Kurt slept off and on most of the day but by that evening, felt worse instead of better. He'd gone to lunch with Blaine and the Warblers, just to get out, but started to crash before he'd even eaten anything, and Blaine brought him back to the dorm, chiding himself for having agreed that it was a good idea. Blaine kept bringing him tea, juice, and yogurt, asking if he was hot or chilled, and brought a supply of books from the campus library.
By nighttime, his cough started to hurt rather than being just annoying and he had trouble catching his breath after a long series of coughs. The cough syrup helped but didn't eliminate them and his throat felt terrible. Blaine firmly told him that if he wasn't better in the morning, he'd take him to the infirmary, and kept asking if he didn't want him to call the emergency clinic number to get them to open up that night.
"It's a cold, Blaine," Kurt insisted, "I just need to get some rest."
"I'm concerned about you, that's all." Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair yet again and his fingers felt refreshingly cool against Kurt's forehead. Kurt re-opened the history of Broadway costume design that Blaine had checked out for him and resumed his admiration of the Ziegfeld Follies' extravaganza. Maybe he could talk the Glee club into at least the headdresses when he got back. Blaine sat beside him in the bed, slipping an arm around him and pointing out what he liked best or least. His tastes kept coinciding with Kurt's and Kurt wondered, yet again, what it would be like if they had come to this point together in some other way. Any other way. If they'd met in some ordinary way at the competition and started out with flirting, or maybe chatting, getting coffee, and recognizing how much they had in common and becoming friends. He was so tired and this felt so wrong, especially when it felt as though it could have been right. Kurt couldn't help the tears that came to his eyes, but he was able to hide them by blowing his nose. They finished the book together and Kurt was caught by another coughing fit.
"I'll make you some more tea." Kurt was already sick of the taste of tea but it would feel good, at least, and keep him hydrated. After he drank the latest cup, he dozed while Blaine went to dinner with the Warblers. Blaine had promised to hurry back, despite Kurt's repeating that all he had was a cold. The time he could spend alone was precious to him; he could go back to all the times that were better and stay there, in his mind. He barely stirred at Blaine's return and quiet, "I brought back some soup and some pasta, if you want it, or I'll put it in the fridge."
Kurt was more fully awake later, and got up to shower and clear his congestion a little. But coming out of the bathroom he had another coughing fit and another as he got back into bed and curled on his side. Blaine looked at him contemplatively then seemed to make up his mind about something and went into the bathroom himself. Kurt heard the sound of something being pumped out of a bottle and then Blaine got onto the bed, putting his hands on the back of Kurt's neck. "Here, this will relax you," he said, soothingly.
Kurt had had it. Turning to face Blaine, he demanded, "For God's sake, Blaine, can't you leave me alone for once?"
Blaine jerked back as though he'd been hit by an electric shock. "What kind of a person do you think I am? I wanted to rub your neck and back since that damn coughing was tensing you up until your shoulders are practically touching your ears! What, you thought I was going to pound you through the mattress when you can't even breathe for five minutes without coughing?"
Kurt was about to answer that he thought Blaine might very well have exerted his rights when another coughing spell almost doubled him over. Blaine silently waited until it was over and started to knead at the muscles on the side of his neck, muscles that Kurt hadn't even realized were sore and rock-hard. Kurt, though, looked at Blaine and said, wearily, "I really just want to sleep." As silently as before, Blaine got off the bed and crossed to his desk, turning off the other lights in the room. As Kurt fell asleep, he was still aware of Blaine sitting and reading in his desk lamp's small pool of light. It would have made a perfect photograph or even portrait, an admissions brochure shot of a model student hard at work or one of those Rembrandt pictures that looked like serenity itself captured in an instant. But outside the pool of light, and under it, so much else was lurking, turbulent.
"So, you and Sue are an item now?" Emma asked, looking at Will with astonished eyes. She scrubbed her desk again with an antiseptic wipe.
"It just kind of happened, but yeah, we're an item now."
"Hasn't she always, uh, wanted to uh, destroy you? Are you sure it's not a clever, uh, trap?"
Will did have to stop and think about that for a moment. "No, I'm sure she'd have sprung the trap by now," he concluded. And maybe eaten my head like a praying mantis. Except she hates my hair gel.
"Well, I'm, uh, glad for you. A little bit scared, too, but glad." Will was glad himself, glad that she didn't seem to have any regrets. Carl was good for her and Sue was good for him.
