Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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Fic Post (more Where There's Smoke one-shots)

Title: ...And Hello To Station 114
Author: Stoney321/Heydontjudgme
Word Count: 5500ish
Rating: PG-13/R? IDK anymore.
Summary: While Blaine finishes closing down the old Brownstone with his crew, Kurt takes the opportunity to set up a special evening for the two of them in the new station. Oh, the fluff. Pages of pastel-colored cotton balls with sprinkles, guys.
A/N: IDK, I just needed something sweet and lovely? Maybe you did, too, we'll see. (And there is still more coming. IDK either. (a new ebook file is at the end of this one-shot.) As always, a massive, smooshy thank you to flaming_muse for tucking my commas in and just generally indulging me on these crazy things. (Without her, this entire story wouldn't exist.)

Continuation from here, and a part of the Where There's Smoke 'verse.

...And Hello To Station 114

Just checking, did you read this first? Okay!

Kurt shoved Blaine's new desk three inches back to the left. He'd tried nine inches (precisely) forward, five (approximately) to the right, the length of his shoe shoved back towards the wall, and even tried canting it at an angle at one point before hysteria set in.

“Why do builders do nothing but create boxes?” he huffed, standing in the center of Blaine's new office with one hand on his hip. Blaine's old office - where he presumably still was, helping the rest of the station house close down – at least had some character to it. Crown molding, octagonal tiles from the turn of the century, glass windows that were wavy in places, serving as a crazy reminder that glass was actually a liquid.

“And fabric wrapped wiring that had to be replaced, paper insulation that wasn't up to code, and let's not forget the asbestos they found in the remodel of the rec room,” Blaine had laughed when Kurt called a half hour prior to complain about the boring beigeness of the new facility and why couldn't they have all of the old wonderful design elements brought into the new place?

“What you call a potential firetrap, I call 'character,'” Kurt had replied. “And I can't decide what the focal point should be, and whether I should float your desk in the center, or...” he had sighed, slumping against the corner of the desk. One thing that he loved about Blaine was that he wouldn't laugh at Kurt for this. Well, not where Kurt could hear, at least.

“I'll be there soon, and we can make it look great together, okay? I'm helping Big John in the galley check to see if anything's been left behind, and then I'm heading out. I should be there by six, no later.”


“Cross my heart.”

So there Kurt was, standing in the middle of a boring square room, looking at a boring rectangular desk, frustrated that his plans of making everything perfect for tonight were being foiled by the lack of a focal point.

“I hope you get chipped and show your stupid particleboard heart,” he hissed at the desk, crossing the room to the en suite bathroom. Again, the new building was more utilitarian in design than the old Brownstone had been, but the upstairs was wide, bright (with clerestory windows to allow natural light in), and had a large shower that ran the length of half of the back wall. Nice and roomy, Kurt had noted.

Not that Kurt would have used it when the station was fully operational, of course. He would never open himself up to that kind of teasing from the others.

Fortunately the station wasn't fully operational; not until tomorrow, at least. Oh, the power was on, there was water – what would a fire station be without water? - and the cable company had set up the rec room. IT had been there all week, Blaine had mentioned, getting dispatch ready to go online for the Grand Opening the following day.

But all of the workers had left for the day. No phone company stragglers, no FDNY administration walking through for yet another inspection, no construction workers nailing any final boards anywhere. Just Kurt, alone in the brand new office upstairs for one Captain Blaine Anderson, presumably there only for measurements for a new sofa and bookcase, but actually there to give a rotten piece of boring furniture the evil eye.

Well, and to set up a celebratory spread. What he hoped would be a celebratory spread. Was pretty sure would be. Okay, his insides were in knots that it wouldn't be wonderful, that Blaine would say no, get embarrassed, mad or just... oh god, what if he were indifferent?

There was no reaction more horrifying to Kurt E. Hummel than indifference.

