A/N: WARNING! WILL GO AU FROM HERE! SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY AU. You have been warned. Moving along, I truly hope you enjoy this chapter and where it leads, cause there is no way in hell I'm stopping to wait for April 12th to get here so I can continue. :P So prepare for a whole lot of crazy Dalton... what would you call them? Daltoners? Daltonites? Daltontonians? Well, anyway, a lot of crazy from the group of crazies. With lots of motherish Ben and, of course, FLIRT FTW!

Oh, and a character update! Brock Baker is Bailey. I figured I would continue the B Legacy. :D

Enjoy! ^^

The room was mostly dark, only a small lamp giving light in the form of a soft golden glow. But the shadows spreading across the walls like thin, menacing souls waiting to pounce on the lone boy showed that it takes more than one small source of light to banish the shadows.

Especially the ones currently inside the boy's mind.

Blaine raked his hands through his curls again, sending them in a disarray that brought what was inside and displayed it outwardly. His brain was tossing back and forth—he hadn't meant to hurt Kurt—but what if he had? What if he had chosen, in some part of his subconscious, to lead Kurt on, over and over again?

He thought back over everything he could remember, every little detail Kurt had probably noticed that he, himself, had glossed over. First time they'd met—Blaine had taken his hand. He remembered this. But what he hadn't remembered before now was the look on Kurt's face when he had. That split second before he'd turned, Kurt's mouth had dropped open, just the littlest bit, and then Blaine had been leading him towards the commons, running, then slowing down and looking over at Kurt, then skipping off again. And when they had reached there, and Kurt had felt so out of place, Blaine had smoothed down his lapel, and Kurt's eyes had flashed down, then up, startled. With his knowledge considerably expanded since then, Blaine now understood that it was because none of the other boys had wanted to get within a foot of him, let alone touch any part of him, so the contact had been startling and shiny new, a door opened to maybe finally being able to find someone to have a relationship with.

Blaine put his head in his hands. He should have realized, right then, what he had started, even if it was just second-nature to flirt like that with a cute boy. He should have realized the innocence blazing in Kurt's shy eyes, and backed off. But no, he had just been his normal self, and had continued. Because he had locked eyes with Kurt during the song, pointed at him when meaningful lines had come up—You make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream... don't ever look back—he hadn't turned with the rest of the Warblers on that line, too busy putting some earnest want into his eyes, his voice, and sending it to Kurt.

A groan rumbled from his throat. He was such a jerk.

Flash to Christmas, just before break. He had needed a partner with a high range, and Kurt had been the perfect match for his level of vocal performance and stage presence, and while Blaine had been too hyped about how well they had worked together, how ready he now was to sing that song, Kurt had been thinking along the lines of flirty duet. Which it totally had been—even if Blaine hadn't actually meant to flirt with Kurt. It had been an invigorating show of skills—vocal and acting—that had left Blaine feeling confident, and Kurt falling deeper.

Next scene: Blaine going with Kurt to the game. Totally. We love football. Well, Blaine loves football. Kurt's sentence echoed in his head, but there had been a hasty addition that Blaine hadn't taken notice then. Replaying it over and over, Blaine heard the sentence everyone else had, but he had been too busy enjoying the stupid biscotti to hear. Blaine loves football. I love Blaine. He was so stupid! How could he have missed that? But no, Kurt had saved himself from faux pas by adding I love scarves, which Blaine had thought the understatement of the century and laughed at.

The only understatement now was how he was an oblivious jerk.

Cueing the next prompt: Valentine's Day. Blaine really didn't want to go over this. It was so embarrassing and shaming that it turned his ears red instantly. Blaine, Idiot of the Year, finding a cute boy that, when they had coffee together, seemed both mysterious and adorably shy. Jeremiah hadn't wanted to talk about much, so he had been a challenge Blaine had been determined to figure out. And how did he always figure things out? Song! So he had gotten the great (read: sarcasm in the extreme) idea to sing to him at work, where there was no possible chance that the boy could refuse to listen and hear the much-acclaimed Dalton Warblers, led by the oh-so-charming-and-dapper Blaine Anderson. But he had forgotten one enormous thing: Kurt Hummel. He had led Kurt on to think that he was going to sing to the boy, and when Kurt had fluttered his (unbelievably pretty) eyes at Blaine—you know my coffee order?—Blaine hadn't paid much attention. He'd thought Kurt was acting again, so Blaine had taken a role once more—of course I do—with an affronted look and had given the money for both of their coffees. Except, it wasn't just that. He had always paid for their coffee trysts, so add that to the list of Blaine Unwitting Seduction Techniques. Lovely.

