"Mmm, thank you, Kurt," Blaine murmured, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up as Kurt got up off of knees, coughing and gagging and holding one hand up to his lips. Kurt wasn't sure what he had expected from his first time giving a blowjob, but he guessed maybe he had expected it to be a little more...sexy. It wasn't. It was awkward and uncomfortable. He'd had no idea what he was doing, and had been too busy concentrating on trying to breathe the whole time to even focus on giving it any technique. Blaine grabbing his hair and shoving himself as far into Kurt's mouth as possible before Kurt was ready didn't help. And the less said about the taste of...that stuff, the better. Kurt hadn't really wanted to swallow it, but Blaine had given him no warning before coming, and it was either swallow or spit it out. And spitting was far from graceful.

"That was good, baby," said Blaine appreciatively. Kurt let him kiss him on the lips, wondering briefly if Blaine could taste himself, and if so, what he thought of the taste.

"Um...do you have any mouthwash or anything?" Kurt asked, feeling slightly embarrassed for asking, but he simply had to get rid of the taste in his mouth. Blaine chuckled.

"Yeah. Bathroom cabinet."

"Thanks," said Kurt, hurriedly escaping to the bathroom and taking a long look at himself in the mirror. He and Blaine had officially been sexually active for almost a week now, and it still felt weird to Kurt. Actually, it was more than that. It just didn't feel right. Kurt wanted it to feel right. He really did. Blaine had turned into something of an insatiable sex monster, and Kurt felt like he owed it to him not to be so prudish in their relationship anymore, since he'd made him wait so long before their first time. And it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the sex, sometimes. After all, he'd always just kind of assumed that he wouldn't become sexually active until college due to lack of prospects.

But still. Every time they did it, Kurt couldn't stop Carson's face from surfacing at the front of his mind, making him wish on a thousand stars that it was Carson writhing in pleasure underneath him, and Carson's eyes he looked into afterwards, searching for unconditional love and security.

He found the mouthwash and quickly rinsed out his mouth, letting the minty liquid wash away the bitter taste of Blaine. His boyfriend was sitting cross-legged on the bed when Kurt came back into the bedroom, flashing him a wide smile.

"So," he said, holding out his hands to Kurt. "I think tomorrow night we should go to Breadstix or something. It's been awhile since we went out on, you know...a real date," he said with a mischievous wink. "One where we actually go somewhere and wear clothes, that is."

Kurt smiled, letting himself be pulled down into Blaine's lap. "That sounds nice, Blaine, but we can't."

Blaine's smile disappeared. "Why not?"

"Homecoming, silly," said Kurt, sitting beside him on the bed. "Carson's float for the Writers' Club is in the parade, and I told him I would go."

Blaine groaned. "Ugh, come on, Kurt," he said in a whiny voice. "It's just a parade. Do we really have to go?"

Kurt sighed. "Yes, Blaine, we do. At least, I do. He's...my brother." He hesitated a little, remembering Blaine's drunken words outside Scandals. "It's important to him, and I promised. Besides, you like football."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yeah, good football. Not McKinley's team. I think Carson would understand if you decided to skip it to spend time with your boyfriend. At least, he should."

Kurt felt a surge of guilt. It had been awhile since he and Blaine had been out (they hadn't gone anywhere together, other than Blaine's house, since Scandals), and it would be nice to go on a real date. But he couldn't let Carson down. That was out of the question. He'd done that more than enough already.

"Ok, how about we go somewhere together after the parade is over?" Kurt suggested. "It shouldn't be too late once all the floats have passed." Blaine pouted, but finally nodded.

"Ok, fine. We can drive over to the school together, and I'll make Breadstix reservations for afterwards. But only because the parade is so important to you."

Kurt smiled. "Thank you," he said, leaning in to kiss him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Blaine waved as Kurt walked toward the door. "Bye."

See, Kurt? He DOES care about you.

Kurt arrived home that afternoon to find Carson laying on his stomach on the living room floor, kicking his feet in the air like a little kid and painstakingly drawing lines on a large sheet of cardboard with a pen and a ruler.

"I see you're alive in in one piece," said Carson as he carefully moved the pen across the cardboard. "Boppo is still as douchetastic as ever, I trust."

Kurt smiled, ignoring the sarcasm. "Preparing for homecoming?" he asked, settling himself down on his own stomach beside Carson and draping one arm around his twin's shoulders.

Carson nodded. "Yep. This is Malerie's notebook costume," he said, indicating the cardboard in front of him. He then pointed to the couch, where a giant piece of yellow cardboard was laying. "And that's my pencil costume. We finished painting our float yesterday, and it actually looks pretty good. I mean, it has to. This is my last chance to actually recruit people for the magazine."

"You will," said Kurt reassuringly, giving Carson's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"I hope so," said Carson. "If this doesn't work, I'm pretty much fucked. And you know how people at that school are."

"Carson, it will be fine," said Kurt, moving his hand to start rubbing comforting circles into Carson's back. "I saw your float. Well, not the finished version, but what I saw was gorgeous. It's just the thing you need to convince people. Don't worry."

"And you're not just saying that because I'm your brother and you feel like you have to?" asked Carson teasingly.

Kurt laughed. "No. No, I mean every word." He leaned in and kissed Carson on the cheek, and felt butterflies in his stomach when Carson let out a happy sigh.

"Thanks, Kurtsie," said Carson, finishing the line he'd been drawing with a flourish.

"You're welcome."

Despite the fact that Blaine was slightly late the next afternoon in picking Kurt up to go to the homecoming game, they still managed to make it there early enough to get decent seats in the bleachers. Kurt wanted as good a view as possible of Carson's float. He was planning on taking a picture for a scrapbook he was making of their senior year, and he wanted that picture to be perfect. And since he hadn't seen Carson since English class that day (Carson had stayed at school all afternoon to prepare for the parade), there was one other thing he had to do.

"Hey, I'm going to go wish Carson good luck, ok?" he said to Blaine once they had found their spots. "I'll be back in just a minute." Blaine sighed, but nodded."I'll save your seat," he said.

"Thanks, baby," said Kurt, working his way through the crowd of people piling into the bleachers as quickly as possible. He spotted Carson at the outer edge of the football field, along with the rest of the clubs participating in the parade. He was dressed in his pencil costume, standing next to the float, which contained a giant composition book with "Join the Writers' Club- It's the write club for you!" written carefully on it. Malerie stood on top of the float, wearing the notebook costume Carson had been making yesterday. Kurt smiled to himself as he made his way closer. Carson was the most adorable (and hottest) pencil he'd ever seen, that was for sure. He watched as Claire Mathews walked up to Carson, who placed his hands on his hips as she started talking. Whatever she was saying, Kurt could tell that Carson didn't like it, judging by the look of fury that was crossing his twin's face.

"Go take the athlete's truck away," Carson was saying irritably as Kurt finally drew near enough to hear what was going on. "They pride themselves on running around like mules anyway!"

"I'm sorry, my decision is final," chirped Claire, turning around and giving Kurt a sneer as she walked back to the Cheerios' float. Carson was pacing and practically turning purple with rage as Kurt approached him.

"Why does every fucking thing in my life have to be a disaster?" he groaned. Kurt came up to him and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"Carsey, what's wrong?" he asked. "What was that about?"

Carson took a deep breath and turned around to face Kurt, looking like he was on the verge of a complete meltdown as his voice shook more with every word he spoke. "The fucking Cheerios are taking the truck that was supposed to pull my float, and Claire was only too happy to inform me of this piece of bullshit. God, I hate her so much. It's not even her fucking decision anyway, she probably went and gave them my truck without even consulting Santana about it, and-"

Kurt involuntarily shuddered at the mention of Santana and ran his hands gently up and down Carson's arms, since he couldn't hug him because of the pencil costume. "Shhh, Carson, calm down. You're going to give yourself a stroke."

Carson took a deep breath and looked into Kurt's eyes as he let it out slowly. "There's got to be a way," he said, looking around thoughtfully. "There's got to."

"Too bad," said Malerie sadly from her perch on top of the float. "Well, at least we had fun making it."

A look of determination flashed across Carson's face and he set his jaw. "No," he said. "They're going to see this float if it kills me."

"Carson," said Kurt, his hands still on his brother's arms. "You're not planning on, like, injuring the Cheerios or something, are you? Because you can't go to Northwestern if you're in jail."

Carson smiled distractedly. "Don't be silly, Kurtsie. The intense satisfaction would be awesome, but so not worth it."

Kurt smiled back. "Good."

Carson's smile disappeared and the determined look was back. "But they're going to see the fucking float." He kissed Kurt on the cheek, bringing up one hand to rub his thumb on the skin his lips had just touched. "Go back to the bleachers and make yourself comfortable, ok? I'll see you after the game."

Kurt nodded, his twin instinct telling him that it was probably best to just follow instructions and get out of Carson's way. He gave Malerie a wave and headed back to his seat, settling in beside Blaine just as the game started.

"I still don't see why we couldn't have just come for the parade and then left," said Blaine. "The Titans suck." Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's and rested his head on his shoulder, if for no other reason than to distract Blaine from his whining. He hoped Carson had found a way to get the float in the parade.

At long last, the band started playing, and the parade began. Kurt reached into his pocket for his phone, determined to capture a photo of Carson, but still slightly worried about what the photo would be of, exactly. The Cheerios' float was first, and Kurt could see Santana shooting dangerous, murderous looks at Claire, who was waving cheesily to the loudly applauding crowd. Then came the athlete's float, and then the entire crowd went completely, deafeningly silent.

Oh no, thought Kurt, biting his lip in worry as he saw what everyone was looking so quietly at. Oh, Carsey, honey.

There was Carson, in his pencil costume complete with eraser hat, pulling the Writers' Club float across the football field, his face red with exertion as he grasped at the rope he had attached to the end of the float. Malerie still stood on top of it, opening and closing the giant composition book and waving as though nothing was wrong. A quiet snickering started up from several rows back, which quickly spread until a chorus of quiet giggles was echoing through the air.

What the hell is wrong with all you jerks? Kurt thought angrily. Clap for him, for god's sake! He unlooped his arm from Blaine's and started clapping just as the crowd started uproariously laughing. Laughing. They were laughing. Kurt sat there helplessly, watching as everyone around him, including the parents and most of the teachers, pointed and laughed at Carson, who was still doing his best to pull the float. Kurt could see the frustration and anger on his face, and his heart broke for him.

Oh, Carsey, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that the school is full of assholes.

And the worst part...the absolute worst part...was that Blaine was laughing, too. In fact, if Kurt didn't know any better, he'd say it sounded like Blaine was laughing the loudest.

"Oh my god, what an idiot," joyfully exclaimed the guy sitting on Blaine's other side. Kurt watched in disbelief as Blaine snorted at the guy and nodded.

"I know," he said. "Seriously!"

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to calm the swell of anger that was quickly overtaking his sadness for Carson. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing right now. He hated everyone and everything at the moment.

"SCREW YOU!" yelled Carson from the football field, and he was close enough now for Kurt to see just how much of a storm cloud his face was. He watched as Carson finished pulling the float off the field and then stormed away in the direction of the student parking lot, ripping his pencil costume off in the process. Kurt immediately got up from his seat. He had to go after him. He couldn't let Carson be alone right now.

"Where are you going?" asked Blaine, grabbing at Kurt's arm. "We have plans after this!"

Kurt turned and glared at him, roughly shaking his arm away from Blaine's grip. "Why don't you go to Breadstix by yourself, Blaine, because I really don't feel like going out on a date tonight with someone who just participated in mocking and ridiculing my brother." Blaine's brow furrowed and he sighed.

