Author's notes: Yes, this is an old, old story. But several months ago, I asked a friend what I could write for her as a thank you, and she requested something in this verse. So thanks to Tchrgleek, and dedicated for her, here's a sequel :)

(And yes, I do know I have WIPs hanging :) Not a Slut will be updated in a day or two, Etched Into My Skin next week, and Worthless/Priceless hopefully the week after that, if I manage to catch Captain Pihkal. See? I'm all about fanfic lately :) At least until the beginning of September, when I'll be starting on my second novel.)

HUSBANDLY DUTIES

5 years later

(one-shot sequel)

The world was changing.

Human rights movements and new liberal voices in the government had been growing louder, and then suddenly the time was right, and everything avalanched into a wave of change that swept through the country, wiping out the old, restrictive order. Kurt and Blaine hadn't marched in the demonstrations, or written angry letters demanding new laws, but they looked forward to the change.

They were the lucky ones, they knew. Despite the heartless regulations, they'd managed to end up with their perfect matches and build a happy, thriving relationship. But there were so many others that had been hurt by the system and were still suffering the consequences every day. It was only fair they should be given a chance to find their own happiness, too.

The five years since Kurt and Blaine had gotten married had been a busy time filled with both joys and challenges: High school graduation and college in Columbus, the furthest they were allowed to move. Discovering the city together and learning to live with separate schedules and separate friends, after years of doing everything together. Coming home to each other every evening, to welcome home kisses, and I missed you's, and to telling each other about their respective days as they made dinner together. First exams and sleepless nights spent over books, and first arguments born from exhaustion and crankiness, resolved quickly and apologized for with tender kisses and frantic make-up sex. College graduations and first jobs. Talks about adoption.

They had been so happy.

And now, today, everything could end.

The room at the Equality Center was white and clinical, the woman sitting at the other side of the empty desk not much older than Kurt. There was a rainbow tattoo around her ring finger – uncovered, indicating she was a lesbian and not married. It would have been unthinkable in anyone over 18 even just a few years ago, which meant the her marriage must have been among those nullified in the first wave of changes that had swept through their society within the last year.

In that first phase, the newly founded Ministry of Equality had only dealt with voluntary petitions to dissolve the obligatory gay marriages – petitions that started flowing in en masse as soon as the possibility occurred. They'd had their hands full for months. Now, phase two had started: reviewing marriage certificates of the couples who hadn't mutually agreed to send in a petition.

The thought behind the plan was good, Kurt admitted – there were surely plenty of couples where only one side hoped to be freed from the enforced marital "bliss", and didn't dare apply behind the partner's back. But these were mostly claim couples. What annoyed Kurt was that anyone could think he and Blaine counted as one of them.

The woman tossed a heavy blond braid over her shoulder and smiled at Kurt brightly, friendliness personified.

"Let's cut right to the chase, Mr. Hummel," she said in a forcefully cheerful voice. "Do you want to request a dissolution of your union with Mr. Blaine Anderson?"

"Our name is Anderson-Hummel; I thought you would have basic information like this in your file," Kurt snapped. "And no, I don't."

The woman's chipper expression remained unchanged. "Why is that?" she asked, her tone curious.

"Because I'm a happily married man."

Kurt wished he had a pen with him, or a coffee stirrer, anything he could play with. The clean empty expanse of the desk was messing with his head, but he made himself sit perfectly still. He wouldn't show his nerves.

"Weren't you forced to get married though?" The woman frowned. Kurt would feel better if he knew her name. His mind was weirdly hung up on trying to guess what name would fit her best, and it was distracting.

"I was forced to get married sooner than I was ready," he said carefully.

These interview rooms were rumored to be equipped with hidden cameras that caught and analyzed every sign of lying, he heard. Some said the Center interviewers were trained to read through body language and inflection changes, too. Kurt didn't want to risk triggering suspicions by saying there'd been nothing forced in marrying Blaine, when he knew perfectly well that wasn't the truth. But he'd be damned if he explained all the nuances of what he felt about it here. He did nothing wrong; he shouldn't have to justify himself.

