Kurt and Blaine left Pensacola around six in the morning, with Blaine behind the wheel; they supposed that by 9:30 they would be in New Orleans, brushing powdered sugar off the beignets at Cafe du Monde. However, Kurt noticed Blaine making a sudden and unscheduled turn off of the west-bound interstate and onto a spur heading south. “Um, Blaine?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Why are we getting off I-10? We filled up in Mobile, we shouldn’t need to gas up.”

“I thought it would be nice to take the scenic route for a bit,” Blaine replied, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. “You know, hit U.S. 90 and watch the Gulf of Mexico go by.”

It didn’t look very scenic so far to Kurt...mostly elevated highway over neighborhoods and swamps. Kurt was a little miffed...even though there was now marriage equality in all 50 states, he knew Mississippi was one of the ones dragged kicking and screaming into it. He had hoped that by going top speed on I-10 he could snooze through the state. Blaine had apparently had other ideas.

Soon however the scenery abruptly changed to tall hotels and casino billboards. And before he knew it…

“Wow, Kurt look!”

Beyond the glitzy Beau Rivage casino at the end of the highway, stretched out as far as they could see, was pristine white sand and sparkling blue-green water. The bypass looped around and merged with the coastal highway, which hugged the beaches along the Gulf of Mexico. Kurt could admit the sight was gorgeous, though even in the safety of the car he found himself reaching into the backseat for the bag that held the sunscreen. While he was bent backward over the passenger seat digging for the bottle, he heard Blaine’s voice: “hey Kurt, check out the lighthouse up ahead!”

He looked up to spot a lighthouse that towered over the center of the highway. In the past, lighthouses would have caused a visceral and negative reaction in Kurt, but after their Provincetown honeymoon, where they somehow managed to make out in all three historic lighthouses, he was over it. If anything he had a very different reaction now.

“Let’s pull over,” Kurt heard himself saying. Blaine looked at him with a smirk. “What? I mean one of us has to go to the bathroom, right?”

They pulled into the visitor center parking lot, realizing that there were quite a few tourists even for this early in the day...no making out, then. They walked across the two west lanes of Beach Boulevard to look inside the lighthouse, which was actually pretty sparse and narrow, with a metal staircase spiraling to the top. Painted around the inner walls of the lighthouse were several lines of blue, marking the high point of past storm surges. Right at head level was a light blue band that read “Hurricane Camille (1969) 17.5’ m.s.l.” Another, even-lighter band of blue towered above them in comparison; they had to go up the steps part way and strain to read the text: “Hurricane Katrina (2005), 21.5 m.s.l.”

“God, that’s like three Finns!” Kurt marveled. “I’m amazed it stayed up.”

They went back to the car, but Kurt figured that as long as they were here, they should look to see what other attractions were along the scenic route. He brought up a travel app on his phone and saw several attractions, including a quick day excursion to someplace called Ship Island. The port for the ferry was a few miles up ahead in Gulfport...they could board a nine a.m. ferry and be back on the mainland by 3:30. It would delay them arriving in New Orleans by a few hours, but he figured their room at the B&B would still be there that night.

Blaine laughed when Kurt made the suggestion. “So, you, Kurt Hummel, want to take a boat to a beach with no trees, no shade, and barely any amenities?”

“There are amenities!” Kurt protested. “You can rent beach umbrellas and chairs, there’s a snack bar...oh, and there’s a historic fort. You love history!”

“That I do,” Blaine said. “Okay, you get to be navigator then. Tell me where to go.”

Kurt entered the Gulfport Yacht Harbor into his phone’s GPS and they made their way to the port. Once they found parking, both decided now was as good a time as any to slather on the SPF. Once that was done, Blaine got their beach gear out of the trunk while Kurt made his way to the ticket booth. They met at the dock, where Kurt held two round-trip ferry tickets and a voucher for a beach umbrella and two chairs, which would be reserved for them at the island. They boarded the ferry, along with the tourists and locals who were loaded down with tote bags, towels, snacks and other sundries.

