So the original plan was to have this posted yesterday. So I set myself up in my living room, turned on the TV and then didn't look away for the next 12 hours. Because I totally forgot about my inability to do anything else if there are sports happening in front of me. So apologies to anyone I lied to about when this would be coming out.

I have no idea what updating for the next two weeks is going to look like because the OLYMPICS are taking over my life. I don't think I've tweeted about anything else and I have to force myself to post other things on tumblr. Hopefully my updating schedule won't be too altered, but I won't make any promises.

Also, I know Sebastian is different from his S3 self, but it is now about 5 months after On My Way and he was already beginning to change then.

On that note, have some boys.


Blaine was determined to not only not be late for auditions; he was going to be early. It hadn't actually solely been his idea. Nick might have sent him a teasing text about what a year at public school did to his ability to tell time. But that didn't make him any less determined. He was going to be the first one there; ready and waiting with a million-watt smile on his face when the rest came stumbling in.

Or maybe not the first, he thought, hesitating on the threshold of the senior commons where two figures lay dramatically draped on the couches. One was in full uniform and the other in running clothes, both with faces hidden under awkwardly sized decorative pillows. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. "You guys okay?" He asked tentatively, unsure of exactly who he was talking to and whether they were that hung over from last night.

The smaller boy on the further coach moaned in acknowledgment, struggling into a sitting position. "Blaine," he groggily greeted. "You're early right? Because I still need to shower."

"Yeah." Blaine glanced at his watch. "You still have about 20 minutes." Watching as Vincent pushed himself to his feet and proceeded to contort his body into a truly impressive stretch, he asked again, "You sure you guys are alright? You looked a little dead."

Vincent shrugged and continued to stretch. "Upperclassmen decided today was cross-country initiation. We were woken up at 6.30, made to clean all their rooms and gym lockers and then did a sprint-till-you-drop." Blaine winced sympathetically, that sounded like hell on any day, never mind one where you only got two hours sleep. "Sebastian had it worse," he nodded his head to the still passed out figure on the couch. "Captain has to run a mile more than the last frosh. And I don't think he slept at all last night," he whispered confidentially.

Staring hard at him, Blaine couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, was going on between Sebastian and this adorable, sweet, young, baby freshman. He wasn't 100% sure about the consent laws of Ohio, but at best this whole thing was dubiously legal. Should he say something? Vincent was 13, for crying out loud.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hardly registered Vincent slipping from the room, leaving him alone with a sleeping Sebastian. Sighing, he perched himself on the edge of the coffee table and cautiously nudged Sebastian's shoulder, knowing he wouldn't want the other guys to walk in on him sleeping. "Time to wake up," he sang under his breath.

"Go away, Vince," Sebastian muttered, batting ineffectually at Blaine's hand.

Grunting in annoyance, Blaine kept up his shaking. "Your boyfriend left a while ago. I think he went to shower."

"Fuck," grumbled Sebastian, blinking his eyes open. "Blaine? What are you doing here?" For a minute he struggled to at least lounge in a more dignified position but seemed to give it up as a bad job and just flopped back against the cushions. "And no need to be jealous of phantoms," he offered up a lazy grin. After a too long moment of confused silence, he explained. "I don't have a boyfriend," and grinned as Blaine's checks flushed.

"I really need coffee. Do you want coffee?" He babbled, jumping up from the table and backing away towards the door.

"God, yes," Sebastian moaned, a bit too pornographically, in Blaine's personal opinion. "I will give you my first born and $500 if you get me one too."

By the time he returned with two steaming cups in his hands, he was feeling much more composed.

"Thanks," Sebastian murmured. "I owe you." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"What?" Blaine spluttered. "I don't actually want your first born. Or your money. It's just a cup of coffee, and I was getting myself one anyway," he continued to ramble.

"Pity, you'd make a much better father," his lips twisted in a sardonic mockery of a smile. "Little Lucy will be so disappointed." He pressed a handful of quarters into Blaine's hand and then turned his full attention to the coffee, leaving Blaine to hyperventilate a little.

"We have some early birds, I see," Ben called out as the three council members walked into the room, making both of them start in surprise.

"We commend your punctuality, gentlemen," Nick said, winking cheekily at Blaine. "We hadn't expected such a crowd to be gathered so early."

"There's two of us. That's hardly a crowd."

Nick waved his hand in dismissal of Blaine's irrefutable logic as Ben asked, "So what did you guys think of last night? All the guys seemed really cool."