The woman tilted her head. "So you believe that you would have gotten married to Mr. Anderson anyway, if you had a say in this matter?"

"I do."

She looked confused. "But according to our information, you and Mr. Anderson had never been together before the wedding."

"No."

"And yet you think you would have ended married? I don't think I understand."

"We'd been best friends for years before the wedding," Kurt explained, trying to reign in his impatience. He'd promised Blaine he would do his best to stay calm. "And I believe that if we'd been free to grow up properly before thinking of marriage, and to do it all at our own pace, we would have found our way to each other sooner or later."

"But as it was, this marriage wasn't your own, free choice at that moment," the woman stated pointedly.

Kurt gritted his teeth. Was she dumb? "At that moment, no, it wasn't. I had never had a boyfriend. Marriage wasn't my choice at all then."

"Thank you, that's what I wanted to know." She nodded, clearly satisfied. "Now, tell me about your sex life, please. How often do you engage in sexual activity? Who usually initiates it? What would you say your sexual satisfaction level is, overall?"

"I'd say that it's none of your business," Kurt retorted.

"I'm sensing frustration here, Mr. Hummel," the woman commented calmly. She still had that annoying smile on her face, as if this whole absurd interview was fun for her. Kurt wanted to yell at her, or shove his chair away from the desk and storm out, but he couldn't. Not if he wanted his marriage untouched.

"Anderson-Hummel," he forced through his clenched teeth. "And what you're sensing is a deep-seated sense of privacy. I see no reason to discuss my sex life with anyone but my husband."

"Fine. Then just answer this one question, please, and I will leave the topic alone: have you ever been forced to have sex?" When Kurt hesitated, she added, "Please remember that you're obliged to only tell the truth here."

"... yes." The word was too big in his throat, choking.

"I understand, thank you."

"No, I don't think you do," Kurt hurried to add. "I was forced by the system, under the threat of marriage annulment, to start my sex life earlier and at a faster pace than I was ready for. I have never been forced to do anything I didn't want by my husband."

"These two statements seem contradictory."

"Well, they aren't." Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

The woman arched her eyebrow. "Okay, if you say so. Could you tell me what your usual day looks like?"

Kurt took a calming breath. He was getting too worked up; it wouldn't work in his favor. Thankfully, this question was easy at least.

"I get up around nine. Blaine is already at work, so I eat the breakfast he left me and spend two hours learning lines, answering emails, managing my official site and doing other things that need to be done. I leave for the theater at noon. Typically, I'm in rehearsals until six, have early dinner with my husband if we're both free, and then, six nights out of the week, I do the show. When I get back home, we spend an hour or two together, and then we go to bed."

He rattled the plan quickly, with a feeling like he was saying something right at last, so the look on the interviewer's face surprised him. She seemed taken aback.

"That doesn't sound like a lot of time together. When do you have time for any chores, shopping, entertainment? Even just visiting family or meeting friends?"

"We make it work," Kurt said defensively. "Blaine works shorter hours as a teacher, so he does most of the chores, and we make the most we can of our shared free time."

There hadn't been much of that in the last year, he had to admit, but how was he supposed to explain to this woman all about paying his dues and working his ass off so that he could get better roles and wider recognition? He was almost there now. If he got recruited by one of the bigger theaters soon like he hoped, they could start saving money for a house.

The woman didn't comment. "When you imagine your life in five years, what do you see?" she asked instead. She was no longer smiling. Somehow now that she stopped, Kurt wished she hadn't. The unnerving smile had been better than the pitying look she had in her eyes now.

He turned his focus back to the question rather than overanalyzing again. "I hope to be out of Ohio by then, preferably in New York, and employed at a respectable theater, with at least two major leads under my belt. Hopefully some awards, too. I may be looking into starring in a movie, and I would definitely want to try my hand at directing, but that may be more of a ten-year perspective."

"All you mentioned are professional developments, Mr. Hummel," the interviewer said drily. "Where do you see yourself in your private life?"

