I'm keeping this short because it's been FAR too long since I updated!
My MAIN and HORRIFIC (seriously, that word doesn't even come CLOSE to covering it) exams are out of the way. I almost lost my sanity, I barely ate, I slept about two hours per evening and could have jumped from my balcony from the stress (not that I'm dramatic at all) but that's my reason for not updating for a stupidly long time.
Seriously, NEVER train to be a lawyer/barrister, unless you want to keep your social life, wits and general LIFE! Haha.

So sorry for keeping you all waiting. Heads up, this is NOT all I'm posting. This is a self contained chapter and another will be up tonight. I wanted to end this one here. It's a LITTLE bit of a filler Chapter but I had to get this in before the next one – twas important : )
I'll be back later with Chapter 39.

Please enjoy :D

"Kurt?"

Blaine had been whispering it for around five minutes now but Kurt was dead to the world, sprawled out on his side with his arm slung around Blaine's waist. It was the deepest Blaine had ever seen him sleep so, after a while, he gave up in order to simply watch and memorise. It was a habit now and one which he hoped he would never give up.

Waking up had been interesting. The room was like a spinning tea cup, his wardrobe morphed into a whirlpool, the floor was shaking and the glass in the windows turned to orbs before flattening out once more – teasing him. It was as if he'd chewed on carpet for a day as his mouth felt rough and tasted like hell. The memory was still there though, just.

That was the bad part. He'd only been tipsy – ok, drunk – twice before. The first time had been with kids in school when he'd tried to fit in. He'd been grounded and that was that but the second time was when Thomas was still a student so he hadn't felt as scared and out of control then – he had someone to look after him. It wasn't as if he'd tried to get drunk this time but he was sure the damn punch wasn't comprised of what was advertised by Wes and David. So much for them being responsible.

He could remember a lot of evening including the duet with Thomas, plastering himself over Thomas' shoulder and telling him exactly what he'd do to Harry if he ever hurt Thomas in the future; he remembered lying on Kurt, playing with Kurt's clothes, kissing Kurt – as if he'd forget that – and saying stupid stuff but it was the end of the night that was blurry. A vague sickness took hold in his stomach as he shifted on his side, closing his eyes tight. He felt his skin wash cool, his eyes flash white and within seconds he hit his bathroom and threw up.

The feeling was raw and disgusting, something he really could have done without, but the strange after effects meant his eyes focused once more, stomach calming instantly. He was cold though, shivering rapidly, so he sat on the floor, resting his head on the wall and took deep and regulated breaths.

"Blaine? Blaine, are you ok?"

"K-Kurt?"

The door opened slowly, light filtering in immediately even though the morning was cloudy and overcast. Kurt's head peeked around the door frame, worried and cautious at what he'd find.

"Oh dear god," he sighed, pursing his lips. Kurt was sleepy, that was certain, but nothing was better at rousing a person than the noise of someone emptying their insides. It would have been horrifically disgusting had it been anyone else but as it was Blaine... well, it simply sparked his latent need to care and protect.

"I don't feel good," Blaine groaned, his head tilted back and eyes squinting. Kurt sighed, closing the door and placed one of Blaine's wash cloths under the cold faucet.

"It's all self inflicted, you know?" Kurt teased, bending down in front of Blaine and placing the wet cloth across his brow. "But as it's you and as it appears I can't resist you, even when you're horribly ill, I'll make an exception."

"You're an angel," Blaine whispered, his lips weak.

"An angel I may be," Kurt laughed lightly, softly wiping cool lines down Blaine's cheek, "but don't expect this to become a habit. Next time I'll leave you to the toilet bowl and your own devices. My constitution doesn't do well with sickness."

Blaine groaned once more, falling to curl into Kurt's side heavily. Kurt felt arms cling to his waist almost desperately. "I'm sorry I'm a mess and I'm sorry for anything I did last night that was embarrassing, ridiculous, stupid or inappropriate."

