Kurt hummed 'Over The Rainbow' as he dried the last dish. That's where he wanted to be; over the rainbow. Instead, he was standing in the kitchen of his childhood home, dreaming. He was a dreamer, but his dream seemed more like a distant reality as time passed.

Rachel walked in just as he finished drying the last plate and helped him put the dishes in their proper places. "What time do you have to be at the club tonight?" She asked. It was one of her rare nights off and Kurt knew that she just wanted to know how long she had until she was alone. The two nineteen year olds didn't go out and they definitely didn't party. That cost money and money was something they weren't willing to part with.We'll party in New York.

"Six." He replied. Rachel's face lit up. That gave them the rest of the afternoon to hang out. "I thought we could watch 'The Wizard of Oz' and sing along to all the songs. We have to keep our voices in top condition if we're going to sing on Broadway one day." Rachel squealed. Nothing sounded better than sitting on the old Hummel couch and singing songs with Kurt.

The two cuddled on the couch and watched the movie in relative silence; only choosing to sing along with their favorite songs. Eventually, late afternoon rolled around and it was time for Kurt to get ready for work. It was unspoken knowledge that they were both disappointed.

Kurt drove his father's old pickup truck to the club. He'd been forced to part with a lot, but he was never going to get rid of the truck. It was one of the few things that still smelled like his dad; Old Spice, stale coffee, and something that was distinctly Burt Hummel. Some days, Kurt sat in the truck for hours and sniffed the upholstery. Other days, he sat in his room smelling the drawers that his mother once used. Her scent had long since faded but it helped none the less.

The old Chevy pulled into a spot at the far end of the club parking lot. Kurt sniffed the steering wheel for courage –a ritual he'd adopted just after he'd started dancing- and climbed out. The parking lot was mostly barren with only a few cars scattered here and there. As he did every day, Kurt thanked his lucky stars that he was fortunate enough to work nights. Dayshift dancers made half the money and their customers were twice as grimy. The two day shifts he'd worked resulted in an obscene number of showers and a doubled water bill.

Kurt walked through the back door and into the heart of the back stage area. A few of his colleagues were gearing up for their evening performances others were gathered around Will, listening to stories from his previous life. Apparently, he'd been a teacher at one point in time. Kurt made a face. He always found it difficult to imagine the shady business man teaching children.

Kurt turned away from the scene and walked to his station. He needed to get ready. He only had one performance that night, so he had to make it count. He had to look and dance like his bank account depended on it because it did. Risen gas prices and the general cost of living were wearing the teen's small pockets down. That coupled with the dwindling business at the club was driving him broke. So, Kurt had to make his one dance of the night worth it. And he knew exactly how.

"I'm so glad you guys called. I thought I was going to have to spend my night working." Blaine rolled his eyes at the girl. Santana was a piece of work.

"You're supposed to be at work." It wasn't a question. Santana shrugged and stepped into the line. It was longer than when they'd visited a few weeks ago.

"I'm a doctor, I makes my own hours." She replied. Blaine sighed and shrank back when the Latina and his blonde coworker sparked up a conversation. He was starting to feel self-conscious. He could probably find someone to play his boyfriend but he wanted Kalvin. Kalvin was gorgeous and something about him screamed 'I can make someone jealous'. In a twisted way, that's what he wanted. He wanted Jeremiah to be jealous. He wanted Jeremiah to be so jealous that he dropped his French boy and ran back to Blaine. They could start again. That's what Blaine wanted. He wanted a do over. He wanted to show Jeremiah that he was worth a second chance, even if things were bad in the end.

The end.

Things were really bad in the end. Through Jeremiah's mistakes and mishaps, Blaine always blamed himself for their divorce, even if he had no control over it.

Blaine and Jeremiah married a few months after Blaine's 22 birthday. They were both young but their love seemed endless. People talked, but it didn't matter, they had each other. After a whirlwind high school romance, the two felt it was time. The opinions of others didn't matter.

