Author's Note:
This is again from Kurt's point of view. A bit of a filler chapter
This chapter is unbetaed, because let's face it, I'm unable to get the new chapter written in time to let my wonderful beta hkvoyage have a look at it before it's update day again… I'm at home with the children for two weeks and barely have the time to write.
Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you're wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)
Chapter 11: Bedridden
After the holiday break, Kurt did whatever he could to make enough money to pay off his credit card debt. He'd never spent that much on a whim, but he'd been so furious at all those wishy washy cowards that called themselves curse breakers that he just had to DO something.
He'd been thinking about seeking out Mr. Zakharov ever since Blaine had told him how he'd gotten cursed. He'd scoured the internet for any and all information about Alexei Zakharov. When he found out that the man worked at a big corporation in Russia, Kurt had gotten a passport and applied for a visa just in case. As a last resort if nothing else he tried worked out. He'd known full well that it was a long shot. That it was crazy. And dangerous. But with anger thrumming through his veins, he hadn't cared at all.
Now, though, he knew that the airfare and hotel bills would automatically be deducted from his bank account later that month. So he sold his vintage designer clothes to a consignment shop, hoping he'd be able to buy them back before someone else snatched them up. And he crammed his schedule as full of dog walks as he could, getting up at ridiculous o' clock and only going to sleep when Blaine practically frogmarched him to bed.
Blaine had changed since their Christmas vacation in Ohio. Kurt didn't know if it was because his father had let something slip, or if Blaine had just grown closer to Kurt by spending so much time with him and his family.
Whatever the reason, Blaine had really dialled up the affection he showed Kurt. He'd always been touchy-feely, ever since Kurt had moved in, but now he offered back massages, and slept in Kurt's bed, holding him.
Could this mean that Blaine was starting to care for him? In more than just a friendly way? Or was it just Blaine being Blaine again and not realising how this affected Kurt?
It was becoming harder and harder for Kurt not to get his hopes up, and that was why he welcomed the distraction of work, work and more work. So when he felt a tickle in his throat, he just bought a roll of lozenges and sucked them around the clock to keep the coughing at bay. His nose was runny, too, but that had to be from the cold, right? And that headache was surely from too little sleep, not because he was ill…
Kurt plodded on like that for days, though he felt steadily worse, and any time he bent over to clip or unclip a leash, his head swam, and he had to hold on to the wall or sit down for a minute.
He could barely eat, because swallowing hurt like hell, so he subsisted on protein shakes and instant soup, and only ate solid food when Blaine made him sit down for a home-cooked dinner in the evening, and insisted on him eating more than just a few forkfuls.
Kurt was relieved when Friday rolled around – at least he'd have a little more time to himself in the weekend – and he went to bed that night when prompted without so much as a murmur.
He woke up to a strange hand on his forehead, and a slightly familiar voice urging him to sit up a little, please. "The doctor needs to examine you."
Kurt blinked hazily, and yes, there was a doctor there, already putting her stethoscope on and holding out a thermometer to put in Kurt's mouth.
Kurt shivered when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched his skin, but obeyed the doctor when she asked him to take a deep breath. A split second later, he wished he hadn't, because it made him cough – hard, racking coughs that burned his throat and made it feel like his ribcage was about to crack.
The doctor listened to his lungs and frowned. Next, she checked his temperature, and her eyebrows went up. Way up.
"I can see why you insisted it couldn't wait until after the weekend," she said. "He's got a very high fever. A bad case of the flu. He needs bed rest for a week, a fever reducer every six hours and light but healthy food. Is that chicken soup that I smell? That's perfect. But the main thing is sleep, sleep, sleep, so that his body can recover. As soon as he can sit up, he needs to do something about that ugly cough he has. Eucalyptus vapour treatment. I'll leave you instructions. I'll come back in three days to check on him."
"Thank you, doctor," said the slightly familiar voice, and Kurt turned his head in that direction. The guy he saw was definitely someone Kurt had seen before, but he couldn't place him, nor his surroundings. Where was he? What had happened? Why was everything moving and morphing like in a kaleidoscope? He felt so dizzy.
"Please," he croaked, closing his eyes and feeling nauseous. Please make it stop.
An arm curved around his back and helped him sit up. "Okay, drink this. You'll feel better when you do. It makes the fever go down, and it makes your throat hurt less."
Kurt drank, wincing at every swallow.
"Good. Now let's get you to the bathroom first, and then you can sleep for the rest of the day."
