A harsh cough made Kurt look up from his homework, and he winced in sympathy for Blaine as the other boy was subjected to another coughing fit. Setting his pen down, Kurt got to his feet and slowly approached his bed, where Blaine was curled in on himself as he coughed repeatedly into his hand, barely getting time to breathe in between the coughs that scraped his already raw throat. He hovered a few feet away from the bed, wanting to approach Blaine and comfort him, but knowing it was for the best that he kept a safe distance away - they'd be in trouble if they both fell ill. So instead he stood and watched with his face creased in concern as his friend continued to cough with an arm wrapped protectively around his stomach and his eyes watering. He had hoped Blaine might be showing signs of improvement after some medicine and sleep, but if anything he seemed worse.

When Blaine's coughing finally subsided and he was wiping the tears from his eyes, Kurt moved over to the bed and placed a hand on Blaine's forehead, causing the sick boy to sigh. "I think your fever has gone down a bit," Kurt told him, keeping his hand on Blaine's forehead as the shorter boy leaned into the touch with his eyes closed.

"The coughing is worse, though," Blaine rasped and Kurt winced again on his behalf.

Rubbing Blaine's head with his thumb, Kurt nodded. "We've got some cough syrup you can take to help that, but-" He paused for a second, knowing Blaine wouldn't like what he was about to say. "I think you should go see a doctor if it doesn't improve."

As he had anticipated, Blaine's eyes widened in fear and he shook his head in wild panic, jerking away from Kurt's touch. "I can't!" he croaked. "They'll just ask all these questions and I can't deal with that, Kurt, not yet." He looked up at Kurt with large eyes, silently pleading him not to go through that and pain pierced Kurt's heart again.

"Ok, no doctors," Kurt conceded, stroking Blaine's messy curls back from his face soothingly. "Unless," he added firmly, "it gets worse. I'm not watching you suffer, Blaine."

After Blaine had given a small nod of assent, Kurt stepped away from the bed. "Do you want something to eat now?" he asked, starting to walk over to the bedroom door. "You really should try and eat something. I can make you soup."

Struggling to sit upright, Blaine gave a small cough and said, "I'll eat something, but you don't have to make me soup."

"I'll make you soup," Kurt told him and left the room before Blaine could protest.

He ran down the stairs to the kitchen and began grabbing things out of cupboards, not wanting to be away from Blaine for too long. Something about seeing the already vulnerable boy more helpless kicked his protective instincts into overdrive and he could barely stand to let the sick boy out of his sight for any length of time. Normally he didn't cope well with sick people - when Finn had fallen ill one time not long after he had moved in with them he had refused to go anywhere near him and had slept on the couch in the living room until Finn was better again - but for some reason with Blaine it was different; he wanted to nurse him back to health and felt no fear that he might catch whatever he had. He wouldn't even care if Blaine was vomiting. The only other person for whom he had felt this strong need to do anything and everything he could to make them better, where he had completely disregarded his own day-to-day life in favour of caring for them twenty-four-seven, was his dad. He didn't really understand why Blaine was different to his step-brother and his other friends.

After putting the soup he had made earlier on to reheat, he hunted through the medicine cabinet for the cough syrup, filled a glass with water, and placed them both on a tray along with a soup bowl and spoon. He drummed his fingers on the counter, darting looks up at the ceiling every now and then as he waited for the soup to heat up. As soon as it was hot enough he switched the stove off, ladled some into the bowl, and bustled back upstairs with the tray.

Blaine blinked at him from where he was curled up on his side under the covers. "How did you manage to make soup so quickly?" he asked a little suspiciously.

Kurt shot him a slightly sheepish grin. "I may have made the soup earlier while you were asleep," he admitted.

Blaine simply gazed at him for a moment, his eyes containing a hint of the same thing Kurt had seen so many times in the early weeks of their acquaintance that he now recognised as a heart-breaking mixture of wonder, disbelief, and pain; even after all this time Blaine still couldn't quite believe that someone cared about him or that he deserved all of this.

