Hypothermia
This is a little one shot that came to me late last night. Sorry if it's awful, I got the idea from bits of another fic I read on here a while ago, I can't for the life of me find it though, so I hope you don't mind me using you as a bit of inspiration. (L)
It's probably bad, and a bit nothing-y, but I enjoyed writing it. What can I say, I love writing vulnerable Kurt.
Reviews are love. Thank you in advance for them. :)
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Glee. If I did Kurt would have more solo's. Obviously.
Monday
The cold was the thing Kurt hated the most about being in Cheerios. Sue Sylvester would admit to liking Will Schuester before she let the kids wear a jumper whilst doing their routines. This particular Monday night was no exception, and with a sinking feeling, Kurt realised the week would follow suit. Today, in practice the air was icy cold an Kurt found himself shivering so uncontrollably he could barely lift Brittany during the routine. And Brittany weighed about the same amount as a bag of chips. Everything was numb, from the tips of his toes to his forehead. His fingers were tinged blue, he was shaking so much his teeth clattered together, and he physically couldn't speak. At 7 when practice finally ended, Kurt walked back to the locker rooms as fast as his ice block feet would carry him. The other cheerleaders were suffering badly too, but for some reason the cold had always affected Kurt badly, ever since he was a kid. He walked into the warmth gratefully and pulled a big jumper and coat on over his uniform, before walking to his car and driving home.
Tuesday
Kurt woke up on Tuesday morning feeling a bit shivery and odd, but generally fine. He put together an outfit and drove to school, the morning even colder than the day before. There wasn't usually cheerio practice on a Tuesday, but the footballers were playing a game that evening, so the Cheerios were expected to practice from after school till 6 when the game began. After school, Kurt headed to the locker rooms and put on his thin Cheerios uniform, sighing as the cold bit him the second he walked out of the door. If practice in the cold was hell (and it was, Kurt was beginning to appreciate the use of his fingers and a bowl of soup) then the game was pure evil in event form. Every person in the stand was shivering, and they were wearing coats and scarfs. The cold felt like a million knives, stabbing at his slight body, and he couldn't have been happier for the game to end. That night, as he lay in bed wrapped in several extra blankets, he couldn't for the life of him get warm, he still felt like he was out in the cold in nothing but a thin Cheerios uniform.
Wednesday
Kurt woke up feeling like crap. His head burned but he was freezing cold all over. He pushed it aside though. He was never ill, probably just run down. Besides now was not the time to get ill. On top of Glee and Cheerios he had a mountain of work. Plus his Dad was only just getting better from his heart attack and Kurt really didn't wanna worry him or make him do more than he needed to do. So, pulling on several layers (Thank God layering was so in at the moment) he filled a flask with tea, grabbed a couple of oranges and drove to school, trying to ignore his shakes and pounding head. There was another Cheerios practice that night, and the air was again bitterly cold. Kurt hadn't stopped shaking all day but being out in the weather was so brutal that he came out in a jumper.
"P-please Miss S-s-s-sylvester," He stammered, "It's really c-c-cold, can I wear m-my jumper?"
"Ladyface, do I look cold? And I stand out here with you kids in all weathers. Suck it up. My Cheerios look perfect, we don't look like oddballs in different jumpers. Got it?"
"Y-yes." Kurt mumbled, pulling off his jumper and licking his blue tinged lips in an effort to warm himself up. That night when he got home he lay down in his bed, swallowing back vomit, shaking and sweating.
Thursday
Kurt woke up feeling bad again, but he took a chock load of vitamins and put on thermals. He drove to school, thanking his lucky stars that there was neither a football game, nor a Cheerios practice, and was met the second he walked into school, with an ice cold slushy to the face. Normally this was an irritant, and possibly meant a ruined outfit. But for some reason, after Karofsky and Azimio simultaneously threw two raspberry slushies in his face, he began to shake uncontrollably. The slushies were freezing, and having ice dripping in your hair and down your pants when you were already feeling like a human ice block crossed with a sweating feverish mess wasn't a great combination. The fact that he had no spare outfit only added to his terrible mood, and when he walked into Glee after school he generally felt like crap.
