Gave in to the following prompt on Tumblr: "Any chance of a sick!Kurt and a comforting!Blaine fic featuring Maggie Thatcher dog?"
You ask, and you receive. Rated G for extreme fluff.
"B…Blaine, I told you to stay home," Kurt muttered petulantly as he sprawled out over his bed, surrounded by a sea of tissues and a bed side table of various decongestants, lozenges, and water glasses, each of which managed to chip at his clean and tidiness OCD with every passing second.
"You really thought I'd stay cooped up in my room studying with you like this?" Blaine grinned sneakily, sauntering into the room with one hand behind his back suspiciously.
Kurt rolled his eyes so fast that they practically rolled off his head. "I am not in distress! It's just a twenty-four hour bug thing going around. At any rate, it better be. I had my flu shot earlier this year. Not to mention, I took very special provisions to keep… me from… Blaine." He slowed his speech to a halt as Blaine revealed a little critter behind his back, the unmovable kind with big puppy eyes and small floppy ears.
"Don't strain your voice. Besides, Maggie put me up to it. She said you'd be feeling extra wroof." Zeroing on his boyfriend, he flopped down next to him, grinning widely as he wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and pressed both the plush and his face into Kurt's belly.
Kurt let out a cross between a whinge, a gasp, and a shriek, attempting to push him aside with as much strength at he could muster. When Blaine wouldn't budge, he slid his hand back over Blaine's shoulder, letting his thumb trail over the shell of his ear as he nudged at him with his knees.
"You're going to get sick if you keep this up," Kurt muttered tiredly, passing on a fond smile down to the crazy man in his lap.
"Don't care," he simply mumbled back, closing his eyes.
"Fine, in that case, I feel disgusting. And quite frankly, I smell." Kurt arched one eyebrow down at his boyfriend, raggedly closing his eyes against the sting of his migraine. If nothing else, at least his fever had downgraded. But he still felt sore and achy all over. And utterly disgusting, to boot.
"Like roses," Blaine added back, peeking one eye open to look back at his boyfriend. He then took in a small whiff and had to keep himself from grimacing. Sure, Kurt had that undeniable sick smell, but he couldn't very well judge him for it. "Besides, even if you did have a unique aroma, don't dogs like things that smell? So one of us is extra happy. Isn't that right, Maggie?" He glanced down at the plush, which "woofed" and "nodded" back, with a little help from Blaine.
With one heavy shove, Kurt managed to push his boyfriend off his lap and turn back on to his side. "You're insane. Plus, don't think I didn't notice your subtly executed form of agreeing with me. Which doesn't earn you any brownie points this time, if you're keeping score."
Blaine laughed softly at that and curled back against Kurt's pillows, staring up at them as he set the plush in between them. "Hey, the dog said it, not m—hey! I thought you were sick!" He laughed his fool head off as he was pushed off the rest of the bed, grabbing on to the bed post to keep from falling… and not succeeding.
Kurt just kept on sniggering, his shoulders shrugging up and down as he picked up Maggie Thatcher dog and picked at her large, black, beady eyes.
Blaine Anderson was an idiot, yeah, but he was his idiot.