As the lights went down to signal the beginning of the competition, all Kurt could think of was how strange it was - sitting here in a uniform instead of a hastily-assembled neutral outfit that was based on what everyone in the group already had pieces of, with nearly twenty boys instead of their tiny band of seven. If it weren't for the fact that it was in the same auditorium where he'd been to every previous competition, he would have sworn it was some other kind of event, some entirely different contest he hadn't been to before. But in the plush red velvety seats where he'd sat the previous two years before going on to win two different Sectionals competitions...it felt strange not to be watching Finn out of the corner of his eye or wondering why Puck looked so moved by a performance or whispering snidely with Rachel about their chances at victory.

Not that it was all bad. Blaine was seated beside him, Sam on his other side, and he was looking forward to performing with the Warblers for the first time. It just didn't feel like it was supposed to feel. Kind of bittersweet.

He was supposed to be here with Mercedes. They'd planned it all out and everything.

He let out a quiet sigh as the curtain rose. "Everything okay?" Blaine whispered over the announcement of Crawford Country Day's choir.

Kurt nodded. "Strange being here with-...without certain other people," he offered simply. Blaine flashed a brief sympathetic smile, but it looked a little tight like he was worried he was being too friendly and prying. Speaking of strange.

The Warblers all leaned forward in their seats a little as they saw the girls onstage. Kurt supposed that, if a person were inclined to be interested in girls in a romantic or sexual way, it would cause a sudden rush to be confronted with them after being at an all-boys school for the majority of their life...but he didn't understand the kind of almost animal panting that came from a few of the boys. Nor did he understand why Nick kept reaching up to adjust his tie and Jeff kept fiddling with his jacket and winking in the direction of the stage, as though the girls could see him. Who could see anything with stage lighting? Or rather...who could see well enough to attempt flirting back with one out of like 1500 audience members while also trying to sing and dance well enough to win a competition?

They really needed to get out more, Kurt concluded. Because at some point those boys were going to be trying to find a girl to date, to marry, to settle down with, and what girl in her right mind would date one of these imbeciles?

Of course, he realized suddenly, he had no idea when any of them would have ever seriously interacted with girls. Where in the world Wes and David and Bill had found girlfriends in the first place. Because if most of them had gone to all-boys schools all the way through...and most of them would go to Ivy League schools where they still wouldn't interact with girls except at sister school mixers...

He should start a class: "Kurt Hummel's Finishing School for Instruction in Interaction with Girls." He would be fantastic.

Not that he had much more of an idea what to do when it came to people he might like, he thought, glancing at Blaine out of the corner of his eye. Anything beyond knowing that he liked Blaine, that he wanted to touch him and kiss him and that being close to him made him feel warm all over (and occasionally too warm in the wrong places, he added ruefully, thinking of the previous night)...he had no idea where to even begin on that. How to tell if Blaine liked him, too, or if they were just both interested in boys but not in each other.

He wished he had someone else he could ask. They could start an exchange program, he concluded, with one of the boys teaching him about boys and him teaching the boy about girls.

Of course, that would require telling someone, and he wasn't about to do that.

As the girls began to sing, their lead singer stepped forward - an attractive, willowy girl with wavy blonde hair cut into a short bob. Blaine noticed her before she even began her strut to the front of the pack; she had really great stage presence. The kind of performer that a person's eyes just were instantly drawn towards.

Stupid cupid, you're a real mean guy

She had a natural charisma to her, not unlike Blaine's own when on-stage, and a flirty smile that had about 99% of the Warblers eating out of her hand by the end of the first line. Her voice suited the song well, clear but with a definite sass.

I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly
I'm in love and it's a crying shame
And I know that you're the one to blame
Hey, hey -- set me free
Stupid cupid, stop pickin' on me!
I can't do my homework and I can't see straight
I meet him every morning 'bout a half-past eight
I'm acting like a lovesick fool
You've even got me carrying his books to school
Hey, hey -- set me free
Stupid cupid, stop pickin' on me!

Kurt felt a tap on his right shoulder, and he turned to see a folded piece of paper being passed to him. Curious, he unfolded it on his lap to see round, feminine script. He tilted it a little, craning to read the words in the glow coming from the stage.

She has good presence but lacks the emotional depth necessary to pull off a more classic ballad.

His head jerked up and he looked around to try to find the source of the note. It was hard to see anyone in the dark auditorium, and with a couple of the taller boys sitting behind him he really couldn't see much.

