Disinterest was the only emotion tainting Kurt Hummel's normally bright facade as he stared into space somewhere near his Spanish teacher. He stole a glance at the clock secured in place on the wall above. It looked so near from his desk, as though he could reach it and turn the hands ahead at will, freeing himself from the boring atmosphere that closed in on him more every second. The pale boy was so desperate by this point that he almost considered trying it.

All that was keeping him alive was the knowledge that it would soon be over... Well, that and his new boyfriend sitting just across the dull room. Lost in his hazel eyes, Kurt absentmindedly reached under his desk - only to be greeted by a fresh piece of chewing gum moments later. He sighed before reaching into his bag for some sort of disinfectant. Just as he had began wiping bacteria off of his designer shirt, Kurt's once-private thought were interrupted.

Bored?

The diva was so surprised at the random question that he squeezed his bottle of sanitizer a little too hard, leaving the right pocket of dark-wash skinny jeans soaked in the smelly liquid. The only bright side he could find of the current situation was that he had been meaning to give those pants a good cleaning anyways. He snapped the small container shut and sent a rather annoyed thought back to the soloist.

GAH! Don't do that! You startled me!

How so?

Don't sneak into my thoughts so suddenly! Geez, I never thought it would be possible for someone's thoughts to freak me out.

Sorry. My thoughts are the mind equivalent of a ninja: quick and completely silent. Like I said, I'm both scary and sexy.

Scary. Right. And my grandpa was a magic pickle who played the bagpipes.

Blaine chuckled softly to himself at that, luckily softly enough for it to remain unnoticed by the group of teenagers surrounding him. Save for Kurt, of course.

Interesting, unlike Mr. Schuester's lecture...

Well, that's nothing new. That man could make Lady Gaga sound boring if he tried.

You're kidding, right?

I wish.

It's official, then. We're doomed.

Oh, if only Holly Holiday were here now...

Blaine stopped tapping on his desk with his once-sharp pencil for just a few seconds, as though questioning what Kurt had just said- or rather, thought.

I'm sorry, did you just say "Holly Holiday"?

No, Blaine, I said that oranges are dancing on the moon. Why?

Nothing... that's quite the name, though.

I guess. I just never really thought about it much when she was our substitute, because it was a lot more entertaining to focus on what she was saying, believe it or not.

She had a way to make this class interesting? She's beginning to sound less and less like a substitute teacher and more like a miracle worker.

I suspect that she may have been both. Plus, she bears an absolutely uncanny resemblance to culture icon Gwyneth Paltrow.

That sounds so awesome... I wish the subs I had at Dalton were more like that. They were kind of, well...

Kurt rolled his eyes in the general direction of the ceiling and began tapping his shoes, waiting for Blaine to make his point.

Blaine Warbler, for the sake of all that is good in this world, just spit it out already!

Grouchy. Strict. Uptight. Stiff. Boring. Need I say more?

Nope, I understand. Those words are applicable to a lot of people I know, actually.

Like...?

Blaine. Look right in front of you.

Jacob Ben Israel, resident gossip mongrel/ Jewfro?

Not that little... Never mind. Mr. Schuester.

Ah. Figures you would say that.

Well, I did once call him uptight straight to his face. I sort of yelled it at him, honestly.

Would now be a bad time to mention how much I would love to see that?

No, not really. It was pretty funny, really.

I would bet my life that it was sexy, too.

How can you be so sure? Enlighten me, oh short one.

Because everything about you is sexy, of course.

And there it was again, the warm, tingling, all-too-familiar feeling of a blush creeping across Kurt's flawless features. Judging by the smirk spread across Blaine's face, it was noticeable.

And the score is: Kurt- zero, Sir Hobbit- two. Damn you.

Noted. But I think I should mention, as an expert on over usage of hair gel, that there is one person in this room with more product on their head than mine.

Oh, gee, don't tell me, let me guess. Mr. Schuester?

You've got a bit of sarcasm on your mouth there.

Always!

If we weren't in class I would take care of that for you. Wink wink nudge nudge.

Smack! The sound of Kurt's palm making contact with his forehead was audible, the noise seemingly echoing throughout the classroom.

Hobbit three, Kurt zero.

You have to stop doing that! Mr. Schuester is going to think something's up.

And what would he say? "Kurt, stop telepathically communicating with your boyfriend, the sound of your constant face-palms are disturbing the class."

Touché.

Odd that you somehow ended up speaking French words in the middle of Spanish class...

Technically, I didn't speak any French words whatsoever. I thought them. Ha ha! Loophole!

Touché.

Oh boy. Let's not start with that one again please. I'd like to hold on to what's left of my sanity for at least the rest of this class.

At this school? Good luck, my dear.

Thanks. I'm going to need it. I consider myself lucky to have survived this long, especially with Karofsky around.

Wait what? What's that supposed to mean?

He threatened to kill me a while back, remember?

Oh, yeah... Wait, is he in here?

Yeah, he's sitting on the far left in the back of the room. Who else could you possibly think that was?

One of the gorillas that escaped from the zoo last week, maybe.

Shut up, you're going to make me burst out laughing like an idiot in the middle of class!

So? Have some fun!

So what would I tell Mr. Schuester? "I'm sorry Mr. Schuester, but these Spanish proverbs are so amazingly hilarious that I just couldn't contain myself. Carry on."

It could happen...Maybe...

You're really lucky I love you enough to put up with this, you know that?

Yup. But fear not, I'm always worth the trouble.

Or so you say...

Hey!

Oh you know I love you. How many times do I have to say it?

Come to think of it, one more would be nice.

Only if you say it first.

Say it?

Oh, you know what I mean.

I love you, more than Katy Perry and coffee and all the hair gel I've ever used, combined!

That was the most interesting proclamation of love I've heard in a long time. And I love you too, even more than... Lady Gaga herself!

Gasp! Wow, you must love me almost as much as I love you, then!

More.

Impossible.

Are we really gonna play this game?

Well, truthfully, I'm sort of enjoying it.

But the bell's going to ring soon! In fact, it should be going off right about -

The pale boy's thought was cut off by the loud ringing of a bell, signalling the end of Spanish class.

- Now. Adiós mi querida Blaine.

Adiós, mi amor.