A/N: Sorry about not updating in like forever, but real life got in the way again. :P Anywhoo, I wanna thank all of you who have reviewed. I appreciate it a lot. I know this chapter is kinda short and abrupt, but I promise I'll make it up to you! I plan on doing a lemon for the next chapter.. Oh those of you on ff.net won't get that.. I'll have to do a non-lemon chapter, but if you reaaaaly want to read the lemon, just go to my main page and click on my adultfanfic.net link and you can read it.
Ororo watched the silent rise and fall of Kurt's chest as he slept curled up in a cocoon of blankets. She had been keeping a silent vigil over him for about three days now, and his fever only now showed signs of finally coming down. She had wanted to get him back to the institute for medical attention, but he had been most vehement about not going back, so she had to compromise by finding a motel room out in the middle of nowhere. She had a tense moment when she had to nearly drag him out of the van. His tail slipped out of the blankets he was wrapped in, into plain view several times. Luckily no one was around to see, as she pulled him into the room.
The room was a pretty simple set up, with a small living room area with a fold out sofa bed and an attached kitchenette. There was one bedroom, with a queen-sized bed, next to a small bathroom, with a single cramped shower stall, a sink and toilet. Kurt looked at the bed longingly, and she knew that he was using all his will just to stay awake. She pulled out a set of dry clothes that she had packed up, back at the church.
"Kurt, you need to get out of your wet clothes. You're sick enough as it is." She paused for a moment, as she placed his clothing on the bed. "I'll be in the living room, just let me know when you're done." He nodded softly and dropped the blankets that were wrapped around his body. Ororo exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself, and waited with nervous impatience. After a few minutes she head a thud come from the room, then silence.
"Kurt?"
No answer came from the door. She turned the knob and peeked her head through the door. "Kurt, are you okay?"
He had managed to get his damp shirt off, and got his pants partially down to his knees, before finally giving up and curling up on the bed in an untidy heap. He snored softly, as his long legs and tail were tangled in his wet pants and blankets. Ororo was amazed that he could possibly be comfortable in the position he was in, and let out a tired chuckle, before untangling him. She winced when she saw the new tattoo that he had made along his thigh. It wasn't bleeding, but the edge of each scar was crusted over and swollen with infection. Ororo managed to wrestle his dead weight into a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, before wrapping him back up into his nest of blankets.
After a mental debate with herself, Ororo finally decided that Kurt would be fine by himself for a while, long enough for her to run out to one of those 24-hour drugstores. She recalled seeing one on the way to the hotel. Ten minutes later she found herself pushing a cart down isles lit by blinking florescent lights. She ignored the clerk's odd looks when she dumped half the cold medication shelf into her cart, along with assorted first aid supplies such as gauze, bandages, hydrogen peroxide and antibacterial ointment.
When she finally returned back at the motel room, she let out a sigh of relief that everything was as she left it. When she went to check on Kurt, she was alarmed to find that he had kicked off his blankets and was covered in sweat. His breath rattled ominously in his chest and he seemed to be lost in fevered dreams. She felt his forehead and found he was burning up, worse than before.
"Dammit," she muttered under her breath as she first cleansed and bandaged his infected thigh. She gave silent thanks that he was to out of it to feel any pain when she poured hydrogen peroxide over the scars. They bubbled up horribly, a sure sign of a bad infection. It took several applications before the wound stopped fizzing up and she wrapped his thigh in gauze and bandages. She then managed to get Kurt to swallow some pills to help lower his temperature.
He spent the next three days fading in and out of consciousness, becoming lucid enough only to take care of his basic needs. Ororo spent most of her time next to his bed, perched on a chair she had drug in from the living room, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cool, wet cloth. Sometimes he would cry out and thrash about, in the grip of some fever induced nightmare. She would use her soft words and her cool hands on his brow to bring him comfort, and soon he would settle down into black oblivion.
Now finally his fever was breaking, his breathing no longer troubled, as he finally settled into a deep untroubled sleep. Ororo stood up, the muscles in her back screaming in protest from spending the night sleeping in a chair. She brushed his indigo locks away from his forehead, and brushed a light kiss across it. He smiled softly, but continued sleeping.