Dalton’s Dean had been more than understanding of the situation when Burt called regarding the Doctor’s appointment, suggesting that Kurt take the day to move his belongings into his new room, rather than going to classes. He had asked that Kurt’s medical history be sent to the School (just like every other student, in case of emergency) and that the family doctor give clear instructions on what Kurt should or should not be attempting in Gym class.  Luckily Burt had managed to rig up something suitable for Kurt’s clothes on Sunday at the Shop, so they were good to go on that front.

Burt and Kurt arrived at Dalton mid-morning with two suitcases, three plastic boxes for under Kurt’s new bed, a well-stocked shower caddy, an electrical extension lead, a laptop, various cables and chargers, a small wooden stool (to act as a bedside table), a well-worn toolbox and a mass of what appeared to be random pieces of steel bar.

Sarge had been fitting Kurt’s dorm room with a new lock when they arrived; and looked on with interest as Father and son unloaded Burt’s truck and set to work assembling the metalwork, with nothing more than a scribbled picture on the back of an envelope to go by.  He’d been impressed to say the least by both Burt’s production and how the pair barely needed to use two dozen words between them to put it together! The pair were synchronised to say the least; and Yates chastised himself for stereotyping that the Broadway-loving gay kid wouldn’t know one end of a screwdriver from the other… admittedly, the matching, worn-in ‘Hummel’s Tire and Lube’ coveralls might have been a clue in that respect.

It took a good thirty minutes, but finally the Hummel men stepped back (as far as they could in the small room) to inspect their work.  Now a free-standing clothes rail fit snugly into the point of the room; just tall enough for the Dalton Blazer to hang without skimming the floor.  They hadn’t had to drill a single hole, and there wasn’t even a mark on the magnolia wall.  Burt had even wrapped felt around the feet so that they didn’t damage the wooden floor.

“I know it isn’t ideal, and you’re going to have to fold your pants, but if I made anything taller then we’d be eating up too much space in here.” Burt said, lifting one of the suitcases onto the slim bed.

“Its fine, Dad.  As much as I don’t like the uniform, it means that I don’t need to bring the pieces with me that would need to hang full length. I was speaking with the other guys here; apparently they change from their uniforms into their PJs and back again.” Kurt replied, pulling a face of disgust.

“I think high fashion might be lost on most people here; I’ve seen at least three pairs of Spiderman PJs, and two pairs of Spongebob ones… and that’s just the faculty.” Yates added with a grin, reaching into his fatigue pockets for the little brass numbers and letters that would properly designate Kurt’s address.  He began to mark up the door in pencil, using a giant set square to position the WG13 pride of place on the door.

“Hey look, you’re getting a nice shiny door number, Kiddo.” Burt commented.

“That’s really nice of you, but you didn’t have to go to any trouble, not having numbers was fine.” Kurt said.

“Nah, everyone else got new ones last year, its not fair to leave you out.” Sarge said, ending the conversation as he grabbed for his electric screwdriver and the little brass screws.

“Come on, Kiddo, let’s get you unpacked.” Burt said, stripping off his coverall and watching as Kurt did the same.

“I’ll handle the clothes, Dad. Take a seat on the bed and don’t touch anything – I have a system.”

“Hey, Mr. Yates? Are we okay to use tape to stick the extension cable to the floor? I don’t want Kurt tripping over it.” Burt asked between the whirrs of the Quartermaster’s powertool.

“Not really, we don’t encourage anything sticky on the floors – they cost a fortune in polish as it is...  But if you give me twenty minutes I’m sure I can come up with one of the health-and-safety approved rubber strips that we use when we need to run temporary cables during the science fair.” Sarge replied.

“Even better! Thanks for that!” Burt replied, sitting on a small, unoccupied patch of Kurt’s bed, watching as his son carefully began to unpack his cases.  Burt never had worked out how his son could pack a shirt and have it arrive at its destination without it needing to be ironed!  Kurt’s phone rang as he was transferring his uniform onto the new rack, trusting his Dad, he motioned for him to answer it.

“I hope I just pressed the right button on this thing.” Was Burt’s greeting.

“Erm, hi? Is Kurt Hummel available please?”

“That depends on who wants him.” Burt replied, Kurt simply shook his head and returned to his clothes.

“I mean no offence Sir, but who are you? And why do you have Kurt’s cell phone?”

“Who are you?” Burt replied, suspicious.

“Pardon me Sir, but I don’t know who you are, or why you have Kurt’s phone.” In the background Burt could hear someone calling out ‘and Mommy said never to talk to strangers’ followed by laughter.

“Dad, there is such a thing as caller ID – and the only people who have that number are safe to talk to.” Kurt said, taking the phone back and chuckling as he read the name of who was calling. “Hi Blaine, sorry about my Dad.”

“That’s Blaine? Sorry!” Burt called.

“Yeah, the Dean excused me from classes today so that I can move into the dorms… … I’m here now… … WG13… … Yes, the one under the stairs… … Tell Wes and David to get the ‘back in the closet’ jokes out of their systems now… …Yes, I’m sure my Hogwarts letter won’t be far away… … okay, but don’t miss your lunch for me… … ok, see you soon… … bye.” Kurt said, Burt looking on with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re about to have company to help me unpack.”

“There isn’t room to swing a mouse in here, let alone a cat! I don’t know where anyone’s gonna fit.” Burt grumbled, Yates, who’d just finished adding the last number to the door chuckled.

“If you want to get out of the way for a bit, you can come with me to my office.  I can find the cable strip in the storeroom, while we’re there…  I want to ask you about that rail you’ve made; I know a certain Drama Department that could do with something like that, if you’d share the design, that is.” Yates said, packing up his tools.

“Sure, I could probably help out a bit if you want, its just a bit of welding and some bolts. I can probably come up with a better Mark Two given time.” Burt said, gathering his own tools as Kurt continued to organise his space.

“All students should be in their uniforms during the school day! The uniform regulations can be found on page five of the school handbook; exceptions to the uniform are for medical or religious reasons only.” Came a voice from the door, Kurt turned around to come face to face with a medium height, moderate build boy; he had mid-brown hair and eyes somewhere between blue and grey; he was someone who’d easily blend into a crowd.  Overall, Kurt summarised him as 'Average’ in appearance, and quite rude in attitude.

“Montague, lay off him.  The Dean has given him permission to dress casually while he moves in today.  This is Kurt Hummel and his Dad, Burt Hummel; Kurt transferred last week.” Yates said, indicating between Kurt and ‘Average’.  “Kurt and Mr. Hummel, this is Devin Montague, Prefect of Waxwing Dormitory.  He helps run the place, each of the Dorms has a Senior for a Prefect.”

“Hi.” Kurt said, offering his hand to the other boy to shake.

“Do you have your full compliment of uniform? I can go through the donations box for spares if you need them.” Montague asked.

“Unfortunately I’ve got a full set, and extra.  Who thought that this colour scheme actually worked? And don’t get me started on the cut of the blazer and the pants…”

“… Come on Kurt, you love the blazer, admit it.” Blaine said, peering around the Prefect and into the room.

“He’s not going to admit that, he’s done nothing but whinge about how he wants to take his sewing machine to the seams of that uniform; but Kiddo, it’s a small compromise compared to the crap you were going through before…” Burt trailed off, only himself, Kurt and Blaine actually comprehending the statement.

“When you’re ready, Mr. Hummel – I’ll find the electric strip if you’ll share the design of that rail; I even have coffee in my office.” Yates said, watching as more teenage boys appeared outside WG13, most of them wearing the Warbler pin on their lapel.

“It’s a really simple design…” Burt began as the two adults left, carrying their tools with them.

“Hi Kurt! Nice to see you’re moving in with us!” said Wes, peeking around Blaine and the Prefect.

“Remember that any damage done to your room has to be set back to rights at your own expense before moving out at the end of the school year.” Devon quoted from the handbook.

