"What the fuck is this nonsense, Jeffery?" Santana whined. Jeff sighed and threw another headshot into the discard pile.

"Dancing, Tana," he muttered.

"It sucks."

"Bring in the next," Jeff called. Another few guys took the stage and Ian turned on their music.

Sebastian and Kurt strolled in as the men danced. They looked absolutely ridiculous. Sebastian snorted, earning a reproachful glance from Kurt. He shrugged and dropped his things off behind the bar, grabbing a rag and starting in on the tables. Kurt rolled his eyes and headed to set up.

"Okay, thank you," Jeff called as the minimum time limit was reached. The boys stopped mid routine as Ian cut off the music. They shuffled off as Jeff threw their headshots into the discard pile.

"Was that it?" Santana asked hopelessly.

"Yup."

"Fuck me." She dragged the 'maybe' pile toward her and started shuffling through.

"He was okay. Not him. Too tall," Jeff muttered as she riffled through.

"I don't love any of them," Santana pouted. "Where are all the decent dancers in LA?"

"They're all dancing with the stars," Jeff said with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

Sebastian threw down his rag. This was his chance. He motioned to Ian to start some music. Ian raised an eyebrow at him, but obliged. Sebastian hit the stage, pulling out his best moves. Santana and Jeff had stopped to watch.

"What is he doing?" Santana asked Jeff, watching him as if he'd just grown another head.

"Auditioning, I think."

"Ian, cut it!" she called. Sebastian stopped.

"Come on, Santana, I can do this. I've got a freaking degree in this shit!" Sebastian snapped at her.

"That's cute. Get off my stage," she sneered. She stood and turned.

"Hey! I'm not done talking to you!" Sebastian yelled after her. Jeff's eyebrows went into his hairline. She turned slowly. "Just tell me what you want from me."

"I can't tell you! You have to make me believe you belong on that stage! You have to own that stage," she shouted right back. "I can't teach you to do that! You want to show me something? Show me that!"

"What do you want me to do to prove it?" Sebastian insisted, "What do you want, Santana?"

"I want someone who knows the numbers!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"Fine. Which one do you want to see? I know every one."

"Oh, you know every one," she snorted.

"Which do you want to see?" he growled. She looked at him quizzically, but returned to her place next to Jeff.

"You Look Better When I'm Drunk," she called to Ian. It was one of the more difficult numbers the men did and had taken forever for him to learn. He took a breath. Kurt leaned on the bar to watch. He gave Sebastian a slow nod as if to say, You can do this. (Though, since it was Kurt, the sentiment would be closer to: Don't fuck this up.)

The music started and he let himself get lost in the song. Somewhere in the middle, Rachel, Marley and Quinn appeared. He ignored the intrusion (even hearing Quinn's derision and Marley's shush). He just danced. This was what he was made to do; this was what he was good at. He felt himself grinning like an idiot half way through as he knew he'd aced it.

On the floor, Santana gave a noncommittal shrug of approval. Jeff ducked his head as he smirked.

The dance was over before he realized it. Suddenly, he was standing breathing heavily and sweating slightly and the music was gone. Santana and Jeff were murmuring to each other.

"I couldn't take my eyes off him," Jeff murmured.

"Try harder," she hissed.

"Well?"

"We have better dancers," she whispered only loud enough for Jeff to hear.

"So say thanks and walk away." She hesitated.

"Santana," Sebastian began. She cut him off with a flick of her wrist.

"You were completely off in the last half," she said. He had been maybe a half a beat behind.

"Christ, Santana, please. I want this so fucking bad; I'm practically begging you. I'll get on my fucking knees. Just give me the chance to prove I can do this. I'll practice until I fucking bleed for God's sake. Fucking please, Santana!" Sebastian cried. She had turned back to Jeff.

"We can keep looking," Jeff said. She ground her teeth, turning back to him.

"Fine, you've got the job!" she snapped, cutting him off mid plea. He gaped for a second.

"Thank you so fucking much," he sighed out, finally getting his breath back, "you won't regret it."

"I'm so going to regret this," she grumbled, stalking off. At the bar, Marley started clapping.

"What are you so excited about? He's, like, your replacement," Quinn muttered. Marley stopped. Jeff jumped up on the stage.

"Congratulations," he said, shaking Sebastian's hand.

"I think she hates me now," he mumbled. Jeff chuckled.

"She hated you before. Now she kind of admires you. She likes people who speak up for themselves and don't take shit," he replied, "anyway, meet me backstage in five." He left Sebastian nearly glowing on the stage.

Kurt clapped slowly as he came out from behind the bar.

"Well, sorry for the short notice…kind of… but I quit," Sebastian told him, smirking. Kurt snorted.

"No problem. I finally get to stop hearing your voice," he replied.

"But, with my new raise, I'll be out of your hair in no time," he promised.