You mixed me up but good right from the very start
Hey, go play Robin Hood with somebody else's heart
You've got me jumping like a crazy clown,
And I don't feature what you're putting down
Since I kissed his lovin' lips of wine,
The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine!
Hey, hey -- set me free

She danced across the stage with confidence, the other girls following her lead, and it occurred to Blaine that there was probably quite a bit of talent in that group - at least their lead singer, if nothing else. He wondered if they had any a cappella skills and might want to team up for something. Or if the Council might approve an accompanied number if it was with Crawford. After all, they were always being encouraged to collaborate with their sister school, and he doubted any of his fellow Warblers would complain about being in the same room as a girl.

He would have doubted that any music would actually be produced the first few rehearsals, but having witnessed more than a few evenings of all the Warblers hanging out by jukeboxes while their attractive dates were stuck back at the tables by themselves...maybe it would work out pretty well. He wasn't sure what it would be like singing with a girl at this point - he'd never really contemplated it, certainly not since transferring. He knew he'd sung with girls at his old school, but he hadn't been much of a soloist then and his voice had changed significantly since that year because he'd been 13 at the time. It would be strange hearing someone sing above him during a duet.

Though, to be entirely honest, he hadn't done many duets to begin with - one with Wes during the annual Founders' Day Showcase when he was a sophomore, and a lot of impromptu singalongs with Thad when they were roommates junior year, but that didn't really count.

He should ask her, he concluded. See what they could come up with. Maybe do a group number at one of the mixers or something - though since he hadn't actually watched them perform before, he wondered if they did anything outside a competition setting. Or maybe the choir at Crawford wasn't considered as cool as the Warblers were at Dalton, which deterred them from performing in public. He could fix that, he was certain.

You've got me jumping like a crazy clown,
And I don't feature what you're putting down
Since I kissed his lovin' lips of wine,
The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine!

Another tap on the shoulder, with another note appearing out of the corner of Kurt's eye. He turned over his shoulder to look at Bobby, who was passing the note forward; Bobby shrugged and pointed behind him, where Kurt saw-

Oh dear god. He should have known.

Rachel gave him a grin and a little enthusiastic wave, then a nod as if to say "Well? Read the note!"

He should absolutely not have been surprised. Rolling his eyes and sitting forward in his seat again, he unfolded this paper and tilted it into the light.

They obviously have potential, but their vocals are only so-so. Very few harmonies, all of them simple. I sincerely hope that your teammates are more interested in technical ability than in mere charisma, because otherwise you're going to be eating a big slice of humble pie when my mother's team performs.

From anyone else, he would have thought it was attempted psychological warfare, trying to convince him they would fail so that her mother's team would win. But he had known Rachel long enough to know two things: First, for all her competitiveness, if she genuinely liked someone she did at least want them to do their best - if only so that when she won, it would be a real victory instead of one gained only through the other party's failure to perform well. Second, this was just how she was. She nitpicked performances, which Kurt got the impression was something she'd been taught to do from a very early age if her mother was anything to go by, and her criticisms weren't intended as cruel.

Okay, occasionally they were. But usually only when Quinn was involved and she was trying to prove to Finn that she could be what he needed.

She was just a really intense person who felt the need to still show off her knowledge of music, even if she wasn't performing. And she had to entertain herself somehow, with no songs to sing or dance numbers to go over in her head.. Besides, they had done this during every competition he could remember (and occasionally during theater auditions); usually they were just sitting next to each other at the time. This was more awkward.

He nudged Blaine gently and made a writing motion with a curious look. Blaine glanced over quickly, then nodded and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. Using the back of the seat as a hard surface, he quickly wrote his reply.

At the moment, my teammates are more interested in seeing girls in skirts, but don't worry. We'll be amazing.

He read the note over to himself, smirking at the way it sounded in his head - and at the fact that Rachel knew him well enough to understand the confident-yet-joking tone he would use were they speaking - before folding the paper and passing it back to Bobby, who passed it to Rachel.

Hey, hey -- set me free
Stupid cupid, stop pickin' on me!
Hey, hey -- set me free
Stupid cupid, stop pickin' on me!

