Author's Note: So I decided to have a go at the whole AU Reform Dalton thing. It was fun to write! Very different from what I usually write, so I hope you enjoy it! (:

Warning: Language, and references to violence and sex. Smut in later chapters.

Disclaimer: I do not own glee!

Risk It All

Chapter 1

Kurt could practically feel their eyes on him, dark and glowering as they followed his every move. It was starting to make him sweat, and he clutched his bag tighter against his shoulder—as if at any moment one of these people will just lunge at him and snatch it away from him. He continued to walk in step with the older woman beside him, her heels clicking loudly against the marble hallway. He kept his eyes down anxiously, not wanting to attract too much attention from anyone, just focusing on the rather intricate tiles below his feet.

He could still feel the uneasiness wash over him as the other boys continued to stare at him, a few of them scowling, while others flashed him mischievous smiles—fresh meat.

Lost in his own mind, he barely heard the principal's sharp voice saying something to him. Her voice was firm and hard, emitting an air of authority—probably something useful she picked up to deal with a all the things that went on in a hellhole like this place.

"…did you hear me Mr. Hummel?" The middle-aged woman asked, stopping and looking back at Kurt questioningly. She went by the name of, Ms. Harvey—but around Dalton Academy, she was known as The Warden.

Kurt's eyes peeled away from a hulking looking boy, who was smiling devilishly at him, a big scar streaking down his face from below his right eye and all the way down to his jaw.

"…Wh—what?" Kurt stuttered, his eyes quickly darting back to face her.

"I said, tomorrow, when you join the rest of the students for classes, you must remember to wear your uniform, alright? There will be consequences if you don't. A week's set will be waiting for you in your dorm, along with the rest of your belongings."

Kurt nodded wordlessly, feeling mildly sick to his stomach at the thought of having to wear the navy blazer every single school day from now on. In all honesty, it wasn't too shabby looking for a school uniform, and perhaps worn in the right way it could be okay, but after seeing the way it was thrown on some of the other boys in the hall, the sheer idea repulsed him.

"Now the rules are pretty simple, I'm sure you've read the handbook, am I correct?" Ms. Harvey glanced at him expectantly.

Kurt blushed and shook his head. He'd actually been dreading his transfer here. He'd spent the last few days moping around the house, throwing a few unnecessary tantrums, and up until this morning, had refused to even acknowledge the fact that he'd been forced to come here. Reading the handbook was simply…out of the question.

Ms. Harvey smiled sympathetically at him. "Well, seeing as you're new here, you won't have any strikes against you just yet—and I hope you keep it that way. Going out on weekends for a few hours, and even the possibility of maybe going home depends on your behavior. If your behavior is good, then you will be given a few privileges. If you behave badly, privileges will be taken away." She eyed him sternly in warning.

Kurt followed her up a few flights of stairs, leading to the dormitories.

"Things like fighting,—or any sort of violence really—harassing teachers, skipping classes, getting caught in possession of drugs or weapons of any kind…"

Kurt listened to her ramble on, and it suddenly dawned on him what a horrifying place he'd been stuck in. This wasn't just a was a reform school. With violent criminals and possible murderers—Kurt's heart began throbbing in his chest. No. No, he was definitely overreacting. There are no murderers here. They'd—they'd be in jail right? But still, the idea of drug dealers, assaulters, and gang bangers…all under the age of 18…here…in one place…with him. Kurt shuddered.

"…I expect highly of you Mr. Hummel, I hope you don't tarnish that." Ms. Harvey finished.

Kurt blinked in confusion, not quite catching much of what she'd said before.

They continued down a small hallway, dorm rooms lining both sides. Kurt was aware he'd be getting a roommate, and he was praying to whatever deity out there that watched out for little gay kids, that he didn't have to room with a brooding homophobic asshole. He'd gotten enough of that at McKinley—and it was the reason he'd gotten himself in here in the first place.

"Well, here it is." Ms. Harvey said, stopping in front of the last dorm at the end of the hallway, knocking lightly on the door.

"Blaine? May we come in? Your new roommate is here!" She called through the door, patiently waiting for a response.

