The Fairy Godmother

Chapter Summary: Blaine is lost, late and his contact number is wrong. For some reason, the universe hates him.

Or, maybe it doesn't.

This is a Canon AU for Season 5B. Everything in 5A stays the same with one major exception. Klaine reunites as boyfriends with "Got To Get You Into My Life" but there is no over-the-top engagement at Dalton.

Kurt UNFRIENDLY and when I said Kurt unfriendly, I meant it. So, if you are Team Klaine this is not for you.

Blaine was frustrated. No, he was beyond frustration and on to, to…is there a term for 10 steps past frustration?

It began last night when Kurt went off on yet another tangent. And, like all their recent "discussions", before getting to what he'd allegedly done wrong this time, his loving boyfriend had to throw in one of his all-time favorites.

Of course, June Dolloway chose you, the perfect Alpha Gay, to be her new "It Boy" even though you wouldn't have sung for her unless I convinced Carmen Tibideaux to let you sing with me!

Which according to Madame Tibideaux wasn't true. After the disaster of Broadway Baby, he wanted to make sure she had approved this duet. She assured him she did but was concerned he had chosen to sing yet another duet instead of performing a solo. When he stated his confusion, she told him he had been chosen to perform as well as Kurt, not with Kurt. He must have misunderstood when she asked him to deliver the news.

No, Blaine was pretty sure his loving boyfriend had understood Carmen perfectly.

Relationships shouldn't be this hard

However, there was more to last night's argument than June not choosing Kurt as her mentee. Earlier that evening, she called to announce her go-to escort for major events was unable to attend the Met Gala with her and he would have to fill in. Blaine quickly picked up on the fact she said you have to go, not ask would you like to go. It meant he really didn't have a choice.

He really didn't.

Due to NYADA's willy-nilly graduation structure, his 1-year mentorship under June counted as his 3rd year Internship, even if he was in his first year. Why? Because Carmen Tibideaux said so, that's why.

Wasn't that how everything worked at NYADA?

What's more, he also received credit for 2 classes he'd been taking, allowing him to drop them. The change left him with no classes on Thursdays. That part was totally awesome.

And really, really pissed Kurt off when he found out.

1st Years don't get schedules like that. They're forced to pay their dues with 8AM classes and tyrannical professors like Cassie July! I'm a 2nd year and had to practically beg to get three afternoons off when I went back to work at Vogue. And now I'm stuck by myself in those Thursday morning classes YOU insisted we take together.

You were going to have to take them anyway. They're graduation requirements, Kurt.

Not for Blaine Ander…

Yeah, yeah, Alpha Gay. I know, I know

Being at NYADA together was their dream back in high school. Reality obviously didn't give a shit about dreams.

But none of their previous arguments prepared Blaine for this one. He'd never seen Kurt that mad. Not even when Santana cut the crotch out of his favorite gold lamé pants after he used up all the hot water, knowing she still had to take a shower.

Kurt said his issue wasn't with the Met Gala (yeah, sure) but that he committed the unforgivable sin of not telling his loving boyfriend, who worked at Vogue, right away. He had tried (several times in fact) only to have his calls sent directly to voicemail (Shocker…not). Then, because the universe hates him,Mercedes mentioned it to Kurt, believing he already knew.

The Met Gala, Blaine? You're going to the Met Gala with The Bitch? That's so unfair!

For the hundredth time, June is not a bitch. She just doesn't like you. By the way, she wanted me to tell you to stop trying to weasel your way into my Showcase. And I quote…Tell the bedazzled ball-and-chain to quit bitching and/or plotting his inclusion in a (air quotes) surprise number for YOUR showcase. And then tell him bedazzled wasn't a comment on his sexuality but on his appalling fashion choices.

How dare she…

Question your fashion choices because, as we all know, you work at Vogue?

Not funny, Blaine. You need to stop working with The Bitch if she's going to disrespect…

Kurt, I can't, and won't, sabotage this opportunity like I did with Winter Showcase. Doors one of us gets through now are doors WE get through together in the future. Remember?

