Kurt is sure he is slowly but surely having an emotional breakdown. In fact, he's positive. Indefinitely adamant he's having an emotional breakdown. The numbers and seating plan haven't been finalised, flowers haven't been arranged, and the venue still hasn't been confirmed. It's all in all a nightmare. Sitting ram rod straight pouring over documents, and making aggressive phone calls is not conducive to what he'd hoped would be a lazy Friday morning by himself.

He was overwhelmed with how much work planning a wedding actually was. He and Blaine had both agreed that they couldn't afford to hire a planner or do anything extravagant and in all honestly they didn't want anything too ornate. Just a small affair, close family and friends being the only attendees, intimate. They didn't need anything flashy or showy, just them and those they cared about there to witness them making what they'd promised each other a long time ago official; forever. That was easier said than done when your budget is battling with that month's electricity bill.

Cooper had offered to help of course but Blaine would have none of it, passing it off as a hand out (Blaine would not have anything simply given to him) which obviously it wasn't but the offer was still gratefully declined. Kurt refused Cooper as well purely because he had already done so much for them both that their wedding was something they should at least put together unaided. So it was decided, no help apart from Burt and Carole (who they hadn't managed to dissuade) and Kurt's boss Isabel, who was so smitten with Blaine from the moment he visited Vogue for lunch, waiting for Kurt in the lobby in the Armani leather jacket he had bought him for his 22nd birthday.

Up until Friday it had been relatively smooth sailing, Blaine was working extra hours at the gallery to help flesh out their funds and Kurt had started to take on not only art commissions but also commissions of his designs to some old friends and colleagues just starting to make it big. It had been enough but now that the wedding plans had suffered some catastrophic (minor) set backs it was chaos.

Kurt receives a phone call from his very harassed sounding assistant from Vogue and scrambles for his bag before flying out of the front door in a fashionable haze to fix yet another emergency.

~*~

Kurt doesn't get home until late that evening grumbling and pouting and almost, almost being careless with his Burberry trench coat as he lets it slip from his shoulders and hangs it in the entryway. The apartment is dark and he prays the electricity hasn't been cut off again but then Kurt notices the state of the kitchen island. Blaine must be home because there's a scattering of new drawings strewn across the marble, doodles on post it notes and paper work that he's done throughout the day at the gallery. They're all crumpled, all slightly messy from being quickly drawn, hit with sudden inspiration that he has to be sneaky about it, pulling out whatever he can find and then stuffing the half finished products hastily into his pants pocket.

Blaine's suit jacket is hanging carelessly from one of the bar stools and Kurt tuts, shakes his head and pats down the pockets. Blaine doesn't have to wear a suit to the gallery often, mostly only when new clients come in, or the owners come down from the office to have a snoop around or there's an important show he has to attend. Blaine hates wearing suits and no matter how much Kurt assures him he looks sharp, sexy, debonair, he still hates wearing them. He always feels uncomfortable, like the fabric and fit restricts him and a part of Kurt knows it all comes down to his dad, having forced his son into business suit after business suit to every event imaginable to try and make a ‘respectable man out of him'.

Kurt shuffles through the doodles slowly, lingering on every one like he cherishes it. He comes across a doodle he sees a lot, just a pair of eyes but he instantly knows they're his. It takes his breath away that Blaine has them memorized so perfectly, has really memorized Kurt to such an inscrutable degree that no one knows him better than he does, not even Kurt himself. Kurt thumbs the sweep of an eyebrow the fan of his lashes and he knows that Blaine does this on purpose, spreads out his work of the day on the kitchen counter just because he knows he'll look, just because he knows that when Kurt stumbles across this particular image he'll know that Blaine's been thinking of him, all day and everyday. And that's why he's marrying him.

"Blaine?" Kurt calls into the mostly dark apartment and he listens with a smile, stress rolling off his shoulders like crashing waves as he strains to hear a soft hum emanating from the other end of the apartment. He slinks through the darkness, poking his head into the studio to find it empty and grinning when he realises Blaine must be in the bedroom.

He pushes the door open and his breath catches in his throat, and he has to move to steady himself against the door frame. Blaine is on the bed, clad in just his boxers, the window thrown open and the sheets twisted luxuriously around his lax body. His eyes are blissfully closed and there's smoke billowing from his parted lips, his right arm dangling from the bed, a cigarette resting limply between his rough, curled fingers.

Kurt knows Blaine knows he's there but he doesn't move, doesn't speak until he's a hare's breadth away and his eyes flutter open with a whispered "hey". Kurt could see he's tired from the doorway, his day was probably just as stressful as his had been so he undresses slowly, feeling Blaine's eyes burn at his skin until he's down to his boxers and crawling onto the bed, slotting himself into his side and pillowing his head on his chest. He watches the rise and fall of Blaine's abdomen, lets his eyes trail across the skin he misses so much when they're apart.

Blaine lifts his arm, starts to bring the cigarette back to his lips when Kurt spots them. There are faint vertical lines, like scratch marks fresh but not quite so severe, trailing up the inside of his forearm. Kurt brushes them with his fingertips, recoils slightly at the hiss of air that rushes from Blaine at the gentle touch. Blaine takes one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette in the ash tray on the side table. They shift and shimmy until they fit just so, just right, just like they always do, Blaine's marred arm tight around his waist the other loose by his head, his deft and agile fingers tangling and winding through chestnut air.

