“So, Anderson” – Kurt struts into the Lima Bean, straight to the table by the door where his boyfriend sits with two cups of coffee, a grande non-fat mocha ready and waiting for him – “I heard a rumor that you and The Warblers are raising money for the Born This Way Foundation as part of your winter fundraiser this year.”

“Rumor?” Blaine laughs. “What rumor? I texted you last night. And I emailed you the link to our fundraising page on Facebook.”

“Regardless of how I found out” – Kurt sits at the table and Blaine pushes a coffee cup his way – “we have a problem.”

“Really?” Blaine sits up and folds his hands on the table. “What problem is that, Kurt?”

 “Well, it just so happens that the New Directions have chosen the Born This Way Foundation for their winter fundraiser, too.”

“I don't see why that's a problem,” Blaine says. “It's a great organization. We should raise all the money we can for them. Hey, maybe The Warblers and the New Directions should do a joint thing.”

“Now, you see, that sounds a lot like conspiring with the enemy.”

“What do you mean, conspiring with the enemy? This isn't a choir competition.”

“Oh, but it is a competition,” Kurt says, sitting complacently back in his chair.

“How do you figure that?” Blaine sits back in his chair the same way, thoroughly amused.

“How adorable you are,” Kurt condescends. “How innocent you make yourself out to be. Or has it honestly escaped your notice that first prize for the most money raised by a single group by the end of December is an all-expenses paid trip to New York City, and a private dinner with Mother Monster herself?”

“No, that didn't escape my notice,” Blaine quotes, playfully mimicking his boyfriend, “but that's not why we're doing this, Kurt.”

“That's right,” Kurt says, springing forward in his chair, “because your show choir can afford to buy their own tickets to New York, and probably afford to arrange a private concert with Lady Gaga. We, on the other hand, can barely find the money every year to rent a bus. So, the New Directions will be winning this competition, even if I have to knock on every door in Lima asking for donations, stop by every business, sing on every street corner, and sell both my kidneys to do it.” Kurt gets a distant look in his eyes, rubbing his hands together as he goes over the last part to his plan. “Then, on our way to New York, maybe a few members of the New Directions go missing, others become unexpectedly ill, and I get Ms. Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta all to myself.”

“Wow,” Blaine says, in sudden fear of the boy sitting across from him, “you've really given this a lot of thought. And…uh…are you implying that a few members of your show choir are going to meet with an accident?”

“That's beside the point,” Kurt replies, nonchalantly waving that last remark aside.

“What is the point, Kurt?” Blaine asks, feeling free to tease Kurt again. He's almost 60% sure that Kurt's joking about doing anything to his friends.

“The point is,” Kurt says, his grin sharp and wicked, “this is war, Blaine Warbler, and I take no prisoners. What do you have to say to that?”

“I say” – Blaine leans across the table till their foreheads nearly meet – “bring it on.”