Fic: Each and Every (part b)
A/N: art B because eff you livejournal
part a
Helena Dershowitz
Helena learns a lot about her neighbors with her morning tea. She sits at her front window, tea balanced on a saucer, cat balanced on her lap, and watches. She was the first to know when the next door neighbor, Phyllis, had an affair with the mailman, was the first to knit baby hats after the nice young pregnant couple rushed screaming to the hospital. She knew all the dirt on Mr. Morris, who consistently raked his leaves into Ed Herman’s yard every fall, was secretly (or not so secretly, her husband Earl would argue) rooting for the couple who would stop and talk every morning while walking their dogs (and don’t think she didn’t notice how the dogs would cuddle up next to each other in a way only dogs in love do).
So when the house across the street ha sold lapped across the For Sale sign in the front yard, Helena had waited and watched. When a ramp had been built up to the front door she’d readied her invitation for her weekly Bridge night (ever since Pauline’s heart surgery they’d been down one player), had hoped that maybe whoever moved in next door would be a nice old couple with an affinity for knitting.
She’d met Kurt first, a nice boy with fancy hair like she’d seen on TV. He’d accepted the welcome basket of cookies and muffins with a smile and a graciou thank you, though his eyes had been tired, a weight in his step. She’d spent the next week making him a beautiful blue throw blanket, sitting in rocking chair, watching from the window.
She’d met Blaine when she brought the blanket over, Kurt inviting her inside, offering her tea and telling her how nice it was to have neighbors who actually wanted to get to know each other. Blaine had been sitting on the couch, had lifted his hand in a tiny half wave when Kurt introduced them, watching Helena with wary eyes. She’d promised them more goodies, told them they could pop by if they ever needed anything, to not hesitate to call.
From then on, she’s watched. She’s watched the two pretty girls going in and out of the house, bringing Blaine somewhere nearly every day. She’s watched Kurt pushing Blaine as they take their daily walks, always smiles and waves on the days she’s settled herself on the front porch. She likes watching them, has even hung a rainbow flag in front of her house in support (Earl had just shook his head, muttering something about today’s youth before kissing her cheek and heading inside). She’s made a point of bringing the young ladies hot chocolate when they’re out shoveling snow, bringing Kurt casseroles and cakes when she thinks he’s looking too thin.
December, Kurt invites her and Earl over for Christmas dinner, and Helena can’t help but compliment Blaine’s lovely voice when he greets her. He blushes and Helena can’t wait to tell her friends at Bridge on Wednesday how much better Blaine’s doing, about how maybe they should think of inviting him to one of their games. Bridge can be good for the mind and the soul, she’s sure of it. Or maybe Blaine will want to pick up knitting, it could help with his finger dexterity, she’s positive.
She has so many plans, so many ideas, so many cookies to bake and friends to gossip with, so many possibilities presented by her cute neighbor boys.
But when, on a cold Saturday morning in January, Helena sees Blaine walking outside, leaning heavily on a walker with Kurt’s supportive hand on his back, his steps cautious but sure, a grin on his face and pride in Kurt’s eyes, all her plans simmer, no longer seem as important. Because these boys are finally happy, finally getting there, finally overcoming.
She wipes her tears away with her handkerchief, pets her cat, and drinks her tea.
Jen Anderson
ebruary 20th, 2019
Kurt looks tired when he opens the door. His hair is uncombed, the bags under his eyes stark against his pale skin. Jen pulls him into a hug and he feels loose and boneless. A rag doll, without any support. She holds him for a moment and he sinks into her warmth and she wonders how long it’s been since Kurt’s had someone to suppor him.
“You look exhausted,” Jen says when she releases Kurt and he shrugs, eyes sad.
“Blaine’s had a rough week.” Jen knows. It’s why she came out. She can still remember the way Kurt’s voice had cracked on the phone, the way he had sounded so frantic an lost, like he didn’t know what to do anymore. Like he needed help, but didn’t know how to ask for it. He has Janessa, and Olivia, but they are only here for so long, and then it’s just him and Blaine, and Kurt just can’t do it on his own anymore.
