Hey there. Thank you for such a positive response to last chapter! It was what made me want to update so fast again. Right, so the story continues. Just as a warning Blaine is a little OOC in this story, just a bit, but not in a bad way. I don't think. I hope you enjoy.
I don't own Glee or 27 Dresses, they belong to their respective writers and producers.
"Blaine… nice to meet you, Blaine." Kurt smiled tightly and attempted half heartedly to walk away, before stopping abruptly and clutching his head again. "Oh…"
"Whoa, okay." Blaine rushed over to take his arm again. "Why don't we get you a cab?"
Kurt made to protest, but then realised he simply did not have the energy. Besides, he was still kind of dizzy. So he nodded quickly and let Blaine guide him out of the church, waving a quick goodbye to David.
"Alright. Nice and easy, that's it…" Blaine didn't let go of Kurt's arm until he was standing in front of the waiting cab, the New York skyline glinting ahead. Kurt placed the large bouquet of flowers he had received as a semi-bridesmaid in between Blaine and himself, shut the door and told the driver his address. The driver – whose name, Kurt had discovered, was Ned – glanced over at Blaine and winked at Kurt with a slight grin. Oh God, he thought he picked him up. Super. Fantastic.
The drive was uncomfortably silent, filled only with awkward sighs and Blaine's tapping of his fingers on his phone. Tap. Tap. Tap. Kurt sighed irritably and tried to glare at the other man, but simply found himself face to face with the large bunch of flowers.
Blaine was the first to break the silence.
"I loved your briefs, by the way. Calvin Klein, very nice."
Kurt's eyes widened as he turned to gape at him through the flowers.
"You buzzed past me earlier, I saw you changing outfits. You were at two weddings in one night, weren't you?" Kurt simply frowned. "That's a little upsetting, don't you think?"
Kurt furrowed his brow. "Well, they're both really good friends of mine, and – and their weddings happened to be on the same night, so what was I supposed to do?" He defended quickly.
"Oh no," Blaine chuckled, those pretty hazel eyes crinkling. "That's not the upsetting part, how do you stand it? I mean, isn't one wedding bad enough?"
"I love weddings, I always have." Kurt said, shrugging.
"Really?" Blaine raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah." Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was looking at him disbelievingly.
"Which part? The forced merriment, the horrible music or the bad food?" Kurt's mouth fell open in shock. How dare he?
Kurt huffed. "Actually it's meeting upbeat people like yourself."
"Love is patient, love is kind." Blaine tilted his head. "Love means slowly losing your mind."
"What is it you do again?" Kurt said, raising his eyebrows.
"I'm a writer."
"Right." Blaine laughed slightly, grinning at Kurt. How dare he grin at him, stupid attractive wedding-hater. Was he home yet? Ah, sweet escape.
"This is my building."
Blaine reached over for the flowers. "I got it."
"No, I got it." Kurt said shortly, tugging them from his grip.
"Sure?"
"Yep. Alright sweetie, $140. You know what you did." Kurt handed the money over to the cab driver, just to see Blaine getting out of the cab with his flowers. "What– no, hey, wait– um, he'll be right back. Hold on."
Kurt got out of the cab, slamming the door and rushing over to the other side where Blaine was holding the bouquet and grinning.
"Don't you think it's a whole lot of ritual for something which, let's face it, has got about a fifty/fifty shot of making it out of the gate?" He asked, leaning against the car, that stupid, cocky smile still on his stupid, handsome face.
"Oh, how very refreshing, a guy who doesn't believe in marriage." Kurt made to take the flowers, only to have Blaine hold them out of his reach. Oh my God, he is so frustrating.
"I'm just trying to point out the hypocrisy of the spectacle." Blaine said, shrugging a shoulder as Kurt glowered at him.
"Oh, that's so noble of you." Kurt scowled. "Do you also go around telling little children that Santa Claus doesn't exist? 'Cause someone needs to blow that shit wide open." He reached out for the flowers again, but Blaine just held them away. How was he even doing that? Stupid short hobbit.
