AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): What up, people!? Here it is! Finally! I'll keep it short, though I can't promise this same for my lovely writing partner. I'll be longwinded in my second AN…come on, it's me. Of course I'm gonna talk a lot.

AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): Woohoo! Helloooo global audience! I'm so excited to finally see this up and running. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it, though Gotta B (GBW: OH YEAH!) is the main reason for that. Okay, shutting up. You must read! And review!

DISCLAIMER: We own nothing expect for our sheer brilliance…jealous?

— Glee —

A Matchless Match

Chapter One: Someone Old, Someplace New

"Son of a fuck you…" Sebastian mumbled to himself as he frantically tried to wipe up his spilt coffee with some Kleenex from his desk.

He continued a long stream of inventive and truly inspired expletives as he did his best to hold his body away from the piece of furniture while simultaneously wiping at the scalding-hot liquid that had just burned him, the reason for his spill. His lips still stung, cursing him as they moved, forming words and thoughts that went unnoticed by his coworkers in the room. The background noise of chairs moving, voices speaking, shoes moving across floors and the general chaos that accompanies a law office seemed to swallow Sebastian's frustrations, absorbing and layering them along with the rest of its insanity.

"Umm…Sebastian?" a timid voice asked, pulling him out of his hurricane of aggravation. He turned his head, doing his best to tame his features and shove his annoyance at being interrupted down into a deep, deep well in his gut. It wouldn't do to snap at one of his bosses. His annoyance quickly disappeared though, when he was met by a sympathetic and smiling face.

"Hey Annie," he said, his smile genuine and his anger dissipating like a puff of smoke.

"She's looking for you," she said with an exaggerated eye roll and as she gently shook her head and a soft laugh escaped when she saw Sebastian roll his own eyes and pick up one of the files from his desk.

"Does she need the—"

"No, she's needs you to bring her the one from las—"

"Oh, I told her that they'd be a lit—"

"She knows but she wants to see what you've done so far."

Sebastian let his mouth hang open slightly as he nodded in understanding. He set the file in his hands back onto his desk and tidied up some other papers that had thankfully escaped the wrath of his Benedict Arnold—he shot another quick glare at his now empty mug—placed them into another empty folder, and picked them up before following Annie down the hallway and towards the bank of elevators.

Sebastian had been working at his law firm for the past year or so, having been offered a job while he was still interning for them. It was an opportunity that had been secured for him by his father, one of the few nice things the man had ever done for Sebastian (aside from providing him with an offensively large trust fund and his classical good looks). While there was a large part of Sebastian that was too proud to take any help from the man that practically spent his entire time as a "parent" telling Sebastian how truly underwhelming he was, he refused to let the man's tainted aid get in the way of his career, and starting that career at one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago was nothing short of a gift from Baby Jesus.

He tapped his foot, partly from impatience, as the elevator ascending up to the partners' floor, and partly from the dread that was coursing through him. He drummed his fingers along the smooth surface of the folder as if the motion might calm his nerves. Sebastian wasn't a nervous man by any means, but whenever he was on his way to meet his boss, he grew anxious, if only a slight amount.

Jessica was a junior partner and his direct boss. While she was a fantastic lawyer and someone who had already taught Sebastian so much about his profession and what it took to get ahead and stay there, she was also someone who was fully aware of the power she held over Sebastian. While most bosses tended to respect the lines of employer and employee, Jessica seemed to take those lines and casually brush them off as idiotic suggestions from a babbling, incoherent seven year old. He was being generous: she was a date rapist waiting to happen.

He shared a small smile with Annie as their eyes met in the small, enclosed space. He felt a calming sensation wash over him as his eyes traced the warm light that seemed to emanate from her eyes. It was as if she was some sort of weird Disney princess about five seconds away from singing a song about doing his best, while being accompanied by singing woodland creatures. Some people probably found her to be annoying or suspiciously happy—almost as though she was dressed by fluttering butterflies, every morning—Sebastian knew that he did after their first meeting when she started as Jessica's secretary, but he was soon charmed by her innocence and general sense of positivity. It was a refreshing oasis from the general cynicism and apathy that most people in the office exhibited. Her general good cheer felt very familiar to Sebastian, as though he already knew her even though he knew he didn't, yet it was a feeling that he rather enjoyed, embraced even. He was pulled out of his thoughts a few seconds later.

The doors opened and Sebastian found himself entering the lion's den.

— Glee —

"Go for Cooper."

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother's greeting, sighing into his phone. "Coop, do you answer like that for everyone or do you save it especially for me?"

"I don't know, which answer is gonna bug you more?"

Knowing that this discussion could drag on for hours if he let it, Blaine shook his head and dropped down into the seat at his desk, staring at his sandwich mournfully. He could almost taste the neglected turkey as he glanced at his mocking clock, checking to see how much time was left in his break. He knew he could eat the tantalizing sandwich while he was on the phone, but years of etiquette lessons prevented him from doing so, even to his own sloth of a brother—unnecessary, considering it was Cooper after all.

