Blaine stifled a chuckle, Kurt shooting him a look of sheer disgust, his cyan eyes wide, still a little red-rimmed from the battle which had just taken place, his mouth gaping open, thin eyebrows furrowed.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Blaine asked, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, not allowing Kurt to see the persistent smile tugging on the corners of his lips. 

"I could strike your face," Kurt told Blaine, eyes darkening, fingers curling at his sides.

Blaine gave in now, to the smile, which developed into a full-toothed grin, a small giggle escaping his lips. Kurt was looking less than amused, now and by the Angel, it was hilarious. He was covered in dried, black blood, his once white shirt splattered, his snuggly fitted autumn coloured plaid—yes, plaid—pants streaked and spotted with thick mucus. Worst of all, were his studded, vintage combat boots. Blaine almost cringed at how the demon's poison had singed the leather, the seams clotted with the thick, dark substance, the tongues ripped and frayed around the edges, the heels covered in dirt and mud, the toes wet through at the front. 

Blaine found himself frowning at the other boy now, a wave of pity replacing the amusement. Kurt's expression hadn't changed, his cheek bones now flushed, his mouth pulled into a straight, tense line.

"I know they travel in packs," Kurt said, with a little too much patience. It reminded Blaine of how his father often behaved when on the phone with another member of the Clave, someone with a 'lower status' than his own. It was sort of a controlled patience, very contrived and Blaine could see he was trying with everything he had no to snap. "I'm not an idiot," Kurt informed him.

Blaine opened his mouth, to apologise, but something cold and wet fell against the side of his nose. He looked up, expecting to see another demon above him, dripping with slime or something equally as disgusting, but all he saw were the grizzled clouds, harrowing and severe in the pale sky. More droplets fell, sprinkling coolly over his face. It was raining.

"Come on," Blaine said, reaching across and clasping an astonished Kurt's hand, pulling him after him as he ran for cover from the rain, now coming down in torrents. Blaine felt his clothes sticking to his body as he lead Kurt across a field of tall grass, the droplets crashing against his face, clinging to the lashes of his eyes, seeping into his hair and down his forehead. He didn't stop running until he reached a wooded area, lush with large trees, various types of shrubbery, thick tree stumps and endless paths running every which way, like ribbons. 

Blaine let go of Kurt's hand once they'd reached an area of forest canopied by the enormous tree branches and leaves, not a single drop of rain falling through the thick covering. He felt the cool air against his skin, drying the wet patches, leaving his body tingling and shivering. He turned to look at Kurt, who was frowning down at his feet, examining his boots, which, Blaine knew, had no chance of salvage. 

Blaine caught his breath, inhaling and exhaling at an even pace and it seemed Kurt had, too, so he spoke.

"You know, you never should have tried to take on a pack of Raums by yourself," he apprised Kurt, matter-of-factly. "Not unless you have a death wish."

Kurt looked up from his boots, his lips parted, his eyes resting on Blaine. Blaine smiled a little, noting how Kurt's sandy brown hair was now matted to his forehead and to the tips of his ears. His filthy clothes were soaked through to the bone, his skin glistening with remaining droplets.

"I hadn't planned on running into any Raums, today, actually," Kurt informed him, rolling his eyes dramatically, his fair lashes fluttering upwards. He reached up and swiped a hand across his forehead, his hair staying back from his face, stuck with rain. 

Blaine hadn't really looked at Kurt properly before now. In his defense, it had been rather difficult, what with the presence of tentacles, teeth, blood and a storm, but he was looking at him now, looking at him for the first time. He was taller than Blaine, but most people were. Kurt was long and lean, the slender curve of his neck fell down into the swell of his broad, yet somehow still slim, shoulders. He could see his well-defined chest through the dampness of the white shirt, now see-through from the soaking it had just endured. He admired the muscle along his arms and on his chest, a clear sign of years of training, of Shadowhunting. Kurt's skin was milky white, like smooth cream, a rosy hue laying in areas such as his well-chiseled cheekbones, the sides of his neck and his fingers, a result of the cold and probably from the fast paced way they'd ran here. 

Blaine turned his attention to Kurt's face now, those eyes unmistakably beautiful. They were blue, that was for sure, but the longer Blaine looked at them, the more he couldn't decide if it was more of a sky blue or a sea blue, the unexpected flecks of greens and yellows standing out, making it difficult to determine. His thin top lip sat on top of his larger, bottom lip, which gave him an almost  natural pout. His lips were a pale pink, the inner crevices, nearer his mouth, a darker shade, almost the colour of a French rose. 

It was irrefutable: Kurt was a very attractive guy.

"I figured as much," Blaine said, smiling slightly. He sat down on a tree stump nearby. "I was at home and a call came in, reporting an appearance of Raum demon's in the area. No one else was home, so I came out to see what I could do."

Kurt raised his bright eyes to Blaine's, "So, in actual fact, you came out alone, with intentions of taking on a pack of Raums?"

Blaine's smile grew at that. "I suppose, I did," he chuckled, knowing it had been a stupid move. Not even the greatest Shadowhunter could deplete an entire pack of Raums single-handedly, not even Valentine Morgenstern, hell, not even Jonathan Shadowhunter could have done it.

"You said you got a call," Kurt observed. "A call.. at your house?"

Blaine shook his head, twice, folding his hands together, trying to smuggle more heat into his body. 

"I live at the Ohio Institute," he explained. "I live there with my aunt and cousin, the Aldertrees."

"Aldertree?" Kurt said and Blaine could tell he recognised the name. "As in next-in-line-to-be-Inquisitor Aldertree?"

Blaine smiled and nodded. He was well acquainted with this question now and hardly ever felt embarrassed by it any more. His uncle Aldertree, along with Blaine's father, was a very important figure within the Clave. Aldertree, who insisted on being called just 'uncle Aldertree', had been voted in a while back, as the future Inquisitor. The Inquisitor  now was an old lady, Mrs Imogen Herondale and the Clave always held an election when the current Inquisitor reached a certain age.

Uncle Aldertree was Blaine's mother's older brother. Blaine's mother was also a vital member of the Clave. She worked in the secretarial area of things, the records department, really. She was a busy woman. This had been what had fuelled Blaine's parents' decision to send him away from Idris, to the Ohio Institute to live with his aunt, Meabh and her four year old daughter, Bríd. Unlike Blaine's mother, aunt Meabh was more of an old fashioned female Shadowhunter. She'd been raised as a stay at home wife and it seemed she had remained this way.

The second reason Blaine's parents had decided to send him away was because a war was brooding. Everyone knew this. Valentine Morgenstern was back and was on his way to achieving ultimate domination. Valentine had formed a Circle of Shadowhunters, about fifteen years before. His aim had been to rule the Downworlder race and to have the Shadowhunters be viewed as the most powerful of all. Everything had gone terribly wrong for Valentine when he launched an attack during the Accords, which was an negotiation of peace between all Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Valentine's Circle turned against him, including his wife and so he ended up staging his own death. Now he was back and had the Mortal Cup. Only two more of the Instruments would have to fall into his hands and that would be it, the whole Shadow world would fall victim. Yes, a war would most definitely ensue and Blaine's parents wanted him far away from that.

Blaine didn't know why. He was a good Shadowhunter, one of the best his age. He wanted to participate in the war, wanted to help the Clave defeat Valentine, but no matter how many times he begged and pleaded, his parents had objected and he found himself in Ohio, helping at the Institute. 

"Are your parents..." Kurt trailed off, examining his nails with extreme interest. "Are they.. dead?"

"No," Blaine clarified. "My parents are in Idris. They've got a high status in the Clave, so they have to be there."

Kurt lifted his gaze to Blaine's once again and spoke, "Do I know them? Your parents?"

Blaine twisted his face. How could he possibly know the answer to that?

"Anderson," he offered. "Levi and Ruth Anderson."

"Oh," Kurt inclined his head, positively. "The Andersons, of course."

Blaine smiled, a little, unsure if Kurt had meant anything by the way he had said that. He chose to ignore it and spoke over the sounds of the still falling rain in the distance.

"And you?" he said. "Have you always lived here?"

Kurt shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground again, studying a few twigs among the grass. 

"No," he apprised Blaine. "My dad, Burt Hummel," Blaine nodded, remembering the name Burt Hummel from somewhere. "He recently left the Clave. Well, he had to."

Blaine's jaw dropped. Only very special circumstances meant banishment from the Clave. He tried to conceal his astonishment, for Kurt's sake, because despite the fact that they'd only known each other short of a half hour and despite the fact that Kurt's father may or may not have done something unspeakable, Blaine still sort of liked Kurt, enjoyed his company, feeling a certain comfort about him, something he could not put words to.

