A loud blaring, rather than Kurt's voice, woke Wes up that morning. Blinking blearily, he rolled over and saw the digital clock on his dresser.

1:32.

The noise wasn't going away. A low groan escaped his mouth as he realized what was happening. Another emergency fire drill. Emphasis on the "drill".

He untangled his legs from the sheets, groping blindly in the dark. He staggered in the direction of the light switch, running his hands along the side of the wall till he found it.

Light suddenly filled the room, temporarily blinding.

"Shit." He closed his eyes, waiting for his pupils to adjust.

He heard a slight whimper from the other side of the room. Now that he considered it, Kurt had been conspicuously quiet up to this point. He swung around, fairly sure that his eyes were good. He facepalmed.

He was still freaking asleep, even with the fire alarm blasting away. Mumbling in his sleep, Kurt flipped over, burying his face in the pillow.

This wasn't good; students were given less than five minutes to get out in the hallway during a fire later and the punishment was far from pleasant. The only reason they were given that long was due to a minor fiasco, many years ago, when a student had come running out of his dorm room in his birthday suit.

Despite the hazards, a rule was created that students had to have at least boxers and an undershirt on before leaving the dorms, giving everyone, even those who wore proper pajamas(like Kurt) a chance to figure out what was happening before running out in a full panic.

He scooted over and poked the boy.

"Kurt. Kurt. For God's sake, Kurt, wake freaking up!" Nothing. No reaction whatsoever, outside of him batting Wes' hand away.

He could always shove him off the bed and be done with it, he supposed, but then he'd have to explain what was happening and waste even more time. He certainly couldn't leave him there-though he was exceedingly tempted to do so. The alarm was still going.

"Damn you," he growled.

Tugging the covers down off his body, he picked Kurt up(he was unnaturally light for his size) and tossed him over his shoulder, maneuvering him until he was in a full Fireman's Carry, one arm slung across Wes' torso with the other dangling in the air.

Gripping his arm and the backs of his knees tightly, he made his way out, momentarily letting go of him to open the door.

Their head of dorm, Mr. Ramsey, was overseeing them as they lined up hastily, all yawning or fidgeting in some way.

"Wes!" He turned to see David and Blaine striding towards him.

David raised his eyebrow at the sleeping form slung across him but refrained from commenting. Blaine, however, used no such restraint.

"What's with Kurt?" Disregarding the stares he was getting, he hitched Kurt up higher, adjusting him to a more comfortable position.

"Your boyfriend here wouldn't wake up, so I had no choice but to carry him."

Looking worried, Blaine stepped forward and offered up his arms. "You want me to take him?"

He snorted at that. "Please, Blaine, Kurt's taller than you. Besides, I'm his roommate. It'll be easier if I carry him."

"Someone's possessive..." David said, cocking his head as he let the sentence trail away purposely.

Good Lord, David had been brainwashed too. He gave him a look before facing Mr. Ramsey, who had begun calling out names from the list all heads of dorms were required to keep nearby in case of emergency.

"Anderson, Blaine."

"Here, sir." He called, obedient as ever, even with his hair tangled up in his natural curly state. If only Kurt was awake, he'd certainly be laughing away at it. Of course, Kurt had his own case of bedhead, his usually carefully combed and hair-sprayed locks sticking up in all different directions.

If only Wes had a camera. Here it was, perfectly good blackmail material, going to waste. Such a shame.

Not to say that his own hair wasn't messy(he used gel too, just not nearly so much as Kurt or Blaine) but, it had to be said that it didn't differ too much from his usual look, ruining the intimidating image he worked so hard to maintain only a bit.

If only he had his gavel.

"Hughes, Wesley."

"Here."

The man didn't even look up from his clipboard before reading out the next name, "Hummel, Kurt."

He swallowed briefly. "He's here, sir." Mr. Ramsey tore his attention from his list to peer over at him, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline at the sight. Thankfully, though, he said nothing, moving on to the next name without questioning him.

Finally, it was over and they were dismissed.

Trudging back inside their room, he threw Kurt back on his bed, his body bouncing slightly as he hit the mattress.

He would have gladly left him there, sleeping on top of the covers, had something not stuck out at him. His expression. Replacing the usually somewhat mocking, defensive mask that Wes hadn't even realized wasn't his default setting was an almost...peaceful, content look. Curled up on his bed, face totally relaxed, he looked remarkably small, young almost.

Amazing that this tiny, slight boy with a too high voice and a tongue sharper than a knife could seem so very vulnerable in his sleep.

Moving automatically, all the while internally berating himself, he carefully pulled up the sheets to Kurt's chin, making sure to avoid touching him. Which was somewhat ridiculous, seeing as he'd spent the last half our with his hands on his bare skin.

He resisted the urge to tuck him in because, really, that was going way too far for him to be comfortable with. He plopped down on his own bed after flicking off the lights, falling asleep too soon for him to hear Kurt's sigh.

"Mind explaining why everyone's been walking around looking like death warmed over this morning?" Kurt asked Flint the next morning.

The boy grunted before answering, picking up a muffin from the buffet table. "Fire drill last night. Course, you were asleep the whole time, so you wouldn't remember it."

A frown flitted across Kurt's face as he walked beside the gangly teenager. "I can't say I'm not surprised when I didn't wake up, but what happened afterwards?"

"Dude, it was awesome," Flint responded enthusiastically, "Wes just comes out of your room, freaking carrying you over his shoulders while you just hang there, fast asleep."

His brow furrowed. "I bet Wes didn't like that."

Flint grinned at him. "He didn't seem to mind, actually. Of course, I didn't get the chance to talk to him, what with us being on opposite ends of the hall."

Kurt just raised an eyebrow, silently pondering over this new information.

Well. This was certainly an interesting development.

Kurt Point of View, finally!

Not that it revealed anything, of course.

I tell you, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write for this chapter. It started out with a Warbler Road Trip-until I realized I'd have to wait until after Regionals for that.

By the way, the biggest and most heartfelt thanks to punkballet, for helping me out with the French last chapter.

This chapter came surprisingly easy. The last one was a bit difficult to get out, but this one just flowed. Hmm.

Feel free to point out any errors in this in a review.

On that note, thanks ever so much to everyone who's reviewed so far! You guys keep me writing!

Glee is NOT MINE.

-Mel