A/N: It should be noted here, again, that this does not follow Glee plot at times, which will become obvious why as you read this chapter. Hope you all are enjoying! Please favorite, review and share!
Also, major thanks to my girl kellyb321 for recommending this fic! She is the BEST, so welcome to all you Crowded House readers (and if you aren't reading her Crowded House fic, you're missing out)!
To: Dolly Vargas
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Wes Montgomery
Dear Dolly,
Laugh all you want. I don't happen to think it's amusing.
I cannot say I think his parents were particularly responsible, either, giving a five year old a camera and then letting him play with it in the bathtub. He could have been electrocuted, or something. Besides, that photo doesn't even look anything like him. He's slightly Asian but he looks for more than only half Asian in that photo.
Kurt
PS I blame YOU for the fact that I am clearly getting a cold. You caused me all that anxiety and made me susceptible to this stupid flu bug that is going around.
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Oh, pooh
You know how much I love to tease you. You're like the little mentally retarded brother I never had. Just kidding, darling, just kidding. Besides, instead of railing against me, you should feel sorry for me. I'm hopelessly in love with your Aaron, and he'll hardly give me the time of day. He just sits in his little cubicle and looks at the screen saver he's had made from a photo of the two of you. It's so pathetic, it almost makes me want to cry.
Except that ever since I had my lids done, I've been physically incapable of tears. It isn't easy, you know, playing the ugly stepsister to your Cinderella, Kurt. You think I'm going to let you get that prince without a fight? Not hardly.
By the way, what's with that shirt you have on? It makes you look poochy.
XXXOOO
Dolly
PS Could you stop coughing so loud? It's aggravating my hangover.
To: Will Schuester
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: My health
Dear Will,
I am writing this from home to let you know I will not be in today due to the fact that I have woken up with a sore throat, fever, and runny nose. I left the pages on your desk last night, and there's plenty for Ronnie to use for tomorrow. Tell her it's all in the green file folder on my desk.
If you have any questions, you know where to find me.
KH
PS PLEASE tell Harmony Fuller down in Human Resources that the reason I haven't logged on today is because I'm out sick! She counted my last sick day as a tardy and it went in my permanent personnel file!
PPS Can you make sure my Xena Warrior Princess action figure is back on my computer monitor? Somebody took it, but he's supposed to put it back. Just let me know whether or not he has.
To: Burt and Carole Hummel
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: My Last Will and Testament
Hi. I'm writing to let you know that I have a terrible cold and that I'm probably going to die. If I do, I want you to know that I'm leaving you and Dad all the money in my 401K. Please use it to make sure my cousins go to college. I know they probably won't want to go to college, seeing as how they both plan on playing for NBA when they grow up, but just in case professional sports doesn't pan out, they should be able to get at least a semester or two out of my $24,324.57.
Please give all my clothes to Chris Hope, Jeri's new husband. He looks like he could use them.
I don't know what you should do with my Madame Alexander doll collection. Maybe someone related to us will have a girl, and you can give them to her. My only other worldly possessions are my books. Would please see that in the event of my demise, they all go to my next door neighbor's nephew, Blaine? Actually, his real name is Wes. You would like him, Dad. All the people from my office met him, and they like him. He is very funny and sweet.
And no, Dad, we are not sleeping together.
Don't ask me why not, though, Carole. I mean, don't let Dad read this part, but I'm starting to wonder if there's something the matter with me. Besides the fact that I have this cold, I mean. Because Blaine and I only made out this one time, and since then, nothing, nada, zippo.
Maybe I'm a really bad kisser. That's probably it. That's probably why every guy I've gone out with from Jer on has ended up dumping me. I'm a lousy kisser. I have an impossibly small bladder, I have fluffy hair, and I'm a bad kisser.
Let's just face facts: When I was born, did the doctor ever mention the words genetic mutation? Did he ever mention...oh, I don't know. The term biological sport?
Because that's what I think I am. Oh, I know: cousin Robbie turned out all right. I guess he doesn't lack the kissing chromosome I evidently do. Either that or cousin Kelly's just a bad kisser too, and couldn't tell the difference. I don't suppose-AHHHH! Someone's at the door!
It's Blaine! And I look horrible! I gotta go-
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Burt and Carole Hummel
Subject: Your last silly email
Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!
