Started: 4/4/11 3:54 a.m.
Finished: 4/14/11 10:56 p.m.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or its respective characters.
Blaine started feeling weird on his drive to Wes's house. His head felt heavy and there was a peculiar ache in his stomach. He adjusted his seatbelt, hoping that it just might have been on too tight. The ache only intensified and his face started to sweat. He debated turning around and sending a text saying that he couldn't make it to the meeting.
Ever since the Gap Attack the Warblers had really warmed to the idea of informal setting performances. But the competition season was over so the Warblers were no longer allowed use of the Commons room. They had to hold practice on Saturdays at Wes's house. And because they were still technically 'rehearsals' the boys decided to maintain the Dalton dress code. Even Kurt promised to wear his uniform.
As Blaine loosened his tie he deeply wished that the council would have just agreed to casual clothes. His current discomfort was only exacerbated by the stiff uniform. He shook his head. It was the first meeting after their loss at Regionals, and he probably should at least make an appearance to help support his teammates. Besides, I don't feel that bad. It'll probably go away once I get to Wes's place.
But once he arrived at the house his condition only worsened. It was oddly difficult to keep from swerving, and he'd started to get chills. As he made his way through the entrance hall and kitchen all he could think of were the soft, soft chairs in the living room.
He wiped the sweat off his head as he stepped into the room. All the other Warblers were there already, some of them on the floor, some on the couch. They were chatting casually while Wes and David arranged three stools up front. Blaine spotted Kurt and made as straight a line as possible to the love seat he was sitting on. He leaned forward to set his bag next to his boyfriend's, and was struck with a wave of dizziness. It was hard to sit down without wobbling.
Kurt looked at his pallid skin in concern. "What's wrong?"
"I uh…I'm kind of feeling a little sick. But I think I just need to sit down for a bit and I'll be okay."
His boyfriend put a soft hand over his. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he replied, ignoring the tremor in his voice.
"Alright gentlemen. This marks the first meeting since our unfortunate defeat at Regionals. Now I know that some of us are a little saddened by this loss, but let's not forget: we all did our best, and our performance was amazing, regardless," Wes said, his eyes notably turning to Kurt and Blaine.
There were murmurs of agreement around the room, as well as some scattered applause.
"So! In order to get ourselves back up on the horse, we've already set our first post-season show. The Golden Sunset Nursing Home."
"If I may, is this really such a good idea? We don't have anything in our repertoire that would appeal to the ears of the elderly."
Kurt piped up, raising a finger. "Although, if we found the right song this could be quite a receptive audience for us. Our exquisite harmonies are perfect for a generation graced by barbershop quartets and Doo Wop."
Blaine tried to stay focused, but he was getting more and more lightheaded, and he had to tug his sleeves down to stave off the chills.
"Precisely! Which is why Wes and I have decided to bring this greatest hits collection from the Forties and Fifties." David gestured to a stack of papers on the coffee table and the rest of the Warblers got up one at a time to peruse them. "We can look over the various songs and fro—Blaine? Are alright? You seem distracted."
He smiled back at his friend. "I'll be fine. Forties and Fifties; great. If we—" He went to check out the papers on the table, standing up a little too quickly. All the blood rushing from his head was the last feeling he recalled as darkness swallowed him.
Blaine was in a haze. There were no dreams, only blackness. An endless void of swirling tar-like shapes and a vague awareness in the back of his mind that this shadowed world wasn't real. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and any thoughts he tried to formulate were garbled and strange. There was a cold sensation on his head; a distinct contrast to the heat in his cheeks. He felt a warm, heavy weight over his cold body, and something in his brain churned to life long enough to identify it as a blanket. He tried to move his head, but a sharp ache would follow anywhere he turned. He let out a low moan in pain.
"Try to stay still," he heard Kurt tell him. It sounded far away, like they were speaking on opposite sides of a cave. The cold relief on his forehead was joined by some light dabs of cool moisture against his cheeks.
He tried to reply but it came out as incoherent babble.
"Hey hey, don't talk. You need to rest."
Blaine expelled a breath and started slipping away again. He wasn't going to argue.
When he regained consciousness he ventured to open his eyes this time. His vision was blurry, but the basic outlines surrounding him indicated he was in Kurt's living room. He let out a sigh of relief, until he realized…Kurt's living room!
