Hey Ho! My peeps! Two things: OMG MissT! That humiliating. Lol, yes its supposed to be her last name, I knew it was Jones, I just had a horrible blonde moment and forgot. In my defense I was writing it at two in the morning . But, go me for reviewing before posting. As you can see, I'm in a rush...thats two ticks, I better start reading over the chapter better. I'm so sorry for that. . frick do I feel like a retard. Damn it! Thanks for the review, as well.
Secondly: sorry for the many updates this morning. I think by comp hates me... but I fixed that last chapter, had to. And this is ready to go, so I thought id post it
Christmas Shoes
Chapter Thirteen: Bells and Whistles
Disclaimer: I wish ;'(
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Waking up this early morning (or late night) was not like waking the morning before. There was no big brother singing or the morning chill to the air. In fact, Kurt was quite warm. Overly warm, suffocating warm.
Throwing the five layers of fire hot blankets off, he stared at the ceiling, knowing he should get up, but not really caring. It was still dark, he couldn't see the desk on the other side of the room, he could tell, however, that his brother wasn't in bed. Which was strange, considering the amount of time he spent in bed. Usually, they were lucky if he was up in time for lunch. Yawning widely, Kurt rolled towards the wall, dragging a single blanket over his legs.
It was only minutes before a thumping down the stair woke him. He ignored it however, screwing his eyes tighter as the lamp clicked on. It was only when he heard the tell tale sounds of the squeak of his closet would he open his eyes.
"Finn Hudson!" he yelled, after rolling out of bed and seeing his brother's backside sticking out, "What in the world do you think you're doing! Get out of my closet!"
His brother jumped back, eyes widened in alarm and arms full of clothing, "You have a lot of clothes!" he sputtered, crossing the room and sitting beside Kurt's exposed toes. "Here, put this on."
"You shouldn't touch my clothes," Kurt threatened, pulling the woolen grey and white sweater over his head without a second thought. In his defense, he was still half asleep. "What are we doing?"
"Finn?" A voice called down the stairs, Kurt perked up, but he couldn't place it, "Are you two almost ready?"
"Be right there, Rach!" Finn yelled, and Kurt rolled his eyes. Why one earth was Rachel Berry at their house in the middle of the night, and what could his brother be planning? It made him nervous. Really nervous.
Finn latched onto his ankles and slid him so his legs dropped tiredly to the floor, Kurt was about to ask what they were doing, again, when a wide, long yawn over took his face. His brother, seeing how stretched the yawn was, went right ahead and plopped a toque onto his bed head.
Kurt stood, eyes drooping, in the middle of the room and allowed his brother to pull some horrendous blue mittens over his limp fingers. Then, as his brother wasn't responding to any of his prompts, Finn spun his brother and led him towards the stairs. "Come on, Kurt. One step, two step, we're almost there!"
"I'm not five, Finn," Kurt snapped, stumbling over the last step and sprawling onto the dirt carpet of the living room. Two hands grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back to his feet. One had polished pink nails, and the other was two times bigger and four times rougher.
His fathers booming laughter woke him up a fraction, and he swivelled to look at the billowy cushions, towards his step-mother and father. They were dressed to the neck, scarves loose around their necks and boots tightened to their feet. Rachel led him to a stool at the kitchen island and sat him upon it.
He watched as his parents stood and collected a cooler and a giant thermos. He watched as Finn gathered five of his father's lumberjack coats, and he watched as Rachel slid a dark brown, fur lined boot over his sock-less foot.
"Whatarewedoin'?" he mumbled, vaguely taking a to-go mug from a giggling Carol and dragging his feet as Rachel dragged him towards the front door. He slid into the back bench seat of his fathers green pick up, frowning slightly as Finn reached over and buckled him in.
No one answered his question, and he hoped that this wasn't a dream, because if it was, he probably shouldn't have had those Cool Ranch Doritos's last night. Something in them must have given him endorphins. But the coffee billowed into his face, and he took a light sip of his coffee, the caffeine waking him up a fraction.
"Is this real life?" he slurred, frowning when Finn and Rachel burst out into loud laughter. His head pounded in a very un-dream like manner, and he knew the answer. Taking another sip, he looked over Rachel and out the window.
Empty streets and sidewalk void of any people. The green light on the dash board claimed it to be five-thirty. "Rachel, where are we going?"
"Don't you worry, Kurt, you'll find out," Kurt frowned as Rachel reached across his lap and linked her fingers with Finn's. He pulled them apart violently and sipped from his coffee. Each sip brought him closer to consciousness.
His father took a turn a bit too quickly, hitting a bump in the road, spilling the coffee onto his sweater. It had been about a half an hour, so there wasn't much of it left, but he still hissed as the liquid hit his sweater.
Glancing down to review the damage, he came face to face with the most hideous thing he had ever seen. Thick, with a zipper up the front and a knitted Reindeer face and a pompom for a nose. Even worse than that, however, were the stripped pajama pants he had bought yesterday. Warm enough to keep him hot on the coldest day of the year. But, they weren't the most attractive of things. Black and blue crossed stripes over white material. Tucked into brown fuzzy boots.
None of it matched, not the fuzzy mittens or the red scarf that had been looped over his neck sometime between the front door and the truck. Most of it was a fuzzy blur, so he couldn't be sure who chose it. But, it was most likely Finn, as Burt knew never to try and dress him, and Rachel was more sensitive about it.
"Oh my god! Finn!"
Finn's head snapped over startled and stared at his younger brother with the most worried expression, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What? Oh! Are you okay? Did I do that?" he pointed to the coffee that had dribbled down the front.
"No not that, this!" Kurt waved a hand over his whole front, motioning past the coffee and to the reindeer.
Burt chuckled from the front, hand interlaced with Carol's as they turned down a stray road. "Well, good morning to you too, son."
"Do you see what I'm wearing?" Kurt screeched, meeting his fathers laughing eyes in the rear view mirror, "It's hideous! I can't go out in public like this! Oh! My! God! Where are we going? What if there are people? What if there are cute boys? How could you do this to me!"
Finn rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, at the quickly moving trees. Rachel patted his hand lightly reassuring him, "No worries! I don't think anyone's going to be there, but then again, I've never been before, so..."
"Okay. Where are we going?" Kurt asked, frowning as Rachel stole his coffee away, sparing a glance at his jittering hands. "Seriously," he complained when no one answered, "Where. Are. We. Going?"
Carol, finally taking pity on him, swiveled in his seat and offered an apologetic smile, "We wanted to wait until you got back, and then Finn and Burt thought it would be fun to surprise you."
"Well it's not fun! I look worse than last years Rachel Berry. Seriously," he sighed, mocking Grey's Anatomy, but his culture deprived family took no notice, "it's like Mrs. Clause gave the elves to many chocolate chips and candy and they barfed all over this sweater. There is no way I would by something like this!"
"Jesus dude, I think you had too much coffee!" Finn protested as his brothers hands flopped around in useless antics.
"Your Grandmother knitted that for you!" Burt scowled, slowing the truck and pulling into the shoulder.
Kurt sighed as Rachel clicked off his seatbelt, "Well, that explains more than enough. Gross. So what are we doing?"
Pouncing out of the truck, he stumbled into Rachel; almost face planting into a snow bank, but a fist wrapped around the back of his (ugly) sweater. "Oppsie! So-rry!"
"I'm never giving you caffeine again," Carol chuckled, ducking tightly to her husband's side before leading the teenagers deeper into the woods. Kurt followed obediently behind them, chuckling as a gentle gust of wind shook tiny diamonds from the tree branches.
"So..." he sang, making the note last for a few paces, "what are we doing?"
"Picking a Christmas tree out, silly! Unless you wanted me to put your presents under the couch?"
"We're getting a tree!" Kurt screamed, scaring a bird off a branch and laughing joyfully as the snow fell onto his father's hat clad head. Grinning evilly, his father swooped down and plucked a layer of snow, shaping it quickly into a ball.
