Well... this isn't Lie to Me, either. But it's a start. I got the idea to collide Heroes and Glee, and then it turned into an analysis of how things could have been with different characters.

Blaine is a very Lyle-like character, constantly in his stepsister's (Quinn's) shadow. Quinn is the favored child, and her ability draws little notice. HRG (Noah Bennet "Fabray") is fiercely protective of his daughter and overlooks his stepson. Kurt takes Sylar's place, if things were just a little different.

This really is a worlds-collide thing. There's no way to accurately describe it. You'll just have to wait and see how it all plays out. Also posted on my Tumblr, where I was asked by the lovely abbraci if I would put it up here.

Special thanks to blaineywainey, who told me to forget my coursework and write fic. Who knew that this crack-ish idea would take such a psychological turn.

This will be told in cycling points of view in no particular order.


"Blaine Anderson-Fabray-yyy!" A familiar voice tinged with a sing-song southern drawl called to him, discernible despite the fact that its owner lived two floors above him. "Hurry up, lil' brother, or Coach Sue and Coach Beiste will chew us up and spit us out before we get on the field!"

"Jus' a minute, Quinn!" Blaine replied, voice cracking under the heavy weight of his anxiety, jumping in place to pull a pair of well-worn jeans over the top of red-and-white uniform pants, matching top already hidden beneath an off-season sweatshirt. He was going to bake in the hot Texas sunlight, but that was a fair price to pay, so long as his stepfather didn't see him in his uniform for the Union McKinley High School Cheerios.

Noah Fabray was a stern man, a veteran of some sort of government force that Blaine didn't quite have the courage to ask about. All Blaine knew was that, after what had happened with his own father, there was no way he was going to make the same mistake twice. To this very day, he still blamed himself for his father walking out on he and his mother. He'd been terrified his mother would never find anyone else to make her happy—but then, well, along came the Fabray family, Quinn's mother having passed away a few years prior and Noah catching his mother's eye, and the rest, as they day, was history.

His mother had begged him to lie low about his condition, as she liked to call it. Blaine didn't really see a problem with that, as he was ashamed of it enough, himself.

Blaine wasn't so keen on being a part of the Cheerios, but Union McKinley High School didn't have any arts programs, and Blaine was a musician, born and bred. And if the only sort of music and performance he could come across was as an undercover male cheerleader, then he would take what he could get.

He let Noah believe that he was on the football team. He didn't care enough for details, only cared that his precious daughter Quinn was happy, and that was that. Blaine would drive her in for afternoon cheer practices, and Noah never asked any questions.

Quinn was nice enough, though, and even though her long-time boyfriend, Noah Puckerman—known mainly as Puck to avoid confusion—was one of the most well-known bullies in school, he loved Quinn enough to go along with whatever she said—including leaving her stepbrother in peace, and mentioning Blaine in conjunction with the school football team every once in a while. It was more than enough to keep everyone happy.

Well, everyone but Blaine.

He loved Quinn, he really did. She was pretty and sweet and fiercely protective of him, but he knew that, after she graduated next year, things were going to be hell. There would be no Quinn to look after him, no Puck to keep the other jocks off his back, no one to distract his stepfather, with his sharp eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses, from Blaine's condition.

Not for the first time, Blaine wished he could have lived anywhere else but a suburban town in Bible Country, Texas.

Maybe then, his mother would see the problem of his almost-instant healing from any wound as more of a condition than the fact that he liked boys.