Blaine picks him up from the airport and hugs him so tight Kurt almost chokes. He mutters, “Thank you,” over and over into Kurt’s neck and is crying when Kurt steps back. So Kurt pulls him into another hug and then kisses him hard, taking him by the shoulders.

“This is for me, as well, okay?” Kurt tells him.

Blaine nods, wiping his cheeks. “We’re gonna be fine,” Blaine says, and he believes it.

“It’s Christmas,” Kurt replies. “We are going to be better than fine.”

~~*~~

Kurt calls his dad from the rental car and spends ten minutes assuring him he is happy to be home and not too exhausted. He promises Burt that he will be home as soon as Blaine drops him off, then he clicks the phone closed and notices that Blaine keeps looking across at him.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“Nothing,” Blaine mumbles. Blaine fiddles with his iPod at the traffic lights and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

Then, “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is playing and Kurt is giggling while Blaine grabs at his hand and pleads, “Sing with me.”

They do. Kurt’s voice sounds even better without the crackle of Skype or the muffling of the shower. Then they move on to ‘Let It Snow’ and then whichever Christmas tune Blaine’s iPod feels like.

Kurt is so caught up in singing that he doesn’t notice Blaine turning off the highway, still miles from home, until Blaine is pulling into the drive of the swanky new Hilton hotel.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, staring out his window. “Where are we going?”

“I’m being spontaneous!” Blaine says back and he sounds so damn happy that Kurt doesn’t say another word.

They park in the guest parking lot and when Kurt stands there with his hands on his hips, unable to stop grinning but still utterly confused, Blaine simply pulls his luggage from the trunk and grins, waggling his eyebrows.

“Blaine, seriously,“ Kurt says as they walk past the bellhops and into the opulent foyer. “What are we doing?”

Blaine just waves him off. “Spontaneous,” he says again, like that forgives all sins and with the way Blaine is smiling, Kurt can’t really begin to be annoyed.

He approaches the main reception desk and walks right up to a harried looking girl with tied back blonde hair and a frown on her lips. “Hi,” Blaine chirps.

“Hi,” she responds, distracted by her computer. When she looks up she tries again. “Good afternoon sir.”

“How are you?” Blaine says, leaning against the counter and smiling his most charming of smiles.

She softens, ever so slightly, her brow unknitting as she gives him her full attention. “I’m well sir. Merry Christmas—“

“Merry Christmas!” Blaine says it too loudly and his excitement is infectious. There is nothing of the lonely, unhappy man Kurt gets emails from every now and then.

The woman has to curb her grin now. “Have you got a reservation, sir?”

Blaine serves up another winning smile. “Nope.”

“No?”

“Nope. What’s available?”

“Two days before Christmas?” She looks down at her computer screen dubiously, the hustle and bustle of a newly opened, highly acclaimed hotel—at Christmas—whipping around them. Sighing, she says, “Let me check if there are any cancellations,” and starts typing away.

When she looks up, she looks genuinely disappointed. “I’m sorry, sir. There aren’t any rooms available.”

Kurt pulls a face that plainly says: ‘I told you so,’ and Blaine’s face falls.

“None?” Blaine asks as Kurt huffs beside him and hoists one of his bags higher on his shoulder.

She considers them, her head tilting just a little. “Not unless you want a junior honeymoon suite.”

Blaine’s eyes light up, his fallen smile recovering quickly as he looks from Kurt to her and then back to Kurt.

Kurt just leans forward, catches Blaine’s eye, and tries very hard to communicate that he thinks Blaine has lost his mind.

“Perfect!” Blaine announces, knowing full well he is about to blow his entire year’s savings and probably more. Actually, he might have to go and get a job with his father to work this off. He finds that he doesn’t particularly care.

“Just one night?” the girl asks.

“Three,” Blaine says, and Kurt grabs him by the forearm, continuing to look at him like he has lost it.

“Blaine…” Kurt warns.

“This is perfect,” Blaine says, turning to him. “We can stay here and drive to your house for all the important meals and then come back. It’s a holiday,” he stresses.

Behind the counter, the girl cocks her head and coughs to regain Blaine’s attention. “For you and your…’ she lets he voice trail off.

They’re back in Lima and Kurt’s eyes go wide, his head snapping around and his classic bitchface in place, because he isn’t used to this anymore. Not in New York, and not in London, and not really anywhere civilized. He remembers Lima all too well.�

“Husband?” she tries, with the barest of smiles breaking through, and Kurt’s face softens while Blaine laughs beside him.

