Out of all days, it had to be his wedding day.

Kurt didn't even see it coming. The night before he felt fine. The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch, everything was in place, and it seemed like their wedding was going to be flawless.

Until Kurt woke up at five in the morning in his hotel room, puking his guts up. He was in his hotel room alone, and that was when he broke one of his most important rules: never let on to being sick.

But it was truly an emergency. He was getting married in thirteen hours, and he couldn't even stand up. Kurt called Carole, who was just down the hall from him. She would know what to do.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look miserable," she said bluntly, upon finding him in the bathroom. "How much sleep did you get?"

"Two hours, I think," Kurt mumbled, hanging his head over the toilet to throw up again. Carole rubbed the small of his back and smoothed his hair away from his forehead.

"You have a fever," she said quietly, sighing.

That sent Kurt spiraling into a panic. A stomachache could be cured with a little rest and some Pepto. If he had a fever, he was bound to be sick all day.

"I can't be sick on my wedding day," he whined, breaking down into tears. His stepmother shushed him, and helped him stand. She hugged him and let him cry, as all the possible scenarios ran through his head. What if he threw up at the altar? Or was too weak to even stand for the duration of the ceremony?

"You won't be," she promised, pulling him away to turn on the sink. "Rinse out your mouth, then come back to bed. I'll be right back with some medicine."

Kurt obeyed, and stumbled back into bed, shivering under his covers. He closed his eyes, and heard Carole come back in.

"What all hurts?" she asked him, sitting on the edge of the bed, so the mattress sank a little beneath Kurt's body.

He hadn't taken much time to think about how he actually felt. He just remembered waking up and sprinting into the bathroom.

"I'm cold," he mumbled. "My stomach hurts, and I feel sore, and my head hurts and I'm so tired, Carole."

Kurt sniffled, and tried not to cry again. His head was already pounding. Carole helped him sit up to take enough medicine to last a lifetime. The Pepto-Bismol made him gag, but he choked it down.

"There you go," she told him, tucking him in again and turning off his lamp. "I want you to get some sleep. If you throw up again, just call me. I gave you something to help you relax and go to sleep. After the night you had, you're going to need it. And don't worry about later today, honey. Everything will work out, don't you worry."

Kurt had a hard time believing her, but thanks to her special sleep medicine, he wasn't able to spend too much time dwelling on it before he was dozing off.

He woke up to his phone ringing. Kurt felt groggy, and his stomach was still doing backflips inside him.

"Hello?" he answered, without looking to see who it was.

"Kurt, get up!" Rachel bellowed. "It's your wedding day, and you're in bed! I've sent Brittany down to your room to wake you up, but she said you haven't been answering."

"Rach, chill out," Kurt said, yawning. "I didn't sleep last night, so Carole gave me something really early this morning. I guess it knocked me out."

"I guess so, too," she said grumpily. "Listen to me, you have a lot to do. Jesse is still stuffing his face downstairs at the breakfast bar, then he's coming up to help you get ready. Sam and Artie are with Blaine, but you need to be ready by four, so you have six hours, then…"

Kurt tuned her out as his stomach began to cramp again. He sat up and hunched over as his face grew hot and he shivered.

"…got it?" Rachel finished.

"Uh huh," Kurt mumbled, quickly hanging up and tossing his phone aside before tripping over his own feet to get to the bathroom in time.

He threw up until there was nothing left, and all he could do was heave. The episode left Kurt feeling shaky and weak, and he barely had the strength to walk down the hall to his parent's room and knock on the door.

His dad answered him. "Hey, bud, it's your big day! Come here, do you want some coffee? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Where's Carole?" Kurt asked quietly, shuffling inside and lounging on the couch inside the suite. He shivered, and curled up in a ball.

"She's in our room," Burt answered, sitting down by his son. He called for her, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "What's the matter, kiddo? You nervous? Tired?"

Kurt heard his stepmother enter the room. "Burt, what is it? Oh, Kurt…"

She sat on the other side of him and rubbed his back. "How are you? Did you get some rest?"

Kurt nodded, and leaned his head on her shoulder. "You're still warm… have you gotten sick anymore?"

"What are you talking about?" Burt spoke up, placing his hand on his son's knee. "Are you not feeling good?"

"He woke up early this morning throwing up. I gave him all kinds of medicine and sent him back to bed, but he still seems miserable."

"I got sick again," Kurt confessed, biting his lower lip and blinking back tears. "My stomach hurts."

Carole wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. "Burt, go get him a blanket. He has a fever, but his hands are ice cold."

Kurt watched as his dad got up from the couch and disappeared, before coming back and tucking the thick comforter over him.

"I want to see Blaine," Kurt mumbled. He knew it wasn't tradition, but he needed him more than anything or anyone else.

"Are you sure?" Carole asked him. "I remember you were both insistent upon not seeing each other."

Kurt nodded. Blaine could make it better.

"Burt, will you call him to come down here?" Carole asked softly. "And start some tea for Kurt. Maybe that'll help settle his stomach."

Kurt closed his eyes, and remembered vaguely hearing his dad on the phone, and feeling the hot mug of tea on his lips.

He opened his eyes when there was a knock on the door.

"Blaine," he said weakly, his voice raspy. He could hardly hold his eyes open.

His fiancé knelt down by his head, and kissed his cheek.

"Your dad wasn't kidding about you having a fever," Blaine said, smiling at him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm a mess," Kurt confessed. "You don't want to marry me."

Blaine reached under the blanket and squeezed his hand. "Kurt Hummel, that's a lie and you know it. You're not a mess. You're just feeling awful right now. It's okay, though. We still have several hours. Can I get you anything? Do you want to relax and watch a little TV before you need to get ready?"

Kurt shook his head and exhaled. "I just really don't want to throw up anymore. I'm so tired."

Blaine nodded, raising his eyebrows in concern. "Let's go back to your room," he suggested. "You can lay down and close your eyes and have some peace and quiet. I'll stay with you, and if you throw up again, we'll take care of it. Does that sound like a good plan?"

Kurt thought about it, but he was too tired to object. He nodded, and let Blaine help him all the way down the hall, until he was safely in his bed. His eyes refused to stay open. Blaine covered him up and rubbed his back, and that was the last thing he remembered.

When he woke up again, he still felt exhausted, but slightly less sick than before. His phone said it was 1:28 in the afternoon. The wedding was at six, so he was going to have to hustle to get ready. Blaine was still there, texting someone on his phone when he noticed Kurt was awake.

"Hi, honey," he said. "How do you feel?"

Kurt moved over so his head was resting in Blaine's lap. His fiancé stroked his hair and felt his forehead.

"A little better," Kurt said, yawning.

Blaine smiled down at him. "You don't feel as feverish. Do you think you feel like taking a shower?"

Kurt nodded. A hot, relaxing shower sounded wonderful. He let Blaine go turn on the water for him, and he left him alone to get ready.

The nerves really began to set in once Kurt started preparing. He had butterflies in his stomach, on top of how sick he already felt. The vomiting never stopped, and neither did the nerves.

At one point, it felt like everyone was in his room trying to help him get ready. Rachel forced him to eat something, still unaware that he was sick, and it came right back up half an hour later, thankfully at a moment that he was alone.

Then came the service. Kurt willed himself to not get sick the entire time, even though at the reception he couldn't eat any cake, and his dancing was limited to only a few moves.

But none of that mattered anymore. He was Kurt Anderson-Hummel now. The wedding was over with, and he and Blaine could start their new lives as a married couple now, in sickness or in health.

Author's Notes:

Klaine really didn't get a proper wedding in the show. Ugh my babies.