"How come you're okay on planes but if you have to stand on the table to change the lightbulb you age ten years and cry for your momma?" Kurt asks. They are two hours into their flight to Austria, and Kurt has found he can settle very nicely into first class. His chair is reclined, eye mask on, drink on hand and ear buds ready, though they've been talking non stop since take off anyway.

"I do not," Blaine laughs. "But I have absolutely no idea. I don't question it, I'm just grateful that it is what it is. I don't need a fear of flying to add to my ever growing list."

"Ha! You made a classical music reference. Very smart."

"That was Liszt."

"That's what I said. Anyway," he sits, taking his eye mask off to look at him. "What list? What are you fearful of?"

"Literally everything to do with this wedding," he says with a small, nervous laugh. "Messing my vows up, you not showing, me having a complete panic attack, Santana speaking to anyone, Rachel refusing to relinquish the microphone, me crying and not being able to stop..."

"Woah, woah. Okay." Taking his hands, Kurt looks him square in the eye. "Stop with the me not showing up thing, because you know- and I know that you know- that that's not going to happen. I will be there. There is nowhere else I'd rather be, not even if Saks announced a fifty percent off sale," he jokes. "You won't mess your vows up, we can practice beforehand if you like, together or separately. You won't have a panic attack, you'll be nervous, yes, but so will I. There is no reason for you to have one, you'll be in LA and we will be surrounded by family and friends who love us and support us. Santana can be gagged if necessary- she'd probably enjoy it, and Finn can be on hand to take the microphone from Rachel and just hold it up in the air- there's no way she could reach. There."

"And the crying?"

"That I can't help you with. Only console you with the fact that I will be crying too. And my dad."

"I want it to be now," Blaine says as he leans back in his chair, "you make me feel so much better."

"Well I sure as hell don't want it to be now. We still have a lot of plans to finalize."

"Such as?"

"Such as burgundy or plum for the cravats, for one."

"Uh...well... Can I be honest here?"

"Yes."

Biting his lip, Blaine hesitates for a moment before anxiously blurting "I don't want to wear a cravat. I want to wear a bow tie."

"Okay."

"Really? That's okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt laughs. "It's your wedding tux. Besides, you're synonymous with bow ties."

"Wow. I thought you'd freak."

Kurt bites his bottom lip. "Am I that bad?"

"Actually, you're not. You've been amazing about every aspect of wedding planning, I have to say. You've made a point of asking for my opinion."

"That's because it's our wedding, Blaine, and not just mine." He smiles at him, then rummages in his bag for a notebook and pen. "So... If you want a bow tie..." he says as he sketches frantically, "I'm thinking we could give you a vest also. And if we went with burgundy then I could wear a burgundy jacket and cravat... I like plum but I'd look like Willy Wonka. Anyway... Something like this, maybe?"

He turns the notebook and Blaine's eyes go wide. There on the page are two perfect sketches of faceless figures wearing tastefully designed suits, one figure shorter than the other.

"How do you do that?" Blaine asks in amazement, "You're so talented."

"I don't know about that, I still need to make them. But what do you think?"

"I think yes, definitely."

"Cool," Kurt settles back in his chair, smiling broadly. "Now... First dance."

"Hmm. Any thoughts?" Blaine asks.

"None. Which is ridiculous, given how many songs we've done over the years, but I think that might be the problem- there's too many to choose from."

"See Beneath Your Beautiful," Blaine says decisively. "It's the song we sang the night..."

"We made love for the first time," Kurt smiles as he cuddles close to him. "Yes."

"And no one will know except us."

"And everyone who was at the Lima Bean that night," Kurt points out. "But I don't care. It's perfect. Although, no offense to Emeli, but no one will sing it as well as we do."

"Well that's a given," Blaine laughs as he kisses the top if his head. "Actually... How would you feel about singing our first song, as opposed to dancing? I mean, we could dance in the instrumental, I could record the music before...but we could get up on stage and sing."

