“It wasn’t me this time, I swear, Mrs. Jones.” He tried to say in his usually polite and friendly manner he reserved for his elders, but as he poked at his nose again experimentally, he let out a sharp breath and his voice stuttered a little. Nurse Jones chuckled softly as she snapped on gloves and pulled out a small, bright flashlight. The school nurses all knew Blaine because, well, Blaine was a clutz. He could admit it, and he found himself toppling over people’s feet and clothes-lining himself on water fountains often enough for each nurse to have their own funny story about him.

Her smile faded a bit when she shone the light up his nostrils, cautiously patting the bridge and sides of his nose. “And who would have the nerve to do this to you?” She said in a motherly tone that made Blaine slump his shoulders a little. He hated when teachers treated him like he was small and fragile. It made him feel incompetent and childish often, but he always kept it to himself. Blaine Anderson was polite and he respected their opinions of him, even if he had to grit his teeth when they spoke to him every once and awhile.

“Uh, it was an accident. I kind of got in the way of a fight…So I guess it was my fault in a way in the end.” He laughed, a little nervously, watching the nurse with crossed eyes as she continued to inspect his nose.

“Really? Between who?” Blaine was a little taken back with her interest in school violence. The nurses had a bit of a gossip habit. “Er…Dave Karofsky and…Kurt Hummel.” The name sounded sharp on his tongue. There was an excitement in saying it, though; like by speaking it out loud he was channeling the chaos that the boy in the leather jacket seeped.

“Kurt Hummel? Huh. Didn’t know he was back already. I should’ve gotten his paperwork. Well, your nose looks like it’s definitely swollen and will probably be bruised pretty badly for awhile. You should ice it for 15 minutes every night and keep one of these bandages on it during the day for about a week.” She turned to the counter and trailed her manicured finger down the line of bandages, plucking the correct one and handing it to him and he took it with pursed lips, distracted.

“He’s…back? What happened that he had to leave?”

The nurse clucked her tongue as she filled a bag with ice and handed it to him. “Oh, Blaine, let’s just leave it at he made enough trouble to last him up until graduation. Will you put that bandage on and ice yourself? You don’t need that swelling getting any worse.” Blaine wordlessly fumbled with the bandage, pulling off the adhesive protector and wrapping it around his nose, feeling the thick, stretchy material bind his nose half-closed. He gave a few experimental huffs out of his nose, flinching at how sore they were and pulled the ice up quickly to quell the pain.

“Alright, Mr. Anderson, back to class with you, alright? Let me write you a hallpass. What class are you going to?”

“Algebra with Mr. Fitz. Thank you, Mrs. Jones.” Blaine gave a small smile to the nurse as she wrote the pass in neat little handwriting and handed it to him. Sliding off of his chair, ice still held up dutifully to his nose, the boy took the pass and tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt, noting that he had to make a stop at his locker to get a new one that wasn’t covered in blood as he left. “Seeya next time!” Mrs. Jones called after him jokingly as he rounded the corner out of the nurses’ station, and he waved after her as he headed back onto the familiar path to Algebra with a small sigh.

Blaine was ready to forget everything that just happened to him. He was ready to forget about Kurt Hummel and his ridiculous jacket and bright eyes and convince himself that getting back to class and focusing on his work could bring him back to having a clear head. But, apparently, the world wasn’t done torturing him yet, because Blaine stopped in his tracks when he heard the clicking of heavily adorned combat boots coming up from down the hallway.

“Forgetting something?”

Blaine gulped hard when he heard the coy, high voice behind him, clutching his ice bag perhaps a little too hard as he braced himself, turned around, and saw him. He had a spread palm against the lockers, leaning to the side, his hip jutting out and his ankles crossed. The hand he wasn’t leaning into was twirling a pencil—Wait a minute!

“My lucky pencil!” Blaine gasped, hurrying up to grab it from between Kurt’s nimble fingers and tucked it quickly back behind it's usual spot behind his ear. He instantly felt ridiculous when he realized how close he suddenly made himself to Kurt and how Kurt had leaned in and, oh god, Blaine could feel his breathe tickle his ear and the hair on the back of his neck stood on edge at the sensation.

“Oh, that?” I wasn’t talking about that. You’re welcome for picking it up, though. I was thinking you’d want a kiss or something for being so heroic back there, Prince Charming.” Blaine pulled back and, oh god, that was a horrible idea because now he could see Kurt’s eyes and, oh god, is he being serious? There’s no way he’s being serious. And did he just call him Prince Charming? Did that mean he thought Blaine was attractive? Is he leaning in? He is, oh my god – He was serious! Then Kurt Hummel’s eyelids were drooping and his whole body was encasing Blaine as he slowly but steadily continued to close the gap between their mouths. And Blaine didn’t know what to do but clutch his pencil and his ice bag desperately and (unsuccessfully) try to stop his own eyes from fluttering closed and-

“You’re blushing, Sweet Prince.”