"Never mind," he replied dismissively, "The reason I called—"

"What? No 'How are you, Cooper?' or 'How's the new gig, Coop?' I'm hurt, Blaine. I'm cut to the quick! My heart is literally breaking as we speak! My own brother, treating me like I don't even matter," Cooper sighed dramatically on the other end of the line, his eye rolls and wild gesticulations were almost audible over the line.

Blaine sighed as he rolled his own eyes and once again checked the clock. He wished his brother had an off switch.

"Unlike some people, I don't get to take breaks whenever I feel like it, so I'm trying to keep this short and sweet," he countered, not even waiting for a reaction before he ploughed on, "I'm going to be home late tonight—the kids have an after-school rehearsal they want me at and I can't get a hold of Sam…so I was wondering if you could swing by my place and—"

"Cook dinner?"

Blaine could imagine the way Cooper's eyes were probably lighting up at the assumed prospect. He allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips before shooting down his brother's playful, yet somewhat serious offer.

"That would actually be fantastic, Coop. Thanks! And then after that, why don't you go across the street and set fire to that building too? I'm sure they'd really appreciate it," Blaine said, his words forming a small puddle of sarcasm on the floor, "Do you not remember what happened the last time I let you cook? I think my renter's insurance company actually sent a letter, asking that you never cook in my apartment again."

The Great Oven Fire of 2020 did not require a repeat. Blaine had been at a conference the entire day and had asked his brother to plug in their crock-pot at lunchtime—that was all, just plug it in. Blaine had come home that evening to a fire truck parked outside his apartment building and Cooper giving them a statement of what had happened.

"You need to let that go, Bl—"

"You set my apartment on fire, Cooper! You set an entire building on fire!" Blaine yelled.

"A guy starts one little fire, on accident, and suddenly he's a pyromaniac," Cooper said, the bewilderment evident in his voice.

"I don't even know why we're still having this same conversation…" Blaine said, feeling a headache coming on. He would have pinched his nose in annoyance if it wasn't such a clichéd move.

"You don't trust me? Your own big brother, and you honestly don't trust me..." Cooper was clearly in the mood for melodrama, like every other day. It was a well-known fact that the older Anderson brother never met a situation he couldn't make more dramatic. Blaine worried for the cast and crew of what was supposed to be a serious stage production while simultaneously reminded himself that they had chosen Cooper.

"Coop!" Blaine took a calming breath. Why he'd ever decided that calling his brother for assistance was a good idea, he'd never know. Blaine was beginning to think that banging his head against his desk a few times would have been a much simpler and less time-consuming way for him to get a headache. It certainly would have achieved the same ends as having a conversation with his brother.

"Focus, Cooper. I need you to go across the hall to Mrs. Forster's and help her with a couple of chores."

Mrs. Forster was a sweet, if marginally senile, old woman who kept to herself for the most part and Blaine often assisted her with tasks that were outside her reach or ability. She'd cornered him that morning as he rushed down the hall—his jacket half on, snapping his briefcase shut—and had begged him to change the burst light bulb in her bathroom.

He'd promised to get it done by nightfall for her safety and didn't want to go back on his word, but his kids wanted him and he couldn't deny them anything (it was his biggest weakness, he knew). He had tried to get a hold of Sam, calling his phone a few times during the day, but was only able to reach his voicemail: He was stuck, leaving Cooper as his last resort.

Unfortunately, because the man was clearly born without a soul, Cooper didn't share his brother's fondness for the neighbor.

"You mean the crazy old cat lady in number twelve?" he asked, horrified, "You can't be serious? She smells like death and always tries to set me up with her 51-year-old daughter—who, by the way, I'm pretty sure has her own apartment full of cats, not that that is even the worst thing about that idea—and I don't even live there...anymore."

"Cooper, she—"

"Death, Blaine!"

"Don't be so dra—"

"She smells like death!"

When he'd first moved to Chicago, Cooper had slept on Blaine and Sam's couch, eating their food and running up their utility bills. His stay was short lived. Blaine had quickly lost all semblance of patience with his mooching older brother, deciding to call in the Big Guns (also known as their mother) and had Cooper relocated to an apartment of his very own.

"I don't have time to argue with you about this," Blaine sighed, glancing at the clock yet again and thinking about the laundry list of things he needed to organize before his lunch break was over. "My kids need me, Cooper. Go help the nice old widow out for me, do a good deed, let yourself in with that key you refuse to give back, and I'll bring pizza home with me."

There was a huff of annoyance on the other end of the phone, followed by a long pause.

"Are you—"

"Yes, I'm buying."

"Double pepperoni?" Cooper pressed, sounding like a five year old. "Please Blainers? She's really old and creepy…"

Blaine fought against a smile. "You know how Sam gets, Coop."

The blond was a Personal Trainer, and even the mere mention of greasy, fatty food often ended with impromptu boot camp sessions for all involved. Blaine remembered the one time he had brought him Chinese take out the previous month: Sam had acted as though he, Blaine, had proposed that they go and burn down the elementary school a few blocks over.

"I don't care, little brother," Cooper responded testily, and Blaine could easily picture him folding his arms and pouting: "It's extra pepperoni or the little old lady's on her own."