Seeing it coming, Kurt ducked behind a wide tree, laughing loudly when the snow hit Finn smack dap in the middle of the chest, startling him out of staring at his girlfriend. "Ouch!" he complained, and his step-father yelled a quick sorry from the feet ahead of them.
"It's not my fault," Kurt complained, skipping after his parents when Finn glowered at him, "Serves you right for having no fashion sense."
"Oh!" Rachel squealed excitedly, racing off to the right and interrupting the brothers glaring contest. Finn ran quickly after her, and Kurt followed, "Look at this one!"
Kurt followed Rachel's excited gaze, to one of the thinnest pine trees he had ever had the misfortune of seeing. "Are you kidding me? You'll get, like, two baubles on that before it topples."
"It looks like something out of Charlie Brown," Finn agreed, patting his girlfriend lightly on the shoulder, "Just you wait, we'll have the biggest, fluffiest, greenest tree out there."
Kurt led the way in his parent's foot prints, "We can sing Christmas carols when we string the lights-"
"And I can teach you guys how to make popcorn strings-"
"And Carol can make Gingerbread men, she makes the best ones-"
"And Burt'll have the fire place roaring-"
"And because it's your first Christmas, we'll let you put the star on top-"
"Except, you might not be able to reach, 'cause the tree's going to be so big-"
"We can get a stool-"
"Oh! My dads taught me how to make homemade apple cider! I could make it for you guys!"
"Oh, that sounds so good, sugar plum."
"I think I might just barf from the cuteness of you too," Kurt sighed, continuing down the path and trying to banish the sounds of a kiss from his brain. Ahead of him, Burt and Carol walked hand in hand, pointing and laughing at the uglier trees, behind him, Finn and Rachel walked hand in hand, laughing at his ugly sweater.
Being in the middle of the forest, under the sun rise and twinkling snowflakes, alone with his family, he wished that Mercedes hadn't gone to Columbia for a week, or that Blaine wasn't mad at him, or even if Jesse hadn't made plans with his girlfriend. Anyone to keep him company, really.
Just as these thought slipped over his brain, Finn and Rachel ran forward and looped their arms through his, singing merrily under their breath,
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,
In the lane, snow is glistening
A beautiful sight,
We're happy tonight.
Walking in a winter wonderland.
Gone away is the bluebird,
Here to stay is a new bird
He sings a love song,
As we go along,
Walking in a winter wonderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman,
Then pretend that he is Parson Brown
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man,
But you can do the job
When you're in town.
Later on, we'll conspire,
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid,
The plans that we've made,
Walking in a winter wonderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman,
And pretend that he's a circus clown
We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,
Until the other kids knock him down.
When it snows, ain't it thrilling,
Though your nose gets a chilling
We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,
Walking in a winter wonderland.
"Hey! Boys! Rachel!" Burt's booming voice echoed through the trees, "Come over here!"
The trio looked around, slightly confused because all the directions their father's voice came from, but Rachel spotted them far in the distance, waving their arms and motioning them over. Gasping each of their hands, Rachel pulled them quickly throw the snow, laughing and stumbling along.
When they arrived, faces flushed with grins and out of breath from the short jog through the snow. Burt placed a hand lightly over his son's girlfriend's shoulder, "See that tree Rachel? That is the makings of a great tree."
"Tall," Kurt said, stepping forward to walk around it was an accusing eyes, "But not to tall."
"Fluffy," Finn commented, reaching a hand into the branches to feel the strong trunk and shaking it, "but not to fluffy."
"Green," Carol giggled, rubbing the soft pines between her bare fingers and lifting them to her nose, "But not to green."
The family of four looked towards their fifth member, slightly taken aback when she joined in and her soft voice mingled with Carol's older one. Rachel blushed, giggled and shrugged her shoulder. Offering a silent apology, as if she had intruded a family moment.
Burt laughed however, breaking the silence and hugging the girl one armed. "That right! We'll make a Christmas celebrating Jew out of you yet!"
"Dad!" Finn interrupted, burrowing his eyes in his hand and wincing.
