Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. The characters are not mine.

A/N: So, this new fandom obsession is pretty amazing. I just had to put my two cents in, it was too good to resist. If you're not an active part of certain areas of the fandom, you may be clueless as to what I'm talking about. Simply put, badboy!Klaine. Or, in this particular case, Dalton!Kurt and badboy!Blaine. Please note that this is completely and utterly AU. There are certain references to things that have happened in canon, but that's it.

Anyway, without further ado, the fic~

The first time Kurt met Blaine, he took an instant dislike to him. He was cute, extremely so, but liking the guy just wasn't an option after catching Blaine trying to pickpocket him. He was talented at his crime, that Kurt couldn't deny. Kurt wouldn't have even noticed the gloved hands sneaking into his blazer pocket if his phone hadn't started ringing at just the right time.

As his hand brushed against the fingers of another, as he felt those fingers pull away, Kurt turned instantly. He was faced with a boy, no older than Kurt, with an unshaven jaw and a mass of curls atop his head. A small, metal ring pierced his left, oddly triangular eyebrow. His features were sharp, defined, but none more so than the smirk that spread across his face.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Kurt demanded shrilly, swatting the boy's hand away as it lingered near his Kurt's hip. He took his phone out long enough to flip it open and closed again, effectively silencing it, before placing it in his other pocket.

"What does it look like, babe?" the boy replied, bouncing onto his feet and —wow, okay, he was short — walking around the table. He wore a light grey hoodie that was much too large for his size and a pair of loose jeans, making Kurt inwardly cringe at his poor fashion sense.

The boy dropped into the seat opposite Kurt and Kurt's jaw fell agape at the boy's shameless manner and complete lack of respect. The boy stared at him for a moment, smirk still firmly in place, and Kurt felt rage bubble inside him as the boy's eyes trailed down and up Kurt's chest. He locked eyes with Kurt and Kurt tried not to yell at the boy as a foot brushed against his.

"You're from Dalton, right? That school for prissy snobs?" Blaine said eventually, licking his lips.

"Dalton is not a school for prissy snobs," Kurt replied sharply. "But yes, I do attend Dalton Academy. I presume you're a McKinley delinquent?"

"I'm not a delinquent, babe."

"Then what was your hand doing in my pocket?"

The boy snorted. "Babe, do you really have to ask?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Well, what else am I meant to call you?"

"Nothing. You're not going to call me anything because you and I are not on talking terms."

The boy leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and his smirk seemed to grow wider. "We're talking now, though, aren't we?" he said in a low voice, quirking an eyebrow at Kurt. When Kurt merely glared, the boy wrapped his fingers around Kurt's coffee mug and lifted it to his mouth.

"That's mine!" Kurt yelled angrily, turning a few heads. He reached out a hand but made no attempt to take it back until the boy pushed it into his palm with that same arrogant smirk.

"It is," he replied calmly. "And so is this." He pulled something from his pocket and let it fall to the table between them before pushing himself to his feet.

Kurt's mouth dropped open as he stared at the wallet — his wallet — on the table in front of him.

"How did you-" Kurt started, but the boy was already walking away, an oddly sexy swag in his step.

"See you, pretty boy," he called over his shoulder.

Kurt could do nothing but stare after him, perplexed and overwhelmed. The door to the coffee shop swung closed and Kurt turned around in his seat. He frowned at his wallet and replayed the conversation in his head.

—

The second time Kurt met Blaine, he was on his way to visit Rachel Berry's house after school when the boy and his posse found him. Now, Kurt wouldn't usually befriend public school students but Rachel was an exception. She could definitely afford private school if that's what she wanted, and she was incredibly talented. Plus, his deceased mother and her fathers were close friends during college, so Rachel and Kurt spent a lot of time together as children.

As he walked through the streets of Lima and pondered over which Broadway classic they'd sing this evening, he heard a familiar voice behind him, calling a familiar name.

"Hey, it's my pretty boy. San, look, it's him. I'd know that arse anywhere."

"That is one fine ass," a girl commented.

Kurt clenched the strap of his satchel, gritted his teeth, and walked faster. He heard a slow, appreciative whistle and tried to keep his breathing even. Public school students were not hitting on him. He was so out of their league and he knew that they knew it.

And then a third voice, another guy, added, "And coming from a raging lesbian, that's saying something. If you don't tap that arse, Blaine, I will."

"Damn, how's that straight thing going for ya, Puck?" the boy from the coffee shop said, amusement lacing his voice.

"Sex is sex, man. I'd fuck your dog if I got the urge."

