Winter 2017-2018

"What do you mean you're not hosting the Christmas party?" Quinn asked over the phone, sounding thoroughly shocked and upset.

"Q, my darling, over the past year: I've acquired not one, but two roommates; been to three shows staring the man I am exclusively not-dating; helped Isabelle negotiate five major contracts; done photography for the cover of Vogue; been a model for a Marc Jacobs spread; visited Los Angeles, California to see all of you crazies; scouted a billion crummy, sketchy theatres looking for the next Broadway star; and had to deal with Rachel and her Paul problems almost twenty-four seven. I need a break, and Christmas is my time to do it. I'm kicking both of my roommates out for two days, and having a little bit of me time. I need it."

"But Christmas is your favorite holiday," Quinn said, as if this wasn't something he had already considered. "It even ranks higher than Fashion Week."

"Bah! Humbug!" Kurt announced, and Quinn gasped over-dramatically.

"How much does this have to do with the man you're exclusively not-dating?" Quinn asked, and then squeaked. "Oh my God, is the real reason you're avoiding our reunion because you're spending Christmas with him? You can just admit that, we're all supportive! Oh, gosh, that's so romantic!"

"Have you been taking drama lessons from Rachel or something?" Kurt asked, and he knew Quinn was rolling her eyes at him. "This has nothing to do with Blaine. I'm not spending Christmas with him, I'm sure he has plans with his crazy friends. I need some time to get my life in order, and Christmas is the time to do it."

Quinn sighed. "At least tell me what you want."

"Quinn, the perfect gift for me would be solitude. I just need to wrap up the year in peace and relax. This year has been crazy, and I need to catch my breath."

"Fine, be like that. We'll make some other crazy New Yorker host the Christmas party." Quinn hung up on him as Kurt rolled his eyes at her.

"Women," he muttered to himself. He had also kicked his roommates out for the day to decorate for Christmas, because he still loved the holiday. He had put up and decorated the tree meticulously, hung holly and placed mistletoe in the doorway to Finn's room to see if he could embarrass both of his roommates, and the last thing to do was flip over the calendar. The December page showed a cheesy scene of evergreens covered in sparkling snow, and Kurt was ready for the year to be over.

His next task was his slew of invites, both private and professional. He turned down a ton of parties every year, but this year was the only time he was going to turn down every single one of them. He would attend no parties until he hung a new calendar on the wall, January 1st. Once he had turned down invites from past Broadway friends, directors, and producers, as well as from everyone he worked with at Vogue (including the official Vogue Christmas party, a very elite party he was thrilled not to be attending) and several personal friends he had just met randomly (some from high school; once people had discovered his success, they were very inclined to test his excellent memory), he turned to Christmas cards. He made sure to send one to everyone who invited him to a party, one to every member of the Glee club he wasn't currently living with, one to Burt and Carole, and one to Isabella (she loved getting them). Their cards this year featured a cheesy picture of him, Finn, and Sam, the latter two acting like morons and him posing like a normal human being, with a Christmas tree photo-shopped in the background.

After he finished placing cards in their envelopes and putting addresses on them, he made sure to make a few phone calls where RSVP's by phone were required, which was always a begging process. Isabella, of course, understood how crazy his year had been, but old directors and friends pleaded with him until he hung up on them. Then he made hot chocolate with cinnamon and marshmallows for him and the roommates he was expecting any minute, and sat back and relaxed.

Christmas Eve was the best day of the year, Kurt decided as he relaxed on his couch, glancing up at his calendar. 23 red exes, made with Sharpie, confirmed that it was in fact the 24th of December, 2017, and Kurt was all alone. As sad as that sounded, he was thrilled. He was covered in blankets and cozy with hot chocolate after a long trudge home through the snow that was gently falling. He had been ordered by Mercedes to stop by Rachel's party for a moment, to say hi to everyone (was what they told Rachel), and to see how horrible Rachel's parties remained (they hadn't gotten much better from junior year: the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza) in an attempt to convince him to return to being the host (which was the honest reason, and the one they concealed from Rachel). He had left after the third person had called it the Rachel Berry Apartment Party Jewish Christmas Train Wreck Extravaganza, Part II. Everyone picked on Rachel for being Jewish and simultaneously being a part of their Christmas, but Kurt thought it was sweet.

Either way, he was done thinking about them. There was a minuscule turkey in the oven, happily provided by the A&P in the ironically named West New York, New Jersey. There was stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cornbread... what was he forgetting?

