Chapter 12

Blaine paced manically in the sitting room of their suite at the Hotel Aragon. It had been more than six hours since he had last seen Kurt, and he was growing worried.

As he berated himself for letting Kurt go off on his own, Blaine replayed their argument in his mind. What if Kurt was really and truly finished with him? He didn't think he could handle it; it reminded him far too much of Oliver.

Kurt simply didn't understand –– Blaine would lose his trust fund if he didn't marry before he turned 26. His father had rewritten it several years ago when he had learned that Blaine had no intentions to marry, and without his engagement to Quinn, Blaine was penniless. No matter what lifestyle he intended to maintain, he simply couldn't continue in his current lifestyle without money. Likewise, it would be difficult to manage with a wife. He was at an impasse, but the wife could be negotiated, and he had a feeling Quinn would be malleable in that pursuit.

Kurt's engagement to Rachel was another matter entirely. He didn't have to marry her, and yet he was set on doing so. It confounded Blaine to no end, because if he were in Kurt's position, he'd most certainly be living the bachelor's lifestyle in New York and not bothering with a wife and family. Not to mention, he'd stick to his intentions to become an artist and practice Greek love in every way possible — with Kurt if he'd have him.

Why did this all have to be so complicated? Blaine simply wanted to be with the man he loved, who had now been gone for far too long.

Blaine was about to alert the hotel staff to his "brother's" disappearance when Kurt stumbled through the door and landed in a heap on the rug in the sitting room.

"Kurt!" he exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

As he reached down to help Kurt to his feet, the smell of wine and tobacco wafted off of him and assaulted Blaine's senses.

Kurt erupted into a fit of giggles, confirming what Blaine already suspected.

"You're drunk," he stated plainly.

"Only a little," Kurt slurred. "Too much wine."

He clambered to get to his feet, but only succeeded in pulling Blaine on top of him, inciting his laughter anew.

"Kurt, come on," Blaine pleaded. "Get up. This is unbecoming."

"We're alone, silly. No one to see." Kurt began unbuttoning Blaine's waistcoat while looking up at him with flirtatious eyes. Blaine tried to remain cross, but it was to no avail when assaulted with the deep ocean of Kurt's gaze.

"I was so worried about you," Blaine said, kissing the words into Kurt's lips. "Where were you?"

"I made a friend," Kurt said, pouting as he ran a hand through Blaine's hair. "But you wouldn't approve."

Blaine reached up to still his hand; he couldn't think when Kurt was touching him like that. "Why not, my darling?"

"Because it was that dandy we saw... earlier today." Kurt toyed with the buttons of Blaine's shirt as he talked, his nimble fingers tantalizing in the way they danced over the fabric like Blaine wanted them traversing his skin. "Remember?"

As Kurt's words slowly sank in, Blaine pulled back from Kurt's grasp and rose to standing, leaving Kurt pouting up at him from the floor.

"What were you thinking?" Blaine demanded. Any number of things could have happened to Kurt running around with a man like that. If anyone had suspected...

"See, I knew you'd be cross," Kurt said with a sigh as he leaned back and laid himself out, right there on the floor.

"I'm not cross, dammit! I'm worried. People don't approve of that sort of lifestyle, Kurt. You could have been killed."

Kurt waved a lazy hand at him, effectively dismissing Blaine's concern. "We were fine," he said. "We shared a few drinks, a meal, and then we took the street car. Completely respectable." He nodded to emphasize his words and then dropped his head back on the floor.

"Kurt..."

"I'm perfectly fine, Blaine," Kurt insisted. "Apart from having had a bit too much wine." He grabbed his head and opened one eye to peer up at Blaine. "Now please join me down here, or I shall be forced to drag you down by your ankles."

"Kurt, we should talk," Blaine said, still feeling askew from his worry and the argument that had caused Kurt to disappear for the better part of the afternoon and evening.

"Then come down here and talk to me," Kurt said, holding out his arms in invitation.