He laughed. "At least you aren't saying that you knew it from the start and that it was only a matter of time before the two of us saw what was obvious to everybody but us."
"No, I'm definitely not saying that." She shook her head earnestly, red-gold hair swinging with the motion. "We'll have to double-date sometime, if she'll promise not to maim anybody or call the police on your hair saying that she saw several fugitives hiding in it. Remember that time we saw her at the mall and she did that?"
"Life with Sue does have some unforgettable moments. No, I'd say every moment with Sue is unforgettable."
"Damn right." Sue strode in. "It's one of the ways that I inspire fear, admiration, and envy everywhere I go. William, has your friend gotten anything else?" He hated that her face fell for an instant when he shook his head. She turned to Emma. "I don't suppose that you're experienced with extortion, blackmail, invasion, or any other useful coercion skills? Even a pamphlet or two on them?" Emma's eyes opened even wider and she shook her head. "I need to start writing some better pamphlets for you. Remind me, Will, because I'll likely forget if something more important comes up, which it probably will. Speaking of that, we need bandoliers for tonight's practice."
Will hoped profoundly that she meant for Glee and not for what she'd taken to referring to as his personal practice sessions.
Halfway through the night, Blaine got out of bed, carefully folding the blanket around Kurt behind him. Kurt's sleep had been restless, and Blaine thought he might sleep better on his own. He retrieved a spare sheet from the drawer and went out to finish the night on the couch in the kitchen. The study room on the top floor was more comfortable but in the kitchen, he'd be within reach.
He put his unease about the situation firmly aside. Kurt was feverish and tired, that was all. It was still new to him as well. Blaine had watched the YouTube videos of New Directions so often when the Warblers were scoping out the competition, and had focused on Kurt for so long, that it felt like he'd known him for longer than it had really been. Provided that Kurt didn't get seriously sick and that this really was just a cold or maybe flu, everything would be fine. He'd take Kurt to the infirmary tomorrow and make sure that he was all right, and everything would be fine. Just fine.
Blaine slept soundly until the loud light switch and immediate light in the room made him sit up, wide awake and for a moment forgetting why he wasn't in his own bed. Hamza was looking at him with an equally confused look.
"I didn't know you were asleep here," Hamza said, cautiously.
Blaine had to chuckle at the way Hamza wasn't asking any questions. "Kurt's got a cold, I though he'd be more comfortable with the bed to himself." Hamza was backing out and reached for the light. "No, I should get up anyway and see how he is." He looked at his watch. 7:00, later than he thought. Rubbing his eyes, he went back to the dorm room to find Kurt still sleeping. The wastebasket, which Blaine had emptied earlier, was full of tissues again and he still looked flushed. When Blaine touched his forehead, he stirred a little and sighed and Blaine withdrew to let him sleep. He hadn't realized that the other student had followed him until he nearly bumped into Hamza.
"Is he all right?"
"I'm taking him to the infirmary once it's open and Dr. Lloyd is there. I'm pretty sure it's just a bad cold with a fever, but there was that outbreak of pneumonia last year on campus, and he's mine, he's my responsibility. Oh, crap!"
"What's wrong?"
"I've got this interview tomorrow with Brandt and Hoffmann for a summer internship. I'll have to cancel it and see if they'd reschedule, I don't want to leave him alone if he's sick..."
He could see that even Hamza, whose interests lay entirely in biology and chemistry, recognized the name Brandt and Hoffmann, one of the most important investment banks in the midwest. He could hear his parents yelling at him now over giving up the chance, but he had to take this responsibility seriously.
"I can stay with him," Hamza offered. "I promise that I won't try to operate or otherwise turn it into a good essay opportunity for pre-med."
Blaine was torn and he realized that his immediate reluctance wasn't from his sense of responsibility towards Kurt. Hamza was trustworthy and kind, and Kurt liked him. He didn't want to leave Kurt with Hamza because he was jealous of exactly that. He swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"
"Of course. It's Teacher Institute Day and I was planning to spend the day doing a literature search for my independent study anyway. I can do that from your room or in-between checking on him just as easily as I could from the library. Better, probably, because Ms Mellior won't be there." He grinned. Ms Mellior, the librarian, was not the stereotypical librarian in the least and had inspired probably thousands of fantasies about being punished for overdue books or being offered special late-night assistance with searching databases.