Over 2 long minutes of silence later

Not the point! The point is you hiding things from me! You swore you'd never do that again after your "mistake".

*Sigh* I called you right after I talked to June. If for some reason you don't remember or believe me, check the time stamps on your missed calls or the multiple messages I left on your voicemail.

You should have tried harder!

Seriously? Tried harder? YOU sent the calls to voicemail. For the record, I was going to try again after I finished my notes for Friday. You'd be home and more likely to answer my calls.

Don't blame this on me! I was at work…at VOGUE! Then to top it all off, you told Sam and Mercedes before me?

Sam was in the room when June called. I told him he could tell Mercedes, which clearly was a mistake, no matter how sorry she is for telling you before I could.

(Huff) Fine, I'm still not happy about the way you handled this, or the way you allow The Bitch to talk about me, but we can sideline that discussion for now. We need to focus on what's most important …what you're wearing to the Gala.

What I'm wearing?

I don't want you embarrassing me with high-water pants and a whimsical bow tie.

Umm…you do realize I can't take you with me?

No need to be so cruel, Blaine. What I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me is that since I work at Vogue, I know the theme for this year's Gala is 50's Glamor. I'm sure Isabelle could help me find some up-and-coming minor designer who would be willing to dress you. Or…maybe I could design your outfit.

You're kidding, right? June already arranged for me to meet with her stylist at 10AM tomorrow. He's handling everything.

Now I know you're hiding something because God forbid you give up time on one of your precious Thursdays. And the Gala isn't for a month so there's no way this stylist found something this early. I should know…I work at Vogue!

Again, I know you work at Vogue. We all do. How could we forget since you find a way to say it every 5 minutes?

I do not!

Yes, you do but it doesn't matter. June's stylist already arranged Vintage Dior…

You're wearing Vintage Dior!

Kurt called later that night expecting an apology. Despite being able to stand up for himself during the argument, he gave his loving boyfriend what he wanted. Anything to have peace until he screwed up the next time. It's how things worked in their relationship.

Did he mention relationships weren't supposed to be this hard?

And now, 12 hours later, Blaine was hopelessly lost somewhere in Manhattan.

Did he mention the universe hates him?

The directions June sent him for her stylist were to her dog groomer and Googling the guy was a dead end. Even if he somehow figured this out, the best he could hope for was being late. He was never late. Between this and last night's fight with Kurt, whatever determination he had left within himself broke.

The one good thing he had going for him was his meltdown was in front of a bakery. He was able to hold back tears until he had a table, a coffee and (yes!) a cronut. Once settled, it wasn't like he sobbed or anything, he had perfectly coordinated dramatic single tears stream down each cheek. Last semester, his Theatrically teacher said he was jealous of his ability to fake them.

The secret was they were never fake.

A few sips of coffee, a couple of deep breaths and the total devouring of the cronut calmed him enough to finally remember June gave him a number to call if there was a problem.

However, there was a new problem (of course) when the person on the other end answered but didn't say anything. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Uh….How did you get this number?"

Strange, but he had no other option than to go all in. "I'm so sorry. June Dolloway gave me your number because I'm your 10AM appointment, or at least I would be if I wasn't hopelessly lost. June sent me your address but it was really her dog groomer's and I tried Googling you and that didn't work and then I started crying but I was at a bakery and they had coffee and cronuts so at least that was good and then realized I was an idiot and June had given me your number but yeah, I'm sorry if misunderstood and wasn't supposed to call but the private-school boy in me can't handle the thought of being late so I either need proper directions and forgiveness for being late or to reschedule..."

"Excuse me, may I speak, or would you prefer to continue rambling?"

Shit! Way to make a first impression. And did this guy have a sexy British accent before?

Not the time Anderson!

"I'm sorry…"

"Stop say you're sorry."

There was another pause, but it was his fault. If he said anything it would probably be an apology, then he'd have to apologize for apologizing and then he'd probably say something about the guy's sexy voice only to have to apologize again…

"Are you still there?"