"I don't have a do- holy shit did you guys see him sway his hips just then? That's so hot."

Kurt spun on his heel and glared at the boy, at Blaine, who merely smiled eerily. "Will you shut your ungodly, perverted traps and leave me alone?" he snapped.

"Oh my god he could hear us," the girl said, looking at Puck and smirking. The Hispanic girl had her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail and a lip piercing that glinted under the sun. She wore skintight jeans and a white shirt with LEBANESE printed in thick, black letters. As he looked at the boys, he noticed that their shirts were all very similar. The boy from before wore one with LIKES BALLS, and he seemed to wearing the same jeans from last week. Oh, gross.

"Good luck getting in his pants now, Blaine," Puck said with a laugh. Kurt's eyes went to him immediately. He had a mohawk and his t-shirt, which was printed with the words I'M WITH STUPID and an arrow to his crotch, strained against the size of his muscles.

"You are all absolutely mental if you think you have a shot at even laying a finger on me," Kurt said haughtily. "And I am quite frankly offended by your remarks."

Santana groaned. "Dude, what were you thinking? He talks like Rachel."

"She's a good kisser, awesome with her tongue," Blaine replied, almost conversationally.

"She learned from the best," Puck said arrogantly.

"Look, Blaine," Kurt said, interrupting their conversation, and Blaine shot a lopsided grin at him, seemingly amused that Kurt knew his name. "I don't know who you are but you and your little posse here have made it very clear what you want from me. You disgust me. Now run along and eat whatever scraps you can find in the dumpster while you sob over your misery of my rejection, and don't bother me again."

Blaine walked towards him, closing the distance, and Kurt tried to take a step back when Blaine came a little bit too close. Blaine was one step ahead, however, catching hold of Kurt's elbows to keep him firmly in place. His stubble grazed against Kurt's cheek as he leaned forward to whisper in Kurt's ear.

"You won't be able to resist me for long, babe," Blaine said huskily. Kurt's jaw slacked and Blaine's voice sent chills down Kurt's spine, making him suddenly feel far too hot and bothered. "Everyone falls for the bad guy."

"I'm not everyone," Kurt retorted, but he was breathless and he could feel Blaine smirking against his cheek because he knew, Blaine knew what his voice did to Kurt.

Kurt pushed Blaine away, praying to a God he didn't believe in that he wasn't blushing too hard. He tried his best to glare angrily at Blaine, but it was half-hearted and it made his blush become more prominent.

"See you around, pretty boy," Blaine said, walking backwards with a mischievous grin on his face.

As they walked away, laughing and shoving one another, Kurt tried his best to recollect himself. Blaine looked over his shoulder and Kurt let out a quiet gasp as the boy winked.

Kurt was still blushing furiously by the time he reached Rachel's house.

—

The third time Kurt met Blaine, it was at Rachel's house party. It wasn't her first, that Kurt knew, and he'd actually been invited to her parties previously but he'd rejected the offer to avoid being around public school students. He wouldn't have gone this time if she hadn't talked him into it with a promise of alcohol and karaoke. Oh, the things he did for friends.

As Kurt stepped through the door with his step-brother, half an hour late, his first impression was that it relatively tame as far as parties go. Most of New Directions was already there, huddled into groups, chatting and dancing.

A blonde girl and a large, black girl were giggling behind red cups as an Asian couple did the Single Ladies choreography to a more upbeat, bass-heavy song. A guy in a wheelchair and glasses laughed as his blond friend cracked jokes. He saw the girl from the previous month locking lips with a blonde, and next to them, Puck and Blaine were in the middle of an arm wrestle.

Public school idiots. Ugh.

Rachel's squeal of "Kurt! Finn! You're late!" made Blaine look up and lose concentration, immediately being slammed into the table by Puck. Kurt turned his head and hoped it hadn't seemed like he was staring.

Within five minutes, Kurt had a bottle of vodka in his hands and settled into the corner of the room. He stood by himself, watching Rachel's classmates become tipsy as the minutes passed and sipping at his drink through a straw. It wasn't long before Blaine, dressed in a scruffy t-shirt and jeans, came over. Kurt couldn't say he was surprised.

"Hey, pretty boy," Blaine said seductively, putting one hand on the wall and leaning in. He pushed Kurt's drink aside and put his other hand on Kurt's jaw. That same goddamn smirk was on his face and that same goddamn voice made Kurt's stomach flutter and that new goddamn feel of Blaine's hand on his face made his knees go weak.

"You have no concept of personal space, do you?" Kurt said bitingly.

"Not when I want something, no."