“Fianc�?” she tries again.

“Very cheeky,” Blaine tells her, waggling a finger, but still grinning oh so obviously. She shrugs and Kurt winks when Blaine isn’t looking.�

“Boyfriend,” Kurt eventually provides.

“Love of my life,” Blaine corrects.

~~*~~

Their heads are bent together, and they’re grinning and speaking in whispers, as they cross the foyer with Kurt’s luggage dragged behind them and Blaine’s hand clasped tight around the key to their room.

Neither one of them notices the woman striding purposefully across the foyer floor and cutting in front of an elderly couple with a smile. She slips behind the reception desk and leans over the girl—Rebecca’s—shoulder.

“Was that Kurt Hummel?” she asks.

Rebecca looks lost for a moment. “The couple that just checked in?” she asks.

The hotel concierge nods, gold-painted fingernail tapping the desk impatiently as Rebecca types.

“Blaine Anderson,” Rebecca says, still confused as she pulls up the credit card details.

“I knew it!”

~~*~~

The cost of the room is obscene, but Blaine says it’s worth it and reminds Kurt of his raise and his very secure job and the fact that they will have a room to themselves for a few days. Kurt stares at him and doesn’t mention exactly how much he’ll be making once he’s back in New York, because it doesn’t seem the time and he knows that very soon, Blaine’s shitty salary will be fairly well offset by his own exorbitant one.

Instead, Kurt tells him he’s crazy in the elevator up to the top floor and Blaine just grins at him. Then they are kissing and touching and falling against each other, mumbling, “God I miss you,” and “I love you,” and “Thank you,” over and over and over until the elevator dings, and they clamber out and quickly find their room.

The junior honeymoon suite is as obscene as its price, but they don’t notice right away. The hopeless kissing from the elevator ride up dissolves into pure, simple lust as soon as the door clicks closed behind them.�

Blaine has Kurt up against the wall, both of them hard in their pants in moments as Kurt is panting and moaning against Blaine’s ear as Blaine bites marks into his collarbone and pulls at his clothes.

There’s an endless litany of “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” from Kurt’s mouth until Blaine kisses him, open and hot and owning, and then pulls back.

“Fuck,” he swears as his hips grind forward of their own volition. “Kurt,” he says and Kurt moans. “Kurt, tell me you want me as much as I want you right now.”

“Yes,” Kurt snakes his hands down, grabbing and pulling and wanting so much of everything, but mostly just wanting Blaine. Right now. “Yes.”

�

~~*~~

They get off against the door, just like that, in their pants, and ten minutes later, Blaine laments his lack of clean underwear. Kurt promises to let him borrow some of his and then strips him naked and pushes him onto the bed. They lay together for as long as they can, not speaking a word, but kissing and touching and grinning at each other.

When Kurt’s phone rings and it’s his dad, he answers quickly, batting Blaine away as the blush crawls up his cheeks.

Blaine only hears one side of the conversation, his hand eventually settling to rub up and down one of Kurt’s calves, watching the hair smooth down and then mess up over and over.

When Kurt hangs up, they talk schedules. It’s the 23rd and Burt wants Kurt home for brunch and Christmas tree decorating tomorrow. Kurt has negotiated Christmas Eve free since Burt knows too well he’ll likely be asleep by eight. Christmas day will be lunch and too much food, and if they want to drink they’ll need to organise a ride. The days after, Burt doesn’t mind so much, but he grumbles enough that Kurt decides that once they’ve checked out, they’ll go by the shop.�

“What about your family?” Kurt asks.

“I’ll see them for New Years,” is all Blaine says, and then he frowns. “Don’t let my crazy kidnapping plan keep you from yours.” He trails off, remembering how desperate he had been an hour ago against the door. “I just really needed you alone,” he admits.�

“My dad understands,” Kurt says, blushing when he realizes exactly how much his father probably understands. “And anyway, we won’t have the hotel after the 26th, so I’ll have three full days stuck within the confines of my house. My dad will deal with it.”

Blaine is still looking at him sheepishly. “Maybe I should have dragged you here after Christmas, for those three days.”

Laughing, Kurt kisses him and says, “Nonsense.” His dad isn’t super impressed, but Kurt has made sure Burt understands that Blaine is it now. Blaine is everything.

“Now, tell me you brought lube.”

Blaine’s face falls so fast that Kurt laughs hard enough to almost fall off the side of the bed. He fishes in his own luggage and pulls out a bottle and a packet of condoms. “Relax!” he teases, and then watches as Blaine pouts at him before turning over onto his belly, looking back over his shoulder with a challenging smile.