"He married a Downworlder, recently. Carole Hudson," Kurt spoke, solemnly. "She was a Shadowhunter, she was married to Christopher Hudson and they had a son, Finn, but when Finn turned two, Carole was infected by a wolf and she caught the disease. Obviously, back then, before the Accords, Downworlders were treated even worse than they are treated today, so Christopher left the Clave and took Carole and Finn here. Christopher died and my dad met Carole and they sort of.. clicked and now they're married. My dad had to leave the Clave and now we're here," he waved his arms, tiredly, a look of discontent on his face. 

"You still hunt, though," Blaine said, realising he was stating the very, blatantly obvious.

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "I turn eighteen in almost a week, which means I have the right to make my own decision regarding whether or not I want to be a Shadowhunter and I do. I really do."

Blaine nodded, understanding now. 

"I'm going back for the war," Kurt told him, out of nowhere. 

Blaine eyed him, awe-struck. "You are?"

"Absolutely," Kurt said, shrugging his slender shoulders. "The second I turn eighteen I'm out of here. My dad won't like it, but it's what I have to do."

Blaine watched him, then, for a couple of heartbeats. They stayed silent for a short time, the whooshing sound of the rain still beating down, the tree leaves rustling loudly in the gentle wind. Blaine liked it here, he came here when he felt like he needed to be alone, which lately, seemed to be a lot.

"How are you getting there?" he asked, curiously. "To Idris?"

Kurt smiled, weakly, one corner of his mouth tilting upwards, definite doubt present in his cerulean blues. "I haven't quite figured that out, yet," he told Blaine. "I plan on finding a warlock to create a portal."

Blaine nodded, for what had to be the hundredth time that day. He made a mental note to stop. Then, it was as if a light bulb came on above his head, as he realised something.

"I might know a way," Blaine said, locking his gaze on Kurt's. 

"What?" Kurt asked, eyebrows furrowing, a small wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose.

"I might know a way we can get to Idris."

"Wait," Kurt said, shaking his head, hands held up, a signal for Blaine to halt a moment. "We?"

Blaine nodded, again, cursed himself quickly, then continued, "Listen," he said, firmly. "I've been trying to get my parents to agree to allowing me fight in the war ever since the idea of a war came up. They keep saying no and I want to be there, I want to be part of that."

Kurt nodded, very slowly. Blaine could almost see the thought process occurring in Kurt's mind. After a few moments of unmitigated silence, Kurt seemed to have registered everything.

"So, we both need to get to Idris," Blaine said, filling in the gaps. "I know of someone who can help us, but," he held up a finger, pointedly. "It requires something else."

"What?" Kurt deadpanned.

Blaine smiled, then, because the reality of what might possibly happen was setting in, sending a rush of adrenaline through his body, the blood pulsating excitedly in his veins. 

"A road trip," Blaine grinned.

Kurt stared at him, mouth hanging, rather suggestively, Blaine thought, then mentally scolded himself for thinking it. 

"To where?"

"New York," Blaine apprised him, still smiling. He really wanted Kurt to agree to this. He'd never stepped out of line in his life, never done anything he wasn't supposed to and now was his time. He felt a rush of excitement at the mere thought of it. He supposed the idea of spending a long time with a guy like Kurt might have played a part in said excitement, also.

"Are you serious?!" Kurt almost shrieked.

"Deadly serious," Blaine affirmed. "Are you in?"

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly running the idea around in his mind again, trying to weigh out the pros and the cons, looking for loopholes, catches, anything at all. He looked thoughtful for about fifty seconds, then nodded, eagerly, a vibrant smile spreading over his lips.

"By the Angel," he said, in a loud whisper. "I must be crazy. I don't even know you, but I think we should do this."

Blaine laughed, "Me, too," he enthused. It was true, Blaine didn't know Kurt from Adam, but something told him it would be okay, that this was the right thing to do.

Kurt shook his head, still smiling brightly and, Blaine had to admit, prettily.

"And you definitely know a way we can get to Idris from there?"

"Sure, I've got a source," Blaine shrugged, hoping the source he had which would help him get to the main source would not let him down. 

"Who's your source?" Kurt enquired, inquisitively.

Blaine smiled again, because he knew that Kurt would know this person's name. Hell, everyone knew this person's name. Blaine hadn't met him in person, but he knew someone who could get him an appointment. He'd heard things about this  person, some good things, some bad, some downright insane and he really wanted to meet them. He cleared his throat, a slow grin spreading across his face, his eyebrows cocked high, eyes shining, then spoke the name loud and clear.

"Magnus Bane."