"I'm not that easy, Blaine. I'm not just going to bend over and let some public school scum screw me."

"You're hot, I'm hot. Why do you have to make it so fucking complicated?" Blaine moved in, pressing his cheek against Kurt's, breathing against Kurt's skin.

"You're a miscreant."

"I'm hot," Blaine said, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the crook of Kurt's jaw.

"That's down to a matter of personal opinion," Kurt replied breathlessly. As Blaine began to kiss down Kurt's neck, Kurt put his hands on Blaine's chest. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to push the boy away and go home but he couldn't find the willpower to go through with it. It felt good, it felt so good, and his body was on fire. Blaine pulled Kurt's shirt out of the way to suck at Kurt's collarbone and oh, oh, that was— oh. "Blaineblaineblaineblaine no Blaine stop Blaine don't no no no." It all came out at once and Kurt was breathless and turned on and he didn't mean a word of it but he refused to just give in to this guy.

Blaine pulled back, seemingly unaffected by Kurt's words. "You want me," he whispered coldly. "I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, you want me as much as I want you. You're just scared. You're a fucking coward, aren't you?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Kurt said.

"You probably should be."

"I should be a lot of things, Blaine. You're nothing but a pickpocket with a bad reputation."

"Babe, please. You don't know me."

"And that's precisely why you need to stop trying to seduce me."

"Trying?" Blaine said with a snort. "It seems to me as though it's working, pretty boy."

"Kurt. If you're going to call me something, call me by my name, okay?"

Blaine smirked and lifted his head, tugging on Kurt's earlobe with his teeth. "Oh, are we on talking terms now?" he murmured.

"Absolutely not," Kurt replied, his voice several octaves higher than usual.

"Really, now?" Blaine said, waggling his eyebrows. "Are we on kissing terms?"

"What do you think?"

"I think we should be."

"I think you should get over yourself."

"I think I should kiss you right now."

"I think that's a stupid idea."

But then Blaine was moving closer and his legs were on either side of Kurt's and his chest was close to Kurt's and shit he was hard like he was actually getting off on Kurt's resistance and oh god Kurt could feel it and he'd never been so close to another boy before and oh god he was panicking because Blaine was hard.

As Blaine's lips closed in on Kurt's, Kurt gathered his strength and his courage, shoving the smaller boy away. "I'm not some slut you can hook up with when you're bored. You've been nothing but a nuisance to me and I'm sick of your attitude. I'm going home."

"I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks," Kurt said bitterly. "But I don't want you knowing where I live and showing up at all kinds of the night."

"I know where you live, babe. I'm bros with your brother."

"Whatever. Just back off."

Kurt made it to the stairs without a problem but then a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back and he nearly screamed in rage when he saw Blaine.

"Stay," Blaine said.

"I beg your pardon." Kurt asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

It took some convincing and an intervention from one very clingy, drunk Rachel Berry, but finally Kurt rejoined the party. They became so drunk that they could barely see straight and Kurt actually managed to forget who he was with and have a good time. They sat in a circle for Spin The Bottle and Kurt ended up kissing the girl, her name was Santana, and later an Asian guy called Mike.

Once the group grew bored of the game, they cranked up the music again and everyone was on their feet, dancing with whoever they could find. And that's how, before long, Kurt felt Blaine's hands grip onto Kurt's waist from behind.

"Hey there, sexy," Blaine slurred in his ear, grinding into Kurt's arse. Kurt tried to pull away but Blaine held on tighter, groaning in complaint. "Don't goooo. I'm a stupid dick with a stupid dick, I know I am, but I'm drunk and you're drunk and I'm sexy and you're sexy and we should dance."

Kurt was so tired, so tired of fighting and resisting and arguing and challenging, and he was drunk so he wasn't exactly thinking straight. So he gave in, bringing a hand up to hold onto the back of Blaine's neck and turning his head so he could hide his face against Blaine's skin. He ground his arse against Blaine's groin in time to the beat, his eyes closed against the crook of Blaine's jaw.

"Turn around," Blaine murmured.

"I'm not dry-humping you in front of your friends."

Blaine chuckled darkly and Kurt cringed, realising how that sounded and knowing what would come next. "Would you do it if we were alone?"

And bingo was his name-o.

"Shut up."

—

When Kurt woke up the next morning, his head was pounding viciously and he felt like he'd been run over by several trucks in quick succession. He was on the floor in a familiar room, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly where he was. It was a reasonably modest place, a decent size, with trophies in display cases and Broadway posters on the walls. So he was still at Rachel's …

And surrounded by bodies. Male bodies. Sleeping in various positions, some of them even flopped over others. He noticed Puck drooling on someone's shin, and the Asian guy he'd kissed at the party — Matt? Michael? Whatever — was practically on top of Puck, snoring into the crook of Puck's neck. Oh, gross.

Something stirred beneath Kurt and it was only then that he realised that his head was in someone's lap. He looked up, saw the glint of a piercing and the flutter of long eyelashes, and the boy beneath him groaned as the light hit him. Blaine. Blaine. It just had to be Blaine, didn't it? Kurt tried to lift his head, to move away, but he collapsed onto Blaine's leg again when the room started spinning.

Blaine chuckled, his voice hoarse. "Hey, babe," he mumbled.

"Fuck off."

"Mm, you're sexy when you swear."

Kurt opened his mouth to mumble a pathetic retort, but as if on cue, a perky Rachel Berry strolled into the room and clapped her hands. The noise echoed in Kurt's ears like cymbals and he hid his face in Blaine's leg.

"Boys!" she screamed. The rational part of Kurt's brain told him she didn't actually scream, it was just the hangover, but her grating voice hurt too much for him to care about logic. She was screaming and it was painful. That's all he needed to know. "Rise and shine! My dads will be back in exactly five hours and I need all of you to clear out of my living room as soon as possible. Come on, stop grouching, it's a beautiful day!"

As if to prove her point, she crossed the room and pulled the curtains aside. Everyone on the floor let out a groan of complaint, and a string of expletives left Puck's mouth as he jerked away from the light. The Asian boy fell off of Puck, shouting out in pain as his tailbone hit the floor.

"Come on!" Rachel said brightly. "Move it! I expect you all to be in the kitchen for breakfast in fifteen minutes!"

With that, she left the room, leaving the hungover teenagers to curl up and silently beg for mercy. Blaine was the first to move, lifting Kurt's head out of the way so he could slowly make his way to his feet. The other boys followed his lead, trailing into the kitchen and exchanging small talk on the way. Kurt sat up and put the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing relentlessly for several minutes before easing himself into a standing position. Everything hurt. He walked on unsteady legs in the direction of the kitchen and the smell of bacon made him want to hurl.

When he walked into the room, Blaine caught his eye and winked, his signature smirk in place. He looked a damn sight better than Kurt felt, even though Kurt was positive that Blaine drunk a hell of a lot more alcohol. That's what Kurt gets for being a lightweight. Fuck everything.

"Looking good, babe," Blaine slurred as he leaned against the island in the middle of the room.

Kurt, too hungover to argue, merely flipped Blaine off and found a seat on the opposite side of the spacious kitchen. He sat beside the large, black girl that Rachel was friends with, and she introduced herself as Mercedes.

"My uncle has a Mercedes Benz," Kurt said airily, causing the Asian girl next to Mercedes to burst into giggles. "Hey, Mercedes, why are we all still here?"

"Rachel locked the front door after you got here, and then she couldn't find the key again," Mercedes explained. "So she got Quinn to call everyone's parents and let them know we'd be staying."

"And none of us could drive home anyway," the Asian added before burping loudly. Kurt wrinkled his nose.

The conversation ended there and it didn't take long until Blaine managed to grab Kurt's attention once more. Oh, Kurt was in for a great day.

—

"I think you should let me take you out," a smug voice said from behind Kurt.

Kurt, who had his nose buried in the latest issue of Vogue, jumped in surprise. He looked over his shoulder and huffed when he saw Blaine leaning over the back of the park bench with his signature smirk in place.

"No."

"Aww, come on, babe," Blaine cooed, climbing over the bench to sit beside Kurt. "We could have fun. I could take you out for coffee! Or we could go and see that new action movie that came out last week."

Kurt scrunched his nose up. "I'm not interested in action movies, Blaine."

He rose to his feet and hugged the magazine to his chest as he began to walk away. When the sound of footsteps trailed after Kurt, he let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn't the first time Blaine asked Kurt out, and there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't be the last.

As Blaine opened his mouth to talk again, Kurt turned on the spot, holding a hand up to silence him. "Look, Blaine, I'm sure you're — well, no, I know you're not a great guy so I'm not even going to play nice. You are what some would call a sex addict. Your classmates would probably call people like you a whore. You see someone who turns you on and you go after them. You use that bad boy charm and your devilishly good looks to make the poor guy fall for you, you get into their pants, maybe a few times if he's good, and then move onto your next victim. You don't care about feelings, or romance, or relationships. You care about sex. And that, Blaine, is one of the many reasons I refuse to give in and go on a date with you. That, and the first time we met, you tried to steal my wallet. Not a great first impression."