"Sor…I mean, yes, I'm here."

"I need you to promise me something?"

Oh, that did NOT sound good. "Promise what?"

"That your little meltdown will not become a full-fledged freak out when I inform you the woman who gave you incorrect directions also gave you a bogus number. I am not a stylist nor am I meeting with anyone at 10AM."

Fuck!

But, hey! He didn't freak out. That was progress.

Blaine took a couple deep breaths and contemplated his next move. June went to some spa in Florida for a long weekend and couldn't be reached. Maybe Isabelle had heard of this stylist, but he didn't have her direct number and Kurt was in classes this morning. He'd be sent directly to voicemail. Besides, if his loving boyfriend actually answered, he'd get a lecture about either not verifying the address ahead of time (which was valid) or how he wasn't supposed to use Kurt's connections for personal gain (which was crap). He couldn't handle either right now.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

Oh yeah, answer Mr. Sexy Brit.

Stop it!

"I will be. Like I said, I have a quaint little bakery to hide in while I figure this out, as well as coffee and a cronut. I mean, I used to have a cronut. It's not my fault they're so delicious."

"I do not want to know what the hell a cro-nut is but if you feel comfortable telling me where you were meant to be, I can have my assistant find the proper address and phone number. Hopefully that will be as helpful as your pastry."

This guy has an assistant? Impressive. "My appointment is with a man named Stephan Phillips. I tried Googling…"

"Stephan Phillips, the stylist?"

Huh? "Yes, how…?"

"I've known Stephan forever. Hold on."

Blaine heard a muffled conversation, meaning Mr. Sexy Voice (guess he wasn't going stop doing that) covered the speaker on his phone. About 5 minutes later, he was back. "Annabelle contacted Stephan and he laughed, stating he could believe your plight since June was involved. One more moment…Annabelle said he said to just get there and not to worry about the time. What is the address of this quaint little bakery you are hiding in?"

"I don't know."

"Is there an employee who might?"

Blaine didn't know if he had ever been more embarrassed and that included the Gap Attack.

"I'll ask." He walked to the counter and, to prevent any further misunderstandings, had the girl behind the counter give the information directly to the mysterious Annabelle. After she handed back his phone, Blaine went to his table to await new (and correct) directions. "Are you back or are you Annabelle?"

"It is me."

Yay! "I can't decide whether you're my Knight in Shining Armor or my Fairy Godfather."

"Which would you rather be… Prince Charming or Cinderfella?"

"Absolutely the Prince Charming. My best friend's little sister thought I was a Disney prince when she first met me, but it was Prince Eric from…I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"You are but it is…charming."

"Ha Ha." He stopped any further comment when he heard a light cough next to him. It was the bakery employee holding a tray with a fresh cronut, a new cup of coffee and a shaker of cinnamon. He was impressed she remembered him putting cinnamon in his first coffee.

Wait…didn't a guy hand him his original order?

Considering he was trying to prevent turning into a blubbering idiot at the time, there was a high probability he was mistaken.

"Thank you but I didn't order these."

"They're from your Knight in Shining Armor, at least that's my vote" she answered with an all-knowing smile. "His only request was to make sure the coffee was decaf."

Blaine thanked her again before returning his attention to his phone. "You didn't have to do this but thank you, Sir Knight."

"My pleasure, Charming. I thought while we were waiting you could explain to me what this cronut concoction is. I found an image online and have yet to understand your fascination."

"What do you mean you don't understand my fascination? A cronut is the sweet, sweet love child of a donut and a croissant!"

"That, my new friend, is blasphemy. Croissants are already the perfect pastry. One does not need to bastardize them with an overly sweetened donut. When I lived in Paris…"

"You lived in Paris?"

"The majority of my life."

"But you have a sex…I mean, a British accent, not French." Good thing they weren't FaceTiming. His conversation companion couldn't see his fire-engine red blush of embarrassment.

