Blaine woke up the next morning to a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Blaine?" Tina called quietly.

"Kurt?" Blaine called hopefully, still somewhere between asleep and awake.

"No, it's Tina. I was just getting ready to leave for school, but I wanted to see how you were feeling first. Do you need anything?"

"Tina?" Blaine groaned, his head throbbing. He forced his eyes open with considerable effort, cursing the decision to take NyQuil last night, as he felt even more hungover now than after his first trip to Scandals. "What?"

"I've got to leave for school in a few minutes. How're you feeling? Do you need anything? Something to drink? Some medicine? I could make you some breakfast if you're hungry?" Tina offered guiltily.

"No food," Blaine moaned. "My head is killing me. Could you just bring me some Advil and water?"

"Sure, of course sweetie. I'll be right back," Tina cooed before running off, grateful for a concrete way to help.

Blaine ran his hands over his face, trying to soothe the insistent throbbing behind his eyes. When that didn't work, he rolled over, intending to reach for a second pillow to block out the light. Instead he smashed his face into his phone, having forgotten that he'd left it on the pillow so he could listen to Kurt singing him to sleep. With a grumble, he slid the phone from under his cheek, wincing slightly. He swiped the screen, smiling when he saw not one, but two texts from Kurt.

Kurt (6:45 AM): Rachel woke me up at the ass crack of dawn with her stupid vocal exercises yet again, ugh. But that means I'm up and I wanted to check on you. Hopefully you're still sleeping, but call me as soon as you get up, okay?

Kurt (7:25 AM): Like the second you wake up. Even if I'm in class, I'll just step out for a second. Not going to lie, I'm still really worried about you. Please don't make me have to call Tina or I'll probably say something I'm going to regret later…

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle as he read Kurt's texts. It made something flare hot in his stomach to know that Kurt was worried about him. He knew it shouldn't surprise him, but for a while, he'd forgotten how good it felt to be cared for – it made for a nice change.

Blaine (7:30 AM): Hey, just woke up. Tina's about to leave, so I'll call you in a few minutes, okay?

Kurt (7:31 AM): And how are you feeling?

Blaine (7:32 AM): Hungover? If that makes any sense…

Kurt (7:32 AM): It makes perfect sense. NyQuil's like 10% alcohol. And you're really sensitive to medications.

Blaine (7:33 AM): I feel like I did that morning after Scandals…

Kurt (7:34 AM): That bad? Yikes. How's your breathing?

Blaine (7:34 AM): I've been awake for all of 10 minutes, but better, I think.

Kurt (7:35 AM): You're not just saying that to try to get out of the going to the doctor, right?

Blaine (7:35 AM): Who me? I would never…

Kurt (7:35 AM): Because you're still going. I already called Carole and asked her to get you an appointment at her office.

Blaine (7:36 AM): Jesus, you move fast… I'm not sure if I want to whine about having to go to the doctor or say thank you?

Kurt (7:36 AM): Who says you can't do both? But I'm immune to your whining, at least on this topic. Doctors are good. Breathing is important. Dying is bad. End of story.

Blaine (7:37 AM): Hard to argue with that logic. Okay, Tina just came back upstairs. Let me get rid of her and then I'll call you, okay?

Kurt (7:37 AM): Perfect, I'll be here…

"Hey," Tina said as she perched on the side of Blaine's bed. "Texting with Kurt?"

"Yeah, he was just checking up on me," Blaine answered hoarsely.

"You guys seem really good," Tina started, a bit tentatively. "I didn't realize you were still so close. I just assumed that when you broke up..."

"He's the love of my life, Tina," Blaine interjected, a bit defensively. "A break up won't change that."

Tina bit her lip, pausing to draw a breath before she responded. "I – I see that now. And I'm happy for you, Blaine. I really am. I guess I just thought..." Tina trailed off, looking at the duvet as she tried to find the right words. "I don't know what I thought exactly. I was confused. But I'm sorry that I've been acting weird lately. I've just been really...lonely since Mike and I broke up."

Blaine's expression softened slightly. He knew what that felt like. And he doubted that it was a coincidence that his two best friends at McKinley were Tina and Sam, two people who'd also been left behind by their significant others. "I get it, Tina. I've been there..."

Tina smiled, a bit sadly. "Yeah, it's hard. But I'm sorry that I've been trying to make us into something that we're not. I get that you aren't - that we can't – that it's not like that. And I really don't want to mess up our friendship."

