Author's Notes:

Hello again lovely Readers! I have another fic, written for the One Sentance prompt over at Kurt_Blaine Livejournal.

The original prompt asked for either Kurt or Blaine to have wings. This is what my crazy brain came up with. Enjoy! =D

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Alas, I do not. =(

Kurt was scared.

No, not merely scared, terrified.

It had all started three days before, when he was feeding Pavarotti.

He was always so careful with his new little friend, but while he was still trying to be watchful as possible, something went a little wrong that day.

While he was trying to put the bird seed into the feeder, Pavarotti pecked his finger.

The little canary pecked him hard enough to draw a drop of blood.

He was shocked, and a little mad at the bird, but he let it go. It wasn't like the blood stained his new cashmere scarf, let alone his Dalton blazer. The droplet stayed at the tip of his finger, not even enough to drip onto the floor.

After carefully dabbing his finger with a wet nap, he bandaged it up, and did what he always did on Fridays. He packed his little red suitcase, and headed for home.

It was Saturday morning when he first started to feel...strange.

His back was killing him. He tried to take some Advil to make it go away. It only dulled the pain, but the bone deep ache, and pressure didn't go away.

Midday, Carole made him take his temperature, because he was looking flushed, and he complained that he was freezing, even though he had covered himselfin a mound of blankets.

With a temperature of 102 degrees, Kurt was forced back into bed, and to drink plenty of fluids.

The pain in his back was becoming unbearable, but he really didn't want to worry his Dad or Carole anymore than he had to. It was too high up to possibly be kidney related, and while ragged due to the fever and pain, his breathing was fine, so that ruled out a possible lung infection. He figured that he must have caught the flu from one of his classmates, and was just now showing the nasty symptoms. The flu was known to give the body aches and pains, chills, and a fever.

It had to be the flu, he surmised, because it was better to think that he had the flu, instead of... thinking something else was happening to him.

He was feeling a little better on Sunday. His temperature had gone back to normal, and while he was a little on the pale side, the ache in his back was more like some uncomfortable pressure. He could live with that, maybe even get a pass after school to get a massage at his favorite spa.

That night, when he got back to Dalton, he greeted his friends, retrieved Pavarotti from Blaine, (he didn't want to take the bird with him all the way to Lima, and Blaine was more than happy to bird-sit), watched two episodes of Doctor Who with him, and when he went to sleep that night, he slept on his side, cuddling up to his pillow, thinking about the curly haired boy of his dreams.

Monday morning, all hell broke loose.

He awoke, alone in his dorm, to his own screams.

His back. Something was terribly wrong with his back!

He felt like ten thousand tiny knives were slicing through his bones, tissue, and skin.

He didn't know what to do. Call for help? He could barely stop screaming!

Had be been stabbed?

Did he somehow fracture his vertebrae?

Pull some tendons?

Bruise his spine without knowing it?

After a while, when nobody tried to bust his door in, to rescue him from his pain, Kurt curled himself into a ball on his bed, and buried his face into his pillow, to muffle to sounds of his growing terror.

It was when all the pressure seemed to just burst, and there was a sickening popping noise, that Kurt's world went dark.

When he came to, the pain was gone.

He blinked, and tried to take in what had happened. He slowly stood up, and nearly vomited at the sight of blood on his floor and sheets.

Kurt was really starting to get scared. What the hell just happened to him?

It was when he took sight of himself in the mirror, that he screamed all over again.

There Kurt stood in his ruined sleep shirt, falling over his shoulders, drooping at his chest, and clinging to his biceps. There were so many rips and tattered tears, obviously torn open from the back, blood smeared all over the expensive blue cloth.

That wasn't what caught Kurt's attention so vividly. While that sight alone was enough to horrify the teen, his gaze was centered behind him, over his shoulders, and up.

Kurt stared, mouth agape in shock.

Wings.

White, fluffy, feathery wings were stretched majestically behind his back. What stood before the mirror could have easily been a perfect statue of a weeping angel, not that of
a frightened boy, standing in his dorm room.

Kurt fainted again.

A little later in the day, Kurt finally remembered that there had been a scheduled assembly that morning, and likely nobody would have been in his dorm building to hear him. He also remembered his Dad saying that he would call the school and tell them that he had been pretty sick over the weekend. Everyone must have assumed that Kurt needed his rest, and didn't want to bother him.

This actually bought him time, he thought, until he could figure out what to do.

He tried the first thing that popped into his head.

He Googled his symptoms.

It took all of ten minutes for Kurt to berate himself for his utter stupidity.

He then tried to clean himself up, and get into a fresh change of clothes.

