“Beth!” Kurt called, walking through the field of wisteria to find his strong-willed, raven-haired wild child. “Beth Fabray Anderson, where have you run off to?”

“Here, papa!” an airy voice answered. A tiny heart-shaped face, like the face of a fairy, appeared from the mass of purple-hued flowers. Kurt, his injured arm stiff as the weather turned chill and his entire side radiating with a dull pain that branched down from his back, carefully negotiated the hill that the little girl bounded up and down with nary a care. She leapt through the flowers until they littered her hair with barely an inch of her dark curls to be seen. Kurt watched her with a smile on his face, the sight of her happy again worth all of the pain that this walk into the field had afforded. In his grip, he carried a leather satchel, which kept him from keeping his balance on the uneven ground..

“Let me help you, papa.” Beth reached out her thin arm to Kurt, and Kurt graciously took it, though what she thought she could do if Kurt slid and fell was beyond him. As rough and tumble as she behaved, even in her full skirts and her sturdy leather boots, he always believed that a stiff breeze would most likely carry her away.

Kurt giggled at the thought of little Beth, floating through the air, laughing at the wind and daring the world to catch her. Beth stuck her tongue out at Kurt's laughing, and Kurt stuck his tongue back. Yes, she was the epitome of a country savage, but she was also playful and smart, and would someday grow into a fine young woman.

Like her mother was, and even though he had never had the honor of meeting the woman, to that, Kurt was certain.

Beth's overwhelming resemblance to Blaine was still uncanny, but Kurt never paid it any mind.

Beth's eyes caught sight of the leather satchel and her lips quirked up into a delighted smile.

“More flowers, papa?” the spritely child chirped, usurping the bag as soon as Kurt got his footing.

“Of course,” Blaine grumbled, making his way up the same hillside without a tiny imp offering to help him along. “We apparently cannot have a proper wedding without a house full of wisteria blossoms.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at his sour husband, reaching down a hand to help pull the man up.

“Second wedding,” Kurt corrected, wobbling a step in his attempt not to tumble headlong down the hill the way they had come.

He had had a lifetime of falling down hills.

“The wedding you should have had,” Blaine said with a hint of shame in his rough voice. Kurt looked kindly upon his husband's face, noting all the new lines that had cropped up in the short time they had known one another. It didn't matter to Kurt. Every new line was the sign of a smile Blaine had given him, or a laugh they had shared, and Kurt cherished them all. Beth popped up, wondering what was keeping her papa, but hid beneath an umbrella of branches when she saw Blaine beside him. Blaine saw a glimpse of the girl and his lips curled slightly. “And this time, my husband will have a proper flower girl…if only we can find one.”

He turned to look left and right, conspicuously looking above the hiding girl's head. She giggled, trying her best to muffle the sound behind her hand, but lost her composure and burst into a fit of laughter when Blaine looked right at her and pretended not to see her. Then suddenly he lunged at her, grabbing her and tickling her mercilessly. She struggled and wiggled to be free of him, which surprisingly did little to dislodge the flowers stuck in her hair.

“Look here, husband,” Blaine called through his own laughter. “When I said ‘flower girl', I didn't necessarily mean a girl made entirely of flowers.”

“Daddy!” she squealed.

“But I guess this one will do,” Blaine finished, stumbling and then falling into the grass. He collapsed onto his back in a tired heap, and Beth climbed triumphantly on top of him, raining petals down onto his clothes.

“Here, Beth, darling,” Kurt intervened, handing her the satchel she had dropped, “take pity on your poor father and go gather up the flowers, will you?”

“Yes, papa,” she chirped, grabbing the bag and running off down the hill.

“Fill it completely,” Kurt called after her, dropping down beside his husband in the grass.

“Yes, papa,” she called back, already a distance away.

“Come this way, Miss Beth.” Kurt heard Sebastian's voice summoning the child. “I'll show you where I planted the most beautiful of the wisteria blooms.”

“I am much obliged, kind sir,” Beth's voice answered. Kurt smirked at her uncharacteristically shy and coquettish behavior.

