Right, after two slightly different Chapters but ones I REALLY wanted to include... this one will HOPEFULLY make you "awww" like you've all been telling me about. Honestly, to read that this story makes you smile really makes the whole thing worth it :D
I posted two quite quickly as it may be a day and a bit before I can get another up ... will see how busy I am! Promise I will try.
Thank you AS ALWAYS for the LOVELY feedback. I sincerely hope you enjoy this instalment...Again my shameless adoration for curly hair creeps in. I know I said I try not to be self indulgent but I could barely help myself here! I could have written this forever...*sigh*
Blaine was sure he was dying. His head felt stuffed full of sawdust, his lips were sore, temples were throbbing, throat felt razor cut and every single joint and muscle ached like nobody's business. He hadn't troubled anyone with his woes but had simply made himself scarce after the 'for fun' Warbler's practice the previous night. It was Thursday and the weekend meant Christmas break so Blaine's singular aim was to remain under the radar, hide out and cure himself before appearing for goodbyes on Saturday. He sighed, hefting himself onto his side and heavily flopping his tired head into the downy pillows for the hundredth time.
-.-.-.-.
Kurt was having withdrawl symptoms. It was pathetic and he recognised that fact but it was as if there was something missing, a giant gaping Blaine sized hole in his day that made it a little less brighter, a little less warmer and a lot less swoon-worthy.
"Kurt, how goes your day?" David asked, setting his tray down as he sidled into the bench for lunch. Kurt was already half way through his rye cracker and cream cheese pack up. David had opted for the Mexican chilli bake that looked as if it'd been cooked in grease, seasoned with a pinch of grease and served on a bed of grease with a side order of, well, grease. He couldn't physically stop himself from contorting his face in disgust.
"Erm, it's ok thanks. Classes are winding down now. Peterson cancelled this afternoon's class which is great because the empty stool next to me was beginning to look like a very attractive weapon to be aimed directly at his head." Kurt was crabby.
"I hear ya, Kurt, I hear ya. I'm still struggling with Philosophy homework. I mean life's just such a huge topic and I've realised just how insignificant we all are and how small I feel. I mean, it's so much bigger than us, than everything and yet it's so fragile and random."
Kurt had stopped listening from 'struggling' and had continued musing upon his thoughts until Wes slammed down his tray dramatically and smiled stupidly at them both. "What up you two?"
Kurt smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Just lunch." He wanted to ask about Blaine, he really did but something stopped him. Would he look too obvious?
"Anyone know where my main man Blaine's disappeared to? Haven't seen him at all today? Don't say Thomas has kept him prisoner since yesterday afternoon?"
Kurt all but choked on his cracker. He coughed, smoothing down his jacket and then continued eating, his heart sinking.
"Think he's a little under the weather. Saw him yesterday coming home covered in snow. I honestly began to think he was dying until he assured me, and I quote, 'David I am fine. Please tell Wes I am fine. Tell anyone I am fine. Don't come looking for me. I'm fine.'"
Wes frowned. "So he's fine then?"
Kurt would have laughed if it wasn't for a hundred thoughts flooding his brain. He hadn't mentioned Kurt's name so did that mean that Blaine didn't mind Kurt visiting him or had he simply forgotten about Kurt? There it was again and he knew it- the confusion and mangling of his brain. He sighed, wishing he could just stop being such a drama queen, and excused himself.
Before he knew it his feet were walking of their own accord. He had to just see him, to make sure he was ok and to just talk to him, to look at him and to sit close to him. It felt like years since he'd heard Blaine's laugh or seen his smile and it just wasn't good enough. He wanted Blaine. Simple as that.
He reached the door, his heart pounding, and tentatively twisted the handle edging it forward ever so slightly. The room was dusky due to a half pulled curtain and freezing cold, the window had fallen open and the icy breeze was almost painful. Kurt gasped as he turned to Blaine's bed to see a mass of curls peeking out from under the duvet. It was like a boulder hit him square in his stomach. Blaine was composed, collected and utterly in control – usually. Kurt acted in automaton, closing the window, pulling the curtain a little to shed some light on the mess that was apparent in the room. He could see where Blaine had discarded his clothes from the day before, his skin turning pink just at the sight of them. He was going to clean and tidy but the thought of folding Blaine's shirt and trousers seemed too domestic for his heart to handle.
