Blaine could now understand why a lot of people were so competitive. It wasn't to win the gold medal or get the highest mark. It was simply about wiping that snick off the faces of people like Jesse St James.

Blaine quickly discovered, once their Vocal teacher, Mr Schuester, had arrived, that at every opportunity possible, Jesse would try to make the class' conversation either about how great he was or how terrible everyone else was. The very sound of his voice made Blaine want to punch the highlights right out of his hair. Kurt and Rachel seemed to share his feelings as they clenched their fists and shook their heads whenever an obnoxious comment came out of his mouth.

Schuester clapped his hands together and grinned excitedly at the class.

"Okay, guys!" he began, "we've got a lot of work to do if we're going to be ready for the Showcase. We've got to show all your parents that their money is being well-spent. So, are their any ideas?"

Every hand, bar Blaine, shot into the air. Although, it seemed Jesse had taken it upon himself to speak first. He rose out of his chair and ushered Schuester to stand aside. 

"Well, I think it's safe to say that we show these people the best we have, air-go, me, in a medley of eighties rock, preferably something in a higher key."

Kurt was giving the boy a dead-panned look and Rachel had her lips pressed together in a firm line, looking to be doing her best not to say anything.

He raised an eyebrow, "Unless there are any objections?"

Something inside Blaine snapped. He rose from his chair, despite the sound of surprise Kurt made and marched towards Jesse.

"Yeah, I've got an objection," Blaine snapped, "I've heard some of the voices in this room and I can guarantee they're better than yours!"

Blaine noticed Kurt's lips part slightly as he stared at Blaine with huge eyes. Blaine focussed back on the bewildered boy in front of him.

"What, like you?" he said, eyeing Blaine with obvious distaste.

In that moment, Blaine didn't care that he hadn't sung since high school. He didn't care that their was a whole class of attention hungry young people watching him intently. He didn't even care that he might make a fool of himself in front of Kurt. All he cared about was making Jesse eat his words.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Blaine answered defiantly. 

He lightly pushed Jesse's chest with enough force to make him take one step back. Blaine whipped out his ipod and set it down on the docking station. Blaine was entirely confident in the song he had chosen. It had been hard to find but it was so worth it. He turned on Jesse's startled expression and snapped his fingers. 

"So take a seat, Steven Tyler," Blaine said with enough sass Santana would tear up if she saw him now.

Blaine turned around just as the opening tune to the song started to play.

"If you've seen a show,

then you already know,

how magical theatre can be."

Kurt was smiling into his hand, which caused Blaine to smile. Of course Kurt would have seen every Tony awards there was.

"It's a two hour, live action,

barely affordable,

unlip-synced version of Jesse."

Jesse let out a noise of protest and the class laughed. Even Schuester was suppressing a smile.

"So this song goes out to the rest of you!

Those, who've never seen theatre before.

Because broadway has never been broader-"

Blaine grinned widely and sang loudly, for all to hear.

"It's not just for gays anymore!"

The class erupted into laughter, which only spurred Blaine on. He spun around the floor and danced with all the cheesy jazz hands and spirit fingers of a male cheerleader.

"If you feel like someone,

that this world excludes.

It's no longer only,

for dudes, who like dudes."

One really had to love Neil Patrick Harris. Especially when it was getting him smiling faces from the people who had been leering at him not ten minutes ago.

"Attention every breeder,

you're invited to the theatre.

It's not just for gays anymore!"

High on adrenalin, Blaine pulled Kurt out of his seat, earning him a slightly stunned look but Kurt was laughing all the same. Blaine grasped one of Kurt's hands with his left and placed the other on Kurt's waist, twirling them both around the room.

"The glamour of broadway,

is beckoning straights.

The people, who marry

in all fifty states."

Blaine lifted Kurt into his arms, who let out a surprised squawk and spun to face the laughing class.

"We're asking every hetro,

to get to know us better, oh,

It's not just for gays anymore!"

He set Kurt down and proudly placed his hands on his hips, his head held high.

"It's for fine upstanding Christians,

who know all the songs from Grease."

Blaine gripped Kurt's hips and jerked him around to face him. By this point, he had lost all sense of repercussion, so he didn't even blink when he went so far as to grind against Kurt's thigh.

"It's for sober-minded business men,

who yearn for some release."