Blaine grinned wickedly. "You think I have devilishly good looks?"

Kurt blushed at that and turned away from Blaine, continuing to walk away. As expected, Blaine followed. "I'm not blind. But it honestly doesn't matter how gorgeous you are, it's going to take more than a pretty face and a few tricks to get me to swoon into your arms."

"You know, you judge people really fucking easily."

"What?" Kurt frowned, looking over his shoulder at Blaine but not stopping his feet from hitting the grass.

"You think that just because I go after what I want and I like to nick stuff, I'm not worth your time. People have accused me of being a hell of a lot of things before, but you're more of a dick than I've ever been."

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked away again. "You're doing an awesome job at winning me over. No really, I'll be swooning in no time," he deadpanned.

Blaine practically growled as he reached for Kurt's arm, pulling him to a halt and forcing Kurt to face him. "Look, just drop it okay? You're not the only with eyes, and I saw your face at that party. Sober-Kurt might be able to keep up an act, but Drunk-Kurt is pretty damn awful at hiding his feelings. You want me. It was written all over you. I get that I'm the guy your mom probably wants you to-"

"My mom's dead," Kurt snapped, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "And you are, without a doubt, the most arrogant person I've ever met."

"But I'm right," Blaine said, raising his eyebrows.

Yes, you are. "No, you're not. I will not go on a date with you because I do not want to date you. And even if I hypothetically did want to date you, it would be cheating, because I have a boyfriend. He's nice, and he doesn't break the law every week, and he doesn't try to grope me every time he sees me." That wasn't entirely true, Kurt and Trent had broken up three days previously, but they'd been on-and-off for a while and he'd probably be back with him by the end of the week. So he wasn't exactly lying.

"You're lying."

"I'm not. Now if you don't mind, I am actually going to have lunch with said boyfriend-" Another lie. He was going home. "-and I'll be late if you continue harassing me. Back off. I'm not interested."

"You'll give in eventually," Blaine said darkly. He stopped walking, letting Kurt leave. "You'll crack. No one can resist me for long!"

Kurt took his sunglasses out of his bag and put them on as he left, not dignifying Blaine with a response. He wouldn't crack. Kurt had admired Finn for years and no one suspected a thing until Kurt started accepting himself. And, sure, Blaine was oddly alluring, but he was also absolutely infuriating. If he focused on Blaine's flaws, it shouldn't be too hard to forget the positives.

Kurt turned his head to look over his shoulder, and his face grew hot instantly. Blaine was bent over, tying his shoelace, giving Kurt an excellent view of his rear. With a gulp, Kurt looked away again and sped out of the park.

Maybe he could just avoid Blaine instead, try to forget about him forever.

—

Kurt managed to skillfully avoid Blaine and his posse for exactly one month, two weeks and three days. It involved not going out often, staying behind at school, and dodging all the McKinley hotspots. It was tricky and his dad was suspicious, but he was proud of himself. That didn't mean Blaine hadn't contacted him, though. The bastard had slipped his phone number into Kurt's phone at Rachel's party, and got Kurt's number from Rachel.

Not a day went by without Blaine sending Kurt a flirtatious, suggestive or aggressive text. Kurt didn't reply to many of them, although he did threaten to file a restraining order after Blaine told him, in great detail, what he wanted to do to him in bed. Kurt couldn't (although he totally would) deny that some of the flirty ones made him smile like a lovesick schoolgirl.

When Defying Gravity blared from his phone at three in the morning, startling him out of sleep, he assumed it'd be Trent, apologising for their most recent argument, but then he looked down at the screen to see Blainers and rage bubbled in the coil of Kurt's stomach.

He flipped the phone open and shoved it to his ear, sitting up in bed. "For fuck's sake, Blaine, will you just stop it? You are crossing a-"

"It's not Blaine," a female voice said, sharp and agitated.

Kurt paused for a moment, frowning. "Santana? What are you doing with Blaine's phone?"

"That doesn't matter. He's pissed. Really pissed."

Kurt rolled the kinks out of his neck and let out a sigh. So he was angry. Or drunk. Whatever. They didn't need to be disturbing Kurt at this time at night when he had absolutely nothing to do with that tool. "So?"

"Look, hotstuff, I don't know what Blaine sees in you but he likes you. You're hot, sure, but you're annoying as hell and your voice reminds me of a five year old girl. And honestly, I think he's wasting his time pining after someone as uptight and self-obsessed as you. But my personal opinion aside, he really fucking likes you and you're probably one of the only things that can make him calm down right now. He just got some Dalton kid to come out of his house and then beat the living shit out of him, and he's gonna get locked up unless you get your pretty little arse down here and knock some sense into him."

