Hi Dad, hope you're having fun w Carol. Warblers stuck in Lima cos of snow, can they crash at ours?

Kurt sighed as he locked his phone shut only to immediately drag it back out, realising he'd have to qualify it.

Blaine's sick, so I'm going to hospital w him. Apparently it's normal though. Wes & David will control Warblers.

They'd finally made it back inside and reclaimed a table – the occupants of the four nearest the entrance had immediately jumped up upon seeing Kurt half-dragging Blaine through the door – when Kurt had decided that in no way would he allow his friends to drive the 2 hour suicide mission back to Westerville in the intensifying storm. He was currently liaising with David, his father, Mr Schuester and Mr Pedy (and Kurt really didn't want to know or think about how either of the latter had gotten his cell number…) while approving numbers that various Warblers wanted to perform ("sure, Thad, That's Amore would be perfect…", "David, I really don't think a restaurant is the appropriate setting for a rendition of Gay Bar, but I'd love to see more back at school…") and trying to keep Blaine awake as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

"You're really pretty."

"What?" Kurt blinked. Blaine had been slowly deteriorating and acting drunker by the second. "Thank you?"

"So you agree? You think you're really pretty?" Blaine slung an arm around his shoulders, eyes flickering over every inch possible of Kurt.

"Oh, I don't know…" Kurt pushed him up, staring into Blaine's eyes, trying to decipher the madness flickering within his mind like a strobe light.

"You're so beautiful, like a tree… Or a high-class prostitute…"

Kurt sighed. "Remind me to slap you for that when you're better. And no, pre-emptively, you will not enjoy it."

Blaine's sick? What happened? Take care, kiddo, make sure to keep me updated, that kid is practically family. And any friend of yours is welcome, Kurt, any time, you know that. Be careful on the road, be safe, don't eat the yellow snow, you know the drill. Carol says to get Finn to pick up his laundry from the living area first.

Dude, how's Blaine doing? Any luck re housing tonight?

Kurt, it's Will Schuester. I'm talking to Figgins, trying to arrange someone to meet you at school if you still need housing? Let me know what's happening.

Yo, yo, homey, sup? Seeing your little iPhone spazzing out so thought I'd add to it. MWAHAHAHAHA. Chill out, kid, let me work my magic hands as they call it in Singapore, sleeping with Schuester tonight so just let me know where to fly you to and pick y'all up. Peace out!

Kurt couldn't decide whether to burst into fatigue-psychotic laughter or tears at the sudden influx of love from his father, David, Mr Schuester and Mr Pedy (in that order) and settled for knocking his head on the table. Where was everyone? He looked briefly around for some back up before turning back to his phone and typing out replies to everyone. He really needed Jeff or Wes, but he was pretty sure he'd seen Nick surreptitiously dragging his boyfriend into one of the curtained alcoves in the corner, and Wes was, for some unknown reason, behind the piano singing James Brown. David was too busy notifying the rest of the Warblers about the current situation, and had disappeared into the crowd anyhow…

"Hey, Kurt!" Finally, a familiar face. Sure, it may have only been Trent – sweet, puppy Trent, who couldn't quite stop himself idolising anyone who decided to talk to him – but at least now responsibility for Blaine didn't fall completely on his shoulders. And Kurt knew that Trent would do absolutely anything for Blaine – apparently he'd really helped drag the younger (yes, younger) Warbler out of his shell, made him feel appreciated, helped him find his voice… "Hi, Blaine! Are you feeling better?" The naïve optimism as well… Kurt usually found it rather strange and grating, but it was actually a refreshing change for the moment.

"I'm awesome. Just awesome, you know, man? Like the stars. Have you seen Mars lately? It's burning bright tonight, Trent. Must mean love's in the air…" Blaine slurred, rocking in Kurt's arms.

"Really? Tell me more!" Trent sat down opposite them, patting Blaine's shoulder and gazing up briefly – and Kurt felt odd. Somewhere in his stomach… Was he getting possessive? Really? "Kurt, have you actually tested him? I haven't seen Blaine like this often, but I think he's low…"

"No, man, I'm not low!" Blaine coughed, looking outraged at the mere suggestion that his blood sugar had continued dropping. "I'm higher than a zeppelin! Maybe even higher than clouds and puffins and lightbulbs!"

