Blaine walked through the halls of his new school, McKinley High, trying to find his first class. People were bumping up against him left and right and he honestly had no idea where he was going. Blaine had transferred to McKinley, just before his junior year, at the “request” of his parents; he really had no say in the matter. So when his father had told him that public school would “do you some good,” and “help you grow a back bone before going out into the real world,” and “stop you from wasting your time singing and dancing,” Blaine was less than excited. His relationship with his parents had always been strained, ever since he came out, and he tried his best to not upset them, so off to public school he went.

He had been optimistic at first, thinking that it would be a new experience, an adventure, and it might not be as bad as he intentionally thought, but at the moment he was standing in the middle of a deserted and unfamiliar hallway, class having started a few minutes ago. He stared at the piece of paper in his hand, listing his classes, and wondered how he should go about trying to find where he was supposed to be. He wandered down the hallways some more until he found himself in front of his assigned locker, that he had planned to find later when he wasn’t rushing to his class. Since he was late anyway, he figured he could at least unload some of his books.

He struggled with the lock for a few seconds, and when he got it open, stared unloading his books. When he was just about finished, he noticed a figure to his right. He looked over, and at the end of the hallway there was a guy leaning up against the lockers, smoking. He was tall and lean, with pink streaks in his hair and dark clothing that was ripped in a few places. He had quite a bit of jewelry on, from all kinds of different piercings to some necklaces, and quite a few rings. He was wearing heavy boots and—oh, now he was looking at Blaine. They locked eyes, and Blaine was overcome with the beauty of the eyes of the mysterious boy. A small smirk appeared on the other boy’s face, and he gave Blaine a little salute.

“Hey!” Blaine’s head whipped to the other end of the hallway where a teacher was marching angrily down the hallway toward Blaine. He was balding and stocky and his clothes didn’t come close to matching. He turned back to look at the pink haired boy, but he was gone. After a momentarily feeling of disappointment, he turned back to the teacher, convinced that once he explained his situation he would not be in any trouble.

“Why are you out of pocket?!” the teacher practically yelled in Blaine’s face.

“I—I’m sorry Sir I—“

“I don’t want to hear any excuses!” the teacher cut him off. “All students are supposed to be in class right now. No exceptions! Detention!” the teacher started writing on a slip of paper before Blaine could protest.

“Please Sir, I—“

“Ah ah ah, want to make it two?” He was cut off again. Blaine lowered his head, “No Sir.”

“Good,” the teacher tore off the slip and handed it over to Blaine, “Now, get to class.” And with that, the teacher brushed past Blaine down the rest of the hallway, in the direction of where the pink haired boy had been standing only minutes ago.

The rest of the day did not go much better. Blaine received another detention slip when he finally found his first class, since fifteen minutes was “too long to be lost”, according to his teacher. He made it through his first few classes relatively unnoticed, accept for a few taunts for the way he was dressed. He looked for a group to sit with at lunch, but ended up sitting by himself, since none of the other tables looked particularly inviting. He got another detention before the day was up for throwing paper in class, when it was really the group of jocks that seemed to sit behind him in every single class he had. He was framed for the paper throwing. Honestly.

Needless to say, by the end of the day, Blaine was not in the best of moods. His first day of school and he already had three days of detention lined up. Things were never like this at Dalton. He was liked by all the teachers, and pretty much all of the students, and he was a model student. He had certainly never gotten detention before. But, regardless, he headed to the room that was designated for his afterschool confinement.

He walked into a room that was twice the size of a classroom, completely white walls, and tables and chairs that were more or less scattered throughout the room. Blaine was the first one there, besides the teacher that had given him his first detention.

“Well well well, decided to show up huh? Take a seat.” the teacher scowled across the room from where he was sitting. Blaine sat at a table as far away from the teacher as possible, he got the feeling that the teacher wasn’t his biggest fan. Blaine unpacked a few of his books then looked around the room some more.

The one small chalkboard sat behind the desk that baldy sat behind. Mr. Johnson was written on the board in sloppy handwriting; at least now Blaine had a name to address him by. Next to the board was a poster that read, “If you are going down a wrong path, choose a new direction and turn your life around”. Blaine scoffed at how the poster was supposed to be inspirational but seemed to be more degrading. Mr. Johnson heard the scoff and immediately turned his attention to Blaine.

