"You switched meeting locations from a restaurant to yourdressing room?" Rachel gasped. "That's not what I told you to contact him for!"

Kurt groaned. Rachel was great at stage whispers but never actual ones. Leave it to Santana to tell all of their friends about his late night meeting with Will Schuester, complete with as many insinuations as she could throw around, before he even arrived at the bar. They were all over him the second he walked in.

"That seems awfully forward, Kurt," Mercedes said.

Santana looked completely unrepentant for causing this dramatic welcome. "Boy's crafty. You know Schuester's reputation. Can't blame Kurt for using it to his advantage."

"I can blame you for the sex worker in my dressing room though."

"Second of two." Santana wiggled two fingers at him. "Gotta count yourself now."

Kurt pulled his best don't-even-try face and brushed her hand away.

"Besides. I got you a classy hooker. See? He's wearing a polo. I asked for non-threatening but smokin'. You're welcome."

Kurt did a double take toward Santana's gesturing. He expected to never see Blaine again – or at least not until the next large holiday or celebration where Santana might see fit to throw a prostitute his way – and yet there Blaine was, chatting happily with Mike, Artie, and Brittany holding their table on the other side of the bar.

Of course Blaine was attractive. His livelihood depended on it. Same with charming Kurt so thoroughly in the five minutes they'd spent together. He was meant to be charming.

"You do realize you're wasting your money and his time. You shouldn't have dragged him here. I'm not going to sleep with him and you better still pay him."

"Relax, he got a deposit. No refunds on that so you might as well enjoy."

Enjoy. Right. His friends were bound to say something offensive or otherwise inappropriate to Blaine now that Kurt inadvertently revealed Blaine's occupation. He felt responsible for Blaine, even if Santana invited him. Or kept him there under financial duress, more likely, the pleasure of watching Kurt squirm.Well, screw that. As much as Santana's whole insulting scheme was needling him the wrong way, he didn't want Blaine to think he was avoiding him for the wrong reasons, which meant he couldn't get through the evening pretending like Blaine didn't exist to save himself from further embarrassment. He could be the bigger, politer person who knew none of this was Blaine's fault. Keep his shield up a little longer and pretend he wasn't mortified to have his relationship with sex – his strained, nonexistent relationship with sex that still made him look like a suspicious deviant who coulduseanother person like that – as a conversation piece.

Mercedes' eyes widened as she followed their exchange. "Kurt, honey? I know you're lonely but prostitutes and sex predators are not your only options."

"I never said they were." He kept his voice cool. "Or that I haddesignson either of them."

"Getting a prostitute was a little much, Santana." Tina turned to eye Blaine as she added, "He does seem lovely, though. He looks so wholesome. Considering."

"We can't leave Kurt languishing like this forever. Who would you rather have Kurt give it up to: an obedient pocket-sized prosti-tot that men are begging to bed, or an aging creep who tries to stick it in anyone desperate enough? Who's going to provide a betterexperience?"

Mercedes waved her off. "Maybe what we heard about Will Schuester and Sunshine Corazon is all an unsubstantiated rumor. Actors get jealous and inventive all the time. Some understudy probably wanted that girl's role and thought it would delegitimize the work she did to earn it."

"Hell, even if Sunshine did sleep with Schuester she deserved it," Tina argued. "It's not like putting out made her less talented."

"That rumor is going to follow her for years."

"Especially if you keep spreading it," Kurt snipped. He only told his least-judgmental friend for a reason. Kurt gritted his teeth in distaste for what he was about to say. "It's just a rumor. We talked business. It's not titillating but it's the truth."

He read those trashy articles about the whisperings behind Sunshine's rise to stardom and he absolutely believed Will took advantage of her naiveté and trust in her benefactor. Kurt wouldn't have orchestrated a partially-undressed meeting after the curtain fell if he wasn't certain that's how Will operated with all his stars, regardless of who the star ended up being. Meeting the real Will Schuester cemented in his mind exactly what kind of man he was, which was close to the tabloid truth. The "interview" Will gave him consisted of personal question after personal question from an interviewer who sat too close and touched too freely at the slightest sign of emotion from Kurt.

Kurt had no connection to Sunshine and she would never know what he had done but it felt unfair to her to pretend Will was innocent so he could take advantage of Will's indiscretions. Kurt would be Will Schuester's show-biz redemption, that first project after a scandal that redirected focus onto his career. Proof that he could discover and promote new talent that he obviously wasn't sexually interested in. And then once Will was successful again people would believe Sunshine even less.

"There are some lines you don't cross even for fame. Even the more ambitious among us know that. Right, Kurt?" Rachel gave him a pointed look.

Kurt clamped down on the incredulous look he wanted to throw Rachel's way. She chased fame just as much as he did. He learned this from her. A small, mean part of him felt the only difference between them was opportunity. She would make the same questionable decision if she were in his position; she just didn't think she would. Her career prospects were stronger than his and while she was still looking for her big break, she hadn't gotten that low yet. He hadn't gotten to the point of wishing that on her either.

"You wouldn't, would you? Kurt, this is serious."

Admitted that he did, in fact, have designs on Will Schuester invited more judgment. But he didn't want to join in on the moral indictment of what Sunshine had done. Of what he was going to do.

Santana butted back in before he formulated a response. "Don't bother trying to act like you're better than this. Iheardyou. I heard you, in your dressing room, trying to seduce that producer after your little dress rehearsal with Blaine. Do you care more about what we think than what you're doing? These three may buy you're too innocent but I know better than that. Own it."

Was this what fame would look like – people feeling they had a right to him, a right to know all and judge all because they cared about him? Just on a much larger scale? All conversational roads led to talking about Kurt's sex life. It was a narcissistic thought, framing his friends as overstepping fans.

Kurt shrugged with a self-depricating little smirk, in response to his own mind rather than Santana's demand. No one got this far without some self-centeredness, and he never pretended he didn't have a fantasy-prone personality.

***

"Kurt found himself a gigolo?" Artie asked. He and Mike and Brittany looked at Blaine in wonder.

Blaine raised his hand in protest. "I prefer any other word for my profession. As long as it doesn't make me sound like a Jello knockoff or like I've skipped going to the gym we're good."

"Kurt found himself a boy-whore?"

Blaine nodded.

"Does this mean Kurt's going to be less uptight now?" Artie asked. "He doesn't look less uptight."

There was no way to subtly watch Kurt ordering at the bar – he tried to figure it out ever since Kurt showed up – but Artie's comment gave Blaine permission to look. Kurt's friends huddled around him chattering animatedly while he held himself back. His gaze shifted away from his friends and fell on Blaine, and the flighty quality Blaine picked up on during their first meeting – like he didn't know what to do with himself – reemerged in Kurt's gestures as their eyes met. Kurt quickly turned away. When the last of the drinks they ordered were ready Kurt held one gingerly in each hand as he made his way over.

"There's probably a nicer sounding word likecourtesan," Mike mused. "Do you have to be a girl for that one?"

Blaine pulled his attention back to the conversation. "There'sciscisbeoif you want a male equivalent, but this isn't 18thcentury Italy and my clients are men. A while back Wes wanted a way to address us as a collective and started calling us the Warblers."

"Wanky." Santana winked salaciously as she deposited a drink in front of him and then clinked hers against it. "Cheers, queers."

The look Blaine gave Santana was almost fond as he took a sip. Santana hip-checked Kurt closer to Blaine's side of the table and waited expectantly for him to claim the spot next to Blaine. Blaine tried to stay on the right side of the line between friendly and inappropriately enthusiastic while Kurt hesitated. Santana pushed but Blaine hoped that at least a part of Kurt wanted to sit beside him as well. He beamed when Kurt slid next to him and bumped Kurt's shoulder in greeting.

"But back to Kurt being less uptight," Artie insisted. "I've been trying to get him laid for years!"

Santana and Artie high fived.

"Did it work?" Blaine asked.

Kurt stiffened next to him. Blaine tended to say the wrong thing and not know why. This must be one of those times. Looking around at the rest of the table told him that much. Displeasure shone on Mercedes and Rachel's faces. Brittany looked confused. Something much more complicated was going on with Tina where "uncomfortable" wasn't the whole story but definitely part of the mixture.

"I didn't mean to imply you're uptight," Blaine apologized quickly, assuming that's where they had taken offense. "Or that there's a correlation between getting laid and becoming less uptight. Sex has the potential to be relaxing but the dismissiveness of telling someone they'll chill out if they just get laid has unfortunate roots in misogyny that, while it may not be intended when applied to you –"

"No, it is." Kurt shot a nasty look in Santana and Artie's direction.

Blaine floundered on how to finish his apology. Confrontations weren't something he handled well. Given Kurt's reaction to Santana and Artie he wasn't even sure who should be apologizing anymore. "Did your meeting . . . ?"

"So, this is about that producer," Mercedes sighed.

"Did I convince Will Schuester to produce a workshop of my show? Yes," Kurt answered primly.

The sudden onslaught of objections drowned each other out with demands of "how?" (Mercedes) and "tell us Santana isn't telling the truth!" (Rachel) and "what is everyone talking about?" (Brittany).

Blaine forced an upbeat smile to win Kurt back over while Kurt glared at his friends. It worked out best for everyone when Blaine's clients liked him. He kept his voice low, aiming for friendly over overtly seductive but intended just for Kurt to hear, as he leaned in closer than necessary. "I believe you offered to do a reading for me. I'm going to hold you to that." He wrinkled his nose to seem nonthreatening. Kurt's wide-eyed reaction didn't tell him if he succeeded or not.

