A fortnight passed with Kurt and Blaine still trying to keep things casual. After Blaine's song had finished and they'd shared a few lazy kisses, both men had been too embarrassed and nervous to bring up anything more. Blaine was now positive that Kurt returned his feelings –whatever those feelings were – but the thought of actually having to say it aloud or commit to anything made him want to cower under the pile of blankets and pillows on his bed. Kurt seemed to share the sentiment, because while they were slowly beginning to act more lovey-dovey and romantic neither of them dared to bring up the topic of "being boyfriends".

Blaine almost hoped they never did because then expectations couldn't get in the way and things wouldn't fall apart like he'd seen happen so many times. Luckily, they were both extremely business at this point in the semester. Kurt had a role in the spring play and the cast was gearing up for opening night in the middle of March. A string of gigs had landed in Blaine's lap on top of the music department's mid-spring semester concert that he was going to be featured at.

Kurt had been thrilled to hear that, and insisted on coming to see him play, but so had Cooper. He'd made the big mistake of telling his brother over the phone while Kurt was standing a few feet away in the kitchen with Santana and Anna. Every day since he'd been swarmed with text messages of pick-up lines, and sex tips from his older brother that were all promptly deleted. Except the one giving him a deep throat lesson. He'd taken the cucumber from the fridge and taken a picture of the damn thing all the way down his throat and send it as a reply to that one, along with a cheery, "I can take more than you can ever dream of having between your legs". Needless to say the texts had stopped for several days after that.

Valentine's Day had come and gone between Kurt's birthday and their busy schedules. Both men had stumbled and blushed their way through the awkward conversation about the holiday and had instead decided – since Kurt's birthday had only been a few days before – to consider that their early Valentine's Day and not bother with it. Anna had hit him round the head for letting such a "golden opportunity" slide, but he honestly didn't mind. He'd always thought the holiday was pretty overrated to begin with.

Another snowstorm blew through during the week leading up to all of his gigs and the concert. He also had two mid-terms to study for and not nearly enough time to figure it all out. Somewhere between his lack of sleep for three days, continuous song rehearsals, and several long walks through knee deep piles of snow to get to the music hall because the road back to his bus stop still hadn't been plowed, Blaine started sneezing.

He'd thought nothing of it on Wednesday, and not even on Thursday when his chest started to feel tight and his throat got dry and scratching, but by three o'clock Friday morning Blaine thought he definitely had a problem on his hands.

Arms trembling where they were latched onto the toilet seat, Blaine pressed his forehead against the cool rim and gave a pitiful groan, trying to block out the smell coming from the toilet bowl. With a shaky hand he smacked the handle and listened to the swirling water being flushed away. He had his final rehearsal in six hours, then a gig later that night, Cooper to pick up from the airport Saturday morning and then the concert that evening. He could not be sick for all of that.

Determined to go find some sort of medicine, Blaine slowly tried to clamber to his feet, but as soon as he lifted his head and opened his eyes the room swam and he hung his head back over the toilet, heaving up whatever else might have survived the past two hours of vomiting. When he his stomach finally realized there was absolutely nothing but itself to force out of his mouth he torso stopped seizing up. With a weak whine Blaine flushed the toilet again, grabbed the big trash can between the toilet and the sink, and risked the miserable crawl back to his bedroom until dawn.

As Blaine curled up on his sweat soaked bed, he grabbed the pillow on the other side and clutched it to his chest. For a moment he breathed in deeply, taking in Kurt's scent that still lingered on the fabric and praying to whatever deity or force that was listening that it didn't make him want to hurl up his intestines next. It made his head ache a little more sharply, but thankfully his stomach seemed to be done for a while. The mental imagine of him actually clinging to Kurt, who had had rehearsal, a club meeting, and then another meeting and activity with his hall that night, relaxed him enough that he fell into a restless, feverish sleep.

A faint, almost constant buzzing brought him back to consciousness several hours later. Before Blaine could even be bothered to figure out what the noise was his stomach churned and he swung his head over the side of his bed, vomiting into the trash can he'd left there. By the time he was done the buzzing had stopped, and he almost thought he'd imagined it until Santana pounded twice on the door and barged in.

Blaine buried his face back into his pillow and groaned in pain.

"Will you answer my damn text m– ugh, why does it smell like dead animal in here?" Santana demanded in disgust.

Blaine didn't trust himself to speak, but as he heard her heels clicking towards him across the wooden floor, he gave enough effort to roll his head to the side and stare up at her. As soon as he did he wished he hadn't.

