On Monday, Kurt was surprised when Blaine returned for office hours. Kurt had just finished meeting with Unique where two minutes of conversation about Sociology quickly turned to twenty more minutes of debating Alexander McQueen's newest collection. Kurt thought that the new line was too primitive and the forms too graphic, but Unique argued that the bold looks were “just perfect for a discerning woman of color.” Kurt grudgingly admitted that he did like the new kilts.

“Hi, Unique. You look beautiful today,” Blaine smiled directly at Unique as he entered the room while she was exiting.

Unique flushed a little from Blaine's attention, and Kurt's heart warmed to see that Blaine was so accepting of Unique's brave changes. Unique gave both of them a small wave and shut the door as she left.

“Hi, Blaine. Its good to see you.  Have a seat.  You look…happy.” He did, too. Blaine had turned his smile to Kurt, and it lit his whole face right up to his wild honey eyes.

“Hi, Kurt. I am happy…and hopeful. I'm hopeful that you'll say ‘yes' to what I'm about to propose.”

Kurt was intrigued. And aroused. Nope, nope, just intrigued. Not aroused. Not in these pants.

“Uh, what-what-what did you have in mind?” Kurt stuttered.

Blaine reached out and rubbed Kurt's arm. “Relax. It's not that scary.” He flopped down in a chair. “So, you know the Greeks have a student-professor karaoke competition every year,” he began.

“Um, no.” So Blaine really was a frat boy. No big surprise there. I mean, all those polo shirts.

“Well, they do. Students and professors pair up and sing duets, and…well…I just really want to win this year. And,” he let out a breath, “I want to win with you.”

“But you don't even know that I can sing.”

“Yes, I do. We both went to school in Ohio. You sang at Nationals when I was a sophomore. You were incredible.”

“Oh,” Kurt blushed. “Thank you. It's flattering that you would remember me.”

“Are you kidding?”

Kurt wasn't touching that question, so he pressed on, “But I'm not a professor, Blaine. I'm a graduate student.”

Blaine leaned forward. “But that doesn't matter. I guess, um, in the past they had trouble getting enough professors to participate, so they made a rule that anyone teaching a class—grad students, adjuncts, whatever—counted as professors. Pleeeeeeeeese say you'll do it.”

Blaine had those puppy dog eyes again. Damn him. Also, Kurt really liked to sing.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, the theme is retro, so I was thinking New Radicals—‘You Get What You Give.'”

“That's not retro, Blaine. That's nineties.”

“Yeah, but the nineties were, like, twenty years ago.”

Kurt sighed. Then he leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes at Blaine. “How badly do you want to win?”

Kurt was nervous. He hadn't performed on stage since high school, and, even back then, only rarely was he the star. Usually he sang backup or had a few solo lines here or there.

He was also nervous about what to expect from Blaine. Although they had practiced Kurt's song choice every day for a week, Blaine had refused to practice the choreography. Blaine reasoned that the movements on stage had to be outrageously flirty (on Blaine's part) and coy (on Kurt's part) in order for the song to work. Too much rehearsal—which to Blaine meant any rehearsal—would make the act look too staged. Kurt hoped he was right, but God only knew what Blaine might come up with. Kurt knew that the two sounded good together—surprisingly good—but that wouldn't matter if he was laughing too hard or too mortified to hit any notes.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and smiled when the MC announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, representing Phi Kappa Sigma, Phi Kappa Sigma President, Blaine Anderson, and Sociology Professor, Kurt Hummel!”

Kurt and Blaine ran up and stood on opposite ends of the outdoor stage with their microphones. When the introductory drum licks and guitar introduction had finished, Kurt pointed at Blaine, arm extended, and sang, “Hey, hey. What's the matter with your head? Yeah…”

The crowd laughed, and Blaine touched his hair, looking puzzled, while all of Blaine's fraternity brothers cheered.

Kurt continued, Blaine locked in his gaze, “Hey, hey. What's the matter with your mind and your sign? And-a ooh-ooh.”

When they got to the chorus, Blaine crooked his finger at Kurt suggestively and sang, “Come and get your love.”

The crowd roared with laughter, especially as Blaine continued singing, “Come and get your love,” swinging his hips suggestively as he approached Kurt. As he got close, Kurt spun away, looking over his shoulder at Blaine and singing, “Hey, hey. What's the matter with your feel right? Don't you feel right, baby?”

When Blaine sang back, “Hey, oh, yeah, get if from the main line, all right. I said-a find it, find it, darling, love it,” he put his microphone on the stand and ran both hands down the full length of his chest and thighs as he sunk down on his splayed knees. Kurt thought he might hyperventilate.

When Blaine sang, “Hey, oh, yeah, get it from the main vine, all right,” he grabbed his crotch suggestively and gave a Michael Jackson hip thrust. Kurt thought he might just spontaneously combust. Blaine in everyday life was sexy. Blaine on stage was someone you wanted to ruin, in a very good way.

Somehow, Kurt managed to make it to the end where they stood hip to hip and Kurt sang, “La, la, la, la, la, la,” while Blaine looked up from his head on Kurt's shoulder to sing, “Come and get your love.”

When they finished, the crowd erupted. The MC shouted, “Anderson is definitely getting an A in Dr. Hummel's class!”

Kurt and Blaine bowed and ran off the stage. Once they got back stage, Kurt laughed and exclaimed, “You were amazing!”

Blaine shouted over the crowd noise, “You are incredible!” Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged him back to the front of the stage. “Let's see who won.”

The announcer held up his hands. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the judges have made their decision.

“In third place, with ‘I've Got You Babe'…Theta Chi!”

The crowd cheered. A skinny frat boy dressed as Cher and a middle-aged woman graduate student dressed as the Hippie-era Sonny ran to the stage to get their prize.

“In second place, singing ‘Ebony and Ivory'…Kappa Sigma!”

The crowd cheered louder. A Black Studies professor and a gap-toothed Kappa took a bow.

“Finally, in first place….

Several people in the amphitheater tapped their fingers on the ground to create an artificial drum roll.

“...with their crazy, homoerotic version of Redbone's 1974 hit, ‘Come and Get Your Love'…Phi Kappa Sigma!”

Blaine and Kurt ran up on stage where Blaine received with great enthusiasm a sad little trophy with a cheap, metal musical note on top. He thrust it in the air with a huge smile. Then he pulled Kurt into a big hug and kissed him full on the lips, right there on the stage.