Kurt watched as everybody pushed everybody else, loud Italian and French curses being spouted here and there as toes got stepped on or hair got pulled. After a few more seconds of pandemonium, the black kid who seemed to be friends which the guy in charge of the Italians (Wes?) and him, yelled something and the Warblers all suddenly stopped their frenzy and hung their heads as though they had been chastised by their mothers. Kurt quirked an impressed eyebrow at the display. He turned to the front of the bus to exchange a look with Santana only to find that she was comfortably nestled in between to Warblers who had given up their prime viewing realty up after a single sultry bat of her fake lashes.

Kurt smirked at the sight and turned to face Rachel only to catch the gaze of one off-limits Italian. His hazel were twinkling with humour. Kurt figured he must have witnessed his reaction to his friend's and Santana's displays. He quirked his pink lips in an entirely too handsome half-smile and Kurt felt his face flushing in a way that he was convinced made him look almost related to a boiled lobster. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping that Blaine would avert his too while his blush struggled to die down.

Blaine.

Damn, he was going to have to be more careful about avoiding thinking about he-who-must-not-be-ogled's name, his blush doubled in intensity at the simple thought of it.

Christ, Kurt you're worse than Rachel was with Finn if just thinking about the guy's name and having him smile at you has you blushing like a prostitute at confessional. Pull yourself together, man.

Kurt glanced a look back to where Santana was sitting, nose still pressed against the window as she commented on the building to Mercedes.

"Bof, c'est pas pire mais franchement je m'attendais � mieux. �'as l'air assez vieux mais peut-�tre que je pourrais m'y habituer." Meh, it's not too bad but honestly, I expected better. It looks pretty old but maybe I could get used to it.

Kurt raised his eyebrows; high praise coming from Satan herself, that's for sure.

Kurt went to her and nudged her slightly until she got out of the way.

Outside the window, Kurt looked at what was possibly the most charming brownstone townhouse he had ever seen. It was four stories tall with large windows jutting out slightly from what Kurt could only think of as a turret. He could instantly envision himself curled up on the window seat, surrounded by lush pillows, swathed in his favourite Marc Jacobs sweater and tucked under a nice quilt, reading the latest edition of Vogue. The top floor was partially covered in Ivy, winding down at an angle so perfect a counterpoint to the building's architecture that Kurt immediately deduced that it could only have been designed by man; surely, even Nature's beauty had to have limits. The front door was made of polished mahogany, nestled in a small arched nook that came after a flight of cement stairs with wrought iron handrails that brought Kurt right back to France and the classic wrought balconies of the Parisian homes. He suddenly could understand the crazy clamouring that had gone down as soon as they pulled up in front of their new home; it felt like something straight out of a modern fairy tale.

Kurt managed to shake himself out of his architectural wonder long enough to realize that the rest of the teenagers had snapped out of it long ago and were now all doing their very best impression of Tasmanian devils as they ran around to grab their belongings and be the first ones off the bus. Kurt decided it would be wise to remain seated after he almost had his favourite pair of boots scuffed by Rachel's hideous pink suitcase.

That would have been strike three on her daily fashion criminal record. I actually might have had to murder her then. Or at least set that heinous backpack of hers on fire.

He glared at the thing on her back before he allowed himself to turn back towards the window- feet safely tucked beside him as he kneeled on the bus seat- and get lost in the beauty of it all. It truly seemed like something out of a dream.

"Uh, mi scusi, questo � il tuo bagaglio, vero?" Uh, excuse me, this is your bag, right?

And standing there was another dream altogether, holding out his vintage Louis Vuiton trunk out to him, with a classy leather weekender bag that Kurt was about 90% sure was this season's Hugo Boss slung over his over shoulder.

"Um, Kurt? � il tuo, no? Non �? Oh Dio, ho rubato il bagaglio di qualcun'altro?" Um, Kurt? It is yours, no? It isn't? Oh God, have I stolen somebody else's bag?

