Author's Note: Go ahead and yell at me. I'm not the best updater right now. But I'm trying my best guys. Also some of chapter 25 is already written, I had to split this chapter up because I didn't want to overwhelm you lovelies too much in one hit.

*MASSIVE Warning* for mentions of abuse, manipulation, curse words, various offensive comments, stalking, and references to suicide.

And with that, Happy Reading y'all!

Again, no beta. All mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing. No profit made etc. See Chapter 1 for more elaborate disclaimer.

~C.

(Chapter 24)

Blaine collapsed against one of the speakers off stage, raising one of the last water bottles Kurt had brought the band to his lips for a long gulp. He downed nearly half the bottle, crushing the plastic in his hand to pour the rest of the contents onto his face and over his sweat drenched head. The rocker wanted to slide down to the floor, let his tired legs give out from all the numbers him and the band had been doing. However, the night wasn't over quite yet. This gig was lasting longer than any of them had anticipated.

Dammit David. Why didn't you tell Puck or Finn that we needed an opener?

He threw the bottle somewhere to his right, placing his cheek against the cool plastic of the speaker as he leaned against it, trying to catch his breath before his small break was over. "Aww poor baby. Is my little rock star tired?"

Hazel eyes snapped to attention, "Kurtie!"

Kurt laughed a bit when Blaine promptly launched himself at him, suddenly holding onto a clinging—and questionably dripping—Blaine Anderson. "I take it you're happy to see me?"

The singer wound his arms around Kurt's waist and rubbed his forehead against the pale column of his neck. "Mhmm…m'tired and I missed you."

"I was like ten feet away from you."

"That's too far away." Blaine kissed the side of Kurt's neck, inhaling the new mix of smoke and alcohol on his moisturized skin. "I wanna take you home now," he pouted. "I want you all to myself."

Because Kurt + naked = get in my bed.

He couldn't help but chuckle, petting Blaine's sweaty locks. "Sorry, you've got a few more sets to go before the night's over." Kurt rolled his eyes when the other made a petulant noise of discontent. "In the mean time, do you guys need anything?"

"Besides a leather clad Kurt in my arms?" Despite his mischievous smile, the lither male just cocked an expectant eyebrow at him. "Ugh, fine. I might have drunk the last of the water you gave us. Think you can spare a few more water bottles for us before the guys murder me out of a dehydrated induced rage?"

"I think if you continue playing a kickass concert, procuring a few more water bottles is doable."

"You're doable."

"Shut up." Kurt smiled, situating Blaine back onto his own two feet while carding his dark hair out of his face and fixing his disarrayed shirt like a doting significant other. "Plus it probably helps that your boyfriend has it in with the owners."

Boyfriend?

Blaine grinned, easy and languidly, "Sorry, I don't think I heard you quite right. I have a what now?"

Kurt blushed all pretty like, piercing glasz eyes not appreciating his 'boyfriend's' cheekiness. "You best quit while you're ahead, Anderson. As I've shown you before, you know very well that I have no problem going home tonight and servicing myself." He smirked when Blaine groaned at the mental image he was provided with.

"Fuck." Blaine panted, his pants twitching inconveniently. "No, no, don't do that. I was just foolin'." The rocker reached forward and grasped Kurt's pale hand. "It's just…look at me, ya know? I got myself a boyfriend and stuff." He ducked his head, and then rubbed the back of his neck, feeling unusually shy. "Who woulda thought, right?"

The other's features softened, his thumb grazing the back of Blaine's tanned hand. "S'okay, we can figure this out together." He opened his mouth to say something, looking around first as if to ensure no one was overhearing, his blush was deepening. "Guess I just want you all to myself as well. In more than just the physical way."

"Even though that way is pretty awesome."

"Without a doubt." Kurt chuckled, his smile so big it crinkled the corners of his eyes. Blaine thought it was adorable. "So…I suppose I should go and see about that water, huh?"

Hydration is so overrated.

"If you muuust." He wrinkled his nose, signaling his distain for the idea.

The blue eyed male leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth, pressing his hand on the side of the other's face to deepen it, even if it was just for a couple of seconds. He pulled back with a soft smack, only to dive forward again for a softer peck. "Be amazing for me?"

