Disclaimer: I do not own Glee/any of the characters.

Rated M for language, sexual content, etc.

Kurt stood in the middle of the hallway in his fresh new Cheerios uniform, still trying to navigate his way to his science classroom. As a small freshman in a school dominated by upperclassmen, Kurt was still trying to get used to the transition. He joined the Cheerios as an attempt to maybe make some new acquaintances, as well as to get an extracurricular activity on his resume and to get some type of physical activity. And Christ (or whatever divine deity there was), was Coach Sylvester hard! He'd done the week of intense practice that summer and was so exhausted by the end of practice that he'd only have the energy to perform his moisturizing routine before he crashed. His dad was not happy with how hard he was being worked, but Kurt pulled through and somehow got picked to be a part of the cheer squad, and eventually Burt came to accept that his son would be cheering on the sideline of the football field rather than playing on it, which was what he'd originally envisioned for his son. Then again, Kurt also came out of gay just a few months prior, so it wasn't like Burt couldn't expect Kurt to do these different types of things. Still, his father supported him, so Kurt continued with the Cheerios.

He wasn't even sure how he even got on the team, but he suspected that Coach believed having a gay boy on the team would help please judges at competitions for having such a diverse team, but mostly because he wouldn't care about touching the ladies on the squad. He hadn't met anyone else on the team yet, or the captain, since she hadn't been chosen yet. He suspected Quinn Fabray would be chosen, since she seemed to be Coach Sylvester's poster girl. Kurt hoped that maybe one day he'd somehow find his way up the Cheerios hierarchy and possibly be considered for captainship when he'd be a senior. Based on the fact that Coach calls you Porcelain, I doubt that's going to happen, he thought bluntly. He wasn't sure if she even knew his name. No one really knew his name…yet.

"D-19, D-20…where's D-21?" He talked to himself as he scanned the classroom numbers, trying to find the room as people pushed past him. The bell for third period was going to ring soon; all thoughts of the Cheerios had left his mind as he focused on finding his class. It was only his second day at McKinley, yet he still felt incredibly stupid for not remembering where it was. He found English just fine, and French…he looked down the hall and felt his eyes widen at a new sight that had entered his vision.

The boy was wearing a bright red Cheerios uniform, just like Kurt, but he filled it out much better than him, which led Kurt to believe the mysterious Cheerio was at least a junior. He strutted down the hall with a charismatic smile slapped on his smooth, impeccable face, oblivious to the people clearing the way for him to walk through. He walked at a nimble, graceful pace, like he could easily burst into a running start to a handspring or something. His raven-colored hair was thick with gel, gleaming in the artificially-lit halls; his eyes emitted a different kind of light, a funny little glint hinting that he was keeping some kind of secret. Wow, he's gorgeous, Kurt thought, completely mesmerized by the stranger.

Kurt brought his gaze down to the boy's toned arms that were swinging at his sides. There was no doubt in his mind that the boy worked out, and worked out hard—he definitely could hold Kurt up easily with both hands. No wonder he's a Cheerio. He held something in his hands, a scrap of scarlet fabric that matched the uniform. Kurt wondered what it could be; a swab of material for a new uniform? A matching handkerchief (that did not seem plausible, although Kurt wouldn't mind having one)?

Upon further inspection, Kurt realized that it was, in fact, a thong.

Kurt felt his entire face become engulfed in flames. He was appalled at the thoughts that were going through his mind. He'd be in the locker room with that boy, in the same room while they undressed for practice; the boy would be practically naked, just wearing that skimpy crimson-colored—stop, he scolded himself. He'd never had those types of thoughts, and was disgusted and slightly surprised with himself.

"Can I help you?" Kurt realized that a Latina girl was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips. "You look like a little lost freshman lamb. If you don't get out of the middle of the hallway in point-2-5 seconds, I'm going to sacrifice you to Satan so I can get you out of the way and that Blaine kid out of my position of head cheerleader," she seethed, staring at the same boy who had stopped to chat with a blonde-haired boy at his locker.

"Yeah, can you tell me where D-21 is?" Kurt asked timidly. Head cheerleader?

"Dios, you even sound like one. Although I did see that look on your face as you were checking out Anderson there, so I know you're not innocent. C'mon, it's just around the corner." She grabbed his arm, her fingers closing around his wrist: Kurt could feel his pulse quickly jumping out against her skin. Was I really that obvious? "I'm Santana, and I will be your tour guide today. You should know that I'm only doing this because you're a Cheerio, right," she glanced back at him, a smirk on her face. Kurt nodded quickly as they approached the room, wishing that wasn't so shy so he could ask about what it was like being a Cheerio, if everyone was somewhat nice, and whether the practices would get any easier or not. They passed by the boy Kurt guessed was Blaine. He thought he saw Blaine glance at the two of them as they walked past him.

"Okay, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she halted in front of a room that was somewhat hidden by the trophy case of all of the Cheerios' many awards. "See, now when you have to go to this class, you'll know that it's here by the case with all of our past achievements to intimidate you."

"I'm sure that our new member here will help us to add many more trophies in this coming year," a congenial voice called out from behind him. Kurt turned around—it was Blaine. Nodirtythoughtsnodirtythoughtsnodirtythoughts…

"Well well well, hello there Mr. I-Like-Dick-and-Taking-People's-Rightful-Spot-as-C aptain. How are you doing on this fine day that will soon go down in history as the day that I kick your ass?" Santana spat. Blaine smiled at her, and then turned to Kurt, who was wondering if the implication behind "Mr. I-Like-Dick" was true. If it was, Kurt was sure to have a problem.

"Don't mind Santana, she's just a bit jealous of the fact that I am the deserving winner of that position," he raised his triangular eyebrows, his smile turning into a little smirk. Kurt giggled. What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?! Blaine gave him a funny look, and turned back to Santana, who was fuming. "Sorry, Santana, Coach doesn't like girls who feel the need to enhance themselves," he glanced down at her chest, "and I'm just more skilled than you. You bet your ass that I'm going to crack the whip on you now that I'm captain. And you," he turned to Kurt, "welcome to the Cheerios. Here's a word of free advice that you're lucky I'm giving you: be prepared to get kicked off at any given moment, um…what's your name?" He extended his hand.

"Kurt," he answered, taking it—but there was something already in it, hanging from his thumb. "Oh," he unlatched his hand from Blaine's, feeling his cheeks flush yet again, becoming a color comparable to the thong he just touched. Blaine's thong.

"Whoah, what is that for? I didn't realize you were a dirty little whore," Santana grabbed for the clothing, but Blaine whisked it away, tutting Santana.

"Special orders from Coach that I wear it. Can't have panty lines, right? Babe," Blaine turned to Kurt, who had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from openly reacting to how Blaine addressed him, "if I were you, I'd ask Coach for one. Also, I wouldn't talk about being a whore if I were you, Santana." Blaine simply turned on his heel and walked away, ambling down the hall with the small red scrap dangling from his hand proudly.

"Well, I'm definitely going to kick his culo now," Kurt heard Santana say as she walked away in the opposite direction. Before Kurt could react, the bell rang, causing him to jump into the classroom.

"You're Kurt, right?" his teacher asked as he searched for a seat in the filled classroom. He nodded, heat rising to his cheeks. "Okay, Kurt, you can take that seat next to… Rachel, is that right?" Kurt could hardly suppress his groan as he approached the empty chair next to Rachel Berry, who was waving emphatically at him. Yes, Rachel was his friend, but she was not the type of person you'd like to sit with in class. Sure enough, right as he sat down, there was a folded-up sheet of paper waiting for him. He sighed as he took set his things down and opened it, anger and embarrassment bubbling in his core as he read what Rachel scrawled next to her signature gold star:

Who was that smoking guy you were talking to?!

Kurt took off the gold star and stuck it to Rachel's binder, ripping up the note. "I'll tell you later," he whispered through his clenched teeth, and began to pay attention to the teacher, not wanting to start off the school year on the wrong note by answering Rachel.

Eventually she gave up and left him alone, but Kurt knew that he wouldn't be able to escape her since they had gym together the next period. Once the bell rang, he quickly stuffed his belongings in his bag and hitched it over his back, trying to buy some time so he could come up with an explanation for her.

"Kurrrtttt wait up!" Rachel whined, rushing to his side. Kurt groaned as she pulled on the back of his uniform. "Who was that?" She looked up at him brightly, awaiting his answer. "I wouldn't mind if you introduced me to him, you know…"

"He's the captain of the Cheerios and completely out of the question. I think he's gay, so don't even think about it, but there is no way he'd ever be interested in me. No. Way. There's nothing else to tell, so let's just get to class and drop it, okay? Why don't you go pine over Finn or something," he grunted, remembering that last night he was the one doing that as he went through Finn's pictures on Facebook. He'd had a crush on him for ages, but Finn seemed to pale in comparison to Blaine Anderson. He'd never really had those thoughts about Finn, either, so something had to be said for Blaine. I never expected that I'd have a crush on someone within the first week of high school, Kurt observed, this is absolutely ridiculous.

"Kurt!" Rachel slapped his arm. "How am I supposed to drop it? You're both Cheerios, probably the only boys as well, and you're both gay, and I think you should go for it!"

"Don't make crazy assumptions, Rachel. He's an upperclassman. I am a freshman. We are below the totem pole; we are the Untouchables. There is only a slim chance that he'd ever want to be with me, and that would only be to get in my pants," he hissed the last half of the sentence, his face heating up.

"Oh my God, Kurt!" Rachel slapped him again with more force, her mouth open in surprise at the statement. "I've never heard you talk that way! I guess high school really has tainted your innocent mind, even though it has only been two days," Rachel wiggled her fingers at Kurt and walked away, disappearing behind the door of the girl's locker room. Kurt stared longingly at the door, wishing he could change in there instead of being subjected to changing amongst boys. He sighed in defeat and walked towards the boy's locker room, preparing himself as he entered the room.

His nose crinkled as he took in the potent mix of sweat and cologne. It's only fourth period; imagine what it's going to be like when you go to practice, Kurt groaned. He found his locker towards the back of the room, squeezing his way past half-naked guys of all grades (don't look don't look don't look—well, it's not like any of them are that attractive, actually), and opened it, welcoming the fresh scent of the lavender diffuser he left in there next to his neatly-folded gym clothes. He quickly began to change out of his clothes, hoping that no one would look at his lanky build. As he took off his shoes and pants, he was surprised to find a thin layer of toned muscle covering his thighs, along with the occasional bruise. Obviously the hard workouts from practice were paying off. He could feel his new arm and back muscles flexing as he pulled off his uniform top and replaced it with his gym shirt.

"Porcelain!" Oh no, Kurt thought as a bunch of heads turned in the direction of the loud female voice. He recognized it immediately, dread churning in his stomach. Why is she in here?

"Yes, Coach?" He said shakily as Sue Sylvester approached him. She had something in her hands, but he couldn't see what it was.

"My right-hand gay informed me that you weren't properly equipped. Catch," she threw a red scrap of cloth at Kurt; thankfully, he caught it, and felt his eyes pop out of his skull as he examined the undergarment. "Anderson, get your butt over here. I don't care if it's naked or not." Her call was answered as Blaine stepped out from the corner. Kurt was relieved to see that he was, in fact, completely dressed. The length of his shorts, however, should have been illegal. Kurt was pretty sure they were the shortest running shorts in existence. He dragged his attention back to Coach Sylvester, who started to talk again.

"I can't have panty lines, Lady Hummel. I'm disappointed that you didn't ask me before when you got your uniform, as you should have known that. Yes, I forgot. I make mistakes. Very, very rarely though. Very rarely. Let's hope that putting you on the team wasn't a mistake. I want to see you do a hundred push-ups after practice because of this mistake. No, your Captain here will make sure you do it. Anderson, I want you to take video evidence, okay? I feed on the sight of struggle."

"Well, why can't you be there?" Kurt sputtered angrily, mortified at the fact that Blaine would have to witness his lack of upper body strength.

"Whoah, there, tiger. You're a feisty one, I like that. To answer your question, which you're lucky I'm actually responding to you because normally I'd need you to sign a contract for press release and such, but to tell you the truth…I'd rather be doing my local news segment than watch you two basically shoot a gay porno." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now go put that thong on, and some pants. Get out of my sight; your ivory complexion is blinding me." Kurt nodded and sped towards the bathroom stalls, thankful to finally escape his coach and Blaine. He realized that he hadn't been wearing any pants once Coach mentioned it, and felt his stomach drop. Blaine probably thinks I'm such an idiot. A debilitated, rude freshman.

Once he was inside the stall, he took a gander at the lingerie in his hands, still unbelieving of what he was about to do. He never thought he'd wear a thong, especially not for school. Kurt was pretty sure that a coach couldn't tell you what undergarments to wear, but he figured that he didn't want to piss her off, because she would definitely make his life living hell.

Reluctantly, Kurt peeled off his briefs, quickly pulling on the new garment (he hoped that it was clean) since he was uncomfortable with how bare he was in a room full of guys, despite the fact that he was concealed behind the defaced walls of the bathroom. He grimaced as the fabric awkwardly accommodated him in the front and settled in the back. How do girls do this, he wondered as he adjusted the thong, still getting used to the new fit.

How does Blaine do this, a small voice chimed in, and he immediately wiped the thought away. He was sick of how his mind had immediately changed from baby penguin to sex fiend in a matter of an hour.

Kurt put his gym shorts on, kind of freaked out at how the polyester bottoms felt against his naked ass. He took in a deep breath and left the stall, swaggering through the maze of boys to get back to his locker, which he stuffed his underwear in. Only after he'd locked everything inside did he let out a long sigh.

Soon enough, it was time to leave the locker room and get to class. Kurt quickly walked out into the gym and spotted Rachel standing on the other side of the room with the rest of his class. He ignored his need to readjust his thong as he pranced towards her, feeling the need to indulge all that had just occurred-

Until he blindly knocked into someone. Someone with impossibly short-shorts, luxuriously toned arms and legs, and gelled hair with the consistency of cement. Blaine had been standing on the outskirts of a group of juniors when Kurt accidently knocked into his side. He gave Kurt a look of contempt as the freshman stumbled away, ducking his head in mortification. Before he could say anything, Kurt rushed to Rachel's side.

"Can I just die right now," he groaned as he cowered behind her. Rachel simply laughed.

"What is up with you? You're walking kind of funny."

Kurt quickly launched into his story as they waited for their teacher to arrive, resisting the urge to glance up in Blaine's direction to see what he was doing. Rachel squealed when he told her that he wasn't wearing any pants when Blaine walked over (he still hadn't told her the biggest news); Kurt hastily threw his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, hoping to not draw that much attention.

"Promise to not make a sound when I tell you this, okay? Please compose yourself," he gave his friend a second to relax, and she nodded her head a few seconds later, signaling that she was ready. He leaned in and whispered in her ear: "I guess it's required that when you're a Cheerio, you have to wear a thong, and that's why Coach and Blaine cornered me," he stepped away, hanging his head.

"You—you're wearing?" Rachel asked, and he nodded. "Oh God, I mean…I wear one from time to time, but guys wearing thongs…isn't that weird? Okay, okay, I don't need details, never mind. Why you're a Cheerio, I don't really know, Kurt." Before he could explain to her why he could explain all of the reasons why he needed to be one, she shook her head, and the two of them walked over to the gathering herd of freshmen in their gym class, since their teacher had finally arrived. Unable to control himself, Kurt looked over his shoulder to find Blaine. Of course, he was jogging in the other direction, his shorts rising almost to the point where it left Kurt little to the imagination.

Kurt hated how that boy made him feel, physically. He wasn't sure of what to make of his attitude, since he'd only had one small conversation with him, yet he could not deny the strange, unfamiliar feelings that started to settle in his stomach whenever Blaine was around.

"Hey, kiddo, how was school today?" Burt asked as Kurt languidly climbed into his car after a grueling practice. He grunted an unintelligible response, throwing his things in the back, afraid that his arms would detach from his sockets. "C'mon, Kurt, it's only the second day of high school, you can't already be a typical teenager."

"Sorry, it's just…it's been a long day." Kurt sighed, reflecting on what had happened at practice. He'd hid in the corner of the locker room, searching for Blaine in the ocean of football players. A few of them gave him strange looks as he filled his water bottle, but he swiftly scurried away to get to practice.

There he met most of the other Cheerios outside at the football field, including the girl he met earlier in the day. Santana hadn't said anything to him, but she gave him a look. He then saw Coach Sylvester strut into the room with Blaine tagging along. He didn't look at Kurt, which was rather unsurprising since Kurt was all the way in the back of the crowd of Cheerios when they gathered around their coach. She'd instructed them on what to do during the practice, which would be the half-time routine for football games and the pyramid, and that she and Blaine would watch them. Kurt did as he was told, and struggled to keep up with the routine since he was still sore from the day before (he wasn't even sure what normal muscles felt like). Regardless, he still did okay, since Coach only singled him out two times. Blaine, on the other hand, didn't even say a word. He walked past Kurt a couple times, but didn't even look at him.

Blaine, however, couldn't ignore him at the end of practice.

"Blaine! You and Lady over here, next to me," Coach had called out. Both of them obeyed. "The rest of you are dismissed. Sloppy work today, girls, I'm disappointed. Get out of my sight." The other girls gave them looks, but they left. Santana stayed for an extra second, narrowing her eyes at Blaine, but Coach Sylvester called her out. "I know you're jealous, Diabla, and you know my reasons." She mimicked feeling up her chest and shooed Santana away, who turned around furiously and stormed off the field. Kurt had little time to watch her, though, since a hand was then pressed on his back.

"On the floor, Lady." The hand pushed down lightly; Kurt figured that it was Blaine's since his coach was too far away for it to be her's. He got down on his hands and knees and looked up to see Sue Sylvester with an actual camera, showing Blaine how to use it.

"…and this is how you start it; I think there's enough memory to capacitate the entirety of his torture. You press the button again when he's done. I want all angles, all right? I'm going to watch this tomorrow morning while I drink my protein shake in the teacher's lounge, and this will get me ready for the day, knowing that someone else is paying for my mistake, and that I don't have to. Thanks, Anderson." She left, and it was just the two of them together, the football team still holding practice on the other side of the field.

"Are you going to start or not; I haven't got all day," Blaine said impatiently, and Kurt immediately got into his best push-up position, which he knew was completely wrong. "Okay, go," he urged, and Kurt lowered himself to the floor, his muscles protesting slightly. After just ten measly push-ups, he already felt like collapsing, but he trudged on, not wanting to show weakness around Blaine. He felt so awkward with the boy practically breathing down his neck—with a video camera, no less—while he gasped for air, his face a fluorescent red and his entire body shaking. It seemed like hours had passed when he finally reached ninety, and his arms were very close to giving out. He completed half of the ninety-first and fell to the ground.

"Christ, only ninety-one? I can do one hundred in my sleep. Let's get going, Porcelain, the football team's going to be done before you are at this rate," Blaine spat. Disgusted at his tone, Kurt got back up and shot him a dirty look: Blaine was standing over him, staring at the screen of the camera. His figure was dark against the glare of the sun. Kurt turned to face the ground again and did two more, and his arms gave out again.

"Is this punishment for me, too, having to watch a weakling freshman do the easiest thing in the world?" the captain groaned. Anger pulsed through Kurt's veins, and he got up again, doing another five very quickly, and slowly doing the last two.

"Two…one…ah, finally, freedom!" Blaine turned off the camera and rushed over to grab his things, not even saying goodbye to Kurt, who was lying face-first in the turf. Miniscule black rubber balls stuck to his slick skin as he lay there in his weakened state, not sure if he'd be able to get up.

Some time later, he'd gathered enough strength to get to his feet, and he dragged himself to retrieve his bag and call his dad for a pick-up. Soon enough, he'd made it to the parking lot, just in time to see Burt pull in about ten minutes after the call.

"So, what do you want for dinner tonight?" Burt pulled Kurt from his thoughts, trying to divert his attention from the torture he'd endured that his dad wasn't even aware of.

"Sleep," Kurt mumbled, already feeling himself dozing off.

"Wow, I guess cheerleading really is hard. If you have nothing else to do, then, I want you to shower first, do your moisturizing routine or whatever, and get to bed then, okay? Just…try to eat something, please."

"Whatever, Dad."

"Oh God, I really have lost you."

"Dad!"

"Kurt," a disembodied voice said. Kurt was in the locker room, stripping out of his gym clothes. The room was empty, an unusual sight. Kurt stopped taking off his clothes and began to search through the rows of lockers for the familiar voice. He heard a shower trickling in the distance, and headed towards it, even though he knew he shouldn't. The room seemed so much bigger than how he'd remembered it, but Kurt ignored that as he finally approached the shower stall.

"God, you took so long to get here," Kurt peered into the stall to see a boy's bare, muscular back. He knew he should leave, since he could get in a lot of trouble for looking at a naked boy in the shower, but his feet were cemented to the ground. Kurt's eyes trailed down the exquisite curve of his spine, down to the small dimples of his lower back, down to—

Kurt opened his eyes, engulfed by darkness, except for a light being emitted from his left. He turned to see the numbers 4:21 blaring in red at him from his alarm clock. He groaned and turned his head back to the other side, a peculiar feeling spreading through his nerves. His entire body felt like lead, especially…

"Oh," he exclaimed as his sheets brushed against his half-hard erection. He'd had that kind of dream, about Blaine, who was the last person he wanted to think about in that way. Yes, it was undeniable that he was attractive, but after practice Kurt had decided that he was the biggest douchebag to ever walk the Earth, and that he would not take an interest in him any longer. He was pretty sure that by the end of his shower, in which he'd done a lot of thinking, he'd gotten over his small crush.

Kurt closed his eyes again and hoped that he'd dream about working at Vogue or something rather than seeing a fantasy-naked-Blaine—again.

Oh God, I'm going to have to see him in school today, was his last thought before everything vanished into an exhausted sleep.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here I am with a new fic...there aren't enough Cheerio!Klaine fics out there, so I decided to contribute.

I've kind of written this out of order, so the next chapter won't be out for awhile. You should read my other fic, Until Next Time, in the meantime.

Thanks for reading!