“How is he now?” she asks and Kurt leads her inside, taking her jacket.
“He hasn’t had any more seizures, but he’s had a migraine since last night.” He looks in the direction of their bedroom, wringing his hands nervously. “I was going to take him in tomorrow if it gets any worse, but I don’t know what else they can do.”
Kurt looks so desperate, eyes looking into her’s expectantly, pleadingly as if he’s looking for confirmation. For support. Fo help. He’s trying so hard to do the right thing, to take care of Blaine, but it’s not enough and he’s doesn’t know where to go anymore.
“Can I see him?”
Kurt nods. “I don’t think he’s sleeping.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “You could see if he feels up to drinking something.”
The room is dark when Jen enters and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.
“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice, quiet and shaky cuts through the silence as Jen makes her way across the room and sits gingerly on the side of the bed.
“No sweetie,” she responds. She can barely make out Blaine in the bed, curled into a ball and looking so small under a mound of blankets.
“Mom?” He sounds so young in that moment that Jen wants to cry. She can almost pretend he’s still a kid, sick with the flu, naïve and innocent, ready to explore the woods behind their house or run rampant on the playground. Almost. Instead she traces a gentle finger down Blaine’s cheek and whispers, “I’m here.”
Blaine makes a choked noise, whether from relief or something else Jen isn’t sure. She scoots as gently as she can on the bed, not wanting to jostle Blaine, and he reaches for her hand, squeezing tightly.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” she asks softly, though she can guess the answer.
“-m pill,” Blaine mumbles. The door opens a crack, Kurt slipping in, shutting it softly behind him. Jen looks from Blaine’s pale face to Kurt’s worried one.
“Can he have his pill?” she asks and Kurt nods, approaching the bed, resting a hand lightly on Blaine’s arm.
“Blaine, honey, do you think you can drink something?” Blaine is still for a moment before nodding. Kurt meets Jen’s eyes before leaving, Jen runs her thumb soothing over the back of Blaine’s hand until Kurt returns, glass in one hand and pill in another. He looks at Jen nervously and she nods.
“Blaine, I know it sucks, but I need you to sit up for me alright?” Kurt keeps his voice soft, knows that even the slightest noise is painful for Blaine. He can see Blaine stealing himself, taking a deep breath before nodding. Jen runs an arm across Blaine’s shoulders, moving slowly and carefully, trying to make the transition to sitting as smooth as possible. Blaine bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut and hand reaching to squeeze Jen’s leg as she pulls him up against her chest. A tight feeling constricts her chest and she slides her free hand under Blaine’s, anchoring him. He holds on, his grip tight.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Jen whispers, eyes flickering from the side of Blaine’s pale face to Kurt’s worried one. Blaine keeps his eyes closed, lips pressed thin, gives his head one small shake. She can see the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the sudden shortness of his breath, can feel the way he holds onto her hand like a lifeline. Kurt’s already moving, setting the water on the bedside table and grabbing the small garbage can, holding it ready.
“Do you feel sick?”
Jen holds him steady as he nods, leans slightly forward as Kurt rests the garbage can in his lap. He’s still a moment, breaths shallow and face tight, before he shudders, coughs. Kurt rubs a soothing hand on his leg, Jen keeping a gentle grip on his back. She can feel the way he’s holding back, knows how much this must be hurting him, wishes there was something more she can do. But she can’t, and Kurt can’t; all they can do is offer their silent support, wait while Blaine dry heaves over the garbage can.
He lets out a choked moan that twists Jen’s stomach when he finishes, Kurt wordlessly snatching up some tissues and wiping Blaine’s face free of the escaped saliva with gentle, practiced care. But this is what Kurt has been doing, taking care of Blaine helping laine, devoting everything to Blaine, and as much as Jen wishes she could take all of this away, make everything better, she knows her son couldn’t have found a better partner. That Kurt really i everything, and now, she wouldn’t want him to be with anyone else.
Kurt takes the garbage can when he’s sure Blaine won’t be sick again, Blaine slumping back against her. She pulls him into her, strokes gently down his arm. They’re silent for a moment, Kurt sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, giving Blaine a moment to recover.
