Drabble
blainewanderson requested: “Kurt’s pov, honeymoon, London, first night, wedding night, Blaine has just fallen asleep but Kurt is still awake.”
It had been a long day. A very long day. Lying awake in the darkness, Kurt could not quite believe how much has happened since he had last woken up.
He was married. More than that, he was married to Blaine, the man who he’d fallen in love with when they were both still just boys. They’d grown up together, been through heaven and hell together. And now, finally, they were officially recognised as a couple, two halves of a whole, nothing without each other. He had a new ring on his finger to prove it (well, metaphorically. It was currently on the nightstand, so as not to be lost in the bedding whilst he slept). A ring that he would wear until his dying day, and beyond. A ring that bound him to the man sleeping at his side, in sickness and in health, as long as they both should live.
The wedding itself had been all he could have hoped for. A small gathering, nothing too lavish on a student budget (with some help from the Hummel family and Blaine’s trust fund). The ceremony had been short, vows they’d both written themselves. The lunch had been divine, and Kurt had eaten until he was sure he would explode, only to cut the cake and somehow eat even more. He’d danced until his feet ached, with Blaine, with Kira and Sierra, with Carole and his dad, with Rachel, and with Blaine yet again.
He’d run through JFK with his hand firm in his husband’s, dozed fitfully on the flight through the night, and sat on the edge of his seat for the entire taxi ride to the hotel in the early morning light. And, exhausted as they had been, he’d made love to the beautiful man at his side, again and again, until neither of them had the energy to do so much as lift their head from the pillow.
Kurt should be sleeping now too, he definitely felt tired enough, every limb heavy and sated in the best possible way. But happiness kept him awake, a desperate need to keep this moment from ever ending. The edges of the curtains were glowing with British daylight, a day that was no longer his wedding day. The best day of Kurt’s life, without shadow of a doubt, and he stood powerless against time as it stole it away from him forever.
“I love you,” he whispered against Blaine’s temple, following the declaration with the gentlest of kisses. “I love you so much. I never say it to you enough, but you are... you’re perfect. I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment I met you, and I still can’t quite believe it’s happened. I’ll make sure you never regret this, I swear. If I do nothing else with my life, I’ll make sure you are the happiest man alive. Every single day. You have my word.”
Closing his eyes at last, Kurt wrapped his exhausted body tight around Blaine’s, brought almost to tears when his husband subconsciously shifted closer, fitting perfectly against his chest.
“Good night, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”
It had been a long day. A very long day. Lying awake in the darkness, Kurt could not quite believe how much has happened since he had last woken up.
He was married. More than that, he was married to Blaine, the man who he’d fallen in love with when they were both still just boys. They’d grown up together, been through heaven and hell together. And now, finally, they were officially recognised as a couple, two halves of a whole, nothing without each other. He had a new ring on his finger to prove it (well, metaphorically. It was currently on the nightstand, so as not to be lost in the bedding whilst he slept). A ring that he would wear until his dying day, and beyond. A ring that bound him to the man sleeping at his side, in sickness and in health, as long as they both should live.
The wedding itself had been all he could have hoped for. A small gathering, nothing too lavish on a student budget (with some help from the Hummel family and Blaine’s trust fund). The ceremony had been short, vows they’d both written themselves. The lunch had been divine, and Kurt had eaten until he was sure he would explode, only to cut the cake and somehow eat even more. He’d danced until his feet ached, with Blaine, with Kira and Sierra, with Carole and his dad, with Rachel, and with Blaine yet again.
He’d run through JFK with his hand firm in his husband’s, dozed fitfully on the flight through the night, and sat on the edge of his seat for the entire taxi ride to the hotel in the early morning light. And, exhausted as they had been, he’d made love to the beautiful man at his side, again and again, until neither of them had the energy to do so much as lift their head from the pillow.
Kurt should be sleeping now too, he definitely felt tired enough, every limb heavy and sated in the best possible way. But happiness kept him awake, a desperate need to keep this moment from ever ending. The edges of the curtains were glowing with British daylight, a day that was no longer his wedding day. The best day of Kurt’s life, without shadow of a doubt, and he stood powerless against time as it stole it away from him forever.
“I love you,” he whispered against Blaine’s temple, following the declaration with the gentlest of kisses. “I love you so much. I never say it to you enough, but you are... you’re perfect. I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment I met you, and I still can’t quite believe it’s happened. I’ll make sure you never regret this, I swear. If I do nothing else with my life, I’ll make sure you are the happiest man alive. Every single day. You have my word.”
Closing his eyes at last, Kurt wrapped his exhausted body tight around Blaine’s, brought almost to tears when his husband subconsciously shifted closer, fitting perfectly against his chest.
“Good night, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”