Hi, I'm C Coulter, your author for this fanfic.
Again, I apologize for the delay. I've been unwell. I have not been sleeping well lately, and I was unable to keep up the way I had before.
But truthfully, I would want to thank each and every reader of this fanfic. The Sectionals episode had over one hundred comments, and the fanfic itself has broken twenty-five thousand hits, so much more than I had ever expected. I am truly moved and grateful to all of you for your words of support.
I have a little something for those who are fond of my little OCs. In my new livejournal (cpcoulter), there are small facts and tidbits about the original characters, including their full names. I will be updating the livejournal site with information, some clarifications/replies and other small blurbs. I thank all of you.
I hope you do enjoy this episode.
(I do not own Glee.)
EDIT: I mentioned in the livejournal Caucus about my Celsius measurement, but I decided to edit it out here nevertheless since it seems to be pretty distracting. :) [Note: Based the Farenheit measurement on what temp doctors apparently start getting worried about.] )
Episode 8: Temperature
Like clockwork, Dwight opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock going on at six AM precisely. Groggy, he shot out a hand from under the covers, groped for the alarm clock and managed to feel its steel frame in his hand. He then proceeded to hurl the offending device into the same wall he had been throwing it at for the last year. There was already a convenient dent there.
Yawning, he got up, dark hair flopping upwards fluffily. He stretched and tried to flatten his hair down, he felt static electricity through it. He paused carefully, considering. It was cold like last circle of Hell in Windsor this morning, darker than usual too. And now the static in his hair.
While others may have deduced that it was a normal winter phenomena, Dwight Houston was far too experienced a hunter for that. He immediately pulled out a bagful of holy-water-dampened rock salt blessed with all the right incantations. He cast a narrow-eyed look of suspicious alertness throughout the room.
In a single bound, he sprang off the bed and launched into the air. He landed with both feet onto a salt-lined perimeter placed at the precise spot he always landed on, rolled, and raced into the bathroom, slamming it shut, inwardly praising himself for his excellence in avoiding the malignant specters yet again.
Gonna have to do better than that to capture Dwight Houston! he mentally crowed before leaping into the bath.
His roommate merely continued to sleep—used to this daily occurrence.
Later, Dwight was fully dressed in school uniform, still proud of himself. The hair couldn't be helped, it was still fluffed up. He jogged downstairs, carrying his school satchel and his black coat, ready to face the day's educational fray while remaining vigilant about every single sign of unusual spiritual activity within their ancient school.
He took pride in the fact that he woke earlier than most of Windsor, and that with this careful vigilance, he would be able to properly protect his Windsor brothers as the one defender against mortals and all of demonkind.
Yep…I am bad ass. Dwight flung open the door.
"What in…the hell…?" David and Wes hissed from the foyer, still in their sleepwear, hands under their arms and wearing slippers. They had just been roused by Dwight's unceasing yells for them to wake up and come downstairs, and while they were prepared to shake him down, they stared at what was outside their door.
Their exit out of Windsor was two-thirds blocked with solid snow. It was packed so tight that when Dwight had opened the door, it was just this wall of gray that faced them, with only a top sliver of free air.
"There is no way we are getting out of here with that!" Wes said, aghast.
"It's like this even in the back door!" Dwight howled, gesturing at the gray wall of ice. "And the first floor windows! What is going on here?"
"Why are you asking us?" David yawned, glowering at him irritably. "We just got up, man, I haven't even had my coffee yet. And it's freezing."
Reed came in, wearing a downy robe and slippers with his pajamas, still looking drowsy. "The fireplace in the common's all wet. We have to clear all that snow out the way or we can't light a fire!"
"Damn it…" Wes grumbled, glowering at all the ridiculous snow that was up to window level and worse in some spots. "This is just perfect. How are we supposed to get to class?"
"Hate to break it to you, boys…" said Evan, hanging over them from the mezzanine, "but we're not going anywhere. No one is."
"You all want to come take a look at this," his twin grinned.
The boys looked at each other and then went up to where Evan and Ethan were smiling much too happily for the situation. The identical ones were gesturing out one of the second floor windows that faced the rest of campus. They pushed the windows open—snow crumbling away as they did—and let the boys take a look. David and some other Windsor boys stuck their heads out the windows to see. David's jaw dropped in shock.