Kurt stiffened, eyes widening. "A Dalton student?" he squeaked.

"Whatever. The guy's fine. We're near the kids' park by Berry's house, so just come and find us before he does anything else."

"But-"

"Hummel. I don't give a shit if you're worried about breaking a nail, and I don't give a shit how you feel about us. You'll come over here right now or I swear to God I will hunt you down and go all Lima Heights on your arse. Do you seriously think I'd call you if it wasn't important?"

Kurt sighed. She had a point, and while he didn't really understand what he could do to help, and he definitely didn't owe anything to Blaine, he really didn't fancy dealing with an angry lesbian from Lima Heights Adjacent.

—

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was pounding the pavement around Rachel's block, ears and eyes on red alert. He heard a yell of pain, a curse, and he broke into a run. He stopped instantly as turned a corner to see Puck and Blaine engaged in a fist fight. It was pretty one-sided, Puck trying to get him to stop and Blaine blindly throwing punches. A knee in the groin sent Puck to the ground and just as Blaine went to kick him in the stomach, Kurt ran forward, calling his name.

"Blaine! Stop this!" Kurt pulled at Blaine's arm, trying to ease him away, fear and adrenalin pumping through his system.

Then Blaine turned on him, his eyes sparked with anger, and he actually growled at Kurt. He grabbed Kurt's shirt in his fists, pushing him back into the wall with painful force. It briefly reminded him of Rachel's party, but it wasn't erotic, it wasn't seductive or flirtatious. It was scary, absolutely terrifying.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Blaine snarled, glaring at him with intense, hazel eyes.

"Calm down," Kurt demanded.

Blaine pulled him away from the wall before slamming him back into it. Kurt did his best to ignore the searing pain it caused. "I don't want to calm down. I hate you. I hate you so fucking much it makes me sick to look at you."

"Don't be stupid. You've made it pretty damn clear that you don't hate me."

"Yes I do," Blaine snapped. "Always rejecting me, always refusing to give me a chance. Not answering any of my calls, not responding to my texts. Avoiding me. You hurt me, Kurt. And I hate you. I hate your eyes and your hair and your moves and your face and your fucking gorgeous arse. I hate your lifestyle. I hate your school. I hate your attitude. I hate everything about you and I never want to see that face of yours again."

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, fighting uselessly against Blaine's restraints as he tightened the pressure between Kurt and the wall. "Blaine, you're hurting me. Please calm down."

Blaine only pushed against him harder, shoving him into the wall again, glaring up at him. His eye looked swollen, his eyebrow piercing was bleeding, and his lip was busted. He looked a mess with his disheveled hair and torn clothes, but somehow, the look suited him. And … was that a leather jacket?

"Blaine, leave Kurt alone. You're such a prick," Santana snapped from behind them.

Blaine didn't stop staring at Kurt, but his face screwed up and he yelled, "Stop telling me what to do, you fucking bitch!" at the top of his lungs and Santana raised her eyebrows, ready to "go all Lima Heights".

"Santana, don't," Kurt warned, still maintaining eye contact with the boy pinning against the wall. "Yelling won't get you anywhere." Kurt lifted a hand up between them, brushing Blaine's curls out of his face. "Why did you beat one of my classmates up, Blaine? What's got you so worked up?" His voice was gentle, even, despite his pounding heart and aching limbs.

"Don't fucking touch me. Your boyfriend was asking for it."

Kurt swore his heart stopped beating for a moment, and his stomach turned uneasily. "Trent? You hurt Trent? What the fu-"

"Shut up," he yelled, forcing Kurt into the wall once more. "Just shut it, okay? I'm sick of your shit. I'm sick, I- I'm sick of you."

A loud smack filled the area as Kurt's hand hit Blaine's cheek. Blaine's grip slackened and he stumbled back, mouth open in shock. Surprise was replaced with confusion, which turned into anger, and Blaine made to charge at Kurt, screaming "You're such a dick!"

But Santana was one step ahead, jumping onto Blaine and kicking the back of his knees, sending him to the ground before he could reach Kurt. She pinned him down, whispering viciously in his ear. Kurt was too overwhelmed to hear what she was saying, too scared to even move, too sore to want to. As strong as Santana was, Blaine was stronger and it wasn't long before the roles were reversed.

