so...yay :) second fic, considerably more light hearted than my first :P i'm toying with the idea of adding another chapter to this, so if you like it enough to want the second one, let me know :)
special thanks to 1gleefan, the only person who reviewed my first fic and gave me the confidence to post this one x much love 3
i completely forgot about this for my one-shot, but i think its pretty obvious -
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING (and sadly never will :() enjoy ;)

'HIDE ME!'

The door to Wes and David's shared dorm erupted open suddenly and loudly, spilling a small, dark haired figure into the room. The boys paid no attention to Blaine Anderson as he proceeded to throw himself under one of their beds, giggling uncontrollably as he wriggled his slightly less-than-average size into the narrow space. Wes and David were far too familiar with their lead Warblers antics, and so didn't bother to react to the situation; choosing instead to continue with their much more interesting video game.

That is, until they heard what could only be described as thunderous footfalls approaching. Fast. They glanced uneasily at each other as the sound of a door down the hall crashing open echoed through the walls.

'YOU HAD BETTER GET YOUR SHORT HOBBIT ASS OUT HERE NOW, FRODO!'

The glance quickly morphed into looks of wide eyed fear as they recognized the voice. Both Wes and David remained frozen for a split second, then simultaneously scrambled up from the floor and ran towards the closest bed.

The inhabitants of every dorm in the immediate vicinity were undoubtedly doing the same.

No one was safe from the wrath of Kurt Hummel. The boys estimated that Kurt was currently in Blaine's room (from the direction the banging noises and yells were coming from), and so knew they didn't have much time before Kurt was upon them. Skidding and stumbling across the floor, the boys reached the bed and practically dived under it, joining the body that was already there. From their place on the floor, the three Warblers had a clear view of the dorm room entrance across the room; their hiding place concealed by a throw partially obscuring their view, but not blocking it.

The compact body beside David shifted, and the council member turned his head toward Blaine, having forgotten he was there in his moment of blind panic.

'What did you do?' he hissed, more concerned with his own safety than that of Blaines. The soloist giggled, but this time a little guiltily. He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by another piercing screech from down the hall;

'YOU CAN'T HIDE IN THE SHIRE! BLAINE WARBLER, SHOW YOURSELF!'

The look of twinkling amusement in the hobbit-in-questions eyes flickered momentarily, slight traces of worry glimmering through.

'I…' Blaine trailed off as another resounding BANG shook the floor. Now looking positively terrified, he continued in a shaky voice, 'I may have switched out his moisturizer.' He shifted nervously and refused to meet the other boys' incredulous gazes.

Both Wes and David's hearts sank, deeply. This could not end well.

Wes closed his eyes briefly and wriggled a hand up towards his face in the limited space, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'And what, exactly, did you switch his moisturizer out with?' he whispered, exasperation and fear prominent as his voice hitched slightly on the last word.

Silence.

Wes opened his eyes and glared absolute daggers at Blaine – David did the same. If looks could kill, Blaine would surely be a walking miracle.

CRASH.

Then again, if Kurt found him it wouldn't matter. He'd be a dead man anyway.

'Blaine,' David implored. He had no desire what so ever to die an early death, and there was still the smallest chance they could fix this if they were fast.

Suddenly, the footfalls continued down the corridor, heading straight for them.

'WESLEY MONTGOMMERY, IF YOU ARE HIDING BLAINE IN THAT STY YOU CALL A ROOM I WILL PERSONALLY BURN YOUR GAVEL!'

Granted, it was a very small chance, but they were desperate.

The angry stomps got louder and ever closer. The boys could practically hear Kurt fuming under his breath.

'Blaine, tell us now!' David panicked, attempting to wriggle further into the sanctuary of the under-the-bed-space.

'DAVID HUME, IF YOU ARE THERE YOU CAN EXPECT PAIN AND HUMMILIATION! I HAVE NO PROBLEM WITH TELLING YOUR GIRLFRIEND THAT YOU JUST PRETEND TO LISTEN IN ORDER TO GET INTO HER PANTS!'

David noticeably paled; which was impressive considering the dark colour of his skin.

'Blaine, there's too much at stake!' Wes whispered frantically, his eyes wide at the thought of harm befalling his precious gavel. 'You have to tell us what you switched it out for!'

Blaine turned his huge, panic and fear filled hazel eyes toward the Asian. He opened his mouth to speak, squeaked slightly, then tried again. His voice was soft, quiet, and that reminiscent of a man headed to the gallows if the next word out of his mouth was anything to go by.

They were dead.

The whisper hung in the air as the furious, towering figure of Kurt Hummel blazed through the door - his blue eyes alight with fire.

'Marco…..come on Blaine, I know how much you love that game…'

The three figures under the bed trembled as the deathly calm, sinisterly playful voice filtered through the room.