Dalton was almost completely sunk in snow. Windsor was barricaded by cold whiteness in all directions. The snow had to be at almost four feet deep all around them, with even more fat flakes drifting down from the sky. There was just cold everywhere with nearly no exception. The fountain at the front had frozen. And from where they were, they could see that Stuart house and the South and Main in the distance was in the same fix. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Hanover on the other end must be blocked up too.
"It's just a whole lot of white out there!" Wes yelled from the third floor window he was looking out from, holding a pair of binoculars. "There aren't even any paths! If we want to get out, we'll have to fight our way out of all this ice!"
"I'm not going out there!" Dwight almost screamed. "Are you insane? It's like the blizzard sequence in Balto!"
Reed came back in. "Our phone and power lines are underground so they're still working—but I just got a call from Howard. He says that all the boarding professors are also stuck inside the teachers' quarters, and the others couldn't even get close to campus."
"How did this happen?" Wes asked, still aghast.
"You guys didn't anger anything, did you?" Dwight asked suspiciously.
Evan and Ethan finally clomped heavily into the hall with great pride, wearing what was unmistakably full winter gear, down to a hat, gloves, snow goggles and boots. They each had snowboards tucked under one arm. They pulled up their goggles in unison and grinned as the boys stared at them.
Evan smirked. "According to the weather channel, boys, we are smack dab in the middle of what is an unprecedented level of snowfall in Ohio history."
"And that authorities everywhere are currently scrambling to provide aid those trapped by all this snow, and that they are tirelessly working to clear it all out," Ethan added with a smile.
"But they're not doing that much of a good job."
"They're trying, but it's definitely a snow day for us."
"Because they aren't going to get to Westerville properly until later this afternoon."
"Which means that we could be stranded with no rescue."
"Forced to survive on our wits!"
"And having to sit inside watching daytime soaps!"
"And canned food!"
"Seriously, we're basically screwed, though," said Evan.
Ethan nodded. "Like in Alive."
"Except without the eating each other part."
Dwight blanched, automatically clutching his talisman. "…I'm not very edible; I'm all skin and bones like my mother keeps telling me, just FYI."
Wes gave him a sideways glance of disbelief and then looked back to the twins. "So we slept through a blizzard, we're trapped indoors, and you want to go snowboarding?"
"We were thinking maybe trying it down the roof of the Observatory first. It's got a nice clean slope to it."
"You guys, I don't think we should be having this much fun," Reed said a little doubtfully, biting his nails again. "The professors—"
"—are locked in under four feet of snow," Ethan said patiently. "What's your point?"
"You could break your necks, maybe?" Reed said, hands to hips. "And, I don't know…die both an academic and literal death?"
"That's right!" said Evan, making his way to the balcony with his twin. "And I suggest we make the most of it while we have this opportunity!"
"Opportunity?" David raised an eyebrow in disbelief as he followed them.
"Oh you poor, prim Hatter…" Ethan smiled patronizingly, putting an arm over his shoulder as he gestured dramatically to the balcony and all the whiteness that was Dalton, sweeping his hand out like Mufasa at Pride Rock. "Look, David… Everything the light touches…" he paused, "…is…well, pretty messed up," he admitted.
"What?" David stared at him like he was crazy.
"He means," said Evan said, patting David's back heavily, "Let's get cracking—it's not going to last all day!"
With twin whoops, both of them hurled themselves off the balcony and landed with a heavy flop into the snow. The boys gasped and ran out to the balcony, looking down. "Hey! You guys! Are you all right?"
Uproarious laughter was coming from the snowbank below, both twins half buried in snow awkwardly, struggling to get up again. They were laughing too hard to be successful.
"This is great!" Ethan yelled from where he was struggling to get up. He waved wildly, sending snow flying. "Come on! Let's go, you guys!" Evan was pelting the boys on the other windows with snowballs.
Wes smirked at little and glanced sideways at David. David, still looking in disbelief at the twins, looked to him, then did a double take. Wes had a glove on, and he had a lot of snow scooped up in it. David gave him a warning look even as he edged away. "Don't even try it, man. Don't even—"
"Get back here, Wes!"
And Windsor house broke into bedlam as the boys came pounding down the dormitory in their snow gear, jumping out of windows and into the whiteness outside.
Kurt opened his door, rubbing his eyes, wondering what the riot was all about this time. Reed walked up to him with a long-suffering smile. Kurt blinked blearily, eyes swollen with sleep. "What's happening?"
Reed shrugged and smiled. "Snow day."
I'm Kurt. And this is Dalton Academy.
