Throughout his 5 hour plane journey all he could think about was what to say. Something along the lines of 'i am your biggest fan, i love you so much, please don't ever stop being so damn perfect' without sounding like a deranged fanboy. But he was. Darren couldn't deny his inner fanboy. It'd be like denying his multitude of curls the freedom they so deserve. He was a fanboy. No matter how much Chris teased him about it whenever they watched Disney movies together, he just couldn't stop. It was second nature to him. He was a fanboy before Glee and he will be a fanboy long after it.
After disembarking the plane he pulled his grey beanie over his untamed curls and headed for the exit, being sure to avoid the flocks of fangirls scattered across the floor, lying in wait. There were just too many, he'd be there for days signing things and dishing out special Darren hugs. As much as he loved his fans he decided to give this a miss, he did a President to serenade later today of course.
It was pretty ironic how many girls fancied him considering he was gay. Maybe girls really are attractive to men they can't have? He made a mental note to ask Chris later, he knew all of this you see. Unlike Darren, a novice in the art of seduction and love. He'd never really had a reciprocal relationship. Sure he'd been in love but they never felt the same. He'd even had a girlfriend before, Mia, but she never really appreciated him. She mainly just used him for his fame. There was also the issue of him being gay. As much as he tried, he just couldn't love Mia, he wasn't attracted to her. She wasn't necessarily ugly, she just didn't have the right genitalia.
When he arrived at the hotel he was greeted by a sea of paparazzi and screaming fans. He was used to this by now, all the attention and publicity. He didn't really consider himself a 'star' or anything like that, he was just Darren. He wasn't some deity who saw themselves as better than everyone else, who was too good to interact with the general public. With that in mind he smiled a whole heartedly goofy smile and took his time signing autographs on various pictures and body parts, taking pictures with his fans and occasionally spurting out nuggets of wisdom such as 'there's nothing more badass than being yourself'. He even overheard one girl mutter something about never washing herself every again after forcing Darren to sign her left boob - cheeky - and wrapping him up in her arms with a vice tight hug.
Inside, the hotel was quiet considering it was the President's Inauguration tomorrow. You'd think there be reems of people, lined up around the street, just to get into the lobby. Obviously not. Not everyone was as big of a political geek as Darren.
The man at the front desk was nice enough and directed Darren to the elevators around the corner so that he could find his room, 1073.
His room was, well.. it wasn't a room, it was a mansion. A freaking palace. It was massive. You could fit an entire village in the bathroom alone. This was far too nice for him, he thought as he investigated the 'room' in it's entirety. It had a living room and it's own kitchen. Who was he, the Presdient of the United States or something?
When he finally found the master bedroom his eyes lept out of his skull at the bed. A Queen sized bed sat in the middle of the floor, disguised in rose petals and animal shaped towels. This really was too much. His eager eyes scanned the rest of the room, taking in his surroundings only for him to find a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Champagne sitting at the foot of the bed, ice bucket and all, with an envelope attached to it. How fancy.
Moving towards the bed, the young man removed the envelope from it's place at the edge of the bed and analsyed it with curiosity. There was no writing on it, not even a little 'Darren' scribbled on the front, it was left blank. He turned it over and gasped a little. the envelope came complete with a red wax seal on the back. Holy shit, this is it. Finally, my letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He opened the envelope with shaky hands to reveal a beautiful scripture wirtten in calligraphy, reading 'Dear Mr Criss, we are delighted that you could perform at President Obama's Inauguration concert. The President would like to formally invite you for dinner at the White House after your performance. Sincerley, the Office.'
Holy crap you freaking what Barack Obama wants to have dinner with me no, this is not happening. And so the fanboying commenced.
Naturally, he began by opening up the very expensive bottle of champagne infront of him, it'd be rude to just let it sit there and go to waste. He poured himself a glass and perched himself on the edge of the massive bed, staring at the piece of paper in his hands. This was more than a piece of paper though. It was a doorway into a new world. A world in which Darren Everette Criss was going to meet and have dinner with the President. His idol. This was big. Oh god, what am i going to wear, i need Chris. He always knows how to 'dress to impress' as they say.
It was any excuse to call Chris. Even when he knew Chris wouldn't be able to help, he just couldn't resist his urge. He just needed to hear his voice, hear him laugh at his stupid jokes, hear his smile evident in his voice. And he did just that. He rang Chris on his mobile, champagne in his other hand and waited patiently for his best friend to answer.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
'Hello?'