The weight of Blaine's wedding ring feels distractingly ever-present in Kurt's jacket pocket. The urge to take it out surges through him as he adjusts Blaine's bow tie, but what exactly Kurt would do with it, he doesn't know. Play with it? Put it on? Throw it into the beautiful lake where he suggested they hold the reception? Kurt smoothes the tie down under his fingers and smiles at Blaine instead.
"How do I look?" Blaine asks.
"Perfect," says Kurt. He feels lump grow in his throat, but thankfully tears have yet to sting his eyes. Blaine really does look perfect. His dark blue tux is snug in all the right places, making Kurt want to reach out and hold him, claim him as his own. "Are you nervous?"
"A little," Blaine says with a shrug.
They stand there for a moment, not talking. The words flowing through their minds are too painful to reach their voices, so instead they just brush their fingertips together, almost holding hands. It's a solid minute before Blaine sniffs and rests his head on Kurt's shoulder.
"Hey," says Kurt. "It'll be all-"
"It should be you," Blaine says, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. "I should be doing this with you. I wanted it to be you, I just-"
"I know," Kurt says. He rubs smalls circles into Blaine's back and takes a deep breath, trying to calm them both down. "It wasn't your decision to make."
Society is a petty, cruel thing. It won't take you seriously as an adult until you are married, and your marriage is something only your parents can legally decide on. Blaine's parents had decided that their son would only marry a girl they personally select for him, regardless of how much he insists he's gay and loves Kurt. Their son will have a wife, whether he likes it or not.
"I won't stop loving you," says Blaine into Kurt's neck. "They can make me marry her, but they can't make me stop loving you."
Kurt closes his eyes and smiles. "I'll never stop loving you either."
They hold one another for a moment, each one picturing how things should have gone, what their wedding should have been like. A knock on the door prompts them to pull apart. Poking his head into the dressing room, a cousin of the bride informs them they have five minutes to go.
Dismissing the cousin with a wave of his hand, Kurt grips Blaine's shoulders and steers him onto a loveseat. He's pretty sure they both need to sit down for a while before going through with this. Blaine looks up and smiles at him with wet eyes.
"Thank you for being my best man," he whispers, trying to hold his voice steady.
"As if I could stand it being anyone else." Kurt says. He reaches up and brushes a tear from Blaine's cheek. "At least that's one thing about this we have control over."
Blaine stiffens and he sits up straight. "I have to tell you something."
"What?"
"I'm, I'm dropping out of business school. Santana and I are going to California."
Kurt blinks. "Wait, what?"
"We're doing it," Blaine says, his face lighting up. "After we're married, my parents don't have a say in what I do anymore, and we're taking all the money and gifts and going to California. We're gonna be performers, Kurt. We're following our dreams."
Kurt just lets his mouth fall open in shock as Blaine hugs him again. "But, but what about Santana's parents?"
"They're actually cool with it," says Blaine as he pulls away. "It's her grandmother that's insisting she marry me and not Brittany."
"Is it weird that I'm glad all my grandparents are dead?" Kurt asks. "Because I am."
Blaine laughs. "I know, right? But Santana's parents are gonna help her abuela keep her cool once she finds out that Santana's not going to be a doctor like her father. I'm so grateful to them."
"What about your parents?" Kurt asks, taking Blaine's hand and squeezing it. "How are you breaking the news to them?"
Frowning, Blaine shrugs. "I don't know. Brief phone call from Cooper's apartment?"
"And when you get there," Kurt swallows, not sure how to articulate his question. "Are you and Santana going to separate?"
"We, well..." Blaine sighs. "Our contract says we have three years before we can look into that."
"Oh," Kurt says, nodding. Everyone's marriage contract is different. Parents draw it up, usually to determin how much money each spouse should make and how many kids they should have. The standard length of time they have before a couple is allowed to even discuss divorce is five years, but Blaine and Santana managed to get a smaller one. "Then, um. Good luck. Don't forget me when you're rich and famous, ok?"
Grinning, Blaine hugs him again. "Never."
Kurt's heart pounds in his ears as he feels himself missing Blaine already. He hugs him back, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Violins tune up in the distance, and Kurt sighs, knowing what they mean.
"I have to get married now," Blaine says.
"Yeah," says Kurt.
"I, I can't ask you to wait for me."
Kurt closes his eyes, letting a single tear stream down his cheek. "Blaine, don't-"
"Burt's gonna find someone amazing for you," he says, squeezing Kurt a little tighter. "I just know it. Someone who'll love you, and take care of you, and-"
There's another knock on the door, and Kurt pulls away. He smiles and wipes his cheek on his sleeve.
"Let's get you hitched," Kurt says.