“By the looks of the suitcases, he’s only just got here; lay off him Devon.” David said, rolling his eyes.

“Montague, why don’t you stop blocking the doorway, and let us in so we can help the new guy get settled?” Someone else chipped in, another someone else that Kurt didn’t know who was apparently a friend of Blaine’s.

“I’ll be back later to make sure you have your copy of the rules.” Devon said, glaring at Kurt and looking more constipated than threatening.

“I won’t be back later; I have an appointment at the Doctor’s office.” Kurt said quietly.

“You’re sick?” Blaine asked, pushing into the room and feeling at Kurt’s forehead.

“You didn’t feel my head when I was sick last month, Blainers!” someone else whined from the small crowd of helpers.

“You were throwing up at the time, it was a given you were ill. And I didn’t want to get any closer to you at the time.” Blaine replied, everyone (except Devon) chuckled.

“I’m not sick, just a check over... I have a copy of the entire school rule book, and I have already read it through.  You don’t need to quiz me on it.  Would you mind letting everyone in so they can help and then go get their lunches?” Kurt said, trying to diplomatically get rid of the Prefect.

“I expect you all to be model students…” Devon snipped as he left.

“Does anyone else have the urge to throttle Montague, or is it just me?” Another boy asked.

“Devon just takes his role as Prefect really seriously.” Wes replied.

“He’s a perfectionist who acts like having one tiny little thing out of place with Waxwing will bring on an apocalypse.” David commented, rolling his eyes.

“While we help you unpack, we’ll go through the unwritten rules of Waxwing with you… oh, Hi, I’m Nick.” Said a tall dark-haired boy, reaching his arm over the other boys blocking the door for Kurt to shake.

“I’m Kurt… what unwritten rules?”

“I’m Thad.”

“Trent.”

“Hi, I’m Jeff.”

“Sorry if I get your names wrong at first.” Kurt said, reaching to shake hands with everyone.  They all piled into the room and closed the door firmly behind them.

“Rule Nine: If you have a junk food stash, and we find it and eat it, its your fault for not hiding it well enough in the first place.” Blaine said with a grin, finding a plastic food tub and cracking open the lid, he looked disappointed at the contents.

“I still haven’t found where he keeps his candy, and I’m his room-mate! And I know he has a stash somewhere!” Trent muttered.

“I don’t eat junk food, but if you ask nicely I’ll share my home-made granola bars.” Kurt replied, chuckling at the unimpressed faces of the other boys as they filed into the tiny room and quickly took over unpacking Kurt’s clothing. “I’d make my bed, but I think the room’s too full of people for that.”

“On that note, Rule Four: don’t comment on the number of times your neighbours wash their bed sheets in a week.” Wes said, a few of the other boys blushed. Kurt simply looked confused.

“I don’t get it, why comment on the amount of laundry someone needs to do, surely it’s just good hygiene?” Kurt asked, zipping up one case and opening the next, only for several pairs of hands to reach in and start pulling items out, giving him nothing to do.

“Rule One: if someone is lucky enough to have their girlfriend over, or boyfriend – don’t rat them out to the Prefect. Just turn up your i-pod and try not to get jealous.  If its your room-mate, crash in someone else’s room while they’re ‘busy’.” Jeff said with a wink.

“My sister uses the same face cream as you…” Jeff said, shrugging before pushing the shower caddy under the bed.

“Fashion and skin care have no gender.” Kurt replied.

“But I have ‘for men’ shower gel.” Thad mumbled, turning to Blaine who shook his head to stop the conversation before Kurt could get going.

“Rule Two: what you do in the shower, stays in the shower; and whatever you hear someone doing in there isn’t mentioned.  Just make sure everything is left as you’d wish to find it.” Blurted out David with a chuckle at the end.

“Rule Three: If you have a room-mate, which you’re lucky not to have by the way; acknowledge that they need ‘alone-time’ to spend with themself, you need ‘alone-time’ to spend with yourself – but don’t ever admit out loud that ‘alone-time’ actually happens.”