"It is a long story."

"Are you Charming?"

Blaine looked up at the man in a driver's uniform standing next to his table. "Am I…?" It took him a moment for the question to register. "Can you wait just a moment?" When the driver nodded, he took a deep breath, once again overwhelmed. This time in a good way. "Did you send a car for me?"

"What did you believe we were waiting for?"

"Your assistant to get me the information I needed."

"Ki…Charming, Annabelle would make your life, and mine, a living hell for believing, if only for a fleeting second, it would take her longer than a minute to find basic information. The woman is terrifyingly good at her job, emphasis on terrifying."

Blaine looked to the large clock on the wall for the first time. They had been talking for over 30 minutes, but it felt like less than 10. Maybe because there were no confrontations or accusations, just light banter…with a guy who had a sexy British accent. "I'm sor...again, thank you. You must have had more important things to do today than calm a near-hysterical stranger."

"I have nothing important until later tonight and I have enjoyed our time together, as well as the mystery of our situation. My driver will take you to Stephan then wait to take you wherever you need to go next."

"That's too much."

"Not to me. It was my pleasure not meeting you Prince Charming."

Blaine shook his head but decided it was pointless to protest any further. "The pleasure was all mine, Sir Knight."

It wound up Stephan's office wasn't far from the bakery, but traffic was not cooperative. However, Joey, the driver, was incredibly friendly. So much so, he agreed to run a couple errands.

While Blaine finally tried on his "50's Glamor" themed tuxedo, Annabelle checked in with the studio. They were a few weeks from the announcement and to say things were chaotic was an understatement. The producers were thrilled with the (never acted a dayin his life) unknown they'd cast but she was far from happy with the pain in the ass. Then to make her life more difficult, some random stranger had his phone number. The new private number she had cut through miles of red tape to get. The one only 22 people outside of his management team had.

Make that 23

And why didn't the ass just say "Wrong number" and hang up? There had to be more to this.

Sebastian Smythe would never go through this much trouble for someone he didn't know.

For his grandmother…in a heartbeat. For Stephan…without question. For his Auntie…most likely (that woman was a piece of work). For the Warblers…absolutely. She was also fairly certain, after all the time they'd spent together, she and Joey made Sebastian's list. Everyone else on the planet (including his parents and the rest of his family) could go to hell.

His words

There was one possible exemption, a ghost from the past named Killer. Sebastian either had once loved him with a white-hot passion or hated him in the exact same way. She had no idea which. The only reason she was aware Killer even existed was she accidentally caught the tail end of a rather intense conversation between Sebastian, Nick and Jeff.

When she asked Niff (and then the rest of the Warblers) about Killer, every single one of them gave the same response…

If Seb wants you to know, you'll know.

She was brought out of her thoughts when Sebastian shuffled into the bedroom designated as her office and flopped onto the couch across from her desk. "Did you have a good nap?"

"Yes, Mother."

"This is a very important photoshoot tonight. It will also be a very long photoshoot. You don't need bags under your eyes."

"That's why they invented concealer."

"Smart ass!"

Annabelle couldn't help but smile at the man, who was really still a boy, stretched out in front of her. Hard to believe in less than 8 hours he would be turned from t-shirt and flannel wearing bedhead into a tuxedo wearing, debonair heartthrob. "By the way, your British accent has improved."

"There was nothing wrong with my accent to begin with."

"You sounded like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins with an actual dick in your mouth."

That woke him up. Sebastian sat up and attempted to look offended. "I was hired for this job because I'm fluent in four languages besides English and all my accents are impeccable."

"You were hired because you're pretty and snarky, just like the character. It's a bonus you speak four languages besides American. Your British accent sucks."

"Sucks dick according to you." He was able to dodge the pen flying toward him. "You know Benny and the studio would fire your ass if I went to Vogue this evening with a gash in my pretty face due to your abuse."

"Shut up."

