lostinfictionalworlds
March 21, 2015, 7 p.m.
Until Forever: Chapter 14
E - Words: 7,720 - Last Updated: Mar 21, 2015 Story: Complete - Chapters: 18/? - Created: Nov 14, 2014 - Updated: Nov 14, 2014 205 0 0 0 0
Author's Notes:
Many thanks to everybody for hanging on in there with this story, and also a huuuge thank you to AncientGleek who had offered to take a look at this chapter for me and has been an absolute star and a supportive friend.
“Ok--so what we talking here? A last minute Christmas wedding in Central Park? I'm pretty sure that you've got something in that collection of yours I could pull off as a maid of honor's dress…”
“Santana.” Kurt sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Don't tell me I'm not your maid of honor, Hummel; that part is mine! Who else is gonna do it--Sam?”
“Oh no, Sam is reserved for my team,” Blaine chuckles, lifting Kurt's hand from his face and placing it down on his own knee, covering it with his own warm, strong curved palm. “But, Santana, what I think Kurt wants to say is that we only got engaged like two days ago; I don't think we're going to do any kind of planning until at least after Christmas--most likely the New Year now. We just want to enjoy this moment.”
He turns to Kurt, who's sitting beside him on the couch, rubs his thumb over the wedge of thin layer of skin between Kurt's thumb and forefinger, and offers him a shy but warm smile. “Right?”
“Right,” Kurt nods, smiling back, his face shifting from resigned to relaxed.
Santana doesn't even look at them, not really; she just scoffs as she goes back to looking at different styles and colors of bouquets on a website on Kurt's laptop.
“Ok, whatever, but I am definitely choosing the flowers that I will be carrying, not you two.”
Kurt huffs, biting back his remark, and drops his head to Blaine's shoulder, burrowing down deeper between Blaine and the couch. Blaine grins, cradles Kurt's head in his hands and softly pats at his hair.
It's all just so lovely, so sickly sweet, and romantically, horribly, boringly domestic. Blaine could just burst.
They're still in somewhat of a haze right now, soaking everything up and letting it sink in. Since Blaine had answered Kurt's question with a resounding cry of yes, followed by his literally crawling across the desk to reach Kurt, they've done nothing but hide under their sheets and in each other's arms, revelling in their happiness.
They haven't really talked about it much at all. When Blaine had asked Kurt about the proposal, nudging him for answers with tickling fingers and searching lips, Kurt had only shrugged and pushed Blaine onto his back--no matter the surface--and covered his body playfully with his own. Blaine had only then managed to mumble out weakly through giggles, “I always thought it would end in me begging you to marry me.”
They hadn't even gotten around to talking about announcing the happy news yet, or discussing how they would do it. They had, however, definitely agreed to call their parents and let them know first and foremost.
But today is Sunday, and Santana had come by for her very last housekeeping shift before beginning her new role as Kurt's publicist in the New Year. They hadn't even had time to try and scramble apart or for Blaine to carefully place his hand out of sight before she was holding his hand up where she could examine it, yelling and laughing and demanding a champagne breakfast.
Now they're all sitting downstairs with hastily made coffees, Kurt and Blaine still dressed in their lounge pants and sweatshirts, waiting for Sam to arrive with their breakfast orders from one of their favorite local breakfast establishments.
“And what about you, little guy? Daddy Number Two gonna make you a fancy ring-bearing satin pillow?” Santana sings down in a sickly sweet voice to Jester, who had been sitting down on the living room floor watching them all intently.
“God, no.” Kurt says into his coffee mug. Blaine laughs and squeezes his knee.
“Aww, but Honey…poor Jes!” Kurt gives Blaine a look, that look, and Blaine just smiles.
Saying yes to Kurt had been one of the easiest decisions Blaine had ever made. There had hardly been a decision there to make at all. These moments, this rapport, this special connection--this was exactly what Blaine was looking forward to when he gave Kurt his answer.
The questions, the options, the playful debates, the discussions that may end up in silence after a hard day, only to be thrashed out in the bedroom afterward--Blaine wants it all, so much so that he's giddy with it.
Sam arrives shortly with breakfast, just as Santana begins to rant about how there should be ice sculptures, fire breathers and caricaturists at the reception party.
Kurt quickly breaks away from the conversation, moving to help Sam with the brown paper take-out bags. No matter how happy and proud and in love he is, some things will always remain the same; Kurt will always try to deflect and divert from being Santana's main point of focus.
Kurt may be one of the most sought after designers in the state, or even the country, and perhaps he's starting to gain recognition internationally. He may have more money than sense in some circumstances, and certainly in terms of allowing himself to be happy. He may have his moments when his status and power get the better of him, but one thing that Kurt does not take well is being the center of attention, no matter who or what he is--even with Santana. Blaine is the only person with whom he feels completely at ease in this way.