What on earth was that last email from you all about? You have a little cold. You aren't dying. Your dolls are staying exactly where they are, in their display case in your bedroom, along with your tiara collection and McKinley High School diploma.
And what's this about a boy not thinking you're a good kisser? Well, if that's what he thinks, then you tell him he can just go jump in a lake. I'm sure you are very good kisser.
Don't you worry, Kurt, there are lots of fish in the sea. You just throw that one back. Your ship will come in. You are much handsomer than all those guys I see on the TV. So you just tell that boy to bug off, and then you snuggle up in bed and watching that model show you always TiVo and drink plenty of fluids and especially chicken noodle soup.
You'll be better in no time. And even though I shouldn't tell you this-I wanted it to be a surprise—Carole's sending you a little something that should cheer you right up. All right, it's a batch of snickerdoodles, your favorite cookies.
Now quit overreacting and hunker down. You'll be fine.
Dad
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Thank you
Thank you thank you thank you! Blaine told me that he called and that you told him I was home sick. So you know what he did next? Really, I don't want to make you nauseated, but I'm dying to tell someone, so
I've selected you as my victim:
He went to the Second Avenue Deli and got me chicken soup! Really! A whole big thing of it! And then he stopped by with the soup, orange juice, a DVD, and ice cream (plain vanilla, but then, I don't think he knows any better. You're right, you do have to train them sometimes). And even though I must have looked totally awful (I had on my leopard print pajamas and my oldest, most comfortable house shoes, and you should have seen my hair, hoo boy) when I asked him if he wanted to stay and watch the movie with me (Rear Window -I know what you're thinking, Mercedes, but I am sure he has absolutely no idea that I have been spying on him. Besides, I have always politely averted my gaze when it came to watching him undress. Well, except that once, but that was just to settle that all-important boxers-or-briefs question), he said yes!
So I turned the TV around on its little cart so we could watch it from the couch, but he said I should be in bed (which it was pretty clear I'd abandoned in order to answer the door-I hadn't bothered making it, or anything, and you should see the ocean of wadded up Kleenex all around it) and then he made me get back in it, and turned the TV around again so it faced the bed.
Then he went into the kitchen-which made me pretty embarrassed...you should have seen all the dishes in my sink-and when he came back out again he had the soup and this big glass of juice on that tray I bought that one time at Pier 1, remember? Only I'd only used it to hold my laptop over the bathtub, like the lady on those commercials, that time I got the wicked sunburn at Jones Beach, and Will was so mean and made me work from home. Mercedes, it was so nice! He lay down on the other side of the bed (not under the covers, though, on top of them) and we watched the movie and I ate my soup and when I was through he broke out the ice cream, and we ate it right out of the container with spoons, and then when the scary part happened, we forgot all about it and it melted some all over my sheets, which are sticky now, but who cares? Okay, I care, but I couldn't at the moment because I was just squealing on the inside because of Blaine's proximity and his presence in my bed... even if it wasn't in a lascivious manner.
Then when the movie was over I turned it to the Weather Channel, and there was live coverage from Hurricane Jan, which has been decimating the coast of Trinidad! So we watched that for a while, and then I don't know what happened, I must have had too much Sudafed, but the next thing I knew, he was saying good night and that he'd see me tomorrow, and when I woke up again he was gone, and it was night, and he had done all the dishes. Not just the dishes from the soup and juice and stuff. ALL the dishes that had been in my sink were washed and sitting in the drying rack.
For a minute I totally thought I was hallucinating, but this morning they were still there. Mercedes, he did my dishes while I was unconscious, and probably snoring, due to my massive nasal congestion. Isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard? I mean EVER? I've never had a man do my dishes before. Well, that's all. I just wanted to brag. I still feel like total crud, though, so I don't know when I'll be back at work.
Is Xena where she's supposed to be? What do you think he did with her? God, I am so glad we broke up. What a WEIRDO!
KH
PS Just because I'm sick is no reason for you to skip spinning.
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Mercedes Jones
Subject: Well?
Which was it, boxers or briefs? Don't leave me in suspense here, Hummel.
Mercedes ;-)
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Duh
Boxer briefs. Black.