And then he had announced that they were going to the GAP to serenade the boy, and Kurt had looked confused. Why the GAP? Because Blaine was an idiot. After he'd convinced Kurt to convince the council, he let loose the 'big secret.' Because the guy I like works at the GAP. Blaine, you moron, you should have noticed then, if at no other point in time. Kurt had looked devastated, and he had had a right to. Blaine thumped his hands against his forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Determined to see the worst in himself now, Blaine went over telling Kurt he was bad at romance, he didn't want to screw things up, the whole speech in 'I'm just not ready for that type of a relationship.' And what did he do? When Kurt asked if he would join him in the Rachel-Berry-House-Party-Trainwreck-Extravaganza, Blaine had laughed and said it would be a wonderful idea, thinking along the lines of breaking the boundaries separating New Directions from the Warblers, you know, a way to ease any hostilities between the groups and show that everyone was just a human, regardless of school affiliation. Yeah, right. All he'd shown was that he became a sexually confused moron when added with alcohol. So after his lovely speech of just wanting friend-type relationships, he had thrown his bi-curious feelings in Kurt's face and expected the poor boy to solve his problems for him. Blaine saw now how hurt Kurt had been, how it must have looked like Blaine was willing to go out with a girl rather than him. He had been so insensitive, and to top it all off, he still couldn't remember what he'd said to Kurt in their argument. He had been so screwed up that he had just blabbed out whatever he felt, because it was all about Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, and Kurt had been in the wrong.

Oh my god, I accused Kurt of being his own bully. I told him he was the same ignorant, violently ignorant human being as the person who forced himself on Kurt, terrified him until he couldn't move, threatened to kill him, and then drove him out of the school.

Blaine was shaking now, but it wasn't like Karofsky, where he could go and confront the bully. The bully was himself this time, and he had made a mistake of monumental proportions. Congratulations, Anderson, you've won the asshole of the year award! Anyone you'd like to thank? Yeah. Himself.

And then he'd told Kurt he wasn't sexy. What the hell had he been thinking? Kurt was naturally beautiful, sexy, alluring in a masculine-yet-feminine way. But he'd shoved Kurt to try harder, do better, and he'd made Kurt extremely uncomfortable. Instead of helping Kurt feel confident and attractive in his own body, he'd demolished Kurt's belief in his own appeal to others. Blaine realized how much attention Kurt paid to how he looked—not in a vain way, but in a way that would show others each and every day how attractive and strong Kurt was in his own self—and to tell Kurt that he was failing miserably at that. Holy crap. What the hell had he been smoking this entire time?

Oh, yeah. His own hubris. Because he was Blaine Anderson, lead soloist for the Dalton Academy Warblers, charmer of both sexes.

Blaine thunked his head back against the wall above his bed, tilting sideways to reach it. Why had he done all of that? Blaine couldn't imagine being a bigger jerk to anyone else, and yet the one person he had been so horrible to was his best friend. Why? Had he, somewhere in the back of his mind, wanted to do all of this to Kurt? Why? Why had he spent so much time and effort on something so negatively impacting? He had used and abused Kurt's trust, demolished his self-worth, and Kurt had trudged through time and time again, being the best friend he could be for Blaine. Holy crap. Kurt's strength of character amazed and shamed him.

How could he make this up to Kurt?

The question haunted Blaine, even as his emotionally-wrung-out brain shut down.

How could he... make it up... to Kurt?

Kurt was late to Warblers. He was never late. Oh god, what if he was avoiding Blaine to a new extreme? Not that Blaine blamed him at all, he deserved to have some idiot-free time, but this was Warblers! Kurt loved singing, he was made to sing!

And then Kurt entered the room, dressed not in the blue and red colors of Dalton, but all black. As in black shirt, skin-tight pants, jacket, what was that thing around his neck? Was it a tie, a scarf? Regardless, that, too, was black. And Kurt looked ready to cry. Kurt never cried in front of people. He was too proud and strong for that.

"Pavarotti's dead. I suspect a stroke."

