I was in trouble, so much trouble, and not simply with my World History teacher.

I know, you're confused. I don't mean bad trouble, like when, you know, Karofsky was trying his best to suffocate me to death. Thankfully, I've got less important things to deem as being trouble now, and well, this is one of those things. Now, I know that technically there's no trouble I should really be in. Dalton's a great, safe, wonderful school, and now I've got a two week relationship with Blaine in the bag to add to that. And, well, with nearly two and a half months gone since I've last been bullied, my skin is completely free and my nerves are all but settled. I don't flinch whenever someone bigger and burlier than me makes an unexpected move in my vicinity. Life's good, really good, so much so that I've relaxed enough to start taking risks. And that's what exactly has gotten me into my current predicament. I'm pretty certain that my doting, caring, mentoring, but at times strict boyfriend is not going to be pleased at all with the situation I got myself into today.

We have a bit of a routine now. It's Wednesday, so Blaine's going to spend part of his evening with me in my dormitory. It's usually my favourite time of the day as I get to spend some personal time with him. The activities often differ. There's homework and studying to do of course, but sometimes there's also Youtube surfing, movie watching, talking, and more recently, cuddling. Cuddling is the best part, and he also ensures that we snuggle together for a bit before he finally sees me off to bed. That's our Wednesday routine...well, Monday and Wednesday routine. On Tuesday and Thursdays I go to his dorm where I hang out with him, Wes and whoever else drops in. More and more I realise just how popular and friendly my boyfriend is, and that students from all years tend to come to him. It's an interesting time and I don't mind the loss of personal time with him. I learn so much about my boyfriend by just sitting and watching him speak and interact with others.

Besides, some of the people who come actually do so to see me now. Yes, that's right. Listen up world, Kurt E. Hummel has actual friends in Dalton. Sometimes we divide ourselves into our respective groups in the dormitory in a communally enjoyable environment. It's a different level of intimacy that I'm slowly growing to love. It's a male dynamic that until now I've never been exposed to, and I appreciate the fact that Dalton offers me an opportunity to experience it.

None of that is one the cards for tonight though, especially when Blaine finds out what happened this morning. The only side of him I'm going to see then will be that tougher side of him that inevitably leaves me feeling all of two inches tall. Not that it wouldn't be well deserved, I acknowledge, with a bit of a sigh, even as I scribble down another point I can use on my notes page. I know any scolding or such Blaine does would be fully justified, but, who really likes being censured? Definitely not me. I take a bit of a break from my reading to think about what I can do to fix the situation. Do I make an excuse? If Blaine stays his usual amount of time with me, he's bound to notice that something is up. I'm never good at keeping secrets, especially terrible ones and so I can already see myself getting curious looks from him. And, it'd just go downhill from there. A curious Blaine is a probing Blaine. And a probing Blaine eventually uncovers the truth revealing that stern Blaine I really don't want to see. Of course, I can just be brave and admit it to him from the start; his reaction would probably be a lot milder. It wouldn't matter though. No matter how I end up telling him, he'll end up disappointed with me, and that's something I don't want him to be.

I groan and run my hands through my hair, not for the first time. What should I do? Five minutes later I decide that all of this is Blaine's fault. It's a bit of a petulant thought, but I roll with it. If Blaine hadn't insisted upon helping me make friends then I wouldn't have gotten in trouble with one. Therefore, he instigated the action and should take his part of the blame in it. It's a ridiculous excuse I know, but I go with it, because it gives me a bit of righteous indignation that powers me through the rest of my research and into actually writing my apology essay. And yes, I do mean write as in a hand-written submission. Mrs. Sampson can be vindictive when required. I mean, who else would turn a simple apology into a research paper? Saying why I'm wrong isn't good enough. I have to find at least three examples of major diplomatic crises that led to horrendous situations and incorporate that into my four page submission. It's embarrassing, very embarrassing and it continuously brings to mind exactly why I'm doing this activity.

