author's notes: Written for strawberryschaos for the seblainegiftexchange! I combined your love for '5+1 things' with 'hurt/comfort', 'proposals', 'road trip au' & 'holidays' and poured on an unhealthy dose of fluff ^^
tags: marriage proposal, 5+1 things, tooth-rotting fluff
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When I'm Almost Home (I Almost Hear You Say)
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i. another year, you made a promise
"Blaine?" he calls into the empty hallway, certain his voice carried well into the guest bedroom, though Blaine doesn't materialize at the sound of his name.
He still sees spots from the sparklers his sister set off downstairs, when she ran around asking everyone about their New Year's resolutions as if they were sacred things.
He had made exactly one, which he hoped to see resolved moments into the new year.
Twenty minutes left to go before midnight.
"Babe, are you coming?" he calls, marching steadfast toward the bedroom, "You're going to miss the—" and pushes through the door fully expecting to see Blaine fixing his hair or bowtie, or some other minute detail only he would home in on.
But the sight of Blaine on the bed cancels out the one word left on his lips.
His boyfriend dressed to the nines in a golden jacket, fast asleep on the bed, snoring.
Sebastian smiles fondly.
He reaches inside his jacket for the ring box he'd secreted away an hour ago, its black velvet smooth against his skin. He thought he'd prepared for every eventuality; he'd booked their tickets and planned the trip to spare Blaine travel anxiety; they slept a few hours on the plane to battle jetlag; he made sure to steer clear of the champagne; and, should anyone disapprove he had a nice speech ready that boiled down to 'mind your own damn business'.
It's no surprise, however, that between the last remnants of jetlag and a glass of champagne Blaine checked out early. Boy never could hold his liquor.
So much for a New Year's proposal.
Ring stashed safely back into the lining of his suitcase, he walks over to the bed and peels off Blaine's shoes, his own shoes— Blaine barely stirs as he lies down next to him.
Laughter drifts up from the ground floor, his mom's closest friends having the time of their lives at -what she calls- the biggest social event of the year. He'd hoped to show Blaine some of its extravagance, the champagne fountains, personalized gift baskets, all with the Eiffel Tower lit up like a dense collection of stars in the distance.
But that's the thing about New Year's resolutions: they don't always work out the way you imagine.
"Happy New Year, killer," he whispers, pushing his lips to Blaine's forehead as the ten-second countdown starts downstairs.
No matter what happens this will be the year they get engaged, where they'll take their relationship to the next level, and become each other's fiancé.
A little jetlag won't stop that.
Fireworks pop and sizzle through the night sky, a spectacle of neons mixing together.
Blaine stirs awake, scanning the room with sleepy eyes. "What'd I miss?"
"Nothing much. Just another year," he says, and as he pushes a kiss to Blaine's forehead he falls back asleep on his shoulder with a 'hmpf'.
Sebastian buries a smile in Blaine's thick curls, promising wordlessly to give Blaine a proposal he'll never forget.
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ii. another chance to turn it all around
Barely three days into the new year, they both hit the ground running.
Blaine runs back and forth between rehearsals for a new show, and teaches an ESL class at the local high school three nights a week—meanwhile he started a new job around Christmas, so between long days at the office to impress the bosses and getting to know his colleagues, he didn't waste any time thinking about a new proposal in what little time they did have together.
Rather they talked about their days over dinner and cuddled up on the couch, or Blaine watched TV while he'd read, and on the days Blaine's meant to teach he used all his manly wiles to keep Blaine home, including but not limited to begging.
Valentine's Day, however, would be different.
As a rule he tended to leave the cooking to Blaine, but tonight he left Blaine no choice; his boyfriend would be served and pampered over an intimate dinner for two, after which he'd go down on one knee and pop the big question.
He planned the whole thing out—what he'd wear, what he'd say, how he'd say it, how he'd present the ring. Like New Year's, he prepared for every eventuality.
Except coming home to a plethora of white, red and silver balloons stuck to the ceiling of the entire apartment.
Groceries lowered to the floor he steps into the living room, a sea of balloons above him.
"Surprise!" Blaine yells, jumping into view with his arms thrown up in the air.
A million questions race through his mind, like what, and how, and where did Blaine even find the time, but he learned better than to question Blaine's big romantic gestures—they'd concluded long ago they had wildly differing love languages.
"Hey, handsome." He smiles. "What's all this then?"
"I wanted to do something nice for you."
