Title: Of Dinosaurs and Wood Nymphs

Rating: PG

Spoilers: None technically, though it assumes Kurt is going to Dalton

Warnings: CRACK, multiple AVPM references, mention of underage drinking

Word Count: 922

Summary: Got the idea from Darren Criss' interview w/ gleefandotcom.

Apparently, Blaine should have laid off the Absinthe.

It had been Wes' idea. He'd procured a bottle abroad during a family vacation over the holidays, and had proclaimed that New Year's Eve was 'as good a time as any' to crack it open. A record snow storm prediction for the overnight and next morning had essentially guaranteed that none of the boys would be going anywhere for a few days.

Wes had handed a glass of the stuff to Blaine with a mischievous smirk and a wink, then plopped a straw fashioned out of red licorice into the concoction of La Fée Verte and sugar-water. Ignoring Blaine's raised eyebrow, Wes had sauntered off to pass out a few more drinks and undoubtedly to locate the girlfriend of his he'd smuggled onto campus.

Had the day not been so long, and the drink not been so strong, Blaine probably wouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch.

As he opened his eyes to find himself on a forest floor and surrounded by primitively large foliage, Blaine realized that he was dreaming. Mumbling to himself about Absinthe and Red Vines, he slowly brought himself to his feet and loosened a few dried leaves from their hold in his hair.

He didn't have much time to survey his surroundings, as his first glance upon standing made his eyes practically pop out of his head. Sitting against a tree in a position not unlike a teddy bear was a triceratops. If that wasn't odd enough, this enormous creature was peering over a pink pair of sunglasses and reading an upside down copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Blaine briefly wondered how the dinosaur was managing to hold and read a book without having fingers or thumbs but then shrugged the thought aside. Dreams didn't have to be realistic.

An indignant cry shot through the air suddenly, followed by a rather familiar voice.

"Frank!" The voice said, and Blaine realized bemusedly that it was the triceratops being addressed. "We're going to be late!"

The creature with Kurt's voice seemed to phase into existence, as if he'd teleported onto the scene, and Blaine couldn't help the way his jaw dropped when the young man became completely visible.

He wasn't wearing much – a crown of vines with floral and leafy accents, a loincloth with a similar appearance, a translucent gossamer green cloak, and a pair of sensible peridot heels were the only things adorning the young man. He looked like a fairy without wings – a wood nymph.

Blaine broke out of his reverie when the triceratops began to speak. The dinosaur's voice had a surprisingly educated tone to it; the sound was almost pompous.

"Kalizabeth, we have to wait for the flying monkeys if we want to get from Oz to Pigfarts." The large creature said in a rather matter-of-fact tone, and Blaine couldn't stop the amused chuckle that escaped his lips.

Blaine froze when the dinosaur lifted its head in his direction, and Kurt – or Kalizabeth as Blaine gathered the boy was called here – spun on his heel and stalked over to Blaine, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"What is a hobbit doing in prehistoric Oz?" the nymph questioned, eyes shining with accusation, and Blaine took a step back and held up his hands before replying.

"Um," he began. "Pigfarts?"

Kalizabeth's eyes narrowed.

"Where's your spacesuit?" He questioned, and rolled his eyes. "Pigfarts is on Mars; Hobbits need spacesuits."

"I forgot?" Blaine replied with a nervous upward inflection and 'Kalizabeth' cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

Kalizabeth stood staring at Blaine appraisingly for a good thirty seconds before finally shrugging and pulling something from some sort of invisible space-time pocket – the way magical girls on bad Japanese animation TV shows do, complete with sparkles and chiming sounds.

A Red Vine.

He handed it to Blaine and smirked.

"Bite off the ends; you'll be able to breathe out of that if you hook it to your flying monkey." Kalizabeth said with a serious look and a convinced nod. "Just don't let Rumbleroar see you with it; Red Vines are forbidden objects at Pigfarts – they can do just about anything."

"Really?" Blaine questioned. "What else can they do?" Kalizabeth smirked.

"Wake up." he whispered and put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine frowned, having a good idea where this was going – especially when the world around him started fading at the edges, and the sentiment was repeated with the physical feel of someone shaking his shoulder gently. "Blaine, wake up."

Opening his eyes to see Kurt – not wood nymph Kurt, but real life Kurt – staring at him with a tinge of worry, Blaine sat himself up from the laying position he must have fallen into when he'd dozed off.

"You alright?" Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded with a smile.

"I had the weirdest dream. . ." Blaine began, and Kurt smirked.

"You were talking in your sleep." He said. "You were mumbling something about a flying monkey carrying a dinosaur to. . ." Kurt paused, and then questioned. "To Pigfarts?"

Blaine smiled, biting his lip as he did so, and then reached for the licorice straw that was still in his glass. Holding it in offering to Kurt – in a manner similar to Mentos ads from the 1990's – he grinned from ear to ear.

"Red Vine?"