lostinfictionalworlds
March 21, 2015, 7 p.m.
Until Forever: Chapter 16
E - Words: 5,354 - Last Updated: Mar 21, 2015 Story: Complete - Chapters: 18/? - Created: Nov 14, 2014 - Updated: Nov 14, 2014 182 0 0 0 0
Author's Notes:
If youre interested in looking at some accompanying pics for the chapter, you can find them on my blog at fictionallylost ;). Thank you everybody so much as always and also to the wonderful AncientGleek-for being wonderful.
August, Midday--Yorkshire, England
“Which side, sir?”
Sam looks blankly at the cater-waiter who had been hovering awkwardly inside the arched entryway to the large, white pavilion that had been erected for the ceremony.
The marquee in which they're standing is beautiful--not too small, but not too grand either. The front is opened up with two sides carefully draped back to reveal a panoramic vista of grassy hills, met by a blue sky and a midday glowing sun.
The young boy regarding Sam has neatly groomed red hair, freckles dotted over his nose, and is dressed in pressed black pants and a crisp white pleated shirt. His accent is heavily British with a slight linger on the vowels. He gestures towards the short rows of white cloth-covered chairs, wrapped neatly in black chiffon bows, set out on each side of the pavilion.
“Good job, kid, but it's not that sort of wedding. We're here for both of them,” Santana comments, giving the boy an unusually patient smile as she strides up behind Sam and ushers him towards the dais. “We have to stand up front, Sam, and wait for the love fools. We're playing a special part today, remember?”
Santana leads Sam up the small walkway between the few short rows of chairs and stands beside him when they reach the end of the short aisle. She nods politely to an older woman dressed in a black blouse and a beige skirt, holding a small leather-bound book in her hands. Santana quietly ponders the differences between marriage procedures in the States and in England while silently offering a note of gratitude for the ‘locals' who helped navigate them through all the legal complications.
Santana turns to Sam, reaches out and straightens up his ivory rose boutonniére, which is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. Sam is dressed wonderfully in a sharp black suit, with a cream-colored silk waistcoat and an open collar for a more casual look. Santana's dress floats airily around her knees; its coloring matches Sam's suit in a rather complementary way.
“Wait!” Sam practically yells, causing many heads to turn towards him, the distant hum of conversation settling down to almost complete silence, except for the sound of strings filling the air. Santana stares at him, eyes wide and serious, obviously signalling him to tone it down. “Oh my god, the cat! Where the heck is Jes? Oh god, I had one job to do…”
Sam looks as if he's about to spontaneously combust, jerking his body forward to take off back down the aisle when Santana catches his arm and swings him around to look at the front row seating.
Carole and Reyna are sitting side by side, both dressed in beautiful, somewhat conservative mid-calf gowns, their colors complementing each other. Their hair has been styled, but not elaborately so, and they're wearing tasteful (and environmentally friendly) feathered headpieces. Between them, looking bored and half asleep on a small black cushion is Jester, curled up into a ball, creasing his adorable tailored vest. There's a leash of thin, soft leather dotted with jewels attached to his collar, the other end twisted in a loop around Carole's hand. All three of them are eyeing Sam curiously.
Sam nods at them, gives a sheepish smile, and then whips back around to face the front, feet spread and hands clasped together resting just below his abdomen, attempting to look simultaneously official and nonchalant. Santana rolls her eyes back at him and continues looking out over the small crowd.
Cooper is sitting patiently beside his mother, looking handsome as ever in the suit Kurt had provided for him, refusing any protests or offers of payment. Behind him, Andre and his wife are seated next to some of the men and women from Blaine's company, and on the other side of them, taking up a handful of seats, are Kurt's closest, most trusted team members.
John and Sandra, previous owners of Kurt's long-time retreat, are in the midsection next to some neighbors, close friends and colleagues from Lima, whom Burt and Kurt have known a long, long time. There also are some relatives from Blaine's family dotted around and dressed in their finest.
It's a relatively small gathering because the guest list was a not a big one; it was never meant to be. The guests are those who mean the most to the grooms, and that's all that matters.
There is a four-piece string quartet that Blaine had arranged as one of his wedding duties. They're set up in the far corner, quietly playing lovely, flowing tunes as the seats slowly fill up. As unobtrusive as the music is, it helps to effectively mask the distant sound of the occasional low-pitched ‘moo' and higher-pitched ‘baa' of distant livestock.
