It has been a long night of celebrating, of dancing, a first ever glass of champagne, claps on the back followed by adult comments Blaine isn't quite mature enough to understand. There are also quiet moments, a first dance, stolen glances and shy smiles, feeding each other a bite of cake while family and friends whoop and holler.

Everything seems oddly normal, excessively festive, even though at its core, it really isn't.

For a dozen reasons that immediately pop into Blaine's head, it hasn't been a normal evening at all.

And it isn't over.

With the entire wedding party gathered in the downstairs floor of the house, Blaine sits in his bedroom and waits. Well, not his bedroom. Not yet, anyway. Technically it's his father's bedroom. Blaine is sitting on the master bed that his father carved by hand for his mother, God rest her soul, for them to use on their wedding night. The bed where he and his older brother were eventually conceived, a story that Blaine has heard a frightening number of times more than he would like to admit.

Yup, here he is, sitting on his parent's marriage bed, waiting for his own husband to appear.

So he and Blaine can consummate their marriage.

In his parent's bed.

Gross.

Blaine giggles over the fact that that's his kneejerk reaction – probably another indicator that marrying at fourteen was not the best decision.

But the decision wasn't his. And it wasn't his husband's.

This marriage was arranged between their fathers – more of a business deal, but after all, money has traditionally been at the heart of most arranged marriages. His father-in-law, Burt Hummel, with less than a year left to live, signed over the majority of his assets - his ranch, his cattle, his store - to Blaine's father, Kevin Anderson, in exchange for protection for his only son, Kurt.

Arranged marriages weren't so unheard of in their part of the country, even for kids at the tender age of fourteen. Heck, a girl in their class got married at twelve a few years back, so they're far from the youngest.

Blaine and Kurt were never told directly, never warned outright that such a thing was even a possibility, but there had been hushed conversations about it since Kurt's father suffered his first heart attack. It seemed like a ridiculous rumor when Blaine and Kurt put the idea into perspective, but it served as a decent distraction – a way to take Kurt's mind off his father's health woes. And then, as Kurt's father got better, stronger, the subject seemed to drop and everything went back to normal. But a few days ago, after a second, far worse heart attack, Burt Hummel received a devastating diagnosis – two chambers of his heart had stopped functioning correctly, and as he lay in the hospital, they failed completely. A third could go at any time and after that, the fourth on its own would be useless.

There was nothing anyone could do.

A whirlwind of secret contingency plans went into action after that, rushing through Blaine's carefully compartmentalized life, tossing everything around, rearranging things, then putting it back together – the same, but different, and in many ways better.

For Blaine, at least.

Blaine got to marry his best friend in the world, but not only that, he got to marry the boy he fell in love with the first moment he saw him, on the staircase at their schoolhouse, when they were eight and Kurt had just moved into town - so so long ago.

But Kurt would lose his father, and nothing on earth could make that better for him.

An arranged marriage might be a bit medieval, but effective. Kevin becoming Kurt's guardian wouldn't have sufficed in this instance. To the eyes of their small, backward community, Kurt might be believed as simply a lauded stable hand in the Anderson household, even with the respected, old-money Hummel name to his merit, but unfortunately that wouldn't be enough to keep the bigots off his back considering what people suspected about him…assumed, actually, but it was still true.

Besides, taking in a fag out of the “goodness of his heart” and hiding him away might make Kevin seem soft or worse - like he himself has something to hide.

It might besmirch Kevin's well-crafted businessman image.

It might remind everyone that he was poor farm-folk like the rest of them once upon a time.

Putting everything out in the open, advertising it instead of keeping it private, makes Kevin Anderson appear to be a force to be reckoned with.

Anyone who would openly marry off his homosexual son to another homosexual boy has got a lot of nerve.

There's more to it, Blaine knows, more that he doesn't fully comprehend. More that might not have anything to do with business, his father's image, or ownership of one of the most successful ranches in the township, possibly the whole gall darn state. Blaine's father and Kurt's father have been friends since before they could crawl. It might have something to do with that, with friendship and loyalty.

