Warnings: None

A/N: We're not ignoring the requests. Next up in a Finn/Rachel story about getting hit by cars, because our fans are as blood-thirsty as we are. But this came to us after re-watching last year's Christmas episode.

Summary: Blaine didn't know that if he pressed the issue Kurt would walk out. He didn't know that his boyfriend would get pneumonia. He didn't know that, even in the 21st century, pneumonia could kill.

.***.

"Think of my lifelong sorrow if you got pneumonia and died." Baby It's Cold Outside

Kurt huffed, flipping the page in the magazine harder than necessary and making Blaine, who was honestly trying to read Henry V, look over at him. "Okay. What's up?"

"Every time you sing in Glee Finn pushes you around." Kurt said, sitting upright so Blaine could see for the first time that he was mad. "And you never stand up to him."

Blaine shrugged, smiling a little. He didn't know that this was an important conversation. He assumed it was one of those silly things that happened sometimes – an old irk coming back to you hours later, needing only small words to be smoothed over. "I want us to be friends. He's your step-brother."

"He's being a bully," Kurt spat, "And you should stand up for yourself."

Blaine, who'd been sitting at his desk, sighed, stood. "He doesn't want a cocky Junior stealing all of his solos his Senior year. I get it." He sat on the bed and took Kurt's hands. They were cold as ice, as the snow falling thick and fast outside. "I don't mind playing second fiddle. I didn't leave the Warblers to get more solos. I left them for you."

Usually this last line would have prompted at least a kiss (and, because of recent events, probably much more) but Kurt wasn't having it. "You're the one who told me to stand up to bullies."

"Finn isn't Karofsky," Blaine said, a little impatiently, "You know that. He's not a bad person. He's just scared."

"He shouldn't be taking it out on you." Kurt said, taking his hands back. "I don't know why you let him."

Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew what Kurt wanted from him, but he couldn't do it. Sure, Finn could be nicer, but he understood the guy like Kurt couldn't seem to. Finn had a good voice, but it would never be enough for him to make it. He would end up a small-town guy, probably taking over Kurt's dad's car shop. There was nothing wrong with that life, but Blaine didn't want to be the one to take away what could be his last year of being on top. "I…I just can't, Kurt. I don't want there to be friction between me and Finn. He's a part of your life now, forever. And I want to be too."

He was whipping out all his best lines, hoping it would be enough to calm Kurt down so he could finish his homework and they could sing together and watch a movie and laugh a little somewhere away from his father, who still looked stony and sad whenever Blaine walked into the room. But Kurt had other plans.

"If you're not going to take this seriously then I should just go." Kurt said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and looking pissed in a way that Blaine hadn't seen him since Rachel decided to run against him for class president. "I expected more from you."

"You can't leave," Blaine said, scrambling to his feet, "It's snowing! There's probably already a foot on the ground!" When Kurt still headed for the door, Blaine grabbed his arm, "At least let me drive you."

"I'll walk, thanks."

"Kurt, be reasonable. It's three miles and it's freezing."

"You don't understand!" Kurt said, rounding on him, "Last year you encouraged me to stand up to Karofsky, which succeeded in getting me chased out of McKinley. And now you won't even take your own advice? Did you ever believe what you were saying?"

"Kurt…" Blaine said, exasperated, "Come on, just let me drive you home."

"No!" And Kurt had tears in his eyes, staring at Blaine through lashes that had water clinging to them like dew on grass in the early morning, "You're just a coward, Blaine. You wouldn't stand up to the bullies and your old school and now you won't even do it here." He glared, and Blaine stumbled backwards, stunned by this blow, "I'm disappointed in you."

This time, when Kurt turned to leave, Blaine didn't even try to stop him.

.***.

School wasn't cancelled the next day, because it's Lima, Ohio and a foot of snow would be nothing later in the winter, when three or four feet can be dumped overnight. Blaine picked his way through the crowds, warily approaching Kurt's locker.

"Go away, Blaine," Kurt said, his voice stuffy and odd.

"You got a cold," Blaine said, feeling a sinking pit in his stomach. All the residual anger from what Kurt had said last night was replaced by guilt. If he'd been more forceful about giving his boyfriend a ride, they might have been able to talk everything through and they wouldn't be here right now, Kurt sick and angry, Blaine unable to anything about it. "You should be at home."

"Just leave me alone," Kurt said, then started coughing so violently he would have dropped his books if Blaine hadn't taken them out of his arms at the last minute. He could only watch, helpless, as Kurt doubled over in the hallway, holding his ribs as he coughed. And that cough! Deep and harsh, as if Kurt's lungs were ripping themselves from the inside.

"I'm taking you home," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt under the arm. He had a math test he absolutely couldn't miss, but that wasn't until sixth period. He would be back by then, and at least he could make sure Kurt was comfortable.

Kurt couldn't even protest. He allowed himself to be dragged away, and then sat in Blaine's car, looking so tired and miserable, and then coughing so violently, that Blaine felt his own heart start to break at the sight. "I'm sorry, Kurt," He said, because it felt appropriate. He could be the bigger man here, even if he thought Kurt should apologize for calling him a coward (wasn't he one, though? Wasn't Kurt twice the man he was?) "I'm not going to get in Finn's face, but I am sorry for letting it get to this."

Too tired to really move much, Kurt just shrugged, although the fire in his eyes suggested that if he had the energy he would give Blaine a piece of his mind, would pick up right where they left off. Whatever. Time would heal this rift, and when Kurt was healthy Blaine would tell him why he didn't think he should step on Finn's toes.

It was starting to snow again by the time Blaine pulled up the Hummel house, and he was sure that this time it would be enough to get them out of school until Thanksgiving. The forecast was calling for almost twenty inches on top of what was left from the night before.

Usually Blaine liked the snow, but when Kurt almost fell face-forward on a slippery patch he made a mental note to move to Florida when he grew up. "Where's your key, Kurt?"

The voice that answered him was so muffled Blaine almost couldn't hear the word "pocket."

He let Kurt lean on him as they walked inside, and since he didn't think the other boy would be able to do a staircase he dropped him on the couch in front of the television. And then Blaine did everything he vaguely remembered his mother doing for him when he was young and sick – a cup of tea, a pot of chicken soup, a blanket, the television tuned to all those soap operas, and by the time he was done Kurt was sleeping fitfully, his forehead and cheeks red against skin so pale he looked….he looked dead.

Blaine swallowed at the look of him, then glanced at his watch. No way could he miss this test, not when he was already making it up, but he would come back here right after. Before he left, though, he called the number posted near the phone and waited only two rings before the person he was looking for answered.

"Mr. Hummel? It's Blaine. I took Kurt home because he's sick, but I really have to go back to school for a couple hours. Can you check on him? You can? Thank you. No, really, it was no problem bringing him home. He'll be okay for now. He's sleeping. No, he's not that sick. Just a cold."

Just a cold.

Famous last words.

.***.

Blaine dropped by right after school (he hadn't been able to concentrate on his math test, might as well have skipped it. He just kept thinking of Kurt lying on the couch, hands cold as death, face so hot he'd actually flinched at the touch) to find the house empty except for Finn, who was standing in the living room, looking dumbstruck.

"What happened?" Blaine asked, that knot of dread tightening in his stomach. "Where's Kurt?"

"He was so hot, and he wouldn't open his eyes. I thought, you know, we should take his temperature, but then he started coughing so bad he turned blue." Finn looked at Blaine, confused, "I don't get it. It's just a cold."

It wasn't, though. It was pneumonia, a deadly strain. On a big, strong, twenty-year-old man, it would have knocked him flat for two weeks or more. On Kurt? Slight Kurt, who hadn't been eating well, not since the race for class President had kicked up, not since before West Side Story, with rehearsals for hours after school. On Kurt, the disease could go one of two ways: it could wreak havoc on his body, lay him out for a month, leave him thin and frail.

Or it could kill him.

.***.

It got bad fast.

Blaine sat with his hand entwined with Kurt's. Finn was next to him, pretending to read a sport magazine but jumping every time Kurt coughed. Burt had gone to help weather-proof the shop, and Carol had gone with him, in hopes that another pair of hands would help to speed the process along.

"This is all my fault," Blaine said, staring at the too-high number that was Kurt's temperature. It had risen since just an hour before, from 104.8 to 105.1. Dangerous territory. Around the temperature in which brain cells boiled, or at least that's what his biology teacher said. "I shouldn't have let him leave."

Finn, who'd heard this story the night before, sighed and put down the magazine. He'd been reading it for fifteen minutes and still didn't know which NFL teams were in line to go to the playoffs. "Dude, you couldn't have made him stay." He yawned, stretched, and looked at Kurt. A flash of compassion and fear raced across his face and Blaine felt himself loving him for that. Finn and Kurt may not be related by blood, but no one could say that these two weren't brothers. "What were you guys arguing about anyway?"

"Something stupid," Blaine said, cheeks reddening. "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. It didn't matter now, because Kurt might die. He might die tonight because of a cold. A cold! Wasn't this the twenty-first century? Didn't they have medicine to combat stuff like this? Dying of pneumonia, as a teenager, in America? That doesn't happen.

