Author's Note: I'm very, very sorry this took so long to get out – The past week's been so busy, what with the school musical, work, interviews... I'm exhausted.

But it's all done now, so... Here you go!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you know here. Not that I need to, because it's probably pretty stressful XD

There was a distinct odour in the air that morning – nervous testosterone and Girl. There were girls on campus.

"Look at the legs on that one!" I said excitedly, pointing to a blonde with legs as long as Blaine himself. Wes looked over to where I was pointing,

You were pointing quite obnoxiously, I should add.

And grunted noncommittally.

"She's alright. I prefer the redhead. Besides," he looked at me sharply. "All the girls here at the moment are Girlfriends – out of bounds. The single ones are coming down later. Speaking of girlfriends, where's yours?" I squirmed under his all-knowing smirk.

"I told her that prom was Guy Time. Then she found out from one of her friends that it was a date thing, so she screamed at me in the middle of Starbucks. I think we've broken up, but I'm not entirely sure – so, it looks like it's just the four of us." Wes snorted derisively.

"Are you really that naive?" I shrugged. "Do you honestly see Blaine wanting us around him and Kurt at prom? I'm surprised he hasn't hired armed bodyguards to escort them round for the night." This was true. After the Great McKinley Exposure Fiasco, Blaine had been avoiding us like the plague, and had literally taken to dragging Kurt off in the opposite direction if he spotted us in the hallways.

"Alright, fine, I guess it'll just be us two." Wes glared at me.

"What makes you think I haven't got a date?" I scoffed in response, and replied,

"Come on, dude, you never have dates. You have, I don't know, girlphobia."

"The word's 'Gynophobia', and forgive me if I don't like going on random dates. Remember your last 'It's Just A Date'? It was eleven months ago. April. And how did that end up for you?"

"Point taken. It's kind of pathetic that neither of us have dates. We should see if any of the McKinley girls' will-"

"I've already asked. Rachel's already got plans with her dads, Quinn's involved in a love heptagon or something, Brittany and Tina both have boyfriends, Puck told me he'd go all 'Deathstar' on me if I so much as looked at Lauren, I'm not desperate enough to ask Santana, and Kurt set Mercedes up with Thad, so she's already coming," Wes listed, counting off each girl on his fingers.

"Oh. You asked all of them without even consulting me?"

"Forgive me if I thought you'd be going with April. You know. Your girlfriend."

"What's this about David's girlfriend from hell?" Kurt asked, hand in hand with Blaine, who was twitching at being in such close proximity with us. However, he managed to put past events behind him briefly for a second to intercede on my behalf.

"Kurt, you haven't even met her."

"I've seen pictures," Kurt replied, making use of his snobbiest grimace. "And trust me, anyone who wears plaid skirts and jumpers that look like they've been knitted by blind old people are either insane, the devil incarnate, or Rachel Berry. Who is just a more extreme version of the former two."

"David and her have had an argument, so now he has to go stag to prom," Wes said.

"Best way, in my opinion," I added hastily, to try and salvage my reputation.

What reputation? Your reputation of being a bit of a twat?

Ha-ha. You're so very funny.

"April's great, don't get me wrong, but it'll be nice to check out girls without having to carry a newspaper with eyeholes everywhere."

This is actually a true story – I've seen the newspaper. He keeps it in a box labelled 'Bird Watching Kit', along with all the numbers of girls he's ever got. Last time I check it tallied at about four.

Five, now. Mercedes' number.

Oh, please, that doesn't count, she's a friend.

She's a girl, though.

...Can't argue with that logic.

"So, you haven't invited April?" Kurt asked, almost incredulously. "But she's your girlfriend."

"She's also a pain in the ass," Wes said bluntly.

"Kurt, no normal teenagers have relationships like yours and Blaine's – where you open doors for each other, have debates about 'things', and cuddle at night. That's what you do when you're, like, fifty."

"You're just jealous," Blaine said smugly, wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist. I was jealous, I'll readily admit.

Everyone was jealous of those two. Not of either of them specifically,

I don't know, Trent always seemed a bit off after they got together.

Really? I never noticed. But people always seemed to be jealous of the fact that the pair of them were best friends as well as dating, and didn't have to deal with the stress of 'What does this text mean?' They just texted each other with 'Seriously, Blaine, what the hell is 'wub u'? Grammar is our friend.'

"So, let me just clarify – you're not taking April to prom?" Kurt asked again with a confused grimace on his face.

"No, I'm definitely not. Why, do you want to go with her?"

"No. Boobs are a bit of a turn-off for me, you know?"Blaine glared pointedly at Kurt, and Kurt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Come on, Blaine, you know full well that I'm not really considering taking anyone other than you to prom." They both grinned sappily at each other; Wes coughed.

