Miss Catherine Wilde, sharp-tongued and pretty, whose fortune more than made up for her lack of title, was in the process of becoming Mrs Cooper Anderson, Viscountess Dalton, and Kurt could focus on nothing else than on who of the people sitting in church was the mysterious man Blaine was pining for.

There were, of course, plenty of people there he didn't know, or maybe had at one point been introduced to but couldn't remember. It didn't help at all that he had no idea what Blaine's taste in men was; though he had confessed to finding Kurt attractive. and there had been every indication of that being true, that didn't mean he didn't also like the tiny red-haired man in the pew before him, or the huge bald one two rows behind.

He shook his head at Lord Burt's questioning look to indicate there was nothing. That was at least one thing to be happy about: his father was much better, there had been no more spells of dizziness or weakness, and their afternoon rides were longer every day. He had not, however, slowed down or stopped Kurt's education in how to manage the estate; if anything, it had become more rigorous and took up more hours of the day. Which gave Kurt a good excuse to spend less time with Blaine. Sometimes, he thought it was working, as he was actually able to focus a good part of the day on other things; but mostly, he just missed him. And the worst thing was, he knew Blaine missed him too; at least, he left his card almost every day. Kurt really was busy, but he could have made time. As things were, however, they merely occasionally spent an hour or two together, wandering over the estate. Blaine's insight often helped Kurt come up with solutions for a problem, and anyway, a second or third pair of eyes oftentimes saw things that others had missed. But they did not...

He forced himself to focus on the service; this was neither the time nor the place. He glanced at Blaine, who was standing proudly beside his brother in front of the altar. Blaine seemed to have no problem keeping his eyes where they should be, even though the man he loved must be sitting here somewhere. Kurt, in any case, had trouble looking at anything else but Blaine or looking around the congregation to find out who his rival might be.

Not that he was really a rival. Blaine's love for the unknown man had been steady, unrivaled, for nearly five years; that wouldn't have changed now. To be a rival, he would have to have at least a chance of winning Blaine's affections, which, he knew all too well, he did not.

At the party, after congratulating the newly-weds and talking with a few guests he hardly saw and was quickly reminded why, Kurt ate, and then danced with a few friends. He preferred the ladies as partners; no one had any expectations of him if they saw him dance with one, and after two dances they usually went their separate ways, as dancing more with him was often regarded as a waste of time since it was widely known that he didn't intend to make any of them his lady.

Whenever he danced with a gentleman, expectations and speculations ran high, and Kurt tried to avoid that whenever possible.

He would dance with Blaine.

But Blaine was nowhere to be seen, no matter how often Kurt tried to subtly crane his head to look around the room whenever he and his partner were disengaged. He wasn't among the dancers, nor was he with those who ate or chatted by the punch bowl. There was only one conclusion left, and Kurt tortured himself by imagining it in vivid detail: Blaine had already taken his lover outside, doing his best to seduce him in one of the secluded spots the garden boasted.

He resisted the temptation to go outside and look for himself. It would not do to invade Blaine's privacy, especially since they had made the plan together and thus, Blaine would know it could only be deliberately.

But he couldn't dance anymore. As soon as the set was over, he escorted his partner back to her seat, resisted all efforts to be drawn into conversation, and went to sit on the benches along the far wall together with the wallflowers and the chaperones. He felt like both, in a way: alone and unwanted, desperately hoping to be noticed and at the same time loathe to be so—and constantly on the lookout, searching for someone he long knew had snuck off to fool around somewhere. A tad overdramatic, he thought wryly, but there was no help for it: his mood was such that he was determined to be miserable and ready to hate every man in the room, and especially those in the garden.

"Is this seat taken, my lord?" someone asked, and Kurt looked up, ready to be angry about the intrusion into his misery. Instead, he just frowned in confusion and made an inviting gesture.

"Please, do as you like."

Blaine made to sit down, but stumbled at had to steady himself on Kurt's shoulder; still, he fell down on the seat so close he was almost sitting on Kurt's lap.

"Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt asked when they had sorted themselves out, Blaine still sitting much too close for Kurt's peace of mind. He felt like he had goosebumps all along the outside of his left thigh, he was so aware of Blaine's touch. "Why-?"

"How did you like the service, my lord?" Blaine asked, interrupting him in an overly bright, somewhat artificial tone. Fitting the question, Kurt thought; Blaine knew he disliked small talk and only went to church when he was forced.

Kurt shrugged inwardly. He had no idea what was going on, why Blaine was here with him making awkward small talk instead of outside with his lover, doing all kinds of things Kurt had tried very hard not to imagine. He didn't know, but he decided to go along with it anyway. Anything was better than sitting here and sulking.

"The sermon was too long," he finally said, "but the bride looked happy. As did, to my not inconsiderable surprise, the groom."

"I told you she was good for him," Blaine said. He was smiling, the tone less forced now Kurt had answered. "He resisted long enough, but he knows it too. She doesn't take any of his..."