When Santana walks down the aisle, there isn't a dry eye in the house. It's a warm, sunny day, and a breeze filters through their cavernous tent, blowing the many layers of her skirt back as if she were a runway model. Her train is long and traditional, but Santana's unique attitude is reflected in the dress's champagne color and asymmetrical neckline. Santana smiles when she sees Blaine and all of their friends at the end of the aisle, and Kurt's emotions have no words.
He isn't quite jealous, or happy, or sad. Simply an overwhelming sense of finality washes over him, and there's nothing he can do about it. Her father kisses her cheek when they reach Blaine and the pastor before taking his seat next to his wife. Santana takes Blaine's hands, but looks past him to gaze warmly at Kurt. She smiles again, and somehow Kurt feels relieved. He always knew that Blaine and Santana were in a similar situation here, but he's grateful to be recognized by her.
She's not taking him away, he reminds himself, she knows how important we are to each other. He hopes that somehow, Blaine has made sure Brittany knows this as well.
Santana turns back to Blaine, and the pastor begins the ceremony. Their vows have very little in the way of declarations of love, but both make very sincere promises of support and partnership. Kurt cries. He lets his tears fall silently down his cheeks because he realizes that these promises are not just made to each other, but to everyone else here. They will hold these two accountable, we will hold these two accountable to the promises they make to one another.
Even the secret promises of California and stardom. Kurt can feel in their words the unspoken vow of each helping the other achieve their dream. He hates Blaine's parents for making their son marry a girl, but damn did they pick a good one.
When it's time, Kurt hands over the rings. The beautiful platinum circles slip onto each finger easily, and Kurt tries not to picture one sliding onto his own.
"I now pronounce you," the pastor says, "husband and wife."
Their kiss is warm and innocent. It's not the kiss of two people in love, but the kiss of two friends solidifying an alliance. Kurt applauds with the rest of the guests, choking, and laughing, and terrified for their future, and so, so proud of them.
Mr. and Mrs. Anderson-Lopez walk arm-in-arm back up the aisle, Kurt and Brittany to follow, along with Finn and Rachel and the rest of the bridal party. He squeezes Brittany's hand, and she beams up at him, apparently nothing but happy for their friends.
The pictures happen in a blur, just lots of standing around in various arrangements on the lake dock while the photographer attempts to find the right angle. There are a few shots with just the guys and just the girls, along with another handful of Blaine and Santana looking out onto the water alone. The jealousy Kurt's been holding back all day gushes through his heart when he watches them pose together, but he takes a deep breath and pushes it down.
He takes a minute to look into the water himself. In his reflection he sees that his face is red and splotchy from crying, but he doesn't really mind, because so is everyone else's. Kurt wipes his eyes again and tells himself that the worst is over.
"So, I guess you'll be next, huh?"
Kurt looks up to see Finn towering over him, his hands fisted in his suit pockets. A stern frown spreads across his face, and Kurt realizes just what he's talking about.
"Not necessarily," Kurt says. "The moment you get your shit together, I'm sure you and Rachel will be fine."
"Yeah, but like, what does getting your shit together ever mean?" Finn asks, kicking a small rock into the water. "Doesn't Rachel have hers together? She's finished with NYADA and getting roles..."
"And you've changed your major five times in as many years," says Kurt. "And before that was the army, and before that was Puck's pool cleaning business..."
"Which I totally should've stuck with," Finn says. "It's like, booming."
Kurt smiles and nods. "Besides, what makes you think I'm next? In case you haven't noticed, I've lost my main prospect."
Finn glances up at the sound of Blaine and Santana giggling. Apparently, she tripped on her skirt and almost went flying into the water, but Blaine caught her at the last second. The pictures should be stunning.
"Right," Finn says. "But like, Burt gets offers, right?"
"So I've heard," says Kurt. "But thankfully, dad is picky."
Finn takes his hands out of his pockets and crosses his arms over his chest. "Rachel said, um, she said her dads have been getting offers too."
"Really?" Kurt asks, not at all surprised. Rachel is a star on the rise, of course her fathers would be getting offers for her. "Did she say who from?"
"She said that they were just dirty old men looking for a trophy wife and that I had, like, nothing to worry about, but..." Finn sighs and doesn't finish his thought.
It's not unheard of for an older person, whether a divorcé or a widow/er, to be on the prowl for a young thing on the cusp of marrying age, but Kurt doubts that Hiram and Leroy would give their daughter up so easily. Or at least, he hopes. While he likes the idea of Rachel marrying someone mature and responsible, he doesn't want to see Finn as heartbroken as himself.
"Can I get one with the groom and the best man, please?" the photographer calls out.
Kurt rests a hand on his step-brother's arm before heading down the dock. Santana brushes past him, jumping in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She really does look gorgeous, and he tells her so.
