Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me. Also, all Czech was taken from an online translator. Please have mercy on my soul.

Blaine tapped on the assistant headmistress's door and waited patiently. "Come in," Miss Medford called.

He peeked in. "You wanted to see me?" he said.

She beckoned him towards her desk. "We have a new student and I'd like to assign you as his guide," she said. "Now, you have to know that he doesn't speak English. He understands some of it, but he writes very little and speaks very less."

"What does he speak?" Blaine stammered. "I mean, my French is terrible, but-"

"He speaks Czech," Miss Medford explained. "His mother passed away when he was a child and he's been living with his grandparents in the Czech Republic since then."

Blaine swallowed hard.. "And you're sure I'm the best person to show him around Dalton?" he said.

"I picked you myself," Miss Medford smiled.

The door swung open and a big, sort of rough-around-the-edges man in a plaid shirt walked in, his am tight around the shoulders of a thin boy in the Dalton uniform. "Miss Medford?" the man ventured.

She stood up. "Mr. Hummel, so nice to see you," she said, extending her hand. "And Kurt, hello." The boy dropped his head shyly.

"He's all ready to start, right? His paperwork's all in and everything?" Mr. Hummel said without preamble.

"Everything's in order," Miss Medford assured him. She picked up a thick red folder emblazoned with the navy Dalton D from her desk. "We've assigned a student to be his guide for his first few weeks with us. This is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Kurt Hummel."

Blaine stepped forward and flashed the most charming smile he could muster under the circumstances. Kurt merely blinked slowly. Mr. Hummel leaned over and whispered something in his ear; Kurt nodded and took a step forward, extending his hand. "Dobrý den, Blaine," he said in a hushed voice.

Blaine's smile widened as he took Kurt's hand. "Dobrý den," he repeated. Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine first on one cheek, then the other. Slightly startled, Blaine returned the gesture. He knew it had to be just a European thing, but the touch of Kurt's warm lips to his cheeks and the feel of Kurt's soft skin sent a sudden thrill up his spine.

I wish I could see him smile, he thought as he stepped back. There was something appealing about Kurt, even though he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the delicacy of his features, or the way he couldn't quite pinpoint if his long-lashed eyes were blue or green or gray, or the way he kept twisting his fingers together anxiously but still held his chin up proudly.

"We've assigned Kurt to the same schedule as Blaine," Miss Medford said. "And their first class is about to start in a few minutes, so we should probably let the boys on their way."

Kurt looked expectantly at his father. Mr. Hummel spoke to him again, but it wasn't until Kurt shook his head and responded quickly that Blaine realized that Mr. Hummel wasn't precisely fluent. He stumbled over the words and kept his flat American accent, but when Kurt spoke, it sounded perfect. Musical, almost.

Mr. Hummel hugged Kurt tightly, then left, offering only a polite nod in Blaine's direction. Kurt stared after his father, his already pale skin seeming to drain further. Blaine cleared his throat. "I'll walk you to class," he offered.

Kurt looked up at him, startled. Oh my god, he has no clue what I'm saying, Blaine thought wildly. After a moment's pause, he held out his hand. "Come with me?" he said.

Kurt swallowed hard and tentatively slipped his hand into Blaine's. Blaine smiled at him and squeezed gently before picking up Kurt's new student packet and tugging him into the hallway.

The day that followed could only be described as unspeakably rough. Every time they went to a new class, it was the same routine- talking to the teacher, introducing a wide-eyed Kurt to the class, and then trying to help Kurt keep during class. He had never realized how complicated just a teacher's lecture could be- the difficult ballet of reading notes off the whiteboard, copying them into his notebook, and flipping through the pages of his textbook. They hadn't provided Kurt with his books yet, so they sat close and shared, their shoulders touching as Blaine trailed his finger under each sentence.