"Fine," the younger of the two agreed, his tone bordering on snappish while still eyeing his lunch. He'd just have to also get a thin crust vegetarian pizza to try and satisfy Sam's inevitable bitch fit.

"Look, Coop, I gotta go. Lunch is almost over. Promise me that you'll help Mrs. Forster out. I refuse to believe that my superhero of an older brother would ever let a helpless old woman suffer…" Blaine said, trying to appeal to his brother's ridiculously-sized ego.

There was silence.

"Cooper..." he switched tactics and tried for menacing.

"Yeah, yeah, Blainers, I'll have it all under control. Say hi to your Munchkins for me!" Cooper's patented grin could be heard in his words.

"You know they hate it when you call them that. They're too old for it."

"Yeah, but they love their Uncle Cooper and they know it. Let's be honest: everyone loves me. I'm pretty awesome. It's a fact."

Blaine snorted, "And that's my cue to hang up. Help Mrs Forster!" He added, before pressing the red 'end call' button on his phone.

Blaine set down his phone and breathed out a heavy sigh, realizing how much the conversation with his brother had taken out of him. Talking with Cooper always seemed to take so much effort. It was like riding a plane: you never really did much other than just sit there, but for some reason you always walked away feeling exhausted. He'd just raised his sandwich to his lips, his mouth salivating at the anticipation and his stomach growling in joy for its long-awaited meal, when there was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Anderson?" a soft-spoken girl asked.

He smiled and set his lunch back down, resigned to the fact that he probably wouldn't eat until dinner. It was the third time that week where Blaine was unable to eat his lunch…and it was only Wednesday. His days were nothing if not consistent.

"Hi Jennifer," he nodded with a smile, "What's up?"

"I didn't understand today's homework…I know this is your lunch break, but I was kinda hoping…that maybe…"

Blaine smiled at the girl's shyness.

"Well," he said, standing up, gesturing for the Junior to come into the classroom, "Why don't we look at what the assignment was and figure out what you do understand and we'll just go from there. Let's open the book and look at page 394…"

— Glee —

"Shut the doors behind you," Jessica ordered without looking up from her computer.

Sebastian stilled his movements before turning on his heel and gently closing the door, catching sight of an encouragingly smiling Annie and jokingly mouthing a simple "Help!" with exaggeratedly large eyes. He was able to catch the sight of the secretary trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

"So let's see your goods," said a female voice from behind his back. Sebastian immediately straightened himself and turned to face a smirking boss from behind a very expensive desk.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian asked despite himself. He was more than used to her behavior. He didn't know why he was startled by her heavily-laced innuendo: perhaps he could blame it on Annie distracting him?

"I'd like to see your briefs."

"Jessica, I don—"

"Show me the briefs you prepared for the case. Honestly Sebastian, what did you think I want?" came the husky question, the same smirk still present across her painted red lips.

Sebastian inhaled slightly, hoping to draw strength and patience into his lungs as he strode across the room and held out the papers for his boss to grab. He stood a bit farther away from her desk than he needed to, having to stretch his arm slightly for Jessica to grab onto the file. He noticed the amusement in her eyes when she clearly saw what he was doing and felt annoyed that he was just giving her more ammunition for poorly veiled remarks.

"Afraid I might bite?" she smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Terrified," Sebastian answered with his own smirk, doing his best to reprimand himself for his mistake without letting her know.

"There's that tenacity that I hired," she remarked, her eyes scanning the papers in her hands.

"I'm sorry they're not done. I was working on the paperwork for filing the Morton case so that'd be ready for this afternoon. If you need me to, I can s—"

"No, that's fine," Jessica waved Sebastian off, interrupting him mid-speech, "I just wanted to check on them. This looks fine. You're doing good work, Sebastian, and I appreciate that."

Sebastian couldn't help but feel as though there was a second meaning to her words, but no matter how many times he ran her statement through his mind, he couldn't seem to find any sexualized interpretation to it. Perhaps she was loosing her touch?

"It looks like you're really doing well working under me," she purred, her smirk returning.

Nope, there it was: that inappropriate back-away-from-Little-Jimmy-slowly-with-your-hands -in-plain-sight sort of touch.

"What can I say, Jessica? It's an honor to be learning from a great lawyer like yourself."

Sebastian desperately fought back his own victorious battle cry when he saw her features slowly fall and form into an annoyed scowl. Apparently, nothing killed the mood faster than a cheap and overzealous instance of brown nosing. He quickly filed that bit of knowledge away for future use as he nodded his thanks and walked out the room. As he reached for the handle, it was as if Sebastian's ass cheeks could feel the power of Jessica's eyes on them.

"So how'd it go?" Annie asked as she smiled up from her seat behind her desk. She gently set down the pen that had been in her hand and smiled up at Sebastian

"Not too bad, she didn't even try to touch me once this time," Sebastian said jokingly while leaning over and picking up her stapler and waving it around absentmindedly.

"Well that's always a good day," Annie beamed as she casually reached over and grabbed the stapler out of his hands and placed it back on the desk. She began answering an email while Sebastian began to drum his fingers on the front ledge that jutted out from her workstation. As she typed, she continued her previously paused thought.

