It all started with Blaine. Kurt would go to his grave blaming it on his husband. He came home from working at the hospital one night especially tired, and not feeling up to eating dinner. So, he went straight to bed. Kurt didn't think much of it; it had been a long day, and Blaine must have just not been hungry.
But by morning, it became apparent that he was suffering from much more than extreme exhaustion.
Blaine couldn't move, or even really sit up. He was under three different blankets but still felt freezing cold. He was congested, coughing, and burning up with a fever.
"Looks like you have the flu," Kurt said sympathetically. "I'm not surprised, with all the cases you've seen."
Blaine groaned. "I want to die."
Kurt laughed a little, even though he really did feel sorry for his husband. "You'll be okay. Would you like me to stay home and take care of you?"
Blaine shook his head. "Go to work. I'll be okay. I'll call Sam if I need anything."
Kurt kissed his warm forehead and got up to get ready. "Try to go back to sleep. I'll leave you medicine and something to drink on your nightstand so you don't have to get up."
Kurt felt guilty leaving Blaine alone when he felt so bad, but he had to go to work. He had two meetings that day, and it felt like his phone was always ringing. He couldn't wait to be out of his office.
He checked in on Blaine frequently, even though his husband didn't answer any of his texts. Kurt figured he was just asleep.
In the evening, Kurt picked up dinner for the both of them at Blaine's favorite café. He always liked soup and crackers when he was sick.
He had hoped to find his husband feeling at least a little better than he was that morning. Unfortunately, the opposite was true. Tissues were scattered on the floor around Blaine's side of the bed, and the covers were halfway on the floor. Blaine laid in bed, dozing and shivering.
"Blaine? I'm home," Kurt said softly, hanging his jacket up and undoing his tie.
Blaine had been half-asleep, but he opened his eyes and yawned. "Kurt… 'm cold." He reached for the blankets, but was too weak to cover himself up. Kurt tucked him in and kissed his flushed cheek.
"I brought you some food. Does soup sound good?"
Blaine nodded, and struggled to sit up while Kurt prepared his food. Even from the kitchen he could hear his husband's horrible-sounding cough. Kurt wished he could do something, anything, to help him feel better, but when Blaine was sick, even with the smallest of colds, he was absolutely miserable.
"Kurt?" he heard. Blaine was congested, which made his voice sound even deeper. "I'm hot."
Kurt sighed, and poured him some ginger ale into a glass with ice. "Hang on, I'm coming." Kurt didn't mind caring for him at all… but Blaine did have the tendency to get very needy and demanding. It was a test of patience, but Kurt served him out of love, and the desire to not have a sick, angry Blaine on his hands.
"Thirty seconds ago you were freezing," Kurt teased, flipping on the ceiling fan with his elbow as he brought Blaine's food over to him. "You might not like the soup if you're sweating. But I got you a cold drink to go with it."
"Thank you," Blaine said weakly. Kurt changed his clothes while Blaine ate, and took his dishes away when he insisted he was done, even though he had barely touched his soup.
"I'm supposed to work tonight," Blaine moaned. "I have to go."
That made Kurt grow concerned. How was he supposed to care for his patients if he couldn't even care for himself? And what if he was contagious? He couldn't infect the entire emergency department.
"Can you not call and explain that you're sick?" Kurt asked him, laying down beside him. Blaine scooted closer to him. "You can barely sit up. How are you going to be on your feet for twelve hours?"
"I'll drink some coffee," Blaine mumbled, yawning. "Then I'll come home and sleep."
Kurt still didn't like the sound of that. Blaine seemed perfectly fine with the idea of working all night, but what if he got worse? He definitely still had a fever. What if he got a patient sick?
His anxieties lingered, until Blaine dozed off beside him, snoring lightly. Kurt took his husband's phone and called into the hospital, explaining to the head on-call physician how Blaine was simply too sick to come in that night. Everything got taken care of, so Kurt let his husband sleep through his work alarm.