"Kurt," he said, reaching again for Kurt's hand. "Come on, it was just-"

"Blaine, I don't want to be around you right now," Kurt snapped, hurrying out of the bleachers and running as fast as he could toward the parking lot. He reached it just as Carson was reaching for the handle of his car door.

"Carson!" he shouted. "Carson, stop!" Carson turned around to face Kurt, and Kurt sucked in a breath at just how awful he looked. Not just physically, with his red, sweaty face and the way he looked like he was in a lot of pain from pulling that float, but emotionally. He looked defeated and so very angry. Kurt closed the distance between them and hugged him, holding him close and rubbing his back as Carson took deep breaths, his arms still hanging by his sides.

"Carsey, I'm so sorry," said Kurt quietly. "They're all jerks."

"I don't ask for much," Carson murmured, bringing his hands up to hug Kurt back. "Why does nothing ever go my way?" He sounded like he wanted to cry, but was holding back.

"I know, baby, I know," soothed Kurt. "Come on, let me take you home." He led Carson over to the passenger side door, noting that Carson's palms were bleeding with rope burn. He'd have to make sure to tend to that for him when they got home.

"Kurt, you can't ride in this car," protested Carson. "It's a death trap."

Kurt smiled. "It'll be fine, Carson. I promise. You manage to drive it every day and you're still alive." Carson closed his eyes and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I'm too exhausted to argue with you." He let Kurt gently push him inside the car and fasten his seatbelt, and then Kurt was driving them home, marveling at the fact that Carson's car ran at all, considering how long it took to even start the engine.

He led Carson up to their bathroom immediately when they got home, sitting him gently on the closed toilet while he gathered up some antiseptic and gauze bandages.

"I'll never get any submissions for the magazine now," Carson mumbled as Kurt delicately applied antiseptic to his hands. "That was my last shot. Nobody cares. Nobody wants to write for it. I'm screwed. I won't have a prayer of early acceptance, or maybe any acceptance to Northwestern, because my school is full of fucking jackasses."

Kurt tenderly wrapped Carson's hands in the gauze and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't give up hope, honey. That's not like you."

"But Kurt, how much clearer can the universe be?" asked Carson bitterly. "Apparently it's trying to tell me that I should give up ever wanting anything, because I'll never have a prayer of getting it."

Kurt finished wrapping his hands and brushed a stray piece of hair off Carson's forehead. "You'll get those submissions," he said. "You will. You'll think of something. I have faith in you."

The beginnings of a smile played at the corners of Carson's mouth. "Really?"

"Of course!" said Kurt. He took hold of Carson's bandaged hands and kissed each of them in turn. "You never give up, and I love that about you." Carson bit his lip as their eyes locked.

"You're the one good thing in my life, Kurt," he said. "The one really good, perfect thing, and I love you. I just...I just want you to know that."

Kurt felt his stomach do a weird flip as helped Carson stand up and drew him into a hug. "I...I love you, too," he said.

He went through his moisturizing routine as quickly as possible while Carson sat back down and watched him, their eyes catching each other in the mirror every so often. Kurt could tell that the events of the evening were still weighing heavily on his twin's mind, and he wished he had magic powers or something to just make all the hurt go away for him.

"Shall we go to sleep?" he asked when he finished, holding his hand out to Carson and smiling. Carson took it and allowed Kurt to lead him into bed and tuck him in before closing the light and climbing in beside him. Kurt held his arms out to him and Carson took the hint, burrowing into them and resting his head against Kurt's chest. Kurt was going to hold Carson tonight for a change, and Carson seemed to welcome it. He sighed and kissed Kurt's collarbone through his shirt as Kurt stroked his fingers through his hair.

"I just realized how sore I am," mumbled Carson. "Fucking float was heavy."

"Poor baby," said Kurt soothingly, rubbing Carson's back. "Want a massage?"

"Would it involve leaving your arms?" asked Carson sleepily.

"Yeah," said Kurt.

"Then no thank you," said Carson, pressing himself closer to Kurt and sighing, his voice growing softer and fainter with every word he spoke. "I'm happy where I am."

Kurt smiled. "Ok," he said with a laugh. "Go to sleep, Carsey. You've had a long day."

There was no response from Carson. He had fallen asleep. Kurt smiled down at him and closed his own eyes, following Carson into slumber within minutes.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was still dark. 3:00 in the morning, according to the clock on his nightstand. He felt a strange emptiness in his arms and was momentarily confused until he realized that Carson was all the way on the other side of the bed, hunched over the glowing screen of his phone. Kurt's eyes adjusted as he watched Carson dial a number and hold the phone up to his ear.

"Malerie?" he said into the phone. "It's Carson...Carson Hummel...Operation Limagate is in effect."

Kurt had no idea what he was talking about, but he had a feeling it involved a new way to get those literary submissions. I knew he'd think of something, he thought proudly as he reached for his own phone on his nightstand. There were fifteen texts from Blaine on his screen, most of them asking in various ways if Kurt was still mad at him. Kurt scrolled through the messages, growing ever more frustrated with each one he passed until he got to the last two.

Don't be so sensitive. I was just kidding! -B

Come on, you forgive me, right? -B

Kurt sighed and placed his phone back on the charger. He was in no mood to answer Blaine right now. He was still upset that Blaine had laughed at Carson, and he needed his boyfriend to understand that an attack on Carson felt just like an attack on Kurt.

If he really loves me, he'll have to learn to recognize that, he thought sleepily. It was his last coherent thought before he felt Carson pull him into his arms in his usual way and he drifted off to sleep with a contented sigh.

To say that Carson was on a mission would be putting it mildly. He wasn't just on a mission, he was ready to fucking do battle. The homecoming fiasco had absolutely been the last straw, and he was done playing nice. He was going to get those literary submissions if it fucking killed him.

He had woken up in Kurt's arms that night and was just laying there basking in how good it felt to be held by those strong arms, when his thoughts had started to drift to how screwed he was if he didn't get those submissions extremely soon. And how Kurt had reassured him that he would get them, because he had faith in Carson. And well...who was Carson to prove Kurt wrong? There had to be a way he hadn't tried yet.

And then he remembered his conversation with Malerie the day they had discovered the submissions box full of trash (including Blaine's, which he still hadn't shown to Kurt because a tiny part of him worried that maybe Kurt wouldn't believe it). He remembered Malerie strongly suggesting that blackmail was a good idea. He remembered deciding to do it to Blaine just for kicks.

And now it had officially come to this. The only way he was going to get those submissions was to blackmail as many people as possible in as short an amount of time as possible.

So he wasted no time. While Kurt spent most of the weekend hanging out at Blaine's house (and Carson really didn't want to think about that), he spent his time planning his strategy on the phone with Malerie and making neat flyers on yellow paper using Kurt's printer. "You are cordially invited to attend a mandatory meeting in the journalism classroom Friday after school," they said. He didn't know how many he would need, so he made a whole stack. He figured the more people he could snag, the better. He couldn't wait for Monday.

He and Malerie made a large bulletin board on Monday during a free period and neatly labeled it "LIMAGATE" at the top, sticking school photos of the victims Carson planned to start with underneath the label. So far he only had pictures of people he knew for sure he could blackmail (his journalism team, several people from the student council, including Nicholas and Scott since he already had material on them anyway, and Coach Beiste's assistant, Coach Walker). He also had Blaine's picture up there, even though he still had yet to dig up a damn thing on him. Carson was determined, though.

I will find something, he thought, staring disgustedly at the photo, from which Blaine was showing off his teeth and looking like he was planning on how to be an even bigger douchebag. I fucking will.

He also was still trying to find a way to get the whole glee club to contribute, since he figured they owed him for all the hours of pain he had experienced watching them sing, but he had nothing on any of them as of yet. So, first things first.

He handed out flyers to Nicholas and Scott (easy enough to do, since he happened to catch them coming out of the bathroom at the same time) and to Remy Baker, the bitchy yearbook editor and vice president on the student council (he had anonymously trapped her into sending him half naked photos of herself, which he was fully planning on burning in the nearest fireplace once he had her submission in hand, in order to restore the little piece of his soul that had died when he set eyes on them). So far, so good. That was three guaranteed submissions right there, provided that they obeyed their flyers. He wondered why he hadn't just done this blackmail thing sooner. It would have saved him a lot of stressing out.

He was sitting at his desk in the journalism classroom that afternoon after school had ended, trying to continue his research on Blaine, when Kurt came strolling in, perching himself adorably on the edge of the desk. Carson closed his laptop and looked up at him.

"Hey Kurtsie," he said with a smile. "What's up?"

"We've been summoned, Kurt replied, hopping down from the desk and gesturing for Carson to follow him. "Finn wants us in the gym as soon as possible."

"Why?" asked Carson, sliding his laptop into his bag and taking the hand Kurt had reached out to him.

"Dodgeball competition. Troubletones versus New Directions," said Kurt, leading him out of the classroom.

"…..what?" asked Carson, confused. Kurt sighed.

"You really should stop skipping glee meetings so much," he said. "Finn and Santana are kind of at each others' throats, and our respective teams have been drawn into it. Hence the dodgeball competition."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Carson as they walked down the hall toward the gym. "And I hate dodgeball."

"Well, you don't have to come," said Kurt, stopping in his tracks and looking at him. "But I would really like it if you did." He pouted and fluttered his eyelashes at Carson in an exaggerated way, and Carson snorted.

"Fine. I'll go, but I'm not going to actually play."

Kurt smiled. "Ok!"

They made a stop in the locker room to change into their gym uniforms, which apparently was a rule for this game or whatever. Carson didn't really mind, since it meant he got to see Kurt shirtless, and any time he got to see Kurt shirtless was a good time. Staring at Kurt made him the last one to finish changing, though, so by the time he entered the gym the game was just about to begin.

"This could be deadly," Rachel was saying to Kurt as Carson walked up to them. "I mean, facing our foes head-on without any adult supervision?" Kurt sat down on an exercise ball and ignored her, focusing all his attention on his shoes. Carson knew he was still pissed at her for running against him for student body president, and he couldn't blame him one bit. If only Carson had blackmail material on her. He decided to stand back and watch for a minute to see just how long she would try to talk to Kurt before she got the hint to piss off.

"So, uh, you know that our NYADA applications are due next week," Rachel tried again. "I only need one more letter of recommendation. I wrote to Patti LuPone on her website, but I haven't heard from her yet, so..." Kurt continued ignoring her. Carson was about to tell her to go fuck herself because she was essentially doing everything in her power to sabotage Kurt's chances at NYADA, but he was distracted by the sight of Blaine prancing around across the gym wearing the short-shorts version of the McKinley gym uniform. He very nearly threw up his lunch right there on the gym floor.

"I...I really...I really miss you, Kurt," Rachel said as Carson turned his attention back to them. "And I just...I really want to be your friend again."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you walked all over me in your borderline sociopathic climb to the top," replied Kurt, noticing Carson and waving. He got up from his ball and left Rachel looking dejected. Carson smirked at her. Fuck off, Trollberry.

The game began, and Carson was reminded why he hated dodgeball above all other sports when he spent a majority of the time trying to shield Kurt from getting hit in the face (or anywhere else) by the barrage of balls that were flying all over the place. He took quite a number of hits by throwing himself in front of balls that were aimed at Kurt.

Kurt, for his part, seemed to be having fun. He was throwing just as many balls as were being thrown at him, so Carson decided he would be fine and he turned his attention to throwing as many as he could at Blaine.

"Carson, you're supposed to be throwing balls at the other team!" shouted Rachel.