Okay, disgust was up there. Disdain, as well. Those he could deal with, though. Sort of. They weren't unfamiliar, even if it had been a while since he'd experienced them. That's why the reaction to his Skype session with Blaine's mother earlier in the week had been so...disheartening. He knew how important family was to Blaine, which was why he'd insisted on a once a month conversation (at the bare minimum) with his mother, after they sent her a new laptop for Christmas.

That first night that Blaine had spoken to his mother, dropping more and more Tagalog into the conversation as they went on, he began to realize just how complicated Blaine's relationship with his family was. Later that night Kurt had held him in their bed, soothing Blaine as the ache for his mother (and the never-ending mourning for a relationship with his deceased father) overtook him. Blaine knew that he could let go with Kurt, that Kurt understood the deep pain of losing a parent.

Kurt could understand that a lot of the pain of loss was also for a parent still living, and did his best to fill the hole in Blaine's heart with as much love as he could.

Kurt had taken it upon himself to get to know Blaine's mother and Skyped with her every month on his own, wanting to build a relationship with her. They shared hair care (she got her shine from avocado – every month she plastered it on her hair, sat in the sun, then rinsed it out with awapuhi) some of Blaine's favorite dishes as a child, and general talk. He thought he had made strides with her, had earned her trust and possibly garnered some affection.

That all went out the window when he'd asked her the big question. It was simply not okay with her. Kurt assumed it was because she would have to tell the rest of the family (random faces without names that curiously – and sometimes maliciously - peered over Mrs. Anderson's shoulder from half a world away) the truth about her son, and it was simply against their culture.

Kurt allowed himself a few hours of heartbreak, knowing that Blaine wouldn't be home until the morning. As Blaine slept the day away, making up for a 24 hour shift, Kurt had taken it upon himself to talk to Bill and a few select crew from the station. They gave him a completely different reaction, one he should have been happy about, but he never forgot the conversation he and Blaine had shared one night, early in their relationship: “Family is important.”

What if Kurt had picked the wrong family to talk to? What if Kurt was pushing things?

“Oh my god, enough!” he said to himself. This was no time for self-doubt. He'd just left Blaine no more than two hours ago, left on a giddy high, actually, and he didn't need to let a stupid and boring piece of corporate furniture and old fashioned ideas ruin his mood.

He closed his eyes, shook out his hands, and breathed deeply. There. Now he felt calm. Collected. Centered.

He could do this. Maybe the most important thing of his life. Okay, maybe I should breathe more. He grabbed the door frame to steady himself and saw the clock on the wall. Blaine should be here any minute. Kurt grabbed the box that had the last of Blaine's personal items and shoved it into the corner. All that was left were a handful of books, Blaine's plaque, and Kurt's favorite picture of the two of them (cheeks pressed together, outside of Lupa in Manhattan, both a little drunk, both very happy and celebrating their one year anniversary) that he'd printed and had framed for Blaine's new desk.

All of the other accoutrement had been removed and set up around the room. He raced downstairs (his palms were too sweaty to risk sliding down the pole) and grabbed the boxed up food he'd brought along, pulled the chilled bottle of dry champagne from the fridge, and carried it all back upstairs to wait on the floor for a final decision on placement.

He scowled at the desk as he set everything on the floor and had an epiphany. The other wall! Why do the expected when one could do the unexpected? Carefully he shoved one corner of the desk to swing it against the far wall, gently pushing the other corner to straighten it out, and look at that. Perfect. He ran around behind it, tugging Blaine's new office chair into position and sat down. Perfect visual of the door, but it wasn't the first thing to look at, therefore Blaine wouldn't be distracted by the comings and goings of his co-workers.

That left the adjoining wall free for an even larger sofa, which would make Blaine happy, and Kurt wouldn't have to contend with how the one off-center window had almost ruined the entire feng shui of the building and his life.

He set Blaine's new desk blotter-calendar in the center, unfolded the picture frame and plaque and placed them in the exact position they'd been in at the old building, stood back and clapped his hands together. Perfect!