"Same to you, pretty boy," she says with a wink.
He reaches Blaine at the end of the dock and drapes an arm around his shoulder. Blaine feels warm under his clothes, and it hurts to think about how long it might be before Kurt can touch his skin again. Pushing away another wave of pain, Kurt smiles for the camera.
A click, a flash of light, and then Kurt pulls away. Blaine furrows his brow, but Kurt just smiles again and gives him another kiss on the cheek. Cheek kisses seem to be the day's thing. Blaine kisses him back, gripping the sides of his jacket as if to ask for more. But Kurt can't give him more. Not here, not now.
"That should be it," the photographer says, looking down at her camera. "I'll be hanging around the reception if you want me to take anything else, alright?"
Blaine nods, not letting his eyes leave Kurt. He holds him back when Kurt tries to pull away after the photographer.
"Are you ok?" Blaine asks.
As if there's any way he could be. "I'm fine. I'm just... nervous about my best man speech."
"Oh." Blaine reaches up to run a hand through Kurt's hair even though he knows better, and Kurt lets him. "You'll be ok. I'm excited for it, actually."
"I, uh, I think I'm gonna need a drink first," says Kurt.
Blaine nods. "Then let's get you some booze."
He wraps his arm around Kurt's waist and leads him back to the tent, where the band once again begins to tune up. Santana takes Blaine away when they reach the dance floor behind the chairs, whispering in his ear about their first dance. He looks at Kurt, who sends them off with a nod.
Kurt ignores the singer's announcement of "And now, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs-" as best he can, making a beeline for the bar. The only other person there besides the bartender is a tall, slender guy in a suit that Kurt doesn't recognize. It throws him off for a minute, because he's sure he has the invitation list memorized, but he figures he can't remember the face of every cousin and colleague.
"Champagne?" the bartender asks as she reaches under the counter for a bottle.
"Yes, please." Kurt says. He can hear the exhaustion in his own voice, and he wonders how he's going to get through the party, let alone his speech.
She pulls out a bottle and flute and begins to pour, only to have the guy Kurt doesn't recognize stop her.
"Taittinger?" he says, his lip curling. "Really? The man asked for champagne, not piss."
The girl blinks up at him and gulps. "Um, Taittinger is the brand the hosts ordered."
"Are you kidding me?" says the guy. "A wedding without Vauve Cliquot? What kind of cheap bastards are these?"
"Excuse me?" Kurt asks, appalled. Who the fuck was this guy? Who the hell comes to a wedding and insults the hosts' choice of champagne?
"I'm sorry," he says. He holds out his hand to Kurt, who shakes it. "Sebastian Smythe. I just think the happy couple deserves the best, don't you?"
Kurt does have the invitation list memorized, and Sebastian Smythe is not on it.
"Are you a friend of the bride, or the groom?" Kurt asks, casually taking his glass of perfectly acceptable Taittinger.
"The groom," says Sebastian, cocking his head to the side and smiling. "I'm his mother's second cousin's nephew."
Kurt flashes him a grin. "Oh, right. I forgot that Mrs. Anderson's second cousins were coming. You must be exhausted. Just how long is the flight from the Philippines to Ohio?"
Sebastian's smile never falters. Instead, he picks up his shot glass and clinks it against Kurt's champagne. "I'll see you on the dance floor," he says before tossing his back in one go and slamming it against the table.
The bartender and Kurt exchange glances as Sebastian walks away.
"Sir," she says, "Uh, do you think he's crashing?"
"Maybe," says Kurt. "But let's just keep an eye on him for now."
The bartender nods. "And is the Taittinger ok? Because I can get-"
"It's fine, thank you," Kurt says, taking a sip. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few bills. Smiling at her apologetically, he drops it into the fishbowl holding her tips. She deserves a nice one after dealing with that guy.
He turns back to the dance floor, where Blaine and Santana finish up their first dance as a married couple and invite others to join them. Standing up from their tables, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and Mr. and Mrs. Lopez walk over to the floor and waltz together with their children. Kurt figures he has a few more songs to go before people start to settle down with food from the buffet and the speeches begin.
There's no way he can get through this speech without crying again. It took weeks to write, but Kurt still feels like it's unfinished. He isn't allowed to express his true feelings in the speech, even though most of the guests already know. This isn't about him, or course, it's about them. Blaine and Santana and the life they will share together. Without him.
Well, maybe it's about him just a little bit. His speech is supposed to be about his relationship with Blaine and the blessing he gives to him and his new wife, but Kurt isn't sure if he wants to give his blessing. Taking another sip of his champagne, he sighs and watches other couples get up to dance. Finn awkwardly looms over Rachel like always, while Mike twirls Tina around in perfect circles. What Kurt wants is to call the Andersons and Santana's grandmother out on their bullshit.
