Chapter Three: It's the Disease That We Crave

Blaine knew the moment he was summoned into Chancellor Taylor's office and saw Thad Harwood sitting there that no possible good could come of it.

He was half right.

Reese Taylor was the stereotypical prep school headmaster. He believed in old traditions and even older money. He knew that his student's parents paid a pretty penny for him to ensure that their children were well educated and remained relatively scandal free while in his care.

That was easier said than done, particularly when a substantial part of the student body was comprised of young men suffering from "poor little rich boy syndrome". In his years at Dalton he'd arranged abortions and adoptions, paid off prostitutes, blackmailed district attorneys and bought judges. He'd posted students bail and tracked down run away heirs.

Never had a child tried his considerable patience the way Blaine Anderson did.

Blaine, Reese mused, simply had too much. Blaine had too much freedom. He had access to far too much money and he was anything but restrained in his spending. Blaine had too much ambition; he had too much anger and resentment for one so young.

And far too much power.

Unlike the rest of his peers, Blaine wasn't stuck waiting in the wings for his grandfather or his father or his older brother or great uncle to hand over the reins to the family business, or slide him into his designated slot in the corporate or political machine. Blaine wasn't merely an Anderson, thanks to his grandfather's passing and the shocking contents of his will, Blaine was the Anderson. He was seventeen and the king of an international empire. He had a tremendous amount of wealth and influence.

And the problem with that was that he knew it.

When it had been revealed that Desmond Anderson had bequeathed the lion share of his estate to his grandson-an estate that included sole ownership and majority stock of his multibillion dollar company- the general assumption had been that Blaine would have his father, Carter Anderson, step in and take the lead in his stead while Blaine rubber stamped Carter's projects and handed over his proxy for board meetings. No one had given any serious thought to the notion that Blaine would do more than merely sit back and cash the checks that came his way.

The general assumption had vastly underestimated Blaine's hatred for his father and his considerable ambition.

Within weeks Blaine had established himself as a force to be reckoned with. He'd somehow managed to maneuver his parents into signing over control of his trust fund and had Carter unceremoniously fired from Anderson International. Rumor had it he'd actually had the man escorted from the building by security. Blaine had swept the company from top to bottom, removing anyone whose allegiance was to his father and placing his godfather, Jasper Devereux, in the position of acting CEO.

Jasper Devereux was a man that could strike fear in the heart of the devil himself, but had an inexplicable soft spot for Blaine. Jasper and Carter had experienced some sort of falling out years ago, but he had never severed ties with his godson. J.D. ran the company with brutal efficiency and his loyalty to Blaine was unyielding. He kept the young man apprised of all business endeavors, oversaw Blaine's trust fund, and acted as the minor's legal guardian

The combination of Blaine's ambition and J.D's experience had proven to be a lethal one.

If one were on the outside looking in, they might assume that J.D. called the shots and Blaine was the eager pupil learning at the feet of the master. While that may true in some regards, it certainly didn't ring true in all.

Blaine Anderson was nobody's puppet.

Blaine, Reese noted, was the archetypal iron fist in a velvet glove. On the surface the boy was charming, well mannered, and a master at diplomacy. However, if he were threatened or challenged, Blaine was one of the coldest, most ruthless individuals that Reese had ever met. The boy had swept into Dalton and in a manner of months ushered in a completely new social order-with him firmly at the top and his two best friends at his side. His peers had been too distracted by the Trojan Horse his perfect manners and dapper fa�ade created to notice the war machine housed within and by the time a select few-Mr. Harwood chief among them-realized what Blaine was doing it was far too late. Blaine met every opposition to his rule at Dalton with the force and precision of a military strike. Trying to displace young Mr. Anderson was an exercise in futility.

It still didn't stop Mr. Harwood from trying.

Thad was the closest thing Blaine had to rival at Dalton. He was an impressive young man in his own right. Thad was handsome, talented, intelligent, wealthy and popular among students and faculty alike.

He was also perpetually in Blaine's shadow.

The problem, Reese mused, was that Thad on his best day was a pale imitation of Blaine on his worst. Thad was charming, but Blaine was charismatic. Thad was intelligent, but Blaine was brilliant. Thad had ambition but Blaine had drive. When Thad felt slighted he took his petty revenge, seeking to humiliate the offending student.

