Chapter One: Maybe We're Victims of Fate

Blaine Anderson sauntered down the spiral staircase, his hazel eyes scanning the endless sea of navy blue and red that stretched before him with cool detachment. Though some of his classmates admittedly wore the uniform of Dalton Academy well, Blaine couldn't even summon up a mild interest in any of his peers. A small smile played on his lips as Christophe Van Lucre passed by him, shoulders slumping forward and gaze immediately sliding to the marble floor after a split second of eye contact with Blaine. Christophe's submissive gesture was enough to remind Blaine that he'd already helped himself to any boy at Dalton that seemed remotely worth having and none of them had proven themselves capable of holding his attention.

Blaine sighed and squared his shoulders. He was late for a performance with The Dalton Academy Warblers, the school's glee club, but Blaine couldn't bring himself to care. He was in no hurry to get there and it wasn't as if they could start without him seeing as he was their lead soloist. Blaine stopped and took another cursory look around but again found nothing of any interest to him.

Blaine been banished to Dalton after his escapades at The Canterbury School for Boys had culminated in his being discovered in Headmaster Chandler's office, fucking the headmaster's son Donavan, right on the headmaster's desk. Not even the Anderson name could clean up that little debacle, so Blaine was quickly and quietly transferred to Dalton in the middle of the term. At the time it had seemed for the best since Blaine's reputation had begun to precede him, resulting in several angry and disgruntled exes smearing him to the student body in general and some of his less enlightened classmates embarking on a campaign of harassment centered on his sexuality. When he'd first arrived at Dalton, Blaine had reveled in having a new hunting ground. He'd quickly and aggressively ascended the social ladder and seduced his way through the more desirable of the student body, but now that he'd been there for over a year Dalton had slowly begun to turn from new frontier to gilded cage.

Blaine had cemented his place among Dalton's elite. He was lead soloist for the Warblers, captain of the water polo team, President of the Student Council, active in the Gay Straight Alliance and Diversity Clubs, President of the Peer Advisors, and a standout on both the debate team and in drama club. Blaine was beloved by teachers and idolized by the students. He had his pick of any number of sexual partners, precious little adult supervision and access to copious amounts of cash. Blaine was living a charmed life and he should have been ecstatic.

Instead he was bored.

The continuous loop of manipulation, seduction, indulgence and resentment that made up the soundtrack to his life had become a soul crushing sort of monotony. Blaine was no longer content with warm bodies, shallow popularity, lavish parties and expensive toys. He was tired of simply marking the time until he took full control of the reins at Anderson International. He felt like there had to be something else out there but he had no idea what he was missing or how to go about finding it.

What Blaine did know was that he wouldn't find what he was looking for on the steps of the Great Hall. The only thing to be found by continuing to hold up The Warblers performance was the ire of Wesley Montgomery, and Blaine had no desire to be on the receiving end of his best friend's gavel wielding wrath.

Blaine began making his down the stairs towards the Senior Commons when he found himself once again delayed. This time however, it wasn't a random moment of introspection that held him back, but the soft, barely there touch of a fingertips on his shoulder.

Blaine turned around and for the briefest moment wondered if perhaps he had found what he was looking for on the steps on the Great Hall.

If Kurt Hummel believed in God he would have thought he was being tested. He'd woken up thirty minutes late, forcing him to rush through his morning routine and forego his usual meditation. He'd burned his egg white omelet so he'd had to make due with a banana and a bran muffin for breakfast. The check engine light had come on in his baby halfway on the drive to school and he'd scarcely made it out of the parking lot before being surrounded by the unwashed masses that made up the jock contingent of William McKinley High and summarily thrown into a dumpster. He'd quickly changed into one of his reserve outfits only to be treated to the ice blue frozen hell of a slushie facial. Kurt had sighed, retreated back into the bathroom and pulled out the backup outfit for his backup outfit.

After he'd effectively missed first period, Kurt walked into Glee…and was once again subjected to backhanded insults about his sexuality when it was announced the all boys choir from Dalton Academy was one of their sectional competitors. Mr. Schue, per his usual modus operandi, did nothing to step in and merely allowed Santana's little barb about gay jokes while Kurt sat in his seat and pretended it didn't bother him that he wasn't even safe when he was supposedly among friends and a girl who was a personal friend of Aslan was targeting him because he had the courage to be open about his sexuality.