"Fuck off!" Carson said gleefully, aiming a ball at Blaine's back and throwing with all his strength. Blaine chose an unfortunate moment to turn around and the ball ended up hitting him right in the face. He glared at Carson and picked the ball up, throwing it right back at him. Carson ducked and the ball hit Rachel in the stomach, which Carson counted as a victory.

The game eventually ended, but Carson kept up throwing stray balls in Blaine's direction whenever Kurt wasn't looking. He was having so much fun he didn't even notice that the Troubletones had started tossing all their balls at Rory, the new kid, until he heard Kurt screaming "Stop it! Stop it!" Carson threw one last ball at Blaine and turned around.

Everyone went silent. A loud thwonk echoed throughout the gym as the ball Carson had thrown hit Blaine in the arm and then bounced onto the floor.

"For god's sake, he's bleeding!" said Kurt, kneeling down beside Rory and placing his hand on his shoulder. "Maybe that's how the others treat us around here, but we don't do this to each other. We're better than this!"

"Calm down, Grandma," scoffed Santana, her hands on her hips. Carson glared at her.

"Shut up, Santana. Kurt's right," he said. Santana rolled her eyes.

"This game's over," said Kurt, helping Rory up and into the locker room to clean up his bloody face. Carson started to follow them when he felt a ball hit him hard on the back of his neck.

"Ow, what the fuck!" he exclaimed, turning around to find Blaine smirking at him with crossed arms.

Oh, FUCK YOU, hobbit breath.

Carson had to get creative the next day, but still managed to at least make Vicki and Dwayne his latest victims. Sure, he now knew more about the annual Western Ohio Satanfest than he ever knew or wished to know thanks to his research on Vicki, but at least she had taken the flyer (and promised to vote for Kurt for student body president) when he had gleefully shown her the photos he'd printed out. Dwayne had been easy. All Carson and Malerie had had to do was wave a bag of fake marijuana in his face and threaten to go to Figgins and he'd instantly caved.

Carson was so happy that his plan was going so well that he didn't even go to any of his classes. He stayed in the journalism classroom all day, furiously searching for something, anything, on Blaine that he could use. He was running out of time, and he desperately wanted to get that jackass under his thumb. Unfortunately, for someone who was such a jerk when he thought no one was looking, Blaine seemed to have a pretty squeaky clean online image. Carson couldn't even manage to find so much as one swear word on his Facebook page. It was disconcerting.

There has to be something, he thought, gathering up his stuff to leave that afternoon. There's got to be. He stepped out into the hallway and headed in the direction of Kurt's locker just as the bell rang and the beady eyed masses otherwise known as students started filling the trenches.

"Cattle!" he yelled at them as he pushed his way past them. He passed by Finn and Santana, who seemed to be having another one of the arguments they apparently had been having a lot of lately, and was just about to turn the corner when he heard Finn's voice ringing out into the hallway.

"Hey, Santana," Finn said loudly, "Why don't you just come out of the closet?"

Carson froze and turned around, noticing that Santana had also froze and was standing stock still in the middle of the hallway with her back to Finn, who was slowly walking nearer to her.

"You know," he continued, "I think I know why you're so good at tearing everybody else down. It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit to everybody that you're in love with Brittany and she might not love you back. That must hurt, to not be able to admit to everyone how you really feel. You know what I think you are? A coward." Finn walked off then, and Carson watched as Santana continued to stand there in the hall, with other students passing her by. He hated to admit it, but he felt awful for her. It was weird, feeling sympathy for someone who wasn't Kurt, but there it was.

Maybe it was because he thought Finn was being an asshole, announcing right there in the middle of the hallway what everyone in the glee club pretty much knew already, but which Carson sincerely doubted that anyone else knew. Or maybe it was because it had been Santana who had, seemingly on purpose, provided Carson with many a free opportunity to kiss Kurt, and he felt just a smidge of gratitude toward her despite her bitchiness. Not that he would admit this to anyone.

But mostly it was because Finn could just as easily have been talking about him and his feelings for Kurt. Carson couldn't see Santana's face, but he could see her shoulders seizing up as though she were trying not to cry. He knew that stance all too well. He did it all the time.

So he supposed that was what made him carefully approach Santana and awkwardly place his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. She looked over at him and Carson could see that she really had started crying. Just a little bit, but it was obvious.

"Finn's an asshole," Carson said in order to break the uncomfortable silence. Santana gave him a small smile of understanding and nodded.

"Carson!" came Kurt's voice from behind them. Carson let go of Santana's shoulder turned around. He smiled and shivered slightly as Kurt wrapped one arm possessively around his waist and fixed Santana with a tight smile that more closely resembled a grimace. "Satan," said Kurt.

Santana gave him a wide, obviously fake smile, all evidence of tears gone from her face. "Lady Hummel," she said in a voice laced with sarcasm. "How lovely to see you. Come to pick up your man, have you?"

Kurt cocked his head to the side, his smile never wavering, although his cheeks turned slightly pink. "I'm sorry, shouldn't you be off bullying those weaker than you?"

"You know what? You're absolutely right" answered Santana. "I'll leave you to shove Carson into a closet somewhere so you can make sweet love. Peace."

Kurt's grip on Carson's waist tightened as Santana turned and disappeared around the corner. "I haven't seen you all day," he said, looking at Carson. "Not even at lunch or in English. I was worried."

"Oh, I was...um...doing journalism...stuff," said Carson by way of a really lame explanation. "Are you nervous for the debate tomorrow?"

"Terrified," answered Kurt. "I need to win, Carson. You have no idea."

"You will," said Carson, pulling him into a hug. "You're the best candidate."

"It's the only way NYADA will take me," murmured Kurt. "If I lose, I'm screwed."

"You won't lose," assured Carson. "You just make the best speech you can, and the rest will take care of itself."

He felt Kurt relax in his arms. "You're right," he said.

"Of course I am."

Carson came into school early the next morning and headed straight to the journalism classroom to wait for Malerie. They had planned to go over what they had accomplished so far for "Limagate" and plan their strategies for what to do next. Carson still wanted to somehow get the glee club under his thumb, although he had no idea how he could gather enough dirt on all of them in time to make the magazine.

He entered the journalism classroom and switched on the light, preparing to go sit at his desk and set up his laptop when he noticed that he couldn't. Because there was already someone sitting there.

"Santana, what the fuck?" he exclaimed after he had let out an undignified, extremely loud shriek. She smirked at him and crossed her arms.

"That's quite a set of lungs, Hummel Two. I'm impressed."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here anyway? Trying to give me a heart attack?"

Her smirk disappeared. "Tempting, but no. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

She sighed and gave him a serious look. "Ok, this isn't something I normally do, but...I mean, you and I kind of had a moment yesterday, and I feel like I need to say this, so listen up."

"Say what?" asked Carson, still trying to figure out her motives. He knew trying to comfort her in her hour of need would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I want to apologize," she said. "God, that sounds so wrong." He blinked at her, confused.

"For what?"

She sighed. "For making so many jokes about you and Kurt being secret lovers. It was mean, and I'm sorry now that I've had a taste of someone running their mouth about my personal secrets in public."

Carson felt his face heating up and tried desperately to play it cool. "Oh, that?" he said, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at her. "Those were just...just jokes. Don't even worry about it. Nobody paid any attention to you." He hoped his dismissive attitude would make her drop it and never speak of it again.

No such luck. "Yeah, they were jokes, but they were true, weren't they?" she asked quietly. Carson felt all the blood rushing to his head as he desperately tried to think of a way, any way, to get her to shut up and stop talking. He so did not want to be having this conversation right now, least of all with Santana, whom he didn't entirely trust not to be recording the whole thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped. "Now, if you don't mind, I have shit to do, so can you just-"

"Look, Carson, I know for a fact that you have nobody to talk to about this and that's got to suck ass, so I'm trying to not be a bitch," she said, leaning back in her chair and looking at him with a significantly softer expression on her face than he was used to seeing on her. "I've seen the way you look at him."

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Carson asked, looking down at his shoes. He'd have to wash them later. Maybe today. They were getting really filthy.

"I know that look, Hummel. I give it to Brittany all the time," answered Santana. "You look at him like he's the most precious thing in the world to you, and you would do anything just to see him smile."

Carson wished for the floor to open up and swallow him right then and there, because the very last thing he wanted to do was finish this conversation to its inevitable end. Of course Santana knew. Of course she did. It all made sense now. All those times she had dared him and Kurt to make out...maybe it was possible that she hadn't been doing it just to be a bitch. Maybe she had also, in her own weird, Santana way, been trying to help him.

"I've also seen the way you look when he's with Preppy," Santana continued when Carson didn't say anything. "You look like you've been stabbed in the gut with a rusty pair of scissors. It would be totally heartbreaking, if I had a heart. And do not bother denying it," she added when Carson opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong. "Aunty Tana is never wrong about these things."

Carson gave up. He crossed over to the classroom door and closed it before walking back and sinking into the chair nearest to Santana. In a way, it felt kind of good to be in the company of someone who knew his deepest, darkest secret. Not only knew it, but didn't ultimately seem to be judging him for it. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to actually talk about it. He had to be careful. He had a guard up that needed to stay up, or else his feelings were going to kill him.

"You know what?" he said after another minute of silence. "You're right. I...I have feelings for Kurt, and they're not exactly brotherly. But you know, it doesn't really fucking matter, does it? Because he's never going to feel the same way. So can you just drop it? Please?"

Santana frowned. "Are you sure? Because-"

"Santana." Carson gave her a pleading look. "Please. Please drop it."

Santana closed her mouth and nodded. "Ok, ok, geez. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to, if you ever want to. Or, you know...if you ever need a favor," she added with a wink. "Really, if you ever need someone to push that showboating, bowtie humping muppet off a cliff, I'm totally your girl."

Carson smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks, Satan."

"Any time." She got up from the desk and patted him on the shoulder before heading in the direction of the door. And then Carson was hit with an idea.

"Hey, Santana, wait," he said. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. "Maybe there is something you can do for me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh god, you're not going to ask me to blow you or something, are you? Fuck that, that's not part of the deal."

Carson made a disgusted face. "Ugh, please. I'm so not into you like that, trust me. I'd rather jack off with Freddy Krueger's glove. No, I was going to say...you're the head Cheerio and have influence over all the other Cheerios, correct?"

She crossed her arms and stared at him. "Yeah, why?"

Carson smiled. "Not sure why I'm trusting you with this information, but I've had to resort to...shall we say...drastic means to get my literary submissions. If you could help me out a little by getting the Cheerios to write, that would be a big favor."

She considered him for a second and then nodded. "Fine. I owe you one, so I'll do it. But I'm gonna need you to go back to "drastic," because my alter ego Snixx is now thoroughly intrigued. What, have you been blackmailing people into writing for you or something?"

The shocked look Carson wasn't fast enough to mask told her everything she needed to know. "Santana, I swear to god, if you tell anyone, I will-"

"Oh my God, Hummel, calm the fuck down. I already know that you want to fuck your brother, I'm not going to tell. Truth be told, I love it! You and I are more alike than I thought," answered Santana, a gleam in her eye.

He ignored the reference to Kurt and gave her a tentative smile. "Yeah, I guess maybe we are...hey," he said, hitting upon another idea. "You can do me another favor to make up for the pain and suffering you've caused with your very insensitive jokes."

"Do you need my help blackmailing anyone? Because I am so in," she answered. "Seriously, this is, like, what I was born for. Please tell me Finn is on your list, because nothing would delight me more than getting that fuckwaffle under my control."