What he wants is to be the one dancing for the first time with his husband, as a husband. Kurt downs the last of his drink and places it back on the counter for a refill. But that isn't something he's going to get tonight, maybe not ever, not like he imagined it, at least. He nods and smiles at the bartender as she fills his glass again. Staring into the thousands of tiny bubbles, Kurt wonders how he possibly could have tricked himself into believing he would marry for love.
As he pushes himself away from the bar and heads to his assigned table, he catches his dad and Carole getting up to dance out of the corner of his eye. He supposes his romanticism is largely their fault. Both being parents who had lost their first spouses, they were free to marry who they wished without getting permission from anyone but each other. Sure, Kurt had set them up, but they made the decision themselves. He finds himself smiling again as Burt and Carole sway together. His heart aches. Kurt wants that. He wants love, not just convenience.
Pulling out his chair, he sits down at his table and runs through his speech in his head. It doesn't feel right. It feels shallow, cheap, generic, like he got it off the internet at the last second. Kurt closes his eyes and remembers that Blaine and Santana are not letting their marriage become a cage, but a tool for freedom. Officially adults, they are no longer under the authority of their families. They're out from under their thumb, and together they're going to pursue their dreams.
Kurt takes another sip. It's inspiring, really. He's lucky that Burt and Carole are so supportive, even when he changed careers from performance to fashion. They understand that sometimes it takes awhile for people to really get on their feet and figure themselves out, and they're with Kurt all the way. Even with Finn, they manage to be patient and understanding. Finn still needs that authority, that steady hand, even if he insist that he and Rachel are ready to go out on their own.
It's moments like these that Kurt finds himself conflicted. On one hand, Blaine's parents and Santana's grandmother are using their power to ignore what their children actually want and need in order to try and mold them into something that they're not. They won't succeed, and Kurt takes much pleasure in that, but it's infuriating to know that they tried. On the other hand, Finn and Rachel have been trying to tie the knot for years, but their parents know they're not ready. Kurt suspects that they're just enchanted with the idea of marriage, with the idea of finally being adults than actually understanding everything that it means.
He wishes that there were some middle ground, a time and place where you can reject your family when necessary, while at the same time having them step in and steer you right when you need them. Kurt sighs and puts down his champagne. He wishes and wants for a lot of things.
The song ends, and is soon replaced by a faster number. Santana takes Blaine's hands and they start jumping to the beat, beaming at each other with excitement. More people get up to join them; some couples, some groups, and some singles just wanting to dance the day away. Kurt resists the urge to join them, going back into his head to assemble his speech into something acceptable.
Yesterday, the opening seemed sweet and funny, but now it just sounds stiff and corny. Kurt sighs and whispers it out loud, trying to make the words feel right on his tongue, but the more he says them, the less sense they make. He picks up his glass and takes a long swig before setting it back down and going over the speech again. What even came after the introduction? He couldn't remember.
Kurt looks back up at the sound of a "woohoo!" and sees Sebastian Smythe bounce onto the dance floor with his hands in the air. His suit jacket is off, abandoned at a table where he is most certainly not assigned. As he dances, he pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, exposing his wrists. Kurt taps his fingers against the table and bites his lip. Part of him wants to grab those wrists and drag Sebastian away from the party, kick him out for crashing. Another just wants to dance with him.
Sebastian catches his eye and grins. He cocks an eyebrow, as if he knows just what Kurt's thinking and daring him to make a move. Kurt remains in his seat, but the tapping of his fingers start to match the beat of the music. He watches Sebastian spin, keeping perfect balance on the ball of one foot as he claps his hands. It reminds him of the polished, if tame, dance moves the Warblers used to pull back when he and Blaine attended Dalton. Next to Sebastian, Blaine seems to have renounced his old school's ways in favor of tossing his head back and forth, setting his curls free.
Kurt smiles and finds himself standing up. This is a celebration, after all, and Kurt deserves to have some fun. Their relationship isn't over just because one of them now has a ring.
Blaine grins when he sees Kurt approach the floor and holds out his hand. Kurt takes it, lacing their fingers together and letting Blaine pull him into the music. He closes his eyes, lets himself go, and all of his worries disappear with the sound and movement.
After a while, the songs blend together and time passes without much notice. The guests start to filter off the dance floor towards the buffet table, piling their plates with salmon, or steak, or salad. Towers of fruit, cheese, and crackers mark each end of the buffet, but they shrink with every song that plays. Santana fans herself with her hand after a particularly energetic rendition of Build Me Up Buttercup, and bumps her shoulder into Blaine.
"Hey, Hubby," she says. "Why is everyone stuffing their faces without us? Let's get some food, yeah?"