The boat ride was about an hour long. It was fairly uneventful, as they passed sailboats, pontoons, dinghies, and speedboats pulling skiers and wakeboarders. Kurt and Blaine were both glad they remembered their sunscreen as they found themselves on the top deck, the Mississippi sun already beating down on them and reflecting off the white-painted surface. Blaine gave himself a pat on the back that he had packed his ultra-hold hair gel, but worried that even that wouldn’t hold up in this humidity.

Soon the boat was pulling into a small dock that stretched out into the Mississippi Sound. Ship Island was a narrow but long island, with a round brick-and-stone fort to the right of the boardwalk. Past the fort were a few outbuildings owned by the park service that had restroom facilities, a snack bar with a dining pavilion, and an outdoor shower to rinse off the sand. At the end of the boardwalk, to the left and as far as they could see, were neat rows of wide, bright blue beach umbrellas, each flanked by a pair of fabric-and-wood beach chairs in a matching shade. They were all facing the Gulf of Mexico, where the water stretched out green before them, the only thing touching its edge the blue sky at the horizon.

Kurt and Blaine found an empty set of chairs and got settled, handing their voucher to a woman in an official “Ship Island” polo. After a few moments of simply enjoying the view of the Gulf, they decided to wade into the warm waters. They playfully splashed at each other, looking at the crabs, jellyfish, and other ocean life that swam at their ankles. Soon they returned to the shade of the umbrella shielding them from the oppressive sun, reapplied sunscreen to each other, and napped for a while, then walked to the snack bar for a quick lunch of hamburgers and chips.

They wanted to get in a tour of the fort before they boarded the 2:30 ferry back, but when they arrived at the entrance to Fort Massachusetts the tour guide had already taken a group in, so they decided to explore on their own, instead. They ventured below ground into the magazines and guard rooms, reading the placards explaining the fort’s role in the Civil War. They surfaced to the grassy top of the fort where the remnants of two large cannons lay, but just a few moments of the intense heat forced them back down into the shadier parts of the fort below.

Kurt suddenly pulled Blaine into one of the abandoned magazines, a tight cubby hole far from any prying eyes, and kissed him roughly.

“Kurt,” Blaine gasped. “What are you...oh, you know what kissing that does to me,” he said as Kurt sucked at his Adam’s apple.

“I had to get you alone,” Kurt said, pulling at the drawstrings on Blaine’s swim trunks. “It’s not a lighthouse but still.” Kurt grabbed one of the towels from the beach bag, dropping it at Blaine’s feet a second before dropping to his own knees. He swiftly pulled Blaine’s cock out, and if Blaine had thought before that nothing could be hotter and wetter than Mississippi’s humidity, he was wrong. Kurt worked over his cock hungrily with his lips and tongue, as Blaine bit against his fist, knowing that any sound he made could easily echo through the masonry walls. Once Blaine felt the head of his cock in the grip of Kurt’s throat he was gone, spilling into him as he whined as softly as possible. He could barely hear the muffled cry of Kurt’s own orgasm over the whoosh in his ears as he felt a warm splash of cum on his ankle. Blaine’s knees buckled and he knelt down and kissed Kurt, licking into his mouth and tasting himself.

“You,” Blaine sighed, “still to this day surprise me, you zig-zagger.”

They quickly cleaned up, and Blaine checked his phone for the time; they had just enough time to get to the 2:30 ferry, otherwise there wouldn’t be another until five p.m. After a quick once-over of each other and a look for the coast to be clear, they shuffled out of the fort and toward the dock.

Sleepy, sated, and overheated, Kurt and Blaine opted to stay in the shade on the ferry ride back to Gulfport. They sat on the benches that lined the lower deck so they could still look out onto the water. Kurt leaned his head on Blaine’s shoulder. He probably would have fallen asleep, until he heard a young, high-pitched voice call out “look, Daddy, do’phins!”

Kurt jarred from his zoned-out state and looked over the rail. There was no mistaking the gray, sleek, shiny bodies arcing in and out of the water alongside the ferry. He grabbed Blaine’s hand, at least the one that wasn’t fumbling in the beach bag for his phone. Blaine somehow managed to get the camera on video mode and filmed the dolphins as they dove in and out of the water. They counted probably a half dozen of the creatures, as their mouths fell open and they stared wide-eyed at the marvel of nature before them. Soon they swam away from the ferry and Blaine clicked “save” on the video, placing it back in the bag. “Guess we’ll have to send that to Brittany,” Blaine said. “‘Check it out, gay sharks in Mississippi!’” Kurt snickered at the joke, but made a note to himself to send the video as soon as they were on dry land and within range of a data signal.

They were soon pulling out of the marina and back on the road. As they travelled further west, they noticed the route become more and more desolate. It wasn’t undeveloped land by any means; there were driveways jutting into the road, but the driveways were cracked and shifted, and they led to only empty concrete slabs, an occasional set of steps that lead to nothing but air. It was obvious that they were driving through the remnants of Hurricane Katrina. Even ten years later after the storm, as much as they could tell had been rebuilt, this particular area had never recovered. One thing that was striking, however, were the dead trees that dotted the route; stripped by the storm of all but their trunks and a few branches, someone had carved them into beautiful works of art.

Kurt’s phone suddenly pinged, letting them know there was a landmark up ahead. Since Kurt was driving, Blaine swiped it to unlock the screen.

“Oh, this looks interesting...it’s something called the Friendship Oak,” Blaine read aloud. “Listen to this: ‘In the last decade, the historic Friendship Oak survived Hurricane Katrina, another in a long string of hurricanes that have challenged yet never defeated the 500-plus year old live oak tree.’”

“500 years?” Kurt asked incredulously. “That’s can’t be accurate, how can they even tell?”

Blaine continued reading. “Those who enter my shadow will remain friends through all their lifetime.’ Oh, Kurt we should go!”

“Blaine, we’re married, I’m pretty sure we have that lifetime thing covered."

“Yes, but you’re not just my husband, you are also my best friend. A little guarantee from Mother Nature never hurt.”

They pulled into the University of Southern Mississippi Gulf Park campus a little while later. The front of the campus was still in recovery mode; while some buildings looked like they were recently renovated, others still had boards over the windows. They parked quickly and then followed the signs to the oak. As they approached the massive tree, they were dumbfounded by the sheer spread of the branches. The limbs had grown so long that they were resting on the ground midway before branching up again, as if they could no longer support their own weight.

Kurt and Blaine were so awed by the size of the tree that they barely noticed that they weren’t alone, until they reached the entrance to the oak’s canopy. There was a small group of people, and at the center, two African-American men facing each other and holding hands, standing before a woman with short gray-streaked blonde hair, wearing a collared shirt and a liturgical stole, reading from a prayer book. Kurt and Blaine simultaneously giggled to themselves and teared up...did they actually manage to stumble into a same-sex wedding, here in Mississippi? Apparently so, they realized. They inched a little closer, just enough to hear the vows. Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand and looked over to him; Kurt was biting his lower lip, willing himself not to cry.

“I, Daryl, take thee Kenneth…”

“I, Kenneth, take thee Daryl…”

After the exchange of rings, the woman spoke up. “Now by the power vested in me, by the Episcopal Church and...finally…” at that the group laughed,”by the great state of Mississippi, I am happy to pronounce you husbands! Daryl and Kenny you may kiss.”

As the grooms kissed, their family and friends applauded, and Kurt and Blaine joined in. While the newlyweds shook hands with their loved ones, the woman approached them. “So, I can guess from the tears you liked the ceremony?”

Blaine wiped his face as Kurt sniffed. “Yes, we did,” Blaine said. “I’m so sorry if we were interloping.”

“No, not at all!” she said as she smiled. “Those who celebrate love celebrate the Lord. My name’s Anne. So I’m guessing the Friendship Oak brought you here?”

They told Anne about their road trip, and the detour, and were soon telling her about their impromptu double wedding, and how because of the Ohio laws at the time they had to get married in Indiana. Anne told them about Daryl and Kenny, how they had met doing volunteer clean up after the Deepwater Horizon spill and fell for each other, but had decided to hold off on marriage until they could do it in their home state. As it turned out, the Friendship Oak had hosted many weddings, but this was the first same-sex one. Soon Daryl and Kenny made their way over to Anne, Kurt, and Blaine and everyone made introductions.

“So y’all newlyweds too, huh?” Daryl said. “Man y’all look young!”

“Trust me, we got that a lot when we were engaged the first time,” Kurt said.

“And our second engagement lasted, oh, about the time it took to walk down the aisle,” Blaine added. The others looked at him askance. “Heh, it’s a long story.”

“Well, come to dinner with us and share it!” Kenny said. “We’re not doing a big reception or anything, just a big group dinner in Bay St. Louis, y’all should come!”

They got directions to the Starfish Cafe and walked back to the car. Once they were back on the highway Blaine asked, “You ever wish you had waited?”

“Waited for what?”

“You know, waited to get married, until we could do it legally in Ohio?” Blaine said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that I’m married to you, and that I get to call you ‘husband,’ and that we’re building a life together. But…”

“But what?” Kurt said as he drove, with an amusing sense of deja vu.

“But do you ever wish you’d had your own wedding, and not shared it with Brittany and Santana? That we hadn’t had Sue playing us like chess pieces on her bizarre romantic game board? I mean, we both had wedding ideas, and you told me about all those wedding magazines and clippings you kept under your bed as a kid.”

“Yes, but first off, I used a bunch of those ideas on my dad’s wedding,” Kurt said. “And remember what happened before the second break up? We were so stressed and in each other’s way that trying to plan a wedding felt like a chore. But after being without you for so many months, and growing and changing the way I did...the way we both did...I realized I didn’t care about the wedding. I just wanted to marry you. And when presented with the opportunity, I just...I knew, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. And that there was no logical reason to wait one more second until we could start.”

Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt on the cheek. “I’m glad we did it too. Plus you know it was nice to share it with Brittany and Santana, and having your dad officiate, and oh now I get why my mom was there! She was wondering why she got an invitation.”

Soon they were pulling into Bay St. Louis and winding their way to the Starfish Cafe. They met Anne, Daryl and Kenny, and the rest of the wedding party outside and waited to be seated. Anne explained how the cafe was actually a ministry and experiential learning program. All the staff, including waiters and chefs, were between the ages of 18 and 30, receiving hands-on training in restaurant service, life skills, financial literacy, anger management, writing, and more. The cafe was named for the tale of the star thrower; and how while throwing a starfish back into the ocean may not matter to the universe, it matters to that one starfish’s life that was saved. Anne also told them about her ministry, how she had come to the coast to help with Katrina recovery and chose to stay and assist in rebuilding both structurally and spiritually. Kurt was polite and nodded...he was an atheist but he didn’t feel a need to bring it up now. Perhaps if more Christians had been like Anne while he was growing up, he thought, he would feel differently.

Dinner was delicious and the company outstanding. Kurt and Blaine were made to feel like part of the family, laughing and dining with this group that had been strangers to them just a couple of hours ago. They shared their stories about the glee club, about Dalton and New York and their friends. Before long, with their bellies full and exhaustion setting in, they decided to head the rest of the way to New Orleans. They congratulated Daryl and Kenny again and exchanged emails, then hugged Anne. “Bless you on your journey, Kurt and Blaine. It was a pleasure meeting you two. Stay in touch!”

“We will, Anne, thank you for your hospitality,” Blaine said, as he took Kurt’s hand and they exited the restaurant. Getting back in their car, they made their way back to I-10 and the next leg of their journey.

“So, looks like we won’t be in New Orleans until late...sorry Kurt, I really didn’t think taking 90 would end up taking up the whole day!” Blaine apologized.

“No, it’s fine,” Kurt yawned. He stretched and curled up in the passenger seat, facing the profile of his love as Blaine concentrated on the darkening road. “I actually had a great time today. Now I get why they call this the ‘Hospitality State.’”