~o*oOo*o~

"All you need is love.

"All you need is love."

That sounded vaguely familiar, Kurt thought dimly as Rachel tugged him forward, doe eyes sparkling with girlish glee. Blaine had said that not long ago when he'd urged Kurt to leave for New York.

"All you need is love.

"All you need is love."

And Kurt had been windswept with longing, but also with fear; because Kurt would be immersed in the country's largest city, thousands of miles away, and Blaine wouldn't. There was Skype, there were holiday visits, there were letters. But that was a far-cry from seeing the person whom mattered most every day.

"We'll be okay," Blaine had assured, and Kurt believed him, because if Blaine called a puddle an ocean Kurt would've agreed. It was decidedly a long-distance affair; New York and Ohio—but they were different, though Kurt couldn't remember why. Perhaps they felt obligated to hold themselves to some higher standards of commitment, being one of the sparse, openly gay couples they knew. A model example. A year apart, and then Blaine would join him in the city, amongst millions of other starry-eyed hopefuls longing to be Somebodies.

And they'd do it, naturally, because they were them and the significance they were to each other would easily translate to the populace. And they'd be together forever, naturally.

Grinning widely, chest heaving, Rachel came to a stop beside a classroom, and Kurt stared in bewilderment at the dancers. Well. That was. Well.

"Love is all you need."

"I'm never saying goodbye to you."

He was embarrassed now. It hadn't even been a year—it hadn't even been two months before Blaine suddenly appeared late one evening, his dark eyes huge with guilt. Kurt had only been too delighted to see him, and to tug Blaine backwards with him onto the bed. Eight weeks of abstinence, abstinence of ignoring the trendy young men whom winked at him at Vogue, eight weeks without the person whom held Kurt's heart.

He might've wondered why Blaine held him as tightly as he had, or why he'd brought such a bouquet—thirty-six red arrows Kurt numbly tossed later.

And then later that night, after going to a karaoke bar, Blaine disclosed that he'd slept with a near-stranger. And Kurt's heart didn't feel broken so much as it seemed he had nothing left.

Was everyone this stupid?

But now Kurt had re-entered the fantasy in full blast: Blaine was proposing at Dalton Academy. The New Directions followed Rachel and Kurt, singing. The New New Directions were singing, and the Warblers were singing, led by Sebastian himself, and Vocal Adrenaline was dancing, and the Haverbrook School For The Deaf were signing as Rachel hurried him down the spiral staircase. Red rose petals—the fuck was that—started raining from overhead.

When once Kurt might've hyperventilated with ecstasy, now he was soundly embarrassed. There were people rushing behind him, peering hopefully over the banister, and now a sea of smiling faces were pooling in from the main entrance. Smiles, smiles everywhere, though Burt's looked a bit fixed, and Kurt didn't know where to look. It was too hot, the atmosphere pressing around him and in him, and he couldn't breathe, though he was accustomed to living in New York City now.

Rachel was leading him to where Blaine waited at the bottom of the stairs, smile huge. Good God, he looked like a canary, that mustard-yellow suit. Kurt's eyes were watering and everyone must think him so moved, so touched, and feel so good about themselves.

"He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah," he sang, as Rachel led him down. The people everywhere might've been a wedding entourage, although Kurt thinks funeral procession is a more appropriate moniker. "He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah."

Blaine was waiting, eyes bright, his smile enormous. Kurt managed a small smile, but the effect might've looked constipated.

Here he was. The Disney prince, whom arranged the largest, most ostentatious show ever, a private moment given hundreds of witnesses. Blaine was still singing, liquid dark eyes so warm, entreating. Kurt came to a stop, not feeling his feet, ears ringing.

Here it was.

By accepting Kurt's would have the ceremony he always wanted. Blaine's parents belonged to a country club, and their misgivings about Blaine's sexuality aside, they wouldn't hesitate to arrange for a carriage pulled by white stallions to be present. Or a grand limousine, complete with a miniature bar inside. Or a grand limousine pulled by stallions, because why the fuck not.

Blaine was talking, and people hushed to listen, though Kurt was drifting toward the ceiling, hearing but no longer listening.

He would have an enormous cake surrounded by sugar flowers that looked too pretty to eat. There would be a chorus as he slowly walked the aisle, feet padding a thick, thick carpet. Blaine would be waiting, beaming, maybe with just a touch of self-congratulation in his eyes.

I knew you'd come back. Of course you would.

No matter what I do to you behind closed doors, you'll always be mine.

Kurt would have flowers, all the flowers he could ever want, because Isabel was like that and would make it happen. Everyone would bring gifts, and there would be huge stacks of boxes full of monogrammed goods, and envelopes fat with gift cards. Champagne flutes, candelabras, liquor and chocolate fountains.

He would have invitations printed on heavy, creamy paper in elegant type. Showers of rice, elaborate favors wrapped in white ribbon.