The quartet comes to the end of their current piece, and after a beat they start up a tune that is slow and soft and rhythmically lovely. It's easily recognizable, but it has obviously been transcribed for strings to perform. To those close to Blaine, it's also obvious that he had a hand in the choice and composition of the piece.
The weather couldn't be more perfect if it had been special-ordered. It's not too hot or too humid, and there's something very welcoming about the gentle waft of fresh country air flowing through the tent flaps that have been raised to create gentle cross-ventilation, with dots of reflective sunlight cascading through the clear plastic-paned windows.
Santana checks her dress over one last time, picks up a small bouquet of pristine ivory roses from an empty chair beside her, and looks toward the back of the pavilion. She glances into the wedge of sunlight in the open doorway just in time to see two men walk through the arched entryway, momentarily blocking the view of the sun-filled fields in the distance.
It's clear most of the guests are surprised when they discover, not the grooms as they expected, but their fathers. Burt and Adrian are obviously very happy, if perhaps a little overwhelmed. Dressed smartly in almost matching suits, the two men meander down the aisle side by side, hands in pockets with shy but bright grins on their faces as they make their way forward. The two men reach their invisible markers, then stop and turn around to watch the entryway. The guests rise from their seats and, with anticipation, turn to face the same direction.
The idea for both fathers to do this, walk along side by side ahead of their boys, had actually been Adrian's. He'd said that he would feel proud walking alongside a new family member, silently announcing their sons' entrance. It was almost poetic really--two fathers who had both lived challenging, albeit quite different, lives with their sons--now walking forward, freely and happily, symbolically clearing the path of any obstacle on this special day for their boys and their future together.
The night Adrian had suggested the idea, Blaine had spent hours afterwards teary-eyed and mumbling his joy into Kurt's arms, while Kurt half laughed and half cried with him. It was still astonishing to Blaine how things had changed between him and his parents, especially his father, and this last demonstration of his father's love for him was simply overwhelming--in the best way possible.
When given the cue, Sam and Santana slowly turn, arm in arm. Santana's eyes fill with sparkling, unshed tears as the whole room is punctuated with gasps and sighs.
They all grin at the two faces beaming at family and friends, as Kurt and Blaine slowly walk forward arm in arm toward the dais. There's probably not a dry eye in sight, including those of the two superbly dressed, oh so handsome men slowly but confidently making their way towards the front of the room.
The big reveal is not only of the gorgeous guys striding forward, but also of the suits they're wearing--so spectacularly simple and understatedly elegant, perfectly fitted, and unique. They're matching in rich blacks, with an intricate silk outlining on the thick, luxurious fabric. The only obvious difference between the two styles is that Kurt is wearing a cravat while Blaine sports a matching bowtie. However, each specific suit had been made based on the personality and physical structure of the person wearing it, and the attention to small details, while perhaps not immediately noticeable, only serves to enhance each man's qualities. Everyone is aware that the suits were carefully designed and tailored by Kurt's own hands, but only the grooms are aware of the little label in the inseam of the jackets with Kurt's logo--and the name of each fiancé--carefully embroidered as evidence.
As the music quiets and the sounds of sniffles from all around are hushed with the whisper of tissues unfolding and scrunching, Kurt and Blaine hug their fathers and fathers-in-law to be and then stand side by side as the two men take their seats. They turn and face the smiling face of the registrar, and she gestures for the guests behind them to resume their seats.
In the short space of time it takes for everyone to settle, Blaine looks over to Kurt, catches his eye and mouths, You ready?
All it takes is a flash of those bright ocean-hued eyes, followed by a wink, a delicious sarcastic curve of his eyebrow, and a silent I love you, you idiot, and Blaine knows they're ready to begin the first day of the rest of their lives. Hand in hand, grinning and eyes sparkling with just a hint of moisture reflecting back at each other, the couple turns to face their future.
*
Yorkshire, England. That Evening
“You know, I gotta admit that when I was told my ass was being shipped over to England for this thing, I never expected it all to be so…uh…”
“Lovely?”
“Grand?”
“Unexpected?”
Numerous voices around the table offer their suggestions.
“Beauuitfull. Fucking beautiful!” Santana slurs, ignoring the grinning faces staring back at her. Santana picks up the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and carefully pours herself a new full glass. “I mean it just is. It is… what is, ya know? Look at where we are. Look at this place…looook at it!” She gestures wildly around her. “Amazing, weird, English farm place. S'mazing.” She finishes, her eyes closing.