"Gross," the half-clown, half- tiger looking Santana said, staring down at the trash can. "No class for you today then? I'm getting out of here before I get it."

Blaine stared dazedly up at her, trying to distinguish any visible, recognizable features of his friend and roommate, but no. She had whiskers, pointy ears, and a tall that was steady thumping against his ankles. Her fur was also the colors of a rainbow, and reminded him of a clown.

"K- kitty," Blaine stuttered out, kicking blinding at the tail now resting on his legs. "You're... kitty," he slurred again.

Santana arched an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. "Did you upchuck your brain last night? God, of all the weekends Anna could have gone off with her boyfriend... "

The tail smacked him a little harder against the legs, and Blaine whined and turned his face back into the pillow.

"Go take some fever reducer and drink something," Santana ordered. "I've got an exam I can't miss so you're on your own."

Blaine barely heard her as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

By noon Kurt was beginning to worry. Last night he'd texted Blaine after he'd finished with everything, not for sex or anything major, but just to say goodnight. He hadn't expected a response because he knew how hard the other man had been pushing himself the past few weeks and he figured he was sound asleep. When he'd still had no response after Blaine's first class had ended he'd started to feel nervous.

Now, four hours, fifty-eight text messages, and six calls later he was somewhere between scared and hurt. Had something happened to Blaine or had he just lost interest like all the others? Did that mean their plans to meet at the Commons for dinner and then watch Chicago where no more?

After spending his lunch hour barely eating and instead texting Blaine with no response, Kurt finally gave in to the inevitable and called Santana. It took him several minutes to finally hit the call button, but Blaine's silence was starting to scare him. Especially after how close they'd been getting. If he was being... could he even call it a break up since they still hadn't officially said anything about dating?

Two rings later Santana's snide voice was in his ear.

"What, Hummel? You've got the wrong number if you're looking for a fuck."

"Is... is Blaine with you?" Kurt asked meekly. He absolutely hated how hurt and uncertain he sounded, but he couldn't seem to control it. He was worried and scared that once again his heart was about to be broken.

"No," Santana replied. Even from here it sounded like she was rolling her eyes. "He's hacking up his lungs or balls or whatever's left of his insides– "

"What?" Kurt gasped. "Is he– what– how sick is he?"

There was a brief pause that Kurt took as Santana shrugging. "Room smelled like a dead skunk this morning. He's a big boy as you're appear, he can take the short walk to the kitchen for some medicine."

"No, I'm going over there," Kurt told her, no longer scared of getting hurt, but anxious to make sure Blaine was, in fact, all right. "He sounds really sick. I'm going to make sure he's okay."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Suck his dick, I'm sure that'll make him feel better," Santana said disinterestedly.

"Santana," Kurt warned, standing up and slinging his back over his shoulder. "I am not in the mood for your crap. You left him there alone all day when he's sick.

"Oh, he's fine," Santana assured him. "You're so love sick I'll probably come home and find you both vomiting." She paused for a second and Kurt was just about to snap back angrily when she added, "Key's in the porch light" and hung up.

Furious, but not surprised, Kurt forced his phone back into his pocket with some difficulty and headed for the nearest bus stop. Santana might think it was a simple, little sickness, but Kurt was entirely too aware of how hard Blaine had been pushing himself lately, and just how little he'd been sleeping. He blushed faintly at the thought, and shuffled more quickly towards the bus stop. Hopefully Santana was right and Blaine was taking care of himself just fine, and Kurt was just overreacting, but he still wanted to be there for the other man. To take care of him and help him in any capacity until he felt better. Pushing himself, especially with his concert tomorrow, would only make Blaine worse, not better. Blaine needed to relax and Kurt was going to help him do that.

After a half an hour bus ride and another dozen texts that were never answered, Kurt found himself climbing the stairs of Blaine's apartment building. He knocked a few times just in case someone was actually capable of answering, but when he didn't hear anyone moving around inside he reached up, unscrewed the bottom part of the light fixture and grabbed the key taped to the inside of it.

Once he was inside it took him a moment to find his bearings. It was entirely too dark in their little apartment, because the blinds that were normally pulled up hadn't been touched that morning. Kurt knew from being around a lot over the past few weeks that Santana never bothered with them. Usually Blaine or Anna did, but she was off with her boyfriend and obviously Blaine hadn't made it out of his room. He hoped he was wrong in that regard. If the other man was as sick as Santana had said then he definitely needed something to help his fever.

