“Ow,” Kurt heard Finn moan before he collapsed on the couch. He knew his brother had just gotten home from football practice and from the sounds of it, it had been another hard one. Coach Beiste had been running practices morning and after school to be ready for their first playoff game next week and Finn often came home exhausted and sore.
“Advil?” Blaine asked. They’d started keeping a bottle of water and the pill bottle on the coffee table when it became clear Finn couldn’t make it up the stairs. He’d collapse on the couch until dinnertime, but if Carole and Kurt didn’t insist on him eating at the table, he’d stay on the couch all night.
Kurt walked into the living room in time to see Finn taking a large sip from the water bottle. A Tupperware container was on the coffee table with the lid off and Kurt could see some kind of chocolate cake inside. He wasn’t about to eat any of it and he wouldn’t let his dad ruin his diet with it but he didn’t forbid Finn or Carole from bringing junk food into the house.
“Where’d that come from?” he asked.
“Santana,” Finn replied to his surprised. He didn’t know Santana could cook and he was sure the cheerleader was still angry, and still ignoring her involvement. “She said she wanted to apologize for al her comments about my weight. The cake’s supposed to be healthy even though it’s chocolate. Did you know that was possible?”
“Yes Finn, I did.”
“Cool,” Finn even sounded exhausted and him not eating the cake was another sign of just how hard Beiste was working them. “It has a cherry filling. You can have some but save some for me when I can move without hurting.”
“Dinner’s in two hours,” Kurt laughed. “Take a nap.”
That was all the encouragement Finn needed to lay back, feet dangling off the end of the couch, and letting his eyes slip closed.
Kurt perched himself on the arm of Blaine’s chair, watching his boyfriend help himself to a piece of Finn’s cake. Kurt thought they look more like square cupcakes than a cake but either way, it was nice of Santana and if she’d finally realized she was wrong, he wouldn’t have to worry about her driving Finn over the edge into an eating disorder. He’d done research when Mercedes had stopped eating and it scared him how easily someone could develop an eating disorder and just how many different reasons people had for them.
“That doesn’t taste like cherry,” Blaine said around a mouthful of cake. Kurt frowned with disgust, Blaine never talked with his mouthful. “Strawberry?”
Kurt froze. It wasn’t until Blaine coughed that he sprung into action, grabbing another piece of cake and tearing it open so he could taste the filling. It was strawberry. And Blaine was highly allergic to them.
“Finn!” he yelled, not turning his attention away from Blaine when he heard the thump of Finn falling off the couch. “Finn, call 911.”
Kurt paced back and forth, glaring at the doors that separated him from Blaine. The paramedics wouldn’t allow him to ride to the hospital with Blaine so he’d been forced to let Finn drive him and by the time they’d gotten there, Blaine had been rushed into a treatment room. He’d already explained to the paramedics, and again to a nurse, about the mistake with the filling and they’d assured him Blaine would be fine but that was all they could tell him.
Finn had fallen back asleep, somehow fitting his large frame on the too-small couch. It didn’t look comfortable but Kurt let him sleep. For someone so tall, Finn had a low tolerance when it came to drugs; probably why the Vitamin D had affected him more than it had affected the rest of them. Instead, Kurt had called Mercedes and she would be there any minute. He’d thought about calling his dad, but he hadn’t wanted to pull him away from work, or Rachel, but he needed someone who could calm him and Rachel was a bigger drama queen than him.
“Kurt,” Mercedes rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. Kurt let himself fall into her arms and felt the tears burning his eyes. He didn’t have to be strong just then; he could be the scared boy. “It’s going to be okay.”
“He was so scared ‘Cedes,” his voice was muffled by Mercedes’ sweater. He pulled away, reluctantly, and took a seat in one of the chairs across from Finn’s couch. “I don’t know what happened. He thought it was cherry….”
“Kurt, what is it?”