The audience applauded warmly as the number ended, and Blaine found himself watching the lead singer's face - grinning, exhilarated...she looked the way he felt when he finished a number in front of an audience. It was kind of exciting to see; he wasn't used to being able to relate to people musically. Even with the other Warblers, who thoroughly enjoyed performing and appreciated both the technical and expressive aspects, there was still a difference he felt with everyone.

Well. With everyone except Kurt, but surely Kurt couldn't be the only person out there he could relate to. Surely there had to be someone else out there who understood the raw explosion of emotions that music could unleash, who could appreciate the undeniable adrenaline rush at making an audience feel them along with you. He might be able to connect to this girl the same way.

He hoped so, at least.

The murmuring crowd was caught by surprise when, instead of seeing the curtain rise, the accompanying orchestra struck up just as one of the girls from the Lima Independent High School group ran onstage in front of the curtain. She was wearing a red dress with a wide swing skirt and an exaggerated black collar and belt. Kurt thought it might be the girl he'd seen at Breadstix the night everyone had gone out - the one who had been wearing the fantastic Edwardian jacket. It was hard to tell, all done in show makeup and everything, and he had to admit he'd been paying more attention to her clothes than to her face, but it could've been her.

Bed! Bed! I couldn't go to bed!
My head's too light to try to set it down

Her voice was high and thin, but she was animated when she sang in a way that was absolutely necessary for the song, coming as it did from Broadway. Kurt smiled as he settled into his seat a little more - he loved My Fair Lady.

Sleep! sleep! I couldn't sleep tonight
Not for all the jewels in the crown!

From the opposite side of the stage, a boy emerged - lanky and graceful, with a big grin as he crossed to center stage and took the girl's hand. She smiled and rolled her eyes as he turned her into a classic ballroom position, as if to say "I can't believe we're doing this, silly."

I could have danced all night
I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more

To call what they did "dancing" would have been accurate but oversimplifying. Unfortunately, Kurt lacked a better word for it. It was a dance, and though only the girl sang it felt like a duet. Like the vocals and the twirling were in perfect tandem, working together to just show the feeling the dance was trying to convey. The dizzy, awed, ecstatic feeling of having that perfect musical moment with the person you were in love with.

Even remembering the feeling he got a little rush of warmth in his torso and felt his breath quicken for a moment. Remembering the way Blaine grinned at him as he danced around the dorm room to "Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart" - how amazing it felt watching him like that, having that fleeting connection that left him grinning like a fool for the better part of a day...and again as he watched the pair onstage.

It was obvious to everyone in that audience that, if the two onstage weren't dating, they were about to be. The chemistry was incredible, palpable, read in every tiny gesture, the way his fingers tightened slightly around hers, the way she smiled up at him so intently that Kurt was genuinely concerned she might forget the words.

They weren't going to do this number originally, since the vocals aren't nearly as impressive as what my mom would usually demand. But when they held a pre-competition showcase, I pointed out that the showstopping number lacked emotional intensity and depth. They sounded like soulless robots - technically perfect but not nearing true perfection.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel's note and turned his attention back onstage. To him, this was perfection - a seamless combination of a beautiful, expressive song, movement that served the lyrics rather than distracting from them or seeming like a contrived pantomime, all while singing with such true emotion, so obviously real and not put on for the performance...this was the ideal. This was why he loved Broadway musicals; this dance, with the song that seemed so simple and a voice that seemed light instead of heavy-handed, told the entire story of who they were and what they felt for each other.

I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I've never done before

He could picture himself up there with Blaine if he closed his eyes for a moment: Blaine's arm outside his, their hands clasped as they twirled across the front of the stage. He was a passable ballroom dancer, having spent many an hour watching more than his share of old movies with exquisite dance scenes, but he was certain that Blaine - with his uppercrust background and years of attending formal parties - was a better one. Even though he was taller he would let Blaine lead, more than happy to play the Ginger to his Fred, staring adoringly into those gorgeous golden-brown eyes as he tried to convey everything he felt at that very moment.

Though, in his ideal world, they would both be singing. Singing a beautiful ballad from a musical of Blaine's choice as they got lost in each others' eyes and the audience got to just...witness it. See the perfection before them.

Not that it would ever happen.

He knew it couldn't. His chest literally ached with longing for it, for that moment, but it wasn't ever going to be an option. For one thing, that would require Blaine acknowledging having feelings for him and they weren't to that point yet. For all he knew, they wouldn't be to that point ever but he chose to be an optimist for once, to believe that Blaine did like him but just didn't want to say it yet. He couldn't do anything until he had confirmation, of course, but that wasn't the point.

