-* Christmas Eve, 2012 *-

Cooper loved it when snow fell on Christmas.

When they were young, Cooper would drag his little brother out into the wintery chill of early morning each time even the lightest flakes would sprinkle down.

On the Christmas mornings when enough snow had fallen, the boys spent hours playing outside. Cooper would practically bounce into Blaine's bedroom, fully dressed and way too loud. Blaine let Cooper's excitement pour over his own emotions and inspire him to feel the same. Each boy would rush to get downstairs and out the door. Neither bothered to ask permission.

Their mother was something less than maternal for a long while after their dad left. Especially around the holidays.

They'd build giant forts in the street and have a snowball fight. Many of the family's neighbors would join in as well, both the kids and the extra cooks kicked out of the kitchen. Alone or with the masses, it was the brothers' tradition for many years.

If there wasn't any snow, still they would find some trouble to get into – more often than not being run off by a disgruntled neighbor with proud grins at a job well done.

In any case, the boys would eventually go home to a house full of their mother's side of the family. It wasn't always that way, it just sort of happened. With their father's absence and their mother's near breakdown, extended family brought Christmas to their doorstep. And it stuck.

That first holiday season free of celebrating Hanukkah was in 1993. Blaine was just shy of his sixth birthday. Cooper was nine at the time. Their parents had tried the year before – the year of the split – to be civil toward one another, but when their mother found out about some woman named Shelby carrying a child for her ex-husband and his partner, she snapped and forbade him from seeing his children.

Blaine had cried for days when his mother told him his father was gone. He would often be found in the study where his father had spent much of his time. In his mind, if he waited long enough eventually Daddy would come back; and when he did, he would easily find Blaine in their special room. The room even Cooper wasn't allowed into because he couldn't touch a single thing without being destructive. Daddy would come home and he would know Blaine had practiced at their piano every day, just like before. Blaine would show him all the tricks his little fingers had learned. But Daddy didn't come back. No matter how much he played.

Cooper watched his little brother struggle to understand his loneliness. Cooper even tried learning the piano so that he could help Blaine; he happened to be pretty good at it, but Blaine refused to let anyone else even sit on the bench with him.

At the beginning of that spiritless December, neither boy had seen him in months. Halloween was passably okay; they were excited to dress up and trick-or-treat with their friends, like always. Thanksgiving was worse, but still okay; they played with their cousins and ate too much food, just like always. It was familiar.

December sucked.

Hanukkah passed by without as much as a whisper of recognition from their mother.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Cooper was completely disinterested in staying inside all winter break. For maybe the first time ever, the boy missed school. He missed feeling stir-crazy at being trapped in a room with his borderline-fascist teachers for eight hours because, with the suffocating weight of being stuck in his house, with his mother and too many memories, being at school felt like talking his first breath of fresh air after being buried alive.

The house was devoid of warmth, and Cooper felt they all deserved more. He wanted to help somehow. His mother was distant and unwilling to help herself. Unable to reach his father, Cooper turned to Mrs. Chaplin, his babysitter and friend.

Mrs. Chaplin, Shirley, had been an older woman whose own children had all gone from home; the youngest of which had flown the coop around the time Blaine was born. Caring for the boys was like a cure for her empty nest.

Blaine had been a breeze to babysit growing up; he was quiet and content almost all of the time. Hand him a notepad or an instrument and he was busy for hours.

Cooper, on the other hand, liked attention. Honestly, he never stopped liking attention. Not once. Ever. While Blaine would entertain himself, Cooper would entertain Shirley. Sure, he was a handful, but he was also extremely amusing, deserving of an audience. More often than not, Shirley found herself smiling and laughing, happy to let him prattle on. Cooper talked to Shirley about everything, all the time. In the midst of the endless chattering, the two formed a close bond. Cooper went to her many times throughout his childhood. She was his rock when his parents' marriage broke down; he trusted Shirley would know how to help him with his problem.

