CHAPTER 23

                Kurt was tired.  Bone tired, couldn't bring himself to move tired.  It was his turn to cook dinner, but he was so exhausted he couldn't think, much less muster the energy to shop for groceries.  He was only fifty-six, but he thought this must be what a hundred feels like.  Leaving the office he had a mental war with himself.  The subway might get him home faster than a cab, and it would definitely take more time to find a cab, but he just didn't have the energy to fight the crowds tonight.  Slowly, he made his way downstairs and out onto the frigid street.  The first four cabs that passed were occupied, and the next two picked up someone else before he could step out toward the street to hail them.  He managed to catch the attention of the next cabbie, and as the taxi pulled up he opened the door and slumped into the back seat. 

                “Wow, man, you look like you've had a rough week, and it's only Monday.  Where to?”  The driver asked.

                “Fifth Avenue,” Kurt answered, and then rattled off his street number.  He did not address the other comment, but it made him think.  Monday.  Most of the theaters were shuttered on Monday, and Blaine did not have a show playing right now, so maybe he'd be home.  However, he did have one in the early stages.  They were still working on casting, so rehearsals hadn't started yet.  Kurt still wasn't sure that he believed in God, but the events of the last thirty-nine years had weakened his certainty that God did not exist.  He prayed to whoever, or whatever, was out there, that casting and the meetings that always went with a new show had not run late, and Blaine would be home when he got there.

                “Hey, Buddy, we're here!”  The cabbie called.  Kurt awoke with a start.  He must have fallen asleep on the ride home. 

                “Thanks,” he said, swiping his credit card through the machine in the backseat.  He left the cab and made his way into the building.  Jamie, the evening doorman, held the door for him.

                “Good evening, Mr. Hummel-Anderson.  Can I get your mail for you?”  He inquired.

                “Sure.  Is. . .?”  He left the question hanging, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

                “The other Mr. Hummel-Anderson in?”  Jamie guessed, then answered at Kurt's nod, “No, sir.  Not yet.”

                Kurt sighed and slowly made his way to the elevator.  The ride to the penthouse seemed to last forever, and his relief as the doors slid open was incredible.  He fished in his pocket for his keys and let himself in.  Once in the apartment, he turned on the lamp on the small table next to the couch and sank down onto the couch.  He looked at the clock:  seven o'clock.  “I'll just rest for a few minutes, then figure out dinner.”

* * *

                “Thanks, Carolyn.  I'm in for the night, so drop the car and enjoy yourself,” Blaine dismissed his driver.  Although he and Kurt kept their cars, they garaged them and only used them for out of town trips.  They employed a car service to get them around town, although Kurt didn't use it very often.  Since he spent most of his day within a small area, and didn't work regular hours, he just used the on-call option when necessary, depending on his feet, cabs or the subway for most of his transportation.  Blaine, on the other hand, spent more time darting from place to place, so he had a regular driver.  He hummed a melody he was working on as he walked into the building. 

                “Good evening, Mr. Hummel-Anderson.  Mr. Hummel-Anderson picked up your mail earlier.”  Jamie smiled at Blaine. 

                “Thanks, Jamie.  When did Kurt get in?”  Blaine responded.

                “Around seven,” the doorman replied.

                Blaine got on the elevator, wondering what gourmet delight awaited him at the end of the ride.  He was surprised as he let himself in to find the apartment in near total darkness.  Glancing toward the only source of light, he saw Kurt slumped on the couch, leaning on his fist, his arm propped on the arm of the couch.  Worried, he placed the back of his hand on Kurt's forehead; it was a little warm, but didn't seem too bad.  He woke Kurt with a gentle kiss to the cheek.  “Hey, Baby, are you okay?”

                Kurt came to slowly, shaking his head to clear it.  “What time is it? Oh my God! Dinner – I'm so sorry!  I just sat down to rest for a minute and-“

                “Shh,” Blaine soothed, “It's okay.  It's about eight-thirty.  We could go out, or get take-out or something.”

                “Really?  You're sure it's okay?  I'm just so tired,” Kurt said.

                “Sure.  What do you want?  We could try the new Italian place on the corner, or get Thai from that little place a couple of blocks down, or whatever sounds good to you.”  Blaine's concern was evident in his voice.

                “Would you mind if we just ordered in?  I really don't care what it is.  I'm not very hungry so just order whatever sounds good to you.”  Kurt sighed in relief, failing to pick up on Blaine's worried tone.  Blaine wasn't angry; although he didn't tend to anger over things like this, Kurt couldn't help but feel that he had let him down.

                “Sure.  It's not a problem, Sweetheart.  I'll get Chinese.  We both really like that.”  Blaine was getting more apprehensive by the moment. Something was definitely not right.  He picked up the phone and dialed their favorite Chinese restaurant and placed the order.  After getting dinner set in motion, he headed for the master bedroom; Kurt didn't seem to notice, and did not move from his place on the couch.  Blaine returned to the room and sat next to Kurt.

                “Open up, Baby,” he requested gently.

                “What are you doing?”  Kurt demanded.

                “Taking your temperature.  You don't seem like you feel well,” he responded.

                “I'm fine.  I'm just really tired,” Kurt said.

                “Well, humor me and prove I'm wrong,” Blaine said, holding out the thermometer.

                Kurt grumbled under his breath, but allowed Blaine to place the thermometer under his tongue.  A few minutes later, Blaine removed it, leaning across Kurt to check Kurt's temperature under the lamp's soft light.  “Ninety-nine point eight.  You're officially sick,” he pronounced.

                “No, I'm not.  Maybe, and I am not conceding this point, I might be getting a cold or something, but I'm not really sick.  If I were in school the nurse wouldn't even send me home,” Kurt argued.

                Blaine sighed.  Kurt worked too hard, and tended to run himself down if Blaine didn't stop him from doing so.  He usually tried to pay more attention, but the early stages of a show, from getting backing to the first week or so after opening night, tended to be really time consuming for him.  If Kurt did get sick, which admittedly did not happen very often, it was almost always during times like these.  “We will discuss this more after dinner.”  It wasn't a question.  Kurt knew Blaine wasn't going to let this go, but he didn't want to talk about it.  He didn't want to talk at all.  He loved Blaine, but he really just wanted to sleep.  For a week.  Maybe more.  If he was lucky, maybe Blaine would forget about it, he thought, although he knew that wouldn't happen.

                In the kitchen, Blaine was getting out dishes and silverware and chopsticks.  He set the table in the breakfast nook, which had become their informal dining room now that the kids were out of the house.  They really only used the formal dining room when they threw a party or had guests or the kids came over.  He called Jamie to tell him to send the delivery man up when he came, then puttered around the room to stall for time and delay the argument he knew was going to happen later this evening.  Finally, the bell rang, and he went to the door.  After paying the delivery girl (and realizing that the overprotective father in him was coming out, again, upon thinking that girls that young had no business running around the city at night by themselves making deliveries), he took the food in and put it on the plates before going back to the living room to get Kurt, who had dozed off again.  Blaine woke him with a gentle shake, and they both went in to eat.