No, the point was that there was no way that the two of them, two boys, could get up there and show that.

He hadn't know what he was for long, but he knew enough to get that it wasn't something he was allowed to shout from the rooftops. That he couldn't tell people. That he couldn't get up there and put himself - put them - on display like that. And even if he were willing to just...sing something a little less obvious in its expression, for some reason, if he found something else that expressed another aspect of how he felt for Blaine - deep friendship and connection and the way he felt less alone just standing near the boy...even if he could find something that would be equally genuine but less revealing, he still couldn't perform it.

Because it would be obvious to every person who saw them just how he felt. He could conceal his emotions, his intentions, well enough when he was speaking. He could obscure his fears and frustrations better than most, with the years of practice he had. But there was no way of hiding how he felt when he sang. If anything, it came across as more intense than what he was actually feeling.

He wondered if that was why there weren't usually duets at Dalton, because if there was a song between two boys, not only did it have to not be a love song in any way but it needed to convey nothing but friendship which was sadly the subject of very few songs. He could come up with exactly one such duet, and he doubted most of the Warblers would even know who Donald O'Connor was. And it was too easy to slip into a performance and just...lose one's self. Stop paying attention to the world around them and get lost in Blaine's smile and...

It would be too risky. Too dangerous.

I'll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight

The two of them are actually dating, you know. My mom tried to ban all offstage couples from performing together because of the potential complications but

Of course he knew. Everyone with a brain knew. While he understood that she didn't always differentiate between performance and real life, she of all people - who had tried to use a solo to ensnare Finn's heart more than once - should be able to see how beautiful this was and just leave it alone instead of having to traipse on top of the moment with her insistence on showing she knew things. Kurt glared at the paper, and before he could even bring himself to care enough to finish the note he pressed it against the back of the chair and scrawled his reply.

We are not doing this now!

He thrust the note back over his shoulder without looking, glancing over just for a second to make sure Bobby had taken the note and it hadn't just fallen from between his fingers. Blaine looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. "What?" he hissed.

"Enjoying your girlfriend?" Blaine teased, and Kurt's eyes narrowed further...but Blaine was grinning so it was hard to actually be mad at him. That would require significant amounts of performance.

I only know when he
Began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced all night!

The boy dipped the girl between the second and third 'danced', pulling her back up and into his arms as she finished the song - they were both grinning and breathless, and Kurt noticed he gave her a little squeeze as the curtain rose and they moved to join the rest of the group for their main performance number.

The next song was a sharp departure from the dance duet they'd just witnessed - upbeat with sharp, quick choreography and complex layered harmonies that almost outdid the Warblers. The contrast was almost jarring and, Kurt realized quickly, indicative of the group's biggest problem. The majority of them performed as Rachel said - technically perfect but with no emotion. Not that Ritchie Valens was a deep well of complex feelings, but they didn't even sound enthusiastic. There were smiles plastered on each and every face but no conviction behind them, as though they'd had drilled into them that they needed to smile while singing at all cost.

There were a few exceptions: the pair who had performed in the opening, and two other girls. But their exuberance only served to emphasize the lack of excitement from the rest of their teammates, making them look more robotic and less like real people up there singing.

Rachel's mother demanded perfection, demanded technical excellence, demanded hard work and dedication...but let everything else slip through the cracks. Ironically, not only was it the first number that was far more perfect, but - just like the four whose smiles beamed so brightly that it made their teammates seem like dull plastic in comparison - the quiet dance upstaged the show piece that was obviously intended to showcase the group's skill.

While Kurt couldn't guarantee that it would be the group's undoing, he felt like it should have been obvious to everyone in the room. Of course, most people were still clapping along and seeming to enjoy themselves, so he had no idea if that would translate to a loss or not. Maybe they just didn't realize what they'd been watching and why the second half was lacking. Or maybe the first half would be like the icing on the technically-excellent cake. It was too early to tell.

He did turn in his seat to catch Rachel's eye; when she looked at him, still looking hurt by the sharp tone his last note had taken, he gave her a small smile and nod to acknowledge that she had been right. She smirked, which made him roll his eyes, but it was back to being playful and was the most normal he'd felt since sitting down. The rest of the team may not have been here (though he thought Finn was probably in the audience somewhere with their parents), but eye-rolling and handicapping odds with Rachel did make things feel a little less strange.

