Blaine's tongue felt weird, like someone had covered it in something numbing. He moved it around in his mouth experimentally. Yep. Weird.

There was a warm hand running up and down his arm, gently, but that wasn't what had woken him - if anything it was soothing. He didn't really know that anything had especially, but aside from the tongue thing, everything was very, very nice. Everything smelled good, and there was the smell of Christmas, and of Kurt, and a little bit of cold (did cold have a smell?), and more of Kurt…

"Good morning."

Blaine finally acknowledged the fact that he was eventually going to need to move his eyelids, and when he had blinked a few times he decided that it was totally worth the effort. Kurt was lying next to him on top of the covers, his head propped up on the pillow by one arm, the other resting on Blaine's shoulder. His eyes were bright, and he was smiling.

"Morning," he finally managed. "What time is it?"

"About eleven." Kurt's fingers tapped out a light rhythm. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm. Happy New Year. Again." He brought his own fingers to tangle with the ones on his shoulder, pausing when he felt the metal, a different kind of smooth from skin. His smile was immediate. "Oh, yeah."

"I wondered when you'd remember that," Kurt smirked.

"I hadn't forgotten," he objected. "I was just waking up."

Kurt just hummed. "How're you feeling?"

"Engaged," he muttered sleepily. "You?"

"Hungry." Blaine nudged him. "What? I am."

"How's your head?"

"Fine. I drank water last night."

"I believe I was promised epic engagement sex."

"Yes. Yes you were." Blaine rolled towards him with great intent, but landed face down on the bed where his fiancé had just lay. "Hey!" he objected into the sheets.

"Food first," Kurt said decisively from next to the bed. "You've got to be hungry too."

He was, and so reluctantly lifted his head from the sheets.

"I think we have eggs - you feel like an omelet?"

Eggs were Blaine's weakness. For reasons they had never been able to determine his culinary skills - which were by no means gourmet, but he knew his way around a kitchen - did not extent to making eggs that did not appear to have been viciously attacked by some kind of wild animal.

"There's still some of the waffle batter you made yesterday," Kurt continued. "I'll make you eggs if you make me waffles, and then we can finish packing and -"

Blaine noticed the open suitcases on the floor. "How long have you been awake?"

He shrugged. "Not long. An hour?"

"And you didn't eat?"

"I wanted to wait for my fiancé."

"Best word ever."

"I'm going to make some coffee." He nudged him. "Are you going to fall back asleep?"

"With the promise of eggs, coffee, and sex?" He grinned wolfishly and ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to assess the damage. "What kind of boy do you think I am?"

"The kind who would do pretty much anything for a mushroom and cheese omelet."

"You are my favorite of all my fiancés."

Kurt peeled himself off the bed and made for the door. "And don't you forget it."

Blaine blinked after him as he sauntered out the door (and that was a saunter, no question), and then untangled himself from the sheet that had wrapped itself around his legs.

By the time he got to the kitchen there was coffee brewing, and his fiancé - fiancé - was leaning against the counter, his back to the door. Kurt must have heard him, but didn't turn until he had his arms wrapped around him from behind, and even then he just craned his neck a little to the side to give Blaine's lips better access to the skin they were tracing. After a moment Kurt took his hands off the pans he was clattering around in a useful-looking manner and wrapped an arm loosely back around Blaine's neck.

"Coffee's on."

"Mmmhmm."

"Blaine, I need to get the cheese grater."

"Mmmhmm."

"Blaine. You need to mo - ah. Okay, that's really nice."

Blaine detached from his neck. "Yeah?"

"You stopped."

"I have very important engagement waffles to make for my fiancé. He's very picky, you know."

"Is he?"

"Very. Besides, you have important eggs to make."

"Engagement eggs."

Blaine swatted the hand that had crept its way down to his lower back. "Yes."

Kurt pouted as Blaine moved to the refrigerator.

"You're the one who got us out of bed," Blaine defended. "Don't you start with me."

"There's a joke there," he replied airily. "Something about finishing." He cracked the egg into a bowl with a smirk.

"You slay me." Blaine set the cheese and leftover waffle mix on the counter, lightly brushing the small of Kurt's back as he passed. The slight shift of weight from one foot to the other, a sharp exhale, made him smile.

This was going to feel like a very long breakfast.

"…it wouldn't be the first time."

"We are older now, and more mature. We had impulse control issues."

"We cleaned the table afterwards."

"You are not the one who had to look my father in the eye at dinner that night."

