A.N.: Okay, so one review isn't bad at all! In fact, I thank you kindly! And, since I only got one person's review, I have to go with it (and it's the opinion I wanted, actually). As usual, I still don't own GLEE and am not Ryan Murphy.

Biting his lip in deep thought, Nick finally made a decision; he knew perfectly well what he didn't want to do, but unfortunately, it was the only decision. He instinctively looked over at his jacket, motioning for Jeff to get it for him. The blonde did so, and Nick rummaged through the pocket for his cell phone. Looking through his list of contacts, he settled on his mother's cell phone number, preferring to use that rather than the house phone. Like always, it rang three times before the organized woman picked up.

"Hello?" she asked. She usually greeted with a formal address, but seeing as it was her son, didn't quite see the need to.

"Hey, Mom, I'm in the-"

"Who is it?" a gruff voice asked, still managing to sound refined, much like a man of high social status would. Nick could feel the involuntary hitch in his mother's voice.

The woman chuckled gently. "Oh, it's just Jessica."

Jessica? How did she even begin to confuse her own son's obviously male voice with her fellow book-clubber, Jessica?

"Mom, I'm . . . at the hospital, and I need you to pick me up tomorrow. Or tonight. But I can't get home on my own. I had an allergic reaction and the doctor said I was dehydrated and exhausted, I guess." He nearly began to start rambling until his mom began to do her usual giggle, much like his own.

"Oh, dear, I told you not to forget the cookies for the PTA meeting. Well, I suppose I'll just bake some myself and send them along. How's little Jerry doing?"

Jerry was Jessica's son, who was in the same class as Nick's younger sister, Jane; that's why the two mothers attended the PTA meetings. But what did this have to do with anything at all? "Mom, are you even hearing me? I need you to come get me. I'm really sorry, I just-"

"Of course I'll drop them over tomorrow. What time do you want them?"

Oh. Nick tried to keep a slight smile from playing on his lips; sometimes he wondered who was the smarter spouse, and he often decided that it was his mother, who kept a simple stay-at-home mother sort of job. He realized then what his mother was doing. She was hearing him, of course she was, but she didn't want Nick's father to hear.

But how, then, was she going to manage slipping out of the house and then miraculously coming home with her obviously sick son. Then again, James Duval was a man who, unlike other people, seemed to grow angrier the more he mulled over a situation; it was probably a better idea to immediately drop the situation on quickly then ease into the moment.

"Jessica?" the woman's voice sounded a little worried, like she knew that Nick was playing through scenarios in his mind. He was just like his mother.

"Eight, if you don't mind," he replied; then, after realizing how much of a morning person his father wasn't, he decided to change that to a prompt, "Or nine."

Another soft chuckle from his mother. "Nine it is. And don't try going out in this storm, dear, trying to get ingredients."

This scolding translated to, "Don't even think about discharging yourself."

This time, Nick allowed himself to smile. "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." With that, he pressed the red button his cell phone, ending the call. Nick passed the phone back to Jeff, who looked as though there was nothing strange about the conversation. And, when one thought about the way Mrs. Duval handled the situation, it really wasn't that bizarre at all.

On the other end of the call, Natalie Duval turned her cell phone, her hand shaking. She wondered just how she had managed to keep up that conversation without fully freaking out. Her son was in the hospital and she knew, she knew if James found out, he wouldn't wait until morning to head out for the hospital, despite the terrible weather.

She was a good mother (or she hoped she was), and Natalie wanted to do anything she could to keep her children safe; not that she worried about Jane - she was the favored child, even if she was the younger sibling. Nick never quite seemed to meet up to some invisible standard that her husband had pre-established since she had told James that she was pregnant. And Nick was such a talented boy, but that really didn't seem to mean much to him; Nick was gay. And no respected man in this community would have a son that was gay.

The woman placed her head in her hands, taking a seat at the kitchen table. There was something so wonderfully unique about Nick that no one else ever seemed to see; he was smart and resourceful, but that wasn't it - he was kind, so unlike his father.

And so unlike his mother.

Natalie wondered how any woman who could ever claim to love her children would let them be harmed in front of their own eyes. She despised the idea, couldn't even begin to think that anyone could ever have the gull to. And yet, here she was, knowing full well that no matter what James decided (wrong or not), she would choose him over Nick any day.

She tried to be secretively loving, but Natalie was certain that Nick held some form of resentment for her not trying to stop what went on.

But how could she?

She owed everything to James, coming from the poorest family in Westerville; he was one of the richest, and they just happened to meet one day when he came into the coffee shop that she worked at. He was twenty-four; she was seventeen. The two had immediately hit it off, instantly clicking and meeting more and more, coffee shop aside. Eventually, they wound up in bed together, and she, being the idiot that she was, managed to get herself pregnant. Natalie was young, she didn't know what to do or how to go about the whole thing.

And telling him was the easy part. He was mad, obviously, because that meant that he would have to tell his family, or keep it a secret.

He chose the latter.

