“Jesus Christ, you don’t even care, do you?”
“I just don’t see what the big deal is!”
“Because, Blaine, I am not the only one in this relationship and it would be nice to feel like you gave a shit.”
“Oh my god,” Blaine says, throwing his hands in the air. “Baby, I love you but you’re acting insane.”
“Insane?! Just because I want—”
“Stop yelling,” Blaine begs. “Come on, this is stupid.”
Kurt closes his eyes. “I think we need to take a break.”
“What?! Kurt, no, I love you, what are you talki—”
“Shh, stop. Not a break-break, god! Just an hour or something; I need to calm down. Just…go in the living room and give me some time to myself.”
“It’s midnight! I’m tired, I want to go to bed.”
“Then sleep on the couch,” Kurt snaps. “Just…go, please.”
When Blaine wakes, he’s…floating? No, Kurt’s carrying him. Huh?
“Did I miss the wedding?” he mumbles, still half-asleep, and tightens his arms around Kurt’s neck.
“You’re carrying me across the threshold? I was gonna — gonna do that to you though,” Blaine says with a yawn as Kurt deposits him on their bed. “So romantic.”
“No,” Kurt says softly, pulling the covers up over his fiancé. “The wedding’s not for months. You didn’t miss it.”
“Okay, good,” Blaine sighs, burrowing into Kurt’s arms when he climbs into the bed as well. “I don’t wanna miss it. But I wanna be married to you.”
“I want you to be married to me, too,” Kurt says, stroking Blaine’s messy curls. “I’m sorry I got so upset. Groomzilla attack.”
“Do you want me to look at the tablecloths now?” Blaine asks, sounding a little more awake. “I will. I didn’t mean to seem like I don’t care.”
“Oh, fuck the tablecloths,” Kurt says, and kisses Blaine’s forehead.
“Yeah,” Blaine says, and tilts his face up to kiss Kurt’s lips, sweet and soft and a little off-center. “Fuck ‘em.”