Carson shook his head. "No, not right now. But the hobbit is. And I can't find anything on him. I've been searching the internet for days."

Santana held out a hand to silence him. "Say no more, Hummel, I'm on it." She left the classroom then, leaving Carson sitting there trying to absorb what the hell had just happened. Had he just made friends and formed an alliance with Santana Lopez, of all people?

Yep. He had. And it felt really weird.

It still felt weird when he saw her in English class later that day, where she gave him a wink that caused Kurt to glare at her and practically climb into Carson's lap (not that he was complaining about that, because hello), and again when he walked past her in the gym that afternoon on his way to sit next to his dad for the student body president debate. He had given Kurt a quick hug for luck before Kurt went to sit with the other candidates, and the raised eyebrow and smirk Santana had given him from her seat in the bleachers had not escaped his attention.

"Hey, kiddo," said Burt as Carson sat beside him. "Excited for your brother?"

Carson nodded, fiddling with his Vote For Kurt button on his hoodie. "Uh-huh. And nervous. I really want him to win this election. It's so important to him, and he needs it."

Burt patted him on the shoulder. "He'll do fine, kid."

The first candidate up was some guy on the hockey team who apparently had replaced Karofsky as the resident Neanderthal of McKinley. Carson wasn't even sure when the hell he had started running for president, but he was quite sure that nobody would vote for him. Then came Brittany with her lofty campaign promise to ban tornadoes at McKinley (what the fuck?), and then it was Kurt's turn. Besides Carson, Burt, Finn, and Blaine, only a handful of other people applauded for him when he stood up.

Assholes, thought Carson.

Kurt made an impassioned speech about banning dodgeball because it encouraged violence and bullying. Carson had heard the speech before, since Kurt had practiced it on him the night before, but seeing him deliver it so earnestly with a microphone in his hand made Carson feel so proud of him.

You can do it, baby, he thought adoringly. He could feel the smile spreading on his face and knew he must look like such a lovesick fool right now, but whatever. Nobody was looking at him. Well, almost nobody. He did catch his dad looking at him oddly out of the corner of his eye and quickly threw his gaze to his shoes, but was the first one on his feet to applaud when Kurt finished.

"Go Kurt!" he shouted. He caught Blaine turning around to give him the side-eye from his seat, and Carson gave him a wide, cheesy grin. He wasn't going to let the hobbit spoil his good mood. Which only turned into a better mood when Rachel got up to make her speech and Carson heard the very last words he ever expected to come out of her mouth.

"I hereby withdraw my candidacy and urge you all to vote for Kurt Hummel," she said. "He's the only candidate here today who never went negative. He's the one who deserves to be president. That's why I'm casting my vote for Kurt Hummel. Vote Hummel, McKinley. Vote for Kurt."

This feels really weird, thought Carson as everyone around him started clapping. I've never felt like NOT killing Trollberry before. Oh god, it kind of burns.

He raced over to Kurt as soon as the debate was over, throwing his arms around him and hugging him tight. "Kurtsie! You're practically guaranteed to win now!" he exclaimed.

"I can't win anything if you crush my windpipe," squeaked Kurt with a laugh. Carson loosened his grip and grinned at him.

"Sorry. I'm just so proud!" he said, patting Kurt gently on the cheek. "You're gonna win, and we're going to celebrate so hard."

Blaine strode up to them then, practically wedging himself between Carson and Kurt and giving Kurt a hug of his own. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart," he said in the deceiving "bashful schoolboy" voice he always used around Kurt, but which didn't fool Carson a bit. "Early celebratory coffee at the Lima Bean? Just the two of us?" he asked, obviously intending that last part to be directed at Carson. Kurt looked between them uncomfortably.

"Oh, um..I..." he stammered. Carson decided to make it easy on him and shrugged, patting Kurt on the shoulder.

"Go ahead," he said. "I have stuff to do for the paper, anyway." He gave Blaine a hard stare before turning around and heading out of the gym before he could strangle him. He caught Santana's eye on his way out. She looked at him with sympathy and made a slicing motion across her throat with her finger, nodding her head in Blaine's direction. Carson smiled. Maybe it was going to be good to have a friend in Santana.

He quickly cornered Claire Mathews and Coach Walker on his way out of school to hand them flyers, since he already happened to have dirt on them and didn't want it to go to waste. He didn't really need to blackmail Claire since Santana was going to take care of the Cheerios, but he figured he may as well. Coach Walker was going to be in charge of getting the football team to write for the magazine. At least things were beginning to shape up, even if he did have to put up with Blaine.

Carson practically skipped down the hallway toward the choir room the next day at lunch, a feeling of accomplishment filling him with every step. It was turning out to be quite a good day indeed. To start with, while making copies of a poster he had designed to advertise the publication of the literary magazine, he had accidentally obtained a new blackmail victim that morning in the form of Emilio, the foreign exchange student in his journalism class who, as it turned out, wasn't quite so foreign. He'd been happily handed a yellow flyer in exchange for Carson's silence over the fact that he was from San Diego and not El Salvador and spoke perfect English.

Now, Carson was on his way to have some words with Mr. Schuester thanks to a little something he had overheard the night before while he was waiting at the kitchen table with his laptop for Kurt to get home from the hobbit's house. He wasn't waiting in the living room like he normally would because Finn and Rachel were in there being obnoxious and disgusting, and Rachel was whining about how much she was going to miss the glee club once she graduated.

"It's been my home for three years," she was saying. "It'll be like leaving my family."

"I know," said Finn. "And it's so weird to think that I would never even have joined at all if Mr. Schue hadn't found that pot in my locker. I mean, I still have no idea how that got in there, but hey, it got me into glee club. I would have missed out on all of it."

Carson's ears had perked up immediately. What was this fuckery? He was completely inclined to believe Finn when he said he had no idea how pot had gotten into his locker. After all, he wasn't Dwayne. And he was also completely stupid and very, very trusting. And glee had been extremely hard up for members at that time. Was it possible that Mr. Schue had blackmailed Finn into glee and that Finn still had no idea?

Well, well, well, thought Carson, smiling at his laptop. Guess I'll be blackmailing a blackmailer AND getting submissions from the entire glee club.

He reached the choir room and strolled right on in, making his way into Mr. Schue's office and settling himself in a chair across from his desk. He smiled wide and waited for Mr. Schue to look up and notice him.

"Can I help you, Carson?" asked Mr. Schue.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you can," said Carson sweetly. He settled back in his chair and folded his arms across his stomach. "You can help me get submissions for my literary magazine from the entire glee club, and you can do it as soon as possible."

Mr. Schue frowned. "I'd like to help you, Carson, but I don't know if I can."

Carson smiled wider. "Oh, I think you can. In fact, I believe you have no choice, unless you want me going to Figgins. I'm sure he would be very interested in learning that a teacher...that would be you, by the way...essentially framed and blackmailed a student into joining glee club several years ago by planting marijuana on him. Wow, I wonder what would happen to that teacher if someone were to tell."

He knew he was taking a gamble, because he didn't actually have any proof that this was true other than Finn's word, but the way Mr. Schue's face immediately turned about fifteen shades of pale spoke volumes. Aha. I was totally right.

"What was that about literary submissions?" asked Mr. Schue. Carson smiled and gave him his instructions before getting up and exiting the office, unable to contain the bubbling excitement in his stomach. I'm unstoppable. I'm going to Northwestern, and fucking nobody is stopping me.

He entered the journalism classroom and retrieved his and Malerie's "Limagate" board from its hiding place behind his desk. He was proud of himself. The only picture not blacked out with a Sharpied X was Blaine's. In other words, just like in real life, he was the one dark spot on Carson's good mood.

He heard footsteps approaching the classroom and quickly hid the board back behind the desk. He looked up just in time to see Santana storming excitedly into the room, her ponytail swinging behind her as she closed the door and brandished a piece of paper in the air.

"I can't stay long," she said, striding up to his desk. "I've been called into Coach Sylvester's office for some mysterious reason, but I have a present for you." She slapped the paper she was holding down onto Carson's desk, and Carson peered at it carefully. The paper turned out to be a photograph of a guy with an unruly mane of dark, curly hair, taken at some sort of party, judging by all the people in the background holding red party cups. He was wearing nothing but a pair of extremely tight underwear and a pair of boots, and he was rubbing his nipple with one hand while giving the camera the middle finger with the other. Carson stared at it and then back at Santana.

"What the hell is that?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and jabbed one manicured finger into the picture.

"Look closer," she said. "Does he look familiar to you?"

Carson did as she said and gasped when he realized what she was getting at. He hadn't paid much attention to the guy's face before, but now that he was, there was no denying who was in the photo. He'd recognize those eyebrows anywhere.

"Is that...oh my fuck!" he exclaimed. "Oh my god, eew, I'm traumatized! Where the hell did you find this?"

Santana smiled. "You'd be surprised how handy I am at hacking," she said nonchalantly. "Hobbit left his laptop unattended in the library yesterday, and it literally only took me, like, two minutes to uncover all his secret files. And that's not the only picture, either," she added, handing him a flash drive. "I recommend you take a sedative before you look through these. Some of them involve that underwear almost coming off." Carson almost dry-heaved as he took the flash drive from her. "Anyway," she continued, "I thought you might want to use them for, you know...literary submission obtaining purposes."

Carson tore his eyes away from the horrible photo on his desk and looked at her. "Wow, Santana, um...I...thanks," he said awkwardly. He never had been good at thanking people for things.

"Any time," she said, giving him a small smile, which he returned.

"Hey, Carsey, I've come to escort you to English class...oh...Santana...you're here," said Kurt, who had just walked into the classroom in time to see Carson and Santana smiling at each other. Carson quickly shoved the photo of Blaine and the flash drive into his bag and threw the bag over his shoulder, crossing over to Kurt and slinging one arm around him.

"Yeah, she was just helping me with...with something for the magazine," Carson said carefully. He felt Kurt stiffen and his hand wrap around Carson's waist tightly.

"Oh," said Kurt, his mouth set in a line. "That's nice. Come on, Carson, we're going to be late for class." He threw a bitch face in Santana's direction before practically marching Carson out of the classroom. Carson's mood was sky high. Not only was Kurt being clingy, which he loved, but now he had something with which to blackmail the hobbit. He couldn't wait to get him alone later.

He ended up having to wait until much later that afternoon, and very nearly forgot altogether after the Troubletones had performed a mashup for the New Directions in the auditorium, which had ended in Santana jumping angrily off the stage and slapping the shit out of Finn for reasons that Carson wasn't entirely clear on, but it had been a very loud, epic slap nonetheless. Carson had started clapping when she did it, until Kurt grabbed his hands and gently forced them back down.

"What was that about?" he whispered to Kurt.

"I don't know," answered Kurt with a shrug as Santana stormed out of the auditorium. "Shouldn't you know? Isn't she, like, your new best friend or something?"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Are you jealous, Kurtsie?" he asked teasingly.

"No," said Kurt quickly. "I'm just...protective." Carson grinned.

The club began to file out of the auditorium before Carson remembered the photo in his bag and his stomach did a flip of excitement. He took a deep breath and tapped Blaine on the shoulder while Kurt was distracted talking to Mercedes.

"Hey, Blair, can we talk?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice as nice as possible. "Alone?" Blaine looked at him suspiciously, his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed together.

"What for?" he asked.

"Reasons," answered Carson, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to a quiet corner near the exit doors. He rooted around in his bag until he found the photo, pulling it out and smoothing it before showing it to Blaine. Blaine's face grew pale and his eyes widened. He tried to grab it out of Carson's hand, but Carson snatched it away.