Kurt could feel his hands starting to dampen, his heart race a little faster.

There was a gruff grunt from the other side of the door, and Ms. Harvey smiled at Kurt, pushing the door open, and urged Kurt inside.

Kurt took a hesitant step into the room, rather shocked by the size and the decent furnishings the place had. The room was split evenly in half, a bed on opposite corners of the room. Each side had its own desk and chair, and disappointingly for Kurt, a tiny wardrobe and matching dresser for clothing. There was a seating area in the center, to be shared by the two sides, and it looked comfortable enough. The room was nice, and not suffocating like Kurt had expected for a reform school.

"Hello, Blaine. Having a good afternoon?" Ms. Harvey asked politely, but she didn't smile as she'd done with Kurt.

Kurt stared at the boy lying lazily on his bed, resting against the backboard, his eyes narrowed at the intruders, slowly lowering the book he held in his hands. He didn't speak, but his hard eyes sent chills down Kurt's spine. He had dark hair, gelled back with what Kurt assumed was an entire bottle of product. He had sharp—but strangely handsome features. It was his eyes that caught Kurt's attention though. They were a bright color of hazel, but they carried an air of darkness as he glowered at them. His blazer was tossed over his desk chair, his white button up shirt was un-tucked, and his navy and red tie was hanging loosely off his neck.

Ms. Harvey didn't seem to be disturbed by Blaine's lack of response, or the intense way he was staring at her.

"Meet your new roommate," Ms. Harvey said, ushering Kurt forward from where he still stood, lingering in the doorway. "Blaine, this is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson. I hope you boys get along well."

The boy at the bed shifted his glare to Kurt, his eyes slowly raking down Kurt's body. Kurt felt oddly uncomfortable about it, feeling too exposed for his liking. The boy shot Kurt a look of nonchalance, and turned back to his book.

"Now Blaine, I know he isn't much like Liam, but I think you two could—" Ms. Harvey started.

"—don't you say his name. Don't you dare." Blaine growled, resting his book on his lap, staring threateningly at the woman.

Kurt's heart skipped a beat.

Ms. Harvey didn't bat an eye, instead narrowed her eyes sympathetically, and turned back to Kurt. "Well, I hope you get settled in nicely. I'm sure Blaine can help you figure out your classes, or answer any questions you may have."

Kurt swallowed nervously, averting his eyes from the other boy. He nodded meekly at the principal, and forced a smile and a wave as she turned toward the door and disappeared back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

The dark haired boy glanced back at him, once again looking him up and down, before picking up his book, and returned his focus within its pages.

Kurt let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding in, feeling mildly relieved the boy had stopped glaring at him, and made his way hesitantly into the room. Even though the other boy was no longer looking at him, Kurt could still see the piercing image of dark hazel, hard and dangerous. Kurt made a mental note to be sure to stay clear. It appeared, for the most part, like the other haired boy liked to keep to himself. As he unpacked, Kurt silently thanked the gay gods watching over him, happy that at least his roommate wasn't currently pounding his head into the wall.

Blaine peered over his book at the new kid The Warden brought in as his new room mate. He grit his teeth together bitterly. Not even a week after Liam's gone and they've already replaced him. Bastards.

The new kid was definitely different from the rest of the boys at Dalton, Blaine could tell that the moment he walked in. He came strutting in with a pair of jeans so tight Blaine wondered if he'd even be able to get them off. His shirt was adorned with an obscene amount of zippers that served absolutely no purpose except to be there.

Blaine honestly never understood fashion.

He watched the kid unpack, smirking to himself as he saw that the new kid had only managed to stuff about a fraction of his clothes into the wardrobe and dresser, and was now standing in confusion as he tried to figure out where to put the rest of his clothes.

Why the hell did he bring so much crap anyways, Blaine wondered. It's not like he'd be able to wear any of it anyways. This was Dalton Academy. Not a fucking fashion show.

Blaine rolled his eyes and turned to focus on the book in his lap, once again losing himself in the text, and forgetting about the prettyboy who was still carefully unpacking his belongings, arranging and rearranging the clothes in a vain attempt to get them all to fit.