Kurt felt someone lift him up and carry him. The bathroom was cold. Kurt shivered violently. The guy murmured an apology and draped his cardigan around Kurt's shoulders, carrying him back to the bed as soon as Kurt had relieved himself. Kurt sank back into the pillows and drifted off.
He woke up to loud barking. Dogs! He had dogs to walk! Kurt sat up, meaning to get out of bed and do his duty, but his head whirled and whirled and he blacked out.
When he came to, he heard the slightly familiar voice berating the dog. "See what you did? You woke him up! He needs sleep, the doctor said so. I'll take good care of him for you, I promise. You don't NEED to stay here, I'll look after him. Go with Paula."
The dog growled, loud and menacing, and then Kurt felt the bed dip in and a warm body spooning his. Grateful for the extra body heat, Kurt turned around, cuddled up to whoever was lying next to him, and sank into a deep sleep.
He slept for what felt like weeks on end, only waking up every now and then for a bathroom break. The somewhat familiar guy was usually there when he opened his eyes, offering assistance to walk to the bathroom and making him drink medicine and tea and soup. Other times, it was a woman taking care of him, holding a cold washcloth over his forehead and spooning yoghurt with fruit granola and honey into his mouth. It took so much effort to swallow that Kurt was glad they were sticking to soft stuff.
The body Kurt used as his personal space heater in bed was always there, too, and Kurt never heard a murmur of protest when he pushed his ice-cold fingers and toes under the hot body to warm them.
It took a long time for Kurt to escape from the tired haze he'd been caught in and become more alert. When the haze finally cleared, the first thing he noticed was that he was sleeping in Blaine's room. And that he'd been sleeping next to Blaine in his dog form.
Kurt's stomach was growling, and his body as a whole felt like he'd been run over by a car.
Blaine must have felt him fidget. He turned, and when he saw Kurt was awake, he let out a loud bark.
The guy who'd been looking after Kurt came storming in, in pyjama bottoms and with his hair a bird's nest, hissing at Blaine to let Kurt sleep. When he saw Kurt had his eyes open, he said, "Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling?"
Kurt considered the question, and then croaked, "Awful. Everything hurts."
"You think you could eat?"
Kurt's stomach growled again, and the guy laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. Does spag bol sound okay to you? I know it's not breakfast food, but you need something filling and soft for your throat."
Kurt nodded.
"I'm Trent, by the way. I used to be Blaine's roommate."
And now the pieces fit together, and Kurt remembered where he knew Trent from. Remembered how angry Trent had been the last time Kurt had seen him.
"Thank you," Kurt said.
Trent smiled. "You're welcome. Blaine should be turning back into a human any minute now, so he can take over the nurse duties then."
Kurt's mouth fell open. "I've been in bed for a WEEK?"
"Yep. You were completely out of it. The doctor wanted to hospitalise you at one point, but I managed to talk her out of that. I'm glad we're past the worst of it now. I'll go heat up your dinner."
Kurt sank back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Somehow he'd lost an entire week. He'd missed his classes, and he'd missed so many dog walks without even warning the dog walking agency. They'd never want him back now, for sure. And he still hadn't made enough money to pay off his credit card bill, and it would be deducted in full on the 25th of the month!
He winced, thinking of the overdraft charges he'd have to pay. Well, he'd have to find some other source of income. If his dog walking career was over for good, he could always go back to the Starlight Diner.
A hand touched his forehead, and Blaine murmured, "You don't have a fever anymore. That's good."
Kurt turned towards him and then squeaked. "You're naked!"
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I always am, just after transforming back."
"Well, put some clothes on!" Kurt demanded.
Blaine chuckled. "Bossy! You must be feeling better."
Kurt glared at him, and Blaine slid out of bed to pick an outfit from his closet.
By the time Trent came back with a tray for Kurt, Blaine was holding out two bow ties for Kurt to choose between.
"Go with the striped one," Kurt told him.
Trent put the tray on Kurt's lap. "There you go. I'm not much of a cook, that's more Blaine's domain, but it's edible."
"Thanks," Kurt said, and started to twirl spaghetti around his fork. "So… You've been looking after me all week?"
Trent shrugged. "Yep. Me and Paula. We took turns taking care of you. And taking Blaine out for walks."
Kurt stared at him, forgetting to eat. "Wow. Why would you do that for me? You don't know me at all!"
"You're important to Blaine," Trent said. "And I owed Blaine for leaving him in the lurch in April last year. Paula offered to help, so we came up with a schedule so that one of us would always be here to take care of you both. At first, Paula wanted to take Blaine in for a week, but he refused to leave you."