After the ceremony, the reception had moved into a beautiful, old traditional barn just down the lane from the house and the pavilion. The inside obviously has been remodelled with just such special events in mind. Crystal chandeliers and matching wall sconces cast beautiful reflections onto the rustic, varnished wooden panels. Round tables are paired with finished wooden chairs, and both chairs and tables are draped in thick ivory cloths. Clear crystal vases of fresh flowers and thick, sweetly scented candles alternate with each other for centrepieces on the tables, and there is a large, open space for dancing.
Sam smirks from the other side of the table, as Santana leans back in her chair, draping an arm around the back of the chair next to her, where her date is sitting.
“I'd say somebody has enjoyed herself today, huh?” Sam sing-songs, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning like an idiot. “Aw, to think that the Santana Lopez has actually been affected by this…this day of love!” Sam calls out dramatically, with a hand placed over his heart.
“Yup, day of love. Fucking, beautiful love,” Santana nods, her eyes closing again.
Her date, Brittany, giggles and leans over to kiss her cheek. Santana and Brittany were high school sweethearts, and have been together for years, give or take a couple of break-ups. She works as a dance coach and head choreographer; so she spends a lot of time travelling internationally with her company. She's always been close to the group, but when she and Santana have simultaneous free time in their schedules, they tend to spend it privately. The wedding, of course, is an exception.
Sam fist bumps the air in the general direction of Santana, who's seated across from him, and the others, caught between the two, break out laughing before returning to easy, pleasant conversation.
“I would say that you're both pretty fucking affected by something!” Cooper laughs playfully, taking a long pull from his clear glass tumbler, the ice rolling against the sides.
“Cooper, language!” His mother scolds from beside him, swaying in her chair gently to the soft beat of the soft sounds of jazz coming from the local band the boys had hired for the reception.
“What the fu…Mom, they said it. And I'm like way too old to be scolded.”
“No one is too old to be reminded of the correct language to use in front of a lady, son,” Burt says, hiccupping. He clinks his scotch glass together with Adrian's, who in turn offers Burt a toast by way of agreement.
“She's a lady…” Cooper points to Santana and then scoffs a laugh when she snuffles a yawn, “…most days.”
The whole table breaks out into laughter again, and when the music changes to a catchy song Brittany drags Santana from her seat and over to the dance floor. It's safe to say that, by the time Santana sees Brittany tearing up the dance floor, she's fully awake again.
Sam had decided to come dateless to the wedding, apparently having taken his duty as Jester's plus one very seriously, but he's happy and relaxed nonetheless. It's the kind of second-hand contentedness one might experience from watching two dear friends vowing to spend the rest of their lives together.
Sam's not alone, nor is he lonely; he's been seated with Cooper for most of the day, and the two of them certainly make a rather hilarious, yet strangely fabulous duo. Both families, as well as Sam, Santana and Brittany, have been seated together throughout the entire day and evening.
“I guess I don't have to ask where those boys of ours even are right now, huh?” Burt laughs, lifting his glass to his lips.
“I don't even want to think about it,” Adrian smirks, not unkindly or with anything but light humor to his tone. “But if they think they're not coming back out here to dance with their old guys and gals some more, then they're sorely mistaken.”
“Yes, they have a honeymoon full of each other to enjoy yet,” Reyna muses cheerfully from beside her husband, twirling her champagne flute around in her fingers.
“I say we give them another ten minutes, to make themselves…presentable, and then we send out a search party,” Carole chuckles, fondly resting her head on Burt's shoulder.
Cooper shoots up straight in his chair, eyes wide and with a dazzling cheeky grin, his face alight with interest. “I'll do it! I am, after all, brother and PA to both,” he says while buffing his fingernails on his shirt, earning a napkin pitched at him from across the table.
Before he can think about plotting his sneak attack, however, he finds himself sandwiched between Carole and his mom, escorting him towards the dance floor. “Come on, you--let us old timers show you a thing or two first.”
*
Incredibly, between the time of the ceremony and the reception, Santana and Cooper had managed to find time to sneak away to the boys' plush holiday home, ‘decorating' their bedroom in preparation for newlyweds' return later that day. Coop and ‘Satan' had to rein in their inner demons a bit, but that didn't prevent them from carefully arranging--as in where they couldn't be missed--a vast variety of lube containers, condoms of all types, sizes, and colors, ludicrous--as well as some intriguing--sex toys, some outrageously titled porn videos, and Making Marriage Work for Dummies and Dummies' Guide to Sex. Balancing their demonic efforts, they also supplied numerous specially scented candles, a supply of Dom Perignon champagne, and a very impressive “Do Not Disturb” sign.
