Had the idea for this when me and my family were putting up Christmas decorations. I've been snowed in for the past 2 days, so it was nice to have something to do. :')

Enjoy.

Kurt had never been a big fan of Christmas.

The mismatched decorations that cluttered the houses in his neighbourhood were tacky, in his opinion, and in no way did they make him feel happy. The strings of ridiculously bright lights just hurt his eyes, and the fake, overly happy Santa figurines that stood on lawns and on windowsills just made him feel sick.

In fact, as a child, he'd hated the idea of Santa Claus. The thought of him climbing down their chimney in the middle of the night to deliver gifts gave him nightmares. Uncontrollable, terrifying nightmares of a man in a big, red suit taking him from his bed and shoving him into a large, black bag. Then, of course, there was that dreadful Christmas jingle, Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.

He sees you when you're sleeping.
He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!

What gave Santa the right to watch him while he slept? Surely that was a bit disturbing. In fact, if any other old man with a white beard did that to a child, he'd get arrested. Also, how did Santa know if he'd been bad or good? That scared Kurt more than anything. Santa was watching his every, single move, and nobody else seemed to care.

Kurt was relieved when he was told Santa wasn't real. In fact, while other kids from his school had cried, he hadn't been able to stop smiling.

Though, Kurt could put up with the decorations now, because as he had gotten older, he had taken over the duties of decorating the house so that it was as tasteful as possible. And his Santa nightmares had faded over time into dim memories in the back of his mind.

There was another reason Kurt wasn't a big fan of Christmas.

It had always been his mother's favourite holiday. Every Christmas, she would bake gingerbread houses, chocolate cakes, sugar cookies and various other baked goods, as we all as the mother of all Christmas dinners, including a beautiful tender turkey, cranberry sauces, roasted potatoes and various vegetables, all beautifully and carefully prepared. It had always been Kurt's only favourite part of Christmas. The food she created had the most beautiful, delicious smell Kurt had ever known. No meal had ever surpassed it.

The Christmas after her death had been a quiet and dark one. The usual bright, happy atmosphere was replaced with an awkwardness between him and his father. They'd tried, together, to re-create the delicious meal Kurt's mother was so famous for, but failed, creating smoke and fire instead of a delicious, mouthwatering smell.

Kurt had cried. His father had cried. They cried together and ended up just having sandwiches Burt quickly threw together, attempting to make things better but failing. Then they curled up together, watched home movies of past Christmas memories and then fell asleep, trying hard not to dream of what was no longer with them.

Ever since that disaster, Kurt had taken charge of cooking. Every year he became a better cook. Burt always told him that he had his mother's cooking skills, but the boy simply shrugged it off. He knew he would never be as good as his mother. Nobody would ever be as good as his mother, no matter how much they tried.

So when Christmas came around again this year, he wasn't overly joyed, unlike his new stepbrother, Finn. He was, after all, the biggest child Kurt had ever met. He didn't think logically and he wasn't particularly smart, he got upset really easily and believed that Jesus could appear on a grilled cheese sandwich, but he was also incredibly sweet, and kind, and caring. So when Finn was sat on the sofa, watching Elf and laughing hysterically, or when he was running around the house screaming Christmas songs, Kurt wasn't surprised. Not in the slightest.

"Kurt!"

The smaller teen looked up from his desk, where he'd been making a collage to give to Blaine for Christmas (featuring pictures of the two boys and the word COURAGE written across the bottom in bright letters cut from magazines).

"Yes, Finn?"

"It's snowing!" Finn, stood at the bottom of Kurt's stairs, was smiling from ear to ear, innocence dancing in his eyes.

"That's great, Finn." Kurt returned the smile half-heartedly, returning to his artwork quickly.

Finn didn't seem to notice Kurt's lack of enthusiasm, instead running over to sit on his brother's bed. "It's not crappy snow, either! It's really thick and awesome!"

"Cool." Kurt smiled once again, this time not looking up from his artwork.

"Well, are you gonna come play outside? We could have a snowball fight."

Kurt sighed, placing the scissors down and looking into his brother's eyes. The excitement evident in his face nearly made him want to give in. It's only snow, he told himself. Go play with him.

"I'm awful at snowball fights, Finn."

"It's okay. I'll go easy on you." Finn winked, standing up, leaning over the desk and ruffling Kurt's hair.

"No thanks, Finn." Kurt said, smoothing down his brown locks to their original place and then picking up the scissors once again. This collage had to be perfect.

"Okay," Finn said, disappointed. "Well, do you wanna make gingerbread men? Me and my mom normally do it but she's out."

"Sorry, Finn. I'm not in the mood."

And it was true. He wasn't in the mood for baking, or snowball fights, or pretending to love the holidays. He didn't even really want to be working on this collage, but he did want Blaine to know he cared about him. If anything, Kurt just wanted to curl up and sleep December away.

"Do you, like, not like Christmas?" Finn asked.

"Not really."

This answer caused Finn to gasp, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped.

"You don't like Christmas? It's the best time of the year, dude!"

"I don't really think so."

Finn stood, still shocked, but more confused. How anyone couldn't like Christmas was beyond him. Ever since he was a child, his mom had made a special effort to make every Christmas special. They would bake stuff together, watch Christmas movies, sing carols and decorate the tree with little ornaments that they'd collected over the years. Happy, plastic Santa's and strings of bright lights.

Then it hit him. His mom.

"Dude, do you wanna talk about anything?" Finn asked, sitting back down on the bed.

"Not really."

"Are you sure? 'Cause you're freaking me out."

"I'm fine."

"Is it about your mom?"

Kurt froze. His mom. His beautiful, happy mother. Flour on her nose. In her hair. A smile on her face. Red nail polish to match the season. Hugs and kisses, presents and meals. Delicious smells. Perfume, turkey, cranberries. Cookies, muffins, gingerbread.

"You never talk about her, dude. And by the look on your face when I mentioned her, I'm guessing you want to." Finn said, breaking Kurt from his thoughts.

"I do." Kurt whispered, fiddling with the glue bottle.

"Then talk."

Kurt did. He told him everything, about the Santa nightmares, to the decorations, to the Christmas meals, good and bad, and the smell. God, the smell. The delicious, mouthwatering smell. By the end of it, he had tears in his eyes, but he simply blinked them away.

"Dude, your mom wouldn't want you to hate Christmas all together just because she's not here anymore."

"I know, but I do."

"I know it sucks that you lost her, Kurt, and I'm really sympathetic, but don't you think you should try and embrace the holidays? Instead of mourning over her, celebrate her. I know you're not religious, so the whole baby jesus thing is kind of lost to you, so celebrate her life. Celebrate the fact that she was there, even if it wasn't for long."

Kurt looked up at his brother. It was then that he realised that he really did love Finn. Not in the deluded teenage crush way that he used to, but in a brotherly, happy way.

"You're right, Finn."

"I know I am," Finn winked. "Now, you wanna bake? I'll try not to make too much of a mess. Promise."

Kurt thought for a second, before replying. "I'd love to."

The two spent the rest of the day baking, making gingerbread houses, sugar cookies, chocolate cakes and various other baked goods. Laughter and glorious, mouthwatering smells filled the house, making the house a happier place. Magical, even.

In fact, it was the best the house had smelt in eight years.

Reviews are welcome. :)