It had been a normal Saturday in the quiet dorms of the Dalton Academy rooms.

There seemed to be an unspoken rule that today would be a day of rest - each and every Saturday - and that Sunday? Well, they could do whatever they wanted. Blaine and Kurt were taking full advantage of this set-up, sprawled across Blaine's double bed with a Vogue magazine out in front of them. Occasionally, Kurt was jab out a long thin finger and snort with a comment about whatever it was being violated by his fashion critique. Blaine would nod with agreement, looking more like a puppy then he probably ever had, before starting to hum along to a song playing on the iPod dock once more.

This continued for several hours in mostly peace, both boys were comfortable with each other and both knew when they were broaching too sensitive a subject, or straining the ' friendship ' boundaries, glad that their fellow Warblers weren't around to see their giggly almost-dance-style scenes. Everytime Blaine reached out to Kurt, the boy in question would blush slightly and mumble something incoherent before changing the subject completely. . . and vice-versa. By now, after almost six months here at Dalton, Blaine was used to this shy version of Kurt. The one who would blush whenever someone so much as made an innuendo, or pointed out he was blushing - both of which would only make him turn more red. Kurt, even after those six months, was still fairly quiet. Yup, he was out and proud and loud but it seemed as if the pressure of Dalton was getting to him.

And who could blame him? There was more than enough homework, essays and tests to fill the Arc, and the boys on their floor didn't exactly help. ( Blaine had once had too actually pin Kurt down, after an ' accidental ' trap caught him. Nick and Jeff had placed a bag of flour on top of a door, hoping to catch Wes out to no avail. They hadn't been including Kurt in their plans, Kurt and his new suit. And hair to be precise. So when an outraged, flour streaked boy had raced after the two with his lungs yelling out, it had seemed the only natural thing to do. Honestly, it was quite terrifying in person. ) Perhaps Kurt needed a break, some space to breath. Perhaps Blaines dapperness was rubbing off on him? Perhaps his over-exubarance stemed the levels a bit, evening out Kurts usual loudness. Perhaps -

" Shit! "

The fuck?

Choking slightly on the coffee just handed to him by a one-hand-in-phone Kurt, his wide hazel gaze glared up at him. That wasn't like Kurt. Kurt didn't swear! Unless something really really bad happened. Blaines first thoughts raced to Burt, but if it was his father Kurt probably would be half in tear mode by now - instead he seemed to be frantically stuffing his bag and tripping over himself to get to his shoes, all the while mumbling ' oh my god, kill me now kill me now... '

" Heey my two lovebir - Kurt? " Wes ended up with his question unanswered and his back pressed flat against the door Kurt had just stormed out of. Well, this certainly looked like a break-up or something to him. Blaine met his confused gaze, and the two Warblers started after the steaming boy. " Hey! Hey hey hey, wait up. " Wes demanded, blocking the end of the hallway doors with his gavel ( it seemed to go everywhere he went, so Blaine was not surprised to see it too much ) so that Kurt couldn't storm by.

" Let me go! " Kurt fumed, scratching at a surprisingly steady arm in the middle of a Kurt-storm. Yup, he'd named them by now they were fairly often. It seemed after a moment that Kurt remembered his tongue. He remembered this was Wes and decided to be nice. Anyway, how many solos would he get if he fought the Head of the Council? None, that's exactly how many. Groaning in misery - ha! - Kurt slumped forwards against Wes, who stumbled back to catch him. Now Blaine just looked pissed as what he considered his best friend just slumped over the Council member and Gavel.

" You going to tell us whats up? " Blaine asked tentatively, watching with faint amusement as a flustered Wes tried to pat Kurt somewhere that wasn't, A, his hair, B, his ass or C, his hair. Instead, the boy settled for his shoulders and cleared his throat slightly as Blaine awaited an answer. Sighing with what seemed mock impatience, Kurt spun on his heel and stalked towards the sofa where he fell back with a heavy sigh. He tugged nervously, Blaine noticed, with a strand of his hair as if he were avoiding answering. But both Wes and Blaine had crossed their arms with identical frowns on their faces. Kurt almost wanted to laugh as they both created monobrows with their huge eyebrows. Almost.

Sighing again, he flusterly grabbed a pillow and hugged it frustratedly. His own eyebrows made a line almost as thin as his lips as his eyes narrowed, and he began to mumble into the pillow. " Nud..eyefections. . .now. . .noyr'ide. " Hoping he'd cleared it up, he gave both of them an apologetic smile. Faintly, Blaine thought he heard a door click in the background along with quick footsteps and a few muffled whispers. He payed no attention - most likely just Nick and Jeff. . . again. Perhaps they'd better get Kurt outta there befo -

Thoughts short circuited at that exact moment though. Because Kurt - his Kurt, the boy he considered his best friend, the boy who had been viscously hugging the pillow who then leapt up in joy to see the figure, the boy who then crossed the room at the same time a blonde figure did to enfold them in what seemed a hug that what last forever, the boy who now had legs wrapped around his waist and was swaying gently with the lithe toned figure in his arms -

The boy, Blaine stared in shock, who had just had a long kiss planted on his mouth without flinching or turning away.

Good? Bad? Horrid? Please-stop-writing-right-now-you-make-my-eyes-bleed? More? Less?

REVIEEEWW!