The Warblers exited the auditorium quickly and made their way backstage for the warmup - a series of quick but intense scales, harmonies, and pitch jumps that were designed to settle everyone down a little, get them into the groove they usually hit after an hour of rehearsing. Maybe it worked for everyone else; for Kurt, all it did was serve to remind him that he was definitely not at McKinley anymore.

Warmups with his old group rarely actually included music. There was a lot of bonding in the green room before the performance, a lot of trying to get out whoever was fighting with whom and hash out any lingering problems. One time they'd learned an entirely new song on the bus ride over and spent their time in the green room trying to figure out choreography for the first time, which was never good when Brittany was the one trying to explain what to do and Finn was trying to dance. And it always worked - there was an adrenaline that kicked in, the frantic rush of trying to get everything in a row such that when it turned out even remotely okay everyone was thrilled with the outcome.

This was different. This was months of practice to try to make difficult harmonies and jumps become second nature. And unlike his old team, one person screwing up was unlikely to bring down the whole team unless that person screwed up during a solo or ruined things so badly that everyone got distracted by the awfulness of it. That wouldn't be the case here - everyone was listening to everyone else and if one person slid or stuck out or, god forbid, hit the wrong note in the chord, it would throw off everyone else.

Suddenly he felt like there was no way it wasn't going to be him. He was going to screw up the note - even though he'd never blown a note that he could remember in a competition setting. Or in an actual performance, or outside his shower a handful of times. But there was a first time for everything, and suddenly he was...okay, fine. He was nervous.

He knew he shouldn't be - for one thing, it wasn't as though he had an actual solo. For another, worrying would only make it worse; he knew that. But he couldn't quite help it.

Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped onto the risers with everyone else, concentrating as hard as he could. He heard the pitch pipe and found his note, trying to relax enough that he wouldn't ruin this.

The song had a lot of great harmonies to begin with and had been rearranged slightly to make up for the lack of percussion - plus they changed the hums to a more resonant 'oo' because it was a more pleasant sound from stage and allowed for much better blending. But for the most part, it wasn't too different.

Focus. He just needed to concentrate.

The beginning was easy - unison melody except for the couple basses and their "da-da-dum-bum" to replace the drums, then another eight-count phrase of two-part harmony with a little neck-swaying. It was during the third set of 32 that the song broke into full-on musical chaos, with the bass line picking up and the addition of the piano part and a third line of harmony on top of the melody - seven parts in total, split across fifteen guys, such that the only other person still singing Kurt's line was all the way across the stage in case he wanted to pick up the note from Kenny.

He could do it just fine if he concentrated, listened to everyone...but then Blaine started to sing and it got all that much harder.

Little bitty pretty one,
C'mon and talk to me
Lovey dovey lovey one,
Come sit down on-a my knee

Kurt kept the tight smile plastered on, though it grew a little more genuine as he watched Blaine bop his way out to the front of the group. It was hard not getting distracted. By the time Blaine turned to him to sing the lyrics at him, he felt his entire body tighten and grin all at once, but muscle memory kept him on-pitch no matter how amazing Blaine's smile was when he sang.

If anything, it made him want even more to get it right, to impress the boy, even though for one thing he knew Blaine wasn't exactly paying attention to him and only him and, even if he was, he wouldn't be impressed by Kurt doing exactly what his job was in that moment. But it was a little thing, made him feel less like he might slide into some strange minor key that wasn't intended.

He missed a step on the start of the next 'Oh' section, moving to the right first instead of the left, and he glanced down at Blaine's feet for a moment to get himself back in-step. Glancing out to see if anyone noticed, he caught sight of Rachel in the audience. She was giving him an incredibly intense look, frustrated with him, and he knew he wasn't doing his best - he knew she'd seen him do better, but did she have to rub it in-

She gave an exaggerated grin, mimicking the upturned curve with her fingertips, and mouthed 'smile!' at him. A pause, then another edict: 'Relax!'

Okay, maybe she had a point.

Tell you a story,
Happened long time ago.
Little, bitty, pretty one,
I've been watchin' you grow.

It was strange; he was on the verge of screwing up whenever he thought about it, but the second Blaine sang...

