♥ ♥ ♥

I wake up at 5:30 the next morning with a heavy conscience and a stress-zit right on my hairline.

"Fuck this plan," I mutter to myself as I get dressed. "Not worth it if it breaks me out."

I pull out my phone from its place in the charger next to my bed, reading my text messages as I walk to my private bathroom (one big perk of Ohio living, especially when coupled with the walk-in closet).

6 New Msgs, reads my screen. I've never been this popular, and it's only my second day.

Rachel Berry: So I get you last. You're coming to glee club practice with me. All three of your best friends are in it ;) and so is Cooper, aaand yes, so is his magical, bodacious, golden-throated Blaine brother. But you can’t sit with Blaine. Cooper might get the wrong idea.

Satan Lopez: Ready, pretty boy? I get you first. Zero-period Cheerios practice, hell to the yes. Cooper Anderson loves cheerleaders. Be here at 6:45.

Brittany Pierce: Ur going to sit with me in math and Cooper will sit with us! Ok?

Blaine Anderson: So, how do you feel about Wayfarer sunglasses?

Blaine Anderson: You there?

Blaine Anderson: Oh, OK, then, umm goodnight. :/

Oh, no, baby, no, I think to myself. I type out short, terse replies to Rachel, Brittany, and Santana. I really do have her saved in my phone as Satan, because she and the devil himself grow more and more similar the better I get to know her. Once I'm done with that tedious task, I set about easing Blaine's fear that I'd ignored him.

Kurt Hummel: Ugh, sorry, Blaine. Rachel, Santana, and Brittany burst into my house last night (I wish I were lying, God, do I ever) and roped me into some inescapable plan. Emotionally draining. Fell asleep after that.

In the time it takes Blaine to reply, I've completed my skincare routine and styled my hair.

Blaine Anderson: Oh, no, what's the plan? :o

Kurt Hummel: Well, Cooper broke up with all of them.

Blaine Anderson: Just as I predicted. ;)

Kurt Hummel: Oh, okay, Blaine Omniscient Anderson. Riddle me this. Whom are they now fixated on setting me up with as a method of revenge?

Blaine Anderson: Oh my god no

Kurt Hummel: Sadly...

Blaine Anderson: Don't do it Kurt seriously omg

I don't see that text until I've parked my Lincoln Navigator in the McKinley High School parking lot. So much for assuaging Blaine's fears.

♥ ♥ ♥

Santana's Cheerios plan falls through after we get to school at ass-crack A.M. and read the bulletin board by the gym: no early-morning practice today.

Brittany's math plan falls through when she remembers that Cooper is a senior in Senior AP Calculus, and we are sophomores in Algebra II.

Rachel's glee club scenario, however, proceeds as planned.

"Come on, Kurt, this is the choir room!" she shouts, dragging me down a fluorescently lit hallway into a nondescript room filled with chairs and people. At first glance, I can spot Santana, Brittany, Blaine, and the blond guy who did end up sitting with Brittany and me in math. I can't remember his name.

"Rachel, so nice of you to show," says a medium-height, woolly-haired man in a sweater vest. "Who's your friend?

Rachel drags me to the front of the room, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "New Directions, meet Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel, meet the glee club. Kurt just moved here from New York, and he wants to join."

"I do?" I ask incredulously. Rachel gives me a look that says if you don't, we're going to have a problem. "I mean, uh, yeah, I do. This is a show choir, right? I sing." A bit of an understatement; I've been singing since the womb, and I know every Broadway musical of the past fifty years, overture to finale.

"Great!" The Brillo-haired man claps once. "Do you have anything prepared?"

I blanch immediately, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Generally, we have an audition process, but everyone who auditions gets in."

I humor him with a small smile. "I don't actually have a piece prepared, what with just moving and everything. Would it be okay if I auditioned tomorrow?" I ask sweetly. "Mister...I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name."

He chuckles. "Schuester. You can call me Mr. Schue; pretty much everyone does. And don’t worry about it. You can audition next practice."

I nod at my new teacher, and as Rachel and I take our seats up in the very back, I can’t help but notice that I’m seated in a prime position to ogle Blaine’s ass.

♥ ♥ ♥

Rachel Berry: Quit staring. Remember, you're supposed to like his brother.

Kurt Hummel: I like the magical bodacious Blaine brother, not the player manwhore Cooper brother. Why are you texting me when I’m right next to you?

Rachel Berry: You know, Cooper's pretty bodacious too.

Kurt Hummel: You would know, I'll bet.

Rachel Berry: I would! Seriously, Kurt. It's bordering on creepy, the way you're staring at Blaine.

Rachel Berry: But oh, just wait til you hear that boy sing.