Blaine looks around at all the people eating, and places a hand over his stomach. "Oh, man. I'm famished. You hungry, Kurt?"
To Kurt's surprise, he actually is. Carole walks by with her plate filled with a steaming salmon fillet, and Kurt's mouth starts to water. Food sounds like a great idea. With the dance floor nearly empty, the band slows their music down, but Kurt still shimmies a bit as he gets in line.
Once his plate is full, he grabs another glass of champagne and heads for his assigned seat. Blaine and Santana sit at a table for two in the middle of the tent, while Kurt sits with the rest of the wedding party off to the side. Rachel plops down next to him, picking at the pile of grapes she has on a small dish.
"When do you think she'll throw the bouquet?" she asks, gazing at the bundle of flowers Santana has next to her.
"Probably at the end," says Kurt. "Before she and Blaine leave for their honeymoon."
Rachel nods and pops another grape in her mouth. "Oh, right, they're going to LA. Do you know when they're coming back?"
"Yes," Kurt says. "And I'm not telling you."
"Wait, what?" Rachel asks, still chewing. "Oh my god, do you have a secret? You have to tell me!"
Kurt smiles and cuts into his steak. "Nope."
"What is it?" she pleads. "You can't just tell me you're not telling me something!"
"I can, and I will," says Kurt. He finishes carving a cube out of his steak and stabs it with his fork, trying not to imagine that his food is really Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, chopped up into little pieces. He yearns to tell Rachel all about Blaine and Santana's plans to run away and never come back, but he knows he can't risk their families finding out. Besides, he wouldn't want to rob them of their delicious moment of revenge.
Rachel pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well then, I don't care. As long as I get that bouquet, I'm as happy as a clam."
"Even if you catch it, that doesn't mean you'll get married next," Kurt says. "It's just a stupid superstition. Next is probably Mike and Tina."
"Or you!" Rachel says, bouncing in her seat. "Finn told me Burt's gotten offers!"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "So? Haven't Hiram and Leroy?"
"That's different, you're not still holding out on someone," says Rachel. Kurt shoots her a look and she immediately recoils. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"No, it's not fine," Rachel says. She reaches out and touches Kurt's shoulder. "It's not fine at all. This should be-"
"I know, Rachel," says Kurt. "But there's nothing we can do about it now."
Rachel sits back and takes a deep breath. "Will you be able to make your speech?"
"I don't-"
"SPEECH!"
Kurt turns around to see Sebastian standing behind him, banging a fork against a beer bottle.
"Speech!" he says, prompting others to clang their cutlery against glass as well. "Best man speech! Yeah!"
His body shaking with rage, Kurt glares at Sebastian as he stands up. Sebastian only smiles back at him, applauding with the rest of the guests. Kurt wonders if he'll still have to do it if he punches this crasher in the face, but then he hears Blaine's voice in the crowd. He looks over to the bride and groom's table, where Blaine and Santana look at him expectantly. Blaine's expression is hopeful, and Kurt realizes that he really has been looking forward to this. He must expect Kurt to say something lovely and heartfelt.
Kurt's blood runs cold as his anger is quickly replaced by fear.
Some guy from the band appears next to him, holding a microphone. Kurt takes it, wincing at the loud feedback pouring through the speakers. He holds the mic up to his mouth as the band guy slips away. The sound of his shaking breath exposes his nervousness, and Kurt pulls the mic away. Any other time, any other speech or performance, and Kurt would be just fine. But this moment, with the eyes of everyone he knows and loves on him, he's at a loss for words.
"Uh, hi," Kurt says. The guests chuckle, as if Kurt's being awkward on purpose. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. "I've been working on this speech for weeks, but every time I think I've got it, I realize that it's not good enough a second later." Looking at Blaine, he smiles. "Because nothing's good enough. There's nothing I can say, nothing I want to say, nothing I'm allowed to say-" Mr. and Mrs. Anderson exchange a look. "-That will fully express how I feel about Blaine." Kurt pauses to swallow. "And Santana."
Santana smiles at him, reaching across her table to take Blaine's hand.
"You both are very, very important to me," Kurt continues, a lump welling up in his throat. "I, um, I needed you. Santana, you were a friend and ally in high school, and Blaine-" His voice cracks. Blaine blinks up at him and carefully wipes his cheek. "Blaine, you were just, you were everything." He pauses again to breathe, because it feels like his lungs are about to collapse. Straightening his back, he closes his eyes. "So, Santana, you'd better take care of him. You guys better take care of each other. Because that, I guess, is was marriage is supposed to be about, two people taking care of and supporting one another. So even though this match may come as a, um, surprise, I trust that you guys can do that. You can make each other happy. Thank you."