Blaine licked his lips, savoring the taste of his newly acquired boyfriend. "With you I already am."

Kurt barked out a laugh, letting his hand slide down Blaine's taunt neck and graze the hairy chest his V-neck slightly exposed before he pulled away. "Be back in a few minutes."

When he turned away, it wasn't Blaine's fault his hands acted on their own accord, giving Kurt's ass a playful smack as he fucking strutted towards the bar. The view was too perfect, and Kurt knew he was being a tease when he decided to wear those jeans. His pert ass on display like that, Blaine was damn near salivating. Kurt was scandalized, turning sharply to look back at the singer in what he assumed was an appalled expression. The hazel-eyed man didn't fail to see the other's poorly hidden arousal though, his eyeliner highlighting the darkened pupils within glasz irises. "Whaaat? With the way your ass looks, you're lucking smacking is the only thing I did."

And the things…my man, the things I want to do.

He huffed at Blaine, flipping him the bird in what could only be described as fond exasperation for the rocker. Then Kurt quickly squeezed himself back through the crowd, not wanting to distract either one any further. Just a few more hours, a few more hours and every dirty thought they've had throughout the night can be played out for real. But you know, later.

The singer smirked as he watched Kurt go, the phrase 'I hate to see him go, but DAMN, I love to watch him leave' suggestively flitting through his mind. He didn't get the chance to enjoy his view for much longer though, not when his Band Manager, David, forcibly turned him around.

Like whoa dude, rude as fuck.

"Blaine, BLAINE."

"…um, what?"

"There's a guy here, a talent scout."

His eyes honestly did get a bit wider. "What? For WHO? Where?" He started looking around the club not too subtly, didn't care how stupid he might seem.

"Shh, shh, stop." David shook him by the shoulders, bringing Blaine's attention back to him. "Blaine, his boss heard about the band. He works for a producer who's looking for some new talent, a fresh face he can sell."

"You're shittin' me!"

"Dude, that can be us!"

"Wes, this is freakin' huge!" Blaine pumped both fists in the air, jumping for joy until David held him glued to the floor. "This is so awesome, man. I know you're gonna do right by us." He clapped his hand into David's, nodding at his friend and beaming with pride.

First an audition for Moulin Rouge, then I somehow acquired a boyfriend, and now this!?

Holy hell, life is GOOD.

"Oh, no, no, no, buddy. The scout doesn't want to discuss business me." Wait, what? "You're the front man. If anyone is going to get him to sign us, it's gonna have to be you."

David clapped him on the back, forcibly turning Blaine around again and steering towards what he could only assume was the talent scout's VIP table. "David, DAVID. What the—no! I-I can't do this! I've never dealt with a client. I wouldn't know how!"

"Pfft, it's easy. Some polite conversation, a dapper smile, and just sort of kiss his ass." His friend smiled innocently when Blaine glared over his shoulder at him. "Ya know, the usual."

Oh sure.

The booth David was steering him towards was getting closer and closer, Blaine's nervousness increasing with every step. As much as he wanted this—not just for himself, but for the guys too—he really didn't want to be the reason this talent scout guy decides to sign someone else or 'go in another direction'. Which is bigwig speak for 'we liked you…until you started talking'. You see why Blaine would be concerned about this. "Don't me and the guys gotta go back on soon?"

The Band Manager waved him off, "guy has to leave to go scout another band. Was nearly out the door till I promised to get your ass over here." David could feel the stiff tension in his friend's back. "Hey, he just wants to meet you. I'll give the guys another five-minute break, you dazzle him with some of that left over Dalton boy charm, and it's in the bag. Simple as that." Blaine wanted to open his mouth and panic at him a tad more, but too soon he was being shoved into one side of the booth, making an 'oof' sound as his butt landed on the plush red leather. As he scrambled to straighten up, he vaguely heard David's last words of advice, "All on you now."

Gee, thanks.

Blaine shook his head at David, turning his attention to the talent scout in front of him. He paused, "It-It's you. Specks."

The talent scout furrowed his eyebrows, "Specks?" He laughed a bit, "Is that what you all call me here?"

