It had been like any other Tuesday night. Kurt was sitting on one bed, eyebrows scrunched in concentration at his Calculus homework.
Blaine was on the other, making futile attempts to try and translate his French assignment.
Then, Blaine and Kurt took turns taking a shower and lipped into pajamas. Since the snow came, Kurt and Blaine had found that sharing a bed could be much warmer, so Blaine lied in his bed, waiting for Kurt to finish his moisturizing routine. The pale boy then crawled into bed and shared a good night kiss with his boyfriend before resting his head on Blaine's chest, practically in the other boy's lap.
Blaine had been awake for a while. His boyfriend had dozed off earlier and now the soloist stared at the ceiling, thinking about anything from musicals to what tomorrow's lunch would be. Yup, just and average Tuesday night, until the incident that changed things completely.
Kurt had started fidgeting uncomfortably in his sleep, burying his face in Blaine's chest. The dark-haired boy smiled and stroked the countertenor's hair.
Suddenly, Kurt relaxed and a rush of warmth on his legs startled Blaine. Careful not to wake the sleeping boy on top of him, Blaine pushed back the covers and turned the lamp on that was on the bedside table.
Blaine gasped at the sight of his soaked pajama bottoms.
Kurt stirred a little bit, revealing a wet patch on the sheets. It reeked of urine.
Blaine flushed in embarrassment at the idea of possibly having wet the bed, though he was confused as to why he hadn't felt a sensation in his bladder. He carefully eased himself out of the bed, keeping mind of the bed's other resident and inspected his pants. There was no wetness near his groin, just around hi knees.
Kurt rolled over onto his side with a moan and Blaine's eyes widened. Poor Kurt. He'll be so humiliated and upset. The soloist thought as he looked over Kurt's completely soiled pajamas.
Blaine sighed. The brunette was still sleeping and he deginately didn't want him lying in pee-soaked sheets all night.
"Kurt?" Blaine gently nudged the sleeping boy, who groaned, his eyes fluttering open.
Blaine quickly tried to mask his look of concern with a reassuring smile.
Kurt rolled over, his eyes growing into huge saucers when he noticed the state of the sheets.
Blaine's heart lurched when he saw the expression of utter mortification on the older boy's face. He sat down on the edge of the bed to avoid the wet spot and pulled him into a hug.
Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck and began to cry profusely.
"Shhh…Kurt, it's okay. You just had a little accident. That's nothing to be ashamed of." He said in what he hoped was a soothing tone.
"Oh gosh, Blaine! I'm so sorry!" The fashionista cried. "It's your bed and I was lying on top of you! I'm so, so, sorry!" He sobbed even harder.
Blaine shushed him softly, rubbing his back and stroking his hair in comfort. The soloist wiped Kurt's tears away and kissed his forehead gently.
"It's alright, Kurt. I'm not upset. You shouldn't be either." He gently lifted Kurt off of the bed and led him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the closed toilet lid. "You can't be comfortable." He commented softly as he helped Kurt remove his wet clothes.
Kurt remained silent in favor of staring at the floor in shame.
Blaine then turned on the shower, waiting until it was just the way Kurt liked it and instructing Kurt into the tub. While the pale boy cleaned himself off, Blaine changed out of his pajama bottoms, washed his legs and put on a fresh pair. Then he proceeded to remove the dirty sheets. There was a small stain on the mattress, but nothing too bad. Then he saw Kurt shuffle out of the bathroom in some baggy pajamas and couldn't help but feel bad, noting that the boy couldn't even look at him.
"Kurt? Can we talk about this?" He asked carefully.
The older boy turned red and began to tear up a bit.
Blaine wrapped his arms around the countertenor's waist and kissed his cheek.
"That's okay, we don't have to. Why don't we go back to bed?" He suggested softly.
Kurt's eyes immediately darted over to Blaine's sheet less bed.
"We'll use the other one." Blaine decided, guiding the embarrassed boy to the second bed. He climbed in, pulling Kurt in after him.
Blaine went to sleep immediately, but yurt couldn't relax to save his life.
Stress. That was his problem. It had happened when his mom died, when his dad had that arrhythmia, and now with Karofsky and the challenging classes at Dalton, he just couldn't handle it. Kurt sighed and rolled over, knowing very well that he would be getting any more sleep for the night.