Having Rachel home got easier after the first night. She made an ostentatious effort to be helpful and cheery, which actually wasn't surprising in the least. Rachel, even if she hadn't performed in years, was a performer. Having led both the Cheerios and the Glee Club to national wins her senior year of high school proved that she was the queen of drama. She may have gone off to business school but up until then, all her life she'd wanted to be on the stage in some way, shape or form. No one understood her sudden change of plans, especially after 18 years of working her way to Broadway, but everyone was so shocked they never got a chance to ask her why before she was on a plane to New York, babbling about all the business opportunities she would soon have.

Not only was Rachel extra helpful and sweet, she went out of her way on more than one occasion to spend time with her brother. At first it really creeped Blaine out -- the only friends he ever really had were The Skanks -- but Thursday evening after dinner, Blaine climbed the stairs from his bedroom to get a glass of water from the kitchen and found his sister sitting on the living room floor with Hermy, rubbing the speckled dog's belly and cooing in her ear. Rachel hated dogs and sulked for days when her dads brought the puppy home for Blaine. Seeing this forced Blaine to remember something had changed in Rachel. He still didn't know what but he wasn't going to push Rachel to tell him for fear that it would close her off and make her revert to her old self. So Blaine got his glass of water and quietly made his way back down to his room, smiling to himself as he realized he might finally have a friend in his sister.

-----

That Friday was the last day of Gratitude Week at McKinley. It was the week before Thanksgiving in which students were supposed to write notes to teachers, administration and friends illustrating why they're grateful for them. Hardly anyone ever actually wrote notes but the adults around the school liked to think they were doing something to better their student population. Usually it just became a week where students found several different ways to defile the framed photo of President McKinley in the foyer at the front of the school and for some reason, the faculty still hadn't caught onto the pattern. Sometimes adults could be more oblivious than children.

This year wasn't much different. Somehow the football players were able to get a 64 ounce cup of every single flavor slushie in Lima to throw at the photo and some unknown student taped a drawing of Satan over the glass between third and fourth period. The photo didn't receive as much abuse as most years but that was the last of anyone's worries come lunchtime.

Blaine sat at the usual table with his tray of nausea inducing mashed potatoes and roast beef. He was one of the first to arrive in the lunchroom because his class had been released before the bell. Students trickled in after him with not a single side-glance in his direction until Puck made his way to the table, lugging his skateboard and balancing his tray on top of the binder in his hand.

"Hey," Puck greeted, sitting across from Blaine and sliding his skateboard under the table to rest his feet on it.

"Yo," Blaine replied apathetically, playing with the gray lump that was supposed to be his potatoes.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Puck asked, digging into his own potatoes as if there was absolutely nothing toxic looking about them.

"Nothing. Just didn't get much sleep. Plus, it's Friday and this week just keeps dragging on." Blaine took an experimental bite of his roast beef and immediately spit it back onto his plate, all thought of decency thrown to the wind. He was sure his face had turned a pale shade of green in the few seconds the meat had contact with his tongue. As he took a large swig of milk, Quinn, Brittany and Santana made their way to the table and sat down with the boys.

"I fucking hate history," Santana said, slamming a piece of paper down in front of her. "Hartfeld gave me a goddamn lousy D." Brittany, who was sitting across the table next to Blaine, put a soothing hand on Santana's.

"It'll be okay, San," Brittany said, rubbing her thumb of her girlfriend's knuckles. "I'll tutor you. I know a lot about history; my dad fought in The Civil War. You know, the one where people sat in diners and stuff and refused to leave?"

Puck choked on a particularly large forkful of potato and Santana bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh. Quinn just wrapped a loving arm around Brittany's waist. Sometimes when Britt talked, they only found themselves loving her more.

"Yeah, Baby Bee. I know what war you're talking about. Thanks for the offer." She switched their hands, patting Brittany's.

"I'll help you tonight," Blaine mouthed at Santana as Brittany turned in her seat, distracted by something going on in the middle of the room.

"Thanks," Santana mouthed back, relief washing over her face.

"Uh, guys," Brittany said, still turned, watching something. "Something's going on."

The others looked to the open center of the lunchroom where the trashcans were gathered. A group of Glee Club members -- the stereotypical Asian mathematician Michael Chang, the underprivileged, hand-me-down wearing Mercedes Jones, the cliche, magic trick obsessed nerd Jesse St. James, and the bird-watcher Nick Duval -- were surrounded by Cheerios and jocks holding large plastic cups, some even holding more than one.

"Shit," Puck said, dropping his fork.

Puck and Santana both scrambled from their seats, realizing what was about to happen a split-second before the other three understood and quickly followed their lead.

"Hey," Puck shouted, clapping his hand onto the shoulder of the nearest football player. It was Dave Karofsky -- hulking, angry, silently brooding Karofsky -- and he held a 64 ounce grape slushie over the head of Jesse, who was shaking so hard his bow tie was wobbling and they could hear his teeth clattering.

"Back off, Puckerman," Karofsky barked, shaking Puck's hand off his shoulder and causing slushie to dribble out of the cup and land on Jesse's head. Jesse shivered but did little else.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Santana asked, pushing her way through the crowd and standing right in front Tina, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. Tina didn't hold a slushie; she and Kurt were both apparently above that civilian labor. They had their minions for that. To start, there was the tall, bashful, obviously-head-over-heels-with-Kurt, Sebastian Smythe, then was the short, illiterate, ass-shaking narcissist Sugar Motta, Finn Hudson (the football team’s quarterback and Kurt’s half-brother/full prehistoric reptile), the conceited and oblivious Sam Evans and finally, the awkward Irish exchange student, Rory Flanagan who had somehow found his way onto the football team as kicker.

"What do you think we're doing, Skank?" She practically spat the last word, looking down on Santana as if she were of a lower class. "We're showing our gratitude for the bottom of the food chain. Without a stable base of losers, we wouldn't have a throne to sit on." Tina smirked and the pits of hell burned in her eyes. Santana narrowed her eyes, trying to think of a proper comeback, but before she got a chance, Tina simply snapped her fingers and nine slushies became four drenched and shivering kids.

Santana launched herself at Tina, swearing in Spanish, but Puck got a hold of her arms and held them behind her back.

"Put a leash on that bitch," Tina calmly said, standing taller and glaring at Santana.

"Fuck you, Chang. You better watch your fucking back. I may live on your side of town, but I spent the better part of my childhood in Lima Heights Adjacent, and let me tell you how we fucking roll on that side of town--"

"Oh, you talk big, but that side of town is nothing but beggers and the Fabray family, the latter being the more pathetic."

At that, Quinn stepped forward from where she was soothing Brittany, who had started crying into her hands as soon as the slushies were dumped and all but pushed Mercedes, who had also started crying, out of her way.

"Don't you fucking start on my family," Quinn said, towering over Tina and grinding her teeth the way she always did when she was on edge.

"Better make that two leashes," Tina said, backing away and straightening her Cheerios uniform. "Hey Gay, come get some control over your beard. She's breathing her Skank breath on my face and I'm about to pass out from the smell."

"Tina, shut the fuck up. What was the point of this shit?" Blaine had taken Quinn's place at Brittany's side, shushing her and rubbing her arm.

"Just like I said, showing our gratitude. Happy Gratitude Week, Skanks." Tina smiled her worst, most venomous, sickening smile and snapped her fingers again, prompting her doormats to follow as she turned to leave the cafeteria.

As they walked away, Quinn, Brittany and Blaine rushed to comfort the slushie victims, but Puck stayed where he was, holding Santana's hands behind her back and waiting for her to cool down. Blaine happened to look up just as Kurt turned to survey the scene. He looked... Conflicted. Blaine didn't understand the expression on Kurt's face, but as soon as he started to analyze it, Kurt caught him and their eyes locked for a split-second. Before Blaine got a chance to make anything of it, Kurt promptly turned on his heel, with holier-than-thou body language, and sauntered out of the room. Blaine was pulled from his confusion by a deep, vicious growl from Santana.

"I'm going to fucking kill that slut," Santana huffed, pulling herself from Puck's grip and turning to hug Brittany.

"I could have gotten out of it, if you all had stopped yammering long enough to let me think of a proper escape plan," Jesse said, straightening his bow tie and trying to compose himself.

"Jesse, stop talking," Quinn said, shaking her head. Jesse was suddenly bashful, looking down and clasping his hands behind his back. Quinn was instantly ashamed of hurting his feelings and she put a comforting hand on his shoulder, despite the slushie making his button-up cling to his skinny frame. Jesse practically melted under Quinn's touch and she smiled at him, trying to hold back a laugh.

"I'm gonna go talk to them. No one fucks with you guys like that," Puck said, setting his jaw.

"I'll go with you," Blaine said, leaving the place where he was brushing ice chunks off Michael's chest.

"I'm coming too," Santana stated, stepping forward and nearly knocking Nick over.

"No. No you aren't," Puck said, putting his hands on Santana's shoulders and spinning her around.

"No!" Santana screamed, spinning back around, out of Puck's grasp. "They don't get to fuck with people like that. They made Brittany cry. I'm not just going to fucking settle with letting you guys fight my battles."

"For one, I think they'd be Britt's battles, and none of us would let her do that. So, your point's moot. For two," Puck put his hands on Santana's shoulders, turning her once again and lightly pushing her toward Brittany as she listened, "I'm actually afraid you might kill her."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Santana said, facing Puck and crossing her arms but not showing any signs of further arguing.

"Well, considering manslaughter would mean jail and you're only about a month from 18... Yeah, it would be a bad thing, San. Just help them clean up." Puck squeezed Santana's shoulder lightly, giving her a sympathetic smile. He knew how badly she wanted to help make this better. She was drawn to conflict like a moth to the flame and when she had a legitimate reason to fight, it was hard to make her stand back and watch. Luckily she wouldn't watch this time.

"Fine. Make that bitch cry, though." Santana's shoulders fell slightly as she turned to grab a hold of Nick's hand, watching Puck all the while.

"Will do," Blaine answered, turning simultaneously with Puck and briskly walking through the lunchroom.

"I can't believe not a single teacher noticed," Blaine heard Nick whine. He would have laughed if it hadn't been so pathetically true.

Puck and Blaine started running the moment they hit the linoleum of the hallway.

"Where do you think they went?" Puck huffed as they turned a corner.

"Shit. Uhm... Probably the gym. The guys probably want to shoot hoops or something," Blaine answered, coughing hard from the exertion. Rachel was right, he really needed to quit smoking.

They turned and raced down another hall and almost ran into the doors of the gymnasium. Blaine, who was slower, stopping just short of slamming into Puck's back like some kind of cartoon character.

"Alright," Puck turned, "we aren't here to fight. Just to talk. No raised voices, no sudden movements. And don't provoke them."

"Got it, Pops," Blaine answered with a signature salute. There was the distinct sound of basketballs bouncing repeatedly on the newly waxed wood floor behind the double-doors, and when Puck pulled the handle of the right door, the echoes immediately filled Blaine's ears, making him feel as if his brain were vibrating.

It took a moment for the others to notice someone had joined them but as soon as Sam turned to slam dunk his ball, fumbling and tripping on his sneakers, there was no hiding. Blaine tried as hard as he could not to laugh, but he couldn't help it and tried to disguise it with a violent attack of coughs. Puck reached around and slapped his back a couple times, trying to hold his own laugh back by biting the inside of his cheek.

"What are you fuckers doing in here?" Finn said, passing the ball he had been dribbling to Rory without looking. Rory hadn't been paying attention and he almost dropped the ball. That poor kid, stuck with these assholes.

"I wasn't aware we couldn't be in the gym. Is there some kind of ogre convention?" Blaine asked, suddenly getting control of his coughing fit. Finn, Karofsky and Sam all just looked confused but Rory's jaw dropped in awe. Apparently he didn't often hear people say that kind of thing to these guys.

"Blaine," Puck warned, elbowing him in the ribs.

Blaine smiled and rubbed his side. "Sorry, it just came out."

Puck smiled, despite having just warned Blaine not to do exactly what he'd done.

"Plus they don't really seem to know what an ogre is, so I think we're safe for the time being."

The football players, minus Rory, started to make their way toward the two boys, all three of them walking with the lamest gangster limps Blaine had ever seen. It took everything in him not to burst into laughter.

They were about six feet away when Tina popped up from her place at the bleachers, followed closely by the other three Cheerios, and snapped her fingers. 'God,’ Blaine thought. ‘That gets really old.’

"Leave them, boys. I've got this." She sashayed down the steps and turned abruptly to face her teammates. "You two stay," she said, pointing at Sugar and Sebastian. "I only want my boy Kurt with me."

'My boy Kurt.' Blaine rolled his eyes.

She made her way toward them, Kurt, second-in-command, close behind.

"Hello boys," she purred. "Didn't bring your sluts with you?"

Puck sucked in a deep breath, clenching his fists. Blaine side-eyed him, hoping his friend could keep his composure long enough to get this little conversation over with.

"What, you aren't going to hit me?" Tina asked, cocking her head in what might have been a cute manner if it had been just about anyone else.

"I don't make a habit of hitting people. And I especially don't hit girls," Puck said. He thought for a moment and then added, "unless I'm at Fight Club."

Tina snorted. "Fight Club? You just broke some rules, you know."

"I'm surprised you know that, you uneducated bitch." Puck started to lunge at Tina, trying to get in her face, but Blaine held him back.

"Cool it, Pop," Blaine said, a hand on Puck's chest. "Remember what you said. We aren't here to fight." The football players were keeping a close eye on the situation, but didn't move forward.

Blaine looked at Kurt still standing behind Tina, just like your average henchman. "My sister said she'd talked to you. She said you guys cleared this shit up."

Something flashed in Kurt's eyes, sudden confusion or fear. It was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, but Blaine knew he had seen something again. What was with all this sudden, confusing emotions he was seeing on Kurt's face?

"I never said when we'd stop," Kurt said coolly, brushing away whatever emotion it was he had just been feeling. Blaine looked into Kurt's bright blue eyes, having to force himself not to look away. He wasn't going to back down but it felt like Kurt's eyes were burning into his own. Kurt stared back but apparently after a few moments, his courage failed, eyelids fluttering in a flurry of long lashes and he cast his eyes downward, unable to look back up at Blaine.

Something in Blaine's chest fluttered, and he knew it wasn't just from winning this ridiculous staring contest. But it probably had something to do with Kurt's eyes and the way his lashes fanned out along his cheekbones when he looked down. Or the painfully icy blue of his irises. Or the wisp of hair curled on his forehead. Or...

Blaine forced himself back into the present. What the fuck was he doing? ‘Enemy,’ he thought. ‘Kurt is the enemy.’

"Well, you're going to stop now," Puck said coolly. Maybe that much time hadn't actually passed.

"If you say so, cap'n," Tina purred, feigning innocence and glancing up from beneath her lashes.

Blaine looked back to Kurt and found him looking straight at him, mouth slightly open, another expression Blaine couldn't read on his face. That was getting old -- not being able to read Kurt. And yet, Blaine had trouble looking away again, too busy studying the patterns in Kurt's eyes. Suddenly, Kurt's expression went from angel to pure devil and his lips turned up in an evil grin.

"Better get going, boys. Lunch is almost over," and as if Kurt had planned it, the bell rang.

"Yeah," Puck said, making to leave and tugging lightly on the sleeve of Blaine's leather jacket.

"See you around," Blaine blurted without thinking. God, what had gotten into him? He was being such an idiot.

"Oh, I'm sure," Tina smiled her sickeningly sweet smile. Maybe the other two hadn't seen the shit going on between Kurt and Blaine, whatever it was.

Puck tugged on Blaine's jacket again. He seemingly couldn't move his feet. He felt planted into place.

"Goodbye," Kurt said. He sounded and looked annoyed, mostly. But again, Blaine saw that something in his eyes. Something that didn't fit. Something he still couldn't quite figure out.

"Bye," Blaine whispered, finally able to move as Puck grabbed him by the neck of his jacket and practically dragged him out the double-doors. He heard Tina laugh as the door slammed shut.

"What the hell was that, Blaine?!" Puck barked, finally letting go of Blaine's jacket and running a hand through his mohawk to sweep it out of his face.

"Uh... You noticed that, huh?" Blaine asked, rubbing his neck where the twisted leather had rubbed.

"Yeah, I noticed man. What was going on with you?"

"I... I don't know. I just like, spaced or something." Blaine fidgeted, uncomfortable under Puck's gaze.

Puck narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his brow, but chose to drop the subject. "Okay," was all he said, looking skeptical. "Well, we'd better get to class, man. Friday tests aren't going to take themselves." Puck started walking down the hallway and Blaine fell into step beside him.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, trying to shake the feeling that something had happened today between Kurt Hummel and himself. It was probably nothing but his teenage hormones flipping out.