“Where are we going?”

They’ve been driving for about an hour, the three of them, and Blaine can’t hold himself back any longer.

“You’ll see.”

Blaine lets out a muffled ugh, slumps back against the car window, stares out into the night.

“I am the one geared up like a total idiot here.”

“So?”

“So it would be nice if I could have some clue as to where you’re sending me?”

The car lurches to the right, and there’s neon lights glowing in the distance, cheesy music playing just-audibly. The unmistakable scent of cheap beer and cocktails and-

Oh, god no.

“Please – tell me – you’re not actually-“

Santana just turns around and gives him a look, and Blaine bites the sentence off before he can contradict himself. They stop at the end of the street, and Blaine wants to roll over or curl up into a ball or both because he’s not getting out of the car.

“You’re getting out of the car, Blaine.”

“No I’m not.” Blaine wants to berate himself for how utterly childish he sounds.

“Yes, you are-” and Santana’s opening the door and grabbing the nub of his ear and pinching and pulling him out onto the pavement and ow ouch oh god let go fuck and then Blaine’s sitting against the cold pavement, crossing his arms and-

“Blaine, get up.”

“Nope.”

Santana sighs, crouching down and adjusting his chin so that Blaine can’t really look anywhere but her face without closing his eyes.

“Look, Blaine, I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not-”

“-yes you are.”

Blaine scrunches his eyes and tries to ignore her.

“You’ve got a right to be scared; that’s something we can all agree on. The thing is, nothing’s really going to help make you less scared apart from you actually doing this. You seem to be stuck on is the fact that you might not be ready yet.”

Blaine wrenches his head from her hands, leans back against the car door.

“That’s because I’m not ready – I don’t even really know what powers I have, let alone how to bring them out, or control them.”

He props himself up on one hand, glancing quickly at the building a few short metres away.

“What does Scandals have to do with crime-fighting anyway?”

“Some of those costumes could be considered felonies.” Brittany chimes in.

“They’re not just felonies, they deserve the life sentence – anyway, Blaine, you’ve got to realize the fact that at least a little bit of what Brit said before was true; we’ve been practising on focus and control for weeks, and we’ve gotten nowhere.”

“What’s your grandiose suggestion, then, hmm?”

Santana springs to her feet, offering a hand to Blaine. He pushes himself up against the car, sliding his figure into a standing position along the side.

“We find a criminal, we remind you about how much your life currently sucks, and we let the ball roll from there.”

“So what, you’re just going to make me angry again?”

“No, you’re going to remember how angry you were, and you’re going to draw your power from that.”

Blaine pauses, considering. “You still haven’t told me why we’re at a gay bar.”

“We’re here because all the people who come here are already in costume, tacky as it may be, so you won’t look too distinguishable – also, everyone here is either too drunk or high-”

“-or both.” Brittany adds.

Santana smiles at her. “-or both to be making any sense, so unless you manage to disintegrate another building then we’ll have a pretty decent cover-up.”

Blaine stares at her.

Santana smirks. “You can’t fault it, can you?”

Blaine sighs.

“I can’t fault it.” He steps forward, holding out his hand.

“Give me the mask.”

*

“Finn?”

Kurt glances up from his lap as his brother walks past, carrying a small cardboard box.

“Mhmmm?” Finn hums in reply, settling the box down on the bed.

“Okay, first – what’s with the box?”

“It’s my emergency supply.” Finn answers simply, smile stretching to the tips of his cheeks.

“Of? And what for?” Kurt cracks his neck up, eyes tracing the marks on his roof.

“Emergency stuff-“

“Wait, like a first aid kit?”

Finn shakes his head, clawing his fingernails at the tape surrounding the box.

“Rachel has one – I found it that one time that I helped her redecorate her room. She said it was only for ‘specialized circumstances’, like break-ups and stuff.” The tape finally catches on one of Finn’s teeth, and he grins as he begins to peel it away. “I was kinda confused about the whole keeping-chocolate-in-a-box thing.”

Kurt snorts, twisting his body towards Finn’s side of the room.

“So, what’s in your emergency supply?” Kurt asks, stifles of laughter still escaping from the back of his throat.

“Nutella, donuts, Finding Nemo and…”

“…And?” Kurt prompts, scooting closer.

“It’s still in progress, okay?”

Kurt laughs, high and clear, and he almost forgets to stop himself until Finn holds out a spoon.

“What’s that for?”

“This is a specialized…circumstance, isn’t it?”

Kurt sits on the edge of Finn’s bed, eyebrows raised. “Forgive me, but I’m not exactly seeing the emergency.”

“Forgive me, but I’m pretty sure I know you a lot better than most people. I know when you’re pissed, or upset.”

“What’s the emergency, then, Einstein?” Kurt asks, graciously accepting a spoonful of Nutella.

“You like someone, but you’re too scared to acknowledge it.”

Kurt almost chokes on his spoon, leaning forward and coughing up into chocolate-y air. He’s about to deny it, but he can see the look in Finn’s eyes; his brother rarely ever looks so determined, so sure of what he thinks. Kurt doesn’t want to ruin that for him.

“How did you know?” He asks evenly, glancing everywhere but Finn.

Finn’s face curves naturally into a more serious smile as he shrugs, continues unpacking the box.

“You’ve had your pining-after-a-guy face on all week – the one you always had when you were crushing on Sebastian, and I know it’s not about Sebastian because you would’ve objected to me punching him in the face.”

“You didn’t punch him in the face.”

“You didn’t tell me not to.”

Kurt pushes himself from the bed, walking the length of his bedroom and back as he listens to Finn.

“It’s not just that, though.” Finn continues. “You look a lot happier then you did when you were crushing on Sebastian.”

“Maybe that’s because I realized what an insufferable douche he was.” Kurt answers, snarky and sudden, facing away from Finn.

“Maybe, but that’s not going to make anyone happy, let alone you. So there’s someone you like.”

Kurt pauses in his pacing, chest heaving in and out and little sighs of air whispering like a broken record.

“W-what makes you think I’m scared?” He asks nasally, fist clenched tight at his side, eyes itchy and wet.

Finn stands, follows him to the end of the bedroom, lays a hand on his shoulder.

“I know you; if you wanted this guy as much as I think you do, then you would’ve gone after him already.” He pauses. “Unless there was something holding you back.”

Kurt opens his mouth to reply, to make some kind of denying statement, to defend himself, and there isn’t a sound in the room aside from the quiet whoosh of air into both their lungs.

“Maybe you’re right.”