Kurt is just starting to prepare dinner when he hears the door to their apartment open, followed by Blaine’s voice: “Kurt I’m trying out for The Voice and you can’t talk me out of it.”

“Um, okay?” Kurt calls out. He puts down the knife he was using to chop vegetables and comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “I heard ‘try out’ and ‘talk you out of it,’ but I don’t think I caught the rest?”

“Here, sit down,” Blaine says as he motions to their sofa, where they both sit. “So, about a month ago I was in my songwriting seminar class and a bunch of us were talking about The Voice auditions in June. And Elliott was saying I just had to audition. I laughed it off, I mean I still have a couple of years to go in school, right?”

“Right, but I mean the two aren’t mutually exclusive, you’ve taken a break from school before.” Blaine gives him a judging you look. “Yes, I know, not under the best circumstances. But anyway, continue.” 

“Okay, then the next thing I know, he’s on NBC’s website, creating an artist account for me, and well, I didn’t exactly tell him to stop creating one? And it’s not like he forced me to open my email and click the link to confirm my account...or pick an audition city.” 

“Please tell me it’s in New York and we don’t have to go to, like, Little Rock or something.”

“It’s in New York, Kurt,” Blaine laughs. “And they just emailed me my Artist Audition Pass today. So I have a week to prepare my audition songs.” 

Kurt’s eyes widen. “Wow, that’s not much time. But between us I’m sure we can come up with some numbers. And with Elliott’s tutelage we have some more contemporary knowledge!” 

Blaine feels like he’s been doing really well at NYU, thriving even. The community at NYU is still competitive, but they are more cooperative than cut-throat; what good is auditioning for a part if you aren’t competing with the best, and how can they be the best if you continually try to cut them down? He’s especially been doing very well in his guitar class; he signed up feeling that having another instrument besides piano would make him more versatile. The NYU classes focus more on classical guitar technique; Elliott meanwhile has been helping him get in touch with his more gritty and bluesy side. More than a few nights he’s serenaded Kurt in bed, more often than not naked (which usually ends up with Kurt equally naked and launching himself at Blaine by the time he strums the final note, just barely getting the guitar safely to the floor). 

Being at NYU has boosted Blaine’s confidence, and with continued therapy and medication he is healthier both physically and mentally, which in turn has helped his and Kurt’s marriage prosper. But he is still a little risk-averse, and he lets Kurt know.

“You do know that this audition is really my first big one since we’ve returned to New York,” Blaine says. “I thought I’d wait until I graduated. And I really don’t want a repeat of the June Dolloway debacle.”

Kurt grabs Blaine’s hands. “I don’t either. But I think this is different. I probably wouldn’t do The Voice, but then I’m more theatrical. There’s no weird competition here. Even if there was, what did the therapist say?”

“The only competition is with myself,” Blaine says. His eyes drift off then, just over Kurt’s right shoulder.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Blaine blushes. “Um, I might be a little worried about you being jealous...because of Adam.”

“What? I haven’t seen him since we got engaged the first time and he kicked me out of the Apples!” Kurt smirks sarcastically.

Blaine tosses a pillow at him. “No, silly, Adam Levine . You and I both know I’ve always sort of had a thing for him.”

“Um yeah, I have a tattoo on my back that mysteriously gets a hickey on it every other week as proof,” Kurt says slyly. “Blaine, I don’t honestly believe you would run off with him...besides, he’s straight ...presumably, and married, and has a kid…”

“I know, I know, I get it,” Blaine laughs. “You really have no reason to worry.”

“And besides, that thing you have for him has lead to some pretty spectacular sex,” Kurt says. He starts to unbutton his shirt, turns, and slips it off his shoulders to reveal his tattoo. “Speaking of…”

“What about dinner?”

Kurt turns around and hikes his shirt back on. “Are you seriously asking as if there is a choice between dinner and sex?”

“Hmm, well when you put it that way,” Blaine wiggles his eyebrows and pounces on Kurt, tackling him to the couch. He passionately kisses him, all teeth and tongue and open-mouth, down his throat and his sternum as Kurt’s shirt is still splayed open. He drags his tongue over one nipple before working his way back up to that spot behind his ear that makes Kurt gasp and involuntarily thrust his hips.

