September saw the windows of Dalton Academy for Boys alight once again, with more and more students returning from summer vacation. Aston Martins, Mercedes Benz, and Porsches rolled up the long driveway through the avenue of trees, before pulling up outside the main building, an 18th Century mansion which had long ago been converted into a school. Nevertheless, the Dalton building still retained its old splendour, with polished oak and mahogany furniture and doors. The building itself was one of light, with large windows in almost every room, and a large dome shaped skylight overhead. Creams and browns made up most of the colour scheme in the main building.

The dormitories were not as fancy. Granted, they were perhaps nicer than your average dorm room, with all of the money the school raked in from the exorbitant tuition fees. Each room consisted of a small bed, a desk, chair, cupboards and a small sink with a mirror above it. The students were free to decorate and furnish these rooms to their hearts' content, within reason of course. But to say that any of the Dalton boys possessed even the smallest amount of reason, was blasphemy to their ears.

Shouts, laughter, rolling suitcases, and strict parents' voices filled the halls. As well as the odd explosion. Kurt guided his father carefully through the throng to his room, trying to clear a path through the walking, talking blazers. Burt Hummel looked quite out of place in his cap, and casual outfit, amongst the suit-clad parents, and uniformed boys, and he glanced around nervously, though impressed at his son's ability to live with these boys. Whoever said that you lose your immaturity as you grow older had clearly gone to school.

Finally they reached Kurt's room, and his father pulled his suitcase inside, and heaved it onto the bed. Almost immediately there were students in the room, mostly Warblers, welcoming Kurt back, and even a making a couple of comments about how pleased Blaine would be to see him back. Burt did not miss those. He had met this Blaine kid, several times now, and the circumstances had been...odd, to say the least. He still hadn't quite made up his mind about him.

The boy in question finally appeared about ten minutes later, out of breath from running. He was already dressed in his Dalton uniform, hair gelled perfectly into place of course.

"Kurt!" The tiny boy hugged Kurt, before noticing that Burt was standing there, watching him like a hawk. "Hello Mr Hummel. It's great to see you again." Polite as always, Burt was still not used to manners like that in a teenage boy. He seemed to be trying to fit into a mould. The mould of the perfect boy. But Burt could see that he wasn't as put together as he tried to be. There was something in his eyes, in the way that he had hugged his son, holding on just a little too long to be completely platonic.

"You too." He said, although he could tell Blaine was more distracted by Kurt, and probably hadn't even heard his reply. Burt watched his son's face at Blaine's arrival, and prayed to whoever was up there listening that this boy wouldn't hurt his son. He couldn't deal with anymore pain. He knew how much his son cared about Blaine, he'd even told him. But this Blaine kid, despite seeing so charming and nice, seemed to be totally oblivious. Which was saying something, as Kurt tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, especially when it came to crushes.

"I'd better get going, Kurt. Remember to call me, okay?" Burt wasn't particularly skilled at saying goodbye. He usually preferred to save the emotion. His son hugged him tightly. "I will Dad. Remember, listen to Carole." His son was referring to Burt's love of the most unhealthy food, which his son had been trying to squash for years now. He nodded, and left his son with his best friend.

"So how was your summer?" Blaine asked, leaning against the desk after Kurt had made a few flapping motions at him, in an attempt to stop him from helping unpack. Kurt was very protective of his clothes, and no one was allowed to handle them apart from him.

"It was okay. I mostly just spent time with the New Directions. There were a few parties, and impromptu performances, and so much drama I don't even know where to begin. It's like everyone plays Musical Partners, there's so many break ups, cheating, and revenge plans. It's insane." He hung up his McQueen jacket first, smoothing down the wrinkles, before turning his attention to Blaine and his suitcase. "What about you? How was Egypt?" It did not escape Kurt's notice that Blaine looked incredible. He had a tan, and he seemed so vibrant and happy that his good mood was almost intoxicating.

"It was good. I mean, we saw all of the touristy stuff, and did the museum circuit, but it just seemed so...formal. Like you couldn't relax, or really have fun. I would have died if I hadn't had my iPhone I think. It was really interesting and everything, but sometimes the company of your parents just brings down your mood. I swear my father was girl watching for me. He kept pointing them out, saying how pretty she looked or how I could go talk to someone my age." Blaine took a breath, having said most of that in one go.

"I'm sorry." Kurt replied, feeling a little stupid. What were you supposed to say to a speech like that? His father had been completely accepting of who he was. He wasn't used to having to endure homophobia from your own parents. The thought of Blaine having to live with that was appalling.

"It wasn't so bad. I did like being in Egypt though. It's a beautiful place." Blaine's previously cheery mood was back. "I'd better warn you actually. No matter what you hear, don't come out until I tell you to."

Kurt stared at him in confusion.

"Wait, what?"

"It's just-" Blaine began, before he heard a louder bang come from outside, and the boys outside went completely silent. "Oh God. It's starting."

"What is?" Kurt was starting to worry about his friend now. The boy had gone pale, if that was even possible under that tan. His question was answered by someone else though.

"WESLEY!"

"DAVID!"

Feet pounded down the hallway, coming from both directions. Kurt walked towards his door, but Blaine threw out a hand to his chest, stopping him.

"Not yet. Give them at least 5 minutes before approaching."

The running stopped and Kurt could hear the two boys crash into eachother, just outside Kurt's room. He heard gabbled mixes of sentences coming from the pair at least 3 times faster than normal.

"Oh my God I have to tell you-"

"No but first I have to tell you about-!"

"I crashed my car!"

"I may have been accused of-"

"Did you see It?"

"No, you?"

"Wait, I know where-"

"Oh It's here alright."

There was a thud, and several curses. Kurt looked at Blaine, mouthing 'What the-', before his door crashed open, causing Kurt to flinch back out of habit. Standing in the doorway was the beast of Wevid. The two boys were already tangled up together, arms around each other's shoulders, footsteps and brains completely in sync. The stormed into the room, David using his free arm to grab Blaine, and Wes using his to pull Kurt. They ended up in painful, squashed hug, with their foreheads banging into each other.

"Ow, guys, seriously..." Blaine rubbed his head, glaring at the interracial, heteroflexible, affectionate, love partner, squids. As they called themselves.

"FRODO! PINOCCIO! Our adorable, fashionable, musical, hopelessly oblivious gay babies!" Wes cried, as they were released. David shook his head.

"No, they're not our babies. That would imply they're related, and then that would be incestuous."

"I love how you are more concerned about incest than the fact that the two of you have children together." Blaine quipped, trying to laugh off the 'hopelessly oblivious' insult.

"I think the idea of them having children is just so natural to them." Kurt chimed in. "Can you honestly see them living apart permanently?" David grabbed Wes in a bone crushing hug.

"Quiet, heathen. You know not of what you speak."

"Yeah," said Wes, trying to catch his breath. "and anyway, it wouldn't be incest. We'd adopt them. They wouldn't be related."

"It's still weird having a relationship with your adopted brother, Wesley."

"But it's a name! They're not related at all!"

"Thank God for that."

"Exactly. If they were than they would actually have a reason for this ridiculous game of who can dance around the pink elephant in the room."

"As for us having kids together..." David stopped, then looked around. "Wait, where did they go?"