"You know I don't like to be an office gossip, but…" her voice trailed off as she pulled her eyes away from her computer screen and looked around their immediate area, scanning for anyone who might overhear her words.

Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he watched the battle being televised across her facial features. While most people started a bit of gossip with that insincere disclaimer, Annie actually meant it. She seldom ever said anything negative about another person—even if they really deserved it. She was a bit of a walking cliché in a way: She went out of her way to be kind and helpful to everyone in the office, she never swore, had a Bible Study that she went to on Wednesday evenings, and she always brought an extra sandwich that she gave to the homeless man that she passed every day during her walk to work. Sometimes Sebastian just wanted to yell at her that she wasn't auditioning for a Christian toothpaste commercial and to be normal, but then she'd just smile at him and he'd forgive any gross offenses (like being a nice and happy person).

"…but you're going to anyway?" Sebastian prompted with an amused grin.

"Well," she began, lowering her voice and placing her small stack of Post-it's back onto the desk that Sebastian had been playing with, "last week she called Marshall into her office and she had that same look on her face for whenever she calls you in there. I don't know what she said or did to him, but when he came out, his face was so red and he looked like he was almost going to cry."

Sebastian laughed at the visual image. Marshall's strange behavior the previous afternoon suddenly made sense. He kept freaking out if anyone touched him; the guy ended up hiding in the file room for the rest of the day, effectively pissing off one of the partners who was looking for him. Clearly, Jessica had welcomed his fellow associate to the firm.

"That explains a lot, actually," Sebastian said towards the tail end of his laughter. His laughter picked its momentum back up when Annie muttered and shook her head in a reluctant smile that she seemed to not want anyone to see.

"You're horrible, Sebastian. That poor guy looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. I don't know how you put up with it. I don't think I could take that if I had a boss who treated me how she treats you."

"Not a big deal," he answered, frowning slightly when she pulled the chain of paperclips that he had been making out of his hands before continuing, "I've been cursed with good looks all my life. She's not the first person who's been driven crazy by my innate sex appeal. It's not her fault that she can't control her hormones around me. I've been known to drive women into madness just by being in their vicinity. There was actually a time where this one professor of mine said they'd give me an A if I played wit—"

"Sebastian…" Annie said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him, her frown clearly displaying her disapproval.

"It's just so hard being pretty. People don't understand the pressure and responsibilities that come with it. I mean…people have asked me to model products for them…"

"Don't you think you're being a bit drama—"

"Women have gotten pregnant just by catching one of my winks!"

"Okay," Annie said with the best stern face she could muster, "now you're just being silly."

"The hyperbole was for effect," Sebastian explained as he reached for her tape dispenser before pulling his hand back in shock, and slight pain, after Annie slapped it away.

"If this is what you've matured into, I'm scared to think how you were back in high school," Annie teased with a bright smile. She immediately noticed the way that Sebastian's face lit up and a Cheshire grin spread across his lips.

"Oh, the stories I could tell you..."

— Glee —

Blaine heaved a sigh of relief as the door in front of him swung open to reveal his brother. The two warm pizza boxes he'd been balancing precariously on top of his briefcase while he searched his pockets for keys were swiftly removed from his keeping. He winced as he surveyed his lounge area. There were crumpled up potato chip bags, discarded Coke cans, bare packages of cookies, an empty Tupperware that had held the previous night's dinner, and...was that a half-eaten apple? That had to have been Sam.

"You seriously couldn't have been here for more than two hours, Cooper. How in the world did you manage to make my apartment look like a Ke$ha music video?"

Sometimes, Blaine didn't understand how he and the other man had come from the same gene set, they were complete opposites: Cooper was messy where he was a neat freak; Cooper was laid back and prone to acting on a whim, where he was into structure and schedule. They were chalk and cheese. Night and day. And a whole other slew of other binary oppositions.

"You're overreacting again, Mom," Cooper waved him off dismissively, dropping down onto the couch, pizza boxes still in hand. "I'll clean it up later."

Blaine tensed at his brother's nickname for him, refusing to let the term get to him, and instead put his briefcase down by the door and set the mail neatly on the side table with his keys. He turned to look at his brother.

"I don't think so," he replied, walking the three steps that separated the door and the couch and plucked the boxes out of his brother's grasp, "Clean first. Pizza after."

Cooper stared at him, aghast: "That was never part of the deal, B," he argued, furiously snatching at his promised prize.

"Clean up first," Blaine reiterated, stepping out of reach, "And you'll get the food afterwards."

"I'm not one of your students, Blaine," Cooper complained, despite reaching for the assorted crap he'd tossed onto the floor earlier, "You don't get to boss me around and ultimatum me!"

Blaine snorted at his brother's whining and made his way towards the kitchen area, putting the pizzas on the table and grabbing some plates, placemats and a couple of sodas.

"First, you used that word wrong…and secondly, you know that's not what teachers actually do, right?" He asked, snagging a stack of napkins as a second thought and placing them down beside the cardboard boxes.

"It's how I remember high school," the older man shot back as he stomped exaggeratedly past his brother to deposit the efforts of his cleanup into the trash. One would think Blaine had asked him to cut off his left nut or something.

