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The hotel room they share on the night of their wedding is quaint, the closest one Burt could secure them on such short notice that was still a fair distance away from the hotel where a large majority of the wedding guests were staying.
Neither him nor Blaine had thought as far in advance as their whereabouts that night (which seemed overwhelmingly hilarious and faintly terrifying to Kurt since they had just made a decision that pertained to their entire future), and Kurt had come close to crying in relief and gratitude when he saw his father slip the small key card into the front pocket of Blaine’s tuxedo, accompanied by a firm hug and tear misted twinkle in his eye.
It isn’t extravagant, but it’s theirs and only theirs, and that makes it perfect to Kurt. As he’s learned by the previous events of the day, he doesn’t need extravagant. He just needs Blaine. He’ll only ever need Blaine.
It does, however, have a window seat, a bench of plush pillows and cushions saddled up to clear pristine glass, illuminated in the silvery light of the bright moon. It overlooks the meadow blowing behind the hotel, blooming stalks of tall grass heavy with fluffing bristles, rippling in the cool breeze of the fresh Spring Indiana night.
There’s an anticipating glow on the horizon of a morning sun, just on the cusp of dawning when Kurt slips quietly out of Blaine’s arms, moving off the bed and securing one of the complementary silk robes provided by the hotel in a knot around his waist.
Stars are still twinkling like fading diamonds in the sky above his head as he takes a seat against the frame of the alcoved wall, his back curved by cushions and his legs stretched out in front of him across the length of the window seat.
There’s a thought running rampant through his mind, one that he can’t quite seem to catch long enough to pin down and sort through. His stomach swirls slightly with uneasiness. It doesn’t fit with everything that’s become solidified in the last few hours. Blaine is back in his arms. They’re both where they belong, where they’ve always belonged. Everything is conclusively right.
Everything except this thought.
He doesn’t want anymore uncertainty.
He doesn’t know how long he sits at the window, mind racing and muscles tense, but the first touch of soft fingers to his shoulder calms him immediately, eyelids fluttering closed as Blaine rubs at the side of his arm gently.
Kurt gazes up at him, at his sex mussed hair wild and frizzy with sleep, hazel eyes soft and glowing as they stare lovingly down at Kurt. Kurt finds his home in them, in the aching familiarity that grounds him, tethers him securely for the first time in months. He’s spent so long feeling fractured.
Blaine leans down to kiss him at the exact same moment Kurt rises, cranes his neck upward and extends his torso and their lips are meeting softly, slowly. Neither one of them take it for granted. They don’t rely on titles to do the work of conveying their love anymore, not in retrospect of their mistakes. It’s not enough to simply say he’s Blaine’s husband. Every moment is an active effort to devote his love to Blaine all over again, to make certain Blaine receives that with clarity, to show him he cares for him as deeply as he says.
Blaine’s wearing a matching silk robe, smooth under Kurt’s hands where he curls his palms around Blaine’s hips, so trim and compact and warm. Blaine’s fingers brush through his hair, soothe down his shoulder, tickle the sides of his neck. He pulls back from Kurt’s lips, ghosting breath close and a thumb caressing across Kurt’s pale cheek.
“Having second thoughts?” he teases. There’s no heat or self consciousness behind his voice. Another reminder to Kurt of how much they’ve grown, how Blaine has blossomed and matured in ways Kurt’s not sure would’ve happened had they not broken up. It’s still stings a little beautifully bitter.
“No,” Kurt smiles. And he’s not. Sure, the events of the day before were abrupt, candidly spur-of-the moment, but Blaine was a constant, has always been a constant, so certain and confident in them that any hesitation fluttering in Kurt’s mind was put to rest by the sight of his bright eyes, his dashingly wide smile, the heavy weight of their shiny silver-banded fingers linking solidly, irreversibly.
He couldn’t chastise their decision as impulsive or reckless, not when he felt Blaine’s arms tight around his waist and their bodies pressed together from head to toe, tender kisses to corners of jaws and thumbs swiping away trickling tears as he buried his face in Blaine’s warm, crisp smelling neck and let himself be swayed around the dance floor in a dance they choreographed together to the symphony of their beating hearts and the soft whispers of their love, twirling on the sudden cusp of forever.
Blaine can tell he’s tense. Kurt sees it in the concerned tilt of his head, the soft quiver of his lips. He kisses Kurt’s cheek gently before settling down on the other end of the window seat, back against the opposite alcoved wall, facing Kurt. He pulls Kurt’s feet onto his lap and rubs at his ankles in calming motions.