“Oh God,” Kurt moans. “We better move this to the bedroom, I’ve already had to spot treat the couch once this week.”

They quickly get up and undress as they go down the hall to their bedroom. By the time they are tumbling onto the bed Blaine is fully naked and Kurt is clad only in his briefs. Kurt pauses long enough to reach for his phone, quickly thumbing over to one of his favorite playlists.

As the opening piano notes of “Sunday Morning” float in the air, Blaine grins. “Well I guess we know who’s bottoming tonight.” He resumes his worship of Kurt’s skin, lips and tongue working every nerve, eventually making his way down to Kurt’s groin. He pulls off Kurt’s underwear and licks a stripe up his cock, by now solid and dripping.

“Knees, up.” Kurt happily complies, raising his legs and grasping behind his knees. Blaine strokes the backs of his thighs, running his nails across them before spreading Kurt open and lapping wetly against his hole.

“Fuck, Blaine, I love how you do that,” Kurt drawls. Blaine preens internally as he continues to work his husband into a writhing mess, alternately spearing him with his tongue and licking up across his perineum to the head of his dick.

“Lube,” he requests. Kurt reaches behind the headboard for the bottle. He slicks up his fingers; Kurt opens easily with one. Blaine finds only a slight resistance with two, so he skips straight to four fingers. He feels his own cock bobbing solidly as Kurt squeezes around him. When he brushes Kurt’s prostate, Kurt spasms.

“Blaine, please,” he whines.

“Okay, turn over.” Blaine pulls his hand away and wipes his fingers on the sheets. Kurt rolls onto his belly and tucks his knees up underneath himself, his wet entrance exposed and shining. Blaine practically growls as he takes Kurt’s hands and holds them over his head; he lines himself up then and presses into him, his sighs matching Kurt’s. It only takes a few thrusts to be completely seated within him.

“God, move,” Kurt wheezes. Blaine rocks into him slowly at first, but soon picks up the pace, stroking Kurt’s back and paying special attention to the absurd wording marked permanently on his shoulder, a reminder of youthful foolishness that inexplicably turns him on so much. He barely notices a lag in Kurt’s sexytimes playlist, a slow fade that lasts about ten seconds. For those precious moments the only music is made up of their sighs and moans and gasps, a harmony that builds into a crescendo.

“Oh God, make me come,” Kurt begs. Blaine stretches across Kurt’s back, his sweating forehead sticky against his neck. He reaches around for Kurt’s cock and it only takes a couple of tugs for him to spill into his hand. He smears the mess across Kurt’s belly as he quickens his thrusts inside him. When Blaine comes, he sucks a mark on the tattoo so hard, Kurt’s surprised he didn’t suck the ink out of it.

Blaine slowly pulls out as Kurt collapses, making a bigger mess of the bed. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, returning with a warm wet washcloth to clean himself and Kurt up.

“Wanna change the sheets?” Blaine asks.

“Too worn out,” Kurt mumbles.

He turns Kurt on his side and lays a clean dry towel over the mess, then snuggles up against his back, placing gentle kisses on his shoulder.

Kurt murmurs, “I really think you’re going to do great on that Voice show, Blaine. They’re gonna love you. Not as much as I do, but still.”

Blaine smiles. “I love how you have so much confidence in me, thinking I’ll make it on the actual show.” He yawns. “We don’t even know I’ll make it to the callbacks.”

***

Blaine makes it to the callbacks.

After some back and forth about whether doing songs originally by the actual coaches would come across as “pandering” Blaine decides on singing Maroon 5’s “Misery,” with “Tiny Dancer” as a less indulgent backup just in case. He has to go by himself; no backing tracks, no instrument, not even the support of family and friends, and he is “nervous as fuck,” he tells Kurt over the phone right before he goes in. When he comes home that night holding a red “callback” card, Kurt gives him a celebratory blowjob.

The callback itself proves to be even more stressful; more songs, backing tracks, instruments - but at least he gets to have one person there and Kurt is happy to clear his day. Blaine, Kurt, and Elliott put their heads together and create a short set list that will highlight Blaine’s raw talent, current skills and “potential for growth” (“trust me Blaine,“ Elliott had said, “they see themselves as mentors just as much as coaches, I’ve watched every season.”). When he gets the producer’s call that he’s made it to the Blind Auditions and that he’ll be going to L.A., they call all of their friends to go out and celebrate. Rachel and Jesse manage to reschedule their workshopping of the musical they are working on (a Jane Austen adaptation that everyone is sure will fail but no one dares say anything), and Mercedes even flies in on her tour’s off-day, saying she wouldn’t miss it.

