Chapter 7:

Once upon a time, Christmas had been Blaine's favourite holiday. The cosy, winter nights, the smell of cinnamon, the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and the cheesy, holiday-themed movies which were only shown in December. New York was spectacular around Christmas time, it was like nothing he had ever seen, yet all it ever did was make him miserable.

Christmas, since Blaine had run away, held very little cause for celebration. Christmas was a time for family and friends and togetherness and Blaine had had none of that. Christmas days were spent alone in his cold apartment, TV set switched off, both to keep his electric bill down and to avoid the happy, family shows and the festive singing and the smiling faces. For Blaine, the holiday season was the worst time of the year, because it reminded him of just how alone he was and just how decrepit his life had become.

It frightened Blaine, how a holiday he had once loved could become something he dreaded, because that meant he was becoming jaded, tired and unfeeling. Christmas simply didn't feel like Christmas.

Blaine didn't get much work, he rarely did around this time, but he was doing okay, keeping his head above water. He had plans this year, had somewhere to be, someone to be with and that was what made this year so different to all those which had come before it. This year, he wasn't just another number in a crowded city, this year someone cared that he existed. Someone wanted him around.

Hymns and songs lifted his spirits like they hadn't done in a long time and the falling snow had him smiling, despite how cold it made his apartment. And then there was Kurt, with his scarves and his coffee and his red-tipped nose after coming in out of the cold, always smiling and humming a tune. Kurt, who gushed about how excited he was for Christmas when he would have both Blaine and his dad there, even though Santana would be there, too.

Santana, Blaine discovered, was not all as bad as her bark suggested. Of course, Blaine was sure that if pushed, she would definitely be a force to be reckoned with, but Santana was nice to him, she didn't treat him differently and she even cracked jokes about his job, which made Kurt go rigid, but there was something comforting about it, something that made Blaine feel like maybe his life wasn't such a big, serious deal, like he wasn't some kind of special case who had to be tip-toed around all the time. Blaine liked Santana, he far preferred her to Rachel and she always kept things real, never sugar coated anything or acted in a certain manner for anyone else's benefit. In fact, Blaine was sort of glad that she would be there for Christmas, because he was nervous and Santana always knew how to fill the awkward gaps (usually by making them more awkward, but in a way that deflected the attention from him).

Rachel, who was Jewish, was leaving New York to spend the holidays with her fathers on a cruise. She spent the night before at Brody's and went straight from his the following morning to meet her dads, so Blaine didn't have to see her. Blaine hadn't seen Brody again after their first encounter, but from what Kurt and Santana said, he was around a lot and Santana had a huge problem with that. She disliked Brody for reasons she couldn't even properly explain and Blaine laughed it off, but she never laughed about it. She only ever told them to mark her words before continuing to speculate about his apparent double life.

"He's a drug dealer," Santana announced on the afternoon of the 23rd of December. "He carries a beeper and his skin is super shiny."

"What on earth does the condition of his skin have to do with drug dealing?" Kurt asked, placing a cup of hot coffee down in front of Blaine on the table, before sitting down, too.

Blaine gave Kurt a smile and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You can roll those pretty, little eyes all you want, Hummel, the guy's a dirtbag. Who knows what he gets up to when he rushes off after getting a freaking beep on his beeper thing, like he's Kim-frickin'-Possible? Or, God forbid, who he gets up to—no offense, Blaine."

Blaine blinked.

"I mean, what kind of person carries a beeper? Like, be honest with me, Blaine, you've probably slept with some drug dealers in your time, did those guys carry beepers?"

"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed, horror on his face.

"Um," Blaine said.

"What?" Santana asked Kurt. "Look, you need to quit acting like the part of his life that doesn't concern you doesn't exist. I'm just being real here."

Kurt glared at her. "Every part of his life concerns me, how can you even say that?"

"All I'm saying is that not talking about it isn't gonna make it go away."

"You don't know anything about me and him!"

"I know that you're pretending to handle something you're not capable of!"

"I cannot believe you would say that."

"Oh, yeah? Why not? It's true."

"It is not!"

"Oh, please, Hummel, spare me the theatrics. Your boyfriend is a hooker and you act like everything is okay when we all know it isn't." She turned to Blaine. "I mean no disrespect, Blainers, but if I was dating someone who wasn't totally comfortable with who I was—"

Kurt looked shocked. "You are completely out of line—"

"—I would want to address it, too." She shrugged. "It's not you, it's him."

Kurt stood up and stormed away, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"That's it!" Santana called after him. "Storm out, just like Rachel." She shook her head and mumbled. "Frickin' drama queens."

Blaine sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Do you really think he's having that much of a hard time with it all?"

Santana only shrugged matter-of-factly.

Blaine nodded. "I should go talk to him."

"You should."

Blaine stood up and walked over to the bedroom door. He tapped lightly on it. "Kurt?" he said. "Can I come in?"

There was only silence. Blaine sighed again.

"Kurt, come on, let me in. We need to talk."

Silence again.

"Kurt?"

"The door's freaking open, Blaine, just come the hell in!"

Blaine smiled slightly and opened the door, then stepped inside. He closed it behind him and turned around to find Kurt sitting with his back to him on the bed. Blaine went closer and sat down next to him.

"Hey," he said.

Kurt looked sideways at him.

"Are you okay?"

Kurt shrugged. "Apparently not, according to your new BFF."

"My new BFF?" Blaine asked, nose wrinkling.