“What is it?”
It’s a simple question. It’s an extremely overloaded answer. Kurt’s not sure where to start, how to verbalize what’s bothering him, but Blaine’s gaze is gentle, patient and compassionate like it always has been for Kurt’s concerns. The sight of it makes Kurt angry with himself, swarmed with the guilt that’s been subsiding in small increments as time carries on and wounds begin to heal, bubbling up from deep within and lodging itself back into a painful lump in his throat. He became masterfully skilled at neglecting Blaine’s compassion.
Blaine squeezes his leg. The past is futile to dwell on. They’re learning. They’re growing. Kurt’s trying. He takes a deep breath, meets Blaine’s tender gaze and lets go, trusts.
“I’ve only ever slept with you,” is where he starts, not exactly what he wanted to say first and the surprise is evident on Blaine’s face, but it’s not angry. Just patient. Always patient.
Blaine nods. It’s a true statement. He waits for Kurt to say more, but the words seem lodged somewhere between his heart and his mouth. The silence stretches on while Blaine’s hands move upwards, massaging his shins.
“You’ve slept with three people,” Kurt says next. It’s not accusatory, and if it appears that way, Kurt doesn’t mean it to be. He’s not trying to chastise Blaine or blame him for anything. It just seems to be the easiest place to start in his endless swirl of tangled emotions.
Blaine’s fingers slow a little in their movement but his gaze doesn’t falter, doesn’t harden or recoil or buckle in on itself like it might once have, like some part of Kurt expects it to. He nods again. There’s no point in denying it. Kurt’s grateful he doesn’t.
“Yes,” Blaine even goes so far to say verbally, and Kurt gives him a shy smile, tentative but appreciative for Blaine’s transparency as he sorts out the complexity of the things that have led them to this perfectly imperfect point.
Kurt’s stuck as he tries to piece the unnameable feeling in his heart, the one that doesn’t seem to conform to any one sentence or certain idea, to a string of comprehensible words that Blaine will understand.
He doesn't stumble for too long. Blaine catches him, guides him lovingly, thoughtfully.
“Does that make you upset?”
He says it in a way that lets Kurt know he wouldn’t be mad at him if it did, his hazel eyes void of judgement or criticism. Kurt takes a moment to observe his fanning eyelashes, the flickering shadow of dark stubble across his chin.
God, he’s so beautiful.
“No,” Kurt shakes his head. Upset isn’t the right word. He’s long past the heartache of Eli, and he can’t be upset about Dave and Blaine. He lost all rights to being upset or jealous the instant he foolishly let Blaine go.
Blaine looks slightly confused and Kurt searches for an explanation.
“Before, when we were engaged, it made me feel… behind, I guess? Like you had some sort of leverage over me,” Kurt bites on his lip. Blaine’s fingertips continue to stroke up his calves. “Which I know is completely hypocritical of me to say because I told you it wasn’t a competition, that we weren’t in a race.”
Blaine’s eyes soften sympathetically. “It’s still okay that you felt that way, sweetheart.”
Blaine’s reassurance eases some of the ache in the pit of Kurt’s stomach.
“I think that’s why I did all that, you know? Eating healthy and working out. I wanted to be stronger than you, because you had something I didn’t. I had to make up for feeling young, and inexperienced, and, well…” Kurt searches carefully for a word, but only one blatantly precise word fits accurately. “Cheated.”
Blaine’s eyes drop for a moment, watching the swirling patterns his fingers make on Kurt’s leg before his gaze lands on Kurt again, confidently soft. “And now?”
“Now it’s just… something I want to understand?” It lifts in a question. Kurt’s not sure if that adequately describes it. “Those experiences are a part of you. They’ve played a role in building you into the person you are now. I want to know them. I want to know all of you.”
Blaine thinks quietly for an instant and Kurt takes hold of the opening, rambling on with thoughts that suddenly spew through his mouth at rapid speed.
“Like, maybe--maybe there’s something they did that I don’t, something you enjoy that I’m unaware of… or… or I guess, h-how I measure up with them-”
“You don’t.”
Kurt’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide. “What?”
