Author's Note: When I change fandoms it doesn't necessarily (read: at all) change my writing style & the kinds of things I like to write about. I mean, hopefully I change my writing style enough to fit the fandom, but my drama, sap, hopeless romanticism, & horrible addiction to sickfics follow me wherever I go ;) Considering that of all the fics I've ever written only 1 has actually been intentionally thought up, think of these as a glimpse of what goes on inside my head (with a little of the chaos & crazy edited out for your sanity [mine is already a lost cause])
This fic is AU in the sense that Blaine & Kurt get together in a different way than they do in the actual show. (I know, shocking, I'm having them get together, I'm sure I just spoiled the entire fic for you *rolls eyes*). I adore the way they got together in the show, I wouldn't change it for anything, it was perfect. But that doesn't mean my head doesn't like to play around with other ideas, most of which involve various levels of craziness & drama, lol.
Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: You don't think I own Glee. I don't think I own Glee. We're cool.
Chapter One: Not Such a Teenage Dream
You think I'm pretty without any make-up
You think I'm funny when I tell the punch-line wrong
I know you get me, so I let my walls—
Kurt slapped his hand down on his alarm clock, silencing the song. He did not feel like getting up. Let alone making the nearly two hour drive to Dalton. He let his head drift back down onto the pillow.
You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream
The way you turn me on
I can't sleep
So let's run away and don't ever look back don't—
Kurt groaned and sat up, fumbling with the off button as he slid out of bed and then made his way over to his vanity.
Ugh. He looked like a wreck. Finn had been playing video games in the next room late into the night and Kurt hadn't managed to drift off until past midnight.
Kurt sighed and got to work on his morning skin and hair regime.
An hour later Kurt grabbed his car keys and coat and dragged himself wearily to his car. Through the window he could see Finn's room, still dark and quiet.
Lucky bastard, he thought, yawning. Then, why am I so freakin' tired?
Kurt considered it a small miracle that he didn't fall asleep at the wheel and cause an accident on his way to Dalton.
When he got out of his car, shaking his head to clear it, he was greeted by an all together too chipper Blaine, his best friend (well, he tied with Mercedes), crush, and fellow Warbler.
"Good morning, Kurt," he said brightly, looping his arm through that of the fashionable countertenor.
"Good morning," mumbled Kurt.
Blaine's smile turned into a frown.
"Kurt? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," said Kurt, managing a smile. "I just didn't get much sleep last night." He bumped Blaine's shoulder with his own. "How are you?"
"Really good, actually," said Blaine. "I'm really pumped to start practicing for Regionals."
"Me too," said Kurt enthusiastically.
The first bell rang.
"We'd better get to class," said Blaine, grabbing Kurt's hand and beginning to run. "Come on!"
Kurt was gasping for breath by the time they reached the classroom. When he stopped running the room lurched sickeningly and he instinctively grabbed the nearest means of support, which happened to be Blaine's arm.
"Whoa, Kurt, are you okay?" asked Blaine in concern.
Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I just—lost my balance."
Blaine gave him a searching look and then shrugged. "Come on, you, we'll be late for class."
All throughout class Blaine kept casting glances at Kurt. The brunette was staring listlessly off into space, not even paying attention to what the teacher was saying, something rather unusual for Kurt.
Blaine prodded his elbow.
His friend blinked as though coming out of a daze.
"Everything alright?" whispered Blaine. "You look a little out of it. I mean, French is usually your favorite subject. Is there something bothering you?"
Kurt shook his head and massaged his aching eye-sockets with his fingertips.
"I'm just having trouble concentrating today."
"You sure?" said Blaine, leaning over onto Kurt's desk. "Because if something's going on at home, or with your friends, you can tell me, okay?"
Kurt smiled at him and placed his hand over Blaine's.
"I know. And if it was something like that I'd totally tell you. To be honest I don't know what's up with me today. I feel like a bulldozer went and rolled over me in my sleep."
Blaine frowned at Kurt, absently playing with the brunette's fingers, which were still laying over his. The slender boy closed his eyes; he looked really pale and flushed.
"Do you think you might have a fever?"
Kurt opened his eyes again.
"I don't know, maybe…"
Before Kurt knew what was happening Blaine had leaned over and pressed his cool hand against Kurt's forehead.
"Oh, Kurt, you're really warm…"
"Am I? I feel freezing."
"Yeah, you're definitely sick, Kurt," said Blaine in concern. "You don't look good at all."
"You know what I mean."
Blaine glanced toward the front of the classroom. The teacher was writing something on the white board and not paying the least bit of attention to their corner of the room. Blaine scooted his chair over to Kurt's desk.
"If you think you can make it through the rest of the period I can take you to the nurse when it's over," he whispered.
