A/N: I apologize for the ending. This was really just an excuse to write sick!Blaine and I had to put some sort of cap on it eventually. Enjoy the sick puppy fic, which was prompted by a friend on tumblr.
Cross posting from tumblr, and no, I am not RIB.
Burt is just flipping a batch of burgers from the grill and onto a large plate when Finn comes sprinting over, looking confused and in desperate need of advice.
"What's up, kid?" Burt asks, sliding the last burger onto the top of the stack.
"We're out of soda, Burt!"
"What! All of them?" He should've known they'd need more soda. But then again he'd followed Kurt's list specifically. Though they did have few more guests than last year and that probably changed the number-
"No, just cokes," Finn replies, still panicked, but the news allows Burt to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Okay. That's not bad. In the basement there should be a full box of Pepsi cans. You can put all of them in the cooler. How are we looking on diet soda?"
"Okay, I guess."
"Grab two of each diets – that's Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper – and add them too. That should hold us over for a bit."
"But what about the Regular Coke?"
"Pepsi will have to do, son, unless you want to drive out to the supermarket to pick up some more…" Burt raises an eyebrow inquiringly at Finn, but drawing out his words to show that he knows Finn's response already. He has seen Finn with some Bud Lights and knows that Carole will have his hide if she finds out he drove while drinking.
Finn goes red with embarrassment at being caught, but nods. "Right. I'll take care of it, Burt."
"On your way in, can you hand these to your mom?" He asks, giving Finn the plate of burgers. "And next time you grab a Bud, bring one to me too."
"Got it!"
"Oh! Have you seen-"
"Last I saw, he was getting the volleyball net back up. The kids knocked it over or something…"
"All right. Get going, then."
It was a Hummel tradition to host an annual summer cookout around the Fourth. Originally, it had been a family affair with Lizzie and Burt's family coming together for burgers, hotdogs, and good ol' American pride. After Kurt was born, the extended family fizzled out of the picture until it was just them, their parents, and Kurt. And for a while, after Lizzie's death, it was just the two of them. In later years, Burt began extending the invitation to his co-workers, but there wasn't very much for Kurt.
It wasn't until the summer after Kurt's sophomore year of high school and Glee Club that the Hummels' Fourth of July cook out started up again with greater numbers. When it became the Hummel-Hudson cook out, the numbers doubled with Carole's side of the family joining the guest list, along with her friends and co-workers.
With Kurt paying rent in New York and working for Vogue through the summer, he wouldn't be able to make it back to Ohio for their cook-out. It would be the first time he wouldn't be there.
It had hurt that Kurt hadn't been able to make it home for Christmas or Thanksgiving. He hoped, as Kurt got on his feet in New York, that he'd be able to adjust for their sacred traditions - or at least some of them. If he really had to trade their summer cookout for Christmas in Ohio, Burt would be okay with that.
He just misses his son. And really, Kurt's the organizer of them all. Hosting the party would be a lot easier if he were around to explain that packages of hot dog buns didn't come in the same number of packages of hot dogs, and that the key lime pie needed to chill for exactly x amount of time before sitting at room temperature for another, smaller x amount of time.
He was the one who kept track of all those things while also keeping the blue cooler stocked with water and soda and the red one stocked with beer, while Burt manned the grill. They had it down to a science.
Carole and Finn helped of course, but Burt hadn't been sure they'd make it through their first year without Kurt there to help. With this in mind, Burt turned to someone as organized and level-headed as his son – his son's once ex-boyfriend, recently turned boyfriend yet again.
And although Blaine could take care of himself, his parents had left him in the care of the Hummels for the duration of their extended business trip in DC, so he was already going to be staying with them through the Fourth.
Where Kurt was all color-coding and lists, Blaine was project boards and webs, an organized chaos that seemed to work for him. It was different, but by the day of the cook out each Hummel-Hudson (and Blaine himself) knew what his or her duties would be.
If only they could keep up with him!
A while after he and Finn each had a beer together, Blaine comes by the grill with two new packages of hotdogs.
"Last batch of the day, Burt!"
"Good to hear, kid. How are things going?"
"Well, the only injury has been Sam accidentally throwing a horseshoe on Puck's foot. So far, so good. And Sam' brother threw the volleyball too hard into the net – enough to knock it down – so it must be an Evans thing!"
