“Connor, what did I say about language? Let’s not be fouled mouthed in my classroom unless it is completely necessary.” Blaine turns back to the chalkboard to underline his words, speaking as he does so. “Yes, sexuality in Shakespeare. Can any of you honestly say that you’ve ever read a Shakespeare play without finding some sexual tension between the characters? Granted, some of it is blatant, but much of it is under the surface, and your job for this assignment is to dig up the goods. Read between the lines of The Tempest and discuss Miranda’s desire to be with Ferdinand, only the third man she’s ever seen. Explore the depths of Othello and—“

The door to the classroom swings open, and in walks a boy (man, Blaine has to remind himself. These are college students.) who is so beautiful Blaine’s tongue literally twists in on itself and his words die in his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mister…” the beauty checks a piece of paper, then looks up, making direct eye contact with Blaine. “…Anderson,” he finishes, walking up to Blaine’s desk to hand him a form.

Blaine’s eyes follow the new student until he has sat down near the back of the classroom. Someone—a female student—clears her throat, and Blaine startles, glancing around and coughing slightly before looking down at the form he was handed.

“Welcome to the class, Kurt,” he says, hoping that no one picks up on the slight tremor in his voice. “We were just getting started on a new assignment. Sexuality in Shakespeare,” he finishes, lamely waving in the direction of the chalkboard. Kurt gives him a nod and takes out a notebook, crossing his legs in a way that Blaine is sure is meant to torment him. They look endless.

“Well, okay, so. Shakespeare’s plays are full of unbidden sexuality and sensuality. I want each of you to choose a play and explore the relationships between the characters. For tomorrow, just bring in a list of four or five shows you’re interested in using and we’ll figure out who gets to do what then, alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson,” several of his students reply, mocking him. Blaine laughs, and catches Kurt’s eye, the blue-eyed wonder of a man chuckling slightly. Blaine decides that he likes the new kid, especially when he’s smiling.

At the end of class, Blaine turns his back on the retreating students to clear the chalkboard, and he is not proud of the fact that he drops the eraser in shock when he hears a small “ahem” coming from the other side of his desk.

“Mr. Anderson? Are you alright?” It’s Kurt, and his eyes have that amused twinkle in them from before when he was laughing, and Blaine can’t help but file the image away for later remembrance.

“Kurt. I’m fine, thank you. What can I do for you?” He bends to pick up the eraser, placing it in its holder along the chalkboard.

“Um, my form,” Kurt says, the amusement still evident in his voice. “You were supposed to sign it?”

“Right, right, of course,” Blaine replies, flashing him a smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as nervous. He quickly signs the form and hands it over, hoping that this angel who just waltzed right into his life would waltz back out before Blaine did something seriously unprofessional.

“Well, see you around, Professor,” Kurt drawls, and damn it all if Blaine couldn’t help but watch his ass as he left the classroom.

Shit, he is definitely going to hell.