"Hi, Aunt Amelia," Kurt said, trying not to breathe too deeply as he bent almost double to get a hug from an elderly woman doused in perfume. It was expected to hit ninety in Miami, standard for July, but hot enough that the church’s air conditioning was straining. "It's so good to see you."

"Another wedding and you're still not married," she grumbled at him. "You can't wait forever, you know. Your mother deserves a few grandchildren."

Kurt kept the smile on his face by force of habit. "She has four grandchildren already."

"So?" She swatted him on the hip with one bony hand. "You can never have too many grandchildren. Or husbands," she added, as she trundled off to her seat, cackling.

The church was packed to the rafters, family members that he only ever saw at weddings, funerals, or baptisms filling every pew. The back wall was reserved for the teenagers, awkward and uncomfortable in their dress clothes, and utterly uninterested in the proceedings.

Marizza's fiance, an easy-going mechanic named Arturo who owned a chain of custom auto body shops, had invited his small family and some of his employees, but they were so vastly outnumbered that it was hard to pick them out. He thought he might have seen one of the shop managers floating around, but it could also have been a distant cousin. Even he couldn't keep everyone in his family straight.

"I can't believe you left me."

Kurt smiled as he turned to face Evan, his heart leaping. "You were safe enough with Lucia and Pyotr."

Evan glared at him. "Lies." He turned his head and pointed at his cheek, and Kurt couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. His cheek was smeared with a dozen shades of lipstick, until he looked like he had a permanent blush. "I was attacked, and all those two did was laugh."

Pulling him close, still laughing, Kurt pressed a kiss to Evan's hair. He felt right in Kurt’s arms, weeks of practice making it familiar. "Poor baby. Did the mean old pensioners pinch your cheeks?"

"Oh, fuck you," Evan muttered. "Those women are vicious."

"Believe me," Kurt said, smiling at one of his mother's cousins over Evan's head, "I know." The elderly woman squinted at him for a moment, her inch-thick glasses sliding down her nose as she clutched the arm of her escort. "We should get to our seats before someone else decides you're easy prey."

"You owe me for this. You have no idea how much you owe me for this," Evan said, smiling tightly at the crowds as they waded toward the front of the church.

Kurt had to admit that Marizza had, after hours of screaming and hundreds of magazine clippings, put together a beautiful wedding. The pews were decorated tastefully, with small clusters of flowers and minimal drape. In the end, she had decided against fuchsia, and the gentle peach shade she'd chosen instead fit the bright Miami summer perfectly. Even the bridesmaids were happy.

"This is probably not the time to admit this," Evan whispered as they slid into the pew next to Kurt's mother. Lucia and Pyotr, already seated at the far end of the pew, didn't look up from their conversation, Lucia's hair swinging as she laughed. "I've never been to a Catholic church before. Or a Catholic wedding, actually."

"What?" Kurt took advantage of the cover of the pew to pull his phone out and check it. "Really?" He made a quick note to do more in-depth research on one of the funds he'd been keeping an eye on. The numbers weren't adding up.

"My papa may have been married seven times, but we aren't big on church," Evan said, his jaw set in a hard line.

Kurt stared at him. "Your papa was married seven times?"

"Yes." His tone was a clear warning to drop the subject, and Kurt grudgingly subsided.

Evan didn’t often talk about his family. Or himself. Kurt found he was oddly hungry for those little details.

On Evan's far side, Mama shushed them, her eyes snapping as she caught sight of his phone. The priest was fussing with the altar, preparing for everything to start, so Kurt stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Just follow my lead," he told Evan as Catherine and her family slid in next to him. His youngest nephew was already asleep, drooling on his mother's dress. "Good of you to join us."

"Emily tried to climb a tree," Catherine said, glancing at her daughter with amusement. "Nana Maria saw her, and we got a lecture on the fall of western civilization."

"Ouch." Reaching around her back, he offered his eight-year-old niece a high five just as the music started.

"Oh, good," Catherine's husband, Bill, said cheerfully. "Arturo actually showed."

Kurt was still laughing when the first bridesmaid started down the aisle. After a huge blowup about which sister would get to be first down the aisle, the issue had been solved by giving one of Marizza's college friends the honor. He couldn't remember her name, but she was nice enough, married to a banker or something boring like that.

The processional was long. Kurt found himself tuning out the bridesmaids in favor of watching the way the light flickered against Evan's hair. Between the candles and the sunlight, the church was bright and cheerful, and the carefully-styled strands glowed like gold.

