Burt was glad Kurt was easy to take care of. He drove him to school, fed him dinner, helped him with his homework, and put him to bed. It wasn't a hard job at all, except for when their little schedule got disrupted.
It started off like a normal morning. Burt went to wake Kurt up for school after he got ready himself. It was only the second full week of school for him, so he was still adjusting to his new sleep schedule. Burt learned the hard way that it was easier to wake him up slowly than force him to get up at the last minute.
"Kurt," he said softly, patting his back. "We're running late, bud. Come on. If you get ready we can get some breakfast at McDonald's." Kurt whined and pulled his blankets up around his shoulders. Burt tried to coax him into getting up, and he eventually slid out of bed. "There you go. Don't forget to brush your teeth. I'll make your lunch."
Burt left him alone to get dressed, and he packed Kurt's lunch in his Disney lunchbox. Kurt finally came downstairs, and Burt handed him his backpack and lunch before they left. He bought Kurt breakfast at McDonald's so he wouldn't be hungry all morning, but the kid seemed too tired to eat. He took a few bites of his biscuit and closed his eyes the rest of the way to school. Burt decided to wake him up as they were pulling in.
"Kurt, we're here, kiddo," he told him. Kurt sat up, and Burt noticed he looked uneasy, like something was bothering him. He didn't get out of the truck, and instead he sat hunched over in his seat, silent and pale. "Kurt?" Kurt didn't answer him. He choked, and out of the blue threw up on the floorboard of the truck, instead, and then burst into tears. Burt was at a loss. He wasn't sure what the procedure was when your kid throws up in the car.
"Oh. It's okay, buddy," he told him. "We'll go home." He was obviously sick, but Burt hadn't noticed anything off about him. He was just still so new to the whole single parenting thing. Elizabeth had been dead for seven weeks. He wasn't capable of taking care of a sick eight year old on his own.
"I'm sorry," Kurt kept apologizing. "It was an accident, I promise!" Burt shushed him and tried to get home as quickly as possible.
"I know it was an accident," he told him, reaching over and patting his knee. "Don't feel bad. You didn't mean to. Do you still feel sick?" Kurt nodded and rubbed at his eyes, and didn't say anything else the rest of the way home.
Burt walked him inside, and Kurt threw up a second time in the hall bathroom. Burt wasn't sure how to make him feel better, so he made some phone calls while Kurt got cleaned up. He called the school, then the garage to let them know he wasn't coming in, and then Kurt's doctor. All Burt knew was that he had thrown up. He didn't know if Kurt had a fever or any other symptoms. He was worried, but clueless. His doctor told Burt to take his temperature and make sure he stayed hydrated. He could handle that. Burt told himself that as he hung up. He didn't need the doctor. He could take care of Kurt on his own just fine.
He found his son in his bedroom, curled up in the fetal position on his bed. Burt was worried about him for multiple reasons. Kurt never got sick. He'd had a few ear infections as a little kid, but nothing major.
"Hey, kiddo," he said quietly. "You want to come lay down on the couch? You can watch TV." Kurt nodded slowly, and Burt smiled. They were making progress. Kurt got up, and Burt left him alone. He went to the kitchen to try to find everything he would need to take care of him. He found the digital thermometer, but he was stumped as to what medicine he needed. There were so many to choose from. Pepto-Bismol, aspirin, children's Tylenol, Claritin, Nyquil. Burt didn't know what to use for a puking eight year old, but he figured Tylenol was the best choice. He couldn't go wrong with that.
Once Kurt came down to the living room in his pajamas with his blanket and stuffed animals, Burt began to work on him. He checked his temperature and poured him a glass of water. The thermometer said his temperature was 101.2. Kurt didn't seem too miserable, so Burt considered that a good sign. It was a struggle to get him to take the medicine, but Kurt finally swallowed it, and Burt let him have a drink of water to get the nasty grape taste out of his mouth.
"Does your head hurt?" Burt asked him, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
"My stomach," Kurt murmured. "That's it." He seemed tired, so Burt got him a blanket to cover up with.
