Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Friday night has Blaine standing by the loft door with Kurt's Rimowa roller case while Kurt paces back to the bedroom. Elliott stands in the center of the loft with Kurt's phone in his hand. He and Blaine share a look of concerned sympathy. Which Kurt seems to sense, even though he's on the other side of the curtain. "I just want to bring one scrapbook," he says. He's no longer even trying to hide the fatigue in his voice.

"No," Blaine and Elliott say in unison.

"At least let me find my green fair isle scarf, the one Carole got me."

"I saw you pack it," Elliott says.

"Did I? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Elliott says.

Kurt's stalling, Blaine knows it. He's had to talk Kurt into this little weekend out of the city six times already.

"But we have so much to do, Blaine, we don't have time for a break," has been Kurt's repeated protest.

And because Blaine knows how much Kurt's been fraying and how much he needs Blaine's certainty now and not more of his frustration, Blaine would rally himself and reply each time, as firmly as he dared, "That's why we need it. We need a moment to catch our breath, fallback and regroup. We'll barely be gone for 48 hours—and you know what they say, ‘a change is as good as a rest.' We need this, Kurt."

And then Kurt would sigh, his shoulders would hunch, but he'd smile, close his eyes, and concede, "Yes, you're right. Let's do it."

"It's all going to be fine," Elliott calls out to Kurt. "I've got your back if anyone calls. Please, let me do this for you?"

A drawer shuts with a thunk and Kurt sighs.

"I can't leave the rental car double parked for much longer, we'll get a ticket," Blaine says, keeping his voice light.

"Fine, okay." Kurt says. "Okay."

Getting out of the city takes over an hour. Neither of them has driven in the city before, but Kurt's a good navigator, Blaine's a patient driver, and they make it through without any wrong turns. The sun's set by the time they're accelerating into the weekend traffic heading north. Winter nights fall early and deep, but the skies are clear and road conditions are good. They're leaving behind the ugly stress of the past weeks as they cleave through the darkness. It feels good.

Blaine's made a playlist for the drive up to Rhinebeck, carefully avoiding any songs that are on the setlist for the wedding reception. He reaches to turn on the car stereo, and Kurt reaches for their iPod.

Their reservation is at the Rhinecliff hotel, which came recommended by June, who also got them a discounted rate on a third floor room overlooking the Hudson river. It even has a view of one of the historic lighthouses. Kurt's going to love it.

Their booking is two nights only, but at this point, the only thing Blaine can think of that will help them both get through the next couple weeks is to go a bit sideways, to forcibly release the pressure before something blows up. Kurt's dogged frontal assault on the wedding planning has left them both tattered and tetchy. The city they love has begun to feel like a trap, and their home like a war room. Getting out of the loft and the familiar cityscape should help them readjust their perspective.

So Blaine made some calls and proposed a weekend getaway to Kurt over breakfast. He hopes this will be enough. Elliott's babysitting both the loft and Kurt's phone over the weekend, to triage any issues that may come up and call Blaine's phone only if it's absolutely necessary. It's the first thing Kurt's let Elliott help with, and Blaine knows both how hard it's been for Kurt to let go, and how much Elliott appreciates the trust.

At the hotel's reception, Blaine checks in. Beside him Kurt tips his head back, taking in the hotel. It's antique with modern renovations: cheerful, warm, and spacious. Kurt hums and pulls off his gloves while Blaine hands over his credit card and signs his name. When Blaine returns his full attention to Kurt he sees a difference already, a softness around Kurt's mouth, a gentling of the line of his shoulders. Blaine asks the concierge to recommend a restaurant for a late dinner.

"This was a good idea," Kurt says as they enter their room to drop off their bags before heading out to eat. The floors are russet timber with ivory rugs, the walls buttercup yellow, and the soft furnishings all pale and calming. The wide french doors to the balcony are shuttered behind dark wood venetian blinds. Overhead, exposed beams support the angles of the peaked ceiling.

"Thank you for agreeing to come," Blaine says, and it's so much easier to smile here.

"Like you would have come without me," Kurt teases, hefting his suitcase onto the luggage rack and popping it open.

"I might've," Blaine says cheekily, to make Kurt laugh, and then he goes to the bathroom to evaluate the facilities. Kurt follows him in with their toiletries, and they freshen up.

