(a/n) Okay, so I don't really have an explanation. I should be working on fics that need updates (specially my other fandom's – they've been so ignored lolsob). BUT KLAINE HAS TAKEN OVER MY MIND. And I'm quite fine with it. But my brain has all these ideas. And they need to be written out. Now. All at the same time. Anywho, this was inspired by an irl situation people. I wish it could've been this epic, but my history class… this is it. Except with girls. But who cares about them (lolthenIwouldn'texisttttttt.)

So yeah. Henry VIII.

Kind of a douchebag.

"Alright!"

Professor Reinstein clapped his hands, a smile on his face that meant trouble.

History was a class that was… boring, in all honesty. In Kurt's opinion, why focus on the past? It's the present we needed to think about! After all, who knows what could happen with our backs turned, analyzing something that was already set in stone, when we had a malleable future ahead of us, waiting to be shaped and sculpted.

On the upside, they stopped learning about how all knights in medieval times basically pillaged villages and raped woman. Talking about a horny king who killed his wives when he found someone prettier and more boy-producing was much better.

For some reason, Kurt had actually been put into AP everything, which was currently why most classes he zoned out in order to stare at Blaine Anderson. Of course, that also meant that…

"Kuuuuuuuurt! Pssst. Kurt! Kurt!"

Said boy clenched his fist and closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore the ever-growing annoyance that was Wes Leung.

"What?" he finally snapped in the Asian's direction.

How everyone else ignored these two buffoons (Wes and David, not Kurt.) was beyond him. Though, Kurt swore he saw Blaine's shoulders twitch, which he was sure was a sign of silent laughter.

Kurt pouted. (And Wes and his antics were promptly "forgotten".)

"Alright, alright, settle down boys."

Oddly enough, it seemed as if the man only had eyes for Wes and David when he said this, who had been making silly faces at each other from across the room. (They had to have their seats moved away from each other, imagine that?)

"Today, we have a treat! We'll be playing the 'Royal Dating Game'! So, get into your groups and quickly revise your essays on your Queen or King – then pick somebody to represent your group. That person should then report to the front of the room."

The brunette sighed, making his way to the other four boys in his group. They looked rather unproductive today.

"Hummel," One boy spoke with a gruff tone and an even gruffer face, "We've decided that since you're in the Warblers, you'll be our rep. Good confidence builder and all that."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue (because it was a natural reaction for him), but closed it and shrugged.

"Alright."

He should've made a comment about how he didn't need confidence because he had plenty of it already, or how the twitchy kid in their group would be in more need of a boost than he, (the kid was on debate, supposedly.) but he decided against it. Aside from "Twitchy", the other guys were all decidedly bigger than him – Neanderthal material, if you will.

Besides, they were all in Lasaile House. And everybody knew about the rivalry between Lasaile and Quincey Houses. I mean, even Kurt knew. Of course luck has it that he's stuck with them, being on Quincey.

Kurt tried to ignore David and Wes' laughter as he stepped to the front of the room. At least his topic was interesting, if decidedly female. In many ways, Kurt could compare himself to Anne Boleyn. Quick wit, good looks, impeccable fashion taste (didn't you see The Other Boleyn Girl?)

"Fantastic!" Professor Reinstein strode to the side of the room, eyeing the "candidates" for whatever they were going to do…

The candidates, who were all, in fact, Warblers. Blaine, Kurt (obviously), Wes, David, Thad, Jeff, and… Flint.

A kid raised his hand, "Professor, you haven't explained what they're supposed to be doing."

"Isn't it obvious?" The large man asked, "It's called The Royal Dating Game. These boys will be reenacting a dating game show! Now, where's our bachelor?"

"Oh my Gaga, this isn't happening…" Kurt muttered, face flushing when Blaine meekly raised his hand.

Wes nudged him, "El oh el, Kurt! This is a perfect opportunity for you! Reinstein always grades on performance for these things."

Kurt deadpanned, "Did you honestly just say LOL? Which one of us is gay again?"

Thankfully, before Wes said something that would make him question the boy's sexuality anymore then he already had, Professor Reinstein spoke in a thunderous tone, "Gentleman, I present to you tonight's lucky bachelor, the great King of England, Henry VIII!"

Blaine struck his most dapper pose, throwing on an unfairly charming smile before sitting down in a computer chair.

"Now, your Majesty, tell us what you'd like to see in a your future Queen…"

The fact that Blaine could describe "himself" as ridiculously horny made Kurt die a little. (It also kind of turned him on, but shh!). The fact that their teacher didn't even bat an eye to it also made Kurt question everybody's sanity in this school. David must've seen his expression, because soon enough, he was explaining,

"It's like Wes said before, it's all about show to Reinstein, besides his blatant favoritism. This will basically decide whether he likes you or not. Just put on a good front, and you could be singing 'twinkle, twinkle, little star' for all he'd care. Trust me, Wes did that once."

"Why am I not surprised?" The countertenor remarked dryly.

"Fantastic!" Professor Reinstein chuckled, "Now, to decide the course of bachelorettes, I'd like for each of you to come over here and pick a number out of this hat."