Why am I at Kurt's? Did I get…no…I was at Wes's house…how did I get here? Okay, don't panic. Assess the situation. He registered the nauseous feeling in his belly, freezing chills in his upper body, and a dull soreness in almost everything else. Right, he'd gotten sick.
He turned his head, with much less painful results this time, and saw a tray sitting on the coffee table. It was loaded with a thermometer, flu medicine, a glass of orange juice, and a white washcloth. Next to the table there was an ordinary plastic bucket and a folded pair of sweatpants. His sleep-addled mind wondered what the hell was going on.
Thankfully Kurt walked in the room, a small cup in his hands. His uniform was gone, replaced by a light blue shirt with a matching tie and white pants. He perked up when he saw hazel eyes looking up at him.
"Well hey sleepyhead," he said sweetly, and quickly moved to sit on the coffee table. "How do you feel?"
The soloist grimaced, still a little disoriented. "I don't know…my stomach's churning, I'm freezing and I feel…," his normally immense vocabulary failed him once again as he struggled to find an impressive word. "Achy."
The younger boy made a sympathetic sound and reached for the tray, coming back with the thermometer. "Open up."
He obeyed without question and squirmed a little beneath the heavy blanket, realizing that he wasn't in his uniform anymore either. He patted himself down to take inventory: no blazer, tie, dress shirt, belt, or shoes. Just his undershirt and slacks. He glanced over at the countertenor, who busied himself with reading the label on the medicine bottle.
"What happened," Blaine asked, his teeth clenched around the thermometer.
His boyfriend glanced at him briefly before looking back at the label. "You collapsed so we put you on the couch and I called Carole. You gave us quite a scare for a minute," he admonished as he opened the bottle. "We checked your temperature, and since your fever came back low-grade and you aren't hallucinating she said you didn't have to go to the Emergency Room, but you probably have the flu. When I called your house the machine said everyone would be out of the country all weekend. I didn't like the idea of you being alone, so I brought you here to nurse you back to health. Don't worry I have a remarkable immune system. And this way if you take a turn for the worse there are some adults present." He reached for the thermometer as it beeped. "Okay, your fever hasn't gone down yet. Let's get you started on some medicine."
Blaine watched him fill a dosage cup with a viscous green liquid, a little surprised, and impressed, at how quickly the brunette had taken charge. "Where are my clothes?"
The other boy grinned back. "Never fear, they're all hanging safely in my closet on padded hangers. Except for your pants." He paused for a moment, his cheeks tinting a slight pink. "I thought I would wait until you were lucid enough to change your pants yourself."
Kurt reached behind the older teen's neck and tilted his head upwards, bringing an aromatic medicine to his lips. The soloist made a face as he forced the bitter liquid down and was soon affronted with the orange juice as well. "Here, wash it down. You've got to stay hydrated."
He polished off the juice, but he groaned when he felt his belly lurch in response. The countertenor gently lowered his head back to the pillow and dipped the washcloth in water, wringing it out before gently patting Blaine's warm cheeks. He sighed at the cooling relief. His body was so chilled, but his face was burning. The younger Warbler started to hum soothingly, and the soloist felt pathetically grateful, like an abandoned puppy thankful for every pat on the head. The metaphor made him frown a little, and he tried to ignore how helpless he suddenly felt. "What time is it?"
"It's almost four-thirty." He moved the cloth over his mouth to moisten his lips. "I'll go refill your orange juice. Is there anything else you need?"
Blaine numbly shook his head.
"Great. Now my parents will be home soon and I promised I'd make dinner today. So, if you need anything, just call me and I'll come running. Oh, if you want you can go ahead and change. I'll take your khakis upstairs."
The older boy watched as Kurt marched into the kitchen, humming to himself as he went. Like a slug, he slowly reached out of the warm cocoon of the blanket for the sweats. He pulled them under the blanket and quickly changed out of his slacks. His boyfriend had done the gentlemanly thing and left his pants on…
Blaine blushed as he realized how he must look. He'd made it a point to stay strong and composed around the impressionable boy since they first met; mostly because he remembered what it was like needing a stronger adviser. But as they grew closer and he saw how much Kurt admired him, the pressure increased to remain debonair at all times. The only instance he let his guard down it had disastrous results…results that they both agreed (now that they were together) to never discuss again. Even then right after he woke up the next morning he'd rushed home and showered, got back into his uniform, put the gel back into his hair, and the next time the younger teen saw him he was fresh and presentable. But when they finally began dating he outright swore to himself that his new boyfriend would never see him as weak. And now here he was being coddled and waited on like a helpless infant. Not to mention he'd collapsed, in front of all the Warblers. Oh, that must have been very masculine! His hair was a mess, his eyes were glassy and his cheeks red. And Kurt was seeing it all…
The countertenor returned with a glass full of OJ, still smiling.