"Hummel, nice pink shirt." Puck called.
"Don't talk to me." Kurt croaked, walking up the stairs and taking a seat next to the wall.
"Right, kids I know you're all gonna hate me for this but today we're practising our performance outside." Will said, clapping his hands. He started going on about the song being about being outside, green grass and blue sky or something, but Kurt wasn't listening, he was too busy wondering why someone, somewhere had it in for him this week.
2 hours later Kurt idly wondered if fingers were supposed to turn that rather odd shade of blue that they'd been turning all week. There wasn't a part of his body that wasn't cold and aching, his head felt like it was about to burst, and his teeth were chattering so much he was scared he was going to bite off his tongue if he replied to Finn's easy conversation.
"Hey, Kurt you do not look good." Finn said, frowning as he noticed how pale and shaky and sweaty his nearly-brother looked.
"I'm f-f-fine." Kurt said, "Just cold and tired o-out."
Friday
Kurt pulled on several layers and ran out of the house and into his car before his Dad could see him. Kurt knew he was getting ill, but he knew his Dad wouldn't let him go to school if he saw him. And while a day spent in bed, under his duvet with warm drinks sounded like a dream come true right now, Kurt was a strong believer in keeping up with his commitments. And today his commitments were a paper in government to be handed in, and a football match to cheer at. He just needed to get through this day, and he could spend the entire weekend in bed.
At around three pm, the rain came. It was heavy, monsoon like, except it was freezing, and the air wasn't any warmer than it had been all week. Football (especially at McKinley where they took it so damn seriously) was never cancelled, and neither were the games. That meant that the Cheerios were expected to be there also, rain or shine (worst luck). The rain didn't let up, if anything it got worse, and by 6 when the game was starting, Kurt and the rest of the Cheerios found themselves standing in the pouring freezing rain, dismally trying to cheer for their useless football team. Burt Hummel was in the stands cheering for his son (cheering for cheerleaders, very Bring it On) and usually Kurt's face lit up when he saw his Dad. But he was too busy trying not to bite his tongue off, trying not to show how much he was shaking, and trying not to vomit all over the field. By half time he had never felt so soaking wet through in his life, he was so drenched he felt like his insides were drowning, he could barely see either, it was like everything was through a haze. He felt angry at Sue, why couldn't she let them wear a jumper for God's sake, did she get a kick out of seeing them miserable?
"Hurry up and lose" Kurt miserably whispered, wondering how the rain wasn't letting up, and wondering if he would ever feel warm or dry again. He squinted through the rain and saw his Dad smiling encouragingly at his drowned rat of a son. After about a million years (or so it felt to Kurt) the game ended. He walked to the locker room, not even bothering to change, and headed to meet his Dad at the car.
"I'm driving, you're wet through and shaking." Burt said, taking the keys from his son and getting in the driver's seat. Kurt got into the passenger seat and laid his against the window. His body was shaking violently and the world was swimming.
"Kurt, are you ok kid?" Burt asked.
Kurt couldn't reply, he felt so fucking tired he wanted to lie down and sleep and never ever wake up, please.
"Kurt?"
"Yeah Dad" He said.
"Mmm, you don't look good at all kid."
When they arrived home, Burt took a proper look at his son and started to look worried. "Kurt you look God awful."
"I'm f-f-fine I'm just w-w-wet and cold." Kurt stuttered.
"I'll say. That Sylvester should let you guys wear something more than those dappy cheer leading outfits." Burt joked, but he did seem genuinely concerned by how bad his son looked.
"I'm going t-t-to bed." Kurt said.
"Not so fast, I'm getting you a hot bath first, and you will eat something too, you look done in."
"Okay." Kurt mumbled tiredly.
