"Hey there, Hobbit."

Santana approaches Rachel at her locker, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What do you want?" Rachel asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder, probably trying to look tougher than she is. It's comical.

"Jesus, Berry…can't I just say hello without you thinking I want something?"

Rachel lifts an eyebrow and purses her lips, gripping her notebook tighter to her chest.

"Okay," Santana says. "So I'm usually entirely self-serving and a heinous bitch. But I'm genuinely concerned about you, god help me. You looked pretty upset when Anderson gave lady face another solo yesterday."

Rachel's face softens, and Santana has to fight back a smile. Her prey is taking the bait.

"It's just not fair," Rachel whines, leaning back against the row of lockers.

"So let's make it fair," Santana says with a shrug. God, Berry is so disgusting with her big innocent doe eyes.

"What are you suggesting?" Rachel asks. She still looks wary, but at least she's no longer on the defensive.

"A partnership," she says. "I want a chance at a solo too, and as long as Blanderson keeps giving them all to Hummel, we're screwed."

Santana didn't really care so much about Coach Sylvester's agenda, whatever it may be, but she really did want to increase her chances at solos. And Anderson did seem to have one hell of an ear boner for Kurt's annoying voice, not that Berry's was much better. But one less solo for Hummel was a shot at another one for her. And that's what matters.

"We could spy on Kurt's private lessons," Rachel suggests, looking nervous. "Mr. Anderson's been giving him vocal instruction twice a week before school since September."

Santana grins broadly, her gloss-coated lips revealing a perfect row of bright white teeth. It's on.

"Rachel Berry, that's completely devious, and I love it," she says. "There might be hope for you yet."

She threads an arm through Rachel's and tugs her down the hallway toward the choir room.

Blaine smiles at Rachel and Santana as they enter the room, arms linked. His smile grows wider when he sees Kurt and Mercedes walking in behind them. Kurt returns the smile with an exuberant, "Hey Mr. Anderson." Mercedes gives him a confused look and says, "Who are you and what have you done with Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt playfully slaps Mercedes' arm and laughs. He is acting unusually cheerful today.

"You look happy, Kurt" Blaine says.

Kurt turns to face him, smile growing even wider. "I am," he says.

Blaine really wants to kiss him when he smiles like that. He doesn't act on it, of course. But he indulges in the thought anyway.

"He's been like this for days," Mercedes says. "I'm thinking of having him committed."

"Why is it so hard for everyone to just accept my good mood?" Kurt asks. He looks annoyed, but he's still smiling.

"Oh, I accept it," Mercedes says. "I'm just not sure I trust it. The last time you looked that happy you tried to give me a makeover."

"You would have looked great in that leather mini skirt and you know it," Kurt admonishes. He pivots on the spot, taking his bag off his shoulder and sitting down. It happens in one fluid movement and reminds Blaine of practiced choreography.

"Yeah, yeah," Mercedes says with a dismissive wave. "Still thinking of having you committed."

"Lucky for you, I can pull off buckles and straps," Kurt teases.

Blaine laughs brightly at that. "You're probably the only person I know who could make a straightjacket look fashionable," he says, forcing his mind toward the most PG thought he can muster.

Kurt glances over at his teacher and beams. His posture grows visibly taller at the compliment, and there's a moment of poignant silence. Blaine wonders if Kurt isn't having similar trouble keeping his thoughts out of the gutter. When Blaine sees Mercedes looking back and forth between them with her mouth open, he clears his throat loudly and tries to get the attention of the group.

"Okay, guys, it's almost winter break and we need to firm up our set list for regionals," he says, shifting his eyes to Mercedes. She's watching Kurt attentively, and Kurt, for his part, is gazing fondly at Blaine, a coy smile making him look irresistible. He forces himself to make eye contact with some of the other students. "Does anyone have a piece they'd like us to consider?"

Rachel's hand shoots up like a rocket. "Mr. Anderson, I'd like to offer up my services as soloist for what I think will be the perfect New Directions number." She pauses and smiles. Blaine assumes she's going for maximum dramatic impact, but in reality, she just looks constipated.

