A/N: My major story (Meet the Warblers) is trying to kill my muse by throwing off a cliff. As such, I have decided to write this prequel to Meet the Warblers, from Never Been Kissed to Special Education (right where the story starts). To all my Meet the Warblers readers, I hope you're not too angry with me for writing this instead of Meet the Warblers. To all my new readers, hi! *waves* You can read this story alone (obviously), but you should go check out Meet the Warblers if you like this! Read on.

Kurt Hummel was having a great morning. His outfit was fabulous, no one had picked on him, and he was walking along the hallway with Tina, for once not flinching at the corner. Mercedes had informed him that no one had seen Karofsky that morning. Apparently, even Philistines took sick days.

"I take it we have a lot of sweater trains to look forward to this season," Tina commented, and Kurt smiled. Yes, he knew his outfit was amazing and ahead of the trends.

And slam! Face forward into the lockers, catching his face on his hands just in time. That would be an excellent way to make his perfectly formed nose look like Rachel's. Karofsky shoved past Tina in the space he had created by shoving Kurt. Mercedes needed to get better sources.

"Are you okay?" Tina asked quietly, obviously concerned. While he would have a bruise on his stomach from where it hit the edge of the half-open locker, he would be alright.

"Yeah, fine," he replied, trying to get the breath Karofsky had knocked out of his lungs back. Taking Tina's arm, they continued on their way to lunchtime Glee.

Naturally, because Karofsky was a moron, Kurt and Tina were late for Glee. Not that Mr. Schuester would make a big deal out of it, but Rachel would attempt to verbally tear him limb-from-limb later.

"Alright, guys, let's get down to business," Mr. Schue addressed the club as the two sat down. "First, let's welcome back Noah Puckerman." Joy. Despite his annoyance, everyone around him clapped. They had needed his voice, whether his presence was preferable or not. "Puck, I hope your time in Juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Clearly, his massive ego had returned with him. Kurt almost felt bad for harboring the hope that it had been beat out of him. "I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Wow, what a catch. Can't believe I ever let you go." Quinn could be a bitch sometimes, but only when it was really necessary. Kurt had to love her for that comment.

"And now, drum roll, Finn." Like Finn was the only one who could keep a beat. It would be different if he was actually at the drum set. Nevertheless, Finn pounded on a (probably unopened) text book, and Mr. Schue could make his big announcement. "Because I have in my hand our competition for Sectionals next month." Rachel was the only one who looked worried.

"First, the a cappella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers." An all-boys Catholic school. Sounds like Kurt's own personal brand of hell.

"Okay, hold up, like a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head," Santana commented with a look at Kurt. What supportive friends he had. Like going to an all-boys school would make people any more accepting.

"And the other team to beat... the Hipsters, a first-year club from the Warren Township continuing education program. Now, they are a glee club composed entirely of elderly people getting their high school GEDs." Well, that was nothing to worry about.

"Is that legal?" Why wouldn't it be, Streisand?

"How are we supposed to compete against a bunch of adorable old people?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt almost rolled his eyes at his best girl, a habit that would gain him yet another bruise.

"Are you kidding? Brittle bones. Give one of those old ladies a good luck pat on the rear it'll shatter her pelvis." Puck's hyperbole (not that he would know what that word meant) was funny, not that Kurt would ever tell him that.

"Moving on. Since it seemed to get you guys jazzed about Sectionals last year, I want to make this week our second annual boys vs. girls tournament." This could be fun, if only Mr. Schue took him out of the category in which he actually belonged (not that 90% of the people in the school believed that), and put him in the one where he had friends. "So, split up into two groups, and... figure out what songs you're gonna sing."

Now... maybe Mr. Schue wouldn't notice if... "Kurt, I'm gonna say it again. Boys' team." Damn. Kurt went over to sit awkwardly in the middle of the chattering boys. It was one of the only places that he didn't know every lyric of every song mentioned by heart.