When Blaine felt slighted his revenge was anything but petty. Thad humiliated; Blaine destroyed.

Reese had been refereeing their power plays for over a year now and they always ended the same way.

He knew before Blaine sat down that he would emerge the victor.

"Chancellor Taylor, Thad. To what do I owe the honor gentleman?" Blaine asked politely as he took his seat.

"Blaine, it has come to my attention that there has been an incident of some kind that has resulted in a change in the dynamic between yourself and Mr. Van Lucre." Reese stated carefully.

Thad smirked and Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Christophe and I were…involved for a short time and we had an amicable parting of ways. I hardly see where that qualifies as an incident," Blaine replied archly.

"Yes, well. As you know, the two of you were selected to represent Dalton at Senator Sterling's Youth Leadership Conference. Mr. Harwood was selected as an alternate and he has raised some concerns that the tension between yourself and Mr. Van Lucre might-"

Blaine seethed internally as Chancellor Taylor prattled on. So that's the game Thad was playing. Blaine should have known that Thad wouldn't take losing the group vote to Blaine lying down. "I assure you, there is no tension between Christophe and myself," Blaine cut in smoothly. "I realize how important it is that Dalton put its best face forward at this event and I appreciate Thad's concerns. His pride in this institution is well known and his devotion to maintaining Dalton's standards of excellence are quite inspiring."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Blaine," Thad interrupted, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "That being the case, I'm sure you'll agree that it would be advisable that I take your place at the conference to avoid any potential embarrassment due to the strain between yourself and Christophe."

Thad didn't exactly hate Blaine. He had grown up with the guy and he knew they were more alike than they were different. He just hated the way Blaine seemed to get everything and he especially hated the way that most of the things Blaine seemed to get were things that, in Thad's opinion, should belong to Thad.

Blaine was a spoiled, self important, self indulgent jackass and Thad was tired of constantly being the beta to Blaine's alpha.

As Thad played his hand, Reese braced for impact.

"I see. I would happy to step aside Thad, if Chancellor Taylor deems it necessary," Blaine answered.

Reese cleared his throat and began to speak. "As you both know it is the duty of every Dalton student to conduct himself in a manner that upholds Dalton's prestigious reputation. Now, Blaine, I understand that young men will have…dalliances but-"

"Say no more. You are absolutely right, Chancellor Taylor. Romantic liaisons should never endanger the reputation of this fine institution. I'm sure Thad agrees," Blaine stated emphatically.

"I am in complete agreement, Blaine," Thad replied smugly. The fool is making this entirely too easy, Thad mentally gloated.

"So I suppose it's a fortunate thing that neither Christophe nor I bear any ill will towards one another. It's a shame the same can't be said for Mr. Harwood and Anastasia Carmichael," Blaine said neutrally.

Thad's smile froze and Blaine went in for the kill. He turned to Chancellor Taylor and gave him his most earnest look.

"I must confess I was rather relieved when Christophe was chosen to accompany me once it came to my attention that Ms. Carmichael was going to be the representative from Crawford County Day School. After all, no one wants a repeat of last semester's unpleasantness," Blaine said, leaning back in chair and brushing imaginary lint off of slacks.

Take that you backstabbing, social climbing, rat bastard, Blaine thought to himself.

Reese sighed. The "unpleasantness" had been Thad's then-girlfriend, Anastasia Carmichael surprising Thad in his dorm room only to find him in bed with her then-best friend. Ms. Carmichael had then chased the very naked pair throughout the dorm to the amusement of the camera phone wielding student body.

The video had gone viral in a manner of minutes.

Thad flushed bright red and Blaine continued. "It's also my understanding that Yasmine is going to be representing St. Peter's." He looked directly at Thad. "The two ladies still haven't made peace, you know. I shudder to think of the potential disaster that could occur if all three of you are in the same room together with all that bad blood flowing between you."

Game. Set. Match.

Reese decided it was time to end things and put Mr. Harwood out of his misery.