♥ ♥ ♥

Blaine Anderson: Come sit with meeee!

Kurt Hummel: Shush, adorable. I can't. One, Rachel and the wall are on either side of me; two, your (even more attractive than I'd heard) brother and the blondie from my math class are on either side of you. Three, Rachel doesn't want me to keep glancing over at "the wrong Anderbrother."

Blaine Anderson: Ouch. The wrong one? And to think I was the Tony to her Maria in last year's freshman production of West Side Story. (Blondie=Sam Evans, btw. Sweetest little straight boy you ever did see.)

Blaine Anderson: God, pleeease don't be like everyone else when it comes to Cooper.

Kurt Hummel: Okay, so a) I think you're more handsome than your brother. b) I'm not like everyone else; I was coerced into this plan, remember, and I literally just moved here one week ago. It's all good, Blainers. Can I call you Blainers?

Blaine Anderson: Only if I can call you Kurty.

Kurt Hummel: Ugh. Okay. Deal.

Blainers: Awesome!!! :D

He's the cutest texter, I sigh inwardly.

I can hear Rachel's voice talking to me very faintly, as though she's miles away.

I can see her sashay up to the front, joined by Santana and Brittany, in my peripheral vision. My focus, however, is zeroed back in on Blaine now that I'm unsupervised. God, he looks so hot today. He knows his best asset and dresses to flatter it. That ass is irresistible, especially in tight khakis.

Oh, right. He got up, and I could see his ass, and now he's next to me.

"Hey, Kurty!" he stage-whispers, unsubtly draping an arm across the back of my chair, not touching me.

"Blainers," I respond with a grin. "Good to see you. You smell awesome."

Oh, shit. And it's not like I can pretend he heard me wrong.

"I mean...yeah, nope, that's what I meant. You smell awesome."

Blaine chuckles. "Aww, so nice. Thank you. You smell pretty amazing yourself. Vanilla aaand...cinnamon?"

I nod. "Nice."

"Suits you," Blaine coos, his smile as sweet as a cupcake. "It's sweet, but still very sophisticated."

"Awww, Blainers, you'll make me blush," I groan as the blush on my face intensifies.

Before I can get a chance to launch my next flirty remark, Santana lets out an ear-splitting wolf whistle to shut the room up.

"Gracias." She smiles. "So, we three," she begins, gesturing between herself, Rachel, and Brittany, "recently found out about something we all had in common." She glares daggers at Cooper, who looks like he wants to crawl into a supply closet and die. "And now, hate each other though we may, we are going to sing together about it. Coopy, this one's for you."

Santana nods at the piano guy, who launches into a familiar set of chords that I can't quite place.

Leave it to Blaine to remind me.

"Oh em gee, I love Adele," he gushes. "Don't you?"

Before I can answer, Rachel begins to sing, belting it out like a Broadway starlet and staring straight into Cooper's eyes.

She, she ain't real

She ain't gon' be able to love you like I will

She is a stranger

You and I have history, or don't you remember?

"She's got a great voice," I murmur to Blaine, who nods his assent.

Daddy-O

You got the swagger of a champion

I watch in awe and amusement as Santana stalks over to Cooper, shaking her finger at him as he turns redder and redder in spite of himself.

Too bad for you

You just can't find the right companion

"Love her, even though she's saved as Satan in my phone," I whisper to Blaine, who laughs as heartily as is appropriate for the circumstances, leaning his head on my shoulder.

I guess when you have one too many, makes it hard

It could be easy, who you are

That's just who you are, baby

"I almost feel bad for my brother," Blaine murmurs in my ear, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "but I'm kind of loving this. It's the first time any of his exes have ever called him out on it. Almost all the guys were in the closet, but still." Blaine grins. "This mashup is so great."

God, even his breath smells amazing.

"I'm not going to do it, Blainers," I promise him, and he knows what I mean. "They'll have to pry my Hermes scarves out of my cold, dead hands before I'll give in." I decide to save the awkward 'what's a mashup?' question for another time.

Blaine's sunshine smile after my words is all the confirmation I need that I've said the right thing. And I won't, I tell myself. I need some friends, but I have Blaine. I don't need those three. They need me.

Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds

That's exactly where it goes as Brittany croons and Blaine unconsciously nuzzles his soft, albeit shellacked, hair into the space between my neck and shoulder.

You made a fool out of me, and boy, you're bringin' me down

You got me goin'

You're oh so charming

But I can't do it, you womanizer

The song (songs?) is (are?) actually pretty badass. I've evidently befriended the three sassiest--and most melodious--ladies in the sophomore class. Score one for the new kid.