It was like his brain was so busy staring at Blaine that he couldn't think about what notes to sing or what steps to take or when to start dancing across the stage with the rest of the group - because all he could think of was the way Blaine lit up when he was in front of an audience, and how much the audience loved him and he fed off that, how attractive Blaine was when he was hyped up on so much adrenaline...and his memory took over.

Because he did know what he was doing. He'd managed to freak himself out to the point where he assumed he'd get things wrong, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew himself better than that.

He relaxed a little more, glancing back at Blaine's head every so often to ensure he didn't start thinking too hard, and just kind of let himself...feel the music. Because when he stopped thinking about it and dissecting it and analyzing the eight different lines and where they diverged, he found eight different lines intertwining and playing off one another in ways he hadn't been able to hear when he was so busy learning it and committing it to memory.

While it wasn't the same musical sensation he was used to, the catharsis of belting out a song to express his frustration or singing mournful ballads to try to excise some of the sadness he couldn't otherwise shake, while it was nowhere near the perfection of the duet earlier...it was beautiful. It was complex and strong and joyous in a way that almost made him feel happy himself. The reversal was strange - music feeding emotion instead of emotion feeding music - but he kind of reveled in it.

Little, bitty, pretty one,
Come on and talk-a to me.
Lovey, dovey, lovey one,
Come sit down on-a my knee

He glanced out at Rachel again as the song drew to a close, and she was grinning proudly, first on her feet when the applause began.

Good. Because of all the people in that audience, he knew she knew what made a performance excellent.

* * * * *

The waiting was always the worst part of these competitions. Take a bunch of students who have just competed against each other, put them backstage and in a lobby with too much time to kill, and expect everything to go well despite the tension mounting with every passing minute.

When he had been here last year, Kurt remembered, Puck had nearly caused a fistfight to break out when he flirted a little too enthusiastically with one of the girls from Carmel whose boyfriend happened to also be on the team. And a football rival who already hated both Puck and Finn. And easily three inches taller than Finn with significantly more muscle. Now he watched as boys who had been attending single-sex schools from approximately the age of forever tried to chat with girls who knew just enough of boys to know that these guys were not exactly the cream of the crop.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Kurt mused to Blaine.

"Hm?"

"Watching them try. They have no chance at all, the girls look about as interested as they would be if Nick and Jeff suggested teaching them how to feed pigs - which I suppose isn't so different from most of their dating lives - but they keep thinking if they just grin bigger, they'll get what they want. I've spent enough time to know what girls like, and whatever that is, is not on the list."

Blaine shifted nervously. Kurt still didn't understand it, did he? He seemed to know just enough to know not to start telling everyone he saw that he was sick, but he didn't make any effort to hide it - unless one counted the pseudo-relationship with Rachel. He didn't count it if only because Kurt had been doing his level best to avoid his "girlfriend" the entire afternoon, which kind of went against the entire point of having a girl that he could claim.

If he wasn't going to pointedly, proudly display his relationship with Rachel, how did it serve him? If he had no interest in girls as anything other than a friend, as he appeared to want to state emphatically for all the world to hear, then wasn't the sole purpose of the relationship to prevent people from knowing about what he was? A coping mechanism designed to deflect questions and put suspicions to rest.

After all, Kurt didn't actually seem invested in the relationship - not like he would be. He would be trying to make it work however he could so that he could feel satisfied even with the knowledge of the disgusting thoughts that lurked in the back of his mind.

Maybe Kurt had given up already on the idea. He desperately hoped not - Kurt should give it another try. They both should. Hell, they all should - Kurt, himself, his father's 'difficult cases'...maybe if they all just tried hard enough-

Looking like he was trying too hard would be more normal than giving up the ghost, giving in to the urges, let alone acting on them.

He wondered if Kurt knew the consequences of his feelings. If he had any idea that this wasn't something natural or healthy, that it was going to destroy him from the inside out like a growing, crushing tumor, leaving a miserable shell in its wake. Maybe he thought all of this was okay, was halfway normal.

Blaine didn't want to have to be the one to burst his bubble. He remembered how terrified he'd been when he found out he might be...sick. Before he realized that he could keep himself healthy if he just worked hard enough. He hadn't been able to jam the sharp-pronged pin into Kurt's chest the night before, but this might be an easier...gentler way of helping.

"Kurt. You should watch how you talk about stuff like that, you know?"

Kurt's head turned quickly, eyes narrowing. "What 'stuff' is that?" he asked suspiciously.