"Yes, well. Thankfully that won't be a problem. As neither you nor Mr. Van Lucre have raised any objections and I'm sure Mr. Harwood has no desire to reprise his role as an internet sensation, I don't see there being any need to make any changes at this time."

Thad threw Blaine a vicious glare then composed himself. "You're quite right Chancellor Taylor. I was merely-"

"We're all well aware of what you were doing Thad," Blaine said coldly, rising to his feet. "If that's all, I really should be taking my leave now. We have Warblers practice in a few minutes and I'd like to freshen up first."

Reese released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Blaine was taking Thad's attempt to usurp his position with uncharacteristic grace.

Blaine paused on his way out. He'd sufficiently embarrassed Thad and asserted himself. He could simply take his win and leave well enough alone.

The problem with him doing that was simply that Blaine didn't believe in leaving your prey wounded. He believed in going for the killshot.

"Although, while I'm here," he said turning back around and addressing Chancellor Taylor. "I wanted ask if you'd given any thought to who you'll be sending to represent Dalton at next month's Future Business Leaders of America district meeting."

Reese cast a sidelong glance at Thad. Mr. Harwood was due. He'd been passed over twice; once in favor of Nick Duval and the last time in favor of Blaine.

"Because if you hadn't made your official recommendation I wanted to suggest that you give some thought to sending David Thompson." Blaine finished

Reese's eyebrows shot up on his forehead and Thad's jaw dropped. "David? David-"Thad began.

"David has a 4.0 and is a model student, active in several of the groups and clubs on campus including the FBLA."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Anderson-"

"Of course the choice is entirely up to you, Chancellor. I just brought it up because I arranged for Jonathan Benson to speak at the event. I ran into him at the club the other day and we ended up chatting quite a bit about Dalton and the subject of David came up. Jonathan is quite anxious to meet him and we all know how he feels about self made men," Blaine continued.

Reese closed his eyes. Jonathan Benson was a self made billionaire and Dalton alumni who had become disillusioned with what he saw as wave after wave of spoiled brats who didn't know what it meant to make an honest day's wage. Reese suspected he was still a bit bitter by how he'd been treated as a student who had attended Dalton on scholarship instead of mommy and daddy's money.

David, unlike the majority of the students at Dalton, hadn't grown up wealthy. David's father had only made his millions in recent years. Richard Thompson was a man with a GED who had turned hard work and a dream into a multi-million dollar cosmetics empire and David had worked for his father since he was old enough to go door to door offering free samples of their products and helping to package and deliver orders.

Jonathan would adore David. Perhaps he'd adore him enough to make a contribution to the school.

Choosing David wasn't fair to Thad however, who by rights should be next in line to attend the dinner.

Reese made his decision. "I think Mr. Thompson would be fine representative. Be sure to let him know to come by my office after your practice to get the details."

Thad turned an unhealthy shade of purple. Reese was genuinely sorry for the lad, but his first priority was the good of the school.

A priority Blaine knew how to exploit all too well.

"I'll make sure he stops by," Blaine replied turning on his heel and leaving, without another word.

"Mr. Harwood, you may see yourself out," Reese dismissed the angry young man still sitting in the room.

Thad rose stiffly, giving Reese a jerky nod and exited fuming. Thad vowed that he was going to get even with Blaine if it was the last thing he did. He was tired of coming in second, and now third because of Blaine fucking Anderson. Blaine was going down and Thad was going to be the reason why.

Reese took in the young man's retreating form and exhaled harshly. He then rose and pulled out David Thompson's file so he could update David's biography for Dalton's press kit. He also pulled Blaine's for good measure to ensure he'd left nothing off Blaine's official Dalton bio.

Blaine had successfully warded off Thad's attempt to take his position and in the process stripped Thad of an honor he'd rightfully earned. In the latest battle between the two Blaine had triumphed.

Reese caught sight of Blaine's file and murmured to himself, "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."

I fear the Greeks even if they bear gifts.

Kurt was seething. Mr. Schue had to have been going for irony when he named the club "New Directions". They only went in ONE direction: Finn and Rachel's. Kurt had been shocked when Mr. Schue had announced he was working on the set list for sectionals but hadn't found the perfect song to highlight Finn and Rachel yet.