Blaine couldn't resist such an offer, quickly lowering himself to his knees and sprawling out alongside Kurt in the middle of their sitting room. Kurt was warm and smiling, and despite the earlier tension, Blaine felt himself getting lost in the consolation of his presence. He listened to their breathing for a time, each inhale and exhale taking his anger and converting it to the need for his lover's reassurance.

"Why did you run off?" he asked when he could bear the silence no longer.

Kurt immediately reached out for Blaine's hand and interlaced their fingers. His breathing was steady, but Blaine could sense the tension returning to his body even as he gripped the man's hand tighter.

"Because you don't understand why I have to marry Rachel," Kurt said, matter-of-factly.

"So why don't you tell me?" Blaine prompted, curling his body in toward Kurt so that he was lying on his side, studying Kurt's exquisite profile.

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed heavily, a high flush still on his cheeks from the wine he had consumed. He looked stunning, and although Blaine longed to tell him so, he sensed this was not the time.

"Sometimes I think you have it so easy," Kurt said. He lifted their joined hands and stared at them for a moment before pulling them to his lips and kissing Blaine's. "And then I remember your life isn't perfect either."

"It's far from perfect, I assure you."

"I know... " he trailed off, and ran the back of Blaine's hand along his own cheek.

Blaine loved Kurt like this, loose and free under the haze of wine, but he needed them to finish this conversation, if only for his own peace of mind.

"I love Rachel," Kurt said suddenly. "She's practically family."

"But it's not the same."

"No," Kurt replied, turning his head toward Blaine and smiling fondly at him. "It's not the same."

"You don't have to marry her," Blaine said softly, hoping Kurt was receptive to discussing it. "You have dreams. I can't bear to see you give that all up for someone you don't love."

"Blaine, I made a promise," Kurt said, turning to face him. "That means something to me, and I can't do that to her. She needs me."

Blaine couldn't believe it never occurred to him before, that Kurt might be marrying Rachel for selfless reasons. The irony, of course, was that Kurt had told him that himself the night they met. He wanted to take care of Rachel and keep her mother from having to remarry. Blaine suddenly felt very stupid and small.

"I– I didn't realize," Blaine said. "I never thought..." He paused, leaning forward to kiss Kurt on the lips, hoping he could truly sense the apology as he said, "I'm sorry."

"I know," Kurt said. "I'm sorry, too. For running off like that. But you bought that stupid pin and I couldn't take it anymore. You have everything I want, Blaine... everything."

"Not everything," Blaine insisted, knowing that even though he'd never had to make a promise to anyone the way Kurt had promised Rachel, he still had his family's expectations to live up to.

"No, but Quinn would recover if you chose not to marry her."

"Perhaps, but my family wouldn't. My reasons for marrying may be more selfish than yours, Kurt, but they are still commitments that I must honor."

Blaine also hadn't forgotten his promise to God that if Kurt survived his illness, he would marry Quinn and do what his family expected. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but he felt the weight of obligation nonetheless.

"Are you really penniless if you don't marry?" The sweetly sad concern in Kurt's voice pulled Blaine from his thoughts. He reached out to stroke Kurt's cheek.

"Penniless and without any reliable trade to fall back on, I'm afraid."

"What about your job offer from Mr. Flagler?" Kurt asked, his eyes fluttering closed under Blaine's touch.

"I have a feeling that if I turn my back on my family, all such offers would dry up," Blaine replied.

"I could hire you," Kurt said.

"Whatever for?" Blaine asked with a laugh.

Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration, and then his face broke out into a wide, teasing smile. "You could be my valet," he said. "Although, I couldn't pay you. At least not with money."

"Well, how do you plan on compensating me for my services, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked, inching closer to Kurt on the floor.

"Like this," Kurt said, leaning forward and kissing Blaine full on the lips.

Blaine opened his mouth to encourage Kurt's efforts, savoring the closeness between them, until the unyielding surface of the floor dug into his left hip and urged him off the ground.

"Come to bed," Blaine urged.

