Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.
Kurt looked over at his sleeping boyfriend with sympathetic eyes, one hand balancing his college list carefully on his knee. It was strange, revisiting the list and putting a neat check beside each of the schools he had applied to, delicately crossing out those that he had ultimately not decided to send in applications for. He had known from the onset that he would not be able to apply for all of them, for monetary reasons, if nothing else; college application fees were sometimes twenty dollars or more, and applying to multiple colleges quickly amounted to a grander total than he was willing to commit to without any guarantees of admission.
So, after careful consideration and agonizing over which colleges would make the final cut, he had filled out those applications, written the (painstakingly difficult) essays, and mailed in the letters with bated breath and Blaine at his shoulder offering encouragement. It had not been an easy process, and there had been more than a few tears of frustration shed as he tried to cope with the overwhelming possibility that he wouldn't get into New York at all, but with Blaine there to comfort him and his own revised essays to bolster his confidence, he was able to get through it all in one piece. And then all he had had to worry about were the holidays.
Which had meant buying a gift for Blaine, who was currently sleeping on the couch with one arm draped over his eyes and the other threaded through a blanket, curled partially into a ball. He had insisted on as little physical contact with Kurt and the rest of his family as possible to hopefully prevent the spread of his illness to anyone else.
Carole, a nurse by profession, had assured him that there were so many varieties of colds and flus being spread around that it would be a miracle if they all escaped some form of illness or another and it wouldn't be Blaine's fault if they did get sick. He didn't seem too encouraged by this assessment, sulkily insisting that Kurt not sit next to him on the couch or stay in the same room with him if he could help it. Ideally, it seemed, Blaine wanted to quarantine himself, to put himself out of reach of everyone so he could heal in peace and solitude, but Kurt was not having any of it. Blaine was suffering, and that meant that Kurt had to do something, whether or not Blaine approved.
So he brought him glasses of water for his sore throat and medicine at regular intervals, despite Blaine's insistence that he didn't have to deplete the family's supply over him. Blaine was part of their family, and Kurt had not hesitated to tell him as much while firmly pressing the tablets into his palm, insisting that he needed them and no, Kurt wasn't going to give in on that point. Although grumbling about how he would be fine on his own, Blaine had taken the pills and seemed somewhat more relaxed once they had started to take effect, even falling asleep for a couple hours before inevitably the illness woke him up again, dry, wracking coughs seeming to resonate through the silence.
After enduring it for nearly half the afternoon, Kurt finally relocated his iPod dock from his car into the living room and turned it on, letting the sounds of Christmas music soothe him. It was comforting, the combination of light snowfall outside and soft snores from Blaine and the occasional crackle of the fireplace in front of him, all put together under a whimsical blanket of sound. Kurt had half-wanted to wake Blaine just so he could teasingly reiterate their previous Baby, It's Cold Outside duet when that number came on, but he resisted, humming along to the track and following thereon with every other track.
Blaine had awoken again some time later, seeming startled that Kurt was still there, even more puzzled by the noise that he quickly deduced as Christmas music coming from Kurt's iPod. After raising his eyebrows in mock-inquiry, he had lifted himself into a half-seated position and leaned back against the pillow, eyeing Kurt with uncertain eyes, his hands fidgeting slightly with themselves. Kurt, for his part, did an excellent job of looking disinterestedly at his book, pretending that he had no awareness of Blaine's presence, whatsoever. When Blaine cleared his throat slightly, however, Kurt couldn't pretend he wasn't there, and he lifted his gaze in polite disbelief when Blaine smiled slightly sheepishly at him.
"Thank you," he had said in a hoarse voice thickened with sleep. Kurt had shrugged a little, his cheeks reddening somewhat without his permission, before sinking back down in his own armchair to consider his college list.
Looking at Blaine now, the image of misery and loneliness, Kurt snapped his notebook shut silently and rose from his chair, stretching his arms languorously above his head as he did so. Blaine didn't stir, just continued to breathe deeply, in and out, a slight rasp on the end of every breath, seeming to be drawing in less than he had when he was healthy and resting peacefully. Kurt sidled over to him and, after determining that he was definitely asleep (a quick brush of the fingertips against Blaine's ribs was sufficient to prove the point), sat down on the opposite side of the couch, waiting. It took almost twenty minutes of shuffling and twisting and turning and finally gentle guiding on Kurt's part before Blaine was lying against him, still snoring slightly but seeming more at ease than before, his hand curled in the front of Kurt's shirt while Kurt stroked his ungelled hair lightly.
And he really would have to have a talk with Blaine about how much product he was allowed to put in his hair, because it was so, so much softer right now than it ever was when he used gel on it. He understood that it was part of a security measure, a simple act that allowed Blaine some measure of control that he usually didn't have with everyone tugging him in different directions, yet Kurt liked that his hair curled slightly when it wasn't plastered to his head, and he hoped to show Blaine that he could learn to like it, too.