~~*~~

They don’t use the condoms. There’s a quick, breathless conversation and then hard, desperate kissing and the box falls to the floor. They get sticky and messy and kiss it off each other, sweat and saliva and come. They completely mess up the sheets. It’s wonderful, and perfect, and just as they’re falling asleep, Kurt tells Blaine he thinks he’ll be back in New York by Easter.

~~*~~

Burt looks determinedly displeased when they turn up at 10am the next morning for brunch. Blaine babbles and apologizes and doesn’t quite know how to explain to Kurt’s dad that he really, really, really needed some alone time with Kurt.

Burt waves him off and puts an arm around Kurt’s shoulder and tries very hard to be cross.

Except then Carole tucks herself into Burt’s side and starts making small remarks that seem oh so innocent.

“Look at the way they look at each other.”

“Oh my god, they coordinated outfits!”

“Wait, is Blaine wearing Kurt’s clothes?”

“Look at him trying to get Blaine to walk under the mistletoe. I told you we should have hung more.”

By the time Finn and his wife turn up, Burt is grinning and talking to Blaine about football and New York, and when he realizes how relaxed he is, Burt turns to glare at his wife.

~~*~~

They go via Blaine’s parents’ house that night, say a formal hello, and then Blaine grabs his bags and leaves.

That night, Kurt and Blaine slip back to the hotel and drink too much vodka because it tastes so good on each other’s lips. It starts as a game, and ends as a game, but in between they learn some things about each other.

Kurt wants Blaine to expand his outrageous collection of boxer briefs into lace and bows and satin. Maybe knee-high socks. Or stockings. With garters. A corset?

Blaine swallows and says that yes, definitely, he can try that.

Blaine wants Kurt to tie him up, and when he can’t quite explain that it isn’t just handcuffs, they end up huddled over Kurt’s laptop, scrolling through websites. Kurt says he can try that, too.�

Then they fall back into bed and Blaine begs Kurt to let him fuck his mouth.

~~*~~

The next morning, they’re woken up by a woman knocking on their door and calling, “Room Service”. While they scramble for clothes, they also freak out because it’s Christmas Day and they seem to have overslept. Much to his relief, when Blaine checks his phone, it’s only just gone six am.�

He’s about to tell Kurt that whoever the fuck is outside their door is most certainly not room service when Kurt, who has managed to throw on a robe, opens the door and swears. “Holy shit.”

Santana bursts into the room and then wrinkles her nose because the bed is a disaster and Blaine is still only in boxer shorts. Reindeer printed boxer shorts. “Gross,” Santana mutters, screwing up her nose, and then says, “I thought you two broke up.”

Kurt takes an extra second to answer because he hasn’t seen Santana in years and here she is, standing between him and Blaine in an immaculate white suit with her hair pulled back into classy waves. He is blinking rapidly trying to put everything together. “We did. We got back together.”

“Good,” she says. “When?”

“About eight months ago. I don’t under—“

“I’m the concierge,” she announces, hand on her hip and eyes flashing, as if awaiting a challenge. “It’s my hotel.”

“If this is about the sheets—“ Blaine begins.

She wrinkles her nose again. “Ew,” she says and then tosses her hair. “I saw you check in,” she tells them, “And I talked to Rebecca, the girl in reception, and she filled me in.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, wishing he had put something more substantial on. He tugs the fluffy material down where the hem is resting barely mid-thigh. “I hardly think Rebecca in reception knows enough to fill you in on anything.”

Santana rolls her eyes. “She said you were disgustingly in love and seemed reasonably desperate for a room.” She pauses. “Was she wrong?”

“We got back together and five days later Kurt moved to London for a year.” Blaine blurts it out and snatches a pillow up to cover his crotch in the process.

Santana cackles. “You’re trying long distance? Again?”

“We’re doing very well, thank you very much,” Blaine says.

“Oh, I know.” Santana casts her sharp eyes over the bed and the towels still piled where they’d been dropped just outside the bathroom. Finally, she runs a finger down the side of one of the empty bottles from the night before. “I’m here to help,” she soothes.�

~~*~~

It’s worth the humiliation of being caught with his pants down, Blaine concedes. Santana, for whatever unfathomable reason, seems to be pro-them and seems to have the entire hotel staff under her thumb. Unsurprising, really.

