‘Hey! I was thinking last night, and do you think you could tutor Blaine in French, he’s always been awful at it, and it’d probably help him for college if you could help him out a bit! Let me know!’ - from Rachel.

He had never been alone with Blaine before, apart from obviously that one time over Summer, but he had been out of his mind when Blaine tucked him into his bed, so that didn’t really count.

However, Kurt had started to notice recently that when Blaine’s named was mentioned, or when he saw him, his insides felt a little funny. He didn’t really understand it, although it was sort of similar to the way he used to feel about Finn, and the curling in his stomach was a lot tighter than it had been when he’d been alone with Sam.

Kurt shook himself and shut his locker door, forgetting that he was still in school and couldn’t have those thoughts about Blaine when he was only down the hallway.

Preparing himself, Kurt walked towards Blaine, dodging a jock and a very intertwined couple. A pang of jealousy coursed through him at the thought he couldn't do the same with Blaine. He scolded himself for thinking like that, but then he was stood next to Blaine and his mind was reeling with those thoughts.

“Eh … Blaine?” Kurt said hesitantly, was Blaine blushing?

Blaine looked up from his locker, and smiled at Kurt shyly. “Oh, hi Kurt,”

“I’m sorry to just bother you like this, but Rachel-um I mean, I was wondering if you wanted me to-that is, you don’t have to agree but, like I said, apparently you’re French isn’t what you’d… um-call… like it to be, and since I’m in advanced-that is I don’t mean to patronise you-“

“Uh, Kurt, we’re gonna be late for lesson,” Blaine said softly, his hand on Kurt’s arm.

Even through his thick jacket, Kurt could feel Blaine’s hand tense and knew he was going to pull it back before it happened.

“So, what was it you wanted to ask?” Blaine asked, his eyes downcast.

“Do you want me to help you with your French?”

Kurt had said it without even thinking about it. He shouldn’t have asked, if Blaine’s shocked look was anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just thinking because you mentioned it to your dad yesterday and then my dad was saying that it was the only subject apart from Glee that I really excelled in and I know I’m babbling but … could you just answer?”

Blaine smiled gently. “I’d love that. But we um … we have Glee tonight, would you like to come to mine or I could drop Rachel off and head round to yours or we could just leave it till the weekend if you wanted.” He has said it all possibly too fast and only prayed that Kurt didn't notice his panic.

Kurt nodded. “Tonight’s fine, my dad’s out an Carole is working late, and no doubt Finn will be off with Quinn or Rachel or whoever he’s seeing now,” he finished with a roll of his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

Blaine chuckled. “I never know who he’s with either, and one of them is my sister!”

Kurt nodded, laughing quietly. “Well, I better be getting to class … so er, I’ll see you tonight, at mine?”

Blaine nodded, a little bit too enthusiastically, before catching himself and shutting his locker to distract him.

“Yeah, I’ll be there … about four?”

Kurt smiled. “Yeah, see you in Glee.” He turned his back on Blaine and walked towards his lesson, not noticing that Blaine was smiling happily to himself.

However, even as Blaine walked off to his lesson - a small spring in his step - neither of them noticed Mercedes stood around the corner from Blaine’s locker, smirking.

Kurt had always excelled in French. He loved it, and that was why he still took it during his final year - why shouldn’t he? He was good at it!

His only problem was that the French teacher (Mr Sharpe) had always thought that Kurt’s prowess with the language could influence some of the less fluent students - and the student that Kurt was currently talking to was Azimio, one of his main bullies.

Kurt would have usually sat there, telling Azimio how he wasn’t worth the breath that Kurt breathed out, but today all he could think about was Blaine Anderberry. His curly hair. The way he smiled ever-so slightly when flattered. And the way he could kiss that dimple just off his mouth whenever he grinned.

“And he's so adorable, you could never understand because you will never understand what it is that to love another human being, never mind a handsome boy like him,” Kurt finished with a satisfied smile on his face, while Azimio looked at him as though the end of the world was near.

“I didn’t understand a word of that,” Azimio said, a snarl forming on his lips as he crossed his arms over his vast chest.

Kurt’s only response was to raise his eyebrows and turn away from the jock, resting his head on his hand, boredom seeping over him more and more.

Kurt was only thinking about one thing as his teacher continued with the lesson plan - Blaine. And how Blaine was going to be at his house tonight, while they spoke in French, in an empty house.

Empty house.

Why on Earth did he invite Blaine to his house when he knew it was going to be empty? Of course Blaine would think he was a complete slut!

Well then, he would just have to prove him wrong. He would not do anything of the sort, even though the thought of it brought back that warm cuddly feeling in his stomach, but then an image of Blaine whispering French into his ear flourished in his mind and his pants were starting to get a little bit uncomfortable. Dammit, why did he always wear skinny jeans?!