Kurt lets the hand holding the mic fall to his side while he covers his eyes with the other. The guests applaud, but it doesn't feel the way applause should. There's no rush of adrenaline or endorphins from finishing a performance. The only thing Kurt feels is empty.
Arms close around him. Kurt takes his hand away to find both Blaine and Santana there, pulling him close and tight. He leans into them, ignoring the awkward puffs of the mic as it brushes against their clothes. Blaine kisses his temple, and Kurt smiles.
"I love you," he says into Blaine's neck.
"We love you, too." Blaine says.
"Sure thing, Baby Gay," says Santana, running her fingers through Kurt's hair.
She takes the mic from him and hands it to her father while Blaine takes Kurt back to his seat. Kurt sits down, holding onto Blaine's hand for a moment before he leaves to return to Santana. He doesn't listen to whatever speech Mr. Lopez has to give. He can't hear anything over the roar of his own heartbreak. Rachel holds his hand through the rest of the speeches, silently moving her thumb back and forth over his palm.
Kurt manages to come back to reality in time for cake. It's a three-tiered masterpiece with blue roses made of frosting decorating its walls. He watches Blaine and Santana cut into it, revealing its chocolate center, and laughs when they shove cake into each other's faces. Rachel gets him a piece when he tells her he's not up for it, and it's somehow the best fucking cake Kurt has ever eaten.
He stays at his table while others mingle and dance, inhaling cake slice after cake slice. At one point Burt comes over, asking if he wants to "talk about it," but they both know he can't. Kurt's done with talking. Now is the time to eat.
Someone else apparently has the same idea. Rachel's seat is open as she dances with one of her fathers, and Sebastian slides into it, cradling his cake slice on a plate in his hands. He digs into it, slowly pulling the fork out of his mouth and trailing his tongue along the sides to pick up leftover traces of frosting. Kurt arches an eyebrow at him, but says nothing.
He turns away, hoping that if he ignores Sebastian, he'll go back to the bar and bother someone else. Instead, Sebastian reaches out his hand and dips his finger into the frosting rose on Kurt's cake. He grins as he brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks on the tip.
Kurt stares at him. "I have nothing to say to that."
"Fine. Whatever," Sebastian says. With that, he stands and drops his cake into Kurt's lap.
"What the fuck?" Kurt leaps up, grabs a napkin and desperately wipes at his pants, but it only serves to spread the icing around further. "Why would you do that? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?"
"Whoops," says Sebastian, throwing up his hands and shrugging. "I'm gonna go get another drink."
Kurt sneers as Sebastian pushes past him. "Yeah, go get another drink, you drunk asshole."
He slams his napkin onto the ground and heads towards the restrooms in a small building just beyond the tent. Pulling the door open to the mens room, Kurt sees in the mirror that the mess is worse than he imagined. White and blue frosting mixed with chocolate crumbs splatter the front of his nice gray suit pants, making him look like a child who doesn't know how to use a fork. He turns on the sink and grabs a paper towel, hoping that he can clean this up without looking like he pissed himself.
The door behind him opens, and Blaine pokes his head in. "Kurt? Are you alright?"
"Fine," Kurt says with a sigh. "Some meerkat-faced crasher just dropped cake on me."
"Really?" Blaine asks as he closes the door behind him. "I didn't know we had a crasher."
"Sebastian Smythe. That name sound familiar?" Kurt asks. He scoops most of the mess off with a dry towel and tosses it into the trash before taking another and soaking it in water.
Blaine pulls another paper towel out from the dispenser and wets it as well. "I think Samuel Smythe is the state attorney, but other than that, no."
Kurt half sits, half leans onto the counter as he and Blaine wipe the rest of the cake off together. It feels weird and dirty to have Blaine's hands on his crotch, even though they've been there so many times before. If he weren't such an awkward mixture of sad and angry, he might get a little turned on. His breath hitches when Blaine's fingers brush his fly, and it occurs to him that they might not get another chance to have sex in a while. Kurt doubts a quickie would be worth it, though. He looks at Blaine, who gazes down at his hands.
"The limo is coming." Blaine says. "The one taking us to the airport. It'll stop at the house so we can change, but-"
"When is it supposed to arrive?" Kurt asks. He bundles up the wet towels and throws them away before resting his hands over Blaine's. Blaine smoothes them up his legs and spreads his fingers out over Kurt's hips. "I mean, how much time do we have?"
"Enough to throw the bouquet and the garter," says Blaine. He sighs and looks up at Kurt. "I want you to come with us."
"I can't," Kurt says. He leans forward and pushes his forehead against Blaine's. "I have my job in New York. I can't just leave."
"Let's just pretend," Blaine says, bringing his hands up to cup Kurt's jaw. "Let's just pretend for a minute that this is our wedding, and in half an hour we'll be leaving on our honeymoon together."
