A fresh snow is a beautiful thing to some people, but not to Kurt. It only mean one thing: shoveling. Kurt flung a shovel-full of snow out into the yard and away from the driveway. He was deep into a mental rant about how he was forced out of bed at noon by his father so he could perform manual labor for no wage whatsoever when the crunch of snow under truck wheels broke his train of thought. He turned around and saw a huge pickup truck, complete with hefty snow tires, and his little Blaine perched in the driver's seat. "What on earth are you driving?" Kurt yelled over the roar of the engine.
Blaine turned off the truck and hopped out. "It's my dad's. He thought the roads were going to be bad, so he told me to take this," Blaine explained. He looked Kurt up and down. "You look like a cold, drowned rat," he said. He walked over and hugged his fiancée.
"I hate shoveling," Kurt said angrily. "I'm soaking wet, my back hurts, my gloves soaked through so I can't feel my fingers anymore, and the sun is reflecting off of the snow and giving me a headache."
"Do you want some help?" Blaine asked.
"No, I'm almost done. Go inside and warm up," Kurt replied.
Blaine shrugged and started to walk into the house through the garage until he saw another shovel leaning against the wall. He picked it up and joined Kurt. "I'd feel too bad being inside and all toasty while I knew you were miserable out here," Blaine said. They chatted and finished up the shoveling quickly.
Once inside, they peeled off their wet coats and went into the kitchen. "I'll make the cocoa, you get all toasty and pick the movie," Blaine said.
Kurt quickly agreed and wrapped himself in a thick blanket.