"Sounds like. Need help with anything?"
"As a matter of fact…"
A shriek from the kitchen interrupts them, and Burt jumps before he realizes that it's not Carole's scared or pained yell. In fact, she sounds – excited.
"Know what's going on?" he asks Blaine.
"I might have a little inkling," Blaine reveals, smiling so hard his eyes disappear in his cheeks.
"Burt! You have to see who's here," Carole shouts as she pushes the backdoor open and pulls their secret guest along behind her.
"Hi Dad!"
Burt barely has time to register Kurt's bright, tiny-toothed smile, before he has him wrapped in his arms and complaining about the sweat being pressed against his designer clothes.
"I can't help it, son. I can't believe - you're here!"
"Isabelle gave me a few days off for the holiday! Sorry I couldn't come earlier to help with the preparations."
"That's okay. Blaine here took care of us."
"I can see that," Kurt surveys before locking gazes with his boyfriend. Although Burt has figured out Blaine knew about Kurt coming, it's clear that this is the first time they've actually seen each other in weeks. Kurt's previous care for his clothing goes out the window when he and Blaine embrace, allowing Blaine's sweaty, gel-slicked curls to drip onto the fine material.
Kurt seems to care little.
Burt turns back to the grill and the hotdogs waiting for him in order to give Blaine and his son - who's here – some time to reunite. After a few moments, Blaine coughs, flushed, and announces that he and Kurt are going to go set up the dessert platters inside.
Half an hour later, Blaine is back outside, checking after the guests and cleaning after empty bottles, cans, and plates that may be lying around. The flies have been particularly annoying this summer, and the last thing they want is to draw them around where they'll be eating cake later.
With the added help of Kurt here, there's little that can go wrong. He and Blaine are on top of things, and by the end of the night Burt and Carole are able to relax and share a couple of beers together and Finn goes inside to play Call of Duty with the boys.
"Blaine and I are going up, Dad. We'll see you for clean up in the morning?"
"Sure. You boys all right? It's early still," Burt asks, concerned.
"Today really took a lot out of me, Burt. I could use the rest." Even in the dim light of dusk, Burt notices the pink of Blaine's cheeks and the sweat still clinging to his skin. He shivers from the cooler air, and frankly, he looks exhausted.
Next to him, Carole is frowning. "You look over-heated, honey. Drink some water before you go to bed, okay?"
"I'll make sure to take care of him, Carole," Kurt assures her. He gently places a hand on Blaine's lower back and leads him into the house, leaving Burt and Carole out with the remainder of their guests while the fireworks go off overhead.
It's a testament to how exhausted Blaine is that he doesn't react when Kurt leaves the bed. After drinking a glass of water, taking a quick shower, and changing into his pajamas, Blaine settled under the sheets for the Martin and Lewis film Kurt had chosen. Not even 30 minutes into the movie, Blaine fell asleep. Kurt remained with him, easing his fingers through Blaine's partially wet curls to soothe him. Kurt could feel the warmth of Blaine's skin underneath his fingertips, and he's worried he should've had Blaine drink more water before letting him sleep. Too late now, though, with Blaine resting so comfortably.
As the movie comes to a close, Kurt slides out of Blaine's grasp to turn the television off. Normally, this would wake Blaine, yet he remains deep in his slumber this time. It's only about 11:00, and Kurt, despite his flight, is not tired in the least. Blaine obviously needs his rest though, so Kurt ventures off to find his brother whom he's missed terribly since leaving for New York. He makes a mental note to bring Blaine another glass of water when he returns.
Finn and Puck are, as he thought, playing some sort of video game in Finn's room. The door is open, so Kurt enters without knocking, grinning at the yelps resounding from both the television and the boys. He can't tell if Finn and Puck are on the same team or against each other, but he knows the beer cans lying cannot be a sign of good fortune for either of them.
"Hey man! Wanna join us?" Finn asks, slurring only slightly.
"Hmm," Kurt considers. "Only if you switch to Mario Kart." It's the only game Kurt knows how to play. He's actually rather good at it, and it would be funny to kick their asses for once since they are in no shape to keep a car – even a virtual one – on the road.
