December 24th

Blaine knocked softly on the door to the guesthouse - though he always considered that term a bit of an overstatement. It was really more of a studio apartment built into the side of the house, a place where Cooper stayed or the occasional over-indulgent guest slept one off, and where Kurt had created an impromptu office space.

"Kurt? Are you still in here?"

He pushed the door open and peeked inside. Kurt - elbows deep in notepads, sketches and electronics - sat on the couch, computer in his lap, glasses pushed down his nose, oblivious to the intrusion.

"Kurt? Its getting late."

Kurt turned his head with a gasp, startled by Blaines voice.

"Im sorry. I didnt want to interrupt, but its getting late, and youve been at this for hours."

"And its nearly Christmas," Kurt said.

"And its nearly Christmas," Blaine echoed. "Any chance youd consider wrapping up for the night?"

Kurt pulled his glasses off, and closed his laptop.

"Sorry about that," he said, standing and stretching his arms upwards, easing a kink from his spine. "And youve been getting the house ready for tomorrow all this time?"

"There wasnt that much to do," Blaine said. He surveyed the mess of the guest room, the hurricane gust of activity that was Kurt in business mode, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. "We may want to close this area off tomorrow."

They hadnt originally planned to have guests over for the holiday dinner. It was their first Christmas together, but one thing led to another and soon they were planning dinner for nine.

It was only proper that they invite Blaines former vineyard manager Diego and his family over. They had, after all, welcomed a lonely and hung over Blaine into their home for Christmas the year before. The households had always been close, and Diegos father took great delight at inspecting the status of Rhapsodys vines.

It would also be their first chance to meet Diegos fiancée, a UC Davis undergrad at the top of her class in agronomy.

The invitation to Santana had been inevitable. She had remained defiantly alone, not quite ready to find someone new, and unwilling to fight congested freeways to spend the holidays with her family, now scattered across the state.

"Is this going to be some kind of extravaganza? Because I have a fine tradition of movies and Chinese food..."

It would be nothing fancy, Kurt had assured her. Blaine had planned a simple but traditional Christmas dinner. There would be wine, and pie, and maybe some music.

"If youre expecting me to bring a dish, fair warning," she said, a hint of menace to her voice.

Kurt had assured her that she could be in charge of after-dinner drinks, an area of expertise for her.

Two guests later - a new neighbor with no nearby relatives and Patty, their confidante and favorite bartender - and the table was full.

Kurt looked at Blaine, then back at the mess he had created, and shrugged.

"Ill clean it in the morning. We may be needing this space tomorrow," he said. He moved to the doorway and wrapped his arms around Blaines waist, pulling him close.

"Id say you have a pretty good excuse," Blaine said, sharing a chaste kiss.

He had scarcely seen his husband lately. Kurt had been a man on a mission, and Blaine had learned early on that when Kurt had a goal in mind, it was best to get out of the way. He also realized that Kurt probably thought the same of him.

It had started with The Conversation, as they had come to describe the night that turned everything on its ear, setting a new course for both their personal and professional lives.

Once Blaine had found his voice in the marriage, he had plenty to say: that Kurt needed to carve out a career ­­- both for Kurts happiness and his own; that he wanted to help him pursue it; that maybe he had overstepped, but he had done a little research on Kurts behalf; that he meant well; that is was an action born of love.

It hadnt gone well at first, the realization that Blaine had discussed Kurts future with Sebastian Smythe, of all people. But, like Kurt, Blaine could be determined, pragmatic, and stubborn.

It had been scarcely two weeks, but the day that changed everything already felt like a distant memory. Blaine, grim and in need of a shower, had stewed over a cold cup of coffee until Santana slapped him out of his funk. The idea that had sparked another idea, an inspiration, led to a possible solution to the issue that had vexed him for months.

He had cut the conversation with Santana short, and made a beeline to St. Helena. He had arrived before the days ebb and flow of tourists and, it had seemed, before Daltons chief winemaker. A tasting room assistant recognized him as soon as he entered the winery. She was polite, though clearly surprised when she informed Blaine that Daltons chief winemaker sometimes didnt make an appearance until well after 10 a.m. now that the harvest season had passed.

Blaine had waited in his truck, bobbing his head to a classic rock station, watching limousines and tour buses come and go for nearly an hour.

"If youre going to work on your tan in our parking lot, you could at least take off your shirt and give us a show," a voice had bellowed behind him. "Oh, and keep it downwind, would ya?"