"Shit," Kurt swore as he threw off his blankets, alone and not caring about his language. What about the cranberry sauce? How had he forgotten about the cranberry sauce on his perfect Christmas Eve?

Kurt muttered some more bad words as he headed for the door, checking to make sure his turkey wouldn't overcook while he was gone and putting on his heavy snow boots. There was an all-night grocery about four blocks from his apartment, but he really didn't want to have to go out in the snow. Why did it have to be snowing? The magic of the movie White Christmas aside, snow was more of a nuisance than anything.

By the time Kurt reached the grocery, he was frozen down to his bones, his fingers and ears completely numb. Even his coat hadn't been enough to protect him from the snow; with the wind whipping it around, there was snow down his back and front, and he just wanted to be at home.

Kurt grabbed some cranberry sauce quickly, knowing it wouldn't be as good as homemade, but that's what he got for forgetting about it. Kurt muttered some unflattering words about snow, and winter, and cranberries, as he got in line, until...

"Kurt?" his head snapped up at the familiar voice.

"Blaine," he said, trying not to sound reverent. "What are you doing here?"

"It's the only all-night grocery near my apartment, and without Charlie to nag me I've been kind of forgetful." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I'm spending this one alone," he said. "Need a break; this year's been crazy." Well, Kurt could certainly understand that one.

"Me too, but why are you..."

At the same time, they looked at what each other was holding and said, "You mean you forgot cranberries too?" They looked at each other and died laughing, barely able to stand up.

"This is... completely crazy," Blaine said once they had calmed down, but he was smiling like 'crazy' wasn't a bad thing. "I can't believe I ran into you on Christmas Eve."

"You know what the crazy thing is?" Kurt asked, and Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I promised my friends I wasn't avoiding them because I was spending Christmas with you, and now I think I might end up breaking that promise."

"Have enough for two?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded.

"I'm so used to cooking for two animals in addition to me that I kind of forgot what cooking for one is like. I could use some help eating my extras." Blaine laughed at Kurt's obvious flirting.

"Well, you're probably further along in the cooking process than I am, so by all means," Blaine agreed, stepping out of line (not that there really was one. More like waiting behind the counter for the cashier to realize he miraculously had customers) and placing his cranberry sauce back on the shelf.

"You know what," Kurt said, stepping out of line as well. "I don't think I can bring myself to serve you this," he held up the can of cranberry sauce, "I think you deserve the full Kurt Hummel experience." He put the can back and went to grab some actual cranberries, some orange juice, and some sugar.

"I like the sound of that," Blaine said with a wink.

"In the kitchen," Kurt clarified, trying to ignore the fact that he was blushing like crazy.

"If that's what you're into." It was at this point Kurt gave up.

"I need some sort of bell." Kurt looked around for some way to let the cashier know there were idiots at a grocery store on Christmas Eve.

"What are you lovebirds doing here?" the cashier was an older woman, probably in her fifties or sixties, with gray streaks in her blonde hair. "Forget about cranberry sauce?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine said formally, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist and making him giggle. He didn't mind in the slightest that the woman had mistaken them for a couple. Maybe, after tonight, she wouldn't be so mistaken after all.

"Aw, Merry Christmas to ya," she said with a smile as she rang them up. Blaine paid after a brief argument, they wished the woman 'Merry Christmas' in return, and they were headed through the snow towards Kurt's place.

"Wow, for someone who's spending Christmas with hot chocolate and his cat, you sure went all out," Blaine said, looking around at the apartment, which was fairly well lit with only Christmas lights.

"I don't have a cat," Kurt argued as he set about preparing the cranberry sauce. "Finn is allergic. This will only take me a bit, and then we'll have to let it cool. Make yourself at home."

"That I will," Blaine said, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist again as he cooked to press a quick kiss to Kurt's flushed-from-the-cold cheek. "It's nice that there will be a white Christmas."

"I would guess you didn't get too many of those in LA," Kurt said, half teasing, half pity.

"You would be entirely correct. Though, one extremely weird year that convinced about half of the south that global warming was happening exactly as Al Gore predicted, we did, and it was pretty awesome. The TV studios were annoyed though." Kurt giggled at that.

"I assure you that was not the case in Ohio," Kurt promised, making Blaine chuckle. "This white nuisance has been haunting me for as long as my brother has. Longer, even."