"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? It'll give the medicine a chance to work."
Kurt placed the glass down and reached over to grab the slacks he'd set on the table. "Like I said, if you need anything just call."
"Sure," he replied shortly, though it didn't seem like the other teen had noticed. After he left again Blaine turned to his side in a pout and curled himself deeper into the blanket, stewing in self-aggravation. He sniffed the air and sighed when he discovered an unknown aroma. His brain told him whatever that scent was it was nice, but his stomach did a violent flip-flop at the very thought of food. Another smell joined the first, this one a little more familiar. He heard a voice from the kitchen, and recognized it as Finn's.
"Blaine awake yet?"
"Yes, but his fever hasn't gone down and he's still nauseous. Plus he's got body aches, so it sounds like Carole was right about the flu."
"Ugh; that sucks…what's for dinner?"
The younger brother chuckled. "Stop gushing Finn, your concern is heart-wrenching."
"Hey, what's there to be concerned about; you're the one taking care of him. You took great care of Burt after his heart attack. Curing your sick boyfriend should be a cinch, right?"
Kurt didn't respond, but the soloist could just picture his blushing porcelain cheeks and the thought made him smile against the cushion. He thought it was so moving the way Finn cared about Kurt. To suddenly gain a stepbrother was a big transition already, but knowing that stepbrother was gay (and used to crush on you) and still accept him with open arms…Finn was a really cool guy.
The front door opened, and Burt's voice yelled out from the entryway. "Hey guys!"
The boys greeted him from the kitchen. Blaine looked up and saw Burt coming into the living room and smiled politely at the older man. "Hi Burt," he said wearily.
Burt looked down at his voice and smirked sympathetically. "Hey. Kurt called and said you were sick. How are you feeling?"
He attempted to say something witty and reassuring, but only could only manage, "I've been better."
"Well, tell us if you need anything. I'll let you rest." Burt patted the place where his leg was under the blanket.
The kindness made his smile widen, and he nestled into the pillow. The smells coming from the kitchen were starting to really exacerbate his nausea but thankfully it wasn't long before he fell asleep again.
The next time he woke up he found Kurt sitting on a nearby chair with a textbook in his lap. He moved a little under the blanket. The stirring in his gut had lessened, and even though he still felt chills the dizziness was gone. The apparent improvement gave him strength to offer a robust, "Hi."
The brunette looked up from his book and smiled back at his boyfriend. "Hey."
He stood and walked over to the tray, replacing the thermometer in the older boy's mouth and putting a hand on his forehead. Blaine closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of the countertenor's soft skin.
"Are you feeling any better?"
"I'm not as queasy as before," he said as the thermometer beeped.
"Do you think you can eat?"
The soloist shrugged, then thought better of it. "Yeah, I could try. I-I'm not very hungry, but I should probably eat right?"
Kurt reached down to push a stray curl back from his face, smiling caringly. "I don't want you to force it down if you're no—"
"It won't be forcing it down," he insisted. "What do you have?"
"There's been some soup on a slow simmer with your name on it, whenever you're ready."
He put on his best smile. "Color me ready."
The countertenor nodded and went back into the kitchen. Blaine quickly raised himself to a sitting position. He was immediately swamped with lightheadedness for his haste, but he just steadied himself against the arm of the couch. When his boyfriend came back he was holding a steaming bowl with a potholder and a towel was draped over his forearm. He handed the older Warbler his soup and a spoon, placing the towel in his lap. "Do you need help?"
Blaine snorted. "Nah I've got it." He looked down at the yellow broth hesitantly, and he could almost feel his belly rolling in fear. But remembering he was being watched he quickly started to eat the soup. It tasted delicious, but sure enough his gut began undulating again at the first bite. "So do you think the guys decided anything at the meeting after we left," he asked casually in an attempt to distract himself.
