Author's Note: Hello again, dear readers! As promised, here is chapter 13, just before a glorious Friday.

This will be the only installment until next Sunday at least, so I do hope you enjoy.

Upon request from one of you lovely reviewers, I have attempted to write fluff for this chapter. I hope it brings back everyone's faith and maybe boosts some spirits!

As always, the reviews and feedback I receive make me so very happy. Thanks to you all for your magnificent words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. (And I don't know how to do origami either.)

Enjoy!

CHAPTER 13: BLACKBIRD

The next morning brought with it a rather uncommon spring frost that potentially killed all the new plants and also the happy spirits of the Midwest's would-be spring breakers.

Kurt remained asleep until about 8:30. When he awakened, it was because he had to cough. He sat up in bed and coughed his head off until he managed to cough up more bloody sputum. Blaine was so exhausted from the previous night's adventures that he slept through this. Burt however was on alert for such things as this and got up immediately. His son was literally shaking with the force of the coughs and the exertion it put on his body. Burt gently ran his fingers through Kurt's hair, trying to be soothing but ending up feeling awkward. When Kurt was finally able to stop coughing, he leaned up against his dad.

"I feel like I'm dying," he moaned groggily.

"I know, buddy," Burt said. "That's gotta hurt."

"A lot," Kurt croaked in confirmation. Burt patted his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"You're okay," he said.

"Everything hurts," Kurt whimpered meekly.

"Still?" Burt asked incredulously. Kurt nodded and coughed again. This time, when he went for a breath, he wheezed slightly.

"Yeah," he said breathlessly. "This is… the worst I've ever felt."

"I know, Kurt," Burt said lovingly. "I know." Kurt started into another volley of coughs, loud, wet, and wrenching. When he finished, he groaned softly.

"I hate this," he said, just to say it out loud. Burt nodded.

"No one likes being sick," he agreed. He then took out his phone and turned it on, thinking he would let Carole know they'd made it through the night. However, before he got the chance, it vibrated in his hand with a text message and two missed calls from his wife. He checked the text first.

The roads are slick. Everything iced over last night. At first, Burt thought he was receiving a practical joke, but one look out the window told him otherwise. There was traffic bumper-to-bumper on the roads, and the streets were indeed shiny and slick. There was more freezing rain falling from a cloudy sky above.

"Well I'll be damned," he murmured under his breath. He flipped on the TV for a second, changing it to the morning news. Sure enough, every news station was covering the story, "Unseasonable Weather Rocks Lima." He caught small clips of what they were saying:

"Roads are literally iced over right now."

"The temperature continues to drop, and the rain continues to fall, offering no help to morning commuters."

"Be careful out there."

"The roads are backed up for miles."

"We have report of a seventh accident in the last hour."

Everyone was saying how this was the coldest a spring day had been in over fifty years in Lima, with a high temperature of 10 degrees and still rapidly falling. Burt couldn't believe it. He was suddenly very glad he had chosen to stay the night with Kurt at the hospital.

"That looks bad," Kurt slurred languidly, his eyes falling closed. Burt assumed the disease was sapping his strength.

"Yeah, it does," Burt agreed. "I hope Finn and Carole don't get caught in it."

"Mmm," Kurt agreed softly, his body slowly relaxing into the bed. Suddenly, there was the sound of a stomach rumbling loudly, and Kurt's eyes slowly slid open.

"Was that you, dad?" He asked, stifling a giggle behind his hands. Burt smiled sheepishly and chuckled right along with his son.

"Yeah," he said shamefully.

"Dad," Kurt admonished weakly. "You can't neglect your own health for my sake! You still have to take care of yourself. Go get some breakfast."

"I'm fine, Kurt," Burt said. "Besides, I'm not just going to leave you here."

"Dad, you need to eat," Kurt said in a weak, strained voice. "Please don't risk anything. It's bad enough I'm here, but if you had another heart attack…," the boy couldn't finish; the very idea upset him so much, he was rendered speechless.

"Alright, it's alright," Burt soothed, patting his shoulder and trying to calm him down. "Are you sure you'll be okay here?" Kurt took a deep breath and nodded.