"Blaine, I-"
"Please," he says, pulling Kurt closer.
Kurt closes his eyes and throws his arms around Blaine's shoulders. He pictures the wedding he's had in his head for years. In his mind's eye, he sees Burt and Carole, and Finn and Rachel, along with Cooper and the rest of Blaine's family. It's a night like he always wanted, with soft candles lighting up the garden where they hold their reception. The cake is red velvet.
They kiss full on the lips, no longer avoiding it by going for cheeks and temples and foreheads. Kurt licks into Blaine's mouth, tasting champagne and cake and a little bit of what might be Santana's lip gloss. The kiss is hard and desperate, begging to be something more with wandering hands and grasping fingers, but constantly denied. They pull apart, their noses still touching, still breathing the same air.
"My husband," Kurt says, "whoever he turns out to be, had better be ok with me being hopelessly in love with you."
Blaine nods. "My wife seems to be pretty ok with it, so far."
"Good," says Kurt, sliding off the counter. "I'm very fond of your wife, I must say."
"She's a keeper," says Blaine.
"How're my pants?" Kurt asks. He turns and faces the mirror, standing up on his tiptoes to get a better look.
"Not a complete disaster," says Blaine, tilting his head to the side. "Although this Sebastian guy should pay to have them cleaned."
"I doubt he'll be sober enough to remember he was even here by tomorrow, let alone what he did to my pants," says Kurt as they make their way towards the door. "So, shall we see who Rachel murders in her attempt to catch the bouquet?"
"Oh yes, let's."
Outside, Santana wobbles as she climbs onto a chair in the middle of the dance floor and holds her bouquet high above her head. The girls gather behind her, the air around them buzzing with anticipation. Rachel stands in the middle of the group, bouncing on her heels. In one swift motion, Santana tosses the bouquet behind her, sending it soaring through the air.
Brittany lets out a shriek as Rachel leaps onto her, arms outstretched and grasping at nothing as the flowers sail just above her fingers and right into Tina's arms. Tina lets out a laugh and holds the bouquet up to show everyone, while Rachel convulses, trying to keep herself from screaming or crying or worse.
Mike leaps up from his seat and runs over to Tina, pulling her into a hug. Kurt genuinely hopes that they're next. They have to be the most stable and loving couple he knows. He would be honored to attend their wedding.
Santana steps down from the chair and beckons Blaine to come over. He smiles at Kurt before heading over to his wife. Kurt sits back down at his table and watches as the two hide behind a tent flap to take off Santana's garter. This always seemed to be one of the weirder wedding traditions to Kurt. If the groom is to throw something, shouldn't it be something of his?
Kurt bites the inside of his cheek as he remembers that most wedding traditions come from the archaic notion that wives are the property of their husbands, and that the garter would probably be considered 'his' as well. Blaine steps back out from behind the tent flap and hooks the lacy black circle over one finger and stretches it back with his other hand. He shoots it over the dance floor, and it flies off into the tables.
A hand juts out and catches it. It's not until he stands up and twirls the garter around over his head that Kurt sees it's Sebastian Smythe. He rolls his eyes as the other guests laugh and applaud, and turns back to the remains of his cake.
There's one more dance to go before the limo arrives to take Blaine and Santana away to their new life. It's a father/daughter, mother/son dance, according to the singer, so Kurt has no reason to participate. He does, however, smile when Finn takes Carole onto the dance floor. He would have liked to dance with her, but figures that it's really something she should share with Finn.
He scoops up some leftover frosting with his finger and licks it, wondering what life would have been like if his mother had lived. He wonders what the circumstances surrounding his parents marriage were. Were they in love? Did they even know each other before they were engaged?
The sun has started to set, filling the sky with shades of orange and pink. The limo pulls up beside the tent, and the driver steps out to open the door. Kurt stands up and heads over to it with everyone else to say goodbye.
Blaine hugs him, hard and tight. Kurt buries his face in Blaine's neck, breathing in his scent and never wanting to let go. They have to, after a moment, because Blaine's parents pull him off of Kurt to hug him themselves. Santana's hug is light and sweet. They lean against each other, supported by mutual understanding.
Kurt doesn't hold back his tears as they slip into the car and drive off. He can't bring himself to wave or call out his goodbyes, so he stuffs his hands in his pockets and watches the limo turn the corner and disappear in silence.
He stays behind for a to help clean up while the other guests start to leave. He gathers up the dishes and silverware and brings it to the caterers, who are grateful for his assistance. Kurt's happy to help, because it takes his mind off things. Once the tables are clear, he starts folding the chairs and stacking them near the back of the tent.
