Cheats

Summary: Blaine knows that something's up. Kurt's come into class and Warbler practice for the last three days with dark circles under his eyes, and he keeps staring at his laptop like it's the only thing he has. Concerned, Blaine considers holding an intervention. Little does he knows that Kurt's issue isn't that he's been having nightmares, or that he's secretly hiding his trauma: he just can't get past a puzzle in his Professor Layton game and it's driving him nuts.

Disclaimer: ...HA. No.

Blaine Anderson knew that he wasn't the smartest or most observant tack in the taco stand but even he knew when something was wrong. And something was definitely wrong. He hadn't said anything yet, but this was the third day that Kurt had come to practice with under-eye circles, and Blaine hadn't listened to the tirades about his complexion if he ever so much as had an inkling of a hint of a pimple for the last while without picking something up.

Kurt did not do circles.

Even if he hadn't slept well, Kurt was more likely to skip entirely than go out without concealer, and this was the third day that Blaine had meticulously observed the lack of such a thing, and it was freaky and strange and wrong.

With a smile (Please don't let it be fake, please, Blaine pleaded), Kurt seated himself on the couch next to his friend, delicately setting his bag on the ground.

"Hey," Blaine murmured just as Wes walked in, and Kurt's eyes crinkled up as his smile widened.

"Hey, yourself. Ten bucks says Wes suggests Maroon 5 for Regionals."

"You're a swindler and a terrible betting man, no way am I countering that," Blaine hissed under his breath, just as Kurt caught a stern glare from the council head for the snicker that made its way out of his throat.

"Are you okay?" Whispered, this time, and Kurt tilted his head in confusion, frowning now. He mouthed either What the hell are you talking about? or No, I'm stewing in misery at the trauma in my life; Blaine wasn't quite sure but if Wes' glare got any deeper, he'd be trying to figure out how to sing with his head on a pike. He straightened up in his seat and watched the goings on, but couldn't help shifting his gaze back to Kurt, who was…

Staring at his bag.

Not staring at it like it got a scuff, or like he was worried that it was going to get stepped on. Kurt was staring at his bag like it held the key to the universe. He was staring at it like a model stared at a cupcake, or a crack addict stared at ziplock baggies filled with white powder, like a drowning man stared at dry land.

This was Not Normal.

"Wes, David, I think something's wrong with Kurt."

It wasn't even a minute after Wes had concluded practice and Kurt had gone flying out of the room with a harried goodbye to Blaine and a few of the other guys who looked just as confused, but a little more amused than Blaine felt. Raising a brow, Wes crossed his arms.

"And what makes you say that?" he asked finally, voice dubious.

Finally.

"Did you not see his face? Kurt with bags? Doesn't happen. And Peter told me that he walked past his room last night and his door was open a crack, and he could hear Kurt swearing and shouting and screaming death threats. And he's staring at his laptop like an addict."

Silence. Dead, impenetrable silence.

"Um… Blaine?" David was looking way more amused than was appropriate, "Kurt screams death threats all the time. The rest of it… well. He probably discovered a little late-night…you know. Arm exercises." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Blaine choked and Wes held back the bark of laughter with so much difficulty that it hurt.

"Really, Blaine, you worry too much. He's probably just…uh, fighting with a friend or something. Leave him alone about it."

There was something stupidly, irritatingly knowing about that statement, as if Wes knew exactly what was going on and was withholding information just be annoying. It wouldn't be the first time.

Blaine scowled.

"Fine, you guys are no help at all. I am going to go now and stage my own intervention because I know Kurt better than you do, and something's got to be wrong."

And before either of the other boys could say another word, Blaine was sweeping out of the room in a rush of fretting and mentor-like panic. With a headshake and a sigh, David turned to Wes and made an exasperated hand gesture towards the door.

"Something's wrong all right. Should we just tell him? This is ridiculous."

"…do you have any idea what that kid would do to us if we told Blaine? He's tiny, but he's got a killer high-kick, steel-enforced Doc Martens, and that Mohawk punk keeps coming around to give him brawling lessons. My parents' money raised me to be smart and go to Harvard, not die in prep school."

Blaine knocked on the door, only to hear an enraged,

"Goddamnit!" erupt from the room, and he winced.

Finally, the door opened and Kurt stood in front of him, eyes blazing, his hair mussed as if he'd run his hands through it. Repeatedly. His mouth was open as if he was about the verbally eviscerate whoever had decided to bother him, but he snapped his jaw when he saw it was Blaine.

"Oh…hi."

"Hi. Can- can I come in for a second?" Blaine asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. Smiling sheepishly, Kurt glanced behind him before nodding finally, turning and parking himself on his bed.

The shorter boy followed, eyeballing the room. Everything was in its proper place as far as he could tell and Kurt's laptop computer was sitting on his desk, conspicuously closed.

"What's up?"