"I see you admit that believing in marriage is kinda like believing in Santa Claus." Blaine smirked.
Kurt paused, gaping. "I– no! I –" He took a deep breath, and forced a smile. "I don't know why I'm arguing this with a perfect stranger, but yes, marriage, like everything good and important, isn't easy." Blaine nodded, tilting his head. Kurt raised an eyebrow, continuing. "Cynicism, on the other hand–" He took the moment of Blaine listening interestedly to him to take the flowers from him and hoisting them up to his chest. "–always is." Blaine chuckled slightly and took the proffered hand Kurt thrust at him. "It was very interesting meeting you."
"Bye." Blaine grinned.
"Yeah." Kurt walked over the road quickly, leaving Blaine smiling and leaning against the cab.
"Are you gonna be at any more weddings, say, next weekend?" Blaine shouted after him.
"I have to go!" Kurt shouted over his shoulder
"How many have you been in, by the way? Just, like, ball park." Blaine shouted back, grinning broadly.
"Goodnight!"
Blaine smiled and got back into the cab. Damn.
He cast his eyes across the seat, to find a small, brown filofax lying on it. He frowned, picking it up.
"Hey, you know what, could you –?"
"Yeah?" The driver asked.
Blaine paused. This is it. My ticket to seeing him again. Haha, you thought you got rid of me, cute wedding man.
"Never mind, forget it." He said, slumping back into his seat and flicking past swatches of pink and white materials, cut outs of wedding dresses to find the day diary. Kane wedding… and some little hearts. Aw. How cute. He flicked through various meetings and lunches… wow, another wedding. Two in two weeks, goodness. Wait, another one? Weaved in between gown fittings, registry openings, and baker visits, were three more weddings.
This was unbelievable.
He snapped the book shut, and small smile crossing his face. Not only was this his ticket back to Kurt, it was also his ticket out of his job.
The next day, Kurt hung the hideous purple suit on a hanger, and stuffed it into his wardrobe. Why he had gone for a smaller place with no walk-in wardrobe, he had no idea. This wardrobe was really getting stuffed.
He hummed as he skipped over to the paper and plunked himself down on the coach, flicking through.
He sighed. "Death, destruction… wedding vows, yay…" He opened his favourite section of the New York Journal. "Come to daddy…"
Kurt focused in on the page with 'Commitments' printed at the top, with the heading 'Carnival of a Lifetime'. He sighed contentedly. "Aw."
He read the article, drinking in words that spun a beautiful tale of love at first sight, moonlight kisses and romantic fireworks. This was what he lived for. This was magic.
The author… ah, Kevin Anderson. That guy was incredible. The love stories he wrote, they were the most stunning, bewitching things Kurt had ever read. He reached for the scissors and carefully cut out the article, placing it in a stack with the rest of his. These were why Kurt loved weddings.
Blaine walked across the street to his work building, carrying two coffees and the small brown filofax, glancing briefly and the glinting sign he passed each morning. The New York Journal.
He nodded to his colleagues, and caught up with Noah, handing him the other coffee.
"Here," He said, handing him a small present box. "From the happy couple."
"Oh right." Noah smirked. "You were eating coconut cake and doing the electric slide. So how'd it go?"
"Oh, let's see," Blaine sighed. "The bride wore a gown that sparkled like the groom's eyes as he saw her approaching to a shower of rose petals." He said monotonously.
"And you're not getting laid?" Noah said disbelievingly. "Commitments is like the gold standard of wedding announcements, every chick on the planet rips open that page first thing Sunday– brides kill to get in there, and their loving fiancés will do even more." He lowered his voice slightly. "Do you have any idea what you could be doing?"
"You mean to guys who are about to get married?"
"Yeah!" Noah said enthusiastically. "They won't call you, they won't bother you, they'll pretend they never even met you, you can't beat that!"
"And you know this from your wide experiences of homosexual one night stands?" Blaine raised an eyebrow.
"Well, no, but dude," Noah spread his hands. "The Puckosaurus has plenty of experience with chicks, dudes can't be that different, can they?"