Hours later, after making the required appearance at the reception and visiting with their guests for a while, the front door to the manor flies open, and Kurt and Blaine stumble in, heading directly for the stairs, hanging all over each other, laughing and whispering words like husband and married. They're not entirely surprised by the state of their bedroom and, after selecting a few choice items from among the ‘gifts' left by Cooper and Santana, they quietly disappear to a more private and less accessible area--their little basement/studio hideout, with its sound-proof walls and a lock on the door.
“You think we should go back in now?” Blaine breathes against the warm dip of Kurt's neck, sucking his lips against the skin between words.
They're surrounded by everything they brought with them from upstairs. Candles are glowing and flickering lazily all around them on every non-flammable surface available. Pillows, cushions, fluffy throws and blankets are scrunched up all around their naked tangled bodies, making a soft bed of sorts on the floor. An empty bottle is upended into one ice bucket while a partially full one rests in another. A variety of lube containers and condom packets are scattered about, but the other ‘specialty items' were left upstairs--to either be discarded, or possibly explored, another time.
“Mmm,” Kurt curls his arms more tightly around Blaine's torso, rubbing his palms in wide circles up and down his spine, up to his shoulders, down to his waist and then repeats the pattern. “Probably, but come on--of course, they already know we sneaked off to have the most amazing married sex…”
“Twice,” Blaine interrupts with a salacious grin.
“Twice,” Kurt agrees. “But let them dance and drink some more--get their money's worth.” Blaine laughs lightly because he knows KH Enterprises paid for everyone's tickets and lodging, as well as a fully stocked open bar; he beams at Kurt as if he hangs the moon and the stars with his own hands.
“Hey,” Blaine whispers. “We're married now, Kurt. We're husbands. Husbands.”
“Husbands who have just had the most amazing married sex. Twice.” Kurt grins. “Wanna try for three?”
Blaine chuckles, his bare chest rumbling against Kurt's. “God, I wish we could, Love. But…I know Santana practically pushed us out of the reception…I think she actually wanted to get rid of us…but maybe they'll be missing us now?”
Kurt giggles beneath Blaine in reply, humming as he contemplates his husband's words. Husband. He places his palm under Blaine's jaw and raises his head to meet Blaine with a kiss. “Maybe. You know, I'm only going to say this once--and I'll probably deny it if you ever bring it up--but I kind of miss having her around, y' know?”
“Who? Santana? Kurt, what're you talking about? She never leaves us alone; she's supposed to be our publicist, for crying out loud. I mean, can a guy not have thirty seconds alone with his fiancé--now husband thank you very much--to whisper sweet nothings in his ear with out her barking orders at us?”
Kurt giggles, playfully prodding and poking at Blaine's bare shoulder before leaning down to kiss over the light imprints of his fingers. “You know what I mean. Like having her around the condo, and us trying to sneak around having sex while she's pretending to dust the cabinets somewhere…” They both start laughing again until Kurt manages to calm down enough to say, “It was just fun, you know, the old days.”
“You mean the uncertain days?” Blaine asks, eyebrow raised, but his tone light and playful. “I guess you're right in a way; I miss those days a little, too--and her.”
“I wouldn't ever switch it back, though,” Kurt says quietly, thumbing over the thick triangular shape of Blaine's eyebrow until it lowers back to its resting position again.
“No?” Blaine takes Kurt's thumb and brings it to his lips, kissing and nibbling at the pad.
“Nuh-uh.” There is no hesitation.
“Good. Me too.”
As far as Santana's house-cleaning duties were concerned, Kurt and Blaine have actually done rather well keeping the condo clean and organized without her help. Even with their hectic combined schedules, it's clear that if they send Cooper to the dry cleaners, grocery shopping, and other errands that don't require their personal attention, adjustments are being made and things are settling down so to speak.
Losing Santana as their so-called housekeeper has actually been a boon in at least two ways. For one thing, she's fantastic as their publicist, a role for which she is especially suited. Being their publicist enables her to continue and even expand her ability to assist and support her friends, for that is what she considers Kurt and Blaine, of course.
Happily for her, it also enables her to ‘keep her hand in' whatever is occurring in their lives. And, although Santana may be impulsive and a little intrusive with little awareness of social boundaries, she has been and always will be their friend. Truthfully, their privacy is just as important to her as it is to them, and that is how it will remain.