Or it might have something to do with Kurt's mother, Elizabeth.

Cooper had told Blaine a story when they were younger about how, as teenagers, Burt Hummel and Kevin Anderson both fell in love with the same girl. They both pursued her, both wooed her.

But she chose Burt. They got married, eventually had Kurt, and lived happily ever after…until she passed.

Which made Blaine's mom, Pam, his dad's second choice, and the way Cooper told it, Kevin never did love anyone the way he had loved Elizabeth.

Blaine has always chalked that story up to bullshit. Cooper had been teasing him, was mad at him at the time, and Cooper does love to spin a yarn. He happens to be mighty good at it, too.

Yet there is so much about that story that would fill in some sizable holes and gaps.

It would explain his father's willingness to put himself on the line so publicly for someone else's son.

It doesn't matter to Blaine. Why ever they decided – whether to expand his dad's empire or clear his ledger of old debts - it's worth it to make sure Kurt will be safe and taken care of.

To date, it's the most compassionate thing that Kevin Anderson has ever done.

Except for this bed. Even if Pam wasn't Kevin's first choice for a wife, making this bed painstakingly by hand for a woman he learned to love might be somewhere at the top of the list.

Blaine adjusts his position on the bed. He doesn't want to look too stiff or too nervous. He tries to relax into the pillows, but reclining with his feet up seems too forward, too expectant. He has his eyes glued to the bathroom door, which Kurt went through the moment they walked into this bedroom together and hasn't been heard from since – not for the past forty-five minutes.

Blaine knows there's no window in that bathroom big enough for him to shimmy through, so he can't have escaped.

The idea that Kurt may want to escape makes Blaine's heart beat harder. He thinks about getting up and knocking on the door, or listening through the key hole to make sure Kurt hasn't passed out, but the knob turns suddenly and the door swings open. Kurt steps out, his head bowed, eyes on the floor. There's a tremulous smile on his lips but it seems forced. Of course, it could be a grimace from vomiting for over half-an-hour straight. In this low light (Blaine's brother helpfully removed the larger lanterns and set up votive candles all around) Kurt's face does look unnaturally pale.

“Hey,” Blaine says, watching Kurt shut the door, then check the knob unnecessarily, stalling. “I was getting worried. I thought for a second that maybe you'd…”

“Climbed out the window?” Kurt finishes, letting his hands drop.

“I was going to say ‘flushed yourself', but…”

Kurt giggles dryly, but remains by the bathroom door, not taking a step toward the bed.

Blaine sighs. It hadn't been this hard with Kurt before. They were always comfortable with each other, at ease in one another's company. Kurt opened up to Blaine before he had let anyone else into his sorrow-filled world, and after Blaine's mother died, Blaine relied on Kurt's friendship more than anyone's.

Blaine curses his father for doing this if it means his best friend won't talk to him openly ever again.

“If you want, we can sit for a spell and talk,” Blaine offers.

“O-okay,” Kurt agrees, obviously grateful yet he can't seem to make himself move. Blaine looks around the room, trying to find something that might help make Kurt more comfortable.

“Would you rather we sat on the floor? We don't have to sit on the bed.”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “No, I'm fine with…the bed.” Kurt takes a tentative step forward. “Besides, everyone's waiting downstairs. We should probably get this over with.” Kurt gulps hard when those words pass his lips and Blaine thinks he might turn back around and bolt for the bathroom again.

“Okay,” Blaine says with as comforting a smile as he can manage considering his own nervous Lepidoptera fluttering around his insides. “Well, here…” Blaine scooches over and pats the seat beside him. He crisscrosses his legs and turns to face Kurt as Kurt walks to the bed and climbs onto the mattress. Blaine had stripped off the bedspread, but the quilted comforter is still pulled tight, covering the sheets. Kurt toys with the purple and green quilt, tracing the individual stitches, following the path they take in circles and swirls on the fabric. His eyes follow along, giving him an excuse not to look at Blaine, not to expose his watery eyes or his flushed cheeks.