It wasn't until his legs were starting to tingle from being trapped under Blaine's weight for so long that Kurt realized any time had passed at all as he kept up his rhythmic stroking, glancing at the clock and realizing that it was almost three o'clock. Finn was out with Puck and Mike practicing football plays (why in the dead of winter, Kurt didn't know, but he knew better than to question his real motives, either, since it usually involved copious amounts of video-gaming), and Kurt's dad wouldn't be home until nearly seven after he had closed up shop for the holidays.
It was Christmas Eve, which meant that virtually everyone in Lima, Ohio was preparing for the holiday, businesses wrapping up for the day. Carole would probably be out late, too (she was a registered nurse, which meant that her schedule sometimes varied around the holiday seasons), which invariably meant Kurt was responsible for holding down the fort, so to speak.
Glad that insofar his task was no more difficult than sorting through college papers and keeping Blaine company, Kurt nearly leaped out of his skin when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He hurried—as gently as he could—to retrieve it, doing his best not to jostle Blaine in the process, who barely stirred at the commotion. Kurt unlocked the screen to see that it was Mercedes texting, quickly hitting the view now button and reading the message.
Still alive?
He frowned slightly, confused, and typed out a quick, Yes, why? before rubbing one hand lightly along Blaine's back.
A pause, then another buzz, this time held away so that the vibrations wouldn't disturb Blaine. You haven't been answering my texts, Mercedes replied.
Oh. Kurt smiled sheepishly, wondering how she would respond if she knew that he hadn't been paying attention because he had been too busy taking care of his poor sick boyfriend.
Sorry, 'Cedes, he wrote back. I lost track of time.
Another pause, shorter this time. Hmm. Is 'distraction' your euphemism for having sex with Blaine now?
Mercedes! Kurt scolded, blushing furiously and glad that Blaine couldn't see it. Perhaps the most mortifying aspect of it was that he and Blaine had actually talked about how far they wanted their relationship to go and what was allowed and what was off-limits. Mostly they had agreed to the same things, which helped to avoid the majority of awkward conversations about limits and boundaries and other basic rules, yet there were still plenty of gray areas that had yet been untouched and unexplored. They didn't speak on those topics because they didn't know what the implications would mean for their relationship if they followed through with actually saying those things. While they had hinted at sex, they had never actually come to any conclusive decisions about it, either for or against having it.
I want you to be comfortable, Blaine had told him simply, shrugging, when Kurt had asked why he never seemed to have an urge to 'rip off Kurt's clothes,' as he had embarrassingly admitted during one such conversation. So I can be comfortable, he had added, when Kurt had just given him a look that asked, plain and simple, Why?
Because no matter how wonderful Blaine could be or how slow and sweet he handled things with their relationship, there were still definite moments of doubt that Kurt had wondering how on earth he could possibly settle for such a 'boring' relationship. At least, compared to those at McKinley, Kurt allowed. He knew that outside of McKinley there were other standards as well, other couples that defined the general trends, yet here, in Lima, Ohio, it seemed that having sex was a fundamental next-step in advancing a high school relationship.
You're the one who wants this to last forever, a cynical voice had pointed out when he shied away from discussing it further. You should be leaping at this opportunity, if there is one.
But part of him was just genuinely afraid that Blaine would say no and then he would be left awkward and uncertain and no longer confident in his ability to determine how they viewed things in their relationship. He didn't want to ruin what they had because he pushed too hard too soon on a topic that was intimate and invasive.
It would redefine their relationship and Kurt wanted that to be special, to mean something, and not just to be a milestone that had to be crossed for the sake of fitting in the couple high school stereotype at McKinley. He liked his and Blaine's relationship exactly where it was, and if sometimes he wondered where it would go if they decided to try more (and he couldn't deny that Blaine expressed similar curiosities at times, too, an awareness that was both a little bit frightening but also thrilling), then he was tentatively willing to take the risk and talk it out and maybe, maybe try it out.
Maybe.
Kuuurt. He blushed deeper as he realized that he hadn't responded to Mercedes' text, hastily punching out a message to the negative, almost hearing her amused laugh on the other side of the line.
Whatever you say, boo, was all she wrote. Miffed, Kurt was about to retort that that was all he meant, Mercedes replied with a separate text before he could. I don't know what you two are planning tomorrow,she began. But you're welcome to come visit if you want.
Kurt paused, hesitated because he felt slightly bad saying no—Mercedes was one of his closest friends, after all—before writing back, We can't. Blaine's sick. And no, that's no a euphimism.
A pause, then: Aww, poor baby. Send him my love. :)
Kurt rolled his eyes slightly to himself, resisting the urge to laugh, and answered, I'll let him know. What are you up to right now?
Baking Christmas cookies. :) They're not nearly as good as yours, though.
Hush. We're fabulous. We make nothing less than fabulous cookies, Kurt replied.
This time, he didn't even have to imagine her laughter as Mercedes wrote, Ha-ha in response. I almost burnt the first batch, she added.
Trial run, Kurt assured. I'm sure the rest will be amazing.
If you say so.
I know so.