His day went from bad to worse when he ran into Dave Karofsky and was locker checked not once, but twice and given an invitation to meet "The Fury", otherwise known as Karofsky's fist. Then, because Kurt clearly hadn't spent enough time in special hell for the day, he was subjected to Mr. Schue lecturing him about his attitude and behavior. It was all Kurt could do to simply call the man out on his willingness to ignore the homophobia displayed on a daily basis in his own classroom, denounce his repetitive lesson plans and admit that the daily harassment was having an effect on him before leaving. He'd wanted to trash every inch of that office and throw a screaming, crying, Erica Kane worthy kind of fit but he'd restrained himself.

Kurt tried to shake it off, put his mask on, make the best of things and work with the glee guys on their mash up assignment, but he was mocked and then dismissed. Kurt's eyes stung as he recalled Puck basically telling him he was unwanted and of no use to them, suggesting he go poison the hipsters and then taking yet another swipe at his sexuality by suggesting he spy on the Warblers wearing feathers because he'd "fit right in."

Kurt had, in a moment of insanity, fashioned himself a makeshift Dalton uniform and made the nearly two hour trek to Westerville. He'd tried to tell himself he was there strictly for the benefit of New Directions, but he knew that wasn't the only reason he found himself on the picturesque property. He'd simply needed to get away: away from McKinley, away from Lima, away from the blatant displays of hate and the verbal and physical abuse and Dalton, with its zero tolerance bullying policy and gay straight alliance, was Kurt's version of the Promised Land.

Kurt took a deep breath and examined his reflection in his Navigator's rearview mirror. He rooted around in his glove compartment until he found the eye drops he kept there in case of emergencies. In case the drops failed to take care of any residual redness Kurt decided he'd take his Dior shades with him as backup and exited the vehicle.

Walking across the campus Kurt couldn't help but be struck by how different he felt. While he was nervous because he was on a covert mission of sorts, his stomach wasn't tied up in the familiar knots that occurred every time he stepped foot on McKinley school grounds. Kurt found his way into one of the larger buildings and began exploring.

Even though his gleemates dismissal of him stung, Kurt couldn't deny he was excited to have an excuse to check out Dalton. The school had come to his attention awhile back when, in a moment of desperation, he'd researched local boarding schools. The tuition rendered it an almost impossible dream, but Kurt could still appreciate the atmosphere. Dalton's website had not done the school justice. The building was beautiful, the grounds were impeccable and Kurt couldn't help but be awed by the lavish surroundings. He wandered around until he found himself in the middle of a crowd, rushing down a staircase. Something was going on and Kurt needed to find out what that was.

Without thinking he began to reach out towards the boy in front of him. Kurt's fingertips had hardly brushed the young man's blazer when he realized what he'd almost done. He snatched his hand back, praying that the other boy wouldn't be offended by being touched by someone as…flamboyant as Kurt.

"Excuse me, um hi," Kurt said softly.

The young man turned around and Kurt felt his heart leap up into his throat. He was gorgeous. He had thick, dark hair and rich hazel eyes flecked with amber, green and gold. He was a little shorter than Kurt, but he filled out the Dalton uniform quite nicely, the crisp white shirt creating a nice contrast to lightly tanned skin.

The young man in question looked at Kurt expectantly and Kurt found his voice. "Can I…can I ask you a question? I- I'm new here."

Blaine took a quick inventory of the boy in front of him before giving a small smirk. He didn't know why the guy was there, but Blaine knew he had just told him a bald faced lie. The jacket he was wearing was a nice attempt but lacked the red piping and Dalton crest of the standard issue blazer and unless someone had removed the stick from Chancellor Taylor's ass, bondage shorts were not part of the official school uniform.

And were those Dock Martens and knee socks for fuck's sake?

Uniform fail aside, the boy was gorgeous. He was tall and lithe, with elegant hands and an easy grace to him. His hair was an avalanche of expertly coiffed chestnut colored silk. His complexion was clear, pale and creamy. His face was absolute perfection: pink lips that were lush and looked pillow soft, a delicate upturned nose and the most breathtaking beautiful glasz eyes Blaine had ever seen.

Blaine didn't know what this kid's game was, but he was more than willing to play along.

