When another big, muscly dude in evening wear entered his holding room, Blaine was afraid it was another guard there to interrogate him (or worse), and he shrank back into the corner. The guy just smirked at him, though, and said, "Relax, Darren. I'm here to escort you inside. Don't ever say your fairy godmother never helped you out."

Blaine blinked rapidly, trying to process what was going on. "Kurt?" he asked. "You can change forms?"

This made the guy laugh. "I didn't say I am Kurt. He asked me to help you out."

"Oh! Thank you! You're another of his fairy godsons too?"

"No. I really don't have time to explain. Just follow me."

Blaine was only too happy to do so, and he sprang up out of his chair and followed his rescuer. The one guard who had whisked him away was still standing outside the door, but he just nodded at the guy Blaine was following.

Jake was leading Darren toward the ballroom when he got a call from Ryder. "Where are you, man?" his partner asked frantically. "His Majesty is getting impatient."

"Shit," Jake said. "I'll be right there." He changed directions and ran up the nearest staircase, completely forgetting that Kurt's godson was still following him.

It wasn't until he burst into the prince's dressing room, slightly out of breath, and the prince looked past him and asked, "Who is this?" that he remembered.

Shit! He wasn't supposed to bring the kid up here! But he had, and now all he could think to say was, "Your Highness, may I present...Darren?"

Blaine froze completely. He may have stopped breathing, he wasn't sure. He just, he couldn't believe he was actually standing in Prince Samuel's room. With Prince Samuel! And, God, he was so handsome, way handsomer in person than in any picture Blaine had ever seen, and he was giving him this smile that was, like, kind of confused, but also just really warm and really genuine, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do! What do you do when you meet the man of your dreams, who happens to be the prince, face-to-face!?

You bow, duh! Blaine forced his muscles to move, and he bowed, just the way all schoolchildren in the kingdom were taught just in case they should ever be presented to royalty. "Your Highness," he somehow managed to say, "it's such an honor."

Sam was intrigued. Why had Jake brought this guy up to his room? Who was he? His eyes were gorgeous. As was—when he bowed—his ass. Not that Sam had the best angle for viewing it, but good enough. When Darren stood upright again Sam took his hand and shook it, for longer than he normally found himself shaking strangers' hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Darren. Are you a friend of Jake's?"

"Not exactly," Blaine said.

Sam shot a questioning look at Jake, but then his gaze was drawn back to Darren. He had nice lips too. If only Sam could see more of his face. "Take off your mask," he told him.

Blaine felt his heartbeat quicken. "I...can't, Your Highness."

Sam grinned. "Sure you can. The mask thing was my rule, so I can tell you to take it off." He barely remembered why he'd come up with that stupid rule in the first place.

Blaine, hoping it actually worked that way, untied his mask and gave it a gentle, experimental tug. Nope. It was definitely attached. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I would never deliberately disobey an order from you, but it's...it's stuck."

"Here, I'll help," Sam said, and he grabbed both sides of the mask and yanked on it.

Blaine screamed. It was as if someone had just tried to rip the skin off his face. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out, but Blaine wasn't sure of that yet. He dropped to the floor, clutching his face and crying.

Sam dropped to the floor with him and pulled Darren into his arms. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm so sorry!" He rocked back and forth with him until the crying subsided. "I had no idea," he explained. "Did you superglue it to your skin or something?"

Blaine tried to pull himself together. He couldn't believe he was making such an ass of himself in front of Prince Samuel! Crying like a baby! The fact that the prince was being so sweet about it just made him want to die even more. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I..." He trailed off as he noticed Jake leaning down to whisper something to the prince and the prince's eyes getting really big.

"Is your name really Darren?" Prince Samuel demanded.

"Um...no, Your Highness."

"What is your name really?"

"I can't say," Blaine answered in a near-whisper.

Prince Samuel looked really angry then. But then his expression changed suddenly and he laughed. "Fucking Kurt!" he exclaimed, still chuckling.

"You know him?"

"Yeah, I know him. He's my fairy godmother too." Sam extended his hand to stroke "Darren's" cheek, but then, realizing that might hurt the poor guy even more, he gently touched his neck instead. "I really am sorry I hurt you. If I'd realized Kurt did this I never..." Sam heard something in the hall that made him stop talking. It sounded like...it was...his father. He jumped up and ordered Ryder, "Hide him!"

Blaine felt himself being hauled to his feet and whisked away somewhere again. This time it wasn't very far; the guard pushed him into a closet and slammed the door behind him. He didn't know what was going on, but he tried to hold himself very still and quiet.

He heard a door open outside and a loud, deep voice say, "What the hell are you doing up here still?" The voice was so familiar-sounding, it was...holy crap, it was the king's voice. One of like two people in the whole world who could yell at Prince Samuel. Blaine did not want to hear Prince Samuel get yelled at...especially if it was because of him!

"Father!" Prince Samuel said. "I was just on my way."

"You literally have a ballroom full of people waiting for you. Did you think I was just messing around when I kept telling you over and over how important this ball is?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Jake said. "It's my fault. I was detained and—"

"Jake, your loyalty to my son is admirable, but I can tell when you're covering for him."

"No, really, Your Highness—"

"Is there a man in here?" the king asked suddenly. Blaine almost fainted. He literally felt himself go light-headed, and probably the only thing that saved him from actually fainting was the knowledge that his falling would make a noise that would remove any doubt as to whether the prince was hiding someone.

"Father!" Sam objected, hoping his feigned indignation at the question was at least slightly plausible.

Jake and Ryder both stood perfectly still, neither glancing at the door concealing Darren nor making any move to put themselves between it and the king.

"We can talk about this tomorrow. Right now just get your ass downstairs and make your damned entrance already."

"Yes, Father."

Blaine heard people walking away and the door closing. He listened at the closet door very quietly, even holding his breath for as long as he could. He couldn't be positive that he'd heard all four people exit, but as he kept hearing nothing from the dressing room, he was eventually satisfied that it was almost certainly empty. Still, when he dared to open the closet door he did so very, very slowly. He peered out cautiously and determined that he was, in fact, alone.