KH ;-)
To: Will Schuester
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: My health
Dear Will,
I am still sick. I won't be coming in today, and probably not tomorrow, either. Don't get mad, Will. I know this is a busy time, what with all the parties out in the Hamptons, but what am I supposed to do? I took advantage of my fabulous healthcare package yesterday, and went to a doctor. You know what he prescribed? Bed rest and fluids. Bed rest and fluids, Will! I won't be able to get that in the Hamptons. I mean, Dolly could, of course, but not me. Besides, I'm sure the doctor didn't mean those kind of fluids. Tell Ronnie that I don't believe that thing about Kim and Kanye in Cannes, and that she had better check with their publicists before she runs it.
KH
PS Don't forget to tell Harmony Fuller that I'm out sick again, not late.
PPS Is my Xena Warrior Princess action figure back?
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Sam Evans foodie
Subject: Kurt
What are you, online again? I've been trying to get through to you for like an hour. And I KNOW you aren't talking to Kurt, because I was just there.
And I wasn't the only one who was there, either. One guess as to who opened the door when I knocked: Yep, you're right, Mr. Perfect himself.
Actually, I shouldn't call him that. I kind of like the guy. He's like normal, you know? Not like that freak Spender. Remember when you and me and Kurt and Spender went out that one time, and he went off on cops? Man, that burned me. I shut him up pretty quick, didn't I, when I told him four of my cousins were with the NYPD? At least this new guy doesn't talk crap like Spender used to.
Anyway, so I delivered the stuff, like you wanted, and Blaine answered the door, and at first I was pretty embarrassed, let me tell you. I thought I'd like interrupted some kind of sex thing, you know. But the guy had his clothes on, and he was like, Come on in. And there was Kurt, in these weird pajamas and he was in bed, but he didn't look very sick, if you ask me. They were watching a movie. Apparently, since he's been sick, they've been doing this quite a lot.
He brings over some food-nothing, I must say, up to my standards, but edible, anyway- and they watch movies. I don't know. Does that make it serious? There was no hanky panky, as far as I could tell. I mean, there was tons of Kleenex on the floor, but I'm pretty sure that was from Kurt's runny nose, and not, you know, anything else.
Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm just the messenger here. So I was like, Here's the stuff from work, plus I made you a peach cobbler, and of course Kurt totally freaked, because like any decent gourmand, he recognizes that my peach cobbler is a gift from the gods, and he insisted we all have some, and so Blaine took it and dished it out, and I sort of got the impression he knew his way around Kurt's kitchen, which is saying something, because you know he has a very particular sense of order in his kitchen and never lets anyone touch it – not even me, the chef! Anyway, he put these big globs of vanilla ice cream on it, which as you know, sullies the purity of the cobbler's texture. But whatever. We all sat on the bed and ate it, and I have to admit, even if I do say so myself, it was the best peach cobbler ever created, in spite of the ice cream.
So I tried watching the movie for a while because Kurt said stay, but I could tell even though he said stay, Blaine was like, When is he going to leave? in a major way, so I said I had to get back to work, and Kurt said thanks and that he was feeling better and would be back to work on Monday, and I was all, Okay, and Blaine walked me to the door and was like, Nice seeing you again, good bye and practically shut it in my face. I guess I can't blame him. I was the same way when you and I first started going out. Except I never would have let you see me in my pajamas like that.
Well, in spite of the pajamas, I'm telling you, the guy's got it bad. Way worse than Spender ever did. And I suppose that, as usual, Kurt has no idea, has he? Don't you think somebody ought to tell him?
Sam
To: Sam Evans
From: Mercedes Jones
Subject: Kurt
Now who isn't picking up his phone? I assume you're out front, dazzling the customers with your salmon tartar on endive. Anyway, thanks for taking that stuff to Kurt. So Blaine was there again, huh? He was over last night, too. I think you're right: he has got it bad. But then, so does Kurt.
God, I wish they would just DO IT and get it over with. And no, I do not think either of them need our help. No one helped us, did they? And we turned out all right.
You didn't tell Kurt I skipped spinning, did you?
Mercedes
PS There's only one person's pajamas needs that you should be concerning yourself with, mister, and those are mine. What Kurt Hummel wears to bed is his business. And I bought him those pajamas. I think they're cute.