When Blaine didn't say anything and instead just lowered his eyes to stare down at the mattress, Kurt set the tray on his dresser and sat down on the bed by Blaine's feet, which were tucked up close to his body.

"Blaine," he said softly, the affection he felt for the curly-haired boy coming through in his tone, so strong that he was surprised as much as Blaine, who looked up with eyes full of surprise, curiosity, and self-depreciation. Kurt had the strong urge to curl up on the bed and pull Blaine into his arms, but settled for placing his hand on his foot over the covers. "You're not worthless or a burden or unworthy of- of love," he told him firmly, trying and failing not to stumble over his words as his hidden feelings for Blaine rushed to the surface. "You deserve it all - everything." He rubbed at Blaine's foot, feeling the curve of the delicate bones through the blanket. "You deserve to have people who care about you make you dinner and bring you medicine when you're sick, you deserve to be able to work to live your dreams, and you deserve to have people in your life who love you so much they'd do anything to make you happy and safe."

He didn't realise there were tears pooling in his eyes until he noticed Blaine's eyes were red and tear-filled, but he was beginning to realise that when he talked about love in reference to Blaine he was thinking about himself as he did so. It hit him right then in a rush: he had fallen for Blaine - hard. And every minute he spent with Blaine he fell a little more.

Blinking away his tears, Blaine pushed himself into an upright position. "Kurt," he said roughly, managing to hold back a cough, "I don't know what I'd do without you in my life anymore. I don't know how I managed so long without you, and it's not just food or the blanket or anything, it's-" He broke off, struggling for words. He rubbed at his fever-pink cheek. "I really care about you and I like to think that if my life situation had been different we still would have met and become friends."

Kurt smiled at him and squeezed his foot again. "Of course we would have. Something would have ensured that - the stars, the fates, random chance, whatever. We were meant to meet, Blaine, I believe that."

"Me too," Blaine whispered.

Like it had done the night they laid together under the stars, the air between them became charged, heavy with something Kurt couldn't name. Desire flooded his stomach, making his heart race and his nerves tingle in anticipation. He was extremely aware of every tiny movement Blaine made: pupils dilating slightly, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, eyes dropping briefly from Kurt's before returning to hold his gaze again, the small stuttering movement of his chest near his collarbone as he breathed unevenly...

Kurt darted his gaze down to Blaine's lips - pink, a little chapped, and parted an infinitesimal amount - for a split second. He imagined himself leaning forward and pressing his lips to Blaine's. He wanted to, he wanted to so badly, he wanted to feel those lips beneath his own, the slight roughness of the dry skin contrasting with the smooth softness of the rest of his lips, the warmth of his breath against his mouth, his unique scent filling his nostrils, the taste of him on his tongue...

Just like last time, they both looked away at almost the exact same moment, Kurt ducking his head and quickly removing his hand from Blaine's foot as warmth flooded his face and spilled down his neck. He needed to control his emotions and vivid imagination better or else Blaine would find out that he wanted more than friendship with him and that would just open up a whole can of worms that Kurt didn't want to have to face.

He was brought out of his own confusing and conflicting emotions when Blaine gave a small cough, one that was made voluntarily to help disperse some of the awkwardness. Kurt jumped to his feet and hurried over to the dresser to fetch the tray, glad that the soup hadn't gotten cold.

"Um, here's your soup," he said lamely, setting the tray down on the nightstand and darting forward to help adjust Blaine's pillows when he noticed the other boy struggling to sit comfortably. He blushed and jerked his hands back when his fingers brushed Blaine's shoulder.

‘Get a grip, Hummel,' he chastised himself as he passed Blaine the tray with trembling hands. Being around Blaine had always been so easy and comfortable ever since they had started to open up to each other; he didn't want to suddenly make it uncomfortable just because he couldn't control himself.

He inhaled deeply as he removed the cough syrup from the tray. "Do you want to have the medicine before or after you eat?"

Glancing at the bottle in Kurt's hands, Blaine wrinkled his nose - Kurt pushed down the urge to kiss his crinkled nose; that boy was far too adorable for his own good.