We made it through Sectionals in one piece, but we were going to have to do a lot better than that to beat Vocal Adrenaline for Regionals.
During Sectionals, I slapped Logan Wright in the face.
…and it kind of felt good, actually.
"So much for the "Fall" Music Festival," muttered Dwight grumpily, huddled by the fire in the common room, wrapped in a huge black comforter. He looked like a giant blob of black pudding. "Administration kind of overshot their estimation of "Fall". I don't know about you, but all that snow says "Winter" to me."
Reed just laughed, getting up from where he was poking at the logs. "Won't it make it easier then—if we sing Christmas carols for the festival instead?" He stood and brushed off wood chips from his pants, and then cringed. "Oh man…! Another splinter!" he sighed, holding his injured index finger, and headed back upstairs to find the first aid kit.
Kurt presently came into the common, wearing a white Chanel turtleneck that Reed had lent (or given) him. He was carrying a tray loaded with hot drinks and frowned at the group of boys in the common room, dripping in melting snow and huddled in covers.
"And what did we learn today?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at them.
"…not to go out when there's four feet of snow?" Evan asked helpfully, he and Ethan sharing the same comforter.
"How were we supposed to know that not more than fifteen minutes after we get out a second assault of snow will come falling?" Ethan grumbled. Kurt rolled his eyes and handed him a cup of something warm. "You were the ones who watched the weather channel and you didn't know?"
"Kind of stopped listening after "four feet of snow" and "snow day" and "stranded"."
"I'm sure," Kurt snorted. "It took me and Dwight half an hour to drag you all back in here before you all basically became candidates for cryogenesis. While the rest of the guys had good sense to stay near Windsor, oh no, you were more ambitious—you all had to go to Stuart house and throw snowballs at them."
"They threw back!" Wes protested, head sticking out of a bright blue comforter.
"You started it," Kurt said with finality. He held out a warm cup to him as well.
Wes peeked into it. "What's this?"
"Something I wanted to try. I saw a recipe on the internet."
Ethan was drinking his when his eyes suddenly went wide when he realized what it was. "Oh! Oh!" and then started drinking the whole thing down as though he were all but inhaling it. He grabbed Evan's cup and started drinking out of that as well. "Hey!" his twin protested.
Kurt gave them a slight smirk. Wes sipped his and blinked. "Oh…! Hey, is this—?"
"It's butterbeer!" Ethan yelled when he finally managed to grab the cup back from his brother and got a taste. "Kurt made butterbeer!"
Wes grabbed Kurt's hands, eyes wide and staring up at him. "Hey Kurt, I know I'm straight and you're gay, but if you and Blaine don't plan on getting a move on, can I marry you, please?"
Kurt, bright scarlet, swatted him lightly on the shoulder with the drink tray and got up. "Where is Blaine, anyway? I haven't seen him yet this morning."
"He must still be—" David never got to continue as Reed came hurtling down the stairs, all but throwing himself down them, slipping a few times as he did. He banged his shoulder as he rounded the banister end—he just winced and kept going—and skidded into the common room.
"Guys!" he breathed. "Come quick! Blaine's really hot!"
A terse pause.
Dwight gave him an incredulous, narrow-eyed stare. "I…think Kurt is well aware of that, though, Reed…"
Kurt smacked a pillow into Dwight's face, knocking the spiritualist over with a grunt, but he turned quickly to Reed. "What do you mean?"
"Seriously, he's burning up! Come on!" and he just turned and ran up the stairs. Kurt immediately followed after him, the rest of the boys shedding their comforters and running up the stairs.
"Blaine…?" Kurt asked as he sat at the edge of the bed, leaning over the Windsor prefect curled up under thick sheets. Blaine was shivering but he remained fitfully asleep. Kurt was a veteran at taking care of people by now—with only him and his dad, he was the one who had to look after his father whenever he got sick. And after dealing with his father's recent heart attack, a fever wasn't that much of a challenge anymore.
He touched Blaine's palms and his forehead, and then shook his head. "He's really burning up."
"What do we do?" asked Wes anxiously. He glanced outside—it was still falling heavily out. "I mean…we can't take him to the medical wing. There's just no way we can carry him out through all that snow."
"Don't we have any medicine here?" Kurt asked as he took a digital thermometer out of the first aid kit Reed handed to him. After a click, Kurt looked at it. He sighed deeply, concerned. "It's a really high fever. He's a little over a hundred and three."