“Well, it seems that those etiquette lessons you have been giving her are paying off,” Blaine commented from his prone position in the soft earth. “She is becoming quite the charming young lady.”

“She is a precocious little flirt,” Kurt said, looking off to the distance. “I hope she is not too heartbroken when Sebastian's boyfriend, Hunter, moves onto the estate.” Kurt turned to Blaine, leaning over him to whisper into his husband's ear. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“What?” Blaine asked, looking Kurt sternly in the eye. “I needed a competent smith, what with the way the horses around here keep slipping their shoes.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt said, laying his head on his husband's chest, letting him hide his generosity behind one little white lie.

“Speaking of,” Kurt said, “I cannot wait to be well enough to ride my new gelding.”

“Yes, it is a gorgeous creature,” Blaine replied. “Sebastian certainly has an eye for horse flesh. Why, he's almost as gorgeous as…”

Blaine clenched his jaw, keeping himself from any mention of Kurt's poor horse, Rolly. Tiny slip-ups like these were common in their conversations – innocuous little mentions of things that triggered horrible memories when fully explored. Many of their discussions cut off suddenly and without explanation. For anyone not living in the Anderson household, it might seem odd. But for Kurt and Blaine, it was simply another day.

“So, my love,” Blaine said, diverting the conversation away from the subject of horses, “what will be your favorite part of our wedding, hmm? The flowers? Your family traveling in from the city? The incredible clothes you designed for the wedding party? The amazing cake that Mr. Crawford is making?”

Blaine said the last part with only the slightest mark of disdain, which Kurt could not begrudge him. But Kurt was ever so pleased when Blaine commissioned Adam for the baking, seeing as they had an amazing chef on the estate already.

This was Blaine's way of saying thank you to the man for saving his husband and daughter.

Blaine raised a hand to Kurt's back and ran his fingers down the line of his husband's spine over his finely tailored coat, careful to avoid the spot on Kurt's shoulder that made him hiss with pain.

“I have to admit the flowers are lovely,” Kurt said, finding Blaine's unoccupied hand and threading their fingers together. “And I can't wait to see my father and Rachel, seeing as we missed them on our trip to London.” Kurt felt giddy at the thought of his sister coming to the country manor to attend his wedding. He missed her so. Poor miserable Rachel, afflicted with the all-day sickness that sometimes befalls a woman with child, traveling all the way to the country to witness Kurt's nuptials. Regardless of how much he missed his dear sister, Kurt had begged her to stay in the city, but it was Rachel who had insisted that she come.

She said that she would not miss seeing her beloved brother happy for all the world.

Blaine had arranged for his finest carriage to fetch her.

“But I think my favorite part,” Kurt started, creeping up his husband's body to look him in the eyes, “will be when we tuck our daughter into bed early, the celebrants have drunk themselves silly, and you and I can retire to our room to celebrate on our own.”

“Really, husband?” Blaine said, feigning a look of surprise that did nothing to hide the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Do you approve of that idea?” Kurt asked, slyly slipping a hand down between his husband's legs to find the proof of Blaine's passion and lust for him, even now when Kurt was a little bit broken and still healing, plagued at night with dreams that forced him awake, crying in fear. Especially now while they were both learning how to heal together without pushing each other away.

When they finally realized just how much they meant to one another.

Hence the second wedding, and this beautiful field of wisteria that Blaine had planted at an enormous but worthwhile expense, as a get well gift for his beloved husband.

“I very much approve,” Blaine said suggestively. Kurt lowered his face to Blaine's, and Blaine inclined his head so that he could feel his husband's mouth fully on his.

“Ugh!” Beth mocked a gag as she spied the two men atop the hillside of wisteria, locked in each other's loving embrace. “Do they always have to do that?”

Kurt smiled into his husband's kiss but Blaine frowned at the intrusion. Kurt turned his head to see Sebastian bounding up the hill, galloping like a horse with Beth on his shoulders, her hand threaded into his hair, holding on tight.

“You will have to excuse them, milady,” Sebastian said, grinning at the couple sprawled undignified on the ground. “They are in love.”

“Kissing is disgusting,” Beth returned.