"I almost didn't recognize you at first," said Carson, glancing disgustedly at the photo and then back to Blaine. "You know, what with the lack of hair gel and bowties. I don't even want to know what kind of depraved, drunken orgy you were attending when this picture was taken. I just want you to know that I have it."

"Where the hell did you find that?" Blaine asked in a panicked whisper, looking around nervously.

"I don't reveal my sources," Carson replied sweetly, "But suffice it to say that I have a whole flash drive full of these at my disposal and will not hesitate to post them all over the internet unless you do what I say."

Blaine glared at him. "If you're going to tell me to stay away from Kurt, you can fucking forget it, Carsey," he said mockingly. "There's no way in hell I'm going to do that."

Carson smiled. "No, Billy, don't be stupid. You dumping Kurt would break his heart. I'm not going to ask you to do that because I'm waiting patiently for the day that Kurt realizes you're an asshole and leaves you himself. What I actually want from you is your words."

"My words?" asked Blaine, confused.

Carson nodded. "For the literary magazine. I don't give a shit what you write. Write about the history of bowties for all I give a fuck, but you need to write something, and it needs to be in my hands as soon as possible. Or," he said, brandishing the photo, "This and all the rest of the pictures go viral."

Blaine cast his eyes on the ceiling and heaved a huge sigh. "I hate you," he said.

"Likewise, hobbit breath," answered Carson. "Get writing this weekend, or else." He stuffed the picture back into his bag and hurried over to Kurt, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before heading off to visit Grandma. Life was going so well for once, other than the fact that Kurt was still dating Santa's favorite elf.

"Blaine...mmm...Blaine, we're supposed to be doing homework," protested Kurt, only halfheartedly pushing Blaine away from him as he tried to concentrate on his Algebra book. They were at Kurt's house, in Kurt and Carson's room, which Kurt hadn't been sure about since either Carson or his dad could come home at any time, but he had figured Blaine could surely keep his hands and his lips to himself for an hour or two. Apparently, he had been wrong. Blaine grinned and leaned back in, pressing his lips to Kurt's neck and sucking hard. Kurt gasped.

"Blaine," he giggled. "Blaine, come on. No."

"Kuuuurt," Blaine whined, continuing to assault his neck. "Come on, I want you." He tossed Kurt's book down onto the floor and leaned his body over Kurt's until he had Kurt laying beneath him, his lips all over Kurt's neck and his hands roaming everywhere they could reach.

"Blaine...B-blaine...Blaine, we can't," Kurt gasped as he felt Blaine's hands starting to lift his shirt up. "We really can't. Carson could come home soon, and-" His words were cut off by Blaine's lips as they sucked his into a rough, bruising kiss.

"He won't be home for hours," Blaine protested when he finally pulled his lips off Kurt's. "He's probably working on the paper or that magazine. We could be done before he even knows." He slipped his hand under Kurt's shirt and danced his fingers along the flesh of Kurt's stomach before teasing them at the top of his pants. Kurt bit his lip. He could feel himself hardening as Blaine pressed one thigh between his legs.

"Blaine, no," he said, trying unsuccessfully to push Blaine off. Blaine refused to budge.

"Please?" Blaine begged. Kurt sighed and gave up.

"Ok," he said reluctantly, praying that Carson would be busy all afternoon. "Fine, ok. But we have to be quick. If my dad comes home before Carson, you will be killed."

Blaine grinned wolfishly and leaned down for one more kiss.

Carson trudged up the driveway and rolled his eyes at the sight of Blaine's car parked there. Great. That was all he fucking needed right now.

His perfect day he had been having from all his blackmail success had turned sour as soon as he'd entered Grandma's room that afternoon. He'd been able to tell from the look on her face that it wasn't going to be one of her better days, but he'd hoped she would share in his excitement anyway. No such luck. Barely two sentences had left his mouth before she was yelling at him to get out.

He'd considered going back to the school to work on the paper, but a sudden sick feeling in his stomach had made him decide against that. He hoped he wasn't coming down with a stomach flu or something. He had to be in top shape tomorrow when he had his little meeting with all his victims.

He let himself into the house, his key unnecessary since Kurt and Blaine had left the door unlocked, and entered the living room, expecting to find them on the couch watching TV or something. They weren't there. Carson glanced into the kitchen and frowned. They weren't there, either.

"Kurt?" he called. He wandered through the entire first floor, finding nothing but empty rooms. "Kurt?"

A loud noise and what sounded like moaning coming from upstairs startled him, and he immediately started up the stairs, wondering what the hell his brother and the hobbit were up to and hoping he wasn't about to walk in on them making out or something.

No, as it turned out, that wasn't it. It was worse. It was much, much worse.

He stood stock still in his and Kurt's bedroom doorway, wanting desperately to not be seeing what he was seeing, which was Kurt on the bed, on his back, facing away from him and Blaine on top of him, both of them completely naked as Blaine bounced energetically up and down on Kurt's dick.

Carson couldn't move. He wanted to...he desperately wanted to...but he just couldn't make his legs move. He was rooted to the spot for several long seconds, feeling like he had just swallowed a thousand knives as he watched his brother, whom he loved, in all ways, more than life itself, fucking Blaine, the person he despised more than anyone else. And enjoying it very much, judging by the moans and quiet cursing coming from Kurt's mouth. Carson just wanted to cry.

And the worst part was that Blaine chose that moment to look over at him and catch his eye. He didn't seem all that startled to see him. In fact, he didn't slow down his movements or vocally acknowledge Carson at all, and as far as Kurt knew, Carson wasn't even there. But Blaine looked him right in the eye and he smirked. He fucking smirked. And then he let out a very loud moan and leaned down to kiss Kurt's mouth as he continued riding him. That was when Carson finally found the will to turn around and leave. His nausea from earlier returned with a vengeance and the last thing he heard before he raced downstairs to the bathroom was Blaine gasping and moaning Kurt's name.

He shut himself into the bathroom and fell to his knees, grasping at the toilet just in time to vomit violently into it. He threw up for what felt like hours, and when he was done he collapsed onto the bathroom floor, curling up into a ball and covering his ears with his hands to block out the sound of the moaning and the shaking bed from upstairs. And he let go, crying harder than he had ever cried in his life and seriously wondering if he was having a heart attack, because his chest really hurt right now. He cried until he didn't have any tears left, and then he got up slowly from the floor, peering carefully at his face in the mirror. He looked like absolute shit. He ran the water and splashed some on his face before rinsing out his mouth and examining his eyes closely. They were so bloodshot he thought maybe they would stay that way. Not that he really gave a shit right now.

He realized that he hadn't heard any moaning for several minutes, so he exited the bathroom and used all the strength he had left in him to shuffle into the kitchen, where he sat in a chair and stared blankly at the bowl of fruit in the center. He felt empty and alone. Broken. He wondered if he would ever feel right again. He might never get over what he had just seen.

He heard muffled voices from upstairs, and then footsteps bounding down the stairs as Blaine emerged, looking quite pleased with himself as he adjusted his bowtie.

"See you, Carson!" he called cheerfully, flashing Carson an evil smile before letting himself out the front door. Carson clenched his fists, but otherwise didn't move or react at all. He sat there for several more minutes, staring at that fruit bowl and thinking dark, murderous thoughts about Blaine until he heard a second set of footsteps coming down the stairs and felt, rather than saw, Kurt enter the kitchen.

"Carson!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You...you're home early." He sounded nervous. He clearly hadn't expected Carson to be there. Carson hoped not, anyway. "Are you ok?" he asked. Carson couldn't bring himself to answer him. He was afraid if he opened his mouth to speak, he would throw up again. Or worse, start crying.

"Carson?" asked Kurt. He drew closer, and Carson tensed up as he felt his hands on his shoulders. "Carsey?"

Carson's volcano of hurt, pain, and anger exploded in him then and he let out a huge breath. "Maybe you should start washing the sheets from our bed," he snapped. "I don't particularly feel like sleeping tonight in a bed where you and your hobbit boyfriend have just fucked like horny rabbits, so please. Change the damn sheets, that's all I ask."

He heard Kurt suck in a breath behind him. "C-carson, I-"

"Actually, come to think of it, maybe it's time we got separate beds," Carson continued, hating himself for being so sharp with Kurt, but he couldn't help it. He had absolutely no control over his emotions right now. "If you're going to fuck him on a daily basis, then it would probably be easier than you having to do so much laundry. We should get used to sleeping apart anyway."

Kurt's breaths behind him were coming out in shaky gasps, but he didn't say anything. He stood there for a minute before he walked out of the kitchen without a word, and Carson closed his eyes, instantly wishing he could take back everything he had just said. He wanted to follow Kurt and hug him and tell him that of course he didn't mean it and he loved him and he wasn't mad at him, not really. But he couldn't. His body wouldn't allow it.

He stayed at the table for a long time, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while he listened to Kurt doing laundry. He glared at Finn when the other boy came home and asked what was up, and he quickly escaped upstairs when he heard his dad come home, not wanting to see or talk to anyone. He just wanted to go to bed, which was what he did. He noticed that Kurt had changed the sheets, but he still couldn't stop himself from remembering what he had witnessed happening on that bed earlier, and it took all his strength not to throw up again. He changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt and crawled into bed, curling up on his side and wishing for the whole world to just melt away. It would be easier than having to feel things.

After awhile he heard Kurt come into the bedroom and start his facial routine. He ached to call out to him and apologize for snapping, but he still couldn't. He was afraid he would cry if he tried, and he couldn't ever cry in front of Kurt. That was one of his rules. Kurt finished and Carson felt him climb into bed beside him. He knew his twin was staring at him without even having to turn around.

"Carson?" he whispered. "Carson, are you asleep?" Carson didn't answer him. "C-carson, I.." He tried to wrap his arms around Carson, but Carson recoiled away from him. "I'm sorry, Carson," he said quietly before sighing and settling on his side. "Goodnight." It was the first time Carson could ever remember that they fell asleep facing away from each other and not touching.

He woke up several hours later, knowing even before he opened his eyes that Kurt was gone. He turned around to face Kurt's side of the bed and found it empty, just as he had suspected.

Fuck, he must be sleepwalking, Carson thought sleepily, getting up and padding out of the room. He eventually found Kurt in the kitchen, standing in front of the table and whining low in his throat.

"Carsey?" he was saying as Carson approached him from behind. "Carsey, please? Please talk to me, I'm sorry! Please?"

Carson felt like a complete asshole. He closed the distance between himself and Kurt and gently gripped his twin around the waist, giving him a soft kiss on the ear. "Kurtsie, I'm here. I'm here, baby, I'm here." He wrapped his arms around Kurt's chest in a bear hug and held him close. "I'm here, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Come on, let's get you back to bed, ok?" He let go of Kurt and grabbed his hand, gently leading him back up the stairs and into bed. He crawled in beside him and wrapped him in his arms as he covered the side of his sleeping twin's face in soft kisses.

"I'm sorry, Kurtsie. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, baby," he whispered. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's not your fault I'm fucked up." He kissed Kurt's temple one more time before settling down into his pillow and drifting off into a restless sleep.

Kurt stared out the window of Blaine's car as they drove to school the next morning, feeling lower than he had ever felt in his life. He was still trying to process the fact that Carson had heard him and Blaine having sex the day before. Every time he thought about it, he felt a tidal wave of guilt start to consume him, and he had to quickly think of something else to get rid of it. He flashed back to the middle of the night. He must have had a sleepwalking episode, because he vaguely remembered drifting in and out of consciousness as Carson led him back into bed. He had woken up fully right as Carson was kissing him, and it had felt so good to know that his twin wasn't angry with him that he had pretended to stay asleep.

