Skin On Skin

Chapter 1

Kurt gazed around him. He still didn't know what he was doing at the concert. The arena was packed, not a single seat had been left empty, and everywhere he looked, all he could see was fan-crazed men and women of all ages, standing and dancing along to the music pulsating around them. Kurt gazed back to the stage, afraid of missing something and stumbled to the left as an eager fan pushed past him to get closer to the front. He rubbed the side of his arm angrily but let it pass. He was happy with the spot he had.

His fingers played nervously with the VIP pass that he had around his neck. He wasn't even a Blaine Anderson fan, but for the sake of fandoms the world all over and for the sake of his best friend, Mercedes Jones, he had gone. So there he was at a Blaine Anderson concert. He shook his head at his own out-of-character actions. It was all Mercedes' fault, that's who he would put the blame on, yes, Mercedes.

"You go! Go and enjoy," she had said to him with so much scorn that he had to give her a hug. "I'm sick of seeing you moping around here since you broke up with Mark. You need to go out and have a little fun for a change." He had glared at her but had refused to comment. He had tried to pass up the prize to her, but she had a family commitment that she couldn't get out of. In fact, it appeared that none of his close friends could go. Even Finn, who still wouldn't have gone if he was free, was busy due to work.

He had called up the radio station on a whim. He hadn't even known what he was calling for. He had only heard the question, and when the radio announcer had restated what prize the correct caller would get, he had been too busy dialing the station's phone number.

"Rihanna!" He had blurted into the phone, not even knowing if had gotten through to the right section.

"Congratulations! You've just won yourself a VIP pass with a 'Meet and Greet' with Blaine Anderson at his concert one week from today."

Kurt had nearly dropped the phone. At the very least, if he was answering a question about Rihanna, he would have thought he was going to get a prize that had something to do with Rihanna... not Blaine Anderson.

But then, he couldn't stop laughing at himself. Blaine Anderson, the formidable rock star that Mercedes always went on about. Yeah, sure enough, he had heard some of his songs and he could recognize him if someone pointed him out in a magazine, but heck, it wasn't like he swooned over they guy or anything. In reality, he didn't mind the bad boy, rocker image though, and Blaine Anderson sure did have the act down well. But there was just something about Blaine Anderson that put Kurt off. Maybe it was the way he posed in front of the cameras, or the way he answered questions; they always seemed memorized and too politically correct for a so-called rock star. Or maybe it was the way how every week Blaine Anderson was being caught and photographed with a different man or woman.

So maybe Kurt had lied a little. Maybe he was more than aware of Blaine Anderson and had been unconsciously keeping tabs on the guy. It was his secret guilty pleasure. He just wasn't the type of fan though, to go screaming and crying just like the girl who was standing next to him right at that very moment.

His VIP pass had also scored him a spot right down at the front, and he had to admit, he had a great view of the sweaty, muscly, brown haired man only a short distance away. He chided himself and told his alter ego to calm down, because Kurt Hummel was all about control, self-control. But despite himself, Kurt was enjoying it.

It was all an elaborate act. Blaine Anderson really did know how to work an audience and Kurt was more than impressed with the way he successfully flirted, swooned and joked with his fans. He jumped and screamed his lyrics on one side of the stage, bending down and shaking his short mass of curls and allowing drops of his sweat to fall on the flailing guys and girls beneath him. He then ran to the other side of the stage where he pretended to beat out to the drums, his pelvis pulsing in time with the beat and sending the crowd into even more of a furor. At the end of that particular number, he even caught a woman's bra that had been thrown onto stage and cheered, holding it high above his head before he brought it to his nose and breathed deeply.