27

Tree Lighting

"Stop it!" Kurt giggled, shying away from Blaine as he pecked kisses up and down his neck. "Stop it, the cookies are gonna burn."

"Who needs cookies? You taste better than cookies," Blaine mumbled, lips against his skin, desperate to make him laugh again. He hadn't seen Kurt smile like this in weeks, or laugh, or allow Blaine to be this close for this long.

"You're going to have to be the one to explain to my dad why his cookies are ruined," he advised, chewing his lip, holding Blaine's hands while he hugged him around his middle. Blaine sighed, hanging his head and drooping, disappointed.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the cookies," he grumbled. "But don't move, don't go anywhere, okay?" Kurt chuckled.

"Okay," he held up his hands in mock surrender, leaning against the counter while Blaine removed the tray from the oven and replaced it with the next batch. He smirked, a surprised little yelp coming from his throat when Blaine slid back over to him, catching him in his arms and pressing their foreheads together.

"So, where were we?" He mumbled, voice low. Kurt giggled again.

"You are going to be the death of me," he breathed, allowing Blaine to hold and kiss him, distract him. Blaine needed it, hell, he needed it. He still wouldn't move in with his brother, not until he was one-hundred percent sure that Kurt was completely okay. Kurt was smiling, flirting and laughing, yes. But…but there was still times, still glimpses of what was really going on behind his sightless eyes, things he'd trained himself to hide.

A few times Blaine had woke to a sudden presence climbing into bed with him, wrapping arms around him and snuggling close with damp cheeks and tears still clinging to his lashes, not saying a word or asking for anything other than a warm embrace. He held him without protest, kissed his hair and stroked his cheeks, tried to remind him that no one would ever touch him like that again. Kurt would only hug him tighter and bury his face in his neck and sleep. Some nights he didn't.

"You know, Santa won't come if you're awake," Blaine had mumbled the night before. Kurt chuckled.

"Put me on the naughty list, then," he challenged, snuggling closer to him.

"Are you okay?" Blaine whispered, stroking his cheek, hesitant with his touches unless he was sure Kurt was comfortable with them.

"I'll be fine," he assured, getting under the blankets with him, knowing his father wouldn't approve, but hey, it's Christmas, right?

"Is there something I can do?" He asked, just to see if something could be done. Kurt shook his head.

"Goodnight, Blaine," he breathed, eyes closed. Blaine gently rubbed his back, helpless.

"Goodnight."

Kurt was better in the morning, traipsing around the kitchen, bopping happily to Christmas music and touching the gum-wrapper ring Blaine had made for him every so often, smiling when he did. It wasn't much, but damn it if he didn't feel like it was the most amazing present he'd ever gotten. After explaining to his father at least eight times that it wasn't an engagement ring, of course.

Blaine while Kurt mixed and tasted, marveling at the ease in which he moved and how amazing everything tasted.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, you eat one more spoonful of my icing and you're not getting a single snickerdoodle, got it?" Kurt said suddenly, Blaine mid-lick. He guiltily set the spoon in the sink, eyeing him slyly.

"Now, how did you know-"

"Blind, not stupid. You were being way too quiet," he said, shooting him a smile over his shoulder. "Now actually put the icing on the cookies instead of in your mouth."

"Yes, sir," Blaine grinned. No one, not one person on planet earth could make Blaine stop doing something with just words. If Blaine Anderson wanted something done, he did it, laws, parents and other people be damned. He'd told teachers to fuck off so he could take a nap, told police officers to suck something south of his belt while he continued to graffiti a bridge, spit in his father's face when he told him to stop listening to Queen.

But for the beautiful, ungodly sweet and patient boy across the kitchen, and for him alone, Blaine would listen. Blaine would move mountains at his command, jump off a cliff if that's what made him happy. If Kurt told him to jump and hand him a star Blaine would jump for the rest of his life until he had one. Never in his life had anyone ever, ever made him feel this way. He'd never dreamed of complying with something like this, something so small.

Great, now I have a weakness, he thought with a smile.

You knew he was your weakness the second you saw him walking down the street.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, turning, dusted with flour from nose to fingertips, still smiling beautifully. "Everything alright?"

He grinned. "It's perfect."

"Blaine?" Carole said, poking her head around the corner. "There's someone here to see you. He says he's your brother. I wanted to be sure before I let him in."

"Young guy, blue eyes, tried to hit on you to get his way in?" He asked. Kurt giggled. Carole nodded, blushing, smiling meekly.

"Yeah, that's Coop." He stepped out toward the front door, patting Kurt's shoulder as he went, finding his big brother smiling on the porch.

"Merry Christmas, squirt!" He exclaimed, arms open. Blaine allowed the hug, returning the embrace with a smile.

"Here," he said, handing him a package he'd snagged on the way out. "Carole knitted you a scarf. I told her the colors to use, so I got to say it's from me." Cooper beamed.

"Always resourceful, eh?" He said, handing him an envelope. "I figured you could use it to buy cigarettes or something else that might not kill you." Blaine smiled.

"I'm quitting, actually," he said proudly. Cooper smiled.

"Kurt get tired of the smell?" He mused.

"The cough," he corrected, chuckling. "Nicorette's a pain in the ass, but I promised him I'd stop. He's threatened not to kiss me, it's a nightmare." The elder brother's smile faltered, snow falling silently around them, utter silence blanketing the moment for a beat before he spoke, Blaine's own grin furrowed to worry in his brow.

