A Lucky Number

by thelittleactor

Future fic detailing life for Blaine and Kurt from living together, to marriage, and to whatever married life may bring. Sequel to previous fic, 'Seven'. You don't have to read Seven to read this, though it is recommended.

Prologue

Kurt was tired. Physically and emotionally exhausted. After four measly years studying musical theatre at his dream school, he'd gotten nowhere. Not one single audition had been 'it' for him. No matter how many auditions he went to or workshops he attended, he couldn't break into the industry. Rachel Berry did. Oh, she was fine. She left college halfway through to take on a role in the Broadway revival of Godspell as one of Jesus' all-singing all-dancing followers. Even though they shared an apartment, Kurt could barely stand to be in the same room as her. Once she began talking about her day at work, Kurt's self-esteem sunk too low for him to even pretend to be happy for her. He'd always escape to the confines of his tiny, tiny room and sit on his bed, hoping, wishing and praying (just in case there was a god) that there'd be at least one opportunity for him.

The only thing helping him through was his other half, Blaine.

Blaine had been there for him from the minute their eyes met on the staircase at Dalton Academy, many moons ago. He'd been the perfect mentor, friend, best friend, then boyfriend. Always supportive with an optimistic outlook on life, Blaine constantly took to soothing Kurt in any way possible. While that may sound dirty (and the dirty stuff counted too), even a simple coffee date catch up meant the world to Kurt and gave him that little boost he needed. Since they graduated and consequently opted for different colleges, they made the hard decision not to live together. "We have our whole lives to do that," they both said, knowing that the minute college was over, they'd be together. And besides, wasn't rooming with fellow students part of the whole college experience anyway?

Though Kurt's years in college didn't bring him much success, Blaine's did. After studying music theory and composition through college (and boring Kurt endlessly with talk of syncopation, acciaccaturas and constant clef changes), he'd managed to leave a lasting impression on his professors, leading him to become a sought-after songwriter in New York. "I want to perform, though," he'd always said. But it didn't matter. It was a starting point. He had the power to expand his reputation, make an even bigger name for himself, and then make his move. He had places to go. He could do it all, just with that one starting point.

Knowing all this, Kurt was lost. Four years of college brought him nothing but a seemingly meaningless piece of paper with the word 'Diploma' on it, to be framed and never thought of again. Blaine's back rubs couldn't fix it. Blaine's home-cooked meals couldn't fix it. Hell, Blaine's soothing singing couldn't even fix it. He was lost. He didn't know what to do or who he was meant to be. And so, he turned to the second love of his life: fashion. It seemed like the perfect match, and in some way Kurt cursed himself for not realising it sooner. He'd always been great at writing at school, even when making the move to the high standards Dalton had thrust upon him. He loved fashion and he could write. So, under the influence of some tequila and a three-litre bottle of Diet Coke, he started his own fashion blog. It wasn't much: just some simple do's and don't's for the everyday woman. That was, until Kurt noticed many fashion issues with his own gender and extended his blog to include everyone.

Fast forward a couple of years - seven from the day they graduated high-school, in fact - and Blaine and Kurt are living together in New York City in a tiny one-bedroom apartment overlooking a dirty alley. Blaine's still writing songs and sending them through to various labels and producers, while Kurt's blog has become somewhat of a job, with advertising revenue enough to keep his feet on the ground, food in his stomach and a yellowing roof over his head.

Chapter 1

"Kurt, will you hurry up, please?"

"Blaine, you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"…Yes."

"Then you'll deal with it! I'm not going out to dinner with you without looking fabulous."

"You always look great, Kurt. You don't need to stress so much."

"Shut up, you're saying that to get in to my pants."

"No, I'm not. You're perfect the way you are."

"No! I look horrible! Just be patient, okay?"

I sighed, looking down at my shoes and leaning against the wall with my hands dug deep into my pockets. This conversation happened every time I tried to take Kurt out for dinner. I expected it. I'd even become well aware that I couldn't just say 'you look fine' anymore and that sometimes it really was necessary to resort to desperate measures.

