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It’s closing in on midnight on their second date since the Lopez-Pierce wedding. Blaine carries his telescope in a sturdy bag, and Kurt the battery pack for it and Blaine’s laptop.
The warmth of their late dinner—gourmet burgers at a hip new brew bar—is enough to fend of the bitter night’s chill. For now anyway. In companionable silence under the moon’s thin light, they walk across the grass to the center of Schoonover Park where they’ll be observing a conjunction of the Moon and Jupiter.
It takes a while to level the tripod and collimate the telescope. Kurt watches the careful work of Blaine’s hands and provides light from his phone.
The telescope is, apparently, a fancy model. "One good thing about my father," Blaine says. "When he’s feeling guilty, expensive gifts are easier than hugs."
Kurt’s unsure that’s a good thing exactly.
"At least this time, he got me something thoughtful." Blaine straightens. Looks up at the dome of stars, the Moon with Jupiter shining brightly beside. "Dad’s gifts are typically generic, or a passive aggressive suggestion of how I should change for the better." Blaine presses some buttons and the telescope whirs. "It’s why I like to surprise you."
"Because you feel... guilty?" Kurt frowns.
"No. Because my Dad’s gifts are impersonal. He doesn’t know me. Except this summer, in a rare moment of insight, he got me this and a membership to the local Astronomy Society. After I limped home with my heart broken, a failure in my own relationship—"
"I’m sorry, I—"
"Kurt. I understand why you asked me to stop apologizing for Eli. You don’t need to keep doing it. We’re fine."
"Sure, yeah... you were saying?"
"I think he found me more relatable," Blaine says. "But I digress. It’s why I like to surprise you with experiences you’ll love. So you’ll know I see you and I care. Make sense?"
"But we planned tonight?"
"Because I also know too much of a good thing, for you, isn't always wonderful. I don't want to smother or pressure you."
"Oh."
"It’s ready for a look." Blaine steps aside. "You can see Jupiter’s red spot tonight too."
Kurt bends over the telescope and—
Unmistakably it’s Jupiter: striped and red-spotted, hanging bright in the black beside the relief of the Moon’s cratered edge. Over 500 million miles away, and he can see it. "Blaine..."
"Some of the Galilean moons should be visible too."
And there they are! Little bright pinpricks. Not distant stars, but three of Jupiter’s satellites. Kurt stares and stares as a fullness grows in his chest until it aches and tears prick his eyes. He straightens, his whole body alive with this simple gift of awe. Unsteady but honest, he blurts, "I love you so fucking much."
Blaine’s reply comes soft. Easy. "I know."
Kurt takes a breath; it shudders out. "Do you? Truly?" Blaine struggled with so much doubt in the past. Kurt extends his hand.
And Blaine reaches back. "I do."
.