![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fic: Sick Day
Title: Sick Day
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Characters: Kurt, Finn; Burt
Summary: This is actually becoming weird. Kurt is always up at least 45 minutes before Finn; he's usually totally dressed and sitting at the table with a magazine and a grapefruit by the time a half-awake Finn has shuffled out of his own room and into the kitchen to see if he can drink out of the carton of orange juice before Kurt says something cutting.
Count: 1294 words
Notes: From this prompt on the fluff meme. Written prior to "Furt" airing, so it's a little AU.
Finn knows something is wrong when it's 7:15 and he hasn't heard any water running or movement from the basement.
He stands indecisively at the top of the stairs for a minute, backpack slung over his shoulder, and then he calls, "Uh, Kurt?" down the stairs. He waits for a response, but doesn't get one.
This is actually becoming weird. Kurt is always up at least 45 minutes before Finn; he's usually totally dressed and sitting at the table with a magazine and a grapefruit by the time a half-awake Finn has shuffled out of his own room and into the kitchen to see if he can drink out of the carton of orange juice before Kurt says something cutting.
Finn frowns. Everything else about this morning seemed normal enough; there were dishes in the sink from his mom and Burt's breakfasts, and his mom left him a note on the fridge reminding him and Kurt that she's working a double today. They're all still trying to get used to living together, but they've started to fall into patterns and habits, and it's weird that Kurt is breaking his. "Kurt," he tries, louder.
The answering croak that he hears doesn't sound human, and Finn thinks: Crap. He considers it and decides that this is a special case where it's acceptable to ignore all of the threats that Kurt has made about the consequences if his space is invaded without permission.
"Is everything cool?" he says, just so Kurt knows he's coming; in case he misses Finn coming down the stairs like a herd of buffalo (buffalos? buffalo). "We need to leave in, like, five minutes."
The basement is dark and silent, with no sign that anyone has been up and about this morning. It doesn't smell like Kurt's weird hair products; there is an outfit laid out neatly across the back of the chair at the vanity and it hasn't been touched.
There's a lump in Kurt's bed under a huge pile of blankets.
"...Kurt?" Finn asks cautiously.
"Mmnf," says the lump. That is a really, really deep voice.
Finn stares at it with great misgivings, then he goes over and carefully peels four layers of blanket back. He finds himself looking at half of Kurt's face (the rest is pressed into the pillow), which is totally drained of color except for this red spot high on his cheek. His hair is off-the-map crazy. When he cracks his eye open, it is bleary and the skin around it is puffy. He looks kind of ... scary.
"Whoa," says Finn, his eyes wide.
Kurt scrunches up his face in something that looks like it's supposed to be a frown, and he pulls the covers back over his head.
Finn waits a couple of seconds and then he rolls the blankets back again, farther this time.
Kurt is curled around a box of tissues, with more used ones scattered around him; he's wearing a plain T-shirt and what looks like a pair of gray sweatpants. Finn has never seen him so ... un-fancy. "What," says Kurt, and his voice is rough and insanely low, "do you want?" The giant sniffle that he lets loose at the end doesn't do a lot for the dignity that he's obviously trying to pull together.
"Dude," says Finn in awe, momentarily distracted. "You can talk that low?"
Kurt shoots him a baleful one-eyed stare.
Finn lowers his backpack to the floor, and then he asks: "Are you sick?"
"No," says Kurt. (It sounds like: dough.) "I sleep under mountains of used tissues because it's hygienic." The sarcasm is thick enough that it's very, very obvious, even though he sounds freakily not like himself. He's shivering.
"Do you want me to have your dad call you out sick?" Finn asks.
He shuts his eye again. "Yes, please," he says.
Finn finds Kurt's iPhone on his desk, and the garage listed as number two on speed dial. He tells the employee with the bored voice that it's Finn and he wants to talk to Burt; Burt sounds a little out of breath when he picks up the phone.
"What's the matter?" his voice asks crisply, and Finn feels a little bad about not having specified that it wasn't an emergency or anything; he doesn't exactly make a lot of seven A.M. calls to the garage.
"Everything's cool," he says. "I think you probably need to call Kurt out, though. He's pretty sick."
"How sick?"
"Well," Finn says, and he glances back toward the bed, where Kurt is hidden under the blankets again, "he's still in bed and he hasn't done his hair."
"I'm fine," Kurt croaks, muffled.
Finn says doubtfully: "He says he's fine..."
Burt audibly sighs. "Yeah, he's probably full of it. Can you put him on?"
Kurt sticks his hand out of the covers, clearly knowing that his dad is going to want to talk to him. Sometimes, it's a little freaky how well Burt and Kurt can predict each other's moves, especially Kurt.
