A/N: I'm reposting this since the story itself mysteriously disappeared? Anyway, thanks for reading!

Blaine slid onto the couch in the greenroom and observed the scene before him, his tux jacket flung across his knees. Kurt was fluttering around the room with more energy that a kid in the world's biggest candy store, straightening Mike's tie for the twelfth time, explaining to Puck that no, he wasn't trying to stab him but if Puck had kept still when he was trying to pin on the white rose boutonniere he wouldn't have gotten hurt, and forcing Finn to sit down and breathe. Blaine couldn't help laughing at the thought of Kurt telling anyone to relax when he hadn't stopped moving since 5:30 that morning. Not that he minded, by any means. Kurt thrived on this busy, frantic energy that he helped spread among the wedding party. He looked so very alive – his pale skin aflame from his constant movement, his light gray-blue eyes glittering with excitement, his lips curled into a small, secretive smile. The ceremony would start soon.

Kurt's excitement was contagious, spreading to Blaine effortlessly. Between being one of Finn's groomsmen and living with Kurt Hummel, wedding planner extraordinaire, Blaine had been quite intimately involved in every aspect of the preparations for this day, and really, he was as anxious as Kurt that it go off without a hitch – maybe even more anxious. He fingered the small box in his jacket pocket nervously. It would be a day to remember.

Blaine stood on the stage, breathless. When Rachel Berry had told Kurt she wanted to get married in a theatre instead of a church (for the ease of the interfaith service as well as the atmospheric value), Blaine had envisioned his boyfriend creating a lovely ceremony; but nothing could have prepared him for the spectacle he'd witnessed.

It had been magical – the New Directions alumni, who doubled as the groomsmen and bridesmaids, had performed a medley of Broadway love songs (as arranged by Blaine and Kurt) while Rachel walked in, looking absolutely stunning in white and carrying one blossoming red rose tied with a simple black ribbon, an homage to Phantom of the Opera. Finn was standing center stage, positively glowing under the stage lights as he watched his bride walking through the house and up the stairs to the stage.

Blaine looked at Kurt, standing beside his brother as the best man. He looked stunning as ever. The tux fit him beautifully, the crimson of his tie contrasting sharply with the milky white of his skin. He'd insisted that he get a red rose in his boutonniere to separate him from the regular groomsmen. He was staring at the couple before him, looking back and forth between his stepbrother and his best friend while blinking rapidly to fight the tears that threatened to form.

The two were exchanging vows, staring deep into each other's eyes, but Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away from his boyfriend – his lover – this man he'd shared the past six years of his life with. Kurt was crying with such pure, unadulterated emotion, and Blaine knew that he could never be as in love with anyone as he was in that moment. Rachel was softly breathing "I do" when Kurt turned his head, meeting Blaine's gaze with a small, tearful smile. Kurt's soft hand slipped into Blaine's as they leaned in to each other ever so slightly, careful not to skew their arrangement on the stage. They stayed that way, grasping at each other's hands, bodies inclined towards each other for the rest of the ceremony. It was only after, when the spotlight was following Finn and Rachel down the aisle and the house lights came back up, that Kurt let go with a quick squeeze, pressing a kiss on Blaine's cheek.

"I've got to go check on the reception and make sure everyone's in the right order for the receiving line," he whispered, sliding his hand up Blaine's neck and rubbing his fingers in the short curly hair at the base of the neck gently. "Love you." With that, he sped off toward the reception room.

Blaine made his way more slowly, staying with the other members of the bridal party. Santana locked eyes with him a few seconds before tackling him. "Hobbit!" she whooped, encircling him in a very bouncy hug. "I can't believe I didn't get to see you before the wedding!"

Santana had been the only member of the bridal party unable to make it to the rehearsal dinner the night before. Since her singing career in LA had taken off, she had only been able to get off for the wedding itself in between tour dates. Blaine held her tightly – during his junior year at McKinley, their unexpected friendship became one of the closest he found. Even now, with Santana living in LA and constantly on the road and Blaine living with Kurt in New York, they still stayed in touch; at the very least, they exchanged obligatory drunk texts every time either of them got smashed. "God, it's good to see you," he murmured into her shoulder before they finally released each other.