Nevertheless, I force myself to focus solely on the task at hand, and my reality slowly boils down to the sound of my pen scratching along my page. It's surprising, but I don't even register the small creak my door always makes when it opens; nor do I really hear Blaine's soft call of my name. I actually jump in surprise when his slightly roughened hands drop down onto my shoulders and squeeze, but I relax immediately because the smell of his cologne wafts around me, a scent I associate with him. It comforts me, and I tilt my head up to offer him a small smile, humming in delight when he bends to kiss my forehead tenderly. My eyes close briefly as I savour the affection. I'd have never thought before him that such a simple gesture could make me feel so well-cared for.

"You're working very hard," he notes softly, as his hands knead at my shoulders. "What subject?"

Well, there goes my relaxation. I barely prevent myself from stiffening, something he's definitely bound to notice. I resist the urge to panic, and instead twist in my seat, dislodging his hands, so I can stand and sort of tackle-hug him in a way that drops him back onto my dorm's spare bed. I grin down at him (because despite the underhandedness of this move, I still love feeling him) before burrowing my face into his neck after mumbling, "Just a history essay". He chuckles, and I can feel his chest vibrate with the sound as his hands come up to settle on my back, and he starts a gentle motion. I wiggle into a bit more of a comfortable position and sigh, absorbing the affection. This is one of the reasons I love cuddling, even if our legs are both still mostly off the bed. I get to feel Blaine pressed up against me like this, and my world basically narrows down to just being him.

"How was your day?" I ask, moving so my cheek is now pillowed against his chest.

"Pretty uneventful," he answers. "Had a surprise test from Mr. Nicholas, but it wasn't anything I couldn't manage."

"So you'll get an A on it instead of an A+?" I say, mostly teasing. Blaine's smart, really smart, but he's humble about it so I'm not at all intimidated by it. It's not like I'm lacking in the academic department myself, but, I had had greater things to focus on the first semester of my sophomore year than my school work. It's something I'm still struggling to rectify now, but overall, I'm not in too terrible a situation.

He digs his fingers into my side in rebuttal, and I squirm against him even as chortle pass my lips. "I'll behave!" I manage after a few seconds, and it's then that his fingers cease their assault on me.

"Good boy," he says, mostly as a quip, but it sends a pang through me. He's not going to think I'm that much of a good boy if he finds out what I'm hiding.

My good humour effectively dies at that thought, and suddenly, I'm not comforted being in his arms. It just adds to that node of guilt that's within me and, after pressing what I hope he doesn't realise is an apologetic kiss to his neck, I sit up.

"I should finish my essay," I say, stroking his cheek and feeling the hint of stubble there. "My boyfriend is kind of demanding and insists that I get to bed no later than half nine."

Blaine smiles, and amusement laces his tone as he says, "Sounds like your boyfriend has a level head on his shoulders. I think I'd like to meet him."

"Silly," I say, thumping my hand against his chest before I return to my former seat. "Do you have anything to do?"

"I've got my kindle," he answers, reaching over to grab it, "don't worry about me getting bored."

"I won't," I agree, and settle back to the task at hand.

It's a lot more difficult now that he's there. I have to worry about him. Sometimes he offers to check over my work for me, and while it's saved me some embarrassment in class, that really isn't something I can let happen today. Other times he just comes to read over my shoulder without comment, curious probably because there are a few classes I take that he's never selected. If he sees what I'm doing...it spurs me into faster writing to just get it over with, but, at the same time, I have Jeff's warning in the back of my mind that if the essay isn't neat, she won't accept it. And, this is something I really don't want to have to re-do again.

He doesn't though. The most he does at one point when I take a bit of a break to stretch is to ask when it's due. I worry if he'd be upset when I say it's for the next day, but all he does is roll his eyes in what I know is a fondly exasperated way before saying "Turning delinquent, are we?" before going back to his reading. It hits a bit too close to home for me to do anything besides nervously laugh. Finally though, I finish, and I cap my pen with relish. There, now all I have to do is submit this dumb thing in the morning, and, I'll be nearly through with all of this. I still have one more afternoon detention session to get through, but I can manage that easily. I still don't know though, if, when and how I'm going to tell Blaine about this.