"Okay," says Finn, and he crosses the room to carefully tuck Kurt's phone into his outstretched hand. It disappears under the duvet.
"I'm fine," says Kurt's irritated stuffed-up voice, and Finn stands there for a couple seconds, thinking about the stuff his mom does for him when he's sick, before he jogs upstairs.
When he comes back with an armful of supplies, the basement is silent and still again. "Hey," says Finn, to Kurt's bed. "Open up." Kurt pulls his cocoon down just enough that he can peer out at him.
Finn sets the fresh box of Kleenex down on top of the blankets, in the general vicinity of what he thinks is Kurt's knee, and he holds up the bathroom trash can so Kurt can see it, then puts it on the floor by the head of the bed and -- careful to use his arm, which is covered by his jacket sleeve -- he sweeps the top layer of used tissues into it. Finn doesn't bother to wait for Kurt's reaction; he just plunks the electric blanket down on top of the blanket heap and plugs it into the surge protector.
"Did your dad call school?" he asks, settling the bottle of Gatorade on the bedside table beside Kurt's phone, and crossing the room to snag the remote controls for the TV and the stereo system.
"...Yes." When Finn turns around again, Kurt has lowered the blankets enough for his entire face to be visible. He's staring at Finn, but recovers enough to say, "He's insisting on coming home at lunch to check on me."
"Cool," says Finn, settling the remotes beside the box of tissues. "I can get your homework if you text me your schedule."
"Thanks," says Kurt, after an even longer pause. He looks and sounds kind of startled and unsettled, though his obvious exhaustion and general sick-looking crappiness overrides it.
Finn tries not to think about how weird (and not in the good way) their relationship has gotten if Kurt finds it strange that Finn is willing to help him out when he's sick. He picks up his backpack and puts one strap over his shoulder. He suddenly feels very tall, like he's looming over Kurt. He steps back and shifts his weight. "Do you want anything else?"
"No," says Kurt. "I'm good. Thank you."
Finn shrugs faintly, smiling. "Okay. Hope you feel better, dude." He's going to be ten minutes late, but his first class is Spanish with Mr. Schue, so it's not a problem.
Halfway out the front door, he hears the stereo downstairs click on and start to play some show tune. Finn smiles, proud and a little relieved, and inwardly congratulates himself on a job well done.
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG
Characters: Kurt, Finn; Burt
Summary: This is actually becoming weird. Kurt is always up at least 45 minutes before Finn; he's usually totally dressed and sitting at the table with a magazine and a grapefruit by the time a half-awake Finn has shuffled out of his own room and into the kitchen to see if he can drink out of the carton of orange juice before Kurt says something cutting.
Count: 1294 words
Notes: From this prompt on the fluff meme. Written prior to "Furt" airing, so it's a little AU.
Finn knows something is wrong when it's 7:15 and he hasn't heard any water running or movement from the basement.
He stands indecisively at the top of the stairs for a minute, backpack slung over his shoulder, and then he calls, "Uh, Kurt?" down the stairs. He waits for a response, but doesn't get one.
This is actually becoming weird. Kurt is always up at least 45 minutes before Finn; he's usually totally dressed and sitting at the table with a magazine and a grapefruit by the time a half-awake Finn has shuffled out of his own room and into the kitchen to see if he can drink out of the carton of orange juice before Kurt says something cutting.
Finn frowns. Everything else about this morning seemed normal enough; there were dishes in the sink from his mom and Burt's breakfasts, and his mom left him a note on the fridge reminding him and Kurt that she's working a double today. They're all still trying to get used to living together, but they've started to fall into patterns and habits, and it's weird that Kurt is breaking his. "Kurt," he tries, louder.
The answering croak that he hears doesn't sound human, and Finn thinks: Crap. He considers it and decides that this is a special case where it's acceptable to ignore all of the threats that Kurt has made about the consequences if his space is invaded without permission.
"Is everything cool?" he says, just so Kurt knows he's coming; in case he misses Finn coming down the stairs like a herd of buffalo (buffalos? buffalo). "We need to leave in, like, five minutes."
The basement is dark and silent, with no sign that anyone has been up and about this morning. It doesn't smell like Kurt's weird hair products; there is an outfit laid out neatly across the back of the chair at the vanity and it hasn't been touched.
There's a lump in Kurt's bed under a huge pile of blankets.
"...Kurt?" Finn asks cautiously.
"Mmnf," says the lump. That is a really, really deep voice.
Finn stares at it with great misgivings, then he goes over and carefully peels four layers of blanket back. He finds himself looking at half of Kurt's face (the rest is pressed into the pillow), which is totally drained of color except for this red spot high on his cheek. His hair is off-the-map crazy. When he cracks his eye open, it is bleary and the skin around it is puffy. He looks kind of ... scary.
