I've been having a lot of Seblaine feels this week. So you all get a new chapter. :-)
And for those of you wondering, I've made this an interlude because it doesn't really have the same flow as the rest of the story, I don't think. The parts are very distinct and also the last bit kind of flops to being more from Sebastian's pov. And to put just put that in a story where the rest is Blaine-centric made me cringe more than a little bit.
The latter reason is also why the Warbler's might seem a little on the hostile side.

With considerable amounts of pleading and cajoling (and a promise of a few owed blow jobs) Blaine had managed to coax Sebastian into showing his face around the Commons after study hall. It wasn't really the interaction he dreamed of, they sat sequestered away in their own little corner, but it was a step.

He had hoped it would ease whatever it was that was bothering him. A tight ball that rested heavily in the pit of his stomach. Stress, probably. AP Chem was finally getting difficult, there was a huge presentation coming up in neuro that he was nowhere near prepared for, he was waiting to hear back from colleges, and Trent was turning out to be an even greater slave driver than Sebastian and Wes combined.

And, much against his better judgement and will, he was starting to miss Kurt. A lot.

The full-bodied anger had started to recede in December, when Sebastian had forced him to write up a list of ten things he actually liked about his ex and then stuck it on his wall so he was forced to look at it every day. It wasn't that he had completely forgiven him by now or that he wasn't still hurt by what had happened but he had months separating him from the event and was finally starting to mourn what he lost.

And he just really missed being someone's someone. He and Eli had never been together long enough for that, and he and Sebastian had no claims over each other, no matter how many times they had made each other come. He didn't need to be in a relationship, exactly, he just liked knowing there was someone out there that he was important to.

A gentle nudge against his foot pulled him from his reverie.

"Doing okay there, killer?" Sebastian spoke quietly. The room was mostly empty that night, but he still didn't want to attract unwanted attention, which Blaine appreciated. Tristan and Frey were probably the least nosy of all the Warblers, but there was really only so much time you could spend around Jeff before you found yourself attuned to all the latest gossip.

"I'm great." He had been wearing his fake smile more and more frequently lately so it wasn't difficult to pull on. "Just thinking about all the homework I need to do." Normally that would be enough for most people. Senior year at Dalton Academy was hard. Of course, Sebastian Smythe was not most people.

"You do this thing, whenever you're upset." Carelessly Sebastian gestured at the table top where his right hand was twisting itself around his left wrist. "Kind of a dead giveaway."

Blaine looked down in surprise. It was a subconscious movement and no one had ever commented on it before. Probably no one had ever noticed it. He certainly never had. "Oh. I didn't realize." His hand twisted again, accompanied by a flash of phantom pain and he couldn't help but grip it tighter, subconsciously checking to make sure the bone was aligned. "I broke it. Or, rather, it was broken. Freshman year."

"I hadn't... Shit, Blaine. I'm sorry." Sebastian tugged his hand across the table and began rubbing at his forearm. It's a surprisingly gentle gesture that didn't even have the intention of leading anywhere. (Normally such an action would result into them falling onto the nearest surface and undressing each other.) But there's no ulterior motive there. Just comfort and a look that is equally familiar and unfamiliar.

Familiar because its one he's seen before, unfamiliar because he'd never seen it in association with Sebastian.

"You like me." It shouldn't have been a shocking epiphany, but somehow it was. "Like you like me, like me." If he was doing this with anyone else he would have assumed that there was some level of emotion behind it. But somehow Sebastian just seemed so removed from the petty world of school boy crushes. Blaine knew he had feelings, he wasn't just an emotionless bastard who only wanted sex, no matter how much he liked to pretend he was. And in his most private thoughts he even imagined what Sebastian would be like in love (ideally with Blaine, one day down the line). But Sebastian Smythe liking someone- liking Blaine- had never crossed his mind.

Sebastian shifted a little and busied himself with reading over his notes. "That is why we've been having somewhat-regular sex since November," he casually replied. It was a tactic Blaine was becoming increasingly familiar with; nonchalant answers about things that mattered, turning emotion into fact.

"I just hadn't realized..."

The papers were set aside as Sebastian fixed him with a pointed stare. "You wear too much gel in your hair and dress like an 80 year old man. You don't understand a word of French and you've stolen my solos. When I met you, you were desperately committed to the most annoying guy on the planet. And you've never lived outside of Ohio. Granted I do posses a border-line psychotic competitive streak, but I sure as hell wouldn't have stuck around this long for a one off in a backroom."