"After," Blaine decided, eyeing the medicine bottle with distaste. "I don't want it to ruin the taste of your soup," he concluded brightly.

"It could be awful," Kurt pointed out. "You haven't tried it yet."

Blaine lifted his eyebrows and gave him a disbelieving look before taking his first spoonful of soup, sighing slightly as the warm liquid soothed his raw throat.

Kurt moved back to his desk and returned to the homework he had been working through earlier, strangely enjoying the small sounds of Blaine eating his soup in the background. For some reason it made better background noise to his studying than his iPod did; it was more relaxing somehow.

A small choking noise followed by a weird gagging sound made him look up from his math homework and whip round to see Blaine pulling a disgusted face as he screwed the lid back on the bottle of cough syrup.

"God, that stuff is revolting," he said with a shudder as he set the bottle aside on the nightstand. He began hastily gulping water. "I was right to have the soup first." He grimaced while Kurt watched him with his head tilted a little to one side, an amused smile on his face. "I can't get the taste out of my mouth - and what are you smirking about?" Blaine huffed, trying to sound reproachful but failing when he croaked mid-sentence. Kurt's smile widened.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Blaine jutted his bottom lip out in a pout. "It's not funny!" he whined. "I'm sick! You shouldn't laugh at sick people!"

Biting back a laugh, Kurt stood up and walked over to take the tray away. "Sorry, but if you could have seen your face you would have laughed as well."

Blaine just huffed again, but Kurt could see a smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

"Plus your voice sounds weird, so almost anything you say sounds funny," Kurt added as he set the tray down on the dresser. He walked over to his neat rows of books lining several shelves of a cabinet. "Do you want a book to read?" he asked, scanning the rows of books and trying to remember which ones Blaine had mentioned he'd read. His gaze wandered down and landed on his DVD collection. "Or you could watch a movie? It must have been a while since you last watched one." He bent down to tug a selection of DVDs from the stacks on the bottom shelf. "What sort of movies do you like?" he asked, straightening up and turning to face Blaine.

Blaine looked away quickly, shifting his gaze from Kurt to his blanket-covered legs stretched out in front of him, and scratched at his knee. "Uh, ju- just whatever you have is fine, but if you're doing homework then I don't want to bother you with a movie," he stammered, his gaze still fixed determinedly on his knees as a blush coloured his face.

Feeling a little perplexed at Blaine's sudden bout of embarrassment, Kurt shrugged. "You won't be bothering me," he assured him. "If you want to watch a movie for a change then you can."

Blaine lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug which Kurt took to be a yes to the movie. He set a selection of movies on the bed so Blaine could choose one. He blinked in surprise when Blaine held up the box that he'd picked - it was The Notebook.

"You want to watch this when you're sick?"

Blaine glanced down at the box in his hand and just shrugged. "I used to watch movies like this a lot when I was sick. It's beautifully sad and - I don't know - it just makes me feel a little better somehow."

Shaking his head at him, Kurt took the DVD and went to put it on. "I'll take your word for it, but I still think you're crazy. You should watch happy, light-hearted movies when you're sick, like musicals." He stepped away from the TV when the main menu appeared on the screen and tossed the remote to Blaine. "If it makes you feel better, though, then I won't think you're a little strange," he teased. "Enjoy." He plopped down at his desk chair with a heavy sigh. "It'll be a lot more enjoyable than this math homework."

Years of tuning out sneering insults had turned Kurt into something of an expert at being able to ignore distractions and concentrate on the task at hand. He worked steadily through his homework without looking up from it once and got it all finished before Blaine's movie was even over.

He was just closing his last book and setting it aside with an accomplished smile when he heard a soft sniffling sound from behind him. He spun around in his chair, already knowing what he was going to find, and his face softened and heart melted at the sight before him. Blaine had his knees drawn up to his chest and the bed covers were rucked up just under his chin, his mouth pressed into the knuckles of his hands, which were curled in front of his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and glossy with tears, his forehead creased, and tear tracks glistened on his cheeks as he continued to stare intently at the screen. As Kurt watched, he sniffed again and another tear escaped from one of his eyes and began its slow journey down his face. An unfamiliar mixture of emotions stirred inside Kurt; even crying Blaine was beautiful and even though his tears weren't the result of something bad, Kurt still felt the strong need to hold him, protect him, and replace the tears with a smile.