I sighed once more before standing properly and making my way to the bathroom Kurt and I shared. I waited outside the door until I heard the hairspray had stopped spraying (god, I hate the smell of that stuff) and turned the knob.

"Sure, Blaine, come on in. I don't mind," Kurt said sarcastically, utilising his 'bitch please' tone to great effect.

I moved to stand behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"You're beautiful, Kurt. You're the most incredible thing I've ever seen. I don't care if your hair doesn't magically stand up on its own. I just want you to know that even if you wore khakis and leopard print I'd still love you and want to show the world how beautiful you are."

I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and let my head fall to rest on Kurt's shoulder, waiting for his response.

"…Fine. Fine. But we're sitting in the darkest spot of the restaurant, okay?"

I kissed Kurt once more before releasing my hold on him.

"Sure," I said, taking his hand and dragging him out of the bathroom, directing him to the front door.

"Blaine! Stop! I need my keys!"

"No you don't, I've got mine."

"I need my wallet, too!"

"I'm paying."

"Cab money too?"

"Don't need a cab."

"But-"

"Shhh."

"Blaine!"

"God, you're cute when you're mad at me."

With one more quick peck to his lips, I dragged him out of the apartment, hit the lights and locked the door before leading Kurt down the stairs.

"So, where are we going, oh bossy one?"

I snorted. "Bossy? Me? You yelled at me for a week outlining the proper procedure to folding laundry after I accidentally sorted a white polo shirt of mine in with yours!"

"Well… you got it wrong!"

"You wrote a manual!"

"Because you're hopeless!"

"It had diagrams!"

"Whatever."

Kurt turned his head away from me, as he usually did at this point in an argument. It was fun bickering like this I enjoyed most about our relationship. We'd gotten past the point of hiding our flaws and refusing to point out each other's and were finally able to laugh at ourselves, and at each other.

"Not going to talk to me now?"

Kurt said nothing.

"That's a shame."

Nothing.

"Too bad. You're going to have to talk to me when I tell you that we're having McDonald's for dinner."

I grinned, seeing Kurt whip his head around in shock and with a look of 'I will kill you' in his eyes.

"Blaine Anderson. You have GOT to be kidding me. We're not having McDonald's. At all."

I turned my head away, unable to hide my smirk, while Kurt continued ranting about all the reasons why McDonald's would kill you and your pores before you even turned thirty. I chortled when I realised that the restaurant I was taking him to was conveniently two doors down from McDonald's, meaning we had to pass it on our way.

Kurt's eyes grew bigger and bigger as we neared the golden arches, and his grip on my hand was tightening so hard I felt my ring - the same ring Kurt had proposed to me with on his eighteenth birthday - cut off all circulation to my finger.

"Tell me we're not…"

I steered Kurt towards McDonald's.

"We're not…"

At the last second, I pulled him away and led him to the restaurant two doors down. Kurt was silently fuming, refusing to look at me. I smiled even more as I opened the door for him, allowing him to enter before me. I confirmed the reservation to the maitrè'd - 'Anderson for two' - and we were led to our table in no time at all.

I pulled Kurt's chair out for him, and he took his hand out of mine and sat down, acknowledging me with a simple nod. I laughed again, before sitting in my own seat and picking up the menu.

"Hmm, the risotto sounds good, doesn't it?"

Kurt refused to speak, instead picking up his own menu and studying it furiously. He wouldn't even speak until the waitress came over to take our order, and even then he mumbled so softly that I could barely hear him. We ate our meals in silence, though it wasn't that horrible: Kurt was being Kurt, he was playing his usual game, and I knew that what I was about to say would make him lose focus. Definitely.

"So, I think we should get married."

Kurt finally looked at me, but just pointed at his ring as if to say "are you an idiot?"

"No, I think… I think we should set a date. An actual date. I want to marry you."

Kurt struggled with himself as to whether or not he'd break his silence - it was all over his face. Eventually, he relented.

"Are… are you sure? I mean… neither of us have particularly steady jobs or-"

"That doesn't matter to me, Kurt. I just want to marry you. And we've technically been engaged for seven years now… I just can't help but think it'd be perfect if we got married this year."