"Blaine?" Kurt called out anxiously, dropping his bag and coat on one of the kitchen chairs, and glancing around. No open cabinets or random dirty dishes or anything out of place. Blaine definitely hadn't been in here then. Even when he was completely healthy he still tended to leave some type of mess behind himself.

Kurt turned down the hall and quickly opened the door to Blaine's room. The sight that greeted him made his heart ache. He quickly rushed over to the bed, gently sweeping back Blaine's curls and trying not to jostle the other man too much. Blaine groaned faintly and curled his body tighter around his pillow.

Blaine's whole face was drenched in sweat. His sheets and pillows were stained with it as well. Kurt braced his hand on Blaine's forearm and felt him trembling slightly.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt gushed. Slowly he eased Blaine's pillow out of his death grip and coaxed him away. "Hey, Blaine, you need to wake up for a bit, okay?"

When Blaine groaned and rolled away, Kurt crawled across the soaked bed after him and then gagged. A terrible smell hit his nostrils and as he looked down he realized why. There was a trash can half full of whatever had been in Blaine's stomach sitting next to the edge of the bed.

One hand holding his nose closed, Kurt rolled Blaine back onto his back and forced him awake.

"Come on. Y- you need some medicine and fluids, okay?"

Blaine stared up at him dazedly and made a little growly noise. "Do... do you know if you have anything to take? Or anything that will settle your stomach?"

Blaine closed his eyes and grumbled, "Sleep" before rolling towards Kurt and curling into his side. Kurt could feel the waves of heat rolling off of Blaine's body, and part of him was starting to panic. He was so much worse than Santana had led him to believe, and he really didn't have a lot of experience with this. Once he'd helped his father recover from a heart attack, but he knew his father, his likes and dislikes when he wasn't his best. He didn't know any of that for Blaine.

Something buzzed loudly across the room, and Kurt was quite intent on ignoring it until it started to ring and play a Duran Duran song. Blaine's phone. Surely he had his parents or someone listed in there who would know those things.

Regretfully Kurt tugged himself away from Blaine's overheated body and stumbled over to the desk. Blaine's phone was plugged in and buzzing across a notebook. As it lit up Kurt saw the words "Taller, Better Brother" scroll across the screen. For a second Kurt debated letting it go to voice mail, but he needed someone's guidance right now and at the very least Blaine's brother might be able to help.

Kurt accepted the call, taking a shaky breath and getting ready to introduce himself, but the other man began howling into the tiny device.

"We're going off the rails on a crazy traaaaaaain!"

The screeching in his ear continued as the other man began to imitate a guitar, but after a few moments he trailed off.

"Oh, come on, Blainey! You have to do your part in this," Blaine's brother lectured through the phone. "And you better use a lot of pointing during your solo even if I can't see y– "

"Um, hi," Kurt greeted anxiously.

The other man breathed in sharply on the other line. "Why's some girl have my brother's phone?" the man asked, sounding more as though he was addressing himself instead of Kurt. "Maybe if this was the other way around since I can't keep a woman around for more than a few weeks, but you're not Anna or Santana. Blaine's gay, so you two are– "

"I am not a woman," Kurt snapped angrily. "Just because my voice is high-pitched– "

"Oh, so you are fucking, Blainey boo, then. Excellent, excellent," the man jabbered, sounding delighted "Wake him up or untie him for me, would you? I've gotta talk to him about what time my flight gets in."

"I... can't," Kurt told him, his worry starting to creep back into his tone. "Listen, uh... "

"Cooper," Blaine's brother supplied.

"Right, Cooper," Kurt continued in a rush. "I just got over to his place and he's really sick and I don't know wh– "

"Alphabet soup and cherry ginger ale," Cooper cut in smoothly. "And he likes to be cuddled when he's got an upset stomach. Make sure he's had at least a cup of the ginger ale and it's been down for half an hour before cuddling him, though. He ruined my favorite Buckeyes jersey when I was fifteen because I didn't wait to make sure. His stomach held quite a lot for a six year old."

It took Kurt a second to realize his mouth had fallen open in surprise. He hadn't expected Blaine's brother to be so specific. Mostly he'd figured Cooper would tell him to call their mother, or he'd call her himself and then text or call Kurt back. As Kurt snapped his mouth closed he also realized that there was quite an age gap between the two.