Kurt strutted past Puck pushing Artie. Oddly, Artie was smiling, so Kurt didn't feel the need to intervene (normally Puck would be pushing Artie down the stairs. Glee club hadn't done much to bring the polar opposites together). Smiling confidently, Kurt was unprepared for the hands on his arm slamming his back into the lockers.

"What is your problem?" Crap, did that come out of his mouth? Kurt's temper really would get the better of him someday.

"You talking back to me? You want a piece of The Fury?" What the hell? Kurt's confusing and irritation once again steam rolled over his common sense.

"'The Fury'?" he asked, dumbly.

"That's what I named my fist." Play it cool, Kurt, say something he won't understand and he'll leave you alone.

"Well, with that level of creativity, you could easily become assistant manager at a rendering plant." Perfect comment.

"I don't know what that is," I know, "but if I find out it's bad, The Fury's gonna find you." With one last slam of Kurt's abused back into the lockers, Karofsky walked away. Kurt sighed, keeping his eyes closed and leaning his head back. Gaga, his back hurt.

"Is there anything that I could do?" Strong coffee instead of water, for one, and a very large ice pack for his poor, aching back.

After a long pause, Kurt answered his teacher. "No. It's my hill to climb alone."

"Can I be honest?" As long as he got to be honest as well. 'Your vests are atrocious, your song and soloist selection are narrow and favoritist, and though you are probably the least judgmental teacher at this school, you still treat me differently than everyone else,' Kurt thought, but he only raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his water. "I think it's getting to you." No, really? "Usually, this stuff rolls right off your," poor, abused, aching "back, but, lately, you've been belligerent, angry, pushing people away."

"Can I be honest with you?" Mr. Schuester nodded. "You, like everyone else at this school, are too quick to let homophobia slide. And your lesson plans are boring and repetitive." Might as well get one of his true thoughts in there. "Boys vs. Girls? That doesn't challenge any of us."

"You mean because I didn't let you join the girls like you wanted?" Perhaps. Maybe he just wanted one thing in his life to be the way he wanted. Mr. Schuester apparently couldn't, or wouldn't, help him the way he needed.

"To answer your question, yes, I'm unhappy. And yes, being the only out gay kid at this school gets me down. But, most of all, I'm not challenged in the least here." That was true. McKinley academics were sub-par, and their extra-curriculars were too under-funded to be completely worth-while. Maybe that would get Mr. Schuester thinking.

"Look, I'm not tossing the baby out with the bath water here," Mr. Schuester began at afternoon rehearsal, and Kurt couldn't decide whether his stomach dropped or his heart leaped.

"I've totally done that," Brittany added from her traditional seat next to Santana, and Mr. Schuester paused for a moment. Kurt made a mental note to explain the saying to her, as well as to comment on Mercedes' fabulous necklace.

"We're just making an adjustment." Nothing good would ever come out of those words. "Boys, you are now doing songs traditionally sung by girl groups." Yes! Maybe he was too much of a cynic when he came to Mr. Schue's ridiculous traditions and favoritism. This would be amazing! "And girls, try some classic rock. Uh, the Who, the Stones. The more opposite your choice, the more points you get." This could possibly be the best idea Mr. Schuester's limited Lima brain had come up with.

"Don't worry gentleman. I have this one under control," Kurt muttered to the other boys. To be fair, they did all lean in to listen to him. Now, he just needed to draw it out for them.

Kurt eagerly pasted the pictures onto his presentation board. While Mr. Schue's assignment wasn't the opposite of what he normally did, he could definitely help the boys get in touch with their feminine sides.

"What're you doin', kiddo?" his dad asked form the couch, eating his heart-health fruit salad with cranberry poppy seed dressing.

"Working on my Glee assignment. Well, our Glee assignment, but I've taken over control," Kurt replied smugly, adding a picture of himself to the center. Working on the mash-up was a well-needed break from worrying about... well, everything.

"What's the assignment?" His dad really was trying to get more involved in Kurt's life. Apparently, he felt bad about the heart attack and what had happened with Finn, so he was trying to get closer to his song. It was working, to a point.

