Blaine gripped his locker door, white knuckled, his upper body slumped into his locker. Why did he always get excited when Coop said he was coming for a visit? It always ended the same way: older brother smashing younger brother into the ground with his thumb. This time it was even worse because he did it in front of Blaine's classmates...and just because Cooper was in one lousy credit report commercial, they clung to his every word, the girls with stars in their eyes. Blaine rolled his. His brother wasn't even that good looking. All he had was his meager celebrity. One lousy commercial? Really?

Without warning, a plush toy flopped onto his hand, and Kurt peeked around the door with a grin on his face. "I am Margaret Thatcher Dog," he said, mimicking her accent and wiggling the warm-eyed puppy in time with his words, "and I command you to stop this moping at once!"

Blaine chuckled and flopped back against the locker next to his, accepting the plush toy when Kurt held it out to him. "Cute. Where'd you get it?"

Kurt continued in his Margaret Thatcher voice. "That is no concern of yours." Then he dropped the act. "I just thought you needed some cheering up." He leaned in closer. "Blaine, a blind man would know you needed cheering up."

"I know." Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry." He reached for his locker door and closed it. They started walking toward the rear steps of the school. "It's just my brother. Every time I see him, it's, like, all he wants to do is change me. Like, he has this perfect image of me--" he held his hands in front of his face, thumbs and index fingers extended, peering through them-- "and I'll never measure up."

"Seems to be a little of that coming from your end, too."

Blaine stopped short to glare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

Kurt put his hands on Blaine's shoulders and squeezed gently. "It means that you--and, mind you, I see it sometimes, now that you've mentioned it--feel Cooper is patronizing you constantly. You want to change that part of him. But, the very thing you want to change about him is that he wants to change you."

Blaine started to say something then stopped, his face scrunched while he considered it.

Kurt waited, hiding a smile. As intelligent as they both were, each of them had to help the other see things sometimes. It was part of what made them--well, them. This time he couldn't help his smile.

Blaine's face had settled back to normal during Kurt's distracting thoughts, and he lifted his lip and eyebrow a bit at Kurt's expression, still not in the best of moods. "What's so funny?"

Kurt shook his head, a soft sighing laugh accompanying his smile. "Nothing." He patted Blaine's arm and reached out to give the puppy the same treatment. "I was just thinking how well we complement each other."

Blaine smiled at that, threading his free hand through Kurt's arm and taking his elbow.

"Do something for me?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt.

"You're constantly saying that you express your emotions best in song." Blaine began to protest, but Kurt quickly continued, "Hear me out. This thing with your brother has been bubbling up inside you for years. Margaret Thatcher Dog made you smile, and I'm glad of that, but...she's just a catalyst. I want you to sing your heart out the way only you can. Pour all the hurt and anger and humiliation you've felt over the years into whatever song hits your soul." He shoulder bumped Blaine. "You know it will make you feel better."

Blaine's head dropped as he laughed. "You know me so well." He stopped walking, taking both of Kurt's hands and gazing into his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He moved his hands to Blaine's shoulders and firmly turned him around. Checking first to see if anyone was paying attention, he gave Blaine a playful swat on the butt. "Now, go sing, Blaine Devon Anderson." He reached forward and grabbed his shoulders firmly again, pulling him back. "There will be a reward in it waiting for you in your bedroom," Kurt whispered lowly in his ear. Blaine stifled a groan, and as Kurt let go with a gentle shove, he continued, "And, I'll be able to tell whether or not you sang. You know I will."

Blaine went to the auditorium, grasping handfuls of his hay-like gelled hair, years and years of hurt and shame--God, so much he almost couldn't take it--building up inside him. He'd thought he'd risen above it, thought he'd made this new life for himself where he was the star for once and everyone thought he was good at what he did and didn't correct him every 5 seconds on every aspect of what he was doing.

Then, Coop dropped by for an unannounced visit, and it took all of 2 seconds for him to be recognized as "The fixyourcreditreport.com guy." And, by Kurt, of all people. Kurt made a big fuss over him, as if he was Alexander McQueen back from the dead.

All his life, Cooper had told Blaine that he couldn't make it if he didn't follow every direction he gave him. Well, truth is, Blaine had become who he was because Cooper had made him feel like crap. He'd made Blaine fight his way to the top to prove that he was good enough, no matter what Coop had told him.

Blaine marched to the auditorium and began to sing "Fighter" by Christina Aguilera. He fell to his knees and looked skyward, his emotions raw. Tears rolled down his face as he sang.

Cooper slowly crept into the curtains offstage. He'd asked Kurt where his brother was. Kurt had hesitated but eventually told him. As Cooper watched his brother and listened to the words of the song, his heart twisted. He knew exactly whom Blaine was singing to. It didn't take a brain surgeon.

Cautiously, afraid to upset his brother further, afraid that this was a private moment for Blaine, Cooper tip-toed onstage and joined Blaine for the second chorus. Blaine's head snapped around in surprise, and he slowly got to his feet. He made no aggressive moves toward Cooper though, so he took that as a good sign.

They sang the rest of the song together, occasionally circling each other...which, admittedly, could have been taken as an aggressive kind of thing. But, again, Blaine made no moves to punch Cooper's lights out and he well knew he could. He knew all about the Dalton Fight Club because he was the one who had encouraged Blaine to start it.

When the song finished, both of them were breathing hard not from physical effort, but from emotions.

"Why did you come here?" Blaine finally demanded.

Cooper looked at the ceiling and huffed out a laugh before looking back at Blaine. "To visit my baby brother!"

"I'm not a baby!" Blaine seethed.

Cooper put his hands up, palms out. "Whoooooooa, Blaine. It's just an expression. You know that."

Blaine's shoulders relaxed slightly and he looked at the stage floor. "I'm not a baby."

Cooper walked over to him. "No, you're really not."

Blaine looked up at him, his eyes wide. "But--"

"What, you're going to argue with me on that, now, and say you are?" They both laughed, and Cooper put his arm around Blaine's shoulders. "Look, Blaine, I've got a confession to make."

Blaine looked over at him.

"That part on CSI?"

"Yeah?"

"I lied to you guys." He swallowed hard, and his head lowered. "I already did the callback. They chose someone else."

"Oh, man, Coop. I'm sorry." A pause, and then, "So, where'd the script pages come from?"

"They didn't ask for them back, so I kept them. You know. For acting practice." He favored him with a sad half-smile.

"Well, teaching a bunch of show choir members your acting *cough* techniques and telling them they're never going to make it isn't exactly practice."

"Hey!" He punched Blaine in the arm, then looked down again. "I know. I was an ass." He looked up at Blaine. "Do you think they'll forgive me? Will you--" He gave Blaine's shoulders a squeeze-- "forgive me?"

Blaine faked pulling away. "I don't know...."

"C'mere, you." Cooper took Blaine under his arm and rubbed his knuckles hard into Blaine's scalp.

Blaine struggled away. "Okay, there, see, now you blew it. You messed with the 'do."

"It was kind of already getting messed with when I got here, buddy."

They both laughed, and then Blaine said, "Let's go back to the choir room and see if we can de-gloss the girls' eyes long enough for everyone to hear your apology."

Cooper winced. "Is it really that bad?"

"Ohhhh, yeah."

"Man, I am sorry."

"That's okay. I'm not into girls."

Laughing again, they headed toward the choir room, arms around each other's shoulders.

END