Tina came to Kurt's rescue by chiming a fork against her glass and raising it. "Okay, everyone. We're here to celebrate. Not only should we toast to Kurt's fantastic run off-Broadway –"

"Or Off-Off-Broadway," Kurt amended.

"Not only that, but a new stage in our careers is beginning for all of us. Our own production will get off the ground thanks to Kurt and if workshops go well we can really make names for ourselves. Maybe one day we can even all get to Broadway. I know how much that means, to all of us, to have this opportunity. And it means a lot to me that we'll be doing this together. To Kurt!"

The table halfheartedly raised their glasses. Rachel hesitated. "It feels weird to toast to this."

"Do you not want it?" Kurt snapped.

"You called me slutty for considering a topless scene," Rachel hissed. "Where do you think your clothes are going tobe?"

Kurt primly folded his arms in front of him.

"Think about your future Tonys! You don't want to question whether you've truly earned all you accolades."

"There's no such thing as a Tony award winning blowjob," Kurt shot back. He looked like he surprised himself with his own crassness once the words were out.

"You wouldnotsay that if you had one." Artie held out a driving glove clad hand for Mike to high five. Kurt flushed redder than the tacky dinner seats.

"You haven't?" Blaine angled toward him in what he hoped could only be described as professional interest. "I figured you were using some definition that didn't count oral sex, which is silly because it'sright there in the namebut far be it from me to tell someone that they can't determine their own sexual identity for themselves. You really haven't done anything? What about handjobs, or frottage, or intercural, or –"

"Stop listing sex acts, Blaine, the answer's always going to be no," Kurt hissed. "Do you not realize you're in public? People can hear you."

Blaine grinned and shrugged. "We're in a bar – everyone here's old enough to know what I'm talking about if they haven't already experienced it for themselves. The whole topic is fascinating if you think about it – we put so much emphasis on a concept with no concrete definition."

Somewhere along the line Kurt resolutely stopped looking at him. Blaine didn't know when that started but when he finally noticed he quickly followed with, "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. And I can talk about something other than sex! I want to knoweverythingabout your show."

Kurt smiled gratefully for the change in topic. "We went so far as to divvy up roles at Tina and Mike's Christmas party last year when we all drank enough we weren't afraid of putting words to dreams. Artie's going to be our director. Mike and Brittany are dance captains. Brittany and Artie will do media relations. Tina and I will split up costuming and set design. Mercedes, Santana, and Rachel will be our main divas, at least while I'm busy." Kurt's eyes shone. He bit his lip to keep his smile from splitting too wide.

"That's great," Blaine enthused. "It sounds like you've had this planned out for a while." Kurt was cute when he preened. Once Blaine found something that worked to make someone like him he stuck with it. Talking about the show worked.

"Since high school, really," Kurt nodded. "It started out as something we joked about as friends. We wrote some songs together, performed them, and forgot about them for a while. One by one we all came to the city over the years and each time someone arrived we talked about doing a show together. Our show, specifically. I started working on the script that strung the songs we wrote together whenever I was frustrated about the parts available to me, which was a lot of time. The script's been in a stage of near completion for ages. We've just been waiting for a way to make it all happen."

"How, exactly, were you going to seduce the producer? I bet you can't say a single euphemism for penis without turning red." Brittany asked.

Kurt's cheeks reddened without trying to say any of them. The obvious excitement from talking about the show fled from him.

"Blaine seemed to be buying it." Santana teased.

Mercedes, not unkindly, countered, "You already paid, there wasn't anything left to buy. Kurt, you're in way over your head here and you can't just ignore it in favor of celebrating something you shouldn't have done." She turned back to Santana. "And Santana, honestly, just pay the boy and let him leave."

"He'll earn it yet." She winked salaciously at Kurt.

Blaine's open mouth clamped shut. He could feel the frustration radiating off Kurt. Blaine didn't know what to do with it since the frustration wasn't directed at him. He still helped cause it.

"Could you focus on the point of this for a moment?" Kurt snipped. "We have the opportunity to get ourselves on stage and our story out there like we always wanted. That's what we're celebrating, and it's so much bigger than what's going on in anyone's private life."

"Nope, we've still been waiting longer for you to get laid," Santana cracked.

"These are our dreams! Sex can't be more interesting than that." Kurt looks around the table.

"Only one way to know," Brittany hummed dreamily, tracing her fingers around the rim of her drink.

"Fine." Kurt tossed his napkin on the table. He pushed away from it. "Fine." He looked right into Santana's eyes as he said, "Blaine, let's go."