"I want everyone to see how proud I am of my brave, handsome, bushy-haired boyfriend."
"Y-you think I'm … brave?" And you're about to make a light hearted comment about him ignoring the fact you called him handsome, but then you see the look on his face – his eyes are wide and hopeful and bright, almost as if …
"Blaine, are you … crying? Blaine!" and you pull him against you, curling one arm protectively around his waist and leaving your other hand resting on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls. "Shh, shh, what is it, baby? What's wrong?"
"I just …" and his voice is muffled against your neck, so you loosen your grip on him enough to allow him to pull back a little. "It's just that … nobody's ever called me brave before and it … it means a lot to me …"
"Oh, Blaine!" and you can feel your own tears welling up in your eyes, "You're the bravest man I know." You say it with all the conviction you feel and you watch him glow under your praise. "You're so brave and beautiful and, god, you're just perfect-"
"I'm not, though," he sniffles, hiding his face in your shoulder again.
"Hey, now! You're perfect for me. And that's all I care about." And you let your fingers twist themselves into his hair again. "And, you know what? Now that I've gotten over the original shock of it all … " you lower your mouth so it's right by his ear, smiling as he shivers at the feeling of your hot breath, "I actually think it's kind of hot." He lifts his head, slowly, gives the whole room a quick once-over, before tilting his head up and giving your lips a quick kiss. He ducks his head again, quickly, but not before you notice his blush.
"Thank you," he whispers into your clavicle. "Just … thank you."
"Anytime, my love." And you press a kiss to the top of his head, smiling as his curls tickle your nose.