"Yeah," Kurt says, the idea growing on him as he sits up and turns to face Blaine again. "I like it. No, I love it. It'll be perfect. Oh!" he says, becoming more and more animated. "How about this? Since we have such wonderfully talented family and friends, why don't we ask people to perform songs instead of giving us gifts? It's not like there's really anything we need, we've been living together so long and..."

"You wouldn't want to hear my dad sing, but other than that... Yes! You are so smart."

"I know."

They land in Vienna, the performers and their families all being escorted out into the bitterly cold night to a waiting bus which takes them to a beautiful hotel with outstanding views across the city.

"I love your job," Kurt says as he looks down at the lights shining on the snow.

"I thought you might," Blaine laughs. "So...we should probably get to bed, since I have rehearsals all day tomorrow."

"All day?"

"I'll be back for dinner," he says, taking Kurt in his arms when he notices the look of hurt flashing across his features. "Don't worry. At breakfast I'll introduce you to Ken's wife and some of the other families. I think it's kind of customary for them all to go do something together. It's quite the community."

"Okay," Kurt says, swallowing down his panic. "Sounds...fun."

"I'm sure you can find a shopping companion somewhere," Blaine says as they climb into bed and he flips out the light.

"I guess," Kurt murmurs quietly, hoping he sounds confident, but the way he turns to be little spoon rather than having Blaine cuddle into him, tells his fiancé all he needs to know.

"Don't worry, Kurt," he whispers as he holds him tight, body curling around him and keeping him safe. "They'll all love you."

"Kurt, you know Ken, and this is his wife Gill," Blaine says, introducing a very posh looking lady in a twinset and pearls. They greet one another politely, and Gill insists they join them at their table- forcing Kurt to give up his wistful notion of cosying up with Blaine at a window table for two.

"I'll go get your breakfast," Blaine says, thinking he's being kind. "You two talk."

Ken and Blaine head to the buffet, leaving Kurt smiling tightly at a woman who he hasn't the first idea how to speak to.

"So...Blaine tells me you grew up in Ohio," Gill says. "That's funny, I did too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. My younger brother went to Dalton- in fact he was two years ahead of Blaine. I attended St Monica's. Where did you go?"

"Uh...Just...uh...McKinley High, in Lima."

"Oh," Gill says, not sure how to proceed. "I see. Oh!" she looks past him, smiling. "You can meet my children. Grace, Patrick, this is Kurt. His fiancé, Blaine, is second violinist. He's the one at the buffet with daddy."

Kurt looks up, expecting to be confronted with two kids, but to his abject horror, they are around his age- possibly older. Patrick slumps in his chair opposite, nodding a curt hello before pulling his phone from his pocket while Grace pours tea for herself.

"Nice to meet you," he tries, but they either don't hear or don't care. To his blessed relief, Blaine and Ken return to the table and he finds it much easier to talk with his fiancés reassuring presence by his side. He manages to tell Ken and Gill about college, and Gill tries to entice Grace into conversation by telling everyone she's a final year psych major.

"And Patrick graduated last year," she smiles. "First class honors in economics."

Kurt thinks he might have also gained a first class degree in ignorance too, but he smiles and says nothing as the older boy continues to text while shoving toast in his face.

"What did you study, Blaine?" Ken asks. "I started out majoring in English but switched to music."

"I did music and music theory at NYU," Blaine says. "It's all I ever wanted to do."

"So I'm curious how you two came to meet."

Kurt cringes inwardly as he feels the whole family take notice, but Blaine is so proud that Kurt hasn't the heart to try and rein him in.

"I moved back from New York," Blaine is saying, taking Kurt's hand in his. "And I started playing at an open mic night. Kurt arrived one week with his friends and the rest is history I guess," he grins.

"So you started dating right away?"

"No...he..uh..." Blaine stops, giving a small nervous laugh and glancing quickly at Kurt. "He was still fifteen and I was thirty one so we waited. We started to date halfway through his sophomore year. And now...here we are, five months from getting married."

"You're getting married at twenty one?" Grace asks Kurt in a biting tone. "There's no way I would marry at twenty one. No way I'd marry before thirty at all."