Shirley promised to speak to his mother, but told Cooper to think of something special to do for Blaine to keep the five-year-old distracted on the holiday. That was how Cooper came up with the idea building a snow fort. The snowball fight happened on its own. It kept Blaine from thinking about his Daddy all day, and kept both boys outside of the house. The house that was strangely overflowing with family.

Each year, Hanukkah was celebrated at home, and Christmas took place at their grandparent's house.

That year, Aunt Emma showed up at six-thirty in the morning, claiming the rest of the family would be showing up throughout the course of the day.

Apparently, Shirley's attempted intervention with their mother had taken no effect, except to depress her further and inspire the subsequent phone call to her parents informing them she, Blaine and Cooper wouldn't be joining them for Christmas. News of that phone call then spread to the whole family, all of whom had no intentions of letting them skip out on the holiday.

By some miracle, Aunt Emma convinced their mother to let them talk to their father that night. Blaine excitedly told him all about how well he'd been playing and that he had even memorized a few of the songs because he'd practiced so much.

Cooper stopped eavesdropping after he heard Blaine ask when his Daddy when he would be home. He turned away, only to see his mother with tears glistening in her eyes. He always figured that might've been the moment she started trying to be better again.

Cooper waited his turn to speak with his father.

When he was finally handed the phone, he didn't know what to say. His father cracked a joke about never hearing Cooper so quiet, but still Cooper said nothing. Eventually he said the one thing that had been running through his mind since August: "I miss you, Dad." The words were whispered, but not unheard. The sentiment was returned and the floodgates opened.

Cooper cried for a full hour, his father staying on the line the whole time. Once the tears had stopped, Cooper came back full force and spent the rest of the night chatting away. His mother ended the call with a promise they could speak soon. A promise she kept.

Every year after that, family would start showing up in the afternoon. Cooper and Blaine would warm up with hot chocolate by the enormous fireplace after hours spent playing in the snow. Their father would sink further and further into the backs of their minds, until finally their mother forgave him. He and his new family would stay in the city for a week, driving upstate for dinner on Christmas Eve, before everyone else arrived. It was awkward at first, but they managed. Some better than others.

Blaine's relationship with his father became strained through the distance; him in New York, his father in Ohio. Through his turbulent teenage years, the relationship remained rocky until it all but ceased to exist. Cooper hated that he couldn't help anymore. He wished a snowball fight in the street could still take away the pain like it had before. That was just it, he realized; his plan hadn't fixed a single thing. He had only helped Blaine ignore the hurt, cover it, and let it fester. That was never in the plan. Cooper only wanted to help.

Cooper loved snow. For a long while, it let him believe he could bury the bad beneath a blanket of something fresh and new.

Cooper caught himself staring out his the snow-sprinkled window. The chill of standing beside the window with his bare chest and arms prompted him to move away, slipping from his memories back into the present. He slid a long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and stepped out of his childhood bedroom.

As he descended the back staircase, he could make out muffled voices. He followed their sound to the kitchen, passing through a wide hallway filled with photographs and memories. He considered stopping into the living room to check on his brother, but figured if Blaine was finally sleeping it was best to leave him to it.

He moved through the hallway and into the kitchen. There he found his mother and his little sister chatting animatedly. Initially, he had feared how his mother would react to an adult Rachel, without her fathers around to protect her from his mother's resentment. His mother proved his fear unnecessary as she had welcomed the girl with open arms.

If he was honest, that unsettled him a bit.

Hiram, Leroy, and Rachel only ever came to the house for the Christmas Eve when Blaine was still subject to his parents' wishes. Long ago, Blaine had decided to cut Hiram from his life all but completely. Hiram made the mistake of not pushing back against his son's limits.

Cooper had arched one hell of an eyebrow when Rachel begged to join them for Christmas, but was happy to bring her along without further question; though his compliance hadn't stopped him from being suspicious of her motivations.

Both women looked up at him as he shuffled through the doorway. He kissed each of them; his mother on the forehead where she stood at the stove, Rachel on the cheek where she sat on the counter.