Stepping out of the closet, he breathed a sigh of relief. But just the one sigh. Because then he realized he might very well be stuck in this dressing room for the whole night if no one remembered to come back for him. He wondered what kind of trouble would he get in if he just started wandering around the palace on his own. The guards—the scary ones—would surely remember him and be less kind the second time he caused them trouble. On the other hand, what kind of trouble would he get in if someone found him here in the prince's private dressing room? Surely a maid or someone would come eventually. And even if no one came until morning...oh, God, what if he was still here after sunrise? He didn't think Kurt would really turn him into a pumpkin, but...well, what if he did? Or something just as bad?

Quickly he stepped back into the closet. Not that it was his plan, exactly, to just stay there all night, but...well, until he had a real plan, he thought he was less likely to be discovered here than out in the main part of the dressing room. As he was standing there in the dark, the thought occurred to him—the way unrelated thoughts sometimes seemed to when he was trying to solve serious problems—that he was actually surrounded, at this very moment, by clothes Prince Samuel had worn on his actual body.

And he instantly forgot about everything else.

He felt around for and soon found a light switch, which he flicked on. The closet was both deeper and wider than he'd been picturing it. He realized this shouldn't have surprised him, as Prince Samuel was...well, he was a prince, obviously. He certainly didn't have to do laundry every few days just to stay in clean underwear!

Oh God! What if Prince Samuel's underwear was in here?

No, Blaine! he told himself. Do not go looking for the prince's underwear! That would be super creepy and would probably get him sent to jail if he got caught.

And maybe it was because he had the underwear thought first—had the underwear thought and rightly rejected it—but when Blaine recognized the soft blue sweater that Prince Samuel had looked so adorable in on TV last week, it didn't seem that inappropriate to walk over and touch it. Touch it and rub it against his face (or as much of his face as wasn't covered with the mask). He inhaled deeply and, oh God it smelled just like Prince Samuel did when he was holding Blaine in his arms, and, Jesus Christ, Prince Samuel actually held Blaine in his arms! The realization made him hyperventilate, and that was how Jake found him: hyperventilating in the closet with his face buried in one of the prince's sweaters.

He tried repeatedly to apologize for causing so much trouble, but Jake brusquely told him not to worry about it as he ushered him...somewhere.

"Are you throwing me out?" Blaine asked.

"Hardly. His Highness specifically told me to instruct you not to leave the ballroom until he finds you and dances with you."

"He really...Oh my God, he really...Wait, does he know I'm gay? People might think—"

Jake snorted. "He knows you're Kurt's godson, so, yeah. He knows you're gay."

And that was when Blaine realized that, without any doubt, what he thought he heard that Santana woman say was true! Prince Samuel was actually gay! He wouldn't be Kurt's godson if he weren't. He was actually gay and he wanted to dance with Blaine!

Jake left him at the entrance to the packed ballroom. Blaine strained to locate Prince Samuel in the crowd but couldn't. He should have been the easiest person to locate since he wasn't wearing a mask...or, at least, he hadn't been when Blaine saw him. Maybe he was now. Still, only two other men would be wearing the official regalia, and Blaine was sure he'd be able to differentiate Prince Samuel from his father and brother-in-law even with masks. Anyway, there was a big swarm of people in the far corner of the ballroom, so probably Prince Samuel was in the middle of it.

Blaine decided to wait instead of swarming over there too. It was probably useless to swarm, for one thing—the crowd was much too dense, and he would be at the outer edge. And for another thing...Prince Samuel actually wanted to see him again. He was actually planning to find Blaine, hard as that was to believe.

Rachel, meanwhile, was swarming. The prince had looked right at her as he walked past while making his entrance—she was sure of it. Or if not right at her, then right above her head. It wasn't her fault she was so short! Anyway, she had to reach the prince to remind him of the intimate connection they'd had when their eyes almost met. But there were all these horrible wannabes and poseurs in her way! And, totally unfairly, most of them were bigger than she was. "Jesse, help!" she ordered.

Jesse wasn't really paying attention to his sister. He was too busy scoping out all the chicks, trying to decide which one he most wanted to console after the prince rejected her. But when Rachel asked for his help, he reluctantly put his own mission on hold. Becoming brother-in-law to the prince was more important than getting laid by a hot commoner or even minor noblewoman, after all. Though if he managed to marry a noblewoman...But, no, brother-in-law to the prince was still the main goal. So he took Rachel's hand and started helping her maneuver through the throng.

The two of them got some dirty looks. And several Ow!s by people who got in the way of Jesse's elbows. And, after some woman screamed just because he "accidentally" stepped on her foot, they got the attention of one of the guards, who appeared out of nowhere and placed a hand on each of their arms.

Rachel, fearing the alternative was both of them being asked to leave, gave the guard a pleading look and said, "Please, can you help me? He grabbed me and he won't leave me alone!"

"Rachel! How could you?"

Rachel just stared at him with a look of terror (and to think her acting professor tried to give her a B once!) and even actual tears in her eyes as the guard escorted her brother out of the ballroom.

When they were out of sight, she decided she'd better back off for the time being. Although her acting skills were obviously superb, it was just possible that the guards would be paying her extra scrutiny for a while. Retreating to a quieter part of the ballroom, she carefully sized up the other guests who weren't clamoring for the prince's attention.

The group consisted mostly of men, obviously, and of older, already-married women. It wouldn't hurt to "network" a little, she thought...not because she needed a contingency plan in case things didn't work out with her and Prince Samuel or anything like that, but just because...well, because it never hurt. What if she met someone who was a close, personal friend of the prince, for example? That would make a great icebreaker when she finally got a chance at a real conversation with him.

She approached several men who, from a distance, seemed to have potential, but each of them soon proved to be a nobody. She was actually considering giving up when...Oh, there was a man who was obviously wealthy, based on his impeccable clothing. All the mens' evening wear looked basically the same to the untrained eye, but Rachel could tell from how well this man's fit that it had obviously been custom-tailored. And he was all alone, excellent! She walked over with a big smile plastered on and extended her hand. "Good evening! I'm Rachel!"