Benny (Sebastian's manager and her boss) owed her a big fat raise for handling this brat. Ok, he wasn't a brat. More like an extremely annoying little brother who she was beginning to care about, no matter how hard she tried not to. "You want to tell me why you were talking to Wrong Number Guy using the accent?" Sebastian put his hands over his mouth causing Annabelle to roll her eyes, remembering she had told him to shut up. "You may speak."

"Practice"

Annabelle knew he was lying. Her bull shit detector was legendary. However, before she could call him out on it, Sebastian stood and began to pace. It was his tell-tale sign for I'm stressed out. "What's wrong? And don't say…nothing."

He walked to her mini-fridge and grabbed a water before retuning to the couch. "I need you to do something and you're not going to like it."

"Does this have anything to do with the guy on the phone?"

"No."

Bull Shit

Sebastian took a big swig of his water before continuing. "No one from Vogue will be able to get onto the photoshoot set unless they signed the NDA, right? Not even to bring someone something they forgot or get a coffee order?"

This was weird. The NDAs were signed weeks ago. "Yes, if they're not on the list of those who signed a NDA, they will not be allowed near the shoot. The studio wants you under wraps until they make the announcement. That's why there's such a big financial penalty for anyone who talks."

"Good. So, if there's a guy named Kurt Hummel on the list, he can't be there. If necessary, have Benny or one of the studio execs tell Vogue either Hummel's out or the shoot is cancelled. But you're much scarier than those guys so I have faith you'll get this done."

"Sebastian…"

"Anna, Hummel and I have history…a bad one. With him there, I won't be able to focus and the pictures will be shit. I'm sorry I didn't think of the possibility of him being there sooner."

He'd never asked for something like this before, meaning this truly was important to him. "I get it, Seb. Let me send a couple of quick texts."

"Thanks. I'm going to go play some video games and relax. A relaxed Sebastian is a happy Sebastian and a happy Sebastian is a pretty Sebastian."

"I'm going to rip out Benny's tongue for teaching you that."

Sebastian laughed as he left her office and Annabelle immediately got on the phone. First, she called Vogue, and though they didn't understand why she was requesting the names this close to the shoot, they agreed to send the list ASAP. Then she texted Benny to see if Sebastian had ever mentioned Hummel to him. He hadn't but her boss told her to keep him informed.

To get the information she required, Annabelle knew she'd have to go behind Sebastian's back. The photoshoot was tonight and the team couldn't go in blind.

To Warblers: I need everything you got on someone named Kurt Hummel

Hopefully, this wasn't like when she asked about Killer. Shit, what if this Hummel guy was Killer?

Within 2 minutes she had 12 responses. She assumed the rest of the guys were in class but also assumed their texts would be similar.

To Annabelle: WTF?!

Each Warbler also included expletive filled accounts of Sebastian and Hummel's mutual hatred. However, it was interesting none of them gave her the one answer she most wanted.

Why?

When the administration at Vogue emailed the list of NDA signees, they never expected an immediate response or reason behind the list in the first place. A VP of the magazine, and person who recommended Isabelle Wright's promotion to Head of Men's Wear, called her to give a heads up and explain how serious the situation was.

He felt a bit sorry for sticking her with such an unpleasant assignment on a busy day like today. Nighttime photoshoots were the worst. However, she was the one who kept rehiring her current assistant.

Meanwhile, Kurt finally arrived at work. He was already an hour behind due to Rachel drama.

How could she think "just having dinner" with Jessie St. James was a good idea?

Isabelle was usually fine when this happened (although, as usual, he blamed NYADA for his tardiness) but he'd received a cryptic email telling him to come straight to her office. He wasn't too worried. It probably had something to do with the super-secret photoshoot tonight.

Seriously, everyone working had to sign an NDA? Wasn't that a bit over the top?

Even without the message, he would've gone straight to her office. He had all sorts of questions on how June Dolloway was able to get her claws on Vintage Dior. Yes, The Bitch was supposedly important in NYC society, but she wasn't a celebrity. When he reached his destination, Isabelle's receptionist stood and announced his arrival. That was different, as he had walk-in privileges. Then when Isabell motioned for him to sit down and asked her receptionist not to allow any interruptions, Kurt's anxiety went into overdrive.