"Really? Because I seem to remember your high school years as you climbing out your bedroom window every weekend to go see your Girlfriend of the Week, and me covering for you with Mom and Dad," Blaine responded with a knowing smirk.

"Oh yeah," Cooper responded, a smile on his face as his mind seemed to be reliving a distant memory, "I forgot about that…those were good times…"

"Yeah, well you sure seemed t—Uh uh uh!" he leaned over and held the pizza lid down when Cooper moved in for the kill, "You're not touching the food until you've washed your hands."

Blue eyes widened before narrowing. "You've gotta be shitting me!?"

Blaine arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Honestly! Cooper was more effort than all his classes combined. It was like he was perpetually stuck at five years old. He loved his brother, but Blaine pitied the poor woman who ended up with Cooper.

"Fine," Cooper rolled his eyes and moved back into the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink with a sigh.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an anal retentive douche?" He asked, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"You. Kinda often, actually."

Cooper came back to the table and made a show of presenting his hands for inspection. He even offered Blaine his hands to smell, proving that he in fact used soap.

"There's probably a reason for that," he replied, sitting down and finally reaching for his prize. He grinned at the cheesy piece of perfection in front of him. He lifted up a slice and groaned slightly as the cheese stretched and oozed.

"Oh, baby, I've been thinking about you all afternoon…"

"I hear that a lot, you know," Sam teased as he entered the room, having arrived home while the two brothers were bickering. He frowned at the boxes on the table. He set down the various bags of equipment that he had been carrying and turned towards Blaine, an accusatory look on his face.

"Pizza, B? Why don't you just slap the fat on your stomach right now? What, is this your way of telling me that you wanna get up at the ass-crack of dawn for an epic workout? I have no problem riding your ass hard, you know."

Cooper almost choked on his slice of pizza. He was quickly chewing his bite. Anticipation and laughter filled his eyes as he hurriedly tried to swallow so that he could share the multitude of homoerotic-themed jokes that had popped into his head. He finally swallowed his food and opened his mouth.

"Cooper. Don't."

Blaine watched with a small amount of satisfaction as a crestfallen look appeared across his older brother's face and he closed his mouth in dejection. Alluding to the non-existent sexual relationship between Sam and his younger brother was one of Cooper's favorite pastimes.

Blaine turned back to Sam and shrugged.

"And there's a thin crust vegetarian..." he offered lamely, knowing that Sam wouldn't be too appeased by the logic. Pizza was pizza was pizza, according to Sam: empty calories, grease, and a direct insult to his rock hard abs ("But it tastes so good!" Cooper always defended).

The blond shook his head but sat down at the table, snagging a single slice of the pie that had been purchased specifically with him in mind. He eyed it a bit, almost as if he expected it to grow a mouth and begin spouting racial slurs or offbeat political rants, before finally relenting and dabbing the top of the slice with a paper napkin to soak up any excess grease.

"You know this body takes work and dedication to look this good, and you know I need to look this good for my job," he lectured, pausing to take a bite, "and it's kind of unfair that you...hey, this is good! Is it from Luigi's?"

Blaine laughed, reaching for a slice of the same pizza, "Nope. Trying out the new place around the corner."

"Well, I guess it's better than a bucket of fried chicken," Sam mused, slowly savouring his single slice while Cooper demolished two slices and eyed off a third, "but we're still jogging an extra mile in the morning, B."

The teacher sighed and nodded, "I figured."

"Wow, little brother. You're so whipped. You've got all the drawbacks of a nagging wife without the perks." Cooper chuckled and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "Congratulations. The only question is: who's the little spoon? My money's on Blaine!"

Rolling his eyes, Blaine flipped him off. "You're just jealous because I have a live-in personal trainer and you don't."

"You forget that Sammy Boy here is totally my bro now. I don't need to live with the guy to score free sessions. Right, Sam?"

"I never said 'free', Dude," Sam corrected, knowing his protest would be largely ignored.

"Oh! Speaking of...I got my cards back from the printer. Check 'em out!" He left the table to rummage through his backpack and pulled out a small carton, tossing it across the room to Cooper, who caught it deftly. Cooper opened the box and pulled a business card from the stack within, giving it a quick once over.

"Awesome!" He enthused, passing the card to Blaine.

For his part, the younger Anderson snorted at the first glance. The card had a tacky picture of a shirtless Sam standing, arms folded, in the middle of a gym, and bore the bold title 'Sam Evans - Trainer To The Stars' above his contact details. The reverse side had a short blurb encouraging potential clients to take the first step to a 'better them' and to book a session immediately.

"Trainer to the stars?" He questioned, unable to help himself, "Sam, you know Cooper doesn't count, right?" He waited a beat, then added, "And neither does that guy who played a dead body on Law and Order a decade ago."

"He was an extra on NCIS once, too!" Sam argued, while Cooper looked decidedly put out.

"What do you mean I don't count?"

"Whatever Dude! It's just a title to pull people in," Sam explained, ignoring Cooper's indignation.

"Yeah, but what are you going to do if someone asks you for the name of the 'stars' that you've trained, Sam?" Blaine argued.

"Hey! What do you mean I don't count!?"