Without saying anything, Kurt joined Blaine on the bed, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Blaine slumped against him, his head resting against Kurt's upper arm just below his shoulder and they both watched the remainder of the movie in silence, Kurt paying more attention to Blaine's little sniffles, stifled coughs, and the warmth of his body than the actual movie.

When the credits started to roll on the screen, Blaine shifted against him and Kurt looked down to see him lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his face. Without thinking about it, Kurt reached over and gently caught the last tear with the pad of his thumb. They were so close he was able to hear Blaine's breath hitch slightly as his hazel eyes lifted to his face.

And there it was again: that want - that need - that was now stirring more regularly and persistently inside of him. And he would have done it right then, would have bent down and brushed his mouth over Blaine's like every muscle in his body was straining to do, but Blaine was sick. Even if he was confident that Blaine wanted it as well - which he wasn't in the slightest - he doubted Blaine would have allowed him to kiss him and risk catching his illness. Kurt was forced to break the moment before he acted on his impulses.

"Did it make you feel better?" he asked softly, indicating the TV still showing the end credits with a small wave of the hand that wasn't resting on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine looked away towards the screen. "It did, actually." He coughed again. "Not physically, though, just mentally."

Grabbing the remote from where it laid on the rumpled bed covers, Kurt stopped the DVD. "Do you want to watch another movie?"

Blaine shook his head and it was only then that Kurt noticed his drooping eyelids and the yawns he was hiding behind his hand. "I think I want to sleep again." He yawned again, rubbing his cheek against Kurt's shoulder in what could have been accidental or something done unconsciously in his drowsiness.

"Ok," Kurt said, reluctantly starting to wriggle away from Blaine. "I'll give you the bed back." He paused in the midst of climbing off the bed, laughing as a sudden thought occurred to him.

"What?" Blaine mumbled, his hand jumping self-consciously to his hair.

Kurt shook his head, still smiling. "I just realised there's a boy in my bed."

Blaine looked a little baffled, but a grin spread across his face all the same. "I doubt-" He broke off, the colour draining from his face, and his smile fading as his head snapped towards the closed bedroom door.

Frowning, Kurt glanced between the door and Blaine in confusion. "Blaine, what-?"

Then he heard it: footsteps. His eyes widened. "Shit," he muttered. He checked the clock on his nightstand and cursed himself for not keeping track of the time - everyone else would be home by now. They both must have been so caught up with the movie and their conversation they didn't hear them arrive.

"Kurt?" his dad's voice called from the hallway.

Blaine shrank back into the pillows at the sound of Burt's voice, drawing his legs up close to his chest and curling in on himself. He gazed at Kurt in fear, mutely begging him to keep him safe and hidden. He was shaking, Kurt noticed in dismay.

"It's ok," Kurt assured him in a low voice. "I won't let anyone know you're here." He wanted to touch Blaine's shoulder or smooth his forehead in reassurance, but he was scared of touching him when the other boy was so terrified.

There was a knock at the door. "Kurt?"

Blaine flinched, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from making any noise and Kurt leapt from the bed and sprinted across the room, calling out to his dad that he was coming.

He pulled his bedroom door open, not opening it too far and trying not to look guilty. "Hey Dad," he greeted with a smile. "I didn't hear you guys get home - I was busy with homework."

His dad nodded. "Was it that essay you were talking about at breakfast?" he asked, not looking the least bit suspicious to Kurt's enormous relief.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, thanking his lucky stars that he had some natural acting ability and was able to mask his relief. "Yeah, it was. I just finished it, actually."

"That's good," his dad said slowly. "So, since you're free, do you want to come down and join us? Carole's about to put on some movie she bought today - I don't know, it looks like it would be your sort of thing."