"I do not dress like an 80 year old man," he replied indignantly, because he knew Sebastian wouldn't reply to any other part, that he was already uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone and would close off if it went further.

"Your pyjama sets matches your dressing gowns. You own pyjama sets and dressing gowns. And," he continued, knowing that Blaine was going to try and interrupt, "they are not bathrobes. They are definitely dressing gowns. I don't know why we're continuing to have this conversation."

It wasn't his fault that Dalton got so cold at night. He certainly hadn't been the one to design the hallways to be so drafty during the winter. And it wasn't like he could be faulted for not wanting to freeze to death on his way to and from the bathroom. If the robes happened to match his pyjamas it was just because they were all neutral colors and not because he bought them as a matching set or anything weird like that.

Somehow though, even though half of his personality was just criticized, Blaine couldn't help but smiling broadly as he returned his attention to his project.

xxx

It was with a maniacal enthusiasm that Trent had taken to leading Warbler rehearsal. He had them running scales at the start of every practice to help improve their range and had instituted a weekly dance workshop. He had also hung up a countdown to Regionals which was meant to motivate them, but there was something about seeing 67 DAYS LEFT that didn't really inspire the proper fear, even with the constant reminder that they'd be losing 17 days to the 'frivolities of Spring Break.'

After three days of minimal fervor from the rest of the group he relocated their practices to the AV center. Somehow he had gotten his hands on recordings of all of their potential competition from the past three years and forced them to watch all of the footage, starting at the earliest date and working their way up.

Sebastian had made them sit through similar the previous year so he and Trent were the only two who paid any sort of attention during the first two days. Sebastian even brought his notebook from last year to compare notes and furiously jot down new ones. Whenever Blaine tried to tactfully remind him that he was no longer captain he just disdainfully shook his head and found something new to write down, muttering about how they weren't going to lose because of the incompetency of others.

When they get to the videos from December Trent actually went around the room and confiscated whatever it was they had been planning on using to distract themselves. Blaine lost his phone and the steadily growing paper chain he had been working on with paper he had been stealing from Sebastian's notebook.

The performances weren't particularly surprising, Vocal Adrenaline had improved a bit and Aural Intensity hadn't done quite as well as expected, but still blew their competition out of the water. There's a few other groups that have promise but don't really feel like that much of a threat although he sees the look in Ben's eyes as he made a mental note to keep a look out for them next year.

Then there was the New Directions.

Blaine wasn't surprised by their performance, although everyone else seemed to be. He knew better than to trust Sugar's glowing recollection and Eli hadn't experienced anything else, but Santana's lack of bragging after was really all the confirmation he needed in regards to their performance. If they had done well she wouldn't have been able to stop taunting him with it. But when he casually asked about it she had mumbled that her seat hadn't really been that good but they were great and Britt, obviously had killed it.

Britt had killed it, although her new dance partner certainly was no Mike Chang (Blaine was pretty sure his name was Ryder, but he had a difficult time keeping track of all the new kids.) and the group number (Call Me Maybe. He could practically feel Trent's eye roll) that backed them up demonstrated a little too clearly that a lot of them weren't yet used to singing in a group.

On the whole it hadn't been bad, exactly. There was just nothing about it that suggested they were Nationals winners. Someone had the idea to try and keep the Troubletones tradition alive, but without Mercedes and Santana it didn't have the same impact. Two new girls shared lead for that number. One of them had a great voice but no confidence behind it and the other has more than enough confidence but her voice was only so-so. Instead of balancing each other out it just served to highlight the other's weakness.

Tina had, once again, been skipped over for a solo and instead it went to another new guy who could only be Puck's long lost baby brother—Sugar's words, not his. It's a song by The Fray and, actually, it was really good, but not really appropriate for the competition. It felt reminiscent of the Warbler's Candles mistake, too slow and personal. Meant to draw in but really just alienating.

They won but it had more to do with their competition than their performance. They were against the Haverbrook School for the Deaf again, which was moving to watch but not really considered serious competition by the judges, and a new group from Kettering who had been doing really well until their soloist threw up on stage.