"Defying Gravity," she says finally, grinning madly and bouncing in her chair like a small child.

"Yawn," Santana says from the back of the room. "We'll put the judges to sleep with that crap."

"It's not crap," Rachel says harshly, whipping around to glare at Santana. "Wicked is a very popular, not to mention award-winning, Broadway musical."

"Exactly. It's totally predictable. We'll get laughed off the stage."

"Santana's right," Quinn offers. "We need something more original…something different."

Rachel turns back to the front of the room, bottom lip stuck out in a pout and crosses her arms. Finn pats her knee and offers her an apologetic smile.

"Any other suggestions?" Blaine asks, trying to mitigate some of the tension before it gets out of hand.

The group manages to come up with a short list for regionals. Although, Rachel pouts for the remainder of rehearsal. When Blaine dismisses them, he considers asking her to stay behind, but sees that Santana is rushing to catch up to her, and figures he'll let Santana apologize. That will probably go a lot further than Blaine trying to comfort her. He turns back to the room, only to be met with Kurt's stunning blue eyes. Everyone else is gone.

"Mr. Anderson," he says with more formality than necessary. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Rachel, but I have a song I want to work on during my vocal lesson tomorrow. I'd like to audition it for regionals."

"I already gave you a solo, Kurt," Blaine says, trying to sound serious and focusing on straightening chairs. "Do you think it's fair to the others to try for another one?"

He glances over to Kurt and sees his eyes sparkling with delight. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to fight back an undignified giggle. But he's feeling lightheaded and giddy. Apparently, Kurt's eyes just have that effect on him.

"You always say the solos will go to the most deserving," Kurt says, smirking. "If I'm the best, I don't see why I couldn't' have more than one solo."

"I think your teacher might be biased, Kurt." The words are out before he can realize he's flirting again.

Kurt raises an eyebrow in challenge. It occurs to Blaine that it should be criminal to look that good while scheming, especially by someone who is only 18.

"I'm kind of counting on it," Kurt says, pursing his lips playfully and raising his eyebrow even higher. His eyes are sparkling with blatant flirtation.

Blaine's jaw drops, and his eyes go wide. Kurt just stands there smirking at him for a moment. And then he's gone, leaving Blaine gaping after him.

He can't believe how bold Kurt is being. It reminds him of being alone with Kurt in his apartment when he'd challenged him and turned him on and was just … perfect. And then he'd just assumed Blaine would call him and had left his phone number – along with an xoxo – on a scrap of paper on his coffee table. He had paced around it and stared at it all night. It was still there in the morning, mocking him.

Blaine had lasted just under 24 hours before he called Kurt.

"Hey," he says when Kurt answers. "It's Mr. Anderson. Blaine…it's Blaine."

"Blaine," Kurt repeats. "What are you…? How are you doing?"

Blaine clears his throat. "Fine."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"Blaine, did you call me for a particular reason?"

"Kurt, I just…"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Blaine blurts out.

"Neither do I," Kurt confesses.

"Yeah, but you're 18. I'm 22."

"Like that's supposed to give you some sort of magic insight," Kurt says. "I'm just as confused as you are. Maybe more so."

Blaine breathes heavily into the phone. "Well, that makes me feel better."

Kurt laughs. It's one of the best sounds. "We could take it slow," he says.

"Kurt."

"Blaine. I'm serious," Kurt says. "I'm not saying let's jump in with both feet, start going out on dates and making out in the hallways or anything."

"I would hope not," Blaine laughs. "I'd be unemployed by the end of the week."

"Exactly. What I'm proposing is more of a carefully constructed friendship."

"You're proposing? It's all so sudden," Blaine teases. His mood is lightened considerably and he's actually considering Kurt's idea.

"Stop making fun. I'm trying to figure this out." Blaine imagines the most adorable pout on Kurt's face.