They have dinner at a cozy little restaurant boasting the best of local, sustainable fare. It's friendly, intimate and casual inside: unpretentious, though the menu promises sophisticated delights. From their table on the second floor overlooking a stone paved terrace, they share a bottle of Finger Lake Riesling over a leisurely meal of sweet potato ravioli and pan roasted sea scallops. They don't skip dessert. No wedding talk is the rule for the evening, so instead they talk about all the other things they've been missing. They talk about next year and the year after that.

It has Blaine feeling more mellow than he has for months. Exams are past, they're on break, and the wedding is left behind them for the night.

Kurt's face in the candlelight, flush with good food, wine, and contentment warms Blaine. He knows it won't last long before they're back to fretting over the details of the wedding, but he wants to remind them both of this. This is about them; this is why. For all they've been wanting it, the wedding has begun to feel too much like its own prize and goal, a destination they've raced to reach and then...?

And then their story will continue. That's the important part, to see their way through to the other side, because the other side is their life together.

In a lull over their crème brûlée, Blaine says simply—as simply as the first time over coffee: "I love you."

Kurt glances up from his dessert and slides his spoon from his mouth. He blinks, smiles, and says, "I love you too." Blaine wishes it could always be this simple.

They stroll a ways up the street into the village of Rhinebeck while waiting for the taxi. Trees strewn with fairy lights sparkle along the sidewalks. Nothing is open, but the historic buildings and antique shops draw their curiosity. "We should come back in the summer," Kurt suggests. "When we have more time." The winter night is cold on their faces, but the air is fresh. A homey tickle of woodsmoke wafts upon the breeze, and their gloved hands swing, clasped tight between them.

The next morning, after a long sleep and late and lazy breakfast in the hotel's sun-drenched dining room, they go back to their room to shower. Then they lie on their wide bed in fluffy terry cloth robes perusing the folio of local activities. There's nowhere they have to be.

"Oh, hey, we could visit the local lighthouses," Kurt says, kicking his bare feet up behind him and crossing his ankles. "Except they're both on the other side of the river. Where's the closest bridge?"

"A few minutes north?" Blaine says.

"Oh, huh, and the Saugerties Lighthouse is only open on Sundays. We could go tomorrow maybe?"

"How about a hike today while the weather holds?" Snow flurries are forecast for the afternoon. Blaine taps the facing page. "This one, Poet's Walk? It's only two miles, and it looks gorgeous. There's all this stuff about the landscape architect who designed the park." He reads the text in one caption, "Apparently we can ‘walk in the footsteps of Washington Irving.'"

"Work off last night's dessert and this morning's pancakes, huh?"

It's a ten minute drive up to the park. The air is still and the clouds are gathering, low and quiet, as Kurt and Blaine wander the trails across the dormant meadows of dry grass. The bare skeletons of cottonwood trees are black against the pale horizon, and the atmosphere holds that soft quality that precedes snow. At each whimsical wooden gazebo, they pause for photos. Blaine winces each time Kurt instinctively reaches for his phone, but Kurt doesn't make any verbal complaint.

By the time they get to the riverbank, the occasional fat snowflake is tumbling from the sky. Kurt's got his chin and mouth tucked behind his green fair isle scarf. His nose is pink and his eyes glassy with the chill on the rousing wind off the water. "It's so peaceful here," Kurt says, gazing down the Hudson toward the bridge.

"It is."

Then Kurt tilts his head and slides a sidelong glance at Blaine. "Though, in fairness, I should also tell you—I'm trying very hard not to freak out about the weather right now, Blaine. What if we get stranded up here because of the snow?"

Blaine takes a deep cold breath that aches in his lungs. He needs to believe this is all going to be okay. They're going to be okay. He lets out his breath in a fog and finds the faith he seeks. With a smile he feels fully, Blaine turns to Kurt. He reaches for Kurt's hand, squeezes, and says, "Whatever happens, we'll get through it. I trust in us."

Kurt ducks his head, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "I can't disagree with that without sounding like a jerk, can I?"

"No, not really," Blaine says cheerfully.

Kurt's snort of laughter is muffled by the scarf. He bumps his shoulder against Blaine's and says, "The temperature's dropping. Let's head back. Room service and a bath to warm up?"

In the hot water and fragrant steam of the generously sized porcelain tub, Blaine leans back against Kurt, who's been playing with Blaine's hair, working shampoo into a rich lather and sculpting Blaine's hair into different playful shapes. Right now Blaine's sporting a row of spikes arching across the top of his head.