Finn giggles. "I'm not supposed to drink and drive," he quips. Kurt rolls his eyes,
"Is Blaine coming? We can play double dash!" exclaims Puck, punching the air to mimic the game.
Kurt shakes his head. "He's exhausted, so not tonight."
"I'm not surprised. He's been all over the place," Finn admits.
Kurt understands completely. "Blaine never does anything half way."
"Hey, Kurt, Puck and I can take up the slack tomorrow, if you think he needs a break," Finn offers, while digging through the pile of games.
Kurt is used to Finn's particular brand of kindness, fueled by a desire to keep everyone happy, but his genuine concern for Blaine spreads comfortable warmth through Kurt's chest. It's partly pride, but mostly happiness at Blaine becoming part of their family.
"That would be great, Finn," Kurt replies. "I'm holding you to that in the morning!"
Puck waves a hand. "We'll be fine. I'm already sobering up anyway."
The conversation is dropped when Finn locates the game. Instead, the room is filled with the rumblings of virtual cars, the disgruntled shouts of someone who's just run over a banana peel, and the music that leads Kurt into victory.
He kicks their asses.
Kurt quietly pads to his room two hours later, leaving Finn and Puck to clean up after themselves. By this time he's more tired; it's closer to his actual sleep schedule anyway considering everything he has to juggle with school and his internship.
He remembered to fill a glass with water for Blaine and gently shakes him awake where he's curled under the covers.
"Mmm, 'urt," he sighs, snuggling into Kurt's touch. When Blaine turns into him, Kurt is alarmed by the heat resonating from his skin.
"Blaine, are you –"
"'m cold, Kurt. Come cuddle," Blaine says sleepily.
"Honey, you're burning up."
"Nuh-uh," he mumbles.
"You're shivering, love. I think you have a fever. Will you let me take your temperature?" Kurt doesn't wait for an answer before heading into his adjoined bathroom where he keeps the thermometer in the medicine cabinet.
In the few seconds it takes for Kurt to leave and come back, Blaine has fallen asleep again. And Kurt, once again, has to regretfully wake him up.
Blaine blinks up at him. "I don't feel so good, Kurt."
"I know, honey," he soothes, climbing into the sheets next to him. He easily slides the thermometer under Blaine's tongue and waits, letting Blaine lean against him to stay upright. Whatever hit him, hit him fast. Already, Blaine's skin has gone pale and clammy to the touch.
At the beep, the thermometer reveals 101.4.
The thing about fevers is that they are usually a good sign, indicating that the immune system is fighting whatever infection has set in. Like anybody, Kurt's first instinct is to make it better because he hates seeing Blaine in pain. But rushing to lower a fever could actually help the infection spread.
In the end, he decides to hold off giving Blaine the fever reducer and instead encourages Blaine to drink the glass of water to avoid dehydration. He briefly gets out of bed to wet a rag with warm water and dabs the sweat away from his forehead.
Kurt gets little sleep that night. When Blaine whispers into the darkness, "I feel like I'm being thrown from orbit" there's no question that Kurt's going to be there to keep him grounded.
He's still feverish in the morning, and that worries Kurt.
He maneuvers away from Blaine's trembling limbs and heads upstairs where he can hear Carole humming over the stove.
"Good morning, Kurt!" she says brightly when he enters.
He replies, "Morning, Carole. I need your help." It's not often that Kurt asks for help from her, so Carole is immediately on alert. "Blaine is sick."
She wipes her hands with a rag and pokes her head into the living room to tell Burt to watch the eggs before following Kurt down to his bed room.
Blaine has since managed to make himself into a burrito, and Kurt laughs in spite of himself.
"Blaine?"
Carole already has the thermometer ready by the time Blaine blearily wakes. His fever has gone up in the night, as his temperature now reads 102.1. While Carole is professional at work, she goes into 'Mom Mode' when it's her family suffering. Blaine is no exception.
She fusses over his pillow and sheets and asks him if he thinks he can keep soup down. Blaine only has the energy to nod.
"Chicken and Stars, Carole," Kurt clarifies. "It's what he likes."
"Sure thing, boys. Kurt, keep him hydrated. We really should see about washing those sheets later. Don't worry, Blaine, we'll get you feeling better in no time."