"I'm out if Dean's in. I don't care if solid gold comes out of his mouth when he sings," Sebastian commented. He was sitting up and looking much more alert, although Blaine wasn't sure if that was due to the caffeine or the presence of the council.

"He did seem a little clueless," Nick said judiciously. "But not that bad." Next to him Trent was clearly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something unnecessarily argumentative. Apparently he and Nick had that talk then.

Remembering the all too familiar grimace of disgust on Dean's face at the indication that he was gay, Blaine quietly said, "I'm not sure he'd be a good asset to the Warblers either, or that I'd feel comfortable working with him." It was enough to give them pause. Blaine liked everybody, or was at least willing to try. Sebastian didn't seem surprised though.

"What he's trying to say," he interrupted, "is that he's a homophobic asshole."

"Is this true?" The look of concern on Nick's face was almost overwhelming. They had most of their classes together their freshman year, so it had been Nick who had shown him around Dalton, making sure he knew where everything was and eventually coaxing him into auditioning for a recently opened spot in the Warblers. Consequently, it had also been Nick who noticed how he jumped at every loud noise and the way the first thing Blaine did when he entered a room was make note of all the exits.

The scrutinizing gazes of the council members caused Blaine to squirm. Logically, he knew nothing about the situation should be making him uncomfortable, but he couldn't help feeling a little bad that he had just completely destroyed Dean's chances.

Blaine shrugged. "I liked Simon though. And his other audition was decent," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

"Why so serious?" Jeff's teasing voice asked as he made his way into the room, Tristan and Dominic in tow.

"Blaine was just telling us about how much of a homophobic douche Dean is," Trent spit. They all ignored Blaine's feeble protests that Sebastian had said that, not him. He gave up on them pretty quickly because they were kind of true. When Dean finally entered the room, he was a little surprised he didn't spontaneously combust under the heated glares everyone was giving him. He also didn't think it was coincidence when he was given the dreaded first spot for his audition.

At least most of them had the decency to pretend like they were listening to him, even if the beat Luke was tapping out had nothing to do with the song they were hearing and Dominic had that same look of over-concentration he wore during so many of their biology classes. Jeff looked like he was taking careful notes, but was actually sketching Dean getting eaten by a dragon.

"Thank you," Trent said brusquely as the final note rang out. "Chad?"

The rest of the auditions went much more smoothly, although Blaine couldn't help but notice that the dragon drawing got added to as Braedon choked his way through Daniel Bedingfield.

It wasn't Rachel's failed NYADA audition painful, but it was depressingly close. Sebastian looked like he was forcibly restraining himself from telling the poor boy to just stop. Clearly, this was just a case of nerves because his other audition had been really good. Blaine didn't know if it was because his audience had doubled or if their blazered appearances just made it that much more formal, but whatever it was, it would be frowned down on by the council.

It was made all the worse by the fact that Frey was immediately after him and he absolutely killed his song. He didn't yet have the confidence needed for lead, but give it a year and he could be there.

"I think I speak for all of us, when I say we were very impressed by all of you," Trent said following the last song. "And we wish that we had more than three spots to fill." He sighed dramatically, like it was his deepest life regret that they couldn't accept everyone. "For those of you who don't make the cut, we hope that it doesn't deter you from auditioning again next year, because you all have magnificent potential."

Trent's little speech was followed by lots of handshaking and general well wishing and there was a lot of awkward hesitancy, because the rest of the meeting was taking place in a Top Secret location (Nick's room) but Nyko lived right down the hall from him. In the end it was decided that the only possibly solution was if they, one by one, James Bonded their way to the second floor of Connors.

There were varying levels of success. Jeff was sporting a bleeding nose from his attempts to scale a wall and Blaine had lost his tie. Sebastian had actually been caught, because Josh and Nyko had stopped by the Commons to get a coffee and ended up trailing behind him. (His idea of James Bonding it was to casually saunter from Wexner to Connors and then straight up to the second floor. No one commented on the fact that he was doing it wrong.) When he caught sight of a confused looking Nyko he just rolled his eyes and let himself into Nick's room.

The process was an unnecessarily complicated one. First there was the big group discussion, which primarily focused on the two audition rounds and then the underclassmen had the opportunity to share any individual observations they had made on the candidates. Theoretically it was all supposed to be done objectively and when protocol was followed it sounded more like a report than a discussion. Then everyone who hadn't been a member for at least two years left while the senior members stayed and discussed the character of the candidates. They then held a vote which, ultimately, didn't matter because the decision was up to the council.