"Well, it's not going to matter much longer anyway," Blaine said, presenting the filofax to Noah. "You are looking at my ticket out of Commitments, my friend."
"Keep on dreaming." Noah smirked.
"Uh, go away." Blaine made a shooing motion with his hand, and Noah rolled his eyes and left.
Kurt walked, coffee in hand, to the front of the office for Vogue. He watched as Santana got out of the yellow cab, purple dress in hand and wearing a baggy white shirt and men's pants. Kurt raised an eyebrow at her.
"What?" Santana shrugged. "I wasn't going to come to work in my bridesmaid dress."
"Two day walk of shame outfit, elegant." Kurt said as Santana laughed lightly.
"What happened to you the other night?" Santana asked. "You were barely there and then you disappeared." A smirk appeared on her face. "You meet someone?" She nudged him.
"Come on, no." Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Not a ridiculous question." Santana defended, eying Kurt's fashionable ensemble.
"Morning, Tina." Kurt said to his friend at the reception. "You haven't seen my filofax anywhere, have you? I can't find it."
"No." Tina said, shaking her head.
"No… okay, I'll go look for it. Oh, did you get those catalogue pages in for Matthew? He wants to see them first thing this morning."
Tina shrugged. "No."
"Okay," Kurt sighed. "No worries, I'll get them from production."
"Atta boy, show her who's boss." Santana said sarcastically as they walked away.
"I'm not her boss," Kurt insisted.
"You're the boss' assistant, same diff." She shrugged. "What's the good of the job if you can't abuse the power?"
"Santana, go to marketing."
"Now you're bossy." Santana said, but smiled and turned the corner. Kurt chuckled and sat down at his desk, rummaging around for his filofax. He looked under all his books and magazines, in all the drawers… nothing.
"Where the hell did I put that thing?" He murmured.
Blaine slammed the filofax down on Sue Sylvester's desk.
"That is a great idea for the front page of the section." He said
Sue put her head in her hands. "Ugh, come on Anderson. How many times do I have to go through this with you?"
"I'm telling you Sue, it's a great idea."
"Really?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Is it as great as you last great idea, an exposé at price fixings at wedding bakeries?"
"Yes, yes, they're ripping people off! Flour costs pennies per ounce, that's a 100% mark up, it's outrageous!" Blaine insisted.
"Yes, it is." Sue sighed. "Also? No one cares."
"Alright, what about the piece I wanted to do on the exploitation of workers in handmade lace factories, that is a killer piece." Blaine said, pointing at Sue.
"Oh, right, that's what people really want to read about in the style section." Sue said sarcastically. "Anderson, this section practically pays for the entire paper. Our advertisers want fun, upbeat, colourful human interest stories opposite their products."
"So that's what we're about now, making money?" Blaine asked dryly.
"Get out." Sue pointed at the door.
"Alright, listen, that was not right, I get it." Blaine backtracked, coming over to stand next to Sue and opening the filofax. "But this one is. Look, this guy has in to seven weddings."
"So?"
"This year." Sue looked up. "He was in two on Saturday alone." Blaine pointed triumphantly at the page on the filofax. Sue sighed heavily.
"But it won't just be about him," Blaine continued. "It'll be an incisive look at how the wedding industry had transformed something that should be an important right of passage into nothing more but a corporate revenue stream!" He said excitedly, running a hand through his curly hair. Sue just looked up at him from the filofax. "In a fun, upbeat, you know, cheerful way." Blaine smiled charmingly. "Look, Sue, I am dying back there in Commitments. If I have to write another sentence about baby's breath I'm going to shoot myself. This is a real story, this is what I want to do." He looked up at her with pleading eyes.
"I need you covering weddings." Sue said. "That's what you're good at, and that's what I need you to do."
"Alright, if you don't stop giving me feature stories I'm about to quit." Blaine said seriously, looking her in the eyes. She paused.
"Alright." She relented. "One chance. If I don't like it, you go back to commitments for the rest of your life with a big smile on that ridiculously handsome face of yours." She gave him back the filofax and opened the door.
"Deal." Blaine grinned.
"Now get out of my office."
