“I did it! Well, my dad did it. Him and Mrs. Hudson are going on a date this Saturday.” Kurt’s excitement beams through on his face and he quickly folds into his chair, which, strangely, hadn’t been moved from his previous visit.

“I swear, I’ve been bugging my dad every night at dinner about her, and I went by to see him just before coming here—he works in a garage, fixes cars, you know, and I bring him dinner when he plans on working late—and he told me he did it.” A laugh erupts out of Kurt’s throat and he lets it for once, filling the room with a noise that must be rather foreign to it. He would have found laughter in silence eerie in the past, but now it’s welcome. Warmth where Blaine deserves warmth and Kurt wonders if he can hear it, feel it, the happiness radiating off of him.

“My plan is officially underway.” Kurt claps his hands at that, the sound slicing through the room. He realizes then that the hospital is quieter than he’s used to. He knows he’s there later than usual; with Glee club, an extra long Cheerios practice, and then stopping by to visit his dad, he’s surprised he managed to get to the hospital at all.

The nurse at the station had clicked her tongue when he’d signed in, reminding him when visiting hours ended, and he’d simply nodded and rushed off.

“I’m sorry I’m here late, by the way. Coach Sylvester is still whipping Mercedes and me into shape—I would say not literally, but, sometimes, it feels like she is. And I just could not come here in my Cheerios uniform again—”

“Kurt.” Turning at the sound of his name, Kurt instantly puts on his best smile as Mrs. Hudson walks into the room. She’s holding a clipboard and instantly goes to check on some of the machinery, and Kurt takes in a few of the minor details; her hair has a bit of bounce to it and her scrubs (and why do they have to do such horrible things for the body, really) still look freshly laundered. He deduces, quite skillfully, that’s he catching her right at the first leg of her shift and has to stop himself from grinning maniacally in victory. What had moments ago been an inconvenience was suddenly an amazing gift.

“Mrs. Hudson,” he greets back cordially, inclining his head slightly.

She laughs softly, shaking her head and flipping through a few of the pages on her clipboard to make notes.

“Really, you can call me Carole. Mrs. Hudson seems so… Formal.” She looks over at him and smiles and Kurt can feel himself relax a little. True, in the grand scheme of things Carole Hudson is simply a pawn, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t likeable by any means.

“Carole, then. How are you doing this evening?” Kurt crosses his legs primly and hopes Blaine doesn’t mind the small disruption to their conversation. Of course he doesn’t, he thinks, he’s in a coma. Stop being silly.

“I’m… Good, thank you.”

Kurt is watching her just closely enough that he sees the small smile that tugs at her lips and the faint blush on her cheeks. Good. She’s looking forward to the date with his dad if that’s any indication. Which it is.

“Here again, I see. And you were here yesterday.” She’s nothing but curious as she turns to look at Kurt, suddenly across from him with only Blaine and his bed separating them. “A little later today, though,” she points out, leaning down over Blaine and checking him over.

“Well, yes. I’m usually here earlier in the afternoon, but I had Glee and Cheerios practice and I decided to bring my dad dinner afterwards.” Kurt keeps his face as nonchalant as possible, as if he’s a perfect son all the time and today is no different.

Carole looks up at him, slight surprise melting into a smile.

“You bring your dad dinner? That’s so thoughtful of you.”

Thoughtful. That’s what Kurt is. He brings his single father dinner when he works late nights and then keeps coma patients company. She’ll think I’m a saint.

“Well, I’ve been taking care of him for quite some time now. Have to make sure he’s eating right and all that,” Kurt says flippantly, like it’s nothing. Maybe because it is nothing. It’s been just him and his dad for so many years now that it’s their normal and he doesn’t even think twice about it. Carole or no Carole, ridiculously genius plan or none at all, he still would have brought his dad dinner tonight. Because he is a good son. He doesn’t have to act it.

Carole smiles at him very simply, the scratch of her pen the only noise in the room (aside from the constant whir of the machines presumably keeping Blaine alive, that is).

“He told me, you know.”

