Blaine was bored. Sure, the music was sort of nice, he supposed. But that was about it. He didn't understand how everyone else could be so enthusiastic about what was happening on stage. He didn't see what was so appealing about a group of girls in short skirts doing this sort of… stuff. Dancing around, doing gymnastics, trying to catch the judges' attention. It wasn't even one group of girls, though. No, Blaine's friends (if he would still consider them as such after today) had managed to drag him along to a cheerleading championship. With cheerleaders from all over the country.

The dream of every straight guy.

Too bad Blaine wasn't exactly what you'd call straight.

He let out another longsuffering sigh, but neither Wes nor David seemed to notice. Of course, that might have to do with the fact that their girlfriends' squad was finally on, trying to impress everyone around.

To be fair, however, after so many groups of cheerleaders, Blaine didn't really see the difference between this group and all the others. It all seemed the same to him. Some groups even (accidentally, he suspected) used the same music.

"How much longer do I have to sit here?" he muttered once the current squad was done and the applause had died down. Normally, he wouldn't ask such a thing. He would only think it, and even then, he would attempt not to think it. He was far too polite for that.

This wasn't a normal situation, though. He had been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, so he had barely slept. He was still stiff from the car ride, Wes and David had eaten all the food while he had tried sleeping a bit, and to top it all off, he was stuck here until his friends decided to drive all the way back to Westerville.

"There should be a break soon," David replied distractedly. "After the next performance."

"I meant overall," Blaine grumbled. "How long until we can go back to Dalton?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad, Blaine."

That wasn't an answer, and Blaine knew that Wes knew that. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, but didn't say anything. After all, he partly had himself to blame for this situation – if he hadn't been so quick to say yes when the other two boys had proposed to go on a road trip the day before.

He wouldn't have agreed if he'd known that his friends were going to drag him to Chicago for a cheerleading competition. Not that he hated Chicago – he just didn't like cheerleading. He didn't see the appeal.

"Can't I just leave and explore the city instead?" he asked, slightly hopeful.

"No," Wes and David replied automatically and simultaneously.

"We'll never find you again," David added. "What's taking them so long?" he muttered, frowning at the stage.

At that moment, the screeching of a microphone sounded through the hall. There was some vague muttering and shuffling before the next group was announced. Blaine wasn't very interested in listening, but he did here Wes make a comment about this group also being from Ohio. That wasn't going to make this whole experience anymore bearable for Blaine, though.

Music started playing, and judging from the gasps around Blaine, the current team had started their performance in an amazing way. He sighed and looked at the stage anyway. He might not be very interested in what was happening there, but even he had to admit that his hands weren't exactly fascinating either.

All of a sudden, a clear, high voice was heard. Within a few seconds, Blaine realised that it wasn't an English song, but a French one. What…? There were cheerleading squads using French music? Sure, it would make them stand out more, but it probably wouldn't help them win, right?

"Celine Dion?" he heard David mutter, and Wes shrugged.

"Could be."

Blaine didn't know a lot about Celine Dion, but he had heard songs by her. Heck, if his cousins wanted to watch Titanic with him one more time, he was going to go crazy. And from what he knew, Celine Dion didn't quite sound like this.

Indeed, mere seconds later (right before Blaine was going to discuss this with his friends), the source of the singing came into view. While Blaine had realised that it wasn't Celine Dion singing, he hadn't reached the conclusion that it wasn't even a woman or a girl who sang. Rather, a young boy of about his age in a cheerleading uniform was belting out the lyrics like he did this every day, all the while sticking closely to the choreography the other cheerleaders followed as well.

It was… different.

Even though this group might not get bonus points for using French music, the fact that the music was sung live might just give them the edge at this championship.

For once, Blaine actually liked a cheerleaders' performance. He blamed it on the fantastic vocals, but it must've also helped that there was actually a male cheerleader on the stage for a change, and as stated before, Blaine did prefer the male physics over the female ones.

Not to mention the fact that the uniform the boy was wearing seemed to be made especially for him – it fit him perfectly. And he was a cheerleader, so he was definitely in shape.

Nope, Blaine wasn't complaining at all. For once.

Wes and David noticed as well.

"Blaine, are you alright?" Wes hissed at him.

"You're so quiet," David added, sounding a bit concerned.

"Sshh!" Blaine hissed at his friends. Couldn't they get a hint? Couldn't they see that he was busy watching the performance? Couldn't they enjoy it as well, like normal people?

He didn't need to look at his friends to know that they were exchanging knowing glances right about… now.