Kurt hummed his acknowledgement, his lips pursed together as if he were memorizing the feel of Blaine's mouth covering his. Blaine felt his heart swell at the sight of him, flushed and still a little tipsy and almost luminescent in the fading light of the fire.

Blaine rose quickly, extending a hand to help Kurt up. Swaying only a little, Kurt leaned into him as he stood, resting his free hand at Blaine's waist and kissing him softly on the neck, just above his collar. Blaine gasped at the contact, a mix of affection and seduction that made him eager to get them both to bed, and even more importantly, undressed.

Kurt's hand felt warm and familiar in his own; he hadn't realized how quickly that had happened, Kurt's presence had become a safe place for him. It was home.

Stopping in the doorway of the bedroom, he turned to face Kurt, leaning in so their lips were nearly touching, a mere breath apart, and whispered, "Kiss me."

Kurt complied, and soon Blaine was nearly drowning in Kurt once more. When they pulled apart, Kurt's eyes were swimming in tears, as if he were just holding back the emotion and keeping himself from crying.

"What is it, my love?" Blaine asked, cupping Kurt's cheek gently in his palm as he searched his lover's eyes for answers.

"I'm just so happy," Kurt said with a laugh that he choked off with a half sob. "To be here, with you... in this place. It's everything. I wish we didn't have to go back."

Blaine closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Kurt's, knowing every word Kurt said as if it were his own. It seemed so unjust that he should be destined to fall in love with the one person whom he could never have. That he would be cursed with the burden of betraying his true self to preserve appearances, while the man he loved must do the same.

Just as he was about to pull away, Blaine felt Kurt's fingers close around his hand where it was still resting on his cheek. He gripped Kurt's hand tightly and pulled it toward himself, letting his lips graze Kurt's knuckles.

"I was so worried I would lose you," he said, and reverently kissed Kurt's fingertips. "I would be so lost without you."

"You're never going to lose me," Kurt assured. "Not because of yellow fever, and certainly not from something as silly as a disagreement."

"Promise me," Blaine said, taking both of Kurt's hands in his own. "Promise me that when we're back in New York, we'll find a way. Whatever it takes, we'll make time for each other."

"I promise," Kurt said, his smile so wide it creased the skin at the corner of his eyes. "Whatever it takes."

The entire trip had gone by altogether too quickly and yet it somehow also blurred together in Blaine's mind, but he had a surprise planned for their final day together, and he made careful conversation with Kurt waiting for the appropriate time. Kurt remained by his side, though, never wavering in his affections or his perfection. Blaine dreaded their return to St. Augustine and his grandfather's watchful presence.

Lying in bed on their final full day in Atlanta, Blaine could do nothing but think of ways he and Kurt could steal away moments from their everyday lives to find a little of what they had shared in this city.

"We should come back this fall and go to the Expo," Blaine said, his hand wandering lazily up and down Kurt's back and neck, tracing a line he'd earlier mapped out in kisses.

"I'll be married by then," Kurt said without opening his eyes. "And you'll be engaged."

Blaine took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly as his left hand lingered in the dip of Kurt's lower back.

"Things won't be the same when we go back to New York," Kurt said when his hand stilled.

"I'm afraid not," Blaine said.

"This all feels like it has a time limit, or like I'm dreaming," Kurt said, curling tighter into Blaine's side. "I never want to wake up."

Blaine stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and reached down to pull Kurt up to him. Placing his hands on either side of Kurt's face, he kissed him full on the lips and then rested their foreheads together.

"Promise me you'll never stop dreaming," he urged, closing his eyes and drinking in the closeness of his lover. "No matter if it's about love or dressmaking or what. You never stop dreaming, Kurt. Ever."

Kurt was propped up awkwardly on his own hands, his body leaning forward as he strained to stay upright, but Blaine wouldn't let him go. He needed Kurt to know – needed him to understand that what they had was the most precious thing he'd ever known. It was the absolute best part of him and everything he'd never dared to dream.

"You make me feel like I'm living a dream, Blaine."

Blaine surged up to kiss him, knocking Kurt over with the force; they landed in a tangle on the sheets.

"Oh, if I could stay here with you forever, I would," Blaine said, stretching to reach for the small box he had stashed under the bed, kissing Kurt all the while so he wouldn't see what Blaine was up to. When his hand closed tightly around the bundle, he pulled back and smiled at Kurt. "But since I know we have to part ways from time to time, I wanted you to have something to always remember me by. So that I'm with you in some way when I can't physically be there."

Kurt's eyes went wide as Blaine pulled the box from behind his back with a flourish, holding it between them.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Blaine said.

"Blaine, I didn't get you anything," Kurt said, sounding scandalized.

Laughter bubbled up from inside Blaine at Kurt's reaction. As if he ever wanted anything from Kurt but his love. "Will you just open it?" he insisted, nudging Kurt's hand.

Kurt didn't move for a long moment, but then his face broke into a wide smile, his countenance suddenly that of an eager child; Blaine couldn't help but feel validated by the entire experience. Watching Kurt excitedly tearing into the package warmed him from the inside out. Kurt gasped when he saw what Blaine had gotten him: a sterling silver cigarette case.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, turning it over in his hands and stroking the metal reverently, as if it might disappear from his grasp at any moment.

Kurt's exuberance radiated from him, pulling Blaine into its orbit, a place Blaine would happily stay forever if he could.

"I saw it when I bought Quinn's ring and knew you had to have it. I even had the jeweler engrave it for you."

The design was an intricate, swirling pattern of orange blossoms that intertwined to form an oval surrounding three distinct letters — Kurt's monogram — and in the upper right hand corner, a tiny bee was pollinating the flowers.

"Blaine, this is too much."

"Nonsense," he replied, waving off Kurt's protest. "There's no such thing as too much where you're concerned."

"How will I explain this to my father?" Kurt asked.

"Tell him you got lucky at a hand of poker and thought you'd treat yourself."

"He'd never believe that," Kurt said. "I'm always so practical with my money."

"Then tell him I'm the one with the good fortune."

"Well, now that he might believe."

When they pulled into the station in St. Augustine, a light rain was falling, leaving an icy chill in the air that seemed to reflect how Blaine was feeling.

"We should get you into the carriage," he said to Kurt. "It wouldn't do for you to catch a cold on the heels of yellow fever."

"You're like a nervous mother hen," Kurt chided. Even so, he let Blaine help him into the cab of the carriage as the attendants unloaded their luggage.

When they were alone again and heading east toward Markland and the Ponce, Blaine took Kurt's hand for a moment, not yet ready for their time together to be at an end. "Did you enjoy the trip?" he asked, gazing at their intertwined fingers.

Leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder, he replied, "It was perfect... especially Valentine's Day."

"I'm glad."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and turned to look out the window. The town looked exactly the same as when they left, but Blaine knew everything was about to change. He sensed Kurt knew it too, but there was no point in belaboring the simple fact.

As the carriage pulled up in front of Markland, Blaine heaved a weary sigh at the sight of his grandfather sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. "I wasn't expecting him home this early," he said.

"Do you suppose something's wrong?" Kurt asked.

"Doubtful," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hand one last time before releasing it. "I'm not sure when I'll get to see you again, but I'll try to meet up with you after dinner tomorrow night."

Kurt nodded and tried to smile, but it fell just short, his lips barely twitching as Blaine stepped out of the carriage.

"I love you," he whispered, just loud enough that Blaine could make it out.

He couldn't risk replying audibly with Jenkins rushing up to help him with his luggage, so he simply nodded and offered a smile, hoping it would be enough. Turning to greet his grandfather, he shifted his expression to his society smile, straightening his back as he climbed the porch stairs. He tried to ignore the sound of the retreating carriage over the dirt and cobblestone as it carried his heart away.

"You're home early," Blaine said.