The first year and a half went well. They went on dates, spent never ending time together, and had the most amazing sex. Then, Jeremiah cheated. He pleaded his case to his husband and won. The young pharmacy student forgave his husband for 'accidentally' sleeping with a fellow design major. "We all make mistakes, honey." Blaine said as he held his weeping husband in the middle of their too tiny apartment.

Things returned to normal and they spent the next few months reconnecting. Then, Jeremiah slept with a coworker from his internship. Blaine, once again, forgave him. "I do spend a lot of time in school and doing my clinicals. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." Blaine's apology was honest and heartfelt. Jeremiah accepted it and they tried to move on from the situation.

Then came the barista from the coffee shop, the bartender at Scandals, and the local Emmy award winning news anchor. Blaine forgave his husband each time. He loved Jeremiah; unconditionally.

Quinn and Blaine met during Blaine's rotations. They were both interning at Lima Memorial Hospital and they clicked well. Neither wanted to work in a hospital setting and both were gay. In their minds, they had a lot in common. "You and your husband should come out with some friends and me tonight. We'll grab some beers and shoot the shit. It'll be fun." Blaine was reluctant but eventually gave in. He and Jeremiah hadn't been out in ages.

Jeremiah made a beeline for the bathroom when they entered the restaurant. Blaine shrugged and adjusted his glasses. Once they were perched perfect, they scanned the room for Quinn. "Two?" The hostess asked.

"Ummm...I'm actually looking for a group of people." He replied hesitantly. He'd always been a bit skittish.

His eyes roamed the room again and he spotted her; blond hair pulled back into a pony tail and a smile on her face. She was a beautiful girl, he'd give her that, but he wasn't into girls so it didn't matter. As soon as Blaine noticed her, Quinn looked up. Her smile broadened and she waved him over. "That's them. I'll just...yeah..." He finished lamely. The hostess nodded and stepped aside.

The table was packed. Next to Quinn sat a girl with flowing black hair and her arms around the people seated next to her; a guy with a Mohawk on one side and a guy with unusually large lips on the other. "Blaine. I'm so happy you could make it. Where's your husband?" Quinn looked around but didn't see anyone near him.

"He's in the bathroom." Blaine squeaked. With all eyes on him, he felt self-conscious.

"Where are my manors? These are some of my friends. Sam," she pointed to Trouty Mouth, "Santana," the Latina, "and Puck," she ended with Mohawk." Blaine nodded and waved. "Guys, this is Blaine. Be nice." Quinn's tone went cold and Blaine wondered how many friends they hadn't been nice to.

Santana pulled her arms from around the boys and pointed to the booth seat next to Quinn. Blaine took it. "So, you're Q's new BFF?" She asked.

"Ummm..."

"Shut up, Santana, you know you can't be replaced." Quinn replied. There was a hint of flirting behind her words.

"True. Momma is one of a kind." Everyone laughed, including Blaine. "So, Too Short, tell us about yourself. You're gay right?" It seemed an odd question because of Quinn's previous remark about his husband.

"Ummm...yeah. Is that a problem?" He assumed they all knew that Quinn was gay, so he couldn't be sure.

Puck spoke up. "Naw, dude, Satan is just looking for a new dude to get down with. She thinks that people will sleep with anyone, regardless of 'sexuality'." Air quotes.

"That's right. Momma believes in fluidity, so...how gay are you?" Her eyes narrowed seductively and, for a moment- a very short moment, Blaine was turned on. That'd never happened with a girl before.

"I'm gay enough to like to be fucked in the ass." Quinn choked on her drink at Blaine's words. He was so put together. He never cussed and he never indulged in talk about his sex life. Yet, there he was, matching Santana's tone and body language. The blond was hesitant of him at first –he reminds me of the guys I met at Vacation Bible School- but, now, she knew she liked him. Apparently, Santana felt the same way.

"I like you, you dress a little funny, but I like you." Blaine looked down at his crooked bowtie and pulled it straight. He was so embarrassed. He didn't say things like that. He didn't cuss and he definitely didn't talk about sex. Despite what Santana said, he was certain that they'd never invite him to hang out again. Everyone laughed at the comment, but he was sure they were uncomfortable.This is why Jeremiah is your only real friend. You always do these things.