"Santana," Kurt supplied. "You two are awfully close these days, probably because she's oh-so comfortable with talking about all this...this sex stuff and I'm not. Well, you know what, Blaine, I'm sorry I can't be that for you. I'm sorry you got stuck with the virgin who can't even watch porn without wanting to die—"

"Hey," Blaine said. "Hey, stop. Nobody is judging you for that. I'm not and I definitely wouldn't want you to be any different. And as for Santana being my best friend, she isn't. I've never really had a best friend, not until, well, not until...you."

"I'm your best friend?" Kurt asked, twisting around to face him.

Blaine nodded.

"You're mine, too."

"Not Rachel?" Blaine asked.

Kurt twisted his face. "As if anyone can bear Rachel these days."

Blaine laughed quietly. "I like Santana, Kurt, but that doesn't mean I want you to be like her. I'm dating you, not Santana and if you're not comfortable with talking about these things...casually, I guess, that's completely fine."

Kurt nodded.

"But—"

"Of course there's a but," Kurt said, sounding slightly panicked.

"But," Blaine repeated, "we do need to talk about it and make sure you're not actually pretending everything is fine when it isn't. You can't just say you're dealing with it because you think it's what I want to hear. If you're uncomfortable with anything, you need to tell me."

"I would tell you," Kurt said.

"Are you sure? How are you dealing with everything? "

"Fine, Blaine," Kurt said, quietly. "When I know where you are, it's okay."

Blaine eyed him for a moment. He didn't look at all convincing.

"You wouldn't lie to me, right?"

Kurt lifted his head, paused and then sighed. "Look, it's not ideal and I won't ever be completely comfortable with it, but it's what you do and I'm getting there. I'm adapting, so please, please, just let me adapt."

Blaine nodded, getting it. "Okay," he said. "You're right. But you'll talk to me if there's ever anything, won't you?"

"Of course," Kurt replied.

"Good," he answered. "Hey, you know what else?"

"What?"

"Last time I checked, you weren't a virgin."

That brought a smile out of Kurt. "Shut up," he said with a chuckle.

Blaine grinned and elbowed him playfully. "Well, it's true," he said. "I'm also totally fine with you not watching porn. You'd make me jealous."

Kurt shook his head and covered his smile with his hands. "I'm literally blushing because you said the word 'porn'."

"How about sexy movies? Is that better?"

"Now you're just making fun of me," Kurt said, giving him a wide smile. "Do you want to help me with some shopping?"

Blaine smiled back. "Let's go."

"Are you sure you won't stay?" Kurt asked. He slipped his arms around Blaine's neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Blaine's arms encircled Kurt's waist. "No, you need to be up early to get ready for your dad coming. You know how I am with early mornings."

Kurt pouted. "Okay," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

Blaine nodded. "And I will see you Christmas day."

"Christmas day," Kurt repeated, grinning. "It's going to be perfect."

"Yes," Blaine said, smile strained. "Perfect."

Blaine was at the same club that he had gone to the night that Kurt had followed him. Luckily, tonight Kurt hadn't done so. In fact, Kurt was under the impression that Blaine was at home. Blaine felt guilty for lying to him, but he needed to do this, needed to make up the money to get Kurt a suitable gift. Unfortunately, on that particular night, it was extremely quiet. The bar had a few people at it and some couples were dancing, but it didn't look very promising, so Blaine turned to leave. However, as he walked across the dance floor, a hand touched his shoulder and he swung around on instinct.

"Hello, Blaine."

Blaine took a step backwards, away from the other man's reach.

"Antonio," Blaine greeted, stiffly.

Antonio gave him a slow smile. "No crazy boyfriend today?"

Blaine frowned. "My boyfriend is not crazy. He just...worries. He's entitled to that."

"Hmm," Antonio replied. "We sit?"

Blaine hesitated. "Actually, I was just—"

"I have money," Antonio informed him. "I show you in advance, yes?"

Blaine wavered on his feet. He looked around. It didn't look as if he was going to have much luck tonight and even if he went somewhere else, it was still the night before Christmas eve. He sighed.

"Okay, fine," he told Antonio. "But try anything funny and the deal's off. This happens on my terms."

Antonio nodded and extended an arm. "Shall we?"

Blaine sighed and looped his arm through his.

Blaine rolled over onto the other side of the bed and closed his eyes. Antonio was still panting next to him, a smug grin on his face. Blaine was left feeling rather underwhelmed, but he didn't care, he already had $150 safely tucked into the pocket of his pants. The only downside was that they still had another hour.

"So, the crazy boyfriend is busy today?" Antonio asked, once he had caught his breath.

"It's Christmas, he's got stuff to prepare for," Blaine replied, not really wanting to share much of his personal life with a complete stranger.

"And you are not with him to prepare?"

Blaine paused. "Um, I kind of need the money fast, so..."

"So...?"

"So, I'm here," Blaine finished.

"The boyfriend does not like me very much."

"He doesn't have to like you. He doesn't even know you."

Antonio shifted next to him and Blaine opened his eyes to watch what he was doing, which turned out to be nothing other than getting comfortable.

"He would not be happy you are here with me today, no?"

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him," Blaine said, stomach twisting with guilt. "Besides, this is for him," he added, trying to make himself feel better. "He deserves something nice for dealing with all of...well, me."

Antonio only stared and it was making him uncomfortable.

Blaine cleared his throat. "So, um, the fiancée. Where is she right now?"

Antonio's smile didn't flinch. "She is at home."

Blaine nodded at the ceiling. "Can I ask you something?"

Antonio shrugged a shoulder.

"Are you gay?"

Finally, Antonio's smile dropped. He didn't say anything, just began picking at the stray threads of the blanket under them.