"This year?"

I smiled. "Yes. This year. On the seventh of July."

Kurt smiled too. "The seventh day of the seventh month in our seventh year of engagement?"

"Precisely… so… what do you think?"

Kurt, teasing me, took hold of his glass of wine and took a slow sip before placing it back on the table and licking his upper lip.

"…Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's do it."

Apart from the day we actually got engaged, and the day that Kurt agreed to go out with me way back in high-school, I couldn't remember ever being as happy as I was in that particular moment. Even Kurt had completely abandoned his attempt to snub me in favour of leaning forward and just holding my hand, grinning like an idiot - possibly mirroring my expression at that exact moment. We just sat there for quite a while until the poor waitress had to cough to get our attention.

"Sorry to interrupt," she blushed, "but are you finished so I can take your plates?"

"Yeah, thanks," I replied.

"Would you like a dessert menu?"

I turned to Kurt, wondering if he'd start rambling about calories or not. "Kurt? Dessert?"

He smiled. "Yes please, we'll take the menu."

The blushing waitress quickly took our orders and practically sprinted away.

"Reminds me of our first proper date," Kurt said, winking at me.

"Ahh, yes. The 'awkward interruption' date. Of course. We should stop being so cheesy in public."

"I can't help it if I'm in love with you, Blaineybear."

"…Okay. That nickname sucked when we were eighteen and it sucks now too. Don't even go there."

"What was that song Jeff wrote?"

I let my head fall in my hands, not wanting to revisit such embarrassing memories.

"I don't know," I lied, trying to avoid the seemingly inevitable.

"I know it. God. I do. I just can't think of - that's it!"

"What?"

Kurt gave me an evil grin and started to sing:

'It's KurtieBear Cuddle Time

because that boy is mighty fine

all Blaine can think is he's all mine

it's KurtieBear Cuddle Time.'

"Kurt!" I hissed, "Can you stop that? We are in a very fancy restaurant and now is not the place for this kind of…"

"This kind of what, Blaine?" Kurt grinned again.

"…frivolity."

"My my, Dalton definitely paid off. Look at your plethora of knowledge combined with your expansive vocabulary!"

We continued bantering for the remainder of the evening, once again prompting an awkward and embarrassing entry and exit for the poor waitress (who I'd made sure to over-tip on the way out). We enjoyed a leisurely walk home, hand in hand, and took our time before reaching our apartment to call it a night.

Over our time living together, we'd magically fallen into a routine. The minute we'd get home, we'd remove scarves and coats and hang them by the door, along with our shoes. Kurt would shower first, since he took longer, and would then sit himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom while I showered to complete his moisturising routine. Then, we'd get all pyjama-ed up and climb into our incredibly comfortable Queen size bed, turning off our bedside lamps and lying there. Prior to falling asleep, we'd just lie there and talk about everything: work, friends, old friends from high school, our families, everything that was happening in the coming weeks… it was quiet, calming and yet it was something that still made butterflies flutter through my stomach. Knowing that I could sleep next to Kurt every night, and that I could lean forward and kiss him or hold his hands or snuggle in towards him anytime I wanted to was an amazing feeling. This life we were living was ours, and after our date at Not-McDonald's and our agreement to prepare our wedding, I couldn't help but feel ecstatic. That feeling could have been knowing that I was marrying the man of my dreams.

But of course, it could've been the sex too.

Kurt and I began the process of planning a wedding the very next day. It began over breakfast, where I was making pancakes for breakfast and he sat at our breakfast bar in the kitchen, flipping through the millions of wedding magazines he'd had stashed away in a closet somewhere the entire time. He'd occasionally ask me questions - often about my thoughts regarding tulle - and wouldn't shut up until I placed a plate of pancakes and strawberries in front of him.

"I've trained you well," he said, in his twisted way of saying thanks.

I leant forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead over the counter. "You're welcome."