“Something funny, boy?” he said in a harsh tone.

“No sir.” Blaine replied turning back to his things in front of him.

“Well, just start studying. Hopefully your fellow detention buddies will decide to grace us with their presence.”

Blaine sat writing an essay he had been assigned for another five minutes before two more people walked in. One was a tall asian boy, and the other was a smaller asian girl. They were both dressed in almost all black and were carrying satchels that looked completely full. They walked in and dropped their detention slips on Johnson’s desk without a word and went to sit in a far corner of the room by themselves. Once they sat down they didn’t unpack any of their things, just sat there, not doing anything.

A few minutes later two more people came in. One was a large black girl and the other was a boy in a wheelchair with glasses. They both came in laughing and talking loudly. As soon as they came in Mr. Johnson stood up from his desk.

“Hey! You are in detention! No talking!” He yelled at them. Yelling seemed to be his favorite thing to do.

“Sorry Mr. J,” the girl apologized while still giggling. The two walked over to the desk and handed over their slips then sat a few tables away from Blaine, still talking and giggling quietly between themselves.

A few minutes later two more people walked in. There was a girl and…  The boy with the pink hair. The girl was wearing sunglasses and was dressed much the same way he was. Lots of metal and ripped clothing, and pink hair.  They came in without a word and she handed her slip to the boy as she moved to claim a table along one of the edges of the room. The boy walked over and tossed the slips on the table.

“Put that cigarette out.” Johnson ordered. The boy stood in front of the desk for a few moments, staring at the teacher, before slowly plucking the almost finished cigarette from between his lips and stubbing it onto the detention slips he had just dropped. They glared at each other for a few moments before the boy turned and joined the girl he came in with at the table. Blaine could not stop staring. The pink haired boy glanced up and caught Blaine looking, and before Blaine could look away he was caught up in the beautiful eyes again. He could not look away and he could not decide what color they were. They had been staring at each other for about five seconds when the boy smirked and the doors to the room burst open and Blaine jumped and looked over to who was sauntering in.  It was a boy with a mohawk and a cocky grin.

“Mr. Johnson! Long time no see! Did you miss me over the summer?”

“Hello, Puckerman. Sit down and shut up.”

“Yes sir!” he gave a mock salute and sat down and put his feet on a table a few away from the two with pink hair. 

Blaine looked back over to the pink haired boy, but he was now leaning back in his chair staring at the ceiling. Blaine turned his attention back to his essay, but every now and then he would glance up at the boy to try and see those eyes again.  

About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Johnson stood up from his desk and circled around to the front of it.

“So, it looks like this is everyone. Here we are. Detention. Isn’t it great?” He scrutinized everyone in the room for any form of a response. He walked over to the poster and slammed his hand on the wall next to it.

“Remember, ‘If you are going down a wrong path,’ which, if you are in detention, I would think that is the wrong path, ‘choose a new direction and turn your life around’.” He looked around the room again for some sort of response. When he got none, he started walking toward the door.

“I’m going to the teacher’s lounge to get some coffee. Remember, Ms. Pillsbury is in her office and she can see if you leave before you are supposed to.” And with that, he left the room.

As soon as the door closed Puckerman held up his middle finger in the direction where Johnson had just left, the black girl and the boy in the wheelchair dissolved into a fit of giggles, the two Asians jumped up and started unloading their bags onto the nearest table, which happened to be dozens of spray paint cans, and the pink haired boy and girl pulled out new cigarettes and lit up.

Blaine was momentarily lost in how it all seemed like a well practiced routine before the pink haired boy caught his eye again. The boy smirked again and before Blaine could do so much as wave, a body blocked his view and a pair of hands slammed on the table in front of him.

“Hi,” the black girl was now standing in front of him with a grin on her face. “I’ve never seen you at McKinley before, you much be new. I’m Mercedes.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake. Blaine was shocked at first, but then remembered his manners and returned her hand shake.

“Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson. And yes, I'm new.”