The man was strangely still for a moment before he shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Again there was that silence before he said, "Call me Darren."

"I'm happy to meet you, Darren." She smiled again and waited for him to say something. When he didn't, she observed, "It's a lovely ball so far, don't you think?"

"Lovely," he agreed.

"The whole mask idea lends just the right touch of whimsy," Rachel said. In fact she hated the masks. They really put a damper on her networking attempts. On the other hand, maybe she could use the forced anonymity to her advantage. "Although..." she said thoughtfully, "...it's making it much harder for me to remember where I recognize you from. You're...you're a duke, right? The Duke of..."

"Stop pretending you know any dukes."

Rachel sputtered in disbelief. "What makes you think I don't know any dukes!?"

He hesitated for a moment before looking her up and down and declaring, "Your dress. It screams, trying too hard.'"

The nerve! Her gown had cost her a fortune, and this...this nobody had the gall to insult it!? Rachel spun on her heel to storm off but froze when she noticed: "Prince Samuel is coming this way!"

"He is," Darren agreed.

Rachel looked at Darren again. He was smiling at the prince's approach, but he seemed relatively calm about it. Relatively unsurprised. "Do you know him?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Introduce me! Darren, you have to introduce me, it's so important!"

Prince Samuel was looking right into Blaine's eyes as he approached. Women were trailing after him; people on all sides were trying to get his attention, but he paid them no mind at all. He just walked straight up to Blaine, bowed, and said, "There you are! May I have this dance?" Blaine took his hand and, vaguely aware that Rachel was screaming at him but not caring at all, walked to the dance floor with the prince.

"Do you waltz?" Prince Samuel asked as they walked. "Because I can have the band play something else if you don't."

"No, I do, actually." He'd practiced waltzing quite a lot, as it happened. By himself in his room, but he didn't doubt that he'd do fine with Prince Samuel leading.

And he did do fine! Prince Samuel was just as amazing a dance partner as he had always dreamed. The prince held him close and glided him around the floor effortlessly. Honestly it was so much like his dreams that Blaine was afraid to question whether he was actually awake.

Sam slowly became aware that people were looking at him in a way he wasn't used to. He didn't want to be paying attention to anything or anyone other than the man he was dancing with, but it was so odd that after a while he couldn't not notice. He didn't even get what was going on at first, but eventually it dawned on him that it was because he was dancing with a man.

He hadn't really even considered that he would get this reaction; he rarely made any effort in his day-to-day life to hide his orientation, so he just didn't think about the fact that most of the guests at the ball weren't people close to him who already knew. When he noticed the looks on people's faces...well, he didn't much care that his "secret" was out, but he did care about how Darren would take the reaction. "How are you?" he asked.

Darren sighed and answered, "So wonderful."

Okay, good. He didn't care. Or possibly just hadn't noticed. In case it was the latter, Sam thought he'd better talk, just to keep Darren's mind off...everyone else. The problem was...Sam never had trouble making conversation, but now for some reason he felt almost...flustered or tongue-tied or something. He managed to come up with: "So...that woman you were talking to..."

Blaine frowned. He really didn't want to be reminded of Rachel right now, of all people.

Sam noticed the frown and hastened to clarify, "I wasn't implying that you and she..." Though what if they were a couple? What if Darren was in the closet and actually married to a woman? Except...no, Kurt said he was a virgin, so that wasn't too likely.

Blaine wasn't sure whether Kurt had actually forbidden him from lying, but he did know for sure that he was forbidden from giving clues about his identity, and identifying his stepsister would be a pretty big clue. So he just said, "She just walked up to me and started talking." He could have left it at that, but he added the funny part (not that Prince Samuel would get the joke): "She said she thought I was a duke."

"Are you?" Sam asked. "No, wait. Sorry. I know you're not allowed to give me any hints."

"You know that?"

"I know Kurt really well."

Blaine wondered if that meant that Prince Samuel had had sex with Kurt. Then he immediately chastised himself for even thinking such a thing about the prince. Not that he never...Okay, yes, he had had many, many (many) sexual thoughts about Prince Samuel (though not involving Kurt). But it just seemed wrong to think about when he was actually in the prince's presence.

Though of course that just made it all the more difficult not to think inappropriate thoughts. Because he wasn't just in the prince's presence, he was in his arms. Again. And it was even more magical than the first time because he wasn't also in horrible pain. And also...parts of their bodies that weren't as innocent as arms were awfully close to each other.

"He makes me so mad sometimes," the prince said.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah. With his stupid rules. Like...I'd really like to get to know you."

Blaine's heart skipped. He had no idea what to say to that and was horrified to find himself responding, in the worst approximation of a flirtatious tone that had probably ever been attempted, "I bet you say that to all the guys."

Sam held him a little closer. "I don't, actually." He couldn't remember the last guy—if there'd ever been one—that he wanted to get to know like he wanted to get to know Darren, who wasn't even really Darren but whose real name Sam wasn't even allowed to know! He let his nose brush against "Darren's" forehead and added, "Just you."

.

King Dwight joined his wife in the balcony overlooking the ballroom. After kissing her hand he asked, "May I get you anything, my dear?"

Queen Mary smiled at him and gestured at their son on the dance floor below. "Sammy is in love."

"Darling, you promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. We both agreed that that's not what's important about tonight, and—"

"Dwight. Just look at him."

The king, more to humor his wife than anything, turned to look. He spotted their son on dance floor, and he was somewhat far away and the lighting was low, but...but, yes, he was actually inclined to agree with the queen! Extending his hand toward her, he said, "Darling, may I borrow your..." He couldn't think of the word, but she knew what he wanted and handed him the lorgnette. Holding it to his eyes he could see very clearly—without any doubt, in fact—that, yes, Samuel was in love! Dwight knew, because his son looked exactly the same way he himself had felt when he first met Mary. "I'll be damned!" he muttered.

"Your Majesty...language!" his wife teased him.

"I apologize, Your Majesty," Dwight said, bowing. "But I never thought I'd see the day!"