Blaine has no idea of what to expect from this wedding, or how and when to expect it. The focus needed for the initial planning of the wedding may not come easily to them, either as a couple or individually. This is partly due to their hectic professional lives, but it's also just something that Blaine knows to accept. Being with Kurt, both professionally and intimately, has been challenging at times, especially in the beginning of their relationship, when Kurt was so closed off from his father and people in general. And, while Kurt definitely has mellowed since reconciling with Burt and since acknowledging his feelings for Blaine, he's still a strong-willed and sometimes-opinionated man who believes people should meet his expectations.
This probably won't change just because they're married. On the other hand, one thing that undoubtedly will change is if--no, when--Kurt does get in one of his pissy moods, Blaine will only have to glance down at the ring on his finger or flick through the hundreds of photo memories to be reminded that the early, rough stages of their relationship have already passed.
However, regardless of the circumstances, it's not the wedding that Blaine actually is looking forward to the most. It's the marriage. His marriage to Kurt is what will make all the chaos of planning the wedding--where to have it, whom to invite, menu-planning, what to wear, writing their vows--so worthwhile.
Blaine shushes Santana with a playful hand gesture and smiles at Sam and then Kurt as he walks over to join them. Kurt and Blaine share a moment of eye contact over the kitchen island, that special kind of eye contact, just between them. The kind that says, I know. It's ok. Thank you. I love you.
Ever since back in April, when Blaine had invited Sam and Santana over for breakfast to celebrate his two years of working for Kurt--and it had been so surprisingly pleasant, enjoyable, and just plain comfortable--a weekend breakfast with each other had become almost a tradition, a weekly event they all have came to thoroughly enjoy and appreciate. They'd take turns deciding where to have breakfast and what to have--the one main rule being that they are not to discuss work matters, instead, using the time to strengthen their personal ties or just discuss non-work-related topics.
Blaine discreetly displays his ring while helping Sam unpack the cartons and, to both Blaine's and Kurt's shocked amusement, as soon as Sam notices it, he freaks out like a kid on Christmas. It's like Santana 2.0, only a slightly more PG version.
Sam leaps from his chair and into Blaine's arms, pounding him on the back repeatedly. He then turns to Kurt, taking him by the shoulders and the face, like some proud grandfather. It's all rather comical and strangely sentimental, and Blaine has to duck his head to blink back some stray happy tears.
“So really, you guys didn't know that Kurt was going to ask me?” Blaine asks when everyone is sitting around the island, sharing the pancakes while Kurt is busy swapping his extra strawberries for Blaine's blueberries. The conversation is quiet and easy, and Blaine just feels happy and comfortable to talk about it, knowing that Kurt feels the same way.
“No.” Santana says, her tone amusingly clipped, scowling at Kurt from across the breakfast island. Kurt scowls right back, and then smirks at her unimpressed face.
“I told you what was I planning Santana. Or at least I alluded to it.”
“Yeah, but not exactly when it was going down.” She points her fork at him, “And excuse me for not knowing that Mr. Fancy Pants was in the mood for playing games. I totally expected to be allowed in on your big ‘ask,' and to be there and pretend to be all busy or something…”
“You told her all of what you had planned?” Blaine leans in to Kurt's side, eyebrows arched, whispering in his ear, but not quietly enough. Kurt's cheeks flood with color, his eyes bulging, and Santana chokes out a laugh.
“Oh, did you fail to fill me in on something, Romeo?” she asks Kurt, smacking her lips, utterly delighted.
“Nuh-uh. Nobody told me nothing.” Sam speaks up, shaking his head, obviously unaware of the slight turn of conversation. There's a blob of syrup stuck to his bottom lip, and his eyes are downcast as he concentrates at jabbing at a piece of pancake on his plate.
Blaine nudges Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt knows that he's about five seconds away from getting all sappy on him. Blaine knows exactly why Kurt had kept this all under wraps; he wouldn't be his Kurt if he didn't. Blaine can't help but tease a little, though.
“So, I take it you didn't ask my father for my hand?” Blaine asks quietly and oh so casually, when the conversation dips again into an easy, comfortable silence.
Kurt swallows his mouthful so loudly it sounds almost painful. He whips his head around to look at Blaine, eyelashes almost touching the tips of his raised brow. Blaine looks at him, winks and then chuckles mischievously.
Kurt is too much fun to wind up sometimes.
Santana pitches in something about imagining Kurt gracefully pleading with Blaine's father for permission to marry his son, and Kurt trips her with a well placed foot on her way to drop her dishes in the sink.