To: Burt and Carole Hummel
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Snickerdoodles
Dear Carole (and Dad),
Thank you so much for the cookies! They are delicious-at least, if I could taste anything, I'm sure they would be. I want you to know I am feeling much better-not better enough to go to work, of course, but better. I still sound bad enough that when I call my boss to say I won't be in, he isn't suspicious, which is good. Also, about that whole kissing thing:
I'm sorry I accused Dad of not passing good kissing genes down to me. It turns out I'm a fine kisser: Blaine is just shy. Of course, it's hard kissing when you have a completely stuffed up nose, but I suppose practice makes perfect. Anyway, thanks again for the cookies, and I'll call you later.
Love,
Kurt
PS Blaine loves your cookies too!
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Burt and Carole Hummel
Subject: Snickerdoodles
Kurt, you'll have to forgive me. I really don't mean to pry. But I got the distinct impression-and don't feel like you have to tell me if you don't want to-but I got the impression that you and this Blaine Wes Montgomery are having sex. Now, you are a big boy and of course you have to make your own decisions, but I think you should be aware of a few things: He won't buy the cow if he can get the milk for free. It's true. It's really true.
Get a ring on your finger before you… go down that path. You matter, bud, and I would hate to see you throwing yourself around like that if the guy isn't making his intentions known.
I know you're a man and you're probably rolling your eyes like your mother used to with all of my "responsible dad talk," but I just want you to know that the message is the same now that it was when you were in high school. Don't forget that.
Love,
Dad
To: Burt and Carole Hummel
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Snickerdoodles
Oh my God, Dad, I am NOT having sex with him, all right? I am just talking about kissing! How do you go from kissing to sex? Well, all right, I guess it seems like a natural progression, but still. That thing about the cow is so stupid. Do I look like a cow to you?
Any way, know that the message has been received and I won't be throwing myself around soon – not even with the likes for this incredible man who happens to love Carole's cookies. I know how we Hummel men feel about baked goods, so I'm sure it's a peace to know that Blaine feels the same.
And if you and he ever meet, you can always talk about cookies.
Kurt
PS: If you ever meet, you will not be permitted to talk about me. Or bring up that you "have a gun." You do have a gun, a prop gun from when I was a toy soldier one year for Halloween. Your intimidation tactics are slightly hyperbolic and completely unnecessary.
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Burt and Carole Hummel
Subject: Snickerdoodles
I'm glad that the advice I shared with you all those years ago is still stuck in that noggin of yours.
Carole saw on the news that the transvestite killer has attacked another person, this time on the Upper East Side. She says she hopes you're locking your door at night. He especially seems fond of attractive men and women, so you really need to look over your shoulder when you go out at night. But don't forget to look out for those sinkholes.
Love,
Dad
PS And, Carole says, also beware of the falling air conditioners.
PPS: Glad to know that Blaine fits into the category of "the way to a man's heart is by cookies." I like him already.
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: Help me
I made the mistake of telling my father Blaine and I made out, and now he's giving me the "you matter" speech I got in high school which was precious but totally unnecessary since I haven't lived at home in almost a decade. But he got me thinking: What is the rule?
You know, the sleeping-together rule. Like after how many dates are you allowed to sleep with someone? Without seeming like a slut, I mean? And does it count as a date if you're sick and he brings you ice cream? Vanilla ice cream, to be exact.
Kurt
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Mercedes Jones
Subject: Help me
What does the term "slut" mean to you? It is a very subjective word, if you ask me. For instance, I slept with Sam on our first date. Does that make me a slut?
Let's examine this: You like the guy. You want to jump his bones. But you are concerned that if you do so too early in the relationship, he will qualify you as a slut. Do you really want to be with someone who thinks in such pejorative terms? No, of course not.
So I think the answer to your question after how many dates are you allowed to sleep with someone is: There is no right answer. It's different for everyone.
Wish I could be more help.
Mercedes
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Sam Evans foodie
Subject: Sex
Dear Kurt,
Hi. I hope you don't mind, but Mercedes mentioned the little problem you've been having- you know, the one about how soon into a relationship do you Do the Deed. And I think I have an answer for you: If it feels good, do it.
Seriously. That's how I've always lived my life, and look how it's turned out? I'm the chef in my own restaurant, and I'm getting married to a totally hot lady who wears thongs under her business suits you all wear for work. Can't go wrong with that.
Sam
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Mercedes Jones
Subject: Please excuse
my boyfriend. I don't know if I've mentioned to you that he has a learning disorder.
