There were a few things that Blaine knew when he took the TA job. He knew that (1)the class would be a mix of undergrad and grad students (the university's music theory program wasn't terribly large to start with and, thanks to funding cuts, everything was being smushed together), he knew that (2)he would be younger than some of the students, he knew that (3)this professor was notorious for letting the TAs teach 90% of the lessons, and he knew that (4)it was going to be a lot of work. The morning of the first class he got up way too early, read over his notes about a dozen times, checked to make sure that he had the attendance sheet from the professor, and headed to campus - about an hour and a half early. As he approached the doors to the lecture hall he paused, took a deep, steadying breath, and pulled.

Blaine made his way to the front of the medium sized room, walking slowly, mentally mapping the layout, and finally placed his bag by the desk that sat in the front of the class. Professor Montgomery would be there today, if only for the first few minutes, so Blaine sat next to rather than behind the teacher's desk. He rifled through his papers, reading and re-reading the lesson plan, memorizing the names on the depressingly short class roster, and trying not to neither chug nor spill his coffee. The class started filing in with about 20 minutes to spare, Professor Montgomery joined them just as the clock ticked over to 11.
"Good morning class," he said, a tone of utter boredom engulfing his every word. "I am professor Montgomery. This," he indicated Blaine, "is Mr. Anderson, your TA. He will pass out and explain the syllabus and field any questions. Thank you." And with that, he was gone. He hadn't even made it all the way to the front of the room. Blaine smiled nervously and stood - this was his moment.

"Erm, yeah, so I'm Blaine - and please, please don't call me Mr. Anderson. Today we'll just be - " The door in the back cracked open and a head peaked in. A very familiar head. A head that Blaine Anderson would do anything not to see right now. "Kurt?" Every student in the class turned to look now, and Kurt's eyes shot straight up, straight to Blaine.

"Shit," he muttered, faking a smile and fully entering the room. "Sorry, had a rough morning, won't happen again," Kurt said, taking a seat as close to the door as possible.

Blaine stood there, dumbstruck, for a minute or two, trying to remember what he was doing, trying to remember what he was saying, trying to remember anything that wasn't Kurt Hummel's face, or Kurt Hummel's skin against his own, or the feel of Kurt Hummel pressed against his back, panting. After a moment he remembered the syllabus, grabbed the stack, and sort of snapped back into reality. "Oh! Sorry, sorry. So, uh, I'll just pass this out and give you a minute to read over it. If you have any questions feel free to ask, but we're not doing anything else today so you can leave." Blaine handed the stack of papers to the student closest to him and stumbled back towards his desk. The class read over the short packet, asking questions from time to time, and, one by one, left the lecture hall. Everyone but Kurt.

Kurt sat there, waiting. Blaine was positive that he'd finished glancing at the Syllabus almost as soon as he'd received it (not that he'd been watching Kurt or anything), but he stayed there nonetheless. He stayed and watched as the others left, careful not to make eye contact with Blaine. And then, when the room was empty save the two of them, he looked up, he met Blaine's eyes, and he smiled - for real this time. It wasn't a "hey, it's great to see you!" smile, nor was it a "you make me happy" smile, and it definitely wasn't a "God I love you," smile. It was the absolute worst type of smile, the smile your ex gives you after making a sudden unwelcome reappearance in your life, it was a "well, this is fucking awkward" smile.

Blaine was the first to speak. "What are you doing here?"

"I was at this school first, if you recall," always the smartass.

"Yes, but what are you doing here?" Blaine sighed. 3500 people in the music department and Kurt had to be one of the 30 in his class. "Aren't you a theatre major?"

"Look," Kurt stood, smile gone, "I need the class."

"You aren't on the list," Blaine motioned in the general direction of his papers, trying desperately to prove that this was all some big mistake.

"Probably because I just added it yesterday. My adviser told me there was an open slot and that if I took the class I could graduate early." Blaine scowled. This was not what he needed.

"Fine, but don't expect any special treatment."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Blaine turned his back to Kurt and started gathering his papers. When he turned again to exit he found Kurt still standing there, but ever so slightly closer. When he spoke again his voice was softer, "I'm glad you're doing all right." Blaine didn't reply. Kurt nodded slightly, then turned and withdrew.

"Who said I was all right?," Blaine whispered to the empty room before grabbing his bag and fleeing out the opposite door.

Blaine walked in to his small apartment 20 minutes later he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his own work and forget about Kurt. The world, it seemed, had a different plan. Blaine dropped his bag by the door and collapsed onto the nearest chair, grabbing his laptop from its place on the nearby counter. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, trying to forget that morning's class, and groaned as he saw the NEW MAIL indicator blinking on his desktop. He clicked, waited for the program to pop up, and groaned louder.

"You have got to be kidding me!" He just couldn't catch a break. There were three new emails sitting in his inbox, and all 3 had to do with Kurt fucking Hummel. The first two were notifications of Kurt's presence in the class, one from Professor Montgomery, the other from Kurt's adviser. "Thanks for the heads up," Blaine muttered sarcastically as he noted that both emails were received some time after 11am. He skimmed them rapidly before deleting them and then sat, debating whether he really wanted to open that last email. He really didn't want to know what Kurt had to say, didn't care if the email said "I still love you, take me back, I'm sorry," didn't really want to hear Kurt's voice in his head any more today.

But this was Kurt and one thing that Blaine hated about himself was the fact that he could never resist Kurt.

Blaine,
I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry for being late this morning, it really won't happen again, and I wanted to let you know that I had no idea you were the TA for this class when I signed up. I promise I don't have some sinister plan to re-enter your life and cause hell with you in class or with your boyfriend.

- Kurt
PS. It was kind of nice to see you again.

Blaine read the email at least a dozen times, focusing on everything and nothing. Finally he settled on Kurt's comment about his boyfriend. He looked up at the empty apartment and shook his head. Did Kurt expect Blaine to have a new boyfriend? The thought was almost enough to make Blaine laugh. If Kurt was going to send Blaine an email the least he could do was to make it relevant to the class. After all that's why his email had been included on the -
wait. Blaine pushed back and jumped from his seat, scrambling to find the stapled packet amongst his multitude of papers. Aha! His eyes scanned the top of the paper quickly. Professor A. Montgomery, Office hours T 3-4. TA Blaine Anderson, Office hours TWTh 12-5, Phone 614-555-5878. His email wasn't on the syllabus. His. Email. Was. Not. On. The. Syllabus. Meaning that Kurt still had it saved somewhere, or still knew it, that Kurt hadn't completely cut Blaine out of his existence. Blaine hated how happy that idea made him, and really hated the smile that found its way to his lips.