“Well, Blaine Anderson,“ the boy in the wheel chair said as he wheeled over, “I'm Arite Abrams, and there is something you should know.” He stopped next to Mercedes and leaned forward on the desk in front of Blaine.

“Mercedes and I, we run this whole ship,” he motioned to the rest of the room.

“You wish Abrams!” Puckerman shouted from where he was still sitting. Mercedes and Arite laughed some more before turning back to Blaine.

“So, what did Johnson get you for?” Artie asked.

“I wasn’t in class when I was supposed to be. I got lost and couldn’t find my class. I—“ he glanced over at pink hair again, who was now talking with the girl.  “I got kind of distracted. Mr. Johnson caught me wandering the halls.”

“Ah,” Mercedes responded, “Well, just wait; it’s not as bad here as you might think.” She winked. “We should probably introduce everyone to you.” She turned and gestured to the room. “Over there is Mike and Tina,” they were busy spray painting bright blue and black designs all over the walls to respond. “they kindof keep to themselves so people don’t mess with them. But, they are wildly creative and they dance and sing like no other.”

Blaine was surprised at the last comment. What did that have to do with anything?

“Over there are the Skanks.” Mercedes said next pointing to the pink haired boy and girl. Blaine was taken aback.

“What did you call them?!” he asked, surprised.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she chuckled, “That is what they call their group. There are five of them, and they hang out behind the bleachers on the football field most of the time. They don’t really talk to anyone… besides us.” She turned toward the table again, and shouted, “Right, Quinn and Kurt?”

They simultaneously held up their middle fingers without looking up from their conversation.

Mercedes laughed again and turned back to Blaine, “They love us. And they both have awesome singing voices. Especially Kurt, he’s amazing.”

Kurt.  

Blaine thought of the name over and over again, not wanting to forget it, but now he wanted nothing more than to hear him sing.

“And then over there, is Noah Puckerman, but we all call him Puck.” She pointed to the boy with the mohawk. “He can sing pretty well too, and he also plays the guitar.” She finished as he began to walk over.

“And I'm the toughest badass in this hell hole, so no one messes with me. Got it?” he practically growled at Blaine. He nodded furiously so as not to upset him.

“Puck, don’t scare the new kid,” Artie said as Mercedes shoved Puck’s shoulder to get him to stop.

“Seiously though, he could use some pointers on getting people not to mess with him.” Puck said looking Blaine up and down.

“Wh—What do you mean?” Blaine asked wearily.

“Seriously?” Puck asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m honestly surprised you aren’t at the bottom of one of the dumpsters by now, what with the way you are dressed.”

“What’s wrong with the way I'm dressed?” Blaine kind of liked the way he dressed, thank you very much. He likes colors. He looked down at his own outfit: plaid shirt with coordinating sweater vest and a matching bowtie, with grey pants and his nicest shoes, it was the first day of school after all.

Puck scoffed at him again, “Dude, you keep dressing like that and you are sure to have a black eye by the end of the week.” Blaine paled at that. He had wanted to avoid bullying when he came to a new school. That was the whole reason he had transferred to Dalton in the first place, he didn’t need people to be messing with him just for the way he dressed.

“Puck, don’t be mean…” Mercedes said to him.

“What? I'm trying to look out for him if he is going to be here from now on.”

Artie noticed that Blaine was staring intently at the table and was still a few shades paler than normal. He wheeled over in front of him and put his arms on the table in a very businesslike fashion.

“Look, Blaine, it’s very simple.” Blaine looked up at Artie as he talked. “We all have different ways that we survive in this school. Mike and Tina keep to themselves. Mercedes and I are confidant and don’t let anyone push us around. Kurt and Quinn don’t take any crap from anyone. And Puck… well… Puck is Puck.” He finished shrugging his shoulders.

Blaine was still pretty confused, but Artie continued, “We can help you. We know how to survive McKinley, and we can teach you how to. What da ya say?”

Blaine looked wearily at the three standing in front of him and then at everyone else in the room. Mike and Tina had stopped spraying and were waiting for his answer. The Skanks had also stopped their conversation and were waiting for his response. He caught Kurt’s eye again, and made his decision.