I took my own plate of pancakes and brought a stool around to my side of the counter, so I could face Kurt while we ate. I drowned my pancakes in maple syrup - earning a disgusted noise from Kurt - and dug in, glancing over to see Kurt had a yellow lined notepad filled with dot points under the heading "WEDDING".

"So, any thoughts on the wedding so far?" I asked, realising that I'd forgotten to pour us drinks and hopping off my stool to get some mugs and the coffee pot.

"Yeah, a few," Kurt started, taking a bit of his pancakes before continuing. "I've already planned my side of the bridal party."

That surprised me somewhat, though there was a voice in my head berating me for not expecting it. It was Kurt, after all.

"Oh yeah? Who've you got?"

"Well, Finn, that's a given. I've also got Dad on my list. I know that's not what bridal parties usually do, but-"

"It's two men getting married," I interjected with a smile, pouring our coffee. "Nothing about our wedding will be traditional."

"I suppose you're right."

"I know I'm right."

"I'm ignoring your big head, Anderson, and continuing with my plans. Okay. So I thought… I have a question for you."

I stopped what I was doing at looked up at Kurt. He looked genuinely concerned about something, whether it was my response to his question or the question itself. I braced myself for something like a million dollar tuxedo.

"Ask away," I said, as casually as I could.

"Can we have females in our bridal party?"

Good. It wasn't a big deal. "Uhm. Yeah? Of course! Why not?"

"Well, in traditional weddings, it's only men that serve as groomsmen for the groom."

"Yes, but Kurt. We are both grooms. We're gay and we're getting married. We aren't traditional. Remember?"

"Of course, of course. In that case, I'm going to have Mercedes as one of my grooms-maids-"

"I like that word!"

"-and I was considering Rachel too. I mean, we are still really close and we did live together through college… even if I do resent her for having the ability to make use of her talent."

I stood and went over to the big plate of pancakes, bringing it over to give Kurt seconds. He'd refuse initially, but he couldn't resist.

"Kurt, you can have anyone you want in your bridal party."

"You don't think it'll be awkward for Finn? Having Rachel there?"

"Unless he's been pining away for her these past years than I don't think it should. Besides, isn't he with Quinn now anyway?"

"No. Puck's with Quinn, Finn's single."

"Whoa. When did that happen?"

"Two weeks ago. At least, that's the last I heard from Carole. It could have changed by now. It's Lima. It's boring there."

I laughed and took a big sip of coffee. I felt Kurt's eyes on me, so I slowly finished drinking and looked straight back at him.

"Blaine…"

"Yes Kurt?"

"Do you know who you'll have on your side of the bridal party?"

"Hmm. Probably Jeff. And Dyl. Donovan, I think. I mean, we've gotten closer."

"True. Sounds good."

"Oh! Charlotte! I shot gun Charlotte!"

"Damn!"

"What? She's my sister!"

"Yeah, but she's so pretty! Have you seen her hair?"

"She's 16 now, Kurt. And she's on Facebook. Of course I've seen her hair."

"True. Are you willing to call your side and get your groomsmen and grooms maid locked in?"

"Of course. Do you want me to do it now?"

"Yes please. You know the date. We'll have to get married here because, well, obviously New York is amazing. And it'll be legal here. But yeah. Go ahead."

With a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek and a refill of his coffee mug, I walked back to our bedroom to find my phone, laughing when I realised our clothes were still strewn across the floor since we were in a bit of a hurry the night before. I scrolled through my contacts, wondering who'd be the best person to call first. I started with Charlotte, knowing that she'd throw a tantrum if she wasn't asked first. She was still the smart, driven girl she was when she was nine, back when Kurt and I were first going out. She still had a passion for music and she still spoke with the maturity and eloquence of an adult. But it seemed as though her new-found interest in hair, makeup and boys was affecting every aspect of her life - including just how much time she'd deign to spend with her family. I called her cell directly, knowing that she'd probably be texting on it anyway.

After just one ring, she answered.

"Hello, my brother dearest. How art thou?"

"I'm fine thanks, sis, how are you?"

"Pretty good, though I'm wondering why my brother is calling me on a Saturday morning. Shouldn't you and Kurt be indisposed at this time?"

