"Wake up!" Kurt cheers, bouncing excitedly on the bed. "Wake up! Santa came!" In response, he takes a lazy "alright Im coming." Then hes off again, bounding through the hallway giggling. The living room, he finds, is lit up by twinkling lights and a warm, glowing fire. Before him stands a large, green pine tree adorned with the many ornaments that have accumulated over years and flocked with neatly wrapped gifts all for him. And from the tree is the great scent of pine that floats all around Kurt. Its the smell of Christmas. He closes his eyes, waiting to open them for his father to see the great reveal and the surprise on his sons face. However, when he opens his blue eyes, its gone.

He stares up at the white ceiling, drawing the covers in around him. Its December 24th. Hes not seven. This isnt his childhood home; its his apartment with Blaine and minimal decorations. Crawling out of the covers, Kurt shivers. Santa didnt come, but a cold front sure did.

Sighing, the weight of his decision finally set in. At the time, his choice to spend Thanksgiving with his family and then Christmas in the city sounded glamorous—snowy Central Park strolls, tickets to the Rockets, walking Fifth Avenue with Rachel to see all of the bright and festive window displays. However, as he stumbled into the mundane living room, he couldnt help but feel Christmas moving around him. Past him.

Kurt mopes as he pours his coffee. He mopes as he sets out a bowl of cat food. He mopes when Blaine smiles at him from the fire escape. He mopes at the cloud of smoke that floats around his roommate. He mopes at Pamela Lansbury purring at his feet.

"You look pouty." Blaine commented, climbing in through the window. A sharp breeze snuck in behind him.

Kurt watched Blaine, while moping, as he stripped off his coat and hung it up. A trail of snowy sludge was left behind in his footsteps. It was about as festive as the apartment would get. "Im lamenting." Kurt announced from where he was leaning against the counter, surveying the room.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow, "dare I ask?" He reached past Kurt to take a mug down from the cupboard. Kurt wished Blaine smelled of firewood, not cigarettes.

Leaning away from the smell, Kurt sighed. "Youre smoking again. We dont have a tree and youre smoking again."

"Uhm," Blaine chuckled, although it was more of a sarcastic and irritated bite. "What does my smoking have to do with anything?" He filled his cup with orange juice, instead of coffee, watching Kurt. He waited for an explanation.

Kurt finished his coffee and pursed his lips. "Nothing. You just havent done it in a while is all." His mug was discarded in the sink. "Im going to use the shower."

Blaine was curled up on the floor with a blanket and a book when Kurt returned to the living room. As he sat on the couch to lace up his boots, Pamela Lansbury slinked across the cushions to rub against Kurts side.

"Youre in her spot." Blaine warned.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Thats why youre down there?" Personally, he thought Blaine was being ridiculous about their new roommate.

"Well, Im not here for the lumbar support." Blaine retorted. Personally, he thought Kurt was being ridiculous about that damn cat. But, Blaine didnt want to get into it with Kurt now. Clearly, his roommate was upset enough already. Since the semester, and subsequently the Nutcracker, ended, grumpy had become his constancy. "Hey," Blaine began gently. He placed his book upside down to hold his page in it as Kurt tore his attention away from scratching the cat. "Are you really that upset about me smoking?" Blaine wouldnt quit either way. But, he did feel guilty about it. Perhaps, he had pondered, he could arrange to always go elsewhere when he smoked.

"No," Kurt sighed, "Im sorry. I was just upset."

"What about?"

Warm hazel eyes blinked up at Kurt. He wanted desperately to ignore him. But the kid looked so apologetic and genuinely interested, for a change, in what his roommate had to say. "I just kinda miss the merriment, ya know?" Blaine didnt know. He shrugged and shook his head. "Like look at us. Look at this." Kurt gestured to the drab room. "Its like Christmas isnt tomorrow."

"Its tomorrow? Really?" Blaine teased.

Kurt groaned, missing the sarcasm in his tone. "Dont tell me you forgot."

"I didnt, Kurt." The older man began to leave, sensing Blaines lack of sincerity. "Really, whats wrong?" Blaine insisted.

"Nothing. I guess Im just used to Christmas being a bigger deal." Kurt confessed. His childhood had always been one of candy canes and caroling. Blaine, however, had no such luxury. Every holiday was tainted with false pretenses. "Im meeting with Rachel for brunch," Kurt announced, dressing himself in a gray peacoat and a scarf. "So, Ill see you."