After the bath and the food, Kurt should have felt so much better, but as he lay in bed wrapped in layer after layer, he felt as cold and shaky as if he was still standing on the football pitch in the pouring rain.
Saturday
It was midday and there was no sign of Kurt. This was weird. Though Kurt wasn't a morning person he was always up by 10am, without fail. Mind you, the kid had looked totally exhausted after that match, and if Burt wasn't mistaken Kurt was coming down with a flu or something. He went in Kurt's room to check on him.
The room was dark, so Burt flicked the light on. Kurt was curled up amongst a lot of blankets, dressed in a scarf and jumper and God knows how many other clothes. His face was white as a sheet and sweaty, but he could see his son shivering in his fitful sleep.
"Kurt, wake up?"
Kurt woke up, turned his head and vomited everywhere. Burt touched his son's cheek and gasped. He was icy cold to the touch.
He sat his son up. "Kurt I need you to talk to me. What year are we in?"
"1990?" Kurt slurred, "I don't know. Sleep. Cold. Sue Sylvester and her uniforms. I might bite my tongue off. Please." Burt had no idea what his son was talking about. Then Kurt went limp again. He checked his son's pulse. It was weak. His breathing was way too shallow and when he looked into Kurt's eyes his pupils were so dilated it scared Burt. Suddenly he realised his son might well be dangerously ill.
"Fuck." Burt mumbled, and he pulled his phone out and dialled 911.
"911."
"I need an ambulance."
"Where to?"
"7 Tanner road, Lima."
"One has been despatched. It will be 4 minutes. What is your emergency?"
"My son, he's really ill. His pulse is weak, he's sweaty, he won't stop shaking, his breathing is shallow, he's confused, he doesn't know year we're in barely knows who he is."
As the paramedic talked softly to Burt, he still panicked so much. Kurt was suffering, and he'd clearly not noticed before now.
When the doorbell rung Burt sprung up in relief, and let them in.
Hours later, in which Burt simply had to sit in the waiting room of the general hospital and wait, a doctor came out and introduced himself to Burt.
"Hi, Mr Hummel, I'm Doctor Christian James, I've been Kurt's doctor."
"Nice to meet you. How's my son?"
"Kurt is suffering from a severe case of hypothermia."
Burt's mouth dropped open "Seriously? Is he ok?"
"He's stable. Kurt is a fit and healthy young person, he's in the best position possible to battle this. Hypothermia is usually caused by spending extensive amounts of time in the cold, as you probably know. Kurt is suffering from flue like symptoms, only more dangerous and more pronounced. He should be fine, his condition is improving slowly. He just needs lots of bed rest, but we want to keep him here until he starts to show some serious improvement."
"Can I see my son now?" Burt asked.
"Yes, of course. Don't be surprised if he's not very responsive as of yet."
Burt walked into the room and held his son's cold and clammy hand. "I'm here, Kurt."
Monday
It wasn't until Monday that Kurt properly woke up and was able to have a conversation with his father. He opened his eyes, the room was bright and clean, and though he still felt shaky and ill, he felt a whole lot better than the last time he'd been conscious. He turned and saw his Dad smiling reassuringly at him.
"Hey Dad." He croaked, finding his voice wasn't the easiest thing. "What's going on?"
"You've got severe hypothermia, kid. I think maybe the first thing I might do when your back at school is tell Sylvester I'm taking you off the damn Cheerios if she doesn't let you wear a sweater to practice." His voice was easy and jokey, but his eyes were serious, and Kurt felt awful when he saw how worried his father was.
"I'm sorry for worrying you Dad. I feel a lot better now." He lied. Yeah he felt better, but still like he might faint if he even came close to standing up.
"Stop being so damn brave, Kurt. Doctors tell me it's gonna be a week or two before you can even face walking in a straight line. Next time you feel like you're gonna pass out from the cold weather, tell me, or stay home sick or something. Don't wait till you're in hospital with hypothermia." Burt said, stroking his son's hand.