"Isabelle?"

"Kurt, I'm just going to say it. You aren't working the photoshoot tonight. I need you to go over all your duties with Jeremy since he will be filling in."

WHAT?! "I don't understand. Why?"

"There's no easy way to put this but the talent's management called and specifically requested you not be there. And Kurt, they said if you are they will cancel."

Something was off with Isabelle. She was hiding something. "So, some model has a problem with me, won't say what it is and I'm just kicked off the shoot? Isabelle, you asked me to come back as your assistant when you transferred from online to Men's Wear. You wanted me here specifically to help with events like tonight. How could you let this happen?"

"The shoot isn't with just some model. We are part of a major movie studio relaunch of a popular film franchise. It's a huge coup for our department."

"Ok, yes, I know all that, but I don't get why I can't be there. I signed the NDA. Is anyone else on the team out?"

"No and the talent's management didn't give a reason why you were removed." She walked from behind her desk to the chair next to him, taking his hand in hers. "And if they did, Robert didn't tell me." She had never lied to Kurt before. The VP told her exactly what was going on and from what she remembered of the Klaine Saga, it was best her assistant didn't find out until the last possible moment.

Kurt was still in disbelief but Isabelle looked genuinely sorry for having to do this. That helped. "Is there anything else?"

"The rest of the staff is being told if they see you in the building after 5PM, they are to report it to security immediately so you can be escorted out. Again, I'm sorry for the late notice but this came down just an hour ago. As soon as you get Jeremy up to speed you can go for the day. I'll make sure you're still paid as if you worked tonight."

Even with the direction of not interrupting, Isabelle's receptionist barged into the office. Whatever he whispered into her ear must have been important since it sent her running out of the room in 4-inch heels. While he was curious to what was happening, Kurt knew his time would be better spent manipulating his co-workers into spilling answers to his question.

Why was he singled out?

Yes, he could be a bit snippy with models when they're being divas and messing with the schedule, but this shoot was for an actor. He never worked with actors. Plus, there was the stupid NDA. Did they really think he was so stupid he'd risk the one-million-dollar penalty for breaking the damn thing?

To calm down before going out on the floor, Kurt took a couple of deep breaths and prepared himself to go instruct Jeremy…

(internal whining) Why? Why Jeremy? He was going to screw everything up!

Hmmm…maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. It would prove his value to the company so nothing like this happened again. It wasn't like he would purposefully sabotage Jeremy. He'd never do that to Isabelle.

The idiot would be able to fuck everything up on his own.

Kurt stood to locate said idiot when something caught his attention. Sitting on Isabelle's desk was a file for tonight's photoshoot. He knew he wasn't supposed to look, but he couldn't help but think the answer to what was happening to him was sitting inches away.

What was the harm?

After assuring the coast was clear, Kurt shut and locked the door before opening the file.

"No, no, no! Not him!"

This time it was Kurt running out of Isabelle's office. He had to train Jeremy and get to Mercedes's place as quickly as possible.

He didn't give a shit that it was Thursday. Blaine had some explaining to do.

An hour later, Annabelle received a message from Vogue guaranteeing Kurt Hummel wouldn't be working the photoshoot. She was also assured he'd be out of the building an hour prior to their arrival so there was no chance of an accidental run-in.

She left her office to inform Sebastian only to find him still playing a video game on the movie screen he had dropped down from the ceiling.

"Sebastian…Sebastian…Hey, Asshole!" she yelled before realizing he was wearing headphones. To be fair, this was the first time in forever he'd worn them when she was there, proving he did it just to annoy her with the noise.

Oh yeah, it was quiet. That should have been her first clue.

To get his attention, Annabelle walked in front of the screen. "Hey! I was almost finished with that level. You got me killed!"

