It's really all his friend Gina's fault, honestly.

They're having lunch, one day, in the office because it's too cold to go eat outside and they only get half an hour today so walking anywhere else seems like a waste of time.

Gina's talking about meeting her boyfriend's parents (they've only been going out three weeks but Gina never does anything by halves), and after five minutes of ranting about how apparently Henry's mother likes girls "to be girls, whatever the fuck that means," she turns to Kurt and says: "I don't know, what was it like when you first met your boyfriend's parents?"

Kurt shrugs and sips at his diet coke. "I never have," he says.

Gina laughs at him for a second, though when his expression doesn't change she goes back to frowning like she's been doing since they got onto this general topic. "Seriously?" she says.

Kurt nods.

"But aren't you, like, marrying the guy?" Gina asks him, one eyebrow raised like this is the craziest thing she's ever heard.

Kurt shifts awkwardly in his chair and picks a little more off the crust of his sandwich.

"We're not actually engaged, yet," he says.

"But you want to be."

Kurt can't deny it, nor does he want to, so he doesn't. "Yes, definitely," he says.

"Okay, so, you don't think it might be a good idea to meet his parents before the wedding, rather than during it?" Gina says, before her phone rings and the caller (Henry, of course) claims her attention entirely.

For some reason, it's that idea, more than all the other things Kurt's thought to himself about this very subject over the last few years, which really gets to him: the image of marrying Blaine, of going to the reception afterwards, of shaking Mr and Mrs Anderson's hands and saying Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel, your son's husband, so nice to finally meet you!

It's absurd—preposterous, even—but it's enough to make Kurt head home after work that day firm in the belief that it really is time he met Blaine's parents.

Now he just has to convince Blaine of the fact.

.

He's in luck—if luck is really the right word—when he gets home, because Blaine is actually on the phone with his mother as Kurt walks through the front door. He blows Kurt a kiss from his seat on the sofa and then says, "No, mom, I'll still listening, I promise," into the phone, a little wearily. Kurt throws him a sympathetic look before he heads into the bedroom to take off his outer layers.

Blaine calls his parents once a month, or sometimes twice, but never more than that. It's not much, by anyone's standards, and certainly not by Kurt's, who calls his dad and Carole pretty much whenever he feels like it, even if that's several times a day. Still, it's more than enough for Blaine, it seems, if the brevity of the calls and the perfunctory nature of the conversation Kurt overhears is anything to go by.

Kurt is aware—more than aware—that Blaine's relationship with his parents is strained, to put it mildly, and particularly so in the last few years. After all, Kurt was there at Dalton, and he remembers how Blaine had gone home as few weekends as possible, just to avoid either hearing his parents fight or else not speak to each other at all; and at McKinley, when Blaine was almost always over at Kurt's house unless his own was guaranteed to be empty for at least an entire evening; and of course, Blaine's senior year, when his parents had announced their "trial separation" two days before Christmas and Blaine had spent the whole of the holidays right up to New Year's with Kurt and his family instead.

Then there was Blaine's freshman year at Tisch, during which three emails, a birthday card, two phone calls and one (disastrous) visit at Thanksgiving made up the full extent of his contact with his parents, at least without Cooper acting as intermediary.

Come to think of it, compared to back then, two phone calls a month is pretty damn spectacular, actually.

Kurt takes off his coat and scarf and hangs them on the coat tree they have in the bedroom (mostly because the entranceway is minute and has no room for one), before deciding to swap the pants he's wearing for ones that are slightly more comfortable for cuddling in front of the TV, which he hopes is going to form a key component of this evening.

When that's done, he heads back into the living room (which is also the dining room and the kitchen, and Kurt's study, when he needs it to be) and settles on the couch with the book he's been trying and failing to find time to read recently. Next to him, Blaine sounds like he really wants to finish his phone call. "Yeah, mom, okay," he says. "I'll talk to you soon. Tell dad I said hi and—no, really, I don't need you to read me out the recipe, mom, I already told you." A second's pause, and then Blaine adds: "Well, because Kurt already knows how to make it."