As soon as the (in Blaine's eyes rather flawless) performance was over, the cheerleaders retreated backstage, and most people in the audience started moving as well. Blaine, however, stayed seated for another minute, recovering from what he'd just seen. There were no words to describe it.

"Blaine? Are you coming?" David and Wes were already standing, most likely bursting with anticipation to catch their girlfriends after their performance.

"Just go ahead," Blaine muttered in response. "I'll be right there."

True to his word, he didn't sit around for much longer, but he didn't hurry out of the hall as quickly as everyone else. He wandered around the lobby for a few minutes, got himself a drink and sat down again, now on one of the couches nobody was occupying. He would just settle for watching people - normal people, who weren't cheerleading.

" – slipped for half a second at the end," he then heard a girl complain. "I hope she didn't notice." Or maybe not.

"I thought Mercedes was going to sing," another girl said vaguely.

"She quit weeks ago, Britt," a third voice said – and it sounded very familiar. Glancing towards the source of the voices, Blaine's eyes widened. It was the boy who'd been singing before, plus two girls who were probably on the same squad, by the looks of it.

"Did she die?" the same girl – a blonde – asked concernedly, and the other girl rolled her eyes.

"Of course she didn't, you've seen her around, haven't you?"

The blond girl continued to look worried and confused, and Blaine chose that moment to walk up to them and say something, although he was just the slightest bit nervous.

"Hi," he greeted them, smiling as well as he could at the moment. "You were… really good. Seriously. Absolutely phenomenal."

The boy had the modesty to blush, but the dark haired girl just smirked. "We know," she told him, eyeing him as she spoke. "Took everyone's breath away, I'm sure."

Now, the blonde looked even more worried. "But don't those people need to breathe to live?" she asked, causing Blaine to frown at her. Was this girl serious?

"Anyway," he continued when none of the other three said anything, "you were great. Very original."

The dark haired girl just nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, we know," she told him. "Now – what brings you here?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, remembering the sacrifice he'd made for his friends this morning. "My friends dragged me along. Their girlfriends are on some or other cheerleading squad. I think the one right before you."

The girl smirked again. "So you're… alone? It's still half an hour before the break's over. I'm sure I could make it worth the wait…"

Blaine stared at her in shock. "What?" he sputtered. "You – what? No!" He wasn't usually so ineloquent, but then again, he'd never been in this kind of situation before. "I'm not – I don't… well, play for your team, if you – "

The blonde looked confused. "Of course you don't, you would be wearing a uniform if you did!"

"I actually meant that I'm not… well, into girls," Blaine almost whispered, and the girl's face lit up.

"Oh, you're capital-G gay?" she exclaimed happily, grinning from ear to ear. "But so is Kurtsie – and he still made out with me." In a serious, but also slightly... scary sounding voice, she added, "One day, he'll be mine again."

Blaine was about to say something (like that there was such a thing as beards, or ask who this Kurtsie person even was) when he noticed that the other boy had buried his face in his hands and was muttering to himself. The Latina, however, beat him to it.

"In that case," she told him slowly, smiling wickedly, "I'm sure Kurt here could make your wait worthwhile." With that, she jabbed the boy (who was, indeed, still wearing his cheerleading uniform, Blaine noticed suddenly – so were the girls, but hey, that was something he didn't notice as quickly) in the ribs.

"Santana!" Blushing fiercely, the boy glared at the Latina with all his might, but she didn't appear fazed.

Yes. That was most definitely an awkward position to be in. "Uh, thanks," Blaine said, looking around the group, "but I think I'll decline. I don't really believe in… sex with random strangers, or whatever."

Now, Santana grinned even wider, taking in both boys' uneasiness, and Blaine eyed her wearily. "Who said anything about sex?" she asked, in such a loud tone that several people around them looked their way. "I thought we could sing for you or something!"

"Yeah, right," Kurt muttered, still glaring daggers at the girl. Blaine couldn't agree more; there was no way that this Santana girl had wanted to imply just singing.

A few seconds later, a tall, rather intimidating woman in a track suit came walking towards them. Blaine recognised her only vaguely (but from where?), but his three companions seemed to know her just fine.

"Coach Sylvester," Santana greeted her with a smile that seemed to diminish by the second. "Should we – "

"For that slip up you made during our number, you're going to go back in there and watch all the mind-numbingly dull, awful so-called cheerleading performances that have yet to come," the woman (their coach?) told Santana in a business-like voice. Santana whimpered a little, but the woman had already turned to Kurt and Brittany. "I don't care what you two do. As long as you don't do anything to get me disqualified, do whatever the hell you want."