He began by stacking up the collection of mugs that were scattered haphazardly around the room followed by a mass clear out of any rubbish, all the while Blaine didn't stir. Kurt knew he was sick from the state of the room. Blaine was neat, not pristine and clinical neat, but very tidy and orderly even still. Kurt piled the tossed books in a pile noting that Blaine had been perusing his song books as their pages were wrinkled. He turned to the night stand and flicked the mountain of tissues into a bag, not even bothering to feel gross. If Kurt was good at anything, he was good at taking care of people. He'd had expert training in the shape of one Burt Hummel and was entirely practised in the art of soup making, atmosphere setting and flannel pressing, although the latter was not to be considered in Blaine's case – not if Kurt wished to refrain from heart attack.
Once the room was tidy once more, Kurt found the heater and turned the dial to maximum immediately, warming his own hands in turn. He kept his eyes on Blaine constantly, worrying that he'd be caught any second. As Kurt was returning from his own room carrying two extra sheepskin blankets to cover Blaine's Egyptian cotton throws, he heard a muffled yawn as Blaine's arm escaped from under the covers, exposing his head. He rubbed his eyes and groaned unhappily before attempting to blink awake. Kurt was frozen to the spot.
"Kurt?"
He couldn't move. As he turned slowly and steadily, letting his eyes fall onto Blaine's, he smiled, panicked. "Hi."
Blaine's eyes widened as they took in the room. He pulled himself up in bed a little and ran a hand seemingly self consciously through his hair. "Did you do all of this?"
Kurt realised he was carrying a stack of blankets and could hardly lie, plus the croaking of Blaine's voice made him ache to wrap him up and take care of him even more.
"That would be a yes," Kurt replied with a coy smile, "I um, hadn't seen you for a few days and David mentioned something about you being ill so... that brings us up to speed."
Blaine smiled. He'd simply crawled under the covers without the ability to think of anything but sleep. He found it a little difficult to breathe and it wasn't from his illness.
"Thank you."
Kurt rocked on his heels. "It's ok. I like taking care of people. I've had plenty of practice."
Blaine chuckled, suddenly feeling exposed and embarrassingly vulnerable. "I'm sorry you have to see me in this state, it's not the nicest image."
Kurt physically restrained himself from a noise of protest. He could barely believe what he was hearing as he placed the blankets down on Blaine's computer chair and draped them one by one over the bottom of the bed. Blaine simply watched Kurt preen the room, taking extra care over everything. He felt instantly better, warmer and cared for.
"For your information, you look fine. A little pale but fine. I wish I looked like you when I'm ill. I resemble Frankenstein's monster."
Blaine laughed, reaching for another tissue. "I don't believe that for a second. You're too fabulous to look anything less than on form. You could rock a bin bag and still look flawless."
Kurt knew he'd turned the colour of the paint box red comforter he'd just spread out. He had to say something to break the tension for himself. "Oh stop, you're making me blush," he replied without even thinking. Maybe self deprication would work.
"I can see," Blaine replied with a wink. That was it. Kurt sighed and smiled, feeling instantly more relaxed and at ease.
"So, are you going to run out of here and avoid catching my disease?" Blaine asked, his eyes a little desperate.
Kurt saw it, a tiny flicker of hope flash on the other boy's face. It was all he could do to remain composed. Blaine's bed looked positively inviting and he wanted nothing more in the whole world than to curl up beside him and care for him and...
"Kurt?"
Blaine watched as Kurt's cheeks blushed again, their usually pale pallor now an delectable shade of crimson. He felt his skin tingle with anticipation and amusement and a million other lovely feelings. Kurt was in his room, being honourable and adorable and actually going out of his way to take care of him.
"Oh I wouldn't dream of leaving you on your death bed. I'd feel terribly regretful if something happened to you." Kurt could hear his own words and wondered where in hell they'd come from. Clearly his brain was his best friend.