"It's the second annual boys vs. girls mash-up competition," Kurt answered, planning out the songs as he worked.

"And, uh, you're on.." Kurt smiled, though his dad couldn't see it. Dad knew him so well.

"I'm on the boys' team, not for lack of trying. Luckily, the assignment is to do the opposite of what we normally do, which is classic rock or rap, in leather." And... done.

"What are you having them do?" Kurt recognized the wary tone of his dad's voice. it was the same tone he used whenever he brought Finn up.

"Something classic by female artists. Not 'gay' enough to make their masculinity feel threatened, "Kurt rolled his eyes, "but it will definitely be better then whatever Rachel comes up with."

"You sure it's a good idea to boss the boys into a girl number?" Kurt sighed. His dad really was trying.

"First of all, it's not a 'girly' numbers. Second, boys are completely driven by testosterone, which means their overall goal is to win, and the more opposite the performance is, the more points we get," Kurt explained, putting away his glue and magazines.

"Just checkin', kiddo. You know how guys can get." Kurt sighed again. After coming so close to losing his father, he understood better why his dad was so protective. That didn't mean it couldn't be annoying.

"Yeah, I do," Kurt said with a patient smile, flipping his boards over. "Goodnight, dad." He walked over to kiss his dad goodnight before heading into his sanctuary.

"Goodnight, son." Burt waited until his son was downstairs for a few minutes to check on his designs. Walking over to the kitchen table where Kurt had been working (and dumping away the rest of that 'heart healthy' crap as he did), he looked through Kurt's work. Oh boy, this wouldn't end well.

Setting up his presentation (mentally thanking the nice-if-eccentric art teacher that had lent him the easels) and humming the mash-up to himself, Kurt mentally ran through his speech. The boys would like his idea, he knew it. And he would certainly have his almost-step-brother on his side, right?

The boys all walked in with identical expressions of skepticism. Kurt nervously wrung his hands, knowing that they wouldn't notice. Puck, of course, arrived late and threw off Kurt's whole time system, making him mentally curse the moment Mrs. Puckerman decided she wanted children.

"Alright then, Puckerman," Kurt said with a glare, and began his speech, smacking his main board with his pointer. "Now, obviously for this medley to work, I'm gonna have to sing lead, and, of course, when you're singing Diana Ross, Bob Mackey-esque Maribou feather boas are a must."

"Isn't this lesson about opposites?" And he was being interrupted already. "I mean, you in a sequined gown and a feather boa is exactly what you'd expect," Artie said with a shrug. He earned points for having something to write notes on (so did Mike, but he was probably doodling).

"Okay, who said anything about a gown?" He wasn't a girl! If he was, he wouldn't be in this room!

"Uh, dude, why don't you make yourself useful and put some rat poison in them old folks' Jello or visit the Garglers," Puck said, obviously trying to take control of the situation. Whether it was in support of Artie (what an odd friendship that was), or because he was just arrogant, it didn't matter.

"The Warblers," he corrected. As he saw it, he was standing at the front of the room with the pointer, he had the power. All the Neanderthal had was a football.

"Whatever." Witty comeback. "See what they're up to, and you can wear all the feathers you want," Kurt steamed as he tossed the football to Finn, who hadn't said anything, "you'll blend right in."

Kurt could feel the blood rising in his face. After a long moment, he said "Fine" picked up the board that he had worked so hard on and left. Nobody tried to call him back, and his face burned even brighter.

'Make yourself useful... visit the Garglers...' Puck's jeering words rang in Kurt's head as he stormed home, crushing the board and tossing it in the nearest trash can. Screw the trouble he would get in for skipping US History. Maybe it would be nice to go somewhere he was actually appreciated, instead of constantly mocked and tormented.

Dalton Academy seemed to be an extremely nice school. Thankfully, the first thing he saw on the web site was pictures of boys (cute boys, he thought before pushing the idea away. Life wasn't that nice to him) in their uniforms. There had to be some way he could replicate it.

