The first time Blaine’s first name falls from those obscenely perfect lips, it shocks him.
“Blaine, huh?” Kurt asks, sliding up next to his desk and perching on the edge.
“Excuse me?” Blaine says, very pointedly not looking at how Kurt’s legs are stretching out beside him, obviously perfect even in the Dalton-issued slacks.
“I saw the teacher registry on Mrs. Todd’s desk. Your first name is Blaine. Now, according to your name tag,” Kurt reaches out then, and slides his finger over the metal plate magnetically attached to Blaine’s chest, and Blaine fights a shiver “you’re ‘B.E. Anderson. That only leaves me to solve your middle name.”
“You don’t need to know my middle name, Kurt. You can just call me Mr. Anderson, like everyone else.”
Kurt affects a pout, an honest-to-God pout that draws Blaine’s gaze from the perfectly acceptable point of his beautiful eyes to the perfectly unacceptable point of his pursed lips. “Are you saying I’m like everyone else?”
Blaine shakes his head, repeating student, student, student, student over and over in his mind. “I very much doubt anyone has ever said that, Mr. Hummel.” The bell rings. “Please, take your seat.” Kurt smiles and flits away, and Blaine almost doesn’t react when he sees Kurt mouth his first name later, and wink.

Kurt waltzes into Blaine’s classroom one day with a pleading look already firmly set in place, and pulls his customary chair up to Blaine’s desk, sitting down gracefully.
“Something I can help you with, Kurt?”
“Blaine, you-“
“Mr. Anderson,” Blaine interrupts firmly. Kurt has picked up the habit of calling him by his first name, and, endearing as it is, it’s not strictly by the book, like everything else at Dalton.
“Yes, that,” Kurt says, waving a hand dismissively. “You have got to help me.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “To rescue me.”
“I told you already, Kurt, I can’t get you out of gym.”
Kurt makes an exasperated noise. “Hush, you. I need you to take me on as your student assistant.”
Blaine really, really doesn’t want to, because spending more time around the boy who’s unconsciously been trying to ruin Blaine’s career with the sway of his hips would be the worst idea anyone’s ever had. “You, um… don’t you assist Madame Barker?”
“Yes, but she’s having a baby so she’s going on maternity leave, and now they’re trying to turf me back to study hall. I hate study hall, Bl-“ Blaine gives him a look. “Mr. Anderson. Please,” Kurt begs.
“What do I get in return?” Blaine says before he can stop himself.
Kurt quirks his head to the side and a slow smile slides across his face. “Anything you want.” Blaine sighs, and Kurt knows he has him. “So that’s a yes?” he asks excitedly.
“Bring me the paperwork,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s face lights up.
“I have it right now!” he says, rooting through his bag. He pulls out a couple of forms and throws them haphazardly across the papers Blaine was grading.
Blaine picks them up and peers at them. “Kurt, you’ve already filled them out.” He adjusts his glasses and looks again. “With today’s date.
Kurt smiles sheepishly. “I had a feeling you might say yes, and I have no desire to spend any more time in study hall than absolutely necessary. So if you just sign here,” Kurt leans over to indicate precisely where, and Blaine catches a whiff of him, a bit fruity but something of pure clean boy under it that has Blaine clenching his fist. “Blaine, you’re crushing the paper!” Kurt exclaims, prying his fingers loose and smoothing it out. “Are you all right?”
No, Blaine is most certainly not all right, not with the little stabbing bolts of electricity that course through his fingers where Kurt touched them. “Mr. Anderson,” he says through clenched teeth. “And I’m fine. Just… my head started hurting all of a sudden.”
“Well, if you’ll just sign these, I can leave you to wallow in your pain alone,” Kurt says pointedly, pushing the papers at him and rummaging through his bag. Blaine rolls his eyes and signs both sheets quickly. He’s about to hand them back to Kurt when two aspirin land on his desk. He looks up at Kurt’s smiling face. “Take those, you’ll feel better,” he advises as he gathers his things and puts his chair back where it goes.
“Thanks, Kurt.”
“No, thank you, Blaine,” Kurt says as he walks out the door.
“Mr. Anderson!” Blaine yells, but Kurt’s already gone.

“San, I’ve got to- No, really, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go, San, I have my assisting right now. Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Santana,” Kurt says, hanging up his phone as he walks into the library at Dalton where Blaine is holding his class today, so the class can use the bank of computers there. Kurt pulls a chair up to the desk Blaine had previously been occupying alone, and sighs.
“What was all that about?” Blaine asks, watching as Kurt pulls the papers he’d been grading and the key from his grasp and starts in on them. Kurt really is a good student assistant, despite how much he talks while he’s working. Blaine really couldn’t think how he had gotten anything done without him. He always has to ask Kurt to make sure he has everything before they pack up for the end of the day. He doesn’t remember having to do that before.
“Oh, Santana was telling me about how since she can’t be with the girl she loves, she’s just going to be fu- friends with benefits with Puckerman.” Blaine kind of wishes Kurt had said what he was going to say. He’s never heard Kurt swear. “What, um… what do you think of friends with benefits?”
