Blaine looks at his watch. He looks at the sky. He looks to his right off the bridge and into the water, briefly searching for koi. He looks at the photographer standing a few feet in front of him, checking his light meter and repositioning his tripod; then at Santana, leaning against the railing and scrolling through her Twitter feed. He looks at the ducks swimming by and the people peeking over, curious as to what’s going on in Central Park today. Blaine looks down at his polished black shoes, noting one tiny scuff that he should probably bend over and buff out. But he can’t. If he bends over, he might see behind him, and he can’t do that. Not yet. He looks anywhere and everywhere to avoid turning around. Because behind him is the direction Kurt is supposed to be coming from, escorted by Brittany since he’ll have a blindfold on.

“Where is he?” Blaine mumbles, fighting for the strength to resist when all he wants to do is look over his shoulder and check for signs of his fiancé. “Is he here yet?” Blaine asks Santana, who was appointed his escort. Actually, she appointed herself. She said that wherever Britt goes, she goes, especially seeing as Britt’s in her second trimester. “You’d tell me if he was coming, right?”

“Look, waffle cone,” she says without looking up, “you’ve asked me nine times in the last five minutes. They’re not here yet. I told you I’d tell you when he showed up, and I will.”

“Waffle cone? Your insults don’t even make sense anymore.”

“Well, excuse me. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’ll Google appropriate cut-downs for vertically disproportionate men later.” She looks at him with enough sympathy in her eyes to stop him from firing back with a curt remark. “Look, I’ll shoot Britt a text and ask her for an ETA if that makes you feel better. Just stop fidgeting, sit tight, and we’ll have this sneak peek photograph done in a jiff.”

“First look photograph,” Blaine corrects.

“Same diff.” She snorts. “Does it really matter?”

Yes, it does, he thinks petulantly. He raises his arms to cross them, but forces himself to stop midway and hang them back at his sides. He can’t wrinkle his suit before Kurt gets there. Kurt will kill him if the pictures come back and Blaine looks rumpled.

Blaine was hinky, mildly superstitious about seeing his husband-to-be before they were wed, but Kurt insisted. Technically, Isabelle insisted. She wanted their photograph to feature as the center spread in the April issue of Vogue, just in time for wedding season. She convinced Kurt by reminding him that it would be a wonderful opportunity to showcase the two new tuxes that he designed for his first ever fashion line (not that Kurt ever needed convincing to be photographed for Vogue). On top of that, it was wonderful free publicity for Blaine, who just recently landed his first big role on Broadway as Dewey Finn in School of Rock.

Still, Blaine thought that a first look photograph might take away from the spontaneity of the moment during the actual ceremony, the romance of seeing the man he was going to marry for the very first time, walking down the aisle in his tuxedo, ready to pledge his life to Blaine’s.

But waiting on that bridge for the past twenty-eight and a half minutes with his stomach tied up in knots, Blaine is kind of glad they opted for this instead of having the picture taken at their wedding.

It would be a thousand times more painful to be waiting for this moment … and be left at the altar.

Kurt wouldn’t do that, Blaine assures himself, looking at his watch, then checking his phone. Kurt loves you. He wants to marry you.

No calls, no messages, but now Blaine knows that Kurt is thirty-two minutes late.

Calm down, Blaine, he thinks, rolling on his heels and counting down from ten. There’s a million reasons why Kurt might be running late.

But a little voice inside his brain finds a reason to insist that maybe Kurt isn’t planning on showing up at all.

Blaine doesn’t know why he’s scared. They were smart about this – mature. They didn’t rush into a wedding the second they got back together (even though there was an offer made). They took their time, took it slow. And it paid off. They’ve grown back together over the past two years - grown stronger. But Blaine has been here before, in this place in his mind wondering what this would be like, waiting for Kurt to become his husband.

He’s been here before, wondering if Kurt will stop loving him, cut ties and leave him forever.

But Kurt has forgiven him. And the second time, Kurt asked Blaine to marry him. He said that the past was bad, but it’s over now. All of it behind them. He was ready to move forward the way they should have from the start – together. Side by side.

Kurt said he was ready to let go and simply be Blaine’s.

Then, Kurt gave Blaine a ring and dared him to do the same.

And Blaine broke down and cried.

He said that maybe he wasn’t worthy to be Kurt’s yet, but he would be. He’d find a way.

And now they’re here.

Well, Blaine is here, waiting for Kurt …

… afraid that Kurt changed his mind.

Blaine is about to ask Santana if Brittany ever answered her text, but Santana is looking past him with a proud smile.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” she says. “Oh, and your fiancé.”

