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Right into the heart of me

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Finn has never felt so miserable in his life. Being nauseous all the time and sweating like a pig might be bearable if he could just sleep, but Finn feels too distressed to let go. He can’t even puke because there’s nothing left in his stomach. At least his mom is here, which is the only thing good about this terrible, awful afternoon from hell. Only – she had plans with Burt and it’s the first Valentine’s since they got married and now Finn’s messing up their date night, too.

He’s sort of drifting in this state of utter misery with the feel of his mom’s hand stroking his hair as the only anchor. She’s always been there like this whenever he was sick as a child, a soothing, familiar presence. Every time she has to go to the bathroom, he fails to suppress the urge to whine Mom don’t leave me! He’d tell her to go on her date with Burt but he’s fairly sure it’d kill him if he tried.

Finn doesn’t know how much time has passed when he hears voices by his door. Figures move back and forth in front of his bed. There’s a trace of disinfectant that somehow smells better than the stuff his mom tends to use. His mom’s fingers drift from his hair to his cheek. She says something in her all-will-be-better-voice but it’s too soft to understand. A heavy hand falls onto his shoulder and strokes it for a few heartbeats before it disappears again. Two sets of footsteps walk across his floor. The door closes.

His mom is gone.

His mom is gone and Finn is nauseous and far too warm and headachy and too devastated to even whine.

Between one breath and the next, there’s another hand in his hair, heavier than his Mom’s but also lighter, unfamiliar but familiar at the same time. Finn manages to make some kind of pathetic-sounding noise, questioning, because he should already know but his head is heavy and all woozy and how else is he to know who’s at his bedside now? A voice murmurs, “It’s alright, they’ve just gone to go watch a movie downstairs,” and he knows this voice, knows the hands, too, but neither are his Mom’s and he needs to sleep and he doesn’t know if they’ll be enough.

Kurt starts singing softly. The sounds wind themselves into Finn’s hurting brain and it takes him a lot longer than it should have to recognize a love song. Kurt is singing him a love song. And another one. And another one. Maybe it should be weird, Kurt sitting at his bedside singing love songs… but Finn is too exhausted to care. And anyway, earlier today Kurt was off giving his own concert and Finn would have heard these songs then, if he’d been there, if he hadn’t kissed Santana and gotten all miserable and sick. Even though Quinn probably wouldn’t have gone with him. Yet. Yet? “Shouldn’t have missed your concert,” he tries to say but only manages to slur something like “Uuuhh…” Ow.

He barely gets to hear Kurt sing anymore as it is now that they’re no longer in the same Glee club, which sucks more than the nausea although Finn isn’t all that sure about that right now. Unlike Finn, Kurt doesn’t sing in the showers, or at least not loud enough for Finn to hear. So having Kurt at his bedside singing the same songs he just sang in front of the Breadstix crowd even though Finn’s not the most appreciative audience at the moment, it’s… nice. Especially since Finn blearily seems to remember that the Warblers haven’t given Kurt any solos yet. It means that Finn's head pounds and his throat aches but someone else sang lead on these songs earlier, and Finn who is sweaty and miserable gets to hear something no one else got. And it doesn’t matter that they’re love songs, because Kurt is singing for him but not to him and his voice is making Finn feel better in a way his too-light too-heavy hand in his hair can’t.

He still doesn’t think he’ll fall asleep without his mom there. The calming down thing didn’t even work in all the hours his mom was there earlier. Then again, he’s never before had a brother when he was sick and his Mom never sings so there's a cha......


When the credits to Robocop roll and Carole tiptoes into the room to check up on her son, both of them are snoring. Finn still looks feverish but the tension has run out of him, and Kurt, who tried and failed to seem convincingly happy when he came home from his Lonely Hearts Dinner, is smiling.