Kurt let himself sing under his breath, happily switching on the electric tea candles he'd brought (living with a fireman had opened his eyes to the danger of an unattended candle. He definitely planned on them not paying attention to candles by the end of the evening – hopefully halfway through the evening, come to think of it) and setting out the picnic-style dinner he'd arranged: an assortment of smoked meats (ha), a cheese board, plump and perfectly ripe figs, tiny roasted vegetables and cinnamon, cumin and sea salt-roasted almonds to round it out.

He heard the side entrance door open, the sound of Blaine's work boots echoing through the empty station house.


“I'm up here!” Kurt called, wincing at how breathless he sounded, but ignoring that for the sake of breathing deep to control his racing heartbeat.

A quick check around the room to insure that everything was as he'd thought it out. With a long exhale, he smoothed his features, wanting to appear calm as Blaine came through the door to his new office, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor.

“There you are,” Blaine said, a smile breaking out across his face. He laughed softly to himself as Kurt flung his arms around his neck, kissing him soundly.

“I hate how you won't let me paint the walls. A rich, deep burnt umber would look amazing with the sofa I have planned,” Kurt said. “Not to mention how nicely your skin tone would be accentuated.”

“Really, Kurt?”

Kurt pulled back, hands on Blaine's shoulders, and started at the droll look on Blaine's face.

“Burnt umber? You want to paint a firehouse burnt anything?”

Kurt bit his lip. “I guess I didn't take that into consideration.”

“Well, I think I can find it in me to forgive you, seeing all of the other considerate things you've done up here. Thank you, by the way,” Blaine murmured leaning in slowly to press his lips to Kurt's.

Kurt sighed, wrapping his arms around Blaine's shoulders once again, melting against Blaine's firm, solid body. “Mm, you are more than welcome.”

Blaine splayed one hand flat against the middle of Kurt's back, pressing their bodies tightly together, bending his knees slightly to drag his body up the length of Kurt's in a way that he knew made Kurt a little crazy. He laughed – laughed! - at Kurt's strangled moan from the sensation of their bodies pressed knee to nose.

Kurt nipped at the tender skin under Blaine's jaw, soothing it with a kiss.

“Mm, that's nice. I'm going to-” Blaine shuddered in Kurt's arms as he kissed along the neckline of Blaine's work-tee. “-make a point of getting a new office every month if this is what I can expect.”

Kurt held Blaine's face in both of his hands, his lips tingling from kissing the faint stubble of Blaine's neck and chin, and murmured against Blaine's faintly swollen lips, “Don't you dare. This is it, Captain.”

Blaine pouted, and it was the most ridiculous thing. Ridiculous because a grown man - an incredibly masculine, well-built and self-assured man – shouldn't be able to look adorable when he pouted. And it definitely shouldn't have the effect on Kurt that it did. Which is to say, it made him weak in the knees and wanting to shove Blaine back onto the sofa (that hadn't been purchased yet) and put a decidedly different expression on his face altogether.

Kurt laughed, burying his face against Blaine's neck. “Cut it out.”

Blaine let one hand slide down to the curve of Kurt's lower back and made a pitiful, sad noise.

“Nope. Blaine! It's not going, work this time.”

Both hands on Kurt's lower back and sliding lower, and now Blaine was running the tip of his nose along the hairline behind Kurt's ear and that pitiful noise was turning into more of a growl and Kurt was fairly sure that his knees were about to completely give out. His brain was starting to, as Blaine dipped the tips of his fingers just under the waistband of Kurt's jeans, lightly sliding left and right just at the high part of the curve of Kurt's ass.

“No... It's... Oh, I like- Hngh. You can't-” Kurt panted, shivering at the warm breath pouring over his neck as Blaine chuckled.

“Hm? What can't I do?” Blaine asked quietly, sending more shivers as his lips and five o'clock shadow lightly grazed the tendon in Kurt's neck. He did that knee dip, grind upwards thing again and Kurt thought that maybe all of 11th grade geography, most math, and a good half of his English were lost from the wires shorting out in his brain as Blaine's warm, rough hand cupped his bare skin, pulling their bodies even closer together.

“N-nothing. You can - can't - do...Oh, fuck it.”

Kurt pulled back and started rucking up the front of Blaine's shirt, moaning quietly at the sensation of warm, dry skin meeting his palm.

“Mr. Hummel! Such language...” Blaine teased.

Kurt stopped; his hand slid out from under Blaine's shirt, instantly missing the heat that continually poured off Blaine's body, and he composed his features as he delicately extricated Blaine's hand out from the back of his jeans and briefs.

“Fine,” Kurt said coolly. “I had plans, anyway.”

'Wait! No! I'm sorry!” Blaine said sadly, trying to draw Kurt back into his arms. “I'm sorry I teased you!”

Kurt folded his arms and turned his chin, trying to fight a smile off his face. “Serves you right. I've been slaving away up here all afternoon, trying to make everything just right-”

“It's perfect! You're perfect! Kurt,” Blaine whined, “kiss me!”

“-and you have to tease me for my dirty talk.” Kurt said, staring at his fingernails with a haughty expression. “When all I wanted to do was have a romantic dinner for two and make some new memories here. I see.”

Blaine was laughing at this point, still trying to keep up a contrite expression, but he knew that Kurt would crack. Kurt always cracked. He couldn't keep up his fake irritation for more than a minute or two, and Blaine knew it.

Blaine started pouting again, pouting while making a cube of cheese dance in the air in front of Kurt's mouth. It was the crinkled-eyes that broke Kurt. (It usually was.) Blaine was so obviously laughing inside at all of this pretend anger that Kurt couldn't help it anymore. He let Blaine pop the little bit of cheese in his mouth, glaring for a moment as he chewed.

“Will you please let me direct this evening, Blaine?”

Blaine swiveled his head in a circle and sang, “Ooh, I'm bossy! I'm the first girl to-”

“No,” Kurt interrupted, placing his fingers over Blaine's mouth. “David has threatened to get a petition going to stop you from singing gangsta-style songs, and you just made me say 'gangsta.' Will you please let me direct this evening?”

Blaine, to his credit, actually looked contrite, and now that there were presumably no more interruptions headed their way, that meant that it was full speed ahead for Kurt. The butterflies came storming back, twisting Kurt's stomach into knots.

“Let's eat first?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” Blaine replied with a loud and wet smack to the lips, showing Kurt that he would be good and follow directions.

I swear... This man is going to be the death of me. Kurt hummed a happy noise and sat down on the floor, legs tucked underneath him and began passing food over to Blaine. Just breathe. Like yoga. Just breathe. And ignore the nerves. Oh my god.


Blaine was stretched out on the floor, hands folded over his stomach, pleasantly full but, as he'd assured Kurt, not too full. Kurt eyed the bottle of champagne sweating (and hidden) under the desk and maneuvered himself so that it would be out of Blaine's eyesight for the time being.

“Did you talk to your mom this week? I keep meaning to ask you,” Kurt said as he fussed with a paper napkin.

Blaine closed his eyes, one hand behind his head as he answered, “No. I tried getting in touch with her yesterday, but my uncle said she was out. It was...weird.”

“Weird? How? How weird? Like...” Kurt inhaled sharply, frustrated that his voice was high and breathy. But Blaine didn't react to him, so maybe it was all in Kurt's mind? He exhaled slowly. “How so?”

Blaine cracked one eye to look at him. “Like he didn't want to talk to me, and...maybe she didn't, either? Like I said: weird.”

Kurt mentally cursed the Matapang family and their prejudices. He moved to be closer to Blaine, patting his lap as a hint. Blaine smiled and shifted so his head was cradled in Kurt's lap, legs straight out and hand curled back on his chest, murmuring happy sounds as Kurt began idly stroking his hair.

“I'm sorry you felt that way.”