He sent a punch and several insults her way before he was on his feet again, stalking towards Kurt like a bird of prey targeting it's next meal. Kurt held his breath as Blaine came closer and as Blaine stood a few mere inches away, Kurt scrunched his eyes up in anticipation.

"You're so infuriating," Blaine hissed, and oh, he was close, he was really close.

The next thing Kurt knew, Blaine's rough hands were cupping Kurt's face uncomfortably and Blaine's lips were forced upon Kurt's, moving quickly without remorse in a furious, hungry kiss. It was painful and Blaine's lip was still bleeding, the taste of copper blood finding it's way into Kurt's mouth. But he was too scared to pull away, not wanting to find out what would happen if he dared to reject Blaine while he was in this state, not willing to take that risk.

So, with shaking hands, Kurt gently held onto Blaine's hips, pulling him closer, rubbing comforting circles into his skin. He returned the kiss, his lips moving softly against Blaine's angry initiation. Time passed and he didn't stop, he could feel Blaine relaxing against him, calming down. Kurt allowed himself a satisfied smile. He could hear Santana and Puck talking quietly behind Blaine, though he couldn't distinguish any words.

"I hate you," Blaine murmured against Kurt's mouth, no anger in his voice, just bitterness. "I really, really hate you."

Kurt doesn't reply, merely bringing a hand up to hold the back of Blaine's head and tangling his fingers in Blaine's hair. The kiss was wrong, it was so wrong, he was leading Blaine on and he felt awful, but it was calming him down, it was stopping a fight, it was working. He had to do this.

And he might have been enjoying it, too.

—

Kurt never did find out what made Blaine so furious, or how he knew where to find Trent. Trent made a full recovery, he wasn't too badly injured, although Kurt calling their relationship quits for good kind of broke him. Blaine was sporting an awful black eye for several weeks, which Kurt found out was courtesy of Puck, and despite that night, Blaine's posse was still by his side.

Kurt kept his distance after that night and Blaine's efforts only doubled. Then he showed up at the garage one day.

Kurt had been helping his dad out while one of his employees was bedridden with some kind of allergy reaction. Honestly he found the whole fixing cars ordeal rather disgusting and a waste of time for the Hummels — they had enough money to keep Kurt's grandchildren healthy and happy, and yet his father insisted on keeping the garage. Cars were gross and messy, but Kurt had to do what he had to do, and just because he hated it, it didn't mean he was uneducated. And so every day after school, he'd change into one of his dad's plaid shirts, slip on some overalls and get to work.

Burt had gone back to the house because Finn had broken one of the ornaments in the living room or something, leaving Kurt to finish up on the car he was working on, when Blaine arrived.

He heard the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the drive and Kurt didn't bother scooting out from under the car, figuring the customer would find him before long. Then he heard Blaine's voice calling into the garage and he tensed, eyes widening. He pushed himself out and got to his feet, wiping his oily hands on his dad's shirt and crossing the garage slowly.

"Is anyone there?"

Kurt saw the bike before he saw Blaine, but the moment he laid eyes on the guy, he had to fight back a gasp. He wore a leather jacket, similar to the one he wore the other night. His jeans hugged his legs and his arse beautifully, and his hair was … well … it was styled.

"I didn't know you had a motorcycle."

Blaine turned and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out when he saw Kurt. No words, that is, except "Fuck." His eyes raked Kurt's body, up the greasy overalls that stopped at the waist, over the baggy shirt that somehow clung to his body in all the right places, to the skin that showed at the collar, to Kurt's blushing face.

"Hello, Blaine," Kurt said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Hell-o," Blaine replied huskily, still soaking up the image before him.

Kurt toyed with his overalls, biting his lip. The way Blaine was staring at him was making him feel funny. "What's wrong with your motorcycle? Dad's better with them than I am, but um, I might be able to fix it."

Blaine merely shook his head, walking towards him with a hungry look in his eye. "I didn't know you worked here," he said breathlessly. "You don't seem like the greasemonkey type."

"I hate it here," Kurt admitted, stepping backwards. "It's gross."

"You're so fucking hot. All messy and stuff, oh my god babe. I need to kiss you. I- I need to feel you."

Kurt considered telling him to either leave or let Kurt fix his motorcycle, but Blaine had already guided him to the desk and he was perched on the edge. Kurt considered pushing him away, but part of him didn't want to. This side of Blaine, not intentionally flirting or seducing Kurt, just pure attraction … it was hot. It wasn't sleazy, not to Kurt, and though he'd never admit it, knowing just the sight of him could leave someone genuinely breathless, well, it kind of turned him on.