The urge to glance over his shoulder at Blaine was almost overwhelming, but Kurt forced himself to continue facing his father. "Um, I don't know, I'm a little tired..." He trailed off, not really knowing what else to say.

His dad just shrugged and patted him on the shoulder. "Just come down if you feel like it, kiddo."

Kurt nodded and smiled as his dad gave his shoulder a light squeeze and headed off back downstairs. As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded, he spun around and closed the door behind him, finally letting his sigh of relief escape.

"You don't have to stay up here with me."

Kurt turned to face the bed to see Blaine watching him from above his knees and the covers he'd pulled up to his chin. Beneath his mop of messy dark curls his eyes were starting to lose the fear. He appeared to have stopped trembling, though the colour had yet to return to his face.

"You shouldn't miss out on spending time with your family just to sit with me," Blaine continued.

Kurt didn't like his tone at all; it made him want to run over and cradle Blaine against his chest, and also collapse to his knees on the floor and cry because he was starting to wonder if anything he could ever do or say would convince Blaine that he wasn't some insignificant part of Kurt's life that he only spent time with and befriended because he felt bad about his situation.

He didn't do either of those things; instead he crossed the room to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, feeling a little weary. Blaine wasn't looking at him anymore; he was tracing abstract patterns across his left knee with his thumb. Kurt wanted to say something to promise him that his family wouldn't harm him or toss him out on the streets and he desperately wanted to say something to help make the inner demons Blaine was battling go away, but he couldn't find the words, so he slid closer to him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling the smaller boy against his chest.

Blaine was rigid for a moment, before he relaxed and leant into Kurt's embrace, freeing his right arm from the covers to hook it around Kurt's waist. Neither of them said anything, they just held each other until Kurt felt Blaine's body spasm slightly as he tried to hold in his coughs.

Kurt let him go and Blaine ducked his head away to cough into his hand, shooting Kurt an apologetic look when they subsided.

Smiling softly at him, Kurt gently brushed a few wayward curls back from Blaine's face.

Noticing the look in Kurt's eyes, Blaine murmured, "It's just hard."

Kurt nodded, letting his hand linger by Blaine's face and ghosting his thumb over part of his cheekbone. "I know it must be," he whispered, "I will never try to pressure you into anything or think any less of you if you take a long time to be ready. You haven't had it easy; life hasn't treated you fairly at all, but I believe in you. You have so much courage, Blaine and one day other people in the world are going to be able to see what a wonderful person you are - I believe that."

Blaine returned his smile and Kurt was glad to see that the colour had returned to his face and there was light in his eyes again, if somewhat drowsy.

"You should go watch that movie with your family," Blaine insisted. "I'm just going to sleep again and as long as nobody else comes in here I'll be fine by myself."

Kurt stood up, still feeling a little reluctant to leave. "No one else will come in," he promised. He watched as Blaine laid down and adjusted the covers over himself, smiling sleepily up at Kurt once he was comfortable. "Drop something heavy on the floor if you need something and I'll come back up."

"I'll be fine, Kurt, don't worry." Blaine blinked lazily at him.

Kurt tugged the covers up over Blaine's shoulder and Blaine's eyes fluttered closed. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, bending down and brushing a light kiss to Blaine's forehead before he had time to chicken out. After one last fond look at the boy curled up in his bed, he turned and left the room.

When Blaine woke up some time later to find that his throat felt less like someone had dragged sandpaper over it, he was relieved. He had always hated being sick; illness was another expression of one of the things his dad despised: weakness. Whenever Blaine or anyone else in the family got sick they carried on as normal, and his dad would yell at him or Cooper if they tried to stay in bed - he would say they were being lazy and the best way to get better was to carry on rather than lounge around in bed snivelling and coughing. This meant that any time Blaine was sick he had to continue going to school, helping with chores, and studying, all without complaining, no matter how awful he felt. If he didn't get better after a few days then he would be taken to the doctor and given the rest of the day to relax in his room, but he was never treated differently just because he was ill and eventually he learned to just hide it whenever he was sick unless it was bad enough for a doctor's visit.