It seemed that Kurt had lost all sense of judgement, as he didn't bat an eyelash as he returned the action, much to the amusement of the class. Blaine broke away and began skipping around the room, vaguely aware that Kurt and Rachel were following him in the same fashion.

"So, put down your playboy

and go make a plan.

To pick up a play bill

and feel like a man!"

He stopped in the centre of the room, arms linked with Kurt and Rachel on either side of him.

"There's so much to discover

with your different gendered lover."

Blaine then slid onto the piano top, laid down on his side. With his head propped up on one hand and counting off fingers with the other, Blaine sang, nodding to Kurt and Rachel, who were leaning on both either side of the piano, bopping their shoulders.

"It's not just for gays,

the gays and the jews.

and cousins in from out of town

you have to amuse!

And the sad embittered, malcontents,

who write the reviews!

And also foreign tourists,

and the groups of senior citizens,

and well-to-do suburbanites,

and liberal intellectuals.

Though that group is really

only jews and homosexuals."

Blaine jumped to his feet, standing in the middle of the piano and threw his hands in the air.

"I've lost my train of thought- Oh! Yes,

It's not just for gays anymore!"

Blaine cut the song short with a flip off the piano. He rolled forward onto his knees and bowed. There was a tense moment of silence, where Blaine became very nervous and wondered if he had just made a complete fool of himself but the thought was dismissed when the entire class erupted into a chorus of thunderous applause and cheering. A dopey smile spread itself across his face as he took it all in. Now he really did feel like he was back in high school. 

Kurt and Rachel were pulling him to his feet, slapping him on the back and congratulating him, shooting smug looks at a pouting Jesse. The cheering buzzed in Blaine's ears faintly and time itself seemed to stop when he saw Kurt. He was looking at him with that same look of utter joy he'd had when he'd been singing. Now, to see that look directed at him, Blaine felt like a million bucks.

----------

Once Blaine got back to his hotel, the first thing he did was take out his earpiece. He didn't need Quinn raining on his parade. Not now. Not when he felt so light and giddy. Oh how he'd forgotten the beauty of the stage. The rush he used to get from performing. He hadn't sung in front of an audience since he was seventeen. Now he was reliving that sweet taste of pride and confidence. He could see why Kurt looked so happy when he sang.

Blaine's thoughts were interrupted by the light sound of knocking. Confused, Blaine opened the door to see a young man dressed in a bell hop uniform. His eyes were a pale blue and a golden name tag reading Rory was pinned to his vest. He was holding a bottle of champeign and smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, Sir," he apologised, his voice coated in a thick Irish accent, "this was supposed to be in your room before you arrived Yesterday." He held out the bottle in his hands.

Blaine waved a hand dismissively, taking the champeign, "Thanks. Don't worry it about it."

Rory smiled softly, "Thank you, Sir. We hope you have a nice stay."

"Oh, it's a nice stay alright," Blaine told him, grinning, "This place is awesome. Give my thanks to whoever built this place."

Rory laughed, nodding knowingly, "Yeah, I've heard our guests are pretty pleased with it."

"You've heard?" Blaine questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Rory seemed to realise what he'd said and smiled sadly, ducking his head.

"Yes, well…I've never actually seen it before. It's the one thing I'm jealous of maids for."

Blaine blinked in surprise and held the door open, "Well, do you wanna see it?" he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, "It's pretty sick."

Rory seemed taken back as he looked up at Blaine to see if he was being serious.

"Oh, well, I- I really shouldn't."

----------

"And then, I did a freaking' front flip off the piano!" Blaine exclaimed, slapping his knee as he doubled over in laughter, now on his third glass.

Rory cackled next to him, clutching his side, his uniform hat askew on his head and his brown hair sticking out from under it in a fluffy mess. He was only on his second glass but, clearly, couldn't hold his alcohol well. 

"Oh man," Blaine sighed, tipping his head back and draining the rest of his glass, "It was great. The look on that douche's face was priceless. Ah, I'd forgotten how much fun singing was."

Rory went to pat his shoulder but missed and Blaine gripped his wrist and guided his hand there. Rory looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"It sounds amazon'," he sighed, falling onto his side. "I hate my job, Blaine. Like, I really hate it. If my job were a person, I'd probably kill it."

Blaine rolled his head onto his shoulder, staring at the sad-looking boy.