"And you realize, of course, what else this day is, don't you?"

"What else?"

"It's the day the prince has just outed himself to the entire kingdom."

"Oh, shit!"

It wasn't that the king wanted his son to stay in the closet forever. He just wanted to control the coming-out story. And now his chances of doing that were dwindling rapidly. "We have to make it clear that we don't disapprove," he said. It was the least (and, at the moment, probably also the most) they could do.

"So ask me to dance."

"I thought you wanted to wait until later for our first dance."

"I did. But if we dance next to the happy couple, and smile approvingly..."

"My darling, you're a genius."

"That's why you married me, isn't it?"

"That and your body," the king whispered in the queen's ear. Some things the guards didn't need to overhear.

Sam saw his father approaching the dance floor and wondered if he was in trouble. It wasn't really like the king to make a scene in public, but...

But then he saw his mother was there too, and she looked at him and smiled. And then his father smiled at him. They started dancing with each other, and every time they got close they smiled at him. His father even caught Darren's eye and smiled at him, which made poor Darren freeze. "It's okay," Sam whispered in his ear. "He likes you!"

"But I forgot to bow!" Darren whispered back.

Sam laughed. "You don't have to bow when you're dancing."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Relax."

Blaine laughed. It just struck him as really hilarious that the prince was telling him to relax. And yet...he did feel kind of oddly relaxed. Like nothing bad could happen while they were dancing together. He even let himself rest his head on Prince Samuel's shoulder as they spun around.

.

In another wing of the palace, Princess Beth was attending a private ball with her five-year-old sister, Princess Matilda, and their nanny, Marley. Princess Catherine wasn't invited because she was only two and already asleep.

Beth curtsied to Marley and asked, "May I have this dance?"

"I'd be delighted, Your Highness," Marley replied, taking Beth's arm and walking with her to the "dance floor," which was really just a cleared-off area of the playroom.

Beth enjoyed a pretend ball as much as any other little girl. But not when there was a real one going on in her own house that she wasn't even invited to. That was just completely unfair! But it was okay. That is, it wasn't okay at all, but she had a plan. She just had to act like she was on board with the "private ball" until...

"It's not fair!" Matilda announced. "I wanna go to the real ball!"

Beth walked over and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "But, Matty, we're not old enough for the real ball. Anyway, this fake one is just as fun." She glanced at Marley to make sure she noticed how reasonable and mature she was being. Sure enough, Marley gave her an approving nod. Matilda, on the other hand, gave her a look of confusion and betrayal. Because of course Beth was the one who'd been telling her all day how unfair it all was.

"Come on, Matilda. You can have the next dance, okay?" Marley said.

Beth took a step back. "You can have this one, in fact. I know it's pretty late for you and you get grouchy when you're tired."

"I'm not tired and I'm not grouchy!" Matilda shouted.

"Well, you're raising your voice, and that tells me you are tired and grouchy," Marley said. "So now, would you like to use your indoor voice and dance with us? Or would you like to yell and have bedtime now?"

"I'm not YELLING!" Matilda shrieked, tears rushing down her face. "You're so UNFAIR! You both HATE me!"

Marley turned to Beth and said apologetically, "I guess it is a little late for your sister. Can we have our dance in a few minutes when I get back?"

"Of course," Beth said, patting Marley's hand consolingly. "I guess she's just having a rough night."

Marley lifted the crying princess up onto her hip and took her to her bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Beth made a run for it.

.

Prince Finn didn't like dancing. He especially didn't like ballroom dancing. He wasn't great at it, which was a big part of why he didn't like it. But he'd had lessons and he wasn't terrible anymore, and he knew it was expected. Required, even. Prince Sam had to be the first of the royal family to dance, but then Finn and Quinn were expected to go pretty soon after that. He guessed he'd better see if Sam was dancing yet.

Yeah, there he was. Dancing with...huh, how about that. He was dancing with a man.

Finn found his wife. "Ready to bite the bullet?" Princess Quinn teased him.

"Yeah," Finn said with a chuckle. "Just wondering, though...is this, like, a coming-out ball in the literal sense? I mean...the modern sense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at your brother," Finn said, nodding in Sam's direction.

Quinn looked. What she saw was surprising.

She'd seen her little brother with men a few times (and she knew there were a lot more times that she hadn't accidentally intruded on), but never like this. Never this publicly, for one thing, and never looking like he wanted more than to get in the guy's pants.

Though it did look like he wanted to get in the guy's pants. Just not only that.

She took her husband's hand and said, "Wow. Good for him."

"How long do you think they've been together?" Finn asked.

"A while, from the looks of it. I wonder why he never told the family."

"Maybe he's planning to dance with him all night, get everyone talking, and then unmask him and propose at dawn."

Quinn laughed. "That sounds way too romantic for my brother."

"Maybe he's just never been romantic before because he never had...you know, whoever that guy is before."

"You are a romantic," Quinn said, sighing. "You know, if you asked me to dance right now I'd probably say yes." In a whisper she added, "I might even go home with you."

.

Sue Sylvester observed the young princess elude not one but two guards charged with patrolling the residential wing of the palace during the ball. Incompetent slackers! She would fire them first thing in the morning. She would have fired them on the spot if she could have risked being down two men with the palace packed with strangers.

However, she did not apprehend the fugitive princess. She followed to make sure she would be safe, but she admired the girl's cunning. Princess Beth reminded her of a young Sue Sylvester. And there was no one Sue Sylvester admired more than Sue Sylvester.

She trailed Princess Beth as far as the entrance to the ballroom, where she knew Princess Quinn would take care of the little escape artist, and then circled back to bawl out the negligent guards. Should she also bawl out the nanny who let the escape happen in the first place? Even though the child care staff didn't report to her in any way, it was tempting. It was always fun to see Miss Marley Milquetoast cry. But, no, she had too much actual work to do tonight. Oh, but tomorrow she could ask the king to let her present a security seminar for all the child care staff. Heh, yes, torturing the ninny in front of her coworkers would be even better than yelling at her in private.