He watched as Blaine smiled huge and beaming. "You're so kind Sir. However will I repay you?"
Kurt's tummy fluttered with butterflies. He was sure this was shameless flirting but it felt so incredibly amazing that the nerves dissolved away entirely. Blaine was kind and gentle – what was there to be afraid of?
"Well, you could maybe do as I say so you get better..."
"That I can do," Blaine replied with an obedient nod.
"...and you can let me choose a movie?" Kurt smiled, his shoulders swaying a little. He felt pride at his ability to be a little bolder.
Blaine smirked flirtatiously, as much as he could muster in his poorly state, and pointed to his cabinet. "Be my guest."
After ten minutes of tossing movies to one side and arguing playfully over each other's taste, Kurt had decided upon The Philadelphia Story.
"James Stewart. Enough said," was his justification and as Blaine nodded in agreement, he was sure he was onto a winner.
Kurt slid the DVD into the slot and watched as the screen flickered to the menu. Now came the awkward moment of where to sit which always posed a problem. Never wishing to seem too forward and following his heart, he didn't feel able to crawl onto the bed and snuggle beside Blaine and not wanting to seem cold and impartial, he decided against the computer chair.
"Kurt, I can actually see the cogs turning inside your head. You're watching the movie on here," Blaine commanded, patting the bed beside him, causing Kurt to blink back in shock.
He smiled and began to climb up the bed to a rather demure and safe positon. Blaine was still all but lying down, his head propped up on a pillow and his Dalton rugby t-shirt peeking out from under the covers. Kurt's mind wandered to images of shorts and mud but was unkindly snapped to reality by the opening title track.
"So," Blaine began, scooting a little higher, "how have your few days been?"
Kurt dropped his gaze, realising how close he actually was to the other boy. "Ok I think. I got all of my work wrapped up and Wes taught me how to play Halo which was actually kind of fun. David schooled me on the meaning of life, I made Pavi a glittered perch and I spent a few hours on Skype with a few of my friends from McKinley. We've arranged to meet up over the Christmas break."
Blaine shuffled a little closer. Kurt felt every millimetre. "Sounds eventful."
"Thrilling," Kurt deadpanned, causing Blaine to laugh and nuzzle his head into the pillow. Kurt noticed the cat-like way he moved, clearly induced by illness and the need to be looked after. It was potentially the most adorable and heart achingly endearing thing he'd ever witnessed. Kurt still didn't move, unable to work out the logistics of it and the meaning it would convey so he remained still. The only problem being was Blaine's inability to remain still himself.
The movie progressed and Kurt found himself talking mostly about home and how Carole had told him about their plans for Christmas. Blaine had talked about Sylvie and given Kurt the full introduction to her. Kurt had decided that she sounded exactly the kind of person he wanted to meet.
As the wedding on screen neared, Kurt glanced down to see Blaine's eyes fall closed. He smiled, itching to reach out and touch. His hair was so much looser and softer and curlier. It was the curls that killed him, the way they screamed to be touched and played with. Before he knew what he was doing or saying, he felt his voice box and lips betray him.
"I love your hair," he whispered. His mind swore violently at him, cursing him repeatedly for the most moronic outburst of his life in potentially one of the most crucial relationships to date.
He watched nervously as Blaine opened his eyes, peeking up at Kurt. His face was non descript until a gentle and gradual smile appeared. "I always felt a little self conscious about it."
Kurt's heart sang. His brain bowed down in genius at the best way to break the ice and push the situation into a slightly more personal territory. This was baby step stuff but it was exactly what Kurt needed and felt desperate for.
"It's always the same isn't it? You have straight hair and you wish for curls and vice versa."
"I guess," Blaine murmured, "but this isn't just wavy, this is seriously curly. Why do you think I have to keep it under control here? Masters would have it shaved off in seconds and I just haven't got the ability to pull off a shaved head. No way."
Kurt actually giggled. It was fun feeling as if he could say anything. They were so close and he was more intimate than he'd ever been with another guy. His stomach clenched and soared simultaneously.
"It looks nice without any product."
Kurt was sure Blaine had shuffled a little closer.
"That's very kind of you. My hair appreciates the compliments," Blaine teased with a smirk. Still low down on the pillow, he glanced up at Kurt, their eyes connecting for longer than normal. Kurt felt himself tense in the nicest possible way, his heart beating in his fingertips again.
He had to just say something. "How are you feeling?"
If Blaine was honest, he'd have replied with either 'perfect', 'content', 'blissfully happy' or 'smitten' but none seemed appropriate- not yet. Instead he recognised his illness and felt how much it was creeping up on him. Teamed with the medication, the now warmer room and Kurt's presence, Blaine was sure he'd never been more comfortable and able to drift easier into sleep.
"Sleepy," Blaine replied, "but a lot better thanks to you."
Kurt nodded happily, seeming to congratulate himself on another successful effort. "You can sleep you know? I don't want to be a burden."
Blaine flinched. "Wow. Never use that word to describe yourself ever again. Ok? New rule."
A momentary flash of regret crossed Kurt's face as they fell silent. "I don't know why I said that."
Blaine nodded, reassuring Kurt with a small nudge. "Don't worry about it. It's never ever going to be true so just never think it again."
Nothing could have stopped Kurt in that moment from doing what he did. It was like a knee jerk reaction in thanks and gratitude for Blaine making him feel wanted and relevant and appreciated. He watched as Blaine's eyes closed again, his eyelids so heavy that it seemed impossible for them to resist. Kurt moved his right hand and let it hover on the pillow, his whole body so alert and on the verge of panic but he refused to let it rule him as usual. He could do this. He could be affectionate. He could just act and stop thinking about the circumstances. He could be intimate with another boy and above all, he could show just a little bit of the way he was feeling.
After peeking to see if Blaine's eyes were closed still, Kurt gently and ever so lightly brushed the hair from his forehead and didn't stop. He let his fingers play with the fluffy curls and toyed his fingers through them. He knew Blaine was awake as he felt his slight reaction to the touch but he wasn't moving and certainly wasn't recoiling in horror. Kurt felt his own eyes close and a giddy smile cross his lips. It was so small a gesture that he almost felt himself laugh at the ludicrous way he wanted to sing and dance and then pounce on Blaine and smother him with kisses. He thought of Thomas in that second and even considered stopping and making his excuses but Blaine wasn't resisting and he certainly wasn't objecting to Kurt on his bed.
As Kurt began to thread his fingers more and pet the side of Blaine's hair tenderly, he felt the other boy shift. His head lept in his chest thinking that this was the moment he'd be told to stop but Blaine simply tipped his head closer, his body following, and curved his arm, then his chest then his hips and legs to mould with Kurt.
Kurt didn't even know if it'd be considered insanity if he cried. He stopped himself, swallowing thickly, then sighed so happily he knew Blaine had heard it. He didn't let his fingers cease their soft combing of Blaine's hair and didn't shuffle away from the slight embrace, instead he edged closer nervously watching Blaine's face. He could feel the other boy's warmth through the thick blankets and found his own eyes sliding closed of their own accord. It was growing dusky and nothing in the world felt more natural.
-.-.-.-.
Blaine was ready to purr. He wondered how he hadn't sighed or made any little noise of satisfaction. He was ready to curl himself around Kurt and wrap himself up completely. He smelled of an odd kind of newness and a fresh vanilla scent that seemed so inherently Kurt. It was intoxicating and delicious and so soothing. The fact that his entire body was shivering pleasantly as Kurt let his fingers brush delicately through his hair, lingering slightly... it was all a little much. He didn't know what else to do or if he should say anything but he simply couldn't shake the realisation that he'd never quite felt this way before. It wasn't lust or a mild fancy, it was something deep and profoundly meaningful. He knew this was huge for Kurt and could sense his nerves through his simple touch. He was not going to make any sudden movements or open eyes his, primarily because it felt too damn nice but mainly because he knew how he'd first felt when he'd been able to go within a metre of another guy.
As he nuzzled closer to Kurt he felt the other boy respond easily and smoothly. It felt right. Nothing was rushed. Maybe the glacial pace was perfect and maybe it was working for both of them exactly was they wished and hoped. It took only seconds before both were asleep.