No Other Superstar

Plot Summary- Kurt doesn't have a date for senior prom so on a dare, he posts a YouTube video asking his favorite singer, Blaine Anderson, to go to prom with him. He's surprised when Blaine says yes, and even more so when after talking with Kurt about his experiences at school, promises to make it the best night of his life.

Note: Alright so, I might be crazy. I'm already juggling three stories (two I update fairly regularly) and now I'm taking on a fourth? But once again, the idea struck me and I couldn't get it out of my head. That being said, I might not update this quite as much as my other stories (and if I do, it might be in shorter chapters). The story is based off the marines who invited Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis to their Marine Corps Ball. So keeping in mind that Blaine is suppose to be famous in this, Kurt might seem a bit fanboyish in this but I do intend to try and keep him in character. Of course, criticism and advice welcome, flames—please no. So, with that all said—hope you enjoy :)

Also….Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it's characters, or any of the celebrities or songs mentioned in this story. It'd be pretty kick ass if I did though… Also, the song title comes from Lady Gaga's song Paparazzi, which again, I do not own.

()

It began at a sleepover. With three questions. Who? What? Where?

"Channing Tatum. Suntan lotion. At the beach. Think shiny skin and a happy Mercedes." Everyone around the room gives an appreciative nod at Mercedes confession. Not a bad picture, Kurt concedes, the part with Channing Tatum that is. Kurt imagines he could just sit around and admire for a little bit and then once the kissing starts, excuse himself to the nearest bar and let that picture weld into his mind. It was a tradition—every third Saturday of the month, the New Direction girls (plus Kurt) got together and had a slumber party in Rachel's Berry's basement. It was that awkward phase where it was too late to play nice but Rachel's dad's hadn't gone to bed, so they couldn't start drinking either. So they played one of the games they had invented on the plane to New York last year. Who? What? Where? In which you picked a celebrity you'd have sex with, one item to use before and during, and where you'd sleep with them. "Okay, who's next?"

"Um, me!" Santana declares loudly, wearing a nightgown that might has well be lingerie. She's got a quiver in her legs and a roll in her voice as she speaks. "Britney Spears. A can of whip cream, and she can opps! do it again to me anywhere she wants…." Santana licks her lips. "Wanky."

Brittany tilts her head and leans her head on Santana's shoulder. "When did I get famous?"

"No, Britney Spears." Tina tries to correct.

Brittany gives Tina a confused look. "Tina um…I don't know, some kind of Japanese last name."

"What? I'm Korean." Kurt just pats Tina's shoulder.

"Don't even try unless you have a few shots in you first." He advises, remembering how difficult it had been to explain to Brittany that no, Leonardo DiCaprio wasn't on the actual Titanic. Santana snaps her fingers quickly.

"Hey Porcelain, it's your turn."

Kurt blushes. Most of the girls in this room have lost their virginities. He actually takes a second to count and holy hell; all of the girls in this room have popped their cherries. Thanks very much non-existent god for letting Rachel Berry in her ugly kitten pajamas get laid. Even Sugar Motta got some action this year—good for Rory he supposed but now he's the only virgin in the whole house. "Um, come back to me."

"Nah-uh, everyone else has already gone." Rachel was all too quick to point out. Kurt sent Rachel his trademark bitch-glare—unfortunately, it had little effect on the girl by this point and she laughed instead. "Come on, everyone already knows what the answer is so just spit it out!"

"I don't know what the answer is, so don't spoil it!" Tina giggles, leaning forward on the floor. "Come on Kurt!"

Kurt flips his hair pretending not to care. Inside, he's trying not to blush. "Alright fine…Blaine Anderson."

"Knew it!" Kurt intensifies his glare at Rachel. This time, she shrinks just a bit. He clears his throat and continues.

"Blaine Anderson. An Adele C.D. and…in a field of lilacs I guess." Kurt finishes. Santana clicks her tongue.

"I didn't know you were so kinky Hummel, I can only imagine what the C.D. would be for…" She says. Okay, now Kurt can't fight it anymore. He's turning red from head to toes thank to Santana's horrible horrible suggesting.

"To play while we're having sex, Satan."

Santana laughs. "Oh sure it was, and the whip cream was just so Britney and I could make sundaes."

Tina tilts her head in confusion. "Um, I'm sorry but who's Blaine Anderson?"

