Part Two

Jesse doesn't decide to take part in the Eighteenth Annual Ohio State Voice Off in order to go head-to-head with Blaine, but he has to admit that it certainly is a massive perk. It's been four months, ten days, five hours and sixteen minutes since The Park Incident and the Sing Off To End All Sing Offs, as he's taken to calling it, will officially be the first time that they have interacted since that ill fated day. Jesse hasn't been avoiding him - it's kind of hard to do that when your mission in life is to crush someone's hopes and dreams and in order to crush them, you must first know them. And the "knowing them" part involves lots and lots of... It's not stalking. It's not.

Jesse takes a deep breath and centers himself.

The point is that they will be officially seeing each other. As in Blaine will be seeing him. Looking right at him. And singing. With his smooth, melodious voice. All filled with emotion while those deep, brown eyes stare right into his soul. And Jesse, he plans to stare right back. With his own baby blues doing what they do best: full on flint. Because nothing beats affable, awkward charm like rock-hard aggression.

"I still don't like the way he looks at you," Kurt hisses in Blaine's ear as they wait for the welcoming speech to finish.

Blaine shifts in his seat and glances at the corner of the room that Kurt's been shooting off death glares at. Sure enough, it's one Jesse St. James. "You don't like the way anyone looks at me, never mind you done went and broke my heart."

Kurt waves off his comment like he's shooing a fly. "Be serious."

"I am," Blaine protests, batting his eyes at him.

Kurt's lips thin. "He is plotting something. I can see it in his beady little eyes."

"You cannot." Blaine crosses his arms over his chest. "And he doesn't have beady little eyes, as you very well know. You and Rachel had a whole discussion about it last week."

"Yes, well, someone has to indulge her and her incessant need to compare her conquests or we all suffer." Kurt shivers. "Do I need to remind you of the-"

Blaine cuts him off with a raise of the hand. "No. You don't. Because it never happened."

"Exactly." Kurt preens as he settles back into his seat. "But that's not what we were talking about. We were talking about the infamous Jesse St. James and his thousand-mile stare."

"Just ignore him," Blaine says with a lift of the shoulder. "That's what I plan to do."

"But he's plotting!"

Blaine leans in close. "So let him. You and I are not plotting. Or sulking. Or sending angry vibes across a crowded room. Well, at least I'm not sending angry vibes. And I don't plan on doing it either. Because, guess what, I don't care about Jesse St. James. At all. And I can pretty safely say that I never will."

Kurt sniffs and sends one last nasty-gram in Jesse St. James direction, then sinks back into his seat and crosses his hands over his knee. "So, song selection."

"Not again."

"But..."

"No."

Kurt's face crumples. "I just want to see you succeed at this and this tribute," he scowls and shakes his head.

"It's a tribute. And a test of my skill as a singer." Blaine scratches his cheek. "Which I've already told you a thousand times. Maybe my heart's not so broken after all."

"Heartless knave."

Blaine opens his mouth to reply, but is stopped by a loud sniff from directly over his shoulder. He looks up and is not really all that surprised to see the man of the hour.

"Speaking of knaves," Kurt says with decided frost, his posture instantly going from relaxed to ridged. "And liars and cads and thieves."

"I never once stole a thing," Jesse St. James interrupts. "Unless it was a heart."

Blaine stifles a laugh. "Trying too hard."

Jesse St. James sneers. "Not possible. This is effortless."

"Scamper along now, pest," Kurt's voice plummets from frosty to somewhere close to glacial.

Jesse St. James pushes his hair out of his eyes. "Oh child. Please. Let the adults speak." He rests his hip on the back of the seat in front of Blaine and crosses his arms. "Now, what I came over here to say is this: no hard feelings. I know we've had our differences in the past and words were said that perhaps would have been better left unspoken, but all that is behind us now. And I wanted to wish you luck. Man to man." He finishes with a tight smile and holds out his hand.

It takes everything in him to keep from laughing, to accept that offered hand and to smile serenely up at the ridiculously excuse for a man in front of him. "I'm so glad to hear that," Blaine says with the straightest of straight faces. "May the best man win."

Jesse isn't watching Blaine perform, he is watching his competition. Because, honestly, it's going to come down to the two of them. All he has to do is sit back and wait. But then the first notes of the song come on and a feeling of pure horror snakes throughout his body. "No," he gasps, much to the dismay of the people sitting around him. There are a few hisses and someone actually dares to throws something, but all Jesse can focus on is the wrongness that is occurring on the stage in front of him.

The last note hasn't finished ringing before Jesse is out of his seat and across to the room. "What is going on?" he demands.

Kurt just shakes his head. "I tried to warn him."

"'The Libertine'? Is he trying to lose?"

"I know!" Kurt throws up his hands in dismay. "Believe me, I know. But he's being his typical stubborn self and refusing to listen to reason."

Jesse slumps down into Blaine's seat and clutches his head in his hands. "How are we suppose to have the Sing Off To End All Sing Offs if he doesn't do his part?"

"Sing off to end all sing offs?" Kurt rubs his temples and then takes a deep breath. "No, I'm just going to ignore that and focus on how very, very wrong my dearest, darling ex can be."

"Ex?" Jesse perks up. "Did you say ex?"

"Focus," Kurt snaps. "Or this little truce goes the way of the dinosaurs."

Jesse nods. There are more important matters at hand. Like crushing the hopes and dreams of the sexy, single boy exiting stage left. "Tell me his next pick is better."

"Define better," Kurt hedges.

"Something with finger snaps, an impressive range and room for a charmingly awkward dance step or two."

"Yeah... Not going to happen."

"Why ever not?" Jesse snarls.

