Author's notes: I debated long and hard about whether or not I wanted to post this. At all. I'm actually still kind of hesitant to have this up. So before we begin, I want you to know that I'm sorry. Nasty Blaine is like a drug to me. I just keep writing it. I'm sorry. D: Please don't yell at me for it, especially if you skipped these notes. Beware of swearing, underage drinking, mentions of sex and screwing around with a character most everyone likes (including myself, oddly enough). There's a special place in hell for me somewhere.

To be perfectly honest, Kurt had always hated Facebook. It could bring out the absolute worst in people, ruin lives. It had certainly ruined his.

He hadn't touched his page in months. He'd only gotten one after Blaine's graduation date crept ever closer and a crippling fear hit him when he realized that he wouldn't be seeing the boy day-in and day-out anymore. This was simply another way to keep in touch.

Blaine claimed to be loving college. He was in Michigan now, studying English with some music studies on the side. He wanted to be a teacher. Kurt thought it suited him.

But Facebook. He hadn't quite known what to do with the thing. People kept coming and leaving him messages that he wouldn't get until weeks later due to lack of interest in the site. Blaine sure seemed to like it though.

He hadn't been talking much to Kurt lately. College things, Kurt had presumed, and he'd left it alone. He'd heard that the freshman year was the busiest in terms of adjusting. His boyfriend was fine, studying hard-would be back in town in two days for Thanksgiving. Why bother him? But Kurt was really stressed right now and really just wanted to send him a message, even a simple 'thinking of you' would suffice, and since Blaine wasn't answering his phone (straight to voicemail, so texts were out for now too), Facebook seemed ideal.

Kurt had logged in and found Blaine's page from his own. He wasn't available to chat. Whatever. That wouldn't stop him from leaving something on his wall or a private note for him to find later. Wouldn't he be surprised?

But wait. Was that? He looked at Blaine's pictures, completely at a loss. Who was that girl? She had her arms wrapped around his neck in most every photo, her little pink tongue shoved down his throat or lapping against the side of his neck. He clicked her name. Amy Something-or-other. Public page. Good. Stupid thing didn't even know how to privatize her settings. He scrolled through her wall. There were dozens of comments and posts from Blaine, all along the lines of "can't wait to see you, babe" and "I miss your smell, your laugh, your touch." It made him want to vomit. What the hell was going on?

He went back to Blaine's page and looked harder at it. This wasn't happening. He went back to Blaine's photos. There were so many of them. He went to the older ones, searching for the distinctive red and black Dalton uniforms. There. He found a casual shot of him and Blaine at the Warbler's New Year's party-Kurt's first, and Blaine's last. The punch had been spiked (just a little) and they'd gotten somewhat hot and heavy on one of the couches in the senior commons. In front of the other Warblers. He'd gotten more than an earful over that one from them. He'd guessed Blaine had received the same treatment. This picture wasn't new to him, not at all (Nick had shown it to him the following day and he hadn't been able to keep the red stain of a blush from his cheeks for nearly a week), but the comments were something he'd definitely never seen before.

There was Wes: I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. You're going to be a rich man come Monday.

And Jeff: YES! I TOLD YOU THE NEW KID WOULD GO FOR IT! FORK IT UP, GUYS!

Stacy: OMG he's totally falling for it. How long can you keep this up, dude? I wanna see his face when he finds out.

David: Aw man, I think I see tongue. That was extra. So how much do I owe you again?

It was all a joke? Some sort of sick bet? Kurt felt sick. He clicked back to Blaine's page and paged through his photos and posts. Amy, Amy, Amy. No mention of Kurt. His profile even listed him as 'straight.' Kurt couldn't breathe anymore. It was all a lie. He flicked off his computer, afraid he'd smash it into tiny little pieces if he looked at one more picture. Two days. He'd see him in two days. Then he could get this whole thing sorted out.

He'd barely been able to sleep. Blaine's awful, smiling face haunted his dreams, and images of him, the man he loved, shoving his tongue down that blonde bimbo's throat, groping her ample bosom had left him sick and heaving in the bathroom at all hours of the day and night. He hadn't answered his phone. No, he wanted to speak to Blaine in person.

They'd agreed to meet the week before he was due home at a café in town they'd liked to haunt before Blaine had flown away to college and decided he wanted to straighten up a bit. Blaine had sent him a text asking for confirmation: was he still coming? He'd canceled, suggesting they meet up instead at Jeff's party-his parents were out of town and every Warbler he knew (graduated or not) was invited so long as he was in town. Blaine agreed, and Kurt still couldn't eat.

Kurt was immensely grateful for the alcohol when he finally saw Blaine walk through the door. Whatever he'd been given burned on its way down his throat, but it made it much easier to look Blaine in the eye and smile when he sat down next to him on the couch. He waited. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. There were quite a few faces he hadn't seen since graduation. Good. They were probably in on it too.

"You all right there, Kurt?" Blaine asked with a slightly tipsy smile. "You're kind of quiet tonight."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Everything's fine." He took a sip of his drink. Liquid courage. A little larger drink this time around. "So, how's Amy?"

The room seemed to fall silent. Blaine's eyes shot wide open and his drink fell to the floor, leaving behind a yellowish stain. So, more people knew than he'd originally thought. Not that it mattered in the end. Jeff had gone white and Wes looked like he was going to pass out. Kurt took another drink.

"I've gotta say, she's not bad looking. At least you're not out fucking some hag. Does make me wonder if she gives better head than me, though. Tell me, did you meet her at UM or has this been an ongoing thing?"

Blaine was silent. His eyes were bulging out of his head in shock. Kurt glanced around the room. There was Stacy, off in the corner, trying to blend in with the upholstery. Here's your reaction. "So how much did you get, or is this whole thing still ongoing? David said it was extra for tongue. How much for sleeping with me? Did you get more the longer you pretended?"

Blaine's mouth kept opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath. Finally, he spoke, though his voice was terribly quiet and oddly cracked. "How-how did you know?"

Kurt eyed him calmly. He could feel the anger building deep within his belly. "What, you think I can't read? Think I can't see the photos you and all your friends have published for all the world to see? I know I'm not very reliable online, but I can still access your Facebook page. Might want to think about that the next time you take pictures of you sucking her face and posting them all over the internet." Another drink. The burn felt good as it wormed its way down his throat. The gathered boys were still, and the music playing in the background seemed to have dimmed. Everyone knew, then. Well, at least those who had been Warblers last year.

"I didn't-I just…I mean-" Blaine fumbled to find words, any words, to say that might possibly pull him out of this hole in which he'd found himself.

Kurt's face was flushed and his eyes were wet with tears when he next spoke, though his voice was quiet and deadly calm. "Was I just a fucking bet for you, Blaine?" He looked around the room at the startled group surrounding them. No one was saying anything. "A play for bored rich boys?"

No one spoke. Kurt slammed his glass on the table and stood. "I see. I get it now. I thought you were different, you know that? But I should have known. It's all the fucking same, isn't it? I wouldn't have expected it. Silly me. Right now, I wish I'd never left McKinley. At least there I had some idea of what I was up against. But you…I don't even know how to deal with this." He walked from the room, bundling his jacket into his arms as he went.

Fucking Facebook. Fucking Amy. Fucking Blaine and his stupid smile, his stupid charm, his stupid everything. He couldn't hold back the tears now. A bet. That's all he'd ever be, wasn't it? Just a fucking bet.