Wear My Tattoo: Chapter 1

"You sure you don't want to jerk off? That always helps me when I'm nervous."

Blaine glared at Puck.

"Puck, it's my wedding day. No, I don't want to...I want to save myself for Kurt."

Puck snorted. "It's a little late for that, friend."

Blaine sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. He knew why he was keyed up; at Kurt's insistence they hadn't seen each other for a week, other than their brief meeting after the soul-walks. And that brief meeting had only made it worse; he had seen Kurt, only to have this powerful conversation about the intense spiritual experience that each of them had had, the experience that led Blaine to know in his mind what he had always known in his heart - that this was not just some run of the mill little until-death kind of forever. This was a big forever. This was forever, across time and distance and life and death. Even if there came a time when every sun burnt out, when every universe became a cold and lifeless place, even then their essences would curl around one another in some small corner of the void. Even then they would find each other.

They would always find each other.

It was such an intense revelation, and one he'd had on a subconscious level once before according to both Kurt and Puck and his guide. But now he remembered. Now he could close his eyes and actually recall a detail here or there of those other lives he had seen. There were far too many to remember any single one in true detail; most he just recalled by feel. The one that feels really short and sad, or The one that feels like the beach, drunk on nectar, or The one where I can't see but everything feels so warm.

They talked a bit and then went through the formality ("Yes, I both desire and choose to join with you for my lifetime," was what they had to say before parting ways to make it official, though the promise seemed decidedly measly after what Blaine had seen on his soul-walk). Blaine had then tried to pull Kurt close, but Kurt had slipped out of his arms gracefully and bid him goodnight without so much as a kiss.

Kurt had looked so delicious that Blaine thought he was going to absolutely lose his mind, the worst of it being that he had already decided not to relieve his aching tension until the wedding night ( or perhaps the wedding afternoon? They could slip out early...surely no one would notice...).

And now Puck was trying to convince him to...

"No," Blaine reiterated firmly. "I'll...I'll be fine. I'm not really nervous anyway."

Lies. Blaine was incredibly nervous. He knew he had no reason to be, that they had pledged themselves to this completely, but he wouldn't feel wholly satisfied until Kurt wore his tattoo. Until it was there, permanent and unique and etched into his very flesh, everything could still go horribly wrong. Kurt could still change his mind.

Blaine took a deep breath and downed the glass of nectar that Puck handed him. Yes, he was actually willing to risk a drink from Puck. If that didn't say something about his nerves, then nothing would.

Kurt was fuming when he left the supply store.

He shouldn't have even gone in, he should have been bathing and rubbing himself with fragrant oils until there was no doubt whatsoever that Blaine would be downright drunk off of him by the time they were alone together. The week had been so difficult, and Kurt wanted to make the wait worth it in every way.

Blaine had said he wanted a traditional Sidhe ceremony, had waved away Kurt's suggestion that they incorporate some Villaluan elements to make it feel a bit more balanced, and this was part of the Sidhe tradition. Well, going without seeing one another for a week was perhaps an extreme interpretation, but refraining from sexual activity for a week before the ceremony was required. In the end, Kurt had decided that avoiding one another altogether would be the only way to make it work, because they'd never gone a week without making love before, and Kurt wasn't confident that they could keep their hands off of one another if they had to see each other every day.

But now? Kurt had survived the week but was on the very verge of sabotaging it altogether regardless. His seamstress had needed to go to the shop for some last-minute bits and ends and Kurt, restless, had decided to accompany her. As he perused some of the more exotic-looking human foodstuffs, wondering if he should get some for Blaine, he had heard that boy – that horrible boy speaking with his friend.

Kurt hated that boy. He hated the way he looked at Blaine, the way he simply helped himself to his whole body with his greedy green eyes. He hated how he laughed like bells whenever Blaine said something charming, which of course was often, and he hated how he always found a way to stand just a bit too close, managed to find an excuse to touch Blaine's shoulder or arm, the way he talked to Blaine like he didn't see the promise pendant, like he didn't see Kurt glowering beside him.

Kurt knew that it was only a matter of time before he simply lost control and unleashed on the boy, and if it weren't his wedding day, today would be the day.

Because the boy was talking about Blaine at that very moment.

"He wears a promise pendant," the boy's friend was admonishing him.