Rolling over onto his other side, he rubbed his cheek against the pillow. It was gloriously warm in the bed, the mattress had to be the most comfortable thing he had ever laid on, the pillows were soft and seemed to cradle his head, the covers were fluffy and just the right thickness, and everything smelled amazing: a delicious mixture of sweetness, spice, and something he couldn't put a name to that was decidedly masculine and somehow both comforting and stomach-fluttering.

He inhaled deeply, breathing more of the intoxicating scent in and wrapping an arm around the pillow where the scent was the strongest. He lifted his other arm to rest his hand up by the pillow and froze when it brushed against something solid and warm. That's when it hit him: the comfortable mattress and warm covers, the other body next to him, the smell - he was in Kurt's bed.

Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Kurt sitting on top of the covers with his back against a propped-up pillow, a book in his hands. He smiled when he saw Blaine was awake.

"Hi," he greeted. "Good sleep?"

Nodding shyly, Blaine pulled himself upright, noticing as he did so that the room was softly lit by a lamp on the nightstand.

"Yeah," he croaked. He cleared his throat. "I did, thanks." He paused, searching the room for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Just before midnight," Kurt replied, marking the page in his book and setting it aside.

Blaine blinked in surprise. "I slept ages. You should have woken me up."

"I couldn't do that; you needed the rest," Kurt said, getting up and walking over to his dresser. "Plus, you looked really comfortable."

Blaine absently ran a hand over the mattress beside him. "Your bed is really comfortable. I could stay in it for days." He flushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth and hoped Kurt would just think of the comment as innocent.

There was a pause as Kurt rummaged around with something on his dresser, and then he chuckled lightly. "I should have known you'd want to steal it." He came back over to the bed carrying a tray. "I saved you some dinner," he said, handing the tray to Blaine.

"And some more medicine," Blaine observed, as he ran his eyes over the tray's contents.

Kurt dropped down next to him again. "It's past time you had another dose."

Swallowing the medicine, Blaine smirked at him. "Thanks, Dr. Hummel."

A light blush stained Kurt's cheeks. "Just eat your food," he mumbled.

Kurt told him about the movie he'd watched with his family while Blaine ate and had Blaine laughing at his retelling of how Finn had struggled to understand the reasoning behind some of the main character's decisions.

It wasn't until his plate was cleared and Kurt was taking it from him that Blaine realised he would have to leave the warmth and comfort of Kurt's bedroom and return to his chilly attic bed. With a heavy sigh, he pushed back the covers and went to get up.

"Where are you going?" Kurt asked.

Blaine got to his feet and stretched. "Back upstairs. You must need to go to bed now."

Kurt came marching across the room towards him, shaking his head. "Nuh uh, you're not going back up there while you're still sick."

Blaine frowned, freezing in the middle of straightening Kurt's bedding for him. "I can't stay in here! You need to go to bed and I'm not forcing you to sleep somewhere else."

"You're not forcing me to do anything," Kurt insisted, sounding a touch exasperated as if he'd known this was going to happen. "I want you to sleep in my bed tonight."

Fighting to keep his thoughts from twisting that sentence into something less innocent, Blaine folded his arms over his chest. "Then where will you sleep?"

Kurt shrugged, looking around his room. "I'll make up a bed on the floor or something."

Shaking his head, Blaine started across the room to the door. "You're not doing that. I'm going back upstairs."

"Wait, Blaine, no!" Kurt grabbed his arm, holding him back. "It's just while you're ill," he pleaded.

When Blaine held his ground and stared at him determinedly, Kurt let go of his arm and marched over to his bed, snatching up his pillows and dragging the covers onto the floor.

Momentarily forgetting his plan to return to the attic, Blaine watched Kurt in puzzlement. "What are you doing?"

"Compromising," Kurt told him, fetching his pyjamas from the dresser and heading into the bathroom, nudging the door closed with his hip.

Frowning, Blaine hurried over to the bathroom. "What do you mean ‘compromising'?" he asked through the door.

"You won't sleep down here and I'm not leaving you on your own in that cold attic while you're ill, so I'm joining you upstairs," Kurt called back.