"Sorry…sorry,' Blaine says. "Continue. Elaborate on this 'carefully constructed' friendship we're supposed to be having." He smiles, leaning on his kitchen counter and rests his chin on his hand.

"I think we could start spending more time together, really get to know each other…just as friends," Kurt says. "See if we really have anything in common beyond music and fashion. And if, when I graduate in May, we're still interested, then we can then safely pursue a romantic relationship."

"You practiced that, didn't you?"

"Possibly," he says quietly.

Blaine can hear the smirk in his voice over the line.

"You're adorable," he says before his mind can stop him. They're both silent for a few moments. Blaine can't help but notice that it happens every time they cross that invisible line. It feels like they're letting the tension build until it snaps. And Blaine wonders if Kurt enjoys the build up in the same confusing way he does.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Kurt says. "The way you kissed me. It was …"

"Perfect?" Blaine wagers.

"Perfect." Kurt sighs, and Blaine wishes he could see his face. "God, it's going to be torture not being able to do that again until May."

Blaine thinks truer words were never spoken. The idea of being with Kurt even more and not being able to touch him or kiss him or …. No, he can't go there. They have to be careful, play it safe, wait it out.

"We have to be careful, though," Blaine says. "It's this or nothing."

"I'm just glad you'd rather be my friend than nothing at all." Kurt sounds sad, like he can't believe anyone would want to be his friend.

"Kurt, I can't imagine not having you in my life. I hope you know how special you are."

"I'm starting to figure it out," Kurt says.

Snapping out of the memory, Blaine finishes straightening the chairs and heads to his office, smiling to himself. He sends Kurt a text.

From Blaine (4:33 p.m.)
Coffee later?

From Kurt (4:34 p.m.)
Sure. 5-ish? Lima Bean?

From Blaine (4:35 p.m.)
Looking forward to it. :)

Mercedes is waiting just outside the choir room for Kurt. He doesn't see her right away, so she pinches his elbow to get his attention.

"Ow!" he says. "What was that for?"

"You were totally flirting with Mr. A just now. There is definitely something going on there. I think you owe me an explanation." She crosses her arms and cocks a hip out while waiting for his response.

Kurt looks like he's battling internally about something. Mercedes nudges him carefully.

"You can trust me, Kurt. You know that right?"

"It's not that," he says. "I'm just not sure what you want me to say."

"Well, I know you have the hots for Mr. Anderson. But outright flirting with him? Whoa boy."

"I can't help it," Kurt says, his shoulders sagging. "He's just so…" He trails off, looking wistfully behind him toward the choir room.

"Kurt," she says with a playful smile. "You've got such a crush on him!"

"Yeah," Kurt admits in a rush of breath. He's not making eye contact, though.

Mercedes searches his face for a moment. Could it be?

"Kurt," she begins, lowering her voice to a whisper and looking left and right. "Is something going on with you and Mr. Anderson?"

Kurt reels back and his eyes go wide.

"No, Mercedes…god! Why would you say something like that?"

"Well, you have been walking around like you found designer jeans for a dollar at the flea market. What am I supposed to think?"

Kurt has been acting really weird. Something is definitely up, and if it doesn't have anything to do with their teacher, she is at a loss to figure it out.

"Mercedes," Kurt says, gripping her by the arm and looking her directly in the eye. "Why would our unfairly attractive 20-something teacher — a grown man — want anything to do with me?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit. Have you seen yourself lately?" She waves a hand at him. Mercedes might think of Kurt like a brother, but it hasn't escaped her attention that he's grown a few inches taller and gotten leaner and less doughy in the last two years. She swears his shoulders have broadened nearly daily for the last six months. Every time she turns around his jackets and sweaters look more form fitting than the last time he wore them. "Kurt Hummel is growing up."

Kurt blushes and drops his head at her compliment. She smiles fondly at her dear friend. He really does underestimate himself. She kinds of wishes maybe Mr. A were interested in Kurt. The flattery would do Kurt's self-esteem some good.

Kurt smiles as he reads a text on his phone. He taps out a quick reply and then looks up at Mercedes.

