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Blaine sighs contentedly as he watches the waves gently crash onto the shore, a picturesque sunset lighting the beach in a rosy, golden glow as the sun disappears slowly behind the horizon. The little deck to the cabana house is secluded enough to feel private while also sitting right in the beach, offering the newlywed husbands a perfect view.
“It’s getting chilly out here,” Kurt remarks, gripping his mug of tea tightly, cuddling further under the blanket he has wrapped around his shoulders.
“Want to go inside?” Blaine replies, and though he’s always been able to withstand the cold better than Kurt, he has to admit that Massachusetts evenings in November are maybe a little more conducive to relaxing by a fire than lounging outside.
“Hm, not yet,” Kurt hums, setting down his mug and reaching out one hand to take Blaine’s, resting them on top of the wooden table. “It’s so peaceful. Although, I think seagulls are giving pigeons a run for their money for the most annoying birds.”
“Seagulls are way worse than pigeons,” Blaine retorts. “Pigeons are cute. Seagulls are mean. I would feed a pigeon, but not a seagull.”
Kurt chuckles warmly. “I do know this about you. You and your birds.”
Blaine ducks his head bashfully, laughing slightly. “It’s weird, I know.”
“Hey, no,” Kurt murmurs, squeezing their interlocked hands. “It’s endearing. I love every piece of you, even if I may not understand the bird fixation.”
When Blaine raises his head to look at Kurt again, his cheeks are dusted pink. “Um, do you want to know? Why birds can sometimes be... a thing for me?”
“Of course I do,” Kurt smiles. “I’ll keep an open mind even if it’s super kinky, I promise.”
“Oh my god,” Blaine rolls his eyes, laughing again. “It’s definitely not kinky. It actually has to do only with you.”
“With me?” Kurt sounds genuinely surprised, but fondly so. “Do tell.”
“The moment I realized I was in love with you, you were singing ‘Blackbird,’” Blaine explains simply. “Pavarotti had just died, and while that’s so completely morbid, I don’t know, it was part of the whole thing. Not to mention we were both Warblers back then.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to find the words. “That’s... wow, that’s really sweet.”
Blaine shrugs, still a little embarrassed. “So it’s not actually birds as an animal — it’s the concept and what they make me remember. And you used to call me “Blaine Warbler,” so it makes me think of us at the beginning.”
“Blaine Warbler,” Kurt quirks an eyebrow knowingly as he says the nickname. “I love you so much. There’s no need to be embarrassed when telling me anything, especially not something as romantic and adorable as this.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to think that I had a bird fetish or something,” Blaine remarks, teasing.
“I could work with it,” Kurt protests. “I’d wear a lot more feathers, that’s for sure.”
Blaine shakes his head amusedly. “You’re ridiculous. I love you.”
Kurt leans in to meet Blaine in a quick kiss. “I love you too. Although, while feathers may not be the right thing for me to wear to indulge you, I have something else in mind.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Blaine asks, and Kurt chuckles at the glint of excitement that flashes in his eyes.
“My Dalton blazer,” Kurt quips smugly, releasing Blaine’s hand and leaning back in his chair. “And maybe the tie, too.”
“That’s, um,” Blaine swallows. “That’s an idea that I’m very on board with.”
Kurt sighs dramatically. “Oh, if I had only brought them along. I assume you still have yours somewhere?”
Blaine nods enthusiastically. “Uh, yeah, at home.”
“Hm,” Kurt smirks, considering his husband’s reaction. “Something to look forward to after our honeymoon, then.”
“You’re a tease,” Blaine snarks, but without any real heat behind it. “Exploiting my weaknesses and all that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt responds, raising his eyebrows and flashing Blaine his most innocent look. “I’m just a baby penguin. You’ll have to explain to me what you mean.”
“Kurt,” Blaine replies lowly, on the edge of a groan. “If you’re going to start roleplaying as younger us, you’d better be prepared to follow through.”
“Who said I wasn’t?” Kurt smirks. “We don’t need our Dalton uniforms. It’s after school hours, and besides, we should be comfortable if we’re going to have a sleepover.”
“Inside? Please?” Blaine squeaks, and Kurt just grabs his blanket and mug and leads the way back into the cabana house as the sky starts to get dark, pulling the curtains across the big glass door and windows tightly shut.
And, in the back of his mind, he adds “baby penguins” to the ever-growing list of bird-related symbols in their relationship. Maybe Blaine has a point about all this bird talk.