And rumour has it we ain't got your love anymore

Their “Rumour Has It”/”Womanizer” song thing ends with the three girls surrounding Cooper. Britt is kneeling next to him, tilting her head up to look at him; Santana's running a hand through those lovely chestnut locks; and Rachel is glaring menacingly at Cooper from the top row of seats.

“That was so cool,” Blaine gushes, grinning and grabbing my arm. I nod in agreement, smiling stupidly at his beautiful face.

♥ ♥ ♥

As I’m eating lunch with Blaine and Sam a week later, Cooper Anderson walks up to our table, all leather jacket and skinny jeans and swagger.

“Bee-Bee, they need you for something in the ASB room.” He turns to Sam and me and winks.

Blaine covers his eyes, groaning. “Don’t call me that, Coop.”

“You mean,” Cooper grins, “don’t call you that in front of—“ He is silenced by a hand over his mouth; a tan, smooth hand that I know from experience is softer than silk.

“Fine!” Blaine concedes through gritted teeth. “I’ll go.”

As soon as Blaine’s seat is filled by a smiling Cooper, my phone is inundated with buzzes.

Satan Lopez: GET SOME! Told Rach and Britt you're over there with cooper, they expressed similar sentiments. GET SOME GET SOME GET SOME

Sam Evans: I’m gonna...go. If they need Blaine, they probably need me, too. (VP to his Pres, holla) see ya later, buddy!

Blainers: TELL ME EVERYTHING HE SAYS OK. They don’t need me in the ASB room. We had a meeting yesterday. *eye roll*

I laugh at Santana's text, find comfort in Sam’s, and pout when I see Blaine’s.

“So, hey. Kurt, right?” Cooper asks. He knows my name; he’s just grasping for a conversation starter.

“Yup. Cooper, right? Blaine’s brother?” I smile when I say Blaine’s name.

“Indeed.” Cooper sighs. “Which is why I feel really bad about this.”

“Really bad about what?”

“Well, I mean, ever since I saw you that day in Glee club, I just...I thought you were really cute. And...I was, um,” Cooper stammers. “I was going to ask you out for tomorrow night. Breadstix? You know it?”

I nod. “Went there with my family our first night in town.”

Cooper smiles wanly. “So...go there with me this Friday?”

I look at him, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly. I know this is exactly what Rachel, Santana, and Brittany want from me, but I'm not so sure I want to give it to them--and then there's Blaine. What will he think?

Nevertheless, I concede after a few more moments of deliberation. “Friday night, Breadstix.”

Cooper beams like I just told him there were talent agents coming to scout at Glee practice today. “Awesome. Great. Yeah. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

I smile back. “Sounds great.”

“Can I get your number?” Cooper asks, ducking his head shyly. “Y’know, so we can confirm and stuff.”

I give him my number, and he fires off a quick text. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

“Now you have mine,” Cooper grins. “See you Friday night.” He winks as he gets up and walks away. I get my phone out, save Cooper as a contact, and send a mass text to the she-devils.

Kurt Hummel: I am officially going out with the wrong Anderbrother on Friday night.

Rachel Berry: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!

Satan Lopez: GET. SOME. ;)

Brittany Pierce: Blaine asked you out?

Next came Blaine, whom I knew wouldn’t take kindly to the news.

Kurt Hummel: Ugh, don’t be mad at me, please don’t be mad.

Blainers: Oh no

Blainers: Does that mean what I think it does????

Kurt Hummel: I have plans Friday night.

Kurt Hummel: With the wrong Anderson.

Blainers: No, he’s nice. You’ll have fun.

You’re going out with the wrong guy, and you know it, I think to myself. You should be going out with sweet, wonderful Blaine, who’s been so good to you, such a good friend these past few weeks. When he looks at you, he makes you feel like he’s the only real thing in the world. He smiles at you with those dreamy eyes, and you don’t know what to do with your damn self.

Why are you going on a date with his brother?

♥ ♥ ♥

Blaine Anderson: What the hell, Cooper?

Cooper Anderson: ...Hi, Blaine?

Blaine Anderson: How could you?

Cooper Anderson: did Kurt tell you?

Blaine Anderson: Yeah, no shit, he told me. Why did you ask him out?

Cooper Anderson: Have you seen him? Suuuper hot.

Blaine Anderson: He's so sweet. So thoughtful. He makes me melt.

Cooper Anderson: Then why didn't YOU ask him out?

Blaine Anderson: ...I was afraid he'd say no.

Cooper Anderson: You gotta start taking risks, baby bro. Gotta go. Love you.

Blaine Anderson: No, you don't.

♥ ♥ ♥

"Wait...so why are you going out with this guy?" my best friend, Mercedes, asks.

She's been calling me pretty much every night to give me the lowdown on all my old friends (still her friends) back in New York, and this is the second or third time in any of those calls that we've gotten around to talking about what's going on with me.

