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Kurt sat down in the reclining chair with a grateful sigh and opened the photo album in his lap.
"Oh," he said immediately. "Would you look at that. Do you remember this picture, honey?" he asked, leaning to show the photo to the man sitting in the chair next to him. "That's from Regionals in Junior year."
"Your Junior year," the other male said.
Kurt huffed. "Should have been yours too. I can't believe I had to spend an entire year without you in New York. I don't care how brilliant the lights are, it was nothing without you there with me."
"Times Square can't shine as bright as you. I swear it's true," his companion sang, voice as smooth as ever, if a bit deeper and older.
"That's a really old song, Blaine."
"That doesn't make it any less true," Blaine countered, rocking his chair a little bit and humming more of 'Hey There Delilah', his eyes locked on Kurt.
Kurt sighed, but he didn't mind the song. Not really. He flipped a few more pages in the photo album, smiling at each new image: winning at Nationals, his graduation, a second Nationals, Blaine's graduation, his apartment with Rachel. There was a picture of the day Blaine showed up in New York, surprising Kurt while Rachel took pictures. On the next page, a picture of Blaine and Kurt asleep on the couch, then when Kurt got his acceptance letter to NYADA, and Kurt's first design that went to the runway.
"This is when you proposed," Kurt murmured, voice warm as his fingers trailed down the edge of the picture. On the next page- "And our wedding." He sighed. "Twenty-one...Forty years pass so fast."
Blaine hugged a laugh. "Thirty-seven," he corrected. "Don't age me prematurely." He reached for the album but Kurt moved it out of the way with ease.
"You're the one who asked for the rocking chairs," Kurt reminded. "You're aging yourself."
Blaine let out a breath and gave up trying to grab the album. "So are you," he countered lightly. "You used to be so specific about everything."
Kurt turned the page. There was their second apartment, and then their dog Max. Then the baby pictures, the toddler, the preteen, the teenager, the adult pictures. There was the day Kurt won his Tony; the year Blaine won teacher of the year; when Blaine's glee club won Nationals, four years in a row; Kurt's Emmy for a guest appearance on a comedy show; Blaine's CD on a store shelf with Blaine beaming behind it and a baby on his hip. There they were on the red carpet for the premiere of Kurt's first movie. He never stopped participating on Broadway, but the silver screen drew him too.
Then came their house, both before and after painting, bought when they adopted their eight year old son, Danilo. More baby pictures followed that.
"I miss them," he breathed out slowly, covering his heart.
Blaine looked at him. "It'll be Christmas time soon. Then you'll be wishing for your peace and quiet," he teased.
Kurt almost smacked him playfully with the album but decided against it. "I know you miss them too," he challenged instead. "Jeannie, Danilo, Harriet, Alexander. Dani will bring the puppies with him next time he visits." He paused. "Sometimes I think he loves those dogs more than he loves me."
Blaine laughed out loud at that. "He loves you," he assured his husband, using his left hand to reach out and hold Kurt's right. The feel of the gold band on his hand calmed Kurt as much as Blaine's words.
They fell into quiet again as Kurt kept flipping, sighing at this picture, laughing at that one. Their chairs rocked almost in time, slow and steady, as their hands rested on Kurt's chair arm. Blaine gave Kurt's hand a squeeze after Kurt had flipped four pages, drawing Kurt's attention out of the book.
He raised a curious eyebrow. "Why are you looking at old pictures?" he asked. "You're not usually so nostalgic."
Kurt shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think it's this new role." It was for a father who had just lost his child to a war. Kurt still looked young enough looking that no one would guess he had grandchildren. Blaine was the same way.
"You'll do fine," Blaine said, voice kind.
Kurt shrugged. It wasn't really a fear that he wouldn't play the role properly that had him looking back through the years. It was the thought of losing Dani or Jeannie, or one of Jeannie's twins.
Blaine gave Kurt's hand a tug and stood up. "Come on. Get up."
"Hm?" Kurt set the album aside and stood. Blaine took Kurt's now free hand and placed it on his own hip. Kurt laughed once as he realized what Blaine was doing. "Really?"
Blaine smiled. "What? You love dancing. It always cheers you up."
Kurt shook his head even as Blaine began swaying them around the living room, avoiding the coffee table and the desk. He let Blaine lead this time, since it was his idea.
"You idiot," Kurt said fondly. Blaine raised an eyebrow and spun Kurt out and back in. Kurt leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Dancing cheers me up because I'm dancing with you."
Blaine spun them in a tight circle, causing Kurt to laugh, and did it again. "Anything I do with you makes me happy," he said.
Kurt lifted a suspicious eyebrow. "Even when we fight?"
A nod. "Even when we fight." He wiggled his nose against Kurt's as their dancing slowed to simple swaying. "Because I know that no matter what, we'll work through it, and we'll come out stronger on the other side. I know that you will complain and I will whine. But I also know that you will fix all of my clothes, and give me a massage at the end of the day. And I will bake you sweets even though you say they're bad for you, and I will kiss you every day until the day I die."
Kurt shook his head and leaned into Blaine as they swayed. "Don't talk about death. With any luck, we're decades away from that yet. I don't want to imagine life without emergency cake."
Blaine chuckled, resting his head against Kurt's. "I love you too, Kurt."