"We're okay, Tina," Blaine assured sleepily. "You did just stay up all night making sure I didn't die, so you get some bonus points for that."

"Thanks, I'm glad we're okay," Tina began with obvious relief. "So I better get going because I'm already going to be late for school. But I've got your Advil and water right here. And I put some toast on your nightstand in case you get hungry later. Are you going to be okay? I could sign out at lunch and bring you some soup?"

"Nah, I'll be okay," Blaine demurred. "Kurt's stepmom made me a doctor's appointment, so I'll just get something to eat while I'm out if I'm hungry."

"Oh, that's sweet of Carole. Well, it sounds like you are in good hands," Tina said evenly. "Hope you feel better. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Blaine simply nodded, accepting a slightly awkward shoulder pat from Tina before she was gathering her things and leaving, shutting the door softly behind her. Blaine winced as the loud noise reverberated pain through his throbbing head. He twisted open the Advil container, grabbing three pills for good measure, and swallowing them with a swig of cool water. The tickle in his throat was back, and soon as he swallowed the pills, he was spluttering, breaking off into a hacking cough. When died out, Blaine was utterly spent, so he switched off the bedside lamp and sank back against the pillows, immediately picking up his phone and calling Kurt back.

"Hey," Kurt answered on the first ring. "Is she gone?"

"Yeah," Blaine replied quietly, his voice coming out raw and hoarse.

"Oh, you still sound awful, Blaine," Kurt murmured.

"Just coughing a little bit," Blaine managed to croak out. "Plus the NyQuil hangover. But seriously, I'm a lot better than last night."

"Sure you are," Kurt teased gently, letting his sarcasm stretch the vowels. "Let's leave the diagnosing to the experts though, mmkay?"

"Fine," Blaine mimicked with a huff of mock exasperation. "Speaking of the experts, when do I have to go see them? 'Cause I was totally banking on going back to sleep for a while."

"Not sure yet. Carole's office opens at 8:30, so she can't get an appointment until then. But I'm sure you'll have an hour or two to sleep, at least. And you don't have to look pretty or anything."

"Rude," Blaine scolded. "How do you know I don't look stunning right now?"

"Because I saw how you terrible you looked last night. But hush, because you know you're always gorgeous to me - even when you are coughing, wheezing and crying, " Kurt reassured.

Blaine drew a breath, feeling his face flush hot at the unexpected compliment. The decidedly flirty lilt to Kurt's tone was a nice bonus, and Blaine could only hope it spoke of good things to come. Before he could find the proper response, his throat spasmed and he broke off into a barking cough, this bout seeming to go on longer than the last.

"Jesus Blaine," Kurt winced. "Shh, just try to breathe, honey. It'll pass."

Finally, the coughing jag ended, leaving Blaine breathless and spent. He grabbed for the bottled water on his nightstand, taking several large gulps to soothe the aching burn in his throat and chest.

"Oww," Blaine moaned quietly to himself and winced as he rubbed his palm against the burn along his sternum.

"Blaine? Baby, are you okay?" Kurt asked, his anxiety heightened by the sound of moaning.

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine replied with a rasp. "I'm good."

"Liar," Kurt scolded with more heat than he intended. He took a steading breath before amending, "I just mean that really doesn't sound good, Blaine. Where's your inhaler?"

"Right next to me," Blaine replied, already reaching for it.

"And when's the last time you used it?" Kurt prompted.

"Last night, when I was on the phone with you," Blaine answered wearily. "I've been asleep since then."

"Well, it's definitely time to use it again," Kurt directed, waiting patiently while Blaine took two short puffs.

"Okay, done," Blaine answered after a minute, sinking back to lay his aching head on the pillow, pulling the duvet up to his chin against a sudden onslaught of chills.

"Good," Kurt answered with obvious relief. "Is talking making it worse?"

"Making what worse?" Blaine asked, confused.

"The coughing."

"Oh, umm I guess, maybe?" Blaine replied reluctantly. As awful and exhausted as he felt, the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was stop talking to Kurt.

"Then why don't you go back to sleep for a bit?" Kurt suggested. "I'm about to call Carole and see what time your appointment is scheduled for. And my dad will probably be there about 30 minutes ahead of time to pick you up, okay?"

"Wait, what?" Blaine blurted out. "Your dad's coming to pick me up?"

"Yeah, of course," Kurt answered. "Carole's going to meet you at the office. Who did you think was coming to get you?"