He took a nap himself, too. After the day he had at work, and how tired he still felt, Kurt needed a break. He curled up next to Blaine, and fell asleep before he could even think about it.
When he woke up, it was dark outside. Kurt cracked his eyes open, and saw the glow of the TV. Blaine was beside him, watching some movie on the Hallmark channel.
"You're awake," Kurt mumbled. "How long was I asleep?"
"I don't know," Blaine shrugged. "My alarm didn't go off, though. I missed work."
"I talked to your boss," Kurt yawned. "You're fine." He scooted up closer to him. His head was pounding. Kurt hated waking up to a headache.
"Move over, you're hot," Blaine grumbled. "You better not be sick, too."
Kurt shifted back to his side of the bed. He was exhausted, but that didn't mean he was sick. Blaine couldn't have infected him that fast.
He sat up to go get a drink, and suddenly the bedroom was spinning around him. It took Kurt several seconds to adjust and stand up.
Thankfully, Blaine didn't notice. "Can I have some water?" he asked. His voice sounded a million miles away in Kurt's ears, but he agreed to bring him some.
The tile kitchen floor felt like ice cubes against Kurt's bare feet. He shivered, but kept telling himself he was okay. What would Blaine do if he succumbed to the flu as well? It would be a nightmare.
Kurt got Blaine's water, and opened up the medicine cabinet. They could both use some extra-strength Tylenol. Kurt reached for his prescription headache medicine as well, but as soon as he tried to swallow the pills, he choked, and his stomach cramped, forcing him to double over as he got sick on the kitchen floor.
He felt like he was inside a sauna, he was so hot. Kurt gripped the kitchen counter as Blaine stumbled down the hall to see what had happened.
"Kurt? Come here," Blaine said, holding out his arm.
Then, he fell into his bed.
"Let me get your water," Kurt mumbled, his mouth dry as cotton. "Get in bed."
"I will…" Blaine trailed off. "Hang on."
Kurt saw him walk out of the room, and it felt like Blaine was gone forever. Kurt was freezing cold, and only warmed up when his husband was back in bed, huddled under the covers with him.
"You got me sick," Kurt whined. "It's your fault."
"Shhh," Blaine complained. "You're yelling." He rubbed at his temples. "If we're both sick, who takes care of who?"
Kurt coughed and laid his head on Blaine's shoulder. "I don't care. Hand me the box of tissues."
Blaine reached over and placed it in the middle of the two of them. Blaine seemed to be more congested, but Kurt couldn't stop coughing. Both of them knew they were in for a long night.
And a long night it was. Kurt's stomach never settled, and he found himself in the bathroom throwing up multiple times. Blaine kept complaining about being hot and cold and miserable, and wouldn't lie still in the bed, so Kurt could never sleep, either.
By morning, both of them were more exhausted and grumpy than the night before. Blaine turned on the TV early in the morning when he couldn't sleep, which woke Kurt up from the one stretch of restful sleep he had gotten.
"Blaine… go in the living room," Kurt groaned. "It's five-thirty."
Blaine mumbled something under his breath, and turned off the television. "You're the one that woke me up with your puking all night."
Kurt was too tired to argue. He pulled the blankets up to his neck, and tried to relax enough to go to sleep, but his headache was back.
"You've done this before. I'm so sick of you bringing home your… diseases from the hospital, Blaine. Next time it'll be Ebola."
Blaine turned to face Kurt, and he put his hand on his back. He didn't want to fight, not when they both felt so bad. "I think you'll survive the flu," he said softly. "We can both go to the doctor later if it gets worse. I didn't mean to wake you up, but I haven't been able to sleep in hours."
"Don't go to the living room," Kurt told him, moving closer. "I was kidding. Keep me warm."
Blaine draped his arm around his husband, and they were able to fall asleep together, just as they always would.
Author's Notes:
I can only imagine World War III breaking out if Blaine got Kurt sick with the flu. But they're still my precious and sweet and cuddly boys.
In other news, I posted a new story I've been working on so go take a look! It's got some baby Kurt and mama Hummel as well, which you can never get enough of!