"Right where I am. Happy with Blaine, hopefully with a child or two by our side. A house in the suburbs somewhere. Maybe a dog."

"How are you expecting to achieve everything you've described professionally with young children at home?"

Kurt realized he was tapping his foot and made himself stop. "Blaine is going to stay at home for the first few years, until the kids are old enough for kindergarten," he said. "I hope to be making enough by then to ensure financial stability with a single income."

"What does your husband think about it?" The woman's tone was getting noticeably cooler.

Her barely hidden judgment made Kurt's temper flare. "What do you think?" he snapped. "I obviously haven't made a decision like this by myself."

"Do you think it's in your husband's best interest, though?"

"I think it's in our family's best interest."

She shook her head. "I believe healthy balance is what's in a family's best interest, Mr. Hummel. If you don't have time for children, you simply shouldn't decide to have them. Now, one last question. What do you think your life would be like without Mr. Anderson in it?"

Kurt tried to imagine living without Blaine – without his soothing words and his warm laughter, without his strength that made Kurt feel safe and the tenderness in his every touch. Without the love that filled Kurt so surely, so completely, like he'd never imagined back before Blaine.

"It would be empty," he said softly. "Filled with even more work, pushing for more even faster, but still empty."

The woman nodded and got up from her chair. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel. Please move to the private waiting room outside this door. Mr. Anderson's interview should be over soon, too. We'll be with you shortly to discuss our decision."

The gray-haired man across the desk exuded the air of calm confidence that immediately made Blaine feel more at ease. They would fix this whole mix-up now, and everything would be alright. Despite the soothing façade Blaine had kept for the three days to counter Kurt's anxiety, he'd been more than a little afraid of what this interview could mean for them. Now, the peaceful surroundings of the simple room and the professional demeanor of the interviewer suddenly made his worries seem silly.

The man folded his hands over the empty desk before him and looked at Blaine with blue eyes that made him look like a caring father.

"Mr. Anderson, do you want to request a dissolution of your marriage to Mr. Kurt Hummel?" he asked in a pleasant voice.

Blaine shook his head fervently. "God no. And I'm sorry, you've got it wrong. It's Anderson-Hummel. In both cases."

The man nodded. "Okay, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. So you want to stay married, despite the fact that your marriage was the result of an old, cruel law?"

"Of course I do. May I ask why we are even here? I thought only claim marriages are being reevaluated."

"We have to make sure no one gets overlooked as we work to right the wrongs of the old laws," the man explained kindly. "According to our data, your marriage wasn't far from a claim. You hadn't been in a relationship with your future husband prior to the wedding, and he proposed just days before your birthday to escape a potential claim he didn't want, isn't that right?"

"How do you even know that?" Blaine asked, amazed.

"We have our sources," the interviewer said. "Considering that yours was clearly a marriage of convenience, we saw it necessary to invite you for an evaluation. So are you sure you don't want to reconsider your answer? Remember that anything you say here is private and won't be disclosed to your husband. You have a chance now to make your own choices and find happiness with whoever you want, don't you want that?"

Blaine put his chin on his folded hands and looked at the man, willing him to understand. "I don't have to look anywhere, though. Kurt is the person I love most in the world, why would I want to be apart from him? The law that led to our marriage was wrong and cruel, yes, but what it gave us is perfect."

"But you didn't choose the person you got married to."

"I did. I chose Kurt. I wanted him. I was the happiest man on earth when he proposed; I have been the happiest man on earth ever since that day. We're perfect together, please don't change that," he pleaded.

The man hummed thoughtfully. "Alright, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. How would you describe your intimate life?"

"Amazing. Happy. Fulfilling. I couldn't think of a better lover than my husband," Blaine gushed, then caught himself. "Um... is this too much? I'm sorry, I'm not sure how open you want me to be."

"That's quite alright. I get it. So you were never forced to perform sexually, perhaps? Or felt like your needs were being neglected?"

