Chapter Four

Come Monday, Kurt had given Blaine no indication that he'd moved past the rushed departure Thursday evening, save the small glance they'd shared at the end of class on Friday. The predominant, rational portion of Blaine's mind told him to just let things be, that Kurt clearly didn't want to speak of their encounter ever again, that things would just go back to normal. But the annoyingly persistent growl from the back told him that he needed to set things right.

Which would, of course, require talking to the boy one-on-one.

On Tuesday, Blaine handed back the students' theme charts from the week before. He purposefully kept Kurt's at the bottom of the pile, so it landed on the boy's desk last. Kurt didn't acknowledge Blaine's presence when he laid the paper down, but Blaine noticed the way the boy's eyebrows shot upward when he noticed the yellow Post-It note affixed to the sheet. Will you meet me to talk? Just as Blaine sat down at his own desk, Kurt's eyes flickered up momentarily, nodding surreptitiously at the teacher. Blaine couldn't hide the pleased grin that took over his face; Kurt clearly didn't hate him that much.

When the bell signaled the end of second period, Kurt hung back, waiting for his classmates to exit before approaching Blaine's desk. "Where do you want to talk?"

"The Lima Bean? It's a coffee place over in Lima. I know it's kind of far, but..."

Kurt actually smiled at this. "No, I know the place. I'm from Lima, so..." He trailed off awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Five good?"

Blaine smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "Five's perfect. See you then, Kurt."

For a moment, a turbulence of emotion stirred behind Kurt's mysteriously colored eyes, but before Blaine could discern its meaning, a wall of fake happiness blocked his view. "See you then, Bl—Mr. Anderson."

And then Kurt was gone.

His third period arrived mere moments later, and Blaine leaned back in his chair as he waited for the stragglers. He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted out of this conversation with Kurt, but he knew that if the excitement for the meeting didn't kill him, the fear certainly would.

The final bell rang at three, and Blaine was out the door within ten minutes, taking the time only to ensure he had the papers he needed to grade in his briefcase and to apologetically tell his usual after-school crew that they'd have to hang out elsewhere for the day. He sped west in his rusty sedan toward Lima. The Lima Bean was a popular Warbler haunt, despite being nearly two hours away from the school, but Blaine didn't fear being caught by one of the choir boys due to scheduled practice. He pulled into the cafe parking lot at quarter before five, but didn't get out of the car. He rested his head against the steering wheel and took deep, calming breaths. "Get a grip, Anderson," he muttered. "You're having coffee with a student. That's it. You're having coffee and you're laying down boundaries. End of story."

He exited the vehicle and made his way into the Lima Bean. His eyes immediately scanned the fairly empty cafe for Kurt, but unfortunately—or fortunately?—didn't find him. The line at the counter had only one person before him, so he quickly ordered and received his medium drip before choosing a more secluded table at the back of the shop. There he spun the cup around his hands, staring at anything but the front door. He refused to look at his watch, preferring to remain ignorant as to whether Kurt was early, on time, or late.

Eventually, though, a second cup, a large, appeared across from his, and suddenly Kurt was there, face stoic. "I'm here. Talk."

Mouth inexplicably dry, Blaine took a long sip from his coffee before beginning. "Thanks for coming. How was the drive?"

Kurt's eyebrow shot upward. "The drive? Really? That's what you wanted to talk about? Because I was under the impression that you wanted to discuss the aftermath of you tying me to my bed and fuck—"

"Okay!" Blaine half-shouted, quickly checking the nearest patrons to make sure no one reacted to Kurt's statement. "Yes. I wanted to t-talk...about Thursday."

"I'm up for a repeat if you are."

"Wh-what? No!" This conversation wasn't going at all the way Blaine intended. Man up, Anderson. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Kurt. What happened on Thursday...I'm not going to lie. That was the best sex of my life." He honestly didn't know what to make of the self-satisfied smirk that crossed Kurt's face. "I...let go of all my inhibitions, and I released them on you, and...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Kurt didn't answer for a long moment, and Blaine began to panic. "...No, you didn't hurt me. Though I will admit, when I thought you were going to leave me tied up...I was scared." His pale face flushed in embarrassment, but that was quickly eclipsed by hardness once more.

Blaine needed a frying pan with which to beat himself over the head. "God, K-Kurt, I'm...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Jesus, I never meant for any of this to happen."

"It's my fault." That surprised Blaine, and it seemed to surprise Kurt, too. "I came on to you, really, really strong, and...I'm sorry."

I've never seen anyone make contrition look so beautiful—Christ, Anderson, shut the hell up. "Listen to me, Kurt. None of this is your fault. I know you don't want to hear this, but you're still a kid."

"I'm seventeen! That's past the age of consent."

"Yes, I know, but I'm still your teacher, an authority figure in your life. And I know you respect authority figures, because you're one of the most gifted students I've ever taught." Blaine refused to allow himself to enjoy the way Kurt blushed ever-so-slightly at the compliment. "I don't care that we could both consent to what happened. I'm your teacher, you're my student, and it shouldn't have happened. I should have stopped thing with the—the blow-job on Wednesday, but I didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry I've made things awkward."

Kurt looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to say something, something that Blaine couldn't fathom, but instead he nodded shallowly. He then picked up his large coffee and took a long drink, eyes purposefully avoiding Blaine's.