Everything was going surprisingly fine in that everyone, for the most part, was on the same page regarding how the auditions went. Dean and Braedon weren't even talked about and it was unanimously agreed that Frey was the strongest candidate. Ethan had just finished recounting a conversation he had with Chad during the pizza party and the junior Warblers were getting up to leave.

"Should Sebastian stay?" Tristan asked, thoughtfully. "I mean, technically he's still a junior Warbler, because he only has one year of experience. But he was captain last year. That should count for something."

Trent glared. "The rules are clear. Only senior Warblers."

"Besides," Jeff said coolly, "I don't really trust him as a judge of character." There was a general and unnecessary rumble of agreement. In typical Sebastian fashion, he seemed entirely unperturbed by the proceedings, which only served to further irritate the others. Calmly he rose to his feet and swept from the room.

"I think you're being a little unfair to Sebastian," said Blaine quietly as soon as the door had closed behind him.

"You weren't here last year," Lucas practically spat at him. "You might be the big shot on campus, but you don't know what it was like. He betrayed us."

"Last time I checked, I was the one he put in the hospital, not any of you," Blaine found himself fuming. "It was my friends he was threatening and it was our friendship that he just walked away from. Every single fucking unorthodox, ridiculous, illegal, idiotic thing he did, he did because he wanted you guys to get to Nationals. Hate him all you want for it, but don't pretend like just because I wasn't at here, I wasn't just as affected or betrayed."

Not even caring that the most important part of the meeting hadn't happened yet, he hurried from the room. He didn't know who he was angrier at; himself for just thinking that he'd get back to Dalton and everything would be hunky-dory, or the Warblers for being so immature and naïve.

Sebastian was incapable of being a properly functioning human being so he was a total dick half the time and he probably really didn't think about whether his tactics were right or wrong, just on the basis of how effective they would be. He wasn't a dapper, Dalton gentleman. He was an immoral, vicious bitch and he would probably go farther than all of them. Maybe he had betrayed their noble sensibilities, but he had never betrayed them, Blaine thought angrily and he shucked off his uniform and pulled on his workout clothes.

They, however, had betrayed Blaine. Lead by Sebastian, they followed like sheep. Any thoughts of 'once a Warbler, always a Warbler,' unceremoniously thrown out the window as they plotted to hurt his friends and as they, literally, turned their backs and walked away as he lay yelling on the parking garage floor. And whatever amends they had made with New Directions, they never made with him.

He threw open the door to the gym and made a beeline for the punching bags. Automatically he groped for the bag that should have been at his side, only to realize he had stormed off without it, which meant he wouldn't be able to wrap his hands. Normally that would be enough to deter him, but fuck he really just wanted to punch something. So he did.

"Careful, killer. You're going to hurt yourself," a smug voice informed him. "Here." Something soft hit his back and he paused mid-swing to turn and look at the navy wrap that lay rolled up at his feet.

Stooping down to pick it up, he tilted his head in curiosity and asked, "You box?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I use the bag sometimes. It's good cross training."

Blaine tossed the wrap back and forth between his hands, wincing when he caught sight of how raw and bloody his knuckles were from the canvas of the bag. Although he'd never, personally, had worse, he had seen worse. A lot of the less experienced, tougher men at the gym refused to wrap. He flexed his left hand to test the sting. Not too bad. The right had fared worse, though. "Thanks," he said regretfully, throwing the wrap back. "I should probably stop though." They both watched a trickle of blood as it rolled down his arm.

"Come running with me."

The thing about talking to Sebastian was it always left him feeling just a little unbalanced. He had a tendency to just say things, apropos to nothing, like they were the most logical thing in the world. It didn't matter that most of the time he was right; Blaine had just been thinking that he wished he could keep going because he wasn't done being angry yet and he just wanted more. It was just really unnerving to feel a step behind in his own thoughts.

"Unless you'd rather go sit in the chapel for two hours and listen to our glorious head drone on." Smirking, Sebastian turned on his heel and walked out of the gym, not once bothering to look behind him. Blaine wasn't sure if it was because he just assumed he would be followed, or if he didn't really care.

They set off at a grueling pace. After the first half mile Blaine was starting to feel embarrassingly out of shape and he was doubting his ability to make it more than two miles if they kept at it like this. How Sebastian was managing, he had absolutely no idea because he had practically been dead that morning.

"Sorry," Sebastian apologized, over Blaine's gasping breaths, "used to running with the team." He slowed himself down to a speed he deemed would be more comfortable for Blaine. "And it's been a long time since I've run with someone pocket sized." Just in case Blaine had forgotten their 6 inch height difference. He hadn't. But he was too busy being grateful at the fact they weren't sprinting anymore to be too angry about it.

