“Blaine?!” Kurt calls out hoarsely from his bed, hoping his boyfriend will hear him.  “Blaine, please, come back.  I can’t feel my face.”

            Kurt has never been so sick in his entire life.  He always makes sure to take his vitamins, keep a healthy work out schedule, and eat right.  But even the best of them get taken down every once in a while, and this cold has taken Kurt down.  His nose is stuffed and his throat feels like it’s been scratched at by raccoons.  And his boyfriend seems to have chosen this opportune time to disappear and leave Kurt all alone in his sea of cough syrup and used tissues.

            “Blaine?  C’mon, it’s not funny anymore, I really can barely speak, just come back in here.”  Kurt listens intently for Blaine’s footsteps, but they never come.  He tries to think about the last time he and Blaine spoke…it had been a little while ago, and then Kurt had needed to take a nap, so Blaine had moved into the living room to watch TV.  Shouldn’t he still be here, to make sure Kurt hadn’t died or something?

            Oh, god, Kurt thought.  What if Blaine had died?!  Surely that’s the only plausible explanation.  Blaine was sitting in the living room watching TV, when a crazy axe murderer broke into their apartment and beat Blaine to death…and Kurt is next!

            Kurt slows his breathing, trying to make as little noise as possible.  Unfortunately, he can’t avoid wheezing slightly, but he hopes it’s quiet enough that the killer won’t hear him.  He reaches carefully into the bedside table for his pepper spray, determined to get the bastard right in the face for killing his boyfriend and trying to kill him.

            Pepper spray in hand, Kurt sits still in his bed, eyes focused on the bedroom door.  Suddenly, he hears the front door open, and someone shuffles inside.  That must be the killer! Kurt thinks angrily.  He must have gone out to dispose of Blaine’s body or something, and now he’s back to finish me off too!  Kurt prepares his pepper spray can as he hears the rustling approach the bedroom door.  As the door opens, he screams, spraying wildly at the figure standing there, who has also started screaming.

            “KURT, KURT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  STOP THAT, JESUS, FUCK, I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!”

            Kurt stops screaming, the pepper spray can falling to his side as he opens his eyes to see none other than Blaine slumped against the wall, his shirt sleeve covering his eyes, a carton of ice cream and two spoons abandoned on the floor.

            “…Blaine?” Kurt asks tentatively, his voice even more hoarse due to the screaming.

            “Yes, fuck, who else would I be, baby?” Blaine uncovers his eyes, fortunately having avoided getting the pepper spray in them, and bends down to scoop up the ice cream and spoons.  “Are you okay?  That was quite a display there.”

            “I thought…god, I don’t even know, I thought you were dead and that you were a murderer…well, not that you were a murderer, but like, that you had been killed and the killer was coming back for me but it was actually just you and I’m really sorry, that was so—“

            “Kurt, shit, your fever is spiking,” Blaine cuts him off as he presses the back of his hand to Kurt’s forehead.  “I think…you might be slightly delusional.  I just went out to get you some ice cream while you were napping.”

            “Oh.”  Kurt nods solemnly and flops back on the bed.  “I’ve gone insane.”

            “You’re not insane, baby,” Blaine says, trying not to chuckle.  “just really, really sick.  C’mon, let’s get some more medicine in you and then you can have some ice cream.  I got your favorite…vanilla chocolate chip.”

            “You’re the bestest boyfriend ever,” Kurt says to the ceiling, smiling at Blaine when he lies down too.

            “I know, sweetheart, I know,” Blaine teases.

            “Hey Blaine?” Kurt says.

            “Yeah, babe?”

            “I’m really glad you’re not dead.”