The photographer starts snapping off shot after shot with a handheld Nikon. Blaine clasps his hands together in front of him, vibrating in his shoes. “How does he look?”

“He looks …” Santana shakes her head, trying to find the perfect word … or the perfect jab, more likely. But she manages to surprise Blaine with her answer “… indescribable.”

“Here we go,” Blaine hears Brittany say as footsteps approach, each one echoing through the planks to the space beneath their feet, accompanied by a swishing of fabric. “Now, I’ll just walk you right up to your future hubby, and … stop. I think this is close enough.”

Blaine can hear Kurt talking to Brittany but he still can’t see him. Blaine peeks at the reflection in the water, but Kurt is standing too far away from the edge of the bridge for Blaine to see. It’s driving him crazy.

“Okay.” Brittany speeds past Blaine, giving him a double thumbs up as she walks by to join her wife out of the shot.

And then, the two of them are alone on the bridge. Blaine’s heart, no longer content to putter evenly in his chest, leaps to his throat to pound like mad.

“Hey,” Blaine hears Kurt whisper.

“Hey,” Blaine answers over his shoulder, sighing a mixture of excitement and relief.

“Alright, boys,” Santana calls out. “On the count of three. One, two … two and a half … two and three quarters …”

“Santana!” they both yell.

“Alright, alright.” She sniffs in, clears her throat, stalling on purpose. “Three!”

Blaine turns around, giddy and happy and nervous and sick, his heart a useless lump in his throat, his head spinning so fast that it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. But when it does, Blaine looks at Kurt … or he thinks it’s Kurt. He can’t exactly see his face too clearly through the square of fine mesh. But he heard Kurt’s voice. That has to be Kurt.

“Kurt?” Blaine chuckles. “Are you … are you in there?”

“Hi.” Kurt waves a stunted arm. “It’s me.”

“Thank goodness. But, you’re, uh …” Blaine can’t help snickering. It’s just too ridiculous “… you’re a dinosaur.”

“A T-Rex,” Kurt clarifies from within his inflated costume, the lightweight fabric puffing out around him with the help of a small fan (Blaine knows since he’s worn inflatable costumes like that at Six Flags, even though they’re forbidden to talk about it). With the sunlight behind him, Kurt looks like a dark shadow inside - the skeleton of this hulking beast.

“Yes, but, why?”

“Because I wanted to see you laugh. You’ve been so nervous lately.”

“I know,” Blaine agrees, hoping to dismiss it. “It’s just … wedding jitters.”

Kurt shakes his head … or tries to. The whole dinosaur body wiggles left to right instead. “I know you, Blaine. You’re not nervous about the wedding. You’re nervous about you and me.”

Blaine sighs. This would be so much easier to discuss if he could see Kurt’s eyes. “I don’t want you to think for a second that I’m unsure about this.”

“I know you’re not.” The sun shifts, and even though Blaine still can’t see Kurt as more than a silhouette, he can make out Kurt’s smile. It glows, even in the low light. “But us moving forward isn’t about me forgiving you, because I have forgiven you.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about you forgiving yourself. It always has been.”

Blaine nods. Kurt is right. He knows Kurt is right. The hardest thing for him, the thing he’s struggling with most even after numerous long talks with Kurt, and friends, and counselors, is forgiving himself. He’s still not sure if he can completely, but the first hurdle is jumped and won. Kurt has forgiven him, and it’s not just words. He proves it every day.

“And I know that it might be difficult to do right now,” Kurt continues like he’s reading Blaine’s mind. And he might just be. Kurt has always known Blaine better than anyone. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you, right beside you, every day.”

“I love you, Kurt-a-saurus.”

“Rawr,” Kurt growls, waving tiny arms. “That means I love you, too.”

“Well, if it’s alright, would you de-lizard so I can give my fiancé a hug?”

Kurt chuckles nervously. “Yeah, um, about that.”

“What?”

“I’m … not … wearing anything under here.”

“Really?” Blaine steps in close, trying to peek through the mesh. “You’re not?”

“Kidding, kidding. Here, let me …” Kurt unzips the costume from the inside, and Blaine helps peel him out of it. Another pair of hands joins in as Brittany tries to speed up the process, holding the legs of the costume so that Kurt can climb out without snagging his cuffs. As soon as he’s free of it, he’s in his fiancé’s arms, wrinkles be damned, with Blaine’s mouth finding his. He sniffles against Kurt’s lips, tears that are both sorrow and happiness dampening his cheeks.

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine manages between kisses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Blaine Anderson “… Kurt rests his cheek on Blaine’s shoulder and runs a soothing hand up his spine “… and I’m pretty sure I always will.”