"Excuse me if I thought you'd want to know Hummel has been taken off the shoot staff for tonight."

A sense of relief visibly washed over him. "Oh yeah, ok. Thanks."

Your instincts were right to have me check. He's the personal assistant to Isabelle Wright, Director of Men's Wear. It was probably his job to greet us on our arrival."

Before Sebastian could respond, Joey entered the room with a shit-eating grin on his face and carrying a wicker basket with a blue and white checked gingham cloth covering the contents.

Annabelle practically growled "What…did…you…do...this...time?"

The driver's smile somehow got even bigger. "Nothing, and the basket isn't for you. It's for Sir Knight." He placed the basket on the coffee table in front of Sebastian. "Charming said to read the note first."

Sebastian was so surprised he was frozen, unable to take his eyes off the basket. "Bl…Charming sent this?"

"Yeah, he wanted to say thank you, but has no idea who you are, or where you live, or anything else about you. So, I agreed to run some errands while he was with Stephan."

"You left him alone with Stephan?"

"It would have been suspicious if I didn't and I gave Stephan a head's up not to mention you by name."

Annabelle cut Joey off before he could say anything else. "Sebastian, Joey told you he helped Charming with the basket because he didn't know who you were. Remember, you hid your natural voice with the British accent."

"Which Charming accidently let slip that he thought it was sexy." Annabelle slapped the driver across the arm and mouthed Not helping. "What? I thought everyone would be happy to hear that. Aren't the movie guys going through all this trouble with the announcement because they think fans will get their panties in a twist because Seb is only one-quarter British? If he at least sounds…"

Sebastian turned to the man in total disbelief. "You really think people are going to give a shit I'm only one-quarter British when they find out I'm gay?"

Annabelle slapped Joey again, but this time he knew he deserved it. "Seb…"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to open my gift in private."

"Of course" Annabelle grabbed Joey by his sore arm and drug him to her office. "What the hell was that all about?"

"I'm sorry. What I said was stupid and I'll talk to Seb later. Right now we have a much bigger problem. Charming is Blaine Anderson."

Annabelle gasped and fell back onto the couch. "Blaine Anderson? Blaine Anderson! Slushie to the eye, needed surgery…Blaine Anderson? The worst thing I've done in my life and I've done some shit the tabloids will love…Blaine Anderson? This is the last thing we need! That guy could ruin everything!"

Joey shushed her, afraid she was getting so loud Sebastian would hear her in the other room. "Don't jump to conclusions. Blaine was a really sweet guy. If nothing else, I have his number and know where he lives."

"You got his number?"

"Yeah, I bought booze for him since he's old enough."

"He's not old enough to buy alcohol? Please tell me he's not underage."

"Calm down, he's 19 but his birthday is in a couple of months. He's the same age as Seb. I'm going to call Benny and tell him Anderson is here in NYC. You try to get the real story. Do you think the guys will help with this?"

"I already had to use them today for information on something else. I don't know if I've overstepped."

"Did they help you out?"

"Yes, even Trent."

"I thought he didn't want to be on the Warbler list."

"He's not. Nick linked my text to him and he answered on his own."

"Holy shit! What did you ask?"

"I'll tell you once you call Benny and I find out if the Warblers know anything about Blaine Anderson."

Joey left to make his call and Annabelle sent her text. It was the second time that day she went behind Sebastian's back. She had a feeling it could come back to haunt her.

To Warblers: Blaine Anderson

There was no barrage of texts. This time there was only one. It was from the last Warbler he expected.

From Wes: Meet me at the coffee shop across the street from the west entrance of Columbia. 1 hour. Come alone.

In the living room, Sebastian had yet to open the note, instead he'd been running his fingers over the immaculate handwriting. A handwriting he recognized from the past. A handwriting he thought he had forced himself to forget.

Just read the damn note, Smythe!

My dearest Sir Knight,

First of all, do not be upset with Joey. I can be pretty persuasive when I want. My best friend says one of my superpowers is having "puppy-dog eyes of doom". I flutter my eyelashes and people fall under my spell. My friend exaggerates but I'll admit I do pull them out when I deem necessary.