"I didn't know I had hypo-stinking-thermia! Kurt croaked, closing his eyes for a minute as a wave of exhaustion passed over him. "I thought it was a cold, or flu or something."
"Have you been struggling with the weather Kurt?"
"Yeah, Coach Sylvester is really strict with her whole uniform thing, and then Glee practised outside, and the game, the rain I was just so soaked." Kurt sighed and closed his eyes again.
"You're getting better now, ok kiddo. And I'm not going anywhere till I know you're better. You're my whole life Kurt, your health is the most important thing to me, ever." He kissed his son on the head. "Now sleep, you look knackered."
"I love you Dad." Kurt mumbled, closing his eyes and falling fast asleep again, before he could hear his Dad reply; "I love you too, my son."
Burt Hummel left his sleeping son and went to make a phonecall.
"Sue Sylvester, I'm very busy and important so make it quick?" She answered on the second ring.
"Hi, my name is Burt Hummel, my son Kurt is on your cheerios."
"Impressive high kicks, and impressive high voice?"
"The very one."
"You must be very proud."
"Very much so."
"I take it this isn't a call for pleasantries though."
"Kurt is in hospital. With hypothermia. Hypothermia I believe, in fact, I know, caused by standing outside in a thin Cheerios uniform in the freezing cold and rain, not being allowed to put a jumper on, even in practice?"
There was a silence before Sue spoke. "I never intend to hurt my Cheerios, they mean everything to me I hope you understand that, Mr Hummel."
"I do. But at the same time, if you saw how sick my son was, you'd be bugging a bit as well."
"Kurt may wear non uniform to his Cheerios practises."
"I appreciate that. If you hadn't said yes he'd be off that team."
"The only reason I said yes. We need Kurt."
"I'd better get back."
"See ya."
Tuesday
"You look awful."
"Why thank you, Finn, I do kind of have hypothermia though, I think I'm excused for having a pale sweaty face and greasy hair."
"Shouldn't you be getting better?" Finn frowned. Kurt knew that his clunky comments were only because he was so worried about how crap Kurt knew he looked.
"They said it'll take a week before I can even think about going home. So that's fun. And I'm still sleeping about eighteen hours of everyday, and I pretty much vom everything I eat, and I still have to wear about a thousand layers every single second of the day. Take my advice, Finn. Don't get hypothermia."
"I'll try not to." Finn smiled and sat down beside Kurt, relaxing. "You're amazing you know."
"Why? Because I'm so gay I can't even take the cold and get flu like a normal person but have to end up with life threatening hypothermia?" Kurt snorted, beginning to feel tired again.
"You were clearly ill all week Kurt? And yet you managed to keep going till Saturday, you managed to get every piece of homework in, turn up to Glee, and Cheerios, and football matches, and look after your Dad, and cook, and keep the house tidy, and you did all that with this crazy hypo illness thing? I can't even do half that normally." Finn smiled sheepishly.
"Thanks, Finn." Smiled Kurt, before closing his eyes. "Now piss off, I'm exhausted."
Finn smiled, and patted Kurt's hand one more time. "I'll see you later."
Monday
"I'm sure I can manage to walk." Kurt huffed, as Finn pushed him in the wheelchair through the hospital towards Burt and the waiting car.
"Kurt, you've been really ill and you're still recovering. Deal with being looked after." Finn lectured him. He then lifted Kurt out of the wheelchair and into the front seat of Burt's car, before returning the chair and climbing in the back of the car.
When they arrived home, Burt insisted on carrying his son down to his room. "On the sofa, please, Dad, I've spent so much time in a bed recently." He also insists on eating with them at the table, though climbing the stairs is not an option. However, by dessert he's so exhausted he's practically falling asleep on his plate, and his father carries him downstairs, wraps several blankets around him, and kissed his forehead. Just before Kurt dropped off to sleep, he sighed in contentment at the amount of people who loved and cared for him. A bought of hypothermia he could handle, as long as he had these people around him.