"All right, then, thanks. I appreciate it." Blaine actually felt relieved once he'd accepted Hamza's offer and was fairly certain that it was relief at having fought down jealousy again as much as relief at being able to make it to the interview. If he had to admit that he hadn't gotten the job that would be bad enough, but admitting that it was because he was looking after what both his parents, divorced or not, would call a distraction would be worse.
Kurt was feeling better in the morning but agreed to go to the infirmary. There, the doctor had listened to his lungs, examined his throat, and told them that Kurt had bronchitis and a fever of 102 F. He gave Blaine a thermometer, telling him that if Kurt's fever got any higher than 103 F, they should wipe him down with lukewarm water, but otherwise, let the fever and sleep and decongestants do the work.
After more sleep, he was awake enough that he started to think about decorations for David's birthday party. The color scheme was the first thing, of course. A classic dark green and gold would have been his first choice but he wondered if they'd look too much like leftover Christmas decorations. After asking Blaine, who had the same problem, he grabbed for his phone. "Mercedes is a goddess of color schemes." He tried to change it from sleep mode but then remembered he'd forgotten to charge it.
"Here, use mine."
Blaine tossed his over from the other side of the room and Kurt caught it. He looked at the wallpaper picture, of a much younger Blaine holding a toddler in his lap. "Who's the mini-Blaine?" Ordinarily, Kurt thought that showing people pictures of small children should be a felony, but there was something about this photo, the infectious, easy joy between the two of them.
"That's my younger brother, Marcus." Blaine was across the room in an instant and opened up the folder. His eyes and smile were soft as he tapped through the pictures, a photograph of Marcus unwrapping a big stuffed elephant while Blaine was watching, the two of them in Santa hats, another of them lying together in front of a fireplace, and more. They were what Kurt guessed was chronological order and the last photographs were different. For a moment, Kurt couldn't put his finger on it until he saw that the smiles were pleasant but not radiant. Not quite "smile for the camera" but not the smiles of pure joy of being together breaking through. "I miss him so much."
"That must have made it hard to go off to school."
Blaine shook his head, his eyes still absent. "No, it was earlier. When I was ten and he was six, our parents split up. My mom took me and Dad took Marcus."
"Why would they do that? Separate the two of you?"
Blaine shrugged, "Finances, something to do with that in the divorce settlement. He doesn't miss me any more, which is good. He got used to it more easily, I think. So I'm glad for his sake that he wasn't any older when it happened." He cleared his throat. "We still see one another a few times a year and we talk on the phone." He cleared his throat again. "So, the color schemes goddess?"
"Hi, Mercedes."
"Kurt, what happened to your voice? Are you all right?" Kurt sometimes wished that not every conversation with somebody from McKinley started with asking if he was all right. Having to reassure everybody each time meant that he had to keep pretending, whether the day had been all right or a bad one.
"It's just a cold, sweetie, and I was just at the doctor who said that I'm going to be fine."
"Well, all right, but you go back to the doctor if you don't feel better."
"I've got a colors question and had to call the Mercedes Jones hotline for all things color."
"And you got the one and only Mercedes Jones."
"Color scheme for an 18th birthday party. I want green and gold, dark green, but that might look too much like Christmas."
"Whose party?"
"One of the seniors here. Classy style but not entirely a traditionalist."
"Dark blue and gold? Royal blue and gold?"
Kurt could see it but it didn't pop out at him. He repeated the options to Blaine who waggled his hand up and down. "Could work but it's not perfect."
"Red and gold has the same Christmas problem. Does the accent have to be gold?"
"It doesn't have to be but I'm not seeing silver here."
"Copper? Maybe not copper and green but copper and blue?"
"Mercedes, you and I should be the only ones allowed to dress the entire world. Copper and blue is genius."
"You know it." She waited while he coughed again. "Are you sure you're all right? That sounds like a serious cough."
"I promise. It sounds bad, but the biggest threat to my health is that I can't open my mouth without somebody sticking a thermometer in it and I might swallow the damn thing. It's like being stalked by nurses and not in the way that Puck describes that dream of his." That got a giggle out of Mercedes but his throat was starting to hurt. "My voice is going. I love you, sweetie, and I'll talk to you soon." Color scheme down, now the only thing he needed to do was find copper and blue decorations. He dozed again, thinking about branches painted copper.