Of course, that didn't matter, because Blaine's eyes were fully trained on the way Kurt's lips moved against the lid and the way Kurt's hand gripped the cup and oh my god, Anderson, you need to stop this now.

"We need some ground rules," Blaine blurted out, earning a questioning look from Kurt. "I obviously don't have very many ground rules with my other students, but then..." ...other students don't make me feel the way you do. Blaine could see by Kurt's downcast eyes that his meaning was clear. "So, one. No more notes in class, from either you or me. We need to communicate, we do so verbally, and preferably in the presence of others." Kurt nodded. "Two, no more contact outside of the classroom. After we leave here today, we only see each other inside my classroom. Okay?"

Kurt was clearly not okay with this. "That's not fair. Lots of teachers have out-of-school meetings with their students. Even what we're doing now isn't completely out of the ordinary. Besides, tomorrow I have an audition with the Warblers. You're the faculty advisor, right?" Blaine nodded. "So we'll be going to competitions together."

"That's an obvious exception to the rule, the Warblers, but this? Coffee? Meeting outside, one-on-one? No Kurt. It ends now.

"Three...we don't speak of what happened. Ever. It remains a secret between you and me, and we carry it to our graves. Or at least until you've graduated and I no longer work at Dalton."

Kurt worried his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes stayed glued to the tabletop, but Blaine could see them shine. "Are you—" Kurt cleared his throat, embarrassed by the shaky voice. "Are you... ashamed of what happened?" His eyes flickered upward briefly, returning to the table after seeing Blaine's horrified expression.

"K-Kurt." Blaine's own voice broke. "Kurt, no. God, no. I'm...I'm ashamed that I failed you as a teacher, but I'm not ashamed what happened. You gave me a short while where...everything made sense." Kurt's head snapped up at this, shock coloring his face. "I don't know what you are or where you come from, but you brought this light into my world that made the darkness seem a little less...well, dark." Bewildered by his own confession, Blaine covered his face with his coffee cup, drowning his feelings in the medium drip.

For a long while, no one spoke. They sat together, studiously contemplating their drinks. "I'm from here." Blaine turned back to the teenager when he spoke. "I used to go to McKinley High School. It's about a mile or so up the road from here. I transferred..." He swallowed thickly, and Blaine waited for him to continue. "I transferred because the bullying got too bad for me to stay. I was the only out kid, and there was...well, there was this one guy who made it his mission in life to make my life suck, and even though that seemed to be the mission of every jock on campus, he was particularly dedicated to the cause. We're talking tosses into the dumpster, shoves into lockers, slushies to the face. But the worst part..." Kurt trailed off, and flashbacks of Blaine's own high school torment clouded his vision, dispersing only when Kurt spoke again. "The worst part was never knowing when it was coming. I lived in a constant state of fear, and I was miserable twenty-four/seven.

"And then one day..." Kurt let out a bitter laugh. "Then one day I decided to stand up for myself. Karofsky—that was the guy's name—he shoved me down, and I ran after him into the boys' locker room. I yelled at him, and the next thing I know, he's kissing me. He kissed me, and then he ran off, and...I don't even remember the rest of that day. All I know is that my first kiss with a boy was with an asshole I hated."

Blaine's heart shattered as Kurt told his story. "Kurt...oh my god...I'm so—"

"It didn't end there. For the next few weeks, out of nowhere, he'd grab me, drag me into an empty classroom or hallway or something, press me against the wall, kiss me until I couldn't breathe or scream or move, tell me—" His deadened voice choked up for a fraction of a second. "—tell me that if I told anyone he'd kill me, and then he'd disappear. I was more terrified than ever before, and it started to show. My grades were slipping, I stopped participating in glee club, I couldn't sleep at night so I'd fall asleep in class...Eventually my dad made me tell him what was going on. I gave him a very abridged version of the turn of events—basically, just that the bullying had gotten worse—and he moved me to Dalton. Simple as that."

Blaine was speechless. He wanted nothing more in that moment—hell, in his entire life—than to gather Kurt in his arms, rock him back and forth, press kisses into his hair and face and lips, and assure him beyond a shadow of a doubt that everything was going to be okay. That he was safe. That he was loved.

But he couldn't. Because he was a teacher and Kurt was a student and they'd already slept together and hell he couldn't find the line with a map and a compass because he'd crossed it so fucking long ago and why did this hurt so much?

He stretched his hand across the table to cover Kurt's, but the younger man jumped back and stood. "I've—I've got to go. I understand your terms, Mr. Anderson. I don't like them, but I understand them. I'll see you in class tomorrow." And then he rushed off, leaving a very confused AP Lang teacher in his wake.

Well, here you go! Chapter four! Hope you enjoyed it! A little Kurt backstory, not quite canon, but alas, that will become important later on. Spoilers!

So, the Olympics! Best wishes to ALL THE NATIONS! Not to brag or anything (especially because this involves me in, like, no way), but one of the US Olympians goes to my church.

YES I GO TO CHURCH. THAT WORLD IS ENTIRELY SEPARATE FROM THIS WORLD. YOUR JUDGEMENT IS NOT APPRECIATED.

As always, much love you, my homeskilletz. But the most love of all goes to the I-think-he-was-Spanish-but-I-can't-quite-remember Olympian who marched in the Parades of Nations with a pink wig. YOU WERK BBY.

Alison, I hope you found this chapter appropriately tickety boo.

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