                “Is something wrong with the food?” Blaine asked.  Kurt had just stirred his soup a few times, not even trying it, and had ignored his tea.  He'd spent the last half hour pushing the rest of the food around on his plate with a chopstick.  He hadn't actually eaten anything.  “You do know that moving the food around on the plate doesn't fool me into thinking you've eaten any more than when Ellie did it when she was little, right?”

                “Nothing's wrong with it.  I'm just not hungry.  I'm really tired.  I just want to go to bed.  I'm sorry.”  Kurt apologized for the second time that night.  Blaine looked at him, realizing just how thin Kurt had gotten.  When had that happened?  He'd always been slender, but now the bones of his wrists seemed too prominent, too, well, boney.  Blaine searched his mind, trying to remember the last time he'd seen Kurt eat, really eat, not just a mouthful or two.  It must have been sometime before last Thanksgiving.

                Blaine sighed, “Sure, Sweetheart.  I'll clean this up later.  Let's get you to bed.”  Blaine knew that both of them would rather he clean up now, both because they both liked things squared away and tidy, although Blaine could tolerate more mess than Kurt could, and because neither was looking forward to the discussion that was going to occur before they went to sleep.  However, Blaine was pretty sure that if he took the time to clean up now, Kurt would be sound asleep before he could finish and get back to the bedroom to talk.  And they needed to talk.  Tonight.

                As Kurt stood up, Blaine placed a hand in the small of his back and guided him toward the bedroom.  Kurt passed through the bedroom and large master bathroom and into the huge closet they shared.  Blaine followed.  “We need to talk.”

                “Can't we talk about this tomorrow?”  Kurt begged.

                “No.  When was the last time you went to the doctor?  Because I don't remember.”

                “When I got that sinus infection from Hell a couple of years ago.  Why?”  Kurt knew why.  He just didn't want to discuss it.

                “When was the last time you actually had a physical?”  Blaine was not giving in on this.

                “When we got the new life insurance policies.”  Kurt answered.

                “Kurt, that was five years ago, and it was an insurance physical.  All it's designed to do is make sure that you aren't on any drugs and that you aren't actually dead at the time of the physical.”  Blaine argued.  Kurt had unbuttoned his deep blue shirt and was slowly easing it from his shoulders while Blaine talked.  “Something's – oh my God!  Kurt, what happened?”  Blaine gasped.  His eyes were riveted to a large bruise on Kurt's shoulder.

                Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his reflection in the full length mirror on the inside of the door.  “Oh, that.  A bolt of satin slid out of the rack this afternoon and hit me.  I guess it bruised.”  He continued to slip the shirt off, unaware that Blaine was still staring, stunned by the many bruises that marred Kurt's back, torso and arms.  Kurt had always bruised easily, and Blaine had learned to be careful:  if he held Kurt too tightly while making love, he could easily mar the porcelain skin, and he'd learned that although Kurt actually enjoyed kisses that left hickeys, he had to make sure to leave them in places that wouldn't show.  Once when they were arguing Kurt had turned to storm out, and Blaine had grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving; he hadn't meant to hurt him, but Kurt had pulled against him, and it resulted in a ring of bruises around Kurt's wrist that never failed to make Blaine feel guilty whenever he thought of it.  But he had never seen so many bruises on Kurt at once.

                “Undress for me.” 

                “Blaine, I'm really just exhausted.  I love you, but tonight . . .” Kurt protested.

                “This isn't about sex.  Take your clothes off.  Now.”  Blaine ordered, anxiety causing his voice to come out more harshly than he intended.

                Kurt's eyes grew large, but he complied with the order, unbuckling his belt and then unbuttoning and unzipping his fitted pants, which Blaine noticed for the first time were not nearly as snug as they should have been, finally sliding them off over his long legs.  He stood before Blaine in black boxer briefs and socks.  Where were his shoes, he wondered.  He guessed he had taken them off in the living room and left them there, but he couldn't remember.

                “Keep going,” Blaine ordered.  Kurt slipped off his socks, then slowly removed his underwear and stood naked before his husband of over thirty years.  Blaine circled him, taking note of the prominent ribs and hip bones and the bruises that seemed to cover so much of Kurt's body.  He noticed the matching sets of bruises on each buttock, five of them on each side.  He stood before Kurt and reached out, placing gentle fingers on each bruise.  “When did you get these?” he asked quietly, suspecting the answer and dreading it.

                “The last time we made love, I guess.  I promise, I'm not cheating on you.”  Kurt was suddenly afraid.  He had never, in their entire marriage, even considered cheating on Blaine, but what if Blaine didn't believe him?  He knew it had been a while since they made love, but he couldn't think of anywhere else the bruises could have come from.

                Blaine sighed, “Kurt, I believe you.  Where else would you find someone who touches you the exact way I do, in the exact same place, and has exactly the same size hands I do?  But. . .” he paused, doing a bit of quick mental math.  It had been after Adam's New Year's Eve party.  Kurt had never been much of a drinker, and except for a few notable times in high school and college, neither had Blaine.  As a result, after the party broke up, the two were both still wide awake and sober, and spent the night after reaching their apartment having their own, very private, celebration that lasted until dawn broke on the first day of the new year.  “It's been three weeks, Honey.  The bruises shouldn't have lasted that long, and they aren't even really faded.  And where did all the others come from?  Has someone been hurting you?”

                “No, no, not at all.  This one on the side of my ribs comes from bumping into my design desk the other day.”  Kurt liked to work at tall design desks, so he could work on a high stool or standing.  “Most of the rest of them just kind of appeared.  I don't really know how or when I got them.  I guess I've just been clumsy lately and not paying attention.”  Blaine frowned.  If there was one thing Kurt had never been, it was clumsy. 

                “My love, I know you aren't going to like what I'm about to say, but I'm worried.  You're exhausted, and you've been way too tired too often for a long time.  You're running a fever – don't argue with me on that –“ Blaine said, cutting off Kurt's protest with an upheld hand, “it may be a low grade fever but it's a fever nonetheless.  You have no appetite, you aren't eating, and you've lost a lot of weight.  On top of that you're basically one big bruise.  You're way overdue for a physical, and even if you weren't, all of the stuff I just mentioned would mean that you really need to go to the doctor.”

                “I'll be fine.  I just need to rest a little,” Kurt countered.  Blaine sighed again.  Kurt was the most responsible adult in the world when it came to healthcare for anyone he cared about, but a frightened two year old when it came to his own.  Blaine knew part of it was the fact that the doctors had not been able to make his mother better when he was a child.  He also knew part of it was that, although he didn't like to admit it, Kurt was afraid of needles.  But the biggest issue, he knew, was that Kurt was still not really comfortable with his body and with being touched.  He was open and trusting with Blaine, and did not mind hugging those he was close to, and was okay with handshakes.  However, the social kissing and hugging that went on in their professional circles, the theater, music, and fashion industries, still made him uncomfortable, and he had to force himself not to stiffen each time.  The thought of being undressed in front of anyone other than Blaine troubled him immensely, and the idea of being touched on a private place on his body (which he considered virtually his entire body other than his hands) by anyone other than Blaine was unbearable to him, even if it was for medical treatment.