The boy laughed. "Pendants come off, Rya. They aren't tattoos."

"Well, it will be a tattoo soon enough. And surely even you couldn't stoop that low."

The boy laughed again. "Oh, please. You see how he looks at me. I know his type; he's just got a Sidhe fetish. He'll get bored and come looking for a distraction soon enough. And tattoo or no tattoo, I think my chances of getting to enjoy him are quite good."

Rya gasped. "Oh, you're horrible," she said, giggling slightly. Well, at least she'd got that part right.

Kurt was nearly blind with rage.

This boy had asked if she had seen how Blaine looked at him? At him?

I'll show you what lust looks like on Blaine, boy. It's something you'll only see if you catch him looking at me. Because I am his, and he is mine. MINE.

And that is when Kurt nearly cracked. That is when he nearly ran out of the store to look for Blaine, so that he could bring him back and throw him down and take him in front of this boy, so the boy could see how much Blaine loved it, how the only name Blaine ever called out in the throes of ecstasy was Kurt's. Blaine would never need a distraction, because Kurt would never give him reason to look elsewhere. Starting now. Right now.

Oh, gods. It had been a week. What if it was too much? What if Blaine had been giving appreciative looks to the horrible boy? What if...

No. The idea that Blaine couldn't go a week without him before he started looking elsewhere was insane. Blaine was loyal and Blaine was in love with him. And Kurt wanted to absolutely murder that horrible, horrible boy.

Luckily it wasn't another moment before his seamstress was pulling him out of the shop, nattering on about all the things they needed to do to be ready for the ceremony. Kurt glanced back at the boy as they departed, and he caught his eye for a brief moment, the boy seeming to pale visibly at the rage in his eyes.

Kurt was still fuming when he left the store, but he let it trail away. He knew Blaine would never betray him, but still. It would just feel so wonderful, so right when Blaine finally wore his tattoo. The the world would know that he belonged with Kurt. That their commitment was more than words spoken, that it had become a physical part of them both.

And if that horrible boy at the supply store even thought about making a pass at Kurt's husband, well, Kurt might just have to destroy him. And that was that.

At first Blaine had just planned to wear whatever the traditional Sidhe wedding garb might be, but some of his human friends took him in hand and insisted that he reconsider.

"Blaine, you're not a Sidhe. And you have nothing to be ashamed of," Sanya told him. "It isn't human nature that is inherently corrupt, it's Villaluan culture. There's nothing wrong with staying connected to your roots."

Blaine had sighed bitterly. "Sanya, I could never marry someone I loved in a Villaluan ceremony, even if that someone had turned out to be human. I have no desire to scramble for scraps. They can have their so-called marriages where men trade women like cattle. Marriage for The Sidhe is about deep love and carefully thought-out commitment. All I want is-"

"All right, fine, I'll say it. You would look absolutely ridiculous in one of those togas."

Blaine blinked. "Togas?"

Rynn, one of the sweet older human men that lived next door to Kurt and Blaine, stifled a giggle.

"It's actually quite a breathtaking garment," Kiri assured him, "on a Sidhe." Kiri worked on Sanya's farm with Blaine. Her husband was a Sidhe.

"I...but...a toga? Really?" Blaine was sure Kurt would look beautiful no matter what he wore, but the idea of a toga as a wedding garment struck him as incredibly odd.

"You'll understand when you see him in it," Sanya assured him. "But...I don't know. It really just works so well with the lines of their bodies and the way that they move...you know. But you...I say we dress you like a proper Villaluan groom. If nothing else, just think about how much it would bother the Followers of Frilau to see you dressed all fine to marry an elfin boy in Khryslee."

Blaine smiled. That was a fun thought.

When the time finally arrived to get dressed for the ceremony, Puck handed him each article of clothing with a snort.

"You're getting married in this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Shut up," Blaine muttered. "I don't even know why I asked you to be my groom's assistant."

"I do," Puck said, grinning. "It's because if it weren't for me, you and Kurt wouldn't even be together right now."

Blaine stared at him. "You honestly believe that."

"I honestly know that. If I hadn't sent you along on Kurt's soul-walk back in the good old North tower-"

"Puck. I...you can't...you drugged me, Puck!"