Another bonus to the new arrangement is it gives Cooper some of his first PA challenges, one of which is to find a cleaning service that is reliable and discreet. Since Kurt and Blaine are tidy in their habits, the service comes only once a week, and Cooper is always there to supervise, just in case. His role as PA includes quite a bit of business-related work for both Kurt and Blaine, as well; so his scheduling abilities improve as he learns to balance business with household responsibilities.
Biting his lip around a wide grin, Kurt reminds Blaine how Santana gleefully pestered them to take a break from the party going on in the barn/reception hall. He adds, “Well, you know what? Thank you, Santana, because I had better plans anyway!”
Blaine leans in for another kiss, hums against his lips, before whispering, “Better than dancing with your husband?” Blaine's whole face lights up as he says it, his eyes a mix of warm browns and deep greens, round and clear in his face.
“Would you call what we just spent the past hour doing better than dancing?”
“Oh, I don't know. You've got some moves.”
“Ok, I'm lost. Are we talking about the dance floor or the bedroom?”
They bicker and play and laugh and kiss some more, and then more still, and when Kurt brushes his left hand over Blaine's cheek, the cool rim of his wedding band slides against Blaine's skin. And once again, grins and soft smiles seem inevitable as they are lost in thoughts of their rings.
The significance of their rings means more to them both than anyone could ever really know. Blaine had waited for the expected gossip about their engagement to cycle through the rumor mills and, when their ‘adoring' public had grown tired of speculating and the ruckus had died down some, Blaine presented Kurt with a dazzling engagement ring of his own.
Cooper had accompanied him to search for the perfect style, and Santana had provided him with the best information regarding metal types, jewellers and stone sets. The ring was rather similar to the one Kurt had picked out for Blaine; the main difference was that the words, “Blaine's Boss” had been engraved in tiny cursive on the inside of the band.
Blaine had surprised Kurt one night after a heavy day in the office, with glasses of wine and a long soak in the hot tub. When Kurt had nudged Blaine's wine glass with his own, asking for a refill, Blaine had reached an arm over the edge of the tub towards their little pile of necessities. Kurt certainly had not expected Blaine's hand to come back in view with a quaint black little box tucked carefully inside. With a squeak and considerable splashing, they'd gotten out the tub and, after drying off, Kurt had giddily accepted the ring, marvelling at its beauty and at the inscription. He'd proudly held out his hand for Blaine to put the ring on his finger--and then kept it extended as he admired how it looked. Both were a bit teary-eyed as they realized how far they'd come together--then they proceeded to create a whole new reason for them to have to clean up and dry off again.
And now they have matching wedding bands that they're so proudly wearing--and so pleased with how they were made. They'd decided to have both of their engagement rings melted down, the precious metals being combined and then molded to create a whole new design set of rings--something different and unique, but so wholly them, and exquisitely special.
Kurt's band is engraved on the inside with the word, “until.” After close family and friends were let in on the long running secret joke of Blaine's ‘contract', it didn't take them long to deduce that the word “forever” was similarly engraved on the inside of Blaine's ring.
Sighing blissfully, still wrapped up with each other in their little nest, Blaine twines his fingers with Kurt's, pulling Kurt's hand to his lips and tracing soft, short kisses along the edge of the cool metal. It has so very quickly became one of Blaine's most favorite things to do; occasionally it's even on a par with kissing Kurt's oh-so-kissable lips.
After Blaine has his fill of worshipping the rounded metal wrapped snugly around Kurt's finger, he lovingly wraps his arms around Kurt's shoulders and pulls them both into a sitting position atop their nest of blankets and cushions.
Kurt allows his body to be tugged and pulled into whatever comfy position Blaine wants him, and then he waits. He stares into Blaine's deep eyes, feeling his own eyes widen with each breath he takes and each beat of his heart.
He knows what's coming. Blaine has been waiting to do this for some time. And now, with their vows fresh off of their tongues and still heavy in their minds and in their hearts, Blaine takes a deep breath. He takes Kurt's hand, covers it with his, and pulls both their hands to his chest, right over his heart. He keeps his hand pressed over Kurt's so both of them can feel the strong, rapid thumping of his heart.
“K-Kurt? Baby, I…you…”
“Blaine…” Kurt's throat is tight, his voice thick, but not as thick as Blaine's sounds, as if he's literally choking back tears as he tries to speak.
