A/N: Better late than never, friends. For those who follow me on Tumblr you (hopefully) saw my post saying this update was going to be another week! Sorry for the delay. Real life's a pain in the butt sometimes. Buuut I'm still here, so enjoy the update!

A little side note, if I'm late on an update, you can shoot me a message on Tumblr or Twitter-I'm zavocado on both! My Twitter is going to look very dead, but I'm considering starting to post about updates (or delays) there since there's not real way to let everyone know on here!

Enjoy the update! I will aim for the middle of next week for chapter 7! :)

Death of a Bachelor

Chapter 6

Over the following three days, Kurt spent a lot of time hanging out with Oscar, usually holed up in one of their rooms, or sipping mimosas on their balconies. They talked about their students in detail. From Oscar's paint-splattered five-year-olds who adored reading to Kurt's freshmen book haters, who all would gladly trade all of their textbooks for a pre-arranged naptime. They watched the other men parading around the pool and hot tub, cracking jokes and making up stories for each of their lives.

"I'm telling you, foot fetish," Oscar insisted, pointing out the same ginger-haired man who was slowly making his way around, offering foot massages to the rest of the men. "That's the second lap he's taken."

Kurt shook his head and chuckled. "Maybe. I'm sure he nearly creams himself over Blaine then. Always has his ankles out."

They both laughed and sipped their drinks. Kurt settled back into his lounge chair and let the Californian sun soak into him. Already he was starting to freckle. Hanging out with Oscar was pleasant. It was nice to have someone who loved kids as much as he did, but also wasn't a kid. Or a colleague wanting to know when he was getting married.

"Oh, here he goes. Strutting around like an overgrown peacock again."

Kurt peered through the balcony's bars. Sebastian Smythe had appeared, slim and tone, with his booty shorts swimsuit and cocky grin.

"Bet he's a gold digger," Kurt said. "Or worse. Just here for the conquest and nothing else."

"Seems the type," Oscar said as he finished his mimosa. "Well, maybe not gold digger. Models probably make decent money."

"More than teachers do, I'm sure."

"Please, part-time retail pays more than teaching."

Kurt threw back the rest of his drink and yawned. He had no real plans for the day. The producers had him scheduled for a meeting with the on-site therapist, but otherwise, he had no dates or plans. Oscar, however, was dressed in a cute button down and khaki shorts. He looked every bit the part of a rich man's son.

"I look okay?"

"You look like you're about to board Daddy's yacht."

"Oh, well… "Oscar flushed. "I mean we're going sailing, and I've never been."

Kurt shrugged. "Neither have I, but you look cute and ready for it, okay? Relax, have fun."

"Right, okay. See you later!"

Oscar left. A few minutes later, Kurt spotted him and Blaine strolling down the driveway, hand-in-hand and smiling as they talked. A little hot spark rustled in Kurt's chest at the sight. Yet, he wasn't jealous. He hardly knew Blaine, and Oscar was a wonderful guy. He deserved this chance more than anyone else here as far as Kurt was concerned. Of everyone here, Oscar seemed to be the only one here for the right reasons and open to honesty and commitment. Kurt eyed Sebastian still turning heads as he walked around the pool. He headed back into his room and shut the balcony doors.

Kurt spent a leisurely afternoon lying in bed. He read one of the books he'd brought on his trip, wrote out new updates for some of his older lesson plans, and took a long, hot bath in the soaker tub that filled half his bathroom. All in all it was a wonderful, relaxing day.

At least until he headed down to the psychologist's new office on the ground floor. He'd been told nothing besides a name—Dr. Lopez—which hadn't immediately been noteworthy. Lopez was a common enough surname. It was even more common outside of his tiny, Ohio farm town. Yet, the moment Dr. Lopez opened her office door, Kurt was flabbergasted.

"Santana?"

She dragged him in by the sleeve, and shoved him into one of her plushy armchairs.

"Quiet, Lady. Someone will hear you."

She slammed the door with the force of a gunshot. One of the flowery pictures fell off the wall beside it. Kurt stared at her, from her slim body sporting her usual skin tight dress, down to her high-heeled boots. A devil in red, same as always.