At mile four, Blaine found himself wondering if Sebastian would be offended if he suggested that maybe he would make the best coach in the world.

"Only ¾ a mile more," Sebastian coaxed, interrupting his thoughts. "There's a bitch of a hill coming up, but then the last leg is all downhill." He said it in the manner of someone who was clearly distracted by their own thoughts, but knew it needed to be heard.

Blaine wondered how many times in the past two weeks he had said something similar to the cross country team. He could see why they had made him captain. It shouldn't have surprised Blaine that he could be like this, because one thing Sebastian excelled at was telling people what they wanted to hear, but it did.

"I've always found," panted Sebastian as they crested the hill, "that if I ran long enough and fast enough, there was nothing I couldn't escape." Blaine wasn't sure if the facial expression he was making was a smile or a grimace. "Of course," he added wryly, "once you start running, you never stop."

He wanted to ask why Sebastian ran, either literally or metaphorically. Wondered if it was worse than what followed anyone else and if it was why he was such an asshole, or if he had just been born that way. Even if Sebastian wasn't picking up speed to start the sprint for the final stretch it would have been pointless to ask. Sebastian rarely talked about himself beyond passing comments.

"Make sure you stretch really well. Now and before you go to bed. Probably when you get up tomorrow too," Sebastian said when he finally came to a panting stop.

"Yeah. I haven't run that much in," he paused to think it over, "years. I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"I know that feeling," said with the lecherous smile that Blaine was so used to seeing. He was glad his face was already red from the sprint. Somehow, despite his tenure at Dalton and the months he spent talking to Sebastia daily comments like that still caught him off guard.

"Thank you for this." Blaine started stretching out his burning hamstrings. "I really needed to clear my head."

Sebastian h'mmed contemplatively. "Convocation should have everyone bored to tears in the chapel by now. We should be fine if we go through the library." Often it seemed like Sebastian didn't pay attention to half of what was said to him, but experience had taught Blaine that it just meant he was still deciding what to think and it would be randomly brought up at some later point in time. Assuming they were talking again and this wasn't just a onetime thing.

Despite the stretching, his muscles were already beginning to scream at him and by the time he made it back to his room all he wanted to do was get in a steaming hot shower.

No such luck, he sighed, as he opened his door to see Nick sitting on his bed, flipping through one of his magazines.

"We decided on Vincent, Simon, and Frey. Trent really wanted Gabriel but Ben and I found his song choices uninspiring," he said without looking up.

"Good choices. Simon's a little green, but he's enthusiastic. He'll probably work harder than most of us combined."

"And Vince knows how to write music, so he can start helping with arranging right away."

"You must be relieved," Blaine grinned. Teaching people how to arrange was often a long and painful process, especially if they had no previous history with writing music. When they first tried to teach Jeff, it had ended in him and Nick not talking to each other for two days. "I'd say we have a good shot at Nationals this year."

"Me too." Nick returned the grin. "Of course, I've been thinking that for the past two years."

"We'll be there again. And this time we'll win," promised Blaine. It had been a hard fall, going from finishing 6th one year to not even making it to New York the next.

"Assuming we figure out how to get along." Nick's annoyance was palatable and Blaine felt a pang of sympathy for him, as frustrating as it was for the rest of them, it had to be even worse for Nick and Ben. "Are you sure you're okay? With us?"

Blinking in surprise, Blaine took a minute to consider it. He nodded slowly. "Yeah." It was in his nature to forgive people and he had talked enough with David and Nick to understand why it had all happened. At the end of the day this is where he wanted to be, with them because they were good guys, some of the best guys he knew, who had just gotten caught up in Sebastian's seductive promises. "We're good," he added because Nick looked like he didn't quite believe him. "It's been a long week. You know my temper."

"How's Kurt doing? Liking New York?"

Blaine shrugged. "I haven't really talked to him in a couple of days. I keep missing our Skype dates," he admitted. "But he seems to really be enjoying himself."

"Careful with that," warned Nick. "We don't want another Wes incident on our hands." Wes had gotten so wrapped up in Yale life his freshman year that he ended up almost completely ignoring his girlfriend. She hadn't taken it well and Wes now had some of the best psycho ex stories Blaine had ever heard.

"We both just need to settle in. We'll be fine. It'll be fine." Smiling broadly, he pulled off his shirt and chucked it at Nick's head.

"What's not fine is the fact that you reek. You seriously need to shower."

Huffing, Blaine threw his shorts at Nick's face too.