It wasn't until she had already given birth and still kept her pregnancy (and now child), hidden that he decided to marry her. Then, he decided to be wonderfully thoughtful and "adopt" Nick because she had been promiscuous before, even if Nick looked so much like James. (She knew that people knew, and she still maintained that he hired someone to keep the whole situation under wraps).

James seemed a hero; he was a wonderful patron, and no one could ever find a sweeter man. That allowed him to easily get a political position so quickly. And, when Jane was born, they merely chalked it up to a wonderful miracle. Naturally, Nick was resented by his father without even doing anything. Because he had nearly ruined anything and everything.

She wondered how no one could even be stupid enough to believe his lie, or even never catch on. But maybe people did and just chose not to say anything.

Natalie was worried, naturally, though a part of her didn't believe that she even had a right to be. Yes, she was Nick's mother, but she would never truly be a mom. Not in her opinion, at least. She didn't deserve it; she knew it well.

And, of course, she realized that she'd have to tell James in the morning, but he might be in so much shock that he wouldn't even have a real chance to process the whole fiasco.

Then, in her mind, she finally wondered how she never realized that she hadn't ask why her son was even in the hospital.

Elsewhere, on a street two lanes down from the Duval residence, Burt Hummel came to an abrupt stop at the Thompson home. The tall Warbler got out of the car, thanking Burt for dropping him off. The older man gave a grunt in response and motioned him forward. "Don't slip on the ice," he called in vain, as David nearly took a terrible spill.

"I told you I needed to go home!" Trent whined in the back (Burt refused to let him in the passenger seat), "but you saved me until last!"

Burt wanted to laugh in the irony and nearly told Trent to stick a sock in it, but he felt that that might be a bit harsh.

Finn, who was sitting beside Burt, turned around instead. "Dude, we're saving the best for last!" he smiled, trying to channel Kurt Hummel in an awkward attempt to flatter the distressed Warbler. Ironically, this unconventional pep talk pleased the teen as he settled down into his seat.

"When you put it like that," he trailed, smirking lightly.

Burt rolled his eyes, turning down a street where Kurt's car was parked in a yard; it was the Anderson's property, emphasized by the large house that was actually more akin to a mansion. Only, Kurt and Blaine weren't outside talking.

No, they were inside Kurt's car; and Burt wanted to know exactly why. He parked his car a little ways down, getting out of the car with a huff. Sure, he felt bad for Trent, but his desperate pleas were unfortunately falling on deaf ears. Burt walked down the driveway, knocking on Blaine's window gently; he heard his son squeak and Blaine make a strange grunting noise.

The car was turned back on, and the window on Blaine's side rolled down, revealing a very irritated Kurt and a quite disgruntled Blaine. He didn't look mad, mostly surprised. However, Kurt was not one to be intruded upon. "Dad, what was that for? I thought you were some serial murderer! Don't do that!" the countertenor cried, running a hand through his hair. His usually perfect coif had since been forgotten.

"What were you doing?" Burt asked without hesitation. Instead of looking at his son, the man turned his attention to his boyfriend, who squirmed a bit in his seat.

"We were talki-" Kurt began, but his father held a hand up to silence him.

"Save it; I wanna hear what he has to say about this." Burt's eyebrow was raised in a quizzical sort of way, much like Kurt when something either interested him or he wanted to pretend to be completely innocent about something; Blaine never realized how much alike the two really were.

"Well, Mr. Hummel," Blaine began, gulping lightly, "I was going to get out, but then I realized that I hadn't said good bye to Kurt yet, and-"

Kurt cleared his throat gently. "You can't say good night without a good night kiss, Dad."

"And I mean it when I say that I was going to stop at just one, but it was really cold out, and he's really warm, and-" Blaine stopped once he realized that Burt had since then stopped listening to the boy's explanation (or rather, excuse of the situation).

Sometimes, that boy said way too much. But, and Burt had to give him just a little bit of credit, he never once did say that Kurt initiated anything. And, in a father's handbook, he couldn't say that that wasn't just a little bit impressive. But only a little.

Kurt snapped his fingers lightly, gaining his father's attention. "All right, Dad, we said good night. Sorry, Blaine, but I guess Dad's going to make you go out into the freezing cold and into his large, empty house; but you don't have to make him leave, if you're nice enough, and I know you are." The countertenor blinked his eyelashes slightly, relying on his adorable (and Blaine loved how cute he was), charm to convince Burt to allow them just a few more moments.

Unfortunately, Burt Hummel was an unbreakable wall that not even his darling son could waver. "Good night, Blake."

"Blaine, sir."

Burt made a grunt of agreement, as if to say that he agreed with Blaine but really didn't care what he had to say. With a soft sigh, Blaine got out of the car, picking up his backpack as he did so. He smiled lightly at his boyfriend, ignoring said boyfriend's intimidating father, of whom was standing right behind him. The two gazed at each other for a few moments, and, allowing their gaze to linger, Blaine pretended to accidentally brush his hand against Kurt's, and Kurt did nothing to stop him.