"Dramatics," Kurt added, startled when he felt a hand on the small of his back. He thought he knew what was going on now, but he didn't know why.

"But didn't you find the service...touching?" Blaine asked.

"I find it hard to be...touched, by nothing but words," Kurt replied. The hand on his back started to move, stroking slowly along his back with a thumb. The touch seemed to burn through his shirt.

"Oh, but think it is possible," Blaine said. "Not at church, perhaps, but I seem to remember quite distinctly a few times where words had as great an effect on you as anything else."

Now Kurt remembered as well, for these words started to affect him just as much as the touch on his back. He still didn't know what was going on, but the confusion was a lot easier to bear than the hopelessness before.

"Maybe it is only your words, then, sir," he said.

Blaine smiled. He came even closer, so Kurt could feel his breath on his skin as he spoke. "It is a fine day. Would you like to see the gardens?"

Kurt couldn't quite believe what was happening. He answered in a daze. "It would be my pleasure, I have heard so much about them."

Though the walk was short, to Kurt it seemed long. They carefully did not touch, and they had to stop a few times to talk to wedding guests, who insisted on congratulating Blaine to his brother's wedding, and some of them asked what Blaine was going to do now, and of course, inevitably, when he was going to settle down. Kurt tensed the first time because he knew that it was a sore subject for Blaine, but Blaine just smiled and said he had a few prospects he was about to explore.

Kurt filed that comment away to ask about later, because at the moment, he was too overwhelmed; he felt, he realized, like Blaine must have felt the first day: at the mercy of someone who knew what they wanted and was not afraid to get it. Even if he still didn't know what Blaine wanted.

Finally, they arrived at one of the 'secluded spots' Blaine had promised there would be, and here, a blanket was spread on the grass, with a few cushions scattered on it and a basket with food and drink sitting to one side. The spot was surrounded by hedges on three sides, and a large tree stood on the fourth. Kurt would never have seen it had it not been for Blaine.

"Blaine, please tell me what's going on! I don't understand, why are you not with -"

Blaine had sat down on the blanket and dragged Kurt down with him, so he was half-falling, sitting down heavily much too close to Blaine. He was drawn even closer.

"Blaine-" he protested, and Blaine sighed.

"About five years ago," Blaine said, busying himself with pouring them champagne," I was introduced to a young man at a ball. I won't say it was love at first sight, but...I wasn't able to forget him. I wasn't able to get a dance, as he was only dancing with the ladies, and for a moment I feared he was one whose proclivities only lay with the fairer sex. But then I heard more about him, and I found out that that wasn't the case...quite the contrary, if I may say so."

He leaned back against the hedge, closing his eyes. Then he opened them again and took Kurt's hand, holding it as he continued.

"I heard very different accounts about this young man. Most took him for a rake, and claimed he was out to break every young man's heart. Others said it was only a bit of harmless fun, and that he would settle down when the time came. All were in accord that he was honorable, did not pretend to be someone other than he were, and that he was a good son and an ardent student. We studied in the same town, but we rarely met and seldom talked. I don't think I have made a very good impression, for by that point I was quite enamored of him and stuttered and blushed quite terribly in his presence.

Then his father fell sick, and the young man interrupted his studies to rush home to his side. It only meant that I wanted to get to know him, really know him, even more, but it also meant that I never saw him anymore, as by the time his father had recovered and he returned to town, I had finished my studies and gone back home. I pined for him from afar, and whenever I had the chance, I talked with a man he had been with, if only to torture myself with the thought that it hadn't been, and would never be, me. I wrote him letters that I burned, and a few terrible poems. At one of my attempts to do just that, he came upon me in the clearing I was sitting, and made me an offer I was not able to decline."

"You're—you're talking about me," Kurt said. He absently took a sip from his glass, not tasting anything, too stunned to notice anything around him at all, except from Blaine and the confession he just made. Could it really be?

"I am," Blaine said. "I've always been talking about you."

He fell silent for a moment, and Kurt didn't say anything either. He wasn't sure what he felt. He picked a blade of grass from the lawn and tore it in tiny pieces, watching them being scattered by the breeze. He had been so intent on suppressing his feelings for Blaine, not letting them come to the surface because he had been so sure they would never be reciprocated, it was hard now to allow himself to feel something, and harder still to define those feelings.

"I...I have had a feeling," Blaine said hesitantly, "and I've been hoping..."

Hope, Kurt decided. The feeling was hope.

"I want you to know," Blaine said, not looking at him. "that if what was between us is everything there'll ever be, it was worth it. But if there is even a chance you may be susceptible to your own method of seduction, I want to tell you...I've loved you for a long time, and I love you now more than ever."

Kurt nodded. He was terrified, but he knew that Blaine must have been, too. And if Blaine had been so brave, he could do no less.

"I love you too," he said, putting the feeling into words for the first time. "I have to confess to have loved you for only a short time, but if you let me, I will make up for that for the rest of my life."

The kiss they shared was like every other time they had kissed before, and yet it was complete4ly new, because it was a beginning.

FIN