"No one," Blaine responded honestly. "I just assumed I'd drive myself there."

"Yeah, right," Kurt clucked. "You think I'm letting you drive when you are coughing up a lung,can't breathe, and feel hungover? Let's not add car crash to your list of medical issues, alright?"

"Mhmm fine," Blaine grumbled. "I want to argue, but I'm too tired and your logic is fairly sound, so..."

"Exactly. You know I'm right," Kurt said triumphantly. "I'll text you as soon as Carole has an appointment time for you, okay? And we'll talk after your appointment."

"Okay," Blaine mumbled sleepily. "Love you."

"Oh..." Kurt stuttered, his voice suddenly a little high and breathy. Blaine held himself suspended, waiting. "...you too. Get some rest."

Blaine woke up, sweaty and confused, to the sound of a persistent ringing. He rubbed his face, trying to reorient himself. As he groaned, pushing himself up on one elbow, the lit up screen on his iPhone caught his eye. He picked it up and scrolled down with his thumb, eyes widening as he took in the six or seven texts that he'd missed while he'd been out for the past..three hours? Shit.

The ringing started up again, and it slowly dawned on Blaine that it was coming from the doorbell. He scrambled to his feet, regretting it almost immediately as the room lurched, everything spinning as his vision momentarily whited out. Blaine grabbed the edge of the bedside table just in time, managing to hold himself steady until the room stopped spinning. Just as he was feeling stable enough to try moving again, his phone started buzzing in his hand. Blaine looked down – incoming call from Burt Hummel. Cursing a little as he realized that Burt was probably the person at the door, Blaine forced himself to take a calming breath before answering.

"Hello?" Blaine answered, wincing at the scratchy and hoarse shadow of his voice.

"Blaine? Is that you buddy?" Burt asked, sounding concerned.

Blaine cleared his throat, trying again. "Hey yeah, Mr. Hummel, it's me."

"Geez, you do sound bad," Burt exclaimed. "Well, I'm downstairs, kiddo. You about ready to go?"

"Uhh, almost," Blaine lied sheepishly. "Actually, I was sleeping and didn't see Kurt's texts until a few minutes ago. But I just need to throw on some clothes and then I'll be ready."

"No worries, Blaine," Burt soothed, rolling his eyes at how apologetic Blaine sounded. "I'm a little early anyways. I can just hang out downstairs while you finish getting ready."

"Okay thanks, Mr. Hummel. I'll be right down to let you in," Blaine answered quickly. He hung up, looking down at his rumpled pajamas and deciding they'd have to do, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes and nose as he walked down the stairs, hoping he looked at least somewhat presentable.

Blaine hugged his arms to his chest as he neared the entryway, shivering and aching for the warmth of his duvet. He slid the door open, wincing at the bright light and blast of cold air that greeted him. "Hey, Mr. Hummel, sorry about that. Have you been waiting long?" Blaine asked.

"It's Burt, son. We've been over this. And no, not long. I'm just glad I didn't kick down your door for no reason. Kurt and I were getting worried when you weren't answering your phone."

"Sorry," Blaine said again, reflexively, as he stepped back to let Burt inside.

Burt shook his head, opening his mouth to say something before closing it again. He looked at Blaine closely for a moment, frowning a bit. "Are you hot, Blaine?" he asked gently.

"No, I'm freezing," Blaine answered without thinking. "Wh-"

Before he could get out the rest of the word, Burt's hand stretched forward, feeling Blaine's forehead and each cheek in turn, the gesture unexpectedly comforting and familial. Blaine held back a flinch at how cold Burt's hands were before relaxing into their coolness; he hadn't realized how hot he was until he felt the contrast.

Burt pulled back his hand, frown deepening with his mounting concern. "You're definitely running a fever," he commented bluntly. "Go get dressed, we need to get you to the doctor."

Blaine nodded for several seconds before he got any words out. "Okay, yeah, I'll uh – I'll be right back," he managed at last, overwhelmed by Burt's concern.

Burt nodded and watched Blaine's unsteady, wobbly progress to the stairs.

"Hey Blaine?" Burt called to his retreating form.

"Yeah?" Blaine replied.

"Do you need a hand?" Burt asked.

"No, I uh – No, I'm good," Blaine answered quickly.

"You sure?" Burt prompted.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks, Mr. Hum – I mean, Burt," Blaine assured, dragging his aching body up the steps and trying not to clutch the banister too obviously.