"No! No," he backtracked, trying to sound believable. "Um…well, not me at least. I would never." The scout just raised an eyebrow at him, amused little smile flirting across his face. Blaine sighed, running a hand through his curls before he could thump his head against the table. "What I meant to say was, hi, I'm Blaine Anderson." He stuck his hand for the guy to shake.

He crinkled his nose somewhat, reaching his own hand out and pinching one of Blaine's fingers with his thumb and index. "Oh, I think you're well aware that I know exactly who you are." The scout gingerly shook the part of his finger he'd grasped, all delicate and quick until he pulled away. "Pleasure." Blaine tried not to look affronted when the guy wiped his hand with a napkin, but then he remembered he'd just run that same hand through his dripping sweaty hair.

Off to great start I see.

"Well, it's an honor to meet you Mr…" he let the implication hang there as he dried his sweaty hand on his pants.

"Just call me KJ. My father is the one you call Mr." That little smile was back again. "That is, if you're lucky enough to ever meet him in person."

"Of course," Blaine gulped, feeling nervous. "So, uh, for my own curiosity. If you're a producer—"

"I'm not, my father's the producer. I'm one of his talent scouts."

"R-Right, sorry." He ducked his head, dammit, where's the schoolboy charm when he needed it? "It's just…why the act the other day?" KJ tilted his head in a silent request for more clarification. "You said yourself you're a talent scout. Why pretend to be some crazy fan/groupie person?" Then he leaned forward, as if they weren't already basically shouting in the crowded bar. "And you called me Devon. Why pretend if you already knew who I really was?"

KJ started laughing then. "Would you have honestly taken me seriously? Like how you are right now?" Blaine took that moment to examine him, really look him over. He looked the same, save for the missing hipster beanie. Even though he still wore his thick-rimmed glasses, he did present himself more professionally, nice blazer, styled blonde hair and all that. His demeanor was different too, no longer spazzy, just professional, self-assured.

Kinda intimidating.

"Not really, if I'm being perfectly honest."

"That's the point! Acting like a 'crazy fan' as you called it, is the perfect disguise to gouge any and all potential talent." He looked at Blaine like what he said was obvious, and maybe it was. "The talent doesn't get tipped off by a random suit in the room—because from past experience that just makes them nervous and causes them not to perform as well under pressure—while I get to observe them in a more natural state." KJ shrugged, "As for why I called you Devon, I didn't want to let on that I knew who you were, or who I was. Not until I was sure you were what I was looking for."

Blaine perked up, "And I am? I-I mean we are?" He glanced over towards the stage where the guys were tuning their guitars and getting ready for the last bit of the show. Wes and David talking in hushed and what looked like urgent tones to one another.

KJ twisted his facial expression into something that said 'not exactly.' "Um…not quite." Triangular eyebrows furrowed, and the scout continued. "Ya see, I really did upload that video of you to YouTube. You got some nice hits, positive comments, we like that."

"Thank you."

"I have also shown the clip to my father, my boss, and it sounded like he was open to taking a chance on you.

Oh my God…

"KJ, holy—that's great!"

He held up his hand, halting Blaine's early celebration. "As for your band, he wasn't as sold on the idea."

"Bu-But, why?"

"Because solo artists are what's in right now. No one is interested in unit ensembles; the world's got enough group flops. Especially if they're wannabe rock bands." KJ explained, "It is what it is."

"So, you want me, but not my guys?"

This can't be happening.

"Look, we understand your loyalty to the band. Very admirable, really, I'm moved. But you're in the big leagues now." He lifted up his sleeve, checking his watch before he continued. "Truthfully, I want you whether it's just you, or you and your band. My father on the other hand, he's not too keen on the idea."

"Well we have to change his mind." Blaine countered without hesitation.

KJ smiled, "I thought you might say something like that. Which is why, I think I've come up with an idea that might help do just that. If 'Pav's Last Song' is up for it that is."

"Duh, we'll do anything."

"Fantastic." He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a pen and what looked like a business card. Then KJ started writing on the back of the card. "Here, this is a Manhattan address to a pretty respectable place." The card was pressed into Blaine's hand. "Tell your manager to book a gig there. Give them my name; they'll put you on."

"What will that do?"