"You don't have to tell me," Blaine went on. "I mean, maybe you don't even know and that's okay, too. I mean, labels, they're kind of stupid sometimes." He shrugged. "I just can't help but wonder if you're getting married for, you know, someone else. I mean, I think my dad would have liked for me to marry a nice American girl, but that's just...not something I could ever do and I just can't help but wonder why you would, if that is the case." He stopped and blinked a few times. "It's none of my business, I know."

Antonio let out a long sigh. "My family is very strict," he told Blaine. "Telling the truth to them, it would not be easy."

"And marrying a girl you don't want to be with is?"

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Can I ask you question now?"

"Sure," Blaine said.

"Do you like what you do?"

Blaine didn't even have to think about that. "No," he said, firmly.

"And if you had pretended, you would be here now?"

Blaine thought about it. If he had never come out, he and his parents probably wouldn't have fought so often and he would never have ran away, thus no prostituting himself.

"I guess not."

"You see?" Antonio said. "For me, this is easier option."

"I could never hide like that," Blaine told him. "I'm not saying you're wrong for doing what you are, but personally, I could never do it. This is who I am. If people don't like that, there's nothing I can do about it, but I won't change. Besides, if I hadn't come here, I never would have met K—my boyfriend."

"I am not sure we are so different," Antonio apprised Blaine. "We are both cheating on our partners, are we not?"

Blaine didn't say anything for a moment, although his first instinct was to deny it, but when he thought about it, he guessed there was some truth in that statement, he just didn't like it.

"He doesn't think of it like that," Blaine said.

"Do you?"

"I try not to."

"Hmm."

"He knows I'm doing it," Blaine pointed out.

"This makes it better?"

He sighed. "I don't know. It's not like I have much of a choice. I've tried to get away from it, but I can't and...I don't know why I'm even telling you any of this."

"Maybe because you are aware we are similar in many ways."

Blaine couldn't hide the grimace. "Look, do you think you're ready for round two? Normally, I wouldn't think so, but sex seems like a better option than talking right now. At least I'm not likely to have a breakdown during sex."

With sex he knew what he was doing.

Antonio pushed himself up and yawned. "I do not think I am ready yet," he said. "I am not so young any more."

Blaine sighed. "Okay," he said, settling back against the pillows again.

"Do you have other job?"

Blaine sighed a second time. "No."

"You go to school?"

"No," Blaine said again.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?" Blaine snapped. "This really isn't any of your business."

"I am just wonder what you will do in some years from now."

Blaine didn't reply to that. He didn't like to think about the future. It all seemed so out of reach and devoid of any promise whatsoever.

"And your crazy boyfriend is okay with you to do this forever?"

"Look, you're not exactly squeaky clean yourself. I mean, at least the person I'm with is someone I'm actually attracted to and if I lose him that's my own fault, but you are living a lie. The guy you are when you're with your fiancée is a fraud. It's fake. It's not you, so don't lay there and judge me for what I've had to do."

Blaine felt the hot gaze of Antonio's dark eyes burning into him. He looked him from the top of his head down to the tip of his toes and back again. Blaine's cheeks went pink.

"And this," Antonio said, "this is real you?"

Blaine closed his eyes and fought the urge to cry. He waited a while before opening them. "Look, you've got 43 minutes left. Do you want to make good use of them or just keep on sitting here playing Dr Phil?"

Antonio seemed to consider the options. "Perhaps I can do something for you?" His eyes fell down to Blaine's lower half.

"No," Blaine said instantly. "I mean, that's okay."

"I have the feeling not many care about you when you are with them like this."

"They don't have to care. You're paying me, I'm not paying you. It doesn't matter what you all think of me or what you do or don't want to happen to me. I'm here to be used so will you quit getting deep and use me? Please?"

Antonio studied him briefly. "Hmm, no." He smiled. "Not today." He pushed himself up. "I will leave now and you can get back to help the crazy boyfriend with preparations."

Blaine watched in awe as he stood and began dressing. "Um, are you sure?"

"Yes, you keep all the money we agreed," Antonio told him.

Blaine got up and began dressing, too. "You're not really what I expected," he told Antonio. "That was a compliment, by the way."

"In that case, I say thank you," Antonio replied. "Do you need ride?"

"No, thanks," he said. "I'm fine."

Antonio nodded. "Well, I will go now. Happy Holidays to you, Blaine."

"Yeah," Blaine said, giving him a faint smile. "Happy Holidays, Antonio. And good luck with...everything."

"You, too. Good luck with crazy boyfriend."

"He's not crazy," Blaine said, smile increasing.

"If you say so," Antonio said. "Adios, Blaine."

And he left.

Blaine set his alarm for 7am the following morning. He showered, dressed and went into the city to do his shopping. Kurt called him at lunch time to let him know his dad had arrived safely and that everything was going to plan and asked if he wanted to meet up for coffee in a few hours while his dad had a nap. Blaine said he did and rushed home with his shopping bags. He freshened up and went to meet Kurt, a smile on his face. This Christmas was turning out better than any he could recall. Maybe things really were looking up.

Kurt arrived home from having coffee with Blaine on Christmas eve at 7pm. Santana was in the kitchen making jell-o.

"How many of those are you making?" Kurt asked, eyeing the several bowls covering the table. He unfurled his scarf from around his neck and began unbuttoning his coat.

"You can never have enough jell-o at Christmas," Santana informed him. "How's my favourite little hooker?"

"Santana," Kurt warned with a frown.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said.

"Blaine is fine," Kurt told her anyway. "Where's my dad?"

"In the spare room," Santana said. "He asked me about Blaine, you know."

This piqued Kurt's interest. "What did he say? What did you say?"