Laughing, Kurt joined Carol at what would be the front of the tree, slowly followed by the other three, "We got the best tree out here!"
Burt swooped down and started dusting the snow away from the tree and laying down a blanket from the basket Kurt had failed to notice he was carrying. Carol sat crossed legged on it and patted beside her, a silent offer for the kids to sit down.
Before his knew it, his stomach was growling and the food was placed out in front of him. Swooping a hand in before even Finn could grab for a sandwich, he bit it in half. Savoring the mustard and cheese that erupted over his tongue.
"Rachel, honey," Carol offered her a sandwich and a polite smile, "this is a veggie one, I know you don't eat meat so I tried to get an appropriate one, I'm not sure if it turned out great but..."
Rachel gingerly took the food, nibbling at the corner before smiling, "Mhm! This is delicious! You have to share the recipe with me!" Taking a bigger bite, she almost swallowed it whole. "My dads would love this!"
A loud Lady Gaga played from his pocket, startling the members of the plaid blanket. Kurt dug in his pocket, realizing it was him, and Finn had been nice enough to shove it in their before they left.
Clicking the screen on, he skimmed over the message. Kurt, we need to talk. – Blaine. It wasn't a number he recognized, so he assumed it was Addison's, but he didn't wait to reply, holding down the proper buttons to kill the screen before shoving it back into his pocket and reaching for another sandwich.
"Who was it?" Burt asked, slurping from his hot chocolate.
Kurt looked at the grains in the bread, frowning before smiling brightly, "No one important." Rachel gave him an understanding look before going back to her vegetarian, special lunch, joining in with Finn's laughter as a squirrel jumped from a branch and set of pile of snow tumbling down.
Having filled his stomach on two slices of the triangle bread, Kurt leaned back onto the heels of his hands and giggled as Burt and Finn had a Pepsi chugging contest. He was a bit worried what effect it would have on his father's heart, but they were having so much fun...and he hated to be a buzz kill.
Carol slowly started packing the remains of the picnic up, placing the wrappers and crumbs back inside the red foldable basket. Kurt was surprised that they had finished off the food; there had been quite a lot of it.
"Feast fit for Kings," Burt agreed, not knowing that that was what had crossed his sons mind only seconds before. They rested for a few minutes, sipping on their quickly cooling hot coco before Burt pulled Finn to his feet and they grabbed the axe.
At first, Kurt feared for all their lives; giving Finn Hudson-Hummel a balde, maybe not the best idea... but he turned out to be quite a pro at it, and it wasn't long before the tree slowly tipped to the side.
Kurt jumped up to help his family trim it, knowing that neither Rachel nor Carol knew –or wanted to know – the labor behind cutting down a Christmas tree. They made quick work of it, and Finn started to drag in back down the path they took to get there, careful not to catch it on any big rocks or any other trees.
Carol ran ahead to walk with her husband, leaving Rachel to walk beside Kurt as he nursed a sliver. "Do you see this?" Kurt asked, holding out his palm and pointing towards a tiny brown speck.
"Um..." Rachel squinted, really trying to see it, but she shook her head regretfully and shrugged her shoulders, "Nope, sorry."
Sighing, Kurt continued to pick at his skin, slowly peeling back layers and exposing the dark wood. Unfortunately, no amount of picking or biting would take the sliver out, and he finally sighed and shoved his hands back into the glove, wincing when his raw palm rubbed against the flannel inside.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Son of a bi-"
"Finn!" Carol snapped from the couch, throwing a small piece of popcorn at her son and glaring at his fro almost using a swear word. Kurt chuckled when his brother failed to duck, and the popcorn landed in his hair.
Smiling, Rachel reached over and plucked it out, offering her boyfriend a sly wink. He really wished he wasn't sitting in their semi-circle. It was nauseating, how cute they were.
He reached the end of his string quickly, and he frowned at the needle, where had all the ribbon gone? He could have sworn he had at least a half hours work left until he finished the foot long rope. Knotting it quickly, he plucked another gingerbread man off the plate and bit the head off vigorously.