"Charlotte!"

"What? I'm sixteen, I know these things."

"Doesn't mean you should comment on them!"

"Meh. So. What's Kurt up to?"

"That's actually why I'm calling. Kurt and I are planning our wedding-"

Charlotte interrupted me with an excited, high-pitched squeal. Obviously she was happy with the news, but I still wondered if I could somehow force her to pay for my hearing aids after one too many conversations with her.

"Are you serious?" she asked, after finally managing to bring her volume down just that little bit.

"Yes indeed. We've set a date. The seventh of July."

"That's awesome. I'm so happy for you two!"

"I know you are, Char. And I was wondering…" I trailed off, leaving her in suspense and having way too much fun doing it.

"Blaine? Finish your sentence please."

"I was wondering if…."

"Blaine!"

"Fine. Fine. Okay. I was wondering if you'd like to be one of my grooms maids. That's what we're calling them. Would you like to?"

Another excitedly shrill squeal pierced through the phone line and gave me goosebumps, probably causing every single hair on my body to stand on edge - not just the ones on the back of my neck.

"I'd love to! Yes! Of course!"

"Yeah?"

"Definitely! Blaine, you know I'd do anything for you. And now I get to do you a favour while wearing a really pretty dress!"

I laughed. Typical teenage Charlotte.

"Well, thank you so much for saying yes. You'll have to stand up next to your brothers, but that shouldn't be horrible."

"Given that they're both old and boring, it'll be fine. What about Joy?"

"What about her?"

"Is she gonna be in the wedding?"

"I don't know. I'll have to talk to Kurt. Isn't seven too young to be a grooms maid?"

I heard a snort and a sigh through the phone line and could picture Charlotte sitting on her bed with her legs crossed and her head in her hand.

"Oh Blaine. Talk to Kurt. There's flower girls. So Joy could be one of those if you wanted her to be."

Charlotte and I spoke for a further half hour or so, catching up on everything - what she was doing at school, what new song her vocal teacher had her doing, and just how annoying Mom and Dad could be. She asked about New York and I filled her in the with the same old details, then remembering how fun it was to occasionally torment her and spoke for a solid ten minutes on how amazing it is to live with walking distance of Broadway's best shows. After hearing Charlotte throw insults at me and then hanging up, I made my way back into the kitchen to tell Kurt that Charlotte said a big yes. I found him on the phone with his dad, Burt, and chose to remain silent - seven years later and I was still scared of that man's shotgun.

I overheard Kurt's side of the conversation, consisting mostly of "Yeah" and "Sure" before Kurt looked up to see me back in the room. He placed the phone on speaker so I could listen in. Burt was talking about Finn's change of relationship status, talking about how Quinn left Puck in favour of Finn and something about them breaking up three times in the past month. I held back all snorts and chortles as best I could, though it was funny listening to Burt recount the many stories of various New Directions members and their love lives - it sounded exactly like the many phone conversations Kurt and I had when I'd first met him, in the beginning of our friendship. It was amusing to hear how practically nothing had changed, apart from the occasional haircut.

When Burt and Kurt eventually finished catching each other up on the latest in their lives, Kurt finally managed to ask his dad to stand up at the altar with him (though, at that stage, we weren't sure if we were even going to have an altar). The phone line was silent for a few minutes, prompting Kurt to snap into it and repeat "Dad, are you okay?" before Burt's spluttering, choked-up voice said "I'll do it", prompting a wide smile from both Kurt and I. I was surprised to hear Burt all emotional like that - it sounded as though he was crying, the way he was sniffing. We heard Carole's distant voice in the background, asking if Burt was okay. He told her that he was part of the wedding party, and we could hear her beginning to cry, too. Kurt started rolling his eyes and mouthing 'drama queens' to me before somehow managing to wrap up the conversation, hang up the phone and walk over to where I was making another pot of coffee.

"So much effort," he complained, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and snuggling in close. "Why are we getting married again?"

"Uh, because we love each other?" I replied with some Hummel-worthy sarcasm.

"Oh yeah. That."

