"Gosh, I hate Sam," Blaine moaned, pushing Kurt away as he tried to offer Blaine a drink of water. "I hate him and that stupid restaurant, too." He laid his head back down wearily, and groaned dramatically into his pillow.

As much as Kurt hated to see his fiancé like that, he knew where he was coming from. The night before they had gone out to dinner, to some weird Chinese place Sam had went on and on about. They decided to try it, but just a few hours after getting home, they quickly realized it was a mistake.

It was the next morning, and Blaine still couldn't keep anything down. They were both sleep deprived from spending the majority of the night in the bathroom, and Blaine was quickly becoming grumpy.

"I think Mercedes and Sam are going to come over for a little bit," Kurt told him, locking his iPhone as he adjusted himself in bed so he would be able to rub Blaine's back. "She said they would bring you some soup and something to drink."

"I don't want soup," Blaine grumbled, turning to press against Kurt's side. "I want to go to sleep."

Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine and felt his forehead with the back of his hand. "You don't feel very hot. I think this'll pass pretty soon."

Blaine draped his arm over Kurt's stomach and shivered. "I hope so. This sucks."

Kurt let Blaine doze off for a little bit, but he woke up when Sam and Mercedes showed up.

"Bro!" Sam said, bursting behind the curtain to their bed. "I can't believe you got food poisoning from that place. Your game is weak."

"Sam," Mercedes warned. "Go heat up Blaine's food." Sam disappeared again, and Mercedes sat on the edge of the bed. "We brought you soup from Panera and a few bottles of Gatorade. But you'll be feeling better in no time, baby."

"Thanks for doing this, 'Cedes," Kurt said, easing Blaine onto his own pillow as he got up. "I'll go help Sam before he breaks something."

Sure enough, Sam was struggling to figure out the microwave.

"Here," Kurt said, taking the bowl from him. "Have you ever even used one before?"

"Yes, dude, but this one's, like, impossible," he defended, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter.

"What did y'all even have to eat last night?" Mercedes asked Kurt as she walked in and began to pour Blaine some red Gatorade into a glass.

"Well, we both ate from the buffet," Kurt explained. "I guess I just got lucky."

Mercedes frowned, stopped what she was doing, and turned to him. She pressed her hands against his cheeks, and Kurt instantly pulled away.

"Quit," he said. "You're freezing."

"No, honey, you're hot," she informed him. "You have a higher fever than Blaine. Go sit down. I'll bring him his drink, then we'll take care of you."

Kurt waved her off. He wasn't sick. If he had food poisoning like Blaine, he would be throwing up everywhere, too.

"Mercedes, this is ridiculous, I feel fi-" he began. Mercedes pressed her finger to his lips.

"Go."

Kurt was too tired to try to argue, so he caved and went into the living room. When he actually took a moment to breathe, he was willing to admit he did feel a little off, but not sick at all. Kurt closed his eyes and laid his head down on the armrest, just to get a few moments of rest before he had to be up and taking care of Blaine's every need again.

"Baby, open your eyes."

Kurt woke up with a jerk, and sat up a little too quickly. His neck felt sore, and even though he would never admit it, he just felt bad. Things had certainly gone downhill quickly.

"Where's Blaine? How long did I sleep for?" Kurt asked. He hated the confused feeling he got after waking up from a nap. Mercedes pushed his hair back lovingly and sat across from him on the coffee table.

"Blaine's fine. He's in bed. Sam's watching a movie with him on his laptop. Star Wars, I think. You were just out for a few minutes, but we need to take care of you, too. How long have you felt bad?"

Kurt tried to think of a good enough lie, but his head still felt foggy. "J-just a little bit. It's okay, though, it's not food poisoning. I haven't thrown up once."

Mercedes didn't buy it. Kurt could tell by just the look on her face. "Come on. You're going to bed. You look like a zombie. How long were you up with Blaine last night?"

"Just maybe four hours," Kurt estimated sleepily as Mercedes pulled him up. It was then that he realized how little energy he actually had.

"Sam, up. Kurt needs his bed back," Mercedes ordered. Blaine shut his laptop and looked over at his fiancé.

"What's wrong with Kurt?" he asked. Mercedes forced him down and tucked him in cozily, shushing him whenever he tried to speak up in protest.

"He just needs some rest. He ate the same thing as you, though, so he might be getting sick, too. Sam, go get him some water from the fridge." She conveniently placed Kurt's plastic trashcan next to the head of the bed. "You look paler than Edward Cullen in wintertime. Sam's getting your drink. If you feel sick, then throw up in there. I came over to take care of you two, but I'm no janitor."

"Yes, ma'am," Kurt answered obediently, honestly a little bit intimidated by Mercedes' intense level of mothering. She made him drink some water, and he was just about to go to sleep again when Blaine suddenly got sick for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I got it," Kurt offered weakly, starting to sit up.

"Don't move," Mercedes ordered, pushing him back down. He hated having her do all the work, but just didn't have the energy to fight her. She took care of everything and left them alone to rest. "I'm gonna clean up the kitchen. It looks like a tornado hit this place. You both rest, and yell for me if you need anything."

"Are you sick, honey?" Blaine asked once he finished his drink and set the glass back down. He turned to Kurt and tried to cover him up, even though he was just as weak and shaky as before.

"I'll be okay," Kurt promised. His stomach was hurting him, but he still had to take care of Blaine. Mercedes and Sam couldn't hang around forever.

"You go to sleep," Blaine told him, yawning. "You took care of me all night. You need a rest."

Kurt wasn't about to argue, especially since he knew he had earned his nap. He struggled to relax enough to sleep, though. Every time he came close to nodding off, his stomach would cramp again, until finally he just couldn't take it.

"Blaine," Kurt murmured, pressing a hand over his mouth. His fiancé had already drifted off to sleep, though. Kurt hated getting sick. It was one of the worst feelings, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. He held his head over the side of the bed just in time.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to take in a breath as he gagged involuntarily. A chill came over his body, and he moaned as he laid back, defeated. How in the world did Blaine do this all night?

"Kurt?"

Mercedes hurried in and saw what had happened. "Poor baby. Don't move; I'll be right back."

Kurt waited for her for what felt like forever, but she finally returned with a glass of ginger ale for him, as well as some crackers on a plate.

"Thank you," he said, his throat still irritated. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that-"

"Save your breath," Mercedes told him. "You don't know how to be sick, do you? Blaine knows how to milk it just right to get anything he wants. You could learn something from him. You're not getting up, and you're not helping me do anything. Got it?"

Kurt nodded quickly. He pushed the cracker plate back over to her, but kept his drink.

"Thanks staying with us," Kurt mumbled, attempting to get comfortable again. "Where's Sam?"

"He's in the living room watching TV. He's not much of a help when it comes to cleaning. Go back to sleep now. I'll stay until one of you feels better enough to at least get out of bed. Now stop talking."

Kurt was finally feeling sleepy again. His stomach still hurt, but he was confident both he and Blaine would start feeling better after some rest. And, even though they both had to learn the hard way, they knew never to trust Sam with restaurant suggestions ever again.

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the super short update the other day! This one's a bit longer. I always seem to get food poisoning and cheerio!Blaine prompts. I love them, though. (And I'm willing to bet Sam sent them to a bad restaurant more than once, until finally he got food poisoning, and started to use better judgment.)

I'm off to reread The Fault in Our Stars now. I'm seeing the movie in four days and am nowhere near emotionally prepared. (I may even post a special drabble for the occasion, too. Shh.)