Even in the chaos of flowers and other people, it was easy for Kurt to pick out Evan's scent. He found himself breathing deeper to pull in more. There was always a touch of whiskey around Evan, but today he also smelled of subtle, expensive cologne.

The fragrance pulled at Kurt's memories, but he couldn't place it. His fingers itched to touch.

A gasp went through the room, and he dragged his gaze back to the doorway in time for Marizza to step into the aisle. She looked incredible, and his eyes burned as she floated forward. Like the rest of his sisters, she'd opted to walk down the aisle alone, a tribute to the father she'd barely known. Her bouquet was tied with one of his ties, the complicated knot highlighting an absolutely hideous pattern in the silk.

"My father loved ugly ties," Kurt found himself whispering into Evan's ears. It wouldn’t matter to Evan, but he wanted to share some of the little details about himself, too. "We had a competition to see who could buy him the ugliest tie."

He rubbed his cheek against Evan's hair and smiled. "Mama always won. I think she had them custom made."

"I did not," his mother whispered, her voice clogged with tears. "They were imported."

Evan leaned back against him, comforting and just a little too warm. The musk that rose off them made him want to hold on forever. Next to them, Bill snorted, and Catherine elbowed him in the gut, her face flushed with mortification. Kurt swallowed hard and kept his hands at his side.

Evan didn’t seem to notice, his eyes bright. "My dad was in the military," he whispered, and if Kurt hadn't been pressed so close, he wouldn't have heard. "He loved glitter. He'd fill his letters with glitter just to frustrate my papa. I used to find little specks of it all over the place when I was a kid, even though he died before I was born."

Marizza was even with them now, her eyes locked on Arturo. Kurt watched her walk by, his chest tight. Sometimes, he wished all the crazy was worth it. Emotion clogged his throat as he watched her take her place in front of the priest, the whole church sighing as the couple knelt.

There was a burst of movement as the kneeling benches were tilted down. Kurt wrapped an arm around Evan's shoulders, guiding him down to the bench. "Blessing first," he whispered as he bowed his head.

He tried to focus on praying for Marizza, that one of them would be happy, finally. Instead, all he could think about was the heat of Evan’s shoulder next to his. Soon, the wedding would be over, and so would their charade.

The thought was sharp enough to draw blood.

The priest was solemn but quick, the words washing over the room, and soon they were settling back on the pew. Evan barely looked away from the ceremony as Kurt rested his arm along the wood back, so Kurt took the opportunity to keep looking.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the union of these two people." The priest's voice rang through the room, carrying over fidgeting toddlers and bored teens.

It was easy to forget that Evan was so small. His personality, the way he stood toe-to-toe with Kurt's six feet and Pyotr's almost seven, made him seem larger than life. Sitting enthralled in the towering church hall, he looked young and vulnerable.

Kurt flexed his fingers against the need rising in his gut to protect Evan at any cost. Evan didn't need his protection.

"It is often said that love is constant; however, those who have experienced love know that it is never that simple. That you love them? That should be as constant as the beating of your heart.

“But like the beating of your heart, that love can vary day to day, moment to moment. Sometimes it is frantic and terrifying, and sometimes it is slow and warm and comfortable. The beauty of love is in the ways that it will continue to surprise you all the days of your life."

Evan shifted, a sad smile coming to his lips, and Kurt had to look away for a moment to resist the urge to kiss it. The priest was smiling as he addressed the bride and groom, but his eyes kept scanning the room. That sharp gaze caught Kurt's for a moment, and he felt something hard and uncomfortable settle in his stomach.

They held eye contact for an awkward moment, but eventually, the priest moved on. The stone in Kurt's gut didn't fade.

"Marriage," the priest continued. "Marriage is constant. From this day forward, it will be with you when you laugh; it will be with you when you cry." He paused, his smile stretching a little. "It will even be there when you argue, and it definitely will be there when you make up."

Kurt laughed, the sound echoed by a large portion of the crowd. Evan didn't join in, his lips twisted into a wry smile. Kurt tucked him up under one arm and kissed his hair.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Evan said. "They just make it sound nice."

Kurt chuckled again, dropping his head so that he could whisper in Evan's ear. "Well, he's not going to try and talk them out of it at this point. He's got to sell it so they at least make it through the honeymoon."

Evan glanced at him through his lashes. "You sound almost as cynical as me."

"My parents were only married once, but that doesn't mean I don't know how marriages can go wrong. I have a big family."

Arturo stepped forward to say his vows, and Kurt fell silent.

They had written their own vows, the two of them, and Arturo's was a nice mix of funny and sweet. Even the inside joke about the cat that made Marizza burst into tears. There was a pause as she tried to get enough control to speak her own vows.