"You too," she said, still holding on to his arms comfortably. "How are you? And how's our boy? He hasn't stopped moving all day, has he?"

"Not for a second," Blaine laughed.

"He's got that look." Santana nodded sagely. "I've seen it before, he was the exact same way when his dad got married. He's like a manic Tinkerbell." She laced her arm in Blaine's, walking with him toward the reception.

They sat together at the head table, catching up, but Blaine's eyes flickered back to the receiving line, where the beautiful boy was all smiles between his father and Finn. Finally Santana rolled her eyes at him. "Oh my god, really?"

Blaine snapped back toward her. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

She just smiled at him, rubbing his hand lightly. "After all these years?" she asked softly. "You're still this in love with him after all these years?"

Blaine looked at Kurt, at that perfect, porcelain face, then met Santana's eyes slowly. "Yes."

The line was disintegrating as the last of the guests shuffled by muttering their well wishes. Kurt walked toward them quickly, a euphoric smile on his face. He hugged Santana tightly, kissing her cheek before turning to his boyfriend with an outstretched hand.

"Dance with me?" he asked softly, a trusting smile on his face.

It was a perfect reflection of the night seven years ago when Blaine had asked Kurt to dance in front of the hostile crowd around them. It was wonderful, Blaine decided as he fell effortlessly into his boyfriend's arms, to be able to dance like this, together, unafraid, unashamed. He'd never tell Kurt how blissful he felt every time they danced, remembering Kurt's bravery and strength that night. Blaine smiled into his boyfriend's shoulder as he rested his head there, leaning up to kiss his throat softly.

The string quartet Kurt had hired for the reception was playing a lovely, sweeping melody that Blaine hadn't quite been able to place until it reached the refrain. "If I Loved You," he chuckled softly. "You would pick Carousel."

"Of course," Kurt answered, bringing a hand to softly work its way through Blaine's curls. "It's definitely superior to Oklahoma."

Blaine laughed. It was an argument they'd had many, many times. "Lies, all lies," he countered good-naturedly. "Oklahoma changed the shape of musical theatre. Before it, it was all Ziegfeld Follies and song-and-dance numbers that may or may not be connected by a loose, silly plot. In Oklahoma, Rodgers and Hammersteinrevolutionized musical theatre."

"And Carousel, as their second collaboration, took the lessons learned in Oklahoma and built upon that foundation, perfecting the art form."

"Then why has Oklahoma stood the test of time, remaining one of the most popular musicals ever, while the only people who still care about Carousel are theatre nerds?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh, okay, Mr. Top Forty, Carousel is inferior because it's not as popular." He giggled for a second then went immediately back to his defense. "I blame their varying popularity on their respective movie versions. They had to water down Carousel so much just to get it by the censors that it lost half its beauty. Besides, it's just got a weird plot. The protagonist spends a good chunk of the show dead. Oklahoma is a little more relatable to the common, lower-intelligence audience, maybe – " he was definitely smirking, now, " – but as far as artistic merit goes, Carousel wins every time, hands down."

Blaine just smiled, giving up as he pulled Kurt in tighter and started singing along softly in his ear. "Wanting to tell you, but afraid and shy – I'd let my golden chances pass me by…"

Kurt's light treble picked up when Blaine trailed off. "Soon, you'd leave me," he sang, his pale eyes plaintive and distant. "Off you would go in the mist of day, never, never to know how I loved you…"

"If I loved you," Blaine joined in. Santana, who had begun dancing with Brittany beside them, glanced at them with a knowing smile, enjoying their intimate impromptu performance. Blaine smiled back, a quiet acknowledgement. "It's a lovely song," Blaine admitted with a grin. He stood on his tiptoes ever so slightly, kissing his boyfriend's cheek. "You were amazing, Kurt. It's the most beautiful wedding I've ever seen."

Kurt rested his head against Blaine's, sighing peacefully. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. It's all so elegant. You have the perfect ratio of Rachel to Finn to sophistication."