An hour later, Blaine was grateful to hear his name called by a friendly receptionist, relieved to leave the chilly waiting room behind He'd spent the last hour shivering more and more noticeably despite layers of clothing and trying to cough as discreetly as possibly into the crook of his arm, doing his best to hide both from Burt. After all, hadn't Blaine promised Kurt he'd look after his dad and not the other way around?

Blaine stood and fidgeted awkwardly, unsure if the polite thing to do would be to invite Burt with him or go back on his own.

But Burt just smiled and waved Blaine off, saying, "I'll be out here when you get done, kid. Carole's going to meet you back there to deal with all the medical speak. Not really my area."

"Oh, okay, sounds good. Thanks," Blaine spoke gratefully, following the receptionist who quickly led him back to a room. Seconds later, the door opened again, and Carole was walking through the door, anxious to greet him.

"Hi, honey," Carole cooed. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Blaine responded reflexively. Quickly chastened by a skeptical look from Carole, he elaborated. "I mean, okay-ish, I guess? Better than last night, but still not feeling great."

Carole nodded sympathetically. "Come have a seat over here," she directed, motioning to a chair near the blood pressure cuff. "I was just going to take your vital signs and history if that's okay with you? But I'd be happy to get a different nurse if that would make you uncomfortable."

"No, no, that's fine," Blaine answered, glad to have a familiar face in the room. "That'd be great."

Carole smiled at him as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, securing it in place. "I'm glad Kurt called us this morning. From what Burt told me, you were in no shape to be getting around by yourself."

Blaine blushed a little. "Yeah, I guess I was a little more...out of it than I realized."

"You don't say?" Carole teased gently with a wry grin. Carole clipped the pulse oximeter on Blaine's index finger as she spoke before pressing a few buttons on the machine to activate the blood pressure cuff. "I get it though - Burt's just as bad, if not worse when he's sick."

Blaine immediately sobered at the comment. "Yeah, so how's he doing, if you don't mind me asking?" he ventured delicately. "Kurt hasn't really talked much about it recently."

"He's doing great," Carole answered reassuringly. "He just had his check-up last week and all his blood work came back clear."

"Oh, that's great," Blaine felt his body relax minutely. "That's really good news."

"It is," Carole said agreeably. "Okay, just need to slip this under your tongue," she continued, handing Blaine the thermometer.

They sat in silence until the machine beeped. Carole took the thermometer back, clucking under her breath as she read the display - 101.2.

"Yes, definitely running a fever," she commented, making a few notes in Blaine's chart before undoing the cuff and unclipping the pulse oximeter.

"Okay, I just need to ask you a few questions and then the doctor should be in," Carole explained patiently, asking a series of questions that Blaine could blessedly answer in only a few words each. He was trying to hide the fact that the room was starting to spin a little and his throat was aching from the effort of fighting back coughs.

Finally unable to hold back any longer, Blaine bent forward, coughing violently, his eyes watering with the force of it. He inhaled a wheezy breath, and he was almost immediately propelled into another coughing fit. After a moment, Carole reached over and gently smoothed circles across his back until at last, the coughing stopped. He stayed hunched over for several moments, trying to draw a full breath without aggravating his throat and triggering a coughing jag all over again.

"Want some water, honey?" Carole asked, and Blaine nodded. He took the paper cup from her gratefully, gulping at the cool water.

"So how long have you had that cough?" she asked, as she took the empty cup from him.

"Umm, three or four days, I guess?" Blaine replied.

"Yeah, it's definitely time you got it checked out. That does not sound good, sweetie. But I think that's all I need to know for now. Let me help you up on the exam table and the doctor should be in shortly."

She stood, picking up Blaine's chart.

"Are you – um – are you going to stay?" Blaine asked tentatively, looking at the floor.

"Of course, sweetheart. Someone's got to pay attention to all the medical stuff while you are hacking your lungs out, after all. I'm just going to hand your chart to the doctor so she can review it." Carole explained patiently, waiting until Blaine looked up and met her eyes.

"Oh okay, good, that'd be...good," Blaine answered, looking equal parts embarrassed and relieved.

A few minutes later, a kindly older woman who introduced herself as Dr. Marshall entered, crossing the room to take a seat on the stool across from Blaine. She asked several more question, mostly confirming things Blaine had already told Carole. He was grateful when the questions ended and the doctor began her exam. She looked in his ears, nose, and throat before listening to his lungs with a stethoscope. It seemed like every second or third instruction to take a deep breath ended in a coughing jag, until Blaine was hunched over his knees, coughing painfully and shaking with exertion.