"We have the time," Finn said quietly, "I don't know about you, but I'm not going anywhere tonight."

Blaine glanced over at him. "We were talking about you." Finn raised an eyebrow, confused, and Blaine sighed. "Look, it wasn't a big deal. Kurt was just…well, you know how he's been about bullying recently…he was saying that if I don't, you know, tell you off in Glee when you get all over me about solos, then I'm letting you bully me." At Finn's stunned face, Blaine hastened on, "I don't think you are! That's why we argued."

"I don't…I mean, I know I get up in your grill sometimes…" Finn rubbed the back of his neck, "I mean, it's not because you're gay or anything. I'm not Karofsky."

"That's what I told him," Blaine said, rubbing Kurt's hand between his own. "But it just escalated." The monitor beeped and both Finn and Blaine held their breaths as the number went up another decimal point. Blaine felt blood pump in his ears, wavered on tenterhooks. But it was just him and Finn, and if he didn't talk the silence would consume both of them. And he so wanted to be friends with this boy… "He called me a coward."

"What?"

"I understand why." Blaine pushed back Kurt's damp hair, forcing himself not to flinch at the heat. "I urged him to confront Karofsky last year. You know what I did when I got jumped? I transferred schools."

"You got jumped?" Finn asked, aghast. "When?"

"Kurt never told you?" Finn shook his head no, and Blaine put his head on one hand. "It was right after I came out. I went to a dance with the only other gay kid in the school and three guys came up and just beat the crap out of us. Brad was braver than me, too. He's still in the same school system. Has a boyfriend now. We compare scars sometimes."

"Literal scars?" Finn asked, morbidly fascinated.

"Yeah." Something about the fact that his boyfriend was dying made Blaine lift up his shirt so you could see the faint white scars that littered his torso. Finn glanced at them, then looked quickly away, sickened. "I was really self-conscious about them for a long time. I wouldn't even let Kurt see me with my shirt off."

"I wouldn't do that." Finn said, feeling dizzy and sick. Is this what people thought of him? That he was capable of acts like this? Is this what Kurt thought, that he was a bully like Karofsky? Kurt, who was a brother to him, who was dying and taking a piece of Finn's heart with him... "Blaine, you have to believe me, I would never…not for any reason, least of all because you're gay. I don't care."

"Not many people actually do." Blaine smiled, just a twitch of the lips, and adjusted his shirt. "Don't worry, Finn. I believe you're one of the nice ones. I see how you are with that kid Rory." His voice got low and serious, and he held Finn's eyes for this last part. "You're a good brother."

"Then why is Kurt dying?" Finn asked, his voice cracking. And, as if his words had summoned it, the monitor started beeping, shrill, high, as Kurt's temperature fluctuated for the last time…

.***.

"Think of my lifelong sorrow…" Blaine sang softly, looking out the window. The bright day was taunting him, and the sun reflected off the snow. "If you got pneumonia and died." He choked, stopped singing.

"Shut up, Blaine." Kurt's voice was weak, and he coughed after the sentence, but at least he was still there. The doctors assured them that the worst was over. "You're not funny."

"It's a little bit funny."

"Did you know I was madly in love with you when we sang that song together last year?" His voice was the thinnest whisper, and Blaine went to sit on the bed again. Burt was there, asleep, a newspaper on his chest. Carol had cajoled Finn into going home for some actual rest.

"I had an inkling."

"Tease."

"Always." Blaine assured him, kissing Kurt's knuckles. In the three days since the illness started, Kurt had lost six pounds. Six pounds! His boyfriend looked so small, so frail, so breakable, and Blaine's breath caught in his throat at the thought of losing him.

"I really can't stay…" Kurt began, his voice thready and weak but still amazing, still Kurt, and Blaine thought they'd be okay.

"You know, tomorrow's Thanksgiving." Blaine said mildly, "My dad has to work, so I thought I'd crash yours."

"Because me not being able to sit up is going to make for a festive holiday."

"Well, since you're what I'm most thankful for this year, I thought it would be appropriate."

What could Kurt say to a line like that? The drugs were already luring him back to sleep, but he managed to raise his neck enough to meet Blaine's lips half-way. Because a little thing like pneumonia couldn't stop true love, not in a million years.

.***.

a morbid thanksgiving story, but one nonetheless. we are currently thousands of miles away from where we want to be for the holiday, but we sincerely hope all the rest of you are not. we wish all the best of the season for you all: may you be healthy and happy and with who you want to be with.

as always, drop us a line if you have a request/have a rant/have an opinion/want to say hey for the holiday.