The brunette straightened his posture. "Actually David did call a while ago. He said that they've already narrowed our choices down to a tentative set-list. And they came up with a great solo idea for either you or me if we want it. They modernized the song so you'd be doing the Bublé version. But we're also—" He paused when he saw all the color had drained from his boyfriend's face. "Blaine?"
He had a split-second to recognize the painful bubbling sensation in his throat and stomach before the bucket was shoved under his mouth. He lurched forward and vomited, gripping the sides of the pail for dear life. Kurt had moved the bowl and was gently cradling Blaine's head as he threw up. When he was finished he realized how faint he suddenly was. He felt incredibly humiliated as he fell back onto the couch.
"I-I'm sorry," he said softly, his eyes falling shut against his will.
"Shh," Kurt whispered as he situated the soloist against the pillow, tenderly stroking his hair as he drifted off.
Blaine blinked awake, his throat raw. He scowled at the foul taste in his mouth and sat up, thankfully without the wooziness. The lights were off, except for the floor lamp at the end of the couch. He glanced at the chair next to it and saw Carole staring at him. She tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Blaine?"
He cleared his throat. "H-hi Mrs. Hummel," he said gravelly.
"Carole, please," she replied warmly.
He glanced around, and realized how dark it was outside. "What time is it?"
"It's about two. How are you feeling?"
"A little better actually. I think I've just got a fever," he answered honestly.
She grinned and got up. "Here, let's take your temperature."
Once more he allowed the thermometer between his lips. He looked up at the nurturing woman. "You didn't have to stay up for me ma'am."
She put a hand on his forehead. "Oh it's fine sweetie. I'd do it for the boys. Besides, it was either me or Kurt and I practically had to wrestle that boy into bed." She removed the thermometer and smiled. "Good; it looks like your fever broke. Are you hungry?"
"Kind of," he shrugged.
She gestured to the table. "Kurt left you some saltines and ginger ale for your tummy."
He reached for the saltine package and took an experimental nibble on a cracker. When it went down without trouble he ate a few more and Carole handed him the ginger ale. He stared at the bottle thoughtfully for a moment before opening it.
"He thought of everything."
Carole chuckled. "Kurt's great at caring for others when they're not one-hundred percent. We've taken to calling it his Nurse Mode."
"I can imagine." He smirked and looked up, seeing a teasing smile on Carole's face. His eyes shifted nervously. "What?"
"It's nothing just…you've been whispering his name half the night," she told him.
Blaine almost spit out his drink. "Oh God, really? He didn't hear me did he?"
She laughed. "No. It's okay though, I thought it was cute. Kurt likes taking care of you, so I'm guessing he'd think so too."
"I-it's a bit of a switch for me. I'm used to being the caregiver. Drying his tears, and all that stuff…," he trailed off when he realized what he'd said.
She grinned as Blaine blushed. "Somehow I don't think he minds the switch. Why don't you go back to sleep honey? At this rate you'll be right as rain by the morning."
He sheepishly handed her the ginger ale and saltines, and blinked in surprise as she lightly kissed his head. "Good night Blaine."
A small smile twitched on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time his mother kissed him good night. "Good night Carole."
He settled back into the couch, thinking with a fond smile about Kurt's so-called 'Nurse Mode.' With such a loving family surrounding him it was easy to see how the countertenor developed such a strong sense of caring. And he was an excellent nurse. The soloist only wished he didn't have to look like a total idiot in order to see it.
Blaine inhaled sharply as another strange smell pervaded his nose. He shook his head and opened his eyes, allowing the morning fog to clear from his vision. He glanced over at the clock, saw it was a little after ten and immediately wrenched himself up.
"Whoa, whoa, easy."
He yelped when he saw his boyfriend sitting on the edge of the couch, and subconsciously pulled the blanket up over his chest. "Kurt!"
"It's okay, it's okay. Carole told me your fever broke," the countertenor laughed.
The older teen blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Uh…yeah. I feel better."
"Good. Are you sure?"
With a relaxed sigh the Blaine grinned and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'm feeling much better…I'm actually pretty hungry right now."
"It's good to see your appetite's back," the brunette said with a grin. "I could fetch you some breakfast if you'd like."
"Uh…what's burning?" He scratched his head awkwardly as he identified the scent.
The countertenor sheepishly hitched his thumb to the kitchen. "Uh…dad's attempting to make French toast. I'd be more than happy to get you some. I'll just scrape the top off first."
