Day 054: Friday 9th November, 2012
Disparity (Iowa)

"But isn't Field of Dreams about baseball?"

"Just trust me, Kurt. It'll change your life."

"Whatever you say..."



"Have you ever had one of those moments where you look at your life and just think, 'what the hell?'"

Smiling, Kurt glanced around the inside of the barn. Everything was rustic and light, the roof beams strung with fairy lights and globe shades. They were surrounded by tables dressed in white, russet, and laurel green, with baskets of apples and greenery serving as the centerpieces. Waiters dressed almost casually were just clearing away the last remnants of dessert and leaving behind cups of hot cider.

Kurt leaned forward in his seat and took a sip from his cup, tongue darting out to chase a droplet at the side of his mouth before he answered, "Pretty much every day."

"But seriously, what the hell? This day has been insanely surreal," Blaine said. Kurt reached over to pat his knee reassuringly.

It had all started when they were driving along I-80 from Des Moines, on their way to the KOA campground in Adel.

An unseasonably warm day for Iowa in November—or so the weatherman had said—Kurt had pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose as he turned to look out of the window at the rolling fields and farmland passing them by. There wasn't much to see, given that most of the harvests had already taken place over the course of the past three months. All that was left behind was tilled earth, taking time to rest before the freeze of winter and, then, the next planting in the spring. It had felt like watching a piece of the earth as it fell asleep, and were it not for the few other vehicles ahead and the suit-clad man walking along the side of the road trying to hitch a ride, Kurt could probably have fallen asleep with it.

"Look," Blaine had murmured, gesturing to the hitchhiker, who had been waving wildly at each car and truck as it passed. Something about the man seemed... Familiar, somehow.

"No way," Kurt had said. "We are not picking up a hitchhiker."

"He doesn't exactly look like a hitchhiker, though," Blaine had reasoned. "He's wearing a suit."

"So he'll be well-dressed while he kills us, how thoughtful," Kurt had replied. "Just keep driving, B."

It wasn't until they were almost at the point of passing the hitchhiker that Kurt realized why he looked familiar—it was Andrew, one half of the couple whose engagement party they had attended back in New Jersey. And now, hours after giving him a ride to the wedding ceremony for which he was running late—"Long story short, major freak-out last night resulting in a disgusting amount of booze with the guys, who all thought it would be just fucking hilarious to drive my drunk ass out to the middle of a field and leave me without a car or a cell phone."—Kurt found himself seated just to the left of the top table, dressed in his Sunday best with Blaine beside him, both of them half-jokingly named the guests of honor.

Kurt thought that 'insanely surreal' was probably the best way of describing it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice came over the speaker system, the ambient music fading out underneath it. Kurt turned to look at the top table, where both grooms were on their feet, and Toby was talking into a microphone. "Andrew and I would just like to begin by thanking you all for coming to be with us today; we know it was a bit of a trip for most of you, so we really appreciate you being here. And to the New Yorkers: we're not even a little bit sorry for making you spend the afternoon at the Hillard family farm, so suck it up."

Laughter broke out from the back of the room, and Kurt couldn't help but smile at Toby's easy humor. His blond hair was styled a little more neatly than usual but still a kind of organized chaos, and he was dressed in a charcoal gray suit offset by the light green of his waistcoat. The microphone was in his right hand, his left hand clutching Andrew's.

"All of you know the story of how we got together, and of course Andrew's told everyone our proposal story," Toby said, and groans broke out around the room. He glanced at Andrew with a lopsided grin, and quietly continued, "It's been, um... It's been a long journey to get here. If I'm honest, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to have this—not just in terms of who I fell in love with and where I come from, but also just... Me.

"And then one night, he walked into my bar and changed everything," Toby said. He took a deep breath and Kurt watched him blink rapidly. He almost didn't notice when Blaine took his hand. "Andrew, you've taught me to ask and to answer, to wait and to fulfill, to love and to be loved. My life began when I poured you that first Negroni, sweetheart. And I don't want it to ever end.

"Thank you for finding me; thank you for seeing me, and thank you for sticking around even after you tasted my awful Eggs Benedict. Most of all, thank you for agreeing to be my everything," Toby concluded. Not even a second after he lowered the microphone, Andrew cupped the back of his neck and tugged him down for a brief kiss.

Kurt looked away, feeling like an intruder, and met Blaine's lingering eyes. Nowadays, he was used to that look of radiating warmth on Blaine's face—he'd missed it after Chicago, and it had only come back after Lake Calhoun.

Since their fight and ensuing make-up sex—slow and languorous with a single vanilla-scented candle burning on the nightstand, Blaine's hands traversing his body like a seasoned traveler who knew his path all too well—things had been remarkably uncomplicated between them. It was heady and new, and Kurt was able to finally appreciate it for what it immediately was. He was coasting on the feeling of being on the road with a wonderful man, transcending time and obligation and the need to be anywhere. Though he was tethered to something that he was beginning to realize was bigger than either of them, it no longer felt like a chokehold constricting his air supply—instead, it felt like roots.

