It all started with a gift.

An ugly sweater in a mustard yellow, absolutely atrocious to look at, with a large cat's face on the front. The fur on the cat was a cream white and three-dimensional, the eyes googly. It was, to say the least, revolting.

And that was Carole Hudson-Hummel's first thought as the pulled the early Christmas gift from the box. She smiled almost pitifully at her husband as he said, "Merry Christmas, dear."

"Thank you, Burt," she said, pecking him on the cheek. She leaned back to examine the garment with a keener eye. Maybe I can wear it around the house? No, it's too ugly to do even that. Good Lord, I can't even tell if it's a men's or a women's sweater!

"I'm glad you like it."

She smiled and nodded as she folded it, placing it back in the box. Maybe Finn would like it?

. . .

Finn welcomed the gift with a half-hearted, "Gee, thanks mom." Carole was too relieved to rid herself of the atrocity to note the sarcasm and simply pecked her son's cheek, ruffled his hair, and made to go fix the night's dinner. Finn made note to add it to one of the many fashion mistakes on Rachel's ever growing list.

. . .

"I appreciate the thought, Finn, but this sweater is absolutely hideous. If I want to get into NYADA I'm going to need to be stylish, and this certainly will not help. Try again before the holidays are over, babe," Rachel said, pressing her lips against his before she put the sweater back into the box. I have not in the slightest idea who to regift this to. Kurt would murder me on the spot... Perhaps the childish image would help Quinn with her motherly side?

. . .

Quinn had accepted the gift with a, "Good try, Berry," before she left. She had just the idea of who to give it to, which would hopefully stop the sweater's journey. Speaking of the devil, she thought as a familiar-looking blonde bounded across the parking lot to the school, "Brittany!"

"Oh hey, Quinn," she said as she walked over, "Santana told me to tell you that you might want to hit the gym. Something about bread in the oven. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Here," she muttered dryly before leaving. Brittany peered down into the bag, "Oh. It's very nice, but Lord Tubbington would be mad at me if we got matching sweaters..."

. . .

"Brittany, love you and all, but this sweater looks like someone wiped their ass with it. Thanks, though," Santana said, hiding a devilish smirk as she walked with Brittany to Cheerio practice. Let's see how dapper his thoughts are once he sees this.

. . .

"Blaine Warbler," Santana greeted with a smrik as she waltzed into the Lima Bean. Her eyes went to the boy seated next to the dapper charmer, her eyebrow raised, "Another pony for the collection?"

"Sebastian, Santana. Sebastian, this is the girl that would most likely out-snark you, if there were to be a contest," Blaine said with a playful smile, though he was entirely serious as he said it.

"As pleased as I am to meet you, I must be getting to Warbler practice," Sebastian said, flashing the Latina a ferret-like smile before he snaked his way through the crowd and out of the cafe.

Santana turned to Blaine and flashed him a grin, "I'm here to wish you, Blaine Warbler, a very merry Snixmas. Snixmas is a time for throwing out insults, wrapped in buttery sarcasm; a time to rejoice on the nicer, more hilarious things that usually involve lowering another's self-esteem. A time when Snixjuice is served and glasses are raised to the better people. And I am here to give a Snixmas sort of gift, so take a look, dapper-boy," she held out the wrapped gift with a smile.

Blaine slowly pulled off the crudely done wrapping paper and peered into the box. He lifted the hideous sweater with a look of distaste, "What the..." he muttered. Santana gave him a wicked grin.

"Oh, dapper-boy, that's not a very dapper face you're wearing," she commented as she made her leave of the cafe, "Merry Snixmas!"

Kurt Hummel had opened the door, expecting his boyfriend, who had told him over the phone (rather deviously as well, which had turned Kurt on by just the sound) that he would be dropping by to give one of his many upcoming Christmas gifts.

Blaine stepped in, his hair without gel and falling in a curly mop. Kurt had to avoid eye contact from those big, hazel, puppy dog eyes as he let his boyfriend in, though knew he wouldn't be able to resist them for long.

"Where's the gift?" he asked expectantly. Blaine smiled and leisurely, almost teasingly, took a seat on the couch. Blaine opened his messenger bag and presented the present, expertly wrapped in festive paper. Kurt approached it with ease, taking it gingerly and shaking it.

"Oooh, clothes?" he questioned, though took a sharp eye, "Blaine, you know that I won't be able to be muted on my fashion style. I don't want you to get offended when I open this, dear."

Blaine shrugged and smiled at his boyfriend, "Oh, no, go ahead. I'm positive you'll love it."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, then began to tear at the wrapping. Once it was all off, he shook the lid from the box and took a look inside. Instantly, his face took an ugly, almost mortified look as he raised the hideous garment.

"What the hell, Blaine?"

With that, the hazel-eyed boy started in a fit of laughter. All the while Kurt continued, "Blaine, this is not funny! In the name of Prada, this is absolutely disgusting! My eyes are numb with pain, this is...this is awful, Blaine! What would possess you to buy this...this...thing?"

Blaine had seemed to calm down a bit and managed to get himself over to the love seat where Kurt sat. He scooted in and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder with a grin, "I just wanted to see your reaction," he said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice, "It's a regift. Definitely not one of your real presents," he explained.

"Well, Blaine, you obviously do not know the art of regifting," Kurt said with mock-offense.

Blaine smiled, "I guess you'll just have to show me, then?"

"But of course," Kurt said, letting his grin show as he stood, pulling Blaine up with him. He put his hand on his boyfriend's lower back and led him around the room, "You see, the gift has to be something...nice,"

"Do demonstrate, Kurt," Blaine added before Kurt could continue.

"Like...like this." He pecked a light kiss on his boyfriend's delicious tasting lips.

"Hm, that is nice."

"And then, when you regift it, you have to add another gift. For your own sake, you don't want to feel guilty for not spending."

Blaine nodded in understanding, then leaned up a little to press his lips to Kurt's again, in the same light, chaste kiss. When he pulled away, however, he didn't wait long before he kissed the taller boy again, this time with more force. The kiss lasted a few moments before Kurt pulled away, smirking.

"Blaine Anderson, I believe you have mastered the art of regifting."