Oh, shit. Blaine stood up, wanting to go over and comfort, but feeling like he didn't have the right to. "Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"I know it's really stupid to be upset about a bird, but... he... he inspired me, with his optimism and his love of song. He was my friend. And I know that we are expected to doo-wop behind Blaine while he sings lead in every one of the medley of Pink songs, but I wants to sing a song for Pavarotti today." And with that, he hands a cassette to Alex, who puts a comforting hand on the countertenor's shoulder before inserting it into the old player.

Kurt started Blackbird, the perfect song for him and Pavarotti, and for what seemed the first time in ever, Blaine sang back-up to someone else. He had to stop, though, because Kurt... Kurt was amazing. Dressed in dramatic black to honor his lost companion, singing in a lower register than usual, he was captivating. His heart poured into the song, all earnest emotion—no acting, no faking it, he was singing Pavarotti (and maybe himself?) into the song, and it was at this moment when it finally clicked for Blaine. He hadn't wanted to see it, because he had wanted to be the white knight, the protector of the small, he had wanted to be put on a pedestal—but the truth was, he had fallen just as hard for Kurt as Kurt had for him. And it took that moment for Blaine to realize it.

Into the light of the dark black night... Kurt's head tipped back and even crying, heartbroken in so many ways, he was sexy. You were only waiting for this moment to arrive. Blaine felt his mind go blank at this. It was now as if Kurt were singing about him, to him, and Blaine felt a small smile tugging at his lips.

He knew, in that moment, what he needed to do.

F L I R T

Blaine decided now was the perfect time to start his plan. After all, he was frustrated and tired, everyone else was frustrated and tired, and when Ben mockingly said, "How dare you?" as if he were offended at David, Blaine knew better. He was looking at David, but the twitch of David's lips gave away that the darker of the pair knew exactly who Ben was saying that to. Blaine knew as well—because it was him.

"Enough, I'm tired of this," he interrupted, and shook his head. He started his carefully planned, well-thought-out speech. But when he got to we are going to lose at regionals, even David—steady, laid-back David—looked up sharply. Amidst the chorus of what? Blaine rose his voice to be heard, and told them how grateful he was for their faith and let them settle down. Taking a breath, he gathered his courage and charged on. "But from what Kurt has told me about New Directions," he took a quick look to see if Kurt was watching—and sure enough, he had the countertenor's undivided attention—before continuing with a small hitch in his breath, "I just know I can't beat them on my own." He looked over at Kurt again, but the paler boy looked away quickly, eyes darting anywhere but in his direction. Blaine swallowed, and made sure his voice was steady. "Which is why I propose that we rearrange our 11 o'clock number..." and he locked eyes with Kurt now, making sure to put his feelings into his next words, "and turn it into a duet."

There were protests now, and Kurt was now looking down at his shoes. Ben, however, was quicker to catch on. And his look was not a happy one—in fact, he looked a cross between worried and oh, I know you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, small fry. He knew exactly what Blaine had planned, and he was about a second and a half from going mother-hen all over Blaine's carefully gelled hair.

Blaine stood quickly, getting everyone's attention again, and got to the kick of his speech. "Now, we all lost one of our own this week," he said, and people looked down sadly. Each of them had lost their birds, so they knew what it was like to lose the 'familiar' of their voice. "Pavarotti's voice was silenced by death, and I—I don't want to silence anyone else's voice in this group." He tried to lighten it up a little bit, feeling if he made it too sad, people would just quit right then. "I think he would roll over in his tiny, tiny little grave."

"The placement of which has yet to be determined."

Kurt spoke! Blaine smothered the big smile that wanted to make itself known. If Kurt was speaking during Warblers again, he was making progress. He was getting somewhere already.

Wes looked at Kurt with understanding, and called for a vote on changing their first number into a dual-lead. It sailed through, nearly all of the hands raising. Blaine noted, out of the corner of his eye, that Ben was one of the few to not raise his hand. Come to think of it, of the Warblers he could see, Ben, James, Flint and Alex weren't raising their hands.

Kurt was clearly feeling better, though, because he made a quip about making sure to put his name down for the audition list.

Blaine drew out the punch line now. "No... no auditions." He took a deep breath. "I want to sing a duet... with Kurt." He turned and looked at the Warbler on the couch, trying to smile and show how much he felt. Kurt froze, and looked away, across from where he sat. (Blaine was too busy looking at Kurt's blue eyes, trying to make him look up at him, to realize the pale boy was paler than normal and looking into Flint's eyes with a 'save me' plea in them. He also missed the grin that Jeff sent to Bailey, to Blaine's back-left. The grin said, seriously, now he goes for it? While Bailye's look was oh no, oh no, this is a bad idea.)