"Well each to their own," Kurt says tightly. "I proposed to Blaine when I was just nineteen. I don't want anyone else. When you know, you know."

"When you have a sugar daddy with a five figure salary, you know," Patrick mutters- but loud enough for all to hear. Kurt feels Blaine tense next to him, but he squeezes his hand quickly.

"Yes, that's true," he nods sagely. "I do like to spend Blaine's money. I'm quite lucky I guess. All I have to do is put out five times a week and he keeps me in designer clothes."

Ken chokes hard on his coffee while Gill looks affronted, but they recover quick enough, and Gill forces Patrick to make a grumbling apology. The musicians are called then, and Blaine kisses Kurt quickly on the cheek "Be nice," he whispers with a wink. "I'll see you at dinner, gorgeous boy."

"I'm going to fetch some more fruit," Gill says brightly when the dining room has quietened down. "Kurt, can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm good thanks," he says politely, hoping it will go some way to make up for having been rude to her son.

"You're disgusting," Patrick says, coming to life as soon as his mom is out of earshot. "You and that guy... it's gross."

"Yes, thank you for your valuable insight into my relationship with my fiancé," Kurt says primly. "I'll remember to call on you the next time I want an intelligent opinion on the state of my love life."

"He calls you gorgeous boy," Grace sneers, rushing to her brothers defense. "And he probably got you into bed at fifteen. That's just creepy as hell. It won't last, you know. You'll get older and he'll just move on to another younger, prettier plaything."

"Why? Is that what happened to you?" Kurt bites. "Let me tell you both something," he snaps, leaning across the table. "You may be older than me, you may have gone to private school and always had the best in life, but money and breeding does not equate to class. Blaine is the perfect gentleman and I am proud to call him my fiancé. I fail to see what business it is of yours to interfere and pass judgement on our relationship, and I strongly suggest you examine the state of your own miserable existences before you cast aspersions on mine. Now if you'll excuse me." Standing, he tosses his napkin onto the table and storms from the dining room, shoulders slumping when Gill calls out to him.

"We're going sightseeing today, if you'd like to join us? There's quite a few of us going. Failing that, Richard's boys are going up to the mountains for snowboarding. They're around your age."

"Thank you," Kurt says politely, wishing she would leave him alone so he could shut himself in his room and cry. "But I have a lot of college work to do. I'll catch up with you later."

When Blaine returns hours later, it is to find Kurt pretty much where he's been all day, curled up on his side reading.

"Oh, hey!" Blaine says in surprise. "I didn't think you'd be here."

"Hey," Kurt replies, rolling over and resting his book on the nightstand.

"I thought I heard someone saying the families had all gone sightseeing? Didn't you want to join them?"

"No...I uh...I had study to do for college. Reading."

"You're reading Harry Potter, Kurt," Blaine says, eyeing him curiously as he sits on the bed. "How come you didn't go?"

"I just didn't want to, that's all," Kurt says sullenly.

Blaine shifts closer, running his fingers along Kurt's forearm. "I can't be with you all the time, you know," he says sadly. "I wish I could but...If you're going to come on the tours it's gonna be a pretty lonely existence if you just shut yourself away in your room the whole time. Please try and make some friends. They're nice people, good people."

"But..." Kurt starts, but trails off, not wanting to cause a scene and hurt Blaine's feelings. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'll try harder. I'm gonna shower ready for dinner."

He walks stiffly to the bathroom, aware of Blaine's eyes trained on his back. Taking his time, he lets the hot water fall onto his face to wash away the tears of loneliness and isolation, and he shaves, taking extra care not to cut himself which he knows would only emphasise his youth and inexperience. Picking up Blaine's cologne, he applies it liberally, wanting and needing a constant reminder of his man, then he returns to the bedroom to dress.

"So is it suits for dinner?" he asks with forced brightness.

"Yes," Blaine nods. "And after dinner drinks in the library apparently."

"Great," Kurt mutters as he heads to the closet.

"Kurt? Is something wrong? You seem really upset about something."