“Hang on… Girlfriends, laundry, showers, ‘alone-time’… how many of these unwritten rules have to do with, with… with… you know… erm… self-pleasure or s-sex… in one form or another?” Kurt squeaked, blushing a spectacular shade of tomato.

“Welcome to an all-boys boarding school, the nearest females are either staff or seven miles that way at Crawford.” Wes said, pointing over his shoulder at the distance, “But to answer your question, Rules one through eight are on those particular subjects; things can get a bit hormonally-challenged around here.”

“Please skip four through eight, okay? I get the idea.” Kurt squeaked, the other boys in the room shrugged.

“Rule Nine covers junk food, and yours is far too healthy to count, as we’ve already discovered.” Blaine bemoaned, unpacking the last of the suitcase and zipping it closed.

“Rule Ten is simply: Share the love.” Nick chipped back in.

“I don’t think I want to know this…” Kurt mumbled.

“Basically, the firewall here is really strict – you couldn’t type ‘analysis’ into a search engine at one point because ‘analysis’ contains ‘anal’… they’re letting that through now, the science block complained…  anyway, when you go home and find decent porn, check it doesn’t contain a virus and burn a second copy. Some of us don’t get home all that often to download our own.” Wes said, speaking as if he was discussing the weather.

“Hence the term, ‘Share the Love’.” David commented.

Kurt continued to blush, but now had his eyes closed and his fingers in his ears. “Oh GaGa! I don’t need to know that. I really didn’t need to know most of these rules!”

‘Really?’ Blaine mouthed; looking between Kurt (still in denial) and the other boys in the room (who were peering at Kurt like a scientist would examine a particularly bizarre experiment).

“Rule Eleven: turn your alarm clock volume down on weekends, or just do like the rest of us and turn it off.” Jeff said.

“Okay…” Kurt said, sitting down on his (tiny) unmade bed and watching as the other boys squeezed on too.

“Rule Twelve: don’t sing in the shower if you can’t carry a tune.” Wes said, earning a chuckle, “Though, a lot of Warblers are in Waxwing, so it isn’t too bad – but in that case, competition set lists are off-limits – you never know who is listening.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the peacock and the rooster are going to blab to the rival show choirs!” Thad said sarcastically.

“Rule Thirteen: steps three, seven, eight and fourteen creek. If you’re sneaking back in after curfew, try and avoid walking on those steps so that the Devon doesn’t catch on – we’re almost convinced he has the steps bugged; and watch out for the CCTV cameras too.” Blaine said.

“Rule Fourteen: It doesn’t matter how close a friend someone is, it’s every man for themselves during a COD marathon.” Nick said, the other boys nodding solemnly.

“Rule Fifteen: never hit on someone’s sister or ex – it won’t end well.” Wes said, wincing from experience.

“Rule Sixteen: Bros before hos, but that goes without saying.” Jeff said.

“Rule Seventeen: it doesn’t matter if its snowing outside, leave the bathroom window open; and take a hint - the air freshener isn’t there as an ornament.” Trent said, quickly following with the next rule, “Rule Eighteen: don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink.”

“Rule Nineteen: if you can’t cook, stay out of the kitchen.” Blaine said, earning a laugh from the other boys – “Look, I didn’t mean to set fire to the microwave! And don’t you dare laugh at me, Wesley, we’re still trying to work out how you managed to burn a fruit salad!”

“It was too cold!” Wes snarked back.

“It ended up cremated.” David laughed.

“Rule Twenty, and this one is in the proper rule book, but we like to add it in for emphasis: Pets are strictly prohibited, but the Warblers don’t count.” Wes said, all of the boys smiled fondly as Kurt looked on puzzled.

“I’m guessing there’s more to the Warblers than the Show Choir?” Kurt muttered, not getting a response, just watching as the other Glee-Clubbers gave each other a secretive smile.

“Rule Twenty-One: share and share alike – if someone manages to get a date and they ask to borrow a shirt or cologne or need a new razor or whatever, be nice and lend it to them. When it comes to kindness, what goes around comes around.” Jeff said.

