A/N; yeah...I don't really have an excuse :( sorry I'm made of FAIL. anyways, I like this chapter - Blaintana is my favorite nonshippy couple ever. Love writing them.

I still don't own SW or Gleee.


CHAPTER FIVE - IN WHICH SANTANA DOES BLAINE'S HAIR

Puck plopped down next to Santana, scowling.

"Don't talk to me," he huffed, plucking a long blade of grass from the ground and clenching it between his teeth. Santana narrowed her eyes.

"Wait, hold on a moment." Puck tried to duck out of her view, but Santana wrapped her fingers around his chin and forced him to meet her gaze. She dropped her hand, incredulous.

"Okay, I'd like to see the dude they had you training with. Anyone who could dole out a shiner like that had to have more balls than my lame-ass wimp of a guy." She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Looks like he managed to beat you up anyways, though," Puck snarked back, nudging a blossoming bruise on Santana's upper arm. She yelped and cuffed him over the head.

"Hi guys," Blaine said glumly, sinking to the ground next to Santana.

"Hey Wobbler," Santana replied, continuing to glare at Puck. Puck pulled the grass out of his mouth, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Someone's hair is on fire," he said, glancing around with mild curiosity.

"It's me," Blaine replied, crossing his legs morosely under him. "But don't worry, I put it out. Now I'm just all charred."

"At least it wasn't your eyebrows – we would have had a real bushfire going on there," Santana said, scooting over to examine Blaine's hair from behind. "Ooh, yeah, you've got a nice bald patch down here on the edge of your hairline."

"What?" Blaine spluttered, his hand flying to his neck.

"Relax, Blanders, I was kidding." Santana batted him away. She began to comb her fingers through his hair, untangling the singed patches with rough jerks of her wrist. Blaine winced.

"Kurt's going to laugh at me," he moaned, hiding his face in his hands. "He's going to die."

"What did they have you doing anyway, juggling torches?" Puck asked. The tattered brown-green stem poked out of the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head to the sky.

"No, flying fighter jets."

Santana snorted, and Blaine yelped as her hand jerked in his hair. "Really? You got off lucky then."

"You guys don't look all that great either," Blaine protested, yanking away from Santana. She doggedly moved with him.

"If you don't hold still you're gonna really be bald," she huffed, but her hands slowed the tiniest bit.

"My gal – um, my dude was just doing hand-to-hand and crap with me," Puck said. "I knew it all though, so it wasn't a big deal. I kicked ass."

"Is that how you got your shiner, then? You got beat up by a girl?" Santana arched an eyebrow sardonically. "Nicely done, Puckerman. That'll do wonders for your rep back home."

"I wish we were back home," Blaine said a little sadly.

"Me too." The three looked up as Finn limped up to their little circle. He lowered himself carefully to the ground, holding his ribs and wincing.

"Am I the only one who didn't get my ass kicked?" Santana demanded, tugging at a particularly singed clump of Blaine's hair. Blaine made a face but remained stoically silent.

"Where's Kurt? I hope he's still, like, in one piece," Finn said.

"I haven't seen him since they split us up," Santana remarked. "Doubt anyone else has either – else Warbler-breath here wouldn't be letting me untangle his steel wool." She yanked at a curl for emphasis.

"That sounds really dirty," Puck commented, as Finn sighed, "I hope he's okay. Burt will kill me if I let him get lost in Star Wars."

"Don't worry, I'm alive," a soft, familiar voice remarked, and the four looked up to see Kurt dragging himself wearily towards them.

Blaine ripped himself away from Santana and all but flung himself at Kurt, only slowing for a breathless "hi" before he wrapped his boyfriend in his arms. Kurt hummed into the embrace.

"Come join the circle, lover boys," Santana drawled, rocking back on her heels and flexing her fingers. "I still have to get crap out of Blaine's hair."

"How was training?" Finn asked. Puck scooted over to make room for Kurt.

"Fine," Kurt folded his legs neatly under him. "Kind of weird."

"You don't look beat up at all," Puck accused, narrowing his eyes. "Were you working with a girl too?" Santana leaned over and flicked him on the shoulder.

"No," Kurt replied, surprisingly demure. Blaine pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"They had me flying, Kurt. Flying. I thought I was going to die," he moaned. "It was awful." Kurt just patted him on the hand.

"Wait." Puck broke in, leaning in to the circle. "So which one of us is the Jedi? They said we'd figure it out as we went along."

"It's not me," Blaine replied at once. "Unless they're taking the whole Luke Skywalker angle, but I feel like they would have given me a lightsaber first."

"It's not me either," Finn said. "I had, like, a blaster and had to run around in the woods. It was weird."

"I just got knocked around by some Tai Chi weirdo," Santana shrugged.

"Same here," Puck admitted. "It sucked."

"Especially since yours was a girl."

Puck shot Santana a glare. She smiled sweetly.

"It's me," Kurt said lightly. Blaine was the first one to break the stunned silence that followed.

"Wait…really?" He leaned back a little to look at his boyfriend. Kurt just shrugged.

"Damn, Hummel. I wanted to be the Jedi." Puck shook his head.

Finn looked like someone had hit him over the head with a two-by-four. Blaine didn't think Santana's eyebrows could go any higher. "Wait, seriously, it's you?" She crossed her arms in disbelief.

Kurt nodded. "I mean…I can-"

"Come with me, if you would please." Blaine craned his neck back to see Commander Uloy standing over them.

"Why?" Puck toyed absently with the stalk of the grass still sticking from his mouth.

"Master Yoda wishes to see you immediately," Uloy replied. "Briefing. For the mission. Now come with me, please."


a/n; BUM BUM BUUUUUM.

don't worry, I have the rest of it outlined out. soooo I just need to get my lazy butt into action and WRITE.

love you guys mucho!