Beth stopped short when she entered the ballroom, stunned. She'd been here before, but never with it lit so prettily and fancy music playing and so many people all dressed up. How dare they try to keep her away from this? This real ball was clearly where she belonged.

She strode through the crowd, holding her head high. When she heard someone say, "Look, it's Princess Beth!" she turned and nodded graciously. She marched right onto the middle of the dance floor, where her Uncle Samuel was dancing with a beautiful boy in a mask. By this point they seemed to be the only two people nearby who weren't looking at her, so she tugged on her uncle's sleeve to get his attention.

Startled out of the reverie he'd been in while dancing with Darren, Sam looked down. "I thought you were having a private ball with Marley and your sisters, sweetheart."

"There were no boys there, so Marley said I could come here for just a few minutes."

"Did she."

Beth knew from her uncle's tone that he wasn't buying it. But she still thought she could sweet talk him into letting her stay just a little while. "Please may I have one dance with the handsomest man at the ball? Then I'll go straight to bed."

Sam had a soft spot for his nieces. Beth was about the only person who he couldn't be mad at for interrupting his dance with Darren. (He wouldn't have been mad at Matilda or Catherine either, but they wouldn't have tried it.) And he knew Quinn would be mad, but it was his ball, after all. He turned to Darren. "I'm sorry. Would you excuse me for one dance?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Blaine said, taking a step back.

But Prince Samuel tightened his grip on his shoulder long enough to add, "Please don't go away."

Blaine nodded and moved back only enough to give the prince and little princess enough room to dance.

Prince Samuel bowed to his niece and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Princess Beth crossed her arms and shook her head. "Not you, Uncle Samuel! I want to dance with the handsome man!" And she took Blaine's hand.

Blaine looked around, sure that the little girl was just trying to get him to move out of her way or something. But when he finally looked down at her, she was smiling up at him expectantly and kind of adorably. And then she curtsied and asked, "May I have this dance?"

Blaine glanced at Prince Samuel to make sure it was all right before he bowed and said, "I'd be delighted, Your Highness."

And then...Beth didn't actually know how to dance very well. That is, she could dance, like to the radio, or just for fun. But she knew that this kind of dancing, at a grown-up ball, had certain "steps" you were supposed to follow, and she couldn't remember all the steps. It didn't matter with Marley, but it seemed important now. She remembered the time she'd helped her father practice his dancing, and he told her she didn't have to learn anything; she could just stand on his feet. So that's what she did with her uncle's handsome friend.

Quinn and Finn hadn't seen Beth come in, but they'd gathered from the chatter of the guests near them what was going on. Quinn rushed over to see her dancing with Sam's new mystery man. Smiling to conceal her fury at her eldest daughter, she stood next to her brother and said, "I'll kill her."

"You can't," Sam said. "People would notice, and infanticide is frowned upon."

"That's why I'm smiling." She knew she couldn't possibly interrupt until the song was over. Not when everyone watching so clearly thought Princess Beth was being all cute and charming. "Why are you smiling? As if I can't guess."

"Am I smiling?" Sam hadn't really noticed it, but of course he was smiling. Because Darren really was the handsomest man at the ball, and now seeing him dance with Beth in her poofy "ball gown" just...

Oh, shit.

Sam actually wanted to squee at the sight. He had never in his life wanted to squee before. What the hell was happening to him?

Oh, who cared? Just look at how cute Darren was, dancing the little girl around on his feet! A part of Sam suddenly wished it weren't impossible for him and Darren to make their own babies together.

Oh, shit.

Seriously.

What the fuck was happening to him?

He might have worried about it longer, but Darren's dance with Beth was coming to an end, which meant Sam got to have the handsomest man at the ball all to himself again. He didn't exactly push his young niece out of his way, but...well, if Quinn hadn't been there taking her hand and leading her away, then who knows?

Quinn crouched down to speak to her daughter. Still smiling, because she knew people were watching, she said, "You are in so much trouble, young lady."

"Marley said I could..." Beth started, but an icy look from her mother made her decide to shut her mouth.

"Now, do you want to go to your room quietly? Or do you want to cause a scene and find out how much more trouble you can be in?"

"Quietly, Mother," Beth squeaked.

"That's my girl," Quinn said, straightening up.

She gripped her daughter's hand tightly and was about to lead her out of the ballroom herself, when saw something that made her think perhaps she'd better stay here and have someone else take Beth. She'd send Finn, but he was such a pushover he was with the girls: Beth would somehow manage to convince him that she shouldn't be in trouble at all because...well, Quinn didn't know what "reason" she'd come up with, only that Finn would buy it. She looked around for guards and called over the first one she spotted.

"Jake, have one of your colleagues escort Princess Beth to her room," she said.

"Yes, Your Highness," Jake said, taking the girl's hand.

"If she gives you or them a hard time, I want to hear about it first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Your Highness," he said. He gave Beth a stern look, but he couldn't help but smile at her a little when he did it.

Quinn smiled and thanked him. She wondered...Jake wasn't exactly a pushover for Beth—Quinn was confident that she would hear about if if her daughter tried anything—but he was clearly very fond of her. Sometimes Quinn wondered if he knew...

Not that this was the time to be thinking about ancient history. She turned her attention back to Sam and his mystery man. She recognized the look on her brother's face. It was the look he got when he not only wanted to get in a guy's pants but was actually about to.

She walked right up to him but wasn't surprised when he didn't stop dancing to talk to her. She didn't let that act of inconsiderateness stop her from cupping her hand around his ear and warning him, "You need to cool it, Sam. Everybody is watching you right now."

Sam frowned and looked around. His sister was right. Even though some other people were dancing, almost everyone had at least one eye on him and Darren. He probably should have been grateful to Quinn for pointing this out, but instead he snapped at her, "I know that! Do you think I'm an idiot?"

He looked at Darren apologetically. "Sorry, that was rude of me. I just...sisters, you know? I mean, do you? I guess you can't tell me."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I wish I could tell you everything."

"I know. Me too." He pulled him closer and said, "I guess we'll have to get to know each other without talking too much."