"Hello, I'm going to take my father there to hear you guys perform. Playing at his favorite dive might even work in your favor." He gathered up an overcoat that was laid next to him in the booth. "My number's on the front. Tell your manager buddy to text me the date and time, I'll make sure that we'll be there."

Blaine was buzzing with excitement, barely taking the time to look up from the business card with the big K logo on it to thank him. "This opportunity is AMAZING. I—We can't thank you enou—" The rest of his sentence died before he could articulate it, his entire body suddenly burning hot and his hazel eyes hardening like fossilized amber. Thank goodness for the loud ruckus of the bar; if not KJ would have heard him undapperly growl at a menacingly low level.

YOU.

That faded peach colored hoodie; Blaine would recognize it anywhere. He could see the back of the wearer's hoodie, the person who Blaine suspected of locking him in a room full of mirrors at the boardwalk heading straight for the bar's entrance. That person was leaving.

Well, not if Blaine had anything to say about it.

He shot up out of his side of the booth, crumpling the business card in his fist and stuffing it in his pocket as he concentrated on shoving through the throng of concert goers. KJ looked up after he grabbed his overcoat, "Just thank me by being ama—" The talent scout blinked at the suddenly empty booth, glancing around in confusion when he realized he hadn't noticed Blaine get up and leave. "Um…okay."

The person wearing the peach colored hoodie has their hood up and their head down, somehow easily slinking through the crowd as they approached the door. Blaine looked around the bar when he noticed Jake wasn't at his regular bouncer spot near the door, finally spotting him with Ryder as they chatted up two chicks in the other VIP area. His gaze ping-ponged back and forth between the hoodie and their table, cursing that damn rookie cop and Puck's brother when they didn't feel Blaine's eyes burning into their faces. He couldn't make them look his way, and if he took the time to grab one of them, the orange hoodie might slip away.

So much for keeping an eye out.

The singer shook his head, working his way between two hulky guys as he caught sight of the faded hoodie slipping out the front door. He didn't hesitate to lunge for the entrance, hardly able to hold himself up when the freezing cold air hit him as he stumbled into the dark sidewalk. His shoes slid a bit on the iced over layer of misty rain on the concrete, the traction barely holding on and keeping him from falling back onto his butt. Blaine could see his breath billow out in front of him, the chill of the night on the drenched parts of his body already making him shiver uncomfortably. People were walking to and from their destinations, whether it was to another club or calling it an early night he didn't really care.

Before Blaine could panic and think that he may have all ready lost his suspect, faded peach flashed out of the corner of his eye, much like the first time he saw it at the funhouse. He immediately jogged towards the color, rounding the side of the building and entering the alleyway between 'The Pinn Up' and some other brick establishment. There wasn't much light, but he could see the faint outline of a figure towards the back of the alleyway. The seclusion of the place didn't turn Blaine off one bit, too pissed off and hell-bent on kicking this stalker's ass to second-guess the situation he was walking into.

At least Kurt should be safe inside where everyone can look out for him.

Blaine ignored the putrid smell of urine and wet garbage, striding forward with sure determined steps before stopping to square himself a few feet away from the person facing him. The person obviously knew they were being followed outside, hands in their pockets and hood still up even as they faced Blaine in the alley where they led the rocker. He had a pretty good idea who this hooded figure was, suspicions only verified when the mystery person finally lifted their head enough for Blaine to look upon their profile. Even in the darkened area, there was no mistaking who it was. His jaw ticked, and his knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists hard enough to bite the nails into his palms.

Adam.

"I knew it." Blaine sneered, already making his way towards the Brit.

Adam scoffed as he pushed his hood off his head, "You know nothing."

"Oh really? So I've just been imagining all the shady following, secret notes, and threats over the last couple of weeks." He stopped when he was a few feet from him. "And let's not forget my recent incarceration in a funhouse you psycho stalker."

The British man laughed, "You think all that was me?"

"Not everyone has an attraction to tacky peach." Blaine pointed out, picking at a piece of the faded hoodie.

"It's my brother's" Adam said darkly, jerking away from his fingers and glancing the other way before the rocker could evaluate his expression. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm actually trying to help?"

…no.

Blaine furrowed his brows, "How does stalking me help anyone?"

"Moronic fool, Kurt really must have lowered his standards for intellect if you really believe you're the one being stalked." He snorted.

