The Thickness of Blood
Rating: K+ (A bit of blood, and some completely unnecessary angst/pain so I could have myself some fluffy hurt-comfort and Hudson/Hummel family moments :P)
Summary: A household accident leads to some freaking out, some brotherly bonding, immediately followed by a little more freaking out, and then Hudson/Hummel family bonding.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, anything Glee related.
Note: I'm a horrible, horrible person, that has a mid-term tomorrow and this is what I chose to do instead of desperately cramming.
Spoiler Alert: Nope, none that I know of. All of first season? Other than that, I pretend that the Hudsons never moved out of Kurt and Burt's house, and that's all you need to know.
Warning: Fluff. Like, FLUFF in the corniest sense of the word. Sorry, I couldn't help myself :)
"Oh my GOD!" Finn practically shrieked. "Oh my God – I'm going to call 911, I'm going to –"
"Just, here, put pressure on it, and then –"
"Holy crap, please don't pass out on me –"
"Finn Hudson would you just shut up and listen to me!" Kurt shouted, blue eyes flashing.
Finn quieted but he still reached over, pushing a large hand onto the dishtowel covering the massive cut on Kurt's forearm, pressing down, wincing as Kurt hissed in pain. The counter, the sink and the floor in front of it, looked like the leftovers of a scene in a grotesque horror flick. Finn had never really had problems with blood and stuff, but this was extreme. His hands were stained, and so were Kurt's shirt and pants, and the boy was looking freaky pale.
"Finn, relax – we don't need an ambulance. I definitely need stitches." Kurt grimaced. "But if you can calm down enough to drive me to the hospital, it should be fine."
Finn swallowed. "Are you sure? 'Cause you don't look so good –"
"Well," Kurt looked pointedly at the carnage around them, "I'm fairly certain that while I'm not going to die, that amount of blood loss is rather . . . um . . . not good."
Kurt's inability to come up with the appropriate word for his injury set alarm bells off in Finn's head. He breathed in and out, in through his nose, out through his mouth, and tried to slow his heart down, stop the trembling in his hands so he could do what Kurt said.
But really, what the hell? How had this even happened? Finn rewound the past ten minutes in his head.
Mom and Burt were out at some office party at his mom's work, and so Kurt had taken over dinner duty. Kurt had been washing the dishes after they ate (it was only the two of them, so why bother with the dishwasher?). Finn had been joking around with him, splashing him with soapy water; Kurt retaliated by turning the spray nozzle on him, at which point Finn conceded and declared Kurt 'King of the Kitchen'. Kurt had been laughing, turning back to the sink, and picking up a huge butcher knife to wash and then . . .
Finn still couldn't picture it clearly in his mind, but somehow Kurt had slipped on the soaked tile floor, the knife had jerked and there was a clean, straight, massive slice in his arm that started just beneath the inside of his elbow, at least six, seven inches long and so much blood.
Kurt had cried out, grabbed at his arm, then pulled away when he got stinging soap into the large cut, and braced his hand against the counter, staining it with red hand prints as blood dripped into the sink. While Finn had stared in shock, reaching for him in slow motion, Kurt had slid to the floor, cradling his arm to his chest, biting his lip hard.
And then Finn had freaked out.
Which brought him back to the present, and Kurt was staring at him exasperatedly with half-closed eyes. "Finn – if you sit there long enough, I probably will bleed to death. Do you mind?"
Finn jerked to his feet. "Right, right! Okay. You keep hold of this." He slowly released the towel wrapped around Kurt's arm and Kurt replaced his hand, his face scrunching up in pain as he resumed putting pressure on his wound. Finn reached down to grab the elbow of Kurt's uninjured arm, pulling him up slowly and gently. Kurt immediately began swaying and Finn grabbed him around the shoulder, pulling him in close to his side.
"Dude, you know, if you can't walk, I can probably pick –"
"Try it and die."
Finn barked out a short laugh as Kurt shot him a glare that really wasn't . . . okay, yeah, it was still pretty intimidating. But the blood covering him kept Finn in the moment. He helped Kurt out to the hallway, barely stopping long enough to shove his feet into his sneakers – Kurt didn't even bother with shoes, and his eyes were fluttering and oh God, we have to leave right now.
Finn did end up sort of carrying Kurt to the SUV, pulling the front door of the house shut behind him, but not bothering to lock it.
"Oh damnit," Kurt moaned, eyes closed. "My baby – please Finn, try not to get blood on the upholstery. Please. I may actually have to kill you for that."
Finn's bloodied hands were already wrapped around the steering wheel, and there was a blood trail sneaking around Kurt's arm, dripping off his elbow; Finn ignored all of that, focusing in on the ghost like quality of Kurt's skin. Later, Kurt could bitch him out all he wanted about the wrecked leather seats – which, Finn could point out that Kurt was the one bleeding all over.