Santana gave him a shrug. "He just wanted to know what I thought of him, so I told him."

Kurt watched her intently. "You...like Blaine, though, right?"

Santana began pouring boiling water from the kettle into yet another large, plastic bowl. "He's probably the coolest prostitute I know."

"Santana, be serious."

"I am being serious," she told him as she walked towards the refrigerator, grabbing two bowls on the way. "I like him fine," she said. "Damn, there's not enough room in here."

"Just rearrange the top shelf," Kurt suggested. "Did you tell my dad you like him?"

"Jeez, Hummel, what's got you so worried? I thought you wanted the two main men in your life to meet."

"I can't believe you just said those words—"

"What are you so afraid of?"

Kurt sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. Santana closed the refrigerator door and turned around. She rested her elbows on the countertop and watched him.

"I just don't want there to be any kind of awkwardness between them," Kurt confessed. "I'm just worried someone will say something that someone else doesn't like and everything will blow up. They're both really important to me and my dad is on the fence about it all anyway. I just want them to get along."

"What about Blaine?" Santana asked. "How does he feel?"

Kurt shrugged. "I feel like I'm forcing him into something he doesn't want to do, even though he keeps insisting that's not the case. Has he said anything to you?"

"Why would he say anything to me?"

"Because I think you might be the only friend he's got besides me. He's mentioned that one other guy, um, Sam, I think, but I don't think he's seen him in a long time." Kurt looked up at her. "So, has he? I won't tell him you told me."

Santana stood up straight and rolled her eyes. "He hasn't said a word. He's excited. Quit your babbling and your craziness and go do whatever it is you do during this gay and festive time."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "Alright," he said. "You had better clean up this mess," he said, surveying the kitchen, which was covered in jell-o packets and utensils.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, going back to the refrigerator. "Everything will be back where it belongs, don't get your panties in a twist."

Kurt stood up and pushed his chair in. "Hey, Santana."

"What?" she muttered, taking the milk out.

"Did Blaine really say he's excited?"

"Go away, Hummel!"

Kurt chuckled and went to his room to do some last minute gift-wrapping.

Burt Hummel watched the horror and panic grow on his son's face at the sound of the doorbell. Kurt stood up from the couch and brushed his thighs down, then hurried across the apartment. Burt expected him to open the door, but instead, he stopped in front of a small mirror and began fixing his hair.

He had never seen his son like this, not really—flustered over a guy. Burt had known about Kurt's brief crush on Finn, but he had been young then and he regretted it now, he made that very clear. Nobody else had ever caught Kurt's eye back in Lima, at least not to Burt's knowledge. In New York, everything seemed so different and seeing Kurt like that, liking someone enough to care what they thought of his hair and his clothes and the way he had set the table (he had changed it four times in the past hour alone), really showed Burt just how much his son belonged here in this huge city, where his potential would be fulfilled.

However, Burt couldn't help worrying about Kurt's prostitute boyfriend. Whom he was about to meet. If Kurt ever opened the door.

"Kurt," Burt said. "You gonna get that?"

Kurt's eyes went wide and he turned around and seemed to take a deep breath. Burt turned away, not wanting to look as if he was dying to get a look at this guy, even though he definitely was.

"Blaine," he heard Kurt say a little breathlessly behind him.

"Hi," the other voice, which obviously belonged to Blaine, said. "Am I early?"

He didn't sound old enough to be doing what he was.

"No, no, you're fine. It's fine. What's that?" Kurt answered and Burt heard the door closing.

"Oh, it's, um, a cake," the other voice said and Burt, despite facing the television, could hear the bashfulness in the boy's voice. "And these are cookies."

"You baked these?" Kurt asked, voice going a tad higher.

"I, um, wanted to contribute something."

He could hear the smile in Kurt's voice then. "You're just... You're something else, Blaine Anderson." There was a pause and then Kurt cleared his throat. "Here, let me put those down for you. This is great, actually. The only dessert we could fit in our fridge was jell-o. A lot of jell-o."

Blaine let out a small and nervous laugh and then there was a crash and a billowing voice.

"Blainers," it said and Burt saw Santana crossing the room out of the corner of his eye. "You're here. Where's my present?"

"Santana!" Kurt hissed.

"No, it's fine," Blaine said, quickly. "It's here. Here. I've got yours, too."

"Blaine," Kurt said, "you didn't have to—"

Burt heard the sound of paper being torn and then Santana spoke over his son. "Earrings," she said. "Awesome. Thanks, Blainers, you're the best. I've got yours in my room." She lowered her voice then, but Burt could still hear her. "It's a little risqué—"

"Okay!" Kurt said quickly. "Blaine, I want you to meet my dad."

"I'll go stare at the dripping faucet in the bathroom," Santana said, sounding bored.

Burt sat staring at the TV and only turned around when Kurt appeared at his side.

"Dad?"

Burt shifted around in his seat and looked up at his son, who was watching him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Next to him, was a boy. He was shorter than Kurt. His hair was dark and slicked back with some kind of product and his eyes were big and round. He was holding a carrier bag. He looked even more nervous than Kurt and Burt was rendered speechless. This boy, this Blaine, was nothing like the man he had been expecting. This Blaine, he was...a child.

"Dad?" Kurt repeated.

Kurt's dad was the opposite of Kurt in every single way. The solitary similarity was in the eyes: Both Kurt and his father had kind eyes.

Blaine watched as Kurt's dad got to his feet and cleared his throat. "You must be Blaine," he said, offering him a hand. "Burt Hummel."

Blaine accepted the handshake. "Blaine Anderson," he told Kurt's dad. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Burt Hummel said and they let their hands fall again. "Kurt tells me you're from Ohio, too."

