, tears tracked down his face and sniffling. Blaine instantly snapped the book shut and followed him to a deserted classroom, where the older boy immediately launched himself into Blaine's arms.
"Kurt, honey, what's wrong?" Blaine asked, locking the door behind them so they wouldn't be interrupted (Mrs. Mackin only had classes in the morning anyway) and sunk them down onto the cold tile out of view of the door's window. Kurt dug his face into Blaine's neck, not answering, and Blaine's mind spun with all the possibilities. The election results were supposed to be ready today, but there were so many other things that could make Kurt this way. Burt was the first coming to Blaine's mind, and his throat constricted. "Kurt?"
"They think I stuffed the ballot box, and they're looking into disqualifying me and suspending me, which would be the end of both the campaign and NYADA and everything." He said. Blaine's heart fell.
"Oh, Kurt." He murmured, kissing his head. "They'll find out you didn't. Of course you didn't. You have a perfect record, and I'm sure there are teachers here who would attest to your character." He said, but Kurt shook his head.
"You don't understand how much of a bitch I am, Blaine. They all know I let myself get carried away sometimes." He said. "Rachel saysthat we're born Slytherins." He said, trying to attempt a joke." Blaine frowned.
"Well, I don't." He said, and Kurt looked up. "If you were a Slytherin, you would have outed Karofsky and not let me try out for Tony." Kurt let out the faintest smile and sniffle as he curled closer into Blaine.
"You're the only one who could possibly know me that well. I feel so awful, Blaine. The worst part is, the way Figgins said it, I thought I had won. I thought I had done this. I thought I had a chance of making it."
"We're going to figure something out, Kurt." Blaine said, taking hold of his face and kissing him roughly. Kurt lay there, kissing Blaine back for the longest time before popping away and looking up at him.
"I need you, Blaine." He whispered, tears still falling from his eyes. "I need you, and I need us, and I need you to by no means be gentle about this." He said, looking in Blaine's eyes.
Blaine gulped. He didn't do this often, and when he did, it was the slow and gentle that Kurt was specifically asking him to avoid. He had what he needed in his bag, and this wing of the school was dead as could be and the door was locked.
"Okay." He said, nodding.
When they were done, they found Kurt's phone again, with one new text.
Don't concede. Jacob Ben Israel has footage of Santana passing out pixie sticks the polls, & campaigning at the polls isn't allowed. –Rachel Barbara Berry
"I am very disappointed in all of you." Mr. Schuester said as Kurt, Rachel, Santana and Brittany stood in Principal Figgins's office. Blaine was there as well as both campaign manager and concerned boyfriend, sitting out of the line of fire. "You've brought a disgrace on our program with this behavior. Even those of you in Mrs. Corcoran's choir, you're hurting the arts in this school when they're most at jeopardy. Even if you two-" he pointed to Kurt and Brittany, "didn't know what they were doing, you shouldn't have been fostering this type of environment on your campaigns. I expected better than this."
Kurt hung his head and looked over at Blaine, who sighed. Kurt was standing gingerly, a remnant of what they had been doing a few hours previously, and he had changed into a more comfortable sweater since Blaine had accidentally stepped on his shirt in the process.
Figgins took over the speaking. "Miss Berry, since you have confessed to the stuffing of the boxes, you are suspended and cannot compete in the Sectionals competition. Miss Lopez, we all know why you were passing out those pixie sticks, but since there is no proof on the tape we can't suspend you. You have, however, compromised Miss Pierce's campaign. However, since Mr. Rick-Stick student received zero votes, you are the only two effective candidates. As such, I am throwing out the results for this election and there will be a revote."
Blaine's eyes snapped up to Kurt's who was standing agape at the possibility reopening for him.
"You have tomorrow to campaign, and then there will be no foul play on the day of the vote Friday or you will be the first senior class in McKinley history without a class president, do you hear me clearly?" Figgins asked, and they all nodded.
As soon as they were out of the office Kurt and Blaine were hugging as tightly as they could without Kurt flinching, because he had another chance.
He won.
Kurt won.
"Congratulations, President and First Unicorn!" Brittany said, giving them hugs before locking pinkies with Santana and leaving.
Blaine was so ecstatic and caught up that he didn't think of establishing his own title. Instead, it came from the least preferable source.
"Congratulations, President Porcelain. First Gay, I hope you will not take your responsibilities lightly." Sue Sylvester said with a nod as she walked by.
Blaine blinked, looking up at her with a puzzled appearance as she nodded and walked away. He turned to Kurt, lines of confusion across his face.
"Don't listen to her." Kurt said. "And don't worry, no one's actually going to call you that. Is your house empty? I think you should properly congratulate me on my win." He turned to face Blaine, his hips dangerously close to Blaine's for their location against a pair of lockers in a McKinley High hallway. Blaine took in Kurt's face: sparkling, triumphant eyes half-hidden under eyelids lowered in sensual acknowledgement of danger, a matching smirk and just the hint of teeth biting into the bottom lip.
