If You're Ready, Like I'm Ready

The television is blaring loudly, and Kurt can tell even without looking that his boyfriend is absolutely riveted to the screen; he can practically feel the force of Blaine's concentration radiating outward.

Kurt should be equally absorbed; he should be gripping the sides of the sofa, tense and hopeful and white-knuckled. But he isn't. He can't let himself believe that this might really be happening.

Because if he starts to believe that it might happen– and then it doesn't –

Kurt stares at the TV screen cross-eyed until his vision starts to blur. At which point he directs his gaze to their living room ceiling and begins counting the tiles. Anything to detach himself. To distract himself.

"…the Ohio State Supreme Court having reached a verdict…"

Feel nothing. This means nothing.

"…with four justices in concurrence and three dissenting…"

No. It's not going to happen. Stop thinking that it's going to happen. It's NOT, okay? Deal with it.

"…the amendment banning same-sex marriage in the State of Ohio has been found unconstitutional and is hereby…"

Without even realizing he's doing it, Kurt leaps off of the couch and runs toward the television screen. "NO!" he shouts half-hysterically. "No way. There's no way. Say that again!"

If he could think at all, he would be aware of how ridiculous he looks right now (essentially trying to have a conversation with a voice on the television screen). But he's too stunned, too shaken; he feels raw and nerveless and he still can't let himself believe this. He looks back at the couch.

"Blaine? What just happened? Did they really just say - ?"

But Blaine isn't looking at Kurt. His head is buried in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. He's crying. "Oh, my God," he's repeating. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

He finally raises his beautiful, tear-stained face to Kurt. He holds his arms out and Kurt practically trips over himself in his haste to get to Blaine.

Before he knows it, Kurt is being clasped tightly to his boyfriend's chest as though he's the most precious thing in the world. Blaine's hands are smoothing Kurt's hair and stroking Kurt's face - and he is whispering beautiful, amazing things in Kurt's ear ("I love you. I love you, Kurt, I've never loved anyone this much and now the whole damn world is going to know just how much I love you…")

And suddenly Blaine is pulling back and staring into his eyes. "Kurt?"

Kurt's heart starts trying to pound right out of his chest. "Y-yes, Blaine?"

"Kurt," he says again, this time taking a deep breath, "I – I was wondering…"

His mouth goes dry. "…yes?..."

"Do you – think we should call their offices? I mean, the Justices who supported overturning the amendment? We should let them know how much this means to the gay community and – I don't know, just thank them? Or something? There will almost definitely be an appeal and I just want to know that we've done everything we can..."

Kurt is frozen. It all makes sense. Everything Blaine is saying makes sense. But this isn't what he'd been expecting to hear.

"Y-yeah," he stammers finally. "Sounds good. I'll help, uh, write a letter. Or call, or – whatever."

"Cool," breathes out Blaine, leaning back into the sofa cushions and drawing Kurt down with him, into the warm circle of his arms. "This is incredible. It's history,"he says, sounding awestruck. He tightens his arms around Kurt and shifts him slightly so that his head is resting comfortably on Blaine's chest.

Kurt's eyelashes flutter closed. Blaine rubs his back gently and presses soft kisses to his forehead every so often. He starts singing quietly, something soft and slow and dreamlike that lulls Kurt to sleep almost instantly, wrapped safely in the arms of the man he's lived with for the last three years, and loved for the last seven. The man Kurt will never stop loving. Never.

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When Kurt wakes up the next morning, he finds he's gained some perspective on the situation. True, he'd been expecting Blaine to propose last night.

But – that was a little ridiculous, wasn't it?

Just because they can get married doesn't mean they have to get married right this instant. He reacquaints himself with the facts of their present circumstances.

Kurt is twenty-three years old – and Blaine is twenty-four. They've been together since their junior year of high school, and they've been living together since halfway through college.

Much to the surprise of his friends and family, Kurt had decided to stay in Ohio for college, attending the Columbus College of Art and Design as a Fashion Design Major. A part of him had longed desperately to be headed for New York City or Los Angeles, but his dad's health had never been stable, and Kurt had flatly refused to settle anywhere farther than a two-hour drive away.

He and Blaine had done the long-distance-relationship-thing for a year. Blaine had gone to Northwestern University in Illinois, which is about a seven-hour drive from Columbus. They'd both hated every second of it and Blaine had transferred to Ohio State University at the start of their sophomore year, majoring in Music Education. A year later they'd moved in together in a small off-campus apartment.

It's been a year and a half since they've graduated, and even Kurt – who has exceptionally high standards – is forced to admit that they've done quite well for themselves.

Blaine is teaching music at a private high school in Hilliard and Kurt works in the Costume and Set Design Department for a large professional theatre company in Columbus. A year ago they'd moved into a 725-square-foot one-bedroom (expertly decorated by Kurt) in downtown Columbus in a gorgeous apartment building with a view of the skyline.

They see their family and friends as regularly as they can, they've started to become involved in both the local arts scene and the local LGBTQIA community, and they spend any remaining free time wrapped up in each other. And they radiate that sort of happiness that comes from having everything that's worth having - youth, health, beauty, a world to explore, and a lover with whom to explore it.