“Oooookaaaaay, firstly, I think you’re mostly either sex-crazed or fire-hazards; and secondly, can someone email me these rules so that you can stop reciting them? You’re kinda giving me the creeps here.” Kurt said, laughing nervously.

“Can we even do that?” Jeff whispered.

“Wouldn’t that mean writing them down?” Trent said, looking worried.

“Typing doesn’t count as writing.” Nick replied.

“I think the firewall might block the email, we’d have to word it very carefully.” Blaine said.

“But an email isn’t considered a legal document.” Thad muttered.

“They’re the ‘Unwritten Rules’ not an amendment to the Constitution, I don’t think it matters that they wouldn’t be in a legally-binding format.” Wes said.

“But that takes us back to the debate on emailing them in the first place!” David said.

“Okay… I’ll paraphrase: don’t rat anybody out to Devon; don’t acknowledge that everybody masturbates; don’t wake anybody up on a weekend; don’t sing in the shower if you’re tone deaf; don’t hit on anyone’s family members, exes, or au-pairs - we all know who I'm speaking to with that one..." Blaine paused as Nick blushed.

"Share the pornography, unless its something of an acquired taste – there aren’t many guys that want to watch my downloads (Kurt was spluttering in embarrassment at this point); hide your junk food well; clean up after yourself in the bathroom and kitchen; don’t attempt to cook if you’re useless at it; all friendships are null-and-void where videogames are concerned… I think I got most of them.” Blaine said, biting his bottom lip as he thought. “Oh, and the Warblers are the exception to the pet rules.”

“Anything else that I really need to know?” Kurt asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut.

“Yeah, Devon’s actually harmless, but he’s obsessive about the rules.  He’ll run to Sarge for every single little thing he possibly can.” Wes said, “Apart from that, watch out during full moons and during mid-terms.”

Everyone laughed, listening as someone’s watch bleeped an alarm.

“Ten minutes to class, guys, we need to go.” Trent said, earning a groan from everyone else.  Suddenly the door opened and Devon barged back in.

“You all need to leave, or be late for your classes… Kurt, a word with you before I go too?” Montague said.

“See you all tomorrow, guys.  Thanks for helping me unpack.”

“Bye Kurt.” The Warblers chorused, Nick closed the door, offering a sympathetic look as Devon remained behind.

“Now, I don’t doubt that they’ve just gone through the stupid ‘Unwritten Rules’… I only care about Rule One and Rule Thirteen.  Its against the rules to fornicate at school, have someone stay over in your room and to break curfew.  You just need to let me know if anyone does it – I can make it worth your while if you do.” Devon said, winking at Kurt as if he was involved in a conspiracy theory.

“Look, I’m not going to be sneaking someone in or sneaking out myself.  You don’t need to worry about me upsetting things; and unlike the vast majority of the teenage male population, I don’t think with my hormones.” Kurt said, deliberately playing a little bit dumb and thanking his acting skills that he came across as completely sincere.

“Just, keep me informed and we’ll have no problems, get it?” Devon stressed. “Oh, and no pets!”

“I’ve just told you that I won’t have anything to inform you of, I don’t do things like that! And I don’t have any pets. The last pet I had was a goldfish when I was four.” Kurt replied, keeping the innocent act going (as Rachel would point out, any opportunity to practice acting should be acted upon), “Devon, aren’t you going to be late for class if you stay here talking to me?”

“Crap! I’ll see you tomorrow – and make sure you’re in your uniform!” Devon cried, dashing out of the room and almost barrelling down Burt and the Quartermaster.

“Where’s the fire, Montague? Please tell me there isn’t one this time.” Yates said.

“Sorry Sarge, just going to class.” Devon said, “It was nice meeting you Mr. Hummel.” And with that he’d dashed off.

“You gonna make your bed so we can go, Kurt? Remember the Doc wants to check both of us over, I don't want us to be late... and Mr Yates found you a thing to run the cable under too."

"Sure Dad, just give me a moment and we can set off to be tortured by Dr. Williams and pay him for the pleasure."