"Eh, I'll just say I used to work with someone. It's not like they can call up Brad Pitt's manager and ask him if its true."

"Brad Pitt? Really Sam? Of all the celebrities that you could choose, you really think Brad Pitt is up there in the 'believable' category?" Blaine asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"God, why do you always have to be a buzz kill Blaine?" Sam said, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms, and frowning in the opposite direction of his roommate.

"Guys! Seriously!"

"Sam," Blaine said as he reached forward and gently touched Sam's arms, smiling, "I'm sorry. You're right. It's a great card. You look awesome on the front and it's going to get you loads of new clients."

"Hello? Can you two even hear me?!"

"You really think so?" Sam asked, turning his head and looking at his roommate like a hesitant child, afraid of the hope welling up in his chest.

"I do," Blaine said with a sincere smile. Despite the corniness of the business card, Blaine knew that he could never not support his best friend—they were Blam, after all.

"This isn't funny anymore, you guys!" Cooper yelled, his levels of frustration quickly reaching their breaking point.

"Hey Blaine, did you grab any tampons for Cooper on your way home? I think it's time for one," Sam teased as he winked at the younger Anderson.

"Hey!"

"And to think, people say you're dramatic! How outrageous!" Blaine said, mockingly putting his hand to his chest in shock.

"I'm not dramatic," Cooper pouted, shoving a seventh slice of pizza into his mouth.

"And I rest my case." Blaine finished with an illustrative wave, reaching for his food again after taking an exaggerated bow.

Cooper and Sam shared a look. Blaine knew what to expect and they didn't disappoint.

"You're still doing that?" Cooper asked, not bothering to hide his grin, quickly forgetting his annoyance. It was a grin that Blaine was used to, a grin that said "Little brother, you're stupid and it amuses me." It was the same look that Cooper had whenever Blaine suggested they clean Cooper's apartment ("That's why Mom and Dad get me a maid, Little Brother.").

Sam nodded, wearing a similar expression. "Yep," he answered in lieu of allowing his friend to reply, "That and the 'Exhibit A' stuff when he wants to make a point. Sometimes I wait for the Law & Order sound to play after he says it."

Cooper laughed and leant across the table to ruffle Blaine's hair. "Still got it bad for the lawyer, hey, Little Bro?"

Blaine batted the offending hand away and rolled his eyes. "Uh, no. We broke up. That was forever ago! It was a mutual decision, remember?"

"Whatever you say, B," Sam said, still wearing that smirk that implied he knew better, "We believe you."

"So, you know, court closed, or whatever," Sam's lips twitched as he dodged an olive that Blaine had thrown at him.

"Whatever. I don't even say that…and it's court adjourned," he added the last bit, cringing slightly when he realized that he had just opened himself up for a barrage of jokes. He closed his eyes when he saw the two other men dissolve into fits of laughter, though he opened them soon after, happy that he was able to offer them a source of amusement after harping on them so much during the course of their conversations.

"Blainey and Lawyer-Dude sitting in a tree, K-I-S-I-N-G—wait…" Cooper stopped his singing and looked around the room in confusion, as if he might find his mistake somewhere hidden in the couch cushions.

"You're a child." Blaine sighed, laughing when Cooper just nodded and agreed.

"You wouldn't like me if I acted all old and boring like you, Blainers. Admit it, you need me to keep you young. You love it."

The younger of the Anderson siblings shook his head. "I don't think so, Coop."

"Say it. You love me."

"Let me think about that for...no."

"You loooooove me."

Blaine clamped his lips shut, trying unsuccessfully to mask his amusement.

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it."

"No!"

"Say it, Whore!"

"You can't make me!"

Sam made a grab for Blaine's face, pinching his cheeks between his index finger and thumb and squeezing to make Blaine's lips move. Blaine simply sat in confusion and amusement, watching his roommate.

"I love my big brother. He's the best big brother ever….but he's not as cool as my awesome roommate" he said in a terrible impression of his best friend, sounding like an old British woman, while Cooper nodded approvingly before registering the last part of Sam's dialogue and objecting. Blaine wrenched his face free and glared at the blond.

"You think that's what I sound like?" He huffed, arms folded against his chest as Sam merely nodded in proud reply.

"That was a horrible impression! You sounded like a character from Downton Abbey," Blaine's annoyance was barely kept out of his words.

"Take that back!" Sam demanded, brandishing his index finger like a weapon, "Take it back or I'll make you run two extra miles tomorrow!"

Blaine's face fell: Sam didn't make idle threats when it came to training. He schooled his expression into the closest thing he could get to genuinely apologetic.

"Okay, okay," he said, hands up in surrender as he looked at Sam, "I take it back. Your impressions are the same standard as they've always been."

Sam seemed appeased by that and nodded. "Thank you."

Cooper, on the other hand, was onto his brother's tricks, "Dude, he didn't actually say your impressions were goo—"

He frowned as he had to chew on the slice of double pepperoni pizza that Blaine had shoved into his mouth. He was clearly torn between being annoyed at being silent and begrudgingly grateful at being given another slice of pizza.