"It's not like I'm alone," he said. "Blaine's here too, don't forget. I can always wake him if anything happens."

"Right," Burt said with a nod. "Do you want anything?" Kurt automatically looked queasy at the mention of food and shook his head quickly.

"No," he said. "I can't even think about eating."

"Okay, okay," Burt said. "I understand. How about some water?" Kurt thought about that for a second.

"Yeah," he said finally, nodding slowly. "That sounds great." Burt glanced over at the other boy, who was still sleeping peacefully on the cot.

"Do you think Blaine would want anything?" Burt asked his son.

"Coffee for sure," Kurt said. "I don't know what Blaine usually likes in the morning."

"Well, I'll get him a muffin or something from the cafeteria while I'm down there," Burt said.

"Okay," Kurt said, his stomach twisting painfully. "Great."

"Try to get some more rest," Burt told his son. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay, I will," Kurt said. "Take your time." Burt hesitated for a second, but then promised himself to only be gone for a few minutes and headed off in search of something to eat.

Kurt lied back heavily, still not fully recovered from his coughing fit and the idea of his father in the next room. The very thought of that made him suddenly succumb to the nausea that was threatening, and he barely had time enough to snatch the bucket off the bedside table before he was wretchedly ill. Blaine still did not stir. Kurt wanted to wake him, but he was suddenly overcome by a fit of coughing that left him breathless and gasping. The sound of this traveled to Blaine's ears and he sat up with a start. He stretched quickly, his back cracking audibly several times. He yawned, disoriented, and looked over at Kurt, who was desperately trying to get a grip on himself.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, his voice thick with sleep. Kurt only coughed in response, gasping for air.

"Kurt?" Blaine repeated, sitting up and jumping down from the cot. He moved over to the bedside quickly, where he patted Kurt on the back gently until he stopped coughing. Blaine took the bucket out of the other boy's shaky hands, setting it off to the side so he could make sure Kurt was okay.

"Can you breathe?" Blaine asked. Kurt took a tentative, steadying breath and nodded apprehensively.

"I-I think so," he stuttered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Babe, it's okay," Blaine reassured him. "Relax, okay? Last night was a rough night for you. Just take a breather, and stop worrying." Blaine went and cleaned out the basin as efficiently as he could, bringing it back to the bedside. Kurt was still staring at his hands, wheezing audibly as his shoulders rose and fell rapidly. Blaine sat down beside him with a cool, wet washcloth. He gently pushed Kurt back against the pillow and shoved the boy's bangs out of the way, laying the cloth across his feverish forehead. He took the sick boy by the clammy, pale hand.

"Feeling better?" He asked softly.

"No," Kurt whispered softly, and his face conveyed so much unspoken pain. "Not really."

"I'm so sorry, baby," Blaine said with a cluck of his tongue. "I wish I could help make it better."

"S'okay," Kurt said softly. "I'm glad you stayed."

"Are you kidding?" Blaine asked with a small smile. "It's my pleasure." They sat in silence for a few moments, Kurt fighting against the urge to sleep. He had plenty of time to sleep later – perhaps when this disease took his life. For now, he was determined to stay awake with his Blaine, if only for just a little while.

"Where's your dad?" Blaine finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I sent him to go get himself breakfast," Kurt said softly. "His stomach was making noises that could wake the dead."

"Ah," Blaine said nodding once.

"He's bringing something back for you," Kurt continued. "I didn't know what you liked, but…."

"That's great," Blaine said appreciatively. "Thank you." Another silence settled between the two boys. Blaine was getting antsy. He realized with a start that there was nothing for Kurt to do but watch TV, talk, or sleep. His phone was nearly dead and he had no charger for it, having come as suddenly as he had. He could run down to the gift shop to get some magazines or cards, but he wasn't about to leave his boyfriend all alone. His eyes searched the room and suddenly came upon a small pad of paper on the bedside table by the phone. He reached over and grabbed it, tearing off a sheet and dropping Kurt's hand. He silently began to fold the paper in complex patterns.

"What are you doing?" Kurt inquired curiously, peering at the paper.