As soon as he was gone, Blaine leapt up, startling the cat, while a plan formed in his mind.

It was Kurts turn to pay, since hed recently gotten a check from Venus. As he looked over the bill, Rachel took the opportunity to check her phone. Kurt caught her grinning, before hastily putting it away. "So, do you still need to do any Christmas shopping?"

Kurt glanced up from calculating the proper tip. "Nope. Been done for awhile."

"Oh." Rachel faltered for a moment. "Did you get anything for Blaine?"

"Uhm, no." He signed his name at the bottom if the receipt. "Why?"

"Because I think you should. Ill help you find one. Right now, come on." His crazy friend gathered up her belongings, slipping into her coat. In a flash she had abandoned Kurt and their table.

"Wait! Rachel!" Kurt chased after her, coat in hand and trying to secure his scarf. The cold slapped him in the face when he stepped out to the street where Rachel was waiting for him, rearing to go. "Wheres the fire, Berry? Or should I say Barry."

"Did you just try to make a comic book joke? Really Kurt?" She laughed, hooking arms with him. "How Blaine of you." That caused her friend to blush, however it could easily be dismissed as a symptom of the cold. "So, what were you thinking of for Blaines gift?" She asked, leading him towards the shops.

It was four hours before Rachel finally allowed for Kurt to go home. Even then, she came with him, walking and texting up the stairs to his apartment. Shed been glued to her phone since brunch. Texting through the shopping, the stop for coffee and the bitter cold stroll through Central Park. All of which were her demands. Kurt had to bite his tongue to refrain from snapping at her. And only because it was Christmas Eve. To the sound of Rachel clacking away at her keyboard, Kurt unlocked the door. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his bed and spend the day watching Christmas classics on his laptop. When he pushed the door open, Rachel on his heels, he found something much better.

"Merry Christmas!" Blaine cheered, echoed by Tina and Sam. The trio was clustered in the door, like a little family gathered for a portrait. They even had the awful elf hats and holiday sweaters, each one tackier than the one before. Behind them was what seemed to be a holiday wonderland. Lights twinkled all around the apartment. Some were also wrapped on a small tree that stood in the corner. The aroma of gingerbread and peppermint and pine swirled around Kurt, making his head buzz excitedly. Bing Crosby floated from Blaines record player to which the trio hummed along, Rachel joining in.

A bright smile spread across Kurts face, cheek to cheek. His bright blue eyes twinkled enchantingly as he took it in. When he turned to Rachel behind him in the doorway, no longer having the need to text, she nodded to him as if saying yes, its all for you. "Oh my god," Kurt laughed a little, "this is amazing." Stunned, Kurt glanced between his friends, not knowing who to thank first. Sam pointed to Blaine, mouthing it was all him to Kurt. "Blaine?" Kurt grinned at his roommate. Blaine offered a bashful smile back, until Tina gave him a quick shove placing him in front of the group and closer to Kurt. The older man wasted no time in pulling Blaine into a tight hug. "Thank you." Kurt whispered, breathing in the smell of firewood from Blaines skin.

Blaine let himself fall into the hug. For a moment he allowed all of his senses to be overcome with Kurt in his purest form. It was rare to see this side of him, the unashamedly joyous. Yet, it was so breathtaking. Closing his eyes, he tried to soak every ounce of it in. Get high off of it. However, when he blinked his eyes open, Rachel was staring at him with a knowing smirk drawn on her lips. They locked gazes and she winked, sending a blush into Blaines cheeks.

Then he heard Kurt laugh and say "get in here you guys." And Tina and Sam were piling onto the hug, Rachel following suit. And Blaine wasnt special anymore, he just closest. "Aww, group hug." Tina cooed.

Once Kurts shock subsided, the Christmas activities resumed in full swing. There was spiked egg nog passed around, even to Blaine, and everyone gathered around the small tree. Blaine had collected a box of Polaroids that hed taken thus far in winter. A paper clip was attached to each one and, in turn, hooked to the branches of their tree.

"Do we have a star?" Kurt asked, joining a purring Pamela Lansbury on the couch. Rachel slowly raised her hand, only for it to be lowered by Tina.

