I feel like this isn't anything special, but hey, sometimes you've just gotta write.
Kurt felt like death. Which, unfortunately, was nothing new.
"How you doing this morning, babe?" Blaine asked, bustling around their bedroom as he got dressed for work.
"Not-" Kurt gave a hacking, mucus-filled cough. "-great."
Blaine hummed sympathetically and walked over to their bed, where Kurt was still nestled in the blankets. "What can I do?" he asked before kissing Kurt's forehead.
"Just leave me here to die," Kurt said, only half kidding.
"No, that's not really gonna work for me," Blaine said. "How about I bring you some soup once I finish up at the studio? I've only got half a day today."
"Sounds perfect," Kurt said. He let out another painful cough and winced. "If I can even swallow by then."
"Hasn't it been like three days?" Blaine asked, concerned.
"Today's day four," Kurt confirmed. "I don't understand - the last time I was this-" cough hack cough "-sick, it was out of my system by day two."
"You haven't been overexerting yourself?"
"No, Blaine," Kurt said, glaring at him as best he could without lifting his head from the pillow. "I know you think I'm a terrible patient, but I've honestly felt too shitty to move recently."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Blaine said, leaning in to give Kurt another kiss in apology. "After that time you almost passed out on Aaron Tveit, I worry."
"I understand," Kurt said, coughing again. He shivered for a moment, suddenly freezing even though he was under three blankets.
"Just stay here and rest, okay? I'll be back as soon as possible," Blaine said. He stroked over Kurt's hair once before dashing out of the room, running late as usual.
Kurt alternated between napping fitfully and watching whatever tolerable shows he could find on TV that morning, wrapping his arms around himself as tightly as he could whenever another shivering fit came on. Years later (or so it felt to Kurt), Blaine finally came home, take-out container full of chicken noodle soup in hand.
"Kurt," he said sadly.
"I think I got worse," Kurt said, shivering again.
Blaine walked over and rested the back of his hand against Kurt's forehead. "Babe, why are you shivering? You're burning up."
"I swear our heat's out," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around himself in his blanket nest. "I've been freezing all day."
"That's it," Blaine said, leaving the soup on the nightstand. "We're going to the doctor."
"No!" Kurt said, shying away from Blaine infinitesimally - his aching body couldn't handle much more than that.
"Kurt, it's been four days and you're not healing. Something might be seriously wrong," Blaine said. "C'mon. I promise I'll throw your blankets in the dryer when we get back so they're nice and toasty."
"I should be more mad that you're-" cough "-bribing me, but honestly, I feel too crappy to complain. You promise you won't leave me alone when we're there?" Kurt asked, too sick to feel ashamed of his moment of vulnerability.
"Of course not," Blaine said, bending down to press a kiss to Kurt's sweaty hair.
"I changed my mind, I can't do this," Kurt said, sitting on the exam table as they waited for the doctor to come in. He shivered and coughed, feeling even worse now that he wasn't in his comfortable, perfectly broken in bed.
"It'll be quick, honey," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hand. "Courage."
"That stopped being cute four years ago," Kurt grumbled heatlessly.
Thankfully, the doctor chose that moment to knock on the door and enter.
"Kurt? I'm Dr. Bower. What seems to be the problem?"
"I think I've got some really terrible flu," Kurt said, coughing between some of his words. "Usually it only lasts about a day and a half, but this is my fourth day of being sick, and my husband here is worried."
"Can you blame me?" Blaine asked.
"I understand," Dr. Bower said, inclining her head sympathetically. "Let's check your lungs out."
Kurt submitted to Dr. Bower's tests willingly, hoping they'd lead to some answers. He was relieved when she didn't want to do a blood test, not sure he'd be able to get through that easily in his exhausted state, even with Blaine's calming presence. After a few more minutes of sitting and waiting for results, the diagnosis came back.
"Pneumonia," Dr. Bower said. "But not a terribly severe case, luckily. A few days of antibiotics should get you back on your feet."
She wrote the prescription and sent them on their way, and before Kurt knew it, he was being dropped back at their apartment while Blaine ran out to fill his script and grab a few "essentials for healing."
"What exactly is going to heal me better than the drugs I'm supposed to take?" Kurt asked when Blaine returned, arching an eyebrow.
"Ice cream," Blaine said, pulling a tub out of a brown paper sack and setting it on their counter. He continued stacking items as he listed, "VapoRub, soft new washcloths, and a two liter of ginger ale in case you start feeling nauseated. And, of course, your antibiotics."
"You're a miracle worker," Kurt said.
"I try," Blaine teased, winking. "Here, get your first pill in you while I pull up Netflix. There's gotta be something we can marathon."
"Blaine!" Kurt said, quickly swallowing the antibiotic. "You can't just hang out with me! I've probably already gotten you sick."
"I Googled it while I was waiting in line, pneumonia really only sets in if you were sick with something else beforehand," Blaine said, lifting Kurt's feet to sit at that end of their couch. "I'm totally safe."
Kurt shot a warning glare at Blaine.
"Really!" Blaine said, eyes widening. "And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't just leave you alone to suffer. We're a team, baby."
"One of these days, we're both going to be deathly ill and have no one around to take care of us," Kurt said ominously.
"But until then?" Blaine asked.
"I really don't want you to go," Kurt admitted. "Come closer?"
Blaine spooned up behind Kurt. "Whatever you need."