Speak of the devil. Jeremiah walked up just as the laughter died down. "Hey, babe, I couldn't find the table." Blaine's husband said as he scooted into the booth. Blaine smiled, thankful that his husband was finally there. Jeremiah made him feel safe.

"Everyone, this is my husband-"

Santana cut him off. "Jeremiah? What the fuck?" Blaine looked between the two. Santana was staring daggers at his husband and Jeremiah was shrinking in his seat. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Ummmm...you guys know each other?" Sam questioned.Obviously.Blaine didn't say it though. He felt the air in the room change and he knew what was going to happen next. It was exactly what happened with the barista and the bartender. Blaine closed his eyes and hung his head.

"Ummm...yeah. And when wekneweach other, he didn't let meknowthat he was married....orsupposedlyexclusively gay." Santana barked. Her words were venomous. By that time, Jeremiah was standing from his seat.

"Listen, that was a long time ago-"

"Was it?"

"Since when is 2 weeks ago a 'long time ago'?" Blaine and Santana questioned at the same time. Neither waited for an answer. Santana pushed Puck out of the booth and stormed off towards and exit and Blaine stood and stormed towards another. He was pissed and he was tired.

Blaine took their car and left Jeremiah standing in the parking lot. He'd never be able to look Quinn in the eyes again. It was a shame, she had nice eyes.

In unbearable silence, Blaine drove to their apartment. He rushed out of the car and into the house. He'd embarrassed himself enough for one night; he wasn't going to break down in the parking lot. His neighbors would talk.

Once the front door was closed, Blaine lost it. He'd forgiven and forgotten more times than he cared to remember.Why aren't I enough?He thought. He cried until Jeremiah got home. Then, things got complicated.

"Babe, open the door. We should talk." Jeremiah shouted through the bathroom door. Blaine, who was sat in the middle of the empty bath tub, did not respond. He was so tired of giving with no return. "Come on, you know I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

It wasn't. Blaine had long since given up on the 'accidental sex' theory. "Please leave me alone, I need time." He finally shouted back.

He heard his husband scoff and it infuriated him. "Time? What do you need time for? I told you I'm sorry. What else do you want from me?" Blaine stood up in the tub. Jeremiah's words inadvertently opened Pandora's Box. He moved across the tiny bathroom in quick strides and opened the door.

"What do I want from you?" His voice rose as he spoke. "How about fidelity? How about respect? How about taking responsibility for your actions? How about being enough of a husband and a man to not cheat on your husband? Those are the things that I want from you!"

Jeremiah's face looked perplexed. He seemed honestly confused by Blaine's rant. Blaine sighed, the fight leaving his body, and hung his head. "You can't even wrap your head around those things." He whispered. "They're so simple and you look so confused."

"Babe, you're making this into more than it has to be." Jeremiah replied.

Blaine shook his head. "No, you're not making it into enough." When his head lifted, he looked at his husband, the man he exchanged vows with. "I think you should leave because I can't do this anymore."

Jeremiah turned on his heel without a word. Within an hour, the man was packed and out the door. Walking away was easier for him than Blaine expected it to be. Four years of marriage and Jeremiah walked away as if he was leaving the dinner table. No goodbye, no turning back.

Surprisingly, Santana was the first person to contact Blaine after Jeremiah left. She apologized profusely and explained that she didn't know the man was married. Blaine forgave her and they began to hang out.

A week after his 27th birthday, Blaine was served divorce papers during a lecture. He was embarrassed to be singled out in class but he was more heartbroken that his estranged husband didn't want to try to work things out. He'd missed Jeremiah since the moment he'd left, despite Quinn and Santana's advice against it.

After a few months of fighting over the phone about it, Jeremiah convinced Blaine to sign the papers. "We were better as friends, Babe. You know that. I think we should let it go and just try to be friends. We were never meant to be married." He was so calm and collected. Blaine let himself imagine that Jeremiah's demeanor towards the situation was partially attributed to the fact that he'd just gotten a job in France as a designer and not that he was relieved to be getting a divorce.

"But I love you. I'm sorry I asked you leave." Blaine begged.