“Finn hates strawberries,” Kurt looked at her with wide eyes. “We all know that, Santana knows that. She told him the cake was cherry because she knew he wouldn’t eat it if she told him it was really strawberry. This is her fault.”
He knew Mercedes wasn’t following him but he wasn’t in a good frame of mind to play connect the dots for her. He didn’t know if it was Santana getting revenge or if it was a joke, but either way she’d nearly killed his boyfriend. The hospital had already called Blaine’s parents but Kurt would have to fill them in on what Santana had done.
A ringing came from Finn’s jacket pocket and Kurt grabbed his brother’s phone before it could wake him. He figured it was Rachel. They had a Glee assignment due in a few days and she was obsessing that none of the football guys had had time to choose their songs yet.
“Hey Frankenteen, eat your cake yet?” Santana’s voice asked before Kurt could say a word. He was in no mood to talk to her and the rational part of his mind told him to hang up and turn off the phone. The part of him that was terrified for his boyfriend didn’t agree.
“You know what Satan,” Kurt snapped, “I almost felt sorry for you.”
“Kurt?” Santana sounded confused.
“I’ve been where you are, scared to come out,” he ignored her question. “But I didn’t bully other kids because of it. And yes, Santana, that’s exactly what you are. You’re a bully. You refuse to admit it but everyone else knows the truth. You put all the blame on everyone else but the only person you have to blame is yourself. You choose to push people, bully them, manipulate them, hurt them, and it doesn’t matter if someone tells you to stop or that you’ve gone too far. You enjoy seeing people hurt then pretend you’re not responsible for them snapping. That doesn’t make you a victim. That makes you a bitch.”
He heard Mercedes gasp but he didn’t care. He was too angry to sugar-coat the truth just because Santana’s feelings might get hurt.
“Finn’s the one who outted me,” Santana argued. “I think I deserve to make him suffer.”
“You pushed him there,” Kurt growled, pushing away Mercedes’ hands as she tried to calm him. “You couldn’t stop, you knew exactly what you were doing, so grow up for once in your life Santana, and take some responsibility for your bullying. If you can’t, I’ll be more than happy to watch Blaine’s parents make you.”
“What are you talking about Hummel?” Santana sounded bored now and that just pissed Kurt off. She couldn’t take anything seriously.
“Your revenge almost killed my boyfriend,” Kurt closed his eyes as he spoke. He did not want to think of how close it had come to his statement being true. “If you think the Andersons won’t press charges, you’re an idiot.”
“Kurt, I’m fine,” Blaine had laughter in his voice and Kurt wanted to hate him for it but he was too happy that his boyfriend was awake and would be allowed to leave the hospital in the morning. Blaine’s parents were down in the cafeteria, his dad on the phone with their lawyer now that he knew his son was fine, and Carole had arrived to take Finn and Mercedes home after she’d gotten off work. “But I might change my mind if Finn apologizes again. Think you can get him to stop? Nineteen times in a half hour is a little annoying.”
“How can you joke after what happened?” he demanded. He was the one who had to tell Blaine’s parents, Mercedes, and Finn about Santana’s cruel idea of revenge and how it had almost killed Blaine. If Blaine had been alone when he’d eaten the cake, he would be dead. Blaine’s father had immediately started talking about negligence and reckless endangerment and other legal terms Kurt didn’t know. There was a real possibility that Santana could go to jail for her actions and every time Kurt felt sympathy gnawing at his stomach, all he had to do was look at Blaine sitting in a hospital bed in a shapeless hospital gown.
“I’m fine,” Blaine stressed as he grabbed Kurt’s hand.
Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. “I was so scared.”
“So was I,” Blaine admitted. “But you were there and you knew what to do. I’m fine because of you.”
“Only because you told me it was strawberry, not cherry,” Kurt retorted, letting Blaine pull him on to the bed and into his arms.
Blaine sighed as he placed his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m going to work on your ability to accept gratitude.”