"I don't want to bring this up, you know I don't," Cooper began, imploring Blaine, holding his hands out as if he feared Blaine would run. "But…do you know when you're gonna be able to move in with me? I know you don't want to leave Kurt, I know that, and I'm not pushing, I just-"

"No, it's fine, I get it," Blaine assured, nodding, lips folded. "I can't leave him, Cooper, I can't. He…he needs me, but if I told him you wanted me there he'd shove me out the door and pack my bags himself. He's…he's stubbornly selfless like that. But I know how bad he needs me here and I can't leave him yet."

"You know –again, not pushing, just offering- Kurt is more than welcome at my place, believe me. Hell, you could bring him with you for all I care. But you not being in my sight at least once a day drives me nuts, kiddo. It scares me to death sometimes wondering if Dad made bail, or if he managed his way out on some technicality and I can't walk into your room at night and know exactly where you are. I'm sure the Hummels are doing great keeping you safe, and I certainly don't want to run into Burt Hummel trying to get to you but…I don't know, bud, I'd just feel better with you close." He swallowed, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling again. "But I'm not gonna push or force your hand when the kid that turned your life around needs you. Take your time, I totally understand."

Blaine smiled again, nodding. "Thank you, Cooper. I promise it'll be soon. And you can call me whenever you want, even if it's three in the morning. It's okay." Cooper nodded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"I sound like an overprotective mom," he chortled. Blaine shrugged.

"Better than one that won't protect you from anything," he mumbled, flashing a half-smile. Cooper hugged him out of reflex, eyes shut.

"So you'll call me, right?" He repeated, forcing himself to let go. Blaine nodded, smile reaching his eyes this time.

"Yeah, definitely. Soon as everything's alright."

"Hey there," Kurt said brightly, stepping out with an overstuffed Tupperware box in his hands. "Thought I'd offer you some of the goodies instead of making you smell my genius." Cooper laughed, taking the tin graciously.

"Thank you so much. Gives me something to stuff myself on later," he said happily. Kurt popped a hand to his hip, eyebrow arched.

"Oh, you're staying for dinner," he said slyly. Blaine grinned. "I made way too many mashed potatoes and if there isn't one more person at the table we'll be eating turkey for three weeks straight."

"Finn's gonna be crushed," Blaine chuckled.

"I don't want to impose," Cooper warned.

"I insist!" Carole called from inside. They nearly fell over laughing.

"Blaine," Kurt said softly, voice soft in the semi-darkness, faces illuminated by the fire in front of them. "You know you can move in with Cooper whenever you want." He said, the house nearly silent with guests gone and asleep.

Blaine sighed, hating that his hunch had been correct. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Still," he implored. "I'll survive without you being down the hall every night." Blaine winced, taking notice of the edge of pain in his voice.

"You know, you're not the only one who can hear when someone's lying," he said gently. Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

"It's not supposed to be like this," he hissed. "I'm supposed to look at you, see what color your clothes are; when you look into my eyes, I'm supposed to be able to look back."

"I told you, it doesn't bother me," Blaine implored, squeezing him.

"I used to think about it when I was a kid. About what it would be like to fall in love and be with that person every day, to spend countless nights looking at each other, looking up at the stars, not stuck in the dark where I dragged you with me," he shut his eyes. "I was okay with being blind until I met you…until I understood completely that my dream would never come true."

"Kurt…"

"That and then this…this bullshit-! Why can't anything go the way it's supposed to? Why don't I get to love like they do in the movies?!"

"This is better than movies, this is real," he emphasized, holding his cheeks. "You see inside of me, not what my face look like. You love me based on anything but that. You think I'm attractive because of who I am; I've never had that before, I've told you that."

"I know, I know," he sighed, his voice aged beyond his years. "It's just…it's not something you need to deal with."

"And you needed to deal with this shit with my dad?" He retorted.

"That's different."

Blaine sat up, pressing his forehead to Kurt's, his own eyes shut. "Give me your hands," he whispered, taking them carefully. He placed them on his cheeks, holding Kurt's face in his own. "You feel that?" He asked. Kurt's senses focused. Raspberry hair-gel, Hollister-purchased cologne, detergent, leather. Rough stubble, piercing in his eyebrow and his ears, curls circling his fingertips, gentle thrum of his pulse beneath the heel of his palm, gentle gusts of his breathing.

"Yes," he whispered.

"How about this?" Blaine carefully leaned forward, kissing him so carefully, as if Kurt were something precious and delicate, or easily frightened. Lights popped and exploded in Kurt's universe, causing his breath to stutter and mind to melt, surrounded completely in Blaine.

"Y-yes."

Blaine smiled against his cheek, watching a grin spread to Kurt's pinked cheeks as well. "Isn't that better than just looking at me?"

He wrapped his arms around him tightly, still haunted, but wanting. Blaine held him with no hesitation as usual, stagnant tears he didn't understand settling in his eyes. "Thank you," Kurt sniffed, absorbing him.

"Anytime, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas."

The warmth of the fire lulled them to sleep in time, and when Burt came down the next morning for coffee, they were still holding each other just as fiercely as they had hours before.

He sighed, looking at the pair, wondering just how his son would fare when school resumed in just a few days.

The thought made his stomach churn.