Hey guys,

here is the new chapter which was actually written ages ago. It was like the third or so chapter I've written, but it's my personal favourite because Blaine is just plain adorable when he is sick and Harry is nice and gentle, something almost shocking coming from him *snicker*

Once again thanks for the adds and the reviews not to mention hits. You rock!

Ep13 – It's just a little cold

Blaine's body was racked by another fit of coughs, his eyes watered and he firmly believed he was going to die. An entire mountain of tissues lay next to his bed, covering the floor and threatening to fall over, flooding the only free space in the room next to his desk too. The curtains were shut, because the light hurt Blaine's bleary eyes, yet not even the semidarkness helped, because, frankly he was too weak to even care.

His cell rang, for the umpteenth time that morning, and without question he knew it was his gram, who turned into a smothering mother-hen whenever Blaine was sick even though usually she was the most laid-back seventy-year-old lady in the world. But the phone was out of his reach, and Blaine didn't have the energy to raise his heavy arm or even his throbbing head; maybe he had a fever after all...

Damn snow ball fights and moronic Warblers who thought that bury someone into snow was the definition of fun.

The phone became silent and he moaned in pitiful appreciation, thanking every deity or whatever the little mercy they showed him by ending the call and his misery for at least a half an hour. At least he didn't have a shooting or practice this week, the upsides of being a recruiting guest star, but he still had to cancel all the talk show and gig invitations he had which sucked. Blaine hated disappointing his fans, no matter how surreal the whole "being famous and having fans" ordeal seemed to him.

I am in misery

There ain't nobody

Who can comfort me

"Ugh... not this again," he mumbled incoherently, burying his head deeper into his pillow, wishing he had turned his phone silent.

Then out of nowhere the music disappeared and Blaine heaved a relieved sigh, before coughing in a disturbingly clammy way. His brain was floating amongst puffy clouds, making everything seem foggy and blurry, perhaps this was the reason why his mind didn't register the cool hand pressed to his forehead at first.

"...aine... Blaine." Somebody was calling his name, or so he thought, but it should have been impossible...

"Gram?" he slurred, attempting to open his eyes. "'Mkay... gram, y' can g' home."

"... not your gram." Not gram? Impossible. His gram was the only one who talked or touched him so gently.

"Gram..." The hand disappeared and a panicky, hoarse whine left Blaine's mouth.

"Shh... be back... fever." Fever, right. He had a fever. "... sleep." Hmm... maybe he should.

The next time he heard the chorus of Misery, he actually felt more aware of his surroundings, but not that much better. His lids were as heavy as his other limbs, yet his eyebrows furrowed instinctually, when he heard the music end abruptly, then a soft, somehow familiar husky voice said, "Hello, Mrs. Anderson. No, Blaine is in bed, I'm a friend of his. Yes, I'm taking good care of him, you don't have to worry. No, he's sleeping. Yes, of course. I know how to cook. Yes. Yes. No. Of course. It was my pleasure."

Friend? What friend? He hadn't given a spare key to any of his fellow Warblers, not even Kurt, not that this mysterious person could have been Kurt with such a velvety voice. Not that Kurt's voice wasn't good, honestly, he had the most amazing voice, Blaine had ever heard, but this one was just... enthralling. And Blaine's head really needed a brain transplantation.

Because, what if this unknown guy was a robber or some kind of crazy stalker some of the film stars had? Of course Blaine wasn't all that famous, considering he only started filming mere months ago, but still. Insane people were everywhere!

Long fingers brushed his sweat soaked, curly locks from his forehead. "Your fever finally broke, that's good." Now, that voice was just extremely familiar.

Blaine managed to open his eyes to slits and opened his chapped lips to do what he wasn't sure, but the only thing that left his mouth was a raspy groan, which caused the blurry figure next to him to chuckle.

"You look so vulnerable and weak, as if you had some kind of deathly disease instead of just a little cold," the blurry person commented, massaging Blaine's scalp, a divine feeling in itself.

"W-who..." Blaine croaked out.

There was a moment of silence, he felt as all of his aching muscles tensed up in anticipation, before it was broken by the mystery guy's mumbling, "Oh yeah, blind like a bat without glasses or contacts." And even Blaine with his currently fogged up head knew that he wasn't really supposed to hear this. "I'm Harry, Blaine."

Harry.

Oh. That explained the funny feeling in his stomach upon hearing that voice. He tried to focus on the hazy face, but could only recognize the mop of black and the glowing green spots, that was supposed to be Harry's hair and eyes.

"How...?" The scratchy thing that tore from his throat was one of the most pathetic things Blaine had ever heard. Why couldn't he ever be composed and cool when he met Harry? Just once? So maybe the man would consider thinking of him more than a simple charity-case-like friend?

"I asked your landlord for the spare keys when you didn't open the door despite my disturbingly loud knocking and constant calling your cell." So it wasn't his gram, after all. "But I have to tell you, you are a nightmare when it comes to sickness. All limp and delirious, which made giving you the medicines a right pain."

"Thanks," Blaine coughed out and those fingers caressed his cheeks in return, something that made him want to see the other even more.

"No need to thank me. You are my friend and as such very important to me."

Friend, right. Why did that word hurt more than it should have, when Blaine perfectly knew they were only friends and would be nothing more?