I sigh, sending white noise across the line. "Because I got roped into this big plan to break his heart. He's a serial cheater type, and three of his exes want to get revenge. It's stupid, but it's gotten me friends."

"And his brother is the one you like," she clarifies.

I nod, not realizing that she can't see it over the phone. "Yes. Blaine is sweet, and cute and he wears bowties, Cedes. I wanna kiss him in the rain," I moan, flopping over onto my bed. 

I can hear my best friend's staticky laugh. "Boy, you are in way too deep, you know that, right?" she sasses.

"Ugh, I do know. Do I ever know what kind of shit I'm in. What do I do?"

"Go on the date, since you made a commitment," she orders me. "It won't do any good not to go. You're not giving him your hand in marriage or anything...I hope."

I laugh. It's good to hear Mercedes' wisecracks again. I've missed them; Santana can snark with the best of them, for sure, but when it comes to good-natured one-liners, she ain't got nothing on my 'Cedes. "And about Blaine?"

She chuckles. "Honey, text me tomorrow and we'll talk about Blaine. It's midnight, in case you can't tell time. Love you, Kurt. Miss you bad."

"Love and miss you too, my dear. I'd say I wish you were here, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone...except maybe Sebastian." I roll my eyes.

Mercedes laughs, loudly and uproariously, into the phone. She doesn't like Sebastian Smythe any more than I do, and I have to feel bad for her: they still live in the same city. "You'll pull through. Bye, baby."

"Bye, darling." I hang up, starfishing out on my bed. Talking through my issues with Mercedes usually makes me feel better, but not this time. I don't feel any more in control of the situation than I did before, and it makes me nervous.

♥ ♥ ♥

"So, how was your date with my brother?" asks Blaine icily when I call him on Saturday.

"Nice enough. We went to Breadstix. He paid." I twirl the cord on the landline in my room. "How was your night?"

"As it happens, I had a hot date myself," Blaine says dryly, "with my AP World textbook. We're getting pretty serious."

I laugh heartily, flopping back onto my bed. "Sexy," I mutter.

"'Hey, baby, I’ll teach you about the Warring States Period,’” Blaine leers, pitching his voice low. He giggles, and the butterflies in my stomach decide it’s a great idea to have one collective grand mal seizure.

“So...what are you doing today?” I ask, voice shaking a little.

“Nothing at all,” Blaine sighs, sounding a little resigned and a lot unhappy.

I have to do something to make him smile again, I decide.

“I could pick you up, we could drive around or something. Get coffee, maybe, or just talk.”

Blaine heaves a breath through the phone. “I would love that, Kurt. You have no idea. I—I need to get out of this house.”

I contemplate asking what’s wrong, but figure he’ll tell me in the car if he wants to.

“Where do you live?”

“425 East 52nd Street, near the mall.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Blainers.”

“Thank you, Kurty.” I can hear his soft giggle through the phone, and all I want to do is hold him. If there’s really something wrong, I want to help him in any way I can. I have only known him a week, but he’s the sweetest, most beautiful boy I have ever known. I can’t believe I’m hurting him like this.

I get off the bed and go into my bathroom to freshen up, spraying some cologne into the air in front of me. I walk through it, keys in hand, and head out the door to my car.

The drive to Blaine’s takes about five minutes longer than it should, because I get lost around the area adjacent to the Lima Mall. Once I arrive, however, I can’t help but notice that all the houses look the same: huge, white, and opulent beyond anything I’ve seen in Lima thus far. 425 East 52nd Street is a mansion, and Blaine is rich.

I see him waiting on his front porch, and I honk the horn lightly, waving out the driver’s side window. He grins when he sees me, and I grin back. I’m almost certain Blaine’s loveliness disobeys the laws of science. He looks unearthly in a gray-striped cardigan with white and red detail along the folded neckline. His pants hug his ass perfectly. He’s wearing penny loafers again, and they’re adorably retro. As hot as he looks, though, nothing can compare to his eyes; it’s one of those mornings when the sun is shining, but the air is cold, and the sunlight makes those whiskey-gold beauties shine like the stars.

He climbs into the car, grinning at me from across the console. “You’re an angel, Kurt Hummel,” he tells me, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it. “Or, maybe, just a really, really excellent friend.”

“Can I be both?” I breathe, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car.

“You are both,” Blaine giggles in response.

“Good answer,” I reply, smiling at him. It takes me a while to catch up with my train of thought after he smiles back at me, but it eventually comes back to me. “So, Blaine Anderson, you said you needed to get away from your house?”