Blaine shifted even closer and put an arm around his shoulders.
"Put your head down on your desk, I'll cover for you."
"Kurt, there's no way you're actually absorbing any of this right now. You're great at French; you'll catch up in no time once you're feeling better."
Kurt had to admit Blaine had a point, but…
"If Mrs. LeBray sees me sleeping…"
"I said I'd cover for you," said Blaine. He put on a falsely injured look that had Kurt's heart doing funny little wiggles in his chest. "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you," said Kurt. "I just—"
"Then put your head down on the desk," said Blaine. "I'll wake you when class is over."
Kurt complied, lowering his achy head to his folded arms, but he couldn't get comfortable. He shifted this way and that way, turned his head to the left and then to the right, folded and unfolded his arms. Nothing helped. After a minute or two he felt a hand on his back.
"Kurt? You okay?"
"Not really," he mumbled. "It's not comfortable."
"You really don't feel well, do you?" said Blaine sympathetically.
Kurt shook his head, and to his embarrassment a tear leaked out from under his closed eyelids.
"Hey, shhh," said Blaine. "Here, use my arm as a pillow." He gently nudged his forearm against Kurt's head.
Kurt lifted his head and laid it gratefully back down on Blaine's blazer-clad arm
"What about your own class work, though?" Kurt asked. "If you can't use your arm…"
"Don't worry about it," said Blaine. "Just rest."
Truthfully, Blaine paid almost as little attention to the rest of the French lesson as Kurt did. With the hand that wasn't currently trapped under Kurt's head he rubbed gentle circles on his friend's back; he could feel the heat of the slighter boy's fever through his uniform.
"Poor Kurt," Blaine whispered softly, moving his hand to the back of Kurt's head. He laced his fingers through the other boy's fine brown hair, smiling at the thought of what Kurt's reaction would be to the disruption of his perfectly hair-sprayed coif.
"Your hair is adorable no matter how it's styled," he whispered, confident that the feverish boy, whose shoulders were already rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep, couldn't hear him.
Class ended, and as the boys around them gathered up their things and filed out of the room, Blaine gently shook Kurt's shoulder.
"Kurt? Hey Kurt, it's time to wake up, class is over."
Kurt moaned and blinked blearily up at Blaine.
"Why do I feel like a just got slushied and thrown in a dumpster, only ten times worse?"
Blaine chuckled sympathetically.
"You're sick. I'm going to take you to the nurse. Up you get."
Blaine snaked his arm around Kurt's waist and hoisted him out of his chair. He tried very hard to ignore the inexplicable beat that his heart skipped when Kurt's warm body pressed up against his. He swallowed.
Pull yourself together, Blaine.
"I can walk, Blaine," protested Kurt. "I'm not an invalid."
"Stubborn even in illness," he teased. "Come on my non-invalid, you're going to the nurse."
Kurt looked at the floor, not wanting Blaine to see his reaction to being called 'his' anything.
The two boys crossed the campus, Blaine rubbing warmth into Kurt's arms when he shivered at the chill air of the courtyard.
"It's strange walking through the halls when everyone is in class," said Kurt.
"Yeah," said Blaine. "It's quiet."
Kurt laughed. The laugh quickly turned into a cough.
"Easy there," said Blaine, rubbing Kurt's back. "None of that now."
"Blaine," said Kurt. "Can we stop for a minute? I'm feeling kind of lightheaded."
"Of course," said Blaine, stopping immediately. He placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders and peered concernedly into his face.
"Breathe," he commanded.
Kurt closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath
"I—I think I'm okay now."
Blaine's arm found its way back around Kurt's waist and they kept walking, both hoping that the other couldn't feel how fast their heart was beating at the moment.
Kurt and Blaine arrived at the nurse's office and Blaine rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.
A pretty young woman with red hair and a skirt just long enough to be decent came into view.
"That's the school nurse?" whispered Kurt.
"Yep. Half the guys here have crushes on her."
Kurt just shook his head mutely.
"Mr. Anderson." The nurse's mouth quirked. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Not another show-choir induced injury I hope?"
Blaine shook his head. "Not this time, Miss Clark. This is my friend Kurt Hummel, he's not feeling too well."
Miss Clark cast an appraising gaze over Kurt.
"I should say not. Hon, you look like death warmed over. Come sit down and we'll take your temperature."
She ushered Kurt into a cushy blue chair and Blaine positioned himself behind him, resting his hands lightly on Kurt's shoulders. Then she went over to her desk and began looking through a drawer.
Kurt whispered to Blaine, "Do I really look like death warmed over?"
"Yeah, you kinda do," said Blaine.
"Hey, no one's gonna see you. Besides, you have an excuse, you're sick."
