Chapter 8

"…Now, everybody please raise your glass to my husband, Blaine Anderson, and for continued success with his Peabody Award winning show, 'Treasure House'," Kurt Hummel concluded his toast amid the cheers and accolades of their guests.

Rachel sipped from her champagne flute as she chatted with friends and family, Sebastian at her side, a polite smile plastered on his face as he accepted congratulations on their upcoming nuptials.

Rachel placed her now-empty glass on a tray and accepted a filled one from a passing waiter. Before she could raise the glass to her lips, Sebastian paternally intervened: "Muffin, don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

Rachel eyed him defiantly, taking the beverage in one gulp rather than ladylike sips before she bluntly answered, "No."

"Muffin, tomorrow is our wedding day," Sebastian patronized. "I cannot have my future wife behaving in a manner unbecoming to herself."

"Really, Seb, chill out," Rachel chided him. "You're not my father; in fact, they're here, and they don't have a problem with it." Rachel's demeanor changed from hostile to flirtatious as she teased, "Dance with me? I want to show off my handsome fiancé…"

Sebastian complied, accepting Rachel's outstretched arms. As they moved around the dance floor, Blaine, who was talking with Noah, noticed Sebastian's distracted expression, a distinct contract to Rachel's enamored (and slightly inebriated) one.

"I wonder what's up with that guy," Blaine commented.

Noah wordlessly shook his head, thinking, "More than you know…" as they continued to watch the scene unfold. Shortly thereafter, the dance ended, Sebastian kissed Rachel on the cheek and apparently excused himself, vanishing into the crowd. Rachel helped herself to an hors d'oeuvre from one platter, accepting another glass of champagne from a second server shortly thereafter.

"Rach's gonna be 'feeling no pain' tonight," Blaine teased.

"She hasn't 'let loose' in a long time…probably because of me," Noah reflected. "Better keep an eye on her, Blaine…just in case…" Noah requested.

"I'll do what I can," Blaine assured him. Kurt caught his eye, waiving him over. "Sorry, Puck; I'm being summoned…guest of honor, and all…"

"Go ahead, man," Noah excused Blaine. "Congratulations, by the way. Couldn't 'a happened to a nicer guy."

"Thanks, Puck," Blaine accepted the compliment. The men hugged each other, and then Blaine left to return to his husband.

As Noah stood people watching while he nursed his club soda, he was approached by Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans.

"Quite a shindig," Sam commented, glancing around the room.

"For the most part, everybody seems down-to-earth," Quinn noted, adding, "Not at all what I expected."

"What did you expect, Quinn?" Noah challenged. "A bunch of boring, nouveau riche snobs trying to outdo each other with how much money they have?"

"No, not at all…" she recanted, but Noah was having none of it.

"I'll have you know that most of us came from middle-class families and worked hard to get where we are," Noah defensively explained. "By and large, these are down-to-earth people who appreciate the good fortune they have and give back on a regular basis."

He looked Quinn directly in the eyes and posed, "You know Blaine Anderson; the man your boss is so eager to humiliate?" Quinn shook her head "No", to which Noah responded, "Blaine had a great career on Broadway and was about to breakthrough into movies in a big way, and he gave it up to develop a kids' show…one that doesn't pander to a short attention span, but exposes kids to the arts. He figured there were enough shows out there to teach basic reading and math skills and decided he wanted to expand their horizons, instead."

Noah looked at Quinn earnestly, continuing, "Blaine has a ton of connections, and his A-list friends have appeared on the show…for scale, I might add…to read stories or sing songs. He has musicians come and explain about their instruments, and everything from jazz bands to symphony orchestras have performed. It's overwhelming how many parents send letters and emails thanking him, talking about how their kids actually want piano lessons." Noah paused briefly before adding, "Blaine believes that 'what makes us different makes us special', and, at least once a week there's a segment embracing cultural diversity. It was a breath of fresh air in children's' programming…which is why he received a Peabody Award."

"You really admire him," Quinn stated as Noah took a sip of his beverage.

"Yeah, I do," he admitted. "After Rachel kicked me out, I really hit 'rock bottom'. Blaine literally saved my life. I'd do just about anything for him…and so would Rachel…and, here you are, taking full advantage of that…at least, your boss is."

"I…I had no idea…" Quinn abashedly admitted.

"Well, now ya' know," Noah concluded.

Before the conversation could continue, Rachel giddily approached the trio.

"You're looking beautiful tonight, Rach," Noah politely admired.

"Thank you, Noah," Rachel accepted the compliment. "Have any of you seen Sebastian?"

A round of head-shaking indicated that they had not. Rachel briefly pouted, her demeanor changing instantly as she remembered something. "Oh..my G-d…Noah…" she excitedly prompted.

"Yeah, Rach?" he bemusedly responded.

"Do you remember when we went to the Kentucky Derby and we found that comic book about the glee club coach?" she hurriedly inquired.

Noah chuckled, replying, "D' ya' mean 'The Choir Master'? Yeah, that was fuckin' hilarious. I think I have that packed away, somewhere. What made ya' think of that after all these years?"

"Sam wrote it," she explained, beaming at Sam.

"You're kidding…" Noah incredulously replied.

"Guilty as charged, Sam admitted, grinning at Quinn's surprised expression.

"Man, that was awesome," Noah admired. "Why'd you give it up?"

"It was a senior project, that's all," Sam explained. "A guy's gotta eat, and the comic book industry wasn't exactly clamoring for my talent, such as it was."

Before anyone could comment further, the music changed. Rachel, who had procured yet another glass of wine, was swaying gently to the music.

"Lovely lady, may I have the pleasure of this dance," Sam requested.

As both Noah and Quinn looked on, doing their best to conceal their jealousy, Rachel teased, "I would be honored, kind sir," and they danced off together.

"May I?" Noah inquired.

"I thought you'd never ask," Quinn accepted with a demure smile, and they began dancing, keeping their distance from Sam and Rachel but, at the same time, surreptitiously watching them as they made their way around the dance floor.

"You've got it bad," Noah observed.

"So do you, said the 'kettle' to the 'pot'," Quinn softly retorted.

"I fucked up, Quinn," Noah admitted. "Now she's with this Sebastian guy, who's as shady as a maple tree…"

"What makes you say that, Puck?" Quinn prodded.

"Oh…nothing," Noah stopped himself from revealing anything, "just a hunch."

"Jealous, much?" Quinn teased.

"Yep," Noah tersely answered. "Enough about them," he deflected. "Let's enjoy the party."


Author's Note: Although Blaine and Kurt and Kurt are married in this story, I decided that they would both keep their last names, if for nothing more than professional reasons.