Both boys are still dressed in their tuxes sans jackets. Kurt's jacket had been tossed to the bed as he sprinted for the bathroom, and Blaine rescued it, hanging it over the back of a nearby chair with his own jacket layered on top of it. Kurt's bowtie is askew but still tied while Blaine's is undone, the ends hanging down both sides of his neck. A few curls have loosened from Blaine's tightly combed hair, but Kurt's coiffure is intact. Sitting together on the bed nearly a foot apart, they don't paint the picture of two young people about to make love – not the way Blaine had imagined it.

They look terrified.

Blaine clears his throat, deciding how he can tactfully phrase his next question. Kurt isn't wrong. Everyone is waiting. Cooper has already checked on them once.

“How…um…would you like to…do this?” Blaine asks.

Kurt doesn't lift his eyes but his fingers stop moving. He curls them into his palm when his hand starts to shake.

“I…I don't know,” Kurt says. Blaine nods. He's not sure exactly what to say to put Kurt at ease, especially when his own body has no idea what to do with itself – his back is sweating, but his blood feels ice cold. He wants Kurt – he really wants Kurt – but his stomach is so tied up in knots he might just be sick as well. Blaine loves Kurt. He's never been more sure of anything in his entire life, but even though Kurt is his closest friend, Blaine doesn't know if Kurt loves him the same way.

But tonight isn't about love. It isn't even about them. Consummating this marriage is a purely legal issue, and that's why they've been told it can't wait.

“Do you…should I…kiss you?” Blaine asks, inching forward. Kurt's eyes glance up at Blaine shyly, his smile wistful, a single tear drying on his cheek.

“The first kiss of my life was tonight,” Kurt confesses, “in front of our friends and family. In front of the whole town.”

“I was so nervous,” Blaine admits, trying to soothe Kurt's anxiety with the knowledge of his own.

“I was, too,” Kurt says with a chuckle. “You know, I've thought about what my first kiss would be like many times – the perfect first kiss.” Kurt sighs and his smile grows wider, more relaxed. “It wasn't the perfect way I imagined it, but it was still perfect. Does…does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers breathlessly. “It does.”

“I want tonight to be perfect, too,” Kurt says, “f-for you.”

Blaine's heart, sounding off like a drum, starts to sink. Kurt wants tonight to be perfect…for Blaine.

What about for Kurt?

Blaine cannot deny that he's dreamt of this, only in his dreams they were both older, more confident, with a better footing on the future. They would come to each other when they were secure with themselves and with life, and both head over heels in love, not unsure children.

Blaine needs Kurt to want this, too. He doesn't want a husband who lies on his stomach and surrenders for an hour so that Blaine can masturbate with his body. He wants Kurt to want him.

He wants Kurt to love him.

Another rapid knock on the door makes Kurt jump and tells Blaine that they don't have much time left.

“Hey, squirt,” Cooper calls through the crack under the door and crap! Blaine's brother is actually on his hands and knees trying to peek in. “Just want to know how it's going in there.” Then Cooper makes an obnoxious clicking noise with his tongue. Blaine would normally roll his eyes and make some snide remark back, but he sees Kurt's hard-earned calm slip away, replaced by rigid shoulders and a blank, wide-eyed, rabbit-scared expression. Blaine grabs a pillow off the bed and tosses it at the door.

“Go away!” he growls.

Cooper yelps when the assaulted door smacks him in the nose.

“Alright, alright,” Cooper says with a smirk in his voice. “You seem to have things handled.” Blaine groans when Cooper makes that clicking noise again. They listen to the man grunt as he rises to his feet, and then to his footsteps fading down the hallway. When they disappear, Blaine breathes easy again.

“Sorry about that,” Blaine says. He loves his big brother, but regardless he hopes the man gets food poisoning off the salmon tartar.

