Blaine let out a hearty laugh when the petite woman with the flowing, golden brown curls seemed to imply that she wanted him to be a figure skater. She didn't laugh in exchange.

"You're kidding, right? This is some kind of joke that my brother put you up to, isn't it?" he asked as he looked towards the classroom door, expecting Cooper to pop out at any second. It was probably some kind of payback for criticizing his tendency to gurgle and flop his head off dramatically to the side whenever he performed a death scene.

"No, this absolutely is not a joke." Isabelle straightened her back and looked him straight in the eye. "I watched you dance yesterday and did some research last night. I think you have real potential."

He put his elbows on the desk in front of him and covered his mouth with one hand to try and hide his smile. "Look… Isabelle, is it? Isabelle, I'm a hockey player, or at least I was, and I can dance a little, but I'm not an ice skater. I think you have the wrong guy."

"Maybe. Maybe not. There's only one way to tell. I'd love it if you'd come in for a try-out. We can put you on the ice and see what kind of potential you have. We're just over in Lima. Come on, at worst it's a wasted weekend. At best…Well, what have you got to lose?"

=^..^=

What did he have to lose?

That, more than anything else Isabelle had said during their conversation convinced Blaine to make the drive to Lima for the weekend. He didn't have anything to lose, except for maybe a little bit of his pride. He was tired of moping about things he couldn't change, tired of feeling rudderless. If nothing else, the trip might prove to be entertaining and would be a funny story to tell at parties (hey, have I told you about the time someone wanted me to be an ice skater?).

Blaine had seen ice skating on TV a time or two, but it was never anything he'd paid that much attention to. Growing up in his household, sports meant team sports like football, basketball, and hockey, and he kind of equated skating, with its tight glittery outfits and moldy old classical music, to synchronized swimming. Sure it took talent, but what was the point?

He pulled up at the address Isabelle had given him and parked near the door. The ice rink had a large parking lot, but there were only a few cars present. Isabelle had told him that the building was owned by a woman named April Rhodes, a failed skater who had come into some money and decided to convert an old roller rink into an ice rink. It was open for public skating a few nights a week, but other than that she had given it over to Kurt Hummel for his exclusive training use.

Kurt Hummel. When Isabelle had told him the name of her skating client Blaine hadn't immediately known who he was. There had probably been a lot of press about him during the Sochi games, but at the time Blaine had been otherwise occupied. It wasn't until he'd gotten home and looked the name up on the internet that he realized Kurt was the skater he had read some about with the father who was in Congress.

Blaine walked into the building and was immediately struck by the familiar chill in the air and the smell that could only be found in an ice rink. He closed his eyes at the rush of emotions. He'd been skating many times since his accident, including once in the past week, but the feeling of being home hit him every time and made him miss hockey all the more.

He passed through the reception area and opened another set of doors to enter the actual rink-side area. A lone figure was out on the ice, skating to a soft, lilting piece of music that Blaine didn't recognize. The skater turned to face him and Blaine recognized him from the videos he'd watched the night before. Kurt was dressed in a lightweight royal blue sweatshirt that slipped off of one shoulder and tight black leggings that were strapped down over his black skates. He looked delicate in many ways, but strong, with large-than-normal thigh muscles and biceps that strained against the material of his shirt.

While his physical form was spectacular, it was the way he moved his body, and the emotions that showed on his face, that really entranced Blaine. The music turned sorrowful and Kurt spread his legs wide and pointed his feet in opposite directions. He leaned back and seemed to defy gravity as the position of his skates drew him into an ever tightening circle on the ice. He arms were stretched wide and there was such a look of pain and longing on his face that Blaine immediately felt a connection with him.

Then Kurt shifted his balance forward and glided away in a straight line, one leg raised parallel with the ice and an arm lifted high above his head. He moved into some intricate steps and pirouettes, gathering speed as he crossed from one end to the other. With a swipe of one skate he turned and began skating backwards before suddenly jumping, with one arm up over his head, spinning so fast Blaine couldn't even tell how many times he had rotated. He landed on one foot and did a few more moves before ending on a spin down low to the ice. He finished on the exact end beat of the music and Blaine began to clap. Although he still wasn't convinced that skating was a real sport, he could definitely see the appeal in watching it.