Scribbling down the address for his GPS, Kurt immediately went to his closet. Black jacket (no Dalton crest, but hopefully nobody would notice), red tie (hidden enough by the jacket), white shirt, and Black pants (not baggy enough, but they would have to do). The 'uniform' wasn't perfect, but Kurt had a feeling it wouldn't matter. And he added stylish sunglasses (ignoring that it was late October), just because he could.

He was correct. Dalton Academy was amazing and classy. It gave off the air of having an immaculate history and every surface he had seen was covered in wood. In hindsight, visiting the school without any kind of layout or plan was a dumb idea. So, Kurt just followed the tide. For some reason, all the boys seemed to be rushing in one direction. Following the stream of uniforms down a beautiful stair case with wrought-iron railings and a artistic skylight, Kurt took his sunglasses off his nose, talking to the first boy he saw.

"Excuse me, um, hi, can I ask you a question? I'm new here." The boy's eyes scanned up and down his body before offering him a hand to shake.

"My name's Blaine," he offered shortly.

"Kurt," he replied, slightly breathless (absurdly). Blaine was clearly studying his (obviously fake) uniform. Now, Kurt was slightly nervous.

"So, what exactly is going on?" Now Blaine's face lit up with animation.

"The Warblers! Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a while." Wait, what? In McKinley, the only reason this many students would converge was if Jacob Ben Israel's head was being shaved and he was hoisted up the flagpole by his Ninja Turtle underwear.

"So, wait, the Glee Club here is kind of cool?" Miracles do happen.

"The Warblers are like rock stars." Kurt couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. Seemed too good to be true. "Come on," Blaine said with a smile, grabbing his hand, "I know a short-cut."

The moment felt like a scene from a Lifetime movie: running down a deserted hallway, hand-in-hand. Blaine was gorgeous and, ignoring the fact that he probably wasn't gay, it was actually very romantic (also ignoring the fact that Blaine had grabbed the wrong hand and was currently trying to dislocate his shoulder). All too soon, the short-cut was over, and they came to big wooden doors.

Blaine pushed the doors open, and the room behind them was swarming with boys moving furniture. The uniform, it seemed, had different variations, and Kurt mentally cursed not looking around the web site more. He could have duplicated the red sweater look easily.

"Oh, I stick out like a sore thumb," Kurt said, still feeling nervous about his plan (or lack thereof).

"Well, next time, don't forget your jacket, new kid," Blaine said with a grin, reaching forward to fix Kurt's jacket and making his breath catch. "You'll fit right in. Now, if you'll excuse me," he added, discarding his messenger bag. Then the music started, and Kurt realized Blaine was the Warblers' lead soloist. He seemed more like a groupie, the way he talked.

Before you met me, I was alright,
but things were kinda heavy,
you brought me to life.
Now, every February,
you'll be my Valentine... Valentine.

The Warblers, he would admit, were good, but all he could focus on was Blaine, and the little heart he was making. Blaine sang the last line of the verse directly to Kurt with a little nod, and Kurt could feel himself melting. Not again.

Let's go all the way tonight,
no regrets, just love.
We can dance until we die,
you and I will be young forever.

Students were snapping and bopping along to the music, and it was incredible and slightly unnerving, but Kurt could not take his eyes off of Blaine, who looked at him (he was sure) more then he looked at anyone else in the room. It was probably a coincidence, making the 'new kid' feel more comfortable, but it still enchanted Kurt.

You make me feel like I'm livin' a
teenage dream, the way you turn me on.
I can't sleep, let's run away
and don't ever look back... don't ever look back.

Kurt's heart jumped straight out of his throat when Blaine pointed to him on the first line. They all pointed absentmindedly into the audience, but Blaine was looking at him too. The whole room seemed more animated as they went into the chorus.

Let's go all the way tonight,
no regrets, just love.
We can dance until we die,
you and I will be young forever.