“How do you feel?” Kurt asks after awhile, voice barely audible, but Blaine winces as if the words were shouted.
“Not so good,” Blaine responds after a beat, words slow and slurred and Jen understands why Kurt looks so exhausted. Why Kurt called her, almost begging for help. Because it hurts too much to do this alone, it’s draining and i hurts o see Blaine in so much pain, to try and try and not be able to do anything to help him.
“Can you swallow this?” Kurt motions to the pill tucked in his palm. Blaine doesn’t respond, just jerks his head ever so slightly to the left, squeezes Jen’s hand at the motion. She squeezes back.
“Do you want your Imitrex?” Kurt keeps his voice soft, Jennifer can see the reluctance on his face to ask questions when any noise causes Blaine pain, but understands the necessity.
“Yeah,” Blaine says with a whimper, his free hand drifting halfway to his head before falling back on the bed. Kurt just nods, face drawn and tired, moves off the bed, exits the room once more. Jen doesn’t say anything, knows just her presence is more comforting to Blaine than any words could be, just keeps up her gentle back and forth on his arm, thumb running over the rough fabric of Blaine’s shirt. Blaine keeps his hand wrapped in hers, fingers twitching every so often, grip tightening with the pain.
Kurt returns, a white plastic case in his hands. Without a word he sets it on the bedside table, pops it open and fiddles with it before pulling out a small plastic cylinder. His face is apologetic as he pushes up the sleeve of Blaine’s t-shirt. Jen hold Blaine’s arm steady as Kurt pinches up the skin, presses the cylinder. There’s a sharp click and Blaine gives a small flinch, Kurt’s lips moving silently as he counts, waits.
“It’s a shot,” Kurt explains quietly as he pulls away from Blaine’s arm, lets the shirt sleeve fall back in place. “For when it gets bad, like this.”
Jen nods, can feel Blaine loosening, ever so slightly, against her, hand relaxing his grip on hers.
“Blaine, honey,” Kurt rests a light hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Tell me what you need.”
Blaine cracks open a bleary eye, looks up at Kurt.
“Jussleep,” he says quietly, words slurring together into one.
“Okay,” Kurt says with a weak smile, brushes the back of his hand against Blaine’s forehead. He glances at Jen, she can see the weight, the unsure, the desperation in his eyes as he hesitates.
“I’ll stay with him,” she whispers and Kurt nods gratefully, leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Blaine’s cheek before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a click. Blaine gives a tiny whimper, his shoulders tensing against Jen and she hums a soothing note, lets her hands trace down his arms.
“Relax sweetheart,” she says, uses the same quiet tone she used to use when he was sick as a little boy. “I’m here with you. I’ve got you, I promise.”
-
The next morning, Jen wakes with a start. Something jabs into her side and she bolts up, a heavy weight falling into her lap. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she looks down, sees an amused face looking up at her.
“Oh, Blaine, I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
He shakes his head, still smiling up at her. “I think… I wok you p,” he says, voice tired but sounding so much better.
“You always were a wiggly sleeper. Your dad liked to call you his little fish out of water.”
“Kurt, um, Kurt says that… too so… sometimes,” Blaine murmurs, nuzzling his cheek into her lap and yawning. Jen lets out a tiny relieved laugh, cards her fingers through Blaine’s sleep-tangled curls.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jen asks, though she can already tell, Blaine’s eyes so much brighter than they were yesterday. “How’s your head?”
“Mmm, better,” Blaine answers, twisting around in bed, arching his back in a stretch. “Glad you… you’re here.”
Jen leans down, smacks a kiss on Blaine’s forehead, breathes him in and hopes that today will be a good day, that she won’t have to see him as sick as she was yesterday. She’s seen him sick, stayed home from work when he was little to take care of him when he had the flu, the occasional head cold, that time he’d gotten the chicken pox from his friend in day care. But this… it’s so different. Blaine is grown now, an adult, engaged and trying to make a life of his own, and seeing him like that, so broken and beaten down and in pain… it’s hard.
