“Oh my god princess!  Give it to me!”  Santana roared at Kurt as she snatched the white envelope he'd been staring at for the past minute from his hands, eliciting a yelp of protest from him before he eagerly awaited her opening it and telling him.

She tore the letter out and read it quietly to herself while he tried to read her eyes, anxiety building in his stomach like a rapidly expanding hot gas - ready to explode.

“You got it Kurt.  You got it!”  She squealed and wrapped her arms around him, prompting them to dancing and scream for joy in the center of the high school hallway.  People kept walking around their little celebration, but did raise their eyebrows as they tried to figure out why the pair were so elated.

Six weeks ago to the day, Kurt had submitted a very large application to Kent State for their Prestique scholarship which would cover his tuition for the Fashion Design and Merchandising program for the entirely of his college life so long as he kept up his grade point average.  Working at the Anderson Factory, and then the second hand shop had awakened an interest in fashion in Kurt that always had people complimenting the ensembles he put together.  He was a pro at tailoring, and had completed every course in fashion the school had to offer. It wasn't the most economically safe route to go for a career, but he had spent a lot of time talking it over with his dad who ensured him that he should follow his heart and the money would follow.  He just hoped his dad knew what he was talking about.

The week before, Santana had gotten her letter telling her that she'd been accepted into the Psychology program at Kent, which her grandmother had been saving up for as well.  Santana didn't have a scholarship - at least not yet, but like Kurt, she had been working since she got out of service and saving all her extra money.

If there was one thing they learned about being in service, it was that frivolous spending was dangerous, and savings were what kept you safe.  

Kurt's dad, for example, hadn't upgraded their living situation even though they both knew he could afford it with the raises his boss had given him over the past couple years.  Kurt would be going to college anyhow, so upgrading to a bigger space when he didn't need a bigger space was silly.  On top of that, they always clipped coupons, fixed up old clothes even though they were already second hand, and Burt had several different savings accounts set up with different banks - just in case.

Kurt had always given Burt his wages, insisting it be spent on food or necessities.  He knew though that Burt had taken all that money he had given him over the past couple years and put it into a savings account for his college after finding a bank statement saying as much.  His dad wanted to make sure Kurt never had to run into debt as an adult, and Kurt never planned to.

“Oh we have to celebrate Kurt.  You can't tell me no.”  Santana said, wiping a tear from her eye as they calmed down and collected themselves.

“Well… I have tomorrow night off… we could grab some burgers or go see a movie I guess….”

She smirked and gave her head a shake.  “Oh my dear little Kurt. We are not doing something so mundane.  Here.”  

Santana shoved something into his hand and as Kurt looked down at the little card his eyes went wide, “A fake ID?  What the… Santana?”

He got a chuckle out of her for his response.  “We're going to the new club.  Sinful.  I hear it's fabulous.”

“I can't… Santana…”  He hissed, lowering his voice as he glowered towards her, “This is illegal.”

“Pick you up at nine!”

She spun in place and he groaned, looking down at the picture she probably took when he wasn't paying attention.  The height, weight, and date of birth were so horribly off that no one would dare think it was real.  Plus his name, according to the ID, was Senor Frog.  Really?  He hoped she didn't pay good money for this.

He tucked it into his pocket and sighed, making his way out of the school and to work.  He had worked really hard, in school and out of it, to make sure he didn't screw up, get sick, or do anything else to compromise the life he and his dad had built.  They were doing so well.  Two bachelors, no debts, applauded for their work, and content to hang out with one another for the most part.

Sure, Kurt had Santana, but he mainly spent time with his dad.  On occasion, he and Santana would notice a new kid that was a little too cautious and a little too out of place, and decide together that that kid was probably a Dent, or was anyhow.  They'd never ask though, never approach the new kid, because that meant exposing themselves as past Dent's.  Older and wiser now, they knew that you didn't reveal yourself as one of them, even if it was in your past and you weren't particularly ashamed of it.  You just didn't risk it.  People only had negative things to say about them out in public, never anything good, and both Kurt and Santana didn't want the drama they knew they'd get if they exposed that truth about themselves.

They were a power couple now.  Most people assumed they were an item since they were always together, even though they both knew that the other preferred the same sex.  That kept them safe too though.  No one could harass them for being Dents or for being gay, and because both of them both were known throughout the school as ‘no-nonsense' types, they never got anything less than respect.  Santana had been senior class president this year, and Kurt had been her vice president.  Kurt had been the kicker for the football team during it's state win and Santana had been on the sidelines cheering him on in her cheerleader uniform.  They had even attended prom together and won Prom King and Queen.

No one had ever suspected they had ever been anything less than royalty in this school.

The next day came and went, and as nine approached, Kurt fiddled with his tie, looking himself over in the mirror of the bathroom and sighing.  He reasoned he could do this.  He had been good for the past two years, better than good actually.  He deserved a night of celebration - even if it was Santana style and certainly sketchy sounding.

Sinful was exactly as it sounded.  A big black box of a building with flashing pink neon lights advertising the name along with a little busty demon woman in an almost not there outfit.  Santana pulled Kurt in, the bouncers barely even looking at the ID's much to Kurt's amazement, and ordered him something that definitely did not sound like his stomach would be forgiving him come morning.

“Bottom's up babe!”  She said, clinking the tiny glass she held to his own and drinking the little drink down in one sip.  He followed suite and gagged a little at the sour and too sweet concoction that was coursing down his insides, Santana laughing openly at him.

They danced, gyrating on the floor with a mass of other people, laughing and spinning, and drinking periodically to keep up the happy tingle in their extremities that seemed to make everything else seem extra great in that moment.

“Come on!  I want to buy you a present to celebrate your awesomeness!”  Santana cooed, pulling Kurt towards a back room and stuffing some cash at another bouncer who counted it and handed her two small chips.

“Oh god Santana!  What the hell?!”  Kurt gasped as he found himself in a dark hallway with numbered doors.

They were approached by an older woman who looked at Santana with sheer unamusement, “The usual for you miss?”

“You betcha babe!”  Santana said with a hiccup to accent her current state and then giggled, “And give my friend here the hottest guy you have!”

“Santana!”  Kurt hissed, suddenly realizing what was happening, or at least he thought he did.  “What on earth are you -”

“Shhh princess.  Just a private lap dance.  Work off your stress.”  She insisted, handing the matron the two chips and then skipping happily to the room the woman pointed at you.

“Any preferences?” The woman asked of a very red cheeked Kurt when they were left alone.

“Ah… er….”  In truth, the last thing Kurt had thought about the past couple years was guys.  Everytime he tried to take care of himself in the morning when awoken by his own alert member he only ever thought of Blaine and that saddened him to the point of not needing to take care of anything. “Dark hair?  Curls maybe?  Olive skin?”

Blaine still haunted him, even now.

“Oh I have just the one for you guy.  That room.”  She pointed and walked away, leaving Kurt fidgeting in spot for a moment, wondering if he should really do this until the alcohol told him that he definitely should and led him into the small, dimly lit, room with a single chair at the side and a pole in the center.  Awkwardly, Kurt sat himself down, wringing his hands and looking around in anticipation.  

The door opened after a moment, a sultry voice cooing to him, “Hey there… heard you need some taking care of…. Kurt?!”

Oh the matron wasn't lying when she said she had just the guy for Kurt, because right there, in front of him was Blaine.  Older, barely dressed, and clearly in shock, but definitely Blaine - dark hair, curls, and olive skin.  

Kurt could barely find his breath.