She glances up at him curiously, tucking the pen into the pocket of her scrubs.

“About your date.” Kurt grins a bit knowingly at her and she’s suddenly fiddling with her clipboard like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

“Oh, well, yes, I—Yes.”

Kurt can’t recall ever seeing a grown woman get so flustered, but he must admit it’s rather endearing.

“If you want, I can swing by here on Saturday and give you some helpful tips on what to wear. I have quite an eye for hair and make-up, as well, if you’re interested.” After all, if his dad is going to date, he might as well date someone up to Kurt’s standards. Carole is lovely, she just doesn’t seem to know how to emphasize that much.

Carole is looking at him in surprise, and for a moment she seems reluctant.

“I’m not trying to overstep, Mrs. Hu—Carole. Really. I just want to help.” And I really love projects. How soon is too soon to propose a makeover? Kurt supposes he should wait until after the second or third date to invite her shopping.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. God knows Finn doesn’t know the difference between me going on a date and me going to the supermarket.” She laughs and Kurt grins, even if it isn’t the best thing to hear. Sure, Finn is oblivious in a way that’s almost alarming and his choice in clothing almost causes Kurt emotional trauma. But they’re all things that can be addressed and changed. Kurt is sure of it (sort of).

“I’ll be sure to make time in my Saturday schedule then. I’ll be visiting Blaine again, so it won’t be any trouble for me.”

Carole looks at him, really looks at him, and it almost makes Kurt feel uncomfortable. Like maybe she’ll suddenly see right through him and his plan and oh god is he using Blaine? But the look softens.

“I’m glad Blaine has you, Kurt.” The sentiment comes from nowhere and blindsides him. He sits a little straighter, looking at her with a sudden rapt attention. “He hasn’t gotten many visitors, and. It helps, in my personal and professional opinion, to have someone even if you’re not fully aware of it.” She smiles at him again and Kurt has to look down at his hands. He isn’t sure if it’s guilt he’s feeling, but he’s suddenly overcome with emotion. His throat feels thick and he swallows to fill the silence.

“Do you want to help me turn him?”

Kurt’s attention snaps back to Carole quickly, his eyes wide.

“Do I—What?” He asks, blinking as if he doesn’t understand what she just asked.

“I technically shouldn’t ask, but… You seem like a gentle person, Kurt, and you obviously care about Blaine.” That tugs at Kurt again in the uncomfortable, almost-guilty way.

He looks at Blaine, really looks at him for the first time since he came in that evening, eyes searching. His bruises are almost gone now, something Kurt hadn’t noticed until right at this moment. He’d been talking to Blaine and telling him so much, but he never really looked at him and never really wondered. Blaine is a person, after all, just like Kurt is, and Kurt feels this strange desire to know him all of a sudden.

“Besides,” Carole continues, drawing Kurt’s attention back to her. She’s wearing a small, knowing smile that makes Kurt want to blush for some reason—he doesn’t, though. “It’s a lot easier to turn him with two people. Safer for him, too. What do you say?”

No. “Okay.”

He stands up, suddenly feeling awkward in ways that he really hasn’t lately. Carole beckons him over to her side of the bed and he steps carefully, leaving his bag in its normal place beside his chair. He stands unsurely for a few moments when Carole reaches over and gently pats his hand.

“We’re just going to turn him from his back to his side, okay? So he’s facing towards where you were sitting.” He nods dumbly and she shuffles around him so that he’s up near Blaine’s head and shoulders. “Now, don’t ever do this on your own, alright?”

Kurt vaguely wonders how much trouble Carole could get in for even letting him help her do it.

“Turn his head first.”

Kurt’s hands hesitate for a few moments. The only part of Blaine he’s ever touched is his hand because every other part of him had felt strangely taboo. He moves slowly, glancing every few moments at Carole for any signs of frustration or annoyance. But she is nothing but encouraging smiles and patience which settles Kurt’s newfound nerves.