He felt Blaine twitch slightly, stirring, groggily shifting so that his cheek was pressed against Kurt's chest at a slightly different angle, eyes still closed and breaths still fanning out in heavy, satisfied gusts.
Oh, crap. The cookies are burning again. Gotta go. Love you, Kurt. Merry Christmas if we don't talk again until afterwards. :)
Good luck! Merry Christmas to you, too, Mercedes.
Setting the phone aside, Kurt sighed slightly to himself as he let the awareness that tomorrow was Christmas sink in. Here he was, his first year with a boyfriend, celebrating their first Christmas together. It was amazing, almost surreal, yet the fact that Blaine was undeniably his made his heart warm and every fanboy instinct bred into him just want to jump up and down and let everyone know just how wonderful it was to be Kurt Hummel. Blaine Anderson loved Kurt Hummel, and no one else (not in the same way, at any rate, and certainly not as much), and that mattered more than anything else to him. He had someone to share the holidays with, to experience the joy and peacefulness of it all with, and that proved, irrevocably, that meeting Blaine was definitely one of the best things to ever happen in Kurt's life.
For more reasons than that, even, Kurt thought, his hands stilling as Blaine stirred a little more alertly, his eyes blinking owlishly as he looked at the material of Kurt's shirt, evidently baffled. Kurt gave him ten seconds or so to adjust before letting his hands glide across his back slightly, noticing that Blaine's eyes slid closed a moment later. A small smile crossed Kurt's face as he noticed that, humming slightly in contentment as he sank back against the couch.
This is where I want to be, he thought. Forever.
And even if it was impossible that they could stay there forever, it was still a lovely dream.
"Your parents don't mind that you're staying here for the holidays?"
Blaine shook his head, wishing that he looked a little less disheveled but unable to bring himself to his usual concern for his appearances. It was hard to care about anything when he was sick, mostly wanting nothing more than to crawl under the nearest rock and never emerge again. Still, he mustered a slight smile for Carole as he ran a hand over his hair in one vain attempt to smooth it. He had already known that it would be irredeemably messy without further intervention, but at the moment, he was just happy to be left alone and in peace, so he didn't bother voice any complaints about it. Besides, the Hudson-Hummels were generous enough to let him use their couch despite his sickness (and Carole's optimistic forecast that if they were going to get sick, it wouldn't be because of him). That was enough for him to keep his mouth shut and just be appreciative, rather than whine about the state of his hair.
"They're usually out of town around Christmas," he added in a slightly thick voice, sleep deepening it. "Dad has a lot of business meetings, and Mom tags along because she doesn't want to be 'alone' for the holidays." He shrugged, surprised at his own use of their pronouns, before mentally setting it aside. He was speaking with Carole, and that automatically changed his responses. He knew, after spending years with the Warblers and in the Dalton Academy environment in general, that it had affected him, changed him, for the better. One of those neutral changes was his ability to switch everything from his tone to word choice depending on who he was speaking to. Granted, everyone did so to an extent, but Blaine had perfected the art to the point of persuasion, reeling in his abilities until he was not only efficient but downright charismatic. Right now, however, he knew that he was lucky to come across as polite but ill, wishing that he could at least get the hoarseness to leave his voice.
Carole was frowning at him, he noticed, and he involuntarily looked down at his hands, half-expecting red paint. He had no idea what wrong-doing he had committed, but it was evident from her gaze thatsomething was wrong, and his automatic response to that was to see if he was the source of the blame.
Of course, he thought grimly, because my parents were never wrong, either.
Part of the reason they had become so ostracized from one another was his own isolation, his own unwillingness to speak to anyone. He had effectively barricaded himself off from them, doing his best to immerse himself in the new world that was Dalton without carrying any of his previous baggage into it. The task wasn't easy—particularly when people started to wonder where Blaine Anderson had come from when they realized it wasn't just a transferral from one of the local public schools to their prestigious private school—but in the end he had managed to convince most people at Dalton that his past was boring and irrelevant, that he had never been bullied or harassed or anything of the sort, that he was just an ordinary transfer coming from a slightly farther point than normal. His parents had thought he was adapting and left him alone, but soon healthy separation became estrangement, and when circumstances felt overwhelming at Dalton, Blaine didn't turn to his parents for support. He kept it inward until eventually he snapped, shouting himself nearly hoarse when he told Wes that he couldn't keep prying into his freakin' life.
When things like that happened, Blaine didn't blame his parents, even though in retrospect he should have been upset at their lack of concern for him. There were no phone calls asking how he was doing at Dalton, no letters with anything more than tuition payments, no contact besides the tenuous relations penned on the transfer papers stating that Brian Anderson was his father and Emily his mother. They left him alone, and at the time he had been almost relieved to be left to his own devices, but when the situations had gotten heated as Blaine continued to withhold himself from everyone, he could have used a father figure to tell him what to do, or even just his mother saying that it would work out in the end. He had learned to be self-sufficient at Dalton, to not rely on other people even though he was innately part of their team, and he ironically mused that Dalton had perhaps split his personality more than any other institution had. He had wanted to retain his individuality when he entered the doors, and he had, even when it meant fighting his way to the top (sometimes literally). He had also wanted to be a part of something, to fit in somewhere, and he had done that also, and in the end, although the dual nature of the process was sometimes wearing, he was glad that he had not given up on either course. It was useful information for surviving McKinley, being able to live alone and in a group.