"Okay, I think I've heard all I need to," Dr. Marshall said. "You're obviously wheezing, and I don't see any reason to torture you any longer by making you cough. I think we're probably dealing with a bad case of bronchitis, but I want to do a quick chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. I'm going to let Carole walk you down to the imaging suite. It should just take a few minutes."

Blaine nodded mutely, utterly exhausted, allowing Carole to take his hand to help him off the table. Sensing his unsteadiness, she kept a hand on his shoulder as she led him out of the exam room and down the hall, steering him gently.

Blaine was more out of it than with it as he followed Carole's directions to turn to each side, raise his arms, breathing in and holding his breath as directed. Thankfully, the whole process only took a few minutes, and before Blaine knew it, he was back in the exam room, hunched over and shivering on the crinkly paper covering the exam table. It was taking nearly all his effort to remain seated, semi-upright and conscious, so Blaine was almost absurdly grateful when the doctor returned less than 5 minutes later, carrying his chart.

"Okay, Blaine," Doctor Marshall said as she crossed the room. "It looks like your chest x-ray is clear, so no pneumonia. You've got a pretty nasty case of asthmatic bronchitis though. We're going to give you a shot of Penicillin and another of Decadron, which is a steroid. Both of those should get you feeling better, at least in the short term. Then I'm also giving you an antibiotic to take orally for the next 7 days, just to make sure we get rid of whatever bacteria is hiding out in your lungs. And finally, I've got some cough syrup to help calm down that nasty cough. It's got hydrocodone in it, so it's going to make you sleepy. Just make sure that you don't drive until you are off this medication and feeling better, alright?"

Blaine nodded dumbly, his brain still stuck on the part where he'd need two shots.

"I also want you to keep using your inhaler or nebulizer until the wheezing is gone. Hopefully the steroids will get rid of it in the next day or two. Any questions?" Dr. Marshall asked with a gentle smile.

Blaine's mouth seemed to be running ahead of his brain, and before he knew what he was saying, he blurted out "Umm, two shots?"

The doctor laughed, although not unkindly. "Yes, two shots, I'm afraid. It's the best way to get you feeling better quickly and to get your asthma back in check. But Carole is one of the injection pros. You'll barely feel a thing, I promise."

Blaine turned to Carole, biting his lip.

"Is that okay, honey? Or I can get someone else to do it?" Carole offered, sensing Blaine's discomfort.

"No no no," Blaine rushed to reply, his eyes going wide. "I want it to be y – I mean, that would be good," Blaine covered lamely, flushed with embarrassment.

"Okay," Dr. Marshall said, climbing to her feet. "Looks like you'll be all set to go after you get your shots, Blaine. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks," Blaine answered quietly, managing a brief nod at Dr. Marshall as she exited the room.

Carole walked over to Blaine and placed a steadying hand on his knee. "You still doing okay?" she began. "I know shots are no fun, but it'll be over quick, I promise."

Blaine nodded, trying to reassure her (and himself) that this wasn't a big deal. But he was honestly terrified of needles, and he couldn't hold it in any longer, so he settled for a half truth. "Needles aren't – uh – my favorite thing in the world, I guess."

Carole chuckled sympathetically. "Are they anybody's favorite thing? But you'll be okay, honey. I'll make sure of it. I just need to run out for one second and draw up the meds and then I'll be right back, alright?"

"Of course, thanks," Blaine answered hoarsely. When Carole left, his nervous fingers began to twist the fabric of his cardigan, his weariness chased out by a seeping dread. To distract himself, Blaine dug his hand into his pocket in search of his phone. He smiled when he clicked the screen and saw another text message from Kurt.

Kurt (12:37 PM): Are you at the doctor's yet? What did they say?

Blaine typed a quick reply, his hands beginning to shake with growing anxiety.

Blaine (12:49 PM): I'm here right now. HELP.

Kurt (12:49 PM): WHAT? ARE YOU OKAY?

Blaine (12:50 PM): Shh, I'm fine. I'm just nervous...

Kurt (12:50 PM): JESUS BLAINE, DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT.

Kurt (12:50 PM): But let me guess... You have to get a shot?

Blaine (12:51 PM): Two. So I repeat, HELP.