Brittany grinned as she turned to Kurt. "Want to make out?" she asked eagerly, but he hastily shook his head. Their coach continued as if there had been no interruption at all.

"As far as I'm concerned, we've already won this competition, and with this trophy, I'll show Schuester what winning is all about – something he will never experience in his miserable life. He should be thanking me that I'll show him that when I'm a judge at his competition next week."

As she walked away triumphantly, the group of teenagers was eerily silent for a while.

"Coach Sylvester is going to be a judge at Regionals?" Kurt asked softly, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"This is bad," Santana agreed. She actually looked frightened, but Blaine felt like he was missing the point.

"What's going on?" he asked. "What was she talking about?"

"Exactly what he just said," Santana almost snapped at him, looking at Kurt for a split second. "She's going to be a judge at our Regionals competition next week, and that's not good."

"Isn't this the Nationals competition?" Blaine was confused – and he didn't like it one bit.

Santana rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, Kurt said, "We're not just on the cheerleading squad. We're also in our school's Glee club. We're headed to Regionals next week. But for some reason, coach Sylvester hates the Glee club, and she'll do anything in her power to destroy it." He frowned. "Winning at Regionals was one of the principal's demands for us to be able to keep the club."

"So she'll deliberately make us lose next week, no matter what," Santana finished somewhat morosely. She sure had some heavy mood swings.

Yeah, that had to suck. Blaine would never understand public schools, even though he'd only been at Dalton for a year of two. "You're in a Glee club?" he asked nevertheless. "So am I! Not that we're going to a Regionals competition this year, we got stomped by Vocal Adrenaline – maybe you've heard of them?"

Judging by the looks on their faces, they had most definitely heard of Vocal Adrenaline. "Unfortunately, yes," Kurt said shortly, his eyes murderous.

"I still want to punch the crap out of that Jesse kid's face," Santana added, fuming. Wow. Their experiences with Vocal Adrenaline must've been more serious than anything they'd ever done to the Warblers (basically, beating them every year at Sectionals). "Shame, he was fairly good looking."

"He wasn't nice though," Brittany said sadly. "Which is weird – Mr Schue's super nice, so his son should be nice too, right?" And there she went, looking confused again.

"They're our main competition at Regionals," Kurt informed Blaine. "So winning would be hard enough even without coach Sylvester in the judging panel."

Oh, right – now Blaine remembered Wes telling him that this group was from Ohio as well. "Well, good luck anyway," he told them, smiling. "I'm sure you'll do great. You'll bring the house down."

When Brittany started saying something about how they wouldn't even be in a house, Santana excused the two of them quickly as she steered her friend away. Kurt smiled apologetically. "Sorry about Brittany. She can be a bit much, I imagine."

"She's something else," Blaine agreed, still baffled.

Kurt nodded, silently looking around. When he turned back to Blaine, he asked, "So your friends had to drag you here?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Blaine responded, rolling his eyes. "I'm not really a fan of cheerleading – no offence – so I would not be here if it hadn't been for them."

"That's understandable. I can see why girls like it – it's a great way of staying in shape, even if you have to make a lot of sacrifices if you want to stay on the Cheerios in particular. I suppose straight guys don't really see a problem with ogling girls in short skirts either, but there's not much to it when you're gay and you have to sit here for hours with nothing better to do than watch every stunt in the book at least thirty times." When Blaine sent him a questioning glance, Kurt sighed. "I'm not really involved in much of the choreography, as I mostly just sing, but I do have to be there for every practice. It's pretty tedious. I think I'll quit the team after this, even if coach Sylvester maintains you have to either die or be kicked off."

Even if he hadn't just seen the woman himself, Blaine would be quite scared right now, if only from what he'd heard about her.

When the break was almost over, Kurt asked, "Do you have to go back in there?"

Probably, Blaine thought. Wes and David would wonder where he was if he didn't go back, but on the other hand – he didn't really want to watch the contest.

"My friends," he replied with a shrug. "They're… afraid that I'll get lost and then they'll never find me again."

"We'll stay here anyway," Kurt said. "Coach Sylvester will kill me – literally – if I leave this place."

Blaine hesitated for a moment. "I'll text them to let them know," he said in the end, supposing that was enough of a compromise. Wes and David would be able to focus more on the performances without Blaine there, and he wouldn't have to watch. He was certain that sitting out here, chatting with Kurt (who had turned out to be a great companion so far), would be much more satisfying for all the parties involved.