Blaine glanced down at his feet and lifted his gaze to Kurt's dad again. "Um, yes. Westerville."

"Not that far," Burt said with a nod.

Blaine nodded, too and looked back down at his feet awkwardly. Luckily, Kurt took a small step forward and spoke.

"Dad, why don't you finish watching...whatever it is that you're watching and Blaine can come help me in the kitchen."

"Um, sure," Blaine said. He gave Burt a crooked smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Hummel," he said again, before following Kurt, who was holding the box which Blaine had brought with him, into the kitchen space.

"You're nervous," Kurt observed.

"Wouldn't you be?" he asked.

Kurt blinked at him a few times, before opening the box. "I guess," he said. "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better about it. If it's any consolation, he's probably just as nervous as you are."

"I doubt that," Blaine said, quietly.

Kurt dropped the box of cookies back down onto the countertop and went round it. He stopped in front of Blaine and placed a hand on either of his shoulders.

"It's going to be okay," he told him. "Trust me."

"I do."

"Good," Kurt replied and beamed at him. "Dinner's ready. Give you your present later?"

Blaine smiled back. "Deal."

"You can do this," Kurt said, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

Blaine nodded and although he wasn't entirely convinced, he spoke confidently, "I can do this."

At the dinner table, Kurt and Santana tried their best to keep the conversation going. Burt was speaking every so often and Blaine nodded in agreement a little awkwardly and things weren't going as well as Kurt had hoped.

"I mean, forgive me if I'm wrong, but if Christmas is supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus or whatever, why do we eat a turkey? Shouldn't it be cake?" Santana asked. "I bet there's a story behind this. A story I don't want to know, by the way, before any of you pull it out of your ass and try to lecture me on it."

Nobody said anything in reply, but Burt chuckled. Kurt looked down at his plate awkwardly and then tried to strike up a conversation again.

"So, um, they're showing 'Singin' in the Rain' tonight."

Santana looked at him like she was disappointed. Blaine nodded and dropped his gaze. Burt looked across as Kurt.

"I remember watching that movie with you when you were about nine," he said. "Didn't have a clue what was going on, but I watched it all the way through. It was our first Christmas without your mom."

Kurt nodded and smiled sadly. "I remember," he said. "You didn't turn the oven on, so we didn't have a turkey."

"Ate take out from the Chinese place," Burt added.

"I remember thinking it would never get better."

"But it did," Burt said.

"Yeah, it did," Kurt agreed.

"Jeez, you guys are depressing," Santana told them. "Doesn't anyone have any happy stories?" She looked at Blaine. "How about you, Anderson? Got any happy Christmas tales?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not that I can remember." He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I was too young to remember the good ones, I guess."

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You can't remember having one good Christmas?" Burt asked.

"Not really," Blaine answered. "It's always been the same thing for as long as I can remember. Lots of people came to the house, or we'd go to them. I'd get stuck with either the older or younger kids and our parents would brag about us. Same thing every year. Um, until mine stopped."

Burt didn't say anything, just watched him curiously.

"Your parents sound like asses," Santana said, bluntly.

Kurt didn't disagree and neither did Burt. Blaine shrugged.

"One Christmas, they went on a cruise," he said. "So, it was just me and my brother." He smiled slightly. "That was a good Christmas."

Everyone nodded uncomfortably and Kurt gave Blaine a smile. They ate in silence until Santana stood up to get dessert.

"So," Kurt said, looking between his dad and Blaine where they sat in the living room space after dinner, " you may be wondering why I banished Santana and summoned you both here today."

Burt and Blaine exchanged a glance on instinct and then looked away quickly again.

"Well, the reason is that six days ago," Kurt went on, "I received a letter from a little establishment called the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, or NYADA."

Blaine sat up straight and Burt leaned forward just a little bit.

"Broadway superstar and talented opera singer, Carmen Tibideaux, the Dean of Vocal Performance and Song Interpretation, re-reviewed my audition piece from last May and studied the audition tape I sent off with my application some weeks ago and," he said, suppressing his smile, "instead of becoming a mere finalist, like I did last time, I have simply been accepted." He gave in to the grin. "I start in January."

"I knew you could do it!" Burt said, getting to his feet to pull Kurt into a tight embrace.

Kurt laughed as his father told him how proud he was and how he just knew he would make it, that 'that school wouldn't make the same mistake twice, for crying out loud!'. Blaine was still seated, hands folded in his lap. Kurt looked at him from over his dad's shoulder, trying to work out if he was happy for him.

"You know what I'm gonna do?" Burt asked, easing out of the hug. "I'm gonna go call Carole. Boy, is she gonna be happy!"

Kurt chuckled as his dad walked into the kitchen area for the phone. When he was out of earshot, Kurt turned his attention to Blaine.

"So," he said. "You're quiet."

Blaine shrugged. "I wanted to give you a minute with your dad."

Kurt gave him a slow nod and then went to sit beside him. "You are happy for me, right?"

Blaine's mouth fell open and his eyes widened. "What?" he asked. "Kurt. Of course I'm happy for you!" He reached out and took Kurt's hands in his own. "Nobody deserves this more than you do and I knew you could do it. I am so, so happy for you."

Kurt gave him a small smile. "Okay," he said, quietly. He looked up and met his eyes. "Then what is it? Why do you look like...like that?"

Blaine let out a sigh. "Sorry," he said, turning Kurt's hands in his. "I'm sorry. I know it looks like... Kurt," he said in a whisper. He looked up into his eyes. "I'm just tired—"

Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled his hands from Blaine's grasp. "That's what everyone says when something is wrong."