Isabelle leaned out over the boards and waved excitedly to him, motioning for him to step out onto the ice and come over to where she and Kurt were standing. After doing a quick check to confirm that his shoes were gripping the ice enough for him to walk without embarrassing himself, Blaine made his way to Kurt, who was looking at him a bit suspiciously with his hands on his hips and one leg stretched out a bit to the side. As the cold air bit through his shirt, Blaine felt a reluctant stir of interest. It had been six months since he'd had sex. At first his injury and the follow up with the league had left him little time for such things, but after that he just hadn't found himself in the mood. Now it seemed like his libido had picked that awkward moment to return to life.

"Blaine!" Isabelle exclaimed as he approached. "I'm so glad you made it. I'd like to introduce you to Kurt Hummel, my phenomenal skater. Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson."

Blaine held his hand out and smiled his patented flirtatious smile, letting just a hint of heat enter his eyes. His hand hung there as Kurt moved his head slowly around to stare at Isabelle.

"You're inviting spectators to practice now?" Disdain dripped from every one of Kurt's words. "What am I a show pony? Is this how we're going to pay for the new costumes? Tourists?"

Blaine let his hand drop back down to his side as his smile dimmed and he looked over at Isabelle for some guidance.

"Kurt," she said gently, as if tip-toeing through a field strewn with landmines, "Blaine's going to be with us for the weekend so that we can check out his skating and see if you two might gel as partners."

"You skate?" Kurt asked skeptically as he eyed Blaine from head-to-toe.

It took everything he had for Blaine not to smooth a hand down the front of his polo shirt and pants to check for wrinkles. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, not liking Kurt's tone. "Since I was 5 years old," he replied as he examined Kurt just as closely. Two could play at that game.

Kurt snorted derisively and looked away again. "You can't be any good since I've never heard of you. And I've heard of everyone who's worth knowing."

Isabelle's eyes darted back-and-forth between them and Blaine could see her searching for the best way to explain who he was. "Blaine's not… exactly a figure skater," she decided on.

"He's not one of those kooks who keeps petitioning to try and get roller skating into the Olympics is he?" Kurt bent over and pressed his nose to his leg in a stretch so deep it caused Blaine's own back to pop in sympathy. "'Cause that ship sailed along with Flock of Seagull hairstyles and leg warmers."

Despite being presented with the beauty that was Kurt stretching in tight leggings, Blaine had to fight to keep his temper in check. "Hockey, actually. Professionally for a little over a year."

Kurt lifted his face off his legs and he looked at Isabelle, dumbfounded. "Are you kidding me? I'm looking to win an Olympic medal, not run a charity program for down-on-their-luck meathead ex-jocks. What were you thinking?"

Blaine didn't give Isabelle a chance to respond. "I'm not down-on-my-luck and I was never a meathead."

The dismissive look Kurt shot him spoke volumes. "Yeah, the meatheads never think they're meatheads. That's because self-awareness is an attribute of higher beings, a category to which meatheads do not belong. Look Isabelle, I have basically three years to get back up to championship level and while I find these little attempts of your at humor very entertaining, I don't really have time for this, so..."

All Blaine could do was stare as Kurt skated off the ice and grabbed a bottle of water, drinking half of it down at once. How could someone so fluid and elegant, so expressive and in-tune with the music and able to convey such subtle emotions on the ice, be such an uptight asshole once the music stopped?

He realized he was glaring and attempted to bring himself back under control. A gentleman never let his emotions get the better of him. "I'm sorry Isabelle, but I think I'll go back to teaching dance classes to 15 year old girls. They're more emotionally mature and have better manners. I don't need this." Okay, so maybe he wasn't a gentleman all of the time.

He spun on his heel, but only made it a few steps before the sound of Isabelle's raised voice stopped him.

"That's enough, the both of you," she semi-yelled, her voice echoing throughout the building. "Kurt, you've spent so long playing Goldilocks with partners that there's no one left. This is it. We try and make this work or we throw in the towel."

Kurt crossed his arms petulantly. "What about Rosenburg?"

"He's just paired up with Zanker. They're training up in Toronto."

"Brussard?"

She shook her head. "He hung up on me as soon as he heard your name. I believe I heard him mutter something about a 'viper in spandex.'"

Blaine snorted with laughter at the perfect description.

Isabelle turned and pierced him with her gaze. "And you! I wouldn't be so anxious to go back to teaching teenagers how to Mash Potato and Twist if I were you. You're young, so you probably don't realize how quickly you can become complacent and let your dreams just drift away. This may be your last chance at the Olympics, Blaine. No one else is going to be beating down the door for an ex-hockey player who can dance a little, I can promise you." She pinned them both down with a steely expression that Blaine hadn't expected from her. "So what's it going to be?"

