Dressed in his pristine uniform and polished school shoes, Blaine stopped dead in his tracks when he caught site of tiny Kurt.
Shock registered on his handsomely doll-like face, and then disbelief. But before Kurt could explain, before another moment was wasted, he knelt down and wrapped his fingers gingerly around his tiny boyfriend.
"You poor thing! Baby, what happened to you?" Blaine's voice was kind and perfectly hushed. His hands felt so strong, so safe, that Kurt suddenly realised just how afraid he'd been in the moments before his rescue.
In what probably sounded like a flustered rant in squeaky gibberish Kurt told his perilous story to Blaine, who decided on the spot that his tiny boyfriend would stay with him until Mr Hummel returned from his trip. Blaine couldn't get out of choir practice that afternoon, but he insisted that as soon as the Warblers let him go the rest of the evening would be devoted to making his little prince forget all about what he'd been through. Until then Kurt would remain curled up in the cosy pocket and felt the comforting pressure of Blaine's hand pressing gently against his back.
"Eveything's going to be all right, I promise." Blaine cooed sympathetically. "Let's just get you home, cutie."
This was surreal. Kurt felt dizzy with relief as he was tucked carefully into the breast pocket of Blaine's blazer, handled as delicately as a folded tissue.
The inside of Blaine's pocket was as clean and inviting as the boy's crisply pressed appearance. Through the warm fabric Kurt could hear his boyfriend's steady heartbeat. It was hard not to fall asleep, cradled in the safe little space which smelled of Blaine's familiar boyish scent and fresh cologne.
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