And with a jolt, Kurt realized how little he cared, and how little it mattered. His eyes became huge, and an encouraged Blaine went on talking. Something about reincarnation, maybe.

A wedding was one day. And with it came several more, thousands actually worth worrying about. Days and nights lying beside someone he'd quietly fallen out of love with a very long time ago.

Frustration would become indifference. Blaine would have another affair, and another, and it would simply become one of the many things they did not discuss. They'd adopt children who'd become unhappy and sullen. Perhaps their parents would adopt drinking habits, too.

Kurt looked at Blaine, and felt no anger-just a lingering sense of contempt and pity.

Thai food in a shoebox apartment, binge-watching Downton Abbey, where someone whom loved him waited. Kurt smiled. Everyone held their breath, taut. Waiting.

Kurt exhaled and smiled down at Blaine, whom was peering up at him, expectantly.

"No." Kurt said. "And coincidentally," he added, turning around to look at the sea of frozen faces. "The first time I said 'no,' that didn't translate into convince me."

A pause. Blaine's smile only slowly faded, his eyes widening with shock.

There was a nasty silence. Kurt closed his eyes. He ought to feel horrified, because this was supposed to be everything he ever wanted, and self-hatred, because Blaine had been so thoughtful, so hardworking, so earnest and loving in his proposal. How could Kurt be so vindictive, shallow and heartless? Why instead was he filled with peace?

Courage, Blaine had said. And Kurt had it: The courage to choose somebody better.

"Thank you all for coming." His voice echoed, though it was small, and tired.

And he strode out the door, to the parking lot. Everyone cleared a path for him, looking stunned.

Burt said nothing as they climbed into the truck. Kurt quietly buckled himself in as they pulled out of the lot, back into the main road.

It was a few minutes before the mechanic spoke, saying plaintively, as if talking about the weather:

"I'm glad you went with your gut, kid."

And Kurt was too. Smiling, he opened the window and stuck his head out like a dog, into the early spring sunshine. The wind gusted his hair and for once, Kurt let it go, smiling and free.

Three Years Later

The bakery was called the Big Gay Cupcake Shop. Kurt re-checked the sign on his way in, eyes huge. "Wow. That's bold, even for New York."

Hand-in-hand with Kurt, Adam was chuckling, the young Briton clearly amused as he paused in front of the counter. "I think today's flavor names are even bolder, sweetheart. See that one? I do think that says…Dirty Banana."

"I'll have…The…." Kurt's narrowed eyes widened owlishly as he took in the blackboard. "Salty Pimp. Oh my goodness. I hope that's salted caramel and nothing else."

"I'll have the Blue Motherfucker," Adam said politely to the gangly young clerk with a lip piercing. The girl obliged, pushing over a tray with two pastries from the glass display. "You know, cupcakes are called 'fairy cakes' in the U.K," Adam said, scrutinizing his violent blue, sparkling frosting with a small smile. "I have to wonder if that isn't an appropriate moniker here."

Kurt laughed as they sat, picking up his dessert. The cupcakes had small plastic rings sunk in the icing, dark blue with a yellow equal sign. Likely a homage to America's recent legalizing same-sex marriages. "I remember when we'd used to get these in class for birthdays." Peeling back the wrapper, Kurt took a bit of his pastry, eyes rolling. "God. I love, love-love-love fancy desserts, but there's still something about store-bought birthday cake."

"You have frosting on your nose." Adam said gently, pointing to his own with a smile. Blushing, Kurt at once dabbed at his nose with a napkin, looking over at Adam anxiously. "Aw. Did I get it?"

Adam just looked at him a good long moment, silent, eyes soft. Just as Kurt was about to dig out a compact mirror from his bag, Adam cocked his head and asked, "Would you marry me?"

Kurt looked up in surprise.

The dreaminess in Adam's expression slowly gave way to mortification. He stuttered, let out a short laugh.

"Oh, my God. I just said that aloud, didn't I?" He asked dumbly, slowly burying his face in his hands. Kurt gaped at him a good long moment.

"You-you did, yes."

Adam chuckled, though he was scarlet. He snorted, smiled, shook his head, and looked at his dessert. It took him a moment before he could speak again.

"I was thinking," he said thickly, turning over the blue velvet dessert. "I havebeen thinking," he elaborated, looking up again, "For a very long time, for as long as I've known you, as a matter of fact, that I would like to marry you one day." Adam let his chin rest on his entwined hands.

"But I'm sure you don't want to hear that now." He looked down again. Adam was still smiling, but looked on the verge of tears. "My God, I'm sorry. You deserve so much more than for me to-just spring that on you here. I need a good place, and a ring."

"This is a good place," Kurt couldn't help but point out, crossing his arms on the table, leaning against them. "And you do have a ring, even if it's covered in frosting." He gestured to Adam's forgotten dessert. "You might want to lick that off, first."

Adam's mind abruptly went to screensaver. Kurt looked at him expectantly.

