Part Fifteen

Two month. Two months since, with shaking hands and a hopeful heart, he'd sent those texts. And there had been nothing back. No phone calls, no messages left on his voicemail, no reply to the texts, not even the slightest confirmation that his extensively debated, carefully chosen, well thought-out words had even reached Kurt and not vanished into the depths of cyberspace.

Never had he poured out his heart in that way. He'd searched deep within himself, to darker, more emotional parts of his heart he hadn't considered the opinion of since the age of sixteen, when he'd hardened himself to emotions and hurt, to write out those words. It had taken a half-hour of fierce internal debate to even press the send button, staring at the screen until the confirmation that the messages had been sent had appeared on his screen, frozen in time and space, worried and biting his nails in nervous anticipation.

"Give me your phone before you develop a nervous tic checking your messages every millisecond," Quincy ordered, snatching his phone out of his hand without waiting for him to let go. "If Kurt wants to get back to you, he'll get back to you."

"You've certainly changed your tune," Blaine observed irritably. "Four months ago you were adamant that it was a good thing I rejected Kurt and I should never be in a relationship but the minute I announce I've officially quit you're the most enthusiastic I've ever seen you about anyone's love life. Including your own."

"I'm totally enthusiastic about my own love life," Quincy giggled, winking at Seth. "It's just that my boyfriend has decided to be emotionally invested in yours, so by extension I have to put in the effort to make sure it goes right."

"Oh, so that's why you decided to pressure me to send him those texts instead of waiting for your new best friend to tell you they're coming back here for some holiday so I could tell him face-to-face like he deserves," Blaine said, rolling his eyes disparagingly. "I bet I scared him off sounding too needy over text. What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, my 'new best friend', as you put it, told me that Kurt got your texts and asked her to analyse them, as if the meaning wasn't already obvious," Quincy recounted, rolling her eyes. "And she told me that Kurt told his boyfriend everything and they broke up. Kurt got slapped for his trouble as well. And she gave me their address in case I wanted to visit. So, hypothetically, I could give you this address and you could go out there with some of your spectacular quitting pay to tell Kurt all that shit face-to-face and have your touching romantic reunion, blah blah blah."

"Weren't you always going to move to New York after you got out of here?" Seth asked from Quincy's other side. "I mean, we could help you pack up all your belongings, get you on a plane and you could be out there visiting Kurt and Santana and that apparently very irritating girl they live with and finally making Kurt yours exclusively."

Blaine met his friend's eyes, hopeful and happy, and thought of what he could do. He didn't have many personal belongings in the building, and with Seth and Quincy's help he could be packed and ready to leave in just a few hours. A plane ticket was only a phone call or an online booking away with the money he had, and, with Quincy's help, he could easily find the apartment where Kurt lived with his two roommates and pour his heart out in a situation where he could look into Kurt's eyes and see the emotions dashing across his mind. "Okay," he finally said.

Quincy and Seth's eyes snapped up as one, staring amazedly at him. "You're saying 'okay' to what?" Seth asked. "Do you mean you'll…you'd…you're going to let us…New York?"

"Yes, Seth, I mean I'm going to let you two idiots help me pack up my belongings, I'm going to book a plane ticket, Quincy is going to give me the address of Kurt's apartment and I'm going to go get him," Blaine answered by way of explanation. Quincy squealed embarrassingly loudly and hugged him tightly.

An hour later found the three of them in Blaine and Trent's room, sealing cardboard boxes filled with the belongings from Blaine's side of the room. From the blanket folded at the bottom of his bed to all the clothes in his tall drawers, Quincy had carefully ordered and arranged everything, ordering them around like dogs, her newly-dyed blue-black hair tied back with a scarf as she lounged lazily on the bed, only moving to take a black marker pen to each box and label it with the main contents.

"Quincy, I told you, I only have four boxes, I don't need labels!" Blaine exclaimed exhaustedly as he straightened the tilting stack and Quincy printed CLOTHES on the final box in her neat block handwriting. "What's the number to book tickets from the airport?"

"Oh here, I've already dialled it," Quincy said exasperatedly, handing him her phone. "And I don't doubt that, with Kurt living with two girls, it's going to be messy over there and, even with your very few belongings, having them boxed and labelled and organised will make it all easier."

As Blaine hung up with the operator having booked himself a ticket to New York, he held Quincy's phone so tight his knuckles turned white, staring blankly at the opposite wall. "Are you sure I should be doing this?" he asked doubtfully.

"Blaine, do you love the guy?" Quincy asked.

"Of course I do!" Blaine exclaimed, shocked that she would even doubt his true feelings for Kurt after helping him write those texts.

"And is he worth all this trouble?" she asked in persistence. "Of course he is, don't answer that. So of course you should do this, Blaine, because after everything you've been through you deserve a scrap of happiness and Kurt can give that to you."

"The coffee's nice here," Blaine said weakly, holding his cup up to Quincy. She gave him a quelling look. "Right, yeah, stupid comment. Sorry, I'm nervous and it's making me chatty."

"Look, Santana works the six to ten shift here, she'll be here in about five minutes and you can, like, wait around for her or something," she said. "And this coffee's crap, who in the hell made this?"

"That would be Charlie, resident crappy coffee brewer," came a voice from behind them. Blaine turned to see Santana, looking so different from the previous times he'd met her, behind them, hair tucked into a ponytail and logo-emblazoned apron wrapped around her waist. "I got your text, Quincy, why do you need me to meet you here?" She caught Blaine's eyes and smirked. "No, wait, don't tell me. You told him our address and you've brought him here so he can spell out those texts to Kurt's face, very sneaky."

"Shut up, San, my cunning conspiracies are better than yours," Quincy retorted good-naturedly. "Naked and wearing a blindfold when 'you' get there? Truly, not subtle. If Blaine here had gotten more sleep around that time you would never have gotten away with it."

"If you're planning to hang around here, don't," Santana warned. "Charlie, the guy who can't make decent coffee for shit, he's Kurt's ex. When Kurt explained about cheating on him, he got slapped. I had to sit holding a bag of frozen peas against his face for an hour while Rachel whined about her cooking being ruined because I wasted the peas." She eyed Blaine. "He'd probably punch you across the room if he knew who you were." When Blaine looked horrified, she sighed heavily. "Look, I will give you a lift back to our place so you can avoid the wrath of Charlie."

It didn't take long for Blaine to find himself outside a neat little apartment block, waiting for Santana to give him a signal that he could leave. "Well, thanks for the ride," he said politely. "Will someone be in to buzz me up?"

"Yeah, Rachel and Kurt are both there because they're away from school, in Rachel's case, and away from work, in Kurt's case, for another two weeks, the lucky bastards," Santana answered bitterly. "Blaine, wait." She grabbed his elbow as he made to leave, pulling him back. "Do you love Kurt? I mean, like, really love him. Did you mean what you said in those texts?"

"Of course I did, I wouldn't have sent them if I didn't mean every word," Blaine answered immediately, almost disgusted that she would even think he could send such a heartfelt confession without meaning it.

"Look, Blaine, you're not the type of guy I ever thought Kurt would go for," she said slowly. "You know, a prostitute. But since October he's been happy every time he's seen you. And if you've finally decided to stop being scared and love him back like he deserves, I don't see any reason for me to stop you. Just, if you're fucking, keep it down because Rachel has a tendency to barge in if you get too loud for her liking."

"Thank you," Blaine said sincerely. In many ways, Santana was similar to Quincy, and he knew her words were genuine. "Have fun at work. And, if you get the chance to see Charlie, tell him it was never meant to happen that way."

"I will, but he won't believe me," Santana said with a little shrug. "Breaking up due to infidelity makes people very irrational." She winked and Blaine grinned as he climbed out of her car and watched her as she drove away, trying to summon the inner courage to climb those stairs and see the man he loved.

"Kurt, get the door!"

"I'm getting the door, Rachel, but would it kill you to stop painting your nails some time in the next ten years and occasionally answer the door? It's probably your stupid boyfriend anyway, and I am not going out for coffee again today! I've spent at least fifty dollars in the last fortnight because the new place I'm going is much more expensive than the place I now can't go because Charlie works there!"

Blaine managed to pin a smile on his face just as the door was yanked open to reveal Kurt standing there. His jaw dropped open as soon as he saw Blaine and Blaine saw him lean momentarily on the door for support. "Surprise!" he said weakly with an awkward little chuckle.