"Hey. I was looking out for you. I always wanted Kurt to go for you instead of Firae. Gods, with that stick up his ass there probably wouldn't even be room for Kurt to-"

"Okay, Puck. Let's just...just help me with these laces, all right?"

Because there were so very many laces. There were laces everywhere. Blaine had been fitted with perfectly tailored long breeches in soft, light gray, a crisp white shirt and a charcoal-colored waistcoat. Like Kurt, he would be barefoot.

The thing was, when Sanya had told the seamstress to outfit Blaine like a proper Villaluan groom, she had taken the request quite literally. There was not a button in sight, though when properly laced, Blaine did have to admit that the clothing fit him quite well. The lacing allowed the garments to follow the lines of Blaine's body perfectly, highlighting all of his best assests (of which there were more than Blaine realized), and creating an elegant overall presentation. When he was fully dressed, Puck tucked a rose - thankfully free of thorns- behind his ear.

"There." Puck looked satisfied. "Now you at least look something like a proper groom. Breeches, Blaine, really? A shirt?"

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"You do look...ah...nice, though," Puck conceded. "I think Kurt will like it."

"Yeah?" Blaine asked, his nerves suddenly grabbing hold of him again.

"Yeah. You want another drink before you go out there?"

Blaine eyed the bottle in Puck's hand suspiciously. "Puck, if you even think about-"

"Blaine, I wouldn't do anything like that to you today."

"Might I remind you of a certain note that you-"

"Blaine." Blaine looked up in surprise at the tone. Puck was steadfastly avoiding his eyes, and was paying far too much attention to straightening Blaine's already-perfectly-straight collar.

"Not...not today, all right? I wouldn't do anything that could ruin today."

Blaine could have sworn he heard Puck's voice shake when he said it.

He took the drink.

Finally, it was time.

The ceremony was quite different from any that Blaine had seen in Villalu. He had been to the clearing before with Kurt; they had chosen this spot together because it was beautiful and serene and somehow radiated intimacy. It felt different with all of those people, though. Suddenly Blaine felt very nervous. The fact that he was actually going to be holding his heart out, completely defenseless and in a public setting, hit him hard. He exhaled slowly and slid to the ground, his back against the smooth trunk of a deep orange flower-tree.

Blaine could glimpse the crowd through the scattered trees that stood between himself and the clearing. The guests were arranged in a circle, and he and Kurt would be entering the clearing from opposite directions and meeting in the middle of the circle. He had already craned his neck, trying to spot even a hint of Kurt's presence on the other side, and when he didn't see him all of his worries flared afresh. What if Kurt wasn't there? Oh God, what if Kurt changed his mind? What if-

"All set," Puck called to him brightly, jogging over to the tree where Blaine was sitting. He looked down at Blaine with a furrowed brow. "Hey, are you-"

"Is he there?" Blaine demanded abruptly.

Puck stared at him.

"Puck. Please. Just...just tell me Kurt is there. Tell me he's going through with this. Tell me-"

Puck crouched down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Blaine. He's there. And he's just about as nervous as you are. Just...you need to get up. It's almost time."

Blaine looked up at Puck and blinked slowly.

"Oh my God, Puck," he whispered. "I'm getting married."

Puck grinned. "Yeah. Can't say I understand it, but yeah. Now get the hell out there and do this so you can finally get laid again and stop being such a bitch all the time."

Blaine rose unsteadily to his feet. Someone, and it couldn't have been him but he didn't know who else it could be, started moving his legs, one after the other, advancing him toward the edge of the clearing. Puck ran ahead of him and signaled to someone, and there was the briefest pause before fine, clear music filled the air. Blaine continued moving forward until he reached the edge of the clearing, where Sanya was waiting with a watery smile to adorn him with flowers. She looped a chain of daisies over his head, and adjusted the rose behind his ear before placing a delicate crown of tiny white and red blossoms on his head. She handed him a lavish bouquet and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. To Blaine's surprise, Puck swept in on the other side and kissed his cheek too. And then, without a word, they moved away from him and joined the circle of guests, each guiding the crowd in opposite directions just enough to create a space for Blaine to walk through.

And then he saw him.

Kurt was approaching from the other side, directly across from him. When their eyes met they froze, and it took everything in Blaine's power not to simply run to him and lift him into his arms.