"Because Blaine is championing a cause." Kurt brushes non-existent fluff from his coat sleeve. "And a cause can't possibly have finger snaps or hip pops. A cause can't be dramatic and striking or stir up the emotions of the audience to fever pitch. NO. A cause is quirky and eccentric and doomed to failure."

Jesse groans. "That song is not audience appropriate - no matter how perfectly it might showcase Blaine's vocal talent."

"Which I pointed out repeatedly. I mean, if you want to highlight queer music, go ahead. But for heaven's sake, do something that strikes a cord. Something people connect with. Don't sing about horses and cut-off hands." Kurt heaves a sigh and then shakes his head. "Okay, I had my little vent. Truce over. Off with you, louse."

"Uh uh, no way. I need someone to commiserate with."

Kurt sighs again. "What are you even doing out here? Aren't you competing too? Shouldn't you be locked in a room somewhere doing breathing exercises and gargling lemon water?"

"Hush, you're giving away trade secrets." Jesse sinks into his seat a little further. "And, no, I don't compete. Not at this level, anyway. I'm above such things."

"Oh are you?" Kurt lifts an eyebrow.

"I've taken home the trophy the last three years running, and I'm planning on making it four. So, in a way, I guess I can't be too broken up about Blaine's self-sacrifice."

Kurt snorts. "But what about your sing off to end all sing offs?"

Jesse scowls and pushes up from his seat. "You're right. Truce over." He pretends like he can't hear Kurt laughing as he stalks away.

"You're not going to win. I just wanted to let you know that."

Blaine takes a deep breath before turning around. "How thoughtful of you to share your valuable opinion with me."

"It's not an opinion. It's a fact."

"Oh. Is it? Thank you for clearing that up." Blaine turns back toward the mirror and does one last catalog of his appearance. Everything seems to be in order, so he gives himself two thumbs up before moving towards the bathroom exit only to find his path blocked by Jesse St. James. "Do you mind?" he asks.

Jesse St. James's gives him a long, slow once over and then sniffs. "Don't think all that pretty charm is going to help you woo the judges into ignoring your terrible song selection this time. It might have worked with a lower caliber of competitor, but it won't with me."

"Duly noted. Now would you please step aside. I'm kind of done in here."

"I would like to say that I won't feel a thrill defeating you, but I will." Jesse St. James smirks and then frowns. "Although I have to admit that my joy will be severely diminished by the fact that you didn't give it your best effort."

Irritation flashes through Blaine and for a moment he loses his legendary cool. "That's were you are wrong, St. James. I most definitely will be giving it my all."

"Please." Jesse St. James laughs. "You might be on your A-game vocally, but the lyrics you will be voicing..." he shakes his head. "You don't stand a chance. Not when my selection is so well tailored to the event in question. Three-time champ here, buddy. I'd maybe listen."

"Thanks for the advice," Blaine says through clenched teeth. "But I'm sticking with my original choice." He shoves past Jesse St. James, shoulder knocking hard into the other boy's chest and is halfway out the door before he pauses. Blaine turns back and adds a wealth of pity to his stare. "You know, I would have thought you above all this, St. James. Cold and calculating you may be, but I never would have pegged you as the petty, vindictive type."

"Petty?" Jesse St. James scoffs. "Vindictive? I hardly think that giving my competition for such a prestigious award some well needed advice counts as either of those."

Blaine lets out a sigh. "Your advice. Sure. That's what I was talking about." He shakes his head as he leaves the bathroom and the door swings shut on the other boy's protestations of ignorance.

It's hard to not let Jesse St. James get to him. Really, really hard. Especially when Blaine knows that he's the man to beat. And when you add in all the doom and gloom that Kurt's been sending his way as well. But Blaine is confident that he will be able to do the impossible.

Or at least he is up until the first notes of "Don't You Forget about Me" start blaring through the auditorium.

Doubts he didn't let himself have suddenly spring full blown into life. Maybe Kurt was right. Maybe now is not the time to champion a cause. Maybe now is the time to cash in on eighties nostalgia and the tried-and-true crowd-pleaser of a power ballad. God, look at them. They are all on their feet, smiling and dancing like they've all just had their daily dose of happy pills. And he has to follow that? Why doesn't he just shoot himself now and save himself the agony?

Blaine winces as one of the judges starts mouthing the lyrics of the song. This is so not going to end well. He lets himself mope for another two minutes or so, then forces himself out of that negative head-space and into a place where he has already won and is taking home the trophy to his mom and dad. "That's more like it," he says with a smile, clapping along with the crowd as Jesse St. James blows kisses and takes a bow.

By the time he's standing center stage, Blaine is back on his game. He smiles out across the audience, keeping his gaze soft, and waits for the music to begin.

Jesse has this in the bag. So in the bag that he would win even if Blaine suddenly decided to sing "God Bless the USA" or some other totally over-the-top crowd-pleaser. Which he won't. Because Blaine is a soft-hearted fool. But Jesse is on such a high that he doesn't even care. He gives Blaine a wide smile as he swaggers off stage and then leans against the stage wall, eyes closed, and waits for them to announce his name.

But then something terrible and unexpected happens.

The song Blaine sings, that stupid fight-for-your-cause anthem of nothingness, turns out to be the sort of amazingly heartrendingly beautiful song that could make the angels weep. Or maybe it's not the song. Maybe it's just Blaine's voice and the haunting lyrics. Whatever it is, it makes Jesse's chest ache in a way it hasn't since he doesn't know when. And suddenly he is filled to the brim with loneliness and desperation and yet a steadfast belief that it will all work out all right in the end. Work out for him and Blaine, that is. Because his hopes of taking home that fourth straight title have just turned in to hot ash.