Author's Note: Here's Part 2! There was one line in here that I really like, but I don't think anyone else will find it as funny as I do. You'd have to really know the lines of the movie to find it funny, but maybe you guys will find it. Your sweet reviews always surprise and delight me! :D

Blaine and Jesse stood in front of Crawford Country Day, being ogled by the throng of escaping teenage girls.

"We look like incredibly stupid pedophiles," Jesse moaned. "I can't stay here much longer. My parole officer is going to come looking for me."

"Don't worry Jesse. It's just the cat ears that make us look like stupid." Jesse glared at him as Blaine curled his hand into a fist and pawed at his shoulder.

"Hey Blaine! Oh my." Sunshine felt nauseous as she eyed the cat-eared fleece hoodies that the two of them wore.

Jesse gripped both her wrists. "Leave him. You're too female for his needs."

"I'm beginning to get that opinion," Sunshine told him, and the three of them walked to the bus stop. "But I can't leave him yet. He's my best option for a green card right now."

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked after their bus had left the pavement and begun soaring through the sky.

"Nationals," Sunshine explained.

"It's in the sky?"

"It's in New York, fool," Jesse told him.

"Oh, ok, flying bus," Blaine reasoned. He stood up, realizing he wasn't wearing pants. "How long have I been like this?"

"Like what, gay?" Jesse replied. "Since that time we got drunk and taught each other sailor knots with our tongues."

"I'm starting to hate America," Sunshine grumbled.

Something almost like a thought sparked in Blaine's mind. "I figured it out, Jesse! This is a dream! Buses don't fly!"

There was a loud clap of noise and Blaine was standing on stage at Nationals now, still pantless, while an audience cheered for him. He looked around but he was alone.

"Definitely a dream," he muttered. "Hey, dream audience!" Blaine waved and jumped around, enjoying the wolf whistles from the faceless crowd.

From behind him, there was a whirring sound. He turned to see a boy. A very unique looking boy, in a red and white sports uniform, gliding across the stage on a Razor scooter. He had very defined hair. And smooth skin. And an uppity, withering stare.

"Buckeye boxers? Seriously!" he said with a sniff as he whizzed past.

"Who are you?" Blaine shouted, but the boy was already gone.

"Blaine!" David was shouting.

"I know who I am," Blaine replied. He was walking with Wes, David and Thad down a dark alley. "Oh. Man, was I just dreaming? There was a guy in my dreams that I've never met before..."

"The guy of your dreams," Wes repeated, unamused.

"Hey, where are we going?"

"It's a party at Santana Lopez's place," David explained. It explained nothing.

Suddenly they were standing around a house with a bunch of students, drinking from plastic cups. Blaine sipped his.

"Slushies..." he realized, relishing the cool sugary taste.

A large girl with a great beret was walking by. "Wait, I know you!" Blaine called out to her. "I saw a guy in my dream today. He had on a red and white uniform, and he was like, pretty in the face. Ever seen someone like that?"

Lauren Zizes. Knows Everyone. Bottom Rating: Fat.

"Uh, yeah. That's Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. He's supposed to be at this party, actually." Lauren was interrupted as Blaine threw his slushie in her face impulsively.

"Sorry about that, bye!" And then he was roaming the crowd, looking for anybody that matched the description of that one guy...

It didn't take long to recognize him; he was wearing a bright yellow coat and boots. And leaning against the wall, looking a little bored. But even bored, his face was compelling! What was it about this one boy?

Kurt Hummel. Perfect in every way. Rating: Man of your Dreams.

Blaine adjusted his bow tie and slid up against the wall next to him. "Hi," he said, smiling charmingly.

"Hello," Kurt replied, looking at his nails.

"So, do you know why your name is Kurt? I heard that people think you resemble the character from the Sound of Music. And Hummel is like, those little foreign figurines. They have rosy cheeks. Just like you." Blaine found himself studying the curve of Kurt's cheeks very intensely right now, wondering how soft they would feel.

"I did know that actually. Because it's my name." Kurt's eyes were looking directly into his, but he didn't seem to be that interested.

"Right. So, am I dreaming?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," Kurt told him. "But in this level, you're wearing pants."

"Huh," Blaine thought about this, found it confusing, and forgot about it. "So, can I just stare at you all night?"

"Is this really how you're going to pick me up?"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm not gay."

Kurt arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm 360 degrees from gay."

"That would make you gay."

Blaine did the math in his head, then remembered that he didn't remember any math. "Um, I'm going to go... refresh my slushie."

"Whatever," Kurt Hummel said. But while Blaine was gone, Kurt had disappeared from the party entirely.

With nothing else to do, Blaine went on the prowl, looking for anyone who knew anything about this boy.