I turned around in Kurt's arms so I could wrap my arms around him too, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"They always say planning a wedding is one of the hardest things we'll ever have to do," Kurt said, slumping to rest his head on my chest.

"It'll be hard for a little while. But it'll be worth it. You're going to have the most magical day of your life."

"So are you, Blaine." Kurt's arms tightened around me. I kissed the top of his head before doing the same, holding him close.

"I can't wait to marry you.

"I can't wait to marry you, either."

Planning a wedding was easily one of the biggest, most complicated processes a person could go through. With a limited budget, it was proving difficult for Kurt to combine his dream wedding ideas with what was realistic. Granted, he kept a level head throughout the majority of the planning, but when it came to what we were going to wear, Kurt found himself stressing and worrying so much that he began losing control of himself.

It was our first fight during the wedding planning stage. We'd had fights before, yes, but seeing as this one was in relation to something so big and important, it possibly the most vicious fight we'd ever had. It started in the bridal store, where we were trying on different tuxedos with Finn, Burt, Dylan, Donovan and Jeff. Charlotte couldn't come since she had school, and Kurt was going to design her dress anyways.

We were debating whether or not cummerbunds were a good idea while the others tried on their tuxedos. Kurt and I approved the simple white shirt, black tie arrangement - though Kurt was adamant that skinny ties were much more aesthetically pleasing. Then it was time for Kurt and I to try on tuxedos for ourselves - an endeavour that proved to be much more difficult.

"Are you sure I can't just wear jeans?" I called out to Kurt from inside my dressing room cubicle, struggling with the length of the pants clearly not suitable for my short stature.

"Wear jeans, Blaine, and I might not marry you," he replied cheekily, obviously having no trouble in dressing himself.

"These pants are too long!"

"There's these people called tailors, Blaine. You know them? We can hem your pants."

"I don't know…"

"Well, just step out of your cubicle and I'll have a look."

I made sure that the pants were buttoned and zipped correctly before sliding the curtain and stepping out of the dressing room to find everyone staring at me.

"Dude!" Finn said, "I knew you were short but oh my god, you're a hobbit!"

Kurt stepped out of his cubicle and playfully hit Finn's arm. "Shut up, Frankenstein."

He turned to inspect me while the others engaged in some chit-chat, squinting and occasionally reaching out to tug at this and that and smooth this over and fold this back in and just generally critiquing everything.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"It's not horrible. I think if you hem those pants, you'll be fine. You're going for a bow tie, yeah?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Of course. That's my thing."

"I know it is," Kurt said, as he leant in to kiss me lightly and brush the lint off my shoulders. "I'm wearing a bow tie too."

"Ah, copying me, huh?"

"Somewhat, but I was thinking you could have a black bow tie and I could have a white one. Thoughts?"

"Sounds good to me. You look amazing, by the way. That tux really works on you."

Kurt waved his hand at me. "No, I don't like it. I don't like the way it fits. It's nothing special."

"What do you mean?"

"I just… I feel boring. And blergh. I feel like there should be more to it."

I smirked. "You want a jacket covered in Swarovski crystals don't you?"

"…that's not so ridiculous, Blaine."

I stood there, shocked for a minute. Yes, Kurt's taste is rather extravagant compared to mine. I knew that in his fantasies he'd always had an extravagant outfit and everything glittered. But I also knew that he was aware of our financial situation - we couldn't afford to have everything be as expensive as Kurt dreamt it should be.

"Kurt. Are you serious? You really want the Swarovski jacket?"

Kurt looked down and stared at his shoes for a second before disappearing into his cubicle, pulling the curtain closed. Knowing that the others could feel the tension in the air, I moved to stand beside his cubicle to talk to him through the curtain.

"Kurt. Come on. Talk to me."

"Is it so horrible that I want to feel special on this day?" He snapped, clearly upset.

"No. It's not. At all. But you know we just can't afford it. I'd do anything to give you exactly what you want for our wedding, I would, but it's just not possible."

"You don't care."

I stood there, even more shocked than I was before. Kurt's tone had turned bitter and hurtful. I always knew Kurt had an air of 'bitch please' about him, and that was one of the many traits I loved. But what he said stung. A lot.