Every eye in the room turns to Tina and almost every mouth drops to the floor. Mercedes manages to breath a 'hell no'. Kurt ponders just what kind of a miserable life Tina has lead until this point. Answer: extremely miserable if she hasn't felt the power of that which is 'the' Blaine Anderson.

Sugar Motta is the first to break the silence. "You don't know who Blaine Anderson is?" She shrieks in disbelief. "Blaine Anderson. As in lead singer of The Warblers."

"Who did an amazing duet at the Grammy's last year with Katy Perry, and whose solo album top charts consistently and has been all we could talk about." Mercedes added.

"And who will be fathering my beautiful and musically talented babies." Everyone slowly turned to Rachel who just shrugged. "What? Like Finn will know."

Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "Rachel aside, have you lived under a rock these past three weeks? His songs been on the radio almost non-stop."

Kurt sighed and pushed himself up. "Rachel just...go get your laptop." Rachel jumps up and glides up the stairs with impressive speed. Kurt walks over to his backpack and digs through it for his iPod. When it retrieves it, he walks over and grabs Rachel's iBoom from the stage and brings it to the circle. "Tina, why exactly are we friends?"

Santana chuckles. "Yeah Tina. Haven't you been around Hummel and his constant boner for anything Anderson related?"

Tina and Kurt blush some more. "Well, I just thought maybe it was a kid at school. I've been so busy with Mike lately…"

"…That you've forgotten how to remain pop culture relevant?" Kurt cuts her off before switching to one of his favorite songs. A cover of Teenage Dream Blaine released with The Warblers.

"Oh! That's Blaine? I've heard this song before!" Tina declares. Kurt mummers 'thank god for small miracles' as Rachel comes racing down the steps with her laptop and handful of bobby pins.

"Both my dads are asleep so we can get into the liquor cabinet. Anyone remember how?"

"I do. One of the things about semi-dating Puck that you can't help but learn." Quinn stated getting up. Rachel gave the laptop to Kurt before following them over to the cabinet. Kurt's fingers quickly typed Blaine's name into the Google images search bar and then motioned for Tina to come over.

She came besides him just as a variety of images came up—a variety of Blaine Anderson and his god-like hotness. In one picture, he's brushing his dark curls away and staring out into space with his large hazel eyes. The next, his crossing his arms over his strong, slightly hairy but in the most perfect way chest, with a dazzling smile that just says Hi, I'm a rock star, and you want to sleep with me. "Oh, he's cute!"

"Uh no. Cute is what you call Lady Lips over here's attempt to be straight. Blaine Anderson almost makes me want to give guys a try again." Santana stated. Brittany looked up at her.

"I don't know…I don't like Blaine's hair. Plus, Kurt as really smooth lips."

"Um thanks, I think?" Kurt murmurs, catching a photo of Blaine he had posted on Twitter two weeks ago. It was a fundraiser for a 14-year-old kid who had killed himself due to bullying. Blaine, as an out and proud musician and supporter of the LGBT community, showed up and made an extremely generous donation to the cause. Money that would be funded to help change policies against bullying in schools and provide homes for LGBT kids with nowhere else to go. In his videos, in his performances, and in interviews, you can tell that's he's just a nice guy in public and in private and it makes him all the more attractive.

And he's just so much better in person. For his birthday last year, Burt had bought them (him, Kurt, Rachel, and Mercedes) tickets to go see the Warblers when they performed at a close enough location. It was the best present ever because seriously, it took one hell of a father to take his gay son and best friends to go see a concert that's not quite John Mellencamp, and B. he was going to get to hear all his favorite songs played by his all time favorite artist. He wasn't disappointed. Blaine had come out and performed his heart out. Moving along the stage and giving everyone as much attention as he possibly could. Most people said the old cliché 'he was singing that song to me' but in a way, it felt more incredible to think Blaine was singing that song to each person in the audience all at once—but each person getting a unique experience. Even though in the far left, back-middle in the audience, seeing Blaine in person was just…unbelievable. Every picture he clipped out of a magazine, Kurt knew was Photoshop and altered but he'd be damn if Blaine wasn't just gorgeous even from a distance.

Needless to say, the entire car ride home (and several weeks after) the only words that came out of Kurt, Rachel, or Mercedes mouth were lyrics to a Blaine Anderson song.