Blaine ponders for a moment, and wonders why Kurt is asking. “What do you think?” Blaine can tell Kurt is surprised he’s willing to have this conversation.
“Well, I mean, Puck and Santana are the only exception I can think of, but I think, generally, it wouldn’t work. I think that, eventually, someone would develop feelings. Don’t you think?”
Blaine smiles and nods. “Yeah, actually, I do. It’s better with feelings anyway, right?”
Kurt shrugs and bites his lip. “I wouldn’t know,” he says quietly, and doesn’t that just make Blaine want to corrupt every thought in Kurt’s mind. They sit in silence for a few moments, Kurt grading papers and Blaine making a lesson plan. Kurt extracts the extra carabineer from Blaine keys as he always does and flicks it open with his free hand idly. Blaine asked him about it once and Kurt answered, almost absentmindedly, that he just needed something to do with his hands. Blaine spent the rest of that day looking at anything but Kurt. The soft clicking has almost become soothing to Blaine in a way, a reminder that Kurt is sitting there, as though Blaine needs one, but still. Blaine has to constantly think of Kurt as my seventeen-year-old student Kurt these days, but it’s worth it to spend time with a boy far more mature than the ones he usually runs across, even at Dalton. Kurt reaches into his bag for something and a book falls out. Blaine reaches down to pick it up.
“Lolita?” Blaine asks, raising an eyebrow as he hands it back to him.
“Watson assigned it to us. You know, my English teacher. The one who hates me,” he says as he studies the cover.
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes she does, Blaine.”
“Mr. Anderson. And I can talk to her, if you really feel that way,” Blaine offers.
“No, no, it’s fine. Someone has to hate me, right?” Kurt pauses, still looking at the book. “How much of an age difference do you think is too much?” he says, still not looking up at Blaine.
“Um… Well, age difference doesn’t actually mean a lot to me,” Blaine says uneasily, surprising Kurt.
“How come?” he asks, finally putting his book away and looking up.
“My dad is eleven years older than my mom. I guess I grew up with it, so it doesn’t seem like a big deal.”
“Hm,” Kurt hums thoughtfully, and Blaine knows they’ve ventured into dangerous territory now. Blaine waits for a while, just to see what Kurt will say. Finally he parts those pretty pink lips. “I don’t think it matters either. Love is love, right?”
“Definitely,” Blaine says. They lapse back into silence, and the clicking of the carabineer in Kurt’s hand resumes. They pick up threads of a conversation every once in a while, but are pretty much quiet until the bells rings to signal the end of the day. Kurt clips the carabineer back onto Blaine’s keys, piles the papers neatly, and makes sure Blaine has everything he needs. He picks up his bag and breezes out of the library with a quick, “See you tomorrow, Blaine!”
Blaine doesn’t even bother to correct him.

The first time Blaine has more than a passing inkling that Kurt actually really likes him is toward the end of class one day, when a boy a year younger than Kurt named Ethan slinks up to Blaine’s desk and sits where Kurt likes to perch when he’s chatting with Blaine, right on the edge of the desk with his legs stretched out long and lean and perfect, nothing like this boy’s. Blaine made the mistake of mentioning an ex-boyfriend of his once and now all of the boys with any bit of audacity hit on him every once in a while. He sees Kurt watching them out of the corner of his eye, and it’s been pretty obvious that Kurt has had a crush on him for a while now, but no matter how much Blaine wants Kurt, he refuses to risk his career and maybe jail for a crush. But then Ethan makes the mistake of jokingly referring to Blaine by his first name, laughing low in his throat as he does so, and Kurt snaps.
“You can’t call him that, Ethan!” Kurt snaps from where his chair is scooted up to Blaine’s desk, like it always is when they’re in Blaine’s classroom.
Ethan turns, startled. “What?”
“You have to call him Mr. Anderson. It’s a rule,” Kurt says reverently, like rules are suddenly sacred.
“You call him Blaine all the time!” Ethan shoots back.
“Well, I’m allowed!”
“Why, because you’re screwing him for those straight A’s you get?” Ethan shouts, and suddenly the entire room is quiet.
“Ethan,” Blaine says lowly. “Go out into the hall right now.” Ethan does, cowering. Kurt is a fiery shade of red. “Kurt is in charge while I deal with Ethan. Just behave, and you won’t even have to listen to him, ok?” The class nods as a whole and stares at Kurt a little while Blaine goes into the hallway and nails Ethan to the wall, talking about the dangerousness and morality of those kinds of accusations, and he will be apologizing to Kurt and have detention every day after school for two weeks. Ethan just stands there and nods, and stammers out apologies when Blaine is finished. Blaine goes back in just as the bell rings to signal the end of the day, and the class files out quickly. Blaine sees that Kurt has already laid out everything Blaine will need when he goes home, and has fled with the rest of the students. Blaine sighs and pulls out the several sheets of paperwork that will make sure Ethan is punished. At least an hour later, Blaine is grading papers and still thinking about what Ethan said and how Kurt reacted, when the boy himself walks through the door.