"Yes, well, I thought someone should be here to greet you when you returned," Dr. Anderson replied, tapping his pipe on the edge of his chair to dislodge the old tobacco.

Blaine could sense the mood shifting, and he braced himself for the impact. "We have arrangements to make."

Dr. Anderson stuffed a fresh pinch of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe and packed it down before lighting it, sucking firmly on the mouthpiece.

"Indeed we do," his grandfather replied, leaning back and leveling Blaine with a stern look. "Now, why don't you tell me what on earth you were thinking taking that Hummel boy with you to Atlanta."

"Grandfather, I—"

"I told you to stay away from him," Dr. Anderson interrupted. "He's not good for you... or this family."

"You have no idea what is good for me," Blaine spat.

"I know a damn sight more than you think!"

Blaine felt his temper flare up and course hotly through him. His grandfather had no idea what Blaine was going through, least of all what was best for him or for Kurt. "I've complied with your wishes – and my father's. I'm proposing to Miss Fabray. What more could you possibly want from me?"

His grandfather's face softened, and Blaine wondered if that was genuine concern he was seeing in the old man's eyes. Dr. Anderson stood up and placed both his hands on Blaine's shoulders. It was the first time he'd touched him with any sort of affection since Blaine had arrived in St. Augustine. "Blaine, I don't want you to endanger yourself. This isn't a game."

"Don't be ridiculous," Blaine said, unable to meet his gaze. "You don't care about me... just our family name."

"Quite the contrary, Blaine," he said, patting him on the back as he released his grip. "I care a great deal. We're family, and I'm trying to look after you."

"Why?"

His grandfather paused, puffing on his pipe, and for a moment, Blaine wasn't sure he would answer.

"Because you remind me of myself when I was your age." His voice was low, but clear.

Still, Blaine wasn't sure he'd heard the man correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"We're more alike than you know." Dr. Anderson didn't elaborate, but his gaze was steady, and Blaine wondered what he meant. Something about the look in the man's eyes made Blaine certain his grandfather knew something, but what that something was he couldn't say.

"How did you know Kurt was in Atlanta with me?" Blaine asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

His grandfather shifted uncomfortably on his feet and drew another long pull from his pipe. The silence seemed interminably long before he finally answered, "Mr. Pratt is an old... friend, and he thought it significant and urgent information for me to have. He sent me a wire after you and Kurt left his shop."

His tone was so infuriatingly calm, it only served to anger Blaine more. It felt like a betrayal for his grandfather to be so flippant when Blaine was watching his world crumble around him.

"You're having me watched?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Mr. Pratt just understands these sorts of things. He was looking out for our interests, my boy."

"What do you mean, 'these sorts of things'?"

Dr. Anderson waved a dismissive hand in Blaine's direction. "Nevermind," he said. "Dinner should be ready by now, and I had Jenkins set an extra place. Mary will be delighted to see you."

"I'm not hungry," Blaine muttered as they entered the house.

His voice must have carried because Mary poked her head out of the dining room and said, "Nonsense. You've been traveling all day; you need to eat."

All through dinner, Blaine tried to puzzle out what his grandfather had meant about Mr. Pratt. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with the man about Kurt's cigarette case, and wondered if he'd given anything away.

Blaine had been about to leave the shop, when he saw the cigarette cases in the corner case.

"Mr. Pratt," he'd said. "I'd like to place one more order... for a friend."

He'd decided on the design immediately, choosing the orange blossoms for their significance to his relationship with Kurt, and the monogram had been Mr. Pratt's idea. The bee, however, had been a stroke of inspiration on Blaine's part.

Mr. Pratt had asked him if he wanted anything else engraved on the case and Blaine was about to say no when he saw another pin nestled beside the empty space left by the gift he'd bought for Rachel. It was a tiny bee, and he was suddenly reminded of the nickname his mother had given him when he was just a small child.

"My little honey bee," he'd said out loud.

"I'm sorry?" Pratt had asked.

"A bee," Blaine said. "In the corner... pollinating the flowers." He remembered scrambling a bit after that to explain himself. "To, uh... make it more personal," he'd finally stammered out.

Mr. Pratt had simply smiled and nodded, finishing the order and promising to deliver it to the hotel the next day.

As Blaine was exiting the shop, the jeweler had said something that, at the time, had baffled him. Now he thought he knew what the man had meant.

"Good luck to you, Mr. Anderson. Please give my regards to Mr. Hummel. You boys may be luckier than we were."

Blaine's fork fell from his grip at the realization. Did his grandfather know? He had to have known, and if he and Mr. Pratt were old friends, surely his grandfather knew what had happened.

"Blaine," Mary said softly. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"He's fine, darling," his grandfather replied. "Probably just tired from traveling." When Blaine didn't immediately confirm, he prompted, "Right, Blaine?"

"Um, yes..." Blaine replied, shifting in his seat. "Actually, I think I'm going to retire early. If you'll excuse me."

He was out of his chair before either of them responded, climbing the stairs two at a time. When he got to his room, he shut the door firmly behind him and sat down on the edge of his bed.

His grandfather knew.

Nothing more was said on the matter, and Blaine had other things with which to concern himself, so he didn't give it much thought. If his grandfather didn't feel the need to confront him, there was no need for him to worry over it.

Besides, he had a proposal to plan, and more importantly, he needed to let Kurt know that it was going to happen sooner rather than later.

He decided to approach Kurt the next night after dinner. After searching the dining room for him to no avail, he found him in the smoking room, reading a book and nursing a whiskey.

As always, Kurt looked as if he'd been plucked from a work of art and dropped in the real world, a magical being who held Blaine captive in its aura. As Blaine strode across the room, his joy at seeing Kurt warred with his anguish that they were being pushed ever further apart by their circumstances. But as it wouldn't help to dwell on that, he put a smile on his face and said, "Will you join me for a stroll?"

Kurt looked up and smiled broadly before catching himself and forcing it into a more neutral expression. He glanced around nervously, but Blaine could see Kurt's shoulders relax when he found no one was watching them.

"Come on," Blaine prompted, tilting his head in the direction of the door. Kurt rose without a word and followed as Blaine led them down the hallway outside the smoking room and through the carriage way to the place where they had first talked the night the met: the orange groves.

"How did things go with your grandfather?" Kurt asked. His hands were buried in his pockets, but his posture was tall, his back a straight line holding his pride on clear display.

Blaine shook his head and choked out a laugh as he reached in his pocket for his cigarette case.

"He knows... about us."

Kurt's eyes went wide in shock. "How?"

Blaine shrugged; he was mostly over the surprise himself, but could appreciate Kurt's worry. "The jeweler told him you traveled to Atlanta with me, and from what I understand, Mr. Pratt has experience with Greek love himself."

"I knew there was something about him," Kurt said. "I couldn't quite put my finger on it." Kurt paused, his expression shifting from shock to concern, and Blaine watched as the dread he had been feeling began to sink in for Kurt as well. "So what does that mean... for us?"

"I couldn't say," Blaine replied. "He hasn't said anything to me apart from repeating his wish that I shouldn't be seen with you."

"Oh," was all Kurt said, looking like the air had been stolen from his lungs.

Blaine could see in the hazy glow of the light escaping from stained glass windows of the dining room that Kurt's eyes were glistening with tears. "Don't cry, my love," he whispered. "We'll find a way."

"How?" Kurt asked, sounding as desperate as Blaine felt. "The world will always be against us, Blaine. This is our fate."

"I refuse to accept that."

"And what do you propose we do, then?"

Kurt's tears were now freely flowing, and Blaine felt himself begin to tear up as well. How had he come to love someone so much in such a short period of time? It didn't seem possible, and yet, it simply was. It was everything, and the thought of having it ripped from him was more than he could bear.

In a moment of near desperation, Blaine had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out to comfort them both. It took everything Blaine had not to grab Kurt in his arms and clutch his lover's body to his own.