This proved to be a really big problem.

His newly sprouted wings kept getting in the way, and he found out the hard way that he would have to watch the items on the desk when he was turning around.

He settled for jeans, and no shirt, much to his chagrin.

The rest of his time, he cleaned up the mess, as best as he could, and tried not to have a massive break down over what was going on with him.

He was having a really hard time with the second part of his plan.

People were obviously starting to worry about him around lunch.

Many of the guys, and even a teacher, knocked on his door, asking if he was alright, and if he needed anything. Trying to hide the hysteria in his voice, he told them that he didn't feel well, but that he was alright.

It was the third time that Blaine came around, that he insisted to come in. Kurt could tell that Blaine knew something was wrong. He always did. He understood Kurt better than anybody ever seemed to. Most of time, that detail made Kurt feel giddy with jittery butterflies flying in his stomach. This time, on the other hand, he didn't know how to deal with his friend at the moment, and he honestly didn't want to think of anything flying about.

When Kurt refused to let Blaine in, the dapper teen told him that he was going to sit outside the door, as long as it took, until Kurt opened the door.

An hour later, after hearing his friend talk to him through his dorm, Kurt broke down, crying, sitting parallel Blaine on the door.

"Kurt, please please, let me help you!"

Blaine cried, tears starting to fall down his cheek.

"Just tell me what happened! Tell me what I can do! PLEASE!"

It only made Kurt cry harder.

"There is nothing you can do for me Blaine! I don't even know what to do!"

A sickening thought crossed Blaine mind.

"Oh God, Kurt, it isn't...Karofsky, is it? Did he do something to you while you were at home?"

This made Kurt pause with confusion. Strangely enough, for the first time in many months, the Neanderthal was the farthest thing from his mind. After taking a second to process what Blaine meant by that, his eyes widen. While he was going through something traumatic, for sure, it was important to Kurt to assure the boy he deeply cared about, that he was fine in that respect.

"No! No no no, Blaine, nothing like that! I promise! I wasn't beaten or...violated."

Blaine sighed with that little relief. Knowing that wasn't harmed, he doubled his fortitude to find out what was going on.

"If it's nothing like that, then what is going on?"

He shifted his body, laid his palm against the door, and pressed his cheek to the wood.

"You can tell me anything Kurt. Anything. I promise. I won't judge you, at all. You can trust me. Please trust me. I'll take care of it...take care of you, if you just let me in."

Kurt, hugging himself tightly, feeling a feather brush his cheek, believed him, and wanted nothing more than to throw his door open. He plucked his feather, brushed the bridge of his nose with it's softness, and dropped it to the floor. With a slight gust of wind from the vents, the feather gently floated under the door, onto Blaine's hand.

Puzzled, Blaine picked up the startlingly soft feather. Where had this come from? He knew for a fact that Kurt didn't have down pillows or blankets. (Hey! It's not strange, he and Kurt studied in his dorm, on his bed sometimes!)
Also, this feather was long and white, so it couldn't be Pavarotti's, so where did it...

Realization shook Blaine to the core.

Hesitantly, Blaine asked,

"Uh, Kurt? Have you...have you by any chance...?

Kurt, getting up, preparing to open the door, replied,

"Have I what?"

"...been having a lot of back pain?"

Kurt froze.

"...yes?"

Blaine's eyes widened.

"Oh God...how about any strange...growth spurts?"

Kurt looked up at the tip of his right wing.

"...you could say that."

Blaine scrambled to stand up, palm and forehead against the wood.

"Kurt, open the door."

When he finally got to see Kurt, he gasped at the most beautiful sight.

The usual elegance and grace Kurt seemed to exude was still there, yes, but unlike the handsome boy he was used to seeing, (daytime, and in his dreams), this hallowed creature was haloed by the midday light coming from the window, his eyes bright and wet, normal porcelain cheeks blushing pink , hair in disarray, instead of perfectly combed. The most stunning fact was that the gorgeous boy was half naked, with magnificent snowy wings protruding from his back. To Blaine, at that very moment, Kurt resembled both that of an angel, and something that belonged in the hottest of wet dreams.

Kurt, unaware of Blaine's thoughts, stood nervously hunched over. It was safe to say that he wasn't expecting to be practically knocked over by Blaine's hug and blinding smile.

Blaine pulled away slightly, and beamed at him.

"Oh Kurt! This is...amazing!"

Kurt blinked at Blaine, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Blaine, did you just say that this is amazing?"

Blaine continued to smile.

"Yes! Oh my God! This is so cool!"