"Right, that's it." Kurt snapped his fingers, and the boys both turned to look at him. "Trent, pass his kit? Please?" He began rubbing one of Blaine's calloused fingertips, trying to warm it to get better blood flow, as Trent talked throughout the testing. Really, that's all he could remember from the last couple of days – Blaine being on the verge of collapsing, telling some heartbreaking stories from his past, or testing and shovelling sugar into his mouth.

The machine beeped. "65, Blaine. Sorry." Kurt cursed inwardly. It wasn't really a surprise, especially considering that everything he'd tried taking in had come back up – yet Blaine still claimed not to have gastro. Apparently vomiting was a common side effect of both the ketones and the glucagon injection from earlier. The ambulance was due any second now, and Kurt didn't want to go messing around with the medication… but how could he possibly get the boy to eat anything? His throat was obviously killing him, and the shaky breaths that no amount of time could cure suggested that the nausea still hadn't dissipated…

Warblers are being driven to my house, David's sorting it with Pedy. How do I get Blaine to eat?

Man made electric light to take us out of the dark.

Man made the boat for the water, like Noah made the a-ark.

Kurt shook his head as he sent the message to Wes, seeing him jump slightly as his pocket vibrated. At least, he hoped it was the shock of the text that caused the boy to stumble. Pretty difficult to do while singing – Kurt didn't think he'd ever heard a stutter while sung, not even from Tina (ignoring the fact that it wasn't real, of course…) and especially not from a performer as well-polished and -rehearsed as Wes… But he threw those thoughts aside as Blaine sneezed, over and over again, body snapping forward until he was bent at the waist.

"Eshoo! Eshoo! Eh… Eshoo!"

"Bless you! Bless you! Bless you!"

"Eshoo! Don… don't… Eshoo! Don't bless me every… ESHOO! every time I sn… sn.. Eshoo! sneeze, you'll lose your… eshoo! Eshoo! your voice. ESHOO!"

"12… 13… 14…" Kurt tried to smile at Blaine, but he could only find himself worrying, wondering just how long it would be before the boy finally got a break and could take in a proper breath again.

"Eh… eh…. Eh?" Blaine's face contorted as his breathing continued to hitch, eyes fluttering as he tried to unstick his sneeze.

Trent smiled, feeling a stab of pity for his mentor. He held out a cupped palm full of ground pepper, and waved it by Blaine's face. And the fit recommenced.

"ESHOO!" The sneeze thrust Blaine forward so fast his head banged on the table and he lay there, panting heavily.

"Gosh, Blaine! Bless you! Are you okay?" Trent held out a pale blue handkerchief as the fit finally subsided.

Blaine looked up, red eyes streaming and sniffled miserably as he accepted the cloth. "Ndot mby worst fit ever," he squeaked. "Thandks." He coughed, a dry, barking cough sounding like a dying seal before groaning and curling into a ball. "Kurt, please. Let mbe sleep. Mby head add tumby really hurt, add I feel really icky…"

The boys winced at the magnified congestion in the sophomore's broken voice. "Look, the ambulance should be here really soon, but I can't leave it up to them." Kurt trailed a hand down the length of Blaine's spine, running it back up and into his hair, trying to suck out the pain and illness with his fingertips. "Will you have some jelly beans? Coke? Lemonade?"

"Ndo." The booth shook as the next set of rigors took hold of Blaine's body. "I wadda die."

David, need help, how do I get sugar into him?

"Trent, any ideas?" The boy shook his head, smile long-faded into terrified concern.

Jeff, Nick, so sorry, need help, Blaine's gone low and is in foetal position.

Man thinks about little baby girls and baby boys.

Man makes them happy cos man makes them toys.

Wes was still performing… Kurt had no idea how long he had, what he could possibly do to help, but he knew he couldn't just leave Blaine in that state, even with an ambulance only a few short minutes away.

Kurt. Use your head. Finishing up me root beer ;-) so I'll be there asap. Nick says to remind you to breathe.

Finally, Kurt's phone buzzed with Jeff's response. He stared at it for a minute. Use his head… his head… Then he got an idea.

"Trent. Throw me the glucose tablets."