"And I love you, too. That's why we should do this. We weren't happy together." Blaine signed the papers that night.

Just after his 28th birthday, the divorce was final. Blaine had just finished school and gotten a job as a pharmacist in town. It was bitter sweet. He found himself crying most nights over the husband he'd let go. He went over different ways he could have kept Jeremiah and they all resulted in ways that he should have changed himself.

"But I might be able to show him how I've changed and then he'll come back." Quinn and Santana turned in the line and stared at him.

"What?" Quinn asked. Blaine blushed. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Nothing." He squeaked before stepping towards the bouncer. The man looked him up and down.

"I shouldn't let you in with those shoes." Blaine looked down at his dirty Adidas. They contrasted with his pressed gray slacks and his black dress shirt, but they were comfortable to wear to work. "You look like you got money to spend though, so I'll make an exception."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and stepped past the man. Quinn and Santana walked in behind him, giggling at the encounter. "Why didn't you change before coming?" the Latina asked.

"Yeah, Blaine, I even went home and changed." Quinn added.

"I was nervous." He offered. The girls laughed harder as they made their way through the club.

"Nervous to ask a stripper to be your fake boyfriend?" Blaine rolled his eyes. He knew they'd laugh the second he told them his plan.

The three sat down at a table near the front. "Screw you guys. I'm sure he's a nice guy. Besides, I have cash and everyone likes cash."

Santana doubled over laughing. It's not that funny."I just think it's hilarious. Blaine is going to get a stripper to meet his douchebag ex-husband. I love it. You can't write this stuff." The girls laughed and the young pharmacist rolled his eyes at them.

"And now, for your viewing pleasure....." The MC trailed off and music started. Blaine and his friends turned their attention towards the stage. A familiar guitar riff with a name that Blaine couldn't place rang out through the seedy club. The curtain rose and Blaine made out the shape of a pair of bare feet that connected to the most spectacular legs he'd ever seen.

The curtain continued to rise and the crowd went crazy. Posed with one hand wrapped around a brass pole and the other rested on his cocked hip was Kalvin. He stared seductively at the crowd in nothing but a leopard print loincloth. Blaine exhaled through his nose. At least he knew Kalvin was working.

Kalvin swayed on his feet back and forth to the music. Apparently, everyone else in the club knew the song because they were all beginning to crowd around the tiny stage. The song continued without any lyrics and Kalvin spun effortlessly around the pole a few times. Dollar bills began to litter the stage floor.

On his last spin, Kalvin dropped to his knees in front of the pole. In one swift movement, he rolled on his back and planted both feet shoulder width apart. He used the leverage of his planted feet to push himself back up until he was gripping the pole again.

Blaine watched in awe as Kalvin grinded against the pole. Then the beat dropped and the cheers became deafening.

Welcome to the jungle, we got fun 'n' games

We got everything you want, honey we know the names

Blaine watched as Kalvin climbed the pole and worked it like a pro. He turned tricks like an aerialist and danced on the pole as if they were old lovers. A few times, Kalvin wrapped his legs around the pole and Blaine found himself wishing Kalvin would wrap his legs around him like that.

A few minutes into the song, Kalvin planted his feet on the ground and tore away the loincloth, sending it flying off stage. There he was, still dancing in time with the song; in only a pair of tiny leopard print underwear. Blaine's heart raced. He watched as Kalvin danced around different parts of the stage, using the pole as needed, and flirted money out of the customers. That's when he noticed the feeling in his chest; he clenching feeling that he couldn't quite name.

In the jungle, welcome to the jungle

Watch it bring you to your kn-kn-kn-kn-kn-kn-knees, knees

I wanna watch you bleed

Kalvin dropped to his knees and then dropped his hands to the floor. He looked like a leopard waiting to pounce. All he needed was the right victim.

Kalvin crawled across the stage as the song continued. He thrust his hips and shook his ass every so often but he didn't stop his voyage. Crowds shouted from different parts of the audience to get his attention. Everyone wanted Kalvin to dance for them. Kalvin seemed determined to dance for whomever he selected.