"Good." He laughed and half ran backstage to meet Jeff.

"Alright, let's get you measured," Jeff said, steering him to a three way mirror and whipping out a tape measure.

"What are those pants made out of anyway?" Sebastian asked as Jeff took his measurements.

"Spandex for the rookies, but the experienced men have pleather." Sebastian's eyebrows shot up.

"They can dance in pleather?" he asked. Jeff fixed him with a long look.

"You were joking," Sebastian mumbled after a beat. Jeff rolled his eyes.

"No one can dance like that in pleather," he said. "Except Kurt," he amended. Sebastian choked on the breath he'd just sucked in. He saw Jeff smirk in the mirror.

"So, just spandex," Sebastian asked, "just to clarify?"

"Yes. That means commando, by the way."

"Of course," he muttered. Jeff grinned.

"Oh come on. Makes it easy if you and Kurt want to visit the storeroom between dances," he pointed out cheekily.

"Kurt is engaged," Sebastian snapped bitterly. Jeff arched an eyebrow.

"You mark my words, Stretch," he said, straightening and rolling up the tape measure, "they won't be for much longer."

"What do you know, Jeff?" Sebastian demanded.

"Nothing I'm at liberty to tell you," Jeff replied walking away. "Your rehearsal schedule is with Santana." Sebastian rolled his eyes and headed to Santana's office.

"I've got you on the clock every day, Smythe. I want you on that stage by Friday," Santana said as he walked in. "I will have you practicing until you bleed."

"I won't let you down," he swore.

"Normally, you would be dancing with Unique because she's Marley's replacement, but you two would be completely unbalanced. I'll find you a partner later," she said, then smirked, "Maybe I can convince sweet Porcelain to get his lily white ass back up on my stage. You two would look fabulous together." She held a paper out to him, his schedule presumably.

"Is everyone playing matchmaker or something?" Sebastian demanded. He snatched the paper and stormed off. He had just shut the door when he realized she'd said 'back on my stage'. Back.

"Kurt, you danced for Santana?" he asked, slamming both hands on the bar. Kurt jumped.

"Well, yeah, that's how I started here."

"Why'd you stop?!"

"Sue needed a new bartender and I offered. She hated taking me off the stage, but she was desperate."

"Huh," was all Sebastian could say, trying not to picture Kurt gyrating his hips in spandex pants.

"So I suppose I'll have to come in early for you, then," Kurt said, grabbing Sebastian's schedule.

"It would be welcome."

"Oh, very well." Sebastian grinned.

"I'm so grateful, I could kiss you!" he gushed dramatically. Kurt laughed and pushed Sebastian away.

"You're still waiting tonight, so you better get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

"Shut up." He threw the rag back to Sebastian and started organizing the alcohol.


Jeff peeked his head into Santana' office. She nodded for him to come in and he closed the door behind him.

"What do you really think?" he asked. She shrugged noncommittally.

"He's alright."

"He's good, San."

"He's alright, Jeffery," she insisted snappily. He grinned.

"You like him."

"No, I don't," she muttered. He smirked. "I just think someone should get our sweet Porcelain a new man."

"By someone you mean you," Jeff clarified. She nodded.

"And you."

"Maybe you shouldn't interfere. I mean, we saw what happed last year when Rachel interfered," Jeff said logically.

"I'm not Rachel. Besides, you see it as well as I do: he's not happy. He hasn't been happy for a while. And after what Blaine did, I'm more than a little confused as to why Kurt's still with him."

"He's too comfortable with Blaine," Jeff murmured, sitting down, "he's too afraid of what might happen if he leaves him. He's afraid of stepping out of that comfort."

"He's getting pretty damn comfortable with Horse Teeth, there."

"Then let it be. They'll find each other soon enough."

"A kid like Sebastian doesn't stay single forever." They sat in silence.

"Maybe for Kurt he will," Jeff murmured.

"I just don't want Kurt making the mistake of marrying Blaine."

"You and me both, Tana," Jeff muttered. He stood and stepped out of her office.


"Hey, Kurt," Sebastian began as Kurt and he arrived at the apartment that night.

"Yes?" he said cautiously, sensing a question.

"People seem to think something happened between you and Blaine," he continued, peering into Kurt's eyes looking for a hint or two. The instant the words were out of his mouth, he watched Kurt's walls slam up.

"Is that so?" he asked neutrally. He turned and started toward the bedroom.

"What happened, Kurt?" Sebastian demanded, grabbing his arm.

"None of your business, Smythe," he hissed, wrenching his arm free.

"You're not happy with him, Kurt! Everyone can see it. What is going on between you and Blaine?" he snapped, stopping him again.

"He cheated on me, okay?!" Kurt nearly shouted, pulling free once more. He slammed the double doors to the bedroom.

Sebastian would swear he heard a quiet sob when the curtained glass doors stopped shivering.