Soon the producers come to New York to interview him and Kurt and shoot some b-roll of him walking around the NYU campus, “casually” playing guitar by the fountain in Washington Square Park (“just in case he makes the aired episode,” they tell him). Blaine puts in the necessary paperwork for a temporary leave of absence with the dean’s office, and soon he and Kurt are off to Los Angeles.

Unbeknownst to Blaine, they also did other family and friends interviews, so he is not expecting a mini family reunion when he and Kurt arrive in L.A. for the blind audition rounds.

“Blainey!” They hear a familiar voice call out as they get to LAX baggage claim. Blaine turns around to see his big brother Cooper, along with a camera crew. He recognizes the field producer from their earlier visit to New York.

“Put on a happy face,” he hears Kurt grit through a camera-ready smile as he feels him squeeze his hand. Blaine really hopes his wide eyes and dropped jaw convey the “happy” type of surprised instead of the impending embarrassment he is actually feeling.

Blaine breathes in and turns on the ready-for-prime-time charm. “Coop! Hey, big bro, great to see you... oof!” he says as he’s swept up in a big hug and unexpectedly lifted off his feet.

“Ah, SQUIRT, it has been TOO LONG!” Cooper alternates shouting and speaking. He points at Blaine, “You’ve GROWN, what, a MILLIMETER since I last saw you?”

Blaine knows he’s only doing it because the cameras are there. He leans in close enough to (hopefully) avoid the boom mike, “Cooper, for god’s sake you don’t have to do that shouting thing, this isn’t one of those TV shows. It’s a reality show, so please try to act real?”

Cooper deflates. “Fine. But you know reality has led to a lot of actors getting non-reality gigs. Nene Leakes, Kat McPhee, that dude on Grimm ...you gotta take every opportunity, squirt.”

“How many times have I told you to not call me squirt?” Blaine groans. “And technically I’m the one on the reality show, not you. Wait, how did you know I’d be here?”

Kurt cringes. “Um, that may have been my fault. The producers wanted family contacts besides me. They said it was in case of an emergency. I gave them your mom’s number, but she must have put them in contact with Cooper.”

“They’ve already interviewed me, and Mom gave them some great background stuff. Do you know she still has all those home movies of our performances? I’m telling you when viewers see baby Blainers singing and looking up to his big bro, they are gonna go nuts for him! Come on, let’s get your stuff and head to the hotel.” Cooper nods, pointing to the cameraman, who visibly sighs and shuffles off behind him. Blaine and Kurt could tell he’d been putting up with Cooper longer than any decent human should have to.

“Is it too late to back out?” Blaine whimpers to Kurt.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Come on. We’ve survived a lot worse than embarrassing brothers.”

***

On set, Blaine is backstage, psyching himself up, as he hears Carson Daly getting ready to introduce him. Meanwhile Cooper is blatantly flirting with one of the assistant stage managers as she tries to get him to stand at the mark where he, Kurt, and Carson will watch Blaine perform on the monitors. Kurt is thankful that currently the cameras aren’t on them now.

“Honey, I’m afraid you’re going to break the neck of your guitar,” Kurt says. Blaine looks down and realizes he’s gripping it so tightly the frets and strings are cutting into his fingers; he immediately loosens his grip.

“This was a terrible idea. Oh God what if Adam Levine turns around and I freeze up and make a fool out of myself? Or worse what if no one turns around? Oh shit I think I’m going to be sick. Has anyone actually died on stage?” Kurt laughs. “What?” Blaine asks, looking a bit insulted.

Kurt smiles and puts his arm over Blaine’s shoulder. “Oh, just remembering once upon a time, a boy was afraid he’d die on stage, and another, very handsome boy told him he was adorable.”

“Is this your way of saying I’m gonna kill this thing?”

Kurt simply kisses his cheek. “I’m so proud of you, and yes, you are gonna kill this.”

“I’m still nervous about the song...I mean, it doesn’t have the best record for us.”