"Thanks," Blaine rasps.
Kurt is happy when the food stays down, even though Blaine only had the energy to eat half of it. Despite all the sleep he had last night, he naps again after eating. When Kurt saunters upstairs for his own lunch, everyone is finishing cleaning up outside, and he feels guilty for not pulling his weight.
They come in as Kurt is finishing up mixing his salad. His dad assures him that it's fine and asks how Blaine is doing, if they know what's wrong.
"Looks like the flu, but it's hard to tell. He's not congested or anything. Just feverish and tired."
"You sure it's nothing from the heat? It was really hot yesterday."
"I've been keep him hydrated, so I don't know. If it keeps up, maybe we should see a clinic."
"Carole doesn't know?"
He shakes his head. "His temperature has stayed pretty low, considering. I guess we're just seeing where things go."
"Kurt?" They both turn to the sound, where Blaine is shuffling into the kitchen with one of Kurt's blankets wrapped around him.
"Blaine! What are you doing up here, love?"
"I promised to help," he mutters, eyes intense with determination even through the glaze of his exhaustion.
"Bud, everything's already done. Why don't you and Kurt go watch a movie in the living room instead?
"But-"
"Focus on yourself, kid. You're our guest, not our slave."
"Come on, Blaine," Kurt prods, leading Blaine, who's shaky on his feet, to the comfortable living room couch where Kurt starts flicking through channels to find something to watch.
"Any preferences?" Blaine shrugs in response, and his lack of interest is disconcerting. He keeps shifting on the couch, the misery rolling off him in waves. "Come here," Kurt insists, placing the couch pillow in his lap and gesturing for Blaine to lie down.
"Gonna get you sick," he says, but stretches out along the couch anyway, lying on his side so he can still see the tv screen.
"You won't."
"Ugh, 'm so achy. I hate this." It breaks Kurt's heart that all he can do is course his hand up and down Blaine's side, feeling the persistent tremors through the blanket.
Finn, Puck, and Sam burst through the front door later that afternoon, carrying a box of pizza, a box breadsticks, and a two liter of Pepsi between them. Although Kurt knows they've probably loaded it with fatty meats, the pizza smells delicious. He doesn't realize how hungry is until his stomach grumbles.
Before he can ask if they can spare a slice for him (he'll take off the pepperonis and sausage), Blaine is lurching out of his lap, tripping over his afghan in his sprint out of the room.
Kurt is right behind him, prying the blanket off the floor and following the sound to the bathroom where Blaine is sitting on the floor draped over the toilet, his entire body rocking with the spasms of his vomiting.
"Is he all right?" Finn shifts on his feet behind Kurt peeking over him enough to see Blaine's distress. "Oh man - I didn't mean-"
"It's not your fault, Finn. Can you wet a rag with warm water and find Blaine's toothbrush in his bag?"
"Yeah," he says. "PUCK! FIND BLAINE'S TOOTHBRUSH!"
Blaine cringes at the volume of Finn's voice.
While Finn runs out of the bathroom to take care of his assigned tasks, Kurt kneels down next to Blaine and rests his hand in the middle of his back.
A second spasm hits, and Blaine heaves forward again. When it's over –a split second it seems – Blaine leans his head against the seat, pale and entirely spent. Tears cling to his lashes.
"I want this over, Kurt," he babbles. "I ache so bad and every move makes my head spin. I'm so done, Kurt. How do I make it stop? Please, make it stop."
"I got you, honey," he replies, pulling Blaine's curls away from his face.
"I've never felt this shitty."
They can hear Finn's thunderous footfalls approaching. "Here's your stuff, Kurt!" he shouts. Kurt reaches out for the wet rag and places it on the back of Blaine's neck. He relaxes into the material, but the relief is more about comfort than it is the physical aid.
He still feels like he's being tossed into warp speed, aching down to his bones.
"Do you think you can stand, Blaine? Brush your teeth?"
He nods. "Gimme a moment."
"Uh…should I do anything else?"
"No, it's ok, Finn. Thanks."
When Finn leaves, Blaine pulls himself into a standing position, using the sink to hold his weight and groaning.
"Do you want some privacy?" Kurt asks, wondering if Blaine wants some time to clean up and regroup.