"It's not your fault I'm fucked up," Carson had said right before he went back to sleep. Kurt sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"Are you ok, Kurt?" asked Blaine as they stopped at a red light. "You've been quiet."

Kurt nodded. "I'm fine, Blaine. It's nothing. I'm just tired."

Blaine looked at him carefully. "Come on, Kurt. Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing. Forget it."

"Kurt, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't drag it out of you so I can help you?" Blaine persisted. Kurt sighed in frustration.

"Carson heard us having sex yesterday, ok? Are you happy now?" he asked irritably, turning back to face the window.

"Oh," said Blaine. "I, um...I know."

Kurt looked at him incredulously. "You know?"

Blaine nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I...I kind of saw him when he walked in on us, and.."

Kurt couldn't breathe. "He walked in?"

Blaine nodded, looking uncomfortable. Kurt suddenly felt even more like crap than he had just a minute earlier. Not only had Carson heard them, he had seen them. No wonder he had been so upset. Oh god, Carson, I'm so sorry, oh my god...

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Kurt demanded.

"Well, then you would have wanted to stop," said Blaine. "And I was really close, and so were you. But, you know, it's not that big a deal. He left the room and let us finish, didn't he?"

Kurt wasn't sure whether to be pissed or wonder if his boyfriend was suffering brain damage. "Blaine Devon Anderson, I cannot freaking believe that you didn't tell me that someone, anyone, let alone my brother, walked in on us fucking. What is wrong with you?"

Blaine gave him the wounded puppy look he always gave him when Kurt was less than thrilled with him. "Come on, Kurt, don't be mad at me for wanting to finish having sex with my hot boyfriend."

"Compliments will get you nowhere," said Kurt, crossing his arms. "You should have said something."

Blaine sighed. "Ok, alright, I'm sorry. Next time someone walks in on us having sex I will exclaim in surprise. Better?"

Kurt looked down at his shoes and shrugged. "I guess."

"Hey, chin up, ok?" said Blaine as he pulled into the student parking lot. "We have to sing for Santana today and we need to be peppy and happy."

Kurt groaned. He'd forgotten about that. Finn was getting a headstart on his own idea for "Lady Music Week" to help Santana accept herself or something. Which Kurt thought was pretty rich of him, considering that Finn was the entire reason that Santana was being forced out of the closet, but whatever. The last thing Kurt felt like doing today was singing to Santana, of all people, let alone a duet with Blaine in front of Carson mere hours after Carson had apparently had an eyeful of them having sex. "Ugh, I don't feel like it. Let's just tell Finn we'll do it on Monday."

Blaine shook his head. "We have to sing, Kurt, we promised. I already picked out my best performance bowtie and everything."

"I don't want to, Blaine."

Blaine shrugged. "You already promised."

Kurt sighed. "Fine." Maybe if he was lucky, this would be one of the days that Carson skipped glee., He did do that a lot.

No such luck. He was sitting right there in the front of the choir room when Kurt and Blaine walked in that afternoon, looking carefully down at the floor. Kurt was pretty relieved to see him, actually, because he hadn't seen him all day except in English class. He had wanted to go look for him at lunch, figuring he was probably in the journalism classroom, but Blaine had wanted to practice their song one more time before the glee meeting, and Kurt thought it was easier just to go along with it than have to listen to Blaine whine later that he hadn't had enough practice time.

Kurt sat down beside Carson and took his hand, squeezing gently and suddenly dreading the rest of this glee meeting.

Finn got up and made a speech to Santana, and then called Blaine and Kurt up to the front of the room. Blaine bounded out of his seat and Kurt sullenly followed him, desperately wishing to be anywhere but where he was.

"Santana," said Blaine, "Kurt and I have a song we like to sing to each other in the car, and we wanna sing that for you right now." Kurt glanced quickly over at Carson, who looked stricken at what Blaine had just said. Damn it Blaine, did you HAVE to say that we sing it in the car?

"While there's nothing I'd love more than having two Pretty Ponies serenade me, I think we'd get further staging a gel-ervention for Blaine than singing lady music," replied Santana dully.

"I know it's hard," said Kurt. "It was hard for me, too. But you can get through this."

"If you would just stop being so defensive," added Blaine. Carson rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying," said Santana. "But your hideous bowties are provoking me." Kurt didn't miss the subtle smile that flitted briefly across Carson's mouth, and he tried extremely hard to tell himself that he had no right to feel jealous about that. He and Blaine started singing, and Kurt had to make a conscious effort not to look at Carson during the song, because the few glimpses he did catch of his twin's face made him feel like a complete jerk. He was never more relieved in his life than he was when the song finally ended.

"Good job," said Mr. Schue. "How about that?"

Santana glanced briefly at Carson with an odd, unreadable look on her face before she turned back to Kurt and Blaine and smiled. "Thank you, guys. Thank you Finn, especially. You know, with all the horrible crap I've been through in my life, now I get to add that!" She punctuated her words with a sarcastic clap as Carson got up from his seat and left the choir room. He didn't return for the entire rest of the glee meeting, and when it finally let out, Kurt explained to Blaine that he was going to go find him and he would see Blaine over the weekend. Blaine had sighed, but nodded and gave him a long kiss before heading home. Kurt smiled sadly after him. His boyfriend really did put up with a lot from him, and Kurt was grateful that he tried to be so patient and loving about it.

He wandered the halls until he reached the journalism classroom, getting ready to open the closed door until he realized that it was full of people. There were a few members of the student council, plus Carson's journalism team, and the assistant football coach, sitting in desks and looking wide-eyed at Carson, who was standing in the front of the room with Malerie and apparently yelling at his small audience.

What the hell is going on in there? he wondered, carefully cracking the door open a bit so he could hear.

"I have nothing to lose and a whole hell of a lot to gain, and this time, none of you are stopping me!" Carson was yelling. He looked for all the world like an angry teacher standing in front of the desk like that, and Kurt would be lying if he said that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Need some examples?" Carson continued angrily. "Here are some examples!" He grabbed a stack of papers off the desk and started throwing them at the people sitting in the desks in front of him. "Poetry, short stories, essays, scripts, novels, anything! As long as it's in your words and in my hands ASAP! Write about how much you hate me! Write in detail about how much you want to kill me. Ok? Now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!" he bellowed, pointing toward the door, his chest heaving with rage. Kurt scurried back as everyone poured out of the classroom, including Malerie, leaving Carson alone with his heaving chest and Kurt alone with his fantasy of Carson hoisting him up on that desk and having his way with him.

He took a deep breath to collect himself before he walked into the classroom, giving Carson a tentative smile. Carson caught his eye and smiled back.

"I'm sorry I missed the rest of glee," said Carson quickly. "I had, um...business."

Kurt nodded. "I don't know what all this was about, but it was...I mean, you were great."

Carson laughed. "Let's just say I found a way to get my submissions."

"So the magazine, that's a go, then?" asked Kurt. Carson nodded and Kurt grinned. "Good," he said. "I'm so happy for you." He crossed over to Carson and gave him a hug, trying to pour out how sorry he was for the previous day into it and hoping Carson could feel it.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered. He felt Carson hug him just a little bit tighter at that.

"Thank you," he replied.

"God, I feel like a lamb waiting in line to be slaughtered," Kurt was saying as Carson walked out of the voting booth and up to where his twin stood with Finn and Rachel. It was the day of the student body president elections, and Carson could only imagine how nervous Kurt felt, because he was nervous enough for the both of them. He had just finished casting his vote for Kurt (sealing the ballot with a kiss, of course), and he could only hope that the rest of the student body recognized a viable candidate when they saw one. And that everyone he had blackmailed made good on their promises to vote for Kurt.

"Chin up, Kurt," said Finn. "It's not over until all the votes are counted,"

"Yep," agreed Rachel. "And you're going to get loads. Look, Quinn is going into the voting booth right now. She's definitely going to vote for you."

Carson wasn't so sure about that, actually, considering that Quinn was batshit insane and had spent the entire school year so far trying to get back the baby she had given up for adoption two years ago. Carson kept meaning to ask her if she really thought that was how adoption worked, but he always forgot. And he didn't really care. He didn't say any of this, though. He just smiled reassuringly at Kurt and squeezed his hand.

"You'll win, Kurt. I promise," he said. "You're the best candidate, after all." Kurt let out a deep breath and squeezed his hand back.

"Thanks, Carsey," he said. "I hope so."

Carson was nervous for the entire rest of the school day wondering if the votes had been counted yet. He knew logically that if people voted with their brains, Kurt should win, but he was still apprehensive. The school had its fair share of morons who he could easily see voting for Brittany.

They better fucking not have, he thought as he made his way to the choir room for glee club. They just better not. He hadn't made it a habit to regularly attend glee ever since Kurt and Blaine had sung "Perfect" with each other, because it hurt too much to see them sitting together and generally acting all couply the whole time. He got enough of that at home on the weekends. He didn't need it at school, too. He decided to attend today, though, because they were going to announce the winner of the election any time now and Carson wanted to be with Kurt when he won.

He was still trying to decide whether to laugh or cry at the girls' rendition of "I Kissed A Girl" when Figgins walked into the choir room, looking solemn.

"Excuse me, New Directions and Troubletones singing group," he said, interrupting Santana's announcement that she had finally come out to her parents. "Mr. Kurt Hummel, I need to see you in my office immediately."

Kurt looked nervous as hell as he got up from his seat to follow Figgins out the door. Carson grabbed his own bag and got up to follow them. Whatever this was about, he would be damned if Kurt went through it alone.

"Carson, what do you think this is about?" Kurt whispered nervously as they followed Figgins to his office. "Do you think I won? Do they do that, when you win? Have a private meeting?"

Carson shook his head. "Not that I know of, but I'm sure this is nothing." They entered Figgins' office, where Beiste was waiting for them, along with their dad.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" asked Carson as he and Kurt stood side by side across from Figgins' desk. He was definitely sure they never usually called your parents in to the principal's office if there was nothing wrong.

"I have no idea," replied Burt, shrugging. "I'm waiting for them to tell me."

"First of all, Mr. Hummel, congratulations on your early exit poll numbers," said Figgins as he sat down at his desk. "Things are looking very good indeed for you."

"Thank you, Figgins," said Burt. "Now, can you tell me why I'm here today?"

"There seems to have been some irregularities with the student council ballot boxes," said Figgins.

"What do you mean by 'irregularities'?" asked Kurt, clearly nervous. Carson took his hand and held tight.

"Kurt won," said Beiste. "But by 190 votes."

"Well, that's great. Right?" asked Burt. Carson swallowed. He was sure now that this wasn't good.

"Well, the problem is that there's more ballots than there are students," replied Beiste, "And Kurt won by a suspiciously wide margin."

"No!" said Kurt. "I..I...I didn't do it. I didn't cheat!"

"Of course he didn't cheat!" exclaimed Carson. "This is crap, he would never do that. There has to be some mistake."

"I didn't cheat," Kurt repeated, sounding desperate now. "I mean, I thought about it, but-"

"What do you mean you thought about it?" asked Burt. Kurt looked to Carson for help.

"I...I thought about it because I wanted to win so badly and I was worried I wouldn't, but I didn't cheat! I worked really hard on this! Carson," he said pleadingly. Carson squeezed his hand and glared at Beiste.

"He didn't cheat," Carson insisted. "Please, there's got to be a mix-up here. I know he didn't do it. Can't we re-hold the election or something?"