The other Windsor boys looked aghast. Kurt kept his hand on Blaine's forehead and looked at Wes. "We need to bring down his fever. Whole lot of ice out there, Wes; could you get me some and put it in an ice pack?" Wes left without question.
"I'll go see if we have any medication in the kitchen," David said, leaving as well.
"What can we do?" asked the twins, hovering anxiously over them.
Reed sat up. "Oh—maybe I can—"
"No, not the comforters," Kurt immediately told him. "Remember last time. We're not trying to smother him here." Reed wilted somewhat, but remained looking worried.
Kurt leaned down over Blaine, checking how he was breathing. In all other aspects he would have never ever have dared to lean this close to him. He did seem to have some trouble breathing—"He sounds a little bit congested…" Kurt straightened up, for an instant wondering what to do, but when he turned back to the others, Reed was holding out a container of menthol rub out to him.
Kurt gave his current (and possibly soon to be expired) best friend a look between stunned and murderous, but Reed, with the minutest twitch of the corner of his lips, simply raised his eyebrows in askance.
Gingerly, Kurt took the container from him. The twins had these ridiculously knowing smiles on their faces, clearly enjoying what was going to happen next. Kurt glared malevolently at them, as though daring them to say anything, but they only also looked at him expectantly.
"Why don't the two of you leave and see if you can get a hold of the school nurse?" Kurt said tersely, red rising into his face. "Ask her what we should do?"
The two looked disappointed, but got up and did not contest. Reed smiled at them as they left, then turned back to Kurt, who was also looking at him pointedly. But Reed just smiled brightly. "No, I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, for the love of…" Kurt sighed deeply but just shook his head. "Fine."
He turned to Blaine, cogitating what he was about to do. Biting his lip, he carefully moved his hands towards Blaine's collar to start unbuttoning, but he froze and jerked his hands back when the boy on the bed moved. Reed had to cover his mouth to smother a laugh.
Kurt frowned at him and Reed looked apologetic while his eyes sparkled with interest. "You know what, fine…" Kurt finally said. He reached up and opened Blaine's shirt. If he did it fast enough, he wouldn't have to think about it. He rubbed some of the balm onto his hands and applied it in careful strokes over Blaine's chest and shoulders.
Reed had an attack of the giggles and had to leave the room. It was terrible, he knew, since Blaine was so sick, but seeing how awkward Kurt looked only made the situation more comical.
Now alone and unobserved, Kurt felt a great deal less awkward as he studied Blaine's contorted expression as he slept. Just as Kurt was about to finish, he stirred, hands reaching him carefully to carefully clasp the ones on his shoulders.
"…Kurt…?" he whispered hoarsely.
Awkward as it was, Kurt couldn't help but smile. He'd never seen Blaine look quite so vulnerable before. "Yeah, it's me… How do you feel…?"
"…like death warmed up."
Kurt smiled a bit more. "Well I can't blame you—you've got a terrible fever." He made to move his hands away, but Blaine held onto his wrists. Surprised, Kurt looked down at him. "…what?"
"…nothing." But he kept holding his hands, eyes closed.
Kurt flushed, turning his gaze away. After a while, Blaine seemed to breathe a little easier and let go. He smiled faintly at Kurt. "Sorry… That was kind of awkward, now that I think about it…"
"You're sick, I don't expect you to think rationally," Kurt gave him a smirk.
"Why are you still here…?" Blaine asked, confused as he glanced at the clock at his bedside. "What about class…?"
"It's a snow day," Kurt said matter-of-factly as he tucked the covers back around Blaine. "Literally. Campus is apparently four feet deep in snow. Even the professors can't get out."
Blaine turned away a moment to cough into his hand. It sounded terrible. "…have to make sure the twins don't go (cough) snowboarding…"
"They already did."
"…and not to let Reed near the fireplace…"
"Already did that too."
"…what about Wes and David throwing snow at Stuart?"
Kurt marveled at how well Blaine knew exactly what his friends would be doing on a snow day. But he shook his head. "You're way too late. Dwight and I had to pull them all back in here when the second wind hit."
"You're all right, though?" Blaine asked.
"Why are you talking? Why are you worried about me?" Kurt scolded, pushing him back down. "Blaine, you've got a hundred and three-degree fever, you can barely breathe, you're in the middle of the blizzard of the decade—you have to just lie down, all right?"
Blaine stared at him, eyes bloodshot. "…right." He leaned his head back onto the pillow. "You know…I didn't want you to see me like this."
