Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/654805.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Blaine_Anderson/Kurt_Hummel
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher-Student_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-25 Chapters: 2/? Words: 3866
****** Attention Please ******
by itsabravenewworld
Summary
     Santana convinces Blaine to take French class, just to mess with the
     young new teacher, Mr. Kurt Hummel, and Blaine reluctantly agrees. He
     eventually realizes what a great plan it is. Teacher!Kurt and
     Badboy!Blaine.
Notes
     This is a WIP, and there will probably only be a few more chapters. I
     don't know when I'll get a chance to finish it, so bear with me. I
     hope you like it so far!
***** Chapter 1 *****
Blaine Anderson sat back against his chair, propping his feet on the table in
front of him. "Why the fuck am I even taking this class?" he asked himself. His
best friend Santana heard him, and tried to sit in his lap, grumbling when
Blaine shrugged her off and put his feet back down, now irritated.
"Well, it's because there's a new teacher this year, remember?" she responded,
her ponytail bobbing as she spoke and tilted her head to the side. Instead of
trying to sit on his lap again, she took the seat next to him and crossed her
legs. "And we had plans to make them cry," grinning, she raised a thumb up and
winked.
"I don't even like French though," Blaine grumbled, rolling his eyes at
Santana's unintentional, and if he ever told anyone she was acting this way,
she would kill him, dorkiness.
"Deal with it Anderson," Santana smirked, muffing his hair and laughing when he
smacked her hand away. They had been best friends since freshman year when
Santana had protected him from being bullied by her current boyfriend at the
time, a junior named Tom. She had shrieked for him to let Blaine go, bitching
him out in a mix of Spanish and English slurs until he apologized. Ever since,
they were inseparable, going almost everywhere together. Somehow, Santana had
even convinced her counselor to make it so all of their classes were the same.
She wouldn't tell him how, so he didn't ask.
Santana ended up getting on the Cheerios halfway through her freshman year, and
Blaine had to learn how to protect himself. He had always liked boxing, but
never tried to use it on someone before. Then, one day in late May, a slushee
was thrown at him and he had had enough. He beat the shit out of the kid, and
also his best friend for trying to get in the way. Of course, he got in more
trouble than the two popular boys, but he didn't even care because that had
felt so good.
Then, things started to change. Blaine's attitude had changed for the worse,
maybe not in Santana's opinion, but for his family and the school faculty, it
was certainly bad. He got a piercing on his tongue, but only a small one
because, as much as he wanted to prove how tough he was, he was still
incredibly nervous and scared. He took up smoking, and now was the official
badass of the school. Noah Puckerman tried to challenge this, but it was really
no trouble for Blaine, now muscled and strong, to beat him up. He worked so
hard to build up an image, to make himself known, to be sort of popular in his
own group of friends.
And now, here he was, in French class, surrounded by a lot of the school nerds
and girls who didn't even appeal to him. Normally, he would be excited about
this, being able to mess with the new teacher who, with his luck, would be some
old woman who'd hit him. But the fact that he had gotten almost no sleep
because of his pain in the ass little sister ("I'm only two years younger than
you!" the all too familiar voice screeched in his mind) keeping him up,
blasting music, this was not the case.
And it wasn't even good music, all techno and heavy metal garbage. No matter
how many times he had hollered at her to turn that shit off, she wouldn't
listen, and eventually she started screaming along to the lyrics. When he
finally collapsed and fell asleep, his phone alarm startled him back to
consciousness after only twenty minutes. Forgetting to set it again, he
overslept for at least another hour, making him late for school. (And yes, he
actually tried going to school…sometimes.)
So right now, he was really not in the mood for this.
"Fuck off Lopez," he sneered at her. "And don't touch my hair."
Santana, obviously not taking him seriously, snorted and reached out to
teasingly touch him on the head. He grabbed her arm when it was almost brushing
his hair and shoved it away again.
"Jesus!" Santana exclaimed, in pain, surprise, and in anger. "Touchy, touchy."
Ignoring the comment and his best friend, Blaine shut his eyes, deciding that
he would rather catch up on his sleep in this class, since he didn't care much
for this subject anyways. Santana, pulling out a stick of gum and chewing on
it, considered kicking Blaine's chair, but she really didn't want Blaine's
wrath brought upon her, so she decided not to.
He could hear the click of the door opening, announcing a new arrival, a quiet
shuffling of feet, and he assumed the newcomer was probably his teacher.
Cracking his right eye open, he looked towards the front of the room. Almost
right away, his eyes snapped open when he actually saw the teacher.
"Wow, he is attractive," Santana observed, grinning and sucking her bottom lip
between her teeth.
Blaine almost lost his cool composure and sat up quickly, looking attentively
at the newcomer. He was wearing glasses, which didn't hide the fact that he had
amazingly blue eyes, and he pushed them onto his nose every couple of seconds.