Kurt sighs and drags his fingers through the line of soapy tufts, smoothing Blaine's hair flat. "I'm starting to understand why people end up eloping," Kurt says, briefly meeting Blaine's gaze in the mirror on the wall. The words are delivered wryly enough, but there's a querying glint in Kurt's eyes that looks sincere.

Blaine tips his head back against Kurt's shoulder and slips lower in the tub. Kurt's fingertips press across his scalp pleasantly. He weighs his words with care before he speaks them: "You know, we've got enough time. We could visit the town clerk here, if you want to. We could go now."

Kurt's hands freeze, and then slip down to Blaine's shoulders. "You're serious," Kurt says, his tone strangely hollow but not hostile.

"I am," Blaine twists his neck to see Kurt's eyes have widened.

"I was joking," Kurt says, still unreadable. Stunned maybe.

"Were you really? Because if you want to, Kurt? We can."

"I— Blaine." Kurt says, and he scoots up to sit straighter. "We can't elope."

"Why not?" Blaine bends his knees until he can dunk his head back into the water and let Kurt work his fingers through Blaine's hair to rinse out the shampoo.

"Well, for one thing," Kurt says, looking down at Blaine’s upturned face as his fingertips drift ticklishly behind Blaine's ears. "My Dad would kill us both."

"That's an excuse, not a reason."

"Oh, okay, so we're actually having this conversation then?"

Blaine sits up and leans to one side so they can see each others faces. "Tell me again why it matters that we do the big ceremony."

"You know why, Blaine," Kurt says, and he continues as if reading from a list: "We've both dreamed of this day since before we even knew each other, it's political, it's for our family, friends, and community as much as it's for us. Also, it's a celebration of our love and a way to honor the journey we've both taken to get here."

"And?"

"I just..." Kurt lets out a long breath. "I wanted it to be perfect, and I know it's not going to be, and if it's not going to be everything we both want it to be, then, maybe we should just elope."

"And what about our friends and family?"

"What about the people we barely know?" Kurt says. "Ugh. How did we get to three hundred guests anyway?"

"Your Dad's a congressman and we decided—"

"That was a rhetorical question. But I'm wondering at this point if we would have been better off doing the smaller private affair rather than going for the big spectacle. There's going to be media, Blaine. Why didn't you talk me out of this?"

That's a rhetorical question, too, so Blaine ignores it. "I honestly don't think we can downsize at this point. We could cancel the whole thing, but I don't think we can pick and choose among the people who have RSVP'ed and not have that get out of hand."

"No, we can't do that, and I don't actually want to cancel the wedding and elope, tempting though it may be." The water sloshes as Kurt sinks down and lets his head loll back against the edge of the tub. His gaze is unfocused. "Is it wrong that I wanted this one thing to be perfect and easy? For all the things we've fought for in our lives and all the compromises—why couldn't this one thing have been perfect for us?

With a shrug, Blaine reaches beneath the water for Kurt's hand. "It's going to be at a different venue. We're scheduled to check out your shortlist from the Dumbo Loft people on Monday, right? One of them is bound to be suitable."

"I don't know... Suitable doesn't sound encouraging. We're going to end up having to make even more compromises to accommodate a new venue. There's already been the cupcake issue, and now the venue, and I suspect we've both been having second thoughts about our suits being a bit too much with the colored ties and cummerbunds and—"

"Okay," Blaine says, interrupting before Kurt can build momentum into anxiety. "Maybe it won't be perfect. Maybe it just can't be? Maybe all we can do is embrace the chaos and ride it through to wherever it takes us—which should be the French Quarter in New Orleans. No matter how it plays out over the next few weeks, Kurt, less than a month from today we'll be married, we'll have had a fantastic party, and we'll be relaxing on a well earned honeymoon. All this stress will be a memory."

Kurt raises an eyebrow, and a hint of humor tugs at the corners of his lips. "Embrace and ride the chaos, Blaine? Seriously?"

"Sure, why not?"

Kurt twists to the opposite side of the tub and extends one dripping hand to Blaine to be shaken. "Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel. Have you met me?" Kurt huffs an amused sound. "For that matter, have you met yourself?"

With an answering laugh, Blaine takes Kurt's hand and pulls him in for a humid kiss. Kurt grins against his mouth, but then slowly relaxes into it, melting wonderfully into Blaine's embrace. Blaine withdraws from the kiss and murmurs, "Maybe it's time for a reintroduction, hmm?"