"So," Blaine cut him off, acting as though he hadn't just lunged across the table to stuff a slice of greasy pie in his brother's mouth, while smiling at Sam, "the business cards look really great."

Sam beamed, successfully distracted and dropping the question of why Blaine had shoved a slice of pizza in Cooper's mouth, prompting Cooper to remember their previous discussion on the topic.

"Yeah," he interrupted, rocking his chair back onto its rear legs, much to Blaine's annoyance ("That's how chairs get broken, Cooper!").

"Wait, so why don't I count as a star?!"

— Glee —

"I really hate children," Elizabeth muttered as she glared at a crying child two tables over from them.

"The levels of your maternal instincts are overwhelming sometimes," Sebastian returned with a smile, before taking a bite into his pasta.

Sebastian casually looked over his shoulder to view a stressed-out looking mother desperately trying to appease the baby as it wailed while lifting its hands to the heavens, as though it were blaming God for its wet diaper, thirst, or whatever other reason it could have for screaming in the middle of a public setting. He turned back, shaking his head, enjoying the view of the annoyance on his friend's face.

Elizabeth was someone who Sebastian had met in the middle of his first year at law school. Their initial meeting was when they were paired together for a research assignment. Having been used to people generally bending to his will, Sebastian was understandably frustrated when Elizabeth refused to simply do as she was told. In the end, the two almost failed their assignment due to their constant bickering and childish displays of stubbornness. For the first two months of knowing each other, they were constantly at each other's throats, heckling any comment made and making their opinions known to everyone around. The culmination of their rivalry lead to a foolish competition on who could bed some poor man who was in a bar with them. In the end, neither won, the man went home with his wife, and left the two laughing about the ridiculous levels that they had taken things to. From that day forward, the two became inseparable friends. It quickly became clear to them the reason for the constant butting of heads: they were the exact same person. Stubborn, egotistical, ruthless, charming, center-of-attention, intelligent, born leaders, and entitled were only a few words or phrases that could perfectly describe them.

"So how's the neighborhood rapist treating you?" Elizabeth asked with an amused smile, shifting her salad around with her fork.

"I think she might be having an off day. I only felt slightly uncomfortable in her office. She didn't even touch me once."

"Maybe you've peaked already and now you're just slowly getting less and less attractive until you…well…until you look like that guy," Elizabeth jerked her head to the side, pointing to an overweight man eating a plate of ribs by himself at a nearby table.

Sebastian twisted his features into a look of disgust, his elitist mentality coming out to play, before turning to look back at his friend who was wearing a Cheshire grin. She really got a kick out of making these types of accusation. Sebastian felt the breeze blow across his cheeks and nose as he continued to pinch his features together and stare back disapprovingly.

"No amount of ugliness will ever make me wear pleated khakis," Sebastian muttered before adding, "and who eats ribs by themselves? Seriously…"

"So back to me," Elizabeth said, setting down her fork and gently folding her hands, "I think Eric's gonna propose soon."

Sebastian fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Aw, thanks Bas for that expression of support. Your friendship really does mean so much to me. Maybe after we finish lunch, you can come over to my house and pour bleach all over my furniture. It'd fit in perfectly with that look on your face right now."

"What look? There was no look, unless you count me looking back at you because you're talking to me. If you'd like, I could just get up and leave in the middle of your next sentence…and you know I hate that name," he returned, finally letting his eyes roll, thankful for the excuse.

"Oh shut up," she snapped, sounding slightly annoyed, "your lack of an expression always means you're trying to not make a face or roll your eyes." She adopted a look of slight disgust before adding, "And you're being awfully defensive right now. What's up with that?"

"I'm not being defensive, Ass, I'm just not understanding why you have to harp on my nuts like this because I didn't flip the table over in joy for your 'possible' news. It's not like he even actually proposed, you just said he might," Sebastian said, cringing inwardly at the type of voice that was delivering his words. He really needed to get better at hiding his annoyance, but Elizabeth always made it so hard with her annoying personality; his personality, the one they shared.

"I'm sorry Bas, I didn't know you were being so sensitive today…"

"I'm not being se—"

"I think I have an extra tampon in my purse? You should've just told me you needed one," Elizabeth said with an all-too-straight face.

"You know," Sebastian deadpanned, "I could hire friends nicer than you."

"Oh, Sweetie…" she returned saccharinely, "then you'd be friends with the help. That's one step away from clipping coupons and doing your own laundry."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredible?" Sebastian asked while laughing slightly and shaking his head. Elizabeth was the only person in his life that could push him to the brink of wanting to high-five her in the face with a chair one second and then make him laugh in the next. It was a talent, and one that he was not without.

"Yeah, your mom did," she said before adding with a smirk, "last night."

"I'm still not convinced that you don't have a dick in there somewhere," Sebastian said while gesturing to her pants.

"There's nothing down there that you haven't already seen," Elizabeth answered with a shrug.

"I think maybe that's how I'll start my Man of Honor toast at your wedding."

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Elizabeth locked eyes with Sebastian with a snarlingly serious look on her face. For a second, Sebastian was a little scared that she might take her fork and stab it through the back of his hand, securing it to the table.