Blaine walks over, his hands wringing together—meaning he knew he might have gone a bit overboard. Still, all things considered today's their first big night together in what seemed like forever; maybe it warranted a little exuberance.
"You've been working so hard and you gave me that beautiful trip to Paris..." Blaine shrugs. "I wanted to do something in return."
"So, naturally, balloons." Sebastian cocks an eyebrow, languidly circling his arms around Blaine's waist.
"And some—" Blaine's voice lowers, lips half an inch out of reach, arms folding around his neck, "—surprises in the bedroom."
Their lips meet in a smile they share, a hushed "Happy Valentine's, baby," slipped in between kisses and just before kicking the door of the bedroom open, Sebastian can't help but ask.
"How many—" he asks, looking up at the ballooned ceiling. Compared to this opulence his idea of a proposal might actually appear small, no matter how big his intent.
"400," Blaine breathes with a big dorky smile. "I blew my entire decorating budget for the year but it was worth seeing the look on your face."
Sebastian grins.
He'll let Blaine have this one.
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iii. and do not save this for tomorrow
Blaine breathes in deep, eyes closed against the hot glare of the sun. "I'm so happy we did this."
"Me too, killer."
He smiles, while he digs a hand deeper into the right pocket of his shorts, fingers clutched around the ring box.
This is it. The moment, the time, and definitely the place.
A proposal can't get much grander than along the steep-sided cliffs of the Grand Canyon, with its red sand and deep ochre scent, a view that left even him speechless, captured by the terrible vastness of such a magnificent vista.
A road trip to the Grand Canyon had been at the top of Blaine's bucket list for years.
He hadn't liked the thought of spending long days on the road, or staying at highway motels, let alone eating in diners where they served nothing but buttery pancakes and runny eggs.
But for Blaine he'd always been willing to set aside such reservations.
Their trip had taken about a week, with several sight-seeing stops along the way, but here they were, at last.
Other tourists buzzed around them like flies, but Blaine never shied away from the limelight— he wouldn't mind being made the center of attention.
"Blaine," he starts, "There's something—"
The words lodge at the back of his throat. Stage fright wasn't one of his weaknesses, but it's not everyday you propose to the love of your life, despite the amount of times he's already tried.
"My, Sebastian Smythe." Blaine's eyes narrow on his face, though a fond breathtaking smile soon follows. "Are you blushing?"
He lets out a stuttery laugh because his palms are sweaty and his heart's hammering in his chest; twice before he tried to do this but neither of those times had he made it this far, so close to the promise of forever, and—
"I'm—"
—he barely gets another word in before Blaine gasps, "Oh my God", and points somewhere over his shoulder, "Sebastian, look!"
More commotion starts around them as he turns to see what's going on.
Sebastian's jaw almost drops to the ground.
Some other man going down on one knee in front of his girlfriend.
Un-fucking-believable.
The girl screams in delight, immediately drawing everyone's attention, and yells, "Yes!" before jumping into her boyfriend's arms.
Blaine grabs both hands around his arm, his cheek pressed against his shoulder as he moons, "Can you think of anywhere more romantic?"
"One or two places come to mind."
"Don't be such a grinch."
Blaine slaps playfully at his shoulder and runs over to congratulate the happy couple.
He grits his teeth together, crossing his arms over his chest. He'll be every bit the grinch he wishes to be, thank you very much.
He should've stuck to his guns on New Year's and woken Blaine up for the countdown— because this is seriously starting to get out of hand. That's the third time in a row he almost proposed. If he didn't know better he'd think the universe was conspiring against him.
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iv. embrace the past and you can live for now
"I can't believe you!" Blaine yells and drops his bag unceremoniously to the floor, right after a long-winded speech about broken promises and wanting to come home to a tidy apartment.
And yes, he may have promised a few times now to take out the trash when he's the first one home and neglected to do it for two weeks straight, but he's been busy recreating the romantic dinner they missed out on at Valentine's. Which isn't to say he couldn't have found the time.
"Babe, you're being—"
Blaine lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If the next word out of your mouth is 'ridiculous' so help me Sebastian Smythe, I'll show you what we did in Fight Club."
Whatever he meant to say dies abruptly on his tongue.
He frowns. "Fight club?"
Teeth grinding together Blaine's eyes darken. "I obviously can't talk about it."
And just in that moment, even though Blaine's pent-up frustration bleeds out of him like a waterfall, he falls for him a little more, a little harder, and he's more certain than ever that he wants to marry this man.
