A/N: Hi guys! Sooo, I don't know what to do with the fact that Kurt doesn't board at Dalton...hmmm. for the sake of the Fanverse, we're going to ignore that for now. Or maybe Kurt's just hanging out at Dalton to take care of Blaine - I could see that, right?
ANYWAYS. This is my way of getting a little Klaine lovin' after the dubious SLS. But I can't wait for next week! There's always hope.
Quick reminder to check out my other Klaine fic ("Home is Wherever I'm With You"), especially since I'll be doing a shortened version of this chapter with an adorable sick Kurt and caretaker Blaine. You know you'll want to see that little cute thang.
Enjoy! I don't own Glee.
Blaine had made it to his desk and was slowly working his way through some calculus problems when the clock struck 12:03. Soon enough, the door to his room clicked open, admitting his favorite countertenor. Kurt smiled as he saw him out of bed.
"Hey, are you feeling any better?" He closed the door behind him, rattling the plastic grocery bags hanging from his arms.
"What do you have there?" Blaine spun around, making a face as he heard the rasp in his voice.
"Supplies." Kurt fished around in the first bag, taking out a few boxes of tissues and a value pack of cough drops. "Here." He tossed Blaine one of the bags of Halls. Blaine caught it obediently.
"When did you have time to go out?"
"I didn't."
"Then…?"
"Wes and David," Kurt replied, as if that answered everything. Blaine sighed.
"Remind me to pay them back later." He unwrapped a cough drop and popped it in his mouth, feeling the cool relief wash down his throat almost instantly.
"So? How are you feeling?" Kurt sank onto his bed.
Blaine shrugged. "I mean, not great. But I've been worse." He paused and held up a finger in a 'one-moment' gesture before turning to muffle sneeze in his elbow.
"Bless you." Kurt drew his knees to his chest. "Wes will be by in a little bit with some actual food - don't worry, it's from the dining hall," he added quickly.
Blaine laughed softly. "Thank god. Wes-brand Cuisine would probably finish me off."
Kurt cracked a smile. "I've got to get back to class, but I'll be back after lunch, okay? Will you be okay for a little while by yourself?"
"Kurt, I have a little bit of a fever, I'm not coughing up blood," Blaine teased, smiling gently. "I'm fine. Thanks for everything, really."
"It's no problem," Kurt flapped her hand at him, smoothly covering the rush of emotional gratitude that could have - should have, Blaine thought a little reproachfully -made things awkward. "Take some DayQuil if you're up. There's some in the bag over there."
Blaine slid his eyes to the grocery bags with a grimace. "I don't do well with DayQuil. It makes me loopy," he admitted, blushing a little as Kurt flicked him a questioning gaze.
"Well, loopy or not, you need to take something. You'd better be 'loopy' by the time I get back, or I'll have David come watch you." A threat glinted in Kurt's eyes. Blaine swallowed nervously in spite of himself.
"Fine, fine, loopy it is," he held up his hands in a sign of surrender. Kurt's eyes softened, and the counter tenor straightened from Blaine's bed and stretched widely.
"All right, I'll see you in a little bit. Bye, Blaine," he flashed him a smile before ducking out the door again. Blaine glanced suspiciously at the grocery bags before going over and fishing out the plastic bottle with a sigh.
"I'm sooooo disgusting. I'm disgusting. Kurt, I'm disgusting. Do you know what-"
"Yes, Blaine, I get it," Kurt cut him off, a little smile twitching on his lips in spite of the annoyance in his tone. Blaine's head was in his lap as Blaine lay sideways, his legs dangling over the arm of the sofa.
The dark-haired tenor let out his breath in a dramatic sigh and coughed. "Eww. Grooooss. I'm gross, Kurt. I'm disgusting. Dis-gus-ting," he sing-songed, his voice pitching higher. Kurt bit back a snicker. "You should just shoot me now, like Old Yeller. Shoot me." Blaine's tone grew mournful, and his dark eyebrows drew together in a pensive pout.
"I'm not going to shoot you, Blaine," Kurt soothed him gently. He absently ran his fingers through Blaine's tangled curls, situated so perfectly in his lap. Blaine relaxed under his touch.
"You don't think I'm disgusting?" He made a face as his voice croaked. "I feel disgusting. Like Old Yeller. I cried during that movie. Did-"
"No, Blaine, I don't think you're disgusting," Kurt quickly cut him off again.
"Even when I'm all gross and sick?"
"Especially when you're sick," Kurt replied firmly, twining a sweaty curl around his index finger. Blaine was definitely hot - hot as in warm, he clarified for himself, blushing mentally. Blaine was unaware of his friend's inner struggle. He was smiling.
"You think I'm pretty without any make-up on," he sang softly. Kurt grinned, and a laugh bubbled out of Blaine, turning quickly into a coughing fit. Kurt stroked his curls carefully as Blaine curled in on himself, coughing hoarsely.
"You're adorably pathetic," Kurt observed lightly as Blaine finished with a small whimpering sound. "It makes me want to put you in my pocket and pet you, or something."
"I wouldn't fit in your pocket," Blaine rasped, and Kurt smiled as an image of Brittany suddenly came to mind. He was tempted to use the dolphin line on Blaine, but his feverish friend had other ideas.
"What time is it?" he managed, squirming in Kurt's lap as he tried to read the countertenor's watch. Kurt moved it into his line of vision.
"Four oh-five. And eleven seconds."
"Eleven seconds," Blaine repeated, apparently fascinated. Kurt watched in amusement as he held up two fingers to form an eleven.
"All right, Blaine, try to go to sleep, ok? You won't get better if you don't rest."
Blaine made a whining noise. "But I'm not tiiiired."
"I think you are." Kurt yawned pointedly. Blaine followed suit.
"I guess so. I think so too." He yawned again and drew his legs off the arm of the sofa as he curled into a little ball. Kurt twined his fingers deeper into Blaine's curls as he felt his breath slow and deepen. Soon Blaine was asleep, breathing softly through his mouth with a gentle huffing sound.
When Blaine awoke, he was back in his bed. The room smelled like Kurt - like soft leather and faint lavender and sometimes sandalwood. Blaine tried to breathe through his nose again and failed - he felt significantly more awful now that the DayQuil had worn off. Groping for his side table with a groan, he grabbed the bottle and managed to take a swig before passing out again. And as he slept, he dreamed Kurt was braiding his hair.
Review review reviewww! Show those stereotypes who's boss!