Blaine stared at the door for a moment, wondering if he had heard correctly. "What? Kurt, no, you don't-"

The bathroom door opened to reveal Kurt in his pyjamas with a toothbrush in his mouth. He shot Blaine a look that clearly said he wasn't going to argue about this, a look that Blaine imagined few other people could pull off while dressed in midnight blue pyjamas and brushing their teeth.

Throwing up his hands, Blaine turned away from Kurt's glare in surrender. "Fine, but you're only going to have an uncomfortable night." He leaned against the wall by the bathroom door, swallowing repeatedly to try and clear his dry throat and occasionally letting out a small cough as he waited for Kurt to finish up.

They left the warm bedroom and crept out into the dark hallway and up the stairs into the drafty attic. Blaine made a beeline for his makeshift sink and began to brush his teeth, leaving Kurt standing in the middle of the attic, studying the floor around Blaine's bed. As Blaine watched, Kurt dropped his pile of bedding a few feet away from his own bed and began to spread his duvet out.

"Last chance to take my bed," Kurt offered as Blaine finished washing his face.

Lifting his chin stubbornly, Blaine settled down on his bed, swallowing the cough that threatened to force its way out of his throat. "I'm fine here, thanks." He laid down, trying not to wince at how uncomfortable it was after a day in Kurt's bed, and tugged the blankets up over himself.

For several minutes there was silence except for the rustling of fabric as Kurt tried to get comfortable and a soft thud which Blaine guessed was him banging a knee or elbow against the floor. He heard Kurt huff, then, "Oh, this is ridiculous."

More rustling of fabric, the soft padding of feet on the floorboards, a dragging sound, and then Kurt was suddenly tugging his blanket off him.

Blaine was so startled he just let the blanket be dragged off him. "Kurt, what?" He scrambled into a sitting position and squinted to make Kurt out in the dim light.

"Stand up a second," Kurt said, fiddling with the blanket in his hands.

Shocked into submission, Blaine stood up and watched in confusion as Kurt spread out the blanket he'd pulled off him over the two already lying on the floor, tossed his pillows down next to Blaine's far less plump one, and threw his duvet down over the lot.

"Wh-"

Before he got a chance to finish his question, Kurt had grabbed his hand and tugged him down with him onto the pile of blankets. "It's seems stupid for us to shiver and be uncomfortable when we can share a bed and not suffer," he explained, pulling the covers from his own bed up over both of them and lying down.

Blaine stared down at him, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "But I'm sick," he reminded Kurt weakly.

"I really don't care," Kurt told him, tugging at Blaine's arm to get him to lie down. "Plus, I've been around you all day, so if I'm going to catch it then I'll have done so already."

After another second's hesitation, Blaine laid down carefully next to Kurt, keeping his arms and legs close by his side and hardly daring to breathe. His own racing heartbeat sounded loud in the silence that followed and when he gave another small cough it seemed to echo around the whole attic. He lay there for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes until he couldn't fight it anymore and glanced over at Kurt.

The taller boy was on his side and gazing at him; Blaine could see the gleam of his eyes and curve of his jaw in the dim light from the small windows. The sight of him lying there only inches away, with locks of hair falling over his forehead and a soft smile on his face, sent a shiver down Blaine's spine.

"Are you cold?" Kurt asked, propping himself up on an elbow. Without giving Blaine a chance to respond he shuffled closer. "Is this ok?" he whispered, his breath ghosting over Blaine's face - he smelled of mint on top of his usual scent.

Swallowing, Blaine nodded and rolled off his back onto his side so he was facing away from Kurt in case he coughed during the night. He didn't even try to hold back the content sigh that escaped him when Kurt curled up behind him, his chest pressed against his back, his arm draped over his waist. He had never imagined it could be so comfortable sleeping on the hard attic floor, but he was warm and just as comfortable as he had been in Kurt's bed earlier.

A sudden thought occurred to him. "We could have both just slept in your bed," he pointed out.

There were a few seconds of silence, then, "Go to sleep, Blaine."