A rebellious smile slips to a corner of his mouth, quelled only by Blaine turning to him and gesturing at the overflowing trash cans.
"Can you please—?"
"I'll take out the trash," he preempts and flashes out of the door with the trash bags, none too hurriedly dropping them down the garbage chute down the hallway.
"Why are you dressed up?"
Blaine's eyes tick down his crisp white shirt and dress pants the moment he returns to the apartment.
"Did we—" he asks, hesitating when he enters the living room and sees the table set for two with their best china and the Venetian glasses they bought during their trip to Italy, "—have plans?"
A trio of scented candles burns at the center of the table.
"Not officially, no."
He walks up behind Blaine and draws his hands down his shoulders, kissing the back of his head in the process. "But I thought I might do something nice for my overworked Broadway star."
Arms wrapping around Blaine's torso, he sways them left to right. Try as he did he can't seem to get this right. Was it a sign from the universe? the result of everyone who still thought them too young?
No. When you knew you knew, and he'd never felt this way about anyone.
He'll get the timing right, eventually.
"Off Broadway."
He rolls his eyes. "Off Broadway."
"I'm sorry," Blaine sighs as his head falls back to his shoulder, "I had a bad day."
He pushes a kiss to Blaine's neck, who melts back into his body as if silly putty.
"I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"Let's talk about it over dinner," he whispers; he'd rather hold and comfort Blaine right now than be the cause of some misplaced guilt Blaine's prone to. There'll be plenty of time to talk about their future.
The stars had to align sometime.
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v. and i, would give the world to you
Leave it to Jesse St James to propose the same year he meant to show Blaine the depth of his love.
His next attempt at proposing would've been on their anniversary, but now that Jesse's proposed on his anniversary with Rachel it'll look like he's copying them and he's no second-rate amateur that needs to look to others for his material.
If he planned on proposing to Blaine, he'll need yet another carefully laid out plot.
"It was so romantic, wasn't it?" Blaine asks, sat next to him in the car.
His boyfriend has stars in his eyes the size of supernovas, while he's too busy thinking of his next move. Perhaps in the summer he can surprise Blaine with a weekend at Martha's Vineyard— Blaine's been wanting to go there for ages and there's little chance of them running into anyone they know.
Hands wringing around the wheel he cautiously settles on that plan, and decides he'll start planning first thing in the morning. Still, their anniversary early May would've been perfect, despite being on a Wednesday. More than anything it would come by much sooner than the summer. Before long that ring box would start burning holes into every hiding place he's been necessitated to find for it.
"Did you know? That he'd propose?"
Blaine shrugs. "I figured that's why they invited us all tonight."
He could've known; it's exactly like Rachel to rub in just how happy she and Jesse are, in front of all their family and friends.
"Rachel was definitely hoping he would," Blaine says. "They've been together for five years, it's about time he—"
Blaine swallows the rest of his words.
"I mean—" he stutters, trying desperately to take back what he said.
"Blaine, it's okay," he hushes, hoping desperately to quell Blaine's sudden anxiety; this is the last thing he wanted, for Blaine to think he still has doubts, that what he said years ago still rings true and he's incapable of changing his mind. "I know you—"
"I know," Blaine cuts in, and stares down at his hands folded together in his lap. "We've talked about this."
"That was two years ago."
At the time it'd been a big point of contention between them; watching his parents' marriage crash and burn didn't instill him with a firm belief in the holy sanctity of matrimony, which Blaine somehow took to mean he'd never be ready to fully commit to them.
"And since then I've come to realize—"
Blaine draws in a deep breath, the pause starting a minute panic in his chest.
Their eyelines cross and suddenly the car's a bit smaller, filled only with the sound of their breathing and his mounting confusion, not in the least prepared for what Blaine confesses next.
"I don't need a ring around my finger to be happy."
His mouth goes dry. "What are you saying?"
"That I love you, and I love our life together. And it's all I need."
Sebastian swallows hard.
Well— shit.
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vi. that's at least one thing worth living for
When he wakes up in an empty bed the next morning his first thought is Martha's Vineyard, and checking Blaine's schedule, and coming up with a valid excuse for why Blaine has to keep that weekend free without ruining the surprise.
This would've all been a lot easier if Jesse had just—
Sebastian sighs. None of this was Jesse's fault, or Rachel's; they were two lovestruck idiots same as them, it's just that he really wanted to give Blaine a one of a kind proposal that would live on in their memories.