"Too late for that too," said Kurt as Wes walked in to the room with the ice pack. He took it from him and put it on Blaine's head. He winced at the coldness but Kurt just shot him a look and he left it on his head.
"You look like crap, Blaine," said Wes, half joking and half serious.
"I'll take your word for it," Blaine grumbled. Kurt tucked the covers more snugly around him and watched as Blaine started to drift off to sleep again.
That was when David came in looking distressed. He carried some pills with him, but he shook his head as he handed them to Kurt. "That's all we've got. Aren't even the right ones, most of them. And…we kind of don't have much food left in the house. At least, nothing Blaine should be eating like that."
"How long did they say this storm was going to go?" Kurt asked, worried.
"Hours? But even if it stopped, there's still a whole lot of snow on the ground. How'd we get out?"
Evan peeked into the doorway. "Kurt. Come here a second."
With a glance at Blaine, Kurt rose and went to the twins outside. Ethan looked bothered and shifted uncomfortably when Kurt looked up at them. "We managed to get a hold of Ms. Summers. She's still in her house, but because of the storm, she can't come here. She sounded upset when we described to her how bad Blaine looked. She said that we have watch him carefully for the next few hours. If he doesn't get any better, she'll call for a medical helicopter to come get him."
"He won't get any better…" Kurt muttered. "We don't have enough medication—we don't even have that much food. Your housekeeping skills are hideous."
"We're aware," the twins sighed. "Pets don't live long, either."
"Luke's spider lived for a month, I think."
"Until Dwight's "familiar" swallowed it. And then the familiar died."
Ethan saw the look on Kurt's face and quickly ran back to the topic. "But we've got to try."
Kurt stood, considering for a moment. And then he looked up as he got a thought. "You told me when I first came here that you can open any door in this campus. …can you open the clinic? They'll have the things we need there."
"Kurt, you're talking about going out in that!" Evan pointed to the storm. "Even if we did have a key to open the door and the cabinets—which, we just might—you'll never get there right now. It'll have to wait until the storm dies down even a little."
"Look." Ethan put his hand on Kurt's shoulder when he saw how worried he was. "We don't like this any more than you do. But Blaine wouldn't want you to go running out there either."
"What about you two, then?"
"We can't snowboard across campus," Evan rolled his eyes. "This is Ohio, not Aspen. Kurt, I promise we will go once the storm lets up even a micron. Relax. Here, I'll even give you the key, if it makes you feel better." He put an unadorned silver key into Kurt's palm.
Relax. Right. Kurt just shook his head and turned back to the room. Maybe…he'll get a little better.
Blaine didn't get worse but he didn't get better, either.
While the boys tried to scrounge for food and cleaned up broken glass from the windows smashed in by snow and wind, Kurt was sitting with Blaine. It had been some hours since they found him. Blaine would fall asleep and wake, and neither time he looked relaxed. He only looked cold and ill. Kurt gave him his medication and that helped for a while, but it would only work if it was constant.
There was enough junk in the house to fuel the boys for the day, but the stock wouldn't help Blaine. All Kurt could temporarily give him was a couple of apples, which he could barely eat.
Kurt started to notice how important Blaine was in the house. The other boys kept passing by his door as though looking to ask him about things, but they would remember he was sick and would leave. Blaine was the Acting House Prefect, and they all naturally turned to him for things, but now that even he was sick, there was no one to tell them what to do. David had to take over, keeping them away from Blaine and trying to keep the house intact.
It had to be some form of Karma, he had told Kurt.
"You don't have to stay here, Kurt," Blaine had whispered later that day. "You might catch it too."
"I don't trust anyone around here with caring for someone ill," Kurt rolled his eyes. "They can barely even look after themselves as we speak."
But it wasn't when Blaine fell into a fitful sleep, clearly struggling with whatever was ravaging his body—hot and cold and skin red and tender—that Kurt felt he had to do something. Anything.
Blaine looked tired and ill, and he slept clutching onto Kurt's hand. His palms were scorching, and pain was evident in his expression even as he slept. Kurt held onto Blaine's hand leaned forward to it, taking a deep breath.
I can't watch this anymore. Kurt got up and stormed out the door.
"Kurt!" said David, spotting him in the corridor, putting on a jacket and heading to one of the windows on the second floor. "Hey, you're not going out there, are you?"
"I have to go get him medication!" said Kurt.