"So they just leave you alone?" Carole asked, breaking his reverie, sounding surprised and somewhat horrified.
"I usually spend the holidays at Dalton," Blaine said with a shrug. "It's not too bad: we decorate and set up the tree and exchange gifts and everything."
Of course, there weren't too many people that boarded at Dalton over the holiday break, and so Blaine usually found ways to spend every day but Christmas itself with other friends not boarding. There was decorating that took place and gift-exchanging on Christmas for those few that had stayed behind and actually celebrated the holiday, but for the majority of boys that stayed for the holidays, it was mostly an excuse to catch up on their studies in peace. Celebrating Christmas with people who didn't particularly care wasn't exactly Blaine's idea of a good time, but he wasn't about to complain. Dalton had amazing Christmas feasts, for the few that stayed behind to enjoy them, and overall it was pleasant to just find a book, curl up on a couch, settle down with his iPod and enjoy the peacefulness around him. Compared to the usual chaos, it had almost been refreshing, although still not exactly his idea of a holiday.
Carole was eyeing him as though she thought the same, he realized, and he flushed slightly under the scrutiny, looking aside. He had his legs tucked underneath him as he leaned against the arm of the couch, watching the fire crackle absently as he thought. Looking up at her fully, he saw that her gaze was a mixture of sympathetic and sad, and he almost stumbled over his words as he spoke, wanting to placate it.
"It really wasn't that bad," he said. "It's not like I regretted spending my Christmases there or anything."
"You could have come spend it with us last year," Carole said, sitting in one of the arm chairs, a hand balanced on her knee thoughtfully as she looked at the fire briefly, too. He wondered what she saw but didn't ask, knowing better than to intrude. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Blaine shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal?" he tried, wincing when it came out as a question. "Honestly, I had a really big crush on Kurt and wasn't sure how you three would react about coming over to your house so soon after we'd met each other." That much, at least, was true. Even when Blaine had paced anxiously, the idea making his hands tingle with anticipation before he inevitably retreated without making the offer, all that had been on his mind at the time was how to handle the latest developments with Kurt. Namely, his undeniable attraction to said boy, in more ways than one. "I didn't want to impose," he finished. "It wasn't my place to ask, and I didn't want you to feel pressured to accept if you knew."
He winced inwardly at that, knowing that it sounded like he had been suffering alone and hadn't want to mention it, but he didn't bother try and correct it. Knowing his luck, he would just blurt out something else about not celebrating things with his parents, how they enjoyed the holidays without really participating in them. They were in their own worlds, governed by their own thoughts and affected only by the people they deemed worthy of intervention. Everyone else was an extra, a prop, in some regards, not worthy of greater attention or inspection. Sometimes Blaine thought he fit into this category better than he did family, if only because he communicated with them less frequently than most of his father's business clients.
Stop moping, he chastised himself. Those days are over.
It was true—if nothing else, he was spending Christmas here with the Hudson-Hummels and next year, hopefully, he would be spending it in New York with Kurt—and that thought boosted his mood tremendously. Even if he did have to be sick right before Christmas, he was grateful to be in good company than spending it curled up in a ball on his dorm room bed waiting for the worst to pass so he could function again. Somehow just being around people who were still alive and energetic was helpful; he felt more comforted by their presence than he had thought possible, just grateful to be around other people rather than holed up in some dark corner.
"Well," Carole said at last, sensing his introspective mood, perhaps, and only interrupting when the silence began to deepen, "you're always welcome here. Especially for holidays," she added. "No one should spend Christmas alone."
He opened his mouth to say that he hadn't spent them alone, per se, because there had been other people around him, but he shut it without a word, nodding slightly. He had chosen to be alone than because the alternative—spending time with people who would rather engross themselves in Thoreau or Dostoevsky—was no better.
"Thank you," he said at last, his voice slightly thick for a different reason, grateful that the hoarseness covered it.
Eleven o'clock, Christmas Eve. Blaine stared at the clock, his hands folded underneath his head, elbows perched on his knees as he waited, one leg jittering uncontrollably. There was a restless sort of anticipation building in him, knowing that in less than an hour it would be Christmas, his first Christmas with his boyfriend and with the Hudson-Hummels. It was a prospect that both excited and even somewhat terrified him. What if Kurt didn't like his present? What if he thought it was too much? What if he didn't want Blaine to be his boyfriend anymore, for being so imperceptive that he couldn't even find him a suitable Christmas present?