Kurt dropped onto the floor, sliding under the table as he popped out a couple of pills, placing them to the side of his mouth. "Blaine, honey, look at me." Ooooh, the slip up… Ah, screw it, he's too ill to care. "I know you feel sick, so here's something to make it better." He gazed up into those hazel eyes, the ones that usually lit up a room just by looking at it, that now had that wooden look to them, like something inside the person had died. Slowly he moved, pressing his lips against Blaine's partially open mouth before slipping his tongue – and the tablets – into it. He pulled away quickly, not wanting to deprive Blaine of the little oxygen he could get with those rapid, shallow breaths, holding his chin to try to stop the sugar being spat back out.

"That's it, Blaine! Swallow!" Trent appeared under the table, faltering under Kurt's fiery glare. "Oh, come on, don't pretend like you don't want to say those words to him yourself. I'm not going to get the chance under proper circumstances." He turned beet red as the impact of his words started to set in. "Oh, God, Kurt. I'm sorry. I just… yeah. He's yours. Blaine's helped me more than you can imagine, so of course I might, you know… But that's all he'll ever be. A mentor. With you, it's different. I can feel it."

Kurt gave a wavery smile. "Sorry, Trent. You're an amazing kid, you know that right?" He patted him on the shoulder, but his eyes never left Blaine's face, which had now taken on a shocked expression – but he was chewing, slowly, blushing with his parted mouth and the tiny flicker that had relit itself in his eyes.

"What exactly are we doing under the table?" The Aussie accent floated through the air before being joined by the crimson, slightly out-of-breath faces of Jeff and Nick.

"Are the aliens finally invading?" Nick plopped cross-legged on the floor, pulling Jeff onto his lap.

"Well, we're certainly not having a 'root beer semi-colon hyphen right parenthesis'," Kurt said teasingly, as Jeff's face in particular turned an even deeper shade of red and Nick scrunched up his nose in embarassment.

"Watch your mouth! Trent's here. We have to protect his innocence!"

"Oh, honey, I'm as innocent as a nun doing squats in a cucumber field." Trent was the first to crack at his own joke, but the whole group, even Blaine, followed suit.

But the laughter died almost as soon as it had started, as Blaine's throat gave out and he succumbed to a fit of coughing that left him red in the face and gasping for air.

"Jesus, Blaine! Die quietly, would you?" They heard the concern in David's voice as he too approached the table. But unlike the others, his face did not appear underneath it – instead they heard him gasp. "Wes…"

He's lost in the wilderness.

He's lost in… in… in…

The boys scrambled out as they heard Wes' pitch begin to fail, before he started tripping over his song again, swaying where he sat. Kurt looked up at the stage just in time to see the eyes of their head council member roll back in their sockets and he crashed heavily off the stool onto the floor.

"Wes!"

Dum dum Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...

Yep. Traditional Steph-cliff-hanger-esque action :P

HI EVERYONE!

So I'm back home and back to reality... America was wonderful. I also got to spend a couple of days in Northern California - I did Sacramento and San Francisco, as well as New York and Seattle. I walked the Golden Gate bridge, climbed the Empire State building, ate clam chowder and fondue, smelt a skunk, played Pictionary with a live Broadway audience on stage... I saw Alan Rickman, Darren Criss, Hunter Parrish and Telly Leung... I met a very cute American who I'm still in touch with... Yeah, that's basically my whole trip :P Oh! And I bought 4 pounds of Red Vines... *sheepish grin*

Sorry for abandoning you guys! But it got too difficult to write, with everything going on... But I'm back home now, and I've got a couple of weeks before uni starts again, so I'll try and do as much as I can. I'll post the prologue to the sequel to this soon for you too.

So I hope this chapter makes up for the ridiculous amount of time it's been between updates?

Thanks again to my lovely lovely people who read, subscribe, favourite and review! You guys are amazing! Plus... I'm over 200 reviews! Fudgecakes all around! Shout-outs (and extra fudgecakes and Red Vines) to riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, jensenfan4ever, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, kaylastargirl and Different Child!

Ugh. I'm still jetlagged. I feel like there's more I should say but I can't think of anything for the minute...

Love it? Hate it? Want me to eat an arsenic-flavoured Bertie Botts bean? Please let me know!

Keep smiling! :D