Kurt searched the audience for a single person; not anyone particular, just a person to watch while he finished the song. The man with the Rolex watch or the woman with the Dooney and Burke bag. The customer that would pay the most money.

His eyes wandered as he crawled around the stage. They were all his usuals; the ones that threw out fives instead of twenties. He did another scan and found his victim, the pharmacist. He remembered how much the girl paid for the lap dance, so he knew at least one of them had money.

Kurt caught the man's attention and they locked eyes. The pharmacist, Blake, had the most beautiful golden eyes he'd ever seen. If he and Rachel weren't so hell bent on leaving, he could see himself spending time with the man.

Kurt figuratively shook the thoughts away and got back into his dance. He locked his charcoal encased blue eyes on the man and began to crawl across the stage.

You know where you are, you're in the jungle baby

You're gonna die

Kurt slithered down the stage to the man. He looked scared.Good, he should be.

Blaine gulped when their eyes locked. Kalvin looked crazy and seductive. It was invigorating.I think he wants to eat me. Please eat me.He watched as the dancer crawled down the stage towards him. When the two were face to face, Blaine did the only thing he could fathom. He pulled out a 20 bill and held it up. Kalvin smirked and then shot him a wink. Blaine's breath caught. Kalvin's wild sex cat look was hot.Is he hot in here or is it just me?

"Give me a dollar!" Santana shouted. Reluctantly, Blaine broke eye contact.

"What?"

"Give me some money. Unless he's going to take my American Express card, I need some damn cash." She was flushed and Blaine understood why. Kalvin was hot. Blaine took to stereotyping the man and assumed he was gay based on his features. That didn't mean he wasn't hot though. Men and women alike were fawning over him. Absently, the pharmacist reached into his pocket and handed over his wallet.

When he turned back, Kalvin was still dancing in front of him. After a few moment of rolling his hips in the air, the dancer leaned back down until he was eyelevel with the customer.

In the jungle, welcome to the jungle

Feel my, my, my, my serpentine

Kalvin leaned towards the bill and caught it between his teeth. Blaine swore his heart stopped. For a fraction of a second, he felt Kalvin's soft upper lip brush against his thumb. It was gone quickly though; too quickly. Santana was smacking the dancer's ass and shoving Blaine's hard earned money into the dancer's underwear.That'll draw attention away from anything.Blaine thought.

Kalvin finished his entire dance in front of Santana. Blaine was disappointed but he tried not to let it show. He couldn't let disappointment ruin his plans. Plans. Crap. That's right, he was supposed to be fawning over a dancer, he was supposed to hire said dancer to make his ex-husband jealous.

Things didn't work out as planned. Inadvertently, Blaine offended the dancer with his proposition and the dancer stormed off without giving a proper answer. That was how Blaine ended up at The Lima Bean sitting across from his ex-husband and the fiancé.

"So, Sebastian, that doesn't sound French." Blaine tried. His attempts at conversation always circled back to the fact that his 'boyfriend' was absent.

"Do I sound French?" The man retorted. He seemed bored and he was obnoxious. And, he wasn't French. Blaine knew the moment the two walked in that the man was no fit for his ex-husband. He was cocky and arrogant. Personality wise, he was a carbon copy of Jeremiah.That'll never work. It's like he's marrying himself.His thoughts were as bitter as the taste in his mouth.

"Call Kalvin again. I'm sure he's off work by now." Jeremiah urged. Blaine bit his lip nervously.If I had a boyfriend named Kalvin, he'd be here.He didn't though. There was a Kalvin, but they were nothing to one another. So, he sat back and made up a lie. It was the best he could do until he found another solution to his issue.

"....I think it's sweet." Rachel said as she held the door for her friend. Kurt rolled his eyes and walked into the tiny café. The Lima Bean was their home away from home during high school. They continued to frequent it even after graduation.

Kurt stepped into the line –there coffee is not good enough for the line to be this long- before staring down at his friend. "He asked me to be his prostitute. That's not sweet."

"No he didn't. He asked you to do him a favor for money. That's business. Besides, he just needs someone to play his boyfriend. He never asked you to sleep with him."