"No, it's fine," he says, flashing him a smile before turning to pick his clothes.

"Did that jerk say anything else to you?" Blaine notices the slump in Kurt's shoulders and rushes on before he can deny it. "He did! Oh darling, tell me, please." He's by his side in an instant, pulling him tight to his chest as his hands rub soothingly over the smooth skin of his back.

"He...he said we were disgusting. I gave some sassy retort and left. That's all."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine says, stricken as he kisses his cheek. "I'll talk to Ken."

"No, no. Don't do that. Really Blaine, it's fine. No big deal."

"We're not, you know," Blaine tells him, lifting his chin gently so they're eye to eye. "We're not disgusting. Others might not understand, but we fell in love. It's as simple and uncomplicated as that."

"I know," Kurt nods. "I do know that. It just hurts when someone says it right to your face, that's all."

"Well we won't be sitting with them at dinner, that's for sure," Blaine says, hugging him tight once more.

"Thank you," Kurt whispers gratefully over his shoulder. "Thank you."

But any hopes Kurt had of that romantic table for two dissipate as soon as they arrive in the dining room to find the tables arranged as two long banquet tables, complete with place cards determining where everyone must sit.

"I can trade with whomever you're next to," Blaine says nervously, noting the way in which Kurt looks so very near to tears.

"No, don't do that. What would they all think?" He tries a trembling smile but knows it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's fine. I'll meet you after."

Blaine is seated on the first table, between the trombone player and the wife of a cellist, while Kurt is on the second. Some thought had obviously gone into the seating arrangement, because the orchestra members and spouses are all seated together, with the children at the far end...and that's where Kurt finds his place. Tears of shame prick at his eyes when he sits between Molly- seventeen year old daughter of the percussionist, and Jules, the son of the conductor who is in his first year of college. They are nice, much to Kurt's relief, and Jules tells him that nearly all the children join their parents for the holiday tour, adding that he and Molly have grown up together. He invites Kurt to join them the next day for a huge snowball fight followed by hot chocolate, and Kurt politely tells him he'll think about it. Patrick and Grace are opposite, Patrick looking as sullen as ever and Grace flirting with a boy the same age as Kurt. They snort when he tells them all of his engagement, but Molly gushes that it's the cutest thing she ever heard and presses for details of the wedding. After dinner, those over twenty one make their way to the library with their parents, and Kurt says a reluctant goodbye to Jules and Molly who head to another girls room for a netflix marathon.

"How was it?" Blaine asks, taking his hand and ushering him toward the bar.

"Humiliating," Kurt grumbles. "At least the people I was sitting with were nice. But I was with all the kids, Blaine. The kids."

"They're not kids though," Blaine reasons. "Well, some are. But most are around your age."

"That's just it though," he sighs. "They are the children of your colleagues."

Blaine frowns at him in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Just forget it," Kurt snaps as they wait to be served.

Blaine panics inwardly all night, torn between keeping polite conversation with others or making sure Kurt is okay. Which he is not. Sullen and uncompromising, he barely answers any questions directed at him, leaving Blaine to try and fill awkward silences while he scowls at his shoes. Taking his arm, Blaine steers him into a corner, crowding in close to try and avoid a scene.

"Please stop," he whispers desperately. "Or at least tell me what I've done."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Kurt says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I can't 'get' anything if you don't tell me what's upset you, Kurt. But people are trying to get to know you, to include you in their conversations and you're just staring at the floor. You were quick enough to criticize Patrick this morning but you're doing the same, only this time it's worse."

To his humiliation, Kurt feels tears threatening, but he swallows hard and looks into his eyes. "How is it worse, Blaine? How?"

"Because that's my conductor and his wife, sitting there asking you if you enjoyed La Boheme for your birthday. He got the tickets for me Kurt, as a huge favor. The entire run was sold out but not only did Riccardo get us in, he got us a box. And all you can say in return is that it was okay."

"Well it was," he pouts, leaving Blaine to run a hand through his impeccably gelled hair in frustration.