"Kurt," Blaine said again, chasing his hands. "Nothing is wrong."

"You said you'd talk to me if there was ever—"

"I thought it was you who said you'd talk to me—"

"Blaine," Kurt warned.

"Sorry," Blaine said. He gave Kurt's hands a squeeze. "Sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. Trust me when I say I'm happy for you, okay? Because I am. I am, Kurt and I know it seems like I'm hiding things from you, but I'm not. Today has just been..."

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Scary?" Blaine offered. "Daunting."

Kurt looked up slowly. "Is that all it is?" he asked. "You're nervous because of my dad?"

Kurt felt relieved, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"It's just that it hasn't been going how I hoped," Blaine said. "I don't think he likes me much, but that doesn't matter. We need to celebrate you."

Kurt smiled down at their hands.

"Your dad's right, you know," Blaine told him. "They wouldn't make the same mistake twice. NYADA is lucky to have you."

Kurt pulled Blaine into a hug. "My dad does like you, by the way," he whispered. "He's just as nervous as you are."

"I doubt it," Blaine said again with a chuckle.

"It'll be okay," Kurt said, kissing his temple. "I promise."

Blaine stood by the window, watching as the snow came down, thick and fast. The street was empty and the ground was a blanket of white beneath the street lights. He smiled. It was a beautiful night.

"Really coming down out there, isn't it?"

Blaine swung around to find Kurt's father standing there.

"Yeah," Blaine said, looking back out the window.

"Pretty, though."

Blaine only nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Can I say something?"

"Sure," Blaine said, facing him.

"This...job of yours," Burt began, "you don't really seem like the type of person I'd expect to be doing that kind of thing."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't think you have to be any 'type'," he told Burt. "Sometimes you just find yourself in situations you never imagined you'd find yourself in and you don't know how to get out of it."

"That what happened to you?"

He only nodded.

"And you can't get out of it," Burt said.

"I don't know anything else," he said. "It's hard to explain. I know a lot of people wouldn't understand. I mean, I should be able to just walk away, but...I can't. It's all I know. Without it, I wouldn't have anything."

"You'd have Kurt."

Blaine looked up, surprise plain on his face. "I have Kurt."

Burt didn't reply to that, only hummed. "You plannin' on doing this forever?"

"I don't really have any plans."

"But if you don't know how to get out of it, if you can't, then how will you ever? Doesn't it seem like it's always gonna be like this?"

Blaine looked down. "I'm hoping not."

Burt glanced across at Kurt, who was singing quietly in the kitchen. "Kurt's future is looking bright. Getting into that school and all."

Blaine nodded. "He deserves it so much."

"I know he does," Burt agreed. "He's always dreamt of making it big. Always knew he would. This is the start. He's gonna be learning a lot of new things, meeting a lot of new people."

Blaine nodded again. That felt like a stab, but he didn't say anything about it.

"You live far from here?"

"Um, not really," Blaine told Burt.

"You walk?"

"Took a cab," Blaine said.

Burt leaned forward a little. "Doesn't seem to be many cabs out."

Blaine nodded. He wasn't sure if Burt was hinting that it was getting late and that he should go. He was feeling rather unwelcome all of a sudden. He cleared his throat. "I guess I should get going," he said, turning around. "It's getting kind of late."

Kurt stopped doing the dishes and looked up when Blaine crossed the room.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm gonna get going," Blaine told him. "Um, thank you for having me." He turned around to look at Kurt's father. "It was nice meeting you, Mr Hummel. Merry Christmas."

He gave a final smile, before heading for the door. Santana was on the couch, watching TV. She looked up at him.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Blaine," Kurt said, behind him.

"It's late," Blaine told Santana, before looking at Kurt, who had come closer.

"You cannot go out in that," Kurt declared. "I didn't even give you your present yet."

"I kind of want to get out before midnight," Blaine said. "You know, before all the crazies come out."

"You can't walk home by yourself at this time of night," Kurt told him. "And don't you dare tell me you're used to it."

Blaine gave him a weak smile. "Okay," he said. "But I am going to head out. I just...think it would be better if I did, okay? Thank you for inviting me, I had a great time."

Kurt was studying him carefully. "Blaine..." he said, but Blaine shook his head.

"It's getting late," he said again. "I'll text you when I'm home and I'll call you tomorrow." He leaned in close and pressed a small kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Goodnight, Kurt."

Before Kurt could protest, he grabbed his jacket, headed out the door and walked quickly down the hall until he reached the elevator. He got inside and waited until it reached the bottom floor. He pushed his way out into the cool night where he could finally breathe.

"What did you say to him?" Kurt demanded to know.

Burt shrugged and sat down beside Santana.

"Dad," Kurt said. "What did you say? Do you know how dangerous it is out there? He's got over a thirty minute walk!"

"I didn't say anything," Burt told Kurt.

"You had to have said something to make him up and leave like that," Kurt reasoned. "I have to go after him," he said, grabbing his coat.

"It's freezing out there," Burt protested.

"Exactly, Dad," Kurt said, angrily. "It's freezing and my boyfriend is out there, alone."

"Gotta agree with him, Mr H," Santana said, eyes still on the TV set. "Blainers is all little and innocent looking. It's what makes him such a smash with all the old pervs."

"Santana," Kurt said with a groan.

"It's true," she said.

"He's a lot more grown up than you're giving him credit for," Burt announced.

"You don't even know him," Kurt exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Exactly my point, Kurt."

"Look, I'll go," Santana said over them.

"It's fine, I'm going," Kurt told her.