“Blaine? I mean, um, Mr. Anderson?” he says, clinging to the doorjamb. “Can I come in?”
“You never have to ask. My door is always open for you, Kurt, you know that. And you… you don’t have to call me Mr. Anderson right now.”
Kurt comes in and sits down in his usual chair. “I just… I wanted to apologize, for today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Kurt’s voice is so quiet, and he’s almost curled in on himself. Blaine hasn’t seen him like this since the first time they met, when he was being terrorized by a bully who didn’t know who he was. “I mean, everyone can see the way I… throw myself at you. But I never wanted you to get in trouble. I’m sorry.” He finally looks up at Blaine, and there are the smallest tears converging in the corners of his eyes. “I’ll just leave you alone, ok?” Kurt gets up and puts his chair back. Blaine is stunned. Kurt turns back to him. “Can I just… I’m just going to do something, just once, and then you never have to deal with me again, ok?” And then Kurt sets down his bag and walks slowly toward Blaine. Blaine had swiveled his chair around to face Kurt when he came in so now Blaine’s knees point directly at him. Kurt leans down and wraps each of his hands around Blaine’s armrests, looking Blaine right in the eye. He leans down a little further and presses his lips to Blaine’s, his perfect lips oh-so-soft against Blaine’s slightly dry ones, and Blaine sort of starts and keeps his eyes trained on Kurt’s face, or more precisely on the blur that is Kurt, because he’s so close that he’s out of focus. Kurt pulls back with his eyes still closed, a small blissful smile on his face. “Thank you,” he whispers, and makes to stand at the same time Blaine stutters out an “O-Oh God,” and shoots his hands out to bring Kurt back down against his mouth. Kurt gasps and Blaine takes the opportunity to really taste him, intertwining his tongue with Kurt’s and outlining his teeth. Kurt’s hands have left Blaine’s armrests and now clutching at his biceps, squeezing and gripping and rubbing and God that feels good. Kurt pulls his mouth away from Blaine’s and unceremoniously climbs into Blaine’s lap, bracketing Blaine’s hips with his knees and clutching the back of Blaine’s neck with both hands. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, questioning, until Blaine brings his hands up and intertwines them around Kurt, pressing into the small of his back. Kurt pushes forward and catches Blaine’s mouth again, surprisingly forward for someone who says he’s never had a real kiss. Blaine rubs firm circles into Kurt’s back through his sweater and his shirt and it’s not enough so he rucks up both garments a little and then he’s splaying his hand out and he’s touching bare skin that no one has ever touched before and oh God, Blaine can’t help himself and thrusts his hips up into Kurt, causing Kurt to buck back down, moan, and then freeze.
“That…” Kurt starts and Blaine is all set to apologize and let Kurt run away, and panic and hope Kurt will never mention it but then Kurt shivers and purrs “that felt so good” and rolls his hips down clumsily, pressing his erection into the crease of Blaine’s thigh, and fine, fine, if Kurt wants it then Kurt can have it, and Blaine’s never imagined anything as good as this, a panting, flushed, beautiful boy bucking and writhing above him, giving them both delicious friction that will, for the first time since he was fifteen, make Blaine come in his pants. But he’s ok with it, because Kurt is so incredibly stunning and Blaine slips a pinky under the waistband of Kurt’s slacks and briefs, and presses it just at the top of Kurt’s crack and that’s it, Kurt stills and Blaine feels wetness spreading through Kurt’s slacks and maybe staining his a little, and that’s quite a thought right there, the thought of Kurt’s cum permanently engrained into the cloth of Blaine’s pants, and he’s so achingly hard but Kurt’s gone kind of boneless, and right, right he’s a seventeen-year-old virgin and that was probably his first assisted orgasm, so Blaine can let it slide.
Or he was perfectly willing to until he feels Kurt unlatch one of his hands from around Blaine’s neck and drag it down Blaine’s torso between them, wrapping it around the clear outline of Blaine’s cock through his pants and squeezing. Kurt pants heavily into the crook of Blaine’s neck, his hot breath making Blaine want to seize and thrash and stretch up into Kurt, take Kurt apart and put him back together and mold him into whatever shape Blaine wants. But then this shape is pretty good, this contorted sloppy mess of a boy with his hand rubbing and squeezing his hand so imperfectly perfect around Blaine that he arches up into the touch and comes violently, his head thudding with bruising force on the metal frame of the chair, barely covered by padding. Kurt lets his hand fall to the side, resting in the crack where his own thigh is pressed firmly against Blaine’s. They breathe heavily into the silence for a moment, until Kurt panics a little.
“I won’t tell,” he whispers “but I want you. I want this. Do you…?” he lets the question trail off, like he’s afraid of the answer.
Blaine thinks about it, about how much he wants this and how much he could love this boy versus how wrong this really is and how much trouble he could get in. He leans his forehead against Kurt and grins a little. “I am so going to hell,” he mutters.
Kurt laughs, loud and deep and unabashed, and presses a small kiss to the corner of Blaine’s mouth. “I’ll lead the way.”