Kurt reaches out to squeeze Blaine's hand where it's resting on the cushions between them, and smiles to himself when Blaine squeezes back. Hearing Blaine mention him like that gives him a boost, making him believe the conversation he wants to have is definitely a good idea.

After a few seconds Blaine sighs out loud and takes his hand back from Kurt so that he can rub it over his face. "No, I said I don't—okay, mom, fine, I'm writing it down," he says, and gets up to go find a pen and paper.

Kurt focuses his attention back on his book and listens vaguely while Blaine parrots back every ingredient and instruction his mother lists so that she'll know he's really writing it all down. Eventually, Kurt hears Blaine say goodbye and then the click of the call ended button: he looks up to see Blaine dumping the phone unceremoniously on the coffee table and slumping back down on the couch so that his face is smushed up against Kurt's sweater.

"Longest phone call ever," Blaine says, winding his arms around Kurt's middle in such a manner that holding onto his book becomes neither practical nor desirable.

"Such a brave soldier," Kurt says, putting one arm round Blaine's back and using his other hand to pet at the nape of Blaine's neck, where his hair is starting to lose its hold and spring back to its natural curl.

"Ain't I just," Blaine says, and lifts his head to beg for a kiss that Kurt is happy to give him.

It's actually five kisses—at least that's as many distinct ones as Kurt can count—before they pull away from each other and say hello, by which point Kurt is so relaxed and happy to be home that he decides to wait and bring up Blaine's parents later on, when there isn't a moment like this to hold onto.

.

When he does raise the subject, right before they go to bed, he's actually kind of surprised at how vehemently Blaine seems to oppose it. He'd expected reluctance but not for Blaine to flat-out reject the idea and then try to walk out the front door while still in his pajamas. Good to know his boyfriend hasn't lost his flair for the dramatic.

Kurt stands in the living room, staring at the door, waiting to hear Blaine's key in the lock again. It takes a little longer than he expected—Blaine must have gone down at least a couple flights of stairs before he turned back—but then there's a click and Blaine swinging the door open a little harder than necessary, and closing it again behind him with a soft thud.

"I'm in my pajamas," he says, sounding irritated by the fact.

"Yes, you are," Kurt says.

Blaine scowls and strides back into the bedroom. When Kurt follows him, Blaine is sitting on the end of the bed and seems to be about to put his jeans back on in place of his pajama pants.

"Are you really getting dressed again just so you can storm out of here?" Kurt asks, faintly amused by the idea in spite of the fact that they're fighting and he hates it when he and Blaine fight.

"Yes," Blaine says emphatically, though once he's said it, he seems to lose momentum, and after a second of indecision he drops his jeans back on the floor instead.

"I just don't understand why you don't want me to meet them," Kurt says after a few seconds of silence. When Blaine doesn't reply, Kurt decides to voice the biggest fear he has about all of this. "Is it … me? Do you think I'll embarrass you in front of them, or something?"

Blaine's head snaps up, and he looks almost stricken when he says: "What? Kurt, no, of course that's not—of course I don't think that. Do you honestly think that's why you've never met them?"

Kurt shrugs helplessly. "I don't know what to think, anymore."

"Well, please, please don't think that, okay? Look, come here." Blaine pats the bed next to him, and Kurt goes gladly, sitting down and resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine takes his hand and rubs his thumb gently over Kurt's knuckles. They sit like that for a second, and then Blaine says: "I'm so sorry to have made you think like that."

Kurt lifts his head up and props his chin on Blaine's shoulder instead, resting his nose against the slope of Blaine's jaw. "You didn't," he insists. "Not really. I guess I just … don't really understand why you still don't want me to meet them, and so I got nervous, I suppose."

"Well, I promise you that has nothing to do with it," Blaine says. "Honestly, Kurt, I have no problem with the idea of my parents meeting you, I just … don't really think you'd enjoy meeting them."

"Maybe that's true," Kurt says. "But I still think I'd like to find out for myself."

Blaine is quiet again. He puts his arm around Kurt's waist and holds him close, though, so Kurt doesn't think he's angry or anything.

"Can I ask why?" Blaine eventually asks. "Or, why now, I guess."

"Because, I—" Kurt stops for a second, thinking. He doesn't want to tell Blaine the wedding scenario, because that's just too ridiculous to share out loud, but still. He wants Blaine to understand that he feels like this is long overdue. "Because, I'm your boyfriend, and we've been together for five years, and it's not like we're planning to not be together any time soon, and I just—I don't think it's unreasonable for me to want to meet your parents."

"You were my boyfriend in high school, too," Blaine points out. "You never pushed me about meeting them, then."

"I know," Kurt says, patiently, so desperate for this not to turn into a fight again. "But that was because I knew how difficult things were for you and I didn't want to make it worse by forcing you to do something that made you uncomfortable."

"Things are still difficult," Blaine says. "You know they are. They probably always will be."

"Yes," Kurt says, "of course I do, but … you have to admit they're better. You're talking to each other more, you don't fight so much. If I'm ever going to meet them … now seems like a pretty good time."

Blaine sighs heavily, and Kurt thinks he might be about to contest the matter further, but what he actually does is fall back on the bed, tugging at Kurt's arm to bring him down too. Kurt cuddles up close again, grateful that at least they're not fighting about this, and then Blaine says: "All right."

Kurt lifts his head up, surprised, and looks at Blaine. "Seriously?"

Blaine nods. "I'll call them tomorrow and say we're going to come and visit them over Thanksgiving."

"Really?" Kurt says. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Blaine says. "I can't guarantee you it won't be awkward, though. Or that you won't witness my mother and father getting into a fight about, like, there being too much salt in the soup or something."

Kurt slips his hand up under Blaine's pajama top and starts stroking his thumb over Blaine's hipbone. "That's okay," he says. "Thank you."

.

When the holidays come, they arrange to have dinner with Blaine's parents on the Saturday, after spending Thanksgiving itself, from Wednesday through Friday with Kurt's family. It's good, Kurt thinks, to have spent that time with his dad and Carole and Finn (and Lily, Finn's latest and most serious girlfriend since Rachel), all of whom treat Blaine like he's one of the family with no qualms whatsoever.

Blaine drives them over on Saturday night, and it's weird for Kurt, seeing Blaine's family home again after so many years. He gets the feeling it's plenty weird for Blaine, too, and the thought sobers him, makes him reach out to grab Blaine's hand tightly as they walk up the driveway together.

Blaine smiles at him and grips back tightly, too.

The woman who answers the door (Blaine's mother, Kurt thinks to himself, almost incredulously) is short and dark-haired. She looks a lot like Blaine in the face (because she's his mother), though her hair is perfectly straight and her eyes are a cool blue so unlike Blaine's warm hazel ones.

She doesn't smile when she sees them, Kurt notices. Her face tenses in a way that makes it look as if she might be about to do so but then it never actually happens. She says: "Blaine, dear," though, and kisses Blaine on both cheeks before pulling him a brief hug that Blaine hardly has time to return before she lets go and starts brushing imaginary lint off of his shoulders instead. (Kurt knows its imaginary lint because he personally supervised the use of the lint roller before they left the house, and he'll eat one of the many assorted hats he possesses if he didn't do a damn fine job.)

"Hi, mama," Blaine says, smiling tightly. "It's good to see you."

"And you, my boy," Mrs Anderson says, and this time she really does smile, at least a little bit.

Of course, the smile drops in the next second when she turns to Kurt, saying: "And this is..?"

Kurt feels a little like he's been slapped in the face with something cold and hard. He can't believe—he felt sure they knew, that Blaine had told them.

When he looks over at Blaine, though, Blaine seems just as shocked as Kurt, and a little angry, to boot. "This is Kurt, mom," he says. "You knew he was coming, I told you. We talked about this."

Kurt immediately feels a little better, enough to hold his hand out and say: "Kurt Hummel, Mrs Anderson, it's so nice to finally meet you."

"Yes, of course," Blaine's mother says, taking his hand after a split-second of hesitation that feels so much longer than it should. Her grip is firm and dry, her hand tiny in Kurt's but somehow she makes him feel small anyway. When she lets go, she makes the almost-but-not-quite-smiling face again and steps aside to let them into the house. "Please, come in."

They hang their coats up in the hallway and Kurt takes the opportunity to hand over the bunch of flowers he's brought with him.

Mrs Anderson looks faintly surprised at the gift, but she sniffs the blooms delicately in any case and says: "That's very kind of you, Mr Hummel."

Kurt's prepared to let the name slide—they've only just met, after all, and it's not like he has plans to call her Isabel any time soon—but Blaine, it seems, is not.

"It's Kurt, mama," he says, already sounding about as annoyed as he gets on the phone sometimes with his parents. "And I did tell you he was coming. This whole evening is because of—"

"Yes, yes, Blaine, I know," Mrs Anderson says, sounding slightly vexed herself. "But honestly, having never even met your friend before, I'm not sure how you expect me to just recognise him on sight."

"Who else would I possibly bring with me tonight, mom?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Mrs Anderson says, and as if that puts a definitive end to the conversation, declares that she has to go check on dinner. "Your father's in the living room," she adds as she heads into the kitchen.

It's not a particularly auspicious start, and things don't get much better after that.

They also don't really get any worse, either, at least not to start with. Mostly they just remain a fixed level of awkward, though Kurt can't tell if it's directly related to his presence or if this is just the nature of Blaine's family situation. He doesn't know which he'd like less, to be honest.

Blaine's father greets Kurt civilly enough, offering them drinks while they wait for dinner to be ready, though he does respond to Blaine remarking on their apartment and how reasonable the rent is by saying how sensible it is for them to live together and share the cost, as if that's the only reason they're doing it.

Dinner itself is accompanied by slightly stilted conversation and peppered with silences no one really seems to want to fill. Blaine's parents ask Blaine about his classes, about what he wants to do when he finishes school—they're surprisingly supportive of his desire to at least give professional acting a try, which Kurt supposes is mostly down to Cooper and his "success" in the field—and Blaine shares a little about their life in New York, recently, just some innocuous stories about snow flurries and trips to the Met that his parents listen to attentively enough.

The first hiccup comes when Kurt tells them he works in fashion, to which Mrs Anderson says in response, seemingly into her napkin, "Of course you do."

Kurt can feel Blaine tense next to him, the way his cutlery scrapes against the plate, before Mr Anderson comes in and says: "Blaine's mentioned it before, of course. You work for a magazine, I believe?"

With that bump smoothed over, Kurt tells them about his job, though his enthusiasm for the topic doesn't seem to be picked up by Blaine's parents, who merely smile politely and then start talking about someone they know whose daughter works in fashion, too.

Kurt's not sure if they're making the connection to say something derogatory about him, or if they're actually suggesting this girl is a viable alternate prospect for Blaine ("she even went to Crawford County Day, Blaine, I'm sure you must remember her"), but either way he's starting to understand why Blaine maybe didn't want them to come here.

While Mrs Anderson is clearing the plates from dinner and preparing to bring in dessert, Kurt excuses himself for a moment, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze under the table before he goes. He thinks Mr Anderson spots him doing it, detects perhaps just the tiniest clench of the jaw, but that's it, and when Kurt meets his eye directly Mr Anderson just smiles at him and points him in the right direction for the guest bathroom, even though Kurt already knows where to go.

He uses the bathroom, then afterwards he takes a moment to wander slowly back towards the kitchen, feeling guilty for basically abandoning Blaine but in no real hurry to go back to the table. He looks at the pictures Blaine's parents have up on the wall and notices, among half a dozen individual pictures of Blaine and Cooper (but mostly Cooper), one of the whole family that must have been fifteen years old, at least.

It's a posed portrait, slightly stiff as a result, but the smiles are genuine and easy, and a roughly five-year-old Blaine looks happy as can be in a bowtie Kurt assumes he probably picked out himself especially for the occasion. Cooper, fifteen or thereabouts, already looks like he's developed an affinity for the camera, but it's still probably more natural than Kurt's ever seen him look in a photo, and the way he's holding hands with Blaine is unfairly adorable. Mrs Anderson looks like she's having trouble keeping Blaine in position on her lap, and Mr Anderson is wearing a truly terrible sweater, but otherwise it's a lovely picture.

He's so absorbed in looking at it, in studying the smiles and wondering where they went, that at first he doesn't notice the raised voices coming from the kitchen. When he does, he finishes walking back as quietly as he can and stands just outside the door, deciding to wait and see what the argument is before he gets involved in it.

It doesn't take much to figure out that what they're arguing about is Kurt himself.

"—have to be this way," he hears Blaine's father say, first, "couldn't you have picked one that's a little more … discreet?"

There's silence for a second, and then Blaine, in the quiet, calm tone Kurt always takes as a warning, says: "I'm sorry, picked one?"

"You know what I mean, Blaine."

"Do I? God, you make it sound like I ordered him out of a fucking catalogue or something."

"Mind your language, please," his mother says.

Blaine ignores her and carries on: "Kurt's my partner, dad. We love each other, it's not—I didn't just pick him, and I couldn't just pick someone else even if I wanted to because I love him and I have done since I was sixteen years old. Which you both would know if you paid even the slightest bit of attention to my life the way you do Cooper's."

"Blaine, will you please lower your voice," his mother hisses, this time, and Kurt can only assume she cares what the neighbours might think because goodness knows she's shown that she doesn't care too much about Kurt's feelings.

"Oh, and if by 'more discreet' you mean 'less gay' then I hate to break this to you, dad, but I'm just as gay as Kurt. It has a lot to do with why we like each other so much."

"But you're not—the way he dresses, Blaine, the way he acts, it's just so—"

"Homosexual?"

"There's not need to be crude, Blaine—"

"It's not crude, dad, it's who I am. It's who we both are."

"And you're absolutely sure that it has to be?" Mrs Anderson says, soft, and damning.

There's a silence, heavy with dreadful anticipation, before Kurt hears Blaine, voice lowered, saying: "Why, do you have a solution in mind? Something that'll set me straight?"

"Of course not, Blaine," his father says, suddenly trying to sound reasonable once again. "That's not what your mother meant, we just—we don't want you to make any decisions you might regret later on in life."

"What, like marrying the person I love? That kind of decision?"

"Oh, Blaine, please," it's Mrs Anderson again, sounding exasperated, and Kurt wonders what exactly they were talking about before he came back downstairs. "It's far too soon for you to be talking about things like that. Least of all with someone like hi—"

Kurt decides that's the moment for him to step into the kitchen again, because this has the potential to get extremely unpleasant and even if that's an inevitability at some stage, he doesn't see why Blaine (and he) should have to suffer through it tonight.

"Blaine," he says, and waits for Blaine to look at him rather than staring at his parents. "I'm not feeling well. I think it's time we left."

"If you don't mind, Mr Hummel," Mrs Anderson says, icily, "we are in the middle of a private conversation with our son."

"Yes," Kurt says. "About me, unless I misheard."

Mrs Anderson purses her lips, but she holds Kurt's gaze and it's not until Blaine stands up and says: "Yeah, okay, let's go," that she breaks it to look at Blaine instead.

"Blaine," Mr Anderson says, "Son, we just—"

"I'm done talking about this, dad," Blaine says, steel in his voice. "My relationship with Kurt is no longer something I'm willing to discuss with either of you, now or ever."

"Very well," Mrs Anderson says, and there's something final about the way she says it that Blaine seems to notice, too, judging by the way he sets his mouth in a firm line and tells them both goodbye before turning and walking about the door.

Kurt follows him out, grabbing their coats along the way, and finds Blaine by the car, holding the keys in shaking hands and trying to get them to fit in the lock.

Kurt shrugs his coat back on and leaves Blaine's hanging over his left arm, holding out his right for the keys. "Let me drive."

Blaine shakes his head. "I'm fine, Kurt—"

"Blaine," Kurt says, laying his hand on Blaine's to try and coax the keys from his fingers. "Please, let me?"

To his relief, Blaine finally gives a jerky nod and gets in on the passenger side, sitting low in his seat and rumpling what was a perfectly pressed shirt.

Kurt makes it all the way to the first intersection before he absolutely has to say something to Blaine. He feels almost racked with guilt about this evening, about the fact that if it weren't for him wanting to meet Blaine's parents in the first place, this never would have happened. He never wanted to make Blaine this unhappy.

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry I made you come here and go through all of that."

Blaine shakes his head and reaches for Kurt's hand over the console to grip it briefly. "No, don't be sorry, it's okay. You didn't know this was going to happen."

He hates himself for it a little, but Kurt has to ask: "Did you know? I mean, did you have any idea at all they felt that way?"

Blaine slumps down further in his seat, looking weary and sad. "I … honestly, I don't know what I thought. It's not something we've ever really talked about, which, you know. I guess that probably should have given me some idea of how they felt, but …" he pauses for a second, rubbing at the growing condensation on the window with his sleeve to make a peephole he can stare out through as he carries on. "Things were just always so bad between us, you know? I got … vibes off them sometimes, especially when I told them about you for the first time but it was just—everything else was so terrible, like, all the time back then then I guess I didn't notice if my being gay had anything to do with it. Obviously it did."

Kurt wants to say something (actually he wants to reach out and put his arms around Blaine and kiss him and make this all better, but he can't do the first few because hello, driving, and he thinks the latter is probably beyond even his capabilities right now), but he's not sure what. He settles for Blaine's name, just because it makes him feel a little better for saying it.

"You know," Blaine continues, still looking out of the patch he's cleared on the window. "They've never said anything out loud. Not once. Ever since we started talking again, I've been telling them about you. About us and … our life together, and they always just let me. They listened to all my anecdotes, and they never said anything about the fact all the holiday and birthday cards are signed from both of us, and that scarf I gave Mom last Christmas? She loved it, even after I told her you'd been the one to pick it out for her. I suppose—I suppose I figured that the fact they never said anything meant they were okay with it." He shrugs. "Guess I was wrong."

Kurt does reach out and take Blaine's hand at that point . "That's not your fault, Blaine," he says. "You wanted to think the best of them, they're your parents."

"Yeah, but it's not like I had much reason to," Blaine says. "Not like I ever have, so."

"It doesn't matter," Kurt says. "You're a good person. And I'm still sorry this happened. If we hadn't—"

But Blaine interrupts him. "If we hadn't come here tonight, I'd still be thinking my parents might be okay with the idea of coming to my wedding someday. Frankly, I'm glad for the reality check."

He doesn't sound glad, though, and Kurt knows things aren't as simple now as Blaine would apparently like them to be. When he tries to say something more, though, Blaine says: "Can we talk about it tomorrow, please? I just want to go home."

And Kurt thinks, if he can't do anything else for Blaine tonight, he can at least drive him home, so he keeps his eyes on the road and he does just that.

.

His dad and Carole are on the sofa when they get home, watching something crime-related and sharing a bowl of popcorn that looks suspiciously buttery, though Kurt hasn't got it in him right now to say anything about it.

"Hey, boys," Carole says, sitting up and looking a little concerned. "You're back early, is everything okay?"

Blaine is hanging up his coat by the door, and in the second or two he has his back to the room Kurt takes the chance to shake his head emphatically, grateful when his dad and Carole seem to get the message and don't ask any further questions for now.

Blaine wants to head upstairs right away, and Kurt's not exactly opposed to the idea, so they say goodnight and start heading towards the stairs. Before they get there, though, Burt calls out to Blaine.

"Always good to have you here, kid," he says, when Blaine looks back at him, and Kurt will forgive his father a lot of buttery popcorn tonight for making Blaine smile like that at this moment.

.

They get ready for bed in silence, taking turns in the bathroom rather than doing things side-by-side like they sometimes do, and by the time Kurt's finished moisturising and brushing his teeth, Blaine's already curled up on his side of the bed with the lights down.

