Thanks so much for reading this story. I really hope you enjoy it!

I don't own Glee nor am I making any profit from this.

Chapter One

There were 3 things that Rachel had warned her brother, Blaine, about before stepping into McKinley High.

One: jocks.

Two: slushies.

Three: Kurt Hummel.

Admittedly, Blaine had been more intrigued than terrified of the sound of the illusive Kurt Hummel. There were plenty of rumours flying around regarding the coveted teen, but Blaine was eager to make up his own mind about Kurt.

Of course, he had to meet him first, but what better day to so than on his first day of McKinley High?

Returning to public school had been a big decision for Blaine. He'd run from the walls of the very same institution years previously because that institution that he'd trusted had left him to be bullied and in the end, beaten to within an inch of his life. He'd never forget the look on Rachel and his fathers' faces when he'd come home that evening. He never wanted to put them through that again.

Which is why returning to a place that terrified him had been such a huge deal and his family. But this time, Blaine had vowed to stay below the radar of social activity and keep to himself. He just couldn't stand being a coward anymore. He'd rather be bullied and repressed than hide from the world. Graduation was soon approaching and Blaine might as well get a taste of the real world before he was thrown back into it for good.

Upon his decision, his sister Rachel had insisted that he transferred to schools to McKinley High immediately and his two fathers had wholeheartedly agreed with her. Blaine's first public school had been Carmel and there was no way he was going back there after the events of the past, so McKinley seemed like the only feasible option. And if what they said about safety in numbers was true, then what could go wrong?

"Really, you have nothing to worry about. Everyone in Glee club gets bullied and, well, it's not that bad if you don't mind being bitch-slapped by an iceberg – or, as it's more commonly know, slushied – on a daily basis. And knowing you, you brought extra clothes so you'll be just fine. If needs be, come into the girls toilets to clean up. The Glee girls will have your back, I promise. And you can join Glee club as well if you want to sway in the background during my displays of impeccable talent. You might even get a featured solo if I recommend you because, well, everyone respects me in Glee. I am a natural born leader and I think they respect me for my talent because, let's be honest, I support them all and we would have crashed and burned during competition season if it wasn't for me and really –"

There was one unmistakable perk to being Rachel Berry's brother. You learned to mute out the sound of her voice, meaning that you could stand to be around her for more than 30 seconds. Also, it was quicker to make friends when they'd met your sister and known what you could have turned out like. So, all in all, it wasn't so bad being Rachel Berry's brother.

OK, that was a lie. Sometimes, it was trying to say the least. But one thing Blaine inherited was the Berry optimism and that pulled him through each day of being part of a family that included Rachel.

Blaine entered McKinley High with a ridiculous sense of optimism, but it had been somewhat dimmed by the introductory slushie he'd endured while walking to his first lesson by Rachel's side. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been bustled into the girl's toilets by his sister, too fixated on the burning sensation that welled behind his eyes and the slushie that had frozen his face into a state of – what felt like – disrepair.

"Honestly, once you get used to it, you find the action of being slushied quite endearing and – being a Berry –"

"Rachel, I took the name Anderson." Blaine interjected, though it didn't sound half as defiant when he had a face full of water in a vain attempt to get rid of the slushie.

"It doesn't matter, Blaine, you're a Berry through and through. Anyway, being a Berry-Anderson, you'll learn to appreciate the drama of it. I certainly have." Rachel told him, matter-of-factly. She plucked at her kitten jumper mournfully. "I'll have to throw Mr Tickles out."

"Mr Tickles? Rach, please tell me you're joking. I'll officially disown you as a sister if you've named the kitten on your jumper 'Mr Tickles'. It was bad enough when you named your frog 'Mr Bouncy'." Blaine said, blinking the water out of his eyes as he stared at his sister in disbelief.

"Blaine, every fictional kitten deserves a name."

Blaine leant his head back into the sink despairingly. He knew better than to argue with that.

His first day of McKinley was uneventful. Blaine had done well to stay below the eyelevel – both literally and figuratively – of most students and therefore hadn't attracted any attention. It was only at the end of the day that Blaine had his first taste of history repeating itself.

He knew it was Karofsky. He'd been warned by Rachel enough times of the thug of a football player. He'd never laid eyes on him before but he didn't need to. He'd know the letterman jacket and piggish looks anywhere, though he'd noticed that the majority of themlooked worryingly similar – probably from getting the shit tackled out of them on a daily basis.

"What do we have here, ladyboy?" Karofsky sneered. It was just the two of them in the deserted school; classes had let out ages ago but Blaine had been kept behind to do some extra enrolment for one of his teachers. He should have known better. He pointedly ignored the oaf, turning back to his locker and rearranging the already-rearranged items that sat inside it.

"Hey, fag, I'm talking to you." Karofsky addressed him again, this time with more venom.

"Well, I'm not talking to you," Blaine retorted before he could stop himself.

"Is that so, homo?" Karofsky was leering at him in a way that made Blaine physically sick. He turned away from his locker, an insulting response on the tip of tongue before another voice cut him off.