When he finally finished his book, it was nearly 4 in the evening, and it'd gotten rather dark in the room. The other kid—Kurt, was it? Had finished unpacking—well as best he could, anyways—leaving only the clothes that wouldn't fit in his wardrobe in his suitcase, and left it sitting in a corner beside his bed. Blaine rolled his eyes at the newbie, who was sitting stiffly at his desk, deeply concentrated on reading his copy of the Dalton Academy handbook.

This kid really was different.

Blaine shut his book with a loud thump, and tossed it on his desk—causing the other boy to flinch from where he sat at the opposite side of the room, flustered by the the sudden noise.

Jumpy too, Blaine thought to himself with a laugh. This was going to be fun.

Blaine swung his legs over the bed, and was now sitting upright. The new kid must have felt Blaine's eyes on him because he cowered slightly, clutching the handbook tightly in his hands, trying too hard to focus his attention anyways but at the other boy in the room.

"What are you studying that piece of shit so hard for? You just got here…" Blaine said, his voice echoing through the silent dorm.

Kurt's eyes squeeze shut, as if contemplating whether or not to respond.

After a few moments had passed, Kurt slowly turned to face Blaine, his expression unreadable—but it seemed to wear an air of irritation. "I'm just trying to figure out what the shower and meal situation is here, alright? Ms. Harvey wasn't really...clear about it."

Blaine raised his eyebrows—a bit taken aback by the slight hint of attitude in the kid's retort. There was that unmistakable growl of irritation that caught Blaine's attention. Maybe he wasn't much different than the other boys in here, Blaine thought—just dressed a little differently.

"There's a communal shower for every floor of the dormitories—" He saw Kurt flinch again at the sound of his voice, and Blaine smiled mischievously, "but don't worry—you'll be fine…as long as you don't drop the soap." Blaine chuckled to himself when he saw Kurt's face flush—just a little too red.

Kurt glowered down at his desk, refusing to look at the other boy.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Relax new kid. This isn't a fucking prison. Showers are the least of your concerns."

Kurt turned around in his chair, facing Blaine with a hard stare.

"And as far as meals go, they serve breakfast at 7, tastes like shit. Lunch is at 12:30, tastes like even worse shit. And dinner is at 6, and that tastes—well dinner is pretty good here, actually."

Kurt nodded curtly, not knowing exactly why the other boy was being sort of...nice? No, that wasn't the word…decent? Not quite. Maybe, standable? Yes, standable. That was it, Kurt decided.

"So…what are you in for?" Blaine asked, cocking up an eyebrow and shooting Kurt a mischievous smile. "Rob a department store? Bloomingdale's? Barney's? Or am I way off target and it was like a fucking Macy's? I can never tell when it comes to clothes."

Kurt grimaced, narrowing his eyes at the boy who was grinning at him, smirking almost. "What I did is none of your business, so just leave me alone, alright?"

Blaine pretended to be scared and then burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I just can't imagine…you…" Blaine gestured to Kurt, waving his hands around in the air, "You! Doing some big crime to get your ass sent in here!"

Kurt was annoyed. Very annoyed. "Well…you're right. I shouldn't even be here. It wasn't my fault and it was a stupid misunderstanding."

Blaine burst into laughter once again, "Right, right. It was all the clerk's fault for making you pay for the clothes."

Kurt muttered something under his breath, and ignored him. He glanced over at the clock to see that it was almost 5.

He supposed he should go take a quick shower and then make his way down for dinner. He picked out a light Dalton Academy tee-shirt, a pair of slacks, and a few of his shower things. From the corner of his eye, he could see Blaine watching him with an amused smile as he gathered up his towel, hair products, face cleansers, body wash, hairdryer and other necessities, feeling slightly irritated by Blaine's silent judgments.

"Talk about high maintenance…" Blaine grumbled, getting to his feet and shuffling to his desk to search for something.

Kurt ignored the comment and made his way out the door. He may be a reform student now, but he certainly wasn't going to look like, or smell like one. From what he gathered from simply walking down the halls, not too many of these people seemed to understand what personal hygiene was.