"Don't worry, Kurt, we're going to fix this." Finn threw the SUV into gear and peeled out of there as fast as he could while not getting them into an accident.
"Doctor! Somebody!" Finn was screaming, he knew it, but his stepbrother was almost unconscious and he was carrying him into the hospital. Kurt hadn't said a word as Finn swung him up into his arms when the other boy had barely made it two steps out of the SUV before stumbling.
A couple of nurses swarmed him as he staggered through the emergency room doors (oh wow, Kurt had grown this year – he was heavy), and a doctor came flying at him. "What happened?"
One of the nurses turned tail to shout down the busy hall for a gurney, and Finn managed to wheeze out an explanation, telling them about the slippery floor and the knife.
The doctor, an older woman with long dark hair and darker eyes, just nodded along as they laid Kurt out on the gurney and peeled off the now thoroughly blood-soaked dishtowel, examining the wound. Finn could see that it had mostly stopped bleeding, but, damn, it was still too much blood, even he knew that.
"Damnit, it hasn't nicked an artery but –" The doctor barked off something Finn totally didn't understand. Not even a little. The nurses did though, and they all peeled off and then Kurt was literally whisked away before Finn could ask what the hell was going to happen.
"Hey, hey, hun." A small black woman dressed in scrubs tugged on Finn's arm. "You weren't hurt too, were you?"
Finn blinked at her, then stared down at the smudges of blood all over his clothes. "No, no – just him. Just my stepbrother. Oh God, there was so much, I mean –"
"Listen, he's going to be just fine," she said soothingly. "But I need you to tell me his name and yours, and we need to contact your parents."
"Right, right." Finn was still staring down the hall Kurt had been wheeled through before he had disappeared around a corner.
"Hey up there, are you sure you're okay?" Her voice was sweet and really comforting but now he was staring at his red hands and . . . oh wow, suddenly all that chicken he'd downed for dinner, and the two helpings of mashed potatoes, and the three cans of diet coke, and that huge slice of chocolate cake . . . Kurt had shook his head, eating his chicken salad with raised eyebrows as Finn showed off how fast he could clear his plate, dinner and dessert.
Less then ten minutes.
He bent over and upchucked all over the nice nurse's shoes. He fell to his knees, dry heaving. She knelt down next to him, ignoring the vomit, rubbing his back. "Okay, okay, let's get you calmed down, and then you can tell me what I need to know. C'mon, up you get."
Finn let her lead him to a chair, sitting next to him and she kept rubbing soothing circles into his back. He was actually feeling better, but not all the way. Another person handed her a glass of water, and she passed it to him. He took a small sip.
"All right, I'm Diane – wanna tell me your name now, honey?"
Finn took a gulp this time before answering, "Finn Hudson, and that was Kurt Hummel." Finn had to take another sip of water as his voice cracked and disappeared after that statement. The nurse – Diane – just nodded, smiling, and she had a smile that made Finn think of his mom. It comforted him and he finally felt himself relaxing. Kurt was in the hospital. It was all going to be okay. It was just a cut. An accident. Accidents happened. His mom had always told him that when accidents happened, you just had to go with the flow, get things under control and then call – right, call. "Our parents . . . they were out and . . ." Finn slapped his hands down on his jeans' pocket, knowing perfectly well they were empty. "I don't have my cell on me, and I don't know their cell numbers off by heart, crap, I'm so sorry. Can I borrow a phone? Lemme at least try to call them at home and –"
"All right, hey, calm down Finn, let's not get too panicky now." She grabbed his free hand. "Take a few deep breaths, and then we'll see about calling your parents, okay? Breathe."
Finn nodded, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself for what had to be the third or fourth time that night. This sucked. He hated that he felt sorta responsible, even though he knew it was just a fluke thing. He hated that Kurt was totally going to have to get stitches, maybe stay at the hospital because of all the blood loss.
He opened his eyes, exhaling and nodding again. " 'Kay, I think I can stand up now. Uh, sorry about . . ." He gestured towards the vomit that was currently being mopped up by someone else in scrubs.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, honey, vomit isn't the worst I've seen. You barely register on my gross-o-metre, I promise. Let's call your family."
Finn stood up on slightly shaky legs, following her to the nurses' station, and accepting the phone when she handed it to him. He dialed his house number, finishing off his glass of water as it rang once and then – "Who is this? Finn? Kurt?" His mom sounded like she had just ran a thousand miles, and – crap. Finn remembered all the blood, all over the kitchen, and the knife lying on the counter. Also bloody.
"Mom? Mom, it's me, calm down." Finn bit his lip as he heard Burt demand to know what was going on. Then the phone clicked and Burt had picked up on the extension.