"Hey, now, Karofsky. I thought pretty boys were for sharing," came a voice from behind them.

Blaine watched as Karofsky froze and physically recoiled at the sound. He looked over the oaf's shoulder and into piercing blue eyes – and was that eyeliner?

"Hey, handsome," said Kurt Hummel, smirking impishly at him. Kurt's eyes scanned down Blaine's body and he raised an approving eyebrow.

Blaine's eyes grew wide. He'd know those eyes anywhere; they'd been described to him enough times by his sister, though mere words could never have done Kurt Hummel justice. "Um…" was the most eloquent response he could produce; he was so enraptured by the face in front of him. It was exquisite. There was not a single blemish on the porcelain skin and the full lips were quirked into a smirk. He was an angel.

"Chatty, too. My favourite," Kurt told him, winking. Then his gaze turned stony as his eyes rounded on Karofsky. "David, leave him. Don't you have a dick to go suck?"

Karofsky – David – turned to look at Kurt with wide eyes. "Hummel, leave it," though his tone was half-hearted and without menace. Blaine knew that David must see Kurt in the same way he did – perfectly.

"No, David, I won't leave it," Kurt's voice was lower than Blaine would have imagined, gravely and sultry and it made Blaine's knees weak, "but you will. Go now, please."

"Hummel, I –" David protested, but Kurt held up a finger to stop him. How was it possible, Blaine wondered, for someone's fingers to be as perfect as Kurt's were?

"David, I would appreciate it if you would fuck off. Now." Such words sounded wrong coming from a being as perfect as Kurt, but Blaine was almost disgusted by how hot he found it when Kurt swore. What was happening to him?

Karofsky shuffled his weight between his feet for a few moments before slamming his hand into a locker in frustration. Then he rounded on Kurt, but it was without violent intent. It looked almost affectionate.

"Kurt, if later you fancy getting together or something, you could always –" David started, bringing a hand up to cup Kurt's cheek, who visibly recoiled.

"David, go home," he instructed.

"Only if you'll go home with me," Karofsky chanced, winking luridly at Kurt.

"Now," Kurt's tone made it clear that there was no room for further argument on the matter. David pushed away from the lockers with a noise of frustration, stalking down the hallway after casting one last menacing look at Blaine, presumably for stealing Kurt's attention.

Kurt turned to look at him and Blaine could only stare back. Kurt was the typical bad boy that Rachel had made him out to be, leather jacket and all. He was leaning against the lockers with a look of incredible ease as he rummaged in his jacket for something, bringing up one of his biker-boot clad feet to rest against the locker. Blaine noticed that his nose and upper ear were pierced and on the inside of his wrist, a tattoo was inked. Blaine never thought he had a kink before he met Kurt Hummel. But now he knew better.

He had a huge kink. And Kurt Hummel was the living manifestation of every fantasy and feeling of sexual desire he'd ever had before in his life. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was love at first sight.

Kurt was looking at him; one eyebrow raised as he tugged a stick of gum from his jacket pocket and popped it into his mouth. Blaine was sure he'd never been as jealous of a piece of food before in his life.

Blaine was vaguely aware of Kurt's mouth forming mesmerising shapes as he asked him questions, though the nature of which Blaine couldn't tell you. He could, however, describe in perfect detail the colour of Kurt's lips and tongue and the shapes his mouth formed when he spoke. After a few moments, he tore his eyes away from Kurt's mouth and looked up into his eyes, seeing the question that was written there.

Blaine soon realised he had no idea what Kurt was saying. "I'm sorry, what?" He asked, looking apologetic. "I was…distracted."

"Clearly," Kurt commented dryly, "but I asked who you are."

"Blaine Anderson," he told him, sticking out a hand in greeting.

Kurt regarded it sceptically for a few moments, refusing to take it. Blaine retracted it, blushing profusely. "Kurt Hummel," Kurt said, looking amused.

"I know, Rachel told me," Blaine blurted out before he could stop himself.

Kurt's eyes widened. "Rachel Berry?"

Blaine nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt told him solemnly, though he was smirking, "this place is getting to you already if you've resorted to befriending her."

"Actually," Blaine coughed, looking embarrassed, "she's my sister."

"Oh thank God," Kurt exclaimed, "I thought you might not be gay, but with her as a sister you'd have to be. But even if you weren't, I'm sure I could turn you." He winked, sidling closer to Blaine.

Memories of what Rachel had told him about Kurt suddenly flashed through Blaine's mind and he recoiled, though his body screamed in protest. "I'm sorry, I – I have to go. I'll see you around."

Kurt's laughter followed him down the hall as he retreated. "You'll be back," he called after him, "they always come back. Sure I can't give you a ride" Kurt made sure the emphasis on the word wasn't lost on Blaine, "home?"

"No, thank you!" Blaine replied, voice abnormally high. Once he was out of the double doors and into the parking lot, he let out a deep sigh of relief, trying to piece coherent thoughts together, though it was proving difficult.

What the hell just happened? And why in God's name did he want it to happen again?


Next chapter should be up in 2-3 days :)