Kurt felt Blaine grab his hand and squeeze it, harder than what would have been comfortable, but he didn't protest. Instead, his heart started to beat a little faster, and he squeezed back, finding Blaine's eyes and smiling at him.
"I'm so glad you're doing better," Blaine murmured. "You had us all worried, a few days ago. Oh, when you're up to it, please call your dad? We've been giving him updates, but he'll want to hear from you."
"But eat first!" Trent insisted. "You need food, you've only eaten soup and yoghurt the past week."
Kurt put a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and started to chew, not really noticing what he ate. He focussed more on how heavy his arms felt – like lead – and how exhausting it was to do something as simple as eating. It tired him out.
Blaine noticed Kurt having trouble, and took over the fork, feeding Kurt, and handing him a glass of water to wash his dinner down.
"Well, now that Blaine is back to normal, I hope you won't mind if I go back to my fiancé," Trent said.
"Fiancé?" Blaine asked.
Trent blushed. "Ashton proposed to me two months ago, and I said yes."
Blaine jumped up and down on the bed, making Kurt feel queasy, and then thankfully bounded off the bed to hug Trent and twirl him around.
"That's just the BEST news!" Blaine shouted.
"Congratulations," Kurt added politely.
Trent smiled ear to ear. "Thank you."
"So when's the wedding?" Blaine wanted to know.
"In August. The fifteenth. Blaine… Would you…? I'd like you to be my best man, please."
Blaine beamed. "Yes! If I can help with the wedding planning, you just say the word!"
Trent shrugged. "Pretty much everything's arranged already. I've been planning my wedding since I was five."
"Me too," Kurt confessed. "I used a lot of it for my dad's wedding when he remarried, but I've made new scrapbooks since then."
Trent cocked his head to the side. "Your father married again and you helped with his wedding?"
Kurt scoffed. "Not just HELPED. I planned the whole things, and in just two weeks, too."
"But why would you do that? Weren't you mad at him for remarrying?"
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "No. I was the one who introduced him to Carole in the first place."
Trent's mouth fell open. "Before or after the divorce?"
"My mom died when I was eight," Kurt said flatly. "And Carole's husband died shortly after their son was born. There was no divorce on either side."
"Oh, sorry!"
Kurt offered Trent a stiff smile. After all, the guy didn't know him or his family. Plus, he'd looked after Kurt all week.
"I'll take your plate back to the kitchen, if you're done," Blaine announced, and he left the bedroom.
When he was gone, Trent turned to Kurt with a forced smile of his own. "So how long have you and Blaine been together?"
Kurt blinked at him. "We're not… together."
"Really?"
Trent sounded disbelieving.
"Really. I'm here to act as a dog sitter whenever necessary."
"Then why is he sleeping with you?" Trent asked.
Kurt slowly sat up straight and stared at Trent, hard. "Excuse me?"
"He's been in your bed all week. He barely left your side. We had a hard time coaxing him outside for a walk."
Kurt deflated. "Oh… That's… That's new."
"So you guys aren't dating? But you're in love with him, you've said so several times this week."
Trent saw Kurt's eyes widen, and explained, "You babbled a lot while you had a fever."
Kurt bit his lip. "Yes. I'm in love with him. But he just wants to be friends."
Trent let out a short laugh. "Well, doesn't that sound familiar! He pulled that stunt with me for twelve years. Making me think I stood a chance and then friend-zoning me over and over. So, a word to the wise: don't waste your best years on him. I don't know what it is with him, but he doesn't seem to realise where the boundaries are between a friendship and a romantic relationship. So don't let yourself be fooled when he does stuff that makes you think he's into you. He doesn't do it on purpose, I swear, he's a good guy, but he'll never fall for you."
Kurt shrugged. "Who would? But I've got to try. He's only got two more years before he turns into a dog for good."
Trent gaped at him. "What?"
"I went to see Mr Zakharov about the curse. And he said true love's kiss could break it. And that Blaine had two more years to make that happen."
Now Trent's eyes were popping out of his head. "You went to see Alex? Weren't you scared? Did he curse you too?"
Kurt shook his head.
"True love's kiss," Trent mused. "Well, then, Blaine and I were never meant to be, I guess. We kissed when we were seniors in college. Went to a party and got drunk and started to make out while dancing. And I was thrilled, you know? So when Blaine said he wanted to go home, I was all, like, okay, because I thought we were finally gonna have sex. We came home, and I wanted to kiss him some more, but he turned around and threw up all over the floor. By the time I'd cleaned it all up, I wasn't in the mood anymore, and he was in bed, snoring. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. So I get into bed with him, thinking, well, there's always tomorrow, right? But the next morning, he didn't remember a thing. And I didn't dare push. So it all came to nothing in the end."