Trent quickly shut the video off and blustered on about how they might not look that impressive, but a lot could happen in a few months. Clearly they had talent and all it would take was a little bit of tweaking and they could really have something and how, if they had learned anything from the past it was not to underestimate McKinley because they had the uncanny ability to end up on top.

Blaine was trying his hardest not to feel guilty. Another group he abandoned. His mind was running rampant with ideas for little things they could have done that would have made everyone remember that they were champions. Not that he would have been the leader if he remained, Artie well and truly deserved that position, but he would have been willing to listen to Blaine's suggestions and maybe they could have managed a win to be proud of, no matter who their competition was.

"Stop it," Sebastian's voice growled in his ear, leg pressing against his. "You came back for a reason. Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, remember?" And then, under his breath low enough for Blaine to pretend not to hear him, "Besides, not even you could have saved them."

He's right, of course. And even if he had been there it was unlikely that Mr. Schue would have listened to him. Rachel Berry was really the only person who was consistently able to make him change his mind and Blaine had never been a fan of pushing his ideas on other people. And if he told himself that enough he might actually believe it.

Far from making the Warblers even more apathetic about practicing, it was what served to make them work hard. A general whispered agreement seemed to be that if they lost to this group they might as well hang up their blazers and never perform anywhere better than a nursing home. No one complains when rehearsal starts early or runs a little later and Blaine actually starts to become more than a little concerned with what's going to happen when that countdown gets closer and closer to zero.

But what Blaine really hated was the fact that it wasn't about winning Regionals, it was about beating New Directions and not in a friendly way either. He's come to accept that maybe the Warblers he rejoined aren't the ones he left. There's something a little harder about them, a little more vindictive he doesn't really like it but he understands it.

It had been the same with the New Directions last year, although no one had ever claimed that they were nice. Sometimes he just got really tired of being awkwardly caught in between the two.

xxx

It never ceased to amaze him how very different lunchtime at McKinley and lunchtime at Dalton were. Maybe it was the setting- circular oak tables with real chairs instead of plastic ones with benches and stools- or the fact that they had longer; time to actually eat their meals and catch up with friends. The lack of fear was certainly another benefit. He always felt more than a little afraid to be in public at McKinley, out in the open and wondering where the next insult would come from and what color slushie he would be helping someone wash out of their hair.

He actually enjoyed lunch here, surrounded by the Warblers. It was always a raucous affair. At some point they had developed the alarming habit of dumping salt on the heads of unsuspecting victims, but that was considerably easier to clean up the red food dye. Even those rare occasions when Sebastian forwent the gym and joined them were still better than the average McKinley lunch.

Today was different however. Walking into the dining hall he knew that, at the very least, the meal would be a strained affair. Sebastian had a huge indoor track meet that weekend and as such was cutting back on his midday power hour gym sessions. Blaine, who normal lead the charge in staving off the awkward atmosphere whenever the black sheep of their family joined them, hadn't slept in about two days due to the neuro paper/presentation combination that he had maybe ended up leaving until the last minute. Entering the dining hall he was fully prepared for a lot of pointed silences and the occasional distasteful joke.

He was not, however, prepared for the measured looks he received upon settling into his seat next to Sebastian, leaning on him much more than was necessary because it was either that or face-planting into his chicken pot pie. If Sebastian's free hand happened to be rubbing his back he didn't notice, but the other Warbler's certainly did.

"What's going on between you two?" Jeff finally asked, squinting at the offending hand on Blaine's back. "Because it's starting to seem like it's more than just fucking." All heads turned to Blaine, waiting expectantly for an answer.

After several long minutes where it became clear he wasn't going to reply Sebastian finally broke the silence with a defensive "I don't really see how that's any of your business." He wasn't too surprised by the glares he got in response.

"It wouldn't really be… if it was just sex. But really, Blaine?" Trent said, turning his attention back to the other boy. "Sebastian?" Sebastian was used to hearing his name said with that level of disgust, Blaine, apparently wasn't.

"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"We can understand the appeal of making him your fuck buddy. You just got out of an intense relationship and you're confused, or whatever. And he's clearly more than willing. You're probably not really thinking about the multiple partners and STD aspect of it all. Which you really should, by the way," he added, intensifying his glare. "But is this," he made a sweeping motion with his hand and for the sake of Trent's face Sebastian opted to interpret 'this' to mean their relationship and not his person, "really what you want?"