Kurt (12:51 PM): Aww baby, if I could hold your hand through the phone I would...

Blaine bit back a sob as he read the message, his heart aching with just how much he needed Kurt right then. He knew it was silly to be so scared, but that didn't stop the thumping in his chest or the beading of sweat across his brow, neither related to the fever.

Blaine (12:52 PM): I really wish you were here too.

Kurt (12:52 PM): It's going to be okay. It'll be over in just a minute. Is Carole there with you?

Blaine (12:52 PM): Yeah.

Kurt (12:53 PM): She'll hold your hand.

Blaine (12:53 PM): It might be a little hard for her to do that when she's the one giving me the shots.

Kurt (12:53 PM): Oh yeah, didn't think about that...

Blaine startled as he heard Carole open the door, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. He caught it just in time, typing out one last text as Carole arranged the injection supplies on the counter.

Blaine (12:54 PM): Okay, Carole's back... Wish me luck?

Kurt (12:54 PM): Good luck, honey. Call me once you get home?

Kurt (12:54 PM): ((((((hugs)))))))

"Were you taking to Kurt, sweetheart?" Carole asked as she slid on latex gloves.

"Yeah, he just wanted to know if we were done with the doctor yet," Blaine answered, trying not to stare at the syringes on the counter.

"Well, we'll have you out of here in no time," Carole said. "Okay honey, I've got to put one of these shots in each hip, so can you stand up for me for just a second..."

Blaine struggled to his feet, willing himself to take slow, deep breaths to keep the panic at bay. He swayed slightly, and Carole eased him over until he was leaning against the exam table. Before his anxiety overwhelmed him, Carol covered his hand with hers and squeezing it slightly, holding on for a second until Blaine steadied.

"You ready?" she asked, waiting until Blaine raised his head and nodded. Carole smiled reassuringly. She carefully reached for the hem of Blaine's cardigan and shirt, sliding them up and swiping an alcohol wipe across the expanse of bare skin. She set down the wipe and reached for the first syringe, uncapping it quickly.

"Okay big prick, sweetie," she warned, sliding the needle in and injecting the contents smoothly before Blaine had a chance to react. Blaine flinched as the injection site began to burn from the medicine, gripping the exam table a little tighter as the room started to lurch. "Just one more," Carole warned, repeating the same series of steps until both of Blaine's hips were stinging and the room spun in his blurry vision.

"Blaine, honey? Are you alright?" Carole called, placing a hand on his back and peered around to look at his face. "Oh sweetheart, you're white as a ghost," she exclaimed, helping him sit back on the exam table. "Here, put your head down," she prompted, stroking his the back of his neck. "Just try to take some slow, deep breaths, okay?" Carole encouraged.

Blaine nodded, his head in his hands and his eyes closed. He tried to claw back to the surface, desperately seeking solid ground with Carole's hand the only thing anchoring him to the earth. He sat there with only the rhythmic strokes of Carol's hand to mark the passing of time, breathing oxygen and clarity into his lungs, until at last the world came back together again, and he was able to lift his head and open his eyes.

"You still with me?" Carole asked with a worried smile as Blaine lifted his head.

"Yeah," Blaine murmured softly. "I'm – I can – the room's stopped spinning."

"Good," Carole spoke gladly. "You're still looking pretty pale though, Blaine. When's the last time you ate anything?"

"Umm," Blaine started, frowning when he realized just how long it'd been. "Maybe lunch yesterday? I was so tired last night that I fell asleep without eating dinner, and then..."

"Blaine," Carole scolded. "No wonder you almost passed out on me!"

"Sorry," Blaine launched into an apology. "I guess I didn't realize how long it'd been since I last ate and I haven't really had much of an appetite and I -"

"Blaine, stop," Carole said firmly. "It's okay. No need to apologize. It's not your fault you're all alone in that big house without your parents to take care of you right now. I'll have Burt get you some food on the way home. How does soup sound?" she offered.

"Sounds wonderful," Blaine admitted gratefully. He took Carole's offered arm and allowed himself to be led to the waiting room, where Burt was flipping through a battered copy of Sports Illustrated.

"Hey guys," Burt greeted them. "So, what's the verdict?"

"He's got a bad case of bronchitis," Carole answered. "Blaine, why don't you sit down and rest for a second. I just need to go over a few things with Burt before he takes you home, okay?"

