It should have left him prepared. The slips, the hints, the too-careful moments that tipped Blaine's hand — even though Blaine himself had made every effort to be the very model of public discretion.

But Blaine Anderson's friends had let him down, and left Kurt Hummel a trail of bread crumbs that led him to an obvious conclusion as his father drove him down the country road: That this ride to the airport was no ride to the airport at all, but a shuttle to a marriage proposal with an answer he couldn't yet put in words.

How could he help but know what awaited inside the Dalton gate?

Though not a one of his friends broke their vow of secrecy, virtually every one of them unwittingly dropped a clue about what was to have been a momentous surprise.

It had to be something big. It was, after all, Blaine. He didn't do things in a small way. But it was also more than that, the fact that so many people were clearly involved in some manner and unable to keep a straight face at any mention of marriage— a subject that was coming up all too often for Kurt not to notice.

First, it had been Sam. Not exactly a master of deception, Sam had cornered Kurt on his second day back in town. He wanted to discuss class rings, something Kurt had never bothered with. If Kurt was going to spend that kind of money on jewelry, it would be better spent on a something vintage, he reasoned.

It didn't matter to Sam, who approached him with a convoluted story about wanting to measure Kurt's ring finger because it was about the same size as his and he couldn't seem to measure his own fingers.

Kurt smiled, rolled his eyes, and let Sam tie a string around his left ring finger as a crude measuring tool. It was impossible not to suspect that something was up, even though he and Blaine were still at least technically broken up.

Then there was that odd double-date at Breadstix, with discussions marriage equality and the unexpected proposal between the two women Blaine said he'd met at the mall — only to invite them out to dinner. Blaine always made friends easily, but his insistence on introducing Kurt to a couple more than twice their age struck him as reaching a new level of hospitality, even for someone as gregarious as Blaine.

And even though he hadn't dropped a specific hint, there was something about Blaine's demeanor, starting with his excitement about New York's recent expansion of marriage rights over coffee. It grew more obvious over dinner with the women, with the sweet, intense, doltish grin Blaine wore every time Kurt caught him staring at him; that and how Blaine seemed to inhale slightly every time he said marriage, wedding, or any other matrimonial word.

Kurt knew something was up, though it wasn't until he'd agreed to reconcile with the boyfriend who could never quite leave his head, or his heart, that he realized the question Blaine really wanted to ask on those concrete steps of McKinley.

It was near the end of his trip to Lima, when he received a series of rushed text messages, that it all became clear.

They were from Rachel, and nearly all of them questions: insistent, constant, vaguely probing inquiries about love and marriage and commitment and the need to love again. These weren't random, this much he knew as his father drove a familiar-but-utterly-unnecessary route to what was supposed to be his return flight to New York.

"I know we usually take the highway to the airport, but somebody told me about this short cut through the back roads."

"Dad, you can stop it. I know you're driving me to my surprise proposal."

Burt gave him the eye. There was little Kurt could say or do that would surprise him any more.

It felt good to let it out, even if the confirmation of Blaine's plans left Kurt unsettled. Other arrangements had been made, Burt told him. Blaine had purchased a ticket for a second flight, for early the next day. Enough time to talk, or celebrate, or think. Whatever Kurt needed.

The problem, he realized, was that he had no idea what that might be.

Kurt knew he loved Blaine. He knew, somewhere in his heart, that there wouldn't be another like him. He also feared that marriage at a young age could be a slippery slope.

He also knew that when he pictured his future, it always included Blaine.

Maybe it was why he dressed a little brighter, a bit more formal than he normally would for the two-hour flight. Maybe it was why the heart-shaped brooch found it's way to his lapel that morning. He really couldn't say. Any sense of reason was murky as he walked tentatively to the brick building he knew so well.

It took only moments, and a legion of show choirs and band members and friends and rose petals and one canary yellow suit to guide him to focus.

Blaine, beaming like sunshine, saying the words that left him with only a soft gasp of a response.

"Yeah. Yes."