“Let me tell you, Kurt…let me actually thank you for letting me have this, for allowing me to be right here, right now in my life when I'd thought I'd screwed everything up. Thank you for being mine, and for giving yourself to me.”
“God, Blaine…” Kurt chokes out, still managing to laugh somewhat hoarsely. “What if I want to thank you, huh? What if you'd never come to interview for me that day? What if you'd never taken that leap, and if you were never brave enough to show me what life could be like if I just got my head out my ass…”
Kurt is cut off abruptly as he's tackled back down into their comfy little pile, with Blaine's arms around him breaking his fall, and their lips cushioned softly together. Blaine breathes erratically against Kurt's mouth, huffing out short little gasps of laughter. “God, what is wrong with us? It's our wedding night, and we're having a freaking counselling session with each other…naked!”
“You started it,” Kurt laughs, nipping at Blaine's jaw.
Blaine nods, eyes misting over with pure, unadulterated happiness. “Truce?” He grins, his hands searching over the muscles and tendons of Kurt's shoulders and back.
“Truce, you idiot. I love you.”
Blaine mouths his love right back into the sweet spot of skin just below Kurt's right ear. He could stay like this forever, but eventually he murmurs, “I suppose we should go back and entertain our guests for at least a little while longer. They'll come looking for us, if we don't. And, after all, we won't be seeing them for many, many, long, private, secluded days,” Blaine purrs, tonguing at the stretch of Kurt's elegant neck, earning a short thrust and a drawn out moan-turned-growl in return.
“Oh god, let them wait…let them wait until after the honeymoon.”
*
The happy couple eventually reappears at the reception, greeting their guests, who are dancing the night away, enjoying the atmosphere--and the alcohol, by the looks of things. Blaine's waistcoat is missing, and his tie is draped loosely around his neck. The jacket he's wearing looks a little big, and the sleeves are far too long; it also looks suspiciously like the jacket Kurt had been wearing before they disappeared.
Kurt looks no better (or worse) jacketless, his waistcoat hastily thrown on but unbuttoned, his shirt only partly tucked in, and he seems to be missing his belt.
They playfully pull each other onto the dance floor, both grinning like idiots as Sam eyes them up down, with an uh-huh look on his face.
“I had something I needed to show Kurt back at the house,” Blaine shrugs, calling out over the music, eyes darting to Sam's, and to anyone who might be listening, not even bothering to try and tamp down his smile to a less insane level.
“Of course you did,” Cooper's voice loudly and clearly, if a little snarkily, responds from somewhere in the middle of the floor, spinning poor old Sandra around in circles as her husband watches, somewhat bemusedly.
The new husbands dance and laugh and sing and kiss the rest of the night away, surrounded by warmth and love from each other and from those around them. They've shared so much with other people today--such an intimate, private and special part of their lives. They've danced to a special, slower instrumental version of a song they enjoy playing and singing together. They've fed each other cake, and they've drunk from glass flutes, eyes shining, lips smiling, arms entwined for the traditional photos. They've listened intently and watched wide-eyed while Sam, Santana, and Cooper each stood and shared their favorite memories of the couple over the past years--some of which really did not need repeating, but sweet and funny all the same.
Long after cars have departed to taxi guests back to their hotels, and the guest bedrooms of the big house have been filled and closed up for the night, and the musicians and cater staff have been thanked and dismissed, Kurt and Blaine still continue to sway in each other's arms. The cool, early morning light of pre-dawn filters in through the cracks in the big old barn door as they map out the panels of the hardwood floor, legs and feet sweeping, arms pulling and holding.
This moment is one of the “locked up tight” moments, one that no one can take from them. It's something they will always have--this moment in time--dancing sleepily to music only they can hear, smiling at words they are sharing only with their eyes, as the dawn breaks on their first morning as husbands. Husbands.
“Blaine…” Kurt murmurs sleepily into Blaine's curls, still mussed from last night, their bodies drooping lax and heavy and incredibly blissful together as they continue to move slowly around the dance floor.
“Hmm?” Blaine murmurs back, breathing deeply into the open collar of Kurt's shirt and that blissful juncture between neck and clavicle.
“What the heck kind of a contract do I give you now?”
Blaine smiles tiredly, hearing the smile and the obvious tease in Kurt's voice. He pulls himself back and looks into Kurt's eyes, simply drinking in the very sight of him--his new husband, his lover, his best friend, his colleague, his forever.
“Just you,” Blaine mouths, smiling brightly, eyes shining. “Just you. No paper. Just you--until forever.”
“Deal.”