"Always has to set a high bar," Andrew mock-grumbled into the mic as he accepted it from Toby. Kurt heard low chuckles from around the room. "I have a laundry list of people to whom I'm grateful, but there's just a few I'd like to thank in particular:

"To Mr. and Mrs. Hillard for managing to pull off a summer wedding in November—and in Iowa, no less. This place looks beautiful, and Myra: I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Andrew said. "To Stuart and Jeff, for being the best groomsmen we could have asked for, even if you did leave me in the middle of a field last night.

"To Kurt and Blaine, our guests of honor, who saved me from having to hitchhike all the way here," Andrew continued, pointing toward where they were sitting. Kurt felt himself flush under the attention. Blaine raised their joined hands in a semi-triumphant gesture, and Kurt could have sworn he heard a few coos from the back of the room.

"And finally, one last thank you to my late father. He taught me that you have to make the mistakes first so that you know how to recognize them, and..." Andrew trailed off, snaking his arm around Toby's waist and speaking directly to him, "I know it took me a while, but once I knew, I knew.

"I love you," he whispered into the mic, and dropped a peck of a kiss to the corner of Toby's mouth. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand, though he didn't quite know why.

One of the groomsmen—Kurt couldn't remember which—stood and took the mic from Andrew to announce the first dance. Andrew led Toby to the middle of the dance floor, their matching gold wedding bands catching the light of the globes strung above, and all of the guests turned to watch as Diana Krall's version of I've Grown Accustomed To Your Face from My Fair Lady began to play.

"This makes you think of your parents' wedding video, doesn't it?" Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt sat up straighter in his seat. The smiling couple quietly twirling each other around in his mind's eye was suddenly so visible before him, he felt he could almost reach out and feel the fabric of their wedding finery. His mother's best friend, Sarah, was singing I Could Have Danced All Night up on a tiny stage erected in the backyard of his grandparents' house, and the only source of light spilled through the French doors in the dining room, casting long shadows that stretched into the saplings lining the fence.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself without words.

"What's your first dance song?" Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, and Kurt shivered as the hairs on his arms stood on end beneath the fabric of his hastily-ironed white button-down.

"No idea," Kurt replied. He watched Toby and Andrew begin to turn on the spot, their arms wrapped tightly around one another's waists. They exchanged indiscernible words with soft smiles.

"Me neither," Blaine said, and Kurt fixed him with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know; I guess it's just something you work out together, you know?"

"I guess so," Kurt said. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt and glanced at the two grooms again, looking like they were already removed from the barn, like they were dancing in their own private, walled-off world where nothing else existed but them.

It made Kurt think of the R.V., where it was nothing but him and Blaine and the asphalt ahead.

About halfway through the song, guests began getting up in twos and joining the couple on the polished wooden floor.

"Care to dance?" Blaine asked, breaking their grasp and standing in order to formally offer Kurt his hand. "This song could lend itself well to American smooth, if you're up for it."

Kurt regarded him for a moment. "I didn't know you could ballroom dance," he said as he took Blaine's hand and let himself be pulled into position. "At least, you couldn't at the last wedding I took you to. Or at prom."

"You remember those lessons Mom had me take for cousin Laura's wedding when I was fifteen?" Blaine asked, looking suspiciously sheepish. He averted his gaze as they began to move around the floor.

"I remember coming with you to one and it being the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life," Kurt said, eyebrows rising as Blaine confidently and easily led. "Still is, by the way."

"Well... I guess I kind of enjoyed it, so I kept going back," he explained.

"How did I not know this about you? I mean—" Kurt stopped abruptly as a thought occurred to him. "This is what you were doing every Wednesday night? I just figured you were having your alone time."

"You honestly thought that I scheduled time to jerk off?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Kurt reminded him.

"Once, Kurt," Blaine groaned. "Once."

Kurt giggled and gave himself over to the dance, the music, and most of all, to Blaine. After all, where better than to let himself belong—if only for one dance—than at a wedding? Diana's singing was of a man who made the day begin, the tunes he whistled, his 'good morning' every day—not only that, but how it had all become second nature to her. And as she sang the words, "I've grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air," Kurt realized that he, too, had gotten used to all of that with Blaine. They had somehow become each other's good morning and good night.

He was already too far gone, but the atmosphere was heavy with love and magic, and Kurt found it difficult to care.

As the song ended and bled into an upbeat number that he didn't recognize, they stepped apart and applauded the happy couple along with the rest of the guests. Toby and Andrew exchanged a glance, and made a beeline toward Kurt and Blaine.