                “Look, I'm overdue for a physical too.  It's been nearly two years since I had one.  I'll go with you, we'll both get physicals, and if you're right you can say ‘I told you so' as much as you want,” Blaine offered.

                “I don't want to go to the doctor,” Kurt protested.

                “I know you don't, Baby, but I'm putting my foot down.  It's not your choice anymore.  You're going as soon as I can get you an appointment,” Blaine stated.  “Now put your pajamas on and let's go to bed.”

                “What about the dishes?”  Kurt asked.

                “Let me hold you while you go to sleep.  Then I'll get up and do the dishes.”  Blaine said, taking Kurt into his arms and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

                Kurt pulled on soft pajama pants and an old long-sleeved tee shirt, and went to brush his teeth.  He washed his face, but was too tired to actually deal with his elaborate skin care ritual.  Blaine quickly changed into pajamas while Kurt was getting ready for bed, then took Kurt's hand and led him to the king-size bed.  He folded down the covers and helped Kurt climb in, then crawled in behind him and spooned against his back, wrapping his arms around his husband and placing a few soft kisses on the nape of his neck.  “I love you so much, Baby,” he whispered.

                Kurt's sleepy “I love you too,” was almost lost in a huge yawn, and within minutes he was sound asleep.  Blaine lay awake, knowing he needed to clean up and make some calls, but desperately afraid, all of a sudden, to let go of Kurt.  Somehow, he felt, if he let go of him, Kurt would simply slip away.  So he lay in the dark and held him, listening to his quiet breathing.  He placed one hand under Kurt's shirt, over his heart, just to feel it beating.  After a while, in which Kurt's breathing and heartbeat slowed, but remained strong, he slid his hand toward Kurt's ribs, noticing how easy it was to feel each one.  He continued his downward trek, sliding his hand under the waistband of Kurt's pajamas and over his jutting hipbone.  Silent tears began to slip from his eyes as he let his hand drift back up toward Kurt's waist.  Suddenly, he stopped and slipped his hand back an inch, eyes growing wide.  There, on Kurt's groin, was a small lump.  Blaine's entire body began to shake, and he held his husband as tightly as he dared.  He'd never been so scared in his entire life.  Finally, he managed to calm himself, taking long, deep breaths. 

                Blaine eased from the bed, and went to make his calls.  It was just past ten forty-five.  He was pretty sure everyone he needed to talk to would still be up.  As he dialed the first number, he walked upstairs, to the bedroom they had converted to a gym.  He'd been too busy to use it recently, but constant dancing kept him in shape.  Since Kurt no longer danced on stage as much, he was more likely to use it.  However, a thin film of dust coated the treadmill, stationary bike, and weights.  He made a mental note to speak to Rosemary, their housekeeper, about making sure she dusted the entire house; Kurt would have thrown a fit if he'd seen his gym like that.  Next, he called the twenty four hour gym they belonged to, checking to see if Kurt had been in recently.  After the desk clerk confirmed that Kurt had not been there in over two months, Blaine prepared to make his final investigatory call.  Finding the number on his phone, he hit the call button.

                “Blaine!  Darling!  Long time no see.  And you've been hiding that handsome husband of yours away too.  That's just mean!”  Ben Long exclaimed before Blaine could say a word.  Blaine smiled.  A few years older than he and Kurt, Ben was a dancer and choreographer who owned a dance studio where Blaine and Kurt sometimes took classes, or used a studio, if there was one vacant, to choreograph or just dance with abandon when the mood struck.  He had given them keys so they could use the studio whenever they wanted.  He was one of the few who had welcomed them with open arms when they first ventured into the theater world, treating them as friends rather than as threats.  Over the years, his generosity had been repaid many times over, through referrals, employment as a both a dancer and a choreographer, and employment for his students.

                “So you haven't seen Kurt recently?” he questioned.

                “No, my dear.  Did you misplace him?  So careless of you.  I'm sure he won't be lost long – someone will scoop him up in a heartbeat,” Ben replied.

                Blaine laughed, “No, he's actually asleep in my bed at this very moment.  I was just wondering if he's been in the studio lately.”

                “Let me check,” Ben said.  After some vandalism a few years ago at the hands of a disgruntled employee, Ben had installed electronic locks and security cameras.  He could now track the usage of each individual key.  “No, it looks like the last time his card was used was about a week before Halloween last year.  Why?”

                “I don't want to say anything until I'm sure what's going on.  I'll let you know when I know more.”  Blaine answered.

                “Oooh, so mysterious!  Well, don't be such a stranger.  Love you, darling!”  Ben cried.

                “Okay.  I'll talk to you soon.  Bye.”  And with that, Blaine hung up, heart sinking.  Kurt was something of a fanatic about working out, maintaining his slim dancer's build, but it was clear he had not been to the studio or gym, nor had he used the home gym, in several months.

                It was time to make the last call.  He quickly found the number and placed the call.  “Dr. Yu speaking,” the voice on the other end said.

                “Daniel, it's Blaine.  Can we talk?”  Blaine's voice was pleading.

                “Sure, Blaine.  What's wrong, and don't tell me nothing.  That voice is not for nothing.  You sound like you're about to cry.”  Blaine couldn't help but smile, and be grateful for how well Dr. Daniel Yu knew both he and Kurt.  Not only their doctor, he was also a close friend.  His smile grew as he remembered how they met.  When Blaine was trying to get his first show off the ground, he had quickly realized that the legalese in the contracts he was trying to negotiate was ridiculously confusing, and he would need help with them.  He called his father, an attorney in Ohio; however, his father told him that he would be better off with an entertainment attorney who specialized in this kind of work, and offered to contact someone in New York for him.  His father's friend in New York, recognizing Blaine's limited resources, suggested a junior attorney in the firm who had some experience in the area, Evan Yu.  Adam had been helping with the choreography on that show, and had tagged along to several meetings.  It took Blaine some time to recognize that Adam's interest was not in the contracts, but in Evan, and the feeling was mutual.  They had been together now almost as long as Kurt and Blaine.  One evening, Evan and Adam had invited Kurt and Blaine out, suggesting an evening in one of Santana's clubs.  They brought along Evan's older brother Daniel, who was finishing his residency.  Evan knew that Kurt and Blaine were friends with Santana, and asked them to introduce Daniel to Santana.  Laughing, they had explained that Daniel was not Santana's type.  Upon being asked if she did not like Asian guys, it took everything they had to explain that the assumption was half correct, but that the Asian part was not the issue, without dying laughing.  They had been friends from that point on, welcoming Daniel's wife Christa when he finally found and fell in love with her.

                “I don't know what's wrong.  It's Kurt.”  Suddenly, Blaine couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and his words tumbled out in a torrent.  “He's tired all the time, he doesn't have an appetite and doesn't even try to eat, he's so thin and there are bruises everywhere, he's running a fever, and I don't know what to do.  He doesn't want to come in and –“

                “Blaine, stop.  Bring him in the morning.  Bring him.  You know if you just tell him to come in he won't do it.  We'll do a full physical, and a blood workup, and we'll figure out what's going on.”

