They themselves had only gone through those doors about half an hour ago, tired and lugging their suitcases like they were dead weight, on the lookout for the teacher in charge of the Study Abroad trip, a man with whom Wes had been in touch with, as he was their student coordinator.

Luckily for the Dalton boys, their school considered its senior students to be independent and self-sufficient enough to not need a baby-sitter, although the students themselves suspected that none of their stuffy old professors could be arsed to go chaperone them in America for four months.

Wes had talked briefly with Mr. Schuester and had introduced them all in broken french, which seemed almost as hilarious to Blaine as the teacher's broken Italian, but they soon decided that, since this was an English learning trip, they should enforce the primary speaking of English between the two groups. The next 25 or so minutes were therefore spent in stilted English on most of the students' part, while Mr. Schuester (who was fluent, Blaine suspected maybe even American himself) answered their questions to the best of his abilities- some of the Dalton boys seemed to be making up some hilarious "totally English, dude, what are you talking about" words that had the teacher stifling a couple of laughs.

And then, Mr. Schuester cracked a full smile and started waving his arms to catch the eye of one of the tallest people Blaine had ever seen. The boy waved back and nudged the few people around him; it seems the French had arrived.

Leading the pack was a small brunette girl wearing a shockingly bright coat and pulling a massive, bright pink suitcase, on her back was a backpack that Blaine was pretty sure, was covered in needle-point kittens and golden stars. He hoped his eyes were tricking him, for the sake of all fashion, ever. She was pulling the tall guy along while a pretty blonde girl glared at her. The tall guy was carrying both his plain black suitcase and the blond girl's if her matching handbag was any indication.

Behind the trio was another blond, a guy with rather big lips, who only carried a large duffel bag over his toned shoulders, and a tall, gorgeous brunette who already seemed to have the girl-deprived boys of Dalton eating out of the palm of her neatly manicured hands. She was saying something to another girl of their group, a pretty dark-skinned girl wearing a flashy shirt and shoes combination. Mr. Schuester started the introductions when his eyes caught those of the last member of their party.

The brunette was absolutely breath-taking. His hair was perfectly coiffed, even after the ridiculously long flight, which made Blaine suddenly self-conscious about the mass of curls on his own head that dared to call themselves hair, his skin soft and pale to the point where it seemed to glow, while everybody else seemed nearly gaunt with fatigue. His slight frame was covered in incredibly tight black and grey striped pants and a deliciously soft looking grey sweater.

Although it didn't seem nearly as soft and delicious as the boy's lips, which Blaine's eyes darted to for the brief millisecond that they weren't busy staring into the boy's striking eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, but nearly not long enough at the same time, Blaine snapped out of it. He stuck his hand out to the boy, which he in turned grasped delicately. They were shaking hands slowly up and down, as if in a trance.

"Piacere-"

"Enchant�-"

They both let out a breathless laugh at their simultaneous attempts at introducing themselves. Blaine raised his free hand to his chest.

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Molto lieto." he said, smiling and gesturing at Kurt as if to ask his name.

"K-Kurt Hummel, ravi de faire votre connaissance", he replied, looking just as dazed as Blaine was sure he looked.

They were still shaking hands, although at this point Blaine was pretty sure it couldn't be called hand-shaking but rather pretty-French-boy's-soft-hand-appreciating. That is until Kurt caught the tall brunette girl's eye and she mumbled something that while Blaine couldn't understand, he was pretty sure was suggestive. Both boys broke apart, blushes staining their cheeks. The boy turned somewhat to the girl and introduced her as Santana, and she proceeded to say something that sounded perfectly pleasant, but judging from Kurt's violent blushing reaction, was most likely inappropriate. Kurt then dragged her away and Blaine went to introduce himself to the other students, ignoring his own friends' largely inappropriate comments about how he should have told them to bring eye condoms because they were afraid they would get second-hand eye-pregnant from all the eye-fucking that went on between the two boys.

His friends were complete asses.

But he couldn't deny that there were a lot of stolen glances as the two groups became acquainted, although they stayed on opposite ends of their group. Certainly not so many that there would be second-hand eye-pregnancies though, Blaine was sure.

Blaine was slightly scared for his own eyes however, because every time he locked gazes with the blue-eyed boy, he felt like it became harder and harder to look away, his stomach did a weird flip that felt like the one David had done for one of their performances, his heart began racing and his mouth went dry. He was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that things such a love at first sight were a crock of shit, but Blaine was now definitely a firm believer in attraction at first sight; not only physical attraction, because Blaine had been attracted to other guys before and the existence of first-look attraction was far from a revelation to him, but this deep attraction, the kind that felt like a magnetic force was pulling him to the boy, that was new.

Yes, the need growing in his chest to know everything there was to know about Kurt Hummel, the mysterious, well-dressed, smooth-skinned (and yes, incredibly gorgeous) French student was definitely new, but not a need that would go unfulfilled if Blaine had anything to say about it.