"Just go to sleep. It'll feel better when you wake up," he told him. Kurt slowly closed his eyes, and Burt went upstairs so he could have some peace and quiet. He considered calling the doctor back, but he had done everything he said to do. Kurt would be all better after a nap. Burt just had to wait until he woke up.
So that was what he did. The minute Kurt woke up he was all over him, checking his temperature again and trying to ask him how he felt. His fever had gone up to 101.5, and he didn't look very good at all.
"Does your stomach still hurt?" Burt asked him. Kurt nodded and kicked his blanket off.
"I'm hot," he said. "I don't feel good." Burt gave him some cold water to drink, but Kurt couldn't even keep that down. Burt held the bathroom trashcan under his chin just in time for him to throw up. "Dad…" Kurt pleaded desperately. Burt rubbed his back helplessly and tried to get him to relax.
"It's okay," he told him. "Just take a breath. It'll be okay. Do you feel like eating something? That might help." Kurt closed his eyes and didn't answer him. Burt saw how pale he was, with his flushed cheeks and sweaty face, and he knew how bad he was feeling.
"Soup," he mumbled. Burt knew he was upset. He felt awful knowing he couldn't take care of him properly. He'd never had to do any of the hard work when Kurt was sick before. He drove to the doctor or pharmacy. He never had to force him to take his medicine or make sure his fever didn't go too high before.
Kurt leaned up against Burt and shivered. Burt draped his blanket over him and kissed the top of his head. He heated him up some chicken noodle soup and brought it to him on the couch. He sat with his son while he ate, and cleaned him up when he threw it back up. Burt couldn't handle him crying very well. He got overwhelmed and didn't know what he wanted. He figured the kid was tired, so Burt took him upstairs and let him sleep in his bed. That way he could keep an eye on him and make sure he got some rest.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as Kurt slowly dozed off.
"My stomach hurts," he whimpered, and buried his face in his pillow. "I want Mommy." Burt sighed and rubbed his back. Everything would be so much easier with Elizabeth around.
"I know, kiddo," he told him. "I know. Don't worry. You'll start to feel better soon." Burt stayed with him while he slept, even though his nap didn't even last a full hour before he woke up again. Burt went to get the thermometer to take his temperature again, and he returned to find Kurt in the bathroom, curled up near the toilet.
"I threw up again," he confessed. "I feel sick, Dad. My head hurts now, too." Kurt started to cry for what seemed like the millionth time that day, which made him throw up again. Burt was losing count of how many times he'd puked that day. He picked Kurt up and set him on the bathroom counter.
"Shhh," he said, as if it would help. "It's okay, bud." His attempts to calm him down didn't work. Kurt got more and more worked up, and Burt got stressed out from his crying. "Kurt, it's okay. You want to go get back in bed? I can read you your Harry Potter book if you get in bed."
Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around Burt's neck, and he carried him back into the bedroom. Burt let him drink ginger ale until he wasn't thirsty anymore, and Kurt eventually curled next to him, and he read him two chapters from his book. Kurt finally closed his eyes and his head drooped to the side, and he was asleep.
Burt lowered him onto his pillow and somehow managed to take his temperature without waking him up. 101.9 was too high for his liking, so he only covered him with the sheet and turned on the ceiling fan. The kid had puked his guts up, so hopefully he was done throwing up. Burt stayed with him while he slept. If he got any worse, Burt was taking him straight to the doctor.
Kurt slept for three hours until two in the afternoon. His fever had come down to 101.4. Burt was relieved they didn't have to go to the doctor. Kurt still felt pretty weak, and he wanted some more soup to eat. Burt gladly fed him and let him watch some TV. He seemed to be doing okay, so Burt tried not to worry so much.
"I think I'm tired," Kurt mumbled at around 7:30. That was a whole hour before he normally went to bed, but Burt didn't argue. He took Kurt to his own room and read him another Harry Potter chapter.
Kurt hadn't thrown up in several hours, so Burt was convinced he just had a 24 hour bug. He would be okay in the morning, and they would be back to their normal routine, just like they'd been doing for two months already.
Author's Notes:
Poor sick baby. Burt has no clue what he's doing, and little Kurt just wants his mommy. If she were alive everything would be so much easier for him.