Valentine's day had never been this hard, he thought, because a scarf sufficed with Kurt, making him happy and giving him new designing material to work with. On Christmas, however, Blaine wasn't simply giving him a scarf that he could use on virtually any occasion and still make look classy and appropriate. No, he had set his sights on a different field entirely, and he was anxious to see whether or not Kurt would like his decision (or, worse, reject it). The latter made him nervous enough that, as soon as Carole had left, he had gotten up and made himself a cup of tea to try and calm himself, which had only succeeded in making him more jittery and restless than before.
Still, buried underneath the anxiety was a sort of eager anticipation that overwhelmingly dominated his thoughts as he tried to imagine how Kurt would react. At least three scenarios involved Kurt rejecting the present outright, two where he waited a few days before trying to break the news gently to Blaine that his gift had been awful, and a dozen other half-formed situations where Kurt would somehow dislike the present and realize it was the end of their relationship. There was still one glorious image of acceptance, however, and despite his fear for the multitude of ways it could go wrong, Blaine was still hopeful that Kurt would actually like the present.
Then again, he thought, panicking slightly as he fingered the box, unable to stop fiddling with it, what if this turned out to be another Jeremiah-worthy incident where he completely overshot the mark and instead ended up upsetting—or worse, embarassing—Kurt? What if he felt like he had to somehow reciprocate, pressured into offering a similar gift that he had had no way of foreseeing beforehand? Blaine watched the clock and clutched the box tightly, wishing that he could just know that Kurt would like it and put his mutinous thoughts to rest. He was almost certain he would—almost—but that wasn't to say that he didn't still have his doubts about it.
This was a huge deal, a big step in their relationship, and Kurt's reaction was pivotal in the outcome. Perhaps that was why Blaine was so worried about it, even though he was fairly confident that Kurt would like it. Kurt's acceptance would affect everything about their relationship from then on, whereas his rejection just might crush it. Gripping the box tightly, hands clasped and leg still bouncing, he breathed a deep sigh of relief as the clock ticked upward another notch, settling on a quarter-to-midnight. He hadn't realized his musings had taken up so much time, but he was glad for them, in a way, even if they weren't exactly good on his nerves. Two days of rest and recovery had definitely helped him by way of health, and he was optimistic that as long as he could get some sleep some time tonight, he would be almost normal tomorrow. The problem was getting to sleep, and with only ten minutes to go until Christmas, he doubted that he was any closer to it than before.
Pushing himself to his feet with a sudden energy, he picked up his phone and walked over to the kitchen table, sinking down into one of the chairs and staring at the screen in blank silence for several moments. He had no idea what had possessed him to grab it, but almost with the same thoughtless knowing he waited, looking at the clock as the numbers crept slowly, steadily upward, until at last—
12:00 AM.
Christmas.
He flipped through his phone, smiling slightly to himself, some of his nerves evaporating at the mere thought that it was Christmas. He found the number that he was looking for and wrote, Merry Christmas,turning the phone off and sticking it in his pocket before the person could respond. Right then, he didn't want a response, didn't want any sort of potential sorrow to ruin his mood. A lack of response would have been just as painful, too, so he made it deliberate by turning off his phone, laughing slightly at himself as he picked up the little red box and stowed it under the tree.
Walking over to the stairs and climbing them, he knocked lightly on the door jamb to Kurt's room, waiting for the soft grunt of affirmation before pushing it open and stepping inside. Kurt was rubbing at his eyes tiredly as he reached over to turn on the light but Blaine, taking pity on the fact that he had just woken him, stopped his hand before he could fumble the light switch on and caught it, holding it between both of his own. "Merry Christmas," he whispered softly.
Kurt hummed, scooting around so that there was a cleared space where Blaine usually slept (Kurt had apparently stolen it in his absence, a thought that warmed Blaine's heart inexplicably). Blaine hesitated before Kurt tugged him forward slightly patting the bed with his other hand. With a slight chuckle, Blaine slid down and cuddled close, invading Kurt's personal space and resting his head on his shoulder, reveling in everything about Kurt.
He was soft but not in a feminine way, his devotion to skin care definitely paying off in the long run. Sometimes Blaine wondered how it was possible that he could even tolerate holding hands with Blaine's own rough, untreated ones (by comparison, of course; not that Blaine deliberately performed menial work to worsen his appearance). Kurt didn't even flinch when Blaine rested his forehead against his collarbone, however, his fingers rubbing absentmindedly at the back of his knuckles. A low hum of contentment escaped him, almost a purr that Blaine felt rather than heard, and he smiled slightly, wishing that he could just lean up and kiss him but knowing that he woudln't, not when it would mean giving Kurt his sickness.
"Merry Christmas," Kurt answered sleepily. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Blaine murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone—through the shirt—that made Kurt smile.
Kurt awoke alone.
He stretched languorously, looking over at his clock and smiling slightly. Six AM, Christmas morning. Finally. While he had been nervous and uncertain for days in advance, it was like everything fell into place on Christmas day itself. Blaine would love his gift. He would. Going through his morning routine in record time, Kurt fidgeted anxiously as he applied the last of his skin cares creams, unable to stop himself from grinning as he cast glances over his shoulder at the door. Less than twenty feet away, his boyfriend was downstairs, probably asleep, completely oblivious that it was their first Christmas together.