"Mhmhh," Blaine mumbled, sinking heavily into the nearest chair. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his head on the arm of the chair and gave into his growing fatigue.

Some time later, Burt gently shook Blaine awake, half walking and half carrying him into the car. Blaine was practically asleep on his feet, slumping into the passenger seat of Burt's truck. With effort, he managed to follow Burt's prompt to "put your seatbelt on" before he was out, giving into tempting call of sleep.

Blaine drifted for an immeasurable while, sleeping deeply. When he woke up, he was sweating heavily, his coat and scarf sticking to his skin. He whimpered as a blast of cold air suddenly hit him, sending a violent shiver through his body. He turned to see Burt standing at the now open passenger side door of the truck, his arms bundled with grocery bags that Blaine had no recollection of getting.

"Hey kiddo, glad to see that you've rejoined the land of the living," Burt teased. "You've been out for a while. But we're at your house. How about we get you in the house and in your own bed?"

Blaine rubbed his face, his sluggish mind struggling to catch up. "That – sounds good," he managed at last, clumsily climbing from the truck and following Burt inside.

"Alright Blaine, I just need you to point me in the direction of the kitchen so I can heat up this soup for you. Carole says you need to eat something before you can take your pills."

"Sure," Blaine said, moving on autopilot, showing Burt to the kitchen, pointing out the microwave, dishes, and silverware in turn.

"Okay, well I'm going to heat this soup up. Hopefully you'll like it. Kurt told me tomato basil was your favorite."

Blaine's eyes widened, nodding dumbly as he rode a swell of gratitude for Kurt and his family. His stomach rumbled, as if in confirmation.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get changed into your pajamas and get in bed?" Burt urged. "I'll bring the soup and your pills up to you in just second. And then you can take a nice long nap..."

"I – you don't have to - " Blaine started, overcome by how much Burt had already done and was still doing to take care of him. It felt amazing, but also so unfamiliar to be taken care of for once. He was from protesting further by Burt's stern glare, making it clear that his help was non-negotiable. "I mean – that would be great, thanks," he finished lamely.

"That's what I thought," Burt said, a little smug and slightly teasing. "Go get in bed, kid. I'll be up in a few minutes, okay?"

"Yess'ir," Blaine mumbled sleepily, turning and climbing the stairs, already starting to drift. He managed to shrug off his clothes, remembering to grab his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans, before pulling on a pair of worn flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that he was pretty sure belonged to Kurt. He collapsed atop the bed at last, pulling his duvet up to his chin and sinking back into the pillows, blinking heavily as he struggled to stay awake for just a little longer.

Thankfully, Blaine didn't have long to wait, as Burt knocked on his bedroom door only minutes later. "Come in," Blaine croaked, wincing at how scratchy and hoarse his voice sounded, even to his own ears.

Burt entered carrying a small wooden tray, walking over to the bed and settling it over Blaine's lap. "Alright buddy, here you go," he started. "You've got your soup and once you eat that, Carole said you need to take your medicine," Burt explained patiently, pointing to a small paper cup holding three pills. "You've got your cough medicine in there too," he continued, showing Blaine a small plastic dose cup filled with a cloudy red liquid. "And I got you some Gatorade since Carole said you need to be drinking a lot of fluids. I'm going to leave another one up here in case you get thirsty later," Burt finished, setting a second bottle of Gatorade on the bedside table. "Do you need anything else? I'm going to have to head back to work in a minute, but Carole's going to come check on you when she gets off at 5:30."

"No, this is –" Blaine began, his voice catching in his throat slightly, incredibly touched by the effort. "It's perfect..." he continued. "I've got everything I need. Thank you. Seriously, Burt. You don't know how much it means to me," Blaine managed, looking at Burt with stunned sincerity.

"Of course, kiddo," Burt replied, a little gruff. He patted Blaine on the shoulder, and stood. "I hope you know that you'll always be an important part of our family. Kurt seems to like you, and he's not the only one," Burt continued, giving Blaine a sly grin as he reached the door. "Just eat, take your medicines, and get some rest, alright? Carole will be by in a few hours."

"I will, I promise," Blaine assured Burt. "And seriously, thank you again, for everything."

"You're welcome," Burt spoke. "Call us if you need anything, okay?" he asked, waving as he closed the door behind him.