"I'm just saying, it would mean sooner -"

"Eat your toast, Blaine."

"…swear, every time I came over. He knew."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, seriously. He'd look at me over dinner, and I'd be suddenly convinced that my forehead read 101 ways I have defiled your son."

"You are the most absurd human being on the planet. And since when do you eat so slowly? I have plans, Blaine. Plans of a defiling nature."

"It's good, though."

"I'm glad the food is good. I just think that, considering the speed you're eating it, naked might be better."

"Mmmmnnfffished."

"I'm sure. Maybe I'll start without you."

"Mnnawnt."

"Fine. I'll make myself tea, then."

When they'd first gotten to Lima, in the aftermath of a busy month of work for Kurt and a hellish finals week for Blaine, they'd gotten a little carried away with the idea of having no obligations and an empty house to themselves for eight hours at a time. Burt and Carole were at work, and Finn wasn't home for the holidays yet, so in those first couple days, with glorious hours to themselves, they had basically only surfaced from Kurt's room when absolutely necessary. Their time off in New York was rare, and always so rushed that they could count on one hand (if their hands weren't otherwise occupied) the number of times in the last year they'd had days to just be together and enjoy each other in whatever way they wanted.

And sometimes cuddling was the most important thing. Sometimes one or both of them was preoccupied with work, or the beginnings of a cold, or trying to remember if they ever got that new lightbulb for the refrigerator, and an orgasm would be followed by them going their separate ways. Sometimes they just wanted to go to goddamn sleep, no matter how horny their boyfriend seemed to be. Sometimes one or both of them was still not done with the argument they'd had yesterday, and it would be a cold day in hell before the other got anything more than a cold shoulder, if they had anything to say about it. And sometimes when they found themselves alone in their apartment, for what felt like the first time in forever, they wanted to talk seriously about switching brands of fabric softener, or curl up on the couch next to each other reading.

Not only were they not always in the mood, and they were (apparently) adults living full lives, so they didn't usually have the time to be the sex-crazed honeymooners their friends tried to imply. The last time they'd had a significant amount of shared time off - the urgent, needy, touching variety - had been a week over the summer, after Kurt's graduation, when they'd spent a blissful four days with their phones off, suitcases already packed for their short visit home, wrapped up in each other to the point that the harsh realities of the fifth day were a shock - Kurt couldn't wake Blaine up over the course of half an hour with kisses and tiny nips to his jaw, and they couldn't live off of the graduation cake and casserole that Carole had left when she and Burt had returned to Ohio. They had to go grocery shopping, they really had to do laundry (and that was just another way Kurt knew he was in love, because those sheets were going to be hell to clean-), and Blaine had to go pick up some books before his shift, while Kurt filled out the paperwork for the changes in his internship that took effect once he officially had his degree. There was re-packing to do, and Kurt wanted to reorganize the living room furniture, and Blaine was probably going to have to stay an extra few days, or even a week, in Ohio, to deal with some financial papers that his parents wanted him to sign...

The memory of those four days had gotten them through a busy summer in which they had often wanted nothing more than to lie underneath the air conditioning, stripped to bare skin and maybe reminding each other of all the ways they'd grown since they first met.

Minus the need for air conditioning, their alone time in this winter visit had had a similar undercurrent of longing and need at first, to the point where by the time Finn had arrived, and Burt and Carole had time off for the holidays, they weren't sick of each other, per se, or of sex (heaven forbid), but the urgency had abated, and they were becoming aware that they were at risk of being perceived as sex-crazed, anti-social hermits, a horrible cliche of a couple, and as the raw need had lessened significantly, so they both could and should probably calm down. Which just reminded them how much they loved being together, and also being able to walk, and so they managed to interact like normal human beings who hadn't spent weeks at a time trying to find the time to enjoy each other.

But being engaged, that was something to celebrate, and while there would probably be family-friendly toasts and festivities in the next couple of days, before they left, and probably an actual official party at some point later, too - Kurt suggested themes between bites of waffle - what they needed was some time to acknowledge, on a physical as well as an emotional level, what this meant to them. And while, for them, the physical would always be emotional, Blaine just really, really needed to feel Kurt's hands and mouth all over him, touch and kiss him in return, and know that this would be his forever. He'd known it for a long time, but the ring Kurt was now wearing, the promise they'd officially, legally make to each other, that they'd made yesterday, made years ago, really, was a tangible physical reminder. They were doing this. It wasn't just something they talked shyly about, eluded to but didn't dwell on for fear that they seemed presumptuous or overeager.