One by one, each of the "bachelorettes" reached into a hat that Reinstein had whipped out from… somewhere.

Please not first, please not first… Kurt prayed.

He reached into the bowler (which he hoped he would never see his teacher wearing – not with his body structure.) and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"What'd you get, Kurt?" Wes asked, "David got third, lame. I, however, being the amazing person I am, got first, just like with marriage."

"I got sixth." Kurt smiled – it was great, especially from a competition point-of-view.

"Our first bachelorette is… the Spanish Princess – Catherine of Aragon!"

The class clapped politely as Wes rose, raising his hands above his head and doing a "rock on" sign. David booed.

"My dearest Henry…" Wes began, in an awful Spanish accent.

"- and that is why you should pick me as your Queen once again. Because, I love yooooooou." Wes' hand slid down Blaine's cheek.

Blaine shuddered (in what Kurt really hoped was disgust.)

"Very good, very good," Professor Reinstein showed no ill will to the handsy gestures between the two boys, "Next up – the motherly Catherine Paar!"

Thad, whose hands were slipped casually inside his pant pockets, strolled over to Blaine and politely bowed his head. When he started to speak, (in a normal tone, thankfully), David groaned.

When Kurt shot him a confused look, he merely whispered, "Thad's totally got something up his sleeve."

"-and I made sure all of your children were loved equally, even if they weren't mine, because I loved you, Henry, and I wanted you to be happy in the last few years of your life. In fact-"

Thad knelt on the floor, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing it at his eyes, "I still do. So, I hope you'll pick me to be your wife again."

And then he started to sob into his handkerchief.

Kurt stared at Thad. Thad, who was most definitely the most composed and formal member of the council, (because, honestly? Who else speaks like they're in a Shakespearian play?). Blaine took one of Thad's hands, patting it gently.

"How touching." Professor Reinstein dabbed at his own eyes, "Now, for our very own Englishwomen, Jane Seymour!"

David hopped up, skipped over to Blaine and proceeded to sit in Blaine's lap. Blaine tried (and failed) to not look amused.

Fortunately, David didn't produce a horrid British accent (though later, he'll admit it would've been a good idea, and'll thank Kurt for future reference), so Kurt just thought Wes was crazy. Crazier.

"-and unlike the rest of your wives, I gave you a lovely baby boy! I was faithful too- unlike that whore, Anne Boleyn!"

Kurt gasped, shooting David a dirty look.

"And I loved you – and it was obvious you loved me too – you buried me in your private tomb, planning to be buried beside me way before your own death!"

David's face was dangerously close to Blaine's, hands slipping down to Blaine's waist. Blaine's hands, Kurt (shockingly) observed, were clutching David's thigh, and the whole sight made the countertenor a little nauseous. Maybe Wes and David slipped something into his food during lunch and he was hallucinating or something.

"Wonderful!"

The man was crazy, Kurt decided. Scratch that, everybody in this whole entire school was crazy.

"Now, the Germanic Princess – Anne of Cleaves!"

Wes and David booed. It was Jeff though, so that was understandable. Wes had a problem with Jeff for inexplicable reasons, and David basically mimicked Wes because, (and Kurt quotes) "Everything Asians do are automatically awesome." What that had to do with mirroring the boy's movements, Kurt had no idea.

Just when the junior thought only Wes was strange enough to pitch his voice, Jeff spoke in a falsetto so high, he could've cracked glass. He walked towards Blaine, who in turn, rolled his chair away from the bleach-blonde haired boy with a barely covered grimace.

"I know that I'm not all that pretty…"

"- but I know how to cook and to clean and will always stay loyal because, let's face it, who else would wanna get with this?"

Jeff pointed to himself. At that, Wes called out, "I dunno, a blind person?"

Jeff ignored him, getting closer to Blaine, who was still trying not to look repulsed.

"I loved you, but knew you didn't love me, so I let us divorce. I gave you a second chance, so know I'm pleading you to give me one."

"How touching!" Professor Reinstein exclaimed (and honestly, this guy's cheery exterior was starting to grate Kurt's nerves.) He called forth another 'bachelorette'.

"Our fifth contestant – the promiscuous Catherine Howard!"

Flint stood up; stalking his way towards Blaine like a predator would their prey. He stopped before Kurt, engaging in a small staring contest before continuing on his way.

The junior growled.

Wes and David shouted things like, "Slut!" and, "Hoe!"

Flint paced around Blaine a few times, stopping behind him, "I may have been young…"

"- and it was always said that I gave you a real," Flint pressed himself to the back of the chair, dropping his head to whisper into Blaine's ear, "zest for life."

Blaine's eyes fluttered shut.

Kurt gagged.

Flint spun the chair around so that he was basically straddling Blaine.

"Isn't that a bit much?"

Kurt asked loudly, face flushing with barely constrained anger (and jealousy). Flint shot him a rather dirty glare, but Reinstein shook himself out of his little 'eyes-glazed-over' world.

Gross.

"Right, right, last but not least, the sultry Anne Boleyn!"

Kurt stood up, scoffing at the voice that sounded suspiciously like Flint's, calling out, "Whore!"

It was time to put on his game face – and that meant half-lidded eyes and a rather enticing smile.