Soon after Quinn broke open the lock to the liquor cabinet, the party was finally able to go into full swing. When Mr. and Mr. Berry were out of the house, the kids got a little riskier with their drinking, tonight however, everyone watched their alcohol very carefully, only drinking enough to get a buzz and for Kurt, that equated to about one or two drinks at most. Rachel might have over-estimated her drinking abilities as soon she was pulling Kurt up from his spot and ordering him to start dancing.

"Think of it as practicing for prom!" She said as a more fast-paced Warbler's song came on. Kurt shook his head and smirked.

"I'm not going..."

"Wait, hold up, you're not?" Mercedes shrieked. Kurt cursed himself silently. He should have expected this reaction. "Why the hell not? How can you of all people turn down a chance to wear your best clothes and dance? "

Kurt shrugged. "I don't have a date." last year; he went because everyone promised him he wouldn't be lonely and that while each of them had a date, they'd spend more time as a group. It turned out Kurt had been everyone's third wheel. It was either him, Sam and Mercedes or it was him, Finn and Quinn, or it was him, Rachel and Jesse. He really didn't have much of an interest in being the odd man out with the and's this year. Ideally, he wanted to be part of his own, but Lima, Ohio was short on out gays and Kurt was fairly sure he was the only one at McKinley. "Some how, slow dancing with myself under a crystal ball with NSYNC playing in the background doesn't appeal to me."

Santana took on his very calculating look. "Speaking of NSYNC, didn't some chick get Justin Timberlake to go with her to a marine ball by asking him on YouTube?"

"What? Like after that one marine asked Mila Kunis to go with him?" Quinn recalled. Kurt slowed his dancing with Rachel down so he could look at Santana.

"What exactly are you getting at Satan? Are you suggesting I ask Justin Timberlake to my prom?"

"As awesome as that would be, he's too old to go. Blaine Anderson on the other hand…" Santana smirked. "…He just turned 21 not that long ago, didn't he? He's still within the age limit."

Kurt started chuckling. The idea of asking Blaine Anderson to prom? Almost as funny as asking Justin Timberlake. Santana's nostrils flared and Kurt realized…"You're serious? You want me to make a video for YouTube asking Blaine freaking Anderson to prom? Have you had too much to drink?"

"Oh lighten up, Hummel! Surely crazier things have happened in our little group alone than Blaine Anderson coming to our prom."

"Of course, I'm just drawing blanks right now." Kurt said with an eye-roll. "He wouldn't come Santana because he surely has better things to do with his time than escort a teenager to the prom."

"I don't know." Rachel said, suddenly stopping her movement. Kurt raised his eyebrow at her. "He's always seemed really nice when it's come to his fans. He answers questions on Twitter a lot when he can and you've seen how many fans have posted pictures online with him."

"And he's really big in playing a part in the LGBT community." Mercedes pointed out. "Maybe if you mentioned how close minded McKinley is and how you're like the only out gay kid there, he'd want to take you."

"Oh please, I'm not going to throw a pity party for myself in the unlikely hopes that Blaine Anderson will take me to prom!" Kurt huffed, pulling away from Rachel and deciding to pour himself one more drink. "I can't believe any of you—well, I can believe it out of you and Rachel." He said pointing at Santana before placing the cap back on the vodka. "But Mercedes how can you possibly think this is a good idea?"

Mercedes shrugged. "How do you know it's a bad one?"

"Because he might actually see it." Kurt hissed. Santana stood up, and crossed her arms.

"You know what your problem is Lady Lips? You don't take risks. You won't talk to the coffee boy at the Lima Bean because 'he might not be gay'… My gaydar was off the charts on him! And run for the hills if wear anything less than three layers."

Kurt took a long gulp of his drink; try to keep himself calm despite Santana's words. "And what would call coming out to that whole homophobic school? Playing it safe? What exactly is your point?"