Blaine's voice dropped low as he explained, "About...how you feel," he offered vaguely. "You need to be careful. About people knowing. It's not-...it's not the kind of thing you should go around letting people know."

Right, Kurt thought bitterly. Because he was really telling everyone he saw. He wanted to practically ask everyone at Dalton door-to-door but was refraining because he was concerned about what might happen. He wanted to keep chipping away at the feeling like there was an anvil sitting on his chest, and each time someone knew (all two of them), that feeling got just the tiniest bit lighter. "I haven't said a word."

"Except to Rachel. And to me. And to who else? When you talk about being like the girls instead of being like one of the boys who's trying to attract a girl, it starts sounding like..."

"Like what?" Kurt asked defiantly, his voice low. "Like...I am who I am? Like there's something wrong with me?"

"There is-" Blaine cut himself off as the lead singer from Crawford approached, skirt swinging as she walked. "Hello," he offered, pasting on a bright smile and hoping desperately she hadn't heard the first part of the conversation.

"Hi," she replied with a smile that seemed a little more skeptical of his charming grin than not. "You were really great."

"So were you," he replied sincerely. Her eyes were a mix of blue and green, a trait he found immediately attractive in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. He extended his hand and introduced himself. "Blaine Anderson."

"Jean Hartford," she replied. "I was thinking, we should get the two groups together."

"Really? I was thinking the exact same thing." How funny that she'd thought of it too. He wondered if any of the other Warblers had considered it - or if they would want to do it for any reason other than the potential to stare at girls all day.

He was supposed to want to stare at girls, too, he reminded himself sternly. Because part of the problem was that he hadn't been trying hard enough, so if he was exposed to them more...spent more time around them...that could only help. Maybe his problem had been a lack of other options and a teenage hormone-fueled sexual frenzy.

"Guess that means it's fate," she replied with a coy grin. She handed him a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"My number. Curfew's at nine, but any time before that."

Kurt regarded her skeptically out of the corner of narrowed eyes. This girl was asking Blaine out - he knew very few of the signs when it came to boys, but he'd seen enough girls talk about boys they liked...she was asking him out? Forget the part where she was so unapologetically forward that she was giving Sandy Lopez a run for her money - what girl gave out her phone number to a boy without prompting anyway? Talk about either egotistical or desperate. But of all the people she was asking out, she was asking out a boy who was in absolutely no position to return her advances.

And get Blaine was smiling and telling her he appreciated her boldness and sass, saying he would call her sometime the week in the hopes of setting something up or getting together? Was he out of his mind?

Rachel walked over with a bright smile and placed her hand on his shoulder. "While everyone's waiting, I want you to come with me. You were really were extraordinary up there, even if you did spend the entire first half way too tense. Are you-" She suddenly noticed Jean's presence and turned to face her a little more. "Oh. Hello," she said in her best 'I'm being nice to my competition' voice that Kurt recognized from many years of watching her audition for things. "You have a great stage presence," she stated.

"Thank you," Jean replied.

"If I may say-"

"No, you may not," Kurt cut her off, though he wasn't entirely sure why considering he wasn't particularly wild about this girl already.

Blaine chuckled. "Jean, this is Rachel. Kurt's girlfriend," he explained, but the look he gave Kurt on the word 'girlfriend,' the way he emphasized it...

He hoped Kurt got the point. That he understood.

This was how they were supposed to be. What they were supposed to be accomplishing. The ultimate goal.

Kurt started to open his mouth, but Rachel cut him off this time. "Kurt, I want to introduce you to my mom."

"I've known your mother literally since before I was in first grade," he stated flatly.

"I know that - silly," she added with a roll of her eyes in Jean's direction, as though they were sharing a private joke; from the look on Jean's face, it was obvious that they weren't.

Great, Kurt thought, now Rachel was getting in on the act, playing up their relationship at Blaine's insistence. He was going to kill them both. Instead he plastered on a ridiculous tight smile.

"But with you away at school, I haven't gotten to introduce you to her as my boyfriend yet." She turned to Jean again and added, "We've only been dating for three weeks this coming Monday, but we've known each other almost our whole lives." She laced her arm through Kurt's, resting her hand just below his elbow, and added, "Come along darling."

If this was Rachel's idea of subtle 'appearance only' dating, they were going to have some serious issues.

"Yes, dear." He forced the sarcastic reply through his teeth, the same smile still screwed onto his face. "Lead the way."