“Okay, fine.” He said. Artie and Mercedes smiled, and when Blaine looked up again the spray painting had resumed and so had the conversation, but Kurt had a small smile on his face.

“Okay, first thing,” Mercedes said, bringing Blaine’s attention back to the matter at hand, “tomorrow you have to simplify what you wear. Go with a plain t-shirt, jeans, and simple shoes. Chucks, or Vans, or something.”

“No penny loafers.” Puck interjected scowling at Blaine’s shoes.

“They are not.” Blaine argued, but was then cut off by Artie continuing.

“Next thing, the hair.”

“My hair?” Blaine asked nervously.

“Kurt!” Puck yelled across the room. Kurt stood up as he finished his conversation and stubbed his cigarette. As he began walking over, Blaine’s breath hitched. Kurt was taller than he remembered, and quite attractive too. He stopped in front of Blaine as Puck said, “Kurt, Blaine. Blaine, Kurt.” Motioning between the two. Then he pointed at Blaine’s hair, “Kurt, fix.”

Blaine glanced at Puck, “My hair is fine.” He said through clenched teeth. Puck scoffed.

Kurt ran a finger through Blaine’s hair, which momentarily caused Blaine to freeze, and when he pulled it back in front of Blaine’s face, it had a glop of gel on it.

“Oh, well yeah…” Blaine said nervously, “It is too crazy when I don’t fix it…”

Kurt continued staring at him for a few moments before he wiped the gel off onto Blaine’s nose. Mercedes and Artie giggled as Kurt strode back over to the table he had previously been sitting at. He grabbed his bag, and as he started walking back over Puck turned to Blaine, “do you have any gel with you?”

“Umm, well yeah…”

“Take it with you.”

“What? Wher—“ before Blaine could finish Kurt had grabbed his hand and was pulling him up from his chair and toward the door. Blaine grabbed his bag, which he kept his back-up gel in.

As they left the classroom Kurt looked up and down the hallway for any teachers to make sure they wouldn’t get caught for leaving detention. Blaine was too caught up in the fact that Kurt was still holding his hand to notice much else. Kurt pulled him along as they dashed to the nearest bathroom a few doors down from the detention room.

Once they were inside Kurt let go of his hand, which disappointed Blaine, and went over to the sink and turned the hot water on. He stared riffling through his bag and pulling out a few things, a comb, a mini bottle of hairspray, a small hand towel, scissors… wait, scissors? That caught Blaine’s attention, and he decided to break the silence.

“Umm, Hi.” He said nervously. Kurt stopped what he was doing and looked up at Blaine through the mirror. Blaine took a few more steps forward, “Umm… I’m Blaine.”

Kurt laughed a little bit, “Yeah, I figured that much out.” He said as he continued riffling through his bag.

“Oh, okay. Umm…”

“Did you bring your gel?” Kurt turned to face him, abandoning his bag.

“Oh! Yes, I—“ he dug through his bag and pulled out the small back up bottle. “Here it is.” He turned and looked triumphant. Kurt laughed a little again and motioned Blaine over toward the sink.

“Come over here, I’m going to wash all of that crap out of your hair.”

Blaine stopped at this. He was quite embarrassed about how crazy his hair could be; that’s why he gelled it in the first place.

Noticing Blaine’s hesitation Kurt commented, “What? I'm not going to eat you.”

“What? No,” Blaine responded, “I just… I don’t like my hair. It’s too crazy…”

Kurt softened a little at Blaine’s honesty. “I'm going to help. I can show you how to manage it without plastering it down every day.” Kurt had slowly walked over to Blaine and he took his hand. Blaine’s breath hitched again at the contact. Kurt walked him toward the sink. He took the bottle of gel from him and instructed Blaine to bend over. Blaine still looked hesitant.

“Trust me.” Kurt assured him as they looked into each other’s eyes. Blaine could only nod as he bent over toward the sink.

Kurt directed him under the water and tenderly ran his fingers through his hair as he washed it. Kurt was very gentle and he made Blaine feel much better, through he was still a little self conscious.