A low snort from behind the couple forced Blaine to get up and start down the driveway. "I'll see you . . . soon!" he called behind him. Because, really, Blaine wasn't quite sure whether or not he was going to drive down to Lima the next day or simply wait until Monday; he was heavily leaning towards the former.

Kurt waved in return, a light blush dusting his already pink cheeks. He smiled to himself, and Burt wasn't quite sure whether or not he had seen his son look quite so happy in all his life. "Okay, you'd better get Trent home before he has a coronary."

That was certainly true. Burt took this as a cue to leave his son and retreat back to his own vehicle, still ignoring Trent now begging Burt to go as fast as possible. This, in turn, was retorted (by Finn), with something akin to "Dude, go the speed limit; you don't wanna hit anyone." Surprisingly enough, Finn turned out to be a pretty reliable wingman in the passenger seat; irritating at times, but for the most part (and this was so unlike Kurt), he kept his cool.

Eventually, once the nearly-in-tears Warbler was dropped off at his house, Burt began the long, too long, drive back to Lima, first making sure that his son was still behind them and not at Blaine's.

An irritated text to Finn implied that he was, while Finn replied that Kurt shouldn't really be texting while driving a motor vehicle.

The night was now completely fallen upon the trio, as morning was soon approaching, and the storm hadn't held up any. And, while Burt didn't know the kid farther than he could throw him (and he was a tiny fellow), he hoped that that Nick kid was still safe.

And he was. After the doctor came in, eyes bright with curiosity, Nick informed him that he'd be staying the night in the hospital, if that was alright.

The doctor chuckled at the last part. "I'm very glad that you made up your mind, Mr. Duval," he said, "have you called your parents yet?"

Nick nodded. "Yes, sir."

The older man nodded and said his goodbyes for the night, recommending Nick (and his friend in the chair), to get some well-deserved rest. The teens nodded and watched carefully as the doctor left the room, Nick immediately giving a small yawn once the door clicked.

He didn't quite realize how truly exhausted he was until now; or how much his body ached. Truth be told, he felt positively horrible. Nick looked over at Jeff, who seemed to be nodding off at certain intervals, even if he was trying so hard not to fall asleep. The brunette smiled and told his friend that it was fine if he fell asleep, that he wouldn't be too lonely; Jeff only offered a small smile in response.

"You, too," he advised. "Listen, do you still want to talk about . . ." he trailed off as he realized just how tired his already-sick friend looked. "We can talk in the morning, you know. I already texted my parents and asked the doctors, so I'm staying for the night. It's like a sleepover."

The two had had plenty of sleepovers in their many years of friendship, so why did this one feel so different? Nick was certain that it had something to do with that overhanging question that the two of them both kept their minds wrapped around. Neither wanted to bring it up, but neither wanted to keep it quite silent, either.

Though who wanted to talk about it more was quite a hard call, but it seemed to be leaning more on Jeff's part. The blonde wanted to clear things up between the two, whether it be admitting his love or completely denying it altogether (if this was the case, Jeff would say that Nick had only been dreaming). But he knew that Nick's well-being came first in all this and refused to put his selfish needs to get a clear mind over health.

"Seriously, you look awful. I don't mind; I'm not going to sleep much anyway." Truth be told, Jeff would be completely content in just watching Nick and making sure that his chest might keep rising and falling during the entire night, but his nerves would keep him up, even if he did want to sleep.

Nick bit his lip in contemplation, that habitual way he always did when he wanted something but didn't want to bother someone else with his needs. Jeff loved the way he did that, always letting his feelings show right on his face. But now, it was pretty hard to tell just what he was thinking, only that he wasn't sure what to say.

"You've really looked out for me today," Nick mentioned off-handedly, as if he didn't realize that Jeff had been practically freaking out, whilst Kurt had kept everything under control. "I hate to ask you to stay the night, but with the snow . . ." Nick pulled his blanket higher up, a cold chill overtaking his small frame. He wasn't this fragile, he decided, he was fine.

"I'll still be here," Jeff assured, doing his very best to sound as convincing as possible, trying to convince himself in the process. He knew that he wasn't sure of himself, but for some reason, Nick was. He put all of his trust into his best friend, just like Jeff always knew what he was doing.

When, in all reality, he was merely taking a shot in the dark.

Nick yawned again, closing his eyes for a bit longer this time; Jeff could tell he wanted nothing more to sleep, but a part of him thought that maybe Nick couldn't fall asleep.

"Did your mom say anything? You seemed a bit worried on the phone." Of course Jeff had noticed, but he just didn't want Nick to know that he did.

"No, she was fine with picking me up," Nick answered.

Jeff nodded in response. "Hey, I'm gonna go and get a drink of water," he announced getting up from his spot. He had a plan and, if all should go according to plan (which it always did), he should come back and-

As expected, Nick was lying in his bed, already asleep.

A.N.: Next chapter, the Duvals will get involved, and we may finally have an honest-to-goodness Niff moment! Also, the doctor in this and the former chapter was actually a doctor of mine growing up, and he is the nicest doctor ever! I hope you enjoyed!