Beiste and Figgins looked at him solemnly. "I'm afraid that if we can prove that your brother had something to do with stuffing the ballot boxes, I'm going to have to suspend him and put it on his permanent record," said Figgins. Kurt gasped, horrified. Carson shook his head furiously.

"No, no you can't do that to him, because he didn't do it!" he insisted. "Why don't you go try and find the real culprit, because it is NOT him! We're done here," he said, dragging Kurt out of the office and not caring what Figgins or Beiste or his father had to say about it. He was so pissed he couldn't even see straight. What kind of fucking jackass had done this? This was Kurt's last chance to get a big ticket item on his college application, and some asshole had blown it for him. It wasn't fucking fair.

"Carson," said Kurt as Carson pulled him along the hallway. "Carson, stop." Carson stopped in his tracks and let go of Kurt's hand, beginning to angrily pace the hall.

"They can't do this," he muttered. "They can't do that to you. It's not fair. We're going to find them. We're going to find the asshole who did this, and we're going to make them pay. I'm so sick of this school and its bullshit." He placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I promise you, Kurt, I'm not going to let them suspend you, and NYADA is going to take you if it's the last fucking thing I do." Kurt's bottom lip quivered and he started to cry.

"I didn't cheat," he whimpered as Carson pulled him into a tight hug.

"I know, Kurtsie. I know you didn't," he soothed. "We'll prove it somehow, ok? I don't know how, but I'll...I'll think of something."

He held Kurt for awhile until Kurt started to calm down a little, and then led him gently down the hall toward his locker, where Finn and Rachel were waiting for them.

"Someone stuffed the ballot boxes," said Kurt as they approached them. "They think I did it. If they can prove it, I could be suspended." He had started crying again on the way down the hall, and Carson put his arm comfortingly around him.

"Oh my god, Kurt-" Rachel started to say.

"And I lost," Kurt interrupted. "I lost the election, I lost the lead in West Side Story...I can forget about New York and NYADA, 'cause they'll never take me now. And the worst part is that I really, for a second, thought I won."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," said Rachel, going to hug him, but he shrugged her off.

"I have to find Blaine," muttered Kurt. "He'll wonder what's happened." He shrugged himself free of Carson and patted him on the arm before heading down the hall. Carson watched him go, wanting so badly to know how to make it all better for him and having no idea how. The person he loved more than anything was under attack and in pain, and Carson felt powerless to help him. And it sucked ass. And as he held a crying Kurt in his arms that night, and as those cries turned into quiet whimpers, and as Kurt finally fell asleep and Carson lay awake for hours afterwards stroking his hair, he came to a decision. He wasn't going to let Kurt be screwed over like this. There was one thing he could think of to do, and even if it had the potential to severely hurt Carson's dreams in the process, he decided he didn't care. Kurt was more important.

Which was why he marched straight into Figgins' office at the first opportunity the next day. He planted his hands on the principal's desk, took a deep breath, and said what he had to say before he could lose his nerve.

"I did it," he said. "It was me. I stuffed the ballot box, and Kurt had absolutely nothing to do with it. So please, punish me. Suspend me, expel me, do whatever you want to me, but please let Kurt off the hook for this." Figgins looked at him grimly and folded his hands on the desk.

"Is this true, Mr. Hummel?" he asked. Carson nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "I did it. I wanted Kurt to win, so I did it. He didn't know about it."

"Carson, stop," came a voice from behind him. Carson turned around to see Rachel standing there, looking extremely nervous. "It wasn't him, Principal Figgins," she said. "It was me."

Carson gaped at her briefly before his anger overtook him and he snapped. "Ok, what the hell were you thinking?" he exploded at her. "Do you have any idea how badly you've screwed Kurt over? DO YOU? And you call yourself his friend? I hate you, Rachel. I've hated you for years, and now I remember WHY. I can't believe you did this to him, you selfish bi-"

"Mr. Hummel!" exclaimed Mr. Figgins. "I'm going to ask you to please remove yourself from this office so that I can deal with Ms. Berry in private. Go." He pointed toward the door and Carson went, shooting Rachel a look he hoped would kill her on his way. No such luck.

He didn't go to his next class. He headed for the journalism classroom and stayed in there the entire rest of the day, hoping that working on the paper would calm him down. It did, a little, but he was still angry as hell when he finally left, and he was still mentally planning painful, torturous ways in which to murder Rachel Fucking Berry. He hated her more at that moment than he hated Blaine, and that was really saying something.

I hope she fucking got expelled, he thought bitterly as he walked past the library. Through the large glass windows he could see Kurt sitting at one of the tables with Blaine standing behind him. Both of them were looking over a piece of paper that Carson knew to be Kurt's NYADA application. They looked really cozy together, even if Kurt also looked nervous as hell.

Carson didn't march in there to wedge himself in between them, as he normally would have done. He just continued on his way and headed out of the school.

Carson sighed as he entered the Lima Bean behind Kurt, with Blaine bringing up the rear. He didn't even drink coffee, and the last thing he felt like doing right now was sitting at a coffee shop table while Kurt and Blaine acted all lovey dovey. Kurt was planning to fill out a job application, though, and had asked Carson to come along for good luck.

"I'll need it," Kurt had mumbled when he'd asked Carson to come. "Since I probably won't get into NYADA, the Lima Bean is my only hope, I guess." Carson had put his arm around him and promised him he would go.

Which was why he now found himself in the busy Lima Bean, surrounded by the smell of coffee beans and various pastries and feeling sick to his stomach (although that probably had more to do with the sight of Blaine wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist in line than with the smell of the food).

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he said to Kurt after his twin had asked for a job application and was following Blaine to a table. "I'll be right back, ok?"

"Ok," replied Kurt, patting him on the shoulder. Carson headed into the restroom and locked himself in a stall, leaning against it and hoping he wouldn't throw up. He felt sick a lot when he saw Kurt and Blaine together. It was really starting to affect him, so he avoided seeing them together as much as possible. Anything to avoid the pain.

He figured after about five minutes that he wasn't going to throw up, so he exited his stall and went to wash his hands and splash some water on his face. Maybe he would feel better after that.

"Well, it's been awhile since I've seen you," said a voice. Carson turned around to find a guy staring at him with crossed arms and raised eyebrows. He was wearing a Dalton Academy uniform and somewhat reminded Carson of a meerkat. "I never thought I would see you wearing actual guy clothes, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Though I will say that those jeans do wonders for your ass."

"Excuse me?" asked Carson. "What the fuck is your problem?" The guy's green eyes gleamed mischievously.

"I don't have a problem," he replied. "No problem at all." He winked at Carson and exited the bathroom, leaving Carson wondering what the fuck had just happened.

"Weirdo," he mumbled, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Probably one of Billy Bob's weird Dalton friends." He fished his phone out and saw a text from Santana lighting up the screen.

How goes the magazine? -Auntie Tana

Carson smiled. It was going great, actually. He had pretty much gotten all his submissions, except for a few glee club members, but he didn't really care if they didn't submit, because he had a ton of writings to use. He'd even gotten Blaine's, although he was pretty sure Blaine had just given him a half-assed list of all the various hair gels he used. Whatever. He would publish it anyway.

It goes great. Gonna finish it up tonight. -Carson

He put the phone back in his pocket and headed out of the bathroom toward the table he had seen Kurt sit down at earlier. Kurt was still there, but Blaine wasn't, and the obnoxious meerkat guy from the bathroom was sitting across from Kurt, saying something that obviously was pissing Kurt off, judging by the look on his twin's face. He quickly headed over and reached the table just in time to hear the tail end of what Meerkat Guy was saying.

"And one of us has a hard luck case of the gay face, and it ain't me," he was saying as Kurt cocked his head to one side and gave him a face that would make the iciest of ice bitches proud. "Odds are, by the end of the school year, I'll have Blaine and a Nationals trophy, and you'll have khakis and a Lima Bean apron and that gay face."

"You smell like Craigslist," replied Kurt with a sarcastic smile as Carson sat down beside him.

"Ok, listen up, Timon," said Carson, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms as he looked at the guy across from him. "I don't know who the fuck you are, or what your deal is, or why you think it's acceptable to insult my brother, but either you stop right the hell now and leave, or I wipe that smirk off your face with my fist. Your choice."

The guy was gaping at him, as though impressed. "Well, what do you know, you are twins. I thought Kurt was just screwing with me." He held out a hand to Carson. "Sebastian Smythe. Pleasure."

Carson glared at the hand, but didn't take it. "Carson Hummel. No it's not." He turned to Kurt, thoroughly confused. "Ok, who the fuck is the assclown?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's a pompous ass who thinks he's getting into Blaine's pants, which is never gonna happen."

Carson snorted. "You have the hots for Barnabus?" he asked Sebastian. "You're an even bigger moron than I thought."

"Aw, be nice," said Sebastian, taking a thoughtful sip from his coffee cup. "I also think you're the hot twin."

"Please get out of my sight," Kurt said through a gritted teeth smile before Carson could tell Sebastian to fuck off.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Blaine, who had returned from getting a second coffee and was sitting himself down beside Sebastian.

"Duh! The next time we're all going out drinking, killer," Sebastian replied teasingly.

"Uh-oh," said Blaine, blushing.

"Wait, what?" asked Carson. "When the hell have you been out drinking with them?" He turned to Kurt. "You've been out drinking with him?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not by choice, and I wasn't drinking," he said, patting Carson's hand. Carson wondered if this was related to the Great Gay Bar Incident.

"Well, I gotta run," said Sebastian, getting up from his seat. "But, you take care of that Warbler, Kurt," he said, indicating Blaine.

"If you really want him, you can have him," Carson quipped. "As long as you promise to keep him far, far away from us." Blaine glared at him and Sebastian smiled.

"I'll be seeing you around, too," he said to Carson with a wink. Kurt looked pissed.

"I hate that guy," he mumbled, focusing on his application and practically stabbing the pen onto it.

The next few days were a busy blur for Carson as he focused on finishing up the literary magazine and preparing it for publishing. He had to spend a lot of after hours time in the journalism classroom to accomplish this, because home was chaos ever since Sam Evans had moved in with them to finish out the school year. Mr. Schue had decided that they needed him for Sectionals, and Finn and Rachel had tracked his family down to Kentucky and convinced his parents to let him come back to Lima with them as long as he stayed with one of their families. Obviously, the Hummel/Hudson house had won out. Carson didn't really mind, though. He liked Sam. After all, Sam had gotten a black eye for Kurt last year, so he was pretty decent.

There was also the fact that Blaine seemed less than impressed with him, which actually endeared Sam to Carson even more. It was amusing to watch Blaine sulk as Sam gave them ideas they could use for Sectionals. Clearly he was just mad that nobody wanted to use his stupid Warbler ideas.

"Stop, stop!" said Sam one afternoon during glee rehearsal as Blaine finished showing them some stupid move he had probably copied off a Backstreet Boys video circa 2000. "Look, Blaine, this," he said, indicating the move Blaine had just demonstrated, "is totally boy-band. What we need to sell here is sex," he added, thrusting his hips out.

"What the hell is that?" asked Blaine snottily.

"It's a body roll," answered Sam.

"That's not a body roll," Blaine insisted.

"That is sex," replied Sam."

"Man's not wrong," said Artie. "I got light tingles where it's only 50/50 for tingling."

"Eew," said Carson.

"Yeah, Sam, that's awesome!" said Finn. "It's exactly what we need!"

"No, that's not what we need," said Blaine. "We don't have to resort to...that. It's cheap, you know. It's selling out."