I look toward him, but he's too caught up in whatever he's reading to notice, and, discreetly, I set the essay aside and work on the last few problems I have to for my Algebra class. I'm just about done with that when my door opens with a bit of a bang, and Jeff barrels in, startling us both.

"Partner in crime!" Jeff chirrups, "Are you done yet?"

My eyes widen, not because of his sudden entrance, but due to his words. Jeff could very well end up telling Blaine for me if I'm not careful and that is something I definitely, absolutely, positively do not want to happen.

"I'm am," I say quickly, and shoot a pointed look to where Blaine is now looking at Jeff. I hope my friend can gather what I'm trying to subtly tell him.

He follows my gaze and I see the way his eyebrows shoot up as he glances back at me. I nod slightly, a gesture he returns, and I know that he's going to play along. "Sup Blainers?" he says, dropping down on the bed beside him. "Am I interrupting Klaine time?"

"Klaine?" Blaine repeats slowly, and it only then occurs to me that he isn't aware of the portmanteau that the blonde has assigned to us ever since I confirmed that we had gotten together.

"Kurt and Blaine smashed together. Duh," he states, giving Blaine a look that suggests that he thinks he's the mayor of a town named Stupid right about now.

"Okay..." Blaine says, shaking his head slightly, before dismissing that conversation thread. "Why weren't you at Warbler practice today?"

Oh yeah, it's Wednesday. I didn't even realise that our detention would have prevented Jeff from attending. And that, I know, even though I'm not even a member of the team, is a definite no-no.

Jeff shrugs in a sort of nonchalant way as he responds. "I started the day with a migraine and it kept building. I ended up heading to the nurse's office after class and slept for a while."

I glance at Blaine and am surprised to see a bit of sympathy colouring his face. Is migraines an actual thing for Jeff? "You're feeling better now?"

"It's still there," he answers, "but it doesn't bother me as much now."

"It can't be if you're running around crazy."

"Yeah well we all know I have two speeds, fast and faster. I'm going to bed early tonight though, see if I can just sleep this off."

"That'll be for the best," he agreed. "You wanted something from Kurt?"

Under any other circumstances I would chuckle. Sleep really does seem to be Blaine's solution to problems, and now that he's agreed that Jeff probably needed to up his rest, he was determined to see that that happened as soon as possible.

"Oh yeah," he says and I can tell that he had genuinely forgotten how this entire conversation had started. "I wanted to see if Kurt was done with our...homework."

"I am," I state, and pick it up, offering it to him.

"Me too. I wanted to see if you're up for comparing. I can't really focus on reading in depth and I want to make sure that I haven't missed anything."

He sure knew how to carry a lie, I think, with a hint of admiration. "Why don't you take it with you?" I offer. "You can just give it back to me in the morning, and this way you can take your time with it."

"That's great actually. Well...I think I'll leave you two to your Klaine fest okay?" he responds, standing.

"Try to sleep soon," Blaine warns him, and Jeff nods.

"Later guys," he calls out as he leaves, his pace a bit more sedate.

"I'm done with everything pressing," I tell him once the door closes.

Blaine takes a few seconds to reply, he's looking after Jeff with a mildly contemplative expression that I don't really appreciate. Does he suspect, I wonder. His expression is normal when he turns to me though, and I smile despite my residual guilt as he sets aside his reading device and holds out his hand invitingly. I don't need a second invitation and soon I am cuddled back into his embrace. I know I should tell him, I really do, but right now, safely secure like this, I just don't want to rock the boat.

Besides, as I try to reassure myself, as long as the lesson is learnt, he doesn't really need to know, and I truly have no intentions of getting into any more trouble. I really don't need to tell Blaine about this, do I?

I reassure myself that the answer to that question is, indeed, no.