Blaine Anderson sat back against his chair, propping his feet on the table in front of him. “Why the fuck am I even taking this class?” he asked himself. His best friend Santana heard him, and tried to sit in his lap, grumbling when Blaine shrugged her off and put his feet back down, now irritated.
“Well, it’s because there’s a new teacher this year, remember?” she responded, her ponytail bobbing as she spoke and tilted her head to the side. Instead of trying to sit on his lap again, she took the seat next to him and crossed her legs. “And we had plans to make them cry,” grinning, she raised a thumb up and winked.
“I don’t even like French though,” Blaine grumbled, rolling his eyes at Santana’s unintentional, and if he ever told anyone she was acting this way, she would kill him, dorkiness.
“Deal with it Anderson,” Santana smirked, muffing his hair and laughing when he smacked her hand away. They had been best friends since freshman year when Santana had protected him from being bullied by her current boyfriend at the time, a junior named Tom. She had shrieked for him to let Blaine go, bitching him out in a mix of Spanish and English slurs until he apologized. Ever since, they were inseparable, going almost everywhere together. Somehow, Santana had even convinced her counselor to make it so all of their classes were the same. She wouldn’t tell him how, so he didn’t ask.
Santana ended up getting on the Cheerios halfway through her freshman year, and Blaine had to learn how to protect himself. He had always liked boxing, but never tried to use it on someone before. Then, one day in late May, a slushee was thrown at him and he had had enough. He beat the shit out of the kid, and also his best friend for trying to get in the way. Of course, he got in more trouble than the two popular boys, but he didn’t even care because that had felt so good.
Then, things started to change. Blaine’s attitude had changed for the worse, maybe not in Santana’s opinion, but for his family and the school faculty, it was certainly bad. He got a piercing on his tongue, but only a small one because, as much as he wanted to prove how tough he was, he was still incredibly nervous and scared. He took up smoking, and now was the official badass of the school. Noah Puckerman tried to challenge this, but it was really no trouble for Blaine, now muscled and strong, to beat him up. He worked so hard to build up an image, to make himself known, to be sort of popular in his own group of friends.
And now, here he was, in French class, surrounded by a lot of the school nerds and girls who didn’t even appeal to him. Normally, he would be excited about this, being able to mess with the new teacher who, with his luck, would be some old woman who’d hit him. But the fact that he had gotten almost no sleep because of his pain in the ass little sister (“I’m only two years younger than you!” the all too familiar voice screeched in his mind) keeping him up, blasting music, this was not the case.
And it wasn’t even good music, all techno and heavy metal garbage. No matter how many times he had hollered at her to turn that shit off, she wouldn’t listen, and eventually she started screaming along to the lyrics. When he finally collapsed and fell asleep, his phone alarm startled him back to consciousness after only twenty minutes. Forgetting to set it again, he overslept for at least another hour, making him late for school. (And yes, he actually tried going to school…sometimes.)
So right now, he was really not in the mood for this.
“Fuck off Lopez,” he sneered at her. “And don’t touch my hair.”
Santana, obviously not taking him seriously, snorted and reached out to teasingly touch him on the head. He grabbed her arm when it was almost brushing his hair and shoved it away again.
“Jesus!” Santana exclaimed, in pain, surprise, and in anger. “Touchy, touchy.”
Ignoring the comment and his best friend, Blaine shut his eyes, deciding that he would rather catch up on his sleep in this class, since he didn’t care much for this subject anyways. Santana, pulling out a stick of gum and chewing on it, considered kicking Blaine’s chair, but she really didn’t want Blaine’s wrath brought upon her, so she decided not to.
He could hear the click of the door opening, announcing a new arrival, a quiet shuffling of feet, and he assumed the newcomer was probably his teacher. Cracking his right eye open, he looked towards the front of the room. Almost right away, his eyes snapped open when he actually saw the teacher.