Next to him, Evan sighed. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so negative at a wedding."

"It's okay," Kurt said. He wanted to kiss the frown off Evan’s lips. "Nobody can hear you but me, and I'm not arguing with you.

“My family are workaholics. Marriage almost never works out for us."

"Your sisters seem to be doing well."

They did look good, didn’t they? It was all perfect on the surface. He bit back the urge to confess family secrets. "They have their own problems," he said instead. "Perfection is a myth. Like Father Julio said, love can vary over time."

Marizza cleared her throat, and he stopped to watch her say her vows, her head held high. She glowed, and Arturo looked like a man who had just won the lottery, as he should.

"I hope they're happy," Evan said, barely a breath of sound. He was silent for the rest of the ceremony.

"What did you do to my bar?"

"It'll wash off," Marizza said airily.

Kurt glared at the glittering pink finish as she kissed his cheek. "It better," he grumbled.

She stuck her tongue out at him, turning to the next person in the receiving line. Wading through the rest of his family, Kurt scanned the reception crowd for Evan. He'd been quiet since the ceremony, barely saying a word on the way from the church.

The house was gradually filling up with people, laughter echoing around the space. He loved his house when it was empty and quiet, but it was nice to have his family gathered around.

There were already waiters circulating with appetizers and drinks, and he grabbed two glasses of wine as he wandered toward the patio. He took a sip, frowning when he didn't see a head of golden hair anywhere.

"He's in the kitchen," Lucia said, coming up beside him. She had a pink carnation stolen off the pew flowers tucked behind her ear, and her cheeks were flushed. "I thought he might like to escape for a little while."

"Thanks," he said, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "How's your date?"

She ducked her head, the rim of her ear turning red. "He's not my date," she said, stabbing him in the side with two fingers, but she was smiling.

"Fine," Kurt said, fending off another poke. "How is Pyotr, your not-date?"

"Cousin Chloe foisted Emilio off on him as soon as we arrived. I thought he was going to faint."

"Pyotr or Emilio?" Kurt asked, maneuvering them through the crowd toward the kitchen.

"Pyotr. Emilio thinks he's the best thing ever, being so high up." She glanced over her shoulder, her smile softening. "He's good with kids. I don't think he's used to it, though."

Kurt snorted. "Don't say that too loud. He'll never have a moment's peace."

"Some of us do seem to breed like bunnies," Lucia said, as their cousin Danny's four children ran past at breakneck speeds. "Don't run," she scolded them, but they were already gone.

"Monsters," he said fondly. "I'm going to go check on Evan. You save Pyotr."

"If you see Mama, tell her that the aunties are looking for her," Lucia called after him as he squeezed around a large group of elderly men discussing the neighborhood with Father Julio.

The kitchen was full of food, but not terribly busy. The caterer was local, with an industrial kitchen less than a mile away, so his kitchen was mostly just a staging ground. Food and chafing dishes covered all the surfaces, but aside from the occasional waiter coming in for a fresh tray, it was deserted.

Evan perched on a stool at the island, his head tipped back. Without opening his eyes, he reached out and stole a shrimp off the appetizer platter closest and popped it in his mouth.

"So, Marizza painted my bar pink," Kurt said, pulling a second stool up next to Evan. "I'm going to have to get back at her for that."

"Did she?" Evan asked. "I didn't notice anything but the terrible martinis the bartender was mixing.”

"The raspberry one? I know, it's awful, but Marizza requested it specifically." Kurt grabbed a puff pastry and chewed it thoughtfully. "I had to promise him hazard pay for compromising his artistic integrity."

Evan cracked one eye open a slit. "You're joking."

"No, actually. I use this guy for all my parties. He's the second-best bartender I know, and that drink is really, really annoying." He held out a piece of shrimp for Evan.

There was silence for a moment as he chewed, two waiters coming in and taking away trays. They didn't try to take the ones in front of the pair, for which Kurt was grateful.

"Why didn't you hire the best bartender you know?" Evan leaned over and picked up a bottle of sparkling water that was sitting behind him on the counter, taking a long sip.

"You were already booked."

Evan stopped, mid-drink, and looked at him, eyebrows raised skeptically even as a flush stole into his cheeks. "That was awful, even for you."

Kurt laughed. "Don't lie. That was masterful. That will go down in history." He grinned broadly, his cheeks aching as Evan shook his head and grumbled into his drink.

"How are you doing?" he asked more seriously once Evan set the bottle down.

"Fine. I'm fine."