With a squeeze to Blaine's side, Kurt let go and allowed his fingers to smooth back the hair sticking up in every direction. Blaine was a mess, granted, but somehow he happened to be an adorable mess. "You weren't too bad," Kurt soothed, resting his head against Blaine's, his hand still idly stroking at the nape of Blaine's neck, "but it's safe to say you like to talk."

With a chesty groan, Blaine sunk forward, closing his eyes. "I don't want to know what I said. I might just die."

"And here's me so sure I'm the drama queen in this relationship," Kurt quipped, laughing lightly. He smiled as he watched the corners of Blaine's lips quirk slightly.

"This relationship," Blaine whispered, lifting one hand from his face in order to peek at Kurt, "how weird does that sound?"

Kurt bit his lip. "Very weird."

In the small echoing bathroom, the noise of their breathing was loud against the silence and it lasted in this way for a short while. Kurt sighed, leaning back into Blaine, registering the lack of required interaction. They were at that point where silence was just so easy.

"So," Blaine said eventually, breaking the quiet, "once I stop feeling like I'm minutes away from death, I thought I'd finish up with some homework and we could do something."

Kurt lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have no idea," Blaine laughed, frowning deeply.

With a jolt and flurry of limbs, Kurt lifted himself to stand causing Blaine to sway a little at the lost contact. "Ok, I'm planning our afternoon."

"Wow. Ok," Blaine replied, half laughing, "so what are we going to do?"

"Leave all of that to me and just you focus on the not throwing up so you don't embarrass me in public because, let's face it, nobody likes a sick boyfriend."

Blaine spat out a laugh, his head jolting in pain immediately. Kurt definitely had a way with words but despite the fact he felt like death warmed up, he couldn't help but love when Kurt got snappy. "Now, now, I'm actually really and truly ill."

Kurt pursed his lips and tugged open the door. With it half open, he leaned back with a wide smile. "Self infliction is no excuse. Get to it and be presentable by two o'clock."

As the door closed, Blaine felt his body give in and head hit the hard, white enamel of the sink. He closed his eyes but not without the hint of an amused smile at the fact that he had a boyfriend who took no nonsense.

An hour later, mid way through the painful process of attempting to read written words as they swam on the page, he regretted his earlier clever statement. He had a boyfriend who was always so damn right and it wasn't fair.

Kurt was humming to himself. It wasn't even a tune he knew but for some reason it came freely and with so much added happiness, he had to keep taking regular deep breaths to steady himself. Finn had called and they'd had a catch up. It'd become a 'thing' for them and Kurt, still slightly adjusting to having a brother and that brother being Finn Hudson, was secretly so pleased they'd reached a position when they did really quite stereotypical brotherly things. All was just as cluttered and complex back at McKinley it seemed. Quinn was a definite part of his brother's life again and Kurt, although holding a respect for Ms Fabray's confidence and utter ruthlessness, couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable about their reunion. It seemed like their incestuous Glee club had only grown worse since he'd left but, regardless of their ridiculous drama, Kurt smiled and wished for a brief second that he was back there with them, if only to gloat and smile with superiority at his ability to hold a perfectly functioning relationship. That aside, life felt good and shiny – the clouds had begun to part and the sun was beginning to shine.

Dropping a cardigan into his bag, he slotted his charged iPod alongside a large navy blue fluffy blanket and picked up the basket he'd packed earlier. Isla had appeared in the kitchens wearing large sunglasses and pouring coffee – it had clearly been a rough night on her home brew but it worked for Kurt as he was able to get his own way entirely. He'd even taken two slices of cake from the evening desert selection. Dalton didn't have CCTV (they barely had central heating), he was stealth enough to check.

Kurt swung the basket happily, skipping over his Doc Marten's as he rounded the corner to Blaine's room. It was something he'd always wanted to do – picnic in a park with a boyfriend – but, as always, it was forever out of reach. They did it in movies, feeding each other strawberries, sipping sparkling cider and reading poetry to each other under a looming tree. Kurt laughed to himself, shaking his head – they truly were pretty well suited to one another as Blaine was almost as soppy as he was.

"Have you recovered?" Kurt called through the gap in Blaine's door, unsure if he should just barge in and interrupt in case Blaine was changing.

