Will Schuester was more attractive than he expected. Kurt almost dropped his pants at the sight of him.

Kurt had been standing with his skinny jeans half off for the better part of the last ten minutes – feeling ridiculous and more nervous every agonizingly slow second– just so he could shimmy into themafterhearing the knock on his dressing room door and inviting the stranger in. The scenario he'd concocted for Will Schuester felt forced, and ten kinds of cliché but actors were given unoriginal material to work with all the time.

He desperately wanted to be an actor.

"I wasn't expecting to have a guest backstage so –" Kurt stumbled when he saw, really saw, his handsome visitor. "– so soon."

It was the curls. How could a man with curls be intimidating? They really were his most defining feature; Rachel had been right about that. Loose, dark, sweeping curls heavily styled to be less corkscrewed than their coarse texture implied. Kurt found himself wondering how they would feel. He might be able to get away with pulling them if this plan worked right. They were bound to tighten with perspiration and show Kurt what they were actually like. For once Kurt let his fantasies play out instead of pushing them out of mind. Finding Will attractive made everything easier, and Kurt was going to embarrass himself anyway so what was the worst it could do?

Will smiled charmingly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurt. Your show was spectacular. I was at the edge of my seat every time you were on stage. I'm glad your friend told me to watch it before meeting you."

Kurt blushed and swayed coyly. Compliments were a good way to start. Most of his questionable choices he justified to himself for the sake of compliments. While he'd justified this whole seduce-Will-Schuester-for-fame-and-fortune plan to himself already, more rationale wouldn't hurt.

"The show's been a great opportunity for me. Off the beaten path and – and unknown but it's a start – for them and me." His voice came out higher than ever. He bit back a wince and fumbled to get his jeans up; his limited experience with men taught him high-pitched was hardly ever a desirable feature. He needed to get his nerves under control. The show Kurt was just praising was over with no hope of a tour or a revival; it wasn't an opportunity for anyone. This was the last chance it afforded him.

"I'm such a fan of your work," Kurt enthused, trying again. It was only partially a lie – he'd been too young and too far away from New York to experience the height of Will Schuester's career on Broadway before he turned producer. He was a fan of the work Will had obviouslyhad doneon himself to look devastating at his age.

When I'm rich and famous and ten years older, I'm getting his plastic surgeon.

Kurt kicked his legs up over the couch to zip up his knee-high boot, consciously resisting biting his lip. Trying to flaunt himself like this felt stilted no matter how he practiced. His style was fabulous, not what was underneath.

At least Will's eyes were trained on him. A smile teased at the corners of his lips. "Aren't your clothes going in the wrong direction?"

"Hmm?" Kurt dropped the zipper to check his seams. They couldn't be inside out. It wasn't possible for this to be more mortifying. If he couldn't dress himself properly, he had nothing! Right before the meeting, he made a mental list of everything he would be tempted to do but absolutely needed to avoid – no strange accents that may or may not be based on Judy Garland's, no absently twirling objects between his fingers in a way that made him look like an escaped circus freak, nowhere in the introduction process should he curtsy like he was meeting royalty – Kurt didn't realize he had so many strange tics until he started making the list but he never would guess that dressing himself would be a problem.

With a teasing wink, Will slid the dropped boot zipper back down. "You keep adding more." Will slipped his fingers in to rub along Kurt's calf.

Kurt jolted at the unexpected touch. The heel of his boot caught on the cushion as he swung it down and he stumbled backward. Instinctively, Kurt's arms windmilled out to catch his fall. Will grabbed at Kurt to steady him. They both overcorrected and Kurt smashed face-first into Will's chest with Will holding him mostly upright.

"Whoa, there. See, this is where clothes get you." Will crinkled his nose.

Kurt stumbled with Will's help as he got his feet back underneath him. He ducked his head to hide his blush. Sure, they had physical contact this way, but sliding around like Bambi on ice over dressing himself wouldn't convince Will that Kurt was capable ofanythingsexual. The way Will caught him with one hand high on his waist and the other on his shoulder has them in a mock dance position. Kurt resisted bringing a hand up to check his hair. Hairspray that held as tightly as his could withstand a lot more than a minor tumble.

They were so close like this. If he swayed a little more their lips would touch. His eyes trained right on Will's full lips and made him blush. His mind got ahead of him again, fast forwarding to how this night was going to end. Those lips were going to be on him and he was going to play with those curls.

I'm actually doing this,he thought. He wasn't running away in horror. The first touch had startled but not unsettled him, and he didn't mind that Will had yet to let go. Having a cute, compact man so close didn't intimidate him. He teased rather than claimed. Kurt was steady on his feet again, but Will didn't retreat.