“You don’t measure up with them,” Blaine says, watching Kurt carefully, his eyes shining with something he clearly knows resolutely, something Kurt wishes he understood to the same degree. “There’s no scale to measure up on. It’s not even remotely the same thing. You’re the love of my life. It’s always been you and only you, Kurt. It’s not like I rank these things in some internal order, because there is no order. There’s no need for an order. It’s only ever been you.”
His voice is soft and Kurt feels a little weak at the words, overwhelmed with love and nearly pained with the intensity of it that radiates off of Blaine. He wants to burst into tears, or alternately, to fling himself across the window seat into Blaine’s arms, but his curiosity to know more, to thaw the uneasiness in his stomach, wins out.
“Was Dave good to you?”
Blaine’s fingers return to Kurt’s ankles, delicately tracing the arch of his bones.
“I was only intimate with Dave twice,” He says quietly, the smallest detectable hint of pain, what Kurt almost thinks is regret. “He was a generous lover. Attentive. Kind. Respectful. He’s a good man.”
Blaine looks directly at Kurt, as if on the contingency of saying more. Kurt’s heart gives a slight wrench of discomfort at the words. He’s pretty sure it will for the rest of his life. But Blaine is speaking so openly with him, and Dave is a good man, so Kurt nods encouragingly.
“I can’t lie and say that it was a… a bad experience. Eli, on the other hand…” Blaine trails off, his eyes recalling distant memories in a swim until they gravitate back towards Kurt. Kurt gives him a loving, reassuring smile. They’ve talked about Eli before. Kurt knows Blaine doesn’t have it any easier than he does. It’s difficult for them both.
“It sounds horrible to say it now, but both times I was with Dave were just distractions.” Blaine looks ashamed of himself and oh, that makes Kurt’s heart ache.
“You were trying to move on.”
“But I knew I would never be over you. I knew no one else would ever be the same. It was… pleasant, yes, but it left me feeling hollow, like I was trying to fill something and it never worked, it was never enough. There was no fulfillment, no connection. I didn’t want him. I wanted you.” Blaine’s eyes are tenderly wide as they stare at Kurt, holding Kurt on a breath that prevents him from looking away. “I kept thinking of you, I could never not think of you, and I was disgusted with myself because that wasn’t fair to him. I wasn’t treating him with the respect he deserved.”
“Honey,” Kurt says sadly. He caused Blaine so much unnecessary pain.
“It doesn’t compare, Kurt. I’ve only ever loved you.”
“Oh, darling, I know that,” Kurt assures him, not wanting Blaine to doubt his value to Kurt for another second.
Even when things were splintered and broken between them, even on the nights the aching gap separating them seemed unbearably wide, Kurt never once doubted the love Blaine has for him. Loving comes naturally for Blaine, intimacy and vulnerability is the language of his communication, the laced path to his beautiful heart, manifested in every compassionate touch of his fingertips and selfless devotion of his time, in every way that he cares for Kurt both verbally and physically.
Kurt’s never, at any point in his life, felt safer than when he’s in Blaine’s arms.
Kurt stares out the window, the rippling grass in the breeze a calming visual to the tender strokes of Blaine’s fingers on his shins.
And because Blaine has always been acutely aware of his needs, deeply and intuitively in tune with Kurt’s emotions, he interrupts Kurt’s thinking softly.
“There’s something more.”
Kurt giggles when Blaine tickles the bottom of his feet lightly and then sighs deeply as he returns his attention back to his husband and tries to articulate the feeling deep in his chest.
“I just… I’ve only ever wanted you.”
“I’ve only ever wanted you, too.”
“No,” Kurt shakes his head. Blaine’s words are sweet, and true in some respect, but he doesn’t mean them in the same way Kurt does. He doesn’t understand what Kurt’s attempting to say. “No, it’s… different. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Blaine rests his head against the window, his hair a navy glow in the moonlight. “Help me understand, sweetie. I won’t be mad.”
The contrast of how they discuss things now is truly startling, and Kurt can clearly see, now that he’s not in the thick of it, how deeply they suffered before with communication, how insensitive and unmindful they were of each others feelings simply by nature of not understanding how to combat the specific ways each of them operates in relation to their own individual needs.
And he’s never been grateful for the pain they’ve caused each other, never been proud of the ways he’s wounded Blaine, but there’s a certain aspect of their relationship they never would’ve obtained had the distance not been put between them and the time apart not been endured.
A failed engagement taught them two things: certainly how to fight, but more importantly, what they needed to do to fix it, what to do to prevent it from reaching such a destructive and unhealthy degree.