"Kurt—"

"Don't even bother," Kurt said, before slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

Once downstairs, Kurt went outside and the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. He wrapped his coat around him and walked as quickly as his feet allowed him in the snow and the slush. It didn't take him long to find Blaine. He was a little bit up the street when Kurt turned the corner and he was walking relatively slowly.

"Blaine!" Kurt called, but Blaine didn't hear him.

He pushed himself to walk a little faster and only caught up to Blaine when he stood at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the lights to change so that he could cross the street. There weren't many cars on the road, but Blaine always waited.

"Blaine," Kurt said, breathlessly.

Blaine spun around and looked at him through half-closed eyes. His nose was red.

"Kurt," was all he said.

"Blaine, come on, come back, we can talk," he urged. "Please, Blaine."

"Kurt, I need to get home."

"I'll just keep following you," Kurt told him. He could barely see him with the way the snow was falling so quickly. "Don't think I won't."

Blaine looked conflicted. "I know you will." He sighed. "Kurt, I don't want to be where I'm in the way."

"You are not in the way," Kurt said, solemnly. "Whatever my dad said, he is wrong."

Blaine shook his head. "He's not wrong, Kurt," he said. "He's completely right."

Kurt frowned. "Please, Blaine. Come back with me. You can stay over. Please."

"Kurt—"

"Please, Blaine," Kurt said, again. "I'm freezing my ass off out here. And so are you. Please, let's go back."

His teeth were chattering and his skin stung from the cold. Blaine eyed him for a moment, before sighing again, shoulders sagging.

"Okay," he said. "But only because you look as if you're turning blue and you're stubborn. I know you'll follow me."

Kurt smiled and reached out for Blaine's hand. Blaine accepted. "Come on."

Once back at the apartment, Kurt and Blaine hung their coats up. Kurt took Blaine into his room and gave him some clothes to change into. They both changed and then went back out into the living room, where Burt was reading the newspaper. Santana had gone to her room.

"Dad," Kurt said, sitting down and beckoning Blaine to sit down next to him. He did.

Burt looked up from the paper.

"Can we talk?" Kurt asked.

"Talk," Burt said, shrugging.

Kurt looked at Blaine, who took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

"Mr Hummel," he began. "I know you're worried about Kurt and I know that anything you say or do is just because you love him and want to keep him safe. I want that, too. I'm trying to keep him as far away from everything as possible. I know he worries and I know it's the complete opposite of ideal, but I'm just too selfish to give him up right now."

"I don't want you to give me up," Kurt added.

Blaine smiled in response, then looked back to Burt. "I know it seems like I'm stuck and I am, I know that, but I'm going to figure it out. Some day. I'm not sure how yet, or even when, but I want to. For Kurt and for myself. Because he deserves something better than what I'm giving him at the moment. I know saying it isn't the same as doing it, but I'll get there and hopefully Kurt will want to stick around until I do." He paused. "I know it all seems like false promises, but I really, really care about Kurt. I won't let him get hurt. I swear it and you might not believe me right now, but that's the truth."

Kurt smiled. "He means it, Dad."

"Of course you think he means it, you want to see the good in everyone, Kurt."

"Dad," Kurt said with a sigh. "Give him a chance."

Burt sighed then, too. "Look, it isn't easy." He looked at Blaine. "You get that, right?"

Blaine nodded instantly. "I know," he said. "It's a lot to take in and to get used to."

"Right," Burt said. "I know you don't wanna be doing this either, but I'm looking out for my kid. He's gotta come first for me."

"He comes first for me, too," Blaine informed him.

Kurt glanced at him, a little surprised.

"Good, we're on the same page," Burt said. He stood up and folded the newspaper. "I'm going to turn in," he said. "I'll stay in Rachel's room. You've got the double bed in your room, Kurt, makes more sense, seeing as there's two of you."

Blaine raised his eyebrows and Kurt's mouth dropped open slightly.

"Keep in mind the walls here are paper thin," Burt added, as he walked away. "Night, boys."

They watched as he headed into Rachel's room and shut the door behind him. Neither of them spoke for a few heartbeats.

"Was that..." Blaine tried. "Is that...good?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, not sounding at all convincing. "No, yeah, that was good. This is good." He gave Blaine a grin.

"I feel like there's a catch."

"My dad's not the type," Kurt said, getting to his feet. "Come on, let's go to bed, okay?"

Blaine waited a moment, before standing up, too. "Okay."

Blaine climbed into the bed just as Kurt slipped in the door holding a plate of the cookies which Blaine had made.

"You know, those shows you're always watching paid off. These cookies are actually really, really good," Kurt told Blaine, closing the door behind him. "I'm still freezing, by the way."

"Well, hurry up and get in here," Blaine said with a smile.

"I will, just one sec," he said, leaving the cookies down on the bedside table. He walked to the closet and opened the door, before rummaging inside.

Blaine watched him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Gift exchange, remember?" came Kurt's muffled voice.

Blaine nodded slowly. "Oh," he said. He got to his feet and dug inside his jacket pockets, before going back to the bed. Kurt came out then, holding a box wrapped in green and red paper. He was grinning.

"Should I go first or do you want to?" he asked Blaine.

Suddenly, Blaine felt inferior. Kurt's gift was a lot bigger than his.

"Um," he began, "I'll go." He took one of the small boxes in his hand and handed it to Kurt. "It's nothing much," he said. Kurt began tearing the wrapping paper. "I just saw it and it reminded me of you."

Kurt had the paper off and he lifted the lid. Blaine's heart stopped.

"Oh, my God," Blaine whispered. "That's the wrong one," he said a little frantically. He reached out for the box, but Kurt pulled back a little.