"I don't know," he choked out, "but I need you to trust me that we can figure this out... Please."

At Blaine's "please," Kurt visibly straightened, as if the word had given him the strength he needed to endure. "Alright," he replied. "We'll manage somehow."

Giving in to the moment, Blaine let his tears fall as he dared to step closer to Kurt. Shielded by the darkness, he allowed his fingertips to graze the palm of Kurt's hand – just a momentary, fleeting touch, but it was enough.

"I'm proposing to Quinn tomorrow," he stated mechanically, knowing Kurt would be put out by the news, but hoping he could soften the blow somehow.

Blaine closed his eyes, feeling the cool night air on his face as he braced himself for Kurt's response. But when he opened his eyes, he found Kurt smiling through his tears.

"Oh, that's perfect," he said.

"It is?"

"Of course it is, Blaine. Once you're engaged, you'll be allowed to spend time alone with her, which means your grandfather won't be following your every move, nor will the Fabrays be as concerned with your whereabouts. You're free to do as you wish... more or less."

"But I'll still be expected to spend time with Quinn."

"Well, that's true, but not every waking moment, and as you said, we'll find a way."

Blaine smiled, humbled by his love for Kurt. "You're simply amazing," he said.

The praise seemed to lift Kurt's spirits, bringing back the lightness in his eyes that Blaine so adored. It was almost worth having to get married to a woman he didn't love just to see Kurt looking happy and free. He cherished it.

"Have you given any thought as to how you will ask her?" Kurt wondered.

"I was planning to call on her in the sitting room of their suite."

Kurt looked positively scandalized. "Oh, Blaine, you can't! Not with her parents in the next room," he said. "You have to make it special."

The laughter that escaped from Blaine's mouth did so without his consent, but it felt good nonetheless. The sound echoed off the coquina of the building and filled the orange grove with its cheerful tones.

"How is it that you always surprise me, Kurt? I never know what you will do next."

"One of my many charms, I assure you," Kurt teased.

Blaine was about to reply when Kurt held up a single finger to quiet him. He furrowed his brow, looking deep in thought as he paced a small square between the trees. Blaine watched as Kurt stopped, his face lighting up and he turned his head to look at Blaine. "You should do it in the courtyard... at sunset," Kurt said. "She'd like that."

Blaine surged forward, risking everything but not caring in the slightest as he practically shoved Kurt behind the nearest orange tree to shield them both from view. Rising up on his toes, he pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's mouth, savoring the warmth for a brief moment before he released them both from love's perilous grasp.

"You are my true love, Kurt," he confessed. "Never in all of your days forget that."

"How could I," Kurt said, his words tumbling out in a breathless rush, "with you here to remind me."

"Always."

Blaine had left Kurt in the orange grove, both of them smiling, and awoke the next morning feeling a lightness in his heart that he hadn't expected when he'd set out to find Kurt the night before. Knowing he was to propose to Quinn should have made him morose and disagreeable, but instead he felt as if the door to his cage had been left open, allowing him to fly free. The cage would forever be his home, but he needn't fear it so long as he had Kurt to cling to.

He sought out Mr. Fabray after breakfast to ask to call on Quinn in the afternoon. Everything was set in motion, and now all he had to do was make it official.

Strolling through the courtyard with Quinn on his arm, he felt the weight of it all pressing down on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure he could go through with it.

"You seem out of sorts, Mr. Anderson," Quinn said, her lips quirking upward into a pleasant smile.

Blaine cleared his throat. "I think it's all the travel," he said. "It always wears me out."

Quinn nodded knowingly. "How was your trip?" she asked.

"Productive," Blaine said, keeping his expression solemn to mask the effusive things he wanted to say about enjoying Kurt's company unimpeded for five days. "The doctor said Mr. Hummel should make a full recovery."

"That's wonderful news," Quinn replied with a genuine smile.

"It is indeed."