I finally found the words I wanted to say, after a few useless attempts opening my mouth and nothing coming out.

"You really think I don't care?"

The curtain to his cubicle was shoved to the side and Kurt emerged with the tux on its hangers, wearing his regular clothes. He ignored me, walking straight to the salesperson, telling them to hold it for Hummel until he could come back after his next pay.

"Kurt!"

He continued to ignore me, just standing at the counter while the salesperson tapped away at the keyboard. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, and it was embarrassing knowing that both our families were there to witness this.

"Kurt! Talk to me!"

His head whipped around to look at me, with daggers shooting out of his eyes at me. The phrase 'if looks could kill' was the only thing on my mind until he opened his mouth and started yelling at me.

"You don't give a crap about me! Or my needs! Or what I want! This is my wedding day! I want it to be perfect and I want to feel good about myself and all you're doing is dragging me down and I'm sick of it!"

"Dragging you down?" I started, taken aback by his outburst. "Kurt, come on! All I said was that we couldn't afford it!"

"You obviously didn't care about my feelings!" he retorted, striding towards me to yell at me from just a few feet away.

"Kurt. Are you serious right now?"

"There you go again. Patronising me. Belittling me. Who do you think you are?" he spat at me.

I couldn't help it. As much as I wanted to keep calm and soothe Kurt, he'd given me no other option.

"I'm your fiancé, Kurt. That means something. I'm trying to look out for you. I'm trying to do everything for you and give you everything I can but it's never enough! I don't know why, but it's never enough! I'm not enough!"

I broke down. There was no use trying to hold back those tears that escaped, and even as I wiped them away I knew Kurt was staring me down and the others were silent, also staring at us.

"I'm leaving," Kurt said through gritted teeth, before he stormed out of the store without a single word to any of us. The minute I saw Kurt through the window as he jumped into a cab and drove off, I ran my fingers through my hair. I was so frustrated with him, with us and with the situation. I stepped back into my cubicle to change, giving the salesperson the tux with a nod and a quick 'Save this for Anderson', before turning to everyone else.

"I'm sorry about that, guys. I don't even know what to say."

"It's alright," Dylan moved towards me and gripped my shoulder. "We all fight with our partners. It happens."

"Son…" Burt's gruff voice made me look up at him. "Kurt's very… he's a perfectionist. Well, you know that. He just needs time. And like Dylan said. Couples fight. It happens."

"You're not gonna kill me?" I asked him. I'd always been scared of that man.

He snorted. "Why would I do that?"

"Uhm. Because Kurt just stormed out of the store all upset and it's my fault?"

"He's just… being himself. All I can say is go home, work it out, it'll be fine."

I nodded, and reached out to shake Burt's hand. He took my hand and shook it firmly, before taking a step back to allow Finn to do the same. They both smiled warmly at me and reassured me that everything would be fine, before they both left the store. I was then left with my brothers and Jeff, and the three of them continued to talk me down until they knew I was able to control myself and my emotions. I kept thinking back to how no one had ever seen me cry prior to me meeting Kurt. Before Kurt, I'd kept everything hidden away. I didn't confide in anyone and I didn't ever allow people to see who I really was or how I really felt. With that thought repeating itself in my mind, I knew that I had to go home and fix things with Kurt.

I said goodbye to my own groomsmen before venturing outside to find a cab. I made my way home, paid the driver and began walking up the fourteen flights of stairs to the apartment I shared with Kurt. I had enough time to think things through and think about how I was going to make up with Kurt. All I knew was that he was the one for me, and even though we fought, that hadn't changed. It hurt me to think that Kurt thought I didn't care. It hurt even more when Kurt questioned who I was and what my motives were. The whole situation just hurt.