As he closed the door behind him, he secretly hoped Blaine wasn't lying about the bathrooms being decent—and more importantly, safe.

Kurt returned back to his dorm feeling refreshed and a bit less tense than he did when he first arrived. He wasn't quite sure if he'd really ever be able to settle in here—but the showers here were nice and private, and quite empty for the most part—which helped calm Kurt when he thought about having to be to stay here for the next couple of months.

When he'd first been told he was being forced to either go to a reform school, or have to face assault charges, he'd grimly opted for the school. But surprisingly, the school was rather nice, and unusually so given the fact it was swarming with underaged criminals. Though it looked somewhat like a prison from the outside, the inside featured a rather classic appearance, with its high ceilings and marble floors. The dorms were a generous size, and comfortable enough. And despite his initial thoughts, the place was clean. Kurt wondered how they ever managed that, with a place full of misfits and wrong-doers like the ones that he'd seen lingering around.

He was even a bit unsure when it came to his own roommate, Blaine. He'd seemed incredibly frightening when he'd first seen him this afternoon, but now he was actually sort of…teasing him?

Kurt shook his head. It didn't matter. He wasn't here to make friends. He was here to complete his year, and hopefully return to McKinley,—where his real friends were—next fall.

When Kurt turned the door into his dorm, he found Blaine on his bed once again, a different book in hand, presumably already finished with the first one he'd been reading this afternoon.

Blaine didn't look up at him when he walked in, so Kurt didn't pay him any attention either. He settled his stuff atop his dresser, and went back to find his handbook, and hopefully look over the map and figure out where the dining hall was. Kurt could feel his stomach rumble audibly, and hoped that since Blaine was right about the showers, he'd also be right about the somewhat decent dinners here.

"You going to dinner?" Kurt asked, a little hopeful to have at the least one person he sorta knew to accompany him to eat.

Blaine didn't look up from his book, his eyes gliding across the page with ease. "I don't get dinner anymore," he replied simply.

Kurt frowned. The school was allowed to deny students actual meals? That couldn't be right, could it?

"You don't get dinner?" Kurt repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Blaine shrugged and turned the page. "I pretty much got all my privileges taken away the first week I got to this shithole—and I still haven't "behaved" well enough to get them back, or whatever. The warden has to get…a little creative now when it comes to my punishments."

Kurt didn't even want to think about what kind of things Blaine had done to get himself here. And from the way he acted and spoke, he seemed to have been at the Academy for a long while.

Kurt felt quite uncomfortable as he sat alone in the large dining hall, poking at his pasta, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone sitting at the tables around him. He chewed his food slowly, moving the tube-shaped noodles around on his plate in boredom. At least Blaine had been right about the food. It was alright as far as school food went, but it wasn't spectacular. It sure beat McKinley's old menu though—which was surprising, and mildly disturbing. Maybe the rumors that McKinley got it's food from prisons was actually true.

What wasn't particularly surprising, but not at all thrilling either, were the uneasy stares he was receiving from the other boys. Despite Kurt's attempts at avoiding any type of contact, he would still catch a pair of eyes looking menacingly in his direction every so often, sending nervous chills down his spine. Though he wasn't the only one who was sitting alone—there were actually quite a few loners sitting by themselves—they seemed used to it, and most people let them be.

Kurt on the other hand, was new. That, and for some reason, he just attracted attention. It wasn't like he was wearing an attention grabbing outfit like he had when he'd first gotten here earlier this afternoon, which Kurt was now realizing was a big mistake on his part. A bright red shirt with zippers and tight black skinny jeans really weren't such a good idea. If they got him thrown in dumpsters at McKinley, he should have figured they'd get him a lot worse here.

Kurt was aware that his food was getting cold, but suddenly he just wasn't feeling too hungry anymore. Kurt swallowed down as much food as he could keep down, and decided to return back to his dorm, and away from the chaos of the dining hall. He sighed and picked up his tray and made his way through the crowd. He felt mildly threatened by the purposeful shoves a few boys gave him as they passed by, but the doors and walls were lined with guards, which Kurt was beyond grateful for, and fortunately no one gave him too much trouble.