Kurt rolled his eyes at himself and tried to focus on his teacher, but at the most inopportune moment, the school bell rang. Grabbing his bag, he turned around to link arms with Mercedes when he realised that she could speak French. Not fluently, but maybe enough to realise what he had been saying to Azimio.

Blushing bright red, Kurt turned straight towards the door, running away from the “Hell to the no, white boy!”, shouted by Mercedes. He’d deal with her later.

The cafeteria was a busy place, as always, and this overwhelmed Blaine, who preferred the quiet and solitude of gentle chatter among his friends, and although he did love McKinley, he still had yet to adapt to the differences between Dalton and his new school.

Blaine had no way to deal with the fact that he was being tutored, in French – the most romantic of languages too! - alone, with Kurt. It all seemed too good to be true!

Everything seemed to be so much brighter since Kurt had asked him to his house that night. French. Kurt. Alone.

Wait, alone?!

Blaine started to panic, and glanced around the cafeteria, looking from Rachel's face all the way down to Artie's, at the other end of the table. But … what if Kurt expected him to do something? Blaine had never even kissed another boy before! What if Kurt expected … that? What if Kurt just wanted to screw him and throw him out?

Shaking his head, Blaine swallowed the thought, why on Earth would Kurt of all people just do that? No, Kurt was special, he would never just leave someone like that. And anyway, there was nothing going on between them! Even if Blaine kind of wished there was.

Just at that moment, Kurt and Mercedes sat a few seats down from him on the table, but on the opposite side. It was at this point that Blaine decided he would admire Kurt once again. As soon as he tried to though, Santana nudged him in the ribs and coughed quietly.

Blaine blinked a few times and diverted his attention to the table behind Kurt, snatching glances at what Kurt was wearing. He was dressed in a grey shirt and thick knitted cardigan, and Blaine started to think about what Kurt was wearing on his legs. He remembered the skinny jeans he saw him in that morning, and he let out a short stilted breath.

Blaine blinked a few times again and noticed a large man-boy in a letterman jacket staring at Kurt, who was still animatedly talking to Mercedes among the chatter of the canteen.

But suddenly, Kurt's attention landed on Blaine, whose eye's widened and looked back down at his tray, but focusing hard on Kurt and Mercedes' conversation.

“Tell me,” Mercedes whined. “Tell me who it is!”

Kurt must have shook his head because Mercedes groaned, which was followed by a few moments of silence, when Mercedes gasped.

“Oh!” she hissed. “I know who it is!”

She must have leant over to Kurt to whisper, because Kurt instantly replied.

“You have it all wrong. I am not interested,” Kurt muttered.

Blaine frowned, and looked up to see Mercedes' turn in the chair to talk to Quinn, who was looking pale. Not wanting to forget, Blaine chanted the phrase in French over and over in his head, groping for his bad under the table. He grabbed hold of it and ducked underneath the table, unzipping it and grabbing a piece of paper, and finding a pencil in the front pocket. He scribbled down the sentence and was carefully putting the piece of paper away when a loud shout and a bark of cruel laughter caught his attention. He looked up from underneath the table and saw Mercedes with her mouth wide open, and Kurt sat next to her, covered in red slush.

Standing over him was the man-boy from before that Blaine had saw. He was grinning triumphantly, but maintaining a look of disgust towards Blaine. A frowned materialised on Blaine's face as he saw the man-boy laugh and walk away, his shoulders hunching over as he walked out of the cafeteria.

“Oh Kurt,” Tina said sympathetically, as the rest of the cafeteria went back to their business. “Maybe we should-”
Kurt cut Tina off himself, by standing up and grabbing his bag. He abruptly turned around and walked calmly out through the huge doors.

Blaine started to stand up, when a small voice came from across the table.

“It's probably best to leave him alone, Blaine,” said

Quinn, her eyes looking straight into his own.

Slightly unnerved by her, Blaine nodded and sat back down.

“Karofsky really has it out for Kurt, doesn't he?” Santana muttered, going back to her lunch.

Blaine shook his head, and started to talk, albeit distractedly, to Mercedes, while the piece of paper on the floor was left to sit, unnoticed by anyone, except a quick-eyed Santana.

He groaned to himself that he was seeing Blaine tonight, and alone, and therefore that would mean that he still had to change as soon as he got in, and probably have a shower to rid of the clamming feeling all over his body from the slushie. Kurt Hummel, was not having a good day.

A slam from behind him dragged him from his thoughts and back to reality. Kurt knew who it was instantly, and upon looking into the mirror, he saw the one face he really did not want to see at that moment.