“I’ll always come when you need me,” Jen promises, smiles and Blaine hums a word that sounds faintly lik thank you, lets his eyes flutter shut as pulls the covers back up over his shoulders.
“Where’s Kurt?” he asks after a moment of Jen stroking her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the curls that always twisted at the nape of his neck. She considers, not really sure. He’d popped in once more the night before, checking on Blaine and then she must have drifted off, cozy and warm with Blaine curled up against her.
“I’m not sure,” she answers, just as the door creaks open, Kurt’s head peeking in.
“I heard voices,” he says and Blaine twists to see, smiles that bright smile he gets when Kurt is around, the smile that warms Jen’s heart, that makes her want to hold Kurt tight and tell him how happy she is that Blaine has him.
“We’re awake,” Jen says, beckons Kurt inside. He slips in the door and perches on the side of the bed, Blaine immediately reaching to twine his fingers with Kurt’s.
“You look better,” Kurt muses, strokes his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. Blaine nods, tongue darting out to dampen dry lips.
“Where…”
“I slept on the couch,” Kurt answers, knows what Blaine was asking, smiles up at Jen before she can say anything. “It was fine, really. I wanted you to stay with Blaine.”
“Thank you,” Jen says, reaches forward to squeeze Kurt’s shoulder.
“You guys hungry?” Kurt asks, voice hopeful as he glances at Blaine and Jen knows it’s been a rough couple of weeks, knows there’s no guarantee that Blaine’s going to feel this well for very long.
“Pancakes?” Blaine smiles innocently up at Kurt and Jen laughs, shakes her head at Kurt’s eye roll, the way he leans forward to press a kiss to Blaine’s lips before saying, “I think we can manage that. You guys just stay here, today seems like a good day for breakfast in bed.”
And so Jen helps Blaine prop up some pillows, leaning back against the headboard next to her, lets him show her the book he’s been working on reading, the journal he’s been keeping. He’s tired but he’s happy, and right now, happy is better than anything Jen could have hoped for.
Next Under These Fluorescent Lights
part a
Helena Dershowitz
Helena learns a lot about her neighbors with her morning tea. She sits at her front window, tea balanced on a saucer, cat balanced on her lap, and watches. She was the first to know when the next door neighbor, Phyllis, had an affair with the mailman, was the first to knit baby hats after the nice young pregnant couple rushed screaming to the hospital. She knew all the dirt on Mr. Morris, who consistently raked his leaves into Ed Herman’s yard every fall, was secretly (or not so secretly, her husband Earl would argue) rooting for the couple who would stop and talk every morning while walking their dogs (and don’t think she didn’t notice how the dogs would cuddle up next to each other in a way only dogs in love do).
So when the house across the street ha sold lapped across the For Sale sign in the front yard, Helena had waited and watched. When a ramp had been built up to the front door she’d readied her invitation for her weekly Bridge night (ever since Pauline’s heart surgery they’d been down one player), had hoped that maybe whoever moved in next door would be a nice old couple with an affinity for knitting.
She’d met Kurt first, a nice boy with fancy hair like she’d seen on TV. He’d accepted the welcome basket of cookies and muffins with a smile and a graciou thank you, though his eyes had been tired, a weight in his step. She’d spent the next week making him a beautiful blue throw blanket, sitting in rocking chair, watching from the window.
She’d met Blaine when she brought the blanket over, Kurt inviting her inside, offering her tea and telling her how nice it was to have neighbors who actually wanted to get to know each other. Blaine had been sitting on the couch, had lifted his hand in a tiny half wave when Kurt introduced them, watching Helena with wary eyes. She’d promised them more goodies, told them they could pop by if they ever needed anything, to not hesitate to call.
From then on, she’s watched. She’s watched the two pretty girls going in and out of the house, bringing Blaine somewhere nearly every day. She’s watched Kurt pushing Blaine as they take their daily walks, always smiles and waves on the days she’s settled herself on the front porch. She likes watching them, has even hung a rainbow flag in front of her house in support (Earl had just shook his head, muttering something about today’s youth before kissing her cheek and heading inside). She’s made a point of bringing the young ladies hot chocolate when they’re out shoveling snow, bringing Kurt casseroles and cakes when she thinks he’s looking too thin.