"What do you know of Kurt Hummel?" Blaine asked.

"All I know is he's gay," Lauren said, eyeing his fresh slushie warily. "Can you point that somewhere else?"

"What do you know of Kurt Hummel?" Blaine asked.

"I heard he's made of porcelain," a small, bespectacled girl said proudly. "At least that's what Coach Sylvester says."

"I hear he kicks all kinds of ass," a nerdy guy with a huge Jewish fro whispered. "He's both a football player and a cheerleader."

"He's got birds dying at his feet," Thad told him, eyes wide.

"He's got some battle scarves, dude," a stoner who smelled homeless said with confidence.

Suddenly, an arm gripped him and dragged him through the crowd. Blaine found himself slammed into a coat closet with a scowling girl.

Santana Lopez. Has Issues. Boob Rating: Fake.

"Stop gaying up the place, Blaine!" Santana demanded.

"Hey, how am I doing that?"

"I am trying to get my favorite girl to make out with me, and you are going to ruin it by distracting her. Stop trying to date guys where she can see!"

"Do I even date guys?" Why was life so confusing?

"You dated Jesse," Santana said.

"He calls that a mistake, not a relationship."

"You dated Mr. Schuester," Santana said.

"I think what we did was a misdemeanor actually."

"What about Wes?" Santana countered.

"We're way past that now, totally bros," Blaine reassured her. In a bathroom across the house, Wes was poking pins into a tiny doll wearing pink sunglasses.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Just go home! You're not wanky, Blaine Anderson!"

At home, Jesse was trying to get his beauty rest. He had just finished applying his face mask when the door slammed open and Blaine was jumping up and down on his mattress. Well, kneel jumping, lest he break his neck against the top bunk. And wouldn't that be a relief if he did.

"Wake up! Wake up! I need to steal your Alexander McQueen scarf!"

"In the morning. Please," Jesse groaned. Blaine plucked the cucumber slices off of Jesse's eyes and ate them. "Dammit, Blaine! I need those to cool my eyelids! They're puffy!"

"I need your scarf," Blaine mumbled. "My Dream Boy likes designer goods."

"So you're going to give him my clothes."

Blaine knee slid to the computer. "No, I'm going to post a Craigslist ad for a designer scarf sale and see if he'll come."

Blaine's hands tapped across the keyboard. "Oh hey! I got fanmail!"

Jesse stumbled into the bathroom, washing off his face in defeat. "What makes you think its fanmail?"

"What else could it be? Let's see, the subject says 'Prepare to Sing to your Doom'. Hey, maybe its a contest! Like, a horror musical or something..."

"Jesse! I'm going to read this out loud to you! Dear Mr. Anderson, it has come to my attention that we will be facing each other in a Diva Off. Blah blah boring blah blah Kurt blah blah seven somethings blah blah jenga jenga jenga tots? what the..."

Jesse put in two sets of earplugs and rolled back into his bed.

Four minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Blaine ripped open the door and there he was: Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Beautiful. And with an angelic expression on his face.

"Are you Blaine Anderson? I heard you're selling scarves," Kurt breathed.

"Yes." Blaine gulped.

"I love scarves." Kurt pushed his way into the room. He glanced around with slight distaste and confusion. "Wait, this doesn't look like a sale. This looks like a dirty dorm room."

Blaine dropped to his knees. "Please go out with me. Please. You're the guy of my dreams." Wait, was this too forward? Blaine stood again. "Is this weird? Am I screwing this up?"

"Nope." Kurt pulled out a hand mirror and began adjusting the front locks of his hair. "This is a dream, strange things are pretty much expected. Wait, are you the Buckeyes fan with the pantless stage fantasies?"

"Um, yes... but I also like scarves and scooters... and whatever else you like. Like you. I like you."

Kurt crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Don't take this the wrong way, but aren't you straight?"

Wasn't he? Blaine stood, confused. "Maybe I am bi, I don't know."

Kurt's lip curled into a pout. "This sounds like a really bad idea."

Blaine held up Jesse's scarf. "I'll give you this?"

Kurt blinked. "You know my weakness. Okay, deal. See you tomorrow. At 8."

"I'll be right here. Waiting for you." Blaine winked.

The door clicked close, but not before he caught the hint of a smile on Kurt's face.

"I heard every word, you fuck," Jesse muttered from his cocoon of sheets. "You owe me a new accessory of my choosing."

"Don't care at all, I'm going on a date!" Blaine sung out as he shimmied into the bathroom to do a victory dance. Life was awesome and nothing could possibly go wrong from here on in.

Next: Blaine gets to go on a date with a real boy, but there are some conditions he will have to deal with.