"Mind if we cut in?" Andrew asked. Kurt shot Blaine a small smile before moving off with Andrew and relaxing into his looser hold. His hands were bigger than Blaine's, his fingers softer and less weathered, and he had a couple of inches' height on Kurt.

It felt like he was in the wrong arms, but he brushed it off. It was just one dance.

"Thank you again for what you did today," Andrew said as they began a quick, semi-approximation of the foxtrot in time to the beat of the summery song.

"We weren't exactly just going to leave you by the side of the road," Kurt replied.

"Well, no, but... Everything needed to be perfect today, and you two helped make that happen," Andrew said quietly, Toby and Blaine passing by on their left. "Toby, he—the reason I got so drunk last night... He has OCD. It's gotten much better since when we first met, but last night he had to flick the lights twenty-four times before he left the house. It hasn't been more than four in about a year, and I just... You know?"

Kurt nodded; he couldn't quite imagine himself acting differently in the same situation. "In that case, I'm even more glad we were there."

Andrew smiled at that and fell silent for a moment. Kurt glanced across the dance floor, catching a wink that Blaine threw his way. The song was fun and flirty, and it tugged at Kurt more than he would have expected, capturing his attention and focusing it all on watching the way Blaine moved with another partner: not too close yet not too far, and something not quite clicking in their rhythm. Kurt wondered if that was what Blaine had seen in Chicago.

"You still want him, huh?" Andrew asked wryly. Kurt met his gaze, but kept silent. "I know I'm not wrong."

"No, you're not wrong," Kurt confirmed.

"But you still won't do anything about it," Andrew said.

"There you're wrong," Kurt corrected him.

Andrew's eyes flicked between him and Blaine a few times, and then his grin cracked wide. "How's that working out for you?"

"We're figuring things out," Kurt said at length. "It's complicated."

Andrew scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I keep trying to tell you—"

"It's not complicated, I know," Kurt interrupted.

"No, it's not," Andrew said. "Do you love him?"

"I'm trying not to," Kurt answered without missing a beat, feeling more and more uncomfortable with each passing second.

"Why?"

"He deserves better. And I'm not so good at trusting people with my heart."

"But Blaine's not people," Andrew pointed out, and all of the reasons Kurt had been conjuring in his mind sputtered into darkness. It was as if the words had suddenly become his enemy, loaded with meaning he didn't always intend to put there. Why was he biting his tongue and feeling only pressure? Why was he biting at all?

Somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind—the ones he rarely felt brave enough to explore—he knew. No matter how much stock he set in movies and television shows, the characters and their journeys to love and redemption and happy endings, that was all they were. Fairytales didn't happen in real life, and certainly not to him. He'd known that ever since he was nine years old, after all, when a boy in his class called Tyler had felt like the first word written after a long, painful, heartbreaking prologue he'd thought would never end.

Tyler had flushed Kurt's handmade Valentine's Day card down the toilet while their classmates looked on, jeering and calling Kurt names that he still didn't like to hear repeated. He'd bitten his tongue then, the sharp pain pushing back the stinging in his eyes... And he'd never really stopped.

Once more Kurt glanced over, the lyrics of the song speaking of memories and Sunday mornings and summers spent listening to Bob Marley. He was just in time to see Blaine and Toby stop dancing, Blaine stepping back with an almost stricken expression on his face. Andrew seemed to notice as well, and they both made a motion to step toward the two men but caught themselves at the last second, exchanging a sheepish grin and shrugging it off. Kurt would get the story later, he thought, and with Blaine and Toby taking up the dance again after a moment, it was easy to do the same.

"Answer me one thing," Andrew said. "Was it a mistake?"

Kurt bit his lip, considering the question. Maybe it was being surrounded by so much happiness and love; maybe it was the image of his parents—so clearly meant to be—dancing in the faded light; maybe it was even the burn of Blaine's gaze from across the room... Whatever it was, it immediately made Kurt want to say, No. It's not a mistake—how could it be when it feels so right, when it feels like I've been waiting for this my entire life? And then on the other hand, how could it not be a mistake? We can't be meant for one another when I've fallen in love alone, when we're supposed to be infinite but instead the end is already in sight.

"I thought it was, at first," he finally answered.

Andrew nodded, seemingly satisfied, and Kurt let himself relax into the final few bars of the song. It ended soon after, Andrew thanking him for the dance and leaving him with a smile to take the hand of Toby's sister just as she was trying to leave the floor. Toby himself was standing with Blaine in the corner closest to the speakers, one hand on Blaine's shoulder. It reminded Kurt of when Blaine had still wanted to follow in Cooper's steps and pursue acting, and Cooper would give him advice on how to impress directors and work with co-stars.

Blaine had won their two-person betting pool on how long Cooper's acting career would last.

