I believe I blew my nose so many times that it rubbed off enough skin to make me look like Voldemort by now.

And my throat hurts so bad, ughhhhhhhhh! Sometimes I really, really hate spring.

Therefore, sick!Kurt.

Where can I buy a Blaine to take care of me as well?

Laryngitis

"Kurt?" whispered Burt as he slowly opened Kurt's bedroom door. He knew Kurt didn't like people randomly entering his bedroom, but it was fairly late and Burt was pretty sure he shouldn't let his kid be late for school. "It's really late-" when he spotted Kurt, lying face down on his bed, Burt knew something was wrong. "Kiddo?"

Kurt turned his head slowly, blinking at Burt. "What?" he murmured, voice scratchy. Then he grimaced, whispering, "Ow."

"You alright? It's really late, and you're usually downstairs by this time…"

"I feel like crap." Kurt shut his eyes tightly.

"Oh. Well, I think you better stay home from school today, huh?" Burt didn't really know how to handle these things. Great timing, too- just when Carole was on a business trip and couldn't help him.

Kurt sighed. "Don't worry about it, dad. Just go to work. I'll sleep it off."

"You want some water? Tylenol?" Burt was determined to prove he could help.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was asleep once again, and Burt called Blaine.

"Mr. Hummel, hi, what's going on?"

"Hi, Anderson. Listen. I need your help. Kurt's sick. Like, seriously sick. I can't stay home with him, and even if I could- I really don't know how to handle this. I gave him some Tylenol and he's asleep, but when he'll wake up, I need someone to take care of him."

Blaine's reply was instant. "Of course, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Burt sighed. It was good to know someone cared for his child- even if he trusted them to be alone just because of Kurt's state.

When Kurt woke, he was warmer than before. He snuggled into himself, sighed, and then winced at the pain in his throat.

"Hi, baby. How are you feeling?"

Blaine. The warmness was Blaine, he realized. Why was Blaine here? Did it matter? Blaine was here. He smiled, but soon found his lips were so dry that smiling cracked them and make them bleed.

Blaine handed him a tissue and he blushed, pressing it onto his lip. "Thanks," he tried to whisper, but no sound came out. His eyes widened in fear. "Thanks," he tried again. Nothing. Just pain in his throat and some sort of a silent hiss and barely resembled speaking. "Blaine!" he couldn't cry out. He crumpled the tissue and threw it away angrily, whining under his breath at the raw pain stinging him sharply.

Blaine's face was worried. He stroked some stray hairs from Kurt's forehead. "Kurt, sweetie?"

I can't speak, mouthed Kurt. Why can't I speak?!

"Oh, Kurt, I think you might've lost your voice."

Kurt's hands went up to his neck, as if protecting it. I didn't! I never lose my voice! This can't happen! Tears prickled his eyes. What if his voice would never come back? What if he'll have to give up singing for good? What if…

"Kurt," said Blaine in a calming voice, sensing the panic taking over Kurt. "Kurt. Relax. It's just a stupid laryngitis. It'll go away, I promise."

Kurt's cheeks were wet by now, and he was breathing heavily, terrified. What if it won't?

"It will. I swear. You just need to rest, both your body and your voice. Sleep. I'll be here when you wake." He wiped off Kurt's tears with a thumb.

Kurt drew in a deep breath, and settled back into Blaine's embrace.

"That's it. Sleep, darling."