He was tired of fighting. He was tired of deleting all of Blaine's texts and ignoring his calls. He was tired of having to keep his phone off in school in case Blaine decided to contact him. He was tired of resisting and pretending. And, sure, Blaine probably only wanted him for his body, but maybe that was what Kurt needed. He was old enough to take care of himself, and the look in Blaine's eyes was driving Kurt crazy.

"So do it," Kurt replied, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck.

Blaine didn't need telling twice. His hands clawed at Kurt's hips and his lips crashed onto Kurt's. It was desperate, not furious like before, but needy. There was no build up, no sweet, light kisses that would lead into more. Kurt wasn't expecting sweet, though, and he returned the kiss with just as much passion. Blaine's nails dug through the overalls, scratching at Kurt's skin. Kurt slowly edged himself further onto the desk until he was sitting properly, wrapping his legs around Blaine's waist and pulling him close. Blaine smirked into the kiss at that, and Kurt smirked back.

Blaine moved his hands from Kurt's waist to his arse, making Kurt squeak in surprise. Blaine chuckled, breaking the kiss momentarily to murmur "So hot, babe."

"Less talking, more tongue," Kurt said, latching his mouth onto Blaine's again.

They remained like that for several minutes, all teeth and tongue and heat. When Kurt caught Blaine's bottom lip in his teeth, Blaine swore under his breath. The sound sent heat straight to Kurt's groin and his stomach flipped. Blaine pulled back, nipping and sucking and kissing down Kurt's neck. Kurt threw his head back with a moan, exposing his skin to Blaine.

As Blaine sucked on the crook of Kurt's jaw, Kurt's hips bucked into Blaine's, causing his head to drop onto Kurt's shoulder, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Kurt, fuck," Blaine moaned at the same time a tense, clipped voice said "Kurt." from the garage door.

Kurt's eyes sprung open and he flushed red as he saw his father glaring furiously at the boys. Kurt pushed Blaine away and slid off the table. He stared at the floor and bit his lip.

"Dad."

"Who's this?"

"This, this is uh-"

"Blaine," Blaine said with a shameless grin.

"Blaine … Anderson? From McKinley? The one who got caught shoplifting last Christmas?"

"The very same."

Kurt cringed, oh god, Blaine was proud of his crimes. He could feel Burt's eyes burning into his head but he crossed his arms over his chest and stared relentlessly at the ground. His heart was racing and blood was pounding through his body, and oh god oh god oh god, his dad just walked in on him hooking up with a public school miscreant.

"Get out of my garage," Burt said. He sounded calm but Kurt could hear the waver of underlying rage in his voice.

Blaine sauntered out of the place, putting an arrogant swagger in his step. The room was silent until Blaine's motorcycle could no longer be heard in the distance. Kurt prepared himself for the lecture, head still bowed.

He would kill Blaine the next time he saw him.

—

Kurt didn't make an effort to avoid Blaine, but he definitely didn't make an effort to see Blaine either. Burt had forbidden him from seeing a criminal, but he was a teenage boy with hormones and rebellion was something every teenager went through, right? Sure, there were quite a few gay guys at Dalton, but Kurt kind of liked how Blaine wasn't like them at all. Blaine wasn't afraid to pull out all the stops.

So they got together for casual hook ups every now and then, and Kurt even let Blaine drive him around on his motorcycle for a while, and sometimes they had the worst arguments Kurt had ever experienced and other times they really enjoyed one another's company. They weren't boyfriends, not really, but as weeks passed, they hung out more and Kurt started wanting that boyfriend title. He refused to say anything about it, though. Kurt was sure that Blaine's weakness would probably turn out to be commitment, but whatever, he was comfortable with what he was getting.

Then one day, it all changed, and all because of a simple "Okay, okay, I'll go." from Kurt.

Kurt had agreed to going to the mall with Blaine and his posse for a day out. No alcohol, no illegal activities, just a day out. As Kurt and Blaine headed for the coffee shop where they agreed to meet Puck and Santana, Blaine slung an arm over Kurt's shoulder (which was quite a feat, as Kurt was not only taller than Blaine, but wearing heeled boots) and pulled him in close.

Puck and Santana shared a look when they saw the boys approaching and Kurt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He didn't like that look.

"So are you guys, like, officially together now or what?" Puck asked, and Kurt's suspicion turned into fear. He'd been purposely avoiding the subject of their status around Blaine, because that kind of thing could scare him off and Kurt definitely-

"Obviously," Blaine drawled. "Got a problem, dude?"

Oh. Oh. Okay.

Kurt could get used to that.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this oneshot! I will not be continuing it.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.