Kurt (3:05 pm): How's my lovely husband doing today?
Kurt (3:05 pm): God, I'm never going to get tired of saying that.
Kurt (3:06 pm): HUSBANDS, BLAINE. We're HUSBANDS!
Blaine (3:07 pm): What? This is brand new information ;)
Kurt (3:07 pm): Haha, very funny. Clearly that Netflix binge-watch of Friends was put to good use if you're still quoting it.
Blaine (3:08 pm): Sadly, it wasn't possible to have sex for the entire time we were on our honeymoon. We sure did try though...
Kurt (3:09 pm): Hell yeah, we did. I thought we utilized our time pretty well. Speaking of which, I miss you. When are you done?
Blaine (3:11 pm): We're about to start rehearsal. We have to rehearse every day this week since I kinda left them in a lurch to get married and go on our honeymoon (not that I regret that for one second, lest you get any crazy ideas).
Blaine (3:12 pm): We've got a lot of work to do if we're going to be competitive at Sectionals, hence the extra rehearsals. But we'll be done at 5 pm, to answer your question.
Kurt (3:14 pm): Okay, I'm done at 4:30. Want to meet at the coffee shop by Dalton? We're going to need fuel for what I have planned for tonight, if you know what I mean...
Blaine (3:15 pm): Sounds perfect. I'm in. I'll see you a few minutes after 5.
The Warblers were almost finished with their final run through of Blank Space before Blaine noticed that there was smoke seeping under the door to the choir room. Not wanting to interrupt his students while they were in the zone, he quietly made his way to the door to investigate. He expected to see a smoke bomb left behind by a prankster or maybe a rival Glee club. Or perhaps the headmaster had accidentally burnt another english muffin to a crisp, as Blaine had seen him do in the faculty lounge on more than one occasion. The last thing on earth he expected to see was a blanket of thick black smoke pouring down the hallway. Blaine gasped in shock when through the darkness, he saw bright flames emanating from one of the classrooms at the opposite end of the hall.
"Mr. Anderson?" Mason called, eyes wide as he took in the smoke rapidly filling the rehearsal room.
"There's a fire," Blaine replied urgently. He swung the door shut again, trying to shield his students from the worst of the smoke. "Everyone get your things, we need to get out now!" He looked around the room, quickly deciding that the door at the far corner that led out to the main entryway and staircase was the safest way to exit the building. Hopefully their path would be clear, because Blaine knew that the flames he saw had to be nudging closer and closer, judging by the amount of smoke.
As if to punctuate the urgency of the situation, the fire alarm began to blare loudly. "Guys c'mon, we're going out this way, single file, quickly!" Blaine shouted over the din. He opened the other door and peered out, relieved that the smoke was less thick there. It was still potent, however, and the persistent tickle in his throat began to morph into something a bit more sinister as he started to cough, lungs burning. "Put your blazer over your nose and mouth, it'll help block out some of the smoke," he directed, wishing his own jacket was with him and not across the room folded on top of his bag.
"Mason, can you lead the way?" he requested, relieved when he gave a quick nod and did as told without protesting. Blaine held the door open and as the Warblers shuffled past, he took a head count, wanting to be absolutely positive that all of his students were out safely before he left the building.
"It'll be okay," he soothed, patting a trembling student on the shoulder as he passed. "Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," he counted. He frowned as the last student approached the door, knowing from his headcount that they were still two students short. "Joseph, where are Greg and Colin?" Blaine asked, heart pounding.
"Oh god," Joseph choked out. "They – they said they were going to run to the bathroom, just before we started the last song."
In unison, Blaine and Joseph swiveled to look towards the other hallway where the nearest bathroom was located. "Maybe they are all already out of the building? I'm sure they heard the fire alarm?" Joseph said in quivering voice, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
"I'm sure you're right," Blaine said, more to reassure himself than anything else. "I better go check though, just to be safe."
"Are you sure?" Joseph squeaked. "There was so much smoke."
"I'll be fine. Just go, get yourself out of the building now, okay? Once you are out there, make sure someone has called 911. I'll be right behind you. Just let everyone know I was headed towards the bathroom in case I... In case we're...gone for too long," Blaine finished lamely, trying to hide his terror from his student, not even wanting to speak the worst aloud.
"I – I will, I promise, Mr. Anderson. Please be careful?" Joseph managed, eyes wide with terror. It took one final nudge from Blaine to get him through the choir room door and out towards the front entrance to safety.