"Well, as flattering as that is, you obviously see something that Mr. Anderson doesn't. He's just my teacher. Nothing more."

Mercedes nods at Kurt, but she isn't convinced. In fact, she keeps a careful eye on Kurt and Mr. Anderson for the next few weeks, pursuing her hunch. What she sees makes her even more suspicious. The first week she sees shy glances and private smiles when they think no one is looking. More than once she swears she sees Kurt's car following Mr. Anderson's out of the McKinley parking lot. Kurt keeps insisting it's just the vocal lessons, AP English, and glee, nothing more.

But as far as Mercedes is concerned, all of these little things have really begun to add up. And now more than ever she wants concrete proof before she confronts Kurt again. So she shows up early to school on a Thursday morning about a week before regionals to eavesdrop on Kurt's lesson, hoping to catch them off guard. Just as she rounds the corner to the choir room, she sees Rachel and Santana peering in through the small window in the door.

"What are you two doing?" she asks. Both girls jump at the sound of Mercedes' voice and twist around to face her. Rachel's face is the picture of shock, but Santana's cool demeanor is perfectly in place.

"Who us?" Santana asks, feigning innocence. "We were just walking by and wanted to hear how Kurt's solo is progressing."

"Uh huh," Mercedes says.

"It's true," Rachel chimes in. "We're just here to offer our unfailing moral support to Kurt."

"And I'm the Easter Bunny," Mercedes says, rolling her eyes at them. "Since when are either of you two team players?"

"Oh lay off it, Aretha. Don't tell me you didn't come here to get your spy on too."

Mercedes can't deny it. Although her motives may have been different, she's still there to spy on her friend. But they don't need to know that.

She shakes her head as Santana gloats. "Let's just be quiet," she says. "I don't want Kurt to know we're here."

Kurt breathes deeply and tries to focus on the melody of the song they're working on, but Blaine's arm keeps brushing his, the thick wool of his cardigan absolutely perfect for cuddling in the brisk November cold that has gripped Lima. Kurt can smell Blaine's cologne, and he wants to nuzzle into the man's neck and inhale deeply to memorize the scent.

"Do you want to try the second verse again?" Blaine asks. He doesn't look up from the page of music he's marking with a pencil. Kurt takes the opportunity to admire Blaine's profile. His eyes lock on the prominent rise and fall of his Adam's apple.

I'd like to try kissing you again, he thinks. Lick you from head to toe.

What he says is, "Sure."

Meanwhile Kurt's mind is racing with thoughts he absolutely shouldn't be having about his teacher. It takes everything he has to focus on the lyrics to the song and not think about the snug pull of cotton across Blaine's lap and what lies hidden underneath. One thing's for sure, Blaine must wear snug-fitting underwear because he never shows signs of bunched fabric underneath his trousers. Boxer briefs maybe? Perhaps he even goes without sometimes because Kurt's never seen a single line or crease. And he's definitely been looking.

Kurt pulls his thoughts together just in time for his cue. Blaine smiles as Kurt's voice rings out clear and bright. Kurt allows himself to get lost in the song for a few moments.

"I think you're ready," Blaine says when Kurt finishes singing. "How do you feel about it?" He turns to face Kurt, and his smile is so full of pride, it makes Kurt's heart feel like it's going to swell clear out of his chest.

Kurt smiles and just lets himself bask in the praise and attention for a second. "Feels good," he says. "Feels really good."

Blaine's tea-colored eyes are wide pools of emotion staring back at him. He hears Blaine take in a shuddering breath, and his own heartbeat picks up speed as they lock eyes. It would be so easy to close the distance between them and fit their lips together, and yet there might as well be a deep chasm separating them for the lack of freedom they have to act out their desires. It's somehow more manageable now that they've acknowledged their attraction and promised to fight against it for the time being. Manageable…doesn't make it any easier, though.

"Good…good," Blaine says, unblinking.