Did the man not realize there were ten other members in the club? Sure, Finn and Rachel were talented but they all were. Mr. Schue had the worst case of tunnel vision Kurt had ever seen. He was constantly promising that he'd make an effort to respect the ability of every member of the club and create moments for all of them to shine, but he never followed through on it when it counted. Sure, he'd let the rest of them have solos in practice or for a random performance here or there, but in competitions the closest anyone not named Rachel or Finn came to being featured was when Mr. Schue had Mercedes belt out the final note.

It was infuriating. It was stifling. It was never going to change.

At least Mr. Ryerson had made them audition for parts. Kurt couldn't remember the last time Mr. Schue hadn't just arbitrarily handed the leads to Finn and Rachel.

And Mr. Schue didn't even seem to notice the damage he was doing to the club with his favoritism. Everyone was starting to resent Rachel and Finn. Tina had fled in tears, Mike trailing after her. Puck had glared a hole in Mr. Schue's head and Artie and Brittney had lost interest and spent the entire time making out. Santana and Quinn had done one another's nails and he, Mercedes and Sam had passed the time making plans for the weekend.

Even Brad had given Mr. Schue an incredulous look and rolled his eyes towards the heavens.

Finn and Rachel were so busy huddled with Mr. Schue that the implosion of New Directions that was going on didn't even register.

Kurt was so tired of being looked over that he was seriously considering crawling back to Coach Sylvester and begging to rejoin the Cheerios.

The only bright spot in his day had been texting with Blaine. He couldn't believe how quickly he was coming to rely on the other teen. Blaine always knew just what to say to get a smile or a laugh out of Kurt and Kurt desperately needed something to give him a reason to smile.

Once school let out, Kurt made it home and quickly prepared dinner. He gave his father a quick text to let him know he had a hot dinner waiting on him and not to work too late. Kurt knew he was hovering, but he couldn't help it. Burt Hummel was all Kurt had and the idea of losing him was more than Kurt could bear.

Kurt shook off the unpleasant thoughts and started on his homework. He gave up on his calculus and decided to call Blaine instead.

"Hello?" Blaine answered after a couple of rings.

"Rescue me," Kurt begged.

A smile spread across Blaine's face. It was the first time they'd talked when Kurt hadn't sounded upset. In fact, Kurt sounded slightly breathy, and completely adorable.

It was a nice change.

"What am I rescuing you from?" Blaine asked, shutting his history book and making his way over to his bed.

"You're saving me from the evils of calculus. I want to go back in time and stab Newton," Kurt declared.

"Ah, but that would still leave Leibniz," Blaine replied.

"Curses! Foiled again!"

Blaine laughed. "If it makes you feel any better Caligula is currently making me his bitch."

"From what I understand, he did that to a lot of people," Kurt cracked.

"I suppose he did," Blaine agreed.

"How was your day?" Kurt asked. "You sound a bit…tired, maybe? You don't sound as bright and shiny as you usually do."

Blaine paused. He was surprised Kurt had picked up on his mood. Usually Kurt was so upset when they talked he'd assumed the other boy wasn't paying too much attention to Blaine.

"It was…eventful," Blaine said slowly.

"I take it not all of those events were pleasant?"

Blaine sighed. "No, not at all. Everything worked out in the end though so I suppose that's what's important."

"Tell me about it," Kurt said, moving over to the sofa and stretching out. "I've leaned on you I don't even know how many times. It's my turn to do some heavy lifting."

"Are you calling me fat?" Blaine joked.

"Don't be silly," Kurt laughed. "Now stop deflecting and spill."

Blaine hesitated, but decided it couldn't hurt to let Kurt in on the drama with Thad.

Kurt listened as Blaine recounted his meeting with Chancellor Taylor and Thad. When Blaine concluded the story Kurt let out a slow breath.

"Wow. That was…very Cesare Borgia of you," Kurt murmured.

"You disapprove?" Blaine asked calmly.