"Speaking of your roommates, did you finally kill them or did they have plans?" Blaine asked with a smile, watching Kurt cook and looking perfectly content.

"The latter, though I've considered the former several times this month."

"Including Once?"

"Including Once," Kurt confirmed.

"It's, uh, probably better that we didn't, you know." Kurt turned to look at Blaine quizzically as his cranberries started to pop. "Fate probably wouldn't have liked that. It kind of hates us." Kurt laughed, as much as he hated how Fate had intervened between them constantly for the past year.

"That's true," Kurt agreed. "Besides, Rachel would have interrupted us if Sam hadn't, puking."

"Is that what happened?" Kurt nodded. "Poor guy."

"You would be sympathetic to the idiot that interrupted our moment." Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're too nice."

"'Our moment', huh?" Kurt flushed.

"Just... what I've been referring to that as," he tried to dismiss the term.

"I like the sound of that." Blaine smiled.

"Is that your catchphrase or something?" Kurt asked, realizing how often Blaine had said that.

"Maybe I just really like you," Blaine said with a smile. "I'm surprised you didn't have plans tonight. You're always busy," he continued after a moment of silence.

"Turned down all my wild and highfalutin parties," Kurt announced, not regretting his decision in the least. "I needed a breather, and Christmas is my favorite holiday, so why not?"

"I know how that feels," Blaine said as Kurt sat down next to him, leaving the cranberry sauce in the freezer, trying to aid the cooling and thickening process. "And to be honest, there's no one I would rather spend my Christmas with." Blaine swept a bit of hair off Kurt's forehead, smiling softly. Kurt realized he was leaning in and placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Now now, okay?" Kurt wasn't sure why he was stopping Blaine; it just didn't feel right. After all the time they had spend dancing around each other and bowing to their ridiculous schedules, it didn't seem... special enough. Thankfully, Blaine didn't ask, because Kurt's explanation sounded odd even to him. "How about we eat?"

"Shouldn't we wait for the sauce to thicken a little?" Blaine asked. He clearly knew more about cooking than Kurt had given him credit for knowing.

"A chef, Blaine?" Kurt asked, making Blaine pink a little for the first time.

"I know a little about cooking, but I would be absolutely hopeless trying to actually make something." Kurt laughed at that.

"Maybe I'll teach you some time," Kurt offered. "And as for the sauce, I think we deal with it being a little runny."

"We can wait a few more minutes," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "Are you always this impatient?"

"Absolutely," Kurt answered automatically.

"Of course you are," but Blaine was smiling again. "I hope I'm not crashing your relaxing Christmas too much."

"This is better than any other Christmas I ever could have imagined," Kurt said honestly, making Blaine's face light up, "and I can definitely relax around you."

"I'm glad." Blaine took Kurt's hand and squeezed it. "To be honest, your friends seem rather uptight and quite stressful."

"You have no idea," Kurt practically groaned. "Someday, I will kill them all."

"Mass homicide," Blaine commented, "way to get into the Christmas spirit, Hummel."

"I hold a Christmas party every year, Anderson," Kurt spat in return, "and Christmas is my favorite holiday. It's just been... a long year." Blaine didn't say anything, he said everything he needed to by kissing Kurt's knuckles softly. After a few minutes of extremely comfortable silence, Blaine stood, prompting Kurt to ask where he was going.

"Do you have a stereo in here, or an iPod speaker?" Blaine replied wildly unhelpfully. Kurt pointed to the iPod speaker on the bookshelf that he and Rachel had used for practice, curious as to Blaine's intent. Pulling an old-fashioned blue iPod out of his pocket, Blaine placed it in the speaker and started scrolling.

"Should I ask, or just leave you to your own devices?"

"It's Christmas Eve." Kurt hummed the beginning of the Pink Panther theme song. "And Christmas Eve is supposed to be a joyous occasion, not one we spend moping in solidarity over how stressful the year has been. Let's just... forget for a bit, okay?" Blaine asked, turning just as the first few notes of White Christmas flooded from Kurt's speaker.

"Very cute," Kurt said, smiling at his song choice. Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch, spinning him around in time to the music and making him laugh. Blaine was cheesy, but he was sweet, and Kurt was admittedly having fun dancing like idiots to Christmas carols in his living room, occasionally singing along and almost knocking over several lamps.