                “I told him I'd have a physical too.  We're both overdue.  It's been almost two years for me, and I thought it might be easier to get him to go if I went too.”  Blaine prayed Daniel could see them both.  If he couldn't, Kurt might bolt.

                “No problem.  Be at my office at eight tomorrow morning.  Oh, and Blaine, both of you skip breakfast.”  Daniel instructed, “I'd rather do the blood work after a minimum of an eight hour fast.”

                “Thank you so much.  I really appreciate this.  I hope it isn't too much trouble.”

                “Nah.  I don't usually see patients on Tuesday mornings.  I reserve them for charting and paperwork.”  Daniel said.

                “Really?  Isn't that kind of an odd schedule?”  Blaine asked curiously.

                “Yeah.  Most doctors I know plan to do it on Friday, but I want to look forward to my weekend, and if I plan to do them on Friday, I end up taking them home and they just hang over everything like a black cloud until late Sunday when I force myself to actually do them.  So Monday would seem like the next most logical time, but I just can't bring myself to do it on Monday.  Mondays are bad enough without mountains of paperwork.”  Daniel explained.  Blaine laughed.  There was always method to Daniel's madness.  They said goodbye, Blaine much calmer now that he had a plan, and action was being taken.

                As he cleaned the kitchen, he called the car service and apologetically told them he would need Carolyn early tomorrow morning, and that she should be outside at seven.  Then he turned out the lights and headed to bed, picking up Kurt's shoes from where they had been abandoned in front of the couch as he went.  After placing them in the closet and brushing his teeth, he set his alarm, climbed back into bed, and drew Kurt into his arms, finally able to sleep.

* * *

                Blaine groaned as his alarm blared at six the next morning.  He stretched, then looked to the peacefully sleeping form of his husband.  This was not going to be fun.  Kurt was not a morning person at the best of times, and this was most definitely not the best of times.  “Kurt, Baby, wake up.  We have to get up.  We have an appointment.”

                “No.  Leave me alone.  I want to sleep,” Kurt responded grumpily.

                “Not an option today.  Come on.  Up,” Blaine cajoled, sliding an arm under Kurt's shoulders and lifting him into a sitting position.  After a bit more arguing, Blaine was able to get Kurt out of bed and moving.

                Once they were both dressed, Blaine checked his watch:  a little after seven.  “Come on, we're running late.  Carolyn should be waiting downstairs already.”

                “Can't I even have something to eat?” whined Kurt.  Of course, Kurt's appetite would pick this morning to make a reappearance, although Blaine suspected the request had less to do with hunger and more to do with stalling.  He did not want to go into why Kurt couldn't eat, although he was pretty sure Kurt already knew, or at least had his suspicions.  Better to just stay with the excuse of running late for now.

                “Nope.  Not right now.  But I'll make it up to you.  Once we're done at the doctor's office, I'll take you wherever you want to go and you can get anything you want,” Blaine promised.  Kurt grumbled something incoherent in reply.  Once in the car, he leaned against the door in the backseat, pouting and staying as far from Blaine as possible.  Blaine's attempts to draw him into conversation were one-sided, and Blaine eventually gave up and texted his assistant, Paul, and Adam, who was his assistant choreographer for this show.  They were supposed to be casting for the chorus today, and he told them to start without him.  He trusted Adam to make the first round of cuts without his input.

Traffic wasn't too bad, for Manhattan, and they actually made it to the medical complex housing Daniel's office a few minutes before eight.  Blaine led them upstairs as fast as he could, given the fact that he was literally dragging Kurt.  When they entered the office, Daniel poked his head out from the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the office.  “Hey, guys.  Come on back to my office.  Let's talk for a minute, then we'll do the exams, then we can talk again.”

Once seated in comfortable chairs in Daniel's private office, they started to get down to business.  Daniel asked the usual background questions about how their health had been, which Blaine answered for both of them, since Kurt wasn't talking and his mood could only be described as surly.  Daniel then turned to Kurt and said, “Blaine tells me you've been tired a lot lately.  Any ideas why that might be?”

“I've been getting the fall/winter collections ready for the Fashion Weeks.  It's four major shows in roughly one month.  It's always tiring.”  Kurt answered defensively.

“And the bruising?  Any idea why you might be getting so many bruises lately?” 

“I told Blaine.  I've just been clumsy lately, careless.”

“Hmmm.  And you look pretty thin.  Blaine tells me you haven't been eating much lately.”

“You and Blaine seem to have gotten awfully chatty all of a sudden.  I've just been busy and preoccupied.  I guess I forgot to eat a few times.”

“Any recent illnesses you haven't mentioned?”

“No,” Kurt replied shortly.

“Have you noticed that it takes longer for injuries to heal or to get over illnesses?”

“I haven't had any injuries or illnesses to recover from.  I'm fine.”  Kurt insisted.

“Have you had any pain in your bones or joints?”

Blaine's eyes widened in surprise when Kurt answered, “Some.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asked.

“I'm getting old, Blaine.  It's nothing more than that.  You don't need me to tell you we're both getting older.  Look around your shows.  You're casting kids younger than Ellie, and if anyone sent me a new model her age that wasn't an international supermodel I'd laugh in their face.”  Blaine was momentarily struck silent by the fact that Kurt was right; although he didn't think of them as old, they both dealt largely with actors and models younger than their youngest child.

He was brought out of his reverie by Daniel saying, “Since my parents went to all the trouble and expense of putting me through medical school, why don't you make it worth their while and let me decide if it's age or something else, okay?  Now, what about muscle aches and pains?”

Again, Kurt replied, “A few.  But I usually know why.  Too long bending over the desk or a cutting table can make my back and shoulders ache, lifting too much can make me sore for a day or two, that kind of thing.”

Finally, Daniel was done with the immediate questions and said, “Okay, here's the game plan.  We're going to draw some blood and get some labs going, then I'll do your exams, then we can talk again.”

Blaine spoke up, “Daniel, there's one more thing.  Last night, I, um, I found a lump on his groin.”

Kurt snarled angrily, “What?  Are you groping me in my sleep now?”

Blaine responded quickly, “First of all, you never used to mind.  In fact, you used to like it!  And last night –“ Blaine gasped as his tears started to fall, “last night I just needed to hold you.  I needed to feel you in my arms.”

“Okay, guys!” Daniel broke in.

Kurt melted for the first time that day, finally meeting Blaine's eyes and saying, “I'm sorry,” in a small voice, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Taking charge again, Daniel directed them to a small room near the door to the waiting room.  “Just head in here, and we'll get your labs started.”  Although most doctors sent patients out to an independent lab for blood draws and other testing, Daniel and his partners, largely through referrals from Kurt and Blaine and others like them, had developed a clientele of wealthy patients who valued privacy and discretion.  Therefore, they drew samples in the office, and sent them out for analysis using codes instead of names, so no one outside the carefully vetted staff would ever be able to match patients to results.

Once inside the room, they were greeted by a pretty blonde technician, “Hi.  I'm Nina.  So, one at a time, in the bathroom, and bring me a urine sample.  Once we get those, we'll draw a little blood and then Dr. Yu can do his thing.  Who's first?”       