Finally reaching my floor, I made my way to our apartment door and fished the keys out of my pocket. I entered quietly, knowing that if I was to make loud noises or to make a big deal out of coming home, Kurt would become even more agitated. I stepped inside, closed the door and shrugged off my jacket, placing it on the hook near the door. I bolted the door (a safety requirement in this part of New York) and put my keys into the bowl we kept on the table near door for that purpose. When my fingers hit the cold edge of the bowl, I looked down and saw the framed photograph right next to it. It was one of my favourite pictures of all time - taken sneakily by Rachel during our housewarming party, it was of Kurt and I in the kitchen at the counter chopping vegetables and preparing food. The photo had been taken at the precise moment we had looked at each other, realising that we lived together for crying out loud, and grinned like a pair of idiots. All I could see in that photo as I stood there was the sparkle in our eyes and the way we smiled at each other. I smiled seeing that photo, and moved to look around the apartment for Kurt.

Our apartment was small, so it took me no time at all to find the light escaping from the gap underneath our bedroom door. I moved towards it and reached out to turn the doorknob when I heard Kurt's voice.

"But Dad, I've been dreaming of this day forever…"

I knew he was on the phone to Burt. It didn't surprise me in the slightest: Burt was always the one who brought Kurt back down to earth while somehow maintaining calm between both parties. I knew I should leave and maybe sit in the living room - anything to stop myself from listening in - but given how Burt comforted me before, a part of me was curious to see exactly what was going on.

I could only hear Kurt's side of the conversation, which for a while consisted of 'hmm' and 'yeah', until Kurt said that he was going to do his moisturising routine and put Burt on speakerphone.

"Blaine's just looking out for ya, kid. He's a good guy," I heard Burt say through the phone.

"I know that. But why can't I have what I want for a change?"

"He's not refusing you something because he doesn't love you, Kurt. He's going out of his way to give you everything else you want in this wedding, can't you just let go of the whole jacket thing?"

"It's not just a jacket, Dad. It's something that'll set me apart. It'll put the focus on me for a change. It's my day. I want it to be special."

"You're right. It isyour day. But it's also Blaine's day. You're not just marrying him, he's marrying you too. He deserves a little respect too, kid."

Kurt was silent for a moment. I slumped against the wall and rubbed my face with my hands. I couldn't believe that Burt was standing up for me like this - it really made me feel like I was part of the family. I knew I couldn't stand there and listen in anymore, but I also knew I couldn't bare not to fix things with Kurt immediately. I knocked softly on the door and entered, and saw Kurt turn to look at me.

"Dad, Blaine's here, I've gotta go."

"Remember what I said, kiddo."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

Kurt moved over to wipe his hands on his hand towel and hang up the phone. He then walked over to his bedside table and put his phone on charge before turning to face me.

"Hi," he said quietly, looking nervous and sad.

"Hi," I replied, taking a couple of small steps forward.

"Blaine… Uhm… sit on the bed with me?"

I nodded and sat cross-legged on my side of the bed, facing Kurt as he did the same on his side.

"I… I should apologise. My behaviour in the store was deplorable and it wasn't fair of me to do that in public…"

I nodded. "Well. Yeah. Thanks. I appreciate that."

"I just… I have these dreams, you know? Of this amazing, incredible wedding. And it's like I forget that we don't have endless amounts of money. Life isn't a dream."

"Just because we can't spend all that money doesn't mean we won't have an incredible wedding."

"I know. I just… I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. How can I plan a wedding when I keep forgetting what's realistic and what's not?"

"Kurt…"

"No. Stop. Just… this isn't about me. This is about you. Dad just said something on the phone earlier…" Kurt trailed off, tears escaping from the corner of his eyes. I reached out and held his hands - a gesture he appreciated, as he looked up at me, gave me a small smile and continued.

"He reminded me that it's not my day."

"Kurt, don't be ridiculous. It is your day."

"No. It's not. It's ours. That's what it should be about. Our wedding. We're getting married because we love each other and we want to say it in front of our friends and family and commit to spending a lifetime together. I shouldn't have… I mean. I can't… ugh."

"It's okay," I interrupted, squeezing Kurt's hand. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, Blaine."

"I know you are. And… thank you for the apology. I do appreciate it."

"Can we go back to being hopelessly in love and happy and stupid?"

"We never stopped."