He just hoped how bad the past few minutes had gone were not in any way a reflection on what kind of scores they were getting, because that would be atrocious.

* * * * *

The atmosphere in the car was silent, stony. Rachel stared out the windshield as the wipers attempted to push away the freezing rain before it could turn to slush on the glass. Her mother hadn't even turned on the radio, and that was always on when they were driving somewhere. She had learned from a very young age the importance of being able to sing anything at a moment's notice, and practicing to a variety of radio stations was an important exercise in that pursuit.

"You must be taking the loss really hard," she offered. Her mother was not a woman accustomed to coming in second place...and even if she was happy for Kurt and the Warblers, she was extremely competitive. Her mother was a model for her, an extension of herself in a way due to their incredibly close relationship growing up as the daughter of a strong working single mother, so her mother's wins were her wins too and her mother's losses were her losses.

"It's not about that."

"I maintain that we had the strongest vocal performance - the harmonies were the most layered, the most perfect. But the Warblers had a spirit-"

"Rachel. It's not about that." Her mother's hands tightened on the wheel, and it was obvious that she was being serious rather than merely deflecting the conversation out of a desire to avoid it.

"Then why do you seem so angry?" Rachel asked quietly.

"I don't want you dating that boy."

"Kurt?" she asked, confused. "But you like Kurt - and you've known him forever, I don't understand why-"

"Because I said so," her mother replied firmly. "Because I-...look, sweetie, I know you want a boyfriend. Believe me, no one understands that better than I do," she added, and Rachel smiled faintly - her mother hadn't had any dates in awhile, at least not that she knew of. There were a few she wasn't supposed to know about, she guessed by the way it was never brought up again, but she wasn't going to mention those. "Men find women like us intimidating - and finding a boy in high school who can appreciate your talent and isn't threatened by your ambition is difficult, I know. But you have no idea what complications come from dating a...boy like Kurt."

"Mom, it's okay-"

"It's not." She sighed and shook her head. "You don't get it yet-"

"You're just angry over the divorce," Rachel stated, then added, "I know why he left, and I know about Kurt, too. It's okay."

"What do you mean, you know?"

They'd been dancing around this conversation since it happened, and the last thing Rachel had been planning on was to have it in the car on the way back from a competition she wasn't even allowed to perform in. As if it hadn't been frustrating enough to have to watch other people sing songs all day, songs that were much better suited for her vocal range and tone quality, now she had to try to explain to her mother what she knew without making it sound like she blamed her mother for hiding it in the first place.

She'd meant to say something earlier, to ask questions, to something, but her mother had seemed bitter about it for so long and she didn't want to hurt her...

"I've known for awhile."

"How long? Did he tell you? He's not supposed to- I'll take him back to court-"

"He didn't say anything," she stated honestly. "He lives in a two-bedroom house, and when I go there his roommate stays on the couch. I take Leroy's room, but the only clothes in the closet are out of season and old coats he's had longer than I've been alive. He's not very good at hiding things. I know about them."

"How long did you..."

"The year I was twelve, when I went for Chanukkah."

The statement weighed heavily in the air for a few minutes - she'd known for five years, nearly six, and never said a word.

When neither of them spoke, Rachel added, "Kurt and I...I know what I'm getting into. It won't be like you and Dad - he was a surprise. This is different. He won't tie me down, trap me here. Not like you. I know what you wanted, where you wanted to be, and then you met Dad and got married and I was born...and here you are. I-I know this isn't your dream," she aded more quietly. "Kurt isn't threatened by me - my brilliance or my talent. He and I are moving to New York when we graduate next year - it's what we both want. We understand that about each other."

After all, it was all about the understanding.

"Also," she said, now that the conversation was started, "I want to see him more often."

"Kurt?"

"Dad. I-I know you have sole custody and you let me see him as a courtesy once a year, but I want to see him more."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Not in six months when I turn 18," she pointed out. The request was more of a courtesy than the visits had been.

Maybe she would take Kurt over there sometime, she thought. After all, he constantly seemed to have questions and, as much as she enjoyed answering them, there were times she had no idea. Watching two guys who pretended not to ever touch each other eat dinner across the table from her wasn't really the same as asking how to tell who else was a homosexual or not.

Besides - even if they were fake-dating, they were still dating. and she wanted to introduce her dad to her boyfriend.