Blaine glanced at Kurt and answered, “I am.”  He always was.  It was as if him going through it gave Kurt enough courage to endure whatever the dreaded ordeal was.  Back when the kids were little he always had to get a flu shot first, before Kurt or any of the children would do it without throwing a fit.  Kurt had tried to avoid those appointments all together, “forgetting” to get one, less because seeing the children get shots bothered him and more due to his own fear, and because he knew Blaine would always get one (he couldn't afford to get sick and miss several shows, and he was always around so many people) so the kids would end up getting them with Blaine and he could skip it.

“Okay, then.  Blaine, right?” She smiled, holding out the specimen cup.  He nodded and headed into the bathroom.

After Blaine, it was Kurt's turn.  While he was in the bathroom, Blaine glanced at the two trays set out for the blood draws.  He noticed that one of them had three tubes, but the other had five.  A minute later, Kurt came out, blushing.  All of this made him profoundly uncomfortable.  “Are you first again?” asked Nina.  Blaine nodded and sat in the large padded chair next to where the trays were set.  She asked if he preferred his right or left arm, then wrapped a tourniquet around his left bicep and told him to make a fist.  After a second she slipped the needle into his vein and quickly drew three vials of blood, releasing the tourniquet part way through.  As she removed the needle she pressed gauze to the puncture site and placed a Band-Aid over it, telling Blaine to keep pressure on it for a few minutes.

“See, it's okay,” he tried to reassure Kurt.

“Alright.  Your turn,” Nina said, turning to Kurt.  Kurt slowly moved to the chair, rolling up his right sleeve.  Blaine had already seen the bruises, so they weren't as shocking this morning, but the look Nina shot his way was alarmed.

“This is going to wrinkle.  I'll have to take it off and press it after we leave.”  Kurt complained.  Blaine felt a little better to hear Kurt griping about clothes.  It was just so normal and usual, it made him feel that everything would be okay.

“Sorry.”  Nina apologized.  She wrapped the tourniquet around his arm and told him to make a fist.  “Ooh.  You have nice, pretty veins.  They're really easy to see.  You're going to feel a little pinch.”  Kurt looked past her to Blaine, miserable.  Her chatter was clearly not distracting him.  “Oh, shoot.  Your vein collapsed.  I'm sorry.  I'm going to have to stick you again.”  Kurt looked at Blaine with pleading eyes, silently begging to be allowed to go home, to work, to anywhere other than this office with its pain and humiliation.  Blaine mouthed an ‘I'm sorry' and reached out to squeeze Kurt's free hand.  He winced inwardly as he saw bruises forming quickly at the places the needle had pierced Kurt's fair skin.  Finally, she was done, five vials of blood drawn.  As she finished, placing gauze and Band-Aids over the punctures and repeating the instructions she had given Blaine.  “All done.”

“Vampire,” Kurt grumbled under his breath.

“Yep,” she shot back, grinning, “You should see me after dark!”  And with that, she ushered them out of the room.

Back in the foyer, they were greeted by Margaret, the nurse who had been with Daniel since he completed his residency.  He joked that she had saved him from committing malpractice a time or two early in his career.  “Good morning, Gentlemen.  You are going to go into the rooms, disrobe completely, put on gowns, and have a seat on the table.  In a moment I'll be in to check your vitals, then Dr. Yu can do your exams.  Blaine, to room one, Kurt, room two.”

“Why am I in room two?”  Kurt questioned suspiciously.

“Because that's where I put your chart.  Now go,” came the quick reply.

“Do we really have to take off everything?  I mean, it's not really necessary, is it?”  Kurt whined.

“Yes, it is.  Everything off.”  Margaret instructed.  As Kurt finally headed into the exam room, Margaret turned to Nina and told her to make sure Kurt didn't leave.  She then turned to the first exam room and knocked on the door.  Upon hearing Blaine tell her it was okay, she entered.  As she got his weight, blood pressure and temperature, she commented, “Kurt doesn't want to be here.”

“He never does,” sighed Blaine.

“Don't worry,” she laughed, “he's not our only patient with that attitude.  Everyone wants to think they're invincible.  Okay, I'm done with you for now.  Dr. Yu will be here in a minute.”  With that she left, headed to Kurt's exam room. 

Going into Kurt's room, she found him sitting on the table trying to cover as much of his body as possible with the gown.  She commented on his weight loss since the last time he had been in the office, and his fever, which was a little higher, at just over one hundred degrees.  Kurt didn't respond beyond following her instructions.  He just wanted to disappear.

Meanwhile, Daniel entered Blaine's exam room.  “Okay.  You got him in here.  Good work.  Now, is there anything you want to tell me about without Kurt here?  About him or you?”

Blaine answered, “No, I don't think so.  What do you think is wrong?”

“I've ordered a bunch of tests, and I haven't even gotten a chance to examine him.  Let's wait and see what the exam and tests show.  How are you doing?  And are the two of you okay?”  Daniel interrogated.

Blaine responded, “Sorry, I just want to know what's going on.  I'm fine, just worried.  And as a couple, we're great.  At least, I think we are.  I just don't know why he didn't tell me what was going on, and I can't believe it got this far without me noticing.”

Daniel said, “Well, I think we can safely say Kurt hid what was going on precisely so you wouldn't make him come here.  We both know that he's scared and uncomfortable here.  And Christa has already informed me we have to get tickets for opening night for your new show, so I know you're really busy.  It's easy to miss the little things until they become or add up to big ones, especially when you're preoccupied.  Okay, let's get this done before Kurt sneaks out of here.”  With that, he proceeded to examine Blaine, conducting a thorough physical.  When he was done, he pulled off his gloves and told Blaine to get dressed and return to his office.

Heading out of the room, Daniel found Margaret guarding the door to Kurt's exam room.  “He's about ready to run,” she told him as he grabbed the handle of the exam room door.

Once in the room, Daniel repeated his questions.  “Is there anything you want to tell me without Blaine here?  How have you been?  How are the two of you doing as a couple?”

Kurt answered in monosyllables, “No.  Fine.  Fine.”

“Why haven't you been talking to Blaine about the things that we were discussing earlier?”

A frustrated Kurt replied, “Because there's nothing to talk about.  Nothing at all.  I'm busy and I've gotten a little tired.  Tell you what.  Tell Blaine I'm fine and I promise I'll start taking vitamins and get more rest.”

“Let me do the exam.  I'm not going to lie to Blaine, so I need to find out if you're really okay before we go back into my office to talk to him again.”  Kurt sighed in surrender, and Daniel started his examination.  He checked Kurt's throat, nose and ears, and then checked for swollen lymph nodes and glands.  He listened to Kurt's heart and lungs.  Next, he said, “Can I untie your gown and check out those bruises that have Blaine so worried?”  Kurt stiffened and did not respond.  Daniel sighed and scooted back on his stool.  “Let's talk.  Just talk for a minute, okay?”

Kurt nodded.