Kurt realized that his spaced out staring had Blaine freaking out for some reason, and quickly reached out to grab his bag as Blaine started pulling it back towards him, a panicked look on his face.

"Merci! Merci, Blaine, c'est tr�s gentil de ta part" Thank you! Thanks, Blaine, it's very nice of you, Kurt said with a small smile that immediately relaxed Blaine's nervous stance.

The bus was almost empty by now. Blaine was waiting by Kurt's seat, slightly behind it with a arm stretched out in front of him and a smile on his face. After you. Kurt stood slowly and smoothed his slightly wrinkled sweater down. He nodded his head once in Blaine's direction, small smile still in place. Thank you.

Once in the aisle, Kurt grabbed his messenger bag and put on the pea coat that was draped over the flap. He forwent the gloves in favour of not obstructing Blaine's way any longer, grabbed his things and got out of the bus.

Both groups were busying themselves by unloading the remaining bags from the luggage compartment although there was some mingling here and there. Nick and Jeff seemed to be amusing themselves by talking circles in Italian around Finn who looked on incredibly confused.

Kurt smiled and closed his eyes, taking in his first deep breath of the cold American air.

"Oh cazzo, che freddo fa!" Oh fuck, it's cold out!

Kurt opened his eyes and turned to see Blaine wrapping his coat tighter around him and pulling a beanie out of his pocket and unto his head of unruly locks. Kurt thought he might have actually been shivering.

"T'aime pas le froid?" Don't like the cold?

Blaine turned towards him, his cheeks flushing a bit and smiling in a self-deprecating manner. When Kurt felt his own cheeks flush in reply he told himself it was from the brisk winter wind.

Blaine brought his hands up to his face and started blowing into them, rubbing them furiously, trying to get some heat into them. Kurt blamed what he did next solely on how pitiful Blaine looked.

"Tiens, prend mes gants." Here, take my golves.

Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out his beloved pair of fur-lined leather gloves and handed them towards Blaine, who froze on the spot, hands still raised to his face, eyes locked with Kurt's. Kurt raised his eyebrows and nodded his head a little, shaking the gloves in his outstretched hand at Blaine. Go on, take em'.

Blaine reached out with a shivering hand and took the gloves from Kurt, his frozen digits grazing the boy's warmer ones. Blaine put the gloves on, blush still very present on his cheekbones. His gaze found his shoes before looking back up at Kurt's blue eyes.

"Grazie."

'De rien."

"Ehi, Blaine lasci il tuo nuovo ragazzo in pace e darci una mano qui!" Hey, Blaine, leave your new boyfriend alone and come give us a hand here!

Blaine blushed, turned to the voice that yelled out to him and shouted back something that had the Italians sniggering amongst them. He then turned back to Kurt and raised his now gloved hands to him in a small awkward goodbye-ish wave.

"Grazie ancora, Kurt!", he said jogging off to help out his friends with the unloading.

The unpacking seemed to go by quickly after that and Mr. Schuester started doing role call for about the fiftieth time since the groups had landed. Kurt sincerely hoped he wouldn't make a habit of it for the entirety of their stay, because he was starting to feel like a tagged animal, being taunted with the illusion of roaming free in the wild. Once Schuester finished checking off everbody's name on his list he clapped his hands loudly and called for attention.

"Everybody! I will say what I have to say in French and Italian but from now on, we are speaking only in English! There will be no learning if we simply talk to our friends in our mother tongue! Alors je commence en Fran�ais: Cet �difice � cinq �tages, la cuisine, le salon et la salle � manger se trouvent toutes au rez-de-chauss� alors c'est l� qu'on va socialiser le plus! Je ne veux pas vous voir enfermez dans vos chambres pour les quatre prochains mois!"

So I'll begin in French: This building's got five floors, the kitchen, living room and dining room are all on the main floor so that's where we'll be socializing the most! I don't want to see you holed up in yours rooms for the next four months!

"Si on reste dans nos chambres vous ne nos verrez pas de toute fa�on, monsieur." If we stay in our rooms you won't be seeing us anyway, sir, said Santana with her trademark smirk in place.