Kurt's barely gotten in beside him and rearranged the covers to his liking, before Blaine huffs out a heavy sigh, and says: "I'm sorry."

Kurt stops fluffing his pillow and looks at Blaine in the dim light of the room. They've forgotten to close the curtains, but it doesn't matter: it's November, not like they'll be woken by an early sunrise. "For what?"

"That I don't have more to offer you," Blaine says, looking down at the bedspread like it hides some fascinating secret. "You know, when it comes to family."

"Blaine," Kurt says, waiting until Blaine looks up at him before he continues. Then, when he does: "You're my family. Okay? Your parents are just … people you're related to. And you know, who I will one day be related to by marriage, hopefully."

Blaine smiles for a second, and only a second, before he starts to frown again.

"But it's just—I get all of that," Blaine says, gesturing towards Kurt's closed door, presumably in reference to the low murmur of conversation they can still hear faintly through it. "I get to be part of your family, and what do you get in return?"

"I get you, Blaine," Kurt said. "That's all I've ever expected from you, and it's all I could ever need."

Blaine shrugs, though he's lying down so it doesn't really work. "Hardly seems like a fair trade."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Kurt says. "I'm the one who got lucky, here, my family's the least I can do to redress the balance."

"Kurt," Blaine says, shaking his head, clearly about to say something else self-deprecating, but Kurt isn't having any of it.

"I get Cooper, too, if that makes you feel any better."

Blaine groans and rolls away from him, onto his back. "Oh, god, it doesn't. Now I'm really, really sorry."

Kurt grins and snuggles in close to Blaine's side, pressing his lips to Blaine's shoulder. "I'm not," he says. "Where would we be without Cooper? He taught us how to feng shui the apartment."

"He put a bonsai in one corner and moved the TV behind the couch, Kurt," Blaine points out.

"And then he tried to charge us for his knowledge and expertise, I know," Kurt says, laughing at the memory. "That was a pretty entertaining weekend, actually."

"For you, maybe," Blaine says, with a little attempt at sounding grouchy, though it's not particularly effective considering how he's rubbing his hand gently, gently over Kurt's arm where it's resting on his stomach. "You weren't the one who had to move everything back to where it was."

"Nope," Kurt says, happily. "I just got to watch you both instead."

"You know, one day I'll remember to be jealous again of the lust you hold for my brother, and then you'll be sorry."

"Mm, I'd imagine the sex would be pretty spectacular in that instance, so I'm not too worried," Kurt says.

"We'll see," Blaine grumbles.

They're silent for a little while, listening to the quiet sounds of activity still going on downstairs, and Kurt wonders if maybe Blaine has started drifting off to sleep when suddenly he shifts next to Kurt and says: "I really love you, you know."

Kurt smiles. "I love you, too," he says, and leans in to kiss Blaine on the lips this time. "So much, and I can't wait to marry you."

Blaine pulls back just enough so that he can give Kurt a quizzical look. "We're not actually engaged," he says.

"No, but you're going to ask me. Soon, I hope," Kurt says, kissing Blaine on his neck, his chin, the tip of his nose.

When he's done, Blaine is looking at him with suspicion. "How did you—"

"Blaine," Kurt says, "sweetheart, love of my life, you seem to forget that your sock drawer is actually our sock drawer, these days. It's not a very effective hiding place."

"Oh," Blaine says, face falling.

"If it makes you feel better," Kurt says, propping his head up on one hand so that he can look at Blaine properly, "I promise I'll say yes, whenever you ask."

Blaine pulls a face like he's thinking the matter over, then he says: "Will you promise to act surprised, as well?"

"Maybe," Kurt says. He hasn't actually looked to see what the ring (rings? He hopes there's one for both of them) looks like, so he can definitely be surprised about that part. "But if you haven't asked me by Christmas then I'm raiding the sock drawer of its mysterious contents and asking you myself."

Blaine laughs, then, finally, and rolls onto his side so that when Kurt lowers his head down onto the pillow again, they're face to face.

"Deal," Blaine says, and kisses him.


end