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry if you feel that way because I thought it was one of the most magical moments I've ever had the privilege to share with you. I'm sorry if I've said, or done something to upset you, and I'm sorry if you don't like any of the people I work with. But this is my job, and I'm still a newbie. I want to make a good impression. So I'm gonna go back over there and talk with these people, and whether you choose to join me or go and sulk upstairs is your choice."

"What do you want me to do?"

Blaine stops and turns back to him, a sad smile on his face. "I want you by my side, Kurt. As I always do."

"Trouble in paradise?" Ken asks amiably when Blaine returns.

"Uh..."

"No. No trouble at all," Kurt smiles, sliding his hand into Blaine's and squeezing tight. "I just needed to tell Blaine how very proud I am of him. He's achieved so much this year, and I cannot wait to see you all play tomorrow. Gill, I was wondering if I could sit with you for the concert?"

"Of course dear," she smiles politely. "We can cheer our loved ones on together."

"Thank you," Kurt says with a polite nod, then he turns to Riccardo. "Forgive me," he smiles. "When you were asking about La Boheme I was getting muddled with a rather average performance of Aida Blaine and I saw. I loved Boheme. The whole evening was exquisite, from beginning to end."

Kurt buries himself in small talk and polite conversation, so much so that Blaine doesn't get a second alone with him until the evening winds to a close and everyone retreats to their rooms. They walk silently up the grand, sweeping staircase and along the hallway to their room where Blaine holds the door open for Kurt to step inside.

"Thank you," he says simply as Kurt stares at the floor. "That means everything to me, so thank you."

"I love you so much," Kurt whispers, shaking his head as tears start to fall. "I'm sorry if I let you down. I'm sorry."

Blaine is there in an instant, taking him in his arms and letting him cry, sothing him with all the words and reassurances Kurt needs to hear before guiding him to the small couch where he takes his jacket and pours him a drink.

"What's that?" he asks, taking the glass and eyeing it suspiciously.

"Whiskey."

"I'm not you," he says, handing it back. "Oh god. That was supposed to be a joke," he explains as he looks at Blaine's face. "Clearly it was in poor taste."

Blaine smiles and set the untouched liquor back on the tray. "No, I knew it was a joke, and I would have laughed if I wasn't so worried."

"Worried?"

"I want you to be happy, Kurt. And you're not. And that really sucks."

"I'm happy for you."

"That's not the same." Blaine moves to sit next to him, taking both his hands as he continues earnestly. "Talk with me, please."

He nods slowly, taking a deep breath before he looks Blaine in the eye. "This might sound terribly full of self pity, but yes, I will talk with you because if I don't it will lead to arguments and resentment- and I don't think either of us want that. So... Forgive my selfishness but I'm going to tell you things from my point of view, and then maybe you can tell me things from yours."

"Okay."

"I feel like it's hard enough to find your place in your own life at twenty one, let alone in anyone else's. I'm trying to work out where I fit, not only in terms of friendships but also in terms of a future career. Right at this moment all my doubts and insecurities seem more heightened than ever. I'm worried about my voice, my dancing ability...everything to do with performing. Then there's me as a person. Am I smart enough? Funny enough? Do people like me? Add to that me trying to fit in with all of this," he gestures around the room, "and I really feel completely overwhelmed. You see, and I mean this in the kindest possible way...this is your dream, not mine. And I want to see you live that, I do. More than anything. But the fact remains that you have moved in higher social circles than me all your life. That makes no difference to us as a couple, and I certainly don't think your parents are snobs or anything of the sort. But you and Cooper were very privileged children. Talking with people like this...it comes easy to you. But the classical world...it's very rich, very opulent. I'm not saying the people aren't nice because mostly they are. But I don't know what to say, how to act. My dad doesn't work in stocks, I don't ride on the weekends, and I have no clue which composer is better than the other.
And then...the worst thing of all...is to be seated with the kids at dinner. The kids. They may be my age, but they are the children of the people you work with, Blaine. You're the youngest one here by a country mile."

"I'm not," he protests. "Vicky is thirty five."