The sun had set, leaving the room to be lit by the flickering fire place. The quiet Christmas songs played from his white dock, and the room smelt of ginger, cinnamon and apple cider. Rachel hadn't been kidding, it was the best damned cider he had ever tasted, and that included the cinnamon liquid he had tried to make.
It wasn't long until Burt and Carol left their kids in the living room; sending out a caution not to stay up to late. Kurt had no intention of hanging about any longer, but he chose to wait with the brunette for her fathers' to come to pick her up. Rachel tucked a long strand over her ear and stared into the flames, a smile playing on her lips.
Finn's hand was over her shoulder, hovering by her ear, and his snores lingered with the crackle of the fire. Kurt found his eyes sliding shut in the late hour, recalling the atrocious time he had waken up at.
"Rachel?" he asked, clutching the hot ceramic mug to his chest, letting the cider's warm spread to his nose, "have you ever... had... dream where you think it's Finn... but then you realize its not and your really happy with this person that's not Finn?" he could only hope she understood his jumble of words.
Pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her thin legs, she thought for a moment before replying carefully. "Yes... there was this one, back when Finn and I had that ridiculous fight," she glanced over her shoulder and smiled softly when her boy toy didn't budge at the mention of his name, "I had tried to... you know... with Noah. But he wouldn't, and then that night, when I was asleep and dreaming, we did. And I enjoyed it. I don't think I liked the cheating aspect of it, I think it was more like there was someone else out there, in the big ol' world that would tolerate me."
Kurt found this scattered reply to be much more helpful than Mercedes insistence that Jesse was gay. It wasn't that Kurt wanted to be with him, it was just the idea that someone wanted to be with Kurt.
He wanted it to be Blaine, and at the start, it had been, but then it had been Jesse. And let's face it, who wouldn't want that hunk for themselves? Maybe the dream had been a premonition of what could have been. Maybe he was focusing on the wrong part entirely, and maybe he should just let it go as a nightmare. But, no, he had to go and act on it and he had ruined everything.
"Kurt? Are you okay?"
He realized, not overly flabbergasted, that he had tears dripping down his cheeks. "Yes," he answered, swiping a finger under his eyes and banishing the wetness, "...no. Oh, Rachel, I think I ruined everything with Blaine!"
"It's okay," she whispered, pulling him closer and forcing him to rest his ear to her shoulder, she rubbed his back in soothing circles, humming a Christmas carol in the back of her throat.
Swallowing thick tears, he ran a hand through his hair, "I-I tried to kiss him, Rachel. And it ruined everything. We run for the hills every time we see each other!"
To Rachel's credit, she didn't laugh at his stupid frolics, or scold him for being so naïve, or jump away from him in disgust. Instead, she continued to draw shapes over his defined back, changing quickly from 'Christmas Rock' to 'Silent Night'. Like she had been expecting it.
Her cheek met his head after a few minutes, and they gazed at the fireplace, keeping their arms around each other, both thinking of the important men in their lives. Yellow headlights flashed through the living room curtains, and Kurt sighed as Rachel pulled away, shivering against the sudden cold.
Kurt walked her silently to the door, taking one of his cashmere scarves and wrapping it around her neck before pressing a quick peck to her cheek, "Maybe you could come next week when we do spa night?"
"That sounds like fun, thank you," she whispered, shoving her feet into her thick winter boots. Kurt bit his lip to keep from throwing a scornful glare at the hideous apparel. "And maybe, Kurt, maybe you should just talk to him."
The door shut inaudibly on his astonished eyes, and he turned slowly back into the room. Maybe she was right, what harm could talking do?
Picking stealthily threw the room; Kurt waved out a hand-quilted blanket and billowed it over his brother gently, holding back laughter when it wasn't nearly longer enough to cover his feet. He clicked the Christmas lights, gathered his iPod, and shut the lights off before finally heading back to bed.
His feet dragged behind him as he stumbled through the darkness to his bed, to exhausted to go through his face routine, and burrowed back into the warmth of his blankets. What harm could talking do?