Dead. DeAD. DEADDEADDEAD. I am now blogging from the great beyond. LOOK AT THEM! Seriously, could they be any cuter? #stick a fork in me I'm done #do you think ghosts can choose who they haunt? 'Cause…

Cute is not the word I'd use [ovaries exploding gif]

Well, that certainly made my holidays brighter. I never knew I needed this in my life until this moment. Perfect family is perfect. #RL OTP how I love you

Kurt's tweet says they're enjoying the holidays with family and friends. We know about Kurt's family, but I just realized I don't know anything about Blaine's except for Cooper (hubba hubba!). Anyone know more?

I don't understand. How can this be so damn adorable (Kurt wearing a sparkly halo! Blaine in a Santa hat! Elphie with reindeer antlers!) and yet so completely 100% lady-part tingle inducing hot? #answer: arms arms arms arms arms arms arms #oh and hair and face too

Having impure thoughts about someone wearing a halo. I'm going to hell, aren't I? #worth it #totally worth it #I blame the white fluffy sweater Kurt's wearing #how dare he?

=^..^=

January

Kurt was just finishing up his morning moisturizing routine and making a mental note to pick up some more Cr�me de la Mer, when he heard a series of violent sneezes from the bedroom, followed by a long, drawn-out groan. With one last glance in the mirror to make sure he didn't have any stray dabs of cream remaining anywhere, he tightened the belt of his robe and headed for the door, stopping only to grab the box of tissues from the vanity.

"I take it the tickle didn't go away like you'd hoped?" he asked the top of Blaine's head, which was all that was visible above the blankets.

Blaine pulled the comforter down a few inches so that he could look up at Kurt, his watery eyes narrowing at the bright light streaming in from the window. "No. It's a cold. A horrible, nasty, weekend destroying cold. Or the flu. Swine flu, bird flu, Spanish flu. Those little germ spewing monsters brought back their mutated germs from wherever it was they went over break and gave them all to me."

"That bad, huh?" Kurt laid the back of his hand against Blaine's forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever, so I think we can safely rule out the Spanish flu."

"I don't have a fever yet," Blaine said, his doom filled voice pinched off by the congestion in his nose.

"How about I get you some breakfast and cold medicine while you try not to dwell on all the historical epidemics you know of?"

"Are there any Pop Tarts?"

Kurt tried to hide his grimace as he reached out to smooth a wrinkle from the blanket. "I don't understand why you like those things. Besides, you probably can't taste anything with your nose all stuffed up anyways. How about some oatmeal or cream of wheat? Keep your strength up." Blaine just lay there, blinking at him with a lost expression. "Fine. I think there's still part of a box in the pantry from the last time you were sick. You've got really strange sickness cravings, has anyone ever told you that? Why can't you just want 7-Up and tomato soup like the rest of us?"

"Cooper always gave me Pop Tarts when I was sick as a kid. I think they were all he knew how to make." Blaine reached out suddenly to grab a tissue and sneezed into it violently three times in a row. He wiped his nose and dropped his head back onto the pillow as if it weighed a ton. "They just make me feel better."

The sheer misery on Blaine's face tugged at Kurt's heart. "I know, I know. I'll go get them. Do you want your phone so that you can write in to have a sub tomorrow? I doubt you'll feel like going in, though those rotten kids deserve to get their germs thrown back at them."

"Hey, don't call them that."

"You just called them monsters!"

"Yeah, but they're my monsters," Blaine said. "Can I have 7-Up with my Pop Tarts? That sounds good, now that you said it."

Swallowing any further lecture on the nutritional deficiencies of toaster pastry, Kurt slipped into the kitchen to make Blaine up a tray. He pushed the lever down on the toaster and poured a glass of 7-Up, holding his breath for a second as the beverage threatened to fizz over the top. As he waited for the pastries to finish browning, he added a vase to the tray and pulled a rose from the small arrangement a fan had given him at the stage door the night before. He snipped the end of the stem off and slid it into the vase, happy with the little bit of cheer it added to the make-shift breakfast.

Though he would never wish illness on Blaine, Kurt kind of secretly loved it when he had the opportunity to take care of him. Blaine was usually so strong and self-sufficient that it felt good to be the protector for a change.

He balanced the tray carefully as he made his way to the bedroom, keeping an eye out in case Elphie decided that it was time to play her favorite game of "how close can I get to someone's feet before they trip". Blaine ate his treat as happily as someone with a dripping nose and watering eyes could and then he sent a quick mail to the school admin to request that they find a substitute for the next day. As soon as he put the phone down, Kurt dosed him with cold medicine, which knocked him out quickly as usual.

While Blaine slept, Kurt took the opportunity to take Elphie out for her morning walk (she'd been waiting semi-patiently by the front door since he'd gotten out of bed). Then, after returning her back to the apartment, he made a run to the grocery store, dropping Pop Tarts, juice, cough syrup, and a few comfort foods into his basket. Once in the checkout line, he looked around to make sure no one was watching before dropping an Us magazine onto the conveyor belt. No sense in advertising the fact that he read the rags from time-to-time.

On the way back home he stopped at a comic book store and asked the clerk for the latest issues of a couple of series that he'd seen Blaine read in the past. Superheroes and such weren't really in the overlapping section of their venn diagram of interests (yes, even after Kurt had appeared as one of the X-men. He didn't have to love the genre to be a part of it) and looking at the brightly colored covers made him wonder, not for the first time, if teenage Blaine and teenage Kurt would have been friends (or more) if they'd known each other.

When he got home, he checked to make sure Blaine was still sleeping and then went to put the groceries away. He was glad that the illness had hit on a Sunday. It would break his heart to have to leave Blaine to go into work. This way he had two whole days off to baby him.

Using the Williams and Sonoma panini press he'd gotten for Christmas from Carole, Kurt made up some grilled cheese sandwiches (he even cut the crusts off, which Blaine preferred, but would never admit to) and soup and then woke Blaine up to eat.

They ate on the couch, snuggled up in the new faux-fur throws that had been such a bargain at the after Christmas sales, while they watched the most ridiculous, trashy reality shows they could find. Reality TV was in a swing towards workplace based shows, but Kurt secretly longed for a return to the celebrity train wrecks a la Britney and Kevin or Being Bobby Brown from his childhood. He knew that, as a celebrity himself, he shouldn't want to see people he might know humiliated like that, but everyone who participated in a reality show knew what they were signing up for, so he decided that made it guilt-free fun.

When the food was cleared away, Kurt wanted to cuddle, but Blaine didn't want them to get any closer than necessary due to his germs.

"I don't want to get you sick, Kurt," Blaine protested, his voice muffled by the oversized cup of tea he held in front of his face.

"It's probably too late for that."

Blaine shook his head firmly. "It disappoints so many people when you miss a performance. We have to do what we can."

So they sat at opposites ends of the couch with their feet entangled in the middle. Elphie jumped up after them, circling a few times before laying down in the gap, her chin resting on their toes.

Eventually, watching TV started to fatigue Blaine's watery eyes. He looked so miserable and drained that Kurt would have given just about anything to make him feel better. There wasn't much he could do, though, other than administer another round of cold medicine and suggest a long, hot bath.

Leaving Blaine on the couch for a few minutes, Kurt got up and prepared the water, using his most expensive, best smelling French bubble bath. He helped Blaine strip off his clothes and watched as he sank into tub, the giant mountain of bubbles almost hiding him from view entirely. Blaine laid back and rested his head on the little inflatable pillow Kurt had placed at one end.

"I love you," he sighed as the tension in his body evaporated.

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered back, unable to resist leaning down and kissing his forehead.

Leaving Blaine to soak, he went around the apartment cleaning up the mini-disaster left over from a day of tending the plague patient. He swept up little balls of used tissue (gross) into a trash can, changed the sheets on their bed, and made sure Elphie still had food and water.