"Yet. He hasn't asked me to sleep with him yet. Then, if I do, he'll give me money. That's prostitution in most parts of the world."

"Oh, Kurt, it could have been like Pretty Woman."

"Yeah, except we end up in New York and he ends up fucking his ex. Julia Roberts wouldn't think to highly of that ending." Rachel giggled.

"True. But, what he was offering would have put us so much closer to New York than we are now." She was right. Blaine's money would have meant only a few more months of saving. It was tempting, so tempting, but Kurt couldn't do it. He didn't care about the sob story, he was above selling himself.Even if I do it every night.

"....I told you, he's at work." The voice sounded familiar. He scanned the room quickly and spotted the owner of the voice. It was Blaine and he looked frazzled.

"Too busy to meet and old friend?" A man with curly, blond hair and piercing green eyes asked. He must have been the ex, Jermaine.

"Yes, his work is very important to him."

Another guy, a meerkat of a fellow, scoffed. "Right. What does he do again?" Blaine shrank. The two blonds at the table were ganging up on him and he looked lost. Kurt acted before he had a chance to think.Dad always said to help the less fortunate.

"Baby, there you are. I got off early." Kurt chirped as he neared the table. Blaine's head whipped around and his eyes bugged out.

"I....you....uhhh." Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair from an empty table. He sat it close to the pharmacist and plopped down in it. Blaine's guests did not look pleased; especially Jermaine.

"Oh...you must be Kalvin. I've heard so much about you." Meerkat said as he stared the dancer up and down. Kurt rolled his eyes. He'd seen that look before. Meerkat was checking him out.

"I can't say the same." Kurt replied. He then looped his arm around Blaine's elbow before turning his attention to Jermaine. "You must be the ex. It's nice to finally meet you, Jermaine." At that, Blaine choked on the coffee he was sipping. It was the first sound the man had made since his attempt to talk gone wrong.

"It's Jeremiah." The man gritted through his teeth. Kurt smirked.

"I'm sorry, Jeremiah. I'm horrible with names. Let's try this again, I'm Ku-" One look at Blaine and realized that no one knew his real name, "Kalvin and you're Jeremiah. I'm a hair stylist and you're a...chef?"

"Designer. I design clothes in Paris."

"Fancy." Kurt's unimpressed reply put a scowl on Jeremiah's face. The dancer put on his best 'innocent' face and took a sip of his coffee.

After a round of uncomfortable questions and answers –all of which Kurt breezed through, the teen had gotten the best of Blaine's ex. So Jeremiah and Sebastian chose to leave. He'd already text Rachel and told her to meet him at home, so only Blaine and Kurt remained in the coffee shop.

"Thank you so much, Kalvin. Thank you. You have no idea how much you just helped me." Blaine's eyes were wide and his gratitude was genuine. It didn't deter Kurt, however.

"I only did it because I felt sorry for you. They were eating you alive." Blaine nodded because it was true. "Obviously we're going to have to continue this, so listen up." Blaine sat up straight in his seat and gave Kurt all his attention.

"I'm leaving for New York in a few months and I need money, more money than you offered. So, I'll do this, but I want twice what you offered. I play this up nice for you and you reward me monetarily. I expect you to keep me informed of anything that pertains to this 'relationship' and, in exchange, I make your ex so jealous that he can't remember his fiancé's name. Then, in the end, I move to New York and you and Jeremiah live happily ever after. Got it?"

Blaine nodded. "Good! So, we stick to the stylist story and I can do this around work and school. I'm not stopping my grind to help you. Got it?" Again, Blaine nodded. "Good." Kurt stood up from the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "What's your number?"

Blaine rattled off his phone number and Kurt typed it in. A few moments later, Blaine felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened the text message.

My name is Kurt by the way. –k

He smiled to himself. Kurt was a lovely name. When he looked up to tell his 'boyfriend' that, Kal-Kurt was gone. He was left sitting alone at a table with four empty coffee cups. He didn't mind, though. He'd just gotten himself a new, fake boyfriend and he was well on his way to getting Jeremiah back. He couldn't be happier.