Title: None yet!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of it's recognizable characters or plot lines.
Rating: PG, mentions of bullying
Warnings: currently no warnings
Summary: Blaine Anderson, teacher at Dalton, notices somebody out of place...
"Mr. Anderson, it's nearly time," one of the anxious students called out. Nearly every single boy in the class room had gotten out of their seat and was crowded at the door. Blaine looked up from the quizzes that he was grading at the clock before fixing his study hall with a stern glare. Several of the boys shuffled back towards their seats ashamedly. He capped his pen with a long suffering sigh, drawing out the moment for a bit longer, reveling in the feeling of being on the other side of the desk in this case for once.
"Get out of here," Blaine laughed, breaking out into a huge grin. The boys let out a collective whoop of cheer and shoved at each other to get out into the hallway first. Nearby classes must have been inspired by the stampede he let loose, for when he reached the door not a minute later, the corridor was a familiar sea of red and navy. He still clearly remembered his days at Dalton, especially the days that the Warbler's held their usual end of the month hostile take over of the school. While most people wanted to forget high school when they went off to college, there were few memories that he wanted to lose of the place that had been his safe haven.
Blaine followed the crowd towards the senior commons. As the youngest teacher on staff, he had been the easy choice to supervise the unofficially school sanctioned Warbler's concert. He remembered when the Warblers held their concerts under constant threat of detention. Times had certainly changed while he had been away.
The song was just getting underway when Blaine spotted him. It was the lack of proper uniform that caught his eye first, but then Blaine couldn't help himself from staring. It was obvious bad form to ogle students but since this kid was clearly not a student - he would have been sent to the assistant principals office for a uniform infraction within seconds of the first bell - Blaine allowed himself a moment of admiration. The kid was pale, but in a healthy, well groomed kind of way, with wide blue eyes that kept darting around in something akin to wonder. Blaine reasoned he must be a spy of some sort, trying to get information on the Warblers - he didn't know which schools the boys were up against for regionals but Carmel High had been notorious even back in his time with the group for their underhanded tactics.
"Excuse me," Blaine called out once the Warblers had finished and the room was starting to empty out. Several students turned, including the boy. Blaine raised his eyebrows slightly and beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. The boy paled even further - Blaine hadn't thought that was possible - and shuffled through the now sparse crowd, clinging to the strap of his bag for dear life.
"I'm going to be late for class," the boy started, voice shaky and uncertain. Blaine smiled warmly and shook his head.
"I know you're not a student," he said, sitting down on one of the long couches and gesturing to a nearby armchair.
"Please don't tell, I'll leave campus right now and won't speak a word of what I saw. If they find out, I'm sure to get beaten up," the boy hissed franticly, looking over his shoulder to where the council had gathered at the other end of the commons for a post-performance meeting. The grip on his bag tightened until his knuckles turned white, like he was planning on swinging it around.
"Calm down, I won't be telling anybody anything," Blaine laughed lightly. "Provided, that is, that you tell me your name and what you're doing here."
"I think I should just get-"
"Sit down," Blaine said using his best 'teacher voice' to stop the boy from standing up any further. He fell back against the cushions with an ungraceful flop. "I'm Blaine Anderson, long term substitute in the History Department, occasional French teacher." Blaine held his hand out formally to Kurt.
"Kurt Hummel, counter tenor for McKinley Glee club. We're up against the Warblers for Regionals and I came to scope out the competition," Kurt said shortly, shaking his hand as quickly as possible. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in annoyance.
"You happened upon a treasure trove then, haven't you?"
"It was amazing, seeing everybody so into it like that. I can't believe how accepting-"
"I was talking about seeing your competition in full performance mode," Blaine cut in. Kurt's face fell and he dropped his eyes to his lap. "You didn't just come here to spy, did you?"
"No," Kurt whispered.
"Care to expand upon that answer, Mister Hummel?" Blaine asked gently.
"I heard - I mean Dalton has a reputation, you know, for being… well," Kurt trailed off with an effeminate flick of his wrist and a dry, humorless chuckle.
"This is not a gay school, Kurt. The administration just doesn't tolerate bullying of any kind, so many boys who find themselves uncomfortable or in danger seek out our policy. I did, when I was your age," Blaine admitted. Kurt's eyes snapped back to Blaine's.
"You went here?"
"I transferred right at the start of my sophomore year. I take it you're having trouble at school?"
"I'm the only person out of the closet," Kurt began, voice shaking slightly. Blaine could see he was starting to tear up and wanted nothing more than to take his hand and give him support, but there were still several students lingering in the commons and gossip was like wildfire in the halls of Dalton. "I - I try and stay strong about it, but there's this Neanderthal who's made it his mission to make my life a living hell. And nobody seems to notice."
"I know how you feel," Blaine said after a beat of silence, trying not to sound like he was giving Kurt his pity. "I got taunted, at my first school. That was nearly nine years ago, so there was nothing anybody would really do. It was like 'hey, if you're gay, your life is just going to be miserable, sorry. Nothing we can do about it.' So I left, came here. Their policies were even more strict back then, left over from a military academy set of rules rather than a no-tolerance policy on bullies."
Kurt was silent, staring at the coffee table between them, so Blaine continued. "So you have two options. I'd love to tell you to just come enroll here, but tuition to Dalton is pretty steep and I know that's not an option for everybody. Or you can refuse to be the victim prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt, and you have a chance right now to teach him."
"How?" Kurt asked, obviously skeptical, but so open and honest that the raw emotion in his eyes made Blaine ache. He knew he should give a diplomatic answer, something befitting a responsible educator, but Kurt looked so honestly terrified of the prospect of this Neanderthal that he just had to speak up.
"Confront him. Call him out! I ran, Kurt, I didn't stand up. I let the bullies chase me away. As much as I loved Dalton, it is something that I really, really regret," Blaine did reach out then. He awkwardly patted Kurt's knee instead of taking his hand and then stood up. "I can give you a few numbers, of people you could talk to in the mean time."
"You mean like counselors?" Kurt scoffed. Like that, he was closed off and cold again. "I'm not talking to a shrink."
"They're not shrinks, Kurt. They're professionals who -"
"Save it, there's no way I'm doing that. Thanks, but no," Kurt snapped. He sprang from his chair and was halfway to the door by the time Blaine registered that he was gone.
"Wait!" Blaine called on instinct. Something told him he couldn't let Kurt go without a lifeline, without something solid to fall back on.
"I'll give you my number. I'm not trained for this sort of thing, but I have first hand experience," Blaine reasoned, sounding to his own ears like he was trying to convince himself rather than Kurt.
"Okay, yes, that would be nice," Kurt said. He came back over, pulling out an iPhone and holding it out to Blaine, who quickly entered his number and handed it back before the last two council members still in the room dragged their attention away from their song books to pay them any mind.
"Message me so I have your number. If you need anything, just ask. Somebody to talk to, advice. I'll- I'll try my best for you, Kurt," Blaine said with a warm smile. Kurt bit his lip and nodding. "Come on, I'll walk you out."
When Blaine got back to his office after grabbing lunch, his cell phone displayed two messages.
(555-5878) : It's Kurt. (555-5878) : Thank you.
(555-5878) : Thank you.
Blaine grinned and saved the number to his contacts before replying.
To Hummel, Kurt : Don't text and drive! To Hummel, Kurt : And you're welcome.
To Hummel, Kurt : And you're welcome.