"My name is Blaine," he said, extending his hand. The "new kid" seemed momentarily stunned before cautiously taking Blaine's hand and introducing himself.

"Kurt," the boy said shyly. "Uh, s-so what exactly is going on here?" Kurt asked, dropping Blaine's hand almost immediately.

A smile spread across Blaine's face. Well, that just made it official, he thought to himself. The boy was no Dalton student. Nearly everyone at Dalton knew Blaine by sight or reputation, but absolutely everyone knew why morning classes had been suspended for the day. Blaine had been the recipient of dozens of thanks and a spontaneous standing ovation at breakfast that morning for convincing Wes to and Chancellor Taylor to allow the Warbler's to perform during school hours.

Blaine schooled his face into what he hoped was an appropriately enthusiastic expression. "The Warblers," he replied as if it were both the most obvious and fantastic thing in the world. "Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for awhile."

Kurt tried and failed to cover up his surprise. "So, wait, the glee club here is kind of….cool?"

Hell yeah, we are, Blaine thought recalling Jeff's legendary parties and the fact that you had to be more than merely a good singer to get into the Warblers. You had to be elite among a school filled with the elite. Warblers had it all: popularity, money, grades and futures so bright they practically owned stock in Ray Ban. Talent was only the first of many things they took into consideration before extending membership into the group.

"The Warblers are like rock stars," Blaine replied, a hint of cockiness easing its way into his tone.

Kurt's face plainly said he was a non believer.

Blaine decided right then and there, no matter who Kurt was or why he was at Dalton, he was going to convert him.

After all, every rock star needs his groupies.

"Come on," Blaine said grabbing Kurt's hand and tugging him along behind him. He could feel Kurt startle at the contact and frowned. Was the kid a germaphobe or something? As he led Kurt down the empty hallway, Blaine chanced a look at his face. Kurt looked positively enthralled…and he was still holding onto Blaine as they made their way to the Senior Commons.

Kurt was clearly not a germaphobe. He must just not be used to being touched, at least not by relative strangers, Blaine decided.

Blaine opened the doors to the senior commons and led Kurt into the room. He noticed that Kurt's level of discomfort rose when he realized just how much his attire differed from the other boys assembled.

"Ooh, I stick out like a sore thumb," Kurt breathed, taking a step back towards the doorway.

Blaine couldn't have Kurt getting uncomfortable and leaving before the big reveal. He gave him a winning smile.

"Next time just don't forget your jacket, new kid. You'll fit right in." He reached out and smoothed the collar of Kurt's coat, both to have an excuse to touch and to encourage Kurt to stick around. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Kurt looked at Blaine like he had hung the moon.

This is almost too easy, Blaine thought to himself. He took his place as front man and began performing Teenage Dream, making sure to direct the majority of his performance at Kurt.

He had no idea what brought Kurt into his life, but he wasn't going to let him leave before he got him into his bed.

"Latte?" Blaine asked, sliding the drink across the table to Kurt and then gesturing to the two boys on either side of him, "This is Wes and David."

Kurt found himself sitting across from Blaine and two of his fellow Warblers. He'd abandoned all attempts at the dismal Dalton uniform and changed into his regular attire. If he was going to be driven to the outskirts of town and beaten senseless, he was going to do it in style.

Kurt took the drink and swallowed down his nerves. "It's very civilized for you to invite me for coffee before you beat me up for spying," Kurt quipped, hoping his face didn't show just how terrified he really was that a beatdown was exactly what they had planned.

Blaine nearly choked on his coffee and David's brow furrowed.

"We're not going to beat you up," Wes stated emphatically. Blaine took another sip of coffee and studied Kurt. The kid was trying hard to appear calm and collected, but he was clearly falling apart at the seams.

"You were such a terrible spy, we thought it was sort of endearing," David chimed in, his eyes warm and his voice slightly teasing.

Blaine took a steadying breath. He knew that tone. David's "fluidity" with his sexual orientation had been the subject of many a conversation between the three of them. David didn't often go for guys, but the specific type he went for was one of the many things he and Blaine had in common.

That type was Kurt.

Well, Blaine wasn't in the mood to share. He got first dibs on their "endearing" little spy. If David wanted sloppy seconds he was welcome to them but Blaine was first in line.