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing here?" Kurt asked, stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door firmly behind him. "And how did you manage to find out where we live?"

"I know where you live because Santana and Quincy struck up a friendship and Santana told Quincy, who told me," Blaine explained quickly. "And I'm here because you never answered my texts and I need an answer, Kurt. I really need an answer to that confession I sent you."

"You think you can get away with this?" Kurt shouted, no doubt attracting the attention of the entire apartment block. "You don't get to fuck up my life any more than you already have, Blaine Anderson! You think you can just text me all that stuff you could've been making up as a cruel practical joke and just waltz back into my life like what I feel doesn't even matter, after everything you put me- mmph!"

A smile spreading across his face as Kurt berated him, Blaine leant forward and pressed his lips to Kurt's, his hands naturally going to hold Kurt's hips and pull him closer. For a moment Kurt relaxed into the kiss, his arms winding their way around Blaine's neck and his head tilting to deepen the kiss. Then his eyes snapped open and he pushed Blaine away, a flush rising up his neck and creeping up his face. "You don't get to do that!" he screamed. Blaine heard a creak and click as someone opposite peered out of their doorway, and the sound of feet on the stairs. "You don't get to just turn up at my door in New York and interrupt me and kiss me when I…when I…" He trailed off, his eyes drifting very obviously down Blaine's face to his lips. "Oh, fuck it." He grabbed two handfuls of Blaine's shirt and yanked him into a fierce kiss, draping his arms around Blaine's neck and pulling him closer while Blaine silently thanked any deities deigning to listen to him for this chance.

"Get inside," Kurt murmured as he finally pulled away, opening the door for Blaine to slip inside. "Good evening, Mrs Cooper. I trust you'll be welcoming my new roommate into the building later this week?"

"I'm your new roommate?" Blaine asked stupidly, toeing off his shoes and looking around the untidy room he was standing in, listening to showtunes blasting out from behind one of three closed doors. "I thought you hated me."

"I do hate you, I really do," Kurt said firmly. "But they say there's a thin line between love and hate." He grinned and leant against the door, taking Blaine's hands and pulling him in close. "I love you. And those texts are the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I love you too," Blaine replied, revelling in finally being able to say those words. "And I would've said all those things face-to-face if Quincy hadn't persuaded me to write it all down and then harassed me until I sent the message. Well, if I'd said it to your face there would've been a lot more stuttering and fumbling, but you get my point."

"I wish you'd said it to my face and stuttered and fumbled your way through it," Kurt laughed softly, sliding his arms around Blaine's neck. "That would've been adorable. And, about the roommate thing, was that presumptuous? I just kind of assumed you'd want to get together and start living together, but if that's too fast for you, we can wait. I've already waited a year for you, I can wait a month or two more."

"No, no, it's perfectly fine with me, I'll definitely move in with you and get together with you," Blaine said hastily. "It's great, actually, I didn't really have a plan about what I was going to do when I got here. I can get Seth to send my stuff through, there isn't that much of it." He watched Kurt fussily sweeping a stack of papers into a pile and shoving the recycling box into the corner and softly spoke up. "Kurt? I know this might seem presumptuous and silly but…will you take me to your bedroom? I want you to…to make love to me."

Kurt smiled and took Blaine's hand, pausing outside the middle door to open it to an indignant shriek from the girl inside. "Blaine, Rachel, Rachel, this is Blaine, my boyfriend who will now be living with us, and also, you need to leave," he said quickly. The tiny brunette turned off her music and dashed past them, glaring sourly. A moment later, the front door slammed shut and Kurt pounced.

Blaine was powerless to do anything but hold tight and let his brand-new boyfriend rock his world as Kurt pushed him back against the door to his - their? - bedroom, fumbling to open it until it gave unexpectedly and they stumbled backwards, flushing, heating bodies entwined, mouths hungry and swallowing breathless, desperate moans as Kurt undressed them quickly, snagging fingers in belt buckles and buttonholes, and shoving Blaine backwards towards the bed until the backs of his knees collided with the wooden frame and he tumbled back into the mattress.