Quinn heard the whole exchange, especially the part about getting to know each other without talking. Clearly her warning wasn't going to do the trick. It would serve her brother right if she just left him to his own devices. Luckily for him, however, she actually did feel protective of him and was determined to do something.

The best thing to do, she supposed, would be to forcefully break them up, to cut in and insist that the mystery man dance with her.

That seemed too cruel, though. They really did look sweet together.

Instead she called over one of her own guards. "Shannon, I need you to gather as many people as you can who are close friends of the family or who work here at the palace and have them form a circle around Prince Samuel and his...dance partner. They should act casual, like they're just dancing, but I want a barrier to provide some privacy for my brother and..."

"His dance partner? Yes, Your Highness. Of course it's hard to tell who's who with everyone wearing masks." Shannon had never been in favor of masks at the ball. From a security standpoint it was a nightmare. Princess Quinn just gave her a look, though, so she repeated, "Yes, Your Highness" and went off to do the best she could.

Sam did wish he could know everything about "Darren." Where he lived, what his interests were...his real name, for crying out loud! But at the same time, after dancing with him for several songs (and during the breaks between the songs), he really felt like he was getting to know him without talking much. He was getting to know his scent: clean and fresh, a little bit spicy and a lot sexy. He was getting to know a little of his feel: not nearly as much as he'd like, but some, like the firmness of his shoulders, the stiffness of his hair. He was getting to know his taste...

Actually he wasn't, but he desperately wanted to.

"I want to kiss you so bad," he whispered into Darren's ear. "Please tell me you'd like me to."

All Blaine could manage in response was a stunned "Your Highness..."

"You don't want me to." Sam tried not to sound as crushed as he felt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"I do want you to!"

"Oh, thank God," Prince Samuel said, and then he brushed his lips against Blaine's. It was just a tiny brush of skin against skin, but it made Blaine feel more alive than he'd ever felt.

And then it became more than a tiny brush, it became the prince's lips pressed fully against his own. And the prince's lips parted and somehow Blaine's did too—he didn't even have to tell them to, they just parted—and then the prince's tongue was inside his mouth.

Blaine felt himself whimpering. He felt himself pressing back against the prince. Not just his mouth against the prince's mouth, but his whole body against the prince's whole body.

He knew, in the back of his head, that he shouldn't. He was being so inappropriate, he would be thrown out of the ball...or worse. But he didn't care, he only cared that his body was screaming out for more and more contact. Specifically, yes, a certain part of his body. A part that he knew he absolutely shouldn't allow to be anywhere near Prince Samuel, but it was so hard and needy and the prince's thigh pressed against it felt so good...

Thank God Darren was letting Sam kiss him. Thank God he was as hard as Sam was. Sam had really been worried that everything he was feeling was one-sided.

He had to get them out of this ballroom, somewhere private where they could do more than kiss. His father would kill him for leaving all his guests, but he'd kill him more for allowing things to progress any further in front of everyone. (A third option—such as staying in the ballroom without letting things progress—didn't even occur to Sam.) He just had to ask Darren to come with him. He was pretty sure he'd say yes. He just had to move his mouth closer to Darren's ear.

Oh, but Darren's neck smelled so good. Sam couldn't help but kiss him there. And nibble a little. And suck until Darren moaned.

And Darren's moan was so beautiful. Hearing that moan, Sam couldn't help but drop his hands onto Darren's ass and grind his crotch directly against Darren's.

It all happened so fast. First the prince was doing something amazing to his neck, and then his hands were on his butt, and then he felt the prince's cock rub right up alongside his own, and it didn't matter that there were layers of clothes in between them, it didn't matter that they were in a crowded ballroom with hundreds of people probably watching them, all Blaine knew was that he couldn't stop his hips from moving in response, his cock rubbing against Prince Samuel's—only a few times, really, that's all it took—and he was clutching the fabric of the prince's suit and gasping into his chest and he was coming, right in his elegant evening wear, right in front of all those people, and, most mortifyingly, right on the prince!

After his balls had emptied, it took a few moments for his head to clear and the reality of what he'd just down to hit him. Even though he had just grossly violated His Highness and deserved no sympathy or comfort from him, Blaine buried his face in the prince's shoulder and wept.

"Oh God, what's wrong?" Sam tightened his grip around Darren, holding him in a protective embrace. "What did I do? I'm so sorry!"

Darren was sobbing, and it was impossible to understand most of what he was saying. Sam caught sorry several times, and crude and inexcusable, but it wasn't until he caught the phrase all over Your Highness that he figured out what had happened.

"Okay, honey, shh," he said softly into Darren's ear. "It's not a big deal. We can get you cleaned up. It's okay." He wasn't really dancing with him anymore so much as rocking back and forth. He kept doing that while repeating "It's okay" until Darren's sobs died down.

Blaine wanted to believe it would be okay. He wanted to believe anything Prince Samuel told him. He just didn't see how it could be okay. "That's so kind of you, Your Highness, but I...I actually just..."

"Shh. I know what happened; it's not a big deal." He glanced down and saw the mess was only visible on Darren's pants. "And it's not even on me."

"It's not? Thank God!" Blaine was able to believe that Prince Samuel really wasn't disgusted by him. That helped a lot, but it didn't make it totally okay. "But everyone must have seen," he said.

Sam was worried about that too, actually. But when he looked around, he saw that, miraculously, no one was looking at them. He didn't know how it was possible, but...wait, the people around them all looked familiar, even with the masks. They mostly seemed to be palace employees, in fact, who were well trained at being discreet. He couldn't believe their luck! "No one noticed," he assured Darren. "Just look. No one is paying any attention to us."

Blaine found this hard to believe, to say the least. But he wanted to trust the prince. And the prince had told him to look, so he looked.

And it was true! No one was looking at them. He couldn't believe he had doubted Prince Samuel.

Sam felt Darren relax. Not totally, but a lot. "Follow me and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?"

But then something occurred to Sam. As soon as they separated, the wet spot on Darren's pants would be obvious. And they were going to have to walk past people who weren't well trained at not noticing stuff. Fanning his face with his hand, he said, "By the way, is it warm in here to you? I'm roasting. Roasting. It's not just me, though, right? I mean, don't you feel hot too?"