Needless to say, Blaine was offended. "What was that?"

Adam eyed him, "I'm just saying, I don't understand what Kurt sees in you."

The rocker glared, "Do you want me to hit you?"

He rolled his eyes, "You idiot, I'm not the one sending you cryptic threats, nor am I the culprit stalking Kurt."

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion, not quite ready to believe him. "So…you didn't lock me in the funhouse?"

"Of course I did."

What.

"For you own good."

I repeat, 'what?'

"You're gonna have to explain that to me, because you sound nine kinds of crazy." The curly-haired male quirked his lips to the side, still confused about what this guy with the British accent was talking about.

Adam just gave him a bland expression, "I was trying to warn you. Most men would have run at the first sign of danger. Given up on their bedroom conquest. But not you, oh no, you're so stubborn that you just shove yourself right in the middle of everything. At first, I thought you had a death wish. Now I realize, you're just stupid."

Blaine glared at him, sucking on his teeth in a contemplative manner. "Are you not registering the fact that I'm not above kickin' you ass?"

"I don't think Kurt would appreciate that very much."

"After I tell him you've been stalking him for the past who the hell knows how long, I think he'll forgive me."

Boom.

"You're not listening to me!" Adam threw his hands in the air. "I'm trying to help Kurt, and you."

"Huh?"

The blonde made an exasperated noise, "The more you get Kurt to like you, the more danger you're putting him in!"

That got Blaine's attention, his expression turning more serious. "What kind of danger?"

Adam ran a tired hand through his blonde hair. "Hell, did Kurt tell you nothing about…God, never mind. Maybe I overestimated his trust in you."

He pursed his lips before speaking, "So you know then?" Blaine ventured. Wanting to see if they were on the same page. "What happened at NYADA, why he quit the piano?"

Does he know?

His eyes narrowed in a scrutinizing gaze, "Everyone KNOWS. It's one of NYADA's most well known secrets, one of its biggest scandals actually. Even if Kurt wished to believe otherwise." He shook his head, "Just one of the many incidents they swept under the rug." Adam commented bitterly.

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him for a moment, a long moment. "So what's your take from this whole charade?"

"I don't…quite understand what you mean."

"I mean what do you get out of all this? If you're not stalking, if you're helping Kurt, helping ME, if that's true—"

"It is."

"But why?" Blaine emphasized, "Why go through all this? Is it for Kurt? Is it for you? What possible motive could you have for doing all this behind his back? If he's really your friend and you have his best interests at heart, why not just tell him?"

Throw me a line here!

"You mean like how you told him?" The hazel-eyed man had the decency to look shameful. "I couldn't even if I wanted to." Adam crossed his arms over his chest in the same manner Blaine did. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Like hell! You've spent however many weeks following us around, spying, helping us—whatever kind of bullshit you want to call it!—so you already know more about my business than I'd like." He got in Adam's personal space now; ready to ram his forehead into the other's nose if he felt so inclined. "You owe me."

His jaw ticked, grimacing at the truth in his words. "Kurt has never told you his name, has he?"

"No, he—he signed some fucked up agreement or whatever." Blaine recalled, and then something in his head clicked. "But you knew that."

Adam nodded, "I remember that piece of paper quite well, yes." Then he took a deep breath, "I should've known then, should've known better."

Wait a minute.

"Did…Did you date this abusive bastard too?" He almost couldn't process it. "Is that why you were trying to warn me to stay away? Because if that would've worked, Kurt would already be back in Lima right now, and I'm SO not okay with that."

"But it's where he SHOULD be. It's safer!"

"And then what? Just let this guy look for his next target? What if he hurts someone else instead?"

"He already has!"

Blaine stepped back when the other man started shouting, frowning when he saw Adam's eyes tearing up. "Who? You?"

"Not me!" Adam squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, sniffing uncomfortably. "My brother…"

His brother? What did Kurt say his name was again?

"You mean Alex?"

He smiled slightly, pulling at one of the sleeves of his brother's jacket. "Yes."

"W-What happened?"

Adam didn't answer the shorter male right away, still staring at what was most likely a soon to be frozen puddle of urine before he looked back over at Blaine. His expression was no longer smug, just pained. "He hung himself."

