There are few times in my life when I have felt more useless, more in the way, less in control than in the hours leading up to my son's wedding.

And that seems to be the rule for wedding preparations, because while the mortgage on this house says “Burt Hummel,” it was pretty clear that for at least one weekend, I had little say about what, or how, or why.

Oh, they'll tell you that the father of the groom plays a critical role in any wedding, but they're referring to that moment at the altar when you agree to give your child away — something Kurt wanted omitted from his ceremony anyway. My job was to walk him to his fiancé — and then get the hell out of the way.

* * *

Blaine had spent most of the day before the wedding with his family: brunch with his parents and extended family, haircuts with his brother Cooper. But he excused himself mid-afternoon to stop by the Hummel household, offering to help with the last minute wedding preparations and running out with Kurt to pick up pizzas for the family whose kitchen was currently under siege.

“You know you're not supposed to be here,” Kurt said, as Blaine pulled him into a quiet corner for a kiss.

“You have my tux,” he responded, nipping at Kurt's ear. “Am I supposed to walk down the aisle in my briefs?”

“Well... “ Kurt said, considering the possibilities.

“Besides, we're not at the 24-hour mark yet, and that was the pact.”

After that, Blaine did everything in his power to stretch the limits of their agreement not to see each other for 24 hours before the ceremony, as well as the conventions of time.

He arranged chairs. He dusted the already spotless living room. He convinced the catering team to let him help organize the kitchen. He set up an impromptu picnic dinner of delivery pizza and beer for the family, which had largely been kicked out of their living space for the evening.

And with all that done, already more than four hours into their private time, he took Kurt by the hand and walked him to a nearby park to watch the stars and spend a few quiet moments together before the chaos that would be their wedding day.

They walked in silence past the playgrounds and ball fields to a hillside overlooking a pond, and settled in to take in the stars. After long moments of silence, Blaine reached for Kurt's fingertips.

“You ready for this?”

“Of course,” Kurt said. “I've been ready since I was six years old.”

“You know what I mean,” Blaine said, rolling on his side to look down on Kurt. “Are we ready for this? Everyone — and I mean everyone — keeps saying how fast this happened. Are we doing the right thing?”

It didn't seem to faze Kurt, who only briefly took his eyes off the luminescent night sky to look at Blaine.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Not on your life,” he answered quickly. “You?”

Kurt leaned his head and cracked one of his patented I've got a secret smiles.

“I think that tomorrow night, when I look up at that sky, it'll be during my first dance with my husband.”

Blaine sighed, and leaned in for a kiss.

“Uh-uh. Not tonight, Blaine.”

“Not even a kiss?”

“Nope, we're in the 24-hour window. No physical contact, mister. I shouldn't even be here with you right now.”

“I just wanted to kiss you, Kurt.”

Kurt's smile just got bigger. He rolled over to face Blaine, placing a finger to his lips.

“And just imagine how it will feel knowing that the next time you kiss me, I'll be your husband?”

Blaine kissed his finger, and stared into his eyes, the smoldering stare, his go-to move when he wanted more than a little kiss.

“You cheated,” Kurt said. “And I know what you're doing and no, it's not going to work, not tonight.”

Blaine dipped his chin, holding the glance, looking up through his lashes — one last-ditch effort to convince Kurt that a little make-out session the night before his wedding wouldn't kill him.

Kurt wasn't buying it. Not tonight.

“Not on your life, mister. Come on. We're going home, you're picking up your tux and then you're heading over to the Holiday Inn for the night.”

Kurt stood up, tugging at Blaine's hand.

“You saw the tux?”

“Of course not. I had Finn take it in to the cleaners to be steamed and made sure he brought it back in a suit bag so I couldn't see it. It kind of defeats the purpose of our pact if the tux is sitting around in clear plastic, doesn't it?”

They had decided early on to each select their own tux, agreeing only on the color — traditional black — to surprise each other on their wedding day. This initially required some convincing of Kurt, who had a wealth of ideas of how he would like to see his future husband dressed on The Big Day. He had presented them, a PDF of scanned images and sketches and notes, as a digital presentation, when they first started discussing attire.

“Kurt, I appreciate it, but I'd really like to choose my own tux,” Blaine had protested. “I do a decent job dressing myself usually, right?”

“I just want to make sure we look good together,” Kurt said.

“We always look good together,” Blaine said, nuzzling Kurt's jaw line. “But wouldn't it be nice to surprise each other, just a little? I promise to keep it classy.”

“You always do. But what if I show up in, I don't know, maybe a kilt?”

Blaine arched his eyebrows.

“Really? You know, traditionally, men didn't wear anything under their kilts.”

“And you believe in tradition.”

“Always,” he said, kissing Kurt's cheek.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes, and maybe tilted his head just enough to encourage Blaine to keep kissing.

“I suspect I should wear pants. You know those late afternoon breezes we get over here.”

“Pity,” Blaine said, laughing. “Really, Kurt, so long as it's you in there, I really don't care what you wear.”

By the time of the wedding, Kurt was so on board with The Wedding Pact that it had become the centerpiece of his insistence that the two grooms stay apart in the hours before the ceremony. And as Kurt's enthusiasm for the plan waxed, Blaine's waned — especially as

Kurt pulled him from the grass and insisted they part for the night.

“By the time we see each other again, it'll be at the altar,” he said, pulling Blaine close enough to lean their heads together as they walked home. “We're almost there.”

* * *