"O-okay." Blaine said, eyes zeroing in on that tiny bit of white he could see denting the soft skin of Kurt's lip.
"Good." Kurt said, and then did the unimaginable. He kissed Blaine, right there in the hallway of McKinley High, and it wasn't even empty. It was a small peck, the tiniest kiss, but the power that came with it made Blaine giddy with excitement. Hand-in-hand, they practically ran to Blaine's car. Kurt called his father on the way, letting him know that there were now two Hummels in office, and that he was going to Blaine's to celebrate. Burt had merely chuckled and told them to be careful, and Blaine could hear him over the phone and he sounded so proud. Happily they hurried to Blaine's room, where Blaine did his very, very best to congratulate his boyfriend on his win.
When they were done, Kurt couldn't help but pulling Blaine's laptop up to the bed and checking Facebook to see what people were saying. He had seventeen notifications, mostly congratulations, some from people he barely ever talked to. One, however, was for being tagged in a video by Jacob Ben Israel. Clicking on it, he let it load.
"New senior class president Kurt Hummel and First Gay Blaine Anderson were seen leaving the office of Principal Figgins triumphant when the results of the special re vote election were announced privately to the candidates." Kurt immediately fumbled and stopped the video, turning to Blaine with a look of shock.
Blaine looked from the screen to his boyfriend's face, smiling.
"I'm sorry, Blaine. I'll make sure they don't call you that. I'll ban it. I'll make it an executive order. I'll-" he stopped when Blaine started laughing, pulling Kurt's naked body back to him.
"Let them." He said simply, grinning.
"Blaine Anderson, have you lost your mind?"
"Kurt, you ran on a platform of being the gayest thing in Ohio, remember?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded.
"Yeah, so…"
"So, I'm going to uphold your message of being a unicorn. They already know I'm gay, Kurt. If they address me as it in a title, maybe they'll start to realize that it has absolutely nothing to do with my character."
"Or maybe this will totally backfire."
Blaine shrugged, grinning.
"We'll see. Now, can we please continue being gay?" Blaine asked, running a hand across Kurt's chest. Kurt snickered and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before pouncing up on top of him.
Blaine spent the rest of the year wondering a lot of things about other first ladies, who he now considered himself on par with on every level.
Did first ladies give blow jobs? Obviously Hillary didn't. Or at least stopped. Because Bill had clearly forfeited all rights to blow jobs, and this was Blaine speaking. Blaine loved blow jobs.
He just happened to be giving a lot more than receiving that year, because Kurt was always so stressed. Sex itself didn't calm him down enough because he did most of the work. Even when he wasn't topping, per se, most of the time he was riding. Because Kurt was a control freak, and no, they couldn't just get a tree for their class present, that was far too cliché, and no, they could not do drapes and suits for the yearbook, that is beyond tacky.
At least once a week Kurt came home huffing and puffing from putting up with the other senior class officers, the student council, the senior class advisor or Principal Figgins.
So at least once a week Blaine found himself pushing Kurt down on the bed and physically calming him down.
It wasn't like he minded. Blaine loved blow jobs. Either side of them. Plus, this method was so effective he decided that if first ladies didn't give blow jobs, they should.
He also wondered if any of them loved the title of first lady. Dolly Madison probably did. She had that whole portrait saving goodness that brought her up in almost all discussions of first ladies, so she probably loved the title, right?
No, she probably hated it. That was usually how the world worked.
But Blaine loved his title.
Yes, Rachel had advised him very strongly to go for the title First Gentleman like the husbands of female governors did, because of all the implications of equality and the formality of his role and, really, at this point he had stopped listening.
"When Kurt's in an actual civic office I'll go for the official title, Rachel." Blaine said as they sat at lunch, waiting for their respective boyfriends. "But for now I think I'll just enjoy the fact that people are calling me gay because my boyfriend is in charge of them."
"That doesn't make any sense." Rachel snapped.
"Easy, children." Kurt said, sitting down across from Blaine, Finn lumbering up at his side. "We're going to have to separate you two if you keep it up."
Finn shrugged before digging into his cheeseburger and asking Rachel about their chemistry homework, in that order. Slightly disgusted, Kurt turned back to Blaine.
"So what were you two arguing about this time?"
"How I shouldn't like it so much when they call me your first gay." Blaine said, and Kurt's face softened into a smile.
"You could have any title you wanted, you know." He said, cutting off a piece of grilled chicken he had brought from home. Blaine shook his head, reaching for Kurt's hands.
"Facing my fears. Proving myself stronger. Being a unicorn right along with you."