Kurt nodded. "It's hard to appease Rachel without making it corny as hell. You've seen how she dresses. Imagine that, but on a full wedding scale."

He couldn't help laughing at the thought. Kurt had shown him pictures of the infamous Lady-Gaga-meets-Toys-R-Us outfit. "It's good they turned it over to you, then."

"Oh, believe me, I just let them pretend they had a choice in the matter." Kurt was gazing around the room, noting the décor, the lighting, the elegant favors. "It came together well. I do love weddings."

"I know," Blaine said, squeezing his hand.

"Can we have one?"

Blaine stopped moving immediately, their arms still entwined as they looked at each other in a standstill. "A wedding?"

"Yeah," Kurt breathed. "Not today, obviously. Just – sometime…"

The world seemed to spin, but they stayed, clinging to each other, ignoring the couples dancing around them. "Are you – Kurt, are you proposing?"

Kurt pulled away, fake exasperation not quite covering the vulnerability in his eyes. "Oh my god, Blaine, do you really think I'm that unromantic? You would know if I were proposing." He glanced around at the wedding guests, who were beginning to peer at the two young men, and grabbed Blaine's hand. "Come on," he whispered, pulling his boyfriend from the dance floor and outside.

There was a small garden outside the theatre with a graceful fountain and a little gazebo that Kurt had taken great care in decorating, though the guests seemed to think it too hot to be outside. Blaine gazed around them in wonder – he'd helped Kurt with the delicate arrangements of lanterns and tulle, but that was in the day. In the moonlight, the whole area looked magical, exuding a subtly romantic air as it lit the night.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said softly when they sat together on the bench in the gazebo, fingers linked. "I keep coming back to it. The whole time I was planning the wedding, I had to keep reminding myself that it was Rachel and Finn's, not…" He blushed, the delicate pink spreading through his cheeks gracefully. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Blaine was staring at the fountain. "You want to marry me," he said slowly, weighing the words in his mouth carefully.

Kurt nodded stiffly, following Blaine's gaze and looking at the fountain too. "Yeah."

"But you're not proposing."

Kurt dropped his head in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. "Of course I wasn't proposing, Blaine! Proposals are things that are thought-out and planned and you have to have a ring and a proper setting, proposals aren't just things that slip out in a moment of…"

Blaine was in front of him on one knee, holding a little black velvet box in his right hand.

Oh.

"I think I've loved you from the first minute I saw you," he said, his voice wavering. "You stood on that staircase, pretending to go to Dalton and not even wearing the uniform, and I think that's when I knew. I wanted that brave, terrified boy in the wrong outfit, and I wanted to keep him forever." He laughed nervously. "I didn't realize it then, of course, because that would have made life too easy, but that's when it happened. I want to keep you forever." He opened the box with trembling fingers. "You're everything, Kurt. You're my best and my worst, my dearest friend and my only love, and this – this sounds so much cornier than when I practiced." He took Kurt's smooth hand in his fingers and pressed the softest kiss to it. "I love you, Kurt. Will you marry me?"

Kurt sunk on his knees from the bench, level with Blaine now. He didn't speak. Instead, he lurched towards Blaine and flung his arms around his waist, holding him tighter than ever. Blaine couldn't breathe as he held Kurt, waiting for an answer, any answer, but then he felt warm tears running down his neck. "Yes," came the high, pure voice, distorted ever so slightly by the breathy sound of crying. "Yes."

Blaine was crying, too, unbelieving tears pouring down his face as he kissed Kurt's silken hair. "I love you," he said, kissing his cheek, "I love you," his ear, "I love you," his neck, "I love you," his chin. Finally, he kissed his boyfriend's – his fiancé's lips.

They'd dated for seven years, since they were in high school. They'd lived together since Blaine's freshman year of college when he joined Kurt in New York. They still went on weekly dates, whether it was a picnic in the park, dinner and a movie, or a night at the theatre. Their kisses numbered in the thousands, maybe even millions.

They found eternity in each other's lips under the graceful, romantic light of the gazebo. Holding his fiancé to him and knowing that Kurt was his, absolutely, Blaine knew that no other kiss could ever be as perfect.