It's safe to say that the jokes are dropped for the time being after that. Afterwards Kurt feeds Jes the leftover scraps while ignoring Blaine's chastisements for doing so. Blaine, Kurt and Sam disperse to the couches, while Santana makes herself at home at the wet bar. She pops the cork on a bottle of champagne, grabs a bottle of orange juice from the mini-fridge, mixes it all into a large carafe, and joins everyone for a round of celebratory Mimosas.
“So!” Sam practically yells into the room, after taking a gulp from his glass and slapping his hand against his knee, startling everyone, “Bachelor parties! I say…wait for it… Mexico! Cancun for Kurt--for the culture--and Acapulco for Blaine--‘cause it's fun. We spend two nights and three days in each city. Santana keeps one groom busy while the other groom and I paint the town red. Then we'll all retreat somewhere relaxing, like a spa resort or something. Thoughts? Go!”
Sam is speaking with utmost conviction, his face molded into a mask of utter seriousness. His pale green eyes, filled with steely determination, are trained on Blaine's face, while flicking occasional glances over at Kurt.
Kurt throws back the rest of his cocktail, eyes clenched shut, and flicks his wrist with the empty flute towards Santana, obviously indicating that he needs more, and now.
Santana throws her head back, barking out a loud obnoxious laugh, before composing herself enough to shuffle towards Kurt with the carafe.
Blaine looks at Sam, a little dumbfounded and unsure what his initial reaction should actually be. He's immediately aware of Kurt's stiffening posture beside him, and he settles farther down into the couch, even closer to Kurt's side. He firmly takes Kurt's hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the bones of his knuckles, possibly preventing Kurt from saying--or doing--something to Sam that he would later regret.
This is just the first day of a very long line of days of this sort of conversation. Blaine begins to wonder if he could persuade Kurt to meditate with him.
*
Kurt's voice flatly resonates from nearby in the darkness, “We're not going to Mexico for our bachelor parties, by the way. We're actually not doing any of what Sam suggested, believe it or not.”
Blaine doesn't have to look at his fiancé (god, his fiancé) to know that the look upon his face definitely matches the unimpressed tone of his voice.
Blaine grins upwards towards the ceiling and squeezes Kurt's fingers tighter with his. Kurt responds to the squeeze by swaying their hands together between them under the covers.
They've been lying in bed together, comfortable in the dark cool of the late night for almost a half hour now, just talking and laughing and revelling in the feel and the touch of each other.
The evenings are chilly enough now that both men are in their pajamas, but this often changes at a moment's notice when their bodies warm to each other and casual touches become more intense and heated.
After a drowsy pause, Blaine lazily responds, “Oh, well yeah, that goes without saying.” He untangles their hands as he rolls and tucks himself up on his side. He sighs, sleepy and happy, when Kurt folds himself around him from behind in true big spoon fashion. Kurt finds Blaine's hand again and rests their entwined fingers on the slope of Blaine's hip under his striped pajama top.
Kurt murmurs into the back of Blaine's head, burying his nose in his sweet-smelling curls. “It's weird,” he muses into the darkness after a few quiet moments of breathing together, just slightly slipping into the beginnings of slumber, the cool pads of feet rubbing together under the warmth of their bed covers.
“Hmm?” Blaine wraps his arm over his chest to rest over Kurt's. “W'sat?” His voice is deep and grumbled, heavy with the weight of impending sleep. It's strangely and contentedly sexy.
“Our friends.” Kurt ducks his head and mouths at the nape of Blaine's neck, just below his wavy lambs-tail of curls, just above the collar of his sleep shirt. “How ludicrous they both seem to be at times, yet how we can't be without them. They're not getting free rein to half of the things they think they are, but I still wouldn't have this wedding without them at our sides.”
Kurt can feel Blaine's smile, can hear the hitch of his breath as he does so. “Agreed. Our friends?”
“Is that not what they are? Our friends?”
“Oh, of course they are, yes; it's just, it's…”
“What?” Kurt whispers, “What is it?” He ends his words with a soft kiss and the brush of the cool tip of his nose. Blaine shivers, and Kurt smirks into his skin.
“Nothing, it's…it's dumb.” Kurt squeezes him, obviously not happy with that answer, and Blaine sighs, trying not to giggle. “Ok, ok. I guess it's just that…they were your friends at one point. Before I came in to the picture, they were your friends first…”
“And now they're yours, too. And they wouldn't have it any other way. I wouldn't have it any other way,” Kurt interrupts. He props himself on an elbow to hover over Blaine's shoulder, peering down at him.
