100 Watchers Bonus 002: The Plague

[kurtofsky_ims]

The Plague

A knock on the door woke Kurt from his fever dreams. "I don't want to tickle the octopus!" he muttered, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings. "Oh. God, I'm so sick." The knock sounded again and he flailed the covers back, sitting up and sliding off the bed into his slippers. "Alright," he mumbled, "I'm coming already." He stumbled toward the door, nearly walking into his desk before righting himself by catching the back of the chair. When the knock sounded a third time, Kurt flung the door open without looking through the peep hole. "Whaddaya -- oh. But you're in Lima," he said. Rossman grinned, then remembered what Karofsky'd said. "I um, wait--" he dug into the back pocket of his jeans, juggling the load of crap in his arms, then pulled out an index card and began reading from it, squinting slightly at his friend's messy scrawl. "My name," he pointed to himself, "is Josh Rossman. I am here on behalf of Dave Karofsky, who wants you to not be sick. He has made you chicken soup. He would also like for me to stress that the bouquet of 'totally gay' flowers are from his mom, Mrs. Badass. Not him. His mom. Mrs. Badass." He looked up from the card, then back down at it. He needed to deviate from the prepared material, but... Aw, fuck it. "He also gave me ten bucks to get you some Sudafed? But like, Walgreen's was fuckin' out, bro. So I had to get the store brand and it was totally cheaper so I got a soda and this thing," he pulled out a bright green, plastic... something of a toy and wiggled it around, "but don't tell Karofsky, 'cause I'm not giving him his change back. That shit's mine." Kurt blinked, swaying on his feet. "Are you a hallucination?" he asked, leaning against the door frame for support. "Um, no. I mean, maybe?" Rossman nodded toward Kurt's room. "Can I...? This stuff's kinda heavy." "Well, I suppose if you're a hallucination you're not here to rob me or murder me, so come on in." Kurt turned and staggered back into the room, collapsing in his desk chair and not bothering to find out if the other boy had followed him. "I like your hat by the way," he said. "Right? This hat's the business." As soon as Rossman had the door shut he started setting stuff down. "Okay, this is the soup. Don't tell Karofsky I said this, but it's probably the shit. He's really good with food and stuff." He set the thermos down, then the Walgreen's bag, and began unpacking it, holding the flowers carefully under one arm. "Okay, um... Not-Sudafed," he held up the box before setting it down, "and, uh, whatever this is, I don't know, Karofsky's mom gave it to me from their medicine cabinet." Rossman set the unopened neti pot package down with the medicine. Then started playing with the green ...thing. "You're lucky, dude. Karofsky always just calls me a pussy when I'm sick." "I think I might have a tall mug that will hold the flowers," Kurt said, a little overwhelmed by the pile of things that had suddenly appeared on his desk. "That's good." Rossman replied, setting the bouquet down on the last remaining bit of space on the desk. "Oh, right. And," he dug into his pockets again, procuring a face mask, then pulled it on, sliding the elastic string over his ears, "Karofsky didn't tell me to give you this, but I figure he would've if he wasn't trying to be all tough shit all the time." He leaned over and hugged Kurt firmly. Kurt stiffened slightly, then relaxed again. "Um. Thanks?" He was pretty sure that was the proper protocol to follow when a hallucination hugged you. "I think I need... drugs. And tea." He flailed in the direction of his box of tea bags (which was a whole three feet away). "Would it be an imposition to ask you to microwave me some tea?" "No problem, bro. I'm on it." Rossman set off to save the day, as it were, making tea as he gestured back toward the desk. "Soup, dude. It'll help, I promise." Kurt reached for the thermos and pulled off the cup, then unscrewed the lid. "I bet it smells good," he said, sniffing it anyway, even though his sinuses were refusing to let him at any of the aroma. He poured some into the cup and put the lid back on. "Can you give me a spoon? They're by the microwave." Rossman passed a spoon over to the other boy, then opened the microwave when it beeped. "Mrs. K said that weird little teapot thing would help that." He replied, carrying the tea over. "Karofsky said to make sure you kept your ass in bed, man. So don't make me relocate you with my impressive dude-strength." "But I can't eat the soup if I'm lying down," Kurt replied, a spoonful halfway to his mouth. He stuck the spoon in his mouth and mushed the soft vegetables with his tongue. "This feels like it's supposed to taste good," he said when he'd swallowed. "Maybe I'll save some for when my senses are working again." He looked at the neti pot box. "Didn't someone on a sitcom nearly drown himself with one of these?" "Y'know what helps me when I feel like crap?" "Whiskey?" Kurt asked. "That's what Grandma Riley used to give me, until Dad found out. Guess he didn't want a ten-year-old booze hound." He laughed, rolling his eyes a little. "Nah, dude. A hot shower and a bowl. You want...?" Rossman was already digging around in his pockets absently, unsure where he'd even put his pipe. "Shower sounds amazing," Kurt sighed, sipping a little more soup off the spoon. "But the dorm mother has a nose like a bloodhound. I wouldn't light up if I were you." Rossman perked instantly. "There's chicks here? Man, why didn't you say so? Are they bangin'?" "She's about sixty and has a hunchback. But if that's your type..." Kurt replied dubiously. He finished the soup and started on the tea, opening the Not-Sudafed and popping two into his mouth. "Naaah. Even I wouldn't hit that. Nevermind, bro." Rossman sat down on the bed that obviously wasn't Kurt's and sprawled out. "So how did Karofsky convince you to drive two hours with soup?" Kurt asked. He picked up the neti pot box and studied it. Rossman just shrugged. "Pretty easy to get people to do what you want when you're stuck with a giant immobilizer on your leg, you know? 'Sides, he told be he'd stop bitching about the twenty bucks I never paid him back a few months ago." Kurt sipped his tea before replying. "Still, it's soup," he said. "And Not-Sudafed. I wasn't expecting anything when I told him I was sick." At that moment the door opened, and a red-haired, befreckled boy walked in, tugging off the tie of his uniform. "Oh, hey, Thomas," Kurt said, taking another sip of his tea. "That's Josh. He brought me drugs and soup." He smiled.