"Whoa," says Finn, his eyes wide.
Kurt scrunches up his face in something that looks like it's supposed to be a frown, and he pulls the covers back over his head.
Finn waits a couple of seconds and then he rolls the blankets back again, farther this time.
Kurt is curled around a box of tissues, with more used ones scattered around him; he's wearing a plain T-shirt and what looks like a pair of gray sweatpants. Finn has never seen him so ... un-fancy. "What," says Kurt, and his voice is rough and insanely low, "do you want?" The giant sniffle that he lets loose at the end doesn't do a lot for the dignity that he's obviously trying to pull together.
"Dude," says Finn in awe, momentarily distracted. "You can talk that low?"
Kurt shoots him a baleful one-eyed stare.
Finn lowers his backpack to the floor, and then he asks: "Are you sick?"
"No," says Kurt. (It sounds like: dough.) "I sleep under mountains of used tissues because it's hygienic." The sarcasm is thick enough that it's very, very obvious, even though he sounds freakily not like himself. He's shivering.
"Do you want me to have your dad call you out sick?" Finn asks.
He shuts his eye again. "Yes, please," he says.
Finn finds Kurt's iPhone on his desk, and the garage listed as number two on speed dial. He tells the employee with the bored voice that it's Finn and he wants to talk to Burt; Burt sounds a little out of breath when he picks up the phone.
"What's the matter?" his voice asks crisply, and Finn feels a little bad about not having specified that it wasn't an emergency or anything; he doesn't exactly make a lot of seven A.M. calls to the garage.
"Everything's cool," he says. "I think you probably need to call Kurt out, though. He's pretty sick."
"How sick?"
"Well," Finn says, and he glances back toward the bed, where Kurt is hidden under the blankets again, "he's still in bed and he hasn't done his hair."
"I'm fine," Kurt croaks, muffled.
Finn says doubtfully: "He says he's fine..."
Burt audibly sighs. "Yeah, he's probably full of it. Can you put him on?"
Kurt sticks his hand out of the covers, clearly knowing that his dad is going to want to talk to him. Sometimes, it's a little freaky how well Burt and Kurt can predict each other's moves, especially Kurt.
"Okay," says Finn, and he crosses the room to carefully tuck Kurt's phone into his outstretched hand. It disappears under the duvet.
"I'm fine," says Kurt's irritated stuffed-up voice, and Finn stands there for a couple seconds, thinking about the stuff his mom does for him when he's sick, before he jogs upstairs.
When he comes back with an armful of supplies, the basement is silent and still again. "Hey," says Finn, to Kurt's bed. "Open up." Kurt pulls his cocoon down just enough that he can peer out at him.
Finn sets the fresh box of Kleenex down on top of the blankets, in the general vicinity of what he thinks is Kurt's knee, and he holds up the bathroom trash can so Kurt can see it, then puts it on the floor by the head of the bed and -- careful to use his arm, which is covered by his jacket sleeve -- he sweeps the top layer of used tissues into it. Finn doesn't bother to wait for Kurt's reaction; he just plunks the electric blanket down on top of the blanket heap and plugs it into the surge protector.
"Did your dad call school?" he asks, settling the bottle of Gatorade on the bedside table beside Kurt's phone, and crossing the room to snag the remote controls for the TV and the stereo system.
"...Yes." When Finn turns around again, Kurt has lowered the blankets enough for his entire face to be visible. He's staring at Finn, but recovers enough to say, "He's insisting on coming home at lunch to check on me."
"Cool," says Finn, settling the remotes beside the box of tissues. "I can get your homework if you text me your schedule."
"Thanks," says Kurt, after an even longer pause. He looks and sounds kind of startled and unsettled, though his obvious exhaustion and general sick-looking crappiness overrides it.
Finn tries not to think about how weird (and not in the good way) their relationship has gotten if Kurt finds it strange that Finn is willing to help him out when he's sick. He picks up his backpack and puts one strap over his shoulder. He suddenly feels very tall, like he's looming over Kurt. He steps back and shifts his weight. "Do you want anything else?"
"No," says Kurt. "I'm good. Thank you."
Finn shrugs faintly, smiling. "Okay. Hope you feel better, dude." He's going to be ten minutes late, but his first class is Spanish with Mr. Schue, so it's not a problem.
Halfway out the front door, he hears the stereo downstairs click on and start to play some show tune. Finn smiles, proud and a little relieved, and inwardly congratulates himself on a job well done.
no subject
no subject
no subject
I laughed out loud. Also, N'AWWWWW. Such bros.
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
I love them and I love you for this. <3
no subject
no subject
no subject