Blaine gulped at the thought of burnt toast, and he flashed back to throwing up yesterday. But he also wanted to humor his appetite while he still had one. He smiled graciously. "Actually would it be alright if I had some more of that soup you made?"
His boyfriend smiled back in surprise, his eyes shining. "Certainly. I'll heat it up."
As he left the room he scooped up the tray from the day before, and the soloist frowned, bitterly reminded of his embarrassing display of weakness. He groaned to himself and grabbed the pillow, squishing it between his hands. Being sick was bad enough, but did he have to throw up? He only hoped that he hadn't started talking in his sleep again. God, why couldn't this have happened at home? On a week day, so he definitely wouldn't see me! He gave a few punches to the pillow, growling at it.
He froze as he saw Kurt staring at him from the doorway, holding another bowl and looking a little scared. "I'm just fluffing it. It's a little lumpy."
"Okay…," the paler boy said slowly. He approached the couch warily and offered the bowl. Blaine sipped a spoonful from it, and this time he only felt a pleasant warmth growing inside. He ate ravenously at the savory soup.
He nodded mutely around a mouthful of chicken and carrots. The younger Warbler smiled in pride and turned around, bending down to pick up a book from the floor. The sight made Blaine choke on his soup, causing the brunette to turn around in alarm.
"Are you alright?"
The soloist nodded again, his face turning red. The brunette misinterpreted the flush and leaned forward to inspect his boyfriend's face. "Are you sure you're feeling better," he asked, and moved to put a hand on his forehead.
"I said I'm fine!" He swatted the hand away, and upturned the bowl of soup onto the blanket, soaking it completely. That was it; his frustration had reached a boiling point. "God, what is wrong with me?"
Kurt stared back at him, flabbergasted, and he saw how irrational he was being. "I'm really sorry Kurt."
He buried his face in his hands with a miserable sigh, and they both forgot about the wet blanket.
"Don't worry about it, just…what's the matter?"
Blaine looked over at the other boy, remembering that honesty had always served their relationship for the better. "I…I hate that for the past day you've had to take care of me, wait on me hand and foot like that."
The countertenor scoffed and put his hands on his knees. "Don't be ridiculous, I like—"
"No, no, I know you like taking care of people," he covered a soft hand with his own. "And you should know, you're incredible at it. You've done so much that I can't thank you enough!" He paused and marveled for a moment as his adorable boyfriend blushed and looked down. But he had to go on while he still had the nerve. "But I like being someone that you can look up to and admire and be protected by."
Kurt looked back up in confusion. "Why does that have to change because I took care of you while you were sick? Isn't that what couples do?"
The older teen turned, trying to get him to understand. "Yes, but I hate that I showed that kind of weakness to you. I mean you saw me at my lowest point."
"Wasn't your lowest point getting drunk and kissing my best frenemy?"
"That's entirely different. When you drink, you're aware that you're about to lose control. This caught me completely off-guard. And you're not supposed to see me so helpless. You're not supposed to see me sick and collapsing and…throwing up. I'm usually a lot more collected than that," he finished, lowering his voice in shame.
The paler boy stared at him in disbelief, one elegant brow arched very, very high. "Are you serious?" When he could only nod in response the brunette's jaw dropped and he stood up, flailing his hands while his eyes were bright with anger. "That's what this is all about? That you were normal? That you weren't Prince Blaine Anderson for a few hours?"
"You saw me that way, that's the problem," Blaine said with an uncomfortable frown.
"Well, it had to happen sooner or later!"
Just like that his tirade was over and he sat back down, taking Blaine's hand again, his eyes soft and loving. "I'll always look up to you Blaine. Just because you turn out to be human and not carved from marble won't change that. In fact I think I'd only respect you more."
The soloist blinked and his mouth twitched. "Really?"
"Yes," he replied pleasantly, then pinched his boyfriend's cheek. "Plus I think it's sweet that you want to appear invincible to me. God Blaine, I feel exposed and weak every time you look at me! That's what being in love is. Being emotionally defenseless against the person you care about."