"I-you-"

"…did you want to?" Kurt asked, his own eyes widening, his own face flaming. "I completely understand if—if you were joking, or if you didn't really want to—"

"I want to." Adam swallowed shakily. "God, I want to."

There was another pause.

"Well?" Kurt prompted gently.

Adam let out a noise, somewhere between an incredulous exhalation and a laugh, and Kurt smiled, eyes sparkling as Adam slowly sank to the floor, holding his cupcake aloft.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," he breathed. One of his arms wrapped around Kurt's waist, and he lay his cheek against Kurt's navel. He was still holding the cupcake aloft in his free hand. He pulled back, kissing Kurt's hand as he looked up, and the latter's breath hitched.

"My love. My dearest, and beautiful friend." Adam could say though things evenly, and that made Kurt's eyes start misting over. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." He said softly, and that was that. Once there was more, so much more—a speech he might've prepared years ago—but Yes was enough, enough because he'd never say it to anyone else but his best friend, anyway.

The blue-haired clerk burst into enthusiastic applause, pausing a moment to dab at her eyes. Adam awkwardly slipped the ring on, shimmying the plastic ring on Kurt's finger

When they went to pay for the sweets, the girl waved it aside, grinning madly. "On the house, boys. But be sure to have us cater your wedding!"

When the two wandered outside again, it was dark. Hands held, the two dazedly walked together, sides bumping together companionably. Kurt looked up at the sky, thinking that there was something about skyscrapers that pushed against the heavens, making them seem so much bigger.

Nothing enormous had happened, at least not something that everyone around them sensed. The flow of pedestrian traffic was the same, and the same taxis tore past, and the same homeless man on 42nd screamed obscenities at cats. Kurt pulled Adam's hand into his pocket, and was happy.

"City hall's probably going to close soon," he murmured, rubbing at his eyes. They'd eaten at a Greek restaurant for their third anniversary dinner, and now he felt pleasantly full and sleepy. The warm summer air was all the more soporific.

"Right now?" Adam asked stupidly, eyes the size of dinner plates, filled with disbelief and joy.

"You would marry me-right now?"

"Yes," Kurt said again, like it was obvious, and squawked when Adam seized him in an embrace and spun him. He laughed with Adam when his fiancée pressed their noses together, and lowered him.

"Actually, I think we'd need some paperwork." He frowned as he recalled Rachel's botched wedding. "Documents like Social Security cards, birth certificates, proof of residency. Oh," he added slowly, something dawning on him. "You'd become a U.S citizen."

"And you'd become a legal resident of the U.K." Adam pointed out, delighting in how that sounded. "Do you still want to marry me?" It sounded stupid, because it was, but he wanted to hear it again.

"No shit, Sherlock." Kurt replied, which was about the finest thing anyone could've said. He squeezed Adam's hand, which squeezed back.

"We might want to wait and get that paperwork settled first," Adam said reluctantly, face falling just a bit. "I don't want immigration thinking I'm only after a green card as opposed to being completely mad for you."

"They won't think that." Kurt said softly, touching Adam's face. "No one who got to know you would ever think that."

"We might need to wait in any case, if only to tell our parents," Adam pointed out, and Kurt cracked up.

"I don't mind eloping, my mum and dad would be thrilled for me, but I don't think they'd be too chuffed if I went and got hitched without telling them first. And my little sister would be livid. She's had her heart set on bring the flower girl in my wedding for a long time. Though if I recall correctly, she hoped to marry you first."

Kurt smiled; Adam could hear it in the dark.

"I don't need anything big, but I also don't want your family to be angry at me."

"They wouldn't be. Mum adores you. She was asking when I'd pop the bloody question the first night of our summer stay in Wessex. She likes you best."

"Does not."

"I'm more afraid of what your family would do if we went and eloped, to be honest." Adam said dryly, as they stopped at a crosswalk. "If I went ahead and married you without asking your Dad's blessing."

"Oh, Lord. My Dad's a teddy bear."

"A teddy bear who'd run me over if I went and married you without asking," Adam observed dryly, only half-jokingly. "I might not even be on the road, he might drive the car through a building, drive up the stairs with sheer willpower, and run me down then and there."

"He wouldn't do that. Maybe not then and there, anyway. Although I am afraid to think of how he'd react-how hurt he'd be. He's never said outwardly that he wants me to have a big wedding, but I don't think he'd be happy if he weren't invited to his son's wedding, even if takes place at city hall."

"And your friends. They'd be livid."

"They'll be livid over any botched party," Kurt said dismissively, waving his hand. "Although, considering how many botched weddings we've had-" Kurt counted three already. "They'd be okay with it."

"But I think the Apples would be crushed. They'd want to send their leader off in style, throw you an engagement party and gay-bridal shower and bachelor party, but don't tell anyone I suggested the last one. But don't tell anyone that was my idea—can't have anyone thinking I'm nice and easygoing!"

"I know you're plenty nice." Said Adam as they set off again.

"That's all that matters to me."