Blaine sighs, leaning his head back on the headrest as I reenter traffic and head down his street. “My parents are unbelievable.” He huffs another sigh, turning his head to look at me. “Cooper was all happy about your date last night, and my dad started...he was all ‘I thought you dated girls now. I thought you were over this.’ They got into the whole sexuality argument again, and resolved it or whatever with Cooper storming out of the room all upset, but still bi, much to my dad’s dismay. And then—fuck, Kurt, then my dad turned to me and was like ‘Blaine, why can’t you be more like your brother?’”

It’s a good thing we’re stopped at a red light, because taking my eyes off the road is the only thing to do right now. I turn to look at sad, dejected Blaine and try to figure out how best to comfort him. His sweet face is frowning, his shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are shinier than they should be.

“Be more like Cooper in that...”

“In that I don’t like girls at all.”

“Oh, Blaine.” I reach across the console to give him a hug, and he holds me close to his body like I’m the only thing in his world that makes sense. “I’m so sorry. You know you can call me, text me, however you can get in contact with me, you can do it any damn time of the day and I will be there.” I pull away when I hear a honk, realizing that the light has been green for who knows how long.

Blaine sniffles, giving me a brave smile in return for my words. “Thank you, Kurty. I’m so glad you moved here.”

“I wish you’d moved to New York instead,” I giggle, “but I’m so happy I met you, Blainers.”

Blaine smiles up at me. “Even if I did body-check you?”

I have to laugh at that. “Even though you body-checked me, yes.” I pause to remember why, exactly, Blaine and I are driving around aimlessly. “So, Blaine Anderson, where to?”

“Surprise me,” he replies, and my heart melts just that little bit much more.

♥ ♥ ♥

We end up going to the retro-themed ice cream parlor across the street from the mall, grabbing a corner booth and talking for hours.

Blaine is insanely jealous that I’m from New York; he wants to go to college there for music or theatre. “I’m thinking Juilliard, but maybe NYADA and AMDA, too. I need to see which one better suits what I want to do.”

He tells me about his relationship with Cooper—they’re quite close, but they’re both exceedingly stubborn and butt heads every now and then. In turn, I tell him about Finn, who is very slowly warming up to Lima.

We talk about school—I’m bad at math, and he’s failing English. We agree to help each other with our homework a few days a week after Glee lets out.

We talk about Glee, too—he asks me what I think of it, and explains to me the inner workings.

The top dogs are Rachel, Santana, Cooper, and Blaine, “just because we give the most shits.”

Sam, as it turns out, has just moved back to Ohio from Kentucky, and his voice will apparently blow my mind. He sounds “exactly like a real country singer,” says Blaine.

The quiet Asian girl I noticed on my first day is named Tina, and she’s “so shy, but so good.” Blaine has tried to help her be more confident, apparently, but the star power of Rachel and Santana intimidates her. “She’s just as good as them, but she doesn’t believe in herself,” Blaine says.

Tina’s boyfriend, Mike, is an amazing dancer, and he choreographs the dance routines for Glee. “Totally straight, but he looks really good without a shirt,” Blaine quips. “He’s also one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, but he gets a lot of pressure from his parents about grades.”

Cheerleader Quinn Fabray is in the club, too, but she spends most of her time fighting with Santana, her on-again, off-again best friend. “She’s good, but she’s got a million things going on right now that glee club isn’t even in the top five,” Blaine puts in. “Can’t blame her; she’s too smart not to put everything she has into school.”

Noah Puckerman, the school’s resident badass, is apparently a seriously committed member, but “he doesn’t like to talk about it.” He’s one of the few who have actually sung in class since I joined the club, and he’s really quite talented, especially with that guitar.

Artie Abrams, whom I know solely as “the kid in the wheelchair”—we haven’t even been properly introduced—is apparently one of the coolest people I could ever hope to meet, but he can be “a bit of a control freak” when given the slightest amount of power.

“Seems I’ve joined a motley bunch,” I comment, getting a musical laugh out of Blaine.

“We are,” Blaine replies, “I mean...you have. We love each other, though. It’s a great community.” He frowns. “We need one more member to compete at Sectionals in a month, though. Could you—could you maybe ask Finn? Does he sing?”

“I mean, he sings a little.” I shrug. “He just joined the football team, so he might be busy, but I can ask. I’ll ask.” I wink. “But just for you.”

“And for your date, right?” Blaine adds, face falling just a little at the memory.

I shake my head. “You.” I’d do anything for you, Blainers.

The bright smile I receive in return is all the confirmation I need that I’ve said the right thing.

♥ ♥ ♥

As I sit on my immaculately made bed hours later, I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in,”I sigh, closing my copy of this month’s Vogue.

Carole, my stepmother, walks in and sits on the bed next to me.