You make me feel like I'm livin' a
teenage dream, the way you turn me on.
I can't sleep, let's run away
and don't ever look back... don't ever look back.

The same thing happened (both with the students and Blaine) as they repeated the chorus. It was honestly like a crazy dream, a beautiful boy was serenading him and people (boys, no less) were actually supporting a Glee Club.

Imma get your heart racing
in my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight!

You make me feel like I'm livin' a
teenage dream, the way you turn me on.
I can't sleep, let's run away
and don't ever look back.. don't ever look back

My heart stops when you look at me
Just one touch, now baby I believe
this is real, so take a chance
and don't ever look back.. don't ever look back

Imma get your heart racing
in my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight!
Let you put your hands on me
in my skin-tight jeans
be your teenage dream tonight!

Not only were their harmonies amazing (because they definitely were), but the entire performance wasn't focused around or dependent on Blaine (like it would be if it was Rachel). Kurt wondered for a moment where their director was, but found that he couldn't care less.

Everyone clapped, cheered, and offered their congratulations when they finished. Blaine gave him a little wink as he accepted the praise he was being given. After most of the Dalton students had wandered out of the commons (the Warblers stayed), Blaine wandered over to Kurt.

"Wow," Kurt commented honestly. Blaine's voice was amazing, the dancing was uniform (if simple), not many a cappella choirs do that well, and the other students had loved them. They really were rock stars.

"Thanks," Blaine said with a smile, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "All classes are canceled for the rest of the day, in case you didn't get the text. So, tell me about yourself." What was he, the wonderful welcoming committee? Kurt tried to ignore how odd it was that Blaine seemed completely comfortable touching him.

"Kurt Hummel, diva extraordinare, ex-football player and cheerleader, need I go on?" Kurt said with a slightly smug grin. Say what you want about him, but he had an interesting past.

"Kurt Hummel... hmm. I think I like 'new kid' better," Blaine grinned. "Too bad you're not one." Kurt could feel the color drain out of his face, making Blaine laugh. "It's alright. Now, who are you?"

"I go to McKinley High," was a dumb thing to say, but Blaine seemed to understand.

"A spy, huh?" Kurt went to deny it, but Blaine just smiled. "It's alright," he motioned to two other boys to come over. "How about coffee?" he asked the three who all nodded. "First," he addressed Kurt with a grin, "you need to chance, because you look ridiculous." Kurt blushed and the other two looked at Blaine, confused.

Luckily, Kurt had an extra set of clothes in my car (a habit that came with getting slushied on a regular basis). When he came back in, Blaine led him to what seemed to be a cafeteria or study area with tables. Kurt sat down in the only available chair at the table, the rest of the area was deserted, with a few students floating around in the other part of the room. The school really had shut down.

"Latte?" Blaine asked, sliding over the coffee. Kurt murmured 'thank you' barely forming the words. He was sitting at one side of the table, and the three Dalton boys were sitting on the other, making it feel a lot like an interrogation.

"This is Wes and David," Blaine gave no indication as to which was which.

"It's very civilized for you to invite me for coffee before you beat me up for spying." The comment was meant as a joke, but it didn't seem to go over well.

"We are not going to beat you up," the boy on Blaine's right (who, he would guess was Wes) said firmly.

"You were such a terrible spy, we thought it was sort of endearing." David seemed more easy-going, and Blaine was obviously comfortable around the two, sipping his medium drip.

"Which made me think that spying on us wasn't really the reason you came." Blaine could read his mind, obviously, that was the only explanation. Before Kurt went and made a complete fool of himself out of this completely unattainable guy, he had to ask.

"Can I ask you guys a question?" They seemed nice enough, but so would people like Karofsky to the untrained (or un-bruised) eye. "A-Are you guys all gay?" The three started laughing, which was a good sign that he wasn't about to be punched.

"Uh, uh, no, I mean, I am, but these two have girlfriends." I'm sorry. Could you repeat that? For once, I'm actually interested in a gay guy. I thought miracles were supposed to come closer to Christmas.