"No," Blaine said firmly. "I mean, Kurt works a lot, so often he doesn't have the energy for sex when he gets home at night, or isn't in the mood. But when we do have sex, it's fantastic. It always has been."

"That's good," the man nodded. "Now, could you tell me about your typical day?"

"Of course. I get up at half past six. I'm a teacher, so I start work early," he explained, in case the interviewer didn't know. "I shower, make breakfast for myself and Kurt and put his in the fridge, and then I leave for school. I'm usually back home by three. I do any household chores that need to be done, and make dinner. Kurt comes home at six, we eat together, and then he leaves again for his show – he's an actor, and a really talented one, you know. I clean up, and then do any grading I have for the day, or read, or watch something, waiting for him to return around eleven. We have an hour together, and then it's time for me to go to bed. Kurt stays up longer, winding down after the show."

"It seems like you do everything around the house by yourself. Has it always been this way? Doesn't your husband help at all?" the interviewer asked, and Blaine rushed to reply.

"Oh, no – Kurt loves doing things around the house, cooking, all that. When we first got married, I used to joke that I'm living with a regular Martha Stewart. But since he started working at the theater, he's exceedingly busy; he usually performs in one play while rehearsing for another. He's always learning lines, going for auditions, and when he comes home, he's exhausted. I happily took over the household chores to lighten the load for him."

The man frowned. "And is it a permanent solution? If you think of your life in five years, do you see yourself still happily waiting at home while your husband conquers the world?"

"In five years I hope to be a stay-at-home father of at least one, and preferably two kids," Blaine said solemnly. Saying it out loud gave him happy tingles again. They'd been talking about adopting for the last two years, but only now, after five years of marriage, they would be allowed to apply. They couldn't wait.

"What about your husband?" the interviewer asked.

"Kurt's career has more potential for growth, and he should be able to support our family on his own as soon as he gets into a bigger theater," Blaine explained. "Plus, he loves his job, so we decided it's the best option for us if I stay at home with the kids. I'm happy to do it."

"Don't you like your job, too?"

"I do. I love working with the first-graders and being the one to show them the magic of reading, to teach them to count and show them how the world works. But getting to do that with our own kids, and to be with them from the very beginning is even better. I'm so excited about it, I'm already reading books about early development and stimulating activities for infants. Recently, I saw this cute onesie in the store; I just had to take a picture and send it to Kurt." Blaine grinned, remembering. "I seriously can't wait."

"How did your husband react to the picture?" the interviewer asked lightly.

"He… well, he had his phone off on that particular day, but he was very excited when he came home that night."

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have recalled that particular experience. It had been a bad day for Kurt, after he'd been rejected in the last round of auditions for a lead he really wanted. Talking about kids and cute clothes had been the last thing he'd wanted that night. He hadn't even commented on the photo until Blaine had asked him a few days later.

A disappointed expression ran over the man's face, making Blaine's heart fall, but it was gone in a second.

"Our file says that you were appointed a psychiatrist four years ago, and have been repeatedly issued anxiety medication. Could you tell me about that?"

Blaine's eyes widened. "Oh, that was nothing. It just turned out I wasn't dealing well with the stress of college, that's all. Every test and exam made me really nervous and it affected my grades, so the doctor decided I should take medication when needed until I learned effective ways of relaxation instead. It had nothing to do with my marriage."

"And yet you've been prescribed another refill just eight months ago. Do you still take the medication?" The reassuring look on the man's face was gone now. He looked strict, like a disappointed parent, and Blaine's heart sped up.

"I–" he stuttered.

"Please don't lie."

"I only took it a few times in the last year. Before job interviews, mostly. And last night, because I couldn't sleep. It's worn off by now, though, I promise. I know we're not supposed to be under the influence of any mind-altering substances for the interview."

Blaine could feel how very much the drugs were no longer affecting him, in fact. The calm and positive outlook from the beginning of the interview was gone now, leaving him shaking internally, with a feeling like a vice was closing around his chest. He took a few slow, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself down like the psychiatrist taught him.

The interviewer hummed again. He didn't seem convinced. It wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

"Okay, one last question, Mr. Anderson-Hummel. What do you think your life would have been like if you hadn't married your husband five years ago?"

The internal shaking had spread to the outside now, and Blaine hid his hands under the table to conceal his fingers trembling, but his rapid, shallow breathing was giving him away, he was sure. Life without Kurt. He couldn't even think about it, not when he'd spent the last three days terrified of just that.

"I… I don't know," he managed, his voice choked. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't." He stood up too quickly, the white, windowless room suddenly suffocating. He needed air.

The man got up, too. "Okay, we're done here. Please stay in the waiting room until we come back with our decision," he said, not unkindly.

Blaine was stumbling out the door before the man finished talking. The sight of Kurt pacing the large, comfortably furnished waiting room had him almost run into his husband's arms, a relieved sob catching in his throat.

"Kurt."

Two doors away, in a large office equipped with a row of computers and cabinet upon cabinet of files, the two interviewers sat at a table, cups of steaming coffee between them.

"Alright, you first, Natalie," the man said. "What have you got?"

The young woman sat up straighter. It was only her third case, and she wanted to impress her instructor, show her commitment. It was such an honor to be allowed to work for the Ministry of Equality, to help other suffering couples the way she had been helped.

"Mine was very clearly a workaholic," she started, remembering the handsome, but cold, man from her interview. "Short-tempered, snappy and impatient, and focused on nothing but his acting career. When I asked him about the future, he didn't mention his family at all until I prompted him. Not interested in nullifying the marriage, and no wonder – he seems to be treating his husband like a free servant who does everything around the house for him. There's no abuse though, as far as I can tell, at least not physical," she concluded. In that, at least, this marriage was different from her own.

The man, whom she still hadn't gotten used to calling by his name, John, nodded solemnly. "Did he mention children?"

"He did, but I got an impression he only wants them because it's expected, or maybe to rope his husband in tighter. There was no emotion that I could read off him as he talked about adding to the family, other than irritation." She paused to consider if there was anything to add. There wasn't. "Do you want to see the tape to verify my findings?" she asked. They had reviewed the recordings together for the first two couples.

John shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary. What you said fits into my observations, too." He hummed, lost in thought for a moment, and Natalie sipped her coffee and waited patiently until he continued. "Yes, I agree with you about the no abuse conclusion. And they do have a particular division of responsibilities between the two of them–"

"You mean, pushing all chores on one person while the other comes and goes as he pleases, not lifting a finger to help?" she asked bitterly.

"Now, now," John admonished. "Remember that some couples choose such dynamics consciously because it's something that fits them – both of them – temporarily or even permanently. It is not our place to judge that. I haven't heard anything that would suggest Mr. Anderson is unhappy with such division of chores in their marriage. There is, however, something that bothers me. A couple of things, actually." He paused to drink some of his coffee before speaking on. "First of all, he lied. About a trivial thing, really, but when they try to cover up little problems, it's usually a sign there are much bigger ones we're not seeing, too. Plus, he's been taking anxiety medication consistently since not long after they got married, and when I asked him about it, he got defensive. That, together with the husband's frequent absences and Mr. Anderson's strong desire to have children makes me wonder whether he's looking to compensate for an unsatisfying relationship by becoming a parent. That wouldn't be good, of course."

"So what are you suggesting? Do we split them?" Natalie asked.

"What would you do?" John asked mildly, ever the teacher.

"Split," Natalie answered immediately. "The marriage seems unbalanced and unhealthy, and it's not fair to Mr. Anderson, whether he realizes it or not. He can find someone better, I'm sure."

"But they don't want to split," John reminded her. "They both refused the dissolution. That counts, too. Although I agree there are some problems I'm seeing here. I would suggest separation. Six months, then reevaluation and proceeding as needed. Although–"

Natalie, who was already half-up, sat down again. "Although?"

John rubbed his chin. "I don't know, there's just something… A feeling really, and we don't work on feelings, but–" He paused again, then picked up a remote. "Let's have a glimpse of them together before we decide." He switched on the screen mounted on the wall at the end of the table.