“That's…that's okay.” Kurt moves toward Blaine a hair. “Like I said…we should…you know…”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, closing the distance and resting his forehead against Kurt's. “Yeah…I guess we should.”

Blaine's lips brush against Kurt's lightly, testing the waters, seeing if Kurt will kiss him back or pull away, but Kurt melts into this kiss. It's slow, experimental, with a sweep of Blaine's tongue over Kurt's lips and not much more to it, but down by Blaine's ankle, where Kurt's hands are planted into the quilt, he feels Kurt shiver.

“Is that…is that okay?” Blaine asks.

“Yes?” Kurt says. It stings a bit that it sounds like a question, like Kurt's not certain, like he's not doing this for himself.

“Just…tell me if you want to stop,” Blaine says, closing the gap for another kiss.

“Mmm-hmm,” Kurt hums, nodding only once and then keeping still so that Blaine can kiss him again, so that nothing he does causes him to break this kiss.

Blaine sweeps his tongue over Kurt's lips again and Kurt hums at his touch, but he doesn't open his mouth to let Blaine in. Does he not know that that's how it works? Blaine wonders. They've never talked about it before, not even as friends, and their kiss in the church was chaste, a simple peck of the lips.

Or maybe Kurt knows, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to kiss Blaine that way because it means something deeper, something more intimate.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, pulling back far enough to see Kurt's eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes?”

“I know this isn't what you wanted,” Blaine starts, not wanting to come right out with it, “and I know this is a horrible time for you. I shouldn't even be thinking about me in all of this, because really, my feelings don't matter right now, but…”

Blaine feels Kurt's fingers touch his lips, and Blaine stops what had gone from a simple question to a rambling speech.

“I love you,” Kurt says.

Blaine chews his inside cheek. He should leave it there. He shouldn't go farther. Kurt said that he loved Blaine. How ever he loves Blaine, they can work from there.

But if they're going to make love tonight, Blaine has to know.

“As…as a friend?” he asks. “Do you love me…just as a friend?”

Kurt's eyes return to the quilt and he bites his lower lip.

“No,” Kurt says. “No. I love you as more. I always have.” Kurt lifts his eyes slowly, stopping at Blaine's lips, at the smile on his face. “And…do you…”

“I love you,” Blaine says, kissing Kurt softly. “So much.”

Blaine feels Kurt's fingers at the top button of his shirt, fumbling to get it undone, but he does. Blaine stops kissing Kurt to watch as button after button Kurt opens Blaine's shirt, his cheeks glowing ruby red, his lower lip wedged between his teeth. Kurt's fingers almost brush Blaine's skin but they don't, and the agony to feel them, the want to have those fingers touch him, makes Blaine grit his teeth.

Blaine kisses Kurt again, more insistent this time, opening Kurt's mouth with his tongue and sweeping it inside. He feels Kurt stiffen, hears Kurt hold his breath. These are signals Blaine doesn't understand. Should he stop? Should he back away? Kurt had started undressing him, but should Blaine have gone slower? Was the kiss too much?

Blaine tries something else, decides to mirror Kurt's actions, to show that he's listening to Kurt's cues, following where he leads. Blaine reaches for Kurt, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. Kurt trembles from Blaine's touch, but he doesn't shrug him off or move away. Blaine gets bolder, his hand traveling lower down Kurt's body, untying his bowtie, then undoing buttons along the way. Blaine kisses Kurt deeper as his hand continues its journey, and Kurt seems to accept him, seems to encourage him with choked off moans and a hand resting on Blaine's thigh, creeping up and up and up. Blaine's hand skims down Kurt's chest and his quivering stomach, lower to the waistband of his slacks, and stops. Kurt gasps and waits, focusing more on Blaine's hand at his waist then on anything else going on. Blaine fiddles with the button, fingertips slipping beneath Kurt's waistband, ghosting over the head of his cock.

That's when Kurt breaks. He grabs Blaine's hand to stop him.