“The bruises and tiredness could be nothing more than anemia that we can treat pretty easily.  They could be something else equally benign.  You have a habit of working too hard and getting run down.  They could mean someone has been hurting you –“

Kurt interrupted, “But no one is.  Blaine would never –“

“I don't think it's Blaine.  If it was, he wouldn't insist that you come here.  If I were to find signs of abuse, I would have to report it, but I doubt that I will.  What worries me more is that they could be a sign of something more serious.  And if that's the case, we need to find out what it is and decide what to do about it as quickly as possible to keep things from getting worse.  Now, will you let me see them?”  Reluctantly, Kurt nodded.  Daniel reached behind Kurt's neck and untied his gown, pulling it down to his waist.  Kurt curled in on himself as Daniel walked slowly around the table, looking at the bruises.  He touched a few, asking if they were painful, and inquiring as to how he had acquired others, questioning how long they had been there.  Kurt answered, telling him that most didn't hurt that much, disclosing how he got some, explaining he didn't know how he got the others, and finally admitting that they seemed to be sticking around for a while.  After several minutes, Daniel drew the gown up and retied it.

After telling Kurt to lie down on the table, he felt Kurt's abdomen, asking if anything was tender, then listened to his stomach and intestines with his stethoscope.  Next, he had Kurt sit up and checked his reflexes and the range of motion in his joints, asking about the joint pain in more detail, and following up on the muscle pain Kurt had mentioned. 

Finally, he said, “Okay, almost finished.  I just need to check for hernias and check your testicles and prostate.”

Before he could continue Kurt protested, “Everything below the belt is in perfect working order.  You can ask Blaine!  There's no need to check.  I promise.  Everything's fine!”

Daniel laughed, “I'm pretty sure he's not ‘checking' for the same things I am.  If he's like most of us, his brain isn't even in full working order when he's making love.  Now will you please let me finish my exam?  I'll try to be quick.”  Kurt finally acquiesced, blushing beet red as Daniel checked for anything amiss in the most private parts of his body.  Parts of his body he didn't like anyone but Blaine to touch.  Parts of his body he had never wanted anyone but Blaine to touch, if he was honest, suddenly flushing even redder when he thought about how unfair and dishonest he had been not only to himself, but to Adam and Blaine as well, all those years ago.  When Daniel was finished, he told Kurt to get dressed and meet he and Blaine in his office.

As Daniel entered his office, Blaine looked up.  “That took a really long time.  What's wrong?”  Blaine inquired, worried. 

Daniel replied, “Well, part of the time issue was that Kurt was pretty reluctant, so we took things pretty slow and we stopped to talk a few times.  Part of it was that while you're doing pretty well, as you noted, something is definitely up with Kurt, so I took my time and was pretty thorough.  Let's wait until he comes in to finish talking.  I know you did what you had to do to get him in here, and I agree it was a good idea, but I think he feels like we've gone behind his back and ganged up on him, so I think it's best to make sure he's involved in the discussion from now on.”  Blaine nodded, and they discussed the new show, Blaine promising to make sure that opening night tickets would be waiting for he and Christa at the box office.

Before long, Kurt appeared at the door to the office, pausing before reluctantly stepping inside and taking the remaining chair.  Daniel looked from Blaine to Kurt, then said, “Well, we can't say anything for certain until we get your test results back.  As Blaine and I have already discussed, his physical didn't turn up any surprises, and he seems to be in good shape.  Kurt, you are a different story.  You are clearly at least somewhat ill.  From the fever I would guess you have a mild viral infection.  The best way to treat it is going to be to rest and take it easy.  If that means backing off on Fashion Week preparations, do it.  You're always hyper-prepared anyway, so my guess is you've really been ready for months and now you're just stressing over details you've been over a hundred times already.”  Blaine smiled again at how well Daniel knew them both.  “You pay a small army of assistants anyway, so delegate.  Try to eat something, even if you're not very hungry.  As far as symptoms, you don't really have much specific.  If you're too uncomfortable, you can take some Motrin, but otherwise, just let it run its course.  However, a virus doesn't explain the bruising, and the tiredness has lasted too long to be caused by the virus.  The same goes for the lack of appetite, the joint pain, and the muscle aches.  You have some swollen lymph nodes, which might or might not be related to a virus, and your abdomen was a little tender.  I'm still not sure what's really causing all this, but I'm hoping that the blood tests shed a little light on the situation.”

Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hand, but Kurt pulled away.  He was still pouting.  Blaine withdrew his hand and refocused on Daniel, “How long until we know something?”

“We should get results in a couple of days.  I'll call you when they come in.  I'm sorry I don't have more answers for you right now.  Do you have any more questions?”

Kurt shook his head.  Blaine thought for a minute, then released a long breath and said, “Not really.  I guess we just have to wait for the test results.”  After saying their goodbyes, they left the office and walked to the elevator while Blaine called for Carolyn to meet them downstairs.

As they stepped onto the elevator Blaine said, “I believe I promised you breakfast.  Where do you want to go?  What do you want to eat?”

Kurt refused to look at him.  “I want to go to work.  I'm not hungry.”

Great.  So much for the renewed appetite.  “You need to eat.  Daniel specifically said to eat.”  Kurt's only reply was his patented bitch glare, and Blaine knew he was not going to win this battle.  “Fine.  I'll drop you at the office.”

The ride to Kurt's office was spent in uncomfortable silence.  As soon as the car pulled up to the curb, Kurt jumped out.  He did not turn to say goodbye, just strode into the building without looking back.  Sighing, Blaine placed a call to Jenna, Kurt's personal assistant, warning her that Kurt was on his way up and in a bad mood, and asking her to try to get him to eat something during the day.  After getting her promise to try to tempt Kurt into eating, he gave the building one last look before sitting back and directing Carolyn to drive to the rehearsal space where Adam had spent the morning working on casting for the new show.

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­The remainder of the day passed uneventfully for Blaine.  He and Adam worked late trying to get through everyone who had showed up to the open call audition for chorus parts, and it was eight-thirty by the time he left for home.  As he entered his building, Jamie greeted him and asked if he wanted his mail.  Surprised, he asked, “Didn't Kurt pick it up already?”

“No, Sir.  Mr. Hummel-Anderson hasn't come in yet this evening.”

Blaine frowned.  It was after nine, and Kurt was always either home by now, or had let him know he would be late.  He rode the elevator up to the apartment, taking out his phone on the way.  As he let himself in, he dialed Kurt's number.  There was no answer.  Frowning, he tried Kurt's direct office number, and was surprised when Jenna answered.  “Jenna, what are you still doing there?”  Kurt might work late, but he generally sent his staff home.  They were devoted to him, but few kept the hours he did, especially when he was getting ready for a big show.

“Goes with the territory.  Literally.  As in Kurt's been a terror, and on a major tear, today.  He's threatened to fire everyone at least once.  We aren't sure if he means it but he may have actually fired an intern and a junior designer.  A few people have snuck home but the majority are afraid to leave, they're afraid if they do they won't have a job to come back to.  Oh, and before you ask, no, I couldn't get him to eat today.  I tried, but I need my job, so I only pushed so far.  And he says he's not going home, that he'll sleep on the couch in his office tonight.”