"I'll get you a copy of my notes," Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear after a particularly vexing lesson on the battle of Hastings. Kurt bit his lip, clearly not understanding. Blaine tapped his notebook, then pointed to Kurt, smiling at him warmly. After a moment he nodded.

Lunch was probably the worst ordeal. The Dalton cafeteria was loud and boisterous and crowded, and Kurt stuck close to Blaine's side, obviously overwhelmed. Picking something to eat proved to be just as difficult. "What do you like to eat?" Blaine asked. "There's pasta, and salad, and sandwiches…"

Kurt looked up and down the buffet line. "Nevim co to sakra to je," he said, exasperated.

Blaine grinned at him. "How about this?" he asked, holding up a plate of pasta. "This is one of my favorites."

Kurt dipped his fingertip carefully in the sauce and stuck his finger in his mouth, then sighed and nodded. Blaine set the plate on his tray next to his sandwich and followed the line to the register.

"We can eat with my friends," he told Kurt as he handed several bills to the woman behind the register. "They're great. We're all Warblers."

"Warblers?" Kurt repeated. The word sounded strange but pretty in his soft accent.

"We're an a capella group," Blaine explained as he led Kurt to his usual table. "A choir. We sing. You know… do re mi."

Kurt halted, grabbing Blaine by the elbow. "Do re mi," he sang right back. "Music. Yes."

Blaine stared at him, mouth agape. "You have perfect pitch," he marveled. "You're amazing."

Kurt smiled, clearly not understanding what Blaine had said. "Umím I zpívat , víš ," he said.

"All right, you've got to meet Wes," Blaine said, dragging him towards the table. The other Warblers were already there, lunches spread around them.

"Hi, Blaine, what's-" David started to say.

"You guys, this is Kurt," Blaine said. "He's Czech and he doesn't speak much English, but his voice is amazing."

Wes's eyes gleamed. "You don't say," he said. "Welcome to Dalton, Kurt." Kurt just smiled a little uncertainly. "Bring him by rehearsal, Blaine. We'll see what he can do."

Kurt turned to Blaine, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Blaine just held up a thumbs-up and shrugged. Kurt offered a half-smile back.

When the bell tower chimed three o'clock in the afternoon, signaling the end of the school day, Blaine walked Kurt to his locker so he could put his books away and then led him to the rehearsal room. Kurt said nothing, gazing around his surroundings. Blaine scratched the back of his neck. "I've been a Warbler since I started at Dalton," he offered, trying to fill the silence. "I've started to get a lot of solos lately, though. It's nice. We just placed at sectionals and we're getting ready for regionals. If the council lets you join the Warblers, maybe you'll get to perform with us."

Kurt shook his head, sighing in an almost pitying fashion. "Nemusíš se pořád na mě mluv," he said.

"I still don't know what you're saying," Blaine apologized.

"Já nevím co říkáš ," Kurt responded.

Blaine sighed. "So what brings you to Dalton?" he asked. Kurt tilted his head to the side. "Why did you leave home?"

Kurt's lips thinned. "Násilníci," he said. "Bullies."

"Bullies?" Blaine repeated with a frown. "Why?"

Kurt stared straight ahead as they walked down the hall. "Jsem na kluky," he said bitterly. "Ty nevíš jaké to je."

Blaine didn't understand, but he understood enough to realize that Kurt was upset. He reached out to squeeze Kurt's shoulder lightly, earning a slight smile, and he ushered Kurt into the Warblers' rehearsal hall. "Well, so this is our mysterious foreign singer," Thad said.

"Fellow Warblers, this is Kurt Hummel," Blaine said. "He doesn't speak much English, but he sings." Kurt offered a shy wave to the Warblers staring at him.

"We should test his range," Wes said. He pointed to the piano. "Kurt, stand there, please."

Wes moved to sit down and play through the scales, but Kurt beat him there. He sat down at the piano bench, leaving Wes blinking in surprise, and began to play.

He's talented, Blaine realized as he watched Kurt's slender fingers move across the keys. Really talented.