"Stay," he says. "Please."
Carole arrives home from her shift at the hospital, and the first thing on her mind is checking up on her boys. When she gets out of her car, she can hear Finn, Puck, and Sam bickering in the backyard. A quick glance reveals that they're throwing a football around.
She finds Blaine tossing on the couch in his sleep. Feeling his forehead for the temperature suggests that his fever has not abated since the morning. He feels hotter, even.
"Kurt?" she questions, hesitant to walk away from Blaine, but curious about where her stepson is. "Where are you?"
"Here, Carole!" she finally hears as she approaches the laundry room.
"I wanted to wash the sheets while I had the chance. He's been fighting to stay awake all day and only just settled down."
"He feels warmer. When's the last time you took his temperature?"
"He was sick earlier. I took it after and he was hovering at about 101 – 5."
She frowns. "He's higher now.
A bleary Blaine obeys when Carole pushes the thermometer at him, and the reading reveals he's hit 103. They have to get his temperature down.
Kurt places his sheets in the dryer, and makes his bed with a fresh, spare set worry pooling in his gut. He had no idea Blaine was getting worse. He wonders if there's something he should've done – maybe giving him a fever reducer earlier.
But he didn't know what was going on, still doesn't know.
He's finishing up tucking the comforter back on his bed when Carole comes down, helping Finn lead Blaine down the steps and on Kurt's bed.
His balance is off, and he really shouldn't be walking, but that's Blaine's pride. He refused to be carried. Carole places a wet rag on his forehead as he settles.
"Blaine, I'm going to draw you a bath, ok? Kurt will stay with you."
Blaine's head lolls. "'kay."
Carole calls for them after a few minutes, and Kurt eases Blaine into the bathroom. Kurt helps him strip down this his boxers, before encouraging him to climb into the tub.
"'s cold," he murmurs.
"It's not, honey. It's warm. It's gonna help bring your temperature down."
"Want out."
"Not yet, love."
If Kurt had to catalogue the worst experiences of his life, having to ignore Blaine's raging pleas to be let out of the bath while he is too weak to struggle would be at the top.
"He needs to stay in long enough for the water to get cold. It should gradually bring his temperature down with it," Carole informs him. Over the next couple of minutes, they pat the warm water over Blaine's skin and try to keep him calm.
His fever is high enough that he doesn't understand completely what's going on, but they do manage to get Blaine to take a fever reducer.
"Kurt, I think I know what's going on," Carole says. "Blaine, dear, can you lean forward a little? I need to get a better look at your back."
He obeys, revealing the large red spot over his right shoulder blade.
"Blaine, you were working at the tree line early this week?"
"Mhmm."
"Did you check yourself for ticks?" He doesn't answer, but Carole has already examined the rash enough to know. "I think he has Lyme Disease. See the bull's eye?"
Kurt feels nauseous. "Isn't that serious?"
"It can be. But he'll be fine. This is an early stage. We'll take him to the doctor and get an antibiotic early tomorrow. It takes a lot out of you though. We'll get the fever down, but long-term fatigue is common."
"So he's gonna be ok?"
"Yeah. He'll be fine. But we should keep his fever down tonight."
They do so, and within the hour Blaine is resting mostly peaceful, curled next to Kurt who takes comfort in the brush of Blaine's warm breath against his neck.
Kurt only has one more day home before having to return to New York, and he and Blaine are rocking on the front porch, their hands joined between them.
Blaine has only just started to feel better. The fever is gone, though the exhaustion remains. They've been told that he should stay out of the sun for the next couple of weeks while the antibiotics do their job to rid his body of the infection in his system.
Kurt wishes he could stay a few more days until Blaine gets back on his feet, but Vogue has a big week coming up and Isabelle can't spare him.
As it is, Kurt can't stop looking at his boyfriend, sitting in the rocking chair.
His eyes are closed and there are bags underneath, hinting at his drowsiness, but the color has finally come back to his cheeks and finally he's rid himself of the extra blankets.
"What are you thinking about?" He asks without opening his eyes. He can hear Kurt thinking loud.
"I just really love you," Kurt answers. Blaine blinks, revealing those beautiful honey eyes – bright and aware - and igniting sparks in the space inside Kurt's heart.
"I love you too."