“Hey, that song was when I fell in love with you. And yes, when you did that sad version at Callbacks it lead to a very...very bad time in our lives. But it also reminded me that when you perform, there’s the part of you that can put on a show and then, there’s that other part that pours your entire truth into a song. The part that you can’t hide from me, when I can tell you’re sad, or feeling guilty, or lost or scared. The man I fell in love with all over again, and the man the coaches are gonna love.”

“Oh...Kurt…”

“And besides, you’ve been rehearsing that song in the apartment for weeks now, arranging the guitar part with Elliott...I’m pretty sure any weird feelings I had about it are long gone.”

“And, um, maybe singing it to you at the hotel last night, in bed, helped?”

“Maybe...though I’m sure the lack of clothes contributed as well.”

Naturally, it’s right then that Cooper interrupts. “ Okay, don’t need to hear about my little brother’s sexcapades. They said they’re ready.”

The stage manager motions to Blaine, “Anderson? You’re up!”

Blaine takes a deep breath. He barely overhears Cooper tell Kurt “how’s he going to point if he’s carrying a guitar?”

He goes through the corridor, past the wing, and steps to the center of the stage, facing the backs of four chairs.

“Alright,” he whispers to himself on the darkened stage. “Here goes nothing.”

***

As the lights begin to come up, he strums his first notes.

"You think I’m pretty, without any makeup on…"

The crowd immediately reacts. It’s obvious they recognize the song.

Blake looks over at Adam. “What the hell?”

Before Adam can even respond to Blake, Christina is smashing her button, spinning her chair around. Blaine doesn’t flinch, continuing to perform, but a slow smile grows on his face. I got a chair to turn. As far as he’s concerned he’s already won.

“Oh my God! Christina turned, she turned, did you see that?” Kurt is jumping for joy.

“He’s officially in,” Cooper says. “Even if no one else turns you can’t go wrong having her for a mentor.”

“Sure,” Kurt says, “but can I be a selfish husband and want them ALL to turn?”

Meanwhile on the set, Adam is mouthing to Blake, “Is that Katy Perry?”

“No shit Sherlock,” Blake whispers (“thank god these episodes are taped in advance” a producer is voicing to the ceiling). His hand is already hovering over his button.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Adam says, his own hand brushing against the red plastic in front of him.

“That dude’s a hell of a guitar player, I can totally work with him.”

“In what world is a guy singing ‘Teenage Dream’ going to pick you as a mentor? You just want to steal him from my team.”

“You damn right I do, you already have plenty!”

“Well I guess there’s only one way to settle this then...”

Another cheer comes up; Pharrell has turned his chair around.

“Drinking contest?”

“Let the kid choose.” At that Adam slams his button and Blake immediately reacts, hitting his own.

The crowd goes wild. Kurt grabs both of Cooper’s hands (partly to keep him from pointing and yelling at the camera) and is bouncing uncontrollably with the widest grin on his face. He is so proud of his husband he could scream. He then remembers this is all being taped for national television.

Christina is the first to speak. “What’s your name?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

“Blaine, that was, by far the most original arrangement of a Katy Perry song I think I’ve ever heard.”

“Thank you.”

Pharrell asks “So, what’s your story, man?”

“Um, I’m originally from Ohio. I’ve been singing all my life. I used to do show choir in high school, that’s where I met my husband. We live in New York now, and I go to NYU.”

“Wait, you married your high school sweetheart? Aww!” Christina coos.

“What do you mean, ‘aww’?” Blake says. “He’s a singer he ain’t a dang puppy!”

“To be fair I’ve been told I have puppy-like eyes,” Blaine responds. That draws a laugh from the audience.

Backstage, Cooper says, “That’s my kid brother, turning on that Anderson charm!”

“So Blaine,” Adam says, “I like what you did with that song. You brought a longing and an angst to it that most people wouldn’t expect. You do a lot of arranging?”

“Yes, for one of my show choirs back home. We were an acapella group so we had to arrange harmonies and rhythm parts. I’ve also coached choirs, and done some original songwriting.”

“Wait, one of your show choirs?” Pharrell asks, and Blaine nods. “Damn, that the kind of work ethic I’d like on my team. From a fellow artist-producer to another.” The crowd cheers.