This was theirs, and they wanted to celebrate that.

"What're you doing?"

"Making sandwiches."

"You're still hungry? I would've made more waffles."

Kurt gave him a look as he spread margarine on the bread. "They aren't for now. They're for later, when we have absolutely no desire to cook anything."

Blaine blinked, took the knife he'd left on the counter and cut the completed one in half. "You have the best ideas," he said emphatically. "The best."

"I know. Do you want to make a salad to go with it?"

"Cheese?"

He hummed in agreement. "There should be some olives in there too."

"I picked up some of the lettuce you like when I went out with Carole."

They moved around each other, used to the minuscule space in their own apartment. As Kurt put seasoning on the sandwiches - "there's no reason for them to be boring, Blaine" - Blaine mixed a salad, tapping his foot and leaning against the counter when he was done.

Kurt snorted as he took out saran wrap. "Patience, Anderson."

"I'm not doing anything. Why do you need to wrap them, anyway? Just leave them. They'll be fine. Let's go upstairs."

"The bread will dry out."

He placed a hand on his fiancé's waist. "I'm okay with that."

"I'll bet you are." He ripped a segment of the plastic off, placing it over the plate. "Maybe I'll shred some carrots to go with the -" Blaine's groan broke him into a grin. "Kidding, kidding." He closed the refrigerator door with a flourish, then spun around, hands behind his back as he leaned against the door. "So, whatever shall we do with ourselves n -"

He was cut off by Blaine's lips, the breath pressed out of him as he stepped back, Blaine's arms wrapping around him to make sure he wouldn't be impaled on any of the magnets (and yeah, that's love).

"Hi," Blaine murmured after a minute. "Would you like to go upstairs?"

Kurt placed his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back in answer, stepping away, when Blaine's smile faltered in confusion, he held out his hand.

Blaine took it.

Halfway up the stairs Kurt paused and laughed to himself. Blaine raised an eyebrow in question.

He grinned. "Are we seriously celebrating our engagement with an afternoon of sex?"

"Can you think of anything you'd rather do right now? Because I really, really can't."

"Isn't it kind of…"

"I don't know about you, but I think we live lives busy enough that we should embrace the opportunity and desire for marathon sex - especially engagement sex - whenever it comes."

"No pun intended."

"Pun absolutely intended. Over and over."

Kurt pulled him up the next set of stairs, pausing on the landing. "Thank you for asking me."

"Thank you for saying yes."

"No, I mean… I know we've talked about it a lot, and I was going to make it happen - we were going to make it happen - but… thank you for doing it."

Blaine pulled him close for a peck on the lips. "You are so, so welcome. It was entirely selfish, though. I just wanted to go to Fiji."

He rolled his eyes. "Fiji was happening anyway." He paused, looking a little nervous, and perhaps a little guilty. "I know it seems extravagant, and we don't have a lot to spend, but with the money my parents gave us for birthdays, and the cheque from your parents paying our rent for a few months, it was something we wanted to do. It might be a little tight for a while, and I -"

"It's perfect…." he frowned as the entirety of what Kurt had said struck him. They'd talked a little about this already since Christmas, but it clearly needed to be revisited, and that information - exactly what Kurt had done to save for this - was new. "But, wait, your birthday money, I know you had plans to replace the -"

"That can wait," Kurt said simply. "I wanted to do this with you. For you. Us. We have the money - just, as long as we're careful. And it was going to be a precursor to some other plans," he smirked at his ring finger, hand resting on Blaine's arm, "but you've sped those up a little too."

"Now we get to save for a wedding," he said with relish, jolting when he saw Kurt's expression tighten. "Kurt, don't worry. We'll have money put aside for this, and we'll make it work. You can make anything beautiful." He lifted a hand to his fiancé's cheek. "Don't go there, yet, okay? We haven't even set a date. And even if we have our reception at Taco Bell, it'll be amazing, because we'll be married, and -"

"We are not," Kurt said emphatically, "having our reception at Taco Bell."

"I know, I was just saying, if we did it would still -"

"Taco Bell has a dollar menu, Blaine," he said dismissively. "We cannot have our reception somewhere that has a dollar menu."

"I wasn't saying -"

Kurt's eyes were a little panicked. "It's going to be so expensive -" He took a deep, calming breath, and met Blaine's eyes, looking a little queasy. "Blaine, I know that finances are always an issue, especially because I'm not making much right now, but we can make it, this is our wedding, and we'll have ideas about the wedding, we can discuss them, because I'm in love with you and the important thing is that we're getting married, right? We'll make it work, and we'll make it beautiful. And, I mean, we're on the same page, I know we are, we've talked about some possible -"

"Kurt. Kurt, listen to me."