"What happened? Oh God, tell me." And if his mom had sounded winded and freaked out, Burt sounded a hundred times more scared, like he already expected the worst, and Finn really couldn't blame him for that. He and his mom had already had to deal with the worst life could throw at them.
"We're okay, mom, Burt. I swear. I mean, well, Kurt –"
"Kurt, what happened to Kurt?" Burt demanded. "Finn, God, all that blood . . . tell me –"
"It was an accident," Finn hurried on. "But it looks worse than it is. Kurt just slipped and accidentally sliced his arm open with the knife, but I got him here, and they're stitching him right up, right now –"
"St. Anne's, right?" Burt interrupted, still not calming down. "Emergency?"
"Yeah, and –"
"We'll be there in five minutes – don't move, Finn."
And they both hung up.
Finn stared at the receiver, turning to look at Diane, who hung it up for him, and handed him his glass, refilled with water. "C'mon, go on, sit down – they'll be here soon."
Finn sat down, and not even five minutes later, Burt and his mom were bursting into the emergency room, and he stood up, ready to meet them, to calm them down. But he'd forgotten about the state of his clothes, and Burt went about as pale Kurt had been, his mom's hand covering her mouth.
Finn glanced down, shaking his head as he looked back up. "No, no, relax, it's okay. They took Kurt away a while ago – it's just a really bad cut, I swear."
His mom reached him first, stretching her arms out and Finn fell into them gratefully. "Oh Finn – you have no idea. We came home, and the door was unlocked and it was so quiet and the kitchen . . ." Burt didn't say anything, but his hands tightened into fists, staring at the floor at the mention of the kitchen. Finn was now feeling guilty for not thinking of grabbing his phone – if he could have just called them right away they wouldn't have had to suffer like that at all.
Finn buried his face in mom's hair. "Yeah, sorry – I just, I had to get here fast, Kurt was bleeding pretty bad and I . . . sorry."
"Don't apologize, Finn," Burt said steadily, a bit of colour returning to his face. "You did good, you did real good. I can't thank you enough for it."
Finn shrugged, smiling sheepishly like he always did when Burt praised him – it meant a lot, coming from this man he'd come to respect a great deal. "Actually, I was freakin' out like a total girl. Kurt got me to calm down enough to drive him here and man, he's going to be so pissed – didn't want blood in the SUV but"– Finn shrugged again, helplessly – "it was kind of everywhere, so . . ." Finn looked towards Burt hopefully. "Do you think there's a way to get that cleaned off before he sees it?"
Burt chuckled, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Aw, Finn, Kurt's not gonna care about it – at least not right away. But I'll have a look later, see what the damage is."
The doctor that had taken Kurt away reappeared suddenly, taping Finn on the shoulder and Finn almost whacked his mom with his flailing limbs.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she apologized. "I take it you're Kurt Hummel's family."
Burt stepped forward. "He's my son – is he all right?"
"Oh yes, he's fine – the cut was a nasty one, and he did lose a dangerous amount of blood, but we have him stitched up and we're taking care of the blood loss, so you have nothing to worry about. In fact, he woke up just now, and you're all more than welcome to see him."
Finn almost collapsed in relief. Burt's shoulders sagged, his hand coming up to rub his eyes again. "Okay – thanks, doctor. When can we take him home?"
"Well, I'd like to keep him for a few more hours, if you don't mind – just to make sure he's stable enough. And I'll need you to monitor him for the next twenty-four hours or so, but later tonight, he's all yours."
Finn was already bouncing impatiently – he wanted to see Kurt, right now.
And then they were being lead to his room, and there he was, sitting up in bed, leaning against a ton of pillows, skin practically matching his white sheets, but there wasn't any blood, and he was smiling when they all walked in.
Finn walked over right away, grabbing Kurt in a hug, mindful of his arm. "Damn, Kurt. That was seriously freaky, dude. Never, ever do that again. Like, ever."
Kurt laughed, pushing Finn away. "Believe me, nearly eviscerating myself is not on my list of things to try again. And oh my God, my clothes. That shirt took me forever track down online and now –"
Burt choked out a laugh as he walked over to the other side of the bed, taking his turn to wrap Kurt up in his arms. "Kiddo, I'll buy you another one. Hell, I'll buy you a hundred."
"Careful, Burt." Finn watched as his mother wiped discretely at a couple of tears, but she was smiling. "Better double check on that shirt – you may end up needing to take a second mortgage out on the house."
Finn watched with a wide grin as Kurt indulged in a few more minutes of his father's embrace before disentangling himself, hand coming up to reflexively fix his hair. "I think just the one will do, dad . . . and a new pair of Armani jeans, since those are ruined too. Oh, and I think that the belt –"
"Right, shirt it is." Burt raised an eyebrow at his son. "I can see that you're all better."
Kurt huffed. "It wasn't that bad. Finn overreacted and –"
"Hey!" Finn protested. "It was a lot of blood, and you were getting all fainty and I've never had to deal with something that, like . . . freaky before." Well, except for the mailman, but he hadn't actually known that guy. "Seriously, give me some credit."
Kurt's smile wasn't teasing at all as he looked over at Finn. "You're right. Thank you, Finn. It was pretty cool how you got me here so quickly."
Finn shook his head. "You don't need to thank me, but uh, just don't tell Rachel how badly I freaked out, okay?"
Kurt laughed again. "I'll consider it. Can we go shopping to replace the clothes you are currently wearing? I promise to go easy on you. We'll limit ourselves to only three different stores – maybe four. Three hours tops – and we'll probably have to combine that with a new pair of shoes, and –"
Finn felt his eyes widening and Burt was shaking his head at him, mouthing something that looked like 'don't do it.' His mom was giggling as Kurt turned big, watery blue eyes on him, but Finn wasn't a total idiot – he could see the smirk Kurt was barely holding back.
"Uh . . ."
"And then I won't tell Rachel how you screamed in a register that even I found impressive, or how you –"
"Fine! Fine, you win," Finn groaned. "Damn, Kurt, you don't play fair."
Burt sighed. "Oh Finn, you're going to regret this, buddy."
Kurt shot him a glare from beneath messy bangs that he once again tried to fix. "Oh please, dad, you may be ruggedly manly in many ways, but you had just as much fun trying on suits as I did when we went shopping for Aunt Clara's wedding. I know when you're faking and you weren't that time. You were totally doing James Bond poses in the mirror."
"Burt? You like to shop?" His mom was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding one Kurt's hands and grinning at both Hummel men. "Oh, I'm definitely remembering this one – come my birthday, we're going to that mall Kurt took me to and –"
Burt made a pained sound in the back of his throat, and now he was the one glaring at his son, who was grinning back at Finn's mom, winking. "See what you've done now?"
"It's all right dad, you know we'll all love you just as much – you can come out of the shopping-closet," Kurt said, looking understanding and wise. Though once again, his smirk gave him away.
While Burt tried to deny everything Kurt was saying, and his mom joined in with Kurt in trying to get him to admit to being a closet shopaholic (which Finn was pretty sure wasn't true, and they all knew it, but it was fun watching Burt stuttering to defend himself), Finn collapsed into a chair next to Kurt's bed, taking in his family and wishing, like a sappy idiot, that he had a camera or something, to capture this moment. All the freaked-outness of earlier that night was gone – the nausea, the guilt – and he felt totally at peace with everything. It was awesome.
Kurt shot him a quick smile as Burt argued with his mom and Finn smiled back.
"Hey, why don't we have a Bond marathon tomorrow," Finn's mom suggested randomly. "Since Kurt needs to be monitored for the whole day."
Finn sat up, excited. "Totally! We need to do all of Sean Connery's movies and then –"
"Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig, please." Kurt looked pained. "Actually, Daniel Craig's were the only truly entertaining ones, but I'll suffer through the rest as a thank you to you, Finn, as long as we skip all the ones inbetween Connery and Brosnan."
Finn rolled his eyes, but kept right on smiling. "Yeah! And we can order pizza, and eat ice cream and cake and –"
"What, no Roger Moore?" his mom protested.
"Hey, Kurt has a point there." Burt crossed his arms. "I think Sean Connery is the only true Bond, no matter how good the new guy is, but I mean, seriously, Roger Moore?"
This time, Finn was in the middle of the argument, ganging up against his mom, because Sean Connery was totally badass as the original Bond, and Kurt just threw up his hands, saying that Daniel Craig was it for him, and really, how could Kurt deny that Indiana Jones' father was the only true 007?
By the time that really cool nurse Diane came in to tell them Kurt could go home, Finn couldn't believe how much time they had burned away debating movies and actors and holy crap, he was a total sap, but he was of the honest opinion that he had the coolest family ever, blood related or not – and when he teased Kurt about having to carry him into the hospital, and Kurt threatened him with death while their parents laughed and did nothing . . . Finn scooped up Kurt again while the boy shouted and swore, to the emergency room's staff amusement . . . Finn was pretty sure that even without a camera, he was going to remember all this perfectly months, even years, down the line.
Author's Note: Gah, I'm so going to fail my exam. *slams head on desk* I am such a horrible procrastinator. Now, I shall likely be up most of the night . . . or not, because if I don't sleep, I won't be able to concentrate . . . and we're back to my original statement: I'm so going to fail this exam. Gah.
Well, I hope you guys all liked this – maybe some good came out of my procrastinating? Comments and critiques always welcome. There may be many mistakes 'cause I literally hammered this out and then posted it. And I also have zero medical knowledge, so sorry for any mistakes/assumptions on that score.
Now, I'm going to go cram like no tomorrow. *sigh*