Kurt almost bounced on his feet as he dug out the box, strategically hidden in his closet where Blaine wouldn't accidentally find it. He had wrapped it—along with dozens of other presents—on the twenty-third while they were watching the PBS Christmas special. They had laughed at themselves, pointing out quirky things about each other's appearances and not caring. Blaine's lines ultimately won out as more cheesy, but, as Blaine loftily pointed out, Kurt overwhelmingly had the cheesier gestures, including his tone of voice, which made Blaine burst out laughing every third line regardless of what he had said. The Justin Timberlake comment had had them both in stitches, Kurt having to pause in his present wrapping in order to recover his control.
It didn't help that Blaine still laughed at everything, usually causing Kurt to laugh simply because it was contagious. It was then that he had resolved to make Blaine laugh more often, because it really wasn't that hard (he laughed at Kurt's antics on screen all the time) and it was so, so worth it. Even sledding had been worthwhile for seeing Blaine so happy and energetic and alive. It was like high school didn't even exist, a side story that occasionally contributed but didn't affect his overall personality.
Kurt smiled wryly to himself as he thought of that, considering how much high school had affected them both, before steeling himself and, present in hands, walking out the door towards the stairs.
As expected, Blaine was lying on the couch, one arm draped over the end as he slept. Kurt smiled as he set the box down behind the arm of the couch and knelt down beside Blaine, brushing his hand once along Blaine's arm. The latter stirred and blinked blearily, grinning up at Kurt as he sat up slowly before wrapping his arms around him. "Good morning, beautiful," he said, nuzzling Kurt's cheek. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too," Kurt said, smiling. "Sleep well?"
"Mmhmm," Blaine said, disentangling himself reluctantly, huffing at Kurt's already flawless visage before taking stock of his own unkempt appearance. "Hmph," he said.
"What?" Kurt asked, amused, knowing fully well what was bothering him.
Blaine just shook his head and nodded at the tree, Kurt's gaze following as he grinned at the stock of presents underneath. There was a note with his name on it pinned midway up the tree, though, just at eye-level, and he lifted an eyebrow slightly as he walked over to it, plucking it off. He could almost feel the nervous excitement radiating off Blaine as he opened it, just a simple slip of paper with only three words: Turn around, beautiful.
He turned, and nearly lost all the feeling in his legs as he realized that Blaine was holding a little red box and—
Oh my God.
That basically summed it up.
"Don't freak out," Blaine said, nervous and quick but still holding out the box invitingly, Kurt staring at it because—oh. my. God.
Knowing that he had no other choice but to take it, he reached out and picked it up delicately, staring at Blaine the whole time. One eyebrow arched, frozen in surprise, Kurt looked down at the box for the first time. And yes, there was no mistaking what it was, and the realization just made Kurt's heart race as he slowly, so slowly, pulled the lid open. The red cover gave way to a silver ring, and Kurt's hand flew to his mouth in shock, because Blaine had gotten him a ring.
"Oh my God," he said aloud, his voice a whisper. "Blaine. . . ."
"It's a promise ring," Blaine said, Kurt's hand dropping as he cradled the ring box, unable to believe—unable to fathom—that his I'm not good at romance boyfriend had bought him a promise ring.
Not good at romance my ass, he thought, and then nearly burst out laughing, which would probably have killed Blaine right then so he just clamped down on that voice and looked at Blaine, wide-eyed and stunned.
"I know that in less than a year we won't be in high school anymore," Blaine said softly, looking alternately between the box and Kurt's face, trying to better understand his reaction. Kurt tried to look encouraging but mostly he was just stunned speechless. It must have been sufficient, as Blaine smiled a little before shrugging in a self-deprecating way, one hand wrapped arm his own upper arm supportively. "I want you to know that I'm not going to stop wanting to be with you just because this part of our lives is over. I want to be with you, Kurt, for as long as I can, and this . . ." he looked at Kurt, then the ring, and said simply, "this is my promise to you. To be with you for as long as you'll have me. Because as long as you have that, I'll never say goodbye to you."
Hearing his own words seemed to finally pull Kurt from his trance as he pulled the ring from its box carefully. He looked at it, rolling it gently between his fingers to see it from every angle, before glancing up at Blaine and wordlessly holding it out. Blaine looked momentarily wounded, his expression seeming to freeze as he stared at the ring before looking at up Kurt's face. And then he relaxed, seeing the warmth and brightness in Kurt's expression.
Kurt asked, "Do you . . . ?" and Blaine said, "Yes," taking the ring and gently sliding it into place on Kurt's left ring finger. His eyes were bright (Kurt was certain his were as well). He just let his hand rest over top of Kurt's for several long moments, basking. Then Kurt swept him up into a hard hug, practically crushing him, and said in a breathless, almost lofty tone, "It'll do," which made Blaine laugh as he hugged him back, shaking with a mixture of laughter and relief.