Blaine’s eyes shot open (Had he really closed them?!) and he saw Kurt’s eyebrow raised, his lips curled into a smooth smirk as they hovered over Blaine’s half-opened ones. He could feel the flush in his cheeks, but he was frozen. Kurt let out a breathy little laugh as he pulled himself back. “Okay, so you are gay. I was right, as always.” Blaine tried to choke out some sort of retort, but all that came out was a sputtered “I-I-Oh,” which Kurt Hummel stopped quickly by bringing a finger up and pressing it up against his mouth.

“Shh, it’s fine. I kind of have that affect on people. I am Kurt Hummel, after all.” He looked so pleased with himself and his cockiness helped Blaine come to his senses and back away, trying not to notice the way Kurt’s eyes followed him ruthlessly. He felt naked under that stare – like Kurt was mentally undressing him and trying to piece together what was underneath. Not knowing what else to do, Blaine held his ice bag back up to his nose and just…Waited for Kurt to do something, because he knew he’d do something. Maybe if Blaine was lucky it’d be some sort of exit. But, as it was already established, today was certainly not one of Blaine Anderson’s lucky days.

Kurt shot his hand forward, his quick fingers flicking the green slip of paper in Blaine’s front pocket and examined it, letting out a little laugh as he did.

“Algebra, yeah? You know, I wasn’t planning on going, but…” Blaine’s eyes widened.

“You have class with me?” He said, a little panicked, and Kurt threw an unbearably sassy hand on his unbearably perfect hip and sucked on his unbearably full cheeks in response.

“Guess I do, Charming.” Blaine blinked. Kurt shook his head and pushed himself off the wall, stuffing the pass into Blaine’s pocket and giving it a little pat as he walked past him. God, how did everything Kurt do seem so sarcastic? So irresistible…

“Come on then. Don’t want to miss Mr. Fitz’s face when he sees me walk in. I had him last year. He hates me.” He said it was such glee in his voice. Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably, watching Kurt prance down the hall as he stood rooted to his spot until finally, he remembered he was going to his locker and turned to walk back down the hallway – He’d take the long route to his locker if it meant avoiding Kurt. But Kurt didn’t seem to like the idea however, because he spun around when he realized Blaine wasn’t behind him.

“Aww, did I scare you, Sweet Prince?” Blaine bit his lip as Kurt walked up behind him. “Where’re going without me? I’m telling you, you’ll really regret missing Mr. Fitz’s reaction.”

“I’m going to my locker. My shirt’s covered in blood.” Blaine said, a little annoyed by how determined Kurt seemed to be when it came trying to make his life miserable. The other boy only laughed in response though, and when Blaine heard the commotion of way too many buckles and chains jingling behind him, Blaine sighed and turned around, his curiosity winning. What he saw made the blush instantly rise to his cheeks again.

“What are you doing?” Blaine said in horror as he watched Kurt remove his jacket, revealing a black tee that seemed to be glued to his skin. He could make out the dips of his hip and his navel and every line of muscle through the obviously thin material, but he didn’t have to imagine for very long because then Kurt had put his jacket between his knees and crossed his arms over his front and pulled his shirt off right in the middle of the hallway, right in front of Blaine, and held it out to him. Blaine’s jaw dropped.

“I personally think the blood makes you look risqu�, but I guess Princes like to look clean. Stop staring and put this on. Or you know, keep staring. That’s fine too. But people are probably gunna start thinking we’re an item if you’re this obsessed with my chest.”

It took a lot of effort for Blaine to pull his mouth closed, and before he knew what he was doing, he had reached out and grabbed the shirt. Swallowing thickly he turned his attention to the shirt, the material surprisingly soft in his hands. He didn’t really associate Kurt Hummel with anything that could be considered soft, but the shirt was amazingly so. What material was it made out of?

Hold on. Wait a minute. He had just accepted the shirt off of Kurt Hummel’s back.

Blaine held it back out to Kurt quickly, like it was some sort of poison. “I-I can’t take this. I have one in my locker.” He managed to choke out, wide-eyed as he watched the way Kurt was studying him.

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as much fun, is it?” Kurt winked at him. Blaine looked down at the shirt, then around the hallway nervously.

“I need to go to a bathroom to change…”

“No you don’t.” Blaine gulped again.

“What will you wear?”

“That’s a stupid question.” Kurt replied, taking his jacket and throwing it back on around him, not bothering to buckle up the front so his bare chest was still very much exposed. Blaine stayed silent for a moment, just standing there with his ice dripping condensation on the floor in one hand and the shirt in the other until Kurt huffed loudly, rolling his eyes and clicking his boot impatiently on the ground.

“Oh, come on. You know you want to. And I know you’re going to do it anyway, so stop waiting around. I don’t think you understand how badly I want to fuck with Fitz.”