"You're seeing me."
Blaine waved the words away with his hand.
"Come on Kurt, it's me. What do I care what you look like? I'm with you for better and for worse. In sickness and in health."
"You make it sound as though we're married."
Miss Clark came back with a digital thermometer.
"I trust that I don't have to instruct you in its proper use?"
Kurt giggled hoarsely and shook his head, deciding he rather liked this nurse.
He pressed the button and stuck the thermometer into his mouth, promptly crossing his eyes to try and read the climbing digits on the little screen.
"Don't do that," admonished Blaine. "You'll give yourself a headache."
"Doo la'e," said Kurt around the thermometer.
"Don't talk with the thermometer in your mouth," said Miss Clark.
"Yeah, don't talk with the thermometer in your mouth, Kurt," said Blaine, smirking. He ran his hand over Kurt's hair.
"Mmph!" protested Kurt.
"Oh, relax, would you?" said Blaine. "Besides, you already messed it up earlier sleeping on it during French." He tactfully neglected to mention his own role in that messing-up process.
The thermometer beeped and Miss Clark whisked it out of Kurt's mouth before he had a chance to see the reading.
The nurse looked at the thermometer and then raised her ginger eyebrows.
"What in the world are you doing at school with a 102.3 degree fever, Mr. Hummel?"
"Oh God. Kurt…" said Blaine. He leaned over the back of the chair to give Kurt a hug around the shoulders.
Kurt patted Blaine's arm to assure him he was okay and shrugged.
"I—I didn't feel so bad this morning. Or, I did, but I just thought I was really tired…"
Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt's shoulders, ignoring the ridiculous tingly sensation that shot through him at the gesture.
"You're supposed to tell me when you don't feel well," he scolded gently.
"Where is that written?"
"Unspoken rules of friendship," replied Blaine. "What would your friends at McKinley have done if you came to school sick?"
"Marched me right to the nurse's office," he admitted.
Blaine ruffled his hair, earning another inarticulate protest from the ailing teen.
"Well," said Miss Clark in a tone that was gentle and friendly but brooked no argument, "you are certainly not going back to classes today. Are you a boarder, hon?"
Kurt shook his head.
"Where do you live?"
"Lima?" said Miss Clark in surprise. "Well that makes things a bit more complicated, doesn't it? We could have your parents come pick you up and take you home, or you can stay here until you're feeling better. The beds don't have down comforters, but they're not made of plastic either.
"Can I stay here?" asked Kurt, who at this point didn't really care what the bed looked like as long as he could sleep in it. "I don't want to make my dad or Carole drive all the way out here to get me and then have to bring me back again, since my car would still be here." And, as horribly sappy as it sounds, I wouldn't mind having Blaine take care of me while I'm sick either… he added silently
"Here it is, then," said Miss Clark. "Might I suggest changing into something a bit more comfortable?"
She opened another drawer and pulled out a pair of navy blue pajamas, which she tossed to Kurt.
Kurt fumbled them, but Blaine caught them and pressed the fabric into Kurt's arms.
"Thanks," Kurt said to both of them.
Miss Clark opened a door that led off of her office. Inside was a plain but comfortable looking bed, a night table, a desk lamp, and not much else. In usual circumstances it would have been Kurt's worst nightmare, now it looked like a dream come true.
Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was still standing behind him.
He looked pointedly down at the pajamas in his arms.
"Oh, right," said Blaine. "I'll, um, let you change and get some rest. Do you want me to stay with you after?"
"Class, Mr. Anderson," came Miss Clark's voice from the main room.
Blaine rolled his eyes.
"No, it's fine, you should go to class," said Kurt, touched by Blaine's concern for him. "You've already missed one class because of me, two if you count French. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be very interesting, I'll only be sleeping."
"Alright," said Blaine. "You have my number. Text me if something comes up, okay?"
Spontaneously, Blaine opened his arms and enfolded Kurt in them.
He could have sworn the younger boy was charged with electricity. Kurt hadn't used to elicit these kinds of confounding reactions from his body; it was only recently that he had started reacting this way to the other boy, and he didn't know what to make of it.
"Feel better," said Blaine, releasing Kurt with a last pat on the shoulder.
Kurt's reply came out sounding slightly breathless.
AN: SO I kept looking for a place to end this chapter once I reached 1000 words, but it just kept going & going & no place felt like the end of the chapter until I got here, so here it ends. The more happens in each chapter, the fewer chapters there will be, but they end when it feels right to me, as long as they are over 1000 words and under like 3500 or so.
Let's face it; every author wants to get reviews on their stories. They're not why we write (I write 'cause my brain won't shut up), but they sure are a nice incentive.
P.S. Did you like Kurt's alarm clock? ;)