"Cool? Amazing? Blaine! I don't know if this has escaped your attention, but I HAVE FREAKIN' WINGS HERE! THAT'S NOT NORMAL!"

Blaine, unfazed by Kurt shouting, gently ran the tips of his fingers over the edge of a wing. It made Kurt quiet down, and shiver pleasantly.

"That feels good, doesn't it?"

Kurt nodded.

They stood like that for some time. Blaine gently running his finger slowly and softly over the edges of Kurt's wings, while Kurt was taking in the wonderful foreign feelings that created.

When Kurt finally managed to gain some composer, he regretfully step back, away from Blaine's touch.

"Blaine, not to be unappreciative for the…wing…rub, I guess? Because it did feel really…lovely, but I need to ask you something."

Blaine slipped the hand that had caressed Kurt's wings into his pants pocket.

"Sure Kurt, anything."

Kurt took a breath.

"Why aren't you freaking out about this? I mean, not to be ungrateful, because I am, grateful, really, I am, but if this were the other way around, while I would be supportive, I think I would be a little terrified that my friend might be turning into Big Bird from Sesame Street!"

It was then that Kurt saw the guilty look on Blaine's face.

"Blaine...?"

Blaine turned away from Kurt, and looked off to the side.

"I should have told you."

"...told me what exactly, Blaine? That I would grow wings?"

Trying to inject some humor into the situation, Kurt added, "I don't even drink Red Bull!"

Blaine didn't seem to take the bait of humor. His eyes were downcast, and he was twitting his thumbs apprehensively.

"No to the Red Bull, but yes, I should have told you that you might grow wings."

Kurt stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Explain. NOW."

Blaine guided Kurt over the now stripped bed.

"It usually takes a while...months, even a whole school year, but...The Warblers do more than just sing."

Blaine took both of Kurt's hands into his, looking at him in a awed, loving way.

"When you are a Warbler, a true Warbler, you can fly."

"H-how?"

"It's something to do with the magic of this school. It's a secret, even among the Warblers, because not just anyone gets Wings."

Still with a look of awe on his face, Blaine ran his hand across Kurt's cheek.

"You have wings now, because the school knows just how special you are. The school has given you a gift. The gift to Defy Gravity."

Kurt held the hand that was on his cheek, and looked down shyly.

"Blaine?...Do you have wings?"

Blaine grinned.

"Oh yes. But not nearly as pretty as yours. My God! That has to be the purest shade of white I have ever seen!"

Kurt, while unbelievably happy that he wasn't alone with this wing problem..err, gift from the almighty magic boarding school, was puzzled.

"Why can't I see them?"

"See what"

"Your wings, dimwit!"

Blaine just smiled.

"Oh! I have them put back. I can bring them out, if you wish to see them."

Kurt nodded eagerly.

Blaine stood up, and took off his blazer, tie, and shirt.

Kurt practically drooled as he watched.

Blaine took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and, seemed to tense up, then relax.

The next thing Kurt knew, he was looking at a pair of gorgeous, jet black, shiny wings.

"They're like...Prada, Gucci, and Alexander McQueen, all rolled into one amazing accessory!"

Blaine blushed, and ducked his head.

"Thank you for saying that, but really, your wings are...wow! Mine can not compare!"

It was Kurt's turn to stare. Kurt walked around Blaine, as much as both of their wings allowed, looking and touching Blaine's wings as if their were the most precious work of art in the world.

To Kurt, they were.

"How is it that your wings seem to...curl?"

Blaine shrugged.

"I think it's because my hair is naturally curly. I guess my wings are too."

"How many...others like us are there here?"

Blaine smiled, having the not too distant memory of Kurt saying the exact same thing, when he transferred to Dalton. At the time, he meant Gay students. It was safe to say he never would of thought he was going to ask about the percentage of students that could fly without the aid of an airplane.

"About half of the Warblers. We have secret meeting about grooming, and flight tests once a month. We also try to find clues as to who might get them next."

He touched Kurt cheek again, with a trace of remorse in his eyes.

"That's why this is a bit of a shock. We usually see the signs, and help the new ones though it. It's very painful, I know. I'm so sorry you went through this alone."

Kurt smile, and mirrored Blaine touch on his cheek.

"I'm not alone, and I'm still going through this. You're going to have to teach me how to...how did you phrase it? 'Put my wings back?'"

Nodding, he brought Kurt closer, embracing him, naked chest to naked chest , clothed hip to clothed hip, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down his back, resting is chin on Kurt's shoulder.

"It's all about relaxing, and control. I'll help you every step of the way."

Kurt smiled. For the first time, he felt an adventure coming on. And he liked it.

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