A warm smile blossomed on the older teen's face at the sweet confession. It was certainly true enough; from the moment Blaine realized he was in love with the countertenor he'd never felt more raw. Whenever Kurt smiled at him Blaine would feel an uncontrollable flutter in his heart and his knees would go weak, and whenever they touched his skin would start to tingle. He loved those feelings…he loved Kurt…he loved being in love with Kurt. And if that meant being vulnerable sometimes, even if the angelic boy was there to see it, it was well worth it.
He bit his lip and almost leaned forward, but it hit him that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, and he'd thrown up the night before. "I'd really like to kiss you right now, but—"
The paler boy smiled in understanding. "You just washed your hair?" He kissed an unshaven cheek.
"The Cabin in the Cotton," Blaine said fondly as he stood up. Kurt Hummel was probably the only person in Lima who would make a Bette Davis reference.
"Thank you for taking such good care of me Kurt," he said sincerely, his inner gentleman making a gratifying return. He raised the hand he was holding up to his mouth, caressing the knuckles with his lips.
Kurt smiled warmly, his cheeks going pink again. "You're welcome."
They finally set about cleaning up their mess. Blaine was carefully folding the blanket, glad that it was thick enough to protect the sweatpants he was borrowing. "Speaking of old things, you were saying something last night about a solo?"
"Yeah…and all things considered, I think the song choice is incredibly apropos."
The Warblers stood on the make-shift stage at Golden Sunset. Sure enough, the seniors living there were a great crowd. The second the boys walked into the room dressed in their school uniforms the old ladies started giggling and whispering about how adorable they all looked. They had opened with 'Sentimental Journey,' bringing half the audience to tears. It only got better, and as they were just finishing 'It Don't Mean a Thing' the residents were clapping excitedly and whistling.
As they set up for the one of the last songs Blaine grinned at his boyfriend and discreetly squeezed his hand behind their backs. Kurt grinned back and moved center-stage to the microphone. He nodded his head to acknowledge the audience and smiled. There was a group of women and assistants near the back that let out a unison 'aww,' in response.
Since they decided Kurt was going to sing the solo number they kept the arrangement from the original artist, Peggy Lee. He waited for his cue as the Warblers started snapping their fingers and humming. When he started singing his voice was beautifully sweet and rich, fitting the song to a T.
"Never know how much I love you…never know how much I care…when you put your arms around me, you give me fever that's so hard to bear, you give me fever!" He took the microphone from the stand and moved around the stage, shaking his shoulders and smiling at some of the women, making them blush. "When you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight." He spun around. "Fever! In the morning…fever all through the night."
Kurt moved to the front of the stage and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge."Sun lights up the daytime. Moon lights up the night. I light up when you call my name. And you know I'm gonna treat you right, now give me fever!" The Warblers behind him clapped to simulate the downbeat of the drum, and he inconspicuously turned back to his boyfriend and winked. Blaine grinned back giddily as he watched. "When we're kissin', fever with that flame in you. Fever! I'm a fire…fever yeah I burn for you."
"Now you listened to my story, here's the point that I have made." He spread his arms to the boys behind him. "We were born to give you fever, be it fair and have a sense of game. They give you fever! When you kiss them, fever if you really learned. Fever, till you sizzle, but what a lovely way to burn." Kurt stood again and slowly backed up to join the rest of the Warblers. "But what a lovely way to burn." He blew a kiss as he retook his spot next to Blaine. "But what a lovely way to burn, but what a lovely way to burn."
The Warblers closed out the song with a group, "Fever…"
They bowed and watched as the audience cheered, the residents that were able to rise got up to their feet to give a standing ovation. Blaine elbowed his boyfriend and took his hand in congratulations. The younger boy smiled back and mouthed 'for you.'
Blaine grinned again and his cheeks turned pink at the sentiment. He'd serenaded Kurt many times, and this was quite a shift from their norm, but he decided he rather liked being on the receiving end for a change. There were a lot of things in their relationship that would switch back and forth over time, and he had come to see that it didn't have to be a bad thing. In fact, he was looking forward to being Kurt's patient again…in more ways than one.
Yes, the 'sick' stories are a dime a dozen, I just hope you enjoyed it. I love the nursing home angle; can't you just see Blaine doing 'It Had to be You?' This one is a little dialogue-heavy for me and it was even rockier to write than Henna, but I still like it. If you guys did too, or even if you didn't, please feel free to review/fave. Feedback cures cancer. Also, if you get the chance, try to listen to Peggy Lee's version of this song; it's truly wonderful.