Blaine knew he should get on with his task and propose to Quinn, but the lump in his throat gave him pause. Vaguely aware that Quinn was still talking, he tried to imagine what he would say to Kurt if he were able to propose marriage to him instead. What professions would he make? Would he go down on one knee?

And suddenly he knew. He couldn't ask Quinn in the same manner he would ask Kurt because he did not love her, but he could make a genuine offer to take care of her and be her friend and companion.

"Mother says—"

"Quinn," Blaine interrupted as he halted their steps.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson?" Even though Blaine had interrupted her, she did not look cross. Ever the lady, she was smiling brightly at him, attentive to what he had to say.

Glancing around quickly, he found a place they would be afforded a bit more privacy, and he pulled Quinn under the protection of one of the loggias. Blaine squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

"My darling," he said, hoping the words didn't sound as forced as they felt. The taste of the endearment on his lips soured because he knew it was usually reserved for Kurt. "I have a very important question to ask you."

"Of course," Quinn said. "You know you can ask me anything."

"Of course." Blaine began to pace in front of her. "Well... that is..."

"Maybe if you sat down," Quinn offered, gesturing toward a pair of chairs behind her. Her gloved hand created a stark contrast against the dark gray of the coquina, drawing Blaine's attentions to her delicate fingers, one of which he was about to place a ring on.

It was as if all the air had been drained from his lungs with the forming of the thought. "I think I will sit down," he said.

He dropped into the chair and rested his elbows on his thighs, an undignified posture, but he needed to catch his breath.

Quinn took the seat next to him and leaned forward to see his face. "Are you alright?"

Having trouble finding his words, Blaine simply nodded as he forced himself to take several deep breaths. Finally his breathing calmed and he looked up to see Quinn's brow furrowed with worry. She tried to smile, but it resembled more of a grimace, and it made Blaine feel positively awful.

"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry," Blaine said, taking her hand.

The action shook her out of her concern for Blaine as she gazed wide-eyed at Blaine's hand where it rested lightly over hers. "Mr. Anderson," she said. "You're holding my hand."

Blaine followed her gaze and was also shocked to find he had taken her hand in such a forward manner, but he didn't retreat. Instead, he raised his chin and waited for her to make eye contact. "I am," he said.

Quinn blinked her eyes slowly as her gaze returned to Blaine's face. Her face was soft and inquisitive as her green eyes found Blaine's hazel ones.

Swallowing heavily, Blaine continued, "I'm sorry to be so forward, Quinn, but I wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"I wanted to ask you, if you'd do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage."

Quinn's free hand shot up to cover her mouth, and Blaine could see she was shaking.

"I have a ring," he said, fumbling for his pocket. "Here." He thrust the tiny box toward her, only to realize she still hadn't responded. "Miss Fabray, did you hear what I said?"

"I... yes," she squeaked.

"Yes, you heard me? Or yes, you'll marry me?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes... a thousand times yes." Quinn bounced on her seat as she yanked off her glove and allowed Blaine to place the diamond on her finger.

"I saw this in Atlanta and knew it was meant to be yours," Blaine said, gently sliding the ring over her knuckle.

Quinn extended her arm out in front of her, allowing the gem to capture the light. It sparkled in the haze of twilight and the electric bulbs over their heads. "It's beautiful."

Blaine reached out to hold her hand yet again, a gesture that would no longer be forbidden now that they were engaged to be married.

Just over Quinn's shoulder, a flash of movement caught his eye. Squinting to make out the shape in the growing darkness, he caught a glimpse of a familiar profile.

"Kurt," he said.

"I beg your pardon," Quinn said, looking confused.

"Uh, K-Kurt..." Blaine stammered, "He, uh... helped me pick out the ring."

Quinn smiled. "What a lovely gesture," she said. "You must thank him for me."

"Of course," Blaine said, his heart sinking as he watched Kurt duck behind an archway and head back toward the hotel entrance.

Blaine only hoped that Kurt knew his heart had followed him, even if his body couldn't.