Blaine’s skin is strangely warm. Kurt isn’t sure why it’s such a weird sensation to his fingertips. One hand reaches behind Blaine’s neck, cradling his head carefully. There are signs of hair there, soft against the lengths of his fingers, and Kurt’s hand twitches at his desire to twist into it. His other hand, at Carole’s instruction, gently takes hold of Blaine’s chin and jaw. He’s as scratchy as his faint scruff denotes and Kurt can’t stop the way his thumb goes against it for a moment.

Suddenly aware of the fact that Carole is in fact watching him right now, he turns Blaine’s head very carefully. He can feel air brushing against his fingers and it’s so different. Different than seeing Blaine’s chest move or hearing him groan. It’s a reminder that Blaine is alive, a reminder that tickles his fingers and sends a weird trill up from the base of his spine.

Blaine’s head rests into the pillow easily enough, and when he looks back at Carole, she’s smiling.

“Good job.” Her voice is gentle and he can’t help but smile back, looking at Blaine and realizing he’s still very much touching him. Kurt retracts his hands, fiddling with the edge of the hospital bedding, “Now for his body.”

Right. Because turning his head seemed to take an hour, now they have to turn his body, too. Blaine is covered in bandages and Kurt wonders, suddenly, how he’s supposed to do this without somehow hurting Blaine. But Carole is there, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands into the correct placement.

Even through Blaine’s shirt, Kurt can feel heat again and then more than that. He can feel bones and muscles, wow, back muscles are fantastic and he finds himself feeling warmer all of a sudden. Carole guides him through the movement but Kurt can’t seem to focus on more than the shift of Blaine’s spine beneath his palm or the slight give of his skin when Kurt’s fingers press against it.

It’s over, but he’s still standing there, one hand pressed lightly against the base of Blaine’s neck and the other curved slightly over the dip of his waist. Carole is still watching, but suddenly Kurt isn’t breathing as easy as he was five minutes ago and he really needs to concentrate on that.

“Thank you. You did wonderfully.”

Kurt just nods dumbly, still remembering in and out and the way he seems to be able to feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

Carole says something he doesn’t quite hear, mentioning how visiting hours are ending soon, and then she leaves with a small smile and closes the door behind her. The click seems to snap Kurt back to himself and his hands return quickly to his person, arms tangling together as he stares down at the expanse of Blaine’s back and shoulders. The ones he was just touching. His eyes drift over towards his neck again and then along the line of his torso and waist. Even with the blankets covering half of him, there’s definition now, and Kurt’s eyes are drawn to the curve of his—

Kurt’s blushing instantly, looking away and covering half of his face with his hand and what has gotten into him? He almost mumbles an apology before he realizes that Blaine has no idea he was being objectified. He breathes, once, twice, three times, and collects himself before heading back to his chair and sitting down.

This is new. Like the breath against his finger, this is another different. Blaine’s face is closer to him now, almost like he’s staring at him. Except Blaine’s eyes are closed and that kind of negates the idea of staring. Still, Kurt can't stop himself from looking. Because it’s hard not to notice, with Blaine’s face inches away and free of bruises, how attractive he is.

There’s something weird going on with Kurt’s heart right at that moment, something he isn’t exactly familiar with. It’s painful but it’s not at the same time, and Kurt’s hand flies to his chest as if it will somehow help with the sensation. It doesn’t. Kurt doesn’t know if he’s ever been this silent during one of his visits with Blaine, but he knows he can’t talk. He couldn’t even if he had something to say.

His eyes are drinking in Blaine’s face like he’s never seen it before: the slope and width of his nose, the length of his eyelashes (holy—his eyelashes!), the curve and fullness of his lips. Kurt’s tongue wets his own lips because his erratic breathing seems to be drying them out.

It’s almost as if his hand is moving of it’s own accord when his finger is tracing the roundness of Blaine’s cheek and then skitters to go down the length of his nose before outlining the shape of his lips.

“You know.” Kurt’s voice sounds deeper even to him and he resists the urge to clear his throat and return it to normal. “I always thought it was kind of… Demeaning to call a man beautiful, but…” He licks his own lips again, his fingers curving to cup Blaine’s cheek. “But I think I’m starting to understand why people do it.”