Blaine pulled him close as Grown-Up Christmas List began to play, smiling softly and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. Kurt pressed himself against Blaine, putting his head on the tenor's shoulder despite the crick he would get in his neck because Blaine was shorter than he was. He was content just to slow dance in his living room like the sappiest couple in the world. Blaine kissed the side of his head softly, and Kurt really didn't want to break apart by the time the song was over. Baby It's Cold Outside was almost halfway done by the time they separated.

"I," Blaine cleared his throat, his voice scratchy, "I think the cranberry sauce will have thickened enough for us to eat." Blaine's stomach rumbled. "And frankly, I'm starving." Kurt laughed at that, releasing Blaine and grabbing all of the food off the counters and from the fridge, placing it on his little table.

"It's probably still going to be ridiculously runny," Kurt said as he pulled out the cranberry sauce, but Blaine just shrugged, so Kurt went with it. The dinner was good (despite Kurt's best efforts, Blaine had distracted him from his cooking schedule so the turkey was a little dry. Blaine insisted it was fine, but he couldn't fool Kurt that easily), but the cranberry sauce was so runny it was ridiculous, and they ended up spilling more cranberry sauce on Kurt's nice, white tablecloth than eating it. At first Blaine had apologized profusely for spilling some, until Kurt did so very intentionally, and then they had begun a contest to see who could dribble the most interesting design in cranberry sauce. His tablecloth ended up looking much better than it had in the store.

"Okay, so you're officially the chef in this relationship," Blaine admitted after he had been declared the winner of the cranberry sauce drawing competition. "That cranberry sauce needed more time." Kurt hummed the Pink Panther theme again. "That's not funny," Blaine said with a glare, but he was trying not to smile at the same time, and failing.

"I'm going to hum that every time you state the obvious," Kurt said, and Blaine rolled his eyes, but they were both smiling. Kurt ignored the word 'relationship' for the moment (having the 'where is this going?' talk was not something he planned to do and ruin his perfect Christmas Eve with Blaine. No way).

"Fine. I'll try not to." Kurt saw the light bulb go off in Blaine's head. He had no idea what Blaine was thinking, but his epiphany was written all over his face. "I have an idea." Kurt hummed the Pink Panther. "Oh, come on!"

"Sorry, but anyone with eyes could tell that you had an idea," Kurt said, shrugging, but Blaine let it slide.

"Do you have a keyboard?"

"More music?"

"You said you wanted to see some of my songs, how about you help me figure one out?" Kurt stood up and headed for Finn's bedroom, pretty certain the keyboard had ended up in there when he had wanted to hide it from Rachel. He grabbed it out from under Finn's towering mountain of laundry (Kurt kept the rest of the apartment clean; Finn's room was his own issue. He was just surprised his girlfriend Angela hadn't torn him a new one for the mess yet. She hadn't been around lately...) and almost bumped straight into Blaine where he had been waiting in Finn's doorway. His eyes flickered up by themselves (he would swear when he was telling the story later), he had no control over them. Blaine's followed.

"Mistletoe." Kurt didn't hum the Pink Panther theme that time, as tempting as it was. He was a little busy simultaneously regretting putting the mistletoe up (he wanted his first kiss with Blaine to be ridiculously romantic, like something out of a movie) and extremely happy the keyboard had been in Finn's room instead of his (getting the opportunity to kiss the man one has been chasing all year is never a bad thing). Oh, and his heart was doing a quickstep in his throat.

"Yeah," he said dumbly to break the tense silence. Blaine took the keyboard from where it had almost fallen from his suddenly numb and sweaty hands, and leaned it against the door frame.

"Did you know that while mistletoe has been considered holy for thousands of years, and people have been kissing under it for centuries, the connection between the two isn't entirely clear to history? Supposedly it came from Scandinavian mythology, specifically the myth of Baldur, son of the Scandinavian goddess Frigga who overlooked the mistletoe plant-"

"You're rambling," Kurt cut him off, realizing Blaine was just as unreasonably nervous as he was. Then Blaine started humming the Pink Panther theme song, and both of them died laughing, practically falling over in hysteria, still underneath the mistletoe Kurt had hung in Finn's doorway. "Touche," Kurt said once they had calmed down, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

"We are the most ridiculous people on the planet, aren't we?" Blaine asked. Instead of answering, Kurt leaned forward and kissed him softly, trying to ignore all the fairytale notions of fireworks and sparks he had been mentally picturing until they actually happened. Blaine pulled away after a few seconds, smiling softly and pressing their foreheads together. "I am ridiculously crazy about you."