=^..^=

"Alright Blaine, I told you most of this when we spoke earlier, but here's the intro to Similar Pairs skating. Because the partners are of the same sex and don't have the physical size differences of Mixed Pairs, SP has more individual jumps and only a few simplified throw jumps. Traditional skating lifts aren't done for obvious reasons, but there are a few modified waist-high lifts that some pairs are performing. There's also more of an emphasis on footwork and dance elements than in Mixed Pairs. SP is considered more a hybrid of singles skating and ice dancing."

Kurt listened while Isabelle went over the basics of the sport and tried hard not to stare at Blaine. It really was unfair how good looking and confident he was. He'd been there only 20 minutes and he already looked as if he owned the place. When Blaine had walked out onto the ice in his Brooks Brothers shirt and his Cole Haan shoes and flashed that coy smile, Kurt had immediately been set on edge. Skating wasn't a cheap sport and the Hummels had struggled for many years to pay the bills Kurt racked up. All his life, Kurt had gone to competitions where the other kids showed up with the latest fad in costumes and brand new skates, arriving in luxury cars and followed around by stage moms and dads who reeked of money as Blaine did now. It made Kurt feel inferior and there wasn't much he hated more than that feeling.

He couldn't believe Isabelle was doing this to him. He was one of the top SP skaters in the world and she wanted him to skate with an ex-hockey player? An ex-hockey player who had never even seen figure skates up close, if his inspection of the pair Isabelle had just handed him was any indication. Kurt had known from the beginning that there weren't that many partner options out there for him and that the reputation that proceeded him wouldn't make finding one any easier, but having Isabelle lay it all out there, and in front of a virtual stranger at that, had hurt.

He wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head to hide from the world for a while, but that wasn't possible with the puckhead in the building looking all earnest and debonair.

Isabelle had Kurt remove his skates so that they could first try some simple dance movements on the hardwood floor of the practice room. She said she wanted to see their chemistry off the ice first, but Kurt thought she was probably just scared for Blaine to put the skates on, as she would have to finally admit that she was wrong and give up on the whole crazy idea.

Isabelle instructed them to do a simple waltz, with Blaine acting as the lead. They performed the steps over and over and Kurt was surprised to find how well they moved together. It was obvious that Blaine had some dance training and Kurt suddenly remembered that he had said something earlier about teaching a dance class.

They glided easily over the floor and Blaine arched an arrogant eyebrow at him, as if he could read his thoughts, which set Kurt's teeth on edge. Well, there was a lot more to skating than dance ability and he knew that Blaine wouldn't look so confidant once they left the dance floor.

Despite having promised Isabelle that he would give Blaine a fair shot at the try-out, Kurt looked for a way to wipe the smug look off the other man's face. There was one sure-fire way he knew of to get under the skin of any jock.

"If this all works out what will all your hockey pals have to say about your career change?" Blaine dipped him and Kurt grasped his shoulder tightly in surprise. "I can't imagine they'll be too supportive. I mean, Mixed Pairs skating and Ice Dancing have a surprisingly high percentage of straight male skaters, but SP is, shall we say, a decidedly alternative sport. I can't imagine that will go over well down at the old watering hole."

His words didn't have quite the effect he was looking for. Blaine just smiled enigmatically and lifted him out of the dip.

"Well, given that I'm gay, which they are all very much aware of, I'd say they'd be fine with it."

Kurt stumbled at his words and fought to keep his face neutral. Blaine was gay? A gay professional hockey player? That was unexpected. "Well, don't expect to use this as your private dating service. Every year there's always some drama caused by a hook-up on the circuit and we don't need that kind of distraction." Kurt didn't even realize he was already talking as if Blaine had the job. "The temptation is there all the time and some of the guys are relentless, but you have to keep your eye on the prize."

"Right, I'm sure you're beating guys off with a stick all the time," Blaine said sarcastically.

Kurt didn't know why Blaine's skepticism hurt so much. "As a matter of fact I am, but this year I have an even better reason to turn them down. I have a boyfriend."

"Great, when do I get to meet him?"

"He works with my dad in D.C., so he doesn't get out here much," Kurt admitted as they completed the steps and drifted to a stop in the far corner of the practice room.

Isabelle prevented them from continuing their conversation by announcing that it was time to hit the ice. They reached the door at the same time, so Kurt motioned for Blaine to go ahead of him. Blaine smirked and walked through, but as he passed by, Kurt could hear him humming a song that sounded suspiciously like My Girlfriend Who Lives in Canada from the musical Avenue Q.

Kurt was not amused.