Blaine looks at Kurt's face, swallowing down a heavy lump of regret at the tears that had been rolling down his cheeks, tears that Blaine hadn't seen as he was kissing and undressing his husband.

“Blaine?” Kurt cries, breathing raggedly. “Blaine, I can't! I can't, and I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

“No, I…I understand,” Blaine says. He wants to be big about this. He doesn't want to sound disappointed. He wants to make Kurt feel safe and secure, especially now when his life has become completely unrecognizable, when he's losing so much and expected to give even more. There's a point to which Blaine is relieved. He knows that he should stick with that, but something catches in his throat when he speaks and he sees Kurt's face crumple.

“No, Blaine, you don't understand.” Kurt shakes his head as he tries to catch his breath. “I've…I've dreamt of this night so many times. I've dreamt of having a wedding night and…I've dreamt of it being with you, I swear…b-but I'm…I'm not ready. Not right now. I'm…I didn't want it to be like this.”

“It's alright,” Blaine says, ecstatic to hear that Kurt wants this with him, that he's dreamt of it as well. He removes his fingers from Kurt's waist. He kisses Kurt's forehead and looks into his eyes. “I understand.”

“But your father won't,” Kurt sniffles, near hysterics. “And neither will mine. He said they need to see this marriage consummated. He said they'll want…they'll want proof.”

Blaine gasps.

“Does your father mean to check you?” Blaine asks with disgust. He's known Burt Hummel for many years. He didn't think he was the sort of man who would invade his son's privacy that way. He probably wouldn't personally, but to employ a doctor to do the same thing seems barbaric.

“No, no,” Kurt reassures Blaine quickly, reading his thoughts in the scowl on his face. “But…I don't know. I think he expects…that there'll be blood?”

It's a question, and Kurt hopes that Blaine has the answer. He doesn't, even though technically he knows a little more than Kurt, but that's only because he has an indelicate older brother. He knows why Kurt's father assumes there will be blood, because between husbands and wives there sometimes is, and it's tradition – another stupid, backwater tradition – for the newlywed couple to display their matrimonial bed sheets for their family and witnesses to see.

Blaine doesn't think there should be blood between them, but he doesn't know what else to show everyone as proof.

Blaine turns to the small table at the bedside and rummages through the drawer. He finds a pair of sewing shears – an old pair his mother kept as part of her embroidering, which she did every night in bed while his father read. He figures they'll work for what he has planned – they're sterling, they're clean, and they're razor sharp. He untucks the quilt and the top sheet, and pulls them off the bed as much as he can with Kurt sitting on it. He opens the scissors up, and with the very tip of a single blade, he makes a cut through the center of his palm - a thin slice, but one than wells up with blood.

Kurt stares at his husband as if he's insane.

“What…Blaine? What are you doing?”

“If your father thinks there'll be blood, I'll give him blood.” Blaine takes his hand and smears the blood on the fitted sheet, right in the center. Kurt watches, overwhelmed, his tears stopping and a smile taking their place.

“Here,” Kurt says, reaching for the scissors. “Me, too.”

Blaine doesn't want to give Kurt the scissors. He doesn't want to see Kurt hurt himself. But Kurt takes the scissors anyway and does the same, opening a cut in his palm and smearing the white sheet with blood. Then he takes Blaine's cut hand in his and locks their palms together, so even if they don't end up making love for a long time from now, they'll be blood brothers for life.

“I love you,” Kurt says, looking from their joined hands to Blaine's eyes, sounding freer, happier than he has in days.

“I love you, too,” Blaine says, holding Kurt's hand tight. He takes his bowtie from around his neck and wraps it around their wrists, binding them together. “This wedding might have been arranged by them, but it's for us, to do with as we please, in our own time.” Blaine looks into his friend's tearful eyes and smiles. “I won't rush you. You're mine and that's all that matters.” Blaine leans forward, kisses Kurt lightly on the cheek, and whispers in his ear, “I'd wait for you forever.”