Kurt hummed to himself as he returned to the side of the stage, a tray of water bottles in his hands. "Water! Get your water here! Ice cold wat—ah!"

The tray of water dropped to the floor, Kurt's leather sleeveless bunched up between two fists as he was brought forcibly close to Nick's face. "Where is he!? Where the fuck is he?!"

"What? Who? What're you talking about?" Kurt then grabbed Nick's shoulders and harshly shoved him back, his fists wrenching away from him. "And get your damn hands off me!"

Asshole.

"Nick calm down!" Jeff shoved lightly at his boyfriend's shoulders, getting a glare from him in return. "Kurt—"

"Jeff, honestly I like you, but you need to keep that boyfriend of yours on a shorter leash."

Nick lunged forward, only being held back by Jeff's arm stretched out in front of him. "Go suck a tailpipe."

"Excuse me?" The blue-eyed male glowered, stepping forward and challenging the short-stack bass player.

Jeff held out a hand to him, "No, no. Please. It's not his fault, he's just upset because we can't find Blaine."

What?

"W-Wait, what do you mean you can't find Blaine? I left him right here?" Kurt rationalized. "Don't you guys have to go on like…right about now?"

"Which is why you better cough up our boy pronto. You can choke on his dick after the show like the rest of the groupies." Nick sneered, pushing away Jeff and getting in Kurt's personal space.

Kurt scoffed, "You think you're so smart? Tell me, if Blaine and me really were going at it, then why am I here and Blaine's not?" He gestured to the bottles scattered on the floor. "By the way, there's the water Blaine asked me to get you guys before I left him here with you."

The two men stared each other down, neither one of them willing to be the first one to look away, to give in. Jeff crossed his arms over his chest and brought a hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumb as he watched to make sure they didn't do anything physically violent. Their silence didn't last that long though, the crowd behind them growing restless and shouting when they grew tired of merely drinking with no source of live entertainment. Wes and David chose that time to enter the space they were in.

"We couldn't find him. We couldn't fucking find him!" Wes flailed.

"And the scout left too. I don't even know if it went well or not!" David panicked.

Scout? What scout?

The paler male stepped away from Nick, bored and not at all concerned with him at the moment. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Bring on the music!"

"Get back on stage!

"Blaine, have my babies!"

All the men looked towards the crowd, various forms of distress evident on their faces at the hostile mob. The band for obvious reputational reasons, and Kurt because he knew Blaine would never leave his band mates out to dry. He was worried.

"Kurt…" Said man turned when his name was called, Jeff, and Wes, and everybody looking so troubled and panic-stricken. Even Nick looked a bit upset, though he tried to hide it with a scowl. Trent was the one who had hesitantly called his name. "If we can't finish out our set, will your brother fire us?" He looked near tears, Image Consultant and Band Manager gasping at the mere thought.

He was quick to shake his head, "he would never." At least he didn't thinks so.

Puck however, Puck I'm not so sure about.

David covered his face with his hands, rotating where he placed his hands on his profile because he was just so distraught. "Oh my God! We're gonna get so fired!"

"You guys were all in Glee Club together, right? The Dalton Warblers?" He asked, the band just nodding slowly because they didn't know where Kurt was going with this. "Well then, why can't one of you guys just sing lead until Blaine pops back up again? It may not be the same, but it's not like you have choice at this point right?"

The blue eyed boy flailed his arms, his leather sleeveless yanked towards one of them yet again. Like really, what was with the grabbing? "The only time the Warblers got as far as they did was because Blaine was the one leading the flock." Wes stressed, emphasizing his words by shaking Kurt back and forth. Boy was getting dizzy from the jerky movements. "Don't you understand? This band is NOTHING without Blaine. The amount of dapperness he exudes, it defies the law of personality!"

Geez, no wonder they guilt trip the fuck out of him.

They really are all lost without Blaine.

Wes let go of Kurt and dramatically collapsed into David's arms, the Manager patting the Image Consultant's head in a 'there, there' manner. Kurt looked over to where Trent was already sniffling and Jeff just stood there looking like a lost sad little kitten. Wow, he really didn't know this band was such a big deal to them. He couldn't just let them flop. Blaine's his boyfriend now. This is his band. So he has to help them. More importantly, Blaine would want him to, no matter what could be keeping him.

