"All right. Next!" Blaine shouted into the auditorium. He huffed and sat back in his chair as the bald man next to him reached over and squeezed his arm.

"We're going to find you someone," he said.

With a deep sigh, Blaine reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but when? We've been at this for nearly a week Aaron. A week of lackluster audition after lackluster audition. How am I supposed to find the perfect partner when these people can hardly perform a stunt?"

This audition wasn't a normal acrobat audition. This audition literally held life and death in the palm of its hand. Blaine Anderson was an acrobat for a traveling circus, but he was more than that. He was a rock. Every circus had some sort of contortionist, a trapeze, clowns and jugglers, but this show was special. Blaine was special. Because one of the centerpieces of this show was the highlight of the strength and balance routine. A center stage event in which the two performers used their strength, often very different weights, and trust to perform. Until recently, Blaine performed an explosive routine with another male. As the fly, they moved effortlessly from move to move as his rock supported him.

Now Blaine was the rock looking for his fly. And the show producers didn't want a bunch of fancy flips and twists anymore. This routine would be different. Sensual. Slow. Provocative. A study in grace, trust, and intimacy through the meticulous movements from position to position. Instead of exploding strength, they would be softer. Every breath felt on each other's face. Every muscle strain as Blaine balanced his partner above him letting them turn, twist and split. One hand supporting the partner as Blaine arched back, parallel to the floor as they extended completely in front of him. Balancing his partner on his back using nothing but their shoulders pressed together, one wrong move sending the fly crashing onto their head.

It was a dangerous act and the two partners would need to be completely in sync, knowing every quiver of the other's body, every micro expression on their face. But in order to get that trust there had to be chemistry. There had to be a spark of instant connection.

"My name's Kurt Hummel and I'll be auditioning for the role of acrobat," a soft voice spoke from the stage. Blaine started a little and looked up, his eyes instantly locked on the lithe frame of the man in front of him.

"Sir, I'm sorry but—"

"No. Let him," Blaine said holding a hand in front of his colleague as he sat mesmerized.

A couple of seconds later soft music came on and Kurt began to move. At first he was jerky, nervous, but it only took a few moments before Kurt lost himself to the music.

The man was extraordinary. Blaine'd never seen anyone throw themselves into a routine like this before. The way he moved, his twists, his flips. He was it. "That's him," Blaine whispered.

"But Sarge said he didn't want another male male explosion routine. He said he wanted something soft and sensual."

"Do you see that?" Blaine hissed as he looked back at him, pointing at Kurt. "That is poetry in motion. Put paint on his feet and put him on a canvas. He is the one. I can make that routine work with him, and it'll be ground breaking. You'll see."

"But you're a rock, Blaine. He's bigger than you are! Those twists are powerful."

"And I'll teach him how to soar."