"That's... ridiculous," Kurt looked to the council. "I mean, there's so many great voices. I—everyone deserves a shot at that honor." He held his hands up, at a loss of what to say. Blaine interpreted this as a good thing.

Blaine smiled, overriding Kurt's protests. "All in favor of Kurt being my duet partner at regionals?"

Flint didn't raise his hand, his shoulders slumping. Neither did Bailey, Adam or Nicki, who had been told the situation by Jeff and Alex. Meanwhile, Ben and Jeff had their hands up—but definitely not in favor. Jeff was trying to get the council's attention without causing too much of a disturbance, and Ben had two fingers up and a game-face coming down as he prepared to let into the lead soloist publically.

However, the rest of the Warblers who didn't understand the situation rose their hands eagerly, apparently not noticing Kurt's stricken, help, me, people! face as he looked around the room.

Even David—who knew the situation, but was apparently willing to try to set the two Warblers up—raised his hand, the traitor.

Wes smiled. "Decided," and the gavel came down with a decisive thwack. There were congratulations as Kurt flapped his mouth open and closed, torn between dismay and a smile. He was getting a leading part? But wait, that part was with Blaine. He sat still, letting himself be thumped enthusiastically by excited Warblers.

Blaine sat back in his chair, smiling from ear to ear. Part one of his master plan Make Things Better With Kurt and Hopefully Get Together With Kurt accomplished.

F L I R T

(Note: AU STARTS HERE ^^)

The door opened and Kurt looked up, then quickly back down. He didn't want to do this today. Not today, when he was trying to get over Pav's death. He was still hurting over that, and then with getting a leading part in the duet with Blaine... he had finally had time to think that over, and had come to a conclusion.

He was ecstatic about the leading song part. However, singing that leading part with Blaine, the boy he was getting over? Not so okay. He had been debating between letting the part go for the past hour.

And here was Blaine, waltzing in when he was at his weakest.

Come on, fates, you three bitches, work with me here! But it wasn't to be so, as Blaine smiled at him—not his usual cheesy, wide grin—and took a breath. "Well, finish up. I have the perfect song for our number and we should practice." He came closer to the table, but his steps were slow, hesitant.

Kurt got a bad feeling, but tried to smile for his friend. It came out a little apprehensive, still. "Do tell."

"Candles, by Hey Monday."

Kurt's brows rose. "I'm impressed," he said, shocked. "You're usually so Top 40."

"Well, I just wanted something more..." Blaine took a deep breath, and Kurt's stomach sank, "emotional."

Kurt looked down, trying to concentrate on his work, but questions kept popping up. "Why did you pick me to sing that song with?" It was out before he could stop it, and he could just feel the train skidding off the tracks and coming towards him now.

Blaine took a breath this time, but it was shuddering. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head a little, before opening his mouth to speak. "Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.'" Blaine was looking at Kurt directly as he said this, and suddenly he moved towards the edge of his chair, towards Kurt, and put his hand on top of the pale boy's. "Watching you do Blackbird this week… that was the moment for me… about you." He shook his head again, and leaned forward even more, and his eyes were blazing with emotion now, as if he was trying to will all of it from him to Kurt. "You move me, Kurt... and this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you."

Kurt blinked, and sat back in his chair. After months of pining after Blaine, this should be what he wanted. It was what he'd dreamed about! Blaine, making an eloquent speech, his eyes dripping with sincere emotion as he told Kurt of his feelings for him... this was what he'd wanted, more than anything.

So why did he just feel... conflicted, like his stomach had suddenly become a washing machine put on high spin cycle? He felt sad, first off, then angry, disgusted, disappointed... just mad? In that moment, he knew he was free from being under Blaine's reign, and he felt powerful, strong for the first time in days. And with that power came the confidence to have it all out and give the boy who'd trampled his heart a piece of his damn mind.

"A couple of weeks ago, I would have jumped all over that. I would have been brought to tears by your sincerity, Blaine, and we would have shared the first kiss I have always dreamed about. But this... this isn't going to work."

Blaine bit his lip. "Kurt, I went over everything last night—really, really replayed everything—and I saw how many times I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so, so sorry for how often I didn't think of your feelings, and I promise—"

"To what? Change? Blaine, if you have to change who you are to be in a relationship, then what's the point? It took Ben and Alex dragging you out of my room and probably giving you the verbal set-down of a lifetime to get you to see what you had done, because you never noticed it yourself!" Kurt blinked back tears, working himself up now. He had this strange mixture of sadness and anger whirling inside of him, and he couldn't keep his voice from rising.