"Why?" he asked, "it's a pretty sweet deal here. Sure beats the pizza place I worked at."

"Maybe it is," Rory said, staring at the ceiling, "but I hate serving' all these snobs. They're always saying, 'speak like a normal kid, I can barley understand ya.' I just feel like telling' 'em to take their Benjamin's an' shove it."

"I hear ya," Blaine sighed, "some of the people I work with are real…dumb," Blaine said, his fuzzy mind unable to come up with anything better. "There's this one jackass, who just drives me crazy," Blaine spat, thinking of Sebastian and his stupid smirking face.

"Oh well," Rory shrugged, "at least you've got that Kurt guy to keep ya' company. He sounds like a real nice fella."

"He is," Blaine replied, dreamily, thinking of Kurt's smiling face. 

"Well," Rory groaned, rolling off the couch and fixing is hat, "as much fun as this is, I should probably get back to work before my boss see's I've been drunken' like a real Irish man."

"Aw," Blaine pouted, reaching out feebly for him, "But I'm so lonely."

Rory pulled the door open and grinned over his shoulders at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Why don't ya invite Kurt over, then?"

He shut the door before Blaine could sputter out a response, his cheeks going bright red. Blaine rubbed his eyes tiredly. He noticed his earpiece buzzing on the coffee table and groaned loudly as he reached for it. The moment he put it in, Quinn's angry voice boomed through his skull.

"What were you thinking?!" she demanded, sounding positively livid, "actually, don't answer that because you obviously weren't."

"Woah, woah," protested, rubbing his throbbing forehead, "calm down."

"I will not calm down!" she snapped, "what ever happened to keeping a low profile? Do you even know what undercover means!?"

"Relax, Quinn," Blaine said, "I've got this under control."

"No, Blaine, you really don't," Quinn seethed. "You're out there to protect Kurt Hummel. Not sing and dance."

"You told me to try and fit in!" Blaine exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, despite Quinn not being able to see him. "Isn't that what they do there? Sing and dance?"

There was a rustling sound on the other end. He could make out Quinn protesting and shouting before Santana's familiar voice sounded from his ear.

"I saw the whole thing, Boy!" she cheered, "You got some serious pipes."

Blaine smiled, his bad mood immediately lifting at the sound of his partners voice.

"Thanks, San," he answered softly.

"You were great," she insisted, "don't let Grouchy McPrudepants tell you other wise."

There was more commotion on the receiving end and Santana quickly called out to him, "Love ya, Hobbit!" Before Quinn's voice returned to his ears.

"Listen, Blaine," she said, her anger now replaced with seriousness, "you have to take this more seriously. The Sins are after him, remember that. He could die-"

"He won't," Blaine said sternly, all trace of laughter instantly leaving his body.

"Well, see that it doesn't," Quinn said before all sound from the device cut off.

Blaine stood there for a moment, letting everything sink in. After what seemed like forever, Blaine took out the ear piece and set it down on the coffee table. He ran a hand through his messy curls and spotted a sheet of yellow sticking out from under his remote. He reached for it and turned it over in his hands. There was another sticky note stuck to the back it.

-Go to channel 12.

Curious, Blaine flicked on his TV to the right channel and gasped as Kurt filled the screen. He was sitting on a couch sipping a cup of coffee and reading a book, his feet tucked under him. 

Blaine thought it was quite creepy that he was watching Kurt inside his own home but then reminded himself that he'd already practically been stalking Kurt and it was for his own good. Plus, there was something oddly relaxing about watching Kurt sit around, idly flicking through the pages of his book and yawn every now and then. 

When Kurt got up and started prepping himself for bed, Blaine was fascinated by his nightly routine. He could now see why Kurt's skin was so clear and perfect. The amount of time he spent sat in front of his vanity was ridiculous. He also combed his hair and rubbed some kind of conditioner into it. 

It was when Kurt pulled his shirt over his head that Blaine flushed to the roots of his hair. Kurt had defined muscles on his arms and abs, covered by the same flawless pale skin. Blaine was tempted to look but his respect for privacy won out and he quickly looked away. When he was sure Kurt would be done, he looked back to find the boy drawing back his covers, dressed in blue silk pyjamas.

Blaine stayed there on the couch and watched Kurt for a long time. He vaguely wondered how the had managed to set up surveillance cameras before he drifted off to sleep.