Kurt was on top of him in an instant, wriggling against him and peppering kisses at random across his face before moving back to his mouth, panting and moaning as he struggled to press himself closer. "Kurt, Kurt, slow down," Blaine breathed, pushing him away gently. "You're going to hurt yourself. I don't want this to be over too quickly, I want it to be slow and sweet. I've never had it that way before, but I want it, with you." He breathed out a shuddering breath, holding Kurt close with a hand on the small of his back as he sat up, determinedly not reacting to the way Kurt was pressed against him, straddling his lap. "This, here, now, you and I, means so much to me. I feel like you're taking my virginity. Before now, it's always been fucking, but now, here with you, it's…it's making love."

Kurt smiled, his eyes misting with unshed tears, and kissed Blaine's forehead gently, whispering, "I love you," against his skin, forcing Blaine to blink frantically to hold back the tears threatening to spill over his lids. "So, slow and sweet?" Kurt suggested softly. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of desperate to have this with you. I fell in love the very first time I met you."

"I don't believe in love at first sight," Blaine contradicted, smiling up at his boyfriend and brushing an errant strand of hair from his sweat-damp forehead, love swelling in his heart at this moment, holding Kurt in his arms before they made love more tenderly than they ever had before.

"Well then, mind if I walk by again?" Kurt asked, winking down at him as Blaine groaned at the sheer corniness of the line. Kurt chuckled softly and pressed a kiss into his hair.

"Slow and steady wins the race, after all," Blaine retorted, making Kurt groan at the over-used motivational saying. But both of them laughed, and the tension that had really lingered in the air since they'd met each other was gone, dispersed on the wind. "I love you."

"And I love you so much, but could you maybe please stop talking," Kurt replied, raising his eyebrows and pressing a finger to Blaine's lips. "Because I have a mostly-naked man in my bed who just became my boyfriend and I would quite like to…oh." Blaine sucked Kurt's finger into his mouth, watching Kurt's pupils dilate hungrily. Suddenly Kurt was fuelled by desire again, leaning over Blaine and pushing him down into the mattress, kissing him hard and fast, his tongue pushing past Blaine's teeth, catching Blaine's moan in his mouth and swallowing the sound.

The ancient bedsprings creaked and groaned in complaint as interlocked bodies bounced together, Blaine's nails carving raised pink lines into Kurt's back as Kurt finally relieved them both of their underwear and they were naked, pressed so deliciously together, dizzy with love and arousal and desire, just the two of them in a world that may have been falling away around them and they wouldn't have noticed.

Blaine had fucked so many people in his life, both men and women, catered to their every whim and more often than not crept out in the middle of the night with their payment held tight in his fist, leaving a sated body slumbering in an unfamiliar bed. But Kurt, Kurt was gentle and slow and cared about him, cared about what he wanted rather than what he could get him to do for his money. Blaine was in love with Kurt, and Kurt was in love with Blaine, and that made all the difference.

Because when Kurt kissed him, it was with a tender passion Blaine had never found anywhere else. When Kurt pressed himself up against Blaine's naked body and groaned into his neck, it made Blaine's cock throb painfully in a way no one else ever had. When Kurt slid two slick fingers inside him, opening him up to a world of discovery only Kurt would ever drive him to, Blaine didn't immediately add a non-optional twenty dollars to his fee, because he wanted Kurt to do it. And when Kurt covered Blaine's body with his own and slowly pushed inside him, thrusting shallowly, Blaine's hand twisted in the sheets and he gasped out words of love, whispers of devotion and promises of forever into the hot and heady air. If Blaine had been able to find the air, he would've shouted those three words until time ceased to exist as he cried out Kurt's name and came across the fist dragging up and down his cock, shaking and shuddering as Kurt whispered tenderly to him through it.

"I love you so much," he finally murmured as they collapsed entwined into the bed, clean and giggly and sated and exhausted, fully-dressed once more. "Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for everything."

"It was my pleasure," Kurt whispered, kissing Blaine's cheek softly. "Literally." He smirked and rolled over into the fresh sheets, tugging Blaine's arm around his waist and entwining their fingers as he buried his head in the pillows and was almost instantly asleep. Yawning widely, Blaine nuzzled his cheek against Kurt's hair and settled into him, their legs tangled together and Kurt's back sealed against Blaine's chest, held tight and never to let go again.

Eighteen months later, they broke up. There was a screaming fight, smashed glasses while Rachel and Santana cowered in their respective rooms, moments from their past brought into the daylight when they should've long been lain to rest in dark graves, tears streaming down faces red with fury until Kurt finally screamed that Blaine could, "just fucking leave if this is all our relationship means to you!" and Blaine had stormed out furiously, pacing the streets all through the frozen night until dawn found him on a bench, crying silent tears and hugging himself tightly, wishing that his own arms were Kurt's, rocking him and telling him it was going to be all right.

Seth and Quincy found him, having newly quit their jobs and moved to New York to start a new life, Seth training to teach English to young and impressionable minds and Quincy looking for work behind the scenes of the most prestigious theatres, designing hair and make-up. They took him in, shouting down his protests and making up their spare room for him. Quincy was the one who bought him hot cocoa in the middle of the night when he awoke from nightmares screaming and sobbing, who forced him to eat as the weight fell away from his bones, who finally snapped him out of it, forced him to go back to his work as a reporter, rubbed his back soothingly as he wrote out a letter to Kurt and posted it away, only for it to return to his feet a week later with a printed message, undoubtedly from Rachel, that Kurt didn't want to speak to him, now or ever in the foreseeable future.

Seth sat opposite from him in over-stuffed warm armchairs, a tabby cat curled up on Blaine's concave stomach as Seth talked him slowly, gently, through everything, demanding answers to age-old questions about his feelings for Kurt, reminding him that relationships were hard and the real world wasn't always interested in lending a helping hand, and that shit happened and life went on but he should never let the good things go. Seth convinced him to return to the apartment, gave him the lift there, spoke to Santana over the intercom without mentioning Blaine's name so she'd buzz him up and shoved Blaine through the door when Rachel answered before vanishing without a trace.

"He's in his bedroom," Rachel said without letting her eyes linger on his face. "He doesn't want to talk to you, but you can go right in." When Blaine gave her an amazed look, wondering at her usual overprotective nature temporarily leaving her, she sighed and added, "Look, Kurt's madly in love with you and has been for over two years, and you're madly in love with him. It's meant to be between you, and when it's meant to be you don't let some little argument stand in the way. Please, go and talk to him and convince him to stop hating you with every fibre of his being and go back to being that blissfully happy Kurt he was a couple of months ago. I liked seeing my best friend like that, and I miss him being that way. He won't eat and he won't sleep and I can't cope with seeing him destroy himself anymore."

Blaine hated himself for the vindictive little sprite in his head who grinned in satisfaction at the mention that Kurt had been coping as badly as he was, missing Blaine as much as Blaine missed him. He nodded to Rachel in thanks, hesitating a moment before kissing her cheek affectionately and just shrugging helplessly in the wake of her incredulous little smile as he crossed the apartment and opened the door to Kurt's room with a soft knock. "Kurt? Sweetheart?"

He heard quiet sobbing and hurried across the dark room to the bed, finding Kurt there and immediately wrapping his arms around him without a thought for the last awful months, rocking Kurt gently in his arms and worrying over how desperately thin he felt through his baggy clothes. "I th-thought you were never coming back," Kurt sobbed, his voice breaking over every word. Tears slid down Blaine's face too as he placed a gentle kiss behind Kurt's ear, holding him tight in the way he'd feared he might never get to again.

"I'll always come back to you," he promised, finding Kurt's hand and entwining their fingers together in that way that had become so welcomingly familiar. "It took me twenty-one meaningless years of my life to find you, and another entire year to make you mine, I'm not going to lose you because we had a stupid argument that should never have escalated into that fight. I'm sorry for all those horrible things I said. I didn't mean any of them."

"I'm so sorry for yelling all those awful things about you," Kurt whispered tearfully, turning in Blaine's arms to attempt a small smile with a face ravaged by tears. "I didn't mean any of them. You're sweet, and loving, and gentle, and you never demand anything from me, and I don't want you out of my life, and I know how much our relationship means to you. I'm just so sorry, and I love you so much."

"I love you too," Blaine whispered, pressing his lips fiercely to Kurt's forehead, a thousand promises branded into his skin, holding tight to the only anchor in the ever-changing world in which he lived in. He moved up the bed, to the headboard, and traced the initial carved with a pen into the headboard. K-H + B-A, a small smile tugging at his lips as he realised exactly how lopsided the heart surrounding the scratched letters was. "Do you see this graffiti, Kurt? This is a promise. It's a promise that I'll always be with you. And, years from now, when our grandchildren are looking in this bed, they'll see these initials that we carved when we were young and wild and they'll know that, no matter what, I always have and always will love you."

"So you'll come back?" Kurt asked hopefully, eyes shining with fresh unshed tears as he held Blaine's gaze. "You'll move out of where ever you've been and come back here with us crazy people?"

Blaine took Kurt's hand and held it to his heart. "I never left," he murmured. "Can you feel how fast my heart is beating? It's for you, and my heart is always yours. As long as you own this part of me, I will never leave you."

Three years later, and they were standing in a glamorous hotel, surrounded by unfamiliar people, watching Santana and Brittany promise themselves to each other for eternity, the tears Santana shed as she kissed her new wife and confetti showered down around them, catching in hair and clothes. Sitting in the pew alongside Seth and Quincy, Blaine smiled proudly on Kurt as he stood beside the women as Santana's 'gay of honour', holding bouquets and smiling through the tears streaming down his face, dabbing away the drops with the flowers, blowing Blaine a kiss when he thought no one was looking.

Seeing how happy Kurt was that day, it made Blaine think. They had been together for almost five years, and those years had been the happiest of Blaine's life. Kurt was perfect for him in every way, and though they still had their disagreements and sometimes slept with a valley of cold bed between their bodies, or Blaine slept on the uncomfortable sofa while Kurt cried silently in their bedroom, they always made up the arguments. And they always loved each other, no matter the words screamed in the heat of the moment.

So Blaine planned it. He went the whole hog, choosing Kurt's favourite restaurant and planning the evening, a spectacular occasion on their fifth anniversary, to the letter, hiring a smart car he knew Kurt would love, choosing the suit Kurt most loved seeing him in, booking a private back booth and making sure the manager would know to put the white-gold ring he had spent so much of his savings on in Kurt's champagne glass. He wrote the promises and devotions, with a little help from Seth, who had recently proposed with shaking hands and stuttering words to a still rendered speechless Quincy, and spent long hours memorising it with Santana's help, listening to her endless tales of newly-wedded life as he dreamt of having such moments with Kurt. Unfortunately for his meticulously detailed plan, Kurt beat him to the punch just three days before he would execute his planned proposal.

Just as with many mornings, Blaine awoke with Kurt's half-hard cock hot and heavy against his hip. And, as he always did, he grinned to the dimly-lit room and rolled over to awake Kurt with a tender kiss, whispering, "What do you want today, sweetheart?" against his lips.

"Just your mouth, please," Kurt murmured politely, still half-asleep, arms curling around the pillow. "I'm far too tired for anything requiring more effort for me. I wouldn't let you if you weren't much more effective than any sleeping pill I've ever taken."

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," Blaine said with a smirk as he slid down the mattress, taking one of Kurt's nipples in his mouth and sucking until the little nub was hard against his tongue and Kurt was groaning softly as Blaine traced a hand down over his stomach and hipbones to slowly palm his now fully-hard cock. "Just lie there and let me do all the work and then you can go back to sleep and I'll bring you breakfast in bed like the good boyfriend I am. Thank God we don't have any roommates now and you can be as loud as you want."

"Can't be that loud, I'd annoy the Fletchers downstairs and Paula upstairs," Kurt murmured sleepily, nuzzling into his pillow and briefly opening his eyes to look down at Blaine. "Get on with it, then. I would quite like to spend my Sunday sleeping in and not waiting for you to do your job and suck my dick…oh holy shit!"

Blaine would've grinned if he hadn't had his lips stretched around Kurt's cock. He settled for gazing innocently up at his boyfriend from beneath his lashes and continued his merry ministrations, an expert by now in exactly how to make Kurt writhe and scream, push him close to the edge with every sinuous flick on his tongue. And so he began to hum slowly, tracing his tongue along Kurt's slit and licking away the pre-come beading there with a filthy enthusiasm.

Kurt's hands twisted desperately in the sheets, Blaine internally smirking as he did on a regular basis at the realisation that Kurt was suddenly far more awake than he had been a bare few minutes ago. "Oh God, oh God, oh Blaine, please, marry me," he groaned, eyes sliding shut as he came down Blaine's throat.

