The staff of Lima Memorial, contrary to Kurt's expectation, insisted on giving him a skull X-ray and CAT scan after learning that he had been bleeding, dizzy, nauseous and confused following his accident. Fortunately, the tests came back with the diagnosis of a moderate concussion; no skull fracture or traumatic brain injury. They re-bandaged his hands and knees and decided that the wound over his eyebrow could do with a couple of stitches, but after that, Burt was indeed instructed to take his son home, let him sleep and just keep watch for signs of further distress.
Kurt occupied himself with his phone for most of their slow crawl towards home, returning texts and reassuring everyone that he was alive and – more or less – well. Upon reaching their destination, Burt helped him inside, not wanting to take any chances on him slipping and falling on the icy sidewalk or front steps.
It was a testament to just how exhausted Kurt was that he did not protest, even a little, over being babied. Instead, he just allowed his father to escort him down the steps to his own room, where he wrapped his arms around Burt's neck and silently hugged him for a long time. Burt returned the firm embrace gratefully, realizing that he was not the only one who had been worried.
"Think I'm gonna head for bed now," Kurt murmured as he finally released his grip.
He could barely keep his eyes open and Burt smiled, brushing tumbled bangs out of the boy's eyes. "You want any of your face goop first?"
Kurt shook his head. Touching one cheek, he winced. "No, the analgesic cream they gave me at the hospital is keeping most of the stinging down. Still feels kind of like I got sunburned but it's not bad. I'd rather not mess with it until morning. The headache is finally starting to die down, too. I'd really rather just sleep than do anything else."
"I don't blame you. You need any help?"
Looking a little embarrassed, he asked, "Would you mind? I'm kind of sore."
He did not mind a bit. A few minutes later, dressed in warm PJs and tucked securely beneath a mountain of fluffy blankets, Kurt was sound asleep. He had not even lasted long enough to say good night.
Burt stayed by his side for several minutes, just watching his boy sleep and thanking his lucky stars that he had been given the chance to do so.
He thought about Terri Schuester and shook his head. What a small world it was. Lima was not a big city but it did have enough of a population that it had to be some kind of miracle that Kurt had been discovered by a friend of a friend in his time of need; one who had done all she could to keep the boy safe and happy until help could arrive. He felt bad for yelling at her.
Burt smiled, remembering Kurt's very embarrassed confession as to the reason behind his offer to take the woman boot-shopping. There wasn't much Burt could do to show his gratitude but he decided that the ol' Platinum Visa – the one he had forbidden Kurt to touch after the boy had come home one day with a single sweater that cost enough to feed a family of ten for a week – was going to get a hearty workout on that promised mall date.
Maybe he'd tag along – he could always kill an afternoon at the electronics and sporting goods stores - and invite Schuester and Mercedes to have dinner with them afterward. After all, he owed them all big time. It was the least he could do.
Almost as if he had heard his father's thoughts, Kurt drew a deep breath and let it out in a long, contented-sounding sigh as he snuggled deeper into his pillow.
Burt gently stroked his colorfully bruised cheekbone.
Yeah, the very least he could do.