"Hi, guys; we're still here." Blaine muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like he was telling us to 'go away, then', but in much ruder terms. Kurt shook his head, looking almost dazed, and then started to pull Blaine away by the hand.

"Come on, Blaine, let's go talk prom," he said excitedly. I half expected Blaine to turn back and grimace at us, like he used to do with every other boyfriend he'd ever had, but he was too busy skipping in Klaine world to remember us two.

"WESLEY! DAAAAAVID!" There is nothing more utterly terrifying than hearing your hobbit-like best friend run down the hall, screaming your name at the top of your lungs like a madman. Wes and I scrambled to our door and, true to form, Blaine was running towards our room, and,

"Oh, dear God, Blaine, what the hell have you done to your hair?" Usually, Blaine attacks his hair with gel, to get it to actually resemble hair, as opposed to a badly permed wig. On the night of prom, however, when it is almost imperative that you look your best, Blaine had somehow managed to make it look worse than any hairstyle ever concocted.

"I tried to straighten it, because I've run out of gel, but it made it look stupid, so then I thought I'd curl it, but I only had Jeff's straighteners, but I remember Mercedes once telling me that straighteners can be used to curl hair, so I thought it'd be okay, but it just made my hair do this, and I don't know what to do!"

David physically cannot type what happened to Blaine's hair, because he's fallen off his chair laughing at the memory of it. So, it falls to me to describe it.

He had somehow managed to straighten it up. It resembled a halo of hair. What made it even worse was that he had actually succeeded in curling a few strands, but they'd sort of clung to his head, and... Well, the hair was literally Defying Gravity. (...Ask your Dad. Although, let's be honest, any children of Kurt's are going to be able to recite 'Wicked' before they can write their own names.

...okay. Okay. I'm alive. Just about. Oh, I'd forgotten how idiotic his hair looked that night...

"Stop laughing!" Blaine shrieked at two innocent passers-by, who hadn't even been looking Blaine's way. Blaine clasped one hand to his head protectively, and slammed the door shut with the other. He then turned desperately to us – I struggled to hide a snigger. "What the hell do I do with this? Neither of you have any gel, do you?"

"Blaine," I said seriously. "Of course I have gel. Because I use gel all the time."

"On his eyebrows," Wes added wisely, nodding his head.

"And my eyelashes."

"And his-"

"Okay, let's not let this go any further than necessary, thank you! Wes, you wouldn't happen-"

"No, Blaine. Why don't you ask Kurt, the guy who actually styles his hair properly, as opposed to the guy who just brushes it, and the one with the shaved head?" Blaine widened his eyes manically, shaking his head as he said,

"Are you kidding? I can't let Kurt see me like this! I look like a twit! He'd take one look at me and run screaming back to McKinley, and tell all his friends that he can't date me any more, because I have stupid hair!"

I take back what I said earlier, about how Kurt and Blaine had an enviable relationship. I honestly don't envy Kurt for having to put up with Blaine's insanity.

"Blaine, Kurt is not going to break up with you because of your hair. True, he might laugh at you – but we're your best friends, and we're laughing at you," I said reasonably – although the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that I had to wipe away tears of laughter. Blaine, however, did not look appeased, and instead ran to our mirror; he let out a squeak of shock at his reflection.

"...I can never leave this room again. Unless I'm wearing a paper bag on my head." Wes sighed in exasperation, picked up his phone, and hit a speed dial.

"Mercedes? Yeah. I know you're getting ready, but this is kind of an emergency... Yes, it's Blaine. Code Green... I know. I know. Imagine the prom pictures – imagine the second hand embarrassment! Ten minutes? One? How the hell – oh. That'd make sense. Yeah. I'll come over to distract him. Yeah. Will do. See you on the crossover. Uh huh. Yes, love you too. Okay... 'Cedes, this is kind of... Huh, she hung up on me." Wes looked at both of us – we were both giving him identical weirded out faces. "What? It pays to have a female friend. Because of her, Blaine isn't going to have stupid hair. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go distract Kurt with something shiny and designer."

"Alright, white boy, what's the – oh, my eyes! Blaine, what did you... Never mind, I'm not sure I want to know. Come here, I've got gel," Mercedes held out a tray, which was laden with various hair products – things like 'frizz serum' and 'volume-booster'. She caught me staring in awe and winked. "Half of this is Kurt's. Now, come on, Blaine, let's get you looking pretty for prom." Practically pushing Blaine into a chair, she started by spraying a lot of stuff into his hair, covering his eyes with her hand. "So, David, found a date for prom yet?" There was a glint in her eye that I chose to ignore – spending time around my friends does that to a person.

