“’K so do you want this shirt or this shirt?”, Dave questions, holding up two t-shirts. I look around the room. “What about that flannel one there on the floor?”, I ask. “It’s dirty babes,” he says. “Don’t care,” I say, grinning at him. He grins back. “You just took a bath!”
Dave buttons the last button on the flannel shirt I made him let me wear. “Aww, even if the shirt is dirty, you still look hot,” Dave says, admiring his work. I giggle, and I feel myself blush just a little, I’m still not used to these comments he makes about me.
Dave and I have been at the dentist’s office for a hour now, and they just took him back 15 minutes ago. This is going to be a long, long wait.
10 minutes passes, and I’m bored as hell. I want to know how my baby Dave is doing. I look at the tree plant in the corner, and see a small table with magazines and a lamp on it. Yeah, they know it takes forever so they give you magazines to entertain you.
I walk over to the magazines, and pick up ‘TIME’. I read some of the headlines, nothing interests me, but I decide to flip through it anyway, being as I’m so bored.
*1 hour 30 minutes later*
“Kurt!” Someone said my name. I look up, it’s Dave and he’s finally out. “Hey! How’d it go?”, I ask.
“Went fine. Were you bored?”
“Bored as hell.”
He laughs, then I laugh. “Your cute,” he whispers in my ear as we walk out of the dentist’s office. Another blush. Awww, Davey is smiling.
“Wanna go home or go eat or what?”, Dave asks, and I smile at him. “Whatever you want to do,” I say.
I’m walking along and suddenly realize that Dave’s not with me. I turn around. “Dave?”, I question. “Come here, Kurt,” Dave says, a bit of seduction in his voice. I walk over to him, carefully, but he runs towards me, takes my hand and runs off behind a brick building. “Back here,” Dave says, smiling. “What ‘back here’?” I ask, catching my breath. Dave waits until I can finally breathe, before charging at me, and pinning me up against the building.
Dave is smiling, and I smile back at him, but I’m nervous. I have no idea what he’s doing. I give a fake, nervous, laugh, hoping I sounded like I halfway understood what was going on. “Don’t be scared,” Dave says, still smiling, “All I want to do is kiss you.”
15 minutes later, Dave pulls his tongue out of my mouth, and smiles. “I love you, Kurt,” he says, and I’m all embarrassed, I feel like people were watching us the whole time. “Wanna go eat now?”, Dave asks, reaching for my hands. I allow him to take them, and I squeeze his hands.
“I love ya, Kurt,” he says again.
“I love you too, Dave.”
“Eat, baby,” Dave whispers. We’ve been sitting in the Taco Bell for around 5 minutes now, and my food still remains untouched, though I did have a couple of fries.
I pause. “I don’t feel good. I’m sorry,” I say. I always feel like I’m letting him down. I sigh. Damn these stomach problems!
“Aww, hun, don’t be sorry,” Dave says, sympathetically, “It’s okay. Want me to take you home?”
I clamp my eyes shut tightly, the pain is becoming more intense. It lets up just a little, enough for me to respond to Dave’s question. “Y-yeah…but can we go to…your house?”, I ask, shaking a little, growing a bit pale.
“Sure thing, angel,” he says, looking at me with concern in his big, beautiful brown eyes. Why did Dave of all people have to see this? It’s bad enough when I’m by myself, but with Dave around, it’s worse because I feel like I’m hurting him by not eating, and because it’s just embarrassing.
I’m squeezing Dave’s hand so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it came off. We’re on the city bus, because Dave didn’t want me to have to walk home. I have to squeeze his hand to keep from letting out moan after moan.
“We’re there,” Dave whispers in my ear. I whimper a little and stand up, still holding his hand. “C’mon, Kurt,” Dave says softly, “Just walk, c’mon.” I take a slow step forward, and soon, slowly, we are moving down the isle. Dave glares at men who think it’s sickening that he’s holding my hand, and I think it’s cute, but I can’t really see much.
We finally get off the bus, and Dave switches hands, saying the other one is getting a bit sore. I can’t help but giggle at that, but I soon regret it, as it hurts worse when I laugh.
“Just up the steps, there, Kurt,” Dave’s saying, walking me up the stairs. He can’t carry me, though I don’t even way that much.
My foot comes down on the top step, and then up on the balcony. “Right over there,” Dave says, pointing at his apartment. I know where it is, but he’s just trying to comfort me, and I can’t complain. The walk to the apartment has never looked so long.