Sighing, Blaine instructed, “Go home.  Tell everyone else to go home, too.  I'll be down in a little bit to get him to come home.”

“I wouldn't do it if I were you.  We told him you'd do that, and he said he'd refuse to open the door.  When we pointed out that you have a key, he said if you used it he'd have the locks changed tomorrow.  What's going on?  All he'd say is that you overreacted to a cold, which made absolutely no sense.”

“It's not a cold.  I don't know what's wrong, but he's sick and he's been hiding it from me.  I found out and made him go to the doctor this morning.  So now on top of being sick he's angry and probably scared,” Blaine answered.  Jenna wished him luck and then went to finish up the last of Kurt's instructions before heading home.

Having already dismissed Carolyn for the night, Blaine hailed a cab and headed to the fashion district.  Making his way to Kurt's studio office, he called Kurt again.  There was no answer.  There was also no response other than voice mail on the office line.  Having arrived at the office door, he tried knocking, resisting the urge to let himself in.  Finally he tried texting:  I'm worried about you.  Please let me in.  I'm outside the office door.

His phone buzzed in his hand.  Go home.  I don't want to talk.

He tried again.  Please.  I love you.

Again the phone buzzed.  A single word appeared on the screen.  No.

Finally he gave up.  Kurt had done this before when he was angry.  He would sleep in the office for a day, maybe two, and then calm down and come home.  Blaine caught a taxi and headed home.  On the way he texted again:  I do love you.  We'll talk tomorrow.  He waited for a response, but none came.

Upon arriving home, he made himself a quick sandwich and headed to bed.  He lay down on Kurt's side of the bed, head on his pillow, just to breathe in Kurt's scent as he drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Kurt knew he was being unfair.  He knew Blaine loved him.  He knew Blaine only made him go to the doctor because he was scared and worried about him.  But he was scared too.  He had been aware of the things Blaine had just noticed for a while, but he had brushed them off as nothing serious.  But if they really were nothing, Blaine shouldn't have noticed.  Daniel shouldn't have seemed concerned.  Neither of them should have put him through the hell that was the humiliation he always felt when undergoing a medical examination.  But they did, which made it much harder to tell himself there was really nothing wrong, which scared him, a lot.  So he lashed out.  He lashed out at his staff.  He lashed out at Blaine.  He took his fear out on any and everyone around him.  And he was going to have to apologize to a lot of people in the morning, but not tonight.  Tonight he just wrapped himself in a blanket on the couch, recalling a line from an old song:  Well I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket.[1]  That, he admitted, was what he was doing.  He promised himself he'd make things right tomorrow.  But not tonight.

* * *

Blaine did not sleep well, and awoke early.  At that point, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so he prepared thermoses of coffee and orange juice, placed some fresh fruit in containers, and packed it all into a picnic basket.  Looking at the food, he realized that no matter how much Kurt needed it, the food probably wouldn't be welcomed.  He needed a better peace offering.  Heading back to their closet, he chose one of Kurt's favorite outfits to wear to work and placed it carefully in a garment bag, adding clean underwear and socks.  He threw a few of Kurt's “essential” toiletries into a small bag as well.  Going downstairs, he hailed a taxi, having it stop by Kurt's favorite bakery to pick up some fresh bagels for himself and pastries for Kurt.  He then directed the driver to Kurt's office, calling the car service on the way to have them send Carolyn there instead of the apartment.

Kurt slept badly as well, and woke up in a bad mood.  He felt sticky and in need of a shower.  He was stiff from having slept on the couch.  Blaine was the focus of his anger, and he was unsure if he was angrier that Blaine had noticed what was going on and forced him to Daniel's office, or that it had taken him so long to notice.  He was angry that Blaine had come down the previous night and that Blaine had not made him go home. 

He made his way into his private bathroom, and proceeded to try to make himself presentable using only the sink, making a mental note that when they remodeled the office later that year, he definitely needed a shower.  And a closet, he thought, grimacing at the thought of wearing the same clothes two days in a row; he was both taller and thinner than any of his male models, so the men's clothes in the studio were unlikely to fit.  He had promised himself he would make amends to his staff today, and he felt he would be better able to do that if he at least looked decent, even if he didn't feel that way.

As Blaine made his way into the building, he ran into Jenna.  “Any news on the sleeping dragon?” she asked.

“No, I tried but couldn't get him to come home last night, and I didn't use my key.  I was afraid he would carry through with his threats.  He wouldn't even talk to me.  I brought breakfast to try to make up.”

Jenna let him into the office.  “Stay out here,” He told her, heading to Kurt's private office.  Once inside, he heard Kurt in the bathroom.  He spread the food out on the coffee table in front of the couch, and laid the clothes out across a chair near Kurt's desk.

A few minutes later Kurt emerged from the bathroom, stopping in surprise when he saw Blaine.  “What are you doing here?”  There was more than a little hostility to his tone.

“I thought you might need a few things,” he said, gesturing to the chair.

Seeing the clothes, Kurt melted.  He couldn't stay angry at that point.  “Thank you,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes.  Blaine took that as a good sign, crossing the room and gathering Kurt in his arms.

“At the risk of making you angry again, I'm not sorry that I made you go see Daniel.  You needed to do it.  I am sorry that you were scared, and that you felt the way you did during the exam.  But I'm worried about you, and worried that you haven't been talking to me.  I love you.  I care if you're sick.  I kind of want to keep you around, you know.  Now go clean up.  I brought a few other things as well,” Blaine told him, handing him the bag of toiletries.

Kurt's eyes lit up a little, and he tilted his head down to kiss Blaine softly, just next to his mouth.  “Thank you,” he repeated, taking the bag and clothes and returning to the bathroom.  Blaine had managed to snag most of the essentials, and Kurt felt much better once he emerged again.

Blaine was seated on the couch.  “Come sit with me and eat.”

Kurt sighed.  “I'm really not hungry.”

“I know you aren't, but Daniel said you need to try to eat, even if you're not hungry.  And we can talk and eat at the same time.”

Kurt sat down next to Blaine and leaned into him slightly, bypassing the glass of juice Blaine tried to hand him in favor of the coffee.  He allowed Blaine to feed him a couple of berries, but raised his eyes at the pastry.  “You know that will go straight to my hips.”

Blaine laughed, “I hope so.  You need it right now.  Speaking of which, you really need the juice too.”

“Trust me, not nearly as much as I need the coffee,” he said, taking a long drink from his mug.  “I'm sorry I got mad at you.  I guess I just don't think that whatever's going on is such a big deal, but it's harder to tell myself that when you get all worried, and that scares me.”

“I don't know whether to be worried or not, based on what Daniel said.  It scares me that you didn't talk to me,” Blaine said, “I feel like you're shutting me out.  And then last night you didn't come home, and that really didn't help.  I'd rather have you yell at me than go silent and refuse to discuss anything.”

“I know.  Why do you think I do that when I'm really angry?”  Kurt responded, “And the exam was so awful . . .”  He grew quiet for a moment, then said, “I just don't like anyone other than you to touch me . . . in those places.”  By the time he finished speaking, he was blushing.