"Ditto," Kurt admitted, giving Blaine a quick peck. "I'd love to hear that song of yours now."

"Oh, right, we actually had a reason for walking directly under the only mistletoe in your apartment." Kurt laughed, loving it when Blaine was sassy. "Come on," Blaine said, picking up the keyboard with one arm and grabbing Kurt's hand with the other.

"Sap," Kurt complained, but he didn't mind at all.

Blaine's song, entitled Christmas Eve With You, was entirely cheesy, as cheesy as Blaine had been all night, and for the first verse and chorus Kurt was entirely convinced that Blaine was making it up on the spot. When Blaine had sung an entire song, however, Kurt realized as talented as the tenor was, even he (probably) couldn't make up an entire song on the spot. They spent a few run-throughs working on the harmonies, singing the whole thing together, and then Blaine looked at Kurt with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen (and he practiced his in the mirror), obviously waiting for critique.

"You, and your song, are absolute cheese balls," Kurt said finally, giving Blaine another peck and marveling at the fact that was totally normal now and that everything felt perfectly natural with Blaine, "and I really like that about you, and it."

"All Christmas songs are a little cheesy," Blaine said, smiling like an idiot (Kurt probably had the same expression on his face), "and I'm glad my Christmas song, which I actually wrote before I met you, believe it or not, came so completely true."

"Cheese ball." Kurt leaned over to kiss Blaine and the tenor, unapologetic, knocked the keyboard away, leaning in to deepen the kiss and pulling Kurt close, close enough to his side on the couch that he was almost on Blaine's lap. For the record: he was not a slut, but God, the things he wanted to do to Blaine at this point... and he assuredly would have done all of them if there hadn't been a knock at his door.

"Fuck you, Fate, we're still winning," Blaine muttered, obviously annoyed, once they parted, and Kurt giggled all the way to the door.

"You dirty rotten liar!" Quinn announced as soon as he opened the door, storming in with an abnormal amount of rage in her voice. "You told me that you weren't ditching us for him, and you lied!"

"For the record," Kurt began, remaining calm in the face of female craziness (Blaine looked kind of thrown, poor thing. He obviously hasn't dealt with enough women for this), "when I said that it wasn't a lie. This was a complete, and extremely fortunate, coincidence." Quinn looked back and forth between a slightly ruffled Kurt and a still gob-smacked looking Blaine, and then she was the one with a light bulb going off.

"Did I just interrupt something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Kurt.

"A little," Kurt said, unashamed. He was an adult, he had every right to sleep with whomever he pleased, even if he had been dating him for less than an hour. The year between meeting him and now had to count for something!

"Too bad," Quinn said, changing from curious to surly without a moment's notice. "Coats, mittens, hats, both of you. You, sir Hummel, are spending some time with your adoptive family, whether you want to or not."

"Quinn, with all due respect, get the hell out of my apartment or I will call the police on you. Or worse, call Finn to drive over here, pick you up in a fireman's hold, and carrying you out crying and screaming. This is New York. No one will even give you a second look." Quinn looked shocked, but when Kurt steered her out the door, she went with little resistance.

"I apologize for her," Kurt said once he had heard high heels down the hallway, sitting back on the couch as close to Blaine as possible without sitting on him. "I think she's a little tipsy, and she's a rather angry drunk."

"The universe really does hate us, doesn't it?" Blaine complained, looking up at Kurt's ceiling as though it had all the answers.

"Forty-two," Kurt said casually.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked, his voice rising in pitch due to surprise. It was probably the last thing the tenor had expected Kurt to say, and that's exactly why he said it.

"You look like you're looking for the answer to the universe on my ceiling. I just wanted to let you know that it's forty-two." There was a beat of absolute silence, and then Blaine cracked up.

"You're as much of a nerd as I am!" he accused, still gasping for breath between fits of laughter.

"No. I'm not laughing so hard I'm almost braying," Kurt commented casually, which made Blaine laugh so hard he was fighting to breathe. Kurt was relying on years of actor training to fight off his smile. Gaga, his boyfriend was cute. "My boyfriend," he repeated to himself under his breath, smiling like an idiot.