He had never seen Kurt look more incredible. It was too much, simply too much, and Blaine didn't know what to do with all that he was feeling. Intense love, deep arousal, simple awe. This man was going to be his lifemate. This beautiful fucking man was going to spend his life with Blaine. It was real. It was actually real.

And yes, now he understood what Sanya had meant about the toga suiting the Sidhe body and, Blaine silently amended, Kurt's body in particular. It wasn't anything like he had imagined.

The garment was white, but the fabric it was made from looked almost like a liquid. It was silky and slinky and it shimmered a bit in the afternoon sun, casting hints of of blue and crimson and violet with Kurt's movements. The toga was draped across a single shoulder, exposing a fair bit (but not nearly enough) of Kurt's chest, another piece draping across his upper arm on the opposite side. The garment skimmed Kurt's waist, pooled low on one exposed hip, and hung below his thighs in the front, exposing a fair bit (but not nearly enough) of Kurt's legs. Blaine wasn't exactly sure how the fabric all fit together, but it was longer in the back, trailing behind Kurt. Kurt was also adorned with flowers; he wore a crown of white and pale purple orchids and carried a bouquet, and the shoulder where the fabric of the garment was gathered was peppered with white and yellow blossoms.

And against the shimmer of the white fabric and Kurt's moonlight-pale skin, his promise pendant seemed to almost glow with vibrancy, screaming of his intent. Kurt was there to marry Blaine. He undeniably was.

Blaine was very proud of himself for not simply falling to his knees and sobbing with pure, senseless emotion.

The only thing that kept him on his feet was the fact that Kurt looked just as overcome. He was staring at Blaine, his gaze moving across his body, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

Finally, they both seemed to remember where they were, and they began to move again. Each man kept his steps deliberately slow so as not to physically fling themselves at one another, and when they finally met in the middle and faced each other, they could barely withstand it.

Kurt reached out and clasped Blaine's hands in his own. And that was when Blaine couldn't hold back anymore, and he started to cry.

And that made Kurt cry.

And amongst the crowd, though he'd never admit it, it also made Puck cry.

There were two priestesses, as was tradition. They asked Kurt and Blaine to explain to all those assembled why they had asked them there, and to affirm that they were indeed mated on a soul level.

They could barely form the words. We have asked you here because I love him too much not to celebrate it. We have asked you here because he is my heart and my all and life would be toneless without him. We have asked you here to see our commitment made flesh.

and

You are not one of the potential mates of my soul. You are the only true mate that my soul ever has or ever will know. I never knew I was missing you until I found you, and when I found you it ached to know that I had ever lived life without you.

They spoke their words in Villaluan, and one of the priestesses translated into Elfin. And then both priestesses asked, one in each language,

"Will you wear his tattoo for as long as your body pumps blood?"

The traditional answer was yes.

Their answer was "Forever."

Because to confine their promise to these bodies, these lives felt far too small.

The reception struck Blaine as odd. Well, not the reception necessarily, but the fact that he was not in attendance. The reception was a party for the friends and family of the couple, a celebration of all those that were loved by the two but who were not mated to them. Kurt explained it as a gesture that essentially communicated "you're important to me too, but less so." And while the guests celebrated, the couple followed the priestesses into a hutlike structure of large, flat grasses.

Before entering, however, Blaine grabbed Kurt by the arm.

Blaine had been happy to have a Sidhe ceremony. But it had been missing one key element that he hadn't realized he would miss so much.

He smiled, and held Kurt's face in both of his hands and kissed him.

Kurt slid his hands over Blaine's, softly pressing his fingers into the spaces between his husband's fingers as he deepened the kiss.

His husband.

When they pulled back, they instinctively slid into a tight hug.

"I'm in love with you," Blaine whispered, "and you look so beautiful today it kind of hurts."

Kurt squeezed him tighter. "So do you. You just...you're so perfect. Gods, Blaine, is this really happening? Are we really here? Can I really have you?"

Blaine pulled back enough to look Kurt in the eye. Slowly, his face spread into a wide, silly grin.

"Hi, husband," he whispered.

Kurt attempted to roll his eyes, but he couldn't manage it. He couldn't help but smile just as wide.

"Hi, husband," he replied, his cheeks flushing prettily.