He carefully pushed past a couple of boys lingering near the front of the room and slipped through the double doors of the main entrance, heading up toward the dormitories. He was sort of hoping Blaine would keep to himself again—he really wasn't in the mood for another interrogation, or any irritating teasing. It'd been a long day and he needed to unwind and mentally prepare for tomorrow.

Fortunately though, when Kurt unlocked the door and pushed it open, he found Blaine still leaning against the backboard of his bed, staring at a crumpled up note in his hand, the book he'd been reading abandoned on the desk.

Kurt walked in quietly and decided he'd better start on his nightly facial routine. Just because he was stuck in this place didn't mean he could get lazy.

He walked past Blaine, whose eyes hadn't peeled away from the paper in his hand once, his eyes narrowed as he stared at it.

Blaine had noticed his new roommate returned, silently slipping back into the room and making a bee-line to his side of the dorm. Blaine could tell just from the huffy way he was breathing it probably hadn't been the greatest of experiences. This Kurt fellow really was an amusing one, Blaine thought to himself. It was like he carried a sort of diva-ish act that Blaine found entertaining, but at the same time he was still sorta jumpy and nervous too. Blaine could tell he was going to have fun with this one.

He shook the thought out of his head and focused his attention back to the old piece of paper that was slipped under the door just a few moments after Kurt left for dinner, his buddy Wes' familiar handwriting scrawled across it.

I got your message. David's informed J and the others. J thinks he could probably sneak you what you need in a couple days. I'll keep you posted. Be careful though. You're the only one who's on probation so far, and we can't have you missing for the showdown.

We're gonna get the bastard. I promise.

Blaine willed the anger to go away, clenching his hands around the paper until his knuckles turned white. After a few moments and a few calming words muttered under his breath, Blaine unclenched his fingers and ripped the note into tiny little pieces and tossed them into his waste basket.

Blaine heard Kurt's deflated sigh from across the room and he shook his head at how unbelievably naïve the boy was to go down there on his first day and expect not to get picked on. Blaine assumed he'd been lucky and there were actual guards there tonight. Due to government budgets and shit, the guards weren't actually there at all meals—which often led to havoc, in Blaine's opinion. He couldn't understand why whoever was in charge would be stupid enough to waste the cash on keeping the place so fucking classy and dapper when they should be wasting their money making sure all the assholes in the joint didn't kill each other first.

Blaine glanced over to see Kurt's hair up in a cloth headband, rubbing some sort of cream onto his face as he looked into a threefold mirror propped up on his desk.

You have got to be shitting me.

Blaine didn't know whether or laugh at him, or admire him. The guy was at a place like this, and he was still worrying about his complexion, of all things. Perhaps Kurt hadn't caught the gist of how frightening this place could really be.

Blaine chuckled to himself. The kid was in for a hell of a new experience tomorrow.

Blaine got up and stretched. It was getting late and he was just about ready for bed. He rolled his eyes as he caught another glimpse of Kurt spraying what appeared to be the 5th bottle of crap he had arranged on his dresser, onto his face.

He yawned loudly, and grinned a little as he caught the new kid's attention. He was staring at him wordlessly, his eyes slightly narrowed in annoyance.

Blaine ran his hands through his hair lazily and walked to get a change of clothes from his wardrobe.

Unconsciously forgetting about Kurt's presence for a moment, Blaine pulled off his tie, and began unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it onto his bed and turned to search for the old tee-shirt he'd picked out when he heard Kurt's breath slightly hitch from across the room.

What was it this time? Blaine rolled his eyes and turned around to see Kurt staring at him with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed with color, and his mouth hanging open slightly.

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"You—you're changing in front of me…" Kurt stuttered, looking away suddenly.

"…And?" Blaine replied, sounding a little irritated.

Kurt shook his head, and turned away. "It's—it's nothing. Sorry." He mumbled, and fumbled awkwardly with a bottle of lotion on his desk.


A smirk spread across Blaine's face. If the clothes and facial thing didn't give it away, Blaine was almost positive this did.

So Kurt liked boys.

Blaine smiled. This made things even more interesting.