And then Kurt began to sing.

Blaine gaped at him, unabashed. Kurt's voice was clear and sweet and brilliant, soaring beautifully from note to note. He sang in English, an old Beatles song, his accent making the words sound softer, more graceful.

That same strange thrill ran up and down Blaine's spine. He couldn't tear his eyes away, and he didn't know why.

The Warblers promptly voted Kurt into their number, and Wes immediately reorganized their formation to include him at front and center. "He's a countertenor," Blaine overheard him whisper to David. "We haven't had a countertenor since 1983."

Kurt fit into the Warblers beautifully. He didn't understand what people said to him, and no one understood when he spoke in his own language, but he understood music and he understood dance steps. Blaine found himself focusing more on Kurt during rehearsals, watching his expressive face and listening to his clear bright voice.

They fell into a sort of rhythm, he and Kurt. Sitting together in classes, singing together in rehearsals, eating lunch together. After a while they started meeting after school for coffee, at first just to work on homework, and then just to…well, they didn't precisely talk yet. They spoke mostly in facial expressions, in their inflections, in gestures and light touches. Eventually Kurt's English improved, although still laced in a soft lyrical accent that made Blaine's heart flipflop, and Blaine picked up a little Czech, although his grammar was so terrible that it made Kurt wrinkle his nose and laugh until his dimple showed, and it was so cute that Blaine found himself butchering the language on purpose, just to hear him laugh.

It slowly dawned on him why he liked to hear Kurt laugh, or talk, or sing. Or smile, or walk from class to class, or dance during rehearsals, or lean in close over his shoulder during class to peer at his notes, or…or anything, now that he thought about it.

But he didn't know what to do about it.

And then the semester was drawing to a close, and summer loomed over their heads with its impending separation. He knew he had to do something.

So they sat in the coffee shop one warm spring day after school, sipping their iced coffees and regarding each other over their cups. Blaine toyed with his straw, his heart pounding as he debated about what he was about to do.

"Kurt?" he ventured.

"Hm?" Kurt said, dipping his straw in his cup to separate the ice cubes.

Blaine exhaled slowly. "Kurt, I've been wanting to say this for a very, very long time," he said. "But…I'm not any good at romance, and I still don't speak Czech and your English still sort of sucks, but…I have to say this. I just…I don't know how to say this."

Kurt tilted his head quizzically. "Co se snažíš říct?" he inquired.

Blaine took a deep breath, leaned forward across the table, and gently kissed Kurt on the lips.

For a moment Kurt froze, then relaxed against him, kissing him eagerly. One hand reached up to touch Blaine's cheek; Blaine cupped Kurt's chin in his hand. Kurt's lips were soft and warm and slightly laced with the taste of mocha, and the thought of god, why did I wait so long to do this?

After what could have been a few seconds or minutes or hours or perhaps a lifetime or two, they pulled apart, their lips pink and their breathing quick and harried. Kurt gazed up at him under his lashes, smiling and starry-eyed.

"I do not need English for that," he quipped breathlessly.

"And I don't need Czech," Blaine managed to say before Kurt grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in for another kiss.

Author's Notes:

I was actually about to upload this as a new chapter of Tumbled, but it's 2,000+ words and it can stand on its own and adsfjdlskjfl I really like this one.

My sweet Tumblr!son Henry prompted this one! He wanted a drabble about Kurt being from a small European country and transferring to Dalton without knowing any English, and Blaine being his guide. I chose Czech for the language because I found out just a few years ago that I'm actually half Czech! (My father was adopted.) I had to use Google Translate, since I don't speak the language myself, but I've been told it works fairly well, with a few exceptions- the translation for "bullies" isn't quite right, for one!

But yes. I've debated about expanding on this little world, maybe delving into Kurt's side of things. But alsjflsjdlk. Sweet boy. And sweet awkward charming Blaine.

I hope you liked this!