Blaine took his hand.  “I know.  And I wish I could save you from that, but sometimes it really is necessary.  Please, please, promise me you'll tell me how you're feeling, and what's going on with your body from now on.  I love you.  I don't want to lose you.”

“I love you too.  I'm not planning on going anywhere.  I may not tell you about every twinge, or things that really seem insignificant, but if things start compounding or if there's anything really wrong, I promise I'll tell you.”  Kurt pledged.  Given the qualifiers, Blaine wasn't sure he'd gained any ground, but he knew it was the best he was going to get this morning.  And Kurt was at least eating a bit, having eaten a little more fruit, and a small corner of his pastry, as well as downing the juice and coffee.  Blaine decided to take his small victories as they came.

Kurt leaned over and kissed him again, this time on his lips, slow and sweet, before pulling back with a sigh.  “I have to go and apologize to my staff.  I think I may have taken some of my frustration out on them yesterday.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows but did not comment.  Instead, he said, “Promise me you'll come home tonight.  Let me send the car for you at six.  Don't worry about dinner, we'll either go out or if you're too tired we can order in.  I'd cook but I was both too late and too worried last night to shop, and I don't think you should cook until we get a handle on this.  Just take it easy and rest.”

Kurt cocked one eyebrow and inquired, “And what did you eat last night?”

“Only one of my finest sandwich creations.”

“PB and J?”

“Yep.”

Kurt just shook his head and said, “I'll be ready to go at six.  Otherwise your health will be trashed if I leave you to your own questionable culinary devises.”

Blaine headed to his rehearsal space, and Kurt went to make amends to his employees.  Blaine spent the day winnowing down the dancers who had been called back for chorus spots.  Kurt spent the day apologizing, going over details that had been planned and re-planned, and trying to track down the two employees he had fired so he could apologize and explain that he didn't really mean to fire them and beg them to come back.

As promised, Kurt left the office at six, and stepped into the waiting car.  Carolyn then drove to the rehearsal space to pick up Blaine.  They went out for Italian food on the way home, and Kurt managed to eat a little more than he had over the previous few days.  They were home before nine, and headed straight to the bedroom. 

Kurt's fever was up a little, and Blaine insisted on helping him get ready for bed.  After soaking in the bath that Blaine drew for him, he let Blaine wash his hair and then dry him off, finally dressing him in his pajamas like a child.  Blaine led him to bed, folding down the covers and then tucking him in.  “Aren't you coming?”  Kurt pouted.

Blaine smiled at him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.  “Yes, just let me get a quick shower.”  With that, he left, preparing for bed and coming to join Kurt.  He was a little surprised to find Kurt still awake.  He slipped into bed next to him and drew Kurt into his arms, and the two fell asleep snuggled together, a warm and familiar position that never failed to comfort them both.

* * *

The next morning they arose and had breakfast together before heading to work.  Kurt insisted on making French toast, which Blaine agreed to provided Kurt was actually willing to eat some of it.  They agreed to both come home early, and Blaine informed Kurt he was going to make dinner.  Kurt rolled his eyes, knowing Blaine's talents in the kitchen were limited to grilling, rustic Italian (Kurt insisted on calling everything Blaine cooked “rustic,” since he couldn't seem to cut any two pieces of anything the same size), and certain breakfast foods, but nodded his assent.  Then both left for work.

The morning passed uneventfully.  Kurt spent the time obsessing over tiny things, and whether the shows should be the same for each major city, or if he should make each different, and comparing the different scenarios he had already planned for either decision.  Blaine spent it making the final cuts for chorus parts, letting Paul know who to contact. 

Blaine planned to have a working lunch with Adam so they could discuss the callback list for the more minor parts, having cast the leads a few weeks ago.  However, just after their sandwiches were delivered at noon, Blaine's phone rang.  Glancing down, he saw that it was Daniel's number.  “Just a minute.  I need to take this.  Be right back,” he said, pushing the talk button as he stepped out, expecting to hear Margaret or one of Daniel's other staff members' voices. 

Instead, it was Daniel.  “Blaine?  Can you get Kurt and come down here this afternoon at three?”

“Hey, Daniel.  I guess.  What's up?”  Blaine inquired, expecting to hear Daniel's chuckle telling him it was nothing serious, nothing to worry about.  It didn't come.

Instead, he heard, “I really don't want to discuss this over the phone.  Just get Kurt and come down here.  I've cleared my afternoon.  I'll see you then.”

* * *

Blaine stepped back into the room, a concerned look on his face.  Adam picked up on it immediately.  “Hey, what's up?”

“I'm not sure.  That was the doctor.  He wants Kurt and I to go down to his office this afternoon to discuss something.  He wouldn't say what.”

“Do you need to leave?”

“No, not for at least an hour,” Blaine responded.  He sat down and tried to focus, but it was no use.

After about fifteen minutes, Adam sighed and said, “Earth to Blaine!  We aren't getting anywhere.  I've repeated myself four times now, and you have no idea what I said.  You aren't really here.  You clearly aren't going to be able to focus.  Go get Kurt or go home or whatever you need to do, because we aren't going to get anything done this afternoon.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said, “Thanks for understanding.”

“Go,” Adam waived him away.

Blaine went to where his car was waiting and directed Carolyn to Kurt's office.  When Kurt saw him enter he smiled and said, “Hey Babe.  What are you doing here?  I promise to eat lunch in a little while.  You don't need to check on me.”

Looking at him, Blaine took his hand and led him into his private office.  “Daniel asked us to come down to his office.  He wouldn't say what it was about.  We're supposed to be there at three.  He said, um . . . “ Blaine looked at the floor, “he said he cleared his afternoon.”

“What did the test results say?”  Kurt asked.

“He didn't say.  I guess we'll have to find out when we get there.”  The two exchanged worried glances before Blaine took Kurt into his arms, pulling him close and holding him tight.  “It's going to be okay,” he whispered into Kurt's hair, thinking to himself, it has to be.

* * *

Kurt was no more able to concentrate than Blaine had been, so they left for Daniel's office early.  For once, Kurt did not protest going to the doctor.  They arrived nearly an hour early, but Margaret immediately ushered them back to Daniel's private office.  The sympathetic look she gave them did not inspire confidence.

After about forty-five minutes, Daniel came in and sat down, opening a folder on his desk.  “Kurt, Blaine, thanks for coming in.”  The look on his face was serious.  “Let's start with the easy stuff.  Blaine, all your test results looked pretty good, given your age.”  Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look and Kurt gave Blaine a small, weak smile.  Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hand and held it tightly.  “Kurt, your blood work was a lot more problematic.  The tests showed a lot of abnormal blood cells.  The abnormal cells can't do their jobs effectively, so your blood hasn't been carrying oxygen, fighting infection, or clotting like it should.  That explains why you've been so tired, the little nagging minor illnesses, and the bruising.”

“But what's causing the abnormal cells in his blood?”  Blaine interrupted.

Daniel glanced from Blaine back to Kurt, looking directly into Kurt's terrified eyes.  “We'll need to do more testing to confirm it, but it looks like possible leukemia.  Kurt, I'd like you to see an oncologist.”

[1] Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls