Blaine breathed in the steam as the hot water poured over his head. He smiled to himself, remembering the one time that first week Rachel had been at her out-of-town tryouts, and he'd talked Kurt into taking a shower with him. That was before he'd started having all these insecurities about his body, before the semester had started and he and Kurt had gotten overloaded with responsibilities, before all the conflict that led to them deciding he should move out. His hand wandered over his body with the soap, remembering how Kurt had said he thought it was silly at first, but after had agreed that it was probably the hottest thing they'd ever done. It felt like it had been a long time since they'd been that adventurous. Rubbing along his stomach, he wondered if Kurt would think he was looking leaner—he was too shy to ask outright. I should have taken some measurements or something before I started working out. He'd lost a couple pounds, but not as much or as quickly as he hoped—although with some of the strength training he'd been doing on Sam's advice, it was possible that was just because he'd added some muscle. It was hard to tell. Maybe if I was looking better though, Kurt'd have been more interested in sex tonight. Back in high school he'd never have said he was too tired. Blaine groaned, leaning his head against the shower wall, annoyed with himself. Why do I even think like that? He knew it wasn't fair to hold it against Kurt or to use him wanting to talking it easy tonight as an excuse for a shame spiral. After all, there had definitely been times in the past couple months when Kurt had been interested and he'd avoided intimacy because he was just feeling insecure, and Kurt had been really understanding about all that once they'd talked about it. I'll feel better tomorrow.

Blaine finished up and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He quietly padded across the loft, seeing that Kurt had turned off the lights. When he got to the bedroom he saw that Kurt was already curled up in bed, his shoulder dimly lit by streetlights shining in through the window. Blaine quietly dug through his drawer and put some boxers on before slipping under the covers and snuggling up against Kurt. Kurt sleepily leaned back against him, his fingers caressing against him for a moment before relaxing again. Blaine pressed a kiss against his cheek and then laid his head down and fell asleep.

"Oh my God Kurt, are you okay?" Rachel's voice woke Blaine several hours later, and he blinked in a sleepy startled haze.

There was a groan and then Kurt's voice, muffled, muttlering a weak "Yeah, No- I'm f- I—Oh God—" and then the unmistakeable sound of someone vomiting shook Blaine to sitting in bed.

"…Y-you need help?" Rachel was timidly asking.

There was a cough, and a sharp "No!" and Blaine was on his feet, rushing across the loft.

"Is he okay?"

Rachel shook her head. "Doesn't sound like it," she muttered.

"I'm fine." Kurt called back through the door.

Blaine knocked. "Kurt? Let me in."

Kurt groaned from the other side of the door. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."

"D-do you need… some towels or something?"

There was a pause. Then, quieter. "…Maybe a couple."
Blaine's heart broke, hearing Kurt sound so weak and miserable. "I'll go get some, " he assured, "Hold on—"

He rushed back to their side of the loft and pulled out several towels from the linens drawer. When he came back, he heard the sound of running water, followed by the sound of more vomiting and some muttered cursing.

Blaine knocked again. "C-can I come in? I've got some towels for you?" he glanced back at Rachel, still standing in her pajamas looking grossed out.

There was what sounded like a whimper. "Can you… just leave them outside the door? I'm—I'll be alright. Just go back to bed, okay?"

Blaine glanced at Rachel, who shrugged. He was sort of hurt that Kurt didn't want him to come in—I've seen you naked a hundred times before for God's sake—but he also got that he was probably sort of embarrassed. "O-of course Kurt. They're—they're right here, by the door. J-just let us know if you need us."
"Feel better, Kurt," Rachel offered.

"Yeah, feel better."

Blaine placed a pile of towels by the bathroom door, and sort of sheepishly stepped away.

"Y-you think he'll be okay?" Rachel whispered.

Blaine shrugged, uncertain. "Sounds like a stomach bug."

"Ugh, I can't get sick. We're going to have to sanitize this whole place tomorrow. But you two share a bed—if you get it too, I swear I'm gonna have to move in with Elliot again. I can't risk it."

Blaine nodded, but his eyes stopped on the refrigerator a second. "The Chinese food."

"What?"

"We got Chinese food from a new place—I feel fine, but I didn't eat any of the beef lo mein, that was all Kurt."

"Gross, reason number 87 I'm a vegetarian."

Blaine grimaced and opened the refrigerator, and there were the leftovers Kurt had put back on the first shelf. The carton of beef lo mein was about three-quarters empty. Blaine blanched, tossing it into the garbage. "Guess we're never eating there again."

"Guess not." Rachel shook her head and tiptoed without further comment, back to her side of the loft.

Blaine hesitated for moment and looked back at the bathroom door, but then decided to pad back to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and listened. After a minute or two he heard the creak of the door open and then close again. He sighed. Poor Kurt. He felt sort of vaguely guilty because he'd picked up the food, as though he somehow should have known it was going to make his fiancé sick.

Blaine laid down and pulled the covers back over him, feeling like it was probably best to respect Kurt's wishes. But he wouldn't—couldn't—just go back to sleep. He waited, listening to hear if the sound of vomiting started again. It didn't, thankfully. All he could hear was the rumble of the New York streets outside, interrupted occasionally by more running water.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, the door slowly creaked open. Blaine could hear Kurt's footsteps coming closer, and the swish of the privacy curtain opening back up. He heard Kurt sigh behind him, and he slowly turned over to look at him.

"I was hoping you'd be asleep," Kurt admitted.

"Was worried about you." Blaine said simply.

"I'll live," Kurt muttered, crossing to the other side of the bed and getting under the covers.

Blaine reached up to touch Kurt's shoulder. "Think it was the Chinese food?"

"Huh. Maybe. Just woke up I thought maybe some kind of stomach virus but that makes sense. Whatever it is, it sucks," he shared grimly.

Blaine caressed Kurt's forehead, which dripped with sweat. "You don't feel warm at least. Don't think you have a fever."

"Hmm. Guess that's something."

"If it's food poisoning it'll probably just be a 24 hour thing," Blaine offered, trying to find something positive to say as he rubbed Kurt's back. "And it won't be catching so Rachel won't put the whole loft on quarantine lockdown," he joked.

Kurt turned over towards Blaine with a sigh. "Can I ask you to… do me a favor?"

Blaine sat up. "You need a drink of water?"

"…No. I was going to ask… uh, if you'd mind… sleeping on the couch?"

"…Oh."

"It's just… if I threw up again, and I didn't make it to the bathroom—I'd feel bad and…" Kurt trailed off.

"Of—of course. I can… uh, I understand."

"I don't mean to be—" Kurt faltered.

Blaine got up out of bed. "You need to rest. I'll—I'll be fine."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Just—just call out if you need anything, okay?"

"I will."

Blaine dug through the linens drawer and found the blanket Sam always used to use when he slept over. He quietly made his way over to the couch. Not exactly the romantic start to my weekend I was hoping for. He sighed ,curled up with the blanket, and fell back to sleep.