This time, when he wakes, it is morning.

The light in his room is pale and natural. He can hear the sounds of city streets outside his window. Audrey is curled up on the bed next to him.

He sits up, quickly, puts a hand to the back of his head. Nothing. No pain. No bumps.

If it was a dream, it was a realistic one, but Kurt struggles to think of a better explanation.

No matter. Whether it was the Ghosts of Christmas or his own subconscious that did it, he feels like a new man this morning. He has a chance. He can change things, if he wants.

Something occurs to him. Oh, God. He grabs his phone from where it lay on his bedside table.

December 25th, 2023.

He closes his eyes and sighs, relieved. He didn't miss it.

He practically jumps out of bed, jostling the mattress so hard that Audrey wakes up and meows in protest.

"Sorry," he says with a grin. "I've got a lot to do today." He very nearly skips out of the room, leaving Audrey with a pat between the ears that she doesn't seem to entirely appreciate.

He breezes through his morning routine, then settles down on thecouch for his first order of business. He does something that may be borderline unethical and goes into the personal information he's stored for Krista on his computer. He figures out where she lives, does a quick Google search to find the closest, nicest hotels, and calls each and every one until he strikes gold - there's a new bed and breakfast not three blocks away with excellent reviews and room enough for five adults on Christmas day. He makes the reservation and tells them to call Krista's number to confirm.

He calls Carole next. She's surprised and delighted to hear from him, and it isn't exactly easy, talking to her on today of all days, but he fights through the urge to make an excuse and hang up.

"I'm so happy you called, honey," she says near the end, smile nearly audible. "You're still family, you know."

Kurt swallows down the lump of emotion that's suddenly formed in his throat.

"I do know."

He exits the conversation with reassurances that he's spending the day with loved ones and a promise to do his best to come out for New Year's.

He buys a ticket as soon as they hang up.

And then, suddenly, his phone is ringing, and this would normally be cause for an eye-roll of epic proportions, because the list of people who have his private number is vanishingly short, but today it sends a shiver of excitement through his stomach.

It's Krista.

"How did you know?" she asks, awe warring with confusion in her voice.

"I...had a hunch."

She thanks him profusely, still cautious, until Kurt can't take it anymore.

"It was a Christmas gift, Krista. Just...accept it."

"I thought you...didn't believe in Christmas."

"I've had a change of heart. In fact, why don't you take tomorrow off, too, so that you can spend some time with your family? How long are they here?"

"Um. Until Friday, Mr. Hummel."

"Alright. You haven't taken a vacation day since I hired you. I don't want to see you in before Monday at the earliest. Fully paid, of course. Family is important."

"I - Mr. Hummel, that's - "

"Accept it, Krista. Before I change my mind."

He means this last teasingly, but it does the trick. Krista thanks him, one last time, and hangs up with a happy, disbelieving "See you Monday!"

It's midday, by now, and Kurt has yet to eat. His stomach reminds him, loudly, and he scrounges together a meal from the contents of his cupboards. Too keyed up to sit around and wait, he sets out to find a store somewhere, somehow, that will allow him to do some very-last-minute gift shopping.

He ends up in Chinatown.

It's fun, picking things out for other people. He loses track of time, wandering through the stores and imagining the looks of surprise and pleasure on their faces. He even manages to uncover a few treasures - a decorative fan patterned in stars for Rachel, a delicate ceramic tea kettle for Carole, a gorgeous bamboo picture frame for Blaine, and a set of wooden block toys for Finn's expanding family. It's entirely exhilarating, the way he remembers it being when he was 17.

He spends the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city, window shopping, enjoying the holiday displays for the first time in years. The streets aren't empty, but there isn't the harried bustle that Kurt is used to at this time of day, either. There are a few families out and about, parents and small children and grandparents, all smiling and wearing their most festive clothes. He doesn't sneer at them, today. In fact, he might actually be creepier, grinning as he is from ear to ear as he nods to passersby. He can't help it - he feels so light he could float away.

Finally, it's time to get ready for the party.

Armed with his gifts (wrapped as nicely as he could manage in five-year-old paper and ribbon from his scrap box) and a bottle of white that he'd been saving to celebrate the Vogue deal, he stands in his best holiday finery in front of his own closed door.

He takes a breath, squares his shoulders, and turns the knob.

He won't turn back now. He can't, knowing what he'd been so willing to give up.

The cab ride isn't long, but it's enough to turn him restless. He takes out his phone, fingers fidgeting without his consent, and remembers. He opens Rachel's e-mail and, this time, opens the link.

It's Rachel and Blaine, bundled up on the Today Show outdoor performance stage. The music starts up, upbeat and somehow melancholy at the same time.

The song is one that Kurt has heard but doesn't actually know. Listening to the lyrics, it's clear why Rachel sent him the link. His throat tightens.

It's Blaine's verse that makes the first tear spill.

They're singing deck the halls, but it's not like Christmas at all. I remember when you were here, all the fun we had last year...

There's a moment when he looks into the camera, just briefly, and Kurt can hardly breathe.

This is real, after all, not just a shadow conjured in the dead of night by the deepest wishes of his heart. This was recorded yesterday.

His nerves settle, after the video fades to black.

This is right.

