That was the voice Blaine had been dreading all Saturday morning. Santana had threatened to help him with his infatuation with Kurt. Oh yes, Blaine meant threatened. Ever since Santana spoke to him, he was regretting ever getting involved in the arrangement. She had taken to following him around school, nudging him every time he started to look at Kurt or whispering vivid images of Kurt that made him blush. By the end of the week, Blaine was done with being shy around her. He was just annoyed. Now this natural disaster of a girl was at his front door.

Blaine rolled off the couch and went to the door.

Santana yelled, “I will break down this damn door if you don’t let me in.”

“What are you gonna do huff and puff and blow my apartment down?” mumbled Blaine as he undid the lock. He opened the door to reveal Santana…and a blonde girl.

The blonde pounced on Blaine, giving him a bone-breaking hug. “Oh my goodness,” the girl cooed as she nuzzled his neck. “He is a little hobbit. Look how cute he is!” She pulled back, giddily smiling at him. “We are going to make you into Kurt’s perfect dolphin.”

Blaine shot a confused and terrified look at Santana, who was clearing amused by this scene. He pleaded, “Who is this, and what is she trying to say to me?’

With that, Santana lost it, leaning on the kitchen counter and laughing as loud as she could. Clearly, Blaine had let two crazy people into his home. It was like with vampires. Never invite girls into your house. Not that he actually invited either of them.

Blaine slid away from the girls and went into the kitchen. He needed some coffee if he was going to deal with them this afternoon.

Santana gained control of her laughter and walked around Blaine’s living room, looking at photos, movies, and video games. She finally answered, “That’s Brittany. I thought I could use her help with our little project.” Then she flopped onto the couch with Brittany.

“Do you two want anything to eat or something to drink?” offered Blaine. It was so easy to forget his manners around Santana. His parents always taught him to be nice and polite, but she just brought out the worst in him.

“Diet coke.”

“Candy!” Brittany chirped. Then she went serious, “But no gummy bears or worms. I am against animal cruelty.”

Blaine just nodded and grabbed the drink and a chocolate bar along with his coffee. He made his way into the living room and handed each to the girls. As he sat on a chair next to the couch, Santana took a sip of her drink thoughtfully.

“So parents working late?”

Blaine almost spilt his coffee. He looked into his cup, knowing that the girls questioning eyes were on him now. He sighed, “No.” The boy looked up into the two eyes. “No, it’s just me.”

Concern flashed in Santana eyes but it was replaced quickly by something else. “You mean this is your own apartment! Boy, we are so going to party it up Lopez style.” Brittany let out a little cheer.

Both girls pulled out their phones and started texting. Blaine began to panic and said quickly, “Wait! You guys are not bringing some random people here to throw a party!”

Santana looked up annoyed. “Chill, Anderson. We just texted our parents to tell them we’re having a sleepover.” Then she gave him a reassuring smile.

Blaine was a bit thrown. He never expected this girl with her bitchy reputation to be so… nice. First she offered to help him with Kurt and now she wanted to spend the night at this house. Maybe she wasn’t as annoying as he thought. Blaine returned her smile.

Santana continued, “But we will have a rager here soon.” Blaine’s smile fell.

Santana put down her phone and said, “Okay. To get down to business.” Blaine and Brittany straightened up in their seats; both excited to hear the plan finally. “We need to give you a makeover.

“What do you mean?” questioned Blaine. What was wrong with him? Oh god, was it his eyebrows?

Santana rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re gonna put make up on you, Anderson. You really don’t have much to fix looks wise. Although your hair is another story.” Blaine’s hands flew up to his hair, but Brittany just nodded. “We need to create a new you because, let’s be honest, this you is not gonna get you into Hummel’s pants.”

Blaine blushed at the thought, but nodded. He had to agree. Something had to change.

“So we need to find a new image for you. Brit and I had discussed a few that might get Kurt’s attention.”

Brittany chimed in, “Moody artist, overachiever, football jock.” The boy cringed at the last one. The last thing he wanted to do was hang out those Neanderthals.

Santana got up quick and grabbed her backpack. “But I decided on the most irresistible of them all.” Seeing her audience of two on the edge of their seats, she announced, “We are going to make you a bad boy.” With that, she pulled a leather jacket out of her bag.

Brittany gave a little cheer.

However, Blaine groaned, “Are you kidding? I can’t pull that off. I mean look at me!” He gestured to himself.

“Stop being such a fucking pessimist, Anderson!” she spat back. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. You need to wash out that toxic amount of gel, and we are going to see what in your closet is usable.”

Santana pulled Blaine and Brittany out of their seats. Then the girls ran into Blaine’s room. He heard his closet door fly open with a loud thud. Both girls gasped. Blaine trudged into his room. The girls were wandered around his walk-in closet, looking at his clothes.

“Is this what its like being in Ken’s closet?” Brittany remarked, looking at his shoes.

Santana was clearly impressed. “No wonder you haven’t come out of the closet. It is fucking fantastic in here!”

“Just—just don’t break anything,” Blaine called over his shoulder as he walked into the bathroom.

***

When Blaine walked out of the shower, he was greeted by Santana sitting on his bed with a pile of clothes next to her. She smirked, her eyes raking up and down his towel-clad body.

“Damn. So that is what you were hiding behind those suspenders,” she commented, making a show of licking her lips.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Santana.” He walked into the closet to put on some boxers and to hide his blush. He couldn’t deny that the remark made him fell a bit more confident.

Santana laughed, “And he cusses! You are just full of surprises.”

He would never admit it out, but he was starting to like being around her today. He felt more comfortable around her even though he spent most of the time rolling his eyes and blushing.

Blaine toweled off his curls as he walked back into the room. “Where’s Brittany?” he asked.

She handed him some dark jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and the black leather jacket and shrugged. “Getting some stuff for tonight.”

Blaine slipped on the jeans but paused at the shirt. “This is too small.” But he put it on anyway when Santana glared at him. He pulled on the jacket. All the clothes were a bit tight on him but they weren’t exactly uncomfortable. Santana stood up and fussed with his hair until she was satisfied. Blaine turned to the mirror and he didn’t recognize himself. Dare he say he looked… sexy? His curls were messy but organized enough to make it look like it was on purpose. The white shirt was so tight that they showed off his abs. The jacket made him actually look cool. He smiled at himself.

“You've been rockin’ the wrong look for too long. Hummel is going to die when he sees you next week,” said Santana, organized the clothes into different outfits.

Blaine turned around and asked, very confused, “Next week? You mean Monday, right?”

Santana snorted. “No, I mean next week, boy. We have more work to do than just fix your wardrobe.”

Before Blaine could ask, Brittany opened the front door and shouted, “Let’s drink!”

Santana flew out of the room followed closely by Blaine. Brittany was setting a bottle of tequila, some limes, and three pink shot glasses. Santana dove for the bottle and started to pour the amber liquid into the glasses while Brittany found a knife to cut the little wedges. Blaine winced as she started to cut the limes. From their brief encounter, he did not exactly feel confident with this girl working with anything sharp.

Blaine pulled himself out of his shock and barked, “We are not drinking!”

However, Santana thrust a shot glass and a lime into his hands. She shot him a glare, saying, “Oh yes, you are. Bad boy lesson number one. Loosen up!”

Brittany turned around, grabbed his hand, and licked just under his thumb. His eyes and mouth opened wide as she sprinkled salt over the wet skin. She then did the same to herself and Santana. Brittany explained simply, “Salt, shot, lime.” The blonde lifted up her drink and shouted, “To our Blainers!”

“To our bad boy Blainers!” Santana lifted her glass too.

Blaine finally smiled at the sight of them looking at him expectantly. If he was going to do this, he had to do it right. This was for Kurt, and he was going to do anything to get him. He lifted his shot and yelled loudly, “To getting Kurt!”

And they downed their shots.

Blaine’s throat burned as the tequila slid down, but he followed the girls exampled and sucked on the lime. It seemed to soothe the burn and get the harsh taste out of his mouth.

“Another!” shouted Brittany, bouncing to set up another round.

Three shots later, Blaine was starting to get the lesson of loosing up. He had never really had alcohol before and could tell that he was more of a lightweight than the two girls who were probably on their ninth shot. His head felt really fuzzy but he also felt relaxed. Santana was scrolling through his iPod, and Brittany somehow was only in a red bra and a pair of Blaine’s boxers.

Santana yelped, slurring her words, “Oh my god. Blaine, you need to sing this with us. You just need to. It’s perfect.”

Blaine walked over to the iPod, willing himself not to stumble. He knew the song so he nodded. He grabbed the iPod and placed it in the stereo dock. The opening beats started playing, and the three teens started dancing.

Blaine started belting out the song, singing over the original singer. His showman self took over, and he tapped his foot to the beat, swinging his hips.

I was just a kid workin' for the man for the first time.
Said "Listen kid, you'd better hear my advice:
Treat 'em like dirt, they'll stick forever
To the bottom of your shoe."
Oh wooo ooo ooo.

He jogged over the kitchen table and pulled a chair into the living room. He bowed low and offered the chair to Brittany, who giggled as she took it.

I said "Mr. Man, that ain't nice.
You gotta treat a girl right.
Take her out, wine and dine her, always be polite."
"Kid, all good. Just do you, but soon you'll see
she don't want no goody two shoes."

Brittany got up and danced with Santana. They swayed together, snapping their fingers and singing.

Boy, you're just a goody two, goody two shoes.
You're just a goody two, two shoes!

Blaine jumped onto his couch, pulling the collar of his jacket up. He tried to do his best bad boy impression, which in his fogged head seemed to be John Travolta in Grease. The girls helped him out with the back up vocals and harmonizing. Blaine felt better than he had in months. He had really missed singing with people.

You got style. You got grace.
But kid you try so hard
she just laughs in your face.
Yeah, you're a nice guy
With the wrong attitude.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!
I treat her bad. She loves me good.
And I just hate to have to tell you.
‘Cause you're a nice guy
But that just won't do.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!

Blaine leapt of the couch and fumbled as he landed. He regained his composure and started dancing with Santana, being fake flirty. With a huge smile on her face, Santana pretended to flirt back, even fanning herself like she was overwhelmed.

Listen kid, you hear them sirens comin' for me?
But when I get downtown she will already be
Postin' bail in her favorite dress
Smilin' at me because I'm no good.

Santana and he both moved over the Brittany who was doing some amazing dance moves. The two others tried to copy her moves as she did them, a little too drunk to do them properly.

You can buy her everything she likes
And I'm sure she'll be obliged to let you steal a kiss,
maybe even spend the night.
Kid, all good. Just know that
She'll be thinking of me even when she's with you.

Boy, you're just a goody two, goody two shoes.
You're just a goody two, two shoes!

Blaine went to a bookshelf and grabbed his sonic screwdriver, using it as a microphone. The two girls did the same, the blonde grabbing the TV remote and the brunette singing into the tequila bottle. They danced into Blaine’s bedroom, singing to each other as they moved all over.

You got style. You got grace.
But kid you try so hard
she just laughs in your face.
Yeah, you're a nice guy
With the wrong attitude.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!
I treat her bad. She loves me good.
And I just hate to have to tell you.
‘Cause you're a nice guy
But that just won't do.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!

The teenagers skipped into the bathroom. They stood in front of the sink and sang to themselves in the mirror. Blaine trying to do sexy faces and flexing his muscle while the girls swayed on both sides of him.

Whoa, alright now.
Single ladies. Yeah!
I'm gonna need your help now.
Tell us what ya want us to do now!
Tell us what ya want us to do now!
I need help, girls.
You're a bad boy.
I say I need help now. Help now.
So bad. So bad.
So good. So good.
So bad. Bad.
Good. Good.

Blaine rushed out of the bathroom, scrambling to stand on his king size bed. The girls ran out hand in hand and hopped onto the bed too. They danced and jumped on the bed as the mattress squeaked in protest.

God damn!
You got style. You got grace.
But you try so hard
she just laughs in your face.
Yeah, you're a nice guy.
Wrong attitude.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!
I treat her bad. She loves me good.
And I just hate to have to tell you.
‘Cause you're a nice guy
But that just won't do.
She want a bad boy.
Bad boys. Bad boys. All we want is bad boys!

Boy, you're just a goody two, goody two shoes.
You're just a goody two, two shoes!

Then they all flopped onto bed, laughing. Blaine looked at the girls on at his sides. He really couldn’t believe that they were there laughing with him. Santana pulled at the comforter, and the three fumbled with it so that they were all under the covers. The two girls sleepily snuggled into Blaine’s sides.

“Not bad, Anderson. Not bad at all,” Santana said resting her head on his shoulder.

Blaine let out a small chuckle and whispered, “I better wake up with my pants on.”