Blaine obediently followed Burt's instructions after he was gone, managing to eat about half of the soup before he was full and exhausted. He swallowed the pills next with a swig of Gatorade, followed by the cough medicine, wincing at its thick syrupy texture and bitter aftertaste. He took several more sips of Gatorade until, at last, the awful taste was gone. Exhausted and utterly drained, he carefully placed the wooden tray on his bedside table and slid down to the pillows, tugging at the duvet until he was wrapped up tight. Only then did he finally grab his phone and dial Kurt's number.

"Hey," Kurt answered breathlessly on the first ring. "Are you finally home? I was getting worried."

"Yeah, I'm in bed," Blaine answered hoarsely.

"Good," Kurt cooed. "How're you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

"I've got bronchitis. And I'm okay, just really tired," Blaine replied.

"What did the doctor say about your asthma?" Kurt pressed.

"She said it was asthmatic bronchitis and that I was definitely wheezing. But she gave me a steroid shot and she said that should make the wheezing stop pretty soon," Blaine mumbled.

"Okay," Kurt said, some of the tension leaving his voice at Blaine's assurance. "Well, I'm glad. How'd you do with the shots?"

"I didn't cry..." Blaine chuckled softly. "I may have almost passed out though."

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, horrified. "Baby, did you really?"

"I – I think so?" Blaine answered truthfully. "I got really dizzy and pale and Carole had to help me sit down and put my head between my knees."

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt murmured sympathetically. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to hold your hand.."

"S'okay," Blaine mumbled, his words starting to slur together as the cough syrup began to take effect. "I miss you though..."

"I miss you too, honey. But I'm going to see you next weekend, remember?" Kurt reminded Blaine.

"Next weekend?" Blaine wondered, his mind momentarily blank. "Oh, Mr. Schue's wedding!" he realized. "I'd almost forgotten about that," he finished, breaking into a wide yawn.

"You sound sleepy, Blaine. Did they give you some of the good cough medicine?" Kurt asked.

"Mhmm," Blaine groaned appreciatively, "Think it's – starting – to work. Feel like I'm floating."

Kurt giggled. "You sound a little high, hon."

"Shut up," Blaine mumbled without any heat behind it.

"Oh, is that how we're going to play it then? I see…" Kurt teased. "I was just about to tell you something very important too..."

"Really, what?" Blaine spoke slowly.

"Oh no, you said you wanted me shut up, so now you'll never know," Kurt baited.

"No fair," Blaine moaned. "Kuuurt, I'm sick. I'm not responsible for my words."

"Okay fine," Kurt acquiesced agreeably. "I was just going to tell you to make sure you bring your inhaler with you next weekend, because you are definitely going to need it," Kurt finished, his voice suddenly pitched an octave deeper and laced with unmistakable want.

"Why would I need - ?" Blaine started, honestly confused. But after a moment, it slowly dawned on him what Kurt was hinting at. "Oh," Blaine gasped. "Do you mean?"

"Yes," Kurt all but purred. "I got us a hotel room for the weekend."

Blaine gasped, shock and sudden need surging through his body. "That sounds – oh god Kurt, I've missed you so much."

"I know," Kurt replied saucily. " Ready to make up for lost time?"

"Yes, I mean fuck yeah," Blaine sputtered, suddenly dizzy and unable to breathe for an entirely different reason.

"Good," Kurt said with finality. "But you've got to be healthy by then which means plenty of rest for you in the meantime, mister," Kurt admonished, his voice suddenly sweet and gentle once more.

"God, you sure do know how to motivate a person," Blaine chuckled.

"I have my ways," Kurt agreed. "But for now, sleep, okay baby?"

"If you insist," Blaine replied, breaking into another loud yawn.

"Good boy," Kurt said, smiling. "I can't wait to see you."

"Me too," Blaine whispered. "Love you."

And as Blaine drifted off to sleep, the last thing he heard was a hushed, reverent whisper, echoing through his dreams. Love you too. So much.

End Chapter Note: Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I may have been talked into turning the fic into a 'verse, but if I write more, it'll be shorter drabbles about Blaine's asthma. I've got some ideas, like Blaine's initial diagnosis as a child. I might also write about the first asthma attack Kurt witnesses at Dalton and the asthma lesson that Carole gives him afterwards (both briefly mentioned in Part 1 of the story). If you want to keep track of any future drabbles, they'll all be tagged under the tag #fic: every breath you take on Tumblr. And finally, if you want to read more of my stuff, you can find them on Tumblr (username: snowflakeanderson). All my fics and drabbles will be under the tag #all my fics.