As soon as Joseph was out of sight, Blaine was dashing across the choir room. At the last minute, he remembered his earlier advice to his students. He turned around to grab his blazer and covered his face with it. With one last deep breath, Blaine pushed open the door.
The heat and smoke hit him all at once, almost like a tidal wave. His eyes were burning from the acrid smoke, making it hard to see anything through the haze. "Greg?" he called. "Colin?" his lungs were already burning from the effort it took to shout, triggering a coughing jag that he thought would never end.
Blaine could hear the crackling fire. It sounded closer than it had been mere minutes ago. Undeterred, he headed in the direction of the bathroom. Or at least he hoped it was the right direction, because it was so hard to see through the choking black smoke. He felt dizzy, but he knew he couldn't give up. He wouldn't leave his students behind.
Kurt parked his car in front of the cafe. He frowned when we noticed the usually bustling shop was deserted. He hopped out of the car, squinting in the fading sunlight as he struggled to read the sign haphazardly taped to the door: Closed early for repainting. Will reopen tomorrow at 7 am. We apologize for any inconvenience.
"Dammit," Kurt grumbled to himself, wishing he'd gotten coffee at The Lima Bean before he'd driven up to Westerville. The day had taken a lot out of him, between Sue's most recent antics and trying to repress his strong desire to strangle Myron Muskovitz, the hell spawn of the superintendent and newest member of New Directions. It had been an excruciatingly long day and he was in desperate need of some caffeine and perhaps a blueberry scone or five.
He glanced at his watch, deciding his best bet was to meet Blaine at Dalton. Maybe once Blaine was done, they could get dinner instead of coffee? Kurt could totally go for a bottle of wine and a cheesecake right about now.
Kurt was a few blocks away from the school when he was passed by a speeding firetruck, lights on and sirens blaring. He didn't think much of it until he started smelling a strong odor, reminiscent of beach bonfires. He assumed the fire the truck was responding to had to be close from the smell, but it was hard to tell where it was with the thick grove of trees blocking his view.
Kurt was stunned speechless when he turned down the quiet residential street that led to Dalton Academy. Even from the distance, he could see the huge plume of smoke that was clearly coming from the school, the same school where his husband was scheduled to be at this very moment.
Kurt stepped on the gas, stomach knotting as he got closer and closer to Dalton. It was clear this was no small fire, judging from the half dozen firefighters and ambulances that were already collecting in the parking lot. Kurt could see a group of huddled students in their Dalton blazers, but he wasn't close enough yet to tell if they were members of the Warblers.
He pulled into the first spot he saw, throwing the car into park and jumping out simultaneously. Kurt ran at top speed towards the crowd of students, heart hammering with fear. "Hey, excuse me, are you Warblers?" he asked, tapping the nearest student on the shoulder. "Do you know where Mr. Anderson is?"
"Yeah, we are," one of the students replied. "Mr. Anderson should be around here somewhere, he was right behind us."
"Okay," Kurt managed, spinning as he tried to scan the crowd. Still not seeing Blaine, he dug his phone out of his pocket to try to call him. "Have any of you seen Mr. Anderson?" he asked a group of teachers, anxiety growing as Blaine's phone went straight to voicemail.
"I'm sorry I haven't, but I'm sure he's around here somewhere," an older woman in a cardigan answered, patting Kurt's shoulder.
"Wait, are you looking for Mr. Anderson?" a freshman asked Kurt. His eyes were wide with fear and it was clear he'd been crying.
"Yes, I'm his husband. He's not picking up his phone. Do you know where he is?" he spat out, desperate for answers.
Kurt was horrified when the student pointed towards the building in lieu of a reply. "What do you mean? He's still in the building?" he gasped.
"I'm Joseph. I was the last one out of the choir room. He realized that we were two students short and went back in after Colin and Greg. They were going to the bathroom right before the fire broke out. I told him to be careful, but it's been at least five minutes, and..." The student trailed off into a sob, leaving Kurt to fill in the rest.
"Oh god, oh no, oh god," Kurt murmured, racing towards the nearest entrance to the building.
"Wait, you can't go in there!" Joseph called after him. Kurt paid him no mind, focused on one task and one task alone: finding Blaine and getting him to safety.
"Hey hey, wait, you can't come any closer, it's not safe," a firefighter tried to stop Kurt, grabbing him by the arm.
"My husband is still in there, please. I need to find him," Kurt yelled, already beyond reason with fear and worry.