I’m actually glad Dave’s parents aren’t home, they’d probably think I was on some kind of drug. I don’t want anyone to think that, because I’m not on drugs. Yeah I have taken them, but I’m not addicted nor am I on them right now. Dave’s parents don’t need to break us up this fast, and God forbid they ever do.
“Dave it hurrrrtsss,” I moan, lying on his bed, tears in my eyes. Dave has a cold washcloth on my forehead and is allowing me to squeeze his hand, again. “I know, baby, I know,” he says, kissing my hand. As much pain as I am in, I can’t help but think…who could ask for a better boyfriend?
Somehow I managed to fall asleep about 2 hours ago. The pain hasn’t really let up at all, I’m still curled into the fetal position, eyes half closed. Dave must be in the living room, because he’s not in here. I want to call out his name, but I’m scared I’ll make the pain worse.
I think Dave figured out I woke up, somehow, even though I remained totally quiet. He’s coming down the hall. I wait. Instead of coming in here, he goes in the bathroom to pee.
The door to his room is opening slowly, and he notices I’m awake. “Kurt? Baby are you okay?”, he asks, sympathetic smile on his face. I don’t respond, I just whimper and he comes to my side again. He takes my pale hand and kisses it. “You want me to leave you alone or stay here?”, Dave asks. I just close my eyes, and squeak out in a high pitched tone, “Doesn’t matter, Dave…I love you.”
“I love you too, Kurt.”
“I guess I’ll go and let you sleep some more,” Dave says, looking at me. I whimper again, trying to get him to stay without having to say anything. He catches on, and pulls a chair in front of the TV. “I’m here if you need me,” Dave says, lovingly, and turns on the TV.
Three hours later, I wake up to Dave watching me sleep with concern, keeping my hair out of my eyes, stroking my hand gently. My eyes open completely and I look at him. He smiles knowingly at me, and takes my hand in his. “How’s my baby Kurt feeling?”, he asks, squeezing my hand a little.
“I’m better, still hurts a little.”
“Awww, poor baby,” Dave says, “But do you think you could maybe eat something now?”
I pause to think it over. “Maybe just a Coke or something.”
“Be right back,” Dave says, smiling, standing up. I whimper. “D-Dave, can I come with you? My legs are getting stiff---”, I question and he smiles. “Of course, babes,” he responds.
“Easy does it, sweetie,” Dave coaxes, holding my hand. We’re going down the hall, and Dave’s making me take baby steps.
“K, I’ll get you your Coke, angel, you just sit down there,” Dave says, placing me on the couch. I think he’s adapted to using a pet name to address me.
“Here ya go,” Dave says, handing me an open Coke and a plastic red straw, “Remember, easy does it.” I smile weakly. I place the straw in the Coke, and take a small sip.
“It’s okay, Kurt, it’s okay,” Dave says, walking me back up the hall. I’m going to be sick this time. “In there,” Dave directs, pointing me to the bathroom. “T-thanks,” I squeak out, and close the door, so he doesn’t have to see me get sick. “I’m right here if you need me,” Dave says, from the hallway.
I let out a loud scream, I can’t help it. “It’s okay, Kurt, scream if you have to,” he comforts. I love him so much. I am holding onto the side of the toilet, trying not to fall over.
20 minutes later, I cough up some more blood, and collapse on the ground next to the toilet. I just wish someone could figure out what the hell this is. I feel myself break out in a cold sweat…then everything goes black.
Kurt’s been in the bathroom for a long time now, I think to myself, then decide to check on him.
I push the door open, and what I see scares the shit out of me. My angel, my Kurt Cobain, is lying on the floor, eyes closed, a small trail of blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.
***Back to Kurt‘s POV***
Freezing cold water is being applied to my face and my neck, by none other than Dave. “Breathe,” is all he says, holding the cold washcloth on me. I take a deep breath, and he stops.
“I’m sorry, I just got so scared,” Dave begins, “When I walked in the bathroom and saw you on the floor with your eyes shut, I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my entire life. Kurt, you mean everything to me…you know…I don’t really know what I’m saying here, but all I can say, is that I never, ever want to lose you.”
Dave’s soft voice and kind words send me into a deep sleep again.
It’s really dark outside, Kurt’s still sleeping, and I hear a car outside. I’m ignoring it until I hear talking and rustling at the door. Mom & Dad are home.
“Quiet!”, I say, as they walk in the door, noisily.
“How was your day, David?”, Mom asks, oblivious to the fact that I said to be quiet.
“Shh! Jeez, don’t you ever pay attention!? I said, quiet!”, I whisper angrily back at her. She sighs.