“Where were you all day?” she asks softly, smiling at me with motherly love in her eyes.

“I was out,” I respond simply. “With a guy.” I giggle, flashing a conspiratorial smile at her. “Don’t tell Dad.”

She returns my smile. “I won’t, Kurt; I promise. This the same guy you went out with last night?”

I shake my head. “That’s Cooper Anderson. I was out with his brother, Blaine. He was having a bad day because his parents are homophobic, so I took him out for ice cream...just, you know, to get away for a while.” I feel a blush rising on my cheeks. “It was nice.”

“Mm-hmm.” She looks at me like she knows everything already. “And how did your boyfriend feel about all this?”

“Carole,” I whine. “A, he is not my boyfriend. These three girls all got dumped by him—at the same time—and they basically hired me to break his heart. It’s a plan, and I feel bad, but...I got three friends out of it, and I can’t really pass up friends right now. B, Blaine is the one I like. He’s sweet, cute, wonderful, really cute, funny, smart, did I mention he was cute—“

“Kurt,” Carole cuts me off. “Don’t you think they would be your friends if you hadn’t done this?”

I snort. “No. When I hesitated to agree to be their puppet on a string, they almost left without saying another word to me.”

Carole clucks her tongue and puts an arm on my shoulder. “Maybe, then, they’re not the kind of friends you want to have, honey.”

She gets up from the bed. “Dinner’ll be ready in just a few,” she calls behind her, smiling at me before shutting my door behind her.

♥ ♥ ♥

I walk into Glee practice the next Friday with Blaine in tow. We sit down next to each other, arms around each other, and make room for Sam and Rachel when they sit down on either side of us. Cooper walks in just as we’ve sat down, looking disappointed that he can’t sit with me.

“All right, guys,” Mr. Schue begins, walking to the front of the room and clapping twice. “To start us off today, we’ve got a brotherly duet from Blaine and Cooper! Come on down, you two.”

Blaine squeezes my hand as he moseys on down to the floor to stand beside Cooper.

“Actually, it’s not really a brotherly duet,” Blaine quips.

“That would make the entire situation extremely awkward,” Cooper chimes in.

“Yeah, no, we just like Kylie Minogue,” Blaine chuckles. He nods to the band, and they strike up the intro music.

Blaine begins to sing, sashaying across the room, and my legs turn to jelly.

I just can’t get you out of my head

Boy, your lovin’ is all I think about

I just can’t get you out of my head

Boy, it’s more than I dare to think about

Cooper takes over for the next verse, and by this time, we’re all providing harmony and backing “la, la, las” behind them. Apparently, that’s a thing.

Every night

Every day

Just to be there in your arms

Blaine joins him, and I swear he’s looking right at me.

Won't you stay

Won't you stay

Stay forever and ever and ever...

La, la, la

La, la, la, la, la

La, la, la

La, la, la, la, la

When Cooper starts to sing again, showing off that silky tenor range, I notice that he, too, is looking at me.

I just can't get you out of my head

Boy, your lovin' is all I think about

I just can't get you out of my head

Boy, it’s more than I dare to think about

Blaine's voice fills my ears, and I'm content to lean back in my hard plastic chair and listen to him serenade me.

There’s a dark secret in me

Don't leave me lost in your arms

Set me free

La, la, la

La, la, la, la, la

By the time the duet is over, half the room is looking at them, and the other half is looking right at me. Unnerving, to say the least. I’ve officially got two hot brothers fighting over me.

♥ ♥ ♥

Blainers: So, what’d you think?

Kurt Hummel: Very nice. You two sound amazing together.

Blainers: Aw, why thank you, Kurty :) I haven’t told him about our ice cream adventure on Saturday.

Kurt Hummel: Any reason?

Blainers: Nope. I mean…he might be mad that we were hanging out instead of the two of you, but you’ve only been on one date so that’s not really justified.

Kurt Hummel: No, not really.

I don’t get a response to that text, and I can’t blame Blaine—what do you say to that?

I’m about to follow it up with something witty when I get another text.

Cooper Anderson: Hey ;) so there’s a party tonight at Quinn’s, she told me to let you know. Her parents are out of town. Starts at 9, Blaine and I could pick you up...if you can convince him to go :P

Kurt Hummel: I’m in. I’ll work on Blaine, but why can’t you?

Cooper Anderson: He’s mad at me. Don’t know why.

Kurt Hummel: I’ll try to get him to come.

Cooper Anderson: Thanks :)

I thumb my way back to the conversation with Blaine.

Kurt Hummel: Cooper tells me there’s a rager at Quinn’s, and you’re not going?

Blainers: Are you?

Kurt Hummel: Yeah. I want you to come, c’mon, Blainers :( it won’t be any fun without you.