Mercedes
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Kurt Hummel
Subject: I don't mind
you're telling Sam about my sex life-or lack thereof-but you aren't telling people in the office, right? RIGHT?
KH
To: Peter Hargrave
From: Dolly Vargas
Subject: Kurt Hummel
But of course he should just do it, darling. What has he got to lose? It isn't as if he's getting any younger: quite soon gravity is going to begin effecting that lovely face of his and he'll look droopy and tired.
Speaking of which, Aaron's canceled on me for the weekend. What do you say? You think you can convince the little wifey that you have a business trip, and then spend the weekend with me in East Hampton? Stephen's house is a dream, and everyone would be very discreet. They're movie people, darling. It isn't as if any of them would have the slightest idea who you are. Let me know.
XXXOOO
Dolly
To: Artie Abrams
From: Jimmy Chu
Subject: Kurt Hummel
Yeah, but if he sleeps with him and it doesn't work out, he's going to have to see him every day, since he lives right next door. How awkward is that going to be? Especially if either of them start seeing someone else. It's a no win situation. Unless they get married, or something, and what's the chance of that happening?
Jim
To: Stella Markowitz
From: Angie So
Subject: Kurt Hummel
He's too old for him. How old is he, thirty-two? What is Kurt, twenty-seven? He's too young. A baby. He should find someone his own age.
Stella
To: Adrian De Monte
From: Les Kellogg
Subject: Kurt Hummel
Yes, but all the boys Kurt's age are starting up Internet companies and can get models any time they want, so what would they want with Kurt, who is cute, but no model? Either that, or they are professional skateboarders.
So I guess maybe it's okay that the guy is older.
Les
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Will Schuester
Subject: Kurt Hummel
What's a thirty-something guy doing still single, anyway? Has it occurred to anyone that he might very well have some serious issues? Shouldn't somebody say something to Kurt before he makes a fool of himself with this sleeping-with-him thing?
WS
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Mercedes Jones
Subject: Are People Around The Office Talking About You
Are you kidding? Don't flatter yourself. We have way better things to worry about than your love life.
Mercedes
To: Stacy Anderson
From: Blaine Anderson
Subject: Kenny Rogers chicken
You never seriously passed this off as something you made in your own kitchen. No way.
Blaine
To: Blaine Anderson
From: Genevieve Randolph Anderson
Subject: The Benefit
Just a reminder, my dear boy, of your promise to attend the benefit with me. And, of course, your sweet little check. I haven't heard from you in a few days. I do hope all is well.
Mim
PS Did you hear about your cousin Serena?
To: Genevieve Randolph Anderson
From: Blaine Anderson
Subject: Of course I didn't
forget. I'm escorting you, remember? I even got the old tux out of storage and dusted it off. See you there.
Blaine
PS Yes, I did hear about Serena. I blame her parents for naming her Serena in the first place. What did they expect?
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Will Schuester
Subject: What do you mean
you won't be back in the office until Monday? I think you're forgetting something, sweetie pie. The Lincoln Center Benefit to Raise Cancer Awareness. Only the biggest society event of the season. According to Dolly, everyone who is anyone is going to be there. I don't care if you're bleeding out of the eyeballs, Hummel. You're going.
I'm sending Larry to do photos. Be sure you get all those rich old biddies, the Astors and the Kennedys and the Andersons. You know how they love seeing themselves in the paper, even a tired old rag like us.
WS
PS Your stupid doll is back on your computer. What was that all about, anyway?
To: Mercedes Jones
From: Will Schuester
Subject: Hey
Quit yelling. If he's well enough to contemplate having sex with some guy, he's well enough to drag his sorry butt out of bed and do his damned job.
WS
PS What kind of ship do you think I'm running here? This is not the slacker express, Jones.
To: Kurt Hummel
From: johnlives
Subject: Listen, I
knocked a little while ago, but you didn't answer, so I assume you're asleep. I didn't want to call and wake you up. The thing is, I have an assignment tonight, so I'm not going to be able to stop by until late. Will you be all right? I'll bring more ice cream. This time I'll make sure it has lots of chocolate-covered nuts for you pick out.
Blaine
PS Hurricane Jan moving at 135 miles per hour towards Jamaica. Eye should pass over it sometime tonight. Looks like it might be pretty bad. That should cheer you up.