"I swear Sebastian, if you ever tell Eric about law school…you know he's only okay with us because you're gay…"

"I'd be careful if I were you," Sebastian said while leaning in, wearing a patronizing smile, "your estrogen is showing."

Elizabeth merely growled as Sebastian reassured her that she was being overly sensitive, taking great joy in saying the word sensitive, and enjoying the look on her face. The two had spent many a night in each other's bed during their time at law school. Whereas many people might have confused sex in a friendship to mean more than it did, he and Elizabeth held the same detachment for the act: it was just sex. Of course, the arrangement they had lead to questions from other people about Sebastian's sexuality to which he would simply shrug and say that he wasn't one to turn down an orgasm. The nightly visits died down once Elizabeth met Eric, dying completely when their relationship became something serious.

While Sebastian wasn't jealous of Eric—you couldn't pay him to date Elizabeth, not that he needed money—he didn't like that his friend was slowly being taken away from him. It was difficult having to watch Elizabeth become more and more enamored with the guy. Sebastian had almost vomited his sushi when Elizabeth told him how they had said "I love you" to one another. It was as if his friend was slowly morphing into a Kate Hudson movie. He was already playing the role of the gay best friend. They just needed some ridiculous scenario injected into the mix and they'd be an actual cliché. No matter how much he disliked what was happening, Sebastian would never go so far as to actively try and sabotage her relationship. That would only lead to an angry or crying Elizabeth, and that wasn't exactly anyone's first choice.

So that left him in his position, begrudgingly going along with whatever ridiculous monogamous plans that she came up with. At least the very least, it would provide him with an endless arsenal of jokes to make. Speaking of...

"I'm serious, though, Beth," he said, lips quirking as her eye twitched at the nickname, "What has put this inane idea of Eric proposing into your head? You almost sound like one of those lovesick girls who go home and draw their boyfriend's name in their diary with little hearts. Do I need to check your date book for Mrs. Eric Boringface?...Do you want to love him forever and ever?"

He twirled his pasta with his fork almost primly, before taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. He enjoyed the look on her face as he spoke. It was a bit sadistic, the fact that he was enjoying making his best friend uncomfortable, but it was also a perfect example of how dysfunctional their relationship really was. He remembered the night they celebrated their graduation from their law program and the way that Elizabeth had drunkenly pointed to the scar on her elbow and likened it to their friendship ("Ugly, but permanent."). He caught her glaring at the wailing infant again and smothered a grin.

"You're not knocked up are you? It would explain the extra attention you're giving that little banshee..."

When she'd first started dating the guy, Sebastian had thought he was like all the others: A quick fling—scratching an itch, that sort of thing—but then the 'L' word had been bandied about and Elizabeth had become attached to the plain, boring little man. Eric's appeal was beyond his comprehension. Now she was talking about marriage? That was long-haul commitment. He was beginning to toy around with the idea of having her committed.

Elizabeth glowered and reached for a bread roll, throwing it at his head, which he ducked with ease, ignoring the stares from the other patrons.

"Okay, not pregnant then," he dismissed, "so what else? Are you blackmailing the poor guy? I mean, I honestly can't see what there is to gain from marrying a chiropractor, he's not even a real doctor. I'd have at least gone for someone with an M.D…"

"Just forget I said anything," she huffed, stabbing a lettuce leaf with more force than necessary, sighing and growing angrier after seeing Sebastian non-committally shrug his shoulders, "If you can't take this seriou—"

"You're getting old and boring." He returned frankly, finishing the last of his meal, laughing when she protested the comment Where some friends might shy away from brutal honesty, Sebastian was hardly one to cared too deeply about the feelings of others.

"No, but for real though," Sebastian smirked, gesturing to Elizabeth with his chin and smiling at her display of hormones, wondering if she had those tampons in her purse for a reason "about those tampons…"

He ducked when she threw her napkin at him.

— Glee —

AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): So, that's chapter one. Writing this was just a blast and a half. I can't express just how much my co-author makes me laugh, or how much I look forward to reading his writing or his feedback on mine. If you enjoyed this—or even if you didn't—I know that we would both really appreciate hearing about it. You're brilliant for reading, especially for reading our notes on top of the story because I get that it's not always as fun. (Pfft, what am I saying? He and I are incredibly entertaining!) I know I can't wait for more, can you?

AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): So I'd just like to take the time to say thank you to all who are reading this! You guys are awesome and I owe you all a high five (TWO high fives if you leave a review!). Putting this together, even thus far, has been a lot of fun and I couldn't think of a more perfect writing partner to do my first co-authored story. This one is going to be a lot more light and funny than my previous story, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Our goal is to make this a romantic comedy, emphasis on the comedy. Think of it like a Katherine Heigl movie, if Katherine Heigl was gay…and a dude…and it had quality writing.

Please take a minute and just leave us your thoughts in a review. Blah blah blah [insert speech about how awesome reviews are]…because you know we love us some review lovin'. And my own personal request: let us know what your favorite moments were. I know which made me actually LOL, and I'm (we're) curious to know if you had any! Thanks in advance and we'll see you soon, hopefully!

NEXT CHAPTER: "Sebastian, why is there a picture of your junk staring back at me!?"