His mother poured and handed him a cup of coffee, which prompted another kiss and vow of eternal gratitude. She waved him away and continued flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. The room was filled with food he knew better than to touch. His hand had been slapped away many a time by his less than amused mother.

He sipped the hot liquid and leaned against the counter space beside Rachel, once again drawn to the snow falling outside. He looked away from the window at his oddly quiet sister and nudged her with his shoulder. She smiled though she remained silent, sipping at her own coffee mug.

"So tell me, Munch, are you saving your voice for a great big Christmas concert spectacular or something?"

Rachel shook her head and trained her eyes on the mug in her hands.

"Hmm. I didn't think so." Cooper put his own coffee down and stepped directly in front of Rachel, arms crossed. "What secret are you failing to hide?"

Rachel's eyes grew big as she spluttered a response. "What?! I – No. Just no, Cooper. Why would you think –

"She speaks!" Cooper jumped back, feigning surprise and earning a glare.

"No. I'm just observing the holiday in silence."

"Bullshit! You don't take a piss in silence, Rachel. What you're doing is just paying too much for an education that clearly isn't sinking in."

Another glare.

"Leave the girl alone."

A mischievous grin spread across Cooper's face at his mother's words. His voice rose to his very special excited-Cooper level. "Oh you know something, don't you?"

"Maybe we're all conspiring against you. Better watch your back, Cooper James." Cooper turned at the sound of a new voice.

Cooper looked at the woman hanging her snow covered jacket in the hallway just outside the kitchen. "Where have you been all morning?"

He watched as Noelle rid herself of hat, gloves, and scarf. "Wouldn't you like to know...?" she teased, tossing in a smirk for good measure.

Cooper took a lingering look at his girlfriend, admiring the way the soft pink of her off-the-shoulder sweater contrasted with her caramel-colored skin. His thoughts floated off into a beautiful fantasy of tongues on collarbones and clothes on the floor before remembering where he was and who he was with.

The snort and unrestricted laughter Noelle unleashed told him it was no secret where his mind had just returned from.

His mother locked eyes with him for a moment until she could no longer contain her own laugher.

Rachel, who had been evermore scarred by the groan Cooper didn't seem to be aware he made, joined in the laughter at his expense when she saw the bewildered expression on Cooper's face. She'd never seen him have the decency to be embarrassed. Ever. Apparently, having your sister, girlfriend, and mother witness you having a rather vivid daydream will do that to a man.

Cooper quickly recovered. It must have been the shock of being caught off guard that caused him to blush. It wasn't actual shame. Of course, it wasn't.

"Har har. Yuk it up."

"Oh, poor baby," Noelle cooed as she smoothed a hand over Cooper's cheek. Just as he leaned into the touch, she drew away her hand to treat him to a couple love taps. "You'll be alright."

"Never the face. Do you hate me because I'm beautiful? Is that it?"

Noelle responded with a still playful, yet slightly firmer slap to Cooper's face.

Cooper stroked his cheek and lamented his bruised ego.

"That hurts. All I ever do is love you, but you - mmm." Noelle shushed him with a soft kiss.

"Now, shut up. You goddamn narcissist. Dee how on earth –"

"– have I survived him this long?" Noelle nodded.

"Hey, you raised me! You don't get to complain now."

"You're twenty-eight years old, Cooper," his mother deadpanned. "You don't get to complain about me now. You keep showing up her of your own volition." She removed the cinnamon rolls and banana bread from the oven and placed them each on top of the stove.

Noelle poked Cooper repeatedly in his side and mouthed "owned." Cooper shook his head and rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway.

Rachel grabbed the plate full of pancakes and wandered off into the dining room. Noelle reached into the cupboard and handed Cooper a stack of plates. On top of the plates, she piled silverware. Then she reached back into the cupboard for glasses and followed Rachel's path, steadying the glasses atop the silverware and taking them all from Cooper on the way out.