Something inside him did a flip and Blaine found himself obeying. With shaky hands he put his ice bag on the floor carefully then, turning his back to Kurt (“Tease. Guess I’ll just check out your ass, then.”) tugged off his own shirt and replaced it with Kurt’s as quickly as he possibly could. It was big on him and smelled strongly of Kurt’s cologne and Blaine instantly regretting going through with putting it on, but it was too late to go back now. Picking up his dirty shirt, he folded it and tucked it under his arm, then picked up his ice bag and brought it back up to his nose before turning back around to face Kurt, who had that same satisfied smirk stretched over his face.

“Damn, Prince. Wish it fit you better, but that view of your ass makes up for it I guess. Nice one, by the way.” Blaine furrowed his brow as he pulled his pass out of his dirty shirt and tucked it into his pants pocket. “Nice what?”

Kurt reached over and plucked the hallpass from Blaine’s pocket. “Ass, obviously.” Blaine’s heart skipped a beat and Kurt turned on his heel and began walking down the hall again, causing Blaine to purse his lips and hurry after him. He felt utterly pathetic.

“Hey! Give me back my hallpass!” Kurt only snorted in response, sticking in the pocket of his jacket as he continued to walk. “I’ll give it back to you before we get into the classroom. I want you to walk with me, honeybunch. And the best way to guarantee that is, well, if I make you.” Blaine huffed at him, flustered, especially now that he couldn’t escape his scent. Kurt had a point though, because he continued after him the entire way to class and Kurt pulled the now crumpled pass from his pocket when the rounded the corner to the Algebra classroom and held it out to Blaine.

“It’s been fun, babe.” He cooed and Blaine just glared at him, snatching up the pass and walking into the classroom. Mr. Fitz was in the front of the room, writing out a problem on the board and was so engrossed in it Blaine had to clear his throat from him to notice Blaine was even there.

“Oh, Blaine. What happened?” He said, studying his swollen nose. Blaine shook his head and handed him the pass self-consciously. “Same as usual, sir.” He nodded with a small smile. “Well, go take a seat, but grab an assignment sheet along the way. We’re currently working on problems 1 through 10; just start doing what you can.” Blaine shook his head and did as he was told, feeling the entire class staring at him as he headed to his seat in the front row. The news of what had happened must had traveled through the school fast, because he wasn’t used to getting stared at like that when he came in with an injury. It was almost a relief when Kurt strode into the room a moment later, hands tucked in his pockets and jutting out his naked chest with a huge grin on his face. Without saying anything he walked right to the front row of desks, plopping himself down in the empty one next to Blaine and winking at him again.

His heart dropped somewhere into the depths of his stomach as a loud murmur of whispers started up behind them instantly. Mr. Fitz seemed to hear them, because he turned around and…Well, Kurt was right. The look on his face when he caught Kurt Hummel smirking up at him from his desk was pretty priceless.

“Mr. Hummel. You weren’t supposed to be back in classes for another week.” He spoke to Kurt like he was his arch enemy, and Kurt seemed to be eating it up. “Yeah, well. I got bored and decided to make an early entrance.” Blaine stared at Kurt. He was fearless as he spoke to the teacher, talking as if he was the one in charge of the classroom.

“A-And why don’t you have a shirt on? That is completely inappropriate.” Kurt curled up his lips and scrunched his nose, jutting a finger lazily in Blaine’s direction as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, please, Fitzy. I’m not some floozy. I practically ripped the poor boy’s shirt off his back when we were fucking in the bathroom before. It’s only common courtesy to give him mine, right? ” Mr. Fitz’ nostrils flared and he threw his hand up, pointing out the door violently. “Principal’s office. Now.” Kurt rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue in faux-annoyance and Blaine turned around desperately to face the rest of the class that was now looking at him with shocked eyes.

“We didn’t—No—I didn’t…”

“Don’t lie, honeysuckle. Aww, really, Fitz? But I just got here! And I just saw Figgins about…” He checked a watch he didn’t have. “20 minutes ago. I think he’s tired of my face, and I know you just missed it so much.” Kurt cooed at the teacher, who seemed like he was just about ready to strangle him.

“Kurt Hummel, if you don’t leave my class in the next 30 seconds, I’ll make sure you’re permanently expelled.” Kurt let out a small laugh, but the threat seemed to work because he swiveled himself around in his seat and began to walk out of the classroom…But not without stopping with one foot across the threshold to swing his head in Blaine’s direction and point a finger at him.

“See you tonight, schnookie? Your place or mine?”

Blaine’s cheeks flushed violently, probably worse than when Kurt’s lips were hovering over his just…Was that really only a couple of minutes ago? “We don’t – I didn’t –“

Kurt pouted before cutting him off again, “It hurts that you want to keep us a secret, baby. It’s fine though.” He shot his eyes from Blaine to the rest of the class.“They won’t believe you anyway.” The boy winked and clicked his tongue at Mr. Fitz, gesturing obscenely at him before disappearing.

Blaine clutched his lucky pencil tightly, his knuckles going white as his face went even more red. Blaine had a feeling he was going to hate Algebra this year.