Once he was finished washing it, Kurt ran the towel through Blaine’s hair, but still kept it mostly wet.

“Sit down.” Kurt commanded softly. Blaine sat on the bathroom floor, which would normally gross him out, but he was so relaxed that he didn’t even care. Kurt picked up the scissors and kneeled next to him.

“Whoa,” Blaine said cautiously, he really didn’t want to lose all of his hair.

“Relax,” Kurt said rolling his eyes. “I'm just giving you a trim. I won’t go all Sweeney Todd on you, I swear.” Blaine chucked at this, nodded and closed his eyes.

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair some more before Blaine heard the quiet snipping of the scissors. Blaine opened his eyes at one point when Kurt was working in front of him. He was so close he could really look at his face. Not to be creepy or anything…

Blaine could now see that he had four piercings in each of his ears, at varied positions. He also had a nose ring, and he could see the pink streaks in his hair clearly.  Blaine could also tell that he was wearing a little bit of eye liner that really accented his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Blaine was sure that he could stare into them for the rest of his life and never get bored.  

After about five minutes of trimming, Kurt put the scissors down and picked up the bottle of gel. He held his hand out in front of Blaine. Blaine looked at it for a few moments before he placed his hand in Kurt’s. Kurt laughed and flipped Blaine’s hand over so that his palm was facing up. He squeezed about a quarter size dollop if gel into it.

“This is as much as you need per day. Got it?” he said semi-sternly. Blaine nodded obediently. Kurt nodded once, then ran his fingers over Blaine’s palm collecting the gel before working it into Blaine’s hair.

It took about two minutes before Kurt stood up and pulled Blaine to his feet.

“Don’t look in the mirror yet.” Kurt commanded, leading him out of the way of mirror. “First, take off the vest.”

“Wh—what?” Blaine wasn’t sure what was going on.

“I'm giving you a mini makeover before we go back in there. I did your hair, now for the clothes.”

“Oh… okay well…” Blaine stuttered. Kurt rolled his eyes again.

“Just do it. I know what I'm doing. And take off the bow tie while you’re at it.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Blaine took off his bowtie and vest and laid them over one of the dry sinks.

“Do you have an undershirt on?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, unbutton your shirt and roll up your sleeves.”

When Blaine hesitated again, Kurt gave him a pointed look, and Blaine did as he was told.

Kurt looked him over a few times before he said, “unroll the bottom of your damn pants, and I’ll be right back.”

Kurt left the bathroom and Blaine was left standing in the middle of the bathroom doing nothing. He considered going over to the mirror, but thought better of it. He didn’t want Kurt to be mad at him.

Kurt returned a few minutes later carrying a beaten up pair of chucks. “Put these on,” Kurt said as he threw the shoes at Blaine’s feet.

Once Blaine tied the shoes and stood up, Kurt circled around him a few times. He stopped in front of him and fell to his knees. Blaine’s eyes grew wide.

“Relax,” Kurt said as he pulled a pocket knife out of his back pocket.

“Okay, like that is supposed to make me rela—Hey!” As Blaine was talking Kurt had cut a slit in Blaine’s pants just above his knee. “What the hell did you do that for?!” Blaine practically yelled.

“Geez, you really need to chill. It’s not like you can’t buy another pair if you really need to.”

That shut Blaine up. Kurt frayed and tore his pants a little more before he stood back up and put the knife back in his pocket. He grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him back over in front of the mirror.

Blaine was shocked by what he saw.

He looked much less put together than he had before, but he looked relaxed, comfortable… more of himself.

“See? Isn’t that much better?” Kurt said with a small smirk on his face. Blaine nodded slightly, blushing a little.

“Good. Now, let’s show you to the rest of the group.” And with that, Kurt picked up his bag and Blaine shoved his vest, bowtie and shoes into his own bag as they left the bathroom.

When they got back to the room Blaine was meet with the applause of Puck, Mercedes, and Arite at his transformed look.

“Much better!” Arite commended.

“Nice work, Hummel.” Puck shouted at Kurt as he was walking back over to his previously abandoned table. Kurt shrugged his shoulders, sat next to Quinn, and lit another cigarette.