"The wrong one," Kurt repeated, eyes on the box. "As in...for someone else?"

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "What? No," he said. "No, of course not. It's just..." He shook his head. "That one is homemade. I changed my mind about giving it to you."

Kurt's eyes were still on the box. He took the small, wire ring out and studied it. It was far from perfect and Blaine wasn't satisfied with it. He had used up a lot of wire trying to perfect it, but never quite managed to. The small bow was lopsided and the wire was crooked.

"Why?" Kurt asked.

"It's not right," he explained. "And it's cheap."

"Blaine," Kurt said, half sighing.

"It was supposed to be a sort of...promise ring," he said, weakly. "I just...wanted you to know that you mean a lot to me and that even though I'm with, you know, all these guys practically all the time, you're the only one I really want to be with. I'm promising that you're the only one." He paused, then spoke again. "I didn't think of it before, but after tonight...after what I said to your dad about wanting to change, about wanting to be...well, not what I am now, I want to add that to my promises to you. I want you to know that I am going to work at making it happen. I'm going to get there. All of those promises, they're in that ring."

"Blaine," Kurt said again. "This is beautiful. Why would you change your mind about this? This is...it's the nicest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever given me."

"It's cheap, Kurt," Blaine protested. "I also got you this," he said, handing him the other box. It looked the same.

Kurt shook his head and opened it. Inside this box was a small brooch in the shape of shoes. They had red and silver studs on them.

"This is not cheap," Kurt commented. "Why would you spend that much money on me, Blaine? You can't afford this."

Blaine shrugged. "I wanted to," he said. "I saved up. I saw it and they reminded me of Dorothy's slippers and I thought of you and I really wanted you to have it. So, I saved up."

Kurt looked conflicted. "I'm sorry. I sound really ungrateful. I just don't want you to spend money you don't have. I love it, it's beautiful, but we should return it. Keep the money. Spend it on something you need."

"Kurt," Blaine said. "I can't give you a lot. I've given you nothing since we started dating. Please, just take this one thing. I want you to. I only ever made that money so that I could get you this."

Kurt sighed and then gave Blaine a small smile. "You take my breath away," he said. "I can't believe you did this for me."

"I'd do anything for you." He said it before thinking it through. He wasn't sure he could quit for Kurt. He wished he could.

"I love it," Kurt told him. "And this ring is so cute." He slipped it onto his ring finger. "I'm never taking it off."

Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief and his heart twisted happily in his chest. "Are you sure you like them?"

"I love them," Kurt said and nothing on his face or in his voice indicated otherwise. "Now it's my turn."

"I hope it's nothing extravagant," Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed the box into Blaine's lap. "You'll like it. At least, I hope you will."

Blaine ripped the paper off carefully. This was the first gift he had gotten since before he had left Ohio. He felt nervous and excited and a little guilty. Finally, he got the paper off and underneath was a box with a picture of a stereo on it. Blaine looked up at Kurt.

"It's nothing too special," Kurt said. "You're really hard to buy for." He smiled. "I thought about getting you a lot of things. Clothes, mostly. I thought about stuff for your apartment. I even considered a bed, but it all felt too...wrong." He shrugged. "All those things are things I would get you without there being an occasion. I tried to think of something you would really like, something you'd want to use. The only thing I've ever seen you really passionate about is music." He shrugged again and Blaine could tell he was nervous. "I thought we could go shopping sometime for some CDs, but until then, I put one inside." There was a small smile on his lips.

Blaine looked down at the box and opened it slowly. He pulled the stereo out, pushing the styrofoam back into the box and unravelled the wires. Kurt took the plug and stuck it into the socket in the wall. Blaine fiddled with the buttons and finally got it switched on.

"Is this going to be loud?" he asked, aware of Kurt's father next door.

"Just put it on low," Kurt instructed. "I feel kind of silly about it now."

Blaine didn't reply, just pressed the play button and waited. Static filled the air and then there was silence, followed by Kurt's voice.

"Hi, Blaine. It's probably Christmas now that you're hearing this. You've probably met my dad by now. It probably went okay. I hope." He chuckled. "I hope you had a good day and I hope you like your present. This is the first song I ever sang to you."

After that, there was faint piano music and Kurt began singing 'Catch a Falling Star'. He let it play all the way through, his insides twirling and diving and singing. It was just a song, but it was the first time anyone had blatantly dedicated a song to him. It was the greatest gift he had ever gotten.

Once the song ended, Kurt reached out and switched the player off. He smiled. "There's a couple more. You can listen to those later. If you want."

Blaine didn't reply with words, he simply placed everything down on the floor and then pushed Kurt back against the pillows and kissed him until his lips felt bruised. At that point, he pulled back a little and gave him a smile.

"So, I take it you like it," Kurt said, smirking.

"I love it," he answered. "But I wish you hadn't spent so much on me."

"Blaine, it's Christmas," Kurt reasoned. "It's allowed."

Blaine smiled. "Even so," he said. "I did have a good day, by the way. It was a little awkward and sometimes, I felt like I didn't belong there, but it was good. And it turned out better than I could have ever imagined."

"You'll always belong here, Blaine."

"Thank you."

Kurt smiled back at him. "Wanna make out some more?"

"Do you think your dad is going to sense it and come in here?"

"Yes, Blaine, because my dad has superhero senses." He rolled his eyes. "Come on, kiss me."

Blaine obliged. He kissed him briefly and then pulled back again. "I know it's after midnight, but merry Christmas, Kurt."

Kurt's smile grew. "Merry Christmas, Blaine."

This time, when they kissed, Blaine didn't pull back.