"Come in," Blaine called.

As the door swung open, Kurt bit his lip to suppress a soppy grin. He hadn't seen Blaine in summery clothes. Kurt had opted for his trademark skin-tight jeans in a dark emerald, his tall black boots and a green patterned shirt, buttoned high with a cravat – the scarf was dotted with tiny white birds, something which Kurt found too adorable to resist.

Blaine looked... surprising. His hair was still in its usual case of gel even if there did seem to be a little less today; the short sleeved grey t-shirt and jeans were rather plain but the pillar box red cardigan slung over his arm was not, at all. It brought out his dark features, especially his eyes, and made him look incredible.

"I'm alive," Blaine said simply, smirking as he slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, his movements softer than usual, "and the weather is on our side for whatever you have-"

He stopped, his eyes finding the wooden basket in Kurt's hand.

"I thought a picnic would be fun." Kurt shuffled a little, ducking to take in the look in Blaine's eyes, "but if it's not your thing then we can just-"

Blaine rushed forward, dropping his sweater , and kissed Kurt surely. Neither moved or even breathed. Blaine laughed lightly against Kurt's lips, his hands slotting to Kurt's waist immediately. "It's definitely my thing."

"Good, because even if it wasn't, you'd still be coming," Kurt bit playfully, still reeling a little. Blaine's kisses were nothing short of insistent - 'purposeful' could be his middle name.

"So demanding," Blaine sighed, shrugging on his cardigan.

"Tip of the iceberg," Kurt winked.

With a swipe to his shirt to flatten out any creases, Kurt watched as Blaine fished in his drawer and pulled out a pile of letters.

"I picked these up for you when I went down this morning."

Frowning, Kurt mapped the handwriting and postal mark before slotting them into his canvas bag. "Thank you, I'll have a look at them later."

"Ready, sweetie?" Blaine asked, grinning from ear to ear and smirking to boot.

"Sweetie?" Kurt snapped, frowning with horrified eyes, "Never," he breathed, pulling Blaine's cardigan panels together and looping the top button closed, "ever," he pursed his lips with a shake of his head, "call me that again."

Giggling, Blaine slid past him and whistled down the hall. Kurt groaned, rolling his eyes – their day was sure to be as interesting as ever.

Standing in the sun as Blaine took a few moments to pull his car out the confine of the gates, Kurt tugged the letters from his bag and opened the one he wasn't expecting. He knew Carole sent him a fortnightly update on life in the Hummel-Hudson residence, mainly focused upon reassuring him that his father was healthy and keeping him abreast of any Finn developments. He expected these letters and was also waiting for his magazine subscription invoice but the writing on the first envelope was messy and unkempt- it wasn't anything he recognised.

He tugged the thick regulation paper out and noticed that a thinner and cheaper piece of paper was clipped to the back. He read the headed section and found himself clutching tighter. As he reached the bottom, he slid his fingers under and read the attached note. It was long and rambling, scrawled messily with even a few smudges but the crux of the meaning behind the words was there and utterly painful to read. He frowned, feeling anger bubble and burn, his jaw tightening and stomach dropping a thousand feet.

He hadn't expected anything like that.

Just as he tucked the letter back inside his bag, Blaine pulled up, throwing open the door for him and beaming brightly behind his shades. "If I had a convertible, you could relive your Grace Kelly fantasy," Blaine said happily, taking Kurt's bags and placing them on the backseat, "it's just that kind of day!"

"I don't have a head scarf," Kurt deadpanned, settling himself into his seat, "let's go for the 'less wind is better' idea, huh?" He pushed his large and square glasses up to rest on his nose with a curt nod. Blaine just laughed. Damn him.

As they pulled out of Dalton's grounds, Kurt took a deep breath, pushing anything and everything from his mind that didn't somehow connect to his plans to make their day as perfect as possible. He fought the tug of anxiety in the pit of his stomach and focused on the slight sliver of warm air on his face from the half open window and closed his eyes, listening to Blaine hum along to the radio.