"Since when are you a psychologist?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Since I needed to be. Or did you not see my new degree?"

Kurt eyed the framed drawing she pointed out. It was made on notebook paper with crayons.

"Last I saw of you was that television advert for douches." Kurt walked over to examine the framed jersey beside the crayon drawn degree. Santana's old McKinley Leatherman jacket, signed by Sue Sylvester. He was struck by a sudden, undoubtedly true, suspicion. "Sue put you up to this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kurt glared at her, then flicked his finger against the framed fake degree. No glass, just a cheap, well-polished wooden frame.

"Your ex-wife draw this for you?"

Santana stared at him, but her dark eyes flickered. "The divorce hasn't gone through and it won't. Britt's just—you know what, Lady Lips? We're here to talk about you and that little dapper Hobbit you're pining over."

Kurt took a seat once more. "I'm not pining over Blaine," he said, and the statement was perfectly true. Blaine was sweet and interesting and kind, but Kurt wasn't experiencing anything more than a hopeful curiosity. Nothing like his hopeless college crushes—or worse, that heinous high school crush on his now stepbrother, Finn. "Let's just get this over with so I can go demand to know what Adam and Chantelle were thinking by hiring a fraud."

"They adore me. Did you know Chantelle and I dated during college?"

"You never went to college."

Santana shrugged. "Whatever. I'm the psychologist on staff and that's the end of it. They've got all of my real degrees and paperwork."

"That Sue doctored and God knows what else."

"Look, I'm here to make sure Blaine goes for you," Santana snapped. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms, a devilish little smirk on her lips. "I'm here to get you laid, you gangly little elf."

Kurt bristled. "I'm not little. I've been taller than you since—"

"I'll just make a note of that here then," Santana said as she scribbled on her notepad. "Dapper Buck seems like he'll be a size queen, but it won't hurt to ask."

"Don't you dare."

"Or you'll what? French me to death?"

Kurt snarled at the career jab. He enjoyed being a French teacher. He liked kids well enough, and ninth graders weren't the worst of the pack usually, but somehow, when Santana said it like that, it only reminded him of failed dreams. Of everything he'd ever left behind or set aside to make sure his family was healthy and safe. Santana had always been able to get to him, as kids and teenagers and now adults.

"Although you aren't my type, and I really don't think anyone should have your pasty, dolphin tongue in their mouth."

"I'm reporting you." Kurt stood up and headed for the door. "I don't care what you think you're doing to help me or Blaine or whoever Sue set you up to ruin. Shit on me all you want, just leave Blaine alone. He came here for a reason—a genuine one, as far as I can tell. Don't ruin this for him by forcing me down his throat."

Santana's eyes lit up. "Oh, so he's expressed a passion for deep throating? I can work with that."

Kurt slammed the door in her face.

Neither Chantelle or Adam listened to him the following morning. Kurt got up especially early, ate alone, and then headed to their office. Adam eyed him suspiciously, but agreed to consider it. Chantelle laughed at his "theories", even showed him all of Santana's actual paperwork and real degrees. Every single document had Sue Sylvester's signature on it. Enraged and rather alarmed, Kurt headed back upstairs to change for his group date.

Oscar was out by the pool when Kurt returned to the main floor. Kurt joined him instead of dealing with the horde of people now eating breakfast.

"How was your date?"

Oscar tugged on his shirt sleeve several times before answering. "Kind of… wonderful? I don't know. Blaine's just really nice. And he doesn't care about…nevermind."

Kurt sat down beside him. Oscar was beaming in a muted sort of way. Like he wanted to smile so wide his face cracked open, but like he was also holding all the happiness inside so he didn't hurt himself.

"He seems pretty great," Kurt said. Oscar only nodded. "So did you guys just go sailing?"

"No. We did sailing and then dinner at this little bistro along the boardwalk. I've never been to California before, but Blaine's been out here for work and to visit his brother, so he knows some cool spots. He said he had a big surprise for the group date."

"Yeah? Bet it's a bowtie contest."