"Its in my room," Blaine announced. "Ill go get it." With that, he shuffled out of the living room and all eyes turned to Kurt.

"Oh my god!" Rachel laughed. Tina snickered with her. Kurt didnt understand what their excitement was about, so he looked helplessly to Sam. Unfortunately he was just as in the dark as Kurt.

"Kurt, he is so in love with you." Rachel gasped at Tinas proclamation.

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "No, were just friends."

"No, you and I are just friends. As just a friend, I would never do this for you." Rachel gestured to the holiday fanfare, again laughing with Tina joining in. Kurt shushed the pair of hyenas, knowing Blaine could probably hear them. "Im sorry, its just really cute."

"Whats really cute?" Blaine asked, innocently. In his hands he held a small star and his face showed no signs of having heard their conversation.

No one answered, so Sam spoke up for them. "The cat."

Blaine groaned. "That cat is satan." He expected Kurt to reprimand his comment in some way. Instead, the poised man just watched him, with his lips drawn in a thin little smile. It looked almost pitying. Blaine smiled back, presenting the star to him. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Kurts eyes flickered to Rachel, who raised her eyebrows at him, warning him that their conversation was far from over. "Sure." He forced his smile brighter, something that didnt go unnoticed by Blaine. And as Kurt stepped up to the tree, barely having to reach for the top, Blaine felt it building up inside of him. The doubt and the questions; was kurt upset with him? Did he mess up Christmas? Probably, he thought.

Throughout the rest of the day, Blaine kept sinking. Its the way a rock dropped into the river sinks slowly down, swayed only mildly by the pushing of the stream and the ripples sent through it by motion. Blaine was that rock. No matter how many times Kurt laughed or draped his arm around Blaine or held him close to dance to a merry carol, Blaine sank. But, he fought it still, putting on a smile for Kurt, because it was Christmas and he deserved it.

Yet, once everyone had left for home and it was just he and Kurt, Blaine quickly retreated to his room. He was sure Kurt was affected minutely by his absence. Sniffling back his tears, Blaine fell into his bed. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He tried to squeeze out the feeling. The same feeling he gets whenever he thinks about it. His plummeting gut, the numbing of his fingertips and the pessimistic voice in his head telling him its all his fault. He hated the voice, but he knew it was right. He ruined Christmas.

Arguably Christmas was wrecked to begin with. Blaine only added insult to injury in some way. He didnt know how he did; he didnt need to. The fact of the matter was that Kurt was upset all because of him and his stupid jingle bell sweater.

Blaine wanted to throw something, namely himself. But, after many attempts at hurling himself into his bed and his wall and the floor, that proved futile. Also disruptive. Kurt had to come and knock on Blaines bedroom door twice to see what he was doing. The first time was a complaint at the thumping. The second time was when Blaines door had begun to splinter only a little at its frame.

This will not be a repeat of Halloween.

That became Blaines mantra. It would not be like Halloween, with the mess of scattered candy and echoing cries and that dumb door. This time nothing would break nor spill and no one would know. It would be screaming into pillows and ripping paper just to keep his hands busy. A cigarette would be mistakenly chewed on, foolishly believing it would create a solace similar to that of smoking one. And perhaps a box, or two, was almost hurled out the window.

This will not be a repeat of Halloween. This is Christmas.

Gaining reason and composure as the wee hours of the day settled in, Blaine spared the boxes. He knew what they meant to Kurt, or would mean. Burt had entrusted Blaine to deliver Kurt the gifts from Carole and him, which lay within those boxes.

It was teasingly cold in the living room when Blaine slinked out. Before him, he slid a box across the cool, wood floors. He shuffled behind it, stealthily in his socks. If he didnt wake Kurt then there would be a chance at saving Christmas.

"Blaine?" A voice whispered from the dark. Shit.

This might be a repeat of Halloween.

The lights of the tree blinked on. Dimly in their glow, a Kurt shaped silhouette could be seen. He was squinting back at Blaine. Nestled under his arms were two boxes of his own. "I guess were both Santa this year." Kurt joked, stooping to place the boxes under their tree.

"Uhm," Blaine and his boxes shuffled forwards. "It looks like it. These are for you." He adds lamely. He inches the presents forwards until the taller of the two scrape the low branches.