I just hope nothing's wrong.

"Guys, Blaine helped my brother out when his bar was in a bind, so if you'll let me, I'd like to return the favor?" It was optimistic, even if it was lightly hesitant as well.

"You're not serious." Nick quipped.

"Ignoring you." Kurt pointed out in a very 'Finn-like' manner, directing his attention to Wes and David. "I'm professionally trained by NYADA. I'm not a baritone, but I can hold my own with the right song choice."

"Where the fuck is 'Pav's Last Song'?!"

"This is fucking LAME!"

"I still wanna have Blaine's babies!"

Wes straightened himself out and looked at Kurt, eyeing him up and down in a completely calculating nonsexual way. Well at least he hoped it was. "It's not like he doesn't have the outfit. Was this get-up for Blaine?"

Kurt blushed just as Nick shouted, "Wes! You can't be serious!"

"Put a sock in it small fry!" David shouted, the hostility from the crowd making them all desperate. "Kurt, this crowd is already pretty peeved. If this mob isn't receptive to you…I just want you to be aware of what you're getting into."

"I had a cat thrown at me at a nursing home once." The band around him couldn't hold in their huff of laughter at the surprising statement. "Boozing rioters ain't got nothing on grandmas who haven't had their afternoon hit of morphine."

And maybe this will give Blaine enough time to get the hell back here for their finale.

"Kurt, are you for real?" Trent asked excitedly.

He glanced over at the throng of people, then smiled at Trent and held out his hand. "Hey, we got this."

After Trent smiled back, he slapped his hand into Kurt's. "Well, all right then. Let's pick a tune."

"Fuck that." Nick scoffed, just making a face when they all turned to look at him. "I'm not playing a single damn note for that haughty-taughty, pasty faced, legs-in-the-air, wannabe rock princess."

Mother. Fucker.

Kurt was seething, seriously he was going to tear Nick a new one, and enjoy doing it too. The second he looked as if he was going to step to Nick, Jeff calmly put himself between them, placing a hand lovingly on his boyfriend's chest. What the hell, Jeff? "Oh honey." He started out innocently, but just when Nick thought Jeff was taking his side, the blonde one mercilessly tugged on his ear. "Now you listen to me you little shit. You are going to go out there and perform and pluck your instrument like a good little bassist."

"Ow, ow, ow, ow! Babe! You're hurting me!"

Jeff didn't acknowledge him, "Lately you've been nothing but super duper rude to everyone and I have had it up to HERE with your awful attitude. As much as I love the fuck out of you, if you do anything other than play your damnest out there, I will ride your ass so hard you won't be able to walk for a month." He shook Nick by the ear, getting an aggravated yell from him. "And then, I will dump your smug, offensive ass. Got it?"

"Yes!"

"And you're going to nicer to everyone, right?!"

"YES!"

"And you're not going to screw me in bathrooms anymore, AND you're going to take me out on a date every once in a while because I WANT FUCKING ROMANCE DAMMIT!"

"YES, YES, OH MY GOD, YEEES!" Jeff finally released Nick and the shorter male dropped to his knees, rubbing at his sore cartilage and whispering. "It hurt's so good, babe. Oh God, it hurts so good."

What—

"Good."

—the fuck.

Jeff turned on his heel and clasped his hands behind his back, smiling naïvely like he didn't just ream Nick right in front of them. "Now that we've gotten that taken care of…"

"Jeffy, I love you," Nick wrapped his arms around Jeff's middle, still on his knees and pressing his face against his boyfriend's trim stomach.

"Shut up! You're still in trouble." He gave Nick a warning glare, then proceeded to grin up at the other members, who were honestly staring at Jeff gob smacked with their mouths hanging open. Kurt included. "…Kurt, give us a rundown of what Alternative and Rock songs you know, and we'll see if we got any of those in our arsenal. Right, guys?" The rioting shouts from the audience were the only things to be heard, seeing as the rest of the band members still haven't recovered from Jeff's outburst.

Oh my damn.

Jeff's a badass.

A/N: I'll be back when I can guys. Till then, review? :)