"What the hell, Pale Face?" Santana threw in my face as soon as Glee practice was over for the day. "Why do I hear the dwarf telling me that you've given up?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing that this conversation was bound to happen sooner or later. "I haven't given up. I'm just thinking about it... about closing this project, I mean." I had to speak cryptically because there were still a few glee members lingering in the choir room who might overhear us as we walked toward the exit.

"So you would let�that�guy�win?" There was practically fume bursting from her ears, and though I knew she wouldn't be happy about it, I couldn't figure out why she was this�upset.

I pulled her arm to stop her, and spun her around. "He didn't�win," I spat. "I'm just thinking about quitting because it doesn't seem like a good idea anymore. Rachel was right." Then I suddenly realized what I was saying, and looked around to make sure Rachel wasn't anywhere near to hear us. "Wow, I'd... never thought I'd say those words."

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. "That's where you're wrong. She's not right, not this time." Then she grew pensive. "Actually, has she ever�been right or...?"

"Beats me." Then I shook my head forcefully. "No, but, she is. There's no way a game like this could end in a good way. She talked some sense into me on various occasions and... that's that."

We both silenced as Sam and Mercedes passed us, waving and looking awfully chirpy-cheerful. "See you guys tomorrow!" Mercedes beamed and waved her hand. Santana and I only nodded in response.

"Look, Gay Lord, I wasn't going to tell you this because I thought you were dead set on making that douchebag pay for what he's done to everyone, but..." Her voice wandered off with her mind, it seemed. Her eyes bore into mine as she tried to regain her thoughts.

"Whatever he's done this time," I said calmly but firmly, making her understand that I was dropping out no matter what she'd say, "I don't care. I honestly don't want to hear it. It's over."

I turned, making it clear that I wasn't going to linger and listen to whatever dreadful things that had happened to some poor kid because of the jerk Blaine Anderson. Maybe it was just better to let it all go and hope that the bullying would disappear with him with graduation and all. That's the conclusion Rachel had helped me come to, at least.

I had walked away and was completely sure - I was even halfway out of the room and I could feel the stinky air from the hallway when I heard Santana take a breath. As I came up to the doorframes of the choir room exit, Santana spoke.

"Not even if he is plotting on throwing you to the jocks?"

I froze. Turning around slowly, I wasn't sure of what she meant. Her eyebrow was cocked challengingly as she watched me. But I didn't approach her.

Santana walked up to me slowly, a serious expression on her face. "I can tell that you don't believe me, but that's okay. Our very own Lucky Charm heard it with his own ears when being extra nosy. Why don't you ask him?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Lucky Charm?" I wondered dully. I was feigning indifference but it was secretly eating me up what she had meant by the accusation.

"The leprechaun who can't speak English, the tall guy dressed in green, the giant from the east," she clarified with a wave of her hand.

"And he heard what, exactly?"

"Look, you're not gonna believe me anyway, so why don't we just ask him?" she said, pointing to something behind my back. As if ordered, Rory passed by in the corridor right behind us. "Come on."

We caught up with Rory, who seemed more than a little surprised by being approached. Santana wasted no time in driving a finger hard into his chest, forcing him to back up against the lockers.

"Tell him what you told me," Santana said, and even I thought she sounded threatening. "Tell me what you heard about Blaine."

"I-I..." Rory stuttered, head turning between me and Santana.

"Look, nymph, just tell us wh-"

"Santana," I warned, stepping closer. I cast a glance in either direction of the corridor, making sure no one was eavesdropping. Then I turned back to Rory. "What did you hear?"

Rory swallowed roughly and drew a deep breath. "I heard Blaine talking to some jocks after school, out by the bleachers," he began nervously, eyebrows scrunching in thought. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I swear, I was just tryin'a... find cheerleadin' practice." He blushed at the confession, and started to stumble on his words. "I couldn't help it, I'd heard Brittany talk about it and, y'know those short skirts... but I knew Santana would be mad if she knew I'd come out there to spy at her girlfriend, so I hid- ouch,�ouch, I'm sorry!"

Santana had placed a hand on his shoulder at the end of his confession, gripping tightly with her long nails boring into his skin, and not seeming to want to let go. "And Itold�you to stay away from her!"

"I know, I know," Rory said quietly. But Santana seemed to remember that this wasn't what we were here for, and loosened her grip to make him keep talking.

"What did you hear?" I asked again, this time more firmly, through gritted teeth.