“Wow, he is attractive,” Santana observed, grinning and sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
Blaine almost lost his cool composure and sat up quickly, looking attentively at the newcomer. He was wearing glasses, which didn’t hide the fact that he had amazingly blue eyes, and he pushed them onto his nose every couple of seconds. His hair was cropped up, looking messy, but in an incredibly put-together way; the vest he was wearing was incredibly tight, showing just how thin he was. A tie was loosely tied around his neck, and all Blaine wanted to do was pull on it, see the pale skin of his neck strain under the pressure, and make him gasp in surprise with his pretty lips opening slightly.
Wow, there’s no way he’s our teacher, there’s no way he’s real, is he real? Santana elbowed him in the side, and he grimaced when he realized that he had just said that all out loud.
Getting over the initial surprise of the arrival, Blaine smirked and looked to Santana, writing down a 10 on the small slip of paper she had pulled out. Underneath his scrawl, she put down an 8.5 and he narrowed his eyes at her. She shrugged and put her hand above her head, indicating he was too tall. Blaine watched him taking papers out of a bag, and rested a hand on his chin. “I don’t think so,” he said to her, not bothering to be quiet, even though class had started.
Their teacher turned and looked around the room, his gaze stopping at Blaine for a little longer than necessary, the expression on his face unreadable. Then he smiled, looking away. “Hello class,” he started, and Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making an undignified noise. His voice was perfect, and it certainly fit the man. Blaine glanced at Santana who was already looking at him, fanning herself.
“Wow” she mouthed.
The man up front narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, and Blaine would bet that he was considering whether he should split them up or not. He just grinned cheekily and waved. “Is there a problem, Mr…?”
“Anderson, sir,” Blaine responded, leering. “And no, there’s no problem at all.” Everyone turned, confused, to look at him, and he swore he saw the teacher blush before he turned again and started writing on the board.
“Okay, good to know,” he muttered, more to himself than the class, but still earning a few chuckles from the students. “Anyways,” he finished writing on the board. “I am Kurt Hummel, your teacher for this year. I’m new to this district, so I guess I’ll need to explain how it works in here.” He seated himself on top of the front desk, crossing his legs. “I feel like you are a good class, for the most part,” he added, glancing towards Blaine again, “so I would like to get to know you all better. I feel that it will help if you call me by my first name. Plus, Mr. Hummel sounds too formal for me at the moment.” He laughed to himself, and looked around. “So, just call me Kurt. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask, that’s why I’m here- yes mr. Anderson?”
“Blaine,” Blaine said, lowering his arm. “And I wanted to know, how old are you?” He was crossing a line and he knew it. Everyone knew not to mess with new teachers, because it could affect how they taught for the rest of the year. But he couldn’t help it.
A couple people in front of him laughed, while Kurt just smiled, looking like he was hiding his discomfort. “I am 24 at the moment, and don’t plan on getting any older to be honest,” was all he said. Blaine widened his eyes in surprise at the honest answer. “Any other questions?” he asked, pointing his attention away from the teen. As the other students started asking pointless questions like usual, Blaine and Santana delved into a conversation about what they were going to do to mess with him.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Blaine said. “Maybe he’s just playing nice, and then a couple weeks in, he’ll bite.”
“Well that’s good because you know what?” Santana lowered her voice to a low growl, leaning close to Blaine’s face. “We’ll just have to bite right back.” They laughed and looked forward to realize the whole class was staring at them, including the teacher.
“What?” Blaine asked snippily.
“Are you done?” Kurt asked him cooly, and Blaine felt a sliver of annoyance, and another feeling he couldn’t decipher. All he knew was that he didn’t like that tone on him.
“We sure are,” he responded, looking almost guilty. Kurt continued answering a question a girl Jessica asked until the bell rang, signaling the end of the period.
“Okay, make sure to bring your textbooks tomorrow everyone!” Kurt shouted over the hum of chatter as people left the room. Blaine made sure to take his time getting up, watching Kurt out of the corner of his eyes. As soon as they exited the room, Blaine making sure to sway his hips on the way out, he turned to Santana excitedly. “Oh this is going to be a fantastic year.”