Pulling away after several moments, Kurt just looked at his ring and smiled, half-wondering what the rest of the school would say when they saw it. What they would think of him and Blaine, and how it would change their image in school. Whether the jocks would think it was disgusting or just ignore it or try and take it away. Kurt smiled, running his thumb lightly against it, and thought defiantly, I don't care. I'm wearing this.
"Thank you," he whispered, reaching down and giving Blaine's hand a hard squeeze. He squeezed his hand back, smiling softly, his gaze lingering on the ring briefly.
"It looks beautiful on you," he said simply.
"It does," Kurt agreed, beaming. "And now I can, in full confidence, give you this."
He walked over to the end of the couch and picked up the small box, watching Blaine's eyes light up with interest as he accepted the box. He looked at Kurt, momentarily stupefied that Kurt would see need to buy him a present at all (can't you see that just having you here is enough for me? was so clear in his eyes it almost hurt), but he peeled the ribbon away with eager fingers and unraveled the paper, looking at the cardboard box underneath. He sat down on the couch, inviting Kurt to sit beside him, who did so after a moment's hesitation, leaning away from Blaine slightly, trying to gauge his reaction.
He tugged open the box carefully and smiled, pulling out the watch carefully. "Kurt," he said, smiling, looking up at him. It was classier than most watches Kurt would have bought for any of his other friends and more durable, something that he wouldn't have bothered with for Mercedes or anyone else because they wouldn't have been able to appreciate it (and would consequently break it through sheer accidental mishap at the first opportunity). Blaine was more careful, though, and Kurt knew that it was the right choice as he saw how his expression brightened, fingers already moving to put it on.
"Turn it over," he whispered, Blaine's expression slightly puzzled as he obeyed. Kurt closed his eyes, already knowing what it said, not sure if he could look and see the disappointment cross Blaine's expression if he knew and didn't like it.
11.9.10
"That was the day you changed my life," Kurt said at last, hands clasped together tightly, looking over at Blaine's face, which was filled with a shock and awe that was flattering and also slightly unnerving. Did that meant he . . . liked it? Didn't like it? Didn't know what it meant? The last was perhaps the worst, as it would show that Kurt had been obsessing way too early on and had probably spooked Blaine with the fact that he still remembered the first day they met.
But Blaine just looked at it, his smile deepening and softening somehow, thumb brushing underneath the numbers delicately. "Kurt, this is . . . it's perfect," he breathed, running his thumb softly over the engraving. "I love it." Then, turning, he wrapped his arms around Kurt a second time and said, very seriously, "I love you. I'm never going to forget, but this . . . I love it. I almost hate to put it on," he laughed, fingering the watch indecisively, "because I won't be able to see that."
"You'll see it when you take it off," Kurt pointed out, smiling slightly himself, pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek. Sickness be damned. "I'm glad you like it."
"Love it," Blaine corrected, staring at the numbers with the same beaming expression, eventually turning it over to clasp it around his wrist carefully.
Kurt smiled at him, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "It looks good on you," he told him.
"Hmm," Blaine hummed, rubbing his thumb lightly over Kurt's ring. "I love you."
"So you've said," Kurt teased.
Blaine looked at him, playfully challenging, before leaning over and kissing him with a loud mwah. "You're welcome," he added, brushing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss while Kurt pretended to scrunch up his face in disgust. "And if you get sick, I'll buy you all the coffee you want."
"You better," Kurt warned, looking at Blaine and unable to stop a slight smiling from curling his lips. "Merry Christmas," he said simply.
"Merry Christmas," Blaine agreed, smiling.
Kurt and Blaine spent a full hour alone reveling in each other's company before Finn made his appearance.
He tromped down the stairs looking surprisingly alert, sighting Kurt and Blaine on the couch together and immediately zeroing in on the glint of silver on Kurt's finger. Kurt knew this because he missed the final step and face-planted spectacularly at the bottom, leaping back to his feet with a squawk of, "Holy shit, you proposed?" in Blaine's direction.
It brought Kurt's dad and Carole downstairs fairly quickly, whether by the tremors from Finn hitting the ground or his exclamation, Kurt didn't know. Either way, he hastened to assure Finn that no, Blaine had not proposed, he had given him a promise ring. After much confusion, Finn finally grasped that a promise ring was still different than an engagement ring and seemed to relax, accepting it as just another thing that Kurt and Blaine did that he wouldn't understand. Which, Kurt supposed, was definitely the easiest explanation, so he accepted it without protest.
He and Blaine had joint-gifted on Finn, buying him the latest version of Call of Duty after much deliberation about whether or not it would just encourage Finn's video-gaming habit. Immediately, Finn leaped up, swearing happily as he set up the game system, and Kurt leaned against Blaine's shoulder contentedly, glad to have successfully made two people happy on Christmas, at least. Finn was so happy he literally yanked Kurt up and off the couch into a hug, his ribs creaking until Finn let him go. He picked Blaine up, the latter just going with it until Finn set him down.