"If he's in there, we'll find him. Just stay back and let us do our job," the firefighter directed, slightly more sympathetic but still resolute. Kurt stared him down, ready to bolt or fight, ready to do anything necessary to get inside the school. He gripped his phone so tightly he thought the glass would shatter. Glancing down briefly, he confirmed that there were still no calls from Blaine. Something had to be done.
There was a sudden roar from the crowd. "Hey look, someone's coming out!" Kurt managed to make out above the din. He looked towards the entrance, seeing a figure shrouded in smoke. As he stepped closer, he realized it was not one person, but three. All their faces were so blackened by soot that it was hard to identify anyone. Kurt pushed through an unguarded hole in the crowd, running towards them. As he got closer, he could see that two students were supporting a shorter, stumbling person between them, half walking and half carrying him out. The man looked up and suddenly Kurt was sure. It was Blaine.
"Blaine!" Kurt yelled, running towards his husband at top speed. "What happened?" he asked the students as he reached them.
"We got stuck in the bathroom. He got us out, saved our lives, really," one of the boys replied gratefully. "There was a lot of smoke. I think he got the worst of it."
Kurt slid his arm around Blaine's waist, taking on most of his weight. "Kurt," Blaine managed to choke out before devolving into wracking coughs.
"It's okay, I'm here. The paramedics are coming too," Kurt soothed, grateful when several medics approached them, helping Kurt carry Blaine over to a waiting ambulance.
"You really scared the shit about of me, you know that?" Kurt said to Blaine once the paramedics got him situated, took his vital signs, and gave him oxygen.
"Sorry," Blaine rasped out, leaning into Kurt's embrace.
"I just – I thought you were dead, Blaine. That after all this time, after all this fighting I'd lost you again," Kurt shook his head, trying to fight back tears. "When I saw the fire and couldn't find you, that was without a doubt the scariest moment of my life."
"But I'm here," Blaine whispered, lacing his fingers through Kurt's. Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead and squeezed his hand tighter.
"We should go now," the paramedic said quietly, intruding on Kurt and Blaine's silent reverie.
Blaine tugged down his oxygen mask, trying to sit up a little straighter. "I really am feeling a lot better," he rasped.
Kurt shook his head, all too familiar with how frequently Blaine tried to weasel his way out of doctor's visits. "Does he need to go to the hospital?" he asked the paramedic directly.
"Yeah, he really does. Sometimes with smoke inhalation, a person can feel okay for a few hours or even a whole day and then suddenly crash."
Kurt nodded soberly, stomach dropping at what the word crash implied. Things could have been so much worse than they were already. He could have lost Blaine, for good this time. That single thought was enough to shake him to his core. "You're going to the hospital," he said to Blaine. "End of discussion."
"Okay," Blaine sighed, acquiescing. His eyes drifted back to Dalton, now fully ablaze. The firefighters were still struggling mightily to put out the fire, though it was clear that it was a war that they were going to lose. "I just can't believe it's gone. This is the last time I'll probably ever...that it will be..." his voice caught, a lump forming as he realized what he was trying to say. "Dalton was my home, Kurt. It was our home, once upon a time. And it's about to be gone."
"I know, Blaine. I know..." Before Kurt could say more, Blaine broke into another violent coughing fit, reminding them all of their priorities. Kurt reached out, tugging Blaine's oxygen mask back up to cover his mouth. "Just breathe right now," he urged when it looked like Blaine wanted to say more.
One paramedic directed Blaine to lay back on the gurney while the driver shut the back door, then went around front, readying the ambulance for the short drive to the emergency room. Kurt did his best to stay out of the way, gripping Blaine's hand tightly in his as he watched the paramedic work. He undid the front of Blaine's shirt, pulling out a stethoscope so he could listen to Blaine's lungs.
"I'm hearing a lot of wheezing," the paramedic remarked with a frown. "Does he have any medical conditions? Asthma, COPD, chronic bronchitis, anything like that?"
"He has asthma," Kurt answered immediately. "God, I'm sorry, I thought I said that earlier. I should have, shit...".
"It's okay," the paramedic soothed, although Kurt could tell by the crease in his forehead that the additional information was only adding to his concerns. He quickly attached Blaine to a pulse oximeter to monitor his heart rate and oxygen levels, then turned a dial on the canister behind him to increase the flow of oxygen to his mask. He attached another tube to Blaine's oxygen mask, causing a fine mist to emanate from the mask that Kurt recognized as albuterol, the same medication Blaine had in his rescue inhaler.
