“I can’t believe our room still isn’t ready,” Kurt groans, dropping glumly back into the passenger seat of their rental car. “We made those reservations months ago. It’s not like they didn’t know we were coming.”

“Well, it is June,” Blaine points out in an effort to console his husband, except it comes out sounding like he’s excusing the hotel, which earns him a scowl.

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s the start of summer vacation. Expedia warned us there’d be a high tourist volume from now till August.”

“Unless all of those people made their reservations over a year ago, I still say the hotel has no excuse.”

“Well, the front desk said they’d text us when our room became ready, so let’s try to make the best of it. After all, this is our honeymoon.”

“Yeah, it’s our honeymoon,” Kurt pouts, “and the first thing I wanted to do on our honeymoon was get our asses into our hotel room and make love till said asses were sore. That’s a little difficult to do when the bed we put a $500 non-refundable deposit on is currently occupied by someone who doesn’t have the decency to meet the checkout deadline on time.”

Blaine looks at his dismal husband, slouched in his seat. He glances around, trying to find something he can do to cheer Kurt up. But they drove straight to the hotel from the airport. He has no clue what’s around. He looks over his shoulder, and notices the cavernous space behind them, completely vacant since, surprisingly, every bag they brought with them fit into the equally cavernous trunk.

But that empty space - empty and unused - gives Blaine an idea.

“Well, I’m with my gorgeous husband. And we do have the enormous backseat of this Hyundai Elantra. Do we really need a bed?”

Kurt raises his gaze to his husband’s darkening eyes, and smiles.

“No, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. I don’t believe we do.”