“I know that you’ve only ever loved me. I don’t doubt that for a second.” Kurt leans forward as he speaks so he can grasp Blaine’s hand in his, squeezing his fingers reassuringly, warm and tethered. “But… you’ve still been able to want other guys. Sexually. Right?”
Blaine bites his plush bottom lip between his teeth as he considers. “I mean… yeah. I guess so.”
“Maybe want is the wrong word,” Kurt decides. He can tell Blaine still doesn’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say. “In my absence, you’ve been able to be sexually present with other males. Yes?”
Blaine nods, swiping a thumb over the back of Kurt’s hand before breathing out a soft but sure, “Yes.”
“It’s… It’s not like that for me. I’ve had crushes, sure, and I’ve certainly found other men attractive, b-but when it’s come to sex,” Kurt pauses, feeling the blush heat across his cheeks. He feels achingly similar to his high school self, when he first divulged the details of his sexual desires with an equally attentive and supportive Blaine. “I’ve never once wanted anyone else in that way. Nobody but you.”
Blaine squeezes his hand gently, staring at him patiently and considerately with a determination to understand and solve that Kurt’s never quite sensed before, never felt so vividly in the burning of his own heart. There’s such enamorment in his eyes that the courage Kurt’s been seeking for the better part of a few years finally unfurls from within his heart.
“I told you that I never did anything with Adam,” Kurt says quietly and Blaine nods. “But it’s not that we never got around to it, or didn’t try… It’s… I…”
Kurt looks down, feeling the harbored shame and embarrassment creep back over him red-hot and tingling.
“Baby, it’s alright.”
“I could never get it up, Blaine,” Kurt whispers. A tear slips hot and quick down his cheek. Blaine grips his ankles tightly and tugs him closer, pulling Kurt into a straddle over his lap, his hands settling on Kurt’s hips as Kurt’s arms drape around his neck. “I wanted to. I wanted to move on, even though I knew I still loved you. I just wanted to do something with someone else, physically, thinking maybe it would help me get over you. But I never could. It always made me feel… hollow. Cold inside, somehow.”
Blaine wipes his tears away, catching them on his fingers and petting through Kurt’s tousled hair gently. “Did you try with Walter?”
Kurt shakes his head, avoiding Blaine’s eyes and watching where his fingertip twines around a springing curl of his hair instead. “I never even thought of him in that way. It makes me uncomfortable, void inside, a little nauseous even to think of having sex with anyone but you.”
Blaine’s eyes are wide and reflective staring up at Kurt, full to the brim with unadulterated and unabashed love that warms every inch of Kurt’s skin, spikes his pulse into a flutter, and settles deep and low in his belly, in that breathless, overwhelming way Blaine’s always made him feel.
“I guess I wanted to know what sleeping with other people was like for you because I feel like… like something’s wrong with me, Blaine,” Kurt’s voice breaks around a shuddering sob.
He can’t help it. He’s so tired of feeling messed up, unusual and different like he’s been his entire life.
“Oh, baby, no,” Blaine coos softly, cradling Kurt’s cheek with his palm. Kurt nuzzles into the sweet smelling skin, turning his head slightly and pressing his lips into the flesh. “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing at all.”
“I thought I was gay, Blaine.”
“And you are,” Blaine tells him, and his voice calms Kurt’s racing heart simply by the distinct sound of it, the soft undertones and sweet melody that are so comfortingly and familiarly Blaine that Kurt’s body relaxes instinctively. “You are gay, sweetie.”
“So am I just not built to love other people?”
“Kurt,” Blaine says in that soft, awed way that always commands Kurt’s attention immediately and tugs at his heart. “Listen to me. At some point along the years, you decided that you weren’t good at loving other people, that you weren’t capable of being compassionate because… intimacy is harder for you and it takes a lot to get you to be vulnerable.”
Blaine cradles Kurt’s jaw with one hand and rubs over his silk-clad hip with the other, before raising up slightly to press a warm kiss to Kurt’s soft lips. Kurt inhales softly when he pulls away, already missing the sweet taste of Blaine’s lips.
“You have to understand that you are the most loving person I know,” Blaine tells him, and Kurt wants to object, remind Blaine that he’s nowhere near as loving as he is, but Blaine looks like he’s already anticipating that comment, and even as the thought flashes through Kurt’s mind he knows there’s some truth to what Blaine’s saying.