December, Kurt invites her and Earl over for Christmas dinner, and Helena can’t help but compliment Blaine’s lovely voice when he greets her. He blushes and Helena can’t wait to tell her friends at Bridge on Wednesday how much better Blaine’s doing, about how maybe they should think of inviting him to one of their games. Bridge can be good for the mind and the soul, she’s sure of it. Or maybe Blaine will want to pick up knitting, it could help with his finger dexterity, she’s positive.
She has so many plans, so many ideas, so many cookies to bake and friends to gossip with, so many possibilities presented by her cute neighbor boys.
But when, on a cold Saturday morning in January, Helena sees Blaine walking outside, leaning heavily on a walker with Kurt’s supportive hand on his back, his steps cautious but sure, a grin on his face and pride in Kurt’s eyes, all her plans simmer, no longer seem as important. Because these boys are finally happy, finally getting there, finally overcoming.
She wipes her tears away with her handkerchief, pets her cat, and drinks her tea.
Jen Anderson
ebruary 20th, 2019
Kurt looks tired when he opens the door. His hair is uncombed, the bags under his eyes stark against his pale skin. Jen pulls him into a hug and he feels loose and boneless. A rag doll, without any support. She holds him for a moment and he sinks into her warmth and she wonders how long it’s been since Kurt’s had someone to suppor him.
“You look exhausted,” Jen says when she releases Kurt and he shrugs, eyes sad.
“Blaine’s had a rough week.” Jen knows. It’s why she came out. She can still remember the way Kurt’s voice had cracked on the phone, the way he had sounded so frantic an lost, like he didn’t know what to do anymore. Like he needed help, but didn’t know how to ask for it. He has Janessa, and Olivia, but they are only here for so long, and then it’s just him and Blaine, and Kurt just can’t do it on his own anymore.
“How is he now?” she asks and Kurt leads her inside, taking her jacket.
“He hasn’t had any more seizures, but he’s had a migraine since last night.” He looks in the direction of their bedroom, wringing his hands nervously. “I was going to take him in tomorrow if it gets any worse, but I don’t know what else they can do.”
Kurt looks so desperate, eyes looking into her’s expectantly, pleadingly as if he’s looking for confirmation. For support. Fo help. He’s trying so hard to do the right thing, to take care of Blaine, but it’s not enough and he’s doesn’t know where to go anymore.
“Can I see him?”
Kurt nods. “I don’t think he’s sleeping.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “You could see if he feels up to drinking something.”
The room is dark when Jen enters and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.
“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice, quiet and shaky cuts through the silence as Jen makes her way across the room and sits gingerly on the side of the bed.
“No sweetie,” she responds. She can barely make out Blaine in the bed, curled into a ball and looking so small under a mound of blankets.
“Mom?” He sounds so young in that moment that Jen wants to cry. She can almost pretend he’s still a kid, sick with the flu, naïve and innocent, ready to explore the woods behind their house or run rampant on the playground. Almost. Instead she traces a gentle finger down Blaine’s cheek and whispers, “I’m here.”
Blaine makes a choked noise, whether from relief or something else Jen isn’t sure. She scoots as gently as she can on the bed, not wanting to jostle Blaine, and he reaches for her hand, squeezing tightly.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” she asks softly, though she can guess the answer.
“-m pill,” Blaine mumbles. The door opens a crack, Kurt slipping in, shutting it softly behind him. Jen looks from Blaine’s pale face to Kurt’s worried one.
“Can he have his pill?” she asks and Kurt nods, approaching the bed, resting a hand lightly on Blaine’s arm.
“Blaine, honey, do you think you can drink something?” Blaine is still for a moment before nodding. Kurt meets Jen’s eyes before leaving, Jen runs her thumb soothing over the back of Blaine’s hand until Kurt returns, glass in one hand and pill in another. He looks at Jen nervously and she nods.
