“Blaine, where did you get those?”

The other boy shrugged, a ridiculously excited look on his face. “The cupboard upstairs. I saw that you hadn’t decorated your tree yet,” he gestured at the bare Christmas tree by the window, “and I thought I’d help.”

Kurt stood up off the couch slowly, speaking gently so as not to hurt the boy’s feelings. “Blaine, it’s not decorated because I haven’t decided on the colour scheme yet. Those are Carole’s decorations. They’re all mismatched. But,” he continued hurriedly when Blaine’s face fell, “you can help me buy this year’s decorations if you like.”

“And help decorate?”

“Well, I usually do that with my dad—”

“Oh,” Blaine interrupted, grinning again. “Your dad saw me getting these. He said we could go ahead and cover the tree. But he warned me you can be really controlling about these things, so…”

Kurt glared at him.

“Oh, come on, Kurt. Please.”

Kurt laughed, walking around the back of the couch, getting as far away as he could from Blaine because the other boy was pouting in a way that brought Kurt dangerously close to kissing him. Blaine simply knelt against the couch, leaning over it, pouting all the while. Kurt instinctively brought his face closer to the other boy’s.

“Please, Kurt. We only get a fake tree at home and it isn’t the same.”

Kurt watched Blaine plead with his eyes for a second before straightening up. “Fine. Even though this goes against everything I believe in, we will use Carole’s tacky ornaments and decorate this tree. Happy?”

Blaine stretched over the back of the couch to pull Kurt into his arms. “Very. So, tinsel or baubles first?”

“Blaine, were you raised in a cave? Lights first.”

Kurt had to admit, decorating with Blaine was much more fun than with his father. Kurt would get frustrated that Burt was not hanging the ornaments correctly and Burt would get upset that he was doing the wrong thing. They’d end up snapping at each other and Kurt would finish the tree on his own. But with Blaine, there were no fights. They strung fairy lights together, the backs of their hands brushing against each other. Kurt let Blaine do the tinsel, preferring to watch the way the light reflected off the garish decoration, making Blaine’s eyes sparkle.

They hung baubles together, occasionally catching each other’s gaze and grinning. Kurt was glad the fairy lights gave off a glow warm enough to hide his blush.

Blaine pulled a small cardboard box from under a pile of reindeer ornaments which Kurt had categorically refused to be allowed near his Christmas tree, regardless of how tacky it was already. He pulled off the lid, worn at the edges, and smiled at what was inside.

“Who gets to put the angel on the top?”

Kurt looked up from where he was hanging his last bauble and took in Blaine’s reverent expression. “Why do I feel like this is some sort of ceremony to you?”

“It is. In my house, the tallest does it, so it’s always my dad. I’m guessing those rules don’t apply here.”

Kurt shook his head at Blaine. “Your family is strange. We’ll both do it, okay?”

He pulled a chair in from the kitchen for them to stand on and placed it in front of the tree. He held out a hand to Blaine once he had climbed up, pulling the other boy up after him. Kurt immediately wanted to take that action back. Blaine had to stand very close to Kurt on the chair, their hips bumping against each other, knees knocking together if they twisted too far. He reached up a hand, holding the angel, and turned his head to look at Kurt. The other boy was so distracted by the way he could feel Blaine’s breath on his lips that it took him longer than it should have to respond. Lethargically, trying to stop his eyes from becoming hooded from Blaine’s scent enveloping him, he stretched out his own arm. He curled his fingers around the angel, slotting them between Blaine’s and allowing the other boy to guide their hands to the top of the tree. Blaine looked away then, positioning the ornament while Kurt continued to stare at him, eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, the bones of his cheek. In his mind, Kurt’s lips followed the path of his eyes.

By lifting their arms, they had pressed the sides of their chests against each other. Kurt could feel every expansion of Blaine’s chest against his own, ribs pressing together. The warmth of Blaine’s skin permeated through his jumper and Kurt’s, right into the other boy’s. Kurt could only imagine how hot Blaine’s skin really was, without the layers separating them. He unconsciously pressed himself tighter against Blaine, trying to reach more of his heat. Blaine smelled like Christmas and that smell Kurt had come to associate with Dalton. It seemed to be infused in the other boy’s uniform and lingered on Blaine’s skin even when he had removed it, like now. Kurt knew that if he could rest his nose against Blaine’s neck, he would be able to figure out the undertones of that scent and maybe catch that one that was only Blaine.

Blaine slotted the angel into place with a noise of triumph. He pulled his arm back, and took Kurt’s hand. He placed it around his waist and hugged the other boy, right there on the tiny chair. They were standing so close that this hug was tighter than any they had shared. Their legs slotted between each other and one of Kurt’s hipbones was pushing against Blaine’s stomach. Kurt let Blaine pull him in, tightening his fingers in the back of Blaine’s jumper, pressing them into the skin beneath it.