"Pardon?" There was no possible way, according to the normal laws of the universe, that Blaine could have heard that. Blaine's laughter had blocked out the soft Christmas music they had left playing, and the sounds of sex from the apartment underneath them, which Kurt had expected at around this time of night. It was not possible that he could have heard the two soft words Kurt had uttered. Yet, he had.

"Nothing," Kurt said, his cheeks heating. "Just marveling in the fact that we're actually dating to go with our exclusiveness."

"Are we?" Blaine asked, and for one horrible moment, Kurt thought he had misinterpreted everything. "Kidding," Blaine said, cracking a smile, and Kurt was not too mature to throw a pillow at him.

"That was not funny," Kurt said, trying to act surly but fighting off another smile.

"Yes it was," Blaine said, looking up at him with those big puppy eyes. Kurt knew that he had no chance of resisting them. Blaine leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's lips. "I would try for more, but then Rachel would barrel in, I guarantee it." Kurt giggled.

"Well, the universe did bring us together for Christmas Eve. Maybe it's not so horrible after all." Blaine appeared to consider that, and then kissed Kurt again.

"Maybe," he said finally. "But I still don't-" Blaine cut himself off yawning. "Sorry, I guess it's getting late," he excused himself. "Anyway, I still don't like the universe. It's kind of sent too many obnoxious interruptions."

"Those are my friends you're talking about!" Kurt said, pretending to act offended. Blaine didn't fall for it.

"Exactly."

"Touche," Kurt said. "We can head to bed, if you want. It's almost midnight."

"As much as I would love to stay up with you until tomorrow, I'm not five anymore and I actually require sleep on Christmas Eve. I'm sure Santa will be pleased." Kurt giggled. "Finn won't mind me crashing in his bed?" Blaine asked, and Kurt's brow furrowed.

"Why would you be sleeping in Finn's bed?" he asked, obviously a little slow.

"Well, the couch is comfortable too," Blaine hedged, looking equally confused. "And it's a lot neater in here than it is in Finn's room. Smells better too."

"Blaine, can we act like adults, please? You're sleeping with me." Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt flushed bright red. "I don't mean... well, at least not now, I meant..."

"It's too easy," Blaine said, cupping Kurt's warm cheeks in his hands and smiling, pressing a kiss to Kurt's lips, "to make you blush. Far too easy."

"Too bad I'm not that easy," Kurt said before he could suppress the urge, but Blaine just smiled.

"Not really. Life wouldn't be fun if it was easy."

"I think that's the wisest thing I've ever heard you say. Maybe winter is actually your philosophical season." Blaine laughed at the memory.

"That was the worst traffic jam of all time. I was ready to kill everyone in Washington D.C. just to get out of it."

"Mass homicide," Kurt echoed Blaine's earlier words, "way to get into the Christmas spirit, Anderson."

"Touche," Blaine said, giving Kurt another kiss. "Let's go to bed."

Blaine was almost asleep by the time Kurt had finished his moisturizing routine (having a hot man in one's bed was a good excuse to skip it, but Kurt had done so far too often during 2017, and he didn't want to be wrinkly at thirty), but he looked so cute Kurt didn't even care. He had washed most of the gel out of his hair during his quick shower (Kurt had let him go first. He was the guest, and he only needed like twenty minutes total. Yet, his skin was still gorgeous. Kurt didn't understand) and he was curled up under the blankets, looking very young, very relaxed, and very happy.

"Hey," Blaine muttered as Kurt crawled in next to him, proving that he was still semi-conscious. "You have really nice sheets."

"Egyptian cotton," Kurt replied, and smiled to himself with Blaine snuggled up against him. He was grateful: he got to cuddle with Blaine on Christmas Eve (more so than they already had) and he didn't have to admit to being the Snuggle Monster in the relationship.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine muttered, and Kurt was absolutely positive Blaine was already asleep by the time he echoed the sentiment.

A/N: Hooray! They're dating. Story OVER. Kind of. I wrote an epilogue because I couldn't resist. But main part of story OVER. I'm sorry it is early Saturday morning, and not late Friday, but I was busy yesterday. Sorry.

Songs used/mentioned (oh boy):
'White Christmas' by Irving Berlin
'Grown-Up Christmas List' by Amy Grant
'Baby, It's Cold Outside' by Frank Loesser and Lynn Garland
'Christmas Eve with You' by Glee (which I stole for Blaine)
the Pink Panther theme song :)

Reviews are Love (and remind me that I need to post)