“Blaine, I know it sucks, but I need you to sit up for me alright?” Kurt keeps his voice soft, knows that even the slightest noise is painful for Blaine. He can see Blaine stealing himself, taking a deep breath before nodding. Jen runs an arm across Blaine’s shoulders, moving slowly and carefully, trying to make the transition to sitting as smooth as possible. Blaine bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut and hand reaching to squeeze Jen’s leg as she pulls him up against her chest. A tight feeling constricts her chest and she slides her free hand under Blaine’s, anchoring him. He holds on, his grip tight.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Jen whispers, eyes flickering from the side of Blaine’s pale face to Kurt’s worried one. Blaine keeps his eyes closed, lips pressed thin, gives his head one small shake. She can see the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the sudden shortness of his breath, can feel the way he holds onto her hand like a lifeline. Kurt’s already moving, setting the water on the bedside table and grabbing the small garbage can, holding it ready.
“Do you feel sick?”
Jen holds him steady as he nods, leans slightly forward as Kurt rests the garbage can in his lap. He’s still a moment, breaths shallow and face tight, before he shudders, coughs. Kurt rubs a soothing hand on his leg, Jen keeping a gentle grip on his back. She can feel the way he’s holding back, knows how much this must be hurting him, wishes there was something more she can do. But she can’t, and Kurt can’t; all they can do is offer their silent support, wait while Blaine dry heaves over the garbage can.
He lets out a choked moan that twists Jen’s stomach when he finishes, Kurt wordlessly snatching up some tissues and wiping Blaine’s face free of the escaped saliva with gentle, practiced care. But this is what Kurt has been doing, taking care of Blaine helping laine, devoting everything to Blaine, and as much as Jen wishes she could take all of this away, make everything better, she knows her son couldn’t have found a better partner. That Kurt really i everything, and now, she wouldn’t want him to be with anyone else.
Kurt takes the garbage can when he’s sure Blaine won’t be sick again, Blaine slumping back against her. She pulls him into her, strokes gently down his arm. They’re silent for a moment, Kurt sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, giving Blaine a moment to recover.
“How do you feel?” Kurt asks after awhile, voice barely audible, but Blaine winces as if the words were shouted.
“Not so good,” Blaine responds after a beat, words slow and slurred and Jen understands why Kurt looks so exhausted. Why Kurt called her, almost begging for help. Because it hurts too much to do this alone, it’s draining and i hurts o see Blaine in so much pain, to try and try and not be able to do anything to help him.
“Can you swallow this?” Kurt motions to the pill tucked in his palm. Blaine doesn’t respond, just jerks his head ever so slightly to the left, squeezes Jen’s hand at the motion. She squeezes back.
“Do you want your Imitrex?” Kurt keeps his voice soft, Jennifer can see the reluctance on his face to ask questions when any noise causes Blaine pain, but understands the necessity.
“Yeah,” Blaine says with a whimper, his free hand drifting halfway to his head before falling back on the bed. Kurt just nods, face drawn and tired, moves off the bed, exits the room once more. Jen doesn’t say anything, knows just her presence is more comforting to Blaine than any words could be, just keeps up her gentle back and forth on his arm, thumb running over the rough fabric of Blaine’s shirt. Blaine keeps his hand wrapped in hers, fingers twitching every so often, grip tightening with the pain.
Kurt returns, a white plastic case in his hands. Without a word he sets it on the bedside table, pops it open and fiddles with it before pulling out a small plastic cylinder. His face is apologetic as he pushes up the sleeve of Blaine’s t-shirt. Jen hold Blaine’s arm steady as Kurt pinches up the skin, presses the cylinder. There’s a sharp click and Blaine gives a small flinch, Kurt’s lips moving silently as he counts, waits.
“It’s a shot,” Kurt explains quietly as he pulls away from Blaine’s arm, lets the shirt sleeve fall back in place. “For when it gets bad, like this.”
Jen nods, can feel Blaine loosening, ever so slightly, against her, hand relaxing his grip on hers.
“Blaine, honey,” Kurt rests a light hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Tell me what you need.”