Oscar snorted, but two hours later, Kurt and the rest of the group date men found out just how close that guess was. Blaine had brought them all to a theater in the city. The theater was rather dim, lined with plush, velvet red seats and carpeted rows that angled down to the stage. A dark curtain blocked the stage from view.

Blaine stood before all of them, smiling with his usual charm and delight. A little ray of sunlight amongst the mountains of musky men. Kurt did his best to stand a few feet away from the others and ignore the cameras. Sebastian Smythe, much to his surprise, was part of the group as well.

"Good morning, guys! So I've got a real treat for you all today—or rather a treat for myself." Blaine grinned on cue at the camera, and really, it baffled Kurt how well he did that while still being the same genuine guy he always was. "As most of you are aware, I'm a performer. Broadway mostly, but I've done other productions and worked in other theaters and towns, too. I did a lot of Glee Club singing back in high school and college, which leads us to…"

Blaine did a cute little spin toward the stage behind himself and the curtains rose.

"Karaoke!"

An array of microphones and instruments lined the stage. Blaine led the way up to center stage and waved his arms around. He was almost vibrating with excitement.

"A big thing for me is having someone I can musically jive with. Or sing flirty duets with while making dinner. Music is my biggest passion and I want someone I can express and share that with. So, everyone gets to pick a song and either sing with me—if you're up for the challenge—or serenade me, if you're feeling a little sexy. Instruments allowed, and go! Have fun!"

The rest of the men rushed forward. Half the cameras turned off then, but a few camera people began to stroll through the group and film song selections, trial runs on instruments, and general shenanigans as the muscly men tried to outdo each other on vocal runs. Kurt stayed rooted to the spot along with Sebastian. Everyone sounded hideous.

"A little tone deaf, this group," Sebastian said. He hovered at Kurt's side, all smiles and dark charm and confidence. "I think we're the odd men out. Good thing that's in our favor."

"What makes you think I can sing?"

"Please, Hummel, the way you talk in rhythm and measure your voice is a dead giveaway."

Sebastian began to flipped aimlessly through a stack of sheet music. Still unsure of him, but with nobody else to talk to, Kurt joined him. Blaine had begun to mingle, laughing along with the scuba diver guy Kurt always saw snorkeling in the pool. He busied himself with the sheet music, but he already had a handful of songs in his back pocket. The benefits of running McKinley's main Glee Club. Kurt watched the group and then Sebastian, who leaned back in his chair, calm as could be.

"Duet or serenade?"

Kurt stared at him. Sebastian asked again.

"I don't know."

"Serenade is the better route," Sebastian said at once. "It means all eyes on you, especially Blaine's. A chance to make him want you."

"Uh, no. I'll pass on that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. But you'll never win him like that."

"I'm not here to win anything."

Sebastian disappeared into the seats with his sheet music to practice. Most of the other men had scattered around the room as well. Kurt flipped through a few more pieces of sheet music until Blaine joined him.

"Found anything good yet?"

Kurt shrugged. "I teach my school's Glee Club, so I've already got a handful on ice."

"Really? That's amazing."

Blaine seemed genuinely interested as Kurt looked up at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and a little spark of something danced into Kurt's belly. Before it could fester, Kurt looked away. He couldn't get caught up in the spell of this place. Or in Blaine's uncontrollable charm. Everything about this experience was meant to convince him to fall in love outside of reality. Neither him or his life could live in such a place.

"Yeah, I do a lot of duet competitions with my students. Makes them better, to have each other to challenge. They placed second at Nationals last year."

Blaine smiled again. "Congratulations. I miss those days. Doing Glee competitions, school musicals. Everything was so simple back then." He sighed and shook his head. "So, duet or solo for you?"

"Duet," Kurt said. "If you think you can keep up."

Blaine's kind smile turned into an excited grin. "Going to challenge me, too? I think I've got you beat."

"Bring it on, Anderson. I can sing circles around you and your Broadway credits."

"Well, we're find out in twenty minutes. What am I singing with you?"

"You're the music expert. You'll find out when it's my turn."

Blaine laughed and stood up to go check on the other guys. "You better hope I'm as good as you think I am."

"I'm counting on it."