“Well, young miss, there may come a day when you might not mind it so much.” Sebastian lifted Beth off his shoulders and pretended he would drop her, then caught her inches from the ground. She looked up at the young man and blushed deep to the roots of her dark curls.

Kurt shot Blaine a knowing look, and Blaine rolled his eyes.

“Alright, you two,” Blaine said, struggling to get up. Kurt sprang to his feet as best as he could and offered his husband a hand. “Shouldn't we be returning to the manor for lunch?”

“Oh, I wish I had thought to bring it with us,” Kurt commented, looking back across the meadow at the manor house looming in the distance. “It is such a lovely day – too lovely to be stuck indoors.”

“I have my palomino grazing not far from here, milord,” Sebastian said with a bow to Kurt, looking up at the young lord in a way that still raised Blaine's hackles a bit, but needlessly so. “I can run back to the house and have the cook pack the basket for you. It will take but a moment.”

“Would you please?” Kurt asked.

“Of course, milord.” Sebastian bowed again, and winked at Beth, who ducked her face to hide the red in her cheeks.

Sebastian took off at a run down the hill, and Kurt's eyes followed after him.

“You needn't admire him so much, husband,” Blaine said bitterly, but with a teasing tone.

“It is not him that I admire,” Kurt said with a sigh, “but his ability to run without pain.” Kurt shook his head, and when he looked back at his husband, the man's face was sullen, his hazel eyes full of regret and sorrow.

Kurt smacked his husband lightly on the arm.

“Now, we'll have none of that, my lord,” Kurt said. “It is simply a twinge that I suffer, and it will go away in time. Even the doctor says so.”

“I know,” Blaine said, but the sadness would not fade from his voice.

Kurt looped an arm around Blaine's waist and held him tight.

“You are going to need to stop villainizing yourself, my love,” Kurt whispered. “Nothing that happened is your fault.”

“So you say,” Blaine replied, leaning his head against Kurt's shoulder.

“So I know,” Kurt said. Kurt felt Blaine shift uneasily, and he put a hand to Blaine's shoulders. “How are the new straps treating you, my lord?” Kurt asked, checking out his handiwork through Blaine's clothes. While Kurt had been forced to stay in bed till the majority of his wounds healed, he convinced Blaine to let him have a go at fixing his prosthetic, which turned into having a new limb made and a harness affixed – one that went up over Blaine's shoulders to take the pressure of balancing all his weight off his hips.

“They are fine, my love,” Blaine said, leaning his head back to offer his husband a smile. “Perfect. I don't know what I did before I had you.”

“You wallowed around in pain and misery needlessly, my love,” Kurt said, placing a gentle kiss on his husband's lips.

“Hmm,” Blaine hummed, “I agree.”

Kurt felt a tug on his coat, and looked down to see Beth hanging off his tails.

“Papa?” she asked in a soft voice, a voice so reminiscent to the one she had with her when she first met Kurt so long ago in London.

“Yes, Beth, darling?” Kurt asked.

“Could you tell me a story while we wait?” She sat down on the grass, pulling her skirts under her, and patting a place for Kurt to sit.

“Of course, my little love.” Kurt settled back down onto the grass, asking Blaine with wide pleading eyes to join them, which he did, sliding down to a sitting position beside Beth and pulling the child into his lap, legs spread wide to accommodate his prosthetic. “What story would you like to hear?”

“You know what story, papa,” Beth said, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in the heel of her hand. Indeed, Kurt did know what story, since she had asked him to read it to her so often that he had set it to memory.

It was the story of a little orphaned girl, who went from door to door in London selling eggs from out a basket. She stumbled upon a lonely old man who eventually adopted her, and they became the best of friends for the remainder of their days.

Kurt had asked her once if she liked the tale so much because it reminded her of her own story, to which she determinedly said no, since Kurt could never, ever be old, and she did not like eggs.

Kurt scooted closer to the two – the man who stole his heart, and the little girl who gave him hers so willingly. And hidden in the cool comfort of the never-ending wisteria, Kurt told them a story about fate and love, about people who need one another finding each other, and, in the end, living happily ever after.