"You're weird. But I guess that's one of the reasons I love you." Kurt said, and Blaine beamed.
Five years and a few months later, Blaine scurried around a winery just outside of Lima, straightening plates and forks.
"Are you sure the shrimp cocktail was a good idea? We have a few hours. I could run and get some lobster dip or something. I mean we don't have time to make it so it wouldn't be as good coming from just a tub so maybe that's a bad idea, what about crab cakes? Everyone loves crab cakes, maybe we should have gone with that. But I think the shrimp cocktail will go better with the wine, since we're not doing a hard liquor bar. And you know, really–"
"Blaine."
Blaine looked over to see Kurt casually lounging in a chair, and he paused.
"I'm getting caught up again, aren't I?" He asked, and Kurt simply nodded, grinning.
"It's just my class reunion, Blaine. It's not even your class reunion."
Blaine blushed, scratching the back of his head.
"Tina and Artie are still going to be here, so it's kind of like my class reunion." Blaine said, and Kurt just shook his head, standing up and smiling.
"We just saw Mike and Tina yesterday, and Quinn and Artie last month." He said, walking over and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.
"Okay, so, maybe this is my last duty as McKinley High's original First Gay." Blaine said, and Kurt laughed into his shoulder, rocking them back and forth slightly.
"You know you really have no duties as First Gay, right? Since, you know, it's not like we're married." Kurt teased, and Blaine's fingers automatically intertwined with Kurt's as he intentionally knocked their silver engagement bands together.
"Yet." He said, thrilling as Kurt kissed him on the cheek.
"Yet." He confirmed. Blaine spun around in Kurt's arms, looking up at him, still shorter than him after all those years of hoping for a growth spurt that never came.
"I just want to impress them all for you. Make it blatantly obvious that you came out on top."
"I think Rachel gets that honor." Kurt said, nodding over to the card on the wall.
Rachel Berry is eternally sorry she is unable to join you this evening, as she is previously engaged as the title character of the current Broadway revival of Thoroughly Modern Milly.
"Excuse me, but I think being a state representative of New York at age 23 is pretty damn exceptional."
"Not after everyone in the school knew I didn't make it into NYADA." Kurt muttered.
"Hey, if you had made it into NYADA, we couldn't have taken all of those classes at Fordham together." Blaine countered, and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Yes, and you were quite the distraction." He said, but Blaine continued to grin.
"Yeah, and now we both have graduated, and you're in office and I'm heading to graduate school, and we have these." Blaine said, holding up their left hands and looking Kurt in the eye. "So no one can stop us now."
"I love you." Kurt sighed, leaning in and kissing him.
It was another twenty years before Blaine got another attempt at playing first lady.
Yes, Kurt had been in office since that very first term as a state representative for New York, but since he was a transplant he had taken the legislative route. State representative. State senator. US House of Representatives. US Senator.
"Democratic presidential candidate Kurt Hummel-Anderson's husband Dr. Blaine Hummel-Anderson joins us today, ladies and gentlemen, to talk about his husband's campaign." The brunette news anchor said, gesturing to where Blaine was sitting in a chair next to the side of the news desk. Blaine was suddenly aware of the camera facing him, broadcasting him to a national audience.
"Good evening, Dr. Hummel-Anderson." She continued, her smile so big and bright that Blaine worried his own might appear to small.
"Good evening, please, call me Blaine." He said, sweating a little in his seat. His Ph.D. in social work seemed a little suffocating when he was being interviewed for his husband's gain.
"Well, Blaine, tell us, should we be concerned about your husband's lack of executive experience?"
"Not at all. First of all, you have to understand, Kurt is a very executive person." Blaine began, giving just the briefest pause for people to grasp the comedy before continuing. "But really, in his work in the Senate you can see that his focus has been on–"
And this was easy. Explaining Kurt to the world was easy. Really, who would have thought that one day Blaine would get to just gush about his husband on national TV?
At his campaign headquarters, Kurt popped his head into the media room around the time he knew Blaine would be on the evening news.
"How's he doing?" He asked his media strategist, though his eyes were on his husband's face on the TV. She looked up at him and smiled, pointing to a live Twitter feed.
"They love him."
"Of course they do." Kurt said, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at his husband's laughing face.
"So, what do you think of the prospect of being First Gentleman of the United States?" The anchor asked as she summed up the interview.
"Honestly, Jane, I'm just glad the title caught on. When Kurt was senior class president at our high school, the kids just called me the First Gay."
*This is a Franklin Delano Roosevelt quote.
Author's Note: And, we have a wrap. This started as just a silly story about Blaine loving the title of McKinley High's First Gay for Alicia (blaineandersons on Tumblr), but I couldn't help but turn it into scenes of Blaine throughout the evolution of politician!Kurt. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!