When Sebastian can't seem to get hyped before a big game, Kurt figures out a sure-fired way to bring his fighting spirit back.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Kurt asks, assessing Sebastian's pads through his jersey, straightening things that don't necessarily need straightening as he fusses over his mopey boyfriend. "Because you've been looking a little lackluster lately. I won't lie."

Sebastian frowns, but he can't deny that it's true. He doesn't know why. He should be hyped as all get out. This is Nationals, after all. But for some reason, he's just not feeling it. "I know I have. You don't have to remind me. But I can't not play. I'm the captain. My team needs me."

"Still. There's no harm in sitting this one out."

"Says you!" Sebastian scoffs. "I'd never live it down! Besides, there might be scouts in the crowd. You never know."

Kurt scans the bleachers, searching for anyone who might be a scout. Hockey scouts know how to blend in, so they're not easy to spot. You'd have to know who you're looking for. No one in particular stands out to Kurt, so he starts looking for something else that might get Sebastian pumped for the upcoming face-off – a banner cheering on the team, or a sign cheering on just him. Kurt would be willing to forgive some poor, lovesick teenager for making moony eyes at his boyfriend this once if it would lift Sebastian out of his funk. Kurt has done all he can in that arena. They bowed out of Friday night dinner with his folks early, parked by the lake, and made out for two straight hours, and it didn't lift Sebastian's spirits an inch.

Kurt had to admit, the blow to his ego was massive, but he had to shelf that and come up with a remedy for whatever was dulling Sebastian's killer instinct. Sebastian is a monster on the ice – a force to be reckoned with. Seeing him with his head bowed, staring down at his skates as he digs chunks out of the rubber floor with his freshly sharpened blades, breaks Kurt's heart.

The sound of a door lock clicking nearby drags Kurt's attention away from his boyfriend's pouty face to the row of locker rooms behind them. Kurt, Blaine, and Sebastian have been hanging in the penalty box on the visitor's side, waiting for warmups to start, so those locker rooms are being occupied by the enemy. The door to locker room number seven opens and a player peeks out – a tall boy with sandy blond hair, mussed from getting ready; piercing green eyes; a lean, muscular build; and lightly tanned skin.

Skin that Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine can see very clearly, since he's standing not five feet away, shirtless.

He glances down the hallway in front of the door, then up towards the ice. When he sees the three boys looking his way, he nods at Sebastian, acknowledging a revival captain, then at Blaine. But Kurt – Kurt he locks eyes with. He looks him up and down, grins a devilish grin, then returns to the locker room, pulling the door behind him shut slowly, probably knowing that that will give his admirers a good, long look at his well-defined back.

The door clicks shut, and in the box, there's silence.

"W-wow," Blaine says, symbolically wiping drool off his chin. "He's uh …"

"Yeah?" Sebastian snaps. "He's what? Maybe kinda hot? So what!?" Sebastian turns to his boyfriend for backup, but he doesn't get it. Kurt isn't even looking at him, his eyes glued to the locker room door, a peculiar half-smile twisting the right side of his mouth.

"Uh …" A nervous Blaine looks at Sebastian, scowling at Blaine for no reason, then back to Kurt, praying that whatever's going on with him, he snaps out of it quick. "Earth to Kurt," he says, giving his friend's arm a shake. "Come in, Kurt."

"What?" Kurt giggles, snaking an arm around Sebastian's waist. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just ... I was thinking."

"I bet," Sebastian growls, but surprisingly, he doesn't pull away.

In fact, he pulls his boyfriend closer.

"Not like that," Kurt says, interpreting Sebastian's unamused expression. "To be honest, he kind of reminds me of you."

"Well, I'm right here."

"Yeah, but you have your pads on. He's shirtless."

"Westerville!" Coach Beiste bellows from the opposite penalty box. "On the ice! Let's go!"

The locker rooms on the other side of the rink open, and the Westerville team floods out. At the same time, the doors behind Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine open, and the visiting team heads for the ice. When that same blond boy comes back out, he's fully dressed sans helmet, and Kurt sighs in disappointment. But before he takes the ice, he meets Kurt's gaze again. He licks his lips and gives Kurt a wink. Sebastian's face instantly turns beet red, his head one more wink away from blowing straight off his neck. Blaine bites his lower lip, trying to stop a risky laugh from ever leaving his mouth. It's a tactic, Kurt knows. Even if that boy is gay, he has no interest in Kurt. Everyone within fifty miles of their rink knows that Kurt and Sebastian are together. And anyone who's played against Sebastian knows that he's incredibly competitive. That blond boy, showing off doing his edge drills, is trying to get a reaction out of Sebastian.

And from the fingers like iron rods curling into Kurt's jean covered hip, Kurt can tell that he's succeeded.

And how.

If that boy's not gay, Kurt has to commend his commitment to pissing Sebastian off.

Sebastian watches the boy as he carves half-moons on the ice, his eyes locked on his back like a grappling hook.

"What are you doing, Sebastian?" Blaine asks. "Shouldn't you get out there?"

"I'm trying to get a better look at his jersey," Sebastian mumbles, craning his neck side to side to see past the rest of his team. "His last name is … Anderson." Sebastian shoots a look Blaine's way. "Perfect."

"Smythe!" Beiste yells. "Get your butt in gear! Quit wasting our time!"

Sebastian looks at Kurt long and hard, his eyes lingering on Kurt's lips, as if he's contemplating kissing him. And even though Kurt has a huge issue with PDA most of the time, he'd let him. But Sebastian knows that now's not the time. He lets go of his boyfriend, vaults over the boards, and takes off before both blades touch the ice. Left alone in enemy territory, Kurt and Blaine make their way out of the penalty box and over to the home side of the rink.

"You do realize you pretty much signed that poor guy's death warrant, right?" Blaine asks.

"Better him than you." They stop to watch both teams circle the ice then retreat to their respective sides. Sebastian stalks the other Anderson, fixing him with a death glare before Beiste calls him off. Kurt smirks. That's the Sebastian he knows and loves. He'd feel guiltier about playing his boyfriend if Sebastian didn't make it so easy. "Besides, I see it as winning us a National championship."