"This is not a gay school," Puck would object, "we just have a zero-tolerance harassment policy." Kurt almost choked on his coffee. Dalton really was too good to be true. A zero-tolerance harassment policy, a popular glee club, prized academics, and an exceedingly gorgeous, talented gay boy who Kurt knew. Kurt resisted the urge to pinch himself.

"Everybody gets treated the same, no matter what they are. It's pretty simple," Wes said with a shrug, and he was so wrong. It was about the farthest from simple he could think of. In a world that seemed to completely hate him and was determined to make him miserable in every possible way, there was actually somewhere he could be 'just one of the guys'? it was overwhelming, and Kurt's incredible self-control was the only thing keeping him from gaping like an idiot, though he must have been staring for a while, because Blaine's expression became sympathetic.

"Would you guys excuse us?" Blaine asked.

"Take it easy, Kurt," Wes said with a smile, and the two boys left with their coffees, just like that. Obviously, Blaine was some sort of leader among the Warblers.

"I take it you're having trouble with school," Blaine said calmly, but not unkindly.

"I'm the only out of the closet person in my school, and-and I tried to 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." Kurt's eyes were welling up and he was fighting back tears while he spoke.

"I know how you feel," Blaine said, just as calmly as before. "I got taunted at my old school, and it really... pissed me off," Blaine censored with a (cute) little grimace. "I even complained about it to the faculty, and they were sympathetic and all, but you could just tell that nobody really cared." It's like Blaine was telling the story of what had happened in Mr. Schue's office just the other day. "I-it was like, 'hey, if you're gay, your life's just gonna be miserable. Sorry, nothing we can do about it.'" His friends, even his dad sometimes, seemed to be saying the exact same thing with their eyes, and it hurt like nothing else. "So I left, I came here, simple as that. So, you have two options. I mean, I'd love to tell you to come enroll here, but tuition at Dalton is sort of steep, and I... 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." It didn't seem possible, but was there anything this boy didn't know? He was like Kurt's perfect guardian angel at the moment.

"How?" Karofsky was so ignorant, even teachers couldn't teach him.

"Confront him." Even the words seemed daunting. Clearly, Blaine didn't realize that Karofsky was very capable of snapping Kurt in half. He liked option one better, but Blaine was probably right. "Call him out. I ran, Kurt, I didn't stand up. I let bullies chase me away, and it is something that I really, really regret." Blaine stood up to leave, and Kurt followed him.

"Thank you," Kurt said, for all of this. It's nice to have someone who's been through something similar, who knows what I'm going through." What was the appropriate reaction when someone you met that day bares their soul to you?

"I wish I had someone like that," Blaine admits. "It's difficult to go through something like this alone." Kurt nodded. His friends may support him sometimes, but recently he had felt... invisible. "It'll always be here for you, Kurt, rain or shine or... hurricane. I don't care if you call me at two A.M. in the middle of a tornado, I'll be there as soon as I can, alright?" Kurt could only nod, afraid he would get too emotional (again) if he said anything. "Come here."

Blaine pulled Kurt into a hug, too long to be friendly, too short to be romantic. Confusing length aside, Blaine's arms were safe and warm and Kurt sincerely appreciated the gesture.

"I... I should get home. I skipped the last part of school and my dad will be worried," Kurt said once Blaine let him go.

"Alright," Blaine said with a smile. Whipping a pen out of his pocket, he scribbled something on Kurt's hand. "Call me later?" Kurt smiled.

"I will. Bye, Blaine."

"Toodles," he said in a falsetto with a little wave, walking away, and Kurt couldn't help but giggle.

A/N: So, medium-sized chapter. Lots of canon scenes in this one, there will be more original scenes in the next. This story shouldn't be very long (six or seven chapters), and I promise to update quickly! The next chapter is already about 2,000 words, so stay tuned! You should all go click that review button. *nods*

Song used: 'Teenage Dream' by Katy Perry, in case you couldn't figure that out.

Reviews make me write faster! :)