For the Gift
Finn slips back into his apartment, gently shutting the door behind him. He locks the door, wincing at the how loud the 'click' seems in the silence. He checks and rechecks the door to make sure he's really locked it. He has been known to think he's locked the door when really he hasn't. When he is sure the door is securely closed, he pads down the hall into the living room.
The TV is on and set to a station that plays the old Christmas specials. A Christmas tree sits in the corner, fully decorated and piled with gifts. His boyfriend is curled up on the couch; a downy duvet is tucked up under his nose. His usually stylized brown hair is spread out over a pillow, a few strands fall into his face, sticking to his sweaty forehead. Kurt's body racks with a cough and Finn rushes forward to stroke his damp hair comfortingly.
He and Kurt started going out in the middle of senior year when Finn and Rachel had a falling out of sorts and Blaine had cheated on Kurt with Sebastian –Finn still wasn't sure how Kurt forgave Blaine but he had. After being rejected by NYADA the slightly smaller man had turned to his other passion, fashion.
Finn had followed Kurt to New York like a love sick puppy. While walking Kurt's college searching for said man, he'd stumbled on voice acting.
"Who's at the door?" Kurt slurs groggily.
"I thought you were asleep," Finn says, leaning down kiss the sick man's forehead. "I didn't wake you did I?"
"No," he sighs. "The door?" he repeats.
"Oh right, that was Blaine. He was wondering if Sam was here," Finn says, bending down to retrieve the empty soup dish on the floor.
"Do you think they've finally…" Kurt whispers. Finn shrugs, getting back up. He knows how rocky their friends' relationship has been but they always seem to work it out in the end.
"Do you want anything more to eat?" he calls over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. A wheezy, muffled 'no' filters in after him. He dumps the dirty dishes into the sink, then opens the cabinet and pulls out a glass. He fills it up with water then heads back into the living room.
"Sit up, it's time for your medicine." He waits patiently for Kurt to weakly pushing himself into a seated position before handing over the water. He fishes in his pocket, searching for the pill bottle he'd gone to fetch when there had been a knock on the door. He opens the bottle, shaking out two pills and handing them over to Kurt too.
Kurt swallows the pills, polishing off the water also. Finn sets the glass on the ground. He nudges Kurt over, slipping under the blanket. He wraps his long arms around the shivering body, tucking him into his chest. "I'm sorry," Kurt whispers into his neck.
"It's alright, Kurt," Finn says, nuzzling slightly damp, light brown hair.
"I know you had plans for today and I ruined them all by getting sick," Kurt pouts before his body is seized with another round of coughs. Finn reaches rubs his back. He hates seeing Kurt like this. He hates it when the young man isn't bustling around their apartment full of life.
The day isn't going as Finn planned. He had started his day by getting up really really early to make the smaller man breakfast in bed. He was hoping to talk Kurt into some steamy shower sex afterwards. Then he was going to take Kurt to the new Broadway show he had been dying to see. Then to the same skate rink they had their first date at. Kurt rolls over on the couch so they're face to face.
"You didn't ruin anything by being sick. The best part of Christmas is spending it with you," he says, sincerely. "When did you get so romantic?" He giggles. Finn rolls his eyes mockingly.
"I've always been romantic," he brags, leaning forward to kiss Kurt's forehead.
"I know," Kurt sighs, "I love you." The 'you' stretching out and tuning into a yawn. He snuggles closer, kissing the hollow at the bottom of Finn's neck, and falls asleep. Finn reaches over the arm of the couch to snag the remote. He puts the TV on mute and nuzzles his face into Kurt's hair. Taking a deep breath of strawberry scented shampoo and Kurt, he drifts off.
The next thing he is aware of his Kurt trembling violently in his arms and the chill running down his own spine. He opens his eyes to blackness. The TV is no longer on and neither are any of the lights he left on before falling asleep. The sun is long gone. Finn curses to himself, carefully slipping away from Kurt. He grimaces at the cold air that sticks to his sweaty shirt.
Kurt and Finn, when finished with college, had decided they were done with city life. Yet both of their jobs were in the city. So they moved into an old Victorian house that had been turned into a two apartments in a suburb just out of the city. They were then able to take the train in and though the ride was a little on the long side they were able to ride most of it together. The downside was that the electricity tended to go out during bad storms.
Finn shuffles into the kitchen, arms out so he doesn't walk into anything. He opens the drawer where they store matches and flashlights and fumbles around before pulling out a flashlight. He switches it on, hissing slightly at the harsh beam of light he's accidently directed at his eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut and directs the light away from his face. Once he's recovered he heads for their bedroom.
In the bedroom he raids his closet, pulling out all of his hoodies and sweats. He doesn't bother with Kurt's closet because A) Kurt would kill him if he messed it up and B) the smaller man doesn't have any sweats, just stylish clothes. Then he goes through the linen closet, removing all their down comforters. He hauls his load into the living room, flashlight in his mouth.
He peels the blanket off of his still sleeping boyfriend. He knows the sweat on his shirt isn't his and that Kurt's cloths must be drenched. As quickly yet as tenderly as he can he removes the pajamas from Kurt's body, replacing them with a pair of his own sweats. After he changes his own shirt. He tucks Kurt back into the couch and adds another cover for good measure.
It is while he is walking to the bathroom to put their dirty clothes in the hamper-sick or not Kurt wouldn't be very pleased if Finn left them on the floor- that he decides that he is still going to go through with one aspect of his day. All he needs to do is let his romantic side kick in and make this dark house nice and pretty.
He heads straight back to the kitchen, flashlight in hand. He gathers up the matches then ransacks every room of the house in search of candles. Kurt likes candles so there is practically three in every room, more so in the bathroom. He brings all the candles out into the living room. He lights them with the matches before placing them on window sills, the mantle and small tables. He keeps moving them around until he's got the effect he wants.
He stares at the fireplace. He knows it's useable but Kurt forbade- Kurt's exact word- from using it after he almost burned the house down. The thing is that Finn really does know how to build a fire and it would warm up the room. Weighing his options, he decides to get a fire going despite the fact that it might bring Kurt's wraith-another word the other man had taught him- upon him.
Then he goes back into the kitchen to gather all of the flashlights. He turns each of them on, making sure to keep the beam away from his face. In the living room, he sets them up so they are shining on the Christmas tree. The ornaments twinkle in the lighting. Satisfied, Finn dips his hand into Kurt's stocking and takes out the gift he placed in there.
"Kurt, baby?" Finn murmurs, nudging the sick man awake. "Can you get up for a bit? I wanna show you something."
Kurt groans and rolls over so his face is smushed into the cushion before one eyelid slowly reveals a green-blue eye. "Wha?" he gurgles. Finn can't help but grin at the adorableness of it. He helps Kurt into a sitting position then sits down next to him. Finn lets the silence wash over them as the sick man takes in the room.
"There's a lot of potential fire hazards and Finn in this room," Kurt finally mumbles to himself.
"That's not the point," Finn pouts, fully disappointed that his efforts were wasted. Then Kurt turns to him, a bright smile on his face.
"I know," he says. "It's beautiful, really." His voice is wistful and dreamy. Finn finds himself just staring at the other man. He finds his gaze stuck on the skin the color and flawlessness of porcelain, eyes that are dancing from green to blue in the flickering firelight, a cute nose rubbed red from tissues and lips naturally the same rosy red as his cheeks.
"I love you," Finn can't help but blurt because even though Kurt is sick he's gorgeous. Finn slides off the couch, kneeling in front of Kurt. He takes a pale hand into one hand while fumbling with the gift in his pocket with the other one. He takes it out, presenting it to Kurt. Looking him straight in the eye Finn asks, "Kurt Hummel, will you marry me?"
The sound of a strangled sob that turns into a harsh cough fills the silence after. Tears stream down Kurt's face and he raises a hand to cover his mouth. Finn pulls his hand away, wondering if he is being rejected. Kurt reaches blindly, cupping Finn's face with his newly freed hand. "Yes," Kurt sobs. "Oh god, yes!"
The tension in Finn's shoulders slackened at those words, his smile returning in full. He turns Kurt's hand so he can easily slip the ring onto his finger. It sparkles in the firelight, the same way Kurt's eyes do. "I love you," Finn repeats leaning up.
"I love you too," Kurt whispers, bending down but stops an inch from Finn's lips. "Good Christmas?"
"Best Christmas ever!" Finn sighs, moving to claim his fiancé's lips.