Will smoothed his hand on Kurt's shoulders down his arm and back. "What do you want?" he asked huskily.

He liked Will's voice. He spoke like he was sharing a secret. Kurt was humming with nervousness but didn't feel scared. This was the moment. He'd come to NYC with nothing: he knew how to take a chance on himself. He plunged in. "You have a lot of sway," Kurt began. "I'm working to become an actor."

"I could see you in pictures," Will agreed. His voice was soft, a hint of promise in it. His hand on Kurt's waist burned through the layers.

"Now that the show I'm in is over, I'd like to establish myself with some original work."

Will arched an eyebrow in interest.

"I – I've written my own show. I have the script here. Let me read some for you?"

"So I'm here for a private reading, am I?"

Oh, that sexy whisper did things to Kurt. He nodded. Let Will interpret that how he wanted: Kurt would be good either way. Well, he wanted the show so, so much more of course, but if he got two things out of this deal he could be flexible on the order.

"Is it a love story?"

"Actually, it's about ambition."

Will looked momentarily taken aback, no doubt intending to build of the response he expected Kurt to give. Maybe he gave the wrong answer. Was it possible to give the wrong answer when asked the subject of your show? Will had to be interested in the material for Kurt to succeed. Ambition was a harder sell than the supposedly universal but terribly elusive ideal of love.

Will smiled. "That's a kind of love story. I want to hear all about yourambitions."

They both startled at a knock on the door. Kurt bumped into the couch again. He resisted toppling completely. Will's grip tightened.

"Hello?" The knocks repeated. "Hello? I'm looking for Kurt Hummel. It's Will Schuester."

Kurt could swear his heart stopped. "It's . . ." His hands flung to his mouth in horror. "Oh no!"

He wheeled on the man next to him. The imposter Will didn't have the sense to look more than mildly startled. "Who's that?"

"You! What were you doing pretending to be someone else?" Kurt demanded. The shoulder not-Will had been gripping felt cold now that they separated. He stiffened at the realization that he missed the touch of someone who didn't matter. He had terrible luck.

"Casting couch roleplay? That seemed to be what you were initiating. You had me come to yourdressing room."

Kurt's stomach turned. "You're not really a Broadway producer willing to make me a star in exchange for an illicit tryst?"

Not-Will shook his head with a laugh. "Of course not. If I knew a Broadway producer I'd be having that illicit tryst myself. Your friend, Santana, arranged for me to help you with your 'sexual inexperience problem'? My name's Blaine," he added as an afterthought.

"You're not ajoke?"

Blaine– not Will – winced. "I should have explained. I thought you knew –"

"Get out before you ruin everything."

He had to do this. Again. Kurt used up his very limited supply of sexy onBlaine. There was no sexy left. The clothes thing was his only trick, and that was always more about the clothes. He couldn't take off his pants again now that Blaine was in the room – that gave an entirely different impression.

"There's only one door . . ." Blaine observed slowly.

Nowhere to hide either, at least not for long. "What am I supposed to do about letting him in when there's already a strange man in my dressing room?" Kurt hissed. He needed Blaine out of the way somehow.

Blaine considered. "Is he the jealous type?"

"Notoriously so." How could Blaine escape knowing the basics about Broadway legends? Oh, Kurt should have known better than to not recognize Will Schuester!

"White Knight complex?"

"Yes."

"Then this will work just fine. Scream."

Kurt blinked at him. He didn't know what to make of that direction. Blaine pinched his side.

"Ow! Stop that!" Kurt jerked away. He took back every kind, over-eager thought he had about Blaine for being handsome and kind, since he'd clearly been misled about the second quality.

"Kurt?" The voice outside the door repeated. "Are you in there?"

Sorry,Blaine mouthed at Kurt. He pulled his hand away to show he meant no harm but gestured for Kurt to do something. "Louder this time."

The pieces clicked. Victim was his least favorite role but he could play it. Instances like this were the reason why he learned how to cry on command, right? Kurt followed Blaine's direction and repeated the command for Blaine to stop more loudly. Kurt pressed back against the couch he kept stumbling over. He hated improv.

"Come in!" he called. He allowed panic to slip into his voice. "Blaine, take a hint and get out!" In contrast to his words, Kurt pulled Blaine closer and positioned him so it would look like Blaine was crowding up against him instead of doing his damnedest to maintain a respectful distance.

With a quick brush of his fingertips, Blaine disheveled Kurt's lapel. "Don't fall on your face, dummy," he said under his breath, "and you'll be just fine."

A moment later Blaine was tossed to the side and Kurt was staring up right into the face of the real Will Schuester.