"- shouldn't have bought those pants -"

"Those pants make your ass look amazing," Blaine said firmly, tugging him close. "You're getting carried away. You know we'll be fine. We'll go on vacation, celebrate, and then once we're home we can start thinking about logistics. Because that's what it is." He pressed a kiss to his jaw. "It's just the where and the when of how we stand up and tell everyone we're spending our lives together."

He felt Kurt smile. "They already know that."

"Well, then, it's a reminder. With hors d'oeuvres."

There was a pause. "I just went a little insane, didn't I?"

"A little." Kurt leaned their heads together as Blaine continued. "You had to deal with me during finals, though, so I think we're pretty much even."

"My favorite was the night the coffee maker broke, after you hadn't slept properly for about two days, and you decided that mixing powdered sugar with orange juice would have the same effect if taken in large enough doses."

Blaine winced, then smiled as Kurt's hand came to card through his hair at the nape of his neck. "See? We balance each other's crazy."

"I still do not understand your logic in dismissing the instant -"

"Well, now that the coffee maker's broken, I guess we're going to learn to love it -"

"…but yes, we do." Kurt toyed with the hem of Blaine's t-shirt. "Blaine?"

"Mhmm?"

"I'm wearing an engagement ring…"

"I'd noticed. What? Did you want something diff -"

"No, no, it's perfect. I just… had you thought… or decided whether that was something you were interested in doing?"

"I told you, remember? I have."

"Have what?"

"Thought and decided."

"And?"

"I'd love to. I want to." He gave his waist a squeeze. "You know that."

"Oh. Yes, I did. I just…" He bit his lower lip. "I may or may not have a surprise for you. When we get back to New York."

Blaine smile was blinding. "You bought me a ring?"

"You'll have wait and see." But Kurt's face was so open, so overflowing with everything he was feeling, that Blaine's only possible response was to take a step back, pull off his t-shirt, and pull him into the bedroom.

When Kurt had come home for his first summer as a college student, full of stories and plans for when Blaine joined him in the fall, it had meant a great many things. Packing tape, for one, and quite a few nights spent making out in their driveways, stolen nights when houses were empty, and barbecues with people who they really should have stayed in better touch with, and next year, absolutely, it would be different…

It also meant parties.

At the second major party, a hey we're still all together again - let's get trashed to follow the oh my god, we're all together again - let's get trashed of the previous week, Santana had commandeered the bottles fairly quickly, and was mixing drinks. About an hour in she loudly proclaimed that it was time for the next shot, a blowjob, and this one should be right up some people's alley (with a not-at-all subtle wink in the direction of the couch where Kurt and Blaine were sitting). Blaine was designated driver, an agreement that had been reached after last week, when tequila resulted in the ruin of Kurt's boots, but Kurt, on his second drink, just rolled his eyes.

Santana loudly addressed the room, waving the bottle of Bailey's . "C'mon, anyone who wants to try, y' need special skills… but perhaps it's a little too much for some… we can't all just know how to work it that way-"

"Ignore her," Blaine muttered softly, not for the first time that night. "Ignore her, you don't have to prove anything-"

Kurt's back had straightened, and there was a gleam in his eye. He peeled himself off Blaine's lap, swinging his hips as he moved to join Tina and Brittany by the shot glasses lined up.

Santana smirked as she added the whipped cream to each shot glass. " 'K. On the count of three. No hands, Britt, like - yeah. One… two… three!"

From whee he was sitting Blaine couldn't see much, but it would have been difficult to miss Tina dissolving into giggles as she spilled liquor all over herself. Brittany was poking at the whipped cream with her index finger. Santana had managed most of the shot, a little dribbling down her chin, but the next thing that he saw was Kurt standing up, hands behind his back, head held deliberately high, empty shot glass spotless on the table. He took the few steps back to Blaine's lap, and his boyfriend was having difficulty in thinking very coherently.

"You, uh, have a little…" he trailed off as Kurt's tongue flicked out to catch the spot of whipped cream on his lip.

"Thanks," he smiled smugly.

Blaine wasn't sure if he was meant to hear Santana's quiet "Get it, Hummel," but by that point Kurt's tongue had found new places to be, so he didn't really care.

