"Then work with me, here, cause I really don't wanna make Mom have to clean blood out of the carpet, okay?" His tone is half-teasing, half-pleading. Klaus is rarely, genuinely good at things, but caring for a sick sibling? He's got that shit on lock. He'll ignore it's because he's made himself sick too many times to count through the years with all the multitudes of things he pumps through his body on a regular basis and just had to learn the best-and-worst treatments by trial-and-error. He's good at it, he can do it, if people just let him.

"Join the club," he chuckles a little and moves his hand away from his brother's forehead to slide around his shoulders instead, trying to guide him as he walks. "Couch or bed?" Living room was closer, actual bed might be more comfortable-- but he'd let Five decide what he'd prefer right now.