"T- thanks," Kurt stammered, cradling Blaine's phone against his ear with his shoulder and pulling out his own to make a note. "Santana just left him and I didn't know w– "

"Can't cure an upset stomach with some rough deep throating, huh?" Cooper joked casually over the line, and Kurt blanched at his words.

"I won't– we– "

"You're fuck buddies," Cooper said simply. "So you got a name or should I just call you Majestic Cock?" There was a pause while Kurt spluttered before Cooper added, "I'm assuming that's the reason he went for you. He's particular about who he bottoms with."

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered in horror. "You're worse than Santana."

"Where do you think she learned it all from?" Cooper laughed. "Tell her she's picking me up tomorrow, nine o'clock sharp." There was another pause filled with muffled voices on Cooper's side, before Cooper continued slyly, "I'd uh... make sure she can't get in until she gets stuff for Blaine, too. It's the least she could do, right?"

Kurt snorted. "She'll be lucky if she ever sees the inside of this apartment again."

"Oh, good boy. Did you point while you said that? Cause it's key."

"What?"

Cooper gave a long suffering sigh. "I'll teach you tomorrow, Majestic Cock. Take good care of my baby brother!"

The line went dead as Kurt was forming a retort to being called Majestic Cock for a second time, but as he hung up he realized he'd never actually mentioned his name to Cooper. He'd been to horror struck by the uncanny similarities between Cooper and Santana's lack of tact to answer.

Kurt spun back around to the bed, rushed over and propped up a few pillows. He didn't know if Blaine already had any cherry ginger ale, but for now he was just going to focus on getting some water into him. It took Kurt five minutes to gather everything up that he thought he'd need and send off a quick, threatening text to Santana telling her what to get if she ever wanted to step foot in her apartment again. He shut the door to Blaine's room with his foot on the way back in, dropped the extra pillows and blankets on the end of the bed, set the pills and cups on the night-stand, and sat down against the already propped up pillows.

Gently he nudged Blaine's shoulder, sliding his other arm around Blaine's waist and heaving him into a slouched position against his chest. Blaine groaned loudly in protest, but Kurt shushed him and started to work his shirt off.

"Shh, we're gonna get some water and medicine in you, okay?" Kurt reassured him, pulling the soaked shirt over Blaine's head and letting Blaine slump against his chest weakly. Blaine's left hand clutched tightly at his shirt, and Kurt bit his lip and anxiously reached over for the cup of water. He'd never seen Blaine so weak and miserable. It scared him. Blaine was always bright and cheerful, or at least incredibly active when they had sex, but now he was trembling.

"Hey, come on. I even found you a bendy straw," Kurt told him, looping his left arm around Blaine's neck while his right guided the cup towards Blaine's face. He bent the straw and pressed it to Blaine's lips. "You've gotta drink some of this, okay, sweetheart? It's gonna help."

Slowly Blaine slid up Kurt's chest a few more inches, enough to rest his burning forehead against Kurt's neck. Once Blaine had the straw tightly between his lips and had started to drink Kurt let it go, and instead ran his hand soothingly through Blaine's damp hair, pressing a few soft kisses against his temple.

Half an hour later when the cup of water was nearly gone, Kurt set it back on the night-stand, picked up the pill bottle, opened it and dumped two into his hand.

"Here," he said, popping them into Blaine's mouth. "These are going to help with your fever."

Blaine whined faintly, but swallowed them and then accepted the straw in the second cup of water. Kurt let him drink the first half and then placed it back on the night-stand. With some effort Kurt grabbed the extra pillows he's brought and piled them up against the headboard. Then he slumped down against them, still cradling a mumbling Blaine against his chest.

"Soft kitty, warm kitty," Blaine sang, gazing up at Kurt and petting his hair.

Slightly disturbed, Kurt stared down at him in alarm. "What?"

"You've got pointy little cat ears, Kurt," Blaine informed him sleepily.

"So you're singing a song from The Big Bang Theory?" Kurt intoned lightly, stroking Blaine's hair.

"Little ball of fuuuur," Blaine continued, latching onto Kurt's chest and snuggling in tight.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but held Blaine tighter despite the sweat he could feel sweeping through his own clothes. He'd worry about that later once Blaine was feeling better and he could rag the other man for it. Blaine was already drifting off again, half-heartedly mumbling the last two lines of the little song.

"Happy kitty, sleepy kitty. Purr, purr, purr," Kurt finished, resting his cheek on Blaine's head and closing his eyes.