"The twins had already gone out to try and get some food from the South and Main. If you just wait a while, they'll get to the clinic! Kurt, you can't go out there."
"I'll be fine," Kurt snapped back.
"How are you even going to get in there?" David demanded.
"Twins gave me the key."
"I'm going with you."
"No, I said!" Kurt turned to him. "Look, you've got to take care of the others in the house and Blaine. I'll be back. I'm not that delicate." And with that, he opened the window and jumped out. His boots landed with a soft thump onto the snow. It was positively frigid. And Kurt, squinting through the wind, pulled down the earflaps of his hat a bit closer as he trudged towards the direction the clinic.
There was no longer much snow falling, but the wind was so strong that it was blowing all the flakes into his face, stinging. Each step he took sank his boots into the snow, and his feet were starting to get cold. He clutched his coat closed and moved as fast as he could across grounds.
He stopped. From the direction of Stuart, he saw Logan, running to him. He was wearing a thick fur coat and heavy duty snowboots. Kurt tensed now, not for the cold, but at the sight of him after what happened last time.
"Kurt, what are you doing out here?" Logan cried over the wind. "Get back inside!"
"I have to get to the clinic!" Kurt shot back. "Blaine's sick! He needs medication and we don't have any in the house!"
Logan looked at him for a moment, then said, "Come on! Come with me!"
"To Stuart! It's closer! Clinic wing's on the other side of campus, near Hanover! I'll just give you some of our supplies!"
Kurt was surprised, but didn't have any choice anymore. He nodded and followed Logan to Stuart. As he did, he called, "What happened to your eye?"
Logan didn't miss a beat. "It got hit by a fist! Nothing unusual!"
Kurt stared at him, wondering why he would have gotten into a fight in the first palace. Logan helped him up the way to Stuart, and stopped him at their entrance. "Stay here," he said. "They'll all get mad if they see you in there. I'll get the food and supplies." He ducked back into the house without letting Kurt get and word in edgewise.
Kurt shifted uneasily at all this. He had slapped Logan back at Sectionals, but here he was helping him. And he didn't even care that it was all for Blaine either. Maybe Kurt had acted too hastily? Had he been out of line when he slapped Logan? He couldn't be sure.
When Logan came out, he had a large package of medicine and some food. He gave it to Kurt, who looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?"
Logan gave him an odd look as though wondering why he had to ask. "I'm the Stuart House Prefect. I'm supposed to be helping you."
On the way back, Logan had brought out another coat, and they both used it as a shield to push through the snow and the wind. It was a long, cold walk, and not even standing near Logan could alleviate it.
By the time they got back to Windsor, Kurt's teeth were chattering. Logan made sure that Kurt was able to get up to the window safely, boosting him up with his height. As Kurt climbed back into the house, he turned back to Logan, who just nodded to him, standing there longer than absolutely necessary, and left to make the trek all the way back to Stuart.
Kurt felt that guilty twinge again. Logan had helped him with no prompting, without a word. He didn't know what to make of it. He took off his sopping boots and his cold, wet things before picking up the brown package and heading into Blaine's room. The twins were there, checking his temperature. "Hey Kurt," said Evan with a small smile. "We got the food and…medication…" he saw the package in Kurt's hand. "Where did you get those?"
"From…Logan," Kurt answered truthfully. "I tried to go to the clinic wing, but he saw me…gave me this instead."
The twins looked at each other, but said nothing. They just nodded. "Blaine's been talking in his sleep," said Evan. "He's looking for you, Kurt."
They didn't imply anything with their tone either. They simply left. Kurt sat down next to the bed again and checked Blaine's temperature. It was a little lower than before. With a deep sigh, Kurt got the medicine ready and took Blaine's hand. He hoped he would get better.
Blaine stirred. When he looked up, he saw Kurt asleep on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. He smiled. On the dresser table was a small medicine cup with some tablets, and the cup itself was labeled with a post-it: Drink Me!
Blaine smiled at that, and dutifully took his medication. He held onto Kurt's hand and watched him continue to sleep, his serene face never once implying what he dreamed of, or if he was dreaming at all. He wished he knew who Kurt dreams of.
Gently, Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt's frozen fingertips, breathing gently onto them to warm and thaw them. He smiled down at him.
He was starting to feel better already.
On the next episode: The Warblers start to prepare for the Winter Festival. The Warblers are set to perform in front of the school and the alumni for the festival and the battle for positions resume. However, this time Kurt has to duel for the position of second soloist.