How many more sleepless nights could he take before he popped the question over take-out on the couch?
The door to the bedroom opens, and Blaine saunters inside wearing nothing but his boxers.
"Morning, sleepy," he coos, making for the dresser in search of a sweatshirt.
He sits back against the headboard and watches Blaine carefully dig through the drawer, considering his sweatshirts as well as his own, as if he's going to wear it anywhere else but the apartment. It's one of the many things he loves about his boyfriend: every moment of every day can be a fashion statement.
"Do I smell pancakes?"
Blaine hums in affirmation, finally pulling a sweatshirt from the drawer; he looks it over one last time unfolded, and then looks at him with big bright eyes.
"Your favorite kind."
His eyes narrow, wondering what he could do or say to keep Blaine from putting that shirt on. "I don't have a favorite."
Blaine smiles a smile of the ages, one devious enough to make him think his boyfriend has plans of his own—Blaine crawls onto the bed, and inches towards him on the bed.
"That's why I made three different kinds," Blaine says, straddling his lap.
A fond smile drowns into a deep heated kiss, his tongue licked into Blaine's mouth and they lose themselves in it the way they did when they first met a little under four years ago.
Four years of Blaine and Sebastian. Four years of laughter and love, bitter arguments and make-up sex, of pancakes in the morning and rough days at work, of tears and shouting, of travelling together, taking care of one another when they're sick, of being each other's everything.
Almost everything.
Four years he wouldn't change a single second of.
They lie down facing each other on the bed, gazing into each other's eyes.
Blaine strokes a hand down his cheek.
"I love you," he says, googly-eyed, and feels the certainty of those words right down to the marrow of his bones, in everything he is and ever will be.
Last time he felt like this was a morning just like this one, the same morning he decided to propose; Blaine got up early to make pancakes, then crawled back into bed to cuddle, and he'd realized how much he wanted it, all of it, the big romantic gestures, the arguments after a long day at work, the big dorky smiles, and this, the smell of pancakes in the morning— he wants their life together, and he wants this forever.
They already made a commitment to themselves and to each other long before today, long before moving in together and starting on this journey.
Being with Blaine changed him for the better, like being with him changed Blaine; just like Blaine learned to stop changing himself for others he'd learned that attachment didn't mean getting trapped, that it didn't have to end in tragedy, not if you loved each other, not if you fought for what you had.
"Can you—"
His belly heats with a spur of the moment thought.
Blaine smiles. "What?"
"Hold that thought."
And then he's crawling out of bed and opening the bottom drawer of the nightstand, reaching for the ring box tucked in the back, inside the box his iPhone came in—he pries it open and takes out the black velveteen case before he kneels down by the side of the bed.
More certain than ever.
Somewhere up there, the stars must be aligning.
The ring box opens with a short subtle creak.
"Sebastian," Blaine breathes, lips parting, eyes taking in the gentle silver band.
"Blaine Anderson," he says, pulling Blaine's attention away from the ring. "You are beyond the shadow of a doubt the love of my life.
"I bought this ring almost a year ago because I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and I didn't want to let another day go by without you knowing that."
Tears fill up his boyfriend's eyes, but Blaine remains quiet and unmoving on the bed.
"It's been— a few days since because I kept trying to find the right time, and I know yesterday you said—"
Blaine falls forward and captures his lips in a kiss heated by the strength of his convictions— their convictions, he realizes, because of course Blaine still wants this, of course he wants to be on the receiving end of an exuberant romantic gesture. Any one of his proposals would have been more than adequate but it had to be this one, right here, half-naked in bed with the smell of pancakes permeating their home.
"I told you I didn't need to marry you to be happy with you"—Blaine pulls back, a hand stroking his cheek, his eyes big and wet overcome with joy—"because it isn't my place to invalidate how you feel about getting married."
"But you're my person, Sebastian," Blaine whispers, "and I know I'm yours."
"More than you will ever know."
He sniffs, trying to tame his own tears, but he's overcome with months of almost proposals, of them almost becoming fiancés, of a series of hit-and-misses he's happy to leave behind.
Blaine smiles as a tear spills down his cheek, followed by a hiccupy giggle. "And I would very much like to marry you."
He slips the ring around Blaine's finger, rising on his knees to bring their lips together.
Finally, he thinks, finally he can leave all these almosts behind and focus on what really mattered.
Their future together.
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fin
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