"Nope – hoping that there'll be some single girls at prom who'll take pity on me. Looking forward to your date with Thad?" Mercedes shrugged, rubbing her fingers roughly in Blaine's hair.

"I don't know – haven't met him yet. I've been with Kurt all day, getting ready. Should be fun, though. Lean forward, Blaine." He complied, and she started working what looked like whipped cream through his hair.

I'm going to take a wild guess and say it was mousse.

I didn't actually think it was whipped cream, you know.

"What is Kurt doing, anyway?" Mercedes grinned wickedly.

"I can't say – I've been sworn to secrecy. He has 'big plans', though, so prom should be... interesting, to say the least. Stop fidgeting." She slapped Blaine on the shoulder – he'd been twitching his head, to try to flick his hair out of the awkward position it was in. "Don't sulk, Anderson – it's not my fault you decided to play hairdresser on prom day." She ran her fingers through his hair again, gave it an odd flick – and lo and behold, it somehow managed to morph into a more normal version of how it ordinarily looked – it looked shiny, as opposed to laden with buckets-o-grease.

"Wow... Dude, it looks healthy," I said, looking at it in a similarly to how a child looks at an animal in a zoo – awe and fear.

"Thanks. I think. It feels weird, like there's nothing up there." His eyes widened comically. "You haven't shaved it, have you?"

"Yes, Blaine," Mercedes said seriously, raising an eyebrow at me. "I've shaved it all off, so you're as bald as a baby. Of course I haven't shaved it, dumb ass. Just... Go get your tux on or something, and thank me later, when Kurt is staring at you like I stare at my tots."

"Wes, I feel stupid," I said later, throwing myself into a seat. Wes sighed.

"Tell me about it. Everyone has dates. It's pathetic. Why couldn't New Directions have let us at least borrow one of their girls? It's not like I was going to propose marriage or anything..." He sighed again. "You know, I'm seriously just considering heading back to the dorm... Whoa, wait, what's happening on the stage?" He looked over, as the curtains started to lower. We stared at them for a few minutes, and then I sighed – our prom table was deemed as the 'sighing loser table' by Nick at one point.

"Probably something interesting that doesn't involve us. This is depressing me, seriously. Even the music is upsetting me. I'm tempted to go back to my room and call my mom for a moan."

"Gentleman? Ladies? If I could have your attention for just a few minutes?" We looked up curiously, to see Kurt speaking in a microphone on stage, with Blaine stood just behind him. When he saw that he had silence, he nodded.

"As most of you are aware by now, on that table over there are David and Wes, looking lonely and bored." He pointed at our table, causing hundreds of heads to turn our way.

I caught Mercedes and Thad smirking at us the next table over. I don't like smug Thad.

"A few weeks ago, Blaine and I were on a date, when David, Wes and my old Glee club decided it would be... prudent to follow us. We really appreciate this consideration, and thought we'd repay the favour." He grinned at us evilly, narrowing his eyes in an utterly terrifying fashion. He gestured to the curtain. "So, Blaine and I put our heads together, and decided that the best thing we could do for them was to provide them with dates to prom, because we care about them so much. Drum roll, please?" I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but a drum roll followed his words. Blaine, grinning in a sickeningly smug fashion, went over to the curtain cord. "Ladies, Gentleman, David and Wes, we would like to present you with your dates for this evening – April Hansen and Santana Lopez!"

I nearly cried. This was cruel.

You nearly cried? At least your date wasn't out for your blood!

No, my date was out for unfavourable bedroom activities!

...'Unfavourable bedroom activities'? Who are you, Kurt? Just say sex.

Fine, my date was out to rape me!

"David, Wes, we hope this shows our appreciation of your stalking!" Kurt grinned haughtily as the curtain rose, revealing April in a huge pink ball gown – very similar to one of the china figurines my mom owns and keeps on the mantelpiece – and a frightening scowl on her face.

At least April's dress didn't look like something a dominatrix would wear! I swear to God, and will continue to do so until death, that Santana's dress was made of leather. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if she'd produced a whip and handcuffs at any point during the night.

"David. Dance with me." April said, pulling me up from my seat.

"Come on, Wes, come show me a good time," Santana purred – yes, purred. I distinctly heard Wes whimper.

Eventually, I managed to make my escape from April's clutches – who had gotten it into her head that, because Kurt had invited her to prom, I was obviously trying to make an elaborate apology. As I was tiptoeing back to my room, a hand shot out from one of the janitor's closets. I made to shriek, but there was frantic shushing.

"Shut the hell up, man, I don't want Santana finding me!" I squinted in the darkness, but I was pretty sure who it was.

"Wes?" He scoffed.

"No, it's Kurt. Of course it's me, retard!" He flicked on the light, and I had to mask a snicker – he was without his jacket, his shirt was untucked and his tie was loose. "Don't say a word. I'm mentally scarred. I'd forgotten how... octopus-like she could get." He shuddered, and then put a finger to his lips.