Christina waves her hand to get Blaine’s attention. “You know what, Pharrell makes a good point, but let me get something in here. When I heard that first verse from you, I mean, never mind hearing your voice on that lyric. There’s just this something, in the way you carried yourself in that moment. Blaine Anderson, I think you are a diva.”

“He’s a what?” Blake shouts incredulously, while Blaine’s eyes widen.

“Let me finish,” Christina waves Blake off, keeping her eyes on Blaine. “The thing about us divas, is that we have been through a lot in our lives. A lot of pain, a lot of heartache, and we have to find a way to get that out, and we do it through our music. And then as we grow, we become more sure of what we want, and we get stronger. You get what I’m saying, right?”

Blaine nods, “Yeah, I keep telling people that guys can be divas too.”

“That’s right, and us divas gotta stick together. But Blaine, it’s totally your choice as to whose team you want to be on. I’m just saying, I think I would be the best mentor for you.”

Adam speaks up. “Christina, that’s a good argument you made. Now, let me make mine.”

“Yeah, you know who else is a diva?” Blake says, leaning across and pointing at Adam. “Him, right there.”

“One to talk, Mr. I-only-want-two cubes-of-ice-in-my-Coke,” Adam says. “But seriously, Blaine, you have a real musicality about you that I want to help mold, and that’s why I think you should be on Team Adam.”

At this, Blaine flushes. What he says next, future Blaine will write off as his adrenaline temporarily killing his filter.

“Okay, so weird confession...um, I had a little crush on you in high school and to this day my husband doesn’t let me live it down. So that’s out of the way.”

As the crowd cheers approvingly, Blake snarks, “Dude, everyone has a thing for Adam.”

Adam leans over the arm of his chair and winks across the other coaches. “Even you, Blake?”

“I...you...oh, shut up.”

Adam turns his attention back to Blaine. “I’m just saying, Blaine, we could make beautiful music together, platonically of course.” The audience laughs. “I’m sure your husband and my wife would be fine with it.”

“Now hold on just a god-danged minute, I gotta make my case!”

“What case, that you hit your button last?” Christina asks.

Pharrell is the one to close the arguments. “Blaine, who do you pick as your coach?”

The crowd begins to shout coaches' names, but the ones that seem to carry most are those for Adam and Christina. Backstage, Kurt has his hands fisted in front of his face, chanting “Pick Christina!” while Cooper is shouting “Blake” while pointing at the monitor, just to be contrary.

Blaine thought he knew what he would do in this unlikely situation, but now faced with the decision itself, he was torn. He didn’t just have some sexy crush on Adam Levine; he really admired him as an artist and a mentor. He hadn’t really thought seriously about Christina Aguilera before, but what she had said to him about what made a diva really resonated with him.

A tiny voice pulled him in the direction he knew he should go.

“You know what? Us divas do have to stick together, so I pick Christina.”

“YESSSSSSS!” Christina raises her hands in the air as she rises from her chair, as Kurt does the same backstage. Christina runs to meet Blaine in a hug midway between the stage and the coaches' row, before he is shuffled off to reunite with Kurt and be interviewed by Carson.

***

Blaine’s journey on The Voice, as it turns out, is short-lived. While he survives the Battle and Knockout Rounds, he gets voted out in the third week of live shows. He knows he took a risk, doing the song he’d written for the combined Warbler/New Directions supergroup and then revised in his songwriting class, but he doesn’t regret it. While he’s not crowned “The Voice” that season, he makes an impression on the coaches and producers, who ask him to submit some compositions for the eventual winner and future seasons.

Blaine feels good about the experience, overall. He is thankful for Christina’s guidance and still has her number (she texts him on occasion). He’s even grateful for the stylists, who worked their magic and enabled him to let go of the security blanket that was his hair gel once and for all. And he is able to parlay his competition reality show fame into promoting himself. Scott Bradlee invites him to be one of many singing show contestants to do a “Postmodern Jukebox” collaboration (the serendipity of covering Maroon 5’s “Sunday Morning” isn’t lost on him...still, it gets a million views within a week, and Adam Levine retweets it). By the time he and Kurt perform Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf at Lincoln Center, his stint on The Voice is just another blurb in his Playbill bio. His agent thinks he should leave it out, but Blaine insists it stays.

A diva gets what he wants, after all.