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Five o’ clock in the evening, and Kurt arrives home from work, steps into their dark bedroom – and feels like he’s tripped head-first into an oven set to smother him with heat.
His lungs heave a sigh from him. He pouts at the sickly, bundled-up lump of his boyfriend in their bed.
Lifting the edge of the blanket gingerly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, “You’re still on fire, honey,” he winces, and rests his hand cautiously on the slope of Blaine’s waist. Blaine’s t-shirt is twisted here, exposing a strip of coffee-and-cream skin that is alarmingly clammy to the touch, still as sticky with salt as it had been when Blaine had coughed himself to tears the night before.
Wrapping Blaine in his arms and letting him sleep the sickness away is all that Kurt aches to do, but. It’s time that Blaine took more medicine, and Kurt also wants to coax Blaine into eating a little more homemade soup, give his tired body some nutritious fuel to fight the infection.
And if he’s being honest, he’s had a furnace of worry sitting tight behind his ribs all day, as he sat slumped over his desk, and all that he needs to soothe it is hearing Blaine’s voice.
Settling down with his head on the pillow, scooting close to Blaine’s side, he eases Blaine closer. The fever is thick even through the layers of blankets that he’s managed to cocoon himself in, and Kurt sighs, pushes damp curls gently away from Blaine’s forehead, and kisses his temple.
Hums, “Bla-aine,” and uses his thumb to softly stroke the bright, rose-red hue nestled along the apples of his cheeks. “Rise n’ shine. Wakey-wakey. It’s a new-… day.”
Blaine wrinkles up his nose, and sleeps on.
Kurt bites his lip, hides the grin. “I brought you a pity cronut...”
The wheeze of his chest falters; pauses, and his shoulder twitches, before he cracks open one eye suspiciously, just above his blanket, and peeks.
Croaky, like there’s chalk in his mouth instead of a tongue, “Cronuts?”
Kurt rolls his eyes, wraps an arm around him, fondness making his toes curl. “Cronuts,” he promises, the smile creeping across his face, like opening up a cage in his chest – he doesn’t try to hide it, and his heart gives a lovesick thump. He presses his hand to Blaine’s cheek, open palm so softly like an offering. When they were broken up, he tried – he tried, so desperately, to force the iron around his heart open, to let himself love another person as fiercely as his whole body loves Blaine, but it had never worked. Their arms never fit right around him, they didn’t press their ice-cold feet between his calves for warmth, they never woke him up pressing summer-warmed kisses to his sleepy skin.
He smiles, and his body sighs, letting the claws off of his heart and his love for Blaine nest snugly inside him.
“Sorry for waking you,” he whispers, quieter this time. Dips in closer, and nuzzles the tips of their noses together, kisses his damp skin. He pulls away only because the flames licking at Blaine’s veins are hot against his lips. “Are you really okay? We can- I can… Call a doctor?”
“No. No, thank you. Thanks.”
“…. Blaine-“
“S’okay,” he grunts. “M’alright,” and his fingers peel the blankets away from his face, weakly tugging them, until he’s free enough to flop onto his back and blink, drowsily, up at the ceiling.
A few moments later, Kurt’s fingers gentle in his curls, his head lolls sideways, and he says, tiny pinching smile on his lips, “An’ ‘least now… You can make good on your promise from this morning. Tea, an’ cuddles. Givin’ me your fluffy sweater to wear.”
Kurt’s shoulders jump with the laugh. He marvels at how beneath clammy, damp skin and coughing fits Blaine is still charming, still playing Kurt’s heartstrings like a gentle conductor – even as he scrunches his face adorably to fight off a sneeze.
… Or when he fails and sneezes anyway.
“Too tired to cover my mouth,” he croaks, groaning. “Not even sorry.”
Kurt casts a wry look at him, but he’s just teasing, and he props himself up on an elbow, shuffling closer, holding in the laugh as he nuzzles Blaine’s cheek. “You’re excused,” he says. “But only because you look so hopeless right now.”
Blaine hmm’s, tips his head closer to Kurt, and coughs – wet hacking sound from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Let’s get some medicine into you, okay?” Kurt whispers, smoothing his palm carefully over Blaine’s heart, feeling his body relax and unfurl once more beneath Kurt’s touch. Kurt soaks it in, lets it stir the butterflies trapped in his tummy.
“I’ll take care of you now, B.”