Blaine tumbled into the waiting limousine laughing up a storm; Kurt followed not far behind him. They were drunk off champagne (Blaine more so than Kurt), their undying love, and the adoration showered upon them by their friends and family throughout the afternoon and evening.

“So, Mister Hummel-Anderson,” Kurt said, “whatever shall we do now?”

“Hmmm, I know what I’d like to do,” Blaine grinned, tugging his new husband closer.

“Yes, yes, I know. You can keep it in your pants ten more minutes until we reach the hotel.”

“But Kuuurt,” Blaine slurred.

“Don’t ‘but Kurt’ me. I am not going to give our chauffeur a show. My dad paid good money for him.”

Even under the influence, Blaine had his sad puppy face down. “Please?” he pouted.

Kurt sighed and leaned in to kiss his lips. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”

“It better be. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”

“I do, Blaine. It’s the same for me.” He knew better than to insist the wedding be held a week after Blaine’s college graduation, even if it made travel easier for their families. Between finals, recitals, and making sure everything was set up for interviewing at schools when they returned in June, Blaine barely had a moment to rest, let alone have a bit of fun. Kurt even found himself swamped with his recent promotion (though Isabelle, bless her heart, made sure he had an extra week after they returned from Paris to just enjoy married life before returning to Vogue) and quadruple-checking every detail for the ceremony. It all paid off and Kurt was greatly looking forward to their first night as a union.

They remained huddled together, stealing kisses every block or so, until the driver pulled up to the Park Central. Blaine had sobered up enough to check them in, having told Kurt as soon as they set the date he wanted to make reservations for the night. It gave them time enjoy themselves and not have to worry about catching their flight that was the following evening.

Once they made their way up and into their suite (both walking as Kurt refused to be carried over the threshold), Kurt suddenly understood why Blaine wanted to plan it. Vases full of red roses covered every available surface in the seating area. He caught a glimpse of two more vases on the counter in the bathroom but couldn’t get much of a peek at more. The decorations continued into the bedroom, with dozens of crimson petals surrounding the bedframe.

“I asked if they could set up some candles as well, but they mentioned something about fire codes,” Blaine said.

Kurt laughed. “My husband, the secret pyromaniac.”

“Come on, though. There should be more surprises.” Kurt was led towards the glass door leading to the balcony. He was greeted by yet another vase full of roses, though this was even larger than the rest and held...well, he lost count.

“Blaine, th-this must have cost a fortune,” he stammered.

Blaine placed a fingertip to Kurt’s lips to quiet him. “Don’t worry about it. I had money left over from what my parents gave me for Christmas, and combined with Cooper’s graduation gift this is not a problem.”

Kurt nodded, thankful Blaine didn’t dip into their combined accounts set up as soon as Blaine got to New York. He looked over the railing at the glittering lights of Times Square. “It seems so small down there. The whole city does.”

“I know what you mean,” Blaine replied while wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist. “We’re pretty much on top of the world tonight.”

“Mmhmm,” Kurt hummed, leaning back into his husband’s hold.

They remained motionless, focused on the bustling Saturday night happening occurring stories below them. At one time they thought the center of the city, the Great White Way, would be the culmination of their dreams. Instead Kurt found Vogue and a heightened calling in the world of fashion, and Blaine discovered a passion in teaching elementary school children rather than performing. Not having much money had kept them from seeing shows Rachel wasn’t involved in, yet somehow neither man missed the stage for themselves. They still flourished in what mattered: love, friendship, company, and devotion. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, Vogue’s newest runway editor, and Blaine Devon Anderson, NYU graduate and soon-to-be teacher; their lives now intertwined together in every way.

Blaine broke away and dug through his pocket for his iPhone. After scrolling through his playlist, he settled on a song and set the phone on the lounge chair. He held a hand out towards Kurt. “One last dance? This time without the prying eyes of our family and friends?” he asked.

Kurt nodded, laced his fingers with Blaine’s, and began swaying to the smooth piano notes coming through the phone. He recognized the song from his childhood, one off a CD his mother played quite a bit. He listened as Blaine softly sang along to the opening words. “Looks like we made it, look how far we’ve come, my baby.”

“Did today live up to your expectations?” Kurt inquired.

“Beyond,” Blaine replied, nuzzling his head into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “It makes me want to go back and smack the shit out of high school me.”

“Why?”

“Because I resisted the force field around you that drew me in for so long. And because of my idiotic moment where I thought I lost you.”

“Blaine, you never lost me. I needed time to forgive you and you needed time to grow up.”

“I know,” he sighed. “You don’t know how nervous I was that night I flew in to tell you.”

“But it was a beautiful surprise, anyway. At first,” Kurt said.

“Kurt, what eighteen year old gets off a plane and immediately goes to buy three dozen roses to apologize to his boyfriend?”

Kurt stepped back. “Three dozen?” he gasped. He knew how many lengths Blaine went to to show his (supposedly nonexistent) romantic side, but even that seemed insane for the situation they were in.

Blaine chuckled. “You never counted them?”

“No. We left for Callbacks right after you arrived and the next day when you left I threw them out.”

Blaine reached over and plucked one of the stems out of the crystal vase. “That’s why there are thirty-six in here. Well, thirty-five now.” He handed the flower to Kurt, who accepted it with a kiss.

“Remember the rose you gave me on our first date?”

“Do I ever. I was freaking out all afternoon that I should bring you something, and I ended up cutting it off one of my mom’s rose bushes. I don’t think she ever noticed.”

“But my dad sure did,” Kurt laughed.

“Oh my god,” Blaine shook his head, “I thought he was going to shoot me on the spot since we’d had that sex talk just before you and I got together. The look on his face when I arrived? It still terrifies me.”

Kurt took Blaine’s hand in his and rubbed his thumb across the gold and diamonds that now occupied it. “You never had anything to worry about, though. You still don’t. He treats you like his third son, and hell, sometimes even better than Finn.”

As the last line of the song drew to a close Blaine nodded. “And you don’t need to worry about me doing something so stupid again. You’re everything to me, Kurt. I can’t imagine the past six and a half years without you in my life. You’re still, you’re always the one for me, and I love you so much more than you‘ll ever know.”

“No, I think I do know.” Kurt leaned in slowly. Blaine’s lips parted upon contact, seizing the moment to enjoy the private connection, the intimacy, they needed after the afternoon and evening surrounded by loved ones.

Blaine broke the kiss before things got too heated. “Why don’t we take this back inside?” he suggested.

Kurt let out a whine at the loss of contact. “What’s wrong with out here?”

“Out here doesn’t have a jacuzzi, champagne, strawberries, and my gorgeous, naked husband ready to make this night even more amazing than it has been,” Blaine smirked.

With a laugh and another kiss, Kurt slid the door open. “Lead the way, Mister Hummel-Anderson.”

“You know that’s never going to get old, is it?”

“Probably not. Now come on. Less talking, more stripping.” With that, Kurt grabbed hold of Blaine’s long-undone bowtie and dragged him inside to officially kick off their honeymoon.