Kurt's lips quirked up a little. "That sounds like Blaine all right."
Trent sighed. "Yeah. But you can't help loving him anyway."
Kurt's smile widened. "True."
Trent slapped his thighs and got up. "Well, I really got to get going. I texted Ashton I was on my way."
"Thank you so much for looking after us!" Kurt said, plucking at the bedsheets. "I don't know how I can repay you for your kindness."
Trent hummed, then said, "You could invite us over for dinner from time to time? Ashton and I aren't really good at cooking, and we both miss Blaine's food so much."
Kurt grinned. "I can imagine. Tomorrow, 7 p.m.?"
"Awesome! See you tomorrow!"
And with a wave, Trent was gone.
Kurt got up and winced at how stiff he felt. All over. Like he was ninety instead of twenty. And his legs felt wobbly, struggling to carry his weight.
It was only a few steps to the bathroom, but the exertion made him pant like he'd just run a marathon, and while standing in front of the mirror to run a washcloth over his face, he had to grab the sink so as not to fall.
Then, all of a sudden, there was an arm around his middle, supporting him. "Do you want to take a bath? I can help!"
Kurt, startled, turned his head so fast he got a crick in his neck. It was Blaine, of course.
"I can lend you some swimming trunks if you don't want me to see your junk," Blaine offered.
Kurt thought this over, and then nodded. A bath sounded like a really good idea.
Blaine flashed him a smile and zoomed out of the bathroom. Seconds later, he was back with the most ridiculous swimming trunks Kurt had ever seen. A picture of a kitten was on the crotch, and it was eating pizza and tacos.
Kurt made a face that cracked Blaine up.
"My brother sent me these as a birthday gift one year," Blaine explained after he'd gotten over his laughing fit. "I've never worn them, for obvious reasons, so that's why I picked them. You sit down and put them on, and I'll run you a bath."
When Kurt had taken off his pyjamas and put on the swimming trunks, Blaine picked Kurt up like he weighed nothing, and deposited him carefully in a cloud of lavender foam. "I'll be right back with clothes for you. What should I pick?"
"No more kittens, please," Kurt requested, and Blaine chuckled.
Half an hour later, dressed in a comfy hoody and a pair of yoga pants, Kurt lay on the sofa with his feet on Blaine's lap and a warm blanket wrapped around him, watching Cupcake Wars. Kurt felt relaxed and drowsy, and though he'd planned on staying awake, he didn't even last five minutes.
He woke up in the afternoon, and shuffled to the kitchen, bleary with sleep.
"Are you hungry?" Blaine asked, making Kurt jump a foot in the air again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Do you want an omelette? French toast? Pancakes? What are you in the mood for?"
Kurt just blinked at him.
"Not really awake yet?" Blaine chuckled. "Okay, I'll go with the omelette. Here's a mug of coffee for you. Bet you've missed coffee."
Kurt sniffed the mug and took a large sip. Aaah, bliss!
"I hear you've invited Trent and Ash for dinner tomorrow? I'm going to invite Paula too. To thank her."
Kurt looked up, feeling a bit guilty that he hadn't asked Blaine first. After all, this was Blaine's apartment.
Blaine misunderstood his frown. "You don't mind Paula coming, do you?"
Kurt shook his head.
"The doctor's coming to check on you again in about an hour," Blaine informed him.
Kurt's eyes widened. "That's… not really necessary, is it? I'm better."
Blaine tutted. "I knew you were going to be like that. But you've been at death's door, and I want you to be checked again, and to take it easy for the next few weeks. You've been driving yourself too hard, and that's why you were so ill."
Kurt bit his lip, and then mumbled, "I can't afford doctor's visits. And I have to work. There are some big bills coming up, and if I can't pay them in full on the 25th, my credit will be ruined for years."
"I'll pay the doctor, of course," Blaine said. "And you have enough money in your bank account for those bills. I made sure of that."
Kurt gaped at Blaine, who shrugged. "You went to Russia for me. To help me. Helping you out financially is the least I can do."
Blaine set a plate before Kurt and handed him a knife and a fork. "And some bread and butter, hang on…"
Kurt sat frozen on his chair. Clearly, his dad had blabbed. How much did Blaine know? And how would that affect the outcome?