"So, what was it you wanted to-" There was a thump of something hitting the door, and I slapped my hand to my mouth to avoid the laugh spilling out. When I was sure I was safe, I mouthed to David,

"Is that Kurt and Blaine?" He nodded.

"Kurt, while I sincerely enjoy making out with you in deserted hallways, we could've done this downstairs. You said you wanted to say something?" Blaine's voice came through the doorway, and a shaky breath followed – I assumed it came from Kurt.

"Blaine, these past months with you have been great-"

"Oh my god, there's a 'but' coming, isn't there? I swear, Kurt, I didn't mean to do whatever I've done, and I know I don't deserve-" He was cut off suddenly for a few minutes, and then Kurt carried on.

"Have you been paying attention at all? There's no 'but' coming, Blaine Anderson. I was going to say that these past months have been great, and I wanted to tell you that I love you, too. I was just waiting for the right moment to say it." Wes breathed a sigh of relief, and a large grin split my face seemingly in half.

"...Really? Kurt, that's... Wow, I'm... I love you, you know." Kurt giggled, and then whispered,

"You know, nobody's going to come looking for us for ages..." There was sniggering - silence – and then the door opened.

Seriously, what are the odds that they chose that closet to have an epic Klaine make-out session in? It's like some divine being hates us.

The two of them stood in the doorway kissing for what seemed like ages whilst Wes and I looked anywhere other than at them. Eventually, they came up for air – and looked directly at us.

"AH! David! Wes! What the hell are you doing in there? Are you stalking us again? Did you learn nothing from your dates?" Blaine said heatedly – the effect was ruined by Kurt in the background hastily tucking in his shirt and trying to straighten his hair.

"In all fairness to us, we were here first – it's hardly our fault that you snuck away from prom to get it on in this particular closet," Wes said logically, leaning against the closet wall and crossing his arms. I nodded emphatically.

"Look, let's just pretend this never happened, Wes and I will go on our merry little way, and you two can mate like rabbits in here or something. Deal?" I expected Blaine or Kurt to flare up at the rabbit reference, but they both just nodded quickly.

"Deal. Now get the hell out."

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for. The announcements of the Prom Royalty!" There was enthusiastic clapping from everyone in the hall – apart from our small table. I was trying to shrink in my seat, April was glaring at me, Wes was staring into space awkwardly, and Santana was sat on his lap, nibbling on his ear.

"First off, our Prom Prince and Princess goes to..." A spotlight I didn't even know we owned whizzed around the hall, and eventually came to a stop on-

"Wes and Santana!" There was a stunned silence as the spotlight stopped on Santana and Wes. Santana looked up from Wes's ear in shock, and then she let out a loud whoop of excitement, took Wes by the hand, and dragged him up to the stage. When everyone saw what exactly Santana looked like, there was rambunctious applause.

"First of all, I want to say 'Screw you, Quinn, I beat you to Prom Royalty!' Secondly, I want to thank Wes for helping me on my way to being your princess. Thirdly, I want to say that my number is-"

"Alright, thank you, Santana," Thad said, pushing Wes and Santana off the stage after they'd received their crowns from Mercedes. "And, as you've all probably anticipated, we've got two Prom Kings. Give it up for Kurt and Blaine!" There was fervent cheering that went on... and on... and on.

Ten minutes, the clapping went on.

Eventually, Jeff took it upon himself to shout over the din.

"You know, I'm thinking they're in a closet somewhere." There were a few childish sniggers at the irony of that statement,

David included.

"Who's going to go get them, then? We can't really finish the prom until we've had the royalty dance, you know..." There was manic shouting from everyone refusing to go, until Wes shouted loudly,

"Alright! I'll go! I'll risk my sanity and mental wellbeing to go get them. If I don't return in ten minutes, I've probably fainted at whatever they're doing."

True to his word, Wes returned in under ten minutes. Wes, do you want to say anything about your experiences?

No.

But I'm sure they

No. They don't. They really, really don't.

Oh. Okay. Well, he returned, with a scarlet faced Klaine in tow; he ushered them up to the stage, where they accepted their crowns sheepishly.

And then there was dancing and love and Santana tried to get me into bed with her eight times.

Well, we all learnt something very important. We really need to stop meddling in each other's lives.

But we don't, really, do we?

Just think – if we had stopped meddling in each other's lives, would Rachel's birthday party have happened the way it did?

No. But that's because we did something questionably illegal. And I'm not entirely sure Kurt will ever forgive us.

I'm sure he will.

Author's Note: My history coursework's done, it's nearly the holidays... so the chapters should be coming through reasonably quickly. Good times...