His hair was cropped up, looking messy, but in an incredibly put-together way;
the vest he was wearing was incredibly tight, showing just how thin he was. A
tie was loosely tied around his neck, and all Blaine wanted to do was pull on
it, see the pale skin of his neck strain under the pressure, and make him gasp
in surprise with his pretty lips opening slightly.
Wow, there's no way he's our teacher, there's no way he's real, is he real?
Santana elbowed him in the side, and he grimaced when he realized that he had
just said that all out loud.
Getting over the initial surprise of the arrival, Blaine smirked and looked to
Santana, writing down a 10 on the small slip of paper she had pulled out.
Underneath his scrawl, she put down an 8.5 and he narrowed his eyes at her. She
shrugged and put her hand above her head, indicating he was too tall. Blaine
watched him taking papers out of a bag, and rested a hand on his chin. "I don't
think so," he said to her, not bothering to be quiet, even though class had
started.
Their teacher turned and looked around the room, his gaze stopping at Blaine
for a little longer than necessary, the expression on his face unreadable. Then
he smiled, looking away. "Hello class," he started, and Blaine had to bite his
tongue to stop himself from making an undignified noise. His voice was perfect,
and it certainly fit the man. Blaine glanced at Santana who was already looking
at him, fanning herself.
"Wow" she mouthed.
The man up front narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, and Blaine would bet
that he was considering whether he should split them up or not. He just grinned
cheekily and waved. "Is there a problem, Mr…?"
"Anderson, sir," Blaine responded, leering. "And no, there's no problem at
all." Everyone turned, confused, to look at him, and he swore he saw the
teacher blush before he turned again and started writing on the board.
"Okay, good to know," he muttered, more to himself than the class, but still
earning a few chuckles from the students. "Anyways," he finished writing on the
board. "I am Kurt Hummel, your teacher for this year. I'm new to this district,
so I guess I'll need to explain how it works in here." He seated himself on top
of the front desk, crossing his legs. "I feel like you are a good class, for
the most part," he added, glancing towards Blaine again, "so I would like to
get to know you all better. I feel that it will help if you call me by my first
name. Plus, Mr. Hummel sounds too formal for me at the moment." He laughed to
himself, and looked around. "So, just call me Kurt. If you have any questions,
don't be afraid to ask, that's why I'm here- yes mr. Anderson?"
"Blaine," Blaine said, lowering his arm. "And I wanted to know, how old are
you?" He was crossing a line and he knew it. Everyone knew not to mess with new
teachers, because it could affect how they taught for the rest of the year. But
he couldn't help it.
A couple people in front of him laughed, while Kurt just smiled, looking like
he was hiding his discomfort. "I am 24 at the moment, and don't plan on getting
any older to be honest," was all he said. Blaine widened his eyes in surprise
at the honest answer. "Any other questions?" he asked, pointing his attention
away from the teen. As the other students started asking pointless questions
like usual, Blaine and Santana delved into a conversation about what they were
going to do to mess with him.
"I don't think it's a good idea," Blaine said. "Maybe he's just playing nice,
and then a couple weeks in, he'll bite."
"Well that's good because you know what?" Santana lowered her voice to a low
growl, leaning close to Blaine's face. "We'll just have to bite right
back." They laughed and looked forward to realize the whole class was staring
at them, including the teacher.
"What?" Blaine asked snippily.
"Are you done?" Kurt asked him cooly, and Blaine felt a sliver of annoyance,
and another feeling he couldn't decipher. All he knew was that he didn't like
that tone on him.
"We sure are," he responded, looking almost guilty. Kurt continued answering a
question a girl Jessica asked until the bell rang, signaling the end of the
period.
"Okay, make sure to bring your textbooks tomorrow everyone!" Kurt shouted over
the hum of chatter as people left the room. Blaine made sure to take his time
getting up, watching Kurt out of the corner of his eyes. As soon as they exited
the room, Blaine making sure to sway his hips on the way out, he turned to
Santana excitedly. "Oh this is going to be afantastic year."
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As soon as the last class was dismissed for the day, Kurt let out a long sigh
and all but collapsed into his chair. Rubbing his face, he started shoving
papers from his brand new desk into his bag. He was new to teaching, only
graduating from college two years ago before getting the job at his old high
school, McKinley. Everyone always thought he would be too scared to come back,
but he proved them all wrong.
At least he was fortunate enough not to receive a great amount of kids who
would give him issues in his classes.
Except, unfortunately, he had gotten Blaine Anderson. The teachers all had
warned Kurt about him, even Sue Sylvester, who had softened just the least bit
since they had last chatted. Most teachers reacted oddly when they received
news of Kurt's new student, especially the loud chorus teacher Rachel Berry,
who just happened to also have been Kurt's best friend in high school. Well,
his only friend really.