As he studied Kurt, Blaine was struck with the idea that there was more going on than simple spying. Blaine wasn't particularly interested in Kurt's personal problems but he did want to find out what they were and if they could be used to his advantage.

Blaine took control of the conversation before Wes began an inquisition or David could pour on the charm. "Which makes us think that spying on us wasn't really the reason you came," he added smoothly.

Blaine was prepared for Kurt to deny he had any other ulterior motive.

The beautiful boy in front of him however was full of surprises and his response had been nothing like Blaine expected.

"Can I ask a question? Are you guys all gay?"

Kurt couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth. As soon as he'd said them he wanted to take them back. If they weren't going to beat him up before, surely they would now. He'd managed to not only stereotype them but offend them as well.

There was genuine laughter from trio and Kurt wasn't sure whether to wish for a hole in the floor to appear to save him from his mortification or to run for the hills before they gathered their torches and pitchforks.

"Ah, uh no," Blaine answered slowly. "I mean I am, but these two have girlfriends."

David had known Blaine long enough to know when his friend running game. His smile froze and his brow arched ever so slightly. It felt like Blaine was deliberately misleading Kurt, even though what Blaine had said was the technical truth. David didn't identify himself as gay, straight, or bi. The closest fitting label he'd come across was pansexual but he was reluctant to even call himself that. As far as he was concerned labels belonged on clothing, not people. He was just simply David and gender wasn't a primary concern in whom he found himself attracted to.

Plus, he did currently have a girlfriend. Even though he did find Kurt attractive, David wasn't the cheating type, and Blaine had seen the boy first and clearly wasn't keen on competition. David decided not to rock the boat.

"This is not a gay school," he laughed, answering Kurt and following Blaine's lead. "We just have a zero tolerance harassment policy," he elaborated.

"Everybody gets treated the same, no matter what they are," Wes jumped in. "It's pretty simple." Wes hadn't been sure why Blaine had insisted they take the world's worst spy out for coffee but after taking a critical look at him and seeing David instantly take to Kurt, the pieces of the puzzle slid into place. Blaine wanted in the kid's pants and from what Wes could see, the dapper Dalton boy had a relatively good shot of getting exactly what he wanted. Blaine was simply showing off his shiny new toy.

Wes sighed. Kurt Hummel wouldn't know what hit him, but at least he wasn't a Dalton student and Wes wouldn't have to deal with the fallout this time. Christophe was still calling him at three in the morning with Beyonce's Why Don't You Love Me blasting in the background as he cried over Blaine.

Wes was not about to go through that shit again anytime soon, thank you very much.

Wes watched in fascination as Kurt's glasz eyes were filled with unshed tears in response to his answer. Jesus, how bad can the kid's school be if a no harassment policy can open the floodgates? Wes thought, stunned at the display of emotion. David frowned in understanding and gave Kurt a sincere smile.

Blaine, ever the opportunist, knew an opening when he saw one.

"Could you guys excuse us?"

Wes smirked and David shot Blaine a disapproving look, but they recognized the request as Blaine speak for "leave because you're cockblocking." They said their goodbyes and left Bambi to the hunter.

As soon as Wes and David took their leave, Blaine turned a sympathetic smile on Kurt. "I take it you're having trouble at school," he said quietly. It was a safe assumption. And it explained why he'd been shocked that Blaine hadn't been upset or offended when he'd touched him.

Blaine listened as Kurt broke down, pouring out his heart about his troubles with the student body in general and one jock in particular. Blaine saw how close to the edge Kurt was, how lonely, frustrated and needy he was and almost felt guilty for planning to take advantage of his vulnerability.

Almost, but not quite.

So Blaine exaggerated his troubles at Canterbury, carefully leaving out the sordid details and playing up the homophobic harassment he'd been subjected to so that Kurt would think they shared a common bond. When Kurt hung on his every word, Blaine felt like the least he could do was be sincere in his advice, so he tried to encourage Kurt to be strong, to stand up for himself and refuse to be a victim. Then he gave him his number and (in homage to his earlier joke to the Warbler's being rock stars) handed over an autographed picture of himself.

Kurt took both, blushing and laughing.

Blaine expected Kurt to be giving him a call sooner rather than later. He had no idea that call was going to drastically change both of their lives.