"Oh, well arent you sweet. I got you something too." Kurt is silently blessing whoever made the night dark. Because of them, Blaine will never know that Kurt was blushing just because Blaine got him something. "Do we open them now?"

"Its your call."

"Then we wait. If we open them now its kinda like its still yesterday." Blaine hums in agreement, even though he doesnt see a difference either way. Whats a few hours really?

A silence befalls them.

"So, are you gonna go back to bed?"

"Mm, probably not. Too excited."

"Oh. Do you want something to drink then? We should still have some of the egg nog left."

"How bout just a nice hot chocolate?" Blaine nods. "And make it a virgin." The younger boy, who is playing barista for the very early morning, hesitates. "Without alcohol, Blaine. Thats what a virgin drink is."

Kurt follows Blaine to the kitchen, swinging his legs up to sit on the counter. "I had a great time today." He announces.

"Yeah?" Blaine asks, glancing over his shoulder at his friend. Hes trying to busy himself with the task at hand. Extreme detail is put into everything— the mug, the expiration date of the milk, measuring how much to use.

Kurt either doesnt notice or doesnt care that Blaine is trying to ignore him. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Youre welcome."

"For awhile I actually thought you were mad at me. Thank god I was wrong."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just wouldnt want my friend mad at me on Christmas." Kurt confesses.

Blaine wants to draw out his concise remarks for longer. He still doesnt feel the right to not be upset. Its like being the guy who has to go outside first after the horrible storm. But, his curiosity peaks, because he thought Kurt was mad at him. "Did I do Christmas justice?" He asks, keeping busy in mixing the milk and cocoa powder on the stove top. "I know its kind of a big deal to you."

"Yes, Blaine, it was wonderful." Theres such warmth in Kurts lithe smile. It is nearly enough to erase Blaines doubts from the day, but not quite. He thanks Blaine for his drink, wrapping his hands around the warmth of the mug. The quiet boy takes his own mug of hot cocoa to the couch, nestling into the corner. To his surprise, Kurt follows, leaning into the opposite side. "What was Christmas like at the Anderson home?" Blaine barks out a bitter laugh, retrospecting on years of stiff suits and strained small talk with adults he didnt know. "Not good I take it?"

"No," Blaine sipped his drink. "Not good at all."

"Why?" It was dark, yet Blaine could swear he saw Kurts blue eyes watching him with their imploring manner. There would be a spark of intrigue in them, underlined with the challenge that he already knew the answer.

"Oh, it was dumb. Just these boring holiday parties that my parents throw every time they have a chance. My mom dresses Cooper and I up in these matching monkey suits and put in shows for everyone with the piano and talk to them like were gonna be future lawyers or whatever they expect of us." Blaine thought for a moment. He did recall some lightness amongst the hoopla. "Cooper always tried to make it fun for me, though."

Kurt laughed again, gesturing to his head. "Inside of the turkey? Like in FRIENDS?" He asked.

"Yes, exactly! I think thats where he got the idea. He even put glasses on it and walked around introducing himself to the guests." Blaine reminisced.

"Oh my god, what did your parents do?"

"Nothing; they figured smelling like giblets for the rest of the year was punishment enough. By far the best thing Cooper has ever done."

"Thats amazing. FRIENDS is also amazing."

"Indeed it is." Blaines hazel eyes caught Kurts over the brim of his empty mug. The room had brightened, enveloped in a warming hazy pink as the sun rose on a snowy Christmas morning. The two boys were pajama clad, with tousled sleepless hair. Yet, their eyes were brighter than ever. Kurts danced to gaze at the tree, still lit with blinking lights. "Ready to open them?" Blaines voice was gruff from a night of talking and laughing.

In response Kurt seized Blaines hand, hauling him to the tree.

"Hang on." The victim slipped from the loose grip. "Ill go put a record on."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Poor simple Blaine." From one of the deep pockets on his pajama pants, he retrieved his phone. It took mere seconds for him to que up a holly jolly song.

"Youre a thoroughly modern man, Hummel."

"And you, Anderson, are a relic." Blaine smiles to Kurt through his profusely long lashes. Its a wonder how he goes on without them tickling his face when he blinks.