She had started her job earlier than him, and had already been warned about the
boy, though she never actually had Blaine as a student, and it was really only
fair that she cautioned Kurt as well.
"Kurt, I'm warning you, that boy will make you want to tear your gorgeous hair
out," she said in a serious voice as they sat down for coffee one morning per
usual. She was as exuberantly annoying as ever, and dressed to kill in a short
white least she had gotten a bit of fashion sense as she grew older. She had
long abandoned her tacky sweaters when a few Neanderthals in college teased her
for days, taking pictures and scribbling on them, calling her a kindergartener.
The next week, she arrived looking as if she had stepped out of a photo-shoot,
with perfect makeup and hot-as-hell clothes that made nearly every guy's jaws
drop, even more so her tormentors. It's too bad for them that they had made fun
of her in the first place, because after her transformation, whenever they
asked her out, she would laugh in their faces. Rachel Berry most certainly was
not one to forgive and forget easily.
"It's too bad, according to Figgins and Emma; he used to be such a sweet boy."
She frowned, stirring milk into her own coffee as violently as ever, making the
cup quiver with force.
"Rach, one, nothing would ever make me tear my hair out," he said this with a
swipe of a finger to fix a loose strand of hair. "Ever. And two, I'm pretty
sure I can handle him." He took a sip of his coffee, marveling in the taste.
"Oh sweet Jesus I love whoever invented coffee." Rachel laughed at him as he
took another gulp and groaned low in his throat, sounding oddly like sex
noises, but Rachel wasn't about to point that out.
"Well they're probably dead," Rachel snipped instead, watching a young couple
arguing heatedly on the sidewalk right outside of the window and rolling her
eyes and pointing discreetly. "But seriously Kurt. Santana isn't a walk in the
park to teach either, she might even be worse. You will most likely have her at
the same time as Blaine because somehowshe convinces them to let her switch
classes." Kurt shrugged. He most definitely did not want to know what Santana
had to do in order to switch her schedule around. He was a little worried about
teaching Blaine, though. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips silently in grim
determination. He handled a school full of homophobes and a judgmental world
his whole life.
He could handle Blaine Anderson. He could handle this.
"I don't think I can handle this."
Blaine was, at the moment, sprawled out on the school bleachers, watching
Santana take slow drags of her cigarette with a sour look on his face. Though
he actually hated smoking, thought it was gross and unhealthy, he pretended to
do it for the sake of his image. His image. Sometimes the thought that he now
cared about other people's opinion made him sick. But it kept him safe and
alive, at least for now.
That's exactly what it was though, faking. Faking everything. He had fooled
everyone by just simply having a package out during school hours. Within the
day, rumor had gone around that he was a chain smoker, going straight through 3
packages a day. One story even reached his ears when someone claimed to another
student behind him that he had once almost killed someone because they stole
his favorite lighter. Since word had already started spreading, Blaine just
decided to go along with it, keeping a cigarette in his mouth sometimes just to
make himself even more convincing.
Of course, Santana was the only one who knew the truth. She oddly never tried
to convince him to smoke, and he never asked her why that was. He just assumed
that it was because she understood. She always understood.
"What up your ass, Anderson?" Santana questioned before taking a huff from the
smoke. The smoke billowed out of her mouth as she coughed, Blaine lightly
patting her back in sympathy. "I know it's not new teacher Hummel," she said
with a wink and another deep cough.
"You really shouldn't smoke either 'Tan."
"Shut up mother," she snipped, and he sighed, lifting his hands up in silent
surrender, and she looked guilty. Blaine only let himself open up to her, and
gave his sympathy to her. He used to be so fucking nice, she sometimes found
herself thinking, feeling a pang of regret every time. Sometimes, though, she
would get flashes of the caring, sweet boy that Blaine really was.
She loved those moments, living for the quick flicker of concern, or the
genuine smiles directed her way that he let slip. To be quite honest, she hated
the new person he had become; the shell of the terrific boy he had once been,
the one that she herself had created.
===============================================================================
"Hi Santana!" Blaine greeted happily, waving slightly even though they were
only a few feet apart now. Her eyes took in his outfit, as unbelievably asinine
as normal, but she found it incredibly endearing.
"Hey kiddo," she grinned in return, rubbing his hair, laughing when he scowled.
"We're the same age, 'Tan," he sighed out, probably his millionth time telling
her this, hoping she would get the point.
"I know, just fucking with you-" she cut off with a gasp when Blaine was
suddenly covered head-to-toe with red and blue slush. His cute dimply smile
flickered away and he inhaled sharply at the cold sensation, blinking rapidly,
but then clamping them shut when the slushy started stinging his eyes. He was
quivering from the cold drink onslaught, looking so small and embarrassed that
Santana growled, so angry that her vision went white.