"Tr�s dr�le, Santana." Very funny, Santana, replied Mr. Schue, not even glancing up from his notes. "Alors, moi je suis au premier �tage, o� se trouve aussi une petite biblioth�que o� vous pourrez faire vos devoirs et �tudier. Au deuxi�me �tage se trouvent les filles; il y a deux chambres avec deux lits chaque. Pour �viter des conflits j'ai d�j� d�cid� qui va dormir avec qui: Rachel et Santana vous �tes dans la chambre de gauche, Quinn, t'es avec Mercedes dans la chambre de droite."

"Mais monsieur-!" But sir-!

"Quoi! Mais est-ce que vous �tes compl�tement-!" What! Are you completely-!

"Monsieur, vous avez aucune id�e-!" Sir, you have no idea-!

"DEMOISELLES, du calme s'il-vous-pla�t!" LADIES, calm down, please!, said Mr. Schuester, raising his voice over the sudden outcry of the girls. All of the guys, both French and Italian, took a slightly frightened step back from the four, three of the boys looking on with a bit of panic in their eyes, knowing full well what a disaster this could turn out to be while the rest were trying to figure out what it was that had the girls so angry.

"Monsieur Schuester, en tant que la capitaine de notre �change, j'ai le devoir de contester votre choix de soi-disant � colocataires �. Santana et moi, nous n'avons rien en commun, on va finir par s'entre tuer si vous ne changez pas votre choix, et je sais que quand je serais une grande star hollywoodienne je devrais socialiser avec des individus aussi d�sagr�ables que Santana, mais pour le moment-" Mister Schuester, as the captain for our exchange group, I have the duty to protest your choice of "roomies". Santana and I have nothing in common and we will end up murdering each other if you don't change your choice, and while I know that once I become a big Hollywood star I'll have to mingle with less than pleasant people, like Santana, I really feel-

"Qu'est-ce que tu viens de dire, esp�ce de-" What did you just say, you little-

"Rachel, je sais que ma d�cision doit vous sembler un peu �trange, mais les gar�ons seront forc�s � partager leurs chambres avec les italiens et donc � se faire des nouveaux amis. Puisque vous �tes les seules filles j'ai d�cid� de vous forcer � vous conna�tre mieux; je m'attends � ne plus en entendre parler, compris?" Rachel, I know that my decision might seem a little strange, but the boys will be made to room with the Italians and to make new friends. Since your four are the only girls in the exchange, I decided to make you get to know one another better; my decision is final, I don't want to hear another word about it, understood?

Mr. Schuester stared down the four girls and while Mercedes and Quinn seemed only slightly displeased, Rachel and Santana seemed to be physically suffering their silence. Beside the girls though, was Kurt, who picked up on an important fact the rest of the boys hadn't.

"Euh, M. Schuester, vous avez bien dit qu'on devra partager nos chambres avec les gar�ons de Dalton?" Uh, Mr. Schuester, did you just say that we'll have to share our rooms with the Dalton boys?

"Oui Kurt, c'est �a que j'ai dit. T'inqui�te, Dalton est une �cole avec une exc�llente r�putation en ce qui concerne l'homophobie et l'intimidation en g�n�ral alors je suis certain qu'il n'y aura pas de probl�me avec tes colocs. De toute fa�on, ton p�re a sp�cifi� qu'il voudrait que toi et Finn partagent une chambre." Yes Kurt, that's what I said. Don't worry, Dalton has an excellent reputation regarding homophobia and bullying overall so I'm sure there won't be a problem with your roommates. In any case, your father specified that he's like for you and Finn to room together.

"Il a QUOI?" He WHAT?, Kurt shrieked, absolutely mortified. He turned to Finn who looked like somebody had just stepped on a landmine. But he didn't look surprised. Just scared for his life a little.

"TU SAVAIS!" YOU KNEW!

