Kurt awoke later than desired. He discovered that Blaine headed out, probably shopping or some similar destination. Kurt moaned, also discovering he'd been haunted by a horrible stomach bug, and convinced himself that he must call in sick.
"Daddy, Daddy!" Here was Delilah, clenching her stuffed unicorn, and skipping over to him.
"Yes, sweetie?" he gulped, trying to disguise the ill in his tone. He wouldn't concern her.
"What's wrong, Daddy? Are you crying?"
He understood how he could be mistaken for sorrow. He spoke in deep swallows and was rubbing strained eyes.
He just decided it be best to come out with it. "Cough, Daddy is sick." He crossed his arms, shivering as he went for the bedroom. "Daddy needs to rest, honey. Just go watch, cough, cartoons or play in your room until Blainey comes home." He broke into coughs as he shut the bedroom door.
Delilah stomped her foot, pouting. She didn't want to play. She must help her sick Daddy.
She read the time of 9:05. She wandered to the kitchen to make him a breakfast of buttered toast, the only thing that she could successfully produce. She would set up a tray and take it to him.
Though sick, Kurt still had his signature manner. Once spotting the food he sat up, gasping, "Oh, for moi?" He took the tray to his lap while Delilah happily volunteered to turn the TV on.
He thanked her. She climbed into the bed with him and snuggled, burrowing her face into the tender crook of his neck.
"You should, cough, stay away from me. I don't want to get you sick." Kurt's tone was weak and breathy.
"I don't care. I just want to cuddle."
He was now finished, with the tray on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around her.
"I want to hug you better, Daddy!"
"Good luck at that." He would usually have a sense of playfulness, but not now. He was grim, wallowing in nausea. Not even the touch of the beautiful daughter as healing him. He sighed.
She smooched his cheek, for him to kiss back.
He wasn't very approving of the high levels of contact displayed here, but hell, he couldn't just leave his daughter. She seemed concerned for him. He assured her, "Daddy only has a tummy ache. He's not that sick."
"If it's only a tummy ache," she whined, "then why can't you cuddle?"
Well, he wasn't sure if it was a contagious bug or just an upset stomach, but he wouldn't take chances on getting her sick as well. "Sorry, but Daddy just isn't in the mood." He wouldn't scare her with the possibilities of illness if she were already worried.
He gasped deeply, when Delilah took a Kleenex up to his nose. Once he sneezed, she told him to blow really hard to get the boogies out. Just like he did for her when she was sick.
She laughed at his red nose. "Daddy looks like Rudie the Reindeer!"
Kurt brought a hand mirror up to his face, saying, "My, yes he does." He sighed and fell back onto his pillow. When would this nasty, germy, aching, disturbing sick end?
She stood from the bed. "I know something that makes Daddy feel better no matter what!" Now, she dashed off.
Kurt closed his eyes. This was pure fuckery that fate pulled with him today. His stomach ached like never before, his head felt like his throat did when he was ready to vomit. Vomit. Just the sound of that word made this worse. Vomit. Why was he repeating it now?!
Delilah was back on the bed, with her tea set. "Tea party always makes Daddy laugh!"
He sat up and tried to be engaged in this. He knew it was only water, so he wouldn't have to worry about getting up to brush his teeth, which brightened him up a little bit. He was intrigued by her little setup, and that took his mind off of the bitch disease for at least a moment.
He was glad that she was rather peaceful. She wasn't one to be gabbing on and on about things - unless he started it. He sipped his "tea" in silence, just as he would every other average day.
He swore he noticed improvement soon. The love sort of seemed to take the pain down, and comfort him. Most of his illness was dwindling slowly.
His headache had left, when suddenly the phone blared in rings that echoed throughout the entire home. He lowered his head, hissing in grief, feeling the headache here yet again.
"I'll get it!" Delilah shouted, already half way to retrieve the cell phone. "It's for you, Daddy."
He took the phone. He was pretty sure it was for him, since it had been his phone. But he wasn't in the mood to argue about nonsense. He answered, and heard Blaine on the other line.
"Hey Kurt," Blaine said, "are you at work?"
"No."
"Did you just wake up? You're groggy."
"No. I'm taking a sick day." He gave Delilah a desired hug, then asked Blaine, "Where have you been?"
"I'm almost home."
"You failed to answer my question. Where have you been?" He was unable to be sassy as he usually would.
"I'll talk to you when I get there."
Kurt tossed the phone on the nightstand with disgust. Blaine should've been able to be trusted, should've been able to tell Kurt where he was at and what he was doing.
Delilah cuddled to solace him, to let him know it was all okay. She wasn't sure what had caused him to be so sad right now, but she would stay with him.
"Honey, I need to lie down for a while." From that, Delilah had found a small vomit bowl, some Tylenol, and had tucked him into bed.