Kurt's not going to bother to deny it – they've got a great thing going. There's no reason in the world that they need to get engaged now. He's positive that Blaine wants to marry him someday – hadn't he said as much last night? Something about "letting the world know how much he loves Kurt?" That didn't sound like someone who was afraid of commitment.

Maybe Blaine thinks it would be rushing things? Or maybe he's just waiting for the right moment?

Whatever is keeping Blaine from proposing (and Blaine is going to be the one to propose; Kurt had made that preference clear as far back as high school), Kurt is sure of one thing – he is not going to let it drive him crazy.

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Oh my god. It's. Driving. Kurt. Crazy.

It's only been two days and he already feels like he's about to go out of his mind.

Every time Blaine says his name, Kurt jerks his head up with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

And it's always something ridiculously inconsequential: "Do you want to order take-out tonight?" or "Did you remember to pick up the dry-cleaning?"

It has become an almost-Pavlovian reaction.

"Hey, Kurt?"

And Kurt will raise his head expectantly. "Y-yes, Blaine?"

"I can't remember - is your dad's birthday on the 25th or the 26th?"

And then Kurt will stammer out an answer, trying to calm himself down and fighting down a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.

It's absolutely maddening. And if Kurt didn't know better, he'd swear Blaine was doing it on purpose.

To make matters worse, they'd gone to the park yesterday – a beautifully romantic botanical garden, to be exact – and Blaine had knelt down.

Kurt's heart had started hammering madly and his throat had gone suddenly dry. This was it. This was it.

Then Blaine's voice, innocent and unaware: "Look at this rock, Kurt – it almost looks like it's an obsidian flake…"

It had taken about five minutes for his breathing to return to normal.

Kurt decides that this simply cannot go on. It could literally be years before Blaine decides it's time to propose. And if he can't stop the constant heart-pounding, he's going to end up on the exact same medication regimen as his father.

He's not going to propose, he tells himself. Not any time soon, anyway. Stop freaking out every time he says your name.

It kind of works. Kurt still freaks out when Blaine says his name - but it's to a lesser extent each time it happens.

He's choosing to count it as progress.

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Fortunately for Kurt, life presents its usual distractions.

It's difficult to worry about whether or not Blaine is going to propose when they're trying valiantly to make a gourmet dinner for Blaine's parents and sister.

It's difficult to worry about whether or not Blaine is going to propose when they're sobbing their way through Steel Magnolias.

It's difficult to worry about whether or not Blaine is going to propose when they're grocery shopping or running to the ATM or picking up the dry-cleaning or wandering around art galleries or attending outdoor concerts or going to birthday parties or visiting with friends…

And it's really, really difficult to worry about basically anything at all right now – because the second Kurt had gotten home from work today, Blaine had shot him a smolderingly sexy look and dragged him into the living room.

He had shoved Kurt against the wall and started yanking down Kurt's pants and boxers - and then Blaine had dropped down to his knees –

- and that's where they are right now, Kurt groaning and trembling against the living room wall as Blaine jerks him off unbearably slowly with his hand while expertly tonguing Kurt's balls.

The sounds coming out of Kurt are a wordless, incoherent mess. It is taking just about every ounce of his concentration not to fall down on the ground. The wet heat of Blaine's mouth and the agonizing pressure of his hand are just about killing him –

"Fuck – Blaine – I can't"-

Blaine lifts his mouth off just long enough to say (with a smirk, that bastard): "Oh, I think you can."

"Ahh…" Kurt's hips start rocking despite himself. "…F-fuck… god … oh, god…"

Blaine swirls his tongue slowly around the head of Kurt's cock. He pulls away suddenly, and Kurt whines out his displeasure. "And here I thought you were an atheist," Blaine says, amusement evident in his tone.

"Ughh… I hate you," says Kurt, only half-meaning it, as his hips jerk involuntarily toward the inviting warmth of his boyfriend's mouth.

Blaine redoubles his efforts, licking and sucking at the underside of Kurt's shaft and then slowly taking the full length of him in his mouth, causing Kurt to arch his back up in an effort to get closer – god - anything…

Fuck, he's so close...

His hands fly up to tangle themselves in Blaine's hair – Kurt's not a hair-puller, per se, but – god, he just needs a little more…

The familiar pressure starts pooling in his groin. Oh, fuck…

"Blaine… nnn…ngh…"

He can't help it – his fingers twist themselves around his boyfriend's curls, the familiar glint of metal from his Dalton class ring scraping against Blaine's scalp, as Kurt's muscles start to seize and -

Wait – Wait –

That's not his Dalton class ring.

That's NOT his Dalton class ring.

What -?

Although it's possibly the most difficult thing Kurt has ever done in his entire ife, he shoves Blaine off of him.

"What"- he pants out, "- what – is this? Blaine - what"- Kurt holds out his left hand. His brain is absolutely fried. He just can't even process –

Blaine is sitting back on his heels, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Fucking finally," he says with a wide, beautiful grin on his face. "I thought you were never going to notice."