Blaine cracks open a bleary eye, looks up at Kurt.
“Jussleep,” he says quietly, words slurring together into one.
“Okay,” Kurt says with a weak smile, brushes the back of his hand against Blaine’s forehead. He glances at Jen, she can see the weight, the unsure, the desperation in his eyes as he hesitates.
“I’ll stay with him,” she whispers and Kurt nods gratefully, leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Blaine’s cheek before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him with a click. Blaine gives a tiny whimper, his shoulders tensing against Jen and she hums a soothing note, lets her hands trace down his arms.
“Relax sweetheart,” she says, uses the same quiet tone she used to use when he was sick as a little boy. “I’m here with you. I’ve got you, I promise.”
-
The next morning, Jen wakes with a start. Something jabs into her side and she bolts up, a heavy weight falling into her lap. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she looks down, sees an amused face looking up at her.
“Oh, Blaine, I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
He shakes his head, still smiling up at her. “I think… I wok you p,” he says, voice tired but sounding so much better.
“You always were a wiggly sleeper. Your dad liked to call you his little fish out of water.”
“Kurt, um, Kurt says that… too so… sometimes,” Blaine murmurs, nuzzling his cheek into her lap and yawning. Jen lets out a tiny relieved laugh, cards her fingers through Blaine’s sleep-tangled curls.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jen asks, though she can already tell, Blaine’s eyes so much brighter than they were yesterday. “How’s your head?”
“Mmm, better,” Blaine answers, twisting around in bed, arching his back in a stretch. “Glad you… you’re here.”
Jen leans down, smacks a kiss on Blaine’s forehead, breathes him in and hopes that today will be a good day, that she won’t have to see him as sick as she was yesterday. She’s seen him sick, stayed home from work when he was little to take care of him when he had the flu, the occasional head cold, that time he’d gotten the chicken pox from his friend in day care. But this… it’s so different. Blaine is grown now, an adult, engaged and trying to make a life of his own, and seeing him like that, so broken and beaten down and in pain… it’s hard.
“I’ll always come when you need me,” Jen promises, smiles and Blaine hums a word that sounds faintly lik thank you, lets his eyes flutter shut as pulls the covers back up over his shoulders.
“Where’s Kurt?” he asks after a moment of Jen stroking her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the curls that always twisted at the nape of his neck. She considers, not really sure. He’d popped in once more the night before, checking on Blaine and then she must have drifted off, cozy and warm with Blaine curled up against her.
“I’m not sure,” she answers, just as the door creaks open, Kurt’s head peeking in.
“I heard voices,” he says and Blaine twists to see, smiles that bright smile he gets when Kurt is around, the smile that warms Jen’s heart, that makes her want to hold Kurt tight and tell him how happy she is that Blaine has him.
“We’re awake,” Jen says, beckons Kurt inside. He slips in the door and perches on the side of the bed, Blaine immediately reaching to twine his fingers with Kurt’s.
“You look better,” Kurt muses, strokes his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. Blaine nods, tongue darting out to dampen dry lips.
“Where…”
“I slept on the couch,” Kurt answers, knows what Blaine was asking, smiles up at Jen before she can say anything. “It was fine, really. I wanted you to stay with Blaine.”
“Thank you,” Jen says, reaches forward to squeeze Kurt’s shoulder.
“You guys hungry?” Kurt asks, voice hopeful as he glances at Blaine and Jen knows it’s been a rough couple of weeks, knows there’s no guarantee that Blaine’s going to feel this well for very long.
“Pancakes?” Blaine smiles innocently up at Kurt and Jen laughs, shakes her head at Kurt’s eye roll, the way he leans forward to press a kiss to Blaine’s lips before saying, “I think we can manage that. You guys just stay here, today seems like a good day for breakfast in bed.”
And so Jen helps Blaine prop up some pillows, leaning back against the headboard next to her, lets him show her the book he’s been working on reading, the journal he’s been keeping. He’s tired but he’s happy, and right now, happy is better than anything Jen could have hoped for.
Next Under These Fluorescent Lights