Blaine shrugged, then wiggled to reposition himself comfortably. “That's how it's always been. I can't change my family.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, Kurt stroking Blaine's hair, drawing his fingertips lightly over his temples and humming under his breath until the worry lines between Blaine's brows faded.



“I love you.”

Blaine smiled and made a quiet, happy noise. He opened his eyes and looked up at Kurt. “I love you, too.”

“Do you remember that one night back when we were still getting to know each other-”

“You mean back when you were too scared to just go ahead and admit you were head over heels for me?” Blaine asked, opening one eye again and laughing softly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, placated when Blaine reached up and held his hands for a moment, kissing one before returning to his quiet position in Kurt's lap. Kurt began smoothing Blaine's t-shirt where it had bunched up, letting his fingers trail across Blaine's chest and shoulders, up his neck and back in a continuous circle as he continued.

“We were in our house - yours, then - and I was telling you about when my dad had a heart attack?” Blaine made a soft noise of recognition. “And how it had been hard to let Carole and Finn into my life, that I wasn't ready to share my dad just yet?”

Blaine was completely still, Kurt noticed. He took a deep breath and continued petting Blaine as he spoke. “But then I knew that it would be okay, that they could love him just like I did and it would be okay.”

“Please tell me if something has happened to your dad, Kurt,” Blaine said fervently, grabbing one of Kurt's hands.

“What? Oh!” He brought Blaine's hand to his mouth, kissing it fiercely. “No, no no, he's just fine!”

“Oh my go- Okay,” Blaine exhaled, settling back down. “Okay. I just spoke to him the other day. You had me worried there!”

Kurt blushed to his roots. He was doing a terrible job of this. He bent over and even though the position was awkward, kissed Blaine's mouth. Well, bottom lip and chin. The point was made, and Blaine hummed happily before taking one of Kurt's hands and putting it back in his hair with a cheeky grin. Kurt didn't mind playing with Blaine's hair in the slightest. It helped calm him, actually.

“I was trying to say how important that realization was. About Carole and Finn.” Kurt took a deep breath. “I also mentioned that night that I understood how you felt about family. How important it was to you, too.”

“Something I love about you.”

Kurt smiled, his heart clenching in his chest briefly at the overwhelming love he had for this man. “I talked with your family this week about something.”

“ Is that why my uncle-”

“No. Well, yes, possibly, but I'm not sure. But I meant your real family. Your 'always there for you every day' family.”

Blaine opened up both eyes, looking up at Kurt with confusion and...something else in his eyes. “Kurt?”

Kurt took a deep breath. He'd always wondered how this would actually turn out. He certainly hadn't thought he'd be in this position when growing up. Or that it wouldn't be a huge production, perfectly choreographed and costumed. In the end he realized, just like he had with welcoming Carole and Finn into his life, that simple and heartfelt were always the best choices for these matters.

“I talked with Bill a few days ago. About you. Us. And to some of the guys, too. Wes, David, Big John-”

“Kurt, I- Just a minute.” Blaine struggled to turn over, pushing up to sit next to Kurt.

Kurt took his hand, covered it with his own. He looked up into Blaine's eyes, the love and hope in them mirroring his own, giving him courage.

“I can see us growing old together, Blaine. I can see how much you're going to need me to help you through your retirement when that finally happens. By the way, I plan on making you build a trophy room to hold all of my Tonys,” he laughed, encouraged by the tiny smile on Blaine's face.

“We'll travel the globe, finish each other's sentences, have inside jokes that no one will ever understand, nurse each other through hip replacements, or whatever the future equivalent will be. And then there will be the family reunions I'll want to have in Paris, but you'll insist are held at Lake Tick-bite-your-legs, or whatever. And don't think I'm going to forgive you and Finn for that, just because you want to teach the grandkids how to canoe. Just because you indulged me the year before with a trip to Milan doesn't mean that you get to pick all of the vacation spots forever.”