"Notice…" Kurt says weakly. He glances down at the ring. At a men's...platinum… princess cut… diamond… engagement band?

Kurt freezes. For about two seconds. Then – "Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me, Blaine?"

Blaine stares at him, nonplussed, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, Kurt. It's a big practical joke. Obviously."

"I – I don't – are you - ?"

This really isn't Kurt's fault. Not only had this information been sprung on him very suddenly, but most of his blood is… not in his brain at the moment.

He stares at his hand again, his mouth opening and closing rapidly. "How… how long?" he asks.

Blaine is still grinning madly. "Three days. I switched the rings while you were sleeping. I have to say I thought you'd notice a lot sooner."

"I don't - understand. Is this… happening?"

Blaine is clearly taking pity on poor Kurt's flustered, disheveled state. He holds his hands out to Kurt, and confused as he is, Kurt takes them. There isn't a circumstance on earth under which he wouldn't take Blaine's hands when asked to.

"Kurt," Blaine says steadily, "I didn't really plan out what I was going to say - and in a way I think that's a good thing. I don't have to use this occasion to tell you how much I love you or how much you mean to me – because honestly? You and I tell each other those things all the time. . And we show our love for each other every chance we get."

He takes a deep breath. "So here's the only thing I can think of to say that's new: Life's just gotten a whole lot easier for us, Kurt. We can legally be married, and we're going to have rights and benefits and privileges that people even a generation ago could never have dreamed of having. But I just want you to know that even if we didn't or couldn't have those things, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. I'd still be in this for the long haul. I love you, Kurt. And the thing that means more to me than anything – even more than the rights and benefits and privileges we'll be getting, although I'm certainly not discounting them – is the fact that I am going to get to stand up in front of a room full of everyone you and I care about and tell them just how fucking much I love you."

He exhales sharply and looks straight up into Kurt's eyes. "So – having said all that…" He swallows heavily. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel - will you marry me?"

There are about five seconds of silence, during which the only sounds in the room are the ticking of the clock they'd bought together at a yard sale, the soft whirring of their ceiling fan, the low thumping sound of their clothes tangling together in the dryer, the faint murmur of traffic emanating from the street outside - the everyday soundtrack of the life they've begun to build together.

Then Kurt throws himself down on the ground and launches himself at Blaine.

"YES!" he shouts, practically delirious with joy. "Ohmygod, yes. Yes, Blaine. Yes, yes, yes, yes… a million times, yes."

Blaine pulls him into his arms and suddenly they are kissing madly, fiercely.They are pressing their bodies together, feeling as though they'll never be close enough. Kurt starts laughing –

"… I can't believe I was naked during that whole thing…"

And then Blaine is laughing, too. And then he is sliding down Kurt's body, trailing kisses down Kurt's torso. He stops right before he reaches Kurt's groin, lifting his head up briefly. "Do you want me to"-

"Yes," says Kurt, half-laughing, half-groaning. "Ohmygod, yes. Yes, Blaine. A million times, yes."

Blaine lowers his mouth to Kurt's cock, which is slowly starting to swell again. Kurt opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling tiles as Blaine works him over slowly with his lips and tongue, drawing out gasps and moans and pleas and half-stifled swear words.

And then he closes his eyes, just giving himself entirely over to the sensations. "Yes," he murmurs softly. "Yesyesyesyes…." And he's thinking about the proposal, and about Blaine's beautiful words, and about the way Blaine is licking his way up the length of Kurt's cock with slow, swirling swipes of his tongue, and suddenly he doesn't even know what he's saying "yes" to anymore, although he can't seem to stop saying it for the life of him…

…but it doesn't matter. Because everything is good.

Everything is so good.

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It takes about five minutes for Kurt to come down from his post-orgasmic haze. And the first thing he does when he emerges from it is throw himself on top of his boyfriend (fiancé!) and veryenthusiastically return the favor.

Once Blaine has emerged from his post-orgasmic haze, they agree that they need to call their friends and family and tell them the good news.

While Kurt is laughing and crying with his dad and Carole and Finn, Blaine is pouring them glasses of champagne and de-stemming strawberries. Kurt blissfully partakes in these delights as he hands the phone over to Blaine (so that Burt and Carole can congratulate their future son-in-law).

Kurt is pretty damn sure, as he slowly sips his champagne, that he couldn't be any happier than he is right now. He might actually die from happiness overload. He looks at Blaine – at beautiful, gorgeous, amazing Blaine – and feels the need to pinch himself.

Blaine's soothing voice washes over him and Kurt closes his eyes, munching contentedly on a strawberry. Only to open his eyes abruptly, when he hears-

"… how did I propose?" There is a short pause. Then Blaine's voice again: "Well, of course I got down on my knees to do it, Carole."

Kurt spits out the champagne he'd been drinking. He looks up at Blaine who (naturally) hasn't missed a fucking beat.

"Yeah," he says sweetly to Carole, while tossing Kurt a napkin and giving him a wickedly sexy smile,"I guess I'm just a stickler for tradition that way."

Kurt shakes his head slowly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

Best. Fucking. Fiancé. Ever.

FIN