I wanted to thank you but knew you would, one…say it wasn't necessary or, two…insist it wasn't necessary.

But my dear, dear Sir Knight, it was.

When I called you by mistake, I was drowning. The universe has chosen me as its punching bag the past few months and today was the final blow. I was crying (I am a grown, almost 20 year-old man. I know I'm pathetic) in a random bakery with random strangers trying to be polite and ignore my meltdown. Then suddenly there was you. The voice of reason who not only calmed me but somehow made everything right.

So, once again, but I promise for the final time, THANK YOU.

Ok, now for the fun part! Take the gingham off.

Sebastian did as the note said and when he did he laughed harder than he had in forever. Sitting on top of yet another gingham cloth was a box of cronuts.

You cannot go through life without cronuts, stop being such a pastry snob. However, to experience the full joy of eating one you MUST have coffee with it. Remove the other cloth.

Sebastian removed the box and second cloth before letting out an audible gasp. He went back to the note for an explanation.

I know you're British but you said you spent a lot of your life in Paris and it reminded me of someone. I once had a friend who had also lived there. One of the first things we did after we met was go to coffee. He asked the barista to put in a shot of Courvoisier. He told me when he lived in Paris, he drank it like mother's milk.

He lifted the bottle of alcohol from the basket. Of course, it was his favorite brand.

What you must understand about this story is we were 16 year-olds living in Ohio. Ohio is nothing like Paris or even NYC, so this was pretty out there. What I never told him was I thought it was amazing. He was amazing.

I miss him…a lot

I think the reason I thought of him (besides Paris) is because I'm sad I lost him and now I'm sad I'm losing you. The mystery was fun but I understand it was for a reason. It wasn't hard to figure out. Not only is your phone number private, both Joey and Stephan were careful not to mention your name.

So, my dear dear Sir Knight, this is my way of saying I respect your privacy and will delete your number.

I will always remember you fondly.

Forever grateful,

Your Charming

He heard the doorbell ring but it didn't register he had a guest until Stephan plunked himself down beside him. "Sorry, I couldn't wait until after the photoshoot."

"Let me guess. You're here to tell me Charming is Blaine."

Stephan stared at his cousin (technically 2nd cousin) in disbelief. "How? How did you know?"

Sebastian pulled out his phone, opening it to a certain screen and handed it to him without saying a word. On the screen was a picture of a younger Sebastian and Blaine shaking hands, with the letter B and Blaine's number across the top.

"It was the first day we met. He asked if I was a Freshman and I laughed. That was my first genuine smile since my parents shipped me off to America to punish Nana. Thad took the picture saying we'd want it someday to show our children. He never liked Hummel. Something to do with mocking."

"Ok, but didn't Annabelle scrub most of your contacts for the new phone?"

"I deleted it before I gave her my old phone then put it on when I got this. Not like I didn't have it memorized. Thought maybe he'd call after he sees the announcement."

"When did you realize if he still had your number, it wouldn't be this one?"

Sebastian snatched his phone back and sunk into the couch. "Three days later. When did you realize your grandmother is behind everything that happened today?"

"The second I hung up with Annabelle. And before you ask, I didn't tell you Grandma June's latest project was named Blaine because I didn't want to upset you. If I'd known his last name was Anderson, then I would've told you. What I don't understand is how Grandma June knew about Blaine in the first place. This can't all be a coincidence."

"Are you kidding me? The only person outside of you and the Warblers who knows the whole story…"

"Oh, my God! Your Nana!"

"Yup, my Nana. Cousin, I'm going to need your help figuring out what the hell the Terror Twins are up to."

"What's our first move?"

Sebastian picked up his beautifully handwritten note and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe cronuts will help."

Notes:

I saw a video once where several British actors were asked a series of short questions. One was something along the lines of "Who had the worst British accent on film?" 99% of them said Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.