"Bad day?" Kurt asks in a whisper, and when Blaine is silent Kurt has his answer. It's the middle of November and the chill is biting and Kurt shivers against him but doesn't protest, knows that on his bad days Blaine is flushed, skin tight and burning. The wide open window, his silence, and those angry lines say enough. He snuggles close, placing a kiss just over Blaine's heart and he feels him exhale shakily in response, his chest shuddering under Kurt's head. "I'm sorry" Blaine mutters, kissing his hair and he sighs, wound up tight and still so frustrated with himself. He knows Kurt is feeling it too, he can feel the tension roll off him in waves but everything seems to drift away when his arms tighten around him, holding him a little closer. "You can make it up to me," Kurt sniggers, burying his face in Blaine's neck, their fingers entwining at his hip "And how can I do that?" Blaine throws back, the corner of his mouth twitching into that perfect lazy smile of his. "Marry me."

~*~

Blaine is sure he's slowly but surely having an emotional breakdown. He would be fine if Adam hadn't suddenly gone MIA and Cooper wasn't currently shoving a camera in his face.

"Come on Squirt! Tell us how you're feeling!"

"I'm freaking out"

"Woah! Probably not the best thing to say on a video the whole wedding party is gonna see but-"

"No, NO I-I mean-"

"Hey," Cooper says placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder "you're nervous we get it."

"I don't wanna mess up. Like what if I say Hummel-Anderson instead of Anderson-Hummel? Or what if I swear like a sailor, fuck, what if I say fuck?!" Blaine babbles, tugging a hand through his hair until Cooper slaps it away. "You love Kurt right?" Cooper says with a smile.

"Of course, più di ogni altra cosa."

"Then I'm sure he'll marry you even if you mess up."

"Yeah, thanks Coop."

"The honeymoon might be disappointing though."

Blaine laughs shakily, glowing with excitement and nerves as Cooper brings the camera back into focus. It takes a while for him to find the right angle, standing on coffee tables and lying on the floor until he gets it just right. Or so he seems to think as he yells ‘action' so loud that half the gallery can hear him. He wobbles precariously on a couch cushion and Blaine reprimands him almost as loudly for jolting a piece of art hanging on the wall.

"Oh shut up Blaine tell us what we're here for!" Cooper crows grinning.

"They all received invitations I'm sure they already know." Blaine mutters, looking harassed.

"Blaine!"

"Alright" Blaine sighs, straightening up and taking a deep breath.

"Today, I'm going to marry the love of my life. It's been a long time coming, I'm pretty sure we haven't paid the electricity bill for the past 3 months in a row and Kurt you still have Mrs Leonita trying to claw your eyes out but today is for us. For forever. I want to make you my husband, wanna start the rest of my life with you in front of my idiot brother-"

"HEY!"

"-Emily, Arabella, Adam, your idiot brother, Mr Hu- Burt and Carole, m-my mom, our families and our friends, all the people that matter. We both know, after all this time that we don't need this to know we're each others', I just wanted to put a ring on it and then almost set our apartment alight in the process. But I'm not even sorry about the hazardous proposal because your reaction was more than worth a few flames."

"I love you, soon to be Mr Kurt Anderson-Hummel and I hope my little speech er didn't make you cry because you've done enough of that whilst planning this thing. I just- Ti amo."

~*~

Blaine is jittery where he waits at to the left of ‘the archangel', a gilded statue in the centre of the Globe Gallery of the New York Artist's Guild. He hasn't got the ‘jitters', not by a long shot but he's excited and desperate to see his Kurt walk down the aisle.

Adam had been discovered trying to wrangle a band of flowers onto Arabella's head and then subsequently gone AWOL again only to be found later cuddled close to Ben, his boyfriend, in their assigned seats. When Blaine finally spotted him he'd been ready to glare and scream at him until he realised how much he'd scared Blaine shitless, but just one look at his beaming smile and the way Ben kept him close made the stress drain out of him. He hoped to be attending their wedding in a few years time.

Cooper is still brandishing the camera, alternating between panning shots of the congregation and close ups of Blaine's face. Blaine stares deftly ahead, ignoring his jabbering brother and best man until he hears the faint strains of music and the foyer falls silent.

He hears the doors open, the music, a piano version of the first song Blaine ever sang to Kurt growing louder as Blaine fights the urge to turn around. He fiddles with his shirt sleeves, undoes the top button of his shirt which earns him a glare from Rachel. They'd agreed he wouldn't turn around, agreed that they would only see each other fully once they were side by side, hand in hand and ready to say ‘I do'. But Blaine's muscles are twitching in restraint, his bones aching to just shift, turn his head and just look. So he does, and what he sees takes his breath away.

Kurt looks radiant as he all but glides down the aisle, his father (who Blaine still addresses as sir) in tow looking like he's on the verge of tears. Kurt is beaming, smiling that smile that makes his eyes twinkle and his nose scrunch up adorably and Blaine all but grins back, choking back a sob because this is the man he's marrying, who he's going to the spend the rest of his life with and he could not possibly be happier.

Kurt waggles his fingers in a wave and Blaine turns to the front once more, feeling Kurt's hand slip into his as they wait for the minister to begin. Kurt takes a brief look at the hall, the gallery walls void of its regular art and in its place theirs hangs proudly on the walls, snapshots like the one Adam pulled from the pocket of Blaine's leather jacket years ago, others more intimate, taken by each other of each other that make them blush as they hang there for all to see. There's pastel works too, oil on canvas and water colours, a catalogue of who they are, who they have been and who they will be.

They smile like the sun and chuckle through the tears as Kurt messes up a line and Blaine almost rushes through the vows but they're there, finally and all that's left to do is say those two little words.

"Take a breath-"

"And count to three-"

"Tell me that you'll marry me."

"I do."