"But does Vicky have a partner travelling with her?"

"No," Blaine says softly.

"And if she did have, would they be only twenty one years old? You see...the problem I have is that I'm supposed to be your equal. I know you and I worked through all that a long time ago, and that's great. But I feel like my age is making them all think of me as a kid, still. And I'm not. I want to be by your side, to share all this with you but I feel so very lonely and insecure about everything, and I'm not sure how to move past that."

Blaine leans in, kissing him gently on the lips. "Wait right here."

"What?"

"I'll be back," he says, climbing from the couch. "Give me two minutes. Maybe five," opening the door, he backs out into the hallway. "Ten at the outside."

Kurt finds himself laughing in disbelief, but he takes the opportunity to change into his pajamas and climbs under the covers to wait for Blaine's return.

"Sixteen," he says when a breathless Blaine returns.

"Damnit. Okay," he falls onto the bed next to him. "That little table in the dining room? The one by the window? It's ours for breakfast tomorrow. And for the duration of our stay. Tomorrow night I'll already be at the musikverien to prepare for the concert, but I've requested that you are seated with all the other spouses, and I've made a point of telling the tour rep that you are not to be included with the offspring for any further dinners..." he stops, looking down at the bedspread before looking back up. "I can't do much... In all honesty I feel a little hopeless. But I want you to be happy and comfortable. I don't want to give this gig up."

"No! Blaine, I would never, ever want you to do that."

"I know you wouldn't, and that's why I love you. We're going to be involved with these people for a number of years, Kurt. People wait a whole lifetime for opportunities like this, so they don't just drop in and out of the job. We don't have to invite them all for dinner, or to our New Years parties or even to the wedding...but I have a fundemental obligation to socialize with them on tours and after performances."

"I know that."

"But my obligation is to you, first and foremost. To your happiness and well being. God knows I love you endlessly and I hate to see you hurting. I'm sorry if I was harsh earlier..."

"You weren't," Kurt cuts him off. "I was being rude, you were right, and I needed that talking to. I actually liked talking with Riccardo. Once you get past the accent and can understand him, he's incredibly witty."

"He's a nutcase," Blaine smiles. "But he likes you. Everyone here does, Kurt. Except that jerk Patrick and the bitchy girl whose name I can't remember."

"Grace."

"Well she has none. Ken and Gill are lovely, but their kids are brats. Breeding doesn't give you class."

"That's what I said," Kurt smiles. "To their faces."

"Ha!" Blaine laughs, shaking his head, "Brilliant... I'm serious, gorgeous boy. You are liked, you are accepted. Please don't form this mental barrier because you had a bad encounter with two morons. If you liked the guys you were sitting with at dinner, find them tomorrow and spend time with them. If you'd rather go shopping, ask around. I'm sure Riccardo's wife probably has a platinum visa or whatever and would happily browse the boutiques with you. Do what makes you happy."

"Can I do you?"

"Of course."

"Excellent." They both laugh, and Kurt crawls happily into Blaine's warm embrace. "Thank you. I feel like we could have ended up fighting over this, but I'm glad we both understood one another and listened to what the other had to say."

"Me too. And in all honesty, I'd say that nearly five years down the road we're past the point of petty arguments, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I feel so much better now."

"Good. I'm glad. So...tomorrow is the concert, and the next day is the New Years Ball."

"And you have to play for that, right?"

"Only two pieces. There's five different orchestras, and the Vienna Philharmonic will do the longest set- seeing as it's their home. I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"You'll dance the Viennese Waltz with me. They're holding a practice class in the ballroom here tomorrow right after breakfast... Please?"

"Oh Blaine, I don't know. I mean, the girl is supposed to wear one of those beautiful floaty dresses...two guys in tuxes are really gonna stand out, and it's so much spinning..."

"I'll be the girl, I don't care. Please, Kurt. Let me twirl my Prince Charming around the dance floor and show off my beautiful husband to be."

"Ah, why the hell not. Yeah," he nods, a huge grin forming on his face. "Yes I'll dance the New Year in with you."