"I think he likes it," Blaine muttered breathlessly to Kurt, massaging his ribs as Finn jumped onto the nearest arm chair and started setting up the game.
"Just remember, I said we should have gotten him a new shovel," Kurt said in a sing-song voice, smirking.
"This is freakin' amazing. You two effin' rock. I . . . shit, look at that. I gotta call Puck!" he said suddenly, leaping to his feet with controller still in hand.
"Hold on, tiger," Kurt's dad said, catching him with a hand on his shoulder. "There's more presents, too, you know."
"Oh. Yeah. Cool," Finn said, deflating a little as he returned to the pile. "Oh!" he said suddenly, digging through the gifts frantically, paying no regard to the fragility of any of the presents around him. Kurt saw his dad wince once, probably thinking that at least some of those had to be breakable, but he just emerged a few seconds later with two gifts in hand. "Here," he said, tossing them to Kurt and Blaine. "Merry Christmas, dudes. Those are from Rachel and me. Oh, shit, she's going to kill me. Be right back!" He darted off into the kitchen, calling Rachel quickly and nodding along with whatever she was saying before adding, "Bye" perfunctorily at the end and hanging up. "She's coming in like, six minutes. So don't open those," he said, looking between Kurt and Blaine sternly as though they would do so just to defy him.
It was worthwhile to have Rachel around, even though she brought a veritable mountain load of presents behind her, apparently on a mission to deliver them to every glee club member before the day was out. She waited, Kurt and Blaine exchanging a slightly nervous look as they looked at the small boxes. They didn't look poisonous, but with Rachel Berry, one never knew. Her excitement was certainly as much that Kurt wouldn't be surprised if she had gotten them both lethal presents just to vent some of her feelings.
They weren't lethal, and Blaine laughed as soon as he pulled the lid off his own, holding up the bowtie covered in Christmas trees for general inspection. "This is great," he laughed, while Kurt stared at his own bowtie in surprise. It was a simple shade of red, something that Kurt foresaw himself wearing in shirts, perhaps, if not bowties. Bowties were Blaine's thing but, as soon as Blaine caught sight of his own, he laughed even harder, insisting on putting it on for Kurt, who tried to swat his hands and say that he knew how to but losing the argument in the end as Blaine was much faster. "Perfect," he said with a grin.
"Let's see yours," Kurt retorted, yanking it out of his hands and putting it on Blaine before he could get in a protest. Blaine beamed and kept his hands at his sides, unprotesting, before laughing again at Kurt.
"Thank you," he told Finn and Rachel, the latter snapping a picture with her phone that made Kurt squawk and leap up from the couch with surprising agility, chasing her into the kitchen and nearly overturning the table in the process of wrestling the camera back. "They're great."
"Cool," Finn said, beaming proudly, accepting the slightly less dangerous hug that Blaine gave him as a result. Blaine waited for Kurt to finish arguing with Rachel before wrapping her in a hug as well, telling her that he would make Kurt wear the bowtie to school at least once, overruling Kurt's loud protests that he would not. Kurt told him that he would shred every last one of Blaine's bowties if he so much asspoke of the red bowtie, Blaine grinning and keeping his mouth shut.
Once Rachel had left, Mercedes arrived within the hour, followed by Puck, who immediately situated himself on the floor beside Finn and took up the second controller. "Merry Christmas, boys," Mercedes told them, handing Kurt and Blaine their presents despite their mild protests that she didn't have to. She laughed when they gave her their present, insisting that they were both hypocrites.
Over the rest of the day, they exchanged gifts with dozens of other friends, the noise of Finn and Puck on the video game offering a comforting domesticity to the scene. When at last the tree had been cleared and it was mid-afternoon, Carole told them that dinner would be ready soon. Kurt and Blaine immediately moved to help with the process of getting Christmas dinner together, repelled by Carole shaking her head and saying that she was basically finished already and they should go have fun. Since that was what they had been doing all day, they smiled and worked around her, setting the table and helping move dishes around, working together in their own comfortable quiet, trading conversation back and forth about the latest hot topics in the fashion world, a familiar exercise. When at last everything was ready and they were all settled around the table—Puck had left after thumping Finn one last time on the shoulder with his fist and promises to return as soon as possible—Kurt sat down beside Blaine and smiled, feeling like everything was just right for once.
And when they lay on the couch together hours later, so full that they could barely stand, Kurt just smiled at Blaine, intertwining their hands lightly.
"I love you," he whispered against Blaine's wrist, not caring about Carole and his dad still in the kitchen, or Finn sorting through his presents.
"I love you," Blaine murmured in reply, kissing the top of his head with a smile.
And for all of the worry, all of the stress, all of the pandemonium that had otherwise dominated the season, Kurt was happy that it had culminated to this.
Each other.
That was what it had all been about, really: impressing the other and reaffirming where they stood, what they wanted to be, what would happen to them.
We'll be okay, Kurt thought, resting his head against Blaine's chest and closing his eyes, running his thumb lightly along the back of Blaine's knuckles.
We'll make it through all of this. We're still together now.
We'll be okay.