This puzzled Blaine, because it really wasn't hot in the ballroom. That is, he was warm from dancing close to the prince, and his face was hot from crying, but the room itself, he was pretty sure, was comfortable. He wondered if Prince Samuel was actually hot (as in temperature; in the other sense there was no question) or if he was just trying to change the subject to help Blaine forget about his humiliating accident. If that was it, it was about the sweetest thing ever. In any case the last thing he felt like doing was contradicting the prince, so he agreed. "I am a little warm, now that you mention it, Your Highness."

"Yeah! Whoa! I'm gonna...I think we should take our jackets off. Because this is just unbearable!" Sam removed his jacket and held it in front of himself so that it concealed his crotch. He just hoped that Darren would mimic his action.

The way the prince removed his jacket and held it in front of himself so deliberately, the way he was watching Blaine so carefully the whole time...it struck Blaine as very strange. Until very suddenly he got it! The prince was trying to help him cover up the stain on his pants—which Blaine hadn't even thought about—without coming right out and mentioning it. He really was the sweetest person ever! Blaine felt himself flush some more—more from gratitude than embarrassment this time—and he removed his own jacket and held it in front of himself the same way Prince Samuel was doing. "Thank you, Your Highness," he whispered.

"Well, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Sam said. He wanted to take Darren's hand but couldn't because of the way they were both holding their jackets. Instead he simply said, "Follow me," and led him through the crowd toward a back exit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Jake and Ryder were following too, and he wished they didn't have to. He could order them not to and they'd probably do what he said, but then they'd have to deal with Sue if she found out. And Sam couldn't do that to them.

He led Darren back to his dressing room and told Jake and Ryder to wait in the hall. They stood there impassively, one on either side of the door, just like they did any time he ducked into a room with some guy and told them to wait outside. He wanted to tell them that this wasn't like that, that Darren wasn't just some guy that he was about to hook up with. He didn't know if he was even going to, for one thing. He didn't know if Darren would want to now.

Inside, he rushed around trying to gather things he thought Darren could use: a damp wash cloth, a towel, clean underwear, clean pants. "If you want to give me your pants I can clean them for you. I mean, I don't have to look while you change. If you don't want me to, I mean. If you want me to, then yeah, I'd really, really like to look. But I don't want to creep you out."

"You could never creep me out, Your Highness," Darren said. He blushed, but he started removing his stained pants.

Sam didn't look, though. That is, he did look, but not at the area under the pants. He looked in Darren's eyes. And he said, as Darren stripped, "Do you mind...calling me Sam?"

Blaine gulped. "For real, Your...Sam?"

"Thank you," Sam said. "That sounds so much better." He took a step closer, holding out the wash cloth. "I could help you clean...not just your clothes...if it wouldn't creep you out."

Blaine couldn't speak, so he shook his head. But then he realized that Pr-... that Sam might think that meant he didn't want his help, so he took a deep breath and concentrated on getting out the words: "It wouldn't creep me out."

And it didn't creep him out, of course it didn't. But it did maybe freak him out a little. Because, like, no one had touched him there ever, and that it was about to happen now, with the prince, who had asked him to call him Sam, and in the middle of the most surreal night of his life—which was an understatement because Blaine didn't have any other surreal nights to even compare this one to...yeah, he was freaking out a little.

The prince stood very close to him and helped him out of his pants and underwear. And then, still looking only in his eyes, he gently touched the soft, warm cloth to Blaine's dick. It wasn't abrupt or sudden or anything—it wasn't the sort of touch that should have made someone gasp and startle. But Blaine gasped and startled.

"I really can let you do this yourself, if you'd prefer," Sam said softly.

"No! Please!"

"Okay." Sam kissed his forehead, right between his hairline and the upper edge of the mask. "Would you like to lie down?"

"Yes!" Damn it, Blaine hoped that didn't sound too eager. Prince Samuel probably wasn't even suggesting... But just in case he was suggesting something more, then Blaine wanted to. Very, very much.

Sam looked around the room. There was only one place suitable for lying down, and that was the chaise longue. But he couldn't lay Darren down where he'd just fucked that apprentice, uh, Jeremiah, it seemed wrong. And so he took Darren by the hand and led him where he never led anyone: through the connecting door into his bedroom.

.

Downstairs in the ballroom, the prince's absence was not going unnoticed. King Dwight walked up to his daughter and demanded, "Did your brother take that boy somewhere for a 'quickie'?"

Quinn hoped it was going to be a quickie. But she had seen everything that happened—that is, she had to piece together part of it, but between the grinding and the sobbing that followed, it wasn't difficult to figure out—and she had a feeling Sam and his mystery man were going to be gone for a while. She answered, "I think...I think his friend was feeling ill. I think Sam is tending to him."

The king didn't buy this explanation for a minute. He was about to say as much when the queen jumped in, saying, "Oh my! Should we summon a nurse?"

"Oh no! I'm sure that's not necessary," Quinn said. "Or, if it is, then Sam will call one."

The king was about to say something else when the queen started whispering in his ear. While she was talking, the look of annoyance gradually vanished from his face. When his wife was done, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, obviously Samuel can't ignore a friend in need. But there are dozens and dozens of young ladies here dying to dance with a prince. I hope you can prevail upon Finn to..."

"Of course, Father."

.

Back upstairs Sam led Darren right up to the edge of the bed and pulled the blankets back for him. He had no idea why he felt nervous as he watched Darren take his shoes off and lie down on his back. God, he was gorgeous. He didn't want to stare or anything—he knew Darren was way more nervous than he was, and not just nervous but also a little shy, but...damn!

And anyway he had to look a little. If he was going to get Darren cleaned up, he had to see where exactly the fluids had landed. There was some glistening in Darren's thick patch of pubic hair. Some clinging, of course, stickily to the head of his beautiful cock. He really wanted to lick it up, but he was good, he only wiped it off with the cloth.