“David, is that ‘Kurt boy’ here or something?”
“Yeah, he is. He got sick---”
“I don’t think he’s the right person for you.”
“Right person for me? What? Of course he’s the right person for me!”
“All I’m saying is, is that he didn’t have the best appearance, and well--I want the best for my little boy.”
“Little my ass! Listen, he’s really sick, so don’t wake him up, tell Dad to be quiet too.”
Seriously, Mom can be so fucking annoying sometimes. I pray they didn’t wake up my precious Kurt.
***Still in Dave’s POV***
I feel the bed jerking violently (Kurt woke up and refused to let me sleep on the couch, so I’m sleeping in the bed with him), and my eyes come open. I sit up carefully, and Kurt’s shaking and moaning in his sleep.
I get out of bed. This time I’m really fucking scared.
I go into my parents room, quietly making my way around until I spot it. Mom’s purse. It holds the keys to the car, which I’m taking. I have got to get Kurt to the hospital.
I manage to get the keys and get out of the room without waking them up.
Someone’s waking me up. It’s Dave. “Kurt,” Dave says almost silently. He strokes my cheek, and my eyes fall closed again. Why is he waking me up? I don’t notice the pain so much when I’m sleeping.
“Angel---c’mon, get up,” Dave says, reaching to help push me up. “What? Why?”, I ask quietly, it’s still dark outside. Please tell me he doesn’t get up at this hour. It’s 3:55 AM. “C’mon, baby, don’t protest,” Dave says.
I sit up, my stomach aching as I do. “Daaaave. Whyyyy?”, I whine. “Babesy, please don’t protest. Just put this on,” Dave says, tossing me a coat. I pout. I’m NOT cold, Dave, and what the hell are you doing?
I push the coat away from me and lay back down, closing my eyes, hands on my stomach.
“No, Kurt, sit up. Let’s go,” Dave says, sitting me up, and forcing the coat on me. “Dave,” I pause, clamping my eyes shut in pain, “Where are we going? Why don’t you go? I still don’t feel good.”
“We are going to the hospital, okay sweetheart? Please don’t get upset. You were shaking and moaning in your sleep, my parents probably thought we were fucking or something,” Dave says, trying to throw a little humor into everything.
“Dave, please, let me stay home?”
“Kurt, I’m scared. I am really scared. You are a gift to this earth, and there is no way I’m letting anything happen to you. Just come on, angel, please?”
I pout again.
“Please, baby? Please? I don’t want to force you into anything, but this is serious.”
“Been to the doctor,” pause, whimper, “and they don’t know---whats wrong---with me.”
“Well we at least have to get the pain to go away, okay Kurt?”
Half-pout, then I agree to go.
***DAVE’S POV*** (Sorry for all the POV changes!)
“I’m looking for a Mr. Kurt Cobain?”, says a nurse in purple pants, a loose fitting shirt on with pictures of stars on it, and a stethoscope around her neck. I stand up. “He’s right here,” I say. Kurt remains seated, head down, squeezing the armrests on the chair. “I can’t stand up,” he squeaks out. The nurse leaves to go get us a wheelchair.
“Here,” she says, unfolding it. Together, the nurse and I ease Kurt into the wheelchair. “Come on back,” she says to me, pushing Kurt towards the door. Kurt’s quietly whimpering, and has his eyes wide open.
“Are you Mr.Grohl?”, a doctor asks me after I told what had been happening to Kurt hours earlier. “Yeah,” I respond standing up.
“Your with Cobain, right?”
“Would you like to see him?”
“Right this way.” I start following him down the white hallways, lit up by florescent lights.
I walk into the room and see my Kurt lying on the bed, sleeping. “We haven’t diagnosed whats going on,” the doctor whispers. I nod. “Kurt said he’s been to the doctor before and they couldn’t diagnose him either,” I say, quietly. The doctor nods. “No one here has the slightest idea what it is. We do know that his stomach has severe inflammation.”, the doctor says.
I sit by Kurt for a while until a nurse comes in. “Mr.Grohl?”, she asks in a whisper. “Yeah?”, I say.
“Kurt’s sick,” she says, softly, “Dr. Smith has decided to keep him all night. We will release him probably in the afternoon tomorrow.”
I nod in response, and I can only think one thing. If Kurt wakes up before tomorrow, and knows he’s spending the night here, he’s going to kill me. Well…maybe not kill me, but he’s going to be ‘rather pissed off’.
Chapter three!! REVIEWS REVIEWS, ya’ll! Tell me what ya think. *:Hugs:*