Santana stomped after the jocks who had thrown the slushies as Blaine yelled
after her desperately, standing still from shock in the sticky mess and not
completely able to open his eyes. She grabbed one of the guy's shoulders,
digging her nails in so sharply that he hissed, turning around to face her. His
face looked fearful for a millisecond when he saw the furious cheerleader
facing him, but it turned into a mask of mockery. "May we help you?" he asked,
so sickly polite that Santana couldn't hold herself back longer and she slapped
himhard, so hard his head flew to the side, and scratch marks from her killer
nails marred his cheek.
"You fuck; I swear to God if you touch him again, I will murder you! I will
pull the razorblades out and get Puckerman, and I will KILL YOU!" She screeched
at him, not even bothering with the other boy, who looked rightly terrified
already. If her threat wasn't enough to scare them, telling them she would get
Puck involved would assure they would never give Blaine problems again. About
ready to charge at him, she was stopped by a sticky hand on her arm. Furious,
she turned to see Blaine.
"San, it's okay, it's alright," he said hurriedly. The jocks made their
getaway, thankful for the distraction, nearly tripping over each other to
escape Santana's wrath. "Don't worry about them," he mumbled with a small, sad
smile. "Everyone does this to the unpopular kids here, remember?" He lifted his
arms before dropping them, contorting his face at the sound it made.
"No, they don't get to do this to you, I won't let them!" Santana was still so
mad; she couldn't see how Blaine flinched at her shouting. "Why the fuck are
you letting them do this to you Blaine, why are you so forgiving? One of these
days, something so bad is going to happen, you won't survive, and don't tell me
you'd just forgive them for that shit!"
"I just don't want you getting in trouble for me, Santana," he mumbled lowly,
looking down, and if his face wasn't covered in slush, Santana would have seen
that it was burning in shame. "It's my fault I can't defend myself, I can't do
anything to stop them."
"Are you kidding, Blaine? Don't you dare blame yourself for what they did to
you!" She wouldn't hear any of this. Blaine was too sweet to have to deal with
all the guilt and issues piled on each shoulder. Eventually it was going to
cause him to crash down, hard. Her anger pushed through the rational part of
her brain and the words were out before she could stop herself. "Stop being
such a fucking wimp!"
Blaine looked at her, surprised, before pain littered his face and he was
walking away before she could even try apologizing. "Wait- Blaine!" His head
bowed even farther down, and she could have sworn she saw him sob before he
turned the corner. She clenched her fists. Now it wasn't directed towards
Blaine's tormentors, though, only at herself.
===============================================================================
When Santana heard news about Blaine nearly beating those same two hockey
players to death, she sped to his house, breaking the speed limit more than a
couple times. From what she had heard, they threw another round of slushies at
Blaine again, and he just snapped, finally letting them feel what they had been
dishing out for so long.
She let herself in, knowing no one was home and running up to Blaine's room. He
was on his laptop, calmly scrolling down a word document.
"Homework," he said in a monotone. Santana sat on his bed, trying to find the
words to start off with.
"Blaine, what-"
"What happened?" Blaine asked for her, voice still a little dull and calm.
"Remember those guys? The ones who threw the slushies last week? Well they
decided to give me another little surprise today after lunch. So I decided to
stop being a "fucking wimp-" he made air quotes with his fingers, "and I kicked
their asses."
Santana was shocked; she had never heard Blaine talk that way, never
so unhappy. He was always happy. Even the swears coming out of his mouth
sounded foreign to her. "Come on Blaine, this isn't you talking. This isn't
you. I know you, you would never-"
"Well I guess it's who I am now," Blaine snapped, finally turning to face her,
and she gaped at the purple bruise covering his cheekbone. "It's who I have to
be."
Santana felt horrible for doing this to her best friend. Maybe someday, Blaine
will find the courage to be able to be himself once again. But for now, she
would try her best to be there for him as much as she can. "It's harder to quit
than it looks, Blaine," Blaine knew Santana was serious because of the usage of
his first name, and he rested a hand on his knee, giving his attention to her.
"You should just start telling everyone you quit so you don't have to keep up
this act anymore."
Blaine frowned; gazing at the sun setting now, his eyes squinted. He shrugged.
"I'll do it if you quit."
"That's kind of unfair, don't you think?" Santana asked him, knocking his leg
with her own.
"I don't think so," Blaine smirked. "You don't get to die as early this way. Is
it a deal?" He held out a hand.
Santana considered him for a second before giving in. "I guess so." She held
out her hand as well. They linked their fingers together before tearing them
apart, fist pumping and then punching each other on the opposite arm. Now that
they had initiated the handshake, the deal was official. Blaine took his and
Santana's packages of smokes and tossed them into the garbage can before
returning and seating himself again.
"So," Santana started with a smirk. "Let's talk about that new teacher."
Chapter End Notes
     Swift addition, eh?
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