By the time the bell rings a few minutes later, neither of them has spoken again. Still, Kurt can't help but feel like they've had a deeply intimate conversation in those moments of silence. He wishes he could pull Blaine into a tight embrace. He settles for a small wave.

By the time regionals rolls around the next week, Blaine is feeling good about his ability to keep his attraction at bay. He'd even bragged to Wes about their arrangement. His friend had sounded optimistic but concerned.

In retrospect, Blaine probably got too cocky about his ability to control the entire situation.

The morning of regionals dawns gloomy and overcast, the temperature on the verge of freezing. The biting cold threatens to turn a light drizzle into to a slushy, biting mix of sleet and ice.

Blaine arrives at McKinley ahead of his students, arms laden with two dozen bagels and a box of hot chocolate packets. He stumbles through the double doors and makes his way to the teachers' lounge for some hot water, plates, and napkins.

By the time New Directions arrives, he has an impressive display for them and a highly inspiring pep talk prepared and it all goes off without a hitch. They board the bus on time and for once, no one is arguing.

Thanks to Blaine's thoughtfulness, the mood on the bus headed to the competition is cheerful and light. Puck is playing guitar while several of the girls sing along. Blaine catches sight of Rachel and Santana laughing at Brittany and Mike's attempts at dancing in their seats. He's glad that their duet was strong enough to be part of their competition set. He was starting to worry that he had a mutiny brewing.

Smiling to himself, Blaine turns to watch the scenery fly by out the window. The sky is still grey and gloomy, but Blaine's mood is light. Life is good.

He feels a presence to his left and knows without looking that it's Kurt.

"Hi," he says.

"Hey," Blaine replies. "Ready for your solo?"

"Mmmhmm," Kurt says quietly. He lowers his voice even more. "I wish we could do something to help my nerves."

"Kurt," Blaine says, shifting his eyes to make sure no one is close enough to hear them. "You can't just say things like that. Especially not in public."

"I know," Kurt says. He looks chastised, but unapologetic. "But you can't tell me you haven't been thinking the same thing."

Blaine narrows his eyes and purses his lips. He has been thinking about it. Too much, in fact. But there's nothing they can do about it, so he's just been taking care of it on his own.

"I have," Blaine admits before leaning in to whisper into Kurt's ear. "But I'm pretty sure that's why they invented masturbation."

Kurt's eyes go wide, and he blushes deeply even for him. Blaine sees Kurt's Adam's apple rise and fall with a thick swallow, and god if that doesn't make him want to bite at it.

It isn't the first time he's fantasized about Kurt's deliciously long neck. He'd love to pepper it with kisses and nibble his way from shoulder to ear lobe. The sounds Kurt would make…he can almost hear it.

Blaine is glad the seats of the bus are high and block them from view because he's certain if anyone saw his face right now, they'd read every dirty thought and sexual fantasy running rampant in his brain.

He can hear Kurt's rapid breath and can feel the heat radiating off both of them in waves. His desire is burning hot like fire in his belly as his cock betrays him, swelling rapidly and causing him to shift his weight to conceal it from Kurt's view.

A sudden shout of "Get a room, Berry!" from the back of the bus brings them both crashing back into the reality of being on a school bus headed to a show choir competition.

"I should get back to my seat," Kurt says, eyes downcast.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Blaine says.

He watches Kurt head to the back of the bus and take his seat by Mercedes.

It only takes a few moments to come back down from his visible arousal, but his body feels taught, his skin pulled too tightly over his bones, and his nerves thrum with desire. It's unsettling, but not entirely unpleasant.

Blaine turns back to the window and keeps his gaze focused on the gray sky outside for the rest of the trip to Carmel. He hopes Kurt is better at maintaining focus than he is at the moment. He's got a solo to sing.

Sebastian Smythe remembers all too well what it felt like to lose to New Directions at regionals last year. He's determined not to have a repeat of that particular situation. That's how he finds himself backstage at Carmel High hours before The Warblers are set to perform. He's looking for ways to cause trouble and increase their chances of winning. Not that The Warblers need it with him as lead singer. But it just never hurts to have a little extra incentive.