Kurt paused, laughing a bit at himself and the confused look on Blaine's face. He dropped his gaze down to their linked hands for a moment. “My, um, imagination is vivid. Something you should know about me at this point,” he teased. “Blaine, I can imagine the silly walker races you'll stage in the hallways of our nursing home, the singalongs that will become competitions against other nursing home choirs.”

Kurt took another deep breath. “I want to marry you, Blaine. I want all of those things to be what I have with my husband.”

Blaine's hands flexed briefly, then squeezed Kurt's tightly. Kurt extricated one and reached behind him for a small box that was hidden under the desk, along with the champagne. He'd practiced opening it with one hand, flicking the lid up like a Zippo lighter and held it towards Blaine. A simple platinum band, but it meant the world to him to have the honor of seeing it on Blaine's finger.

With his heart positively racing, Kurt asked, “Will you marry me?”

Blaine stared open-mouthed, his eyes glistening slightly. So quietly it was almost lost on Blaine's exhale, “I did, too.”

Kurt had his ears trained for a 'yes' or a 'no,' so this break in tradition took him a second to register. “W-what?”

Blaine shook himself, beginning to grin and leaned forward to press their lips together. Kurt was completely confused, even though he did kiss back. He may have been momentarily dumbstruck, but he wasn't an idiot.

“I did, too,” Blaine repeated. “Asked. That's why I almost had a panic attack when I thought you were building up the courage to tell me something about your dad; I had just spoken to him, and worried that I'd killed him.”

Kurt's hands were shaking, but he managed to cup one of Blaine's cheeks and press their foreheads together. “You...asked my dad? For me?”

Blaine nodded and held Kurt's hand to his face. “But this is better. This is much better. And yes,” he said kissing Kurt, who quite honestly was a bit shocked by the change in events and was having a difficult time keeping up. But 'yes' made it through; 'yes' he understood.

“You will?” he asked, hope and a hell of a lot of excitement washed over him in a flood of adrenaline, laughing as Blaine pulled up to stand on his knees and tugged Kurt against him, kissing him all over his face.

“Yes, silly, yes! Did you not hear me say that I called your father?” Blaine held him close, his hands working up and down over Kurt's back.

“Oh my god, someone asked for my hand...” Kurt said, still a bit stunned that this was all really happening.

Blaine gripped Kurt by his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Jesus...what the hell did Bill say? I cannot believe you asked Bill if you could marry me.”

“He said it was about time, actually,” Kurt said, his face beginning to hurt from the huge smile he didn't think would go away anytime soon. Blaine said yes. He said yes.

Kurt sat back on his heels, holding one of Blaine's hands over his heart, still dazed, still overcome with emotion that this had actually happened, that he just asked someone - Blaine - to marry him. And he said yes. Oh god, he was going to be Mr. Captain Anderson-Hummel. Hummel-Anderson. McApter Humdersonel. They had the rest of their lives to work on their portmanteau, it wasn't important right this minute. Something else was, however.

“Aren't you going to try it on?” Kurt asked. “I had to wait until you were snoring-”

“For the millionth time, I do not snore!”

Kurt laughed. “I had to wait until you were so sleepy that your breath came out in a well-defined noise that was louder than an exhale but quieter than a jet engine to make sure you wouldn't wake up when I measured your finger.”

Blaine stared at him for a minute, a silly sort of disbelieving grin on his face. After a moment, he shook his head and pulled the ring out of the box.

“Read it,” Kurt said quietly, biting the end of his thumb in anticipation.

Blaine held it up close and read out loud, “One ring to rule them all-”

“It does not say that!” Kurt shrieked, grabbing at the ring as Blaine held it up and away, laughing.

“I'm kidding! I'm just teasing you, Kurt.”

Blaine pulled him in with his free arm, hugging him briefly and kissing him softly on the lips. “I'm sorry. No more jokes, promise.”

Kurt sank back on his heels again, both hands covering his face and breathing deep. Why did I fall in love with such a handsome, teasing dork?