Blaine acted on impulse, curling the fingers of one hand into Kurt’s hair. He was risking Kurt yelling at him for messing it up, but he didn’t exactly think the action through. Besides, Kurt said nothing, but let Blaine tilt his head into the crook of the shorter boy’s neck. Blaine ignored the goosebumps that formed at the sensation of Kurt’s breath against his skin.

“I love you,” he said, holding Kurt even tighter. Suddenly, Kurt was pulling himself out of Blaine’s grip, stepping off the chair and starting to tidy up.

“You’re being particularly friendly today,” he said, not looking at Blaine as he threw excess tinsel back into the box.

“Well, like I said, I love you,” Blaine replied, grabbing a broom from the cupboard off the kitchen to sweep up fallen pine needles, tinsel strands and glitter. “Don’t you love me?” he said as he returned.

“Of course I do.” Kurt still wasn’t looking at Blaine. He was pushing baubles back into a box almost savagely.

“Kurt.” Blaine poked his friend’s back with the broom handle. Kurt slapped it away and placed the last spare ornament back in the box. “Kurt,” Blaine repeated. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect, Blaine.” He picked up the box and smiled over his shoulder briefly before heading towards the stairs. “It’s Christmas. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Blaine ran his finger along the row of CDs, enjoying the way they clicked under the sliding pressure. He paused over a Christmas album, then pulled it off the shelf and flipped it over, examining the songs listed there.

“Favourite Christmas song?” he called to Kurt, who was at his desk, sewing machine whirring as he put together a jacket in Blaine’s measurements.

“Guess.”

“Well.” He placed one arm on either side of the boy, holding the CD on the desk in front of him. “Is it on here?”

Kurt turned the machine off to look at the CD Blaine was holding. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Blaine probably should have pulled his arms back and looked at the CD as he paced around the room, but he didn’t. He leaned further over the chair, resting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder, tightening his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. “Jingle Bell Rock?”

“Blaine, please tell me that wasn’t a real guess.”

Blaine snorted and buried his face in Kurt’s shoulder briefly. “No, sorry.”

He could see Kurt’s smile from how he was leaning against him. Kurt gripped Blaine’s arms, pulling them around him so he was hugging him properly, making the other boy drop the CD onto the desk. “Good. You have three guesses.” He leaned his head back so he could look Blaine in the eye. “Serious ones.”

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I am.” Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt, rocking them a little from side to side. “I know you.”

Kurt let his grin break out and snuggled backwards into Blaine’s chest. “You’re right. It’s kind of flattering.”

“There’s a reason you’re my best friend.”

Kurt didn’t reply, but Blaine could have sworn he heard a small sigh come from the boy in his arms.

“Sing it with me?” he said. He smiled, curling into Kurt a little more. He loved singing with the other boy and he had a feeling this would be the perfect duet for them.

“No.”

“What? Kurt, it’s your favourite Christmas song. I’m giving you the chance to duet here.” He pulled Kurt closer, but just like earlier, Kurt forced his way out of Blaine’s arms.

“No,” he repeated.

Blaine huffed and sat back on the bed as Kurt stood up, starting to put away his sewing machine.

“Kurt, what’s going on?”

Kurt extricated his fabric from the machine with less reverence than Blaine would have ever expected. “Nothing. I just don’t feel like singing a date rape song with my best friend, okay?”

Blaine sighed and pushed himself off the bed again, coming up behind Kurt and stilling his hands. “Kurt, please. Tell me what’s going on. Is it Finn? Did you guys fight again?”
Kurt’s shoulders slumped a little. “No.” He walked to the bed, allowing Blaine to keep hold of one of his hands as they sat down. Blaine didn’t say anything, simply waiting for Kurt to elaborate. Kurt looked him straight in the eye and Blaine couldn’t help but feel he was being tested in some way. He watched the other boy’s unfathomable eyes as they stared into him, wanting an answer when he didn’t know the question. Kurt bit his lip, stroking a thumb over Blaine’s knuckles.

“I want…I want someone to love me.”

“What do you mean? You know that I—”

“I want someone to be in love with me.” Kurt looked away again and Blaine could see the blush rising in his cheeks.

Blaine wanted to tell Kurt that someone was, or someone would be very soon if he kept being exactly the way he was, but he couldn’t. Kurt was his friend. He loved Blaine like a best friend or a brother. He wouldn’t be telling him this if he didn’t. It was for that reason that Blaine stopped himself, that he forced himself not to press his lips to Kurt’s cheek or forehead, that he made himself look at boys who worked at the GAP. It was a self-preservation thing. It stopped him from getting in too deep and ending up heartbroken.

“One day, Kurt, someone will be. Trust me, okay?” He squeezed Kurt’s hand. “I know firsthand that you’re easy to love. You just have to find the right person.”

“You know it isn’t that easy, Blaine. I don’t just find people.”

Blaine lifted their joined hands and tilted Kurt’s chin up, making him look him in the eye. Kurt’s eyes were a soft green; a colour Blaine knew was tinged with sadness. He wanted to kiss away the tears forming in the corners, but he knew that he could not. He could only comfort Kurt as a friend would, could only love him that much.

“You found me.”