"No…not exactly. Goodness knows I've employed my own form of guerilla tactics when engaging in high school warfare. Of course, I still maintain that however dubious my intention, giving Rachel that makeover was an act of mercy," Kurt replied. "It's just-"

"It's just what, Kurt?" Blaine broke in. He couldn't believe Kurt was casting judgment on him, after all of their conversations and all the time that he'd spent being supportive and listening to his problems and encouraging him.

"It's just I hate that you're forced to deal with someone who makes stuff like that necessary. I mean, he came after you, right? This was…social Darwinism for the Dalton set. I mean, after what happened to you at your last school, I can understand you not wanting to let anyone push you around. I just ah, wish that it wasn't necessary, that's all," Kurt explained.

Blaine's irritation evaporated. Kurt wasn't judging him, he was…doing some strange sort of rationalizing. As long as it worked to his advantage Blaine was happy to go with it. "That's uh…thank you."

"Don't thank me. Besides, I was a Cheerio. I watched Coach Sylvester make a nun cry. Nothing you could possibly do would shock me," Kurt replied.

Don't be too sure about that little one, Blaine thought to himself.

"Coach Sylvester...is that the woman who filed a lawsuit to have Sunday changed to Sue's Day?" Blaine asked.

"The same," Kurt confirmed. "She's certifiable. But…she's also the only faculty member that's been remotely helpful so I can't think of her as all bad."

"Isn't she hell bent on destroying your glee club though?" Blaine asked

Kurt snorted. "At this point, there's precious little left for Coach Sylvester to destroy."

Blaine's interest was piqued. Kurt may be a potential…something, but Warblers was a priority and New Directions was competition. Plus, by sending Kurt to spy, they had fired the first shot.

Turnabout was fair play.

"Trouble in paradise?" Blaine asked

"More like a bonfire in hell," Kurt moaned. "Everyone is angry and frustrated and Mr. Schue just doesn't care because he's got such a hard on for Finchel that it borders on fetishism."

"You have someone in your glee club named Finchel?"

"No, Finchel…the portmanteau of Finn and Rachel. You know like Brangelina or Bennifer," Kurt explained.

"Ah, I got it. So, Finchel are the stars and the rest of you…"

"Huddle in the shadows and quietly plot their murder," Kurt retorted.

"Now that is a Borgias move," Blaine laughed. "Ever think of just asking your director to be a little fairer in his selection process?"

"Did Alexander McQueen revive the low rise jean?" Kurt scoffed. "Every so often Mr. Schue realizes he has ten other people in New Directions and promises to allow us a chance at the spot light. Then we sing a song, a couple of the background players get a line or a verse and the next week the Finchel Show is back on the air."

Blaine was quiet. Kurt was clearly feeling undervalued and underappreciated. If the rest of his club was feeling this way, that was a clear weakness the Warblers could exploit.

"I know it's not the same thing, because to the best of my knowledge no one is unhappy with the current state of things, but I pretty much sing lead the majority of the time for the Warblers. I try to make sure though that the other guys know that it isn't just "Blaine and the Pips" and that each and every one of them are essential to our success, but I am the one whose front and center. Being in that position requires a certain amount of diplomacy. Maybe I could talk to your friends Rachel and Finn and-"

"In the name of Grilled Cheesus, don't even think of approaching Finn, or worse, Rachel," Kurt squeaked.

"What is a grilled cheesus?"

"Its…Finn thought he saw the face of God in a grilled cheese sandwich and prayed for boob. It's a long story," Kurt replied, "My point is that you can't talk to Finn or Rachel."

"Why not?" Blaine was genuinely curious why Kurt was so insistent.

"They don't…I haven't…other than Mercedes and Brittany no one knows anything about you. I didn't tell anyone about my fail as a covert agent and if you show up Rachel will dub you the new Jesse St. James and Finn will …well truthfully Finn will do whatever Rachel tells him to do. And Puck will slash the tires on your jag," Kurt explained.

"Jesse St. James? Wasn't he the soloist for Vocal Adrenaline? Why am I the new Jesse St. James and why is a character from a Midsummer's Night Dream slashing my tires?"

"They'll probably throw eggs on you too. And I don't even want to imagine the funkification-"

"The what?" .

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, get comfortable. I'm going to tell you a little story about a boy, a girl, and the funk."