Blainers: I’ll go :) Can I ride with you instead of Coop, tho? I’m a little PO’d at him.

Kurt Hummel: Oh uh sure, yeah. How far away does Quinn live?

Blainers: About 15 minutes away from my house.

Kurt Hummel: So I’ll be picking you up around 9?

Blainers: Perfect. Thank you, Kurty.

I elect not to text Cooper back, but to call him instead. I punch in his number

and listen as it rings once, twice, three times.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cooper. It’s Kurt.”

“Oh, hey, did you convince Blaine to come?”

“Yeah, but he’s coming with me.”

“Still mad?”

“He said he was, in his words, ‘a little PO’d.’”

“That’s angry for him. I wonder why he’s so upset.”

“Yeah, I wonder. Well, I’ll see you at the party.”

“Bye, Kurt.”

“Bye, Cooper.”

♥ ♥ ♥

I knock on the Andersons’ door at 9:00 sharp, and an unfamiliar-looking man answers. This must be Blaine’s father. The man sports slicked-back black hair, just like Blaine. His face has an austere quality to it, and I remember something that Sebastian Smythe, my dearest enemy in New York, once told me: Someone’s got a serious case of the gay face, and it ain’t me. I bet Mr. Anderson can see right through me. I am in no way ashamed of my sexuality, but men like him live to intimidate, and it's working on me right now.

“Hello,” he says brusquely. “You must be a friend of Blaine’s.”

“And Cooper’s,” I reply. “Kurt Hummel. I’m here to pick Blaine up.”

I extend my hand, and Mr. Anderson shakes it briefly before cupping a hand to his mouth and calling upstairs. “BLAINE!”

“I’m coming, Dad, I’m sorry,” Blaine’s voice rings out, increasing in volume as he hops down the stairs while struggling to put his left shoe on. Once he wins the battle, he stands up ramrod-straight and bids adieu to his father, who instructs me in no uncertain terms to “keep an eye on” his son.

Blaine gets in the car, and the interior lights give me a better look at his hi-def gorgeousness. His hair is curlier than usual—evidently, he skimped on the gel—and it looks softer than anything I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a black-and-white striped shirt, a maroon cardigan, and jeans. He looks yummy. Mental note: don’t drink too much tonight. I don't trust myself.

“Hey, you,” I flirt, catching myself immediately and giving myself a mental slap on the wrist. “Uh, so, what was that in there?”

“Hey,” he breathes, leaning against the headrest. “God, my dad’s an asshole.”

“I gathered as much,” I respond, careful not to laugh in case it was a truly sensitive subject. “He scares me.”

“He scares everyone,” Blaine laughs. “He’s scared off a fair number of Cooper’s love interests.”

Blaine’s last statement gives me pause. I wonder if Cooper has ever been in love; if any of his conquests have grabbed hold of his heart and kept it for a while.

“Has it ever been...that?” I ask Blaine.

He turns his head to look at me, confused. “Been what?”

“Love.”

Blaine chuckles. “No. They don’t stick around long enough for that. It’s just fun, hooking up, going out, sometimes sex. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, yeah, I was about to ask...why are you mad at him?”

Blaine snorts, rolling his eyes. “Why do you think?”

“Because you...wanted to sing more during your duet?”

He shakes his head, which isn’t very effective, seeing as I’m driving—the only indication is the sound of his hair rustling against the leather seat. “Kurt, I don’t want him to fuck you over.”

I smile. “I won’t let it happen—plus, if you recall, I’m sort of fucking him over, too.”

“Oh, yeah, that thing with Rachel and Santana and Brittany.” Blaine laughs. “I think that’s hilarious, actually. It’s about time someone called him out on his shit.”

I look over at Blaine as I make a right turn onto Quinn’s street. “Blaine, you seem awfully angry tonight. Are you okay?”

Blaine sighs. “I’m fine, Kurt, really. Thank you for caring. I just...I feel like I’m always angry at one or more of my family members, and that’s not what family is about. My dad is an asshole who hates one of the biggest parts of me, my mom goes along with whatever my dad says, and my brother—my brother pays no mind to the feelings of others, and he’s chosen you. He knows that I care a whole fucking lot about you, and now you’ve both got plans to break each other’s hearts. The thing is...Kurt, he’s better at it than you are, and I’m afraid.”

I turn off the engine in Quinn’s driveway. “Blaine, he’s never going to have my heart.”

You already do.

♥ ♥ ♥

When Blaine and I walk in, the party is already in full swing, and it doesn’t take long for Santana to drag us into a corner where Sam, Rachel, Tina, Mike, and Brittany have already gathered with a few other people—Cooper included. There he is. They’re in a circle, and Santana indicates the spots to her right. "Make room, people!" she shouts, and the circle expands immediately.

