feverish
title: feverish
summary: blaine is sick, dave looks after him
rating: pg13
pairing: blainofsky
warnings: none
notes: written over on tumblr
"Do y'know why I hate being sick?" Blaine asked with a groan, eyes dazed and face flushed from his fever.
"Because it's gross?" Dave replied with a grin, tugging Blaine's blankets back up to his neck from his seat on the edge of the bed. The thing about living with someone was that when one person was sick the other person had to look after them, and Blaine was a fidgety, finicky patient. He had kicked his blankets down multiple times and if Dave didn't think it was cute he would be tearing his hair out right about now.
"No. Because you get stuck in bed, and like, lose days that could be productive." Blaine made a move to push the blankets down again but Dave placed a firm hand on his chest to stop him. Blaine pouted at him. Dave stared back levelly.
"Just relax. Seriously, you can take a day off every now and again," Dave began to rub Blaine's chest in what he hoped was a comforting way through the blankets, and Blaine slapped at his hand. When Dave looked at him, offended, Blaine blushed -- or well, might have, it was hard to tell through the redness of the fever. His cheeks looked darker, for what it was worth.
"You're making me too hot," Blaine whined, trying to shimmy away from Dave's hand. Dave smirked, poking him gently.
"That's nice to hear, but I'll wait until you aren't contagious."
"Shut up." Blaine yanked the covers over his head to hide, then decided it was too hot and yanked them back down. His expression was distraught but his curls were messy and Dave didn't know whether to laugh or cuddle him.
"Alright, alright." Dave settled for smirking and cradling Blaine's feverish cheek with a hand that was downright chilly in comparison. "I'll stop teasing you, if you promise to keep the blankets on and get some rest. We'll catch the game tonight when you wake up."
"And you'll make me soup?" Blaine asked, and there was a certain gleam to his otherwise glazed eyes that told Dave his pitiful tone was geared to extract sympathy from Dave. It worked.
"Of course." Dave leaned over and pressed a small kiss to Blaine's forehead, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. Blaine made a content sigh and settled back into his pillows, eyes drifting shut as Dave pulled back. Smiling, Dave tucked the blankets in again and then got to his feet, ready to leave Blaine to rest. He was just at the bedroom door when he announced, "I'll be checking up on you, so keep those blankets on."
Dave didn't need to turn around to know exactly the disgruntled expression Blaine would be making to accompany his disappointed noise.
the end