The darkness of the indoor winter's night leaves little light to see much other than shadows, shades of black and grey and traces of outlines, but Kurt stares down at Blaine, his memory providing all the vision he needs. Blaine's face, his eyes and that nose, those lips are ingrained forever in Kurt's mind. He doesn't need light to see Blaine's face; he just knows.
Blaine smiles into the darkness, blinking his eyes and murmuring into the cool cotton of his pillowcase. “Ok, yeah, but…everything. All of this, all of it was yours and now…now…”
“I know what you're thinking,” Kurt squeezes him tightly beneath his arm, his warm breath ghosting over Blaine's cheek, shushing him, “and don't even think about saying it out loud…”
Blaine smiles and rolls over, facing Kurt. “But…Kurt…you've just been so…all of this has just been…thank…”
“Nope!” Kurt calls out, and then Blaine finds himself rolled back onto his back, with Kurt warm and heavy and welcoming on top of him. “I said no. You're not doing it; we're not having this conversation.”
And then as if to finalize the point, Kurt seals it with a kiss. Melding their lips together with the occasional swipe of his tongue, stealing licks and sucks whenever he sees fit, until Blaine is loose and pliant, still and silent beneath him save for ragged, wanton breaths.
“O…Ok,” Blaine gasps when Kurt pulls back so that they're nose to nose, digging his fingers behind Blaine's shoulder blades and into the soft press of the mattress underneath them.
The conversation isn't over for good; it may be paused for now, but it's unfinished. Blaine has many words he needs to say, words that have built up in his head and in his heart, words he can taste on the back of his tongue, waiting to be spoken aloud. They are words that he has already spoken, things that Kurt has already heard him say, but now it's different somehow. With the proposal come new meanings and new sentiments; it's like the refurbishing of old words, polishing them up and setting them out in the open again.
Kurt knows this, too; Blaine knows he does, but it can wait. They have a lifetime of moments and words yet to share…together.
“What do you want me to talk about then?” Blaine curls his arms around Kurt's neck, resting them against the dip of his upper back and shoulders, rubbing in slow circles.
Kurt looks down at Blaine eagerly, his face almost serene, eyes warm and easy; he waits a beat before he answers. “I want you to tell me what you meant at breakfast, when you asked if I had asked for your hand?”
Blaine stiffens beneath him. “Kurt I was joking…”
“I know you were,” Kurt murmurs, settling his body into the dip of the mattress between Blaine's thighs and making himself comfortable, stomach to stomach. It's so intimate, yet so basically natural. “But it must have been on your mind for you to talk about it. Come on; tell me what you were thinking, please.”
Blaine shifts to accommodate Kurt even more, allowing their bodies to relax into each other, becoming heavy with deep-drawn, tired though not quite sleepy, breaths. “I guess…it's just weird to think about, you know?”
“Us getting married?”
“God, no!” Blaine hurries to say, shaking his head. “Marrying you is far from weird. The very thought of it makes me feel complete in ways that I…”
Kurt giggles lowly, and thrusts his hips downwards softly and slowly so that Blaine can just feel the tight press against his stomach and the tops of his thighs. “Come on, Mr. Sentimental, get back on track.”
Blaine blushes. “I mean you asking my dad, the thought of my dad being involved in our wedding, in our marriage in any kind of way, is weird. I didn't expect you to ask him, and I just was teasing. I'm sorry…”
Kurt hushes him. “Are you ok that I didn't ask him though?”
“What? Ask my dad? Of course I'm ok that you didn't ask him. Actually, you and I both know I wouldn't have wanted you to ask him. Tradition is tradition; I get that. But we're grown men, Kurt. We can always follow up on some of the other wedding traditions.” He adds with a wiggle of his eyebrows and Kurt smiles widely. “We know each other well, we're sensible, and you know that my dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye with each other…”
“The last couple of years have been better, though, right?”
“They have.” Blaine grins. “With thanks to you and your dad.”
“I asked him.” Kurt blurts out.
“Huh?”
“My dad. I asked my dad…about it…about you.”
Blaine shuffles his torso upwards slightly--as much as he can with Kurt still on top of him--obviously unwilling to budge. “You asked your father if you could marry me?” Blaine sounds almost incredulous, a slight crack to his voice, which is faltering between the beginnings of laughter and soft almost soundless moaning.
“Well not quite like that,” Kurt teases, gently easing Blaine back down the mattress, his hands guiding Blaine's head back to the pillow and his fingers threading through his mussed up hair. “Before, you know, the big fallout…my dad and I were very close, like we are now, I guess. He always gave me the best, most insightful advice, and I just knew that I had to tell him what was on my mind before I asked you. So we talked about it on the phone one day when you with Andre. I asked what he thought; he was barely coherent enough to express how happy he was…” Blaine beams brightly, chuckling.