"Kurt, Burt et moi, on savais pas avec quelle sorte de gosses on serait pogn�s! On voulait te prot�ger!" Kurt, Burt and I, we didn't know what kinda dudes we'd be stuck with! We wanted to protect you!

Finn had a weird look on his face like he was torn in half; half of him was kinda sorry about siding with his brother's dad over his brother ("Because you can't spell 'bro' without brother, bro") but the other half of him had the same stubborn look on his face that Burt would get when he was talking about how "Kurt had to be safe". At this point Kurt wanted to smash his fist safely against Finn's face.

"ASSEZ! Finn! Tu n'est pas mon p�re! Clair? R�p�te apr�s moi: "Je ne suis pas le p�re � Kurt, je suis son fr�re". Puis? J'attends apr�s toi Finn. Vas-y. R�p�te." ENOUGH! Finn! You are not my father! Is that clear? Repeat after me: I am not Kurt's father, I am his brother. Well? I'm waiting, Finn. Go on. Repeat.

Kurt stood only a few inches from Finn at this point and even though he should have been dwarfed by Finn's ridiculous height, his anger seemed to have given him an extra three feet on Finn. Either that or the verbal lashing had Finn not only feeling but also looking all of two inches tall.

"...Je ne suis pas le p�re � Kurt, je suis son fr�re. Mais Kurt-!" I am not Kurt's father, I am his brother. But Kurt-!

Kurt cut him off with a sharp tut-ing noise and an even sharper glare.

"Bon c'est fini la chamaille entre les s�urs ici? Parce qu'il fait froid en tabarnac." So is the squabble between the sisters here over? Because it's freakin' freezing, drawled Santana, bursting the angry bubble Kurt had created around himself and his brother.

"Oui, Santana, c'est bel et bien fini. Et t'as raison, il fait froid. J'explique la m�me chose aux Italiens et nous rentrons nous installer, ok?" Yes, Santana, it's over and done with. And you're right it is cold. I'll explain what's going on to the Italians and we'll go get settled, ok?, said Mr. Schuester, not waiting for a reply or even an acknowledgement as he turned to the group of blazered boys and began explaining the house to them in broken Italian.

Kurt tuned him out in favour of lecturing Finn some more about what attitudes and actions were and were not acceptable as a brother and how the position as Burt Hummel, father, had been filled by, well, Burt Hummel. Soon enough though Mr. Schuester was clapping his hands and calling for attention before shepherding the large group of teenagers into their new home. The Dalton boys went in first, Blaine brushing by Kurt briefly shooting him a thousand giga-watt smile as he did. Kurt smiled back more demurely, brows furrowed slightly in confusion over the excessive happiness radiating from the curly-haired boy. He grabbed his trunk and bag and finally made it through the door and into the warmth of the lobby of the house. He looked up and saw raised ceilings and beautiful panneling, not only along the walls but the ceiling itself. From his vantage point he could only catch a glimpse of the kitchen down the hall and a small peek at the living room through the gaps in the curtains over the windows in the french double doors that separated it from the rest of the house. He was about to ascend the stairs to his room when he realized that he didn't know which was his.

Kurt turned back to Mr. Schuester.

"Euh, M. Schuester, Finn et moi sommes dans quel �tage?" Uh, Mr Schuester? What floor are Finn and I in?

"Ah oui, tu est au quatri�me �tage, le plus haut. Finalment, j'ai pris en consid�ration ton avis et j'ai d�cid� que dans l'esprit de mieux s'entre conna�tre il serait bien de diviser les gars deux � un, Dalton � McKinley, alors tu n'est plus avec Finn." Ah yes, you're on the fourth floor, top floor. Also, I took your opinion into consideration and decided that in the spirit of getting to know one another better, it would be good to split the guys off two to one Dalton to McKinley, so you're no longer rooming with Finn.

Kurt broke out into a relieved grin. He loved the guy but Kurt could simply not room with Finn. It was a clear recipe for disaster.

"Fantastique, avec qui je suis alors?" Fantastic, who am I with then?

"Thad Piventi et Blaine Anderson."