In a merry silence, the two boys delve into their first gifts. Kurt picks up the one he knows is from Rachel; the wrapping paper has little stars adorning it and a neatly tied gold ribbon. Blaine reaches for the candy cane striped box with Blaine printed on it in Kurts scrawling fancy writing. Discarding the layers of packing, he gets to a camera. Its an old black Daitoh Optical camera from the sixties. The weight of the cold object in his hand was paired with the feeling of Kurts eyes on him. "Do you like it?"

"Kurt, where did you find this?" Blaine asks, instead.

"Some antique shop that Rachel found. It works, too. There should be some film in there." Blaines smile is undeniable. He fishes around the box for the film, while Kurt unwraps the gift from Rachel. Its thoughtful and exactly what Kurt liked. The same can be said about every Rachel Berry gift; despite her conceded tendencies, giving has always been her strong suit.

Blaine tinkers more with his camera, while Kurt reaches for another present. Its a small box that rests atop a large parent package. He peeled back the wrapping with care; its small size seemed to hint at great delicacy. Beneath the festive paper lay a box. Within said box was a tiny broach of a nutcracker. Blue eyes flickered up to Blaine, who was busy focusing his new lens on a tree ornament.

"Blaine," the younger boy looked up with a hum. "This is from you, isnt it?"

The wild blush in his cheeks was answer enough. "I thought you might like it since you have that one broach you usually wear, the hippo. I thought you might like to have another one, like, a holiday one."

Kurt looked back down at the beautiful broach. It was intricately designed with its vintage gold tones. Clearly, it wasnt cheap. He gingerly placed the broach down, crawling over to Blaine. "Its beautiful, thank you." A light kiss is placed on Blaines flushed cheeks. Kurt tries not to notice the shiver that trickles down his spin. He knows, after what his friends told him, he shouldnt do that. That its not fair. But, a part of him needs to; wants to.

Trying to hide the color in his cheeks, Blaine dips his face. "This is, uh, from your parents." He mumbles.

"My parents? I didnt think they sent anything." Kurt rises on his knees to examine the large box Blaine had slid towards him.

"Your dad sort of enlisted me to intercept all of your mail." The nervous boy confesses as Kurt unwraps the package. Within the box, secured with tape and bubble wrap was a TV. It wasnt huge, but it was certainly an improvement from the zero they currently possessed. Lodged into the side were two stockings. Kurt recognized his instantly. It was the same one that hung proudly with his familys every Christmas. The second one, however, was new. Lifting it from the box, he inspected it, surprised to see BLAINE etched across the top of it.

"For you?" Kurt asked, passing it off to Blaine. The younger boy held the stocking in his hands gently. It was so different from the ones that hung in his parents home, the red and white ones with gold trim. There was a reindeer stitched on it, with a red cotton ball as his nose and jingle bells in his antlers. "Welcome to the family."

After an hour of nearly breaking their new TV and blowing out every fuse in the building, Kurt started to pout again. Blaine noted the drop in his holly jolly mannerisms; slouched posture,  slight frown, Santa hat long forgotten.

“Are you sad Christmas is over?” He asked his roommate.

Kurt shook his head. “We lied.”

“What?”

“We lied to your mom about singing to dying children. Thats, like, the holocaust of lies!”

And thats how Kurt and Blaine ended up at Saint Jude's with a folder of sheet music from Rachel.

But, the thing about Rachel is shes jewish. So their song collection was either non denominational or decidedly about dreidels. They sort of had to improvise. Yet, Kurt kept getting distracted.

The room was warm. Not like summer or the kind you get from burning wood. But the artificial kind that comes huffing out of air vents. Air bubbles would form under the butcher paper from it, skewing the “Merry Christmas” painted on it. A keyboard was nestled in the corner. Blaine sat before it, tickling jolly classic after classic from it. The kids, gathered around in their pajamas and one-size-fits-most open back gowns, ate it up. They sang, tapping their toes, wishing they were well enough to dance. And Blaine seemed to feed off the energy as well. Kurt didnt understand why. Sure, the kids were cute. That cant be denied. But, from the posture Blaine maintained and the melodies he elicited, one might say he ought to be set before a grand piano to entertain the rich and snooty. Still, he loved it; he loved sitting at that finicky keyboard and singing for the children. And, for that, Kurt loved him.