Anderberry, because it's too cute and really quite perfect.

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"Mmm?" Blaine's response was significantly muffled by his pillow.

Rachel tried again, this time with an added shove to her brother's torso. "Blaine!"

When Blaine didn't move, she proceeded to pull the pillow out from under his head with an annoyed huff.
" 'm up, 'm up, Rach. What? 's early." He rubbed his eyelids sleepily and turned over so he could see her.

"It's 9:30," she pointed out.

"Normal people think that's early."

She shot him a glare and pointedly didn't respond.

He sighed. "Can I have my pillow back now, or did you actually want something?" His voice was still deep and weighed down with sleep, which was its usually state anytime before noon.

"Dad and Papa wanted to make sure you knew that I was having guests in an hour, in case you walked out of your room indecently dressed."

"But you didn't care so much?"

Rachel glared. "Well, I do feel bad for them when it happens, but I think you could use to make better use of the morning hours."

"Some of us like to make use of them by sleeping, oh early bird sister of mine," he grumbled. He flopped back onto the bed without a pillow and shut his eyes.

The pillow collided with his face. "You can have it back if you promise to either stay in here or shower before you come anywhere near Kurt and Mercedes when they get here."



She threw the pillow onto his chest and, as was her habit, made a grand exit.

When Blaine walked into Kurt, Mercedes, and Rachel's gossip session in dark jeans and an emerald sweater, Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. On Saturdays, "Dressed" usually meant sweatpants and a T-shirt.

Blaine missed it, because he wasn't really looking at her.

"Hey, Kurt." Kurt turned his neck at the greeting and smiled politely. "Blaine," he acknowledged.

"How are you?"

"Good," Kurt replied, pointedly ignoring the elbow that Mercedes was none-too-subtly edging into his side. "I'm good. And you?"

"Me? I'm…good. Yeah."

Mercedes giggled.

"Well, I should—I should go. Nice to see you, Kurt." There was a short pause, and Blaine barely caught his mistake. "…and Mercedes."

Mercedes collapsed into giggles once the door shut. "You like him!" she stage-whispered.

Kurt made a show of brushing some non-existent dust off his vest and lifted his nose haughtily. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, give it up," Rachel protested. "He likes you too."

Kurt blushed and stared at her. "He told you?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Kurt's hasty abandonment of all pretenses. "Didn't have to," she explained. "A sister knows these things."

"What Rachel means is: did you see what he was wearing?"

Kurt frowned a little. "Yeah: jeans, a sweater. Looked nice. It's a good color for him, emerald. Brings out his eyes."

Mercedes cackled.
"Do you remember what he was wearing last time you saw him on a Saturday?"

"It was…it was last year, right? He's been at Dalton since then. Umm…sweats?"

"Right," Mercedes agreed.

"Do you know what he was wearing last Saturday?"

Kurt looked at Rachel like she was certifiable. "And I would know that because?"

"Sweats," Mercedes supplied helpfully.

Rachel nodded. "Because he only wears real clothes on Saturday when he's trying to impress. And I'm fairly certain there's only one person in this house right now who he'd want to impress. And I'm fairly certain I know why."

Kurt tried to hide how pleased he was at the revelation. "So, he was trying to impress me. So what? Is there some sort of rule about how that means he likes me? He's a habitual flirt." Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste at how weak his sarcasm sounded, even to his own ears.

"You say that now, but…" Mercedes cautioned teasingly.

Kurt smacked her lightly with nearby sheet music.

"Hey! Don't take out your denial on my music." She grabbed it out of Kurt's hands.

"Can we please talk about something else? Anything?" Kurt begged.

"Fine," Rachel conceded. "But only because we have work to do."

Rachel flopped down on Blaine's bed at 11:00 that night and covered her face with his pillow. "Ugh, can you turn your music down?" she begged.

Blaine spared her a hasty glance from where he was dancing around by his desk.

"Payback is sweet," he replied, turning up the volume and bounding over to the bed, reaching for her wrists. "Live a little, sis!"

Rachel groaned and let her arms go limp. "That's what days are for. Nights are for sleeping."

Blaine grinned. "You pick music for that glee thing?" he asked, lifting his arms to his shoulders and spinning twice, back to the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, eventually. Barbra."

"Figures," Blaine observed.

Rachel lifted herself to her elbows and stared at him, bleary-eyed. "Took my comment a little seriously this morning, didn't you?" she asked. "Even went so far as to consider cashmere."

Blaine blushed enough that even his half-asleep sister saw it. "So?"

"Kurt thinks emerald brings out your eyes."

Blaine's mouth opened, then snapped back shut. Rachel grinned in triumph and let her head fall back onto his pillow.

"Carry me to my room?" she whined.

"Absolutely not."

"Why?" she begged.


"Blaine, please?"

"Still no."

She lifted a hand off her forehead and opened one eye. "I was thinking of showing Kurt this great album of us from when I was in kindergarten and you were a toddler. You know, the one with the picture of you—"

"All right, all right, fine. I'll carry you. But I resent this."

Rachel beamed. "Love you, baby brother."

Blaine grimaced at the nick name and sighed. "Despite how much I sometimes wish it weren't true, I love you, too, Rach."

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