Blaine and I sit down side by side, shooting each other not-so-sure-about-this looks.

Santana hands us two cups of something that smells like straight-up ethanol. I take a sip—tastes like straight-up ethanol...and mint.

“Everclear and peppermint schnapps,” Santana announces like a proud parent. “I’ve been saving them for you.”

I take a large swig of my drink—man, I’m dehydrated—and feel tipsy already.

“Hey, baby bro!” Cooper yells to Blaine over the din of the party when he sees us. he looks at me and winks. “Hey, baby!”

“Hey, Cooper,” I reply cordially.

“Okay, who’s next?” Santana shouts, holding up the vodka bottle in her hand. It’s empty.

“We’re seriously playing Spin the Bottle?” I ask incredulously. I haven’t played that in years.

“Let’s have Kurt go next,” Rachel slurs, ignoring me as she takes a sip of her wine cooler.

“Very well,” Santana replies, plopping the bottle in front of me unceremoniously.

I spin it, and the entire circle—populated entirely with drunk people, except for Blaine and me—watches as it whirls around and around. It slows down eventually, stopping right in front of...Cooper.

“YES!” Rachel, Santana, Cooper, and Brittany all shout at once.

Cooper and I meet in the middle, our lips touching softly. It’s nice, but I’m not feeling sparks or anything. Not like you would with Blaine, my conscience reminds me—as if I need a reminder.

“Oh, come the fuck on,” Santana curses. “Let’s get a little tongue action!”

Cooper turns back to me, our faces still centimeters away from each other. “Do you want to?”

“I mean, sure,” I replied. “Might as well give the people what they...” I trail off as Cooper’s lips capture mine again and again, his tongue sneaking in to part them. We make out hot and heavy for a good minute more, and when we pull away, Blaine’s gone.

“Where’d he—”

Rachel puts a shaky hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Kurt. Just sit back down and drink your drink and Cooper, you spin now.”

As the group watches the bottle spin, I watch Blaine come back to the circle with two more drinks in hand.

“Here ya go, Kurty!” He beams. “I made you another drink.” He holds it out to me, and I politely decline.

“You don’t want it?” Blaine’s bottom lip quivers—needy drunk, for sure—and I almost give in because those eyes. They get me every time.

“Blainers, I would, but I still have to drive you home, honey.” I ruffle his hair, and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes and keening.

“Feels good,” he mumbles. “Do it again.”

“Come sit in my lap.” I part my legs, and Blaine sits between them. I start to play with his hair, and he slides further down my body. Shit, Kurt, don’t think about the fact that he’s sliding down your body.

“Tsk, tsk, Kurt,” Santana drawls. “Looks like you’re spreading your legs for the wrong Anderson.”

“Looks like shut the fuck up,” Blaine responds, giggling maniacally afterward. God, he is so drunk. How did he get so drunk?

Santana can’t even find it in her to be angry as she laughs along with everyone else. “You’re a little bitch when you’re drunk, Blaine Anderson,” she cackles, kissing him sloppily on the cheek.

Blaine just laughs and laughs, snuggling up to me when I wrap my arms around his waist to keep him from sliding off me completely. “Thank you,” he slurs.

“It’s also your turn,” she says, handing him the bottle.

“Yay!” Blaine sets the bottle down in the middle, clapping his hands gleefully.

He spins it, and lays back on my chest as he waits for it to stop. It lands on Cooper, and Blaine pulls a face. “I’m not kissing my brother.”

“Go again,” Rachel mutters.

Blaine goes again, and the bottle seems to spin forever before stopping in front of Blaine himself.

“I have to kiss myself?” he groans. “Why does this bottle hate me?”

“Noooo,” Rachel replies. “You have to kiss Kurt. Ow!" The "ow" comes as Santana slaps her on the arm like she's a traitor to the cause. I suppose she is, but I certainly don't mind.

Blaine turns around and beams up at me like he’d forgotten I was behind him. He gets up on his knees and turns around to face me, pinning me against the sofa I’ve been leaning on.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The instant before Blaine’s lips meet mine is a blur, but kissing him is Technicolor. My drunk brain catches up with my sober brain just long enough to let me know that yes, this is real. I’m really kissing Blaine Anderson.

It doesn’t matter that it’s for a game. His lips are on mine, his tongue is exploring my mouth, he is straddling my lap, and the only thing that could make me happier would be having him for my own. Holding him, kissing him... touching him like I’ve never been touched. This beautiful, happy, talented boy is everything I’ve ever wanted, and it's been unfairly decided that I can’t have him.

If only my dad had kept the damn front door shut.