“…and then he told Carole, who then unintentionally told your mom…”
“…who told my dad!” Blaine guesses, blanching, his jaw tensing before going slack with surprise. “What was the outcome?” he just manages to ask, his voice rough.
Kurt touches his nose with Blaine's, his fingers easing soothing circles into Blaine's scalp. “He said we better hurry up and get our asses to Ohio. Your dad is hosting a celebratory barbeque when the weather gets warmer.”
Blaine hoists himself up with one swift, smooth movement, the muscles in his upper arms bulging with strength, rolling them over so that Kurt is beneath him. He presses little kisses through waves of laughter all over Kurt's face and neck.
“God, do you know how happy you make me? How you've changed me? How you've helped change my family, too?” Blaine's voice breaks, and Kurt takes the moment to interrupt him, caressing his face.
“You know that I could say the same about you, right?” Blaine blinks down at him. “Blaine, you know who I was, what I was like before you came into my life. As idiotic and difficult and distant as I sometimes can be, marrying you or at least asking you was definitely something I knew that I had to do, to make sure I never lose the contentment and stability--not to mention the sheer joy--you've given me.”
Blaine can literally feel the warmth rising from his soul to the blush on his cheeks. He sniffles and wipes at the beginning of tears that are leaking from beneath his eyelashes. “Had to do?” he asks in a tone of mock concern, once he's collected himself a little.
Kurt gently pushes so that Blaine is sliding off of him and rolling back over to his side. He presses up close behind Blaine, chest to back once again, and tangles their arms and legs, mouthing at the tempting slope between his neck and shoulder.
“Wanted to. Needed to.” He hushes, seductively, his hips pushing upwards. “It all means the same thing to me, and it all egotistically stems from my very selfish, crucial wishes and desires to always have you close by.”
“A new contract…” Blaine gasps, and then he moans as Kurt's hands flutter around the waistline of his pajama pants, his groin digging into the dip of Blaine's ass. “You have me tangled within your contractual web.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Kurt's fingers slip under the cotton of Blaine's pants and find Blaine already growing hard, curling up into Kurt's welcoming fist.
“Do…do I get a say?” Blaine grunts, hips moving of their own accord as he wiggles out of his pants and kicks them from under the covers down to the floor.
“You do.” Kurt trails a single finger between their writhing bodies, feather-lightly along the crack of Blaine's ass cheeks as his fist slowly circles Blaine's hardening cock, up and down and around. Tight, dry, and perfect. “But you better say the right words.”
Blaine almost loses it, crying out hoarsely as Kurt brushes a finger tip down over his perineum and then up again, circling towards his dry, already puckering hole. He throws his arm up and back enough to be able to card his fingers through Kurt's thick upstanding hair, using his grip to guide Kurt's face to his as he twists and turns with searching lips.
With breaths in staccato rhythm, he manages to whisper urgently into Kurt's full mouth, “I'll tell you at the altar.”
*
January was a transitional month. Although the hiring of Cooper as a Personal Assistant for Kurt and Blaine was pretty much a “done deal,” it was important to publicly advertise the position in order to maintain a sense of ethics within the company. And, of course, there was always a tiny chance of finding someone qualified for other positions that might open up. The position was advertised during the first couple of weeks in January and, as expected, Cooper's employment was formalized soon after.
However, the ad actually had a joint purpose--to advertise for the PA position and to subtly announce their engagement. With a bit of tweaking here and there and, of course, Santana's help, they had agreed that this was perhaps a more low key way of announcing their engagement, rather than having a magazine publicize it in a centerfold photo with tangled champagne flutes and a flashy view of Blaine's ring.
Cooper proved himself to be a capable, dedicated, and efficient employee, and Kurt and Blaine were pleasantly surprised when he discreetly arranged a weekend trip to Las Vegas as an engagement gift, with not a whiff of paparazzi in sight.
Santana had taken the hiring of Cooper and the exciting new engagement as an opportunity to dive straight into her new role as publicist for Kurt Hummel Enterprises. She handled questions and exposure with effortless ease, guiding unwanted, snooping reporters away from them with just a lift of her chin and a deep, dark glare.
It really did make life a bit easier for Kurt and Blaine, especially with the added pressure of wedding planning because, despite their best efforts to keep everything low-key, it was inevitable that some adjustments had to be made.
Blaine hated to use the word, “pressure.” Planning the wedding with Kurt was certainly not an unwanted or obligated task, but it was hard to deny that things were sometimes testy with everything else they had on their plates.
Additionally, Blaine had really progressed in his work with Andre and, after discussing it at length with both Andre and Kurt, he felt ready to start his own production company. Although Andre was sad to lose Blaine as an unofficial partner, he also was very happy to see him take such a monumental step. He gave him a great send-off party, expressing his pleasure at seeing Blaine spread his wings while secretly feeling a bit like a proud mama bird.