The voice was as familiar as it was suggestive.

"Ive been waiting for you," Blaine said.

"Ive been waiting years to hear you say that," Sebastian laughed.

Two hours later, they had parted with a handshake and a smile that hadnt felt entirely forced, a plan in the works that could accomplish Sebastians goals of blocking out his competitor while opening up an opportunity for someone with just enough talent, ambition and support to take advantage of it.

****

Selling Sebastian on his idea had been one thing. Convincing Kurt that a plan hatched with someone he had always considered a threat was something else entirely.

That it was delivered in the height of The Conversation, in the midst of their effort to resolve bubbling undercurrent of conflict, made it that much more difficult.

Kurt had nearly exploded when Blaine told him where he had gone, and why.

"What in the world were you thinking? After everything? After the Sebastian of it all, what would make you think you should be discussing us - or me - with him?"

"I know how it sounds..."

"It sounds like you lost your mind."

"Kurt? Just hear me out," Blaine had pled. "Itll all make sense, I swear."

While Blaine hadnt originally taken Sebastians proposition that Kurt work for Dalton seriously, the thought stuck in his head: Kurt needs to work; Kurt needs to write again.

But he could not work for a Napa winery while leading the Sonoma Wine Bureau, and despite his détente with his former lover, Blaine had not trusted Sebastian enough to ever encourage Kurt to go into business with him.

But the core of Sebastians idea was solid - that Kurt should start anew, trade on his skill and celebrity in the wine field to start a business that would leave him beholden to no one but himself and his readers and, with any luck, his advertisers.

Kurt had started down that path, briefly, after leaving Taste Magazine, but had shifted his attention to the winery, the vineyard, and the marriage.

It was time for him to refocus on his own career, Blaine said.

"So you want me to start the blog back up? Thats the big career plan?"

"Thats only part of it, Kurt. This is about Kurt Hummel-Anderson, Inc. You have so much knowledge, and so much respect out there. Readers will follow you, Kurt. It could be a blog, sure. Or a magazine..."

"I dont want to deal with printers..."

Blaine had seen Kurt weighing the possibilities, his expression taking on a distant look of deep consideration.

"Then it could be a digital publication, or you could go syndicated. Theres still a market for that, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"There are podcasts, webcasts. Have you seen that show about wine country living?"

"Oh please, its awful," Kurt said.

"Thats my point. Some people from out of town come up here with a camera, take some pretty pictures and then sell a show thats more about wine country real estate than the wine country itself. There are always options when the materials good, Kurt - and when you know what youre doing."

The slow nod of Kurts head had stopped.

"So what did Sebastian have to do with this?"

"This idea started with him. I didnt want him involved, but I didnt want him thinking Id stolen it, either. So I guess I sort of sought his blessing."

"His blessing?" Kurt had sounded incredulous.

"He only wanted to start a regional magazine to box out a competitor. I asked him if a new independent effort would have the same effect."

"I take it he said yes?"

Blaine grinned. "He offered to be your first advertiser."

"There would be a lot to work out," Kurt said. "Ill think about it."

****

The next two weeks were a blur of research, meetings and phone calls. Kurt finally had the beginnings of a plan, or many of them, and he dove into the work, as if starting the next phase of his professional life couldnt start soon enough.

First, he met with Santana.

If it was Rhapsody she wanted at the helm of the Bureau, then she could have it - with conditions.

Kurt would agree to run for president of the association, but with the caveat that it take on a new role representing the countys boutique winemakers.

"If Im going to do this, then my candidacy will have a platform," he said.

Santana crinkled her brow and gave his shoes a hard look.

"A political platform," Kurt said, "a business proposition."

"The tasting room in that old department store off the square was supposed to promote the regions small wineries. So is the Bureau. So maybe the Bureau should run it," he said.

He said that he would seek to have the Bureau expand its office, renting the space next door that became available when a tchotchke store closed.

"Lets get rid of that dump the tasting rooms currently in and move it where it belongs. The bureau would be doing what it should be doing - promoting its members. It would give the bureau more caché with the public and the wineries."

Santana stared at him for a moment, soaking it in, then rolling her eyes.

"Sometimes, you and that husband of yours are more trouble than youre worth."

"Thats my deal. Take it or leave it," Kurt said.

Santana huffed out a laugh.

"Youