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At home, in the sanctum of his music room, Blaine waits. Beneath his fingertips, the soft press of the piano keys settles his concentration within Chopin's Trois Nouvelles Études. The progression of the music moves through him, as delicate and intricate as lacework. It holds him within a singular slipping moment, and he finds perfection in his practice.
When the knock on the door frame finally comes, Blaine smiles through his next breath and eases the piano into silence. Kurt's bright voice follows, "I found a song for Mr. Schue's assignment. We both love it and it's ideal for a proposal."
Blaine turns and sees Kurt, slipping off his shoes and then setting his bag in the brocade armchair by the door. The winter sun shines coppery highlights in Kurt's hair and sharpens his features. He whips a sheaf of paper from his satchel and presents it with a flourish. "Okay," Kurt says. His cheeks are pink from the winter wind. "I've fiddled with the arrangement, divided the lyrics as I imagine will suit Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury. I don't know if we should assume she'll sing with him or what, but it's a place to start." Kurt takes a quick breath. "You can have his part, and I'll take hers."
"Sounds great," Blaine says, curious as Kurt passes him the music. He reads the title and smiles. "I already know this one," he says. He played it obsessively after the film came out, but he didn't have anyone to accompany him. "You're brilliant."
"I know." Kurt preens beneath the praise and then steps lightly, with one well-placed sock-clad foot, onto the bench next to Blaine, then over to the edge of the keyboard, turning nimbly to hoist himself up to sit atop the piano.
Blaine arranges the pages on the stand, glances over the music to note Kurt's changes, and he starts playing. His voice hasn't warmed up, so he begins softly, directing the lyrics up at Kurt: "Never knew I could feel like this."
Kurt bites into his bottom lip, and his smile widens. It crinkles the corners of his eyes, shines in his gaze, and catches the next beat of Blaine's heart. Sunlight makes a halo in the fuzzy texture of Kurt's turquoise sweater, which in turn brightens his eyes. Effortlessly, Blaine channels the sentiment of the song, sincere in his yearning for the steadfast love he finds in Kurt's gaze. "But I love you, until the end of time."
The clarity and weightless grace of Kurt's voice joins his on the next phrase, rising on the simple harmony, "Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place."
It's nearly enough to stop Blaine's singing, so he may listen to Kurt's voice alone. But they sound so good together, rich with texture and feeling. The music pulls at him, carries his voice into richer resonance, steady and sure, entwined with Kurt's. And, as they sing, it expands around them and swells in Blaine's chest, drawing him toward—
Blaine's hands still. "Wait," he says and looks down at the keyboard. "Stop, please." Kurt's voice tapers into silence.
Blaine flattens his fingers against the keys, and he doesn't look up. Quietly he speaks, "I don't want to sing this song for Mr. Schuester or Miss Pillsbury. I don't want to sing it for a Glee Club assignment at all."
It hangs between them for a heartbeat. Then Kurt responds, "But we like this song. We sang along together when we watched Moulin Rouge last month. We both cried, Blaine. It's perfect for the assignment."
"It is perfect." Blaine turns a nervous glance up to Kurt, sees the crease between his eyebrows. "That's why I can't do it, Kurt. It's perfect for us. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't want to share this with Mr. Schue. I want to keep it just for you and me."
Kurt blinks and his frown relaxes. "Like it would be our song?" Kurt asks, smiles fondly. "You know I've always thought of 'Teenage Dream' as our song."
With a shrug, Blaine ventures, reaching a hand up to Kurt, "We won't be teenagers forever."
Kurt reaches back, and Blaine can feel it in the hold of Kurt’s hand and see it in his wide-opening gaze, the implication settling into understanding.
"It's going to be us, one day, isn't it?" Blaine says.
"You're talking about us— Oh." Kurt swallows, and his voice wavers when he continues. "Getting married?"
"Don't you think it would be amazing to sing it together and know we mean it?"
"I mean it now, Blaine.”
Blaine runs his thumb along the bare line of Kurt's ring finger. This intimacy is still such a new thing between them, and he's still learning the patterns of its intricacies. But this he knows. "That's why."
"So," Kurt begins cautiously. "Are you saying you want us to, one day, sing this to each other at our wedding?"
Blaine presses his lips together to restrain his smile. He doesn't quite trust his voice. Instead he nods. He loosens his hold on Kurt’s hand.
But then Kurt tightens his fingers around Blaine's, reassuring, and he flashes Blaine a quick grin. He speaks with humor coloring his tone and a demure twist of his shoulders. "You're not actually proposing to me now, are you?"
With a sudden laugh, Blaine glances down for an instant. "No, I'm not." He tests the weight of the next words in his mind before he speaks them, "But I want to. One day."
"You...?" Kurt's voice gives way and shyness softens his expression. There's no trace of teasing when he says, "I expect you already know my answer."
"Maybe," Blaine says, though his heart pulses with yes. "But I'll wait until I ask you to hear it."