Kurt licking his lips wasn't exactly something that created a Pavlovian response in Blaine - because really, that would have been a huge problem. It was the look, though, the look from that night. When Kurt wanted Blaine, when those eyes looked at him just like that, it was so many things all at once. It was lust, yes, but it was also trust, love, an affirmation that every single thing that had happened to them had led them there, together.

And Kurt was looking at him like that right now, spread out on his bed, shirt discarded, and yeah, Blaine wanted this. He wanted this forever, he wanted them forever, and he wanted every single person in the world to know that he was marrying the love of his life, and it was going to be fucking awesome.

But most of all he wanted to touch Kurt all over until they both forgot their own names.

So he did.

It had been a running joke amongst their friends, primarily during Blaine's first years in New York, that Kurt and Blaine were the most vanilla couple any of them knew. This was pure speculation, based on snooping and theorizing, but privately even they admitted that it might be sort of the truth. They hadn't ever really felt the need or desire to do anything all that "kinky" (with the airquotes) in the bedroom, at least by some of their friends' standards (and some of their friends liked telling stories), simply because they were totally happy with what they were doing (in the little time they actually had alone). Who needed things that sounded complicated (and in some stories painful and frankly unappealing) when the things they were doing still surprised and excited them with their intensity?

Still, they had figured, it couldn't hurt to try something new.

So, one weekend Kurt dug out his least expensive scarves, Blaine tied him loosely to the headboard, and they decided that "stop" would be fine as their safeword, because it was simple and effective.

Only, the scarves weren't silk, so they rubbed uncomfortably on Kurt's wrists, and Kurt really liked to be able to touch Blaine, and when he held down his wrists it was one thing, because that was kind of hot, and gentle, but this just felt inconvenient, and Blaine kept noticing that he was uncomfortable, and asking him what was wrong, if he wanted to stop, and offering to get him a drink of water, until finally they just called off the whole thing and went to make pasta for lunch.

Of course, an hour later Blaine ended up fucking him – slow, deep, perfect - on the kitchen table, and then later they used the cheap scarves to clean up the water that got on the floor when Kurt fucked him in the shower (they couldn't find any clean towels, and Blaine really needed to do the laundry - it was his turn), so it wasn't a total loss.

It was getting dark when they made it down to the kitchen to eat the sandwiches. Blaine still had a relaxed grin on his face, which grew wider whenever he saw Kurt's mussed hair, and the way his fingers ran through it, ring glinting when it caught the light.

They were sitting eating the salad in peaceful silence when their eyes caught, and they both smiled.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Nothing." Blaine popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. "Just looking at my fiancé."

Kurt smirked.

"What?"

"Nothing." Kurt paused. "You do realize that once they all find out ...everyone is going to want to talk about it."

"New Directions didn't."

"New Directions, or what remains of it after last night, was incredibly drunk." He sipped his water. "Once Rachel Berry pieces events back together I'm betting our phones will blow up."

"They haven't today."

"I turned them off."

"That would explain it."

He shrugged. "I just thought we should have today."

"Believe me, I'm not complaining." He took in Kurt's lone lettuce leaf, his own empty plate. "You know, today isn't over."

Kurt picked up their plates, running them under water and leaving them on the counter.

"Believe me," he said, head tilted to the side. "I know."

When they fell asleep that night, wrapped up in each other, exhausted, relaxed, and so ready for the next year that it seemed almost overwhelming, Blaine traced the metal band on Kurt's finger, following the grooves as their breath settled.

Kurt brought Blaine's hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the ring finger. "Just reserving my place for later," he said softly.

Blaine hummed. "Tomorrow is going to be crazy. Burt and Carole, and I'm going to have to pick up some stuff from my house. And then we leave, I have to pack -"

"Shhh… it's okay. One thing at a time," Kurt reminded him. "It isn't even tomorrow yet."

Blaine just gave into the instinct to snuggle further into the pillow. "Tomorrow is one day closer to marrying you," he pointed out.

"So was yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that…"

"But now we're engaged."

"Yes," Kurt pulled him a little closer, the ambient light just enough that Blaine could see his face. "But I think I always knew we'd get here. I mean… after a point, this was always what we wanted…"

"I know what you mean."

"But it being inevitable doesn't make it not one of the greatest moments of my life, and it doesn't mean that I don't feel incredibly lucky -"

"Me too."

Kurt kissed him on the cheek and sighed. "See you tomorrow?"

"Mhmm. 'night."

A long pause.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can we have mexican food for lunch tomorrow? All that talk of Tacos-"

"You are so lucky I love you..."

"…is that a yes?"