They’d been having this conversation since the plane took off from New York and now, midway over the Atlantic, Kurt was ready to make use of that emergency exit. Without looking up from his magazine, focusing his eyes on a Burberry ad and making use of his deep breathing techniques, he shifted slightly away from his husband and remarked calmly, “I’m allergic to pineapples. And you’re gay.”

“I can appreciate women when they’re smiling and holding hollowed-out pineapples.” Stretching his arms over his head with a melodramatic groan, Kurt’s husband of five years, Sebastian, smacked his hand on the roof of the plane and immediately doubled over with a too-loud curse. Kurt cringed, glancing around in an unfortunately-well-practiced motion, making certain there were no small children in earshot.

“Honey...” he said in an undertone, reaching over and gently grabbing onto Sebastian’s wrist. “Let me see.”

His husband drew away with a scowl, cradling his hand to his chest. Not for the first time, Kurt wondered how he’d managed to marry the man with the lowest pain threshold in the continental United States. But all he did was press his lips together and close his magazine. “Bas, I just want to see if --”

“If it’s something you can discuss using words specifically designed to make me feel idiotic?” Sebastian sniped back, shifting away and flexing his hand with another wince. “Can you take off the doctor’s coat for five minutes at a time? Just five, really, that’s all I’m asking.”

And there it was. Even on their way to rekindle the lost spark in their marriage, they couldn’t last a plane ride without fighting, always about the same things -- Sebastian’s immaturity, Kurt’s excessive maturity, their jobs, their differences, everything that had once been exciting and now just weighed heavily on Kurt’s heart. The physician in him was worried about Sebastian’s hand, the husband in him was fretting about what this fight could mean and the rest of him was just exhausted.

So he didn’t rise to the bait, crossing one leg over the other and turning to look out the window. The view out it was the same as it had been for hours -- endless blue sky, endless blue water, punctuated by puffy white clouds and the crests of rolling waves, respectively. Blue was a soothing color, one scientifically proven to calm people down. Maybe he should’ve let Sebastian sit by the window.

But no, because the other man was already sighing softly, moving closer again, their hips bumping together as he reached out and settled his long, slender fingers gently over Kurt’s hand. “Hey,” he murmured, gently, lips pressing to his husband’s temple. “I’m sorry. I’m just ready to get off this dumb plane.”

Kurt, like he had every time before, like he doubtlessly would every time in the future, softened immediately, the touch on his hand like a spark that melted his iciness. Because even now, even after all these years, even with the bickering and insults and cruel words slung back and forth, he loved Sebastian, loved him in a helpless sort of way. It was a love that wanted to fix and heal, the way he fixed and healed his patients, but Sebastian didn’t have a broken leg or mono. He had sharp edges and an abrasive nature and a roving nature that not even years of marriage had been able to entirely tame.

And Kurt couldn’t fix him.

But Kurt wasn’t thinking about that right now. He refused to let his mind wander there, to the three years they’d spent as virtual strangers, him in the midst of his residency out of state, Sebastian traveling constantly for his job. They’d only been married for a year when the opportunities had sprung up, and even now that things were slowed down and they were relatively settled in Manhattan, the awkwardness remained. Hence the trip.

Now, snuggling against Sebastian’s shoulder, Kurt offered a bit of a hopeful smile. “Scotland’s beautiful, Bas,” he said, trying to remain upbeat, letting his bruised feelings be soothed by the cool hand rubbing circles into the small of his back. “It’s green and full of history and culture and colorful locals and...leftovers from the Jurassic era.”

“Mmm? What?” Sebastian had been reading the back of the magazine still lying in Kurt’s lap, scarcely listening until this point. Now he frowned, nose wrinkling a little, fingers creeping around to pinch at Kurt’s side. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stu-owww.” Squirming away and swatting lightly at his husband’s shoulder, Kurt assumed his best scowl, even as he inwardly gave a sigh of relief. Teasing, handsiness, playfulness, all very good signs. “There are theories that the Loch Ness monster is actually a relic from the age of the dinosaurs, who somehow survived all these years. They call them waterhorses in Scotland.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, feigning a yawn and tucking his arm back around Kurt’s waist. “Fascinating. Well, if you see any triceratops’s while I’m asleep, don’t bother waking me. I’m not interested in anything but our pineapple-less hotel and attractive-women-less room.” Then, lowering his voice and half-growling against Kurt’s ear, “And hopefully my clothesless husband in the bed.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, a gesture lost on Sebastian, whose eyes were already closed. Then he sighed, softer, turning back towards the window, ignoring the pang that had gone through him at the innuendo. Another thing that had suffered woefully in recent months -- their sex life. It had almost been better during those three years of semi-separation, when they’d both get a night off and rush home for something almost resembling a one-night stand. Back then, everything had seemed quick and rushed and almost forbidden, and it was thrilling. But Kurt was almost 24 now, and he didn’t want speedy and dirty. He wanted stability, safety, security.

Unfortunately, Sebastian was none of these things.

“Mmm.” Shaking his head and opening his magazine carefully, not wanting to wake his dozing husband, Kurt settled down for the rest of the flight, keeping an eye on the window, waiting for the brilliant blue of sea and sky to give way to the emerald green of Scotland.

---

Well. It was certainly green.

“I think you’ve been brain-snatched.”

“I think you need to be quiet,” Kurt retorted snippily, dropping his suitcase unceremoniously onto the ground and squinting a little. The squinting was a necessary reaction to the brilliant lime green color of the small inn they were staying in. Sebastian had already produced a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere and slid them on, shaking his head in wonderment.

“If you’d asked me,” he began melodramatically, to nobody in particular, ignoring Kurt’s attempts to try and fish their reservation vouchers out of his bag, “a mere, oh...seven years ago, if the delicate little blushing virgin--”

“Oh my god, kill me now,” Kurt sighed, finally snatching the corner of the printed-out information and giving a yank. The papers sprung free from the mess of magazines and breath mints and his woefully-out-of-range cell phone -- though, of course, it was only the cell phone that clattered to the cobblestone street, ending up in five or six pieces.

“--who asked how to find Ms. Watson’s English class,” Sebastian continued, undaunted by the grisly death of his husband’s phone, “whilst wearing the tightest pair of pants that the dress code would allow, would someday book a most-likely-flea-ridden room in a fluorescent green hotel in the middle of the Scottish highlands, I would’ve said you were crazy.”

Down on his knees, carefully picking up the pieces of his phone, with a resigned sort of sigh (he’d been meaning to upgrade soon anyway), Kurt said with all the patience he could muster, “Would you please check us in, darling?”

Sebastian appeared to notice Kurt’s plight for the first time, offering that crooked slanty grin that was a near-permanent fixture on his smug little meerkat face. “Sure thing, sweetie.” With a pat on Kurt’s head as he passed, he plucked the reservations from his husband’s hand and walked into the hotel, whistling.

Kurt sighed again, sitting back on his heels and starting to try and fit together the bits of his phone. Once upon a time he’d found the whistling and the carelessness intriguing, charming even. After he’d transferred junior year, Sebastian had become a mixture of rival and mentor, driving him nuts in more ways than one. Had it been true affection or Stockholm Syndrome that had eventually driven them together?

No, stop it, Kurt berated himself, standing and brushing his pants off, then picking up his suitcase again. You aren’t here to second-guess choices you made when you were eighteen. You’re here to have a nice time with the man you’re married to. Now cut it out.

Nodding firmly, he paused a moment to turn and glance up at the looming hills that surrounded the small village. They’d opted to stay in one of the less-populated villages -- Inverness was the name -- , rather than in Edinburgh or a larger city. They made their daily life in a big city, that wasn’t what this vacation was for. It was an escape, a refuge from day-to-day life.

And it was beautiful. The houses (lime-green inn excepted) were small and quaint and rustic, the people were friendly, if a bit hesitant -- same-sex marriage had only been legal in Scotland for a couple years, so Kurt supposed they still weren’t used to gay couples -- and the broad sweeping sky, brilliant emerald hills and crystal-clear lochs were nearly enough to tempt even nature-phobic Kurt to “Sound of Music”-style frolicking.

Of course, before frolicking came recovery from jetlag. Sebastian had already managed to charm the innkeeper, a substantially enthusiastic woman who scarcely batted an eye at Kurt coming up to rest his head on his husband’s shoulder. “Come along, then, ye’re room’s’re right up tha stairs,” she cooed in a thick brogue that broke through the sleep-deprived fog already settling around Kurt, drawing a small smile.

The room was clean, if spare and the bed creaked alarmingly as Sebastian threw himself on it, seconds after the innkeeper left. Kurt was a bit more delicate, settling on the edge and offering a small smile.

“So...you like it?” he ventured with a wavering smile.

“Mmm.” Sebastian reached out, hooking his arm around Kurt’s waist and tugging him down to his back. “It’s swell.”

Once, their closeness would’ve easily and naturally led to other activities, but now...now the first feeling of lips against his neck was enough to prompt Kurt to say, softly, almost apologetically -- “I’m really tired, Bas.”

There was a pause, then Sebastian sighed, pulling away. “...all right.” He sat up, raking his fingers backwards through his hair, then pushing off the bed, setting the springs to creaking. “Go ahead and sleep. I’m gonna try and find the bathroom.”

And then he was gone. And despite his self-professed -- and completely honest -- exhaustion, Kurt rolled onto his side, curling up and staring at the wall, wide-awake. After a moment, wherein Sebastian didn’t return, he slowly got up and wandered to examine the view. Their room was set in the upstairs corner of the neon-colored inn, and while one window simply looked out onto the adjoining house, the other provided a nice picture of the town and street, as well as the crest of a hill rising above the town. If Kurt squinted, he could see what looked like a circle of dominoes, on the top of the hill.

Rocks, he realized after a moment. They’re some sort of rock circle, like Stonehenge. He settled onto his knees in front of the window, resting his chin on his folded arms and gazing out the window. Despite the distance and the sheer amount of shrubbery on the hill (that would no doubt snag and tear at his clothes should he dare to venture up) he found himself drawn to the stones. Maybe that would be a good way to start the following day, by going up there.
With a laugh, Kurt closed his eyes, daring to imagine, for a moment, himself and Sebastian as intrepid explorers, like Indiana Jones and Marion Ravenwood, only wearing McQueen and Prada. That image alone was enough to calm him down, and he returned to the bed for some much-needed sleep.