Blaine's lips moved as he read it silently, going still and biting his lip when he finished. He looked up at Kurt, his eyes glistening with unshed tears again. “Same here.”

In elegant script, the inside of Blaine's ring said simply, “You make one someone so very happy. All my love, K.”

Kurt drew his fingers down Blaine's cheek, his own smile becoming a little watery from the well of emotions the night had brought. “I promise to always try, you know.”

“I love you so much,” Blaine said softly, sighing and hanging his head. He leaned forward and pressed his cheek to Kurt's shoulder. “You're so...” His breath hitched once, twice and Kurt became worried when his body began to shake a little.

He stroked Blaine's hair, asking, “No, shh, are you okay? It's okay.”

Blaine pulled back, tears now falling but his smile genuine and filled with love as he replied, “It is okay. I'm sorry that I'm getting so... I want you to be my family. You are my family and I'm just- Well, I'm a little overwhelmed at finally getting to make it official.” He kissed the place just over Kurt's heart and murmured, “You've made one someone happy, too,” as he let Kurt slide the ring on his finger.

Kurt's heart was filled to bursting, a sense of pride at the sight of a ring - his ring on Blaine's finger. Growing up he had never imagined anything like this. He had always been the one to receive the proposal in his wild fantasies. This was fine, more than fine. This was, well, perfect. This was Kurt being true to his heart, not following rules that were expected of him. Kurt had always pushed ahead and followed his heart, and it seemed to be serving him quite well in life.

He smoothed back Blaine's hair from his temple, his eyes roaming over Blaine's face, looking for any hint of Blaine being unsure, any chance that Blaine wasn't ready for this. All he saw was love looking back. Blaine closed his eyes, pressing soft kisses over Kurt's face, murmuring, “I can't wait to say 'I do.'”

Kurt 's fists clenched in Blaine's shirt, a broken sob rushing out at him. It was really going to happen. He had been born into a world where he would never have been allowed the chance to show how much he could love one person, how much he could devote himself to another. Now he was wrapped up in the arms of that one person for him, being kissed breathless, and they could make an official declaration to the world that they were in love.

And they would always be that way.

Blaine was the first to break their kiss, getting to his feet and pulling Kurt to his before wrapping him up in an embrace again.

“You're going to laugh when you see the ring I bought you,” Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, swaying their bodies back and forth.

“You...bought me a ring?”

Blaine answered by smiling and nuzzling Kurt's neck in the way he knew would send shivers down Kurt's spine.

“I had it engraved, too. I promise I had no idea you were up to any of this. Great minds, hm?”

Kurt laughed a little helplessly, overwhelmed. Happy, completely and utterly happy, but...well. It wasn't every day that Kurt Hummel found out that he missed the chance to be proposed to.

“You'll have to wait to get home before you get to read what it says, though.”

Kurt rested his cheek on Blaine's shoulder, drawing his fingers along the worn lettering of Blaine's t-shirt. “Is it okay? What yours says? Not too corny, I mean?”

Blaine stilled, then rubbed his cheek gently against Kurt's temple, swaying them again. “A reminder of the most romantic gesture of my life? This is no slouch, of course,” he quickly added.

Kurt chuckled softly.

Blaine's voice went soft, his fingers working in tiny circles on Kurt's back. “That's our song. Hey, I think it's our relationship's motto, don't you?”

Kurt could feel him smile against his skin, and felt warm and secure. “I do,” he replied, his hand clutching at Blaine's shirt a little tighter at the sound of those words, the anticipation of saying them to Blaine in front of everyone they loved.

They swayed in each other's arms for a few moments.

Consider yourself christened, Station Number 114.

Kurt raised his head, still smiling, and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And it was sort of funny how much Blaine looked just like the groom topper on a wedding cake. He is going to look so amazing in his dress uniform. I wonder how he feels about kilts...


Continues here.

And for those looking for new downloads, here is Where There's Smoke, reformatted with artwork mobi or pdf
Tags: fic: klaine, fic: where there's smoke, glee!

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