She wags her finger at him and said in a low voice. "My point is if you have any balls at all, you'll go deep and ask Blaine Anderson to prom. And as a sign of good faith, if you post the video and he doesn't respond by prom or he says no? I'll side with you guys on that Sound of Music week you all are always bitching about." Kurt 'hmmed'. The offer was intriguing. Since sophomore year, he had been pushing for a Sound of Music week but had out voted again and again. The vote was almost even most of the time meaning that Santana's support may be enough to finally push for it. "But if you do and he says yes…"

"As unlikely as that is…"

"Then you have to do a favor for me. No questions ask and you don't get to know about it." Santana stated simply. That was less appealing. Last time Santana had won a bet like that it ended with Puck shaving off his Mohawk. "Come on, if I'm right, you get to go to prom with a celebrity, If you're right, you get to sing songs from your favorite crappy musical. What do you have to lose?"

It was a valid point. The very worst possible thing that could happen was that Blaine would think he was weird but even if he did, he was bound to forget about it over time. He probably wouldn't even take the time to learn Kurt's name. Besides, chances were Blaine Anderson would never even see the video. Kurt could just pass it off as a stupid mistake while singing 'Favorite Things'.

Santana smiled, realizing she had him convinced. "Berry, grab me that laptop." Kurt had a bad feeling about this. He felt a little bit like he had just sold his soul to Satan for the chance to meet Blaine Anderson.

()

The bus was about halfway to Austin, Texas; the next venue on Blaine Anderson's tour. The little apartment on wheels had become more of a home to Blaine than he could have possibly imagined and he did his best to make it so. Posters of Roxxy Music, Katy Perry, Michael Jackson lined the walls along with three guitars he affectionately called his babies. He had a leather couch that sat across from a large screen T.V. (he never missed a football game or a chance to get some game time no matter how rare that might be). A small kitchen nearby with all the essentials plus the many hiding places Blaine had kept for his sweet tooth. He always made sure he had a package of Red Vines near by in case the ache got too much. Finally in the back, he had a king size bed facing yet another t.v./DVD player. Above his bed, he had a bookcase filled with his favorite books and DVD's and off to the side, kept a little lap keyboard in case a song came to him in the middle of the night.

Sure, he could fly on airplanes and get somewhere faster—but they were so impersonal and had a terrible effect on the environment. And there was just something so lonely about sleeping in hotel rooms night after night, and after a scare in which he found a fan lying naked in his bed; he decided his bus was really a lot safer.

Besides, he loved watching the scenery pass him by as he thought of the next rock n roll hit. It reminded him that while yes, his dreams had come true, compared to the outside world; he was still an insignificant being on this great big earth. But his own world was busy—especially the virtual one. He had to make updates to his various social media sights and his own personal blog.

As much as he loved his job (and who wouldn't love creating music and making the world a better place through it) he was tired. Blaine was grateful that after a few more venues, he'd be taking a short three-week break before finishing the rest of his tour over the summer. Come Fall, he'd go back to the studio with The Warblers to record another album and spend a lot of time doing interviews to promote said album. Lots to do. Very little time, but Blaine wouldn't dream of anything else. Hell, he'd be happy if he was still playing at any dingy, broken down club that would even allow their presence. Playing music and having people hear it was great. Having people love it? Just icing on the cake.

And he loved his fans. Truly did. In high school, he had been alienated and pushed around for being gay. Times were hard and he definitely felt like sometimes it wasn't worth his time. But now he got to share his story and help other kids like him—he got to tell them what he wish he could have told himself years ago 'You're not alone and you are loved'. So many people had supported him. It filled him with joy any time someone told him he had inspired them and that they were proud of him because he had waited his entire life to hear those words. Of course occasionally, a hate group or critics would judge him and still call him names, but when he felt like he had an army behind him (an albeit sometimes crazy but overall well-being army) it was hard for their words to hurt him.

'On my way to Austin. I hear the stars at night are big and bright.' Blaine tweeted and shook his head. His creative mind was slipping. Really, that was all he had intended to do before he raided his stock of Red Vines when a tweet posted at him caught his eye.

'Take my boy to prom or I'll go Lima Heights on you BlaineAnderson' Blaine tilted his head in confusion. He had heard a lot of threats in his life, but he had never once been threatened with 'Lima Heights'. Lima actually wasn't that far from his hometown Westerville, which was why it caught his interest. Below it was a link to a video on YouTube.