The cab stops, and Kurt hastily wipes at his cheeks and thrusts a wad of cash at the driver. He practically runs up the stoop to the front buzzer.

It's Rachel who answers.

"I'm here for the party," he says, hesitant now that he can hear her voice.

There's a pause.

"Kurt?"

"I come bearing gifts."

"Kurt! You came! Yes, please, come right on up!"

The buzzer rings out, long and enthusiastic, and Kurt pushes through the door before the calm that's settled over him has a chance to run out.

He knocks, politely, even though he knows the chance is incredibly slim that anyone will hear him, and opens the door. Rachel descends on him immediately.

"Kurt! I'm so glad you came! Merry Christmas!"

She hovers, as if she would go in for a hug if Kurt's arms weren't burdened. She's wearing an outfit he recognizes. He's seen her wear it before, in a party identical to this one in nearly every way. When she looks at him, this time, she sees him.

"I brought gifts for the host and hostess," he says. "Where should I..."

Rachel's eyes light up.

"Oh! Follow me! The wine can go on the table, here - we can always use more, so thank you for that - and the gifts...well, I'll just take those for now. We can open them when Blaine arrives, if you'd like. He was supposed to be here ages ago, but he's running late, apparently. Sam is coming with him, so I suspect that's the source of his tardiness."

She walks briskly as she talks, weaving around guests and expecting Kurt to follow suit.

God, he's missed her. It's only here, now, seeing her smile at him and feeling the way her personality takes up physical space, that he knows how much.

"How are you?" she asks, eyes wide and sincere, once Kurt has set down his parcels and has a glass of wine in hand.

"I'm...happy. Or at least I'm getting there."

He finds that it's true.

"Oh, good. I'm so glad for you, Kurt, you can't know how much we've been worrying about you."

"You don't have to worry, Rachel. I'm going to be here from now on."

She beams her brightest, eyes going a little glassy.

"I'm going to hug you now, okay?"

Kurt can't help the smile that stretches his mouth so wide it hurts his cheeks. Rachel throws herself into his arms.

"Welcome home," she whispers.

It's at that moment that the door opens, and Blaine walks through. Sam comes in behind, but Kurt barely notices. Blaine, here, in the same room. Blaine, who's late because he couldn't say goodbye to his brand-new ball of kitten.

Rachel lets go at the sound of the door and turns so fast it almost gives Kurt whiplash.

"Wait right here."

She scurries over to greet them. She gives them each a quick hug hello, then leans in close and says something that, apparently, requires lots of gestures to communicate.

Blaine looks in his direction. His eyes dart, quick and searching, until they find Kurt's. He smiles in that way brightens everything and everyone around him. Kurt can't help but smile back, heart tripping in his chest. He gives a small, stupid wave.

As Blaine moves toward him, the crowd seems to part.

"Kurt," he says, soft and special, when finally he's near. "You came."

"I did. I...thought I should be with family, today."

Blaine grins, like he can't hold it back anymore. He pulls Kurt in for a tight hug that feels so completely wonderful Kurt doesn't know how he ever thought he could do without.

"You are, now."

"I know."

There's a delicate cough to his left - Rachel, suddenly at Blaine's elbow.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure is a beautiful reunion, but we really are shirking our duties, Blaine."

"Of course." He looks apologetically at Kurt. "We'll be back soon, I promise."

Kurt nods and watches them go, grateful for the chance to get himself under control.

They lean their heads together and whisper for a moment before getting up on stage and making their introductions, just as Kurt saw, to the very last word. Until...

"...we hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless."

"As a special treat, we'd like to invite an old friend of ours to come up on stage and help us. Kurt?"

His smile is playful, hopeful. Kurt finds himself frozen. It's been years since he's sung at all, much less on stage for an audience. He didn't think he had any music left in him.

Now, he finds himself suddenly filled with a longing he didn't know he was repressing.

"Maybe some applause will help convince him?"

The crowd claps and cheers, most of them tipsy already, craning their necks to figure out who they're clapping for.

Kurt lifts his chin and makes his way to the stage. The cheers grow louder as people start to notice. Blaine is practically vibrating with excitement.

"'I Will Survive,'" he leans in to whisper. "Rachel will start us off and we'll go from there."

"Just like old times."

Blaine just grins.

"Kurt Hummel, ladies and gentlemen," announces Rachel. She points back to Bruce, at the piano. "Hit it."

It's easy, once the music starts. Effortless and exhilarating, like flying. They know each other so well.

Kurt doesn't want it to ever end, but, like all things, it does.

Blaine stops him with a hand on his arm as they leave the stage.

"I don't think that counts as our Christmas duet," he says. There's something maybe a little bit scared in his eyes, like he thinks Kurt might turn him down.

"No, it doesn't."

"That means you still owe me one."

"Five, actually, if I've counted right."

Blaine's eyes go bright and playful.

"I think you have."

"Well, don't worry. I always pay my debts. And I definitely don't mean to incur any more."

"That's probably smart."

"I'm nothing if not responsible."

Blaine bites his lip, glances around the crowded room. His gaze flicks back to Kurt.

"Do you want to maybe grab a bottle and a couple of glasses and take it out to the balcony? We could pick out our setlist, maybe...catch up?"

Kurt nods, heart full.

"I'd like that."

Blaine smiles.

"Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas."