Let's be real, this would so happen.

Blaine awoke to the sound of someone vomiting in the en-suite bathroom.

Oh please God let that be Kurt and not a truly unfortunate burglar, Blaine thought, rubbing his eyes. It took him a minute to realize that maybe he shouldn't be wishing puke on his husband, but being woken up at three fifteen in the morning left him a little screwed up.

"Babe? You okay?" he called as he switched on his bedside lamp and padded toward the bathroom, squinting at all the light.

Kurt just moaned before hurriedly leaning over the toilet bowl to dry-heave.

"Gonna take that as a no," Blaine said, kneeling next to Kurt so he could rub soothing circles along his back.

"I think I got whatever plague has been drifting around the theater," Kurt said once he regained some breath. "I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Can I help you get back to bed?" Blaine asked, planting a kiss to Kurt's mussed, sweaty hair. "Or do you need to throw up some more?"

"I don't think I've got anything left in me to puke up," Kurt said, cuddling in close to Blaine's side. The fact that he did this without any prompting from Blaine alerted him to just how terrible Kurt must have been feeling then. "And I really want to lay down."

"Bed it is," Blaine said. He shifted so Kurt was leaning against the toilet for a moment, allowing him to stand up, before reaching down and helping Kurt to his feet as well. "Can you walk?"

"Yes." Kurt took a couple of tentative steps forward and almost fell into the sink. "I mean, no."

Blaine walked over and grabbed Kurt around the waist. "I figured as much."

Thankfully, their bed wasn't too far away - Blaine was strong, but Kurt was taller and more muscle than anything, making him heavier than he looked. Blaine could still manage to get from one room of their townhouse to the next, though.

"You stay here while I grab the thermometer and some ginger ale, okay?" Blaine said, suddenly almost grateful that his mom had gotten food poisoning the last time she visited, if only because he didn't want to hit the closest convenience store this late at night.

"Where am I gonna go, B?" Kurt asked, clearly not too sick to be sarcastic. That was probably a good sign.

Blaine just waved a hand and went off to find everything. When he got back, he placed the glass full of ginger ale on Kurt's nightstand before brandishing the thermometer.

"Open wide," he said, making airplane noises once Kurt followed instructions.

Kurt glared at him silently as the thermometer did its job. Once it beeped, Kurt pulled it out of his mouth.

"100 degrees even," he said, reading the display. "God, I'm too hot."

"Hot damn," Blaine said automatically. He blushed a deep red once he realized what he'd said.

"I cannot believe you just said that," Kurt said, glaring at Blaine again. Blaine thought he could see a hint of a smile threatening to emerge at the corners of his mouth, though. "I have a fever, Blaine!"

"I wasn't thinking about it!" Blaine defended. "You know certain phrases make you think of specific songs, too."

"Yes, but I try to avoid completing the lyrics when my husband is deathly ill!"

"You have a slight fever, babe, I don't think you're in any danger of dying on me."

"Still," Kurt sniffed. "I demand you make it up to me somehow."

"What do you have in mind, hon?" Blaine asked.

"Can you get me a cold washcloth for my forehead?" Kurt said, fixing Blaine with an over-the-top begging expression.

"Oh God, no fair giving me the puppy eyes when you're already sick," Blaine said, turning away. "That's just fighting dirty."

"I'll apologize when my insides stop trying to come outside," Kurt said, paling. He bit his lip fiercely.

Blaine hurried away to wet down a washcloth and snag their bathroom trashcan before Kurt could barf all over their new rug. "Still okay?"

"Yeah, I fought it back," Kurt panted. "Washcloth?"

"Here." Blaine draped it over Kurt's forehead before walking to the other side of the bed and crawling in next to him.

"Oh God that feels good," Kurt said, turning onto his side and curling up. "I bet it'd feel even better if you cuddled up behind me, though."

"Aren't you too hot, though?"

"I can't believe you would deny your poor, sick husband cuddles after making light of his pain," Kurt said. Blaine could just hear the pout in his voice.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" Blaine said, wrapping his arm gently around Kurt's waist and pulling him close.

"Check with me in a week or two, dear," Kurt said teasingly before letting out a noisy yawn. "Thanks for checking up on me, B."

"In sickness and in health, remember? Get some sleep, baby."

Kurt didn't respond, already dead to the world. Blaine just planted a soft kiss on the back of his neck before following suit.