"I think," Nick cut in diplomatically "What Trent is really trying to say is that this seems very different from your prior relationship. If you look at it from the perspective of an outsider-"

"When you first met Kurt you sang Teenage Dream athim." Trent could barely restrain himself from grinning at the memory. "Then we unanimously voted on him becoming your boyfriend."

"No you-" Blaine started before stopping himself because yes, that was exactly what happened when they agreed to let Kurt be his duet partner for sectionals.

"And we went to his school and serenaded him with Keane when he transferred back," Trent continued eagerly.

"He, on the other hand," Luke said, jerking his thumb towards Sebastian, "back up sang Uptown Girl, which is such an imperfect metaphor it's hardly worth mentioning. And the closest he ever got to serenading you with anything was with Michael and we all know how that turned out." Because no conversation could be complete without that reminder of that unhappy incident.

"Compared to the low points in the "Klaine", as they call it," Trent piped up, making liberal use of air quotes, "relationship. Which is tied between the Chandler and Rachel debacles. Cringe-worthy, certainly, but no one ended up in the hospital."

"And which is the better story to tell your children? 'I met the perfect boy, sang him the perfect song, and we fell in love forever' or, 'he tried to make me cheat on my wonderful then-boyfriend for years, sent me to the hospital, and then following one of the worst decisions in my life, fucked me until I got sex and love confused and here we are?'"

And as offensive as that was neither Sebastian nor Blaine really had any idea how to respond. They hadn't even talked about whether or not they might ever be monogamous and suddenly they had a hypothetical set of children to worry about.

Nick rolled his eyes before saying, "What they really mean is that we know you're really hurting from this break with Kurt."

"Break-up," Sebastian corrected because it was an important distinction but he was ignored as Nick talked over him.

"And if Kurt's tweets are anything to go by he's just as shattered."

"I can't handle all the depressing lyrics," Trent commented. "It's worse than an Evanescence album."

"So," Nick continued, obviously trying to maintain control of the conversation before it was reduced to the normal Warbler kangaroo court, "we just think maybe if you talked to Kurt you could work through whatever was bothering you. It's unquestionable that he'd forgive you your confusion…"

"You're really willing to give Kurt up for this?" Trent finally burst out, his gesticulations making it very evident that the this of which he was referring was not, in fact, their relationship.

The rest of the dining hall grew quiet following his outburst, looking curiously over to the Warbler table. Blaine was apparently trying out his angry goldfish impression, his mouth opening and closing furiously as he struggled to find something to say.

Sebastian would have thought it was adorable if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not killing someone. And then Blaine was pushing away from the table, so hard that his chair fell over with a clatter, before storming out of the room. If the tight hunch of his shoulders was anything to go by he was trying to hold back tears.

"Listen," Sebastian hissed, his barely maintained calm finally snapping, "We all know I'm a dick and I have no right to dispute any of the outrageously offensive things you just said about me. And it really is none of your business what we," he gestured between himself and the knocked-over chair, "are doing. But if you ever, ever upset my boyfriend like that again I'll make the rock salt incident look like child's play." He glared, standing up and gathering his and Blaine's dishes.

"Your precious Kurt," he spat the name in a way he never could when talking with Blaine and it felt so good, "dumped him. Less than 2 hours after he got to the city. Blaine didn't want anyone to think badly of him so he's been pretending it was his decision. Job well done there," he bit out. "With all this new knowledge, don't you dare ever let me hear you talking to Blaine about him again. Got it?"

Grabbing up the plates he strode over to the dish return and slammed them down so hard that one of the glasses broke.

So this time I really don't know how long it'll be until my next update. The chapter is mapped out, but I have some other stories that need writing and a pesky thing called school work AND friends coming to visit me. So it certainly won't be as quick as this one. :-)

I can't remember if I properly expressed my gratitude when this story hit 100 reviews, so here's the appropriate (and official) keyboard smash of appreciation. hgaeiurhuwehaiFHNAIUPWFVRHAI VnfhiawrvawFAWIINNgcha. You are all so lovely and wonderful and I really, really can't express what your reviews mean to me.
And to everyone who submits reviews on guest, I wish I could reply to you like I do to everyone else but THANK YOU.