Blaine takes a quick glance over at Cooper as they sat in the car, on their way to their father's beloved church. From the dark circles underneath his brother's eyes, and the uncomfortable grimace he kept making when he swallowed, he could tell that his dad hadn't made a great decision on dragging poor Cooper out of his sick bed.

'You're fourteen, Coop. You're perfectly capable of pushing through illness..." their dad sighed, seeming sympathetic but coming across as agressive.

"Blaine's only five, and you seem to think that about him too." Cooper glared at his father, swallowing down the nausea that was rising in his gullet.

"You'll live, Cooper. Now get you're coat and get in the car. You too, Blaine."

...

Blaine watched as Cooper's face contorted in discomfort as the first prayer was recited. At the ending 'amen', he saw Cooper breathe in slowly, trying to calm his stomach. Even at five, he was almost always the most observant person in the room, and he mentally deducted Cooper's situation.

Cooper almost definitely had a fever, from the red tinge in his forehead, to the light layer of sweat that coated his scalp. He was tired, from the dark circles underneath his eyes. He was definitely nauseous, made obvious by the palid tone of his cheeks, and the desperate swallowing he kept repeating. He curled back into his chair, willing for the service to be over soon so he could curl back up in his bed, away from his dad and his mother and his irritatingly clever smart-ass of a brother.

Mr Anderson should've listened. Maybe that poor lady's hat could've been saved. Maybe Cooper wouldn't have had to spend another week off school with his head resting against the toilet bowl. Maybe Blaine wouldn't be so overly independent.

...

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered as Blaine stirred from his short nap.

"M'cold..." he mumbled, resting his head against the arm of the chair.

"Your temerature's gone down a bit."

"Don't feel any better... Worse."

"Does your head hurt? Stomach? Chest?"

Blaine shook his head, "Everything hurts, pretty much. But I'm fine Kurt. You don't have to worry."

"I'm still going to worry, you know. Puck called earlier. He was wondering why you weren't answering your phone."

"You didn't tell him I'm sick, did you?"

"I know you Blaine. Of course I didn't. I said you were working on an independent case and not to call for the rest of the week."

"And that is why I love you." Blaine mumbled almost incoherently, burying his head further into his blanket. "I feel so...dumb."

"Do you insist on being overly intelligent all the time?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Just slow down for a bit. You're here with me. I don't doubt you're intelligence. Just relax."

Blaine contemplated it for a moment, as if making the decision whether to leap up from the sofa, ignoring the fuzziness in his head and the restless tiredness that forced his eyelids to droop, or to curl up underneath his blanket, accepting his defeat- was it even defeat? Taking a little rest once in a while was always believed to be a sign of weakness in Blaine's eyes, but for some strange reason, the idea of a little bit of relaxation came with no shame. He clasped his hands around the DVD case, trying to decide between two different episodes, before deciding to watch from where he left off on his Supernatural marathon, starting with 'Yellow Fever'.

"I kind of adore you for deciding on this epiosde..." Kurt smiled. "Best episode ever."

"You adore me. Period." Blaine grinned, taking a sip of water. "Well I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep for a while, so... we might as well build on your deduction skills. So... Transactional analysis. It's not so much a science of deduction, but it's good for your people skills."

...

"ITS THE... EYE OF THE TIGER..." Kurt sang, mimicking the dance on the television.

"I'd dance but... I don't want to hurl." Blaine smiled, before proceeding to mime along. "I'm just going to sleep."

...

"Kurt?" Blaine muttered as he awoke from his sleep, turning to see his companion sporting a tweed jacket and a bowtie.

"No." the person- who Blaine thought was most definitely Kurt- sighed. "I'm The Doctor."

"Stop playing games Kurt. I'm not in the mood for you to prank me..."

"We need your help Blaine!"

"By 'we' you mean?"

"Finn and Puck and I."

"The guy from forensics and the Detective Inspector?"

"No that's just their fraud identities. They're the hunters! The ones with the 67 Chevy Impala!"

"Who?"

"Never mind! The angels have the TARDIS! My TARDIS!"

"...Kurt stop this."

"Stop calling me Kurt."

"And what's this about an angel?"

"The creeper wearing a trenchcoat? Haven't you seen him around? His name's Castiel, but call him Will Schuester if you see him. He has a new vessel. He's incognito."

Blaine sat back, realising what was going on. He was dreaming. That's what you get when you watch marathon rounds of Supernatural and Doctor Who with a 100.1 fever he thought to himself. He peeked out of the window, noticing the Impala sitting in front of the block of appartments, and the TARDIS peeking out from behind a selection of trees. The Consulting Detective, the Time Lord and the hunters all in one place, to solve some confusing case, all while Blaine battled through the swirly, fluffy world of his odd fever dream.

Time to stop this trenchcoat wearing creeper, he mentally noted.