He easily spots New Directions when they arrive. The stench of public school and talentless ambition rolls off them in waves. A screechy, piercing voice rings out above the rest.

"We should get to the green room as quickly as possible so we can all begin warming up. I need tea with lemon and honey and we should probably do a run through of all three numbers without the choreography."

"Thank you, Rachel," a dark-haired man in a cardigan says. He's wearing different clothing from the rest of them, probably their teacher. He's also strikingly handsome and looks really young; he can't be more than a year or two out of college. Sebastian immediately imagines grinding up against his compact, muscular frame on the dance floor. That perfectly rounded ass bouncing with every beat.

"I'll take it from here," Perfect Ass says. "I'd like us to run through some vocal exercises and then mark the choreography at least once. We're allowed to use the stage from 10:30 to 11, that way we can get the spacing just right. And I'd like all of our featured soloists to rest their voices after warm up. No belting, minimal talking, and Santana? No yelling, please."

A dark-haired girl, probably Santana, rolls her eyes at Perfect Ass and says, "Whatever you say, Mr. A. But I can't be held responsible if Frankenteen says something stupid and I have to go all Lima Heights on his ass."

"Just try to keep it to a dull roar," Perfect Ass says.

"Mr. Anderson," a high-pitched but decidedly masculine voice calls out as the rest of the group heads for the green room. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Kurt," he says. "What's up?"

"Can we go some place private?" he asks, looking around them to make sure no one is within earshot. Sebastian is standing in the shadows, mostly hidden behind a thick curtain, so the boy doesn't see him, but he ducks a little further back behind it just to be safe. "It's about my solo," Kurt finishes.

The two disappear behind a tower of boxes and crates just off the stage and in the opposite direction of the hustle and bustle of the setup for competition. Sebastian waits a few moments until he's sure he won't be seen and then follows.

"…been thinking about you all day," a deep voice says. Must be Perfect Ass.

"Me too," the other voice says, breathing heavily. "Blaine, I don't know if I can wait until May."

"Kurt, you're killing me," Blaine says.

When Sebastian finally finds a spot where he can both see and hear the scene unfolding before him, he's treated to the most wonderful early Christmas present.

Teacher and student are locked in a passionate embrace and from the look of it, it's definitely not the first time this has happened. Kurt's hands are fisted in Blaine's sweater and the teacher's hands are resting on Kurt's waist. Their heads are tipped forward, eyes closed, foreheads touching.

"We can't do this," Blaine says, opening his eyes and trying to pull back from his student, but looking like it pains him to do so.

"Please," Kurt says. Sebastian can see his eyes shining even in the dim backstage light. "Just one kiss for good luck?"

"Kurt, we talked about this. Not until you graduate."

"Please. It's just one kiss." He leans forward into the embrace and nudges Blaine's nose with his own, wrapping his long arms around Blaine's neck. Blaine's eyes flutter shut and he licks his lips. "Promise," Kurt says.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to keep that promise," Blaine says, surging forward to capture Kurt's lips.

Sebastian refuses to tear himself away. The sight before him is erotic and intimate and most importantly, the perfect way for him to get the upper hand for the competition. He watches them kiss for a few moments, frantic tongues and gripping hands. These two are in so much fucking trouble, he thinks.

When they pull away, Blaine mumbles something into Kurt's ear, and the younger man rubs a thumb gently across Blaine's cheek and nods. He walks off in the direction of the green room, leaving the teacher behind. Blaine closes his eyes and exhales loudly, his shoulders sagging. He runs a hand across his mouth and then smoothes his clothes to make sure he's not too disheveled. When he seems satisfied with his appearance, he follows in the direction Kurt had just gone. Sebastian watches until that perfect ass is completely out of sight and then steps out of the shadows.

"Merry fucking Christmas, Smythe," he says out loud.

Sebastian smiles deviously to himself and rushes off to find the tiny screeching girl or maybe even the girl called Santana. He's going to make sure they know exactly what he just saw.