The honeymoon suite is suddenly as cheap as it would be in the lowest season of the year and, low and behold, they have it during the ‘stay one night, get a second free’ promotion. Which, Blaine says excitedly, bouncing on the bed, gives them three more nights.

Kurt grins at him and continues to stare at the door Santana just left through, his fingers smoothing over the hotel vouchers she’s stuffed into his hand. He doesn’t quite understand why, but he is definitely not going to question it.

~~*~~

Blaine lets the three extra days of honeymoon suite slip at lunch, as well as the fact that it’s a honeymoon suite. Finn’s wife had insisted she pick them up from the hotel and drop them off so they could drink, since she couldn’t. An hour alone with Burt got Blaine drunk, and an hour trying to help Carole cook without Blaine either on the phone or Skype explaining all the recipes meant Kurt was similarly inebriated.�

Blaine’s buzzing and leaning into the heat of Kurt next to him, and Kurt’s letting his fingers graze Blaine’s wrist every chance he gets. When Burt asks what they want to do with the three days before Kurt has to go back to London, Blaine just babbles, as he is wont to do.

“We’ve got the hotel room until he flies out! It was a…” he searches for the word and takes another mouthful of wine. “It was fate! So we have the suite for three more days, but we’ll come and visit you in the shop! Are you back at the shop?”

Burt tries to answer but Blaine keeps speaking.

“I mean a honeymoon suite at the Hilton is amazing and all but it’s getting a little bit boring after three days and there’s only so much—oh.” He seems to remember himself, and then he realizes that no one is eating and everyone is staring at him. He quickly tries to work out why. He didn’t specifically say that three days of sex had left them both a bit too sore to continue for three more.

“Did you guys—“ Finn cuts himself off, eyes wide and blinking as his wife stares hard at her food.

“Did we what?” Kurt asks. It’s a small comfort to Blaine to hear Kurt just as confused as himself.

Carole looks from Burt, who is turning just slightly red, to Kurt and Blaine across from her, waiting for the penny to drop and then supplying a little help. “The honeymoon suite?”

“Oh… oh.” Kurt gasps, and Blaine laughs beside him. “Oh my god, you thought—“ Kurt looks outraged. “We did not elope, oh my god, dad!”

�

Burt is backing off pretty fast and Blaine is still laughing and then hiccupping, then shaking that off and breathing deep to listen.

“As if I’m going to get married anywhere other than New York, with you walking me down the aisle and… and a string quartet and, oh I don’t know, doves and a massive wedding cake and a big party! As if I could elope.” Kurt starts to smile then and Burt has raised his hands in defeat. Carole is sporting her own small, secret smile and not saying a word.

“He said honeymoon suite,” Burt says, nodding towards Blaine who is looking at Kurt with wide, solemn eyes that make Kurt’s brow crease for a moment.

“It was the only room available,” Kurt says, nose in the air. “And as Blaine said, rather than be a burden on you and Carole, we are staying there the next three nights.”

“Okay,” Burt doesn’t argue further, quite happy to be kept in the dark about some things. “Okay.” Under the table, Carole squeezes his hand so hard it hurts.

~~*~~

They spend less time in the hotel room as expected. Santana comments on it when she intercepts them in the foyer, and they apologize but say family duty calls. Blaine still looks love drunk beside Kurt and Kurt is smiling so Santana just shrugs and says, “Whatever.”

They visit the Lima Mall and catch up with some of the Warblers. They spend a day in the shop with Kurt’s dad, business slow and the weather bitingly cold. Kurt slips out for lunch with Finn and returns to the hotel to find Blaine naked in the bathtub smelling like vanilla, and then there’s ice cream and he tastes of it, too.

The day Kurt leaves, he makes Blaine promise not to wake up. Blaine frowns and says he’ll try, knowing he won’t be able to stop himself.

“I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you ever again,” Kurt says, and he has said it so many times. This time it seems more serious, though. “So I won’t. Easter okay?”

In the morning, Blaine keeps his eyes closed and his head buried in a pillow that smells like Kurt until he hears the door to their hotel room click quietly closed. He doesn’t cry that morning, just takes long, deep breaths and hopes. Then he heads over to Burt’s shop to spend a few hours there before driving to his parent’s house for a few days.

~~*~~

When Kurt finally gets back to London, more exhausted and far, far happier than when he left, there are already two emails from Blaine. He doesn’t open either first. Instead, he drags the cursor to open something far more unexpected: an email from Santana.

It would want to be an amazing, expensive wedding. And I would want to get a plus one. ~Santana.