It was only by routine that Blaine slid back up the bed and kissed Kurt, allowing his boyfriend to taste himself. He barely felt Kurt's hand as it trailed down his chest and across his abdomen to wrap around his cock, his mind echoing with those groaned words: marry me. Had they been genuine? Or had those words he longed to be real and genuinely meant simply been another mindless affection murmured in the throes of ecstasy, not to be taken in any way seriously, much like those sexual fantasies Kurt always confessed so enthusiastically when he was drunk and blushed over when he awoke hungover and realised he'd confided, begging Blaine never to speak of them again.

After Blaine's analytical train of thought temporarily blew into smoke to surrender to Kurt's triumphant smirk as Blaine came over his hand and their sheets, and after Kurt had cleaned his hand and changed the sheets, muttering about how he really had to start using his mouth too because Blaine always made such a mess and they were just sitting together with Kurt sipping tea and Blaine watching him carefully, he gained the spark of courage to speak up. "Kurt, sweetheart, when I was giving you that blowjob, right before you came, you said…you kind of ordered me to marry you. Did you mean it, or was it just one of those things you say in bed?"

Kurt placed his mug on the bedside table and stood up, slowly walking over to the closet and reaching inside, fumbling around with much rustling until a triumphant look flickered across his face and he turned back to Blaine, now with a small black box in his hand. "Blaine, I fell in love with you at first time, and I knew right from that moment you were the one for me," he recited slowly, eyes glazing over with unshed tears as he looked into Blaine's eyes, nothing but sincerity reflected in his gaze. "I dreamt of having a future with you, having that house with the flowers outside and the white picket fence and the dog and the cat because we'd never agree on which to get and our two children, a boy with my eyes and a girl with your hair. I even though of what our children would look like, I was so in love with you. Well, I still love you that way to this day, and now it's going to be our five-year anniversary on Wednesday, and I can have that future with you." He opened the box to reveal a ring that made Blaine's heart skip a beat and then begin to pound, so violently it was almost painful, against his ribs, and lowered himself onto one knee. "If you weren't so fantastic in bed, you could've had a spectacular proposal at sunset with champagne on ice and the New York skyline as the background to the picture you took, but there's no better time to ask than now, in our bedroom where we've grown and loved each other every day for these last five years. You're my forever, Blaine, but it's not enough any more. I want to be your forever too. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine breathed, voice choked with emotion. "I love you so much." The box fell to the ground, forgotten, as Blaine pulled Kurt from his kneeling position and up into a long kiss, their tears mingling hot on their cheeks until the sobs fighting to claw their way up Blaine's throat forced him to stop, gasping for air and sobbing with unadulterated joy into Kurt's hair.

"So, is that a yes?" Kurt asked hopefully, smiling up at Blaine and retrieving the ring, holding it up so it caught the light perfectly. It was beautiful, and Blaine could see it on his finger, imagine wearing it every day for the rest of his life and always remembering the man who had given it to him, the man he loved more than life itself.

"Of course it's a yes, sweetheart," he confirmed, chuckling wetly as Kurt's eyes lit up with happiness. He held out his hand and Kurt slid the ring carefully onto his finger, brushing a kiss across the cool metal once it was nestled comfortably against Blaine's skin. "I promise, I will love you every single day for the rest of time."

"Save it for your wedding vows, Blaine," Kurt deadpanned, though he couldn't hide his wide smile. "So, shall we christen what will soon be the marital bed or would you rather go back to sleep?" Blaine laughed outright, finding that he couldn't stop no matter how much Kurt pouted at him until he tugged Kurt back into bed and on top of him.

"Come here, my beautiful, amazing man of a fiancé," he whispered, melding their mouths together in a kiss that left every clinch rated the most passionate or the most pure behind. This love they shared, this was forever.

This had never been a mistake, nor an accident. It had been pure kismet that they'd met on that dull, ordinary street on that dull, ordinary October day, and they had always been each other's destiny. Falling in love had been the path chosen for them by Fate herself, and it would come full circle when they married and truly joined their bodies and minds and souls and hearts as one entity, one being with a heart that beat only for the love they shared.