He was hash tagged and tweeted at all the time (and as much as he would like to, he simply can't answer every single one), but he was rarely sent a link to a video. The word Prom had intrigued him as well. He didn't go to any of his Proms in High School and the only dance he had gone to was the Sadie Hawkins dance—and that night had ended with him and his date getting beaten within an inch of their lives. After that, Blaine transferred over to Dalton Academy where they had a zero-tolerance policy but no dances or Proms. It was actually there that he met his fellow band mates (Nick, Jeff, David, and Thad with Wes acting as manager and Trent on sound) and they had decided to name their band after their acapella group in school. Blaine never really missed going to prom but decided since his interest had already been caught, he clicked the link.

The video loaded and soon the vision of a beautiful looking boy came into view. Hair styled in the most perfect fashion Blaine had ever seen (even his professional hair and style people couldn't make his mane that nice), pale skin that seemed free of oils or marring marks, and perhaps most interesting—glasz eyes that shifted color even in the poor light quality of the video. The boy appeared nervous and shy as he sat on the bed of a heavily decorated Broadway room. Blaine could appreciate Broadway musicals as much as the next person but it did seem like this boy over did it. His blush distracted the rock star from that little fact. Music was going on outside the door but was muffled enough that Blaine could hear him when he spoke.

"Um hi…" Oh wow. He didn't realize a man's voice could go that high. It wasn't weird though—in fact, his voice sounded so whimsical and full of harmony. Like a harp or flute. "So um, Mr. Anderson but I'm a huge fan of you…which must be weird for you to hear since you have no idea who I am. My name is Kurt Hummel and quite honestly, I'm doing this on a bet."

He looked panicked. "Not that I wouldn't want you to go. God yes, I would want you to, I mean it'd be cool ugh…now I sound like a stalker who buys your hair on eBay and plans to clone you. I swear I'm not! I'm just some kid from Ohio with no date to his prom. Unfortunately, one of the many downsides to being the only gay in school and well, living in a Ohio."

Blaine felt his heart sink a little bit. Yeah, he knew a thing or two about that. Kurt as he had introduced himself, blew a piece of hair out of his face. "I'm sorry. Even if you never see this—which I doubt you will—I should have made this more awesome for you. You know, flash mob in the back dancing to your favorite song, a bouquet of flowers, maybe at a park or a mall instead of in this room where it looks like the place Strawberry Shortcake and Holly Hobbie come to hook up." Blaine chuckled. Kurt smiled for just a second before it faded to a frown. "So…enough rambling. Blaine Anderson, will you go to prom with me? I hope you'll say yes but I know how busy you are…and I don't mean I know your schedule I mean that in like you're Blaine Anderson. Just you know, no pressure…though if you want to go, I needed to know what you're wearing—not like, in a stalkerish way but in a 'I-need-to-color-coordinate' sort of way and…Santana, shut it off for the love of Gaga!"

The video stops. Blaine leans back and considers the motion. He's actually shocked at himself for thinking about it. On one hand, he hated dances, and going to a high school Prom might remind him of the night he got beaten up. On the other hand—despite how nervous he was, this Kurt kid seemed like a great guy. Blaine could certainly identify with him and having to face coming out alone. His date had transferred almost immediately after the incident, his parents didn't exactly understand- at least his dad didn't, and his brother was too busy with his own life to help Blaine through it. He was by himself for the most part. It must suck to go to what should be the most unforgettable night of your life and have no one to share it with. It wasn't like it'd be too out of his way to go—it would likely be in late May which would fall with in his break and he could stay with his parents (they had been bugging him to make a visit anyway) during.

And maybe it would be his chance at self-redemption. Some people called him a hero—but considering how he ran away, Blaine didn't feel like one. This way, he could help keep prom fun and safe for Kurt and make up for all the years he had avoided his past. How many times had he asked for that chance?

That was the deciding factor. Blaine pulled out his phone and dialed Wes in his contacts. "Blaine? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

No he didn't, but now that he looked—nearly 1:30 in the morning. "Sorry." Blaine sheepishly said. Wes sighed.

"Well, what it is? Don't tell me Jeff made another inappropriate tweet after that talk I had with him…"

Blaine laughed. "Sorry, can't blame Jeff for this one. I just…I had a favor I was hoping you could do for me….later today that is." Wes sighed into the phone.

"And what is this favor oh royal highness?"

"Wes please, sovereign will do fine and…" Blaine bit his lip, knowing he'd have to explain this in full immediately after. "I need you to find me the number of Kurt Hummel of Lima, Ohio and the name of a good tux place."