With that work done, he puttered around the bedroom, one ear listening for sounds of movement to ensure that Blaine hadn't fallen asleep and drowned. He plugged both of their phones in to charge and got out a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas for Blaine to change into.

The sound of splashing and a muffled curse word startled him and he rushed in to help Blaine from the bath. Blaine stood stoically silent as Kurt worked his curls over with a towel, grumbling only a little bit under his breath about how he wasn't a baby when Kurt went to help him into his pajamas. Kurt bit back a smile when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder as his "not a baby" fought for balance as he struggled with his pants.

Blaine crawled between the fresh sheets and closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. Elphie jumped up with him and stared with her head tilted to one side as if trying to puzzle out why he was getting into bed so early before curling up next to his leg with a heavy doggy sigh.

"I'm sorry I messed up our Sunday," Blaine mumbled, already half asleep. "We were going to go to that new exhibit at the FIT museum, weren't we?"

Kurt brushed Blaine's hair back from his forehead, smiling as it curled around his fingers. "It's not going anywhere. We'll see it some other time. It was nice just staying home with you. We should do this more often – without one of us infected with the plague of course – it makes me nostalgic for the days of being holed up with you in the Hollywood Hills."

"Mmmm…"

Kurt lay down next to Blaine over the covers, reaching out to intertwine their fingers together in the way that now felt like home to him. Blaine squeezed his hand back in return, no longer protesting about germs and contagion.

They lay like that for a few minutes. Kurt wasn't sleepy — after all it was only late afternoon — but he was content just to relax by Blaine's side. He reached out to scratch Elphie under her chin and laughed quietly when she immediately rolled over on her back and begged him with her sad puppy eyes for a belly rub.

Kurt had thought Blaine had fallen asleep, so he was surprised when he suddenly turned over so they were facing each other.

"Have you given more thought to your big dilemma?" Blaine croaked after clearing his throat.

"You mean the movie versus the series?" Kurt propped his head up on an elbow, his other hand still petting Elphie.

Blaine nodded. "You have to give the movie producers an answer by this week, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to do it. The movie, I mean. I can't sign a new contract with Toy Story if I'm going to be off filming a movie for three months or more. They'd have to replace me permanently and I don't think I'm ready to be done playing Woody yet. I was taking my bow last night and I just knew."

"Is that the only reason?" Blaine asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm not gonna lie. Being away from you for that long would suck—not because I couldn't be without you for that long or because I'm worried about what long distance would do to our relationship, because I could and I'm not, though I'd miss you like crazy and I'd probably be a major bitch to everyone. It's not why I'm going to pass on the role, though, so you can wipe that worried look off your face right now."

He ran a fingertip along Blaine's cheekbone and down to his lips. "I've built a pretty amazing life and career for myself here and I'm not ready to put it on hold. There are so many amazing opportunities to be had by staying in New York and being able to come home to you every night is just one more tick in the 'pro' column."

Blaine stubbornly continued to play devil's advocate. "The movie could do amazing things for you, introduce you to a whole new audience that isn't interested in musicals or superheroes."

"Yeah, but if they haven't figured out how amazing I am already I'm not sure I want them as a fan," Kurt teased.

"You are amazing."

Kurt barely stopped himself from melting into the mattress. It was astounding how Blaine could just slay him with nothing but simple words and cartoon-ready heart eyes. It wasn't the time for romance, though, not with Blaine's eyes red from rubbing and what looked suspiciously like snot starting to run out of his nose, so he retreated behind a joke to hide how touched he was. "Besides, I need to get started on the Emmy I need for my EGOT, so I've got to think seriously about TV," he said, calling back to the joke Blaine had made to try and lessen his nerves on the way to the Oscars.

"Mmmm… yeah. The Grammy will be easy after that," Blaine said, his eyes falling shut as he snuffled into his pillow. "As soon as you decide to record an album it's yours. No contest."

No contest. That was exactly how Kurt felt about the movie in L.A. versus Broadway and Blaine in New York decision.

Absolutely no contest.