Rory sighed, and his shoulders slumped as if he was trying to make himself smaller. "He said, 'that little'-bad word-'has been rubbing his'-another bad word-'all over me and I want that'-a�really�bad word-'to know-'"

"Just get to the point," I snapped, suddenly feeling very edgy.

"They called him gay and he said it wasn' his fault you were hanging over'im. Then they wen' on and on about favors and owing each other stuff - I didn't get half of it. Then Blaine said that he could make you follow'im to the bleachers after school the next day so that they could beat you up an' show you your place and..." The words were coming so fast out of Rory's mouth and, together with the accent, it made it really hard to follow everything he was saying. But it didn't matter, because I had heard enough.

"Thank you," I snapped, turning on my heel and storming off.

"Before you start raging..." Santana interrupted my thoughts, coming up at my side with her famous bitch-smirk. She was all too pleased about this. "Well? What do you wanna do?"

I came to a halt, crossing my arms over my chest and biting my lip so hard that I almost drew blood. "Game's still on," I said, nodding.

Damn, Anderson. You just made this personal.

. . . .

Blankets were everywhere, scattered around the floor in piles with pillows and empty fast food cartons. We were at Mercedes' house for a girly sleepover; me, Mercedes, Rachel, Santana, Quinn and Brittany. Tina was supposed to come too, but there was something coming in the way involving Mike's parents. Even so, the night had been tremendously pleasant. We had finished two pizzas and started on the various Chinese takeouts when Santana and Brittany started to make out on the couch. Rachel laughed, Quinn scoffed awkwardly, Mercedes told them to get a room, and I... well, I was just jealous. Even thought I'd been with Seth, it hadn't meant anything. I wanted a boyfriend who loved me like Santana and Brittany loved each other. Always had, always would.

Somehow, Mercedes' bichon fris� had found our leftover stash of pizza crust and eaten until she threw up. It wasn't pretty. Quinn had offered to go with Mercedes when she took the poor thing out for a walk, and they left the four of us alone in the house with an order to behave (although I'm positive that was only directed toward Brittany and Santana).

Brittany kept asking Santana to take her out to see the stars because they were so pretty. Even though it was a cloudy night, Santana gave up after the third time she was asked. Bet she just couldn't turn her girlfriend down.

That left me and Rachel on the floor, leaning back against the couch while Rent played on the TV. I was caught up in my mind and wasn't really watching, but it was relaxing in a strange way just zoning out and listening to Rachel hum along to the tunes.

"I got his number," Rachel said suddenly, being very close to my ear.

"Oh," I responded, remembering what she was talking about. When I had informed her of what Blaine had said and that I was continuing with the game after all, Rachel had seemed to make a decision too. And that was to help me. She said she would ask Finn to ask around for Blaine's number (with as much discretion as he could muster, of course). I hadn't actually thought that anything would come out of it, but apparently I was wrong.

Rachel stretched over the floor to reach her leather purse, scrambling around for a bit before catching a small note of striped, worn paper. I took it as she held it out to me, and I unfolded it in my hands. I didn't recognize the handwriting the numbers were printed in, so it wasn't Rachel's or Finn's writing. I didn't think much about it though, only grabbed my phone off the coffee table and added the number to my contacts.

"Thanks," I said as I typed.�B-l-a-i-n-e. Without thinking too much, I sent him a message right away.

You up sexy boy? I wanna talk.

It wasn't until after I sent it that I checked what time it was. Already past midnight. That didn't keep him from replying after only a minute though.

...Is this who I think it is?

I smiled.

Glad you're thinking about me ;)

"No problem," Rachel suddenly said from my side.

I tore my eyes away from my phone to find her head titled as she watched me with her boring stare. "What?" I asked, my smile slowly fading from my lips.

"Nothing," she said, her voice being way too high for me to believe her. And I knew that look too well - there was definitely something she wasn't telling me.

I was about to reply, but instead let out a burst of giggles as the phone I'd placed on my lap started buzzing.

Rachel smiled at me. "Go get your boy!" she teased, slapping my arm before standing up and walking toward the kitchen. I raised my eyebrow questioningly at her choice of words, but she was already walking away.

Instead, I turned back to my phone.

Hummel? What do you want?

Instead of replying, I pressed the call button and brought the phone to my ear. My heart was beating fast (why was I nervous?) and I stood up and started pacing the room. I listened intently to the slow and steady tones on the other end.

"Hello?" The voice was rough and low as it answered.�Godsosexy.