Deirdre carried the plate of rolls into the dining room, leaving Cooper alone in the kitchen. He immediately took advantage of the many foods left behind. His mother had no doubt been baking for hours.

He was shoveling croissants into his mouth when his mother walked back in. She wasn't really surprised – after all, she had been gone an entire ten seconds. She dropped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back from the food, taking the roll he had in his hand.

"Go get your brother, please. And go set this down. Without eating them all." She handed him the croissant-filled dish and watched him exit the kitchen.

Cooper set the plate down on the serving table, considering it a personal achievement that he only had one roll in each hand when he headed toward the door.

Noelle had been still setting the table, but stopped as Cooper hesitated in the doorway. She stared over at him, curious as to why he looked ready to start trouble.

"Oh, hey Munch?" Rachel looked up. "We're not done. I will figure this out."

Rachel shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm certainly doubtful."

"You'll crack."

She shook her head and mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. Ever the dramatist, Cooper walked over to where Rachel fake threw the key and bent down to pick it up. He mimed, in great detail, the unlocking of Rachel's lips, causing the girl to fail at biting back a smile, doubling over in laughter before he was even finished. For the finale, he surgically implanted the key in his brain, scalpel and sutures included.

"You're move, Munch."

His mother, who had reentered the dining room around the time Cooper had finally gotten to the point of unzipping Rachel's lips, watched on in amazement, struck by her strange feeling of pride at the display.

Noelle grabbed Cooper by the shoulders, exclaiming "this is both why I love you and why I question my own sanity," while steering him back toward the doorway.

Cooper walked into the living room, chomping on his last bite of croissant, expecting to either find Blaine still asleep or watching TV. He didn't find Blaine at all.

He checked Blaine's bedroom, but messy as it was, the room clearly hadn't been touched. Cooper walked back downstairs, realizing where Blaine must have been.

The door to the study creaked when Cooper pushed it open.

There he saw Blaine sitting on the floor, resting his arms on the piano bench and his head on his arms. That can't be comfortable, Cooper thought to himself.

Sheet music sat in a haphazard pile on the floor, probably having been relocated from the bench when Blaine went to sleep. Cooper debated whether or not to wake Blaine. He had been hoping Blaine was already awake and glued to the TV; he never knows which Blaine will come out when he's forced awake.

At least with the prospect of food, an ill-tempered Blaine will more than likely change his tune. Actually, the prospect of food just motivates Cooper to get this over with sooner.

Cooper shook Blaine by the shoulder, whispering for him to get up, getting slightly more aggressive the longer he tried. The heavy sleeper remained fast unchanged.

Cooper sighed. I know what I have to do.

He pulled Blaine's body from where it rested on the bench, laying him on the floor. Still he didn't wake, so Cooper carried on. Cooper moved the bench away, not wanting Blaine to hurt himself. He put himself at arm's length from his little brother. He wished Blaine would just wake up, so he didn't have to do this. Alas, he had no choice.

Briefly thinking it wasn't fair to abuse the knowledge of his brother's sensitivity, Cooper cautiously reached his fingertips across the distance, remembering this was all that there was standing between himself and breakfast.

Blaine shot up lightning fast at his brother's tickling fingers. Cooper drew back his hands just as quickly, backing away his whole body. Cooper stood, watching Blaine panting and holding a hand to his chest.

"You okay?"

"Jesus Christ, Coop!"

"Are you alright?"

"Fuck you." Blaine flopped back onto the floor, hitting it harder than he expected and groaning in agony. "Best wake up ever. Thanks ever so much." He closed his eyes, willing sleep to return to no avail.

"Asshole."

"Breakfast."

Blaine perked up at that, opening his eyes and swiveling his head toward Cooper. Cooper crossed the room and extended a hand and helped Blaine up. The two walked through the house side-by-side and silent.

Getting closer to the dining room, Blaine could smell the small feast his mother had made. The delicious scent prompted Blaine to break the silence just as they reached the doorway.

"God, I love stress bakers." Cooper chuckled, sharing the feeling.