Blaine lay back, eyes closed, concentrating on not getting hard again while the prince cleaned him up. It wasn't even really the prince's hand touching his dick, he tried to tell himself, it was just a damp wash cloth. But telling himself that did no good at all. He knew perfectly well that the prince's hand was just on the other side of that cloth. Furthermore he knew that the prince was sitting there on the bed with him, looking at him nearly naked.

"There," Sam announced. "All clean."

"Thank you." Blaine opened his eyes to see Sam looking into them.

"I guess I should go take care of your pants now. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Well, I'd really rather stay here and kiss you again. But, I mean, I don't want that stain to become permanent so..."

"The pants aren't really mine. They're Kurt's and he's taking them back, so...I mean, I bet he has ways to deal with stains."

Sam smiled. "So...that's a yes to more kissing?"

Blaine nodded. "Definitely a yes."

Sam had no idea why he was so excited about just getting to kiss this guy. Usually he'd be balls deep by now. Or...no, usually he would have already shot his load by now and sent the guy on his way. So he didn't know why, but he was definitely excited as he leaned over the half-naked masked man on his bed. He tried to rein in his excitement a little so as not to overwhelm Darren. But no sooner had their lips touched than Darren was clutching the back of his head, pulling him in closer and harder.

.

Downstairs, Quinn was relaying the king's request to Finn.

"Wait, so your brother skipped out on his own ball to get laid, and that somehow means I have to dance with all the women here?"

"He's in love, Finn."

"So what? I've been in love for years and I..." Finn wisely cut himself off before saying, and I don't get laid a tenth as often as Sam does.

"Do this for me and I'll make it worth your while later," Quinn whispered in his ear, and damned if that didn't get his interest.

He hated that it got his interest. He wished, God how he wished he could fuck his own wife because she liked when he fucked her. Why did she have to dangle it in front of him as a reward? It was so degrading. Sometimes he wished he weren't so in love with her still.

He agreed to the dancing thing, though. What could he do? It wasn't like he really had a choice; he was as subject to the king's wishes as anyone. More so, in fact.

.

Upstairs, Sam was now fully on top of Blaine and trying to unbutton his shirt while still kissing him. Blaine wanted nothing more than to get Sam's clothes off too, but he wasn't sure if it was allowed or...well, what was the protocol for making out with a prince when you're nearly naked and he's fully dressed? They didn't teach that in civics class!

The prince didn't have any similar concerns, of course, and as soon as he got Blaine's shirt unbuttoned he flung it open and started kissing his chest. He was very thorough, his lips and tongue caressing every inch of exposed skin, inching his way downward slowly. Blaine was a writhing, whimpering mess by the time Sam flicked his tongue in his belly button, peered up at him, and asked, "Can I keep going?"

"God, please, Your Highness!"

"Sam," Sam reminded him.

"Please, Sam!"

.

Rachel had seen Prince Samuel leave the ballroom with that rude, stuck-up Darren guy. And she was pretty sure that the two of them had been dancing together the whole time until then. All this led her to the conclusion that Prince Samuel was actually a homosexual. She wasn't shocked, though. Well, she was for about a minute, before she realized she could use this new information to her advantage. True, she would prefer to have her husband madly in love with her, but having him deeply in debt to her for keeping his secret could be a lot more useful. And if she had "needs" that he was unable to fulfill, well...it wouldn't be like he could stop her from getting them met elsewhere. Right down the hall, for example, as Jesse had crudely but intriguingly suggested.

Of course, for any of it to work she still had to be introduced to him. And he still wasn't back! What on earth could he and that condescending jerk be doing? Surely not...Ew!

She stopped herself from thinking that way. Tolerance. She had to be tolerant and open-minded if her newly forming plan was going to work. That and talk to the prince. Or at least a prince, she thought as she saw Prince Finn ask some commoner to dance.

.

Blaine moaned and bunched up some of the sheet in his fist. The prince—Sam—was kissing him lower and lower, heading inexorably, it seemed, toward his cock. Blaine had long since given up his attempt not to get hard again, and now he just wanted...God, how he wanted Sam's mouth to reach its destination!

Finally, finally it did! Just the brush of his lips at first, and then a teasing little lick. It was enough, though, to make Blaine whine and shudder. It was enough to make him warn Sam, "I don't know if I can control myself to avoid a repeat of...you know."

Sam peered up at him through now-mussed bangs and said, "You don't have to try to control it."

"But—"

"There are no pants to stain, and there's no one around to see." Sam lovingly stroked his dick and added, "If you want to come in my mouth, I'd really, really love that."

Without giving Darren a chance to respond, Sam took his cock all the way in his mouth. God, it felt so good, and it tasted so good. It throbbed in his mouth, all hard and warm and vital.

Sam was pretty sure Darren had never had a blowjob before, and so he was trying so hard not to rush. It was hard not to. He wasn't kidding when he told Darren that he really wanted him to come in his mouth. And Sam wasn't, as a general rule, a patient person.

But now he was trying. He licked hard but slowly. He stroked Darren's dick but he didn't jerk it. He sucked gently at various spots on Darren's balls and cock—gentlest of all when he had his lips wrapped around the head.

He was dying to do more, but he waited.

It was so much. It was so much and yet still somehow not quite enough and Blaine almost couldn't stand it. He gasped and he moaned and he felt himself rocking into Sam, into his mouth. "Please," he whined. "Please, please, please."

That was what Sam was waiting for. He gripped Darren's cock tighter and started to really suck. Darren responded by crying out, "Oh God!" and arching off the bed, thrusting his dick right up into the back of Sam's throat before releasing blast after blast of come.

Blaine was still gasping when it was over. Gasping to recover his breath and gasping in disbelief at what he's just done. Had he really just ejaculated in Prince Samuel's mouth? Had Prince Samuel really told him to do it? Or had he just imagined it because he wanted it so badly?

But, no, he hadn't imagined it. Sam was over him now, kissing him (and Blaine could taste his own come on Sam's mouth!) and saying sweet things to him and calling him baby, and it was real. It was really real.

A/N: This chapter turned out to be outrageously long, so we cut it in two. Chapter 4 is basically done and we'll be putting it up in a couple days.