When Blaine found him a few minutes later, Kurt was admiring the table of wedding favors—packages of green apples, homemade caramels, and hot apple cider mix, all wrapped in plastic and tied up with twine.

"So what other dances do you know?" he asked, nudging Blaine's shoulder in an effort to distract himself from just how good Blaine looked with his tie loose and sleeves rolled to the elbow. "I'd bet good money that you didn't just stop at ballroom dancing. Maybe salsa? Latin? Line-dance?"

Blaine paused for a moment, looking as if he wanted to talk about something else but ultimately thinking better of it. "I know the tango," he said, fiddling with one of the favors.

"You know the tango," Kurt scoffed. "Sweet, na�ve, awkward, fifteen-year-old Blaine learned the tango? I'll believe that when I see it."

"I'll do you one better," Blaine countered, drawing himself up and grabbing Kurt's hand to drag him back onto the floor just as The Cardigans' Erase/Rewind began pouring from the speakers.

"You want to tango with me to this?" Kurt asked.

"Try to keep up, sweetheart," Blaine quipped.

"I know how to tango," Kurt huffed.

"Not like this, you don't," Blaine told him, pulling Kurt into their opening position. It was a close embrace—a striking difference from what he'd learned in his dance elective. He was used to arching his upper body away from his dance partner while maintaining contact at the hip, but Blaine had the position almost in reverse, their chests flush and heads close. Seeming to notice Kurt's trepidation, Blaine said, "You learned the ballroom tango, if I remember correctly. But this is the Argentine."

And with that, the dance began.

Kurt quickly picked up that the Argentine tango didn't have any basic step. It was an almost completely improvised dance that relied on the follower picking up the lead's unspoken cues. Blaine gently guided him through a basic sistema cruzado, and although the dance concept felt foreign to him after learning the fundamental choreography, Kurt found that it was easy to follow the cues of Blaine's movement. His was a body that Kurt knew, arms that felt so right around him that he wondered again how he could possibly be wrong.

But I was wrong before, even when it felt right, he thought, improvising off the back of a sudden rush of flirtatious courage and hooking his foot around Blaine's calf, dragging it upward. He leaned back, positioning himself into a controlled drop; Blaine led them backward for four steps in time with the beat, and as the song swung down into its chorus, Kurt straightened and took the lead in order to surprise Blaine with a dip of his own.

With Blaine's hazel eyes shining in the light, his chest heaving and limbs pliable, Kurt suddenly understood—like he never had with his other partners during dance class—why they described the tango as an overtly sexual dance.

They continued at a comfortable pace but grew in speed and complexity, and Kurt noticed that more and more guests were moving off the floor to form a large circle around them. He felt momentarily embarrassed that they were stealing the focus, but they couldn't very well stop now. Imbued with the same alien confidence he'd found on stage in Ann Arbor, Kurt showed off by embellishing a pasada onto the end of their promenade.

"I'm impressed," Blaine said, smiling when they went back into a sweetheart walk just before the final chorus.

"Told you I could keep up," Kurt replied, feeling pleased with himself.

"I never really doubted you," Blaine said, glancing at their audience and leaning close to whisper, "I've always thought that this dance is a little like sex, and we both know you're okay at that."

"Just okay, huh?"

"Well, you know what they say..."

"Practice makes perfect?" Kurt supplied, before fixing Blaine with a mock-glare and reminding him, "This coming from the guy who was practically celibate?"

"Well, you can't deny that I'm a fast learner," Blaine said with an almost imperceptible wink. Kurt laughed as Blaine pulled him close again, throwing a few spins into their steps to give their impromptu audience something to watch. Echoing Kurt's own sentiments from the bowling alley in Minneapolis, he said in a low voice, "I've missed us like this."

"Stealing the show?" Kurt bantered.

"You know—"

"—what you mean; of course I do."

Blaine took a breath, his hands flat against Kurt's shoulder blades with their dance almost lost, and whispered, "I wish..."

"You wish what?" Kurt prompted, leading him through a series of crossing, pivoting steps with their chests pressed tightly together and heads held high. When he didn't answer, Kurt pressed his forehead to Blaine's temple and whispered, "Tell me."

"I wish I'd told you about the dancing sooner," Blaine said on an exhale, and nodded to their rapt audience.

"That's all?" Kurt couldn't help but ask. When had he stopped biting his tongue?

"That's all," Blaine confirmed, and Kurt's attention on their conversation was lost as Blaine took the lead once more; he bent Kurt back in one final dip to end their performance. The applause was enthusiastic, and in his periphery, Kurt could see Toby and Andrew's matching, infuriatingly knowing smiles.

And when he looked back up, Blaine was gazing down at him with eyes that reminded him of...

Of harbor lights, guiding him home long after nightfall.



Distance: 6,451 miles