"Oh really?" said Carson. "Is that so, Mr. The-Warblers-Have-To-Do-A-Sexy-Number-For-Regionals?" Blaine glared at him.

"No one asked you, Carson," he snapped.

"I came back here to win!" said Sam. "When you're desperate, sometimes you got to, you know, use your assets and do what you gotta do to get back that advantage! This is the advantage."

"Of course, that's what you think," said Blaine. "You have to think that in order to sleep at night."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Sam.

"It means that I'm not for sale!" answered Blaine. Carson cheered when Sam pushed him and was sad that Mr. Schue broke up the fight before it could escalate further. He had been hoping to see the hobbit get his ass kicked.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Barney?" asked Carson with his arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "I knew you were an asshole, but apparently you're also a hypocritical asshole."

"Ugh, forget it!" said Blaine, stalking out of the choir room.

"Jackass," mumbled Carson. "I agree with Sam. Let's sell all the sex." Kurt snorted beside him.

"Am I allowed to sell the sex too?" he asked teasingly. Carson grinned.

"No," he said. "Only to an audience of nuns, although even they would probably be drooling over you."

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as the curtain closed on the New Directions and the sound of applause filled the auditorium. Sectionals had been exhausting and he was frankly glad it was over, although he did feel a little bad that the Troubletones had lost. Kurt hadn't been able to concentrate much on his performance because freaking Sebastian Smythe had been in the audience, and Kurt hadn't been able to tell if he'd been smiling so widely at Blaine or Carson. Neither option made Kurt feel better.

The one good thing about Sectionals had been that it had basically forced Carson to attend glee meetings leading up to the competition so that they could practice with the whole club. Carson hadn't otherwise been attending them regularly for awhile, ever since he had walked in on Kurt and Blaine, and Kurt had a feeling that he had been sort of trying to distance himself because of that. And it hurt. He really missed Carson. They only really saw each other at bedtime and on the weekend anymore. Kurt hoped that maybe once Carson was done with the literary magazine, they would go back to spending more time together. Blaine was all well and good, and Kurt loved him to bits, but he wasn't the same as Carson.

He snuck out of the choir room while everyone was congratulating each other and snuck off into the hallway, wanting to get a moment alone with Carson, who had gone off to his locker in search of a book he'd said he'd forgotten and needed for his weekend homework. He turned the corner and blinked, trying to process what he was seeing.

Carson was at his open locker, looking extremely uncomfortable as none other than Sebastian Fucking Smythe leaned next to him, his arms crossed and a smarmy smile on his face.

"Look, I've said I'm not interested and would rather stick my dick in a Venus fly trap, so would you kindly fuck off?" Carson said to Sebastian, grabbing his book and slamming his locker shut. Sebastian chuckled.

"Ok, ok. Noted. But I like your feisty attitude," he replied, reaching into the pocket of his blazer and pulling out a piece of paper. "If you should ever change your mind, this is my number." He snaked his hand down and slipped the paper into the back pocket of Carson's performance pants, and the sight of that smirky douche with his hand essentially on Carson's ass was what sprung Kurt into action.

"Ok, you need to back off and do it now. This is my absolute hard limit and where I draw the frickin' line, so get your pompous, preppy hand off his ass," ordered Kurt, walking up to Carson and placing an arm protectively over his shoulder.

"Or?" asked Sebastian, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Kurt got up in his face. "I don't think you really want to find out," he said dangerously. Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

"I think I do, actually," he said. "Not tonight, but at some point. We'll be in touch," he said to Carson with a wink. Carson scoffed at him.

"BYE," he said pointedly before rolling his eyes. Kurt glared after him and shook his head.

"Thinking he can horn in on you, too, is he? Screw that, I'm done," he muttered. Carson looked at him, amused.

"Is that jealousy?" he asked teasingly.

Kurt sighed. Yes. "No. Just...just protectiveness."

"Oh, there you are," said Blaine, coming up behind them and addressing Kurt, ignoring Carson. "I've been looking for you. We're gonna have to go if we want to make our Breadstix reservations."

Damn. Kurt had forgotten about that. He'd been hoping to go home early with Carson and just hang out, but he had the feeling he'd have to deal with a hell of a lot of whining from Blaine if he cancelled.

"Yeah, ok," he said. "I'll meet you in the car after we change our clothes, ok?"

"Ok," said Blaine, casting a look at Carson before disappearing down the hall. Kurt sighed and looked at his twin.

"I'll...I'll see you at home later, then," he said. Carson nodded, looking disappointed.

"Have fun," he said, looking down at the ground and walking past him. Kurt leaned up against the wall of lockers alone, feeling like a horrible person again. It was a feeling that would stick with him all night long, through dinner at Breadstix and later as he lay underneath Blaine in the backseat of the car while Blaine moaned and bounced up and down and the windows fogged up. Kurt tried not to close his eyes and think of Carson.

He failed.

Carson had never felt more torn in his life as he did the day his early acceptance letter from Northwestern arrived in the mail. On one hand, he was ecstatic. Because even though getting that damn literary magazine off the ground had been a hassle, and even though it had been on sale for a month and he had hardly sold any copies, that was all ok. Because there in his hands was his future. Northwestern had accepted him. He had done it. He was going to live his dream. He could freely look toward the future and know that he was going to leave this stupid cow town behind. He was so happy he could cry.

On the other hand, there was Kurt. Kurt still had yet to find out if he and Rachel were NYADA finalists, and Carson knew that he was worried he wouldn't be considered at all. That he had nothing to offer them, even though Carson tried his best to comfort and reassure him. He looked more and more depressed over it with each passing day, and Carson felt guilty as fuck that he was being guaranteed his dream future and Kurt wasn't yet. He couldn't fully enjoy himself knowing that Kurt was suffering. It didn't feel right.

Kurt, of course, picked right up on that attitude and told him in no uncertain terms to stop it.

"Carson, I won't allow you to feel guilty over this," he'd said on the day the letter arrived. "I absolutely will not! You've worked so hard for this, and you deserve it, and you deserve to feel happy about it. Don't let me hold you back from enjoying the fruits of your labor."

He hadn't gotten any more words out because Carson had wrapped him in the tightest hug he'd ever given him and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," Carson said. "So much."

"I love you too," Kurt squeaked.

Carson had still felt just a little bit guilty about it though, especially when Mr. Schue had found out about it from Ms. Pillsbury and made a big announcement about it during glee club one day.

"One of our own has been accepted early decision to Northwestern University," said Mr. Schue. "Let's hear it for Carson!" A round of half-hearted applause echoed throughout the room. Oddly, Blaine was clapping the loudest.

"Congratulations, Carson," he said, flashing those stupid teeth. "I'm so happy for you. Going to school. So very far away from Lima. Wow. That's awesome."

"Gee, thank you Baxter," mumbled Carson, wishing that Mr. Schue had just kept his mouth shut. He looked over at Kurt, hoping that his twin wasn't going to feel bad about this, but Kurt's only response was to smile at him, get out of his seat, and hug him right there. Blaine had looked less than thrilled.

Now there was nothing left to do but sit back and ride out the rest of the school year. He started attending glee meetings again just for fun, because now that it was getting close to Christmas and the glee club had been asked to star in a local television holiday special, the crazy was out in full force. He had no idea who gave Rachel and Blaine permission to sing an original Christmas duet together in the choir room, but it was by far the most horrifying thing that Carson had seen the whole year, and that included the shirtless photos of Blaine that Santana had found.

As far as the paper, he'd basically given up trying to make his journalism team do anything. He just accepted that it was his lot in life (for the next six months, at least) to do all the work himself. That was ok. He'd be leaving soon and the Muckraker would no longer be his problem. He would feel a little sad about it, though. That paper had been his baby for the past three years. He'd miss it.

This was what he was thinking about on the last afternoon before Christmas vacation started as he walked down the hall toward his locker, burstingly happy at the same time because Blaine and his super rich parents were traveling abroad for the holidays and Carson would absolutely not have to deal with his hobbit ass ruining his school break by monopolizing Kurt's time. In other words, Carson had two weeks of uninterrupted Kurt quality time to look forward to, and he was deliriously happy.

He turned the corner and noticed Kurt and Blaine in the corner of the hall, looking to be having a Big Relationship Moment. Carson shuddered and was going to just walk past them and let them have it when he saw Blaine reach into his bag and pull out a small box.

"I know that our relationship has reached a new level this year," he was saying as he handed the box to Kurt. Kurt looked at the box in disbelief.

"If that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes," he said excitedly. Carson felt like he'd been punched right in the face. He didn't feel any better when he saw that it was not, in fact, an engagement ring. In fact, he felt worse. Just the fact that Kurt had thought it was one, and had said...had said...

Carson felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't walk past his brother and Blaine now. He couldn't, or he really might throw up. He looked down at the floor and hurried back in the direction he had come from, running into the journalism classroom and slamming the door behind him. He paced the room and took long, deep breaths, trying hard not to cry and feeling that he wasn't going to be successful.

"I know. It was disgusting," said a familiar voice behind him. Carson tensed and took a deep breath.

"Santana, get out!" he ordered, not turning around to face her. He couldn't cry in front of her. He'd never live it down.

"Relax, ok? I just thought maybe you'd need someone to talk to," she replied.

"Well I don't, and you don't know anything about me or what I'm feeling right now, and I don't need your fucking help so just GO!" Carson said, panicking as he felt the tears coming. "GOOO!"

Santana didn't listen. In fact, she came closer. Carson could hear her sneakers padding across the tiled floor.

"I saw him give Kurt that ridiculous ring," she said quietly. "And I saw your face. You're not ok. You need someone to talk to. I'm a cold hearted bitch, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you to deal with that alone."

Carson didn't say anything. Not until he felt Santana's hands on his shoulders. Then he gave up.

"He thought...he...he thought..." Carson stammered, struggling not to cry. "He thought it was an engagement ring, and..and..."

And then he lost his battle with his tears. They rained down from his eyes in rivers and his shoulders were wracked with huge sobs as Santana gently turned him around and did the last thing he ever expected her to do. She hugged him.

"He was going to say yes," Carson whimpered, letting her hold him and crying into her shoulder. "He was going to...to say yes..."

Santana didn't say anything, for which he was truly grateful. He felt awkward enough crying like this with her, but then he remembered that she had cried in front of him before, so he just decided not to give a shit. He cried for what seemed like forever, until he was out of tears and was just inhaling huge gulps of air. Santana held him through it all, and just let him ride it out until he was down to just the occasional hiccup and sniffle.

"Better?" she asked.

"No," said Carson. "It never gets better."

"If that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes."

Kurt still couldn't figure out why the hell he had said that. What was wrong with him? Sure, it had turned out to not be an engagement ring (it was actually a very sweet homemade bowtie ring that Blaine had made himself out of gum wrappers, and Kurt thought it was adorable), but had he really said yes if it was?

Why did you say that, Kurt? I know you've always dreamed of getting married, but you are in NO way ready to be engaged. You're in high school. You're not even sure that Blaine is The One. You...you still think of Carson when you think of your wedding day. You think of him standing at the front of the aisle waiting for you. You know you could never have that even if you and Carson were together, but you still want it. Get yourself together!

And when Blaine had kissed him and left to go home, Kurt had been more confused than ever about his feelings. All he knew was that he really wanted Carson right now. So he headed in the direction of the journalism classroom. He could always find Carson there.

Well, he found him there, alright. He also found Santana. And they were hugging. Because apparently Santana was becoming his new BFF and Carson didn't need him so much anymore.

Kurt turned away from the doorway, looked sadly down at the ring box and sighed. Some days he really hated his life. This was one of those days.