Once the decision was made, Blaine had barely a moment to spare for worrying or stressing. While the company would be entirely his responsibility, he felt reassured by the fact that he would be sharing a work space that was housed in a new wing of the same building Andre used. With Andre still close by to help in any way he could and with Kurt's emotional and professional support, Blaine used his savings and, after insisting on a formal loan contract, agreed to let Kurt lend him the balance to finance operating costs for the first few months. (Kurt insisted that it was a win-win situation; the interest Blaine would pay would be more than Kurt would earn in most investment opportunities, but less than Blaine would have had to pay for a commercial loan.) Blaine soon was ready to go with a brand spanking new production company and label, as well as with a fabulous team eager to succeed.
The first week of Blaine's new business was filled with an astonishing number of calls, emails, and messages expressing interest. Blaine's hectic schedule included meetings, practices, jam sessions, auditions, warm-ups, and rehearsals. His energy level was intense and positive during the work day, but those first nights often found him in Kurt's arms, shedding tears of joy and relief as he whispered into his chest, over his heart, that he never would have achieved any of this without him. Kurt would murmur reassurances and, inevitably, the powerful emotions would give way to love-making--sometimes initiated by Kurt, and sometimes by Blaine. It was the best way to end every day.
Business is just business really--regardless of whether it's clothing or music. And both businesses thrived, gaining footholds in new markets and territories. Having two businesses kept everyone on their toes, and the days rapidly ran into weeks and months. January came and went; February followed. Blaine and Kurt were so busy that they spent their Valentine's Day at home, late at night, picking from a shared chow mein carton, and afterwards finding endless fun in teasing Jester with the pre-packed chopsticks.
Soon the cool breezes of March ushered in the first signs of spring.
The seasons didn't affect the press coverage, which continued, wanted or not. The reviews had been mixed, as they almost always are. Kurt and Blaine had sat with gritted teeth while Santana read through various articles, some of which accused Blaine of using Kurt's fame to get his production company started. Others even added that he was now outpacing Kurt, but still was going to marry him for his wealth.
Some of the gossip magazines had started speculating about a prenuptial agreement, which prompted Blaine to tell Kurt he felt it actually might be a good idea. Kurt simply gave him that look--the one that said we're not even discussing this, and Blaine knew it would be best to drop the subject. Thinking Kurt may have softened on the idea a couple of weeks later, Blaine tried to broach the subject again--and received an even firmer glare, followed by a verbal negation from Kurt. That was the end of the discussion, such as it was.
In most cases, they were able to ignore the speculation of the press; in a couple of cases, they quietly filed lawsuits, and the journalists quickly retracted their allegations.
In the meantime, they delightfully found that the best way of dealing with feelings of anger and frustration was to up the action in the bedroom, the office, the car, and pretty much wherever they wanted.
Wrapping themselves in each other's arms, touching and whispering, letting the touching and whispering escalate into thrusting and crying out as they brought each other to climax was undeniably one of the very best ways ever of dealing with stress brought to them by the outside world.
As Santana told Sam, Kurt and Blaine know the best way to say, “fuck you” to everyone without a life who pays too much attention to theirs.
*
During a rare weekday afternoon off, with the early March sun breaking through the clouds and trying helplessly to pour warmth in through the windows of the living room, Kurt scrolls through saved tabs on his tablet, smiling as Blaine shifts on his lap settling them deeper into the sofa cushions.
“Ooh there, stop--that one.” Blaine points to the screen, stealing Kurt's glasses from his nose and holding them up to his own eyes as he peers down. “I like that one.”
“This one?” Kurt asks, using his thumb and finger to zoom in to the small picture on the screen.
“Yeah, could you make one like that? He'll look so sweet.” Blaine absentmindedly stretches out a hand to Jester, who is curled up next to them, and softly pats him on the head.
They're on the Pinterest site, currently searching through tags of “Wedding Ensembles for Cats.”
Ok, so Blaine and Santana had finally won the battle of Jester's presence at the upcoming nuptials. He was not under any circumstances to have the role of ring bearer, but Kurt, with a sneaky grin and bright eyes, had divulged his wish to have their little buddy there on the big day--if he was appropriately groomed and attired.
The wedding planning had been slow but steady--and fun. The first thing they had decided was not to place any time limits or deadlines on anything, and to let things flow easily and happen when they were ready to do so.
There's nothing worse than rushing something so natural and perfect because then it doesn't feel right anymore. When rushed, it feels more like an obligation or necessity rather than an act of love.