"Kurt, please, just give me a chance to—"

"I gave you a chance, Blaine! I gave you several of them!" He swallowed thickly and stood up, trying to ignore the hurt lacing Blaine's hazel eyes. "I could understand with the whole GAP incident, honestly, I could. You didn't know—fine. But after that, Blaine? Every time you came by, needing my help with something, or asking my opinion because it 'mattered so much,' what was that? Or let's get to the big points!"

"Kurt, please, can we just talk about this?" Blaine stood now as well, one hand on the desk and leaning towards Kurt, brow wrinkled and upset. He honestly looked about ready to cry.

Kurt shoved at his eyes, hating that they were wet when he was angry, dammit. "About what, Blaine? You knew I liked you, and yet you used me for your own purposes time and time again, little things here and there. And then Rachel? Why Rachel, of all people, Blaine? With Brittany or Santana, I would call you an idiot, but I would have supported. But Rachel Berry!" Kurt's voice was bringing people to the doors now, not that he noticed. "And then, when I'm not behind you a 110%, I'm suddenly just like the guy who shoved me into locker, tossed me into dumpsters, had sick little closet fantasies about me, threw slushies in my face everyday, Blaine. The person who terrified me and told me if I told anyone he had forced himself on me he was going to kill me! You told me I was just like him, because I was being ignorant and self-centered and uncaring of how all of that was effecting you. Well you want to know what, Blaine?" Kurt notched his chin up, determined to finish this sick infatuation once and for all. "I am sexy. I am damn fine. I am my own person, whether that's Dalton's perfect little Warbler or not." He looked down at the boy he had once been so crazy about, and couldn't figure out how things had changed so much in such a short time. "Maybe someday we can be friends again, Blaine, but that is all we will ever be. Because I'm not the type of person who asks someone to change themselves to be who I want them to be. I'll see you in Warblers, but I need time. I need time away from you, and away from us, and I ask that you respect that."

And with that, he turned and saw two doors full of Dalton students—mostly Warblers—but one door held his Warblers, and he walked to them, trying not to cry again. Ben opened his arms and Kurt walked into them, needing the comfort Ben represented.

"Easy, boo, you're gonna be okay now," he said softly. Kurt nodded, and let himself sink into the protective circle that surrounded him, created by the rest of their group shielding Kurt from everyone else. Flint's wide back created an excellent block from the room, and he put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, while Alex rubbed his back in circles.

"H-how are any of you straight, again?" he asked, and they laughed.

"Some of us are just higher forms of male," Ben said primly, and Kurt chuckled.

"Evolution, bitches," James snapped near his head, and Kurt full-out laughed.

"James, you're as far from straight as I am, what are you talking about?"

Jeff looked over at his twin in mock-shock. "You like the sausage?"

There were various forms of eww to be said to that, but Jeff just laughed and jumped in a circle.

"Okay, okay, settle down, ducklings. Let's more this out of the hallway, shall we?"

"Oh, oh, I know! Kurt, I just got Happy Feet! We should watch it!" Alex's enthusiasm was impossible to deny, with the dimples winking and curls bouncing up and down around him as he bounced.

Kurt laughed. "Hugh Jackman, here we come!"

"Hmm, tall, wide-shouldered, bulky build and can sing! Who does that sound l—" Jeff was cut off as Flint's elbow reconnected with his sternum. "Ow! Why is it always me that you hit so hard?"

"Why do you always say things you know will make him hit you?" Ben called back.

Kurt laughed as Ben and Jeff bickered, with occasional smart-ass comments from Flint and James. Alex had his arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulders, while Ben had Kurt's arm tucked in his.

The bickering, jokes, and playful attitudes of the boys helped cheer Kurt up like nothing, and when he Jeff started to argue about whether Jeff's hair was fashionable, Kurt had his groove back.

I guess the fates are willing to work with me after all, Kurt thought as he looked around at the tight circle of friends.

James broke into his thoughts with a brilliant (read: sarcastic) idea. "Maybe you should spike it up! That's look cool!"

Jeff turned to his partner in crime. "Are you kidding me? Do you know how long it would take to get it up and make it stay up?"

Ben—mother-hen Ben—put a hand on his hip and looked over with a saucy look at the two. "And that, my ducklings, is what she said."