"Well, hello to you, too," I replied, making my way over to the window bench, cuddling up among the Indian pillows in green and pink. I hugged my knees to my chest as I silently begged for my heart to still. It was only Blaine, after all.�The guy who planned on getting my ass kicked, I reminded myself. Can't get side-tracked.

"Is there a reason why you're calling me?" he asked, straight to the point.

"I've been staring at girls making out all night," I whined. "I need more gay in my life!"

Blaine let out a laugh, and then lowered his voice. "Oh, so you're... horny?" There was some rustling on the other end.

I tried to contain my smile at his tone of voice, curious and almost eager. He was just too easy to play with. "Like you wouldn't believe."

There was a tiny pause, then Blaine let out a steady breath. "God, me too."

"We should get together sometime," I teased. "We could do some pretty mean stuff."

I must say it surprised me when I heard the little gasp on the other end. It wasn't�are you still so straightforward?�or even�you are so scandalous!�but-

"Oh my god, you are totally jacking off right now, aren't you?" I accused, knowing the sounds all too well.

"Shut up, don't laugh at me! You're scaring my little friend away!"

I couldn't help it, but I was suddenly seized by the ridiculousness of it all that I started laughing.

"I said stop it!" Blaine whined, but he was laughing too.

"Okay, okay." I straightened up in my seat and crossed my legs in front of me, concentrating like I was about to perform an important test. "I'll stop laughing."

"Mhm..." Blaine hummed, not sounding convinced. "But you're not allowed to laugh at me because I'm home alone for the first time in months and, well... I wasn't planning on having phone calls."

"What is your middle name?" I blurted out.

"My middle name?" Blaine asked, sounding confused.

"Just tell me!"

"...It's Charles."

"...Charles?"

"I told you to stop laughing..."

I hadn't even realized I was. "God, sorry. I'm not laughing at your name it's just, I was planning on doing the whole motherly 'Blaine Charles Anderson, are you watching pornos?' but that would just be weird. I mean, who named Charles even watches pornos?!"

"That would be me..."

"Obviously." I looked out the window and saw a little white dog running across the front lawn of the house, seeming to be just fine. After it came two girls I'd recognize anywhere. I started picking on a thread on my jeans and closed my eyes as I said, "So, do you want help?" Then, after I didn't get an answer, quickly added, "I mean, I scared off your buddy, it's the least I can do."

Blaine chucked softly, and when the chuckles grew into soft breathing I knew I'd gotten my answer.

"The thing about blowjobs," I found myself saying, "isn't about the initial pleasure. Sure, the hot and wet mouth working up and down your cock is�fantastic." Blaine moaned. I felt myself growing hard at the sound, but I tried to ignore it and focus on my words. "But it's later, when you're so close and you think it can't possibly get any better... and they start humming, and the vibrations just makes you lose your mind. Then you're coming, fast and hard, down their throat. And they just�suck.�Mmm…" I hummed softly, listening to the other end as the whimpers turned into throaty moans. God, those sounds were hot. I had to use all my willpower not to start stroking myself. I was in Mercedes' house for gods sakes! And they were about to come back inside.

The moans subsided and all that was left was deep breathing. "Was it good?" I asked sensually.

The answer was quiet, but it came instantly. "The best."

"I can't wait to talk to you again, but I better be off now." For some strange reason, I was feeling reluctant to hang up. But I also knew that if I didn't before the others were back, I'd get tons of annoying questions.

"You're going to sleep?" If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say Blaine sounded a bit disappointed about that too.

"Well, that's sort of what you do at a sleepover..."

"Oh... right. I was just hoping that maybe we could talk? I wanted- I wanted to say sorry. About... before." Blaine stumbled over his words, sounding as if he'd never apologized before.

I smiled to myself. So my stunt had worked after all. "There's always tomorrow," I reminded him.

"There is," he agreed softly. "Goodnight, Kurt."

"Goodnight."

Unbeknownst to me, Rachel had watched me during my conversation with Blaine. She was feeling particularly worried about the smile tugging at my lips throughout the conversation. She'd brought the newly gotten glass of water to her lips and sipped it slowly, watched me laugh out loud at something. She couldn't hear what I was saying, but she didn't have to. Just seeing me made her even more sure of what she'd already suspected.

. . . .

Blaine was lying on his bed, still coming down from his high. A dopy smile was placed on his lips, his eyelids were just perfectly heavy. The voice he'd just been listening to was still palpable to his ears, so soft and so perfect. Blaine sighed blissfully. Tonight couldn't have ended in a better way. How did he get to be so lucky?