Kurt's stomach lurched as the ambulance pulled away from the curb, slowly navigating through the mess of students, parents, teachers, and firefighters in the parking lot. Once they turned out onto the street, he was startled again by the sound of the siren, accompanied by red and white flashing lights he could see reflected onto the back door of the ambulance.
Feeling more and more distraught by the second, Kurt turned back to the paramedic, intending to ask him about Blaine's prognosis. Just as he was opening his mouth, Blaine started coughing again, a deep, barking wheeze, his lungs audibly rattling each time he sucked in a lungful of air. "Blaine, honey," Kurt murmured solicitously, hand stroking his hair. Blaine stared up at him, eyes watery and tinged with the same panic Kurt was feeling. "Just hang on, we're going to be at the hospital soon," he added, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze.
"Here, let's sit you up a bit. It'll make it easier to breathe," the paramedic said, reaching down to tug at the lever on the side of the gurney. His other hand gripped the head of the bed with practiced ease, lifting it up until Blaine was nearly upright, his head propped up against the pillows.
"Better?" Kurt whispered, trying to smile encouragingly as Blaine nodded. "I love you," he couldn't help but add, swallowing back tears as Blaine mouthed "I love you too" as best he could.
"What's your name?" the paramedic suddenly asked.
"Me?" Kurt asked, looking up. He nodded. "I'm Kurt."
"Kurt, my name is Nathan. Is Blaine your boyfriend?" he asked.
"My husband actually," Kurt replied, thinking back to earlier today when he'd still been riding the honeymoon high, reveling at the thrill the phrase 'my husband' gave him. A tear ran down his cheek and Kurt angrily wiped it away, not wanting Blaine to see him upset when he knew how scared he himself must be.
"He's going to be okay," Nathan said calmly. "We're going to take good care of him. Do you think you could answer some questions for me about his health and medical history? It'll help make sure I'm giving him the right treatment and it's important information the doctors at the hospital will need to know too."
"Of course, anything I can do to help."
"Okay great," Nathan began, "other than asthma, does he have any other major medical issues: diabetes, a heart condition, epilepsy, anything like that?"
"No, nothing like that."
"Good," Nathan said, making a notation on the clipboard he was holding. "What about allergies?"
"He's allergic to sulfa antibiotics, I think they're called?" Kurt asked, looking to Blaine for confirmation. He managed a weak thumbs up.
"Sulfonamides?" Nathan asked.
"Yeah, those," Kurt verified.
"Okay, what about daily medications? What does he take for his asthma?"
"He takes Claritin, mainly for allergies, although I think it helps the pollen not trigger his asthma too. He has an albuterol inhaler for attacks and then he has two controller inhalers he's supposed to take every day, Atrovent and the other one starts with an A too, oh crap," Kurt struggled to finish the name on the tip of his tongue. "It's a purple disk-looking thing..." he added.
"Advair?" Nathan prompted.
"Yes, Advair – that's it," Kurt concurred. "That's all he takes on a daily basis, medication wise." Nathan nodded, scribbling everything down.
Kurt gazed down at Blaine, noting how pale he was. "You hanging in there, sweetheart?" he couldn't help but ask, stroking his thumb across Blaine's cheekbone. He waited impatiently until at last Blaine registered what he asked, his eyes finally fluttering open after seconds that somehow felt like hours.
"M'chest hurts," Blaine whimpered. "Kurt, so tired."
"Oh honey," Kurt breathed, hating how helpless he felt. "You're going to be okay, we're almost to the hospital. Just a little bit longer, okay?"
Blaine's eyes held his for a long moment. At last, he signaled his agreement, drawing a shuddering breath. "Stay?" he begged.
"Of course," Kurt reassured. "I'll be with you the whole time. Remember what we promised?" he prompted Blaine, tracing over the wedding band on his finger. "In sickness and health."
Blaine nodded, the barest hint on a smile on his lips. Kurt resumed stroking his hair, not fighting to keep Blaine awake when his eyes slid shut again. Instead he allowed himself to be soothed by the steady beep of the monitor that sounded with Blaine's every heartbeat. He felt the ambulance slow as they neared the hospital. Kurt took a steadying breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for the chaos that he knew the hospital would surely entail. He looked down at his hand, still intertwined with Blaine's; he knew that whatever was to come, he and Blaine would face it as they always had: together.
End Note: There will definitely be a Part 2 for this coming sometime very soon. I didn't do all that research on smoke inhalation for nothing, after all ;) In the meantime, you can read the rest of this verse on my Tumblr or on AO3 (same username for both).