"Hang on," Blaine said, his brow creased in absolute concentration as he tried to remember the exact science involved in what he was doing. Kurt watched the lithe, coordinated movement of his hands as he creased and tucked the paper square in repeat movements. The effect was almost hypnotic, and he watched as though in a trance. Blaine finished relatively quickly, and the product was a small paper crane. Kurt marveled at it.

"Origami?" He asked in a slightly awed voice. "You know how to do origami? That's so cool."

"Yeah," Blaine said, fiddling with the crane for a second before setting it down on the bedside table. "My mom taught me when I was younger. I can do lots of other things: frogs, cubes, flowers…. But the crane is still my favorite. It's a symbol of peace, luck… hope." Kurt looked both impressed and mildly curious.

"How so?" He asked.

"My mom told me that if you crafted one thousand of these, you got a wish. And I know it works, because my mom's best friend actually made a thousand and wished for her husband. They've been happily married since. I figure I'm nearly there; my room is full of them - I've been at this since I was six. Back then I wanted to wish for a little brother."

"What would you wish for now?" Kurt asked curiously in a voice barely above a whisper. Blaine paused a second.

"You, of course," Blaine said softly after a short time. "I'd wish for your good health." Kurt was touched.

"You'd give up your wish for me?" Kurt asked quietly, incredulously.

"I'd give up anything to know you'd be safe and feeling better," Blaine promised meaningfully, staring into the beautiful blue eyes he'd fallen for many months ago. They sat silently for a second.

"Could you teach me how?" Kurt asked. "Maybe I can help so we can finish your thousand and make that wish together." Blaine smiled.

"Of course," he said. He tore off another sheet of paper and gave it to Kurt. He at first tried stating instructions, but that quickly became too confusing. Instead, he took Kurt's hands in his own and helped him make the folds in the proper order. The two boys worked together, making creases and folds in the paper, Kurt's hands doing most of the work and Blaine's guiding, until it started to resemble a crane. Suddenly, there was no longer a piece of hospital paper in their hands, but a small figure of hope.

"See?" Blaine breathed. "Easy." Kurt cupped his hand around the small, paper figurine. It sat dignifiedly in his palms. Blaine cupped his hands around Kurt's, and they admired their handiwork.

"That's awesome," Kurt said appreciatively. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," Blaine said. "I'll run down to the gift shop later and buy some more paper and we can make more to add to the collection." Kurt offered a small smile.

"Great," he said enthusiastically, and after giving it one last approving gaze, set the second crane down on the bedside table in front of the tissue box right next to the other one.

"Hey, they look like us," Kurt commented suddenly.

"How so?" Blaine asked, his brow creased in confusion. He peered at the little paper statues curiously. Then, he laughed out loud. "Yeah, they kinda do," he agreed. It was true: Blaine's crane was a trifle shorter than the one he and Kurt had crafted together. Also, Kurt's crane was slightly rumpled from how they had held it and was looking slightly more battered. The two boys shared a silent moment where a tender look passed between them. Suddenly, Blaine cupped Kurt's face in his hands and leaned in close.

"I love you," he said, with that look of pure adoration and love that tended to appear every time he laid eyes on his boyfriend.

"Love you too," Kurt croaked hoarsely. Blaine gently, oh so gently touched his lips to Kurt's forehead, moving slowly down to his flushed cheek, then down half his jaw line and right to his lips, trailing gentle, loving kisses as he went. Kurt remained perfectly still, his eyes closed, allowing this to happen. He moaned very softly when he felt Blaine's lips peck his own.

"Don't," Kurt warned anxiously, jerking away slightly. "You'll catch this."

"I won't," Blaine promised. "It's okay." Kurt trembled slightly. Blaine lovingly stroked Kurt's forehead with one hand, his other still cupped against Kurt's cheek.

"Courage," he reminded Kurt. "I'm always here for you." Kurt smiled through his pain.

"Hope," he murmured back softly, lifting his hand in order to take hold of Blaine's. He squeezed weakly. "Love will find a way."

AN: I hope it was fluffy enough for you. I wanted to leave you all with a little bit of hope for now! :) Heads up: New Directions to appear next chapter, so hooray for that!

As always, I would really appreciate your reviews, so if you can spare a second, I'd be really grateful!

Love you all! Ciao!

~PG22