. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

David kept glancing behind him, futilely trying to see Marque and Wes. His eyebrows were creased in thought. What if Marque dropped the 'l' word on Wes? What if Wes decided that he 'l'd Marque back? What if they became boy—b-boy—

He couldn't finish the thought.

Meanwhile, Blaine and Therron were walking in awkward silence. Neither of them were oblivious to it, but both boys were hesitant to strike up a conversation. They didn't need any more tension in the air—no one would want them dead via atmosphere suffocation. And besides, they probably wouldn't have much to talk about that wouldn't somehow take a turn towards Kurt Hummel Avenue.

The curly-haired soloist was overjoyed on the inside upon reaching the door to his dorm room—the relief melted into disappointment when he remembered that Kurt wasn't there.

"Oh," he mumbled stupidly.

The younger twin, who was about to enter their dorm, turned to look at Blaine with a wondering expression. He watched the other boy lethargically slip into the room with a slumped posture. As the door closed, he blinked his eyes innocently before ambling leisurely to the opposite dorm and knocking timidly.

"Blaine?" the redhead called.

No answer came.

Knocking again, Therron was about to call for Blaine again when his brother popped up behind him.

Marque looked a bit tired—the younger twin didn't know why, but he guessed it had something to do with Wes—but he still managed a smile for Therron.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Marque asked playfully, swinging an arm over the other's shoulders.

Therron smiled back, grinning brightly. "Hey. Blaine looked a bit down and I thought maybe I could get him to cheer up," he replied with a shrug.

"Ah... That's really nice of you, bro."

To which Therron shrugged again.

The twins stood like that for a while, until Marque let out a breath. "Well I'm going to sleep now. You coming, Tee?"

The younger twin shook his head vigorously. "Nah. I'm knocking until Sir Grumpy-Pants answers the door," he answered, ruffling his red hair.

"Okay then." Marque said, patting his brother's shoulder once before entering their shared room.

Therron stared at the door for a moment, his eyes boring a hole into the wood. "Blaaaaine?" he whined, attempting to call out the lead Warbler. "I am not going to leave if you don't open the door."

A mumbled 'leave me alone' was heard, followed by the sound of the doorknob being turned a few minutes later. It wasn't long before the younger twin stood staring at Blaine with a clueless gaze.

"Yes, Therron?" the soloist muttered languidly, his eyes slightly lidded.

Said twin cocked his head at seeing the disposition the other boy wore. "Is everything all right?" he asked, worry coloring his tone.

Blaine shrugged. "More or less."

Therron raised an eyebrow, a disbelieving expression painted on his face. The soloist did not seem to be deterred by the other boy's expression and decided to look even more miserable, burying his face in the pillow he unknowingly carried with him as he walked back to his bed.

The redhead's other eyebrow quirked in amusement—it wasn't long until he was howling with laughter, and Blaine was scowling in confusion.

"What are you laughing at?" the older Warbler asked, voice muffled so it came out more like 'wha a you laffi a'.

Therron doubled over, his laughter rising in volume, the sound of it bouncing off the walls of Blaine's dorm room and no doubt reaching their neighbors.

Blaine straightened; an intense glare displayed on his face as he aimed at Therron's head and threw a pillow, missing the redhead by an inch or so. "Stop laughing already," he whined.

Letting out some last few giggles and chuckles, the younger boy sauntered over to Blaine, dropping unceremoniously beside the soloist and clapping him on the back. "I can see why Kurt likes you and it's clear why you like him," he said, an impossibly bright grin on his face. "But to tell you the truth, dear friend, the 'I-am-so-annoyed-but-I'm-gonna-be-cute-about-it' look so does not suit you."

It took Blaine a second [or three] to let the words sink in—he wasn't really sure if he was supposed to be offended or not, but once he understood, he squeaked an indignant 'hey!' which turned into a 'huh?' when he realized what Therron had said first.

"What happened to oblivious you?" he asked, a triangular eyebrow shooting up in curiosity.

The redhead shrugged nonchalantly. "Heard it through the grapevine."

"And by grapevine you mean…?"


"Yeah, not really."



"Uh… Twitter?"

"Marque told you."


"Yeah. Marque told you."

"I admit nothing."

Blaine only rolled his eyes at the younger twin's denial. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Therron finally knowing that he liked Kurt too but maybe, given this circumstance, they should well—talk about their situation. They were, of course, in a clichéd love triangle and it was customary for the two rivals to have the 'talk'.

He cleared his throat, fixing a half awkward stare at the redhead. "That point aside, I guess I should probably tell you that I'm planning to win Kurt over. Just so you know." he said, earning a cocked head from the other boy as a response.

"D'uh. Ain't that hard to figure out." Therron deadpanned. "But I'm not going to idly stand by while you attempt to. Just so you know."

A staring contest was inevitable.

It was silent as the two boys glared at each other—a shout from outside the door cut through the silence like a knife through butter.

"Marque, w-why are you wearing your—yu-yu—like th-that!"

It was Wes' voice, and it was followed by a shriek (probably an embarrassed one) from the older twin.

"Oh my gods—Wes, get the fuck out!"


"Ah—I should probably check that out."

"I'll come with you."

As they exited the dorm and ambled over to the twins' room, they saw Wes standing shell-shocked by the door. The Asian's face was tinged with red and his mouth was opening and closing as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

Blaine and Therron shared a confused look.

The soloist waved a hand in front of Wes' face. "Hey, you alright in there?" he asked.

Therron sighed. "I'm guessing he saw Em wearing his yukata open and wearing only boxers underneath." At Blaine's incredulous gawk, he shrugged. "What? He likes it that way."

"I'm just going to take Wes back to their dorm, before he gets more traumatized than he already is."

"Hey! Em doesn't look that bad!"

"Therron Marquis Vierge, I heard that!"


. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

Marque was curled up in one corner, in normal American clothes, looking like he would never be able to step out of the room ever again. At least that was what Therron thought as he jumped onto his brother's bed and gave him an all-knowing smirk.

The older twin glanced at Therron—his eyebrows knit together and he glared, giving Therron his second dose of pillow cake.

"Sorry!" the younger redhead immediately exclaimed, standing up and backing away from Marque, who stayed in his position in the corner.

Marque rolled his eyes. "Yeah right," he muttered.

"Well, you practically ruined Wes' innocence."

Marque's face instantly went beet red. "SHUT UP!" he screamed, burying his face in his knees.

The younger twin rolled his eyes and ruffled his brother's hair. "Fine." he said before lying on Marque's bed.

"We're going to Kurt's tomorrow, unannounced and dragging Wes, Blaine and David with us, aren't we?" the older redhead asked after a while.


. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

"So," Finn started, sipping a little from his mug. "How are things at Dalton?"

Kurt stared at his stepbrother and shrugged. "Fine, I guess." he answered curtly.

"Is 'I guess' a good thing or a bad thing?" the McKinley jock asked speculatively, looking at the pale boy in question with an eyebrow quirked.

The countertenor rolled his eyes.

"Finn, you can drop the 'big brother' thing now."

Finn pouted. "I just want to check up on you, dude. You don't come home much and I'm not the only one who's missing you."

Kurt sighed, letting the 'dude' word slide. "I know, I know. You don't have to tell me twice, Finnian." he mumbled, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair.

It was silent for a while until Finn poked the countertenor. "You didn't really answer my question, bro." he prompted.

A sigh once again escaped the younger boy's lips. "I don't really know. The twins are back, there was a party which I was not able to attend, Wes and David have resolved their issues—"

"Wait, who are Wes and David?"

Kurt whipped out his phone, quickly going through his pictures and finding one of the interracial twins and showing it to his stepbrother. "Wes is the one on the left, David's the on the right. They're on the council." he explained.

Finn let out a soft 'ah' as Kurt continued. "I have two boys after me—and trust me, the thought sounds better than it actually is." he glanced at the jock. "I know you can relate."

"Uh... yeah. I think so."

"Then you know how confusing it is."


Both boys let out a heavy breath.

"Wish it was easier?" Finn asked.

"Yes. A million times yes." the younger boy answered, his shoulders sagging just a little bit.

Finn noticed this and gently bumped Kurt. "Hey, it's always going to be worth it in the end."

"I hope so."

"Wait, so Blaine likes you now?"

Kurt rolled his eyes again. "Yes. Whoever could it be rather than him? Really, Finn? We're having this conversation and you don't know who I'm talking about?"

"What? It's not like there aren't other people who could like you—Blaine's not really the only other gay guy at Dalton, you know," the quarterback replied, taking a big chug from his warm milk with a shrug.

. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

Kurt had his arm hooked with another boy wearing a Dalton blazer. They were walking through the crowded hallway, laughing and just being sweet.

It was weird, how he couldn't see the other's boy's face clearly. It was as if there was something—a-a mist around the other boy's features that made it rather impossible to figure out what he actually looked like or who he was.

Nevertheless, he felt happy, so in love with this mysterious boy. He felt as if he there was no other person he would rather be with.

"We always knew you would end up with him, Kurt," Wes said, suddenly appearing in front of them with David right beside him.

The dark-skinned boy nodded, a grin decorating his face. "It was so obvious, it wasn't even funny anymore."

"Thank goodness he decided to man up, wasn't it guys?" Marque/Therron added.

Kurt couldn't tell which twin was talking nor could he seem to ask where the other was. He only smiled, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

"Yes, yes. Now if you will excuse us, my boyfriend and I have somewhere else to go to." the boy beside him piped up.

"Mmm, I do too. Yes, I love you. Mhhmm. Kiss me? That feels nice."

Burt froze outside the door to Kurt's bedroom, stupefied. He was pretty sure that his son was alone, so who could Kurt be talking to?

The memory of that French redhead who came over last week suddenly flashed in his mind.

The French redhead who went on a date with his son.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

"Kurt?" he shouted, bursting through the door like a madman.

Kurt shot up from his bed, hair disheveled and eyes squinting against the mild morning light. He was looking at his father with a sleepy expression on his face. "Dad? What are you doing?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Uhm—I—I—uuh..." Burt stammered, a slight tinge painting his face. He cleared his throat. "Breakfast's ready."

"Oh, I didn't realize I overslept. But Dad, you didn't need to break my door down to tell me."

The older Hummel just nodded, which Kurt was too sleepy to think out of the ordinary, and continued on his way, his brain's recording of Kurt's mumblings forever on repeat in his head.

. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

Harsh, fluorescent light hit Wes' closed eyes, causing him to groan. "Oh for the love of all things Nutella—turn the lights off, David!"

"Wes, help me!" the other senior's strangled yell came from the doorway, making Wes automatically get up. Everything was blurry—he blinked thrice, but his eyesight didn't improve. He reached up to rub his eyes but something slipped into his hands—glasses.

"You never told me you wore glasses," a familiar voice said, amusement evident in the tone.

Wes froze, recognizing the speaker. His face reddened as he remembered last night's events. "Oh—uh, it never came up, I guess?" he muttered softly, putting on the square-frame glasses that somehow made him look like a genius with a capital G. He kept his eyes focused on the surprisingly interesting polished floor.

"You were seriously traumatized that much?" Marque asked incredulously. "I always thought that I didn't look bad. Now, you have wounded my pride—my dignity! You monster!"

A pause.

"Insert cricket sounds here. Cue me being more dramatic, if possible. Wesley still doesn't react—audience gasps. He's been turned into a flesh-and-bone statue! Hilarity and awkwardness ensues. Fade to black—aaaaaand CUT!"

Wes looked up just in time to see a twin smacking the other twin upside the back of his head. The yelp was Marque's, Wes was 101% sure of it.

"We are wasting precious time, Mr. Vierge," Therron said in his best American accent, to which his brother laughed at (practically because Therron failed).

The Asian couldn't help but smile widely at his newfound discovery—"Therron's the one with the accent! Why didn't I notice that before?"

The twins raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"If that's the case, then you can surely—" Therron started.

"—tell us apart when we do this, right?" Uhh... Therron again?

The redheads grinned identical Cheshire Cat grins.

"You guys are impossible..." Wes mumbled dejectedly. "Wait, where's David?"

The twins' grins just widened as they closed in on their prey.

. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

"I'm going to check on things at the shop. Be back in a while," Burt announced as Kurt and Finn cleaned the table. He clapped both boys on the back and gave Carole a peck on the lips before leaving.

"He's been working so hard these days." Carole commented offhandedly as she watched her husband walking out.

Kurt and Finn nodded, the former having a guilty expression on his face.

The next hour found Carole in the lawn gardening and the two boys watching television. Finn was attempting to teach Kurt the rules of football while the latter only complained how complicated everything was.

"Seriously Finn, can't we just watch Project Runway?" the younger boy quipped.

Finn gasped, sporting a scandalized expression. "This is a rerun of yesterday's game! Which I was not able to watch because of Regionals! Have mercy on me, dude!"

Carole heard the boys' bickering as she watered her flowers. They're getting along well, she thought, smiling. She stood up, about to pick up some gardening tools when the sounds of a car parking reached her ears. She quickly turned around and saw a red Porsche running idly in the front of their house.

She looked on as two boys—twins by the looks of it (one of which was Kurt's date the other week), exited the car and opened the passenger door, letting out three boys who she vaguely recognized. One of them was Blaine, less polished than the last time she saw him but the face was recognizable.

The five boys approached her, with the twins in front. Carole noted that the three behind the twins were still in their sleepwear—an amused smile pulled on her lips.

"Good morning boys," she greeted when they reached her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudmel!" one of the twins greeted back.

"Good morning, Carole," Blaine piped up from the back, smiling slightly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudmel." the other twin spoke up, holding out a hand. "I'm Marque Vierge. Therron's twin." He pointed to the Asian and dark-skinned boy behind him. "And this is Wes Green and David Rivers. We're all friends of Kurt."

"You're here for Kurt, I assume?" Carole suggested, shaking Marque's outstretched hand and then letting the quintet come onto the porch.

"Yes. We have a delivery for him." Blaine answered and it was then that Carole noticed the sleek box he held.

"Carole? I thought I heard you talking to someone," a voice asked from the doorway.

Everyone looked at the porcelain boy whose glasz eyes widened in shock. "Guys. What are you doing here?"

"Uhm, delivery?" the twins chorused, grinning playfully.

. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .

"Hi guys!" the McKinley jock greeted as he saw the quintet trailing behind his stepbrother.

"Hey Finn!" Therron greeted back, bumping fists with Frankenteen and crash-landing on the space beside Finn on the couch. "How's life?"

The taller boy shrugged. "Kurt is trying to make me watch Project Runway. I don't want to," he replied. His eyes flickered to the other pair of 'twins' and a large grin quickly spread across his face. "Hey! You guys are uh… Wes and David right?" he said, making the mistake of pointing at David first.

The dark-skinned senior jabbed his best friend in the arm with a finger. "No, no. He's Wes. I'm David," he corrected Finn.

"Yeah. He's We—I mean, I'm Da—ah whatever," Wes mumbled. "What he said!"

Finn just looked at them with confusion, shrugging. "Nice to meet you, then! I'm Finn, Kurt's stepbrother."

"Nice to meet you," the interracial twins echoed.

Therron grabbed his twin and slung an arm across his shoulders, poking his brother on the cheek. "Finn, Finn! This is my brother, Marque," he shouted energetically. He took hold of Marque's wrist and made him wave to the quarterback. "Say hello, Em!"

Marque jerked away from his brother, looking absolutely embarrassed. He shoved the younger twin playfully. "Stop it. I'm not a puppet," he snapped.

"You look pretty," Finn commented absently, staring at the older twin.

Everyone else looked on wide-eyed. Wes and David's hysterical laughter broke through the silence; they doubled over, clutching their stomachs.

Blaine leaned towards Kurt. "I think Finn's high off of his warm milk," he muttered.

The countertenor rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't blame the innocent warm milk, Mr. I-don't-drink-warm-milk-and-that's-why-I'm-a-hobbit." he retorted before turning to talk to his stepbrother. "Finn, I am making you a deal. We watch Project Runway, and I don't 'accidentally' mention this to Quinn and/or the rest of ND."

Finn's mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. "But—u-um—what?" he finally managed to say. "What did I say?"

Therron cleared his throat, mimicking the other boy's voice. "You look pretty." he said, making googly eyes at his brother. He threw his arms up in the air in obvious disbelief. "I don't even—we look alike, don't we? We're twins—how can Em be prettier than me!"

The others shook their heads at the younger twin's outburst, chuckling silently.

Kurt rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that morning. "Calm down, Therron. Now, I suppose you have a reason in coming here unannounced?"

"Delivery!" Wes declared dramatically, swiping the gift from Blaine's arms and bowing low before the countertenor. He dropped on one knee and presented the box.

The soloist opened the package, followed by David who took out the yukata and shook it out. The twins, on the other hand, jumped to action, dramatically waving their hands at the piece of clothing.

"Tada!" the quintet chorused.

Kurt stood frozen for a split-second, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You seriously have to get new friends, bro," Finn said.

. . . blancnoirblancnoirblanc . . .


"Oh my gods, we are so, so oh so SORRY for taking so long!"

"*nods in agreement* We're sorry guys. And we guess that you all know the reason why."

"School is a fucking bitch."

"Yeah. This may be an overused reason but it's true nonetheless."

"Insert here."

"So, uhm, review? You can rant on how you hate us for taking so long and having a short chappie."

"Review, nonetheless. [Noir, I'm mocking you.]"

disclaimer: we only own our OCs.