And, although the timing wasn't to be set in stone, they pretty much knew they'd probably get married no later than fall of that very same year--simply because it felt right and comfortable to do so. No matter the chaos and stress the planning could cause, they were still excited about it nonetheless; waiting any longer than the upcoming fall to get married just didn't seem necessary.
It wasn't to be a glittering, heavily publicized event with household names and designer fashions on display; that part was definitely certain. Therefore, all they needed to have ready were ideas of what they wanted and how and when; when the time was right they would do it, no save the dates, no uproar.
Kurt had taken care of their suits, and Blaine was under strict instructions to not ask anything about them, not even a guess. It was to be a surprise, and that was that.
Santana had wrangled her way into helping select color themes, flowers and other little details for the reception, leaving Blaine and Sam with little to do but twiddle their thumbs and relax.
Kurt saves the tab and smiles at Blaine, reaching over him to scratch a spot between Jester's ears. “Ok, a little cat tux-thing. I'll see what I can do.”
“As if it's not going to be fabulous,” Blaine scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Just then the hall elevator arrives opens with a ding, and Santana all but stumbles out in her haste to get to them. She's wearing one of her casual office pant-suits that Kurt had tailored for her and a shit-eating grin on her face.
She points to the tablet in Kurt's hands as she strides toward them. “Pull up that tabloid site, New York Gossip Now,” she demands.
Blaine slides down from Kurt's lap. “You mean the one that's constantly calling us fake and materialistic? The one that thinks I'm a lifelong loser with no prospects other than digging for gold?” he retorts, obviously upset, a look of disdain on his face.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Kurt already starts typing into the search engine but uses a shoulder to rub reassuringly into Blaine's chest. “Ah. That article was ridiculous--as if I'm stupid enough to be taken in by a gold-digger. Do I look stupid to either of you?” he demands. “Besides, gold-diggers usually prey on rich old people; I may be a little rich, but I'm definitely not even a little old!”
Blaine pats his arm, calming him considerably, and then adds in a saccharine, lilting voice, “Oh Honey, you know I'm not after your fabulous wealth, only your fabulous self…among other things.” He lowers his voice, eyes travelling down Kurt's clothed body. Santana clears her throat so loud that it's comical. “Besides,” Blaine pauses dramatically, getting himself back on track “your crows' feet hardly even show.” Kurt takes a playful swipe at him as Blaine erupts into laughter.
Santana continues clearing her throat until she starts to cough and sputter. She settles down on her knees on the floor in front of them. “Oh my god, ok quit screwing around, you two, and just read what comes up as the main headline today. I'ma need a raise after this.” She chides playfully.
The blog loads, starting with a recent picture of Kurt and Blaine dressed in coats and scarves, smiling into take-out coffee mugs, arms linked as they walked through Central Park. They can't avoid every camera, and by the look of joy and ease on their faces, they obviously hadn't spied this guy.
“Oh my,” Kurt breathes as the headline pops up, and the article appears underneath it. Blaine sits up, angling his face to stare down at the screen, offering Kurt his glasses back.
The piece is lengthy and weighted with carefully structured sentences, and as Blaine skims the paragraphs, words such as “joy,” “love,” and “genuine happiness” jump out at him.
“Here, let me,” Santana reaches forward and snatches the tablet from Kurt's hands. She clears her throat dramatically.
“‘New York Gossip Now' is happy to share something that will undoubtedly make the coldest of hearts melt--including ours, here at NYGN HQ.” She starts, looking up to gauge their reactions.
“Santana, I don't think that we need to…” Blaine starts, as Kurt waves a cautionary hand at her in agreement.
“No, please, just listen. Trust me.” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft and filled with empathy, eyes wide and bright and so pleading that Kurt and Blaine can't help but settle back and let her continue.
“The relationship of renowned designer Kurt Hummel and the previously unknown, but now-rising-to-stardom musical whiz Blaine Anderson has always been one of interest to us. And not always in the most positive of ways, we will admit.
“From colleagues, to lovers, to fiancés, these two have provided our readers with some stellar gossip and pictures to match. Their relationship may have been a whirlwind and like something out of a romance novel or fantasy, and we were first in line to doubt their true intentions. However, the evidence seems overwhelming, and now even we have to admit that there is something that these two have that most of those other ego-fed, power-hungry, and loved-up duos don't.
“Hope.
“Through rough and tough, thick and thin, these two have remained together, side by side, within their professional lives as well as their personal ones. While even ordinary, non-famous couples and relationships will feel the strain of day-to-day living, these two seem able to iron out any difficulties with ease.
“Whether they're seen in person or in photos or videos, it's hard to deny that they bring their individual strengths together to create an extremely powerful chemistry as a couple. They seem to communicate on many levels--often using just a gaze of their eyes that leaves many of us panting and fanning ourselves.