Hopping off his stool, Kurt went and got two more bottles of water out of the fridge without a word.

"I'm fine, really." Evan leaned his head back again, his lashes blending seamlessly into the tan of his cheeks. "Weddings just remind me of a lot of things."

He picked at one corner of the bottle's label. "Dylan and I used to fight over who got to be ring bearer whenever Papa'd get engaged again. Someone told us once that the rings were the most important part of the ceremony, and I guess in our six-year-old brains, that meant that if we did it right, if we got the rings up the aisle perfectly, that this time it would last.

"It never did."

Kurt took a long drink of his water, the bubbles clearing the tightness from his throat. "My dad died of cancer when I was eleven," he said, the words forced out through his teeth. "I remember when people started asking Mama if she was going to remarry. I was so angry. My dad hadn't even been dead a year, and here they wanted us to think about someone else taking his place."

He sighed. "Sometimes I wish she had remarried. Maybe she'd be happier."

The caterer stuck her head into the kitchen, smiling apologetically. "Sorry to interrupt," she said. "We're going to start seating people for the meal in just a minute."

"We'll be right out," Kurt said, getting to his feet.

"Marriage doesn't mean happiness," Evan said when she'd gone, sliding off his stool. "If anything, people always do well until they get married. Happiest day of your life, and all. I hate that saying."

He put his unopened bottle back into the fridge. "It's just a nice way of saying, 'It's all downhill from here.'"

Kurt opened his mouth, but the protest died on his tongue, leaving a sour taste behind. In the real world, happiness was the exception, not the rule.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t think of anything to say; Evan was already out the door. Kurt followed him, the silence sitting heavily between them.

The meal, a very early dinner or late lunch, was being served on the patio under a giant tent. There was an army of fans and cooling stations battling the heat of the Miami afternoon and keeping it reasonably pleasant. At the very least, they weren't likely to lose any of the aunts or uncles to heatstroke.

Evan paused just inside the tent, his eyes scanning the towering decorations. There were centerpieces on the tables made up of hundreds of peach roses, each flawless petal glowing in the light of a dozen chandeliers. "Okay, now I can see why you need those million-dollar deals," he said wryly.

"I didn't pay for this," Kurt said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him toward the second table. "This was all Marizza and Arturo. I hosted the engagement party and paid for the open bar. That's all."

"That's enough with this group," Marizza said, meeting them as they found their seats. She pulled them both in for air kisses. "I'll spend as much on the meals as he will on the booze."

"Probably," Kurt said, unconcerned.

"You'd better have your speech ready," Marizza said, glaring at him. "It had better not be embarrassing."

"It's like you weren't even here for any of the other weddings," Kurt said, patting the pocket where he had a single notecard.

Evan snorted, picking up his napkin as he sat down. "Has she met you?" he muttered.

"I will kill you," Marizza growled.

"Not in front of witnesses," Kurt teased, singsong and light. "Besides, I'm the least embarrassing family member you have."

She crossed her arms. "I hate that you're right," she said, flouncing back to her seat.

"I love my family," Kurt said, and Evan snorted again.

Before Kurt could protest, Mama appeared, ringing her champagne glass like a bell. "Thank you all for coming," she said, smooth and charming and too fluid. "We are so happy to have you, and we hope you enjoy it as much as we have."

She settled into her chair with only a tiny stumble. Catherine leaned over to check on her, and Kurt didn't breathe until his sister nodded in his direction. Not too many pills, then.

Arturo's best man, a college friend whom Kurt had met once and promptly forgotten, stood up to give the first speech. He was a little awkward, and his jokes fell flat, but he managed to make it endearing. Marizza's maid of honor was much funnier, and it took several minutes for the crowd to quiet down after Kurt got to his feet.

"When Marizza was ten, Billy Conway kissed her on the playground. She gave him a black eye," he said, grinning when Marizza groaned. "That day, she came home and declared that boys were awful, and she was never getting married. While I can't argue the first part, I'm glad that she finally found someone to change her mind. To Arturo and Marizza." He raised his glass, and the family laughingly repeated the toast.

Looking out over the crowd, warmth filled him at the sea of smiling faces that looked back. His family. Even if they were crazy at times, they were always there when it counted. They would smile and kiss his cheeks and raise their glasses at Lucia’s wedding, and his own.

Startled by the thought, he almost dropped his glass, covering for the blunder by drinking too much of it at once. Bubbles burned his nose.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked Marizza as he sat down.

Evan glanced away, his cheeks flushed with the heat of the tent. Marizza stuck her tongue out at him.