The two men were sitting side by side on the little red sofa, unaware of being watched. Mr. Hummel's face looked closed-off, but his arm was around his husband's waist. Mr. Anderson had his face hidden on his husband's shoulder.

"Let's see what happened earlier," John said and rewound the recording to the moment of the couple's reconnection. He turned up the volume to hear what the microphones tucked around the room caught of their conversation.

At first there was no conversation to be heard, though. From the moment Mr. Anderson sprang out of the interview room, the two men just stood holding each other tightly for over a minute before they stepped back, still holding hands.

"Do you think they know they're being recorded?" Natalie asked quietly, as if they could hear her.

"I doubt that," John said. "They fully expect cameras in the interview rooms, but the waiting room is deliberately set to look safe and inviting, a place to relax after the stress. Most of them drop any masks there. Now shh."

Mr. Hummel put a hand on his husband's cheek, his brow furrowed. "How did it go? You seem shaken."

Mr. Anderson shook his head. "I think I blew it. I got nervous and–"

"Are you alright?" Mr. Hummel hurried to ask. He sounded concerned, no cool mask on his face now.

"I'm fine. Just, what if I ruined it? What if they decide we're wrong for each other? How can they even tell based on a few short questions?" Mr. Anderson took a shaky breath and squeezed his husband's hand. "Please tell me yours went better."

Mr. Hummel shook his head, his eyes cast down. "I don't think she liked me. And you know how I get when I feel judged."

John arched his eyebrow at Natalie, who blushed darkly. She had a lot to learn still, didn't she?

There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Anderson asked softly, "What do we do now? What if they want to end our marriage? Can we appeal the decision?"

Mr. Hummel shook his head. "I don't know. I've never heard of anyone doing it."

Natalie looked at John, who nodded, "They could. It's rarely done, but it's allowed."

On the screen, Blaine was biting his lip. "Kurt… What do we do?"

Kurt – Mr. Hummel – lay a hand on his husband's chest, over his heart, in a tender gesture. "For now, we wait, and hope they can recognize soulmates when they see them," he said in a soothing voice. "And if they don't… hey, they can't keep us apart. The law says we can interact freely with whoever we want now, and start any relationships we choose. And I will always choose you. They can't even force us to live separately, Blaine. Even if the worst happens, it won't change that much."

Blaine sighed. "I know. But not being married to you… I can't imagine it."

"We could just get married again."

"Not until three years after the annulment," Blaine whined. "And what about kids? No one will let us adopt if there's a Ministry-ordered dissolution on our record."

A painful frown ran through Kurt's face. "I know, love. But laws change all the time. Maybe in a few years it will be different. Or maybe we'll be able to use a surrogate, like other countries allow. We'll make it work, baby. With or without their blessing, with or without kids, we have each other. No one can take that away."

They hugged for another long while, two desperate people taking hope from each other's presence, before they went over to the sofa, still holding hands.

"What use is having the new laws when we are forced to prove we're right for each other now?" Blaine asked bitterly when they sat down. "I'm so tired of having things forced upon us. Obligatory marriage at 18. Obligatory sex to confirm consummation. Right to choose but only if someone else says the choice is right. What kind of freedom is this?" He hid his face on Kurt's shoulder.

John switched off the screen.

"Do you still think we should split them?" he asked with a smile.

Natalie blinked her tearful eyes. "I… No."

He nodded. "Your lesson for today: when you have even a sliver of doubt, watch the couple together. The way they interact naturally will tell you more than even the most detailed questions do." He swallowed the rest of his coffee and got up from his chair. "Let's go tell them."

Before they left the office, Natalie hesitated. "John… do you think he's right? Do we take away their freedom when we think we're giving it to them?"

John's face turned solemn. "I think there's still a lot of room for improvement in the new laws, and I think it will take time to get it all right. For now, we just have to do the best we can, one person and one couple at a time." He smiled again. "Now, let's go and relieve them of their uncertainty. I'll let you give them the good news."