“With recent rumors spreading of an impending wedding, we have been waiting with bated breaths for ‘leaked' news of the event to grace our eyes and ears. But nothing has been forthcoming. *sighs*
“Kurt and Blaine are marrying for them and not for us, and although our hearts bleed with the prospect of not getting in on this exciting story, we would like to wish these two the very best and longest of lives together.
“May their lasting love and happiness spread joy and hope to all, and let it set an example for our youths of today: Successful relationships--love--can occur when and with whom you might least expect it and, if nurtured, not only will the love grow naturally between two people, but it will, in turn, help those two people grow as individuals and as a couple. And these two handsome role models seem to fit the bill for this very nicely.
“To the future Mr. and Mr. Hummel-Anderson (or vice versa), we wish you the best of luck, and we just know that this wedding, whether private or not, will be one to go down in history.
“P.S. At least give us some teeny-weeny clues as to when and where you're getting hitched?
“NYGN Exclusive”
Santana finishes with a rush of breath and a small smile attaching itself to her lips as she puts the tablet down on the floor beside her. When she looks up, her eyes are so very round and wide and clear; she's visibly touched, and there's a look of pride about her.
Blaine opens his mouth, closes it, opens and then closes it again, words traveling from his brain to his tongue without a voice to accompany them. He licks his lips and swallows hard, and only then does he feel Kurt shift underneath him.
At some point during Santana's monologue Blaine must have migrated back up on to Kurt's lap, with Kurt's arms tucked tight around his waist. Kurt quietly sniffles, and when Blaine looks at him, both sets of eyes are shining, lips quivering slightly.
“Whoa,” Kurt breathes.
Blaine bends down and tucks his face into Kurt's neck. “Yeah,” he mumbles.
“Told'ya,” Santana sing songs, some of her sass returning.
“I feel like I've just been accepted into some exclusive super group for actual, genuine people, with real lives and morals,” Kurt breathes.
Blaine chuckles into Kurt's skin, pressing a faint kiss there before sitting up to look him right in the eye.
“They're right, you know,” he whispers, completely ignoring Santana's presence.
“About what?”
“This wedding is going to go down in history--the wedding of all weddings. This marriage, our marriage is going to go down in history,” he breathes, “and you know what else?”
“What?” Kurt breathes back, a smile spreading, curling right up to his sparkling, moisture-filled eyes.
“They're not even going to be there, and they're still going to love it. Know why?” he murmurs huskily, leaning in, eyes darting between Kurt's eyes and his lips.
“Why?” Kurt giggles out through something that sounds remarkably like a broken sob. Neither man notices when Santana makes a noise of mixed annoyance and boredom and takes off towards the bar.
“Because we are awesome.”
Kurt laughs, smacking a loud messy kiss on to Blaine's cheek, grinning widely as Santana takes her hastily prepared drink and, with a derisive yet softly sentimental scoff, disappears through the back kitchen door.
She's obviously unimpressed by the lack of attention and appreciation for her stellar work in landing them a refreshingly upbeat article for a change--even if it still smacks of prying into their personal lives.
“Can I tell you something?” Kurt whispers, looking up at Blaine and losing himself in the darkening honey-hued irises looking deeply back at him.
“What?” Blaine mouths, grinning and blushing prettily.
Even though they are now at a place where they couldn't care less about what is said or printed and wrongly assumed about them, there is just something so liberating about hearing such positive words about them--words that are much closer to the truth than anything those blogs have chosen to print about them before.
It's such a drastic change from the usual trash and diatribes that are written or said about them that they're clearly touched, both filled with such raw but joyous emotion.
“I'm not giving anyone any clue about where or when I wish to marry you.”
Blaine's face lights up. “Oh yeah? Not even me?”
“Not even you. I know just the time and place, and those sour-faced reporters will think we've gone completely off the radar.”
Blaine giggles. “Mmm, I'm intrigued Mr. Hummel.”
“And so you should be.”
“Will I like this mystery wedding setting?”
“Hmm,” Kurt echoes back at him, looking thoughtful. “I think that you'll like it very, very much.”
“I like you,” Blaine grins, squinting his eyes and tossing his head back laughing heartily.
“That's good to know. I like you, too.”
“I love you more, though,” Blaine whispers, cupping Kurt's face to pull him closer to his lips.
“Stop buttering me up; you'll find out what I'm planning all in good time.”
Blaine barks out a laugh, throwing his hands up in the air in mock defeat. Kurt stills Blaine's hands, pulls him in close, and folds their hands to rest between their chests.
“Let's just say you should be sure to pack your Wellingtons…”