"Kurt…I'm worried about you," Blaine finally said, sitting next to him. "You've been a little weird these last couple of days, and I just…" he stopped for a moment, watching Kurt's face. He didn't look upset or worn down or any of the things that Blaine might have expected him to be, "I just wanted to make sure that you were feeling okay." Reaching out a hand and giving the other boy plenty of time to pull away if the touch was unwanted, Blaine brushed his thumb just under Kurt's eye, "You'd cover these."

Kurt looked startled, then his face softened.

"Did I really worry you that much?" he asked quietly, a smile tugging at one of the corners of his mouth.

Blaine nodded, pulling his hand back and twisting them together in his lap. And then the other boy was looking…apologetic?

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to. I just…I was a little flustered over the whole thing."

"What whole thing?" Blaine's brain and his mouth said the same thing, and Kurt flushed, reaching behind him and pulling out a compact, black rectangle. He held it out and upon closer inspection, Blaine realized that it was a Nintendo DS. Though it was closed, the 'on' light was blinking.

"Have you ever heard of the Professor Layton games?" Kurt asked, rocking back to lean up against the headboard when Blaine shook his head, flipping open the handheld and pulling out a bright blue stylus. He focused on the screen for a brief moment before growling in exasperation and setting it down again. "They're a series of puzzle games. I got the first one ages ago and loved it, and Dad bought me the next two for Christmas this year because I mentioned that I needed something to keep my brain in shape that didn't involve AP physics. They have a plot and a story, but to get through the game, you have to solve riddles and puzzles. I tend to solve them…louder than most people, especially when they're frustrating." He smiled sheepishly, "Wes came and told me off the other night because he thought I was having a drama llama with Mercedes, but I think he just found it funny by the time he left. Apparently the issue wasn't with my shouting, but because of the compliments he kept hearing about my creative insults and things that could or could not be done with testicles."

Blaine was going to kill his friends.

Kill them with no mercy t all.

"So, you're…"

"Stuck, yes," Kurt finished, rolling his eyes. "Completely and utterly stuck. It's a plot point too which makes it worse, if I don't solve it, I can't keep going."

"Why don't you just look it up—"

"Do not even tempt me," Kurt snarled, casting a stormy glare over to the inconspicuous machine sitting on his desk, "Do not. If I look up this one answer, what's stopping me from doing it the next time I get stuck? Or the next time? Next thing you know, my brain's shriveled up into a puddle of puzzled-out, laziness goo, and it'll be all your fault." He finished speaking with a flourish and whipped out the system again, tapping the screen a few times, his glare deepening, "I'm so frustrated."

"Can I see it?" Blaine asked, holding out a hand, and Kurt handed it over with a disgusted snort. He read the puzzle and furrowed his brows, "So basically, I have to get all the numbers to zero?" Kurt nodded. "Okay," Going silent, he tapped experimentally, "Wait, what the hell?"

"Yeah, I know. Annoying, right?"

"For real," Blaine worried his lip between his teeth, before, "Goddamnit, what's the trick to this? This makes no sense!" And Kurt burst out laughing, flopping over to stare at the ceiling, tilting his head to fix Blaine with an amused, upside-down grin. "Wait, wait. I think… Whoa whoa whoa, hold on," Tap, tap, tap.

"Was that an epiphany I heard?" Kurt asked suddenly, tone suddenly hopeful.

Layton's apprentice saves the day!

And suddenly, Kurt was hollering with glee and had leapt up to drag Blaine into a fierce (and adorably nerdy) hug, grip tight and strong and Blaine could hear him saying something that probably spoiled intricate plot points, but all he could focus on was how aware he was of how close they were right then and how well they fit. Beaming proudly, he returned the hug, squeezing firmly and releasing when Kurt pulled back slightly, the smile on his face wide and excited and wow, that was really cute.

"You. Are. Awesome!" He praised, saving his game with an almost-reverence.

"I'm happy that I could help," Blaine replied, hand absently rubbing the back of his head. "Are they all like that? The puzzles, I mean."

"No, there's tons of different kinds. What, you want to play one? I can lend you the first in the series," Kurt offered. "Or we could… we could play it together, if you like. I was going to restart it when I finished this, since I don't remember any of the puzzles," His tone was light but the hope in his eyes was potent and made something twist in Blaine's stomach.

"Do I get a hug every time I get one right?" This time, his mouth was definitely ahead of his brain and Blaine could have punched himself in the face if it weren't for the fact that Kurt beamed that charming, megawatt smile at him again, the one that made it seem like he was somehow channeling the sun and he couldn't be anything but thankful.

"I would have paid you in Red Vines if I had to, but hugs are cheaper if that's what you want."

AN: Yeah, my headcanon totally includes geeky!Kurt. The puzzle in question is #110 from Professor Layton and the Unwound Future, A Zero-Sum Game. I may or may not have sat on my bed screeching at it.