The work is repetitive and mindless, and after a while Kurt stops thinking about anything. His body goes on autopilot as his mind retreats to rest. It's comforting, knowing that the wedding is finally over and he can move on with his life. The months building up to it had been hell. Now Kurt can go back to New York, go back to work and never bother with any of this shit again. Until he gets married himself, at least, but he's pretty sure that's a long way off.
Something hits him in the neck as he folds the last chair and leans it against the pile of others. He looks around and sees Santana's garter lying on the grass before him. Bending over, he picks it up as Sebastian Smythe saunters over to him.
"I need a ride," he says, casually examining his nails. "I'm too drunk to drive."
Judging by the slight stumble in his step, Kurt agrees, but he's not going to give this asshole any more of his time than he has to. "Call a cab," he says.
"Can't," says Sebastian. "I dropped my wallet in the lake."
"Then walk," Kurt says, bundling up the garter and tossing it at him.
Sebastian ducks it, but the motion knocks him off balance and staggers in place for a minute before catching himself on the pile of chairs. He straightens himself up and brushes off his jacket.
"C'mon," he says. "It's not that far. I'll give you money for your pants, or whatever."
Kurt sighs and looks him up at down. Sebastian smiles, and Kurt realizes that this is probably the only way to get rid of him. "Fine."
"Sweet, I knew you'd come around," Sebastian says, his smile widening.
"Just try not to throw up on my seats," says Kurt. He brushes past him, waving his hand to indicate that Sebastian should follow.
They walk to the parking lot, Sebastian occasionally tripping and grabbing onto Kurt for support. He snorts when they reach Kurt's Lincoln, but Kurt doesn't push it. Considering his opinions about champagne, Kurt hardly wants to hear what Sebastian has to say about cars.
"So, where do you live?" Kurt asks as they climb in.
Sebastian sinks into his seat and closes his eyes. "That way."
"And that way is?" asks Kurt, pulling his seatbelt on. He can't wait for this to be over.
"I live on De Stuteville," Sebastian says with a sigh, waving his hand in the general direction of his neighborhood.
It's a fancy street that actually isn't that far, so Kurt pulls out of his spot and into the road. They drive in silence for a few minutes and Kurt suspects that Sebastian might have fallen asleep, but he speaks up when they stop at a light.
"That was some speech you gave," he says, resting his head against the window. "I didn't know one man could cry that much."
"Fuck you," Kurt says. The light turns green and he drives through the intersection a little faster than necessary. "At least I'm not the one crashing weddings by myself. What, life get too boring on rich-ass De Stuteville?"
"Yep, no one was home," Sebastian says. He shifts in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.
"What?" Kurt asks.
"I came home to celebrate," says Sebastian with a yawn. "But no one was home."
They turn onto his street. The big houses tower over them, their many rooms and windows lighting up the night. Kurt slows down, wondering how anyone could get bored here.
"Which one is yours?" he asks.
Sebastian sits up and squints. "See that one?" he asks, pointing.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, a huge, empty mansion rises high above the others. The lights are all off, and no cars fill the driveway. Sebastian is definitely right about no one being home. Kurt parks on the curb and unlocks the door.
"Nice knowing you," he says, waiting for Sebastian to get out.
Rolling his head to the side to look at Kurt, Sebastian smiles. "Aren't you going to walk me to my door?"
"I'll take a raincheck," Kurt says. He reaches over to open the passenger door, but Sebastian grabs his arm, stopping him.
"I understand why you were sad," he says. Sebastian slides his hand up Kurt's arm. "I'd be sad too if I had Blaine and he left me for some girl. That boy was sex on a stick."
"He didn't leave me," Kurt says quietly. He knows he should push Sebastian away, but the touch is comforting. "He didn't have a choice."
Sebastian leans forward, pressing his forehead to Kurt's temple. His hands seem to be everywhere now, running down his chest and between his legs. Kurt closes his eyes when Sebastian palms at his crotch, but doesn't move.
"You're drunk," he says.
Sebastian chuckles in his ear. "Just drunk enough to help you forget-"
"Stop it."
Kurt shakes his head and pushes Sebastian away. Sebastian stares at him for a moment, surprised, then shrugs.
"Fine," he says. "Your loss."
With a click, Sebastian undoes his seatbelt, opens the door and gets out of the car. It occurs to Kurt to ask for the money Sebastian promised, but it's not worth it. Instead, he just sits there and watches Sebastian stumble his way to the front door. Once he makes it, Kurt steps on the gas and pulls away.
Kurt finds himself oddly satisfied as he drives himself home, as if this wedding was not just a new beginning for Blaine and Santana, but for himself, as well. He doesn't know if he's ready to get married, if he's ready for Burt to set up meetings and to give interviews, but he is ready to move on. He's ready to grow up.
Unfortunately, growing up means getting hitched.