“You are,” Blaine insists, tracing Kurt’s jawline with his thumb. “It’s why I fell so hard for you, honey. Maybe you’re more subtle and reserved than I am, but you’re a Hummel, baby-”
“A Hummel-Anderson,” Kurt interrupts, and Blaine chuckles a beautiful little chiming laugh.
“Yes,” his smile is beaming, the very embodiment of pride, and Kurt flushes warm. “But you’re a Hummel at heart, sweetie, and when you love, you love hard. You don’t do anything half-assed and that includes sharing affection. You have your mother’s heart and your father’s vigor and that makes you a very passionate, very devout lover.”
Kurt wipes another tear from his eye and squeaks out a laugh. “You never met my Mom.”
“I didn’t have to,” Blaine grins adoringly. “I’ve heard the stories you and Burt tell me and I see the same spirit in your actions everyday. Remember back in high school, when Sam lost his home?”
Kurt nods.
“Who gave him clothes?”
“I did,” Kurt whispers, brushing through Blaine’s curls.
“Mmhmm. And after Burt had that heart attack, who’s the one who wrote him a highly detailed meal plan to make sure his heart would remain healthy, complete with a decorated border and laminated cover?”
“Oh my God,” Kurt groans, smacking Blaine’s shoulder in embarrassment, but he can already feel the ache in his chest starting to melt. “That’s mortifying.”
“Look, honey, I know I’m teasing you,” Blaine’s eyes soften and his voice gains weight. “But it takes someone with a very generous, very loving heart to forgive Dave for the way he bullied you, and the redemption he found in your forgiveness saved his life. It takes someone with endless compassion and mercy to forgive what I did to you, and I spend every day admiring your grace and feeling so fortunate that you’ve placed your tender heart back in my hands.”
It’s only then that Kurt realizes he’s trembling, bursting from the inside out with a love so overwhelming he feels like he’s drowning in it. Blaine rubs at every inch of his skin he can find, his hands always roaming lovingly on some part of Kurt’s body.
“You’re a sensitive soul, darling,” Blaine kisses the delicate skin of his wrists. “And a heart-felt romantic. Sex, intimacy, it isn’t something you throw around. It’s not that you aren’t built to love others, it’s the exact opposite. You love others so deeply you have to find a connection with someone rich and trusting enough before you feel comfortable sharing your body, your soul.”
It’s as if Blaine has finally put words to the way Kurt’s always felt, deep in his soul, and Kurt suddenly understands just a little bit more clearly the inner workings of his heart.
“So what does that mean?”
“I don’t think you have to put a label to it,” Blaine says gently, his hazel eyes growing brighter with every passing minute of the dawning sun. “If it makes you feel better to, it sounds like you might be demisexual?”
Kurt runs his fingers along the silk of Blaine’s shoulders, gazing down at his beautiful husband. His heart finally feels soothed, and he immediately finds that Blaine’s right. With his husband in his arms, the one who every inch of his heart belongs to, he realizes he doesn’t need to label what he is now that he finally understands it. Not with this wonderful man beneath him and the promise of being loved forever.
“I think I’m just Blaine-Anderson-sexual.”
“Hummel-Anderson,” Blaine teases with a wink and the smile that comes to Kurt’s lips is easy, loose and relaxed and overjoyed, and so hopelessly, achingly, in love.
Kurt guides Blaine’s hands to the knot of his robe, urging him to untie it before leaning down and capturing his lips deeply, soft lips tugging and tongue twining.
“I love you,” he breaths hot into Blaine’s mouth as Blaine undoes his robe and pushes it off his shoulders, running his fingertips down the bare skin of Kurt’s chest.
“I love you too, baby, so much,” Blaine gasps around his lips, sliding his hands up Kurt’s thighs and reaching around to grab gently at his ass. He pulls back slightly, searching Kurt’s eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Kurt nods, a smile breaking across his lips. “Yeah. I’m perfect.”
Blaine kisses across his jaw, mouthing down his neck wetly, and Kurt holds onto him tightly, presses close to the beating of Blaine’s heart and knows with surety that, while it was terrifying to first share himself in this way with someone, he’s never been afraid to be with Blaine like this and there’s no one else he’d rather give himself over to, nobody else he trusts to hold his heart completely the way Blaine so lovingly does.
To have and to hold, in sickness and in health.
For the rest of their lives.