During French, the one subject he had with Kurt, a teacher he had never seen before called Blaine to the principal's office. Did they just hire new teachers each day or something? They never seemed to be familiar…

Pondering this, and also whether getting platform shoes would be too obvious or just a nice height booster, Blaine walked into Principal Figgins' office. As much as he tried not to, Blaine always had an immediate feeling of dislike whenever he saw the man. True, he allowed him to transfer into the school and not fall behind in his work. But on the other hand he read Kurt's name during prom when he didn't have to. Why didn't he just say Santana, or say there was a miscount? Regardless, that was the first time Blaine met Figgins, and he has not liked him ever since.

"Hello sir, the teacher said you wanted to speak to me?" Blaine asked. He hoped this wouldn't take long; they had a quiz on Thursday and he still needed to master the week's lessons.

Figgins did not seem to share the same concern that Blaine did. He was hunched over his desk, peering at some official-looking papers with a frown. Blaine was about to wonder if he needed to say something again when he at last looked up. "Yes, Mr. Anderson."

"Please, call me Neo," Blaine quickly replied. Figgins stared at him with a confused look, clearly not getting the joke. "…Never mind. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Figgins paused, still confused, before deciding to press forward. "Mr. Anderson, I was looking through your records to make sure that you are all caught up, and I realized that there is actually a discrepancy in your transfer credits."

Okay, so this was going to be one of those annoying visits. "Oh? And what credits would those be?"

"See, one of the requirements in all Ohio high schools is for the students to take at least two years of physical education. Your records said that you had two years of it, but looking more closely your actual "gym" class was just choir practice. Care to explain?"

Blaine internally sighed, somewhat relieved. It sounded like this wouldn't be so frustrating to handle after all. "Ah, right. You see, a few years ago Dalton had to fire one of its gym teachers after they found out that he was stealing paper from the copy room. Our gym teachers are only allowed in the actual gymnasium, you see. Anyway, they have had trouble finding a replacement who is okay with working at minimum wage, so they have been asking students to find alternative means to earn gym credits. I decided that given all of the choreography, Warbler practice was a perfect way to earn them, and to show how dedicated I was to my cardiovascular workout, I would try to do complex moves and jump on furniture during every practice. It was deemed acceptable, so I got two years of credit for that."

Figgins seemed to not be sure how to respond. Had he found a school that was actually weirder than his own? "I see... Unfortunately, we cannot accept choir practice as a valid form of physical education. Why, if we did that, we might as well accept running from bullies as credit as well!" Once again, Figgins seeming to see bullying as perfectly acceptable when Blaine saw it as an obvious problem that needed to be addressed. "You have two years of credits to fulfill, but you only have a year and a half to do that. As you can see, this might be a problem."

Blaine considered arguing for his hard-earned credits, but it slowly began to dawn on him that what Dalton had him do was less of state requirements and more of an excuse for them to not raise the wages for the teachers. "So…do I have any options?"

"Well, there are a few, but none of them are all that great. Your first option is to simply stay here for another year. You're short and look fairly young, so I'm sure you would fit right in!" Figgins gave an encouraging smile at this idea, but he saw Blaine's semi-incredulous look and turned back to his papers. "Another option is you take summer school. However, our budgets are being cut so instead of actually taking gym here, you would have to spend the summer training at a military camp."

Blaine was rather horrified by the idea. Him? In military? That was sure to go over well! Granted, the military had become more accepting, but he was sure word would get out that he was gay, and he would be too scared to sleep. Plus, this was his last summer to spend with his friends who are graduating, both from Dalton and from McKinley. He really didn't want to have to spend it away from them. "Please sir, is there any other way?"

"It is not wise for beggars to be choosers, Mr. Anderson," Figgins replied. Seeing his look of worry, he sighed and tried to think. "Well, there may be another option, but judging by your build, it is probably not possible…"

Oh God, did he have to run a triathlon or something? "What is that option, sir?"

"Well there is one other way we give credit for physical education. Anyone who is on a sports team gets gym credit for that whole year. However, McKinley is a very competitive school in the sports, and none of the teams will accept you just because you need credits. Why, if they did that, they would let in every kid in school!"

"I couldn't be there water boy or something?"

Figgins shook his head. "No. You must compete in at least three official matches for it to count as credit. And again, none of the coaches are likely to accept you out of pity. So feel free to try out to the teams and hope you get into one. If not, I have fliers for the military school."

Blaine stood there, frozen at the thought of his horrible options, before finally leaving the room. He went out to the hallway, leaning against a locker and thinking. What the hell was he gonna do? He had no sports skills…He hadn't even played a sport in years!

The bell rang, and students began to empty out of the classrooms. Then he saw the answer to his problem: Finn.

He ran up to him, barely being able to slow down his pace and almost crashing into him. "Woah!" Finn said, jostling the books in his arms. "Hey Blaine, what's up? You okay?"

"Can I join the football team?"

"Uh…what? Did Kurt tell you about our sophomore year? Cause right now I'm getting intense déjà vu…"

"I need credits for gym, and Figgins said if I join a sports team it'll count. Football is the only sport I know anything about, so I want to try and join it."

"Well that sucks and all, but the season's almost over. I think you missed your shot."

Blaine's heart sunk at that. Shit, he totally forgot about sports seasons. How could he be so stupid? Finn really didn't like seeing him upset, so he quickly tried to think of a solution. "Wait! How many times do you need to compete?"

"He said I need to be in three matches."

"Oh, then it actually might work out!" Blaine looked at him quizzically, so Finn rushed to explain. "We still have three matches left this season, so if she lets you on the team, you'll be all set!"

At this news, Blaine looked so happy and adorable that Finn got the sudden urge to lean down and kiss him. He froze, wondering where on Earth this desire came from, when Blaine started talking. "Oh my God, thanks Finn, you're really my savior. So can you help me talk to Coach Beiste? If she doesn't let me on the team I'll need to try another option, so I really wanna find out if I can join the football team right away."

"Of course man. We have practice after school, so why don't you come try out them? And I mean, we've had worse people on the team than you, and not even when we were short on players, so I'm sure she'll let you on!"

Blaine felt his cheeks hurt he was grinning so hard. He flung his arms around Finn into a hug. Finn's books fell on the floor, but he didn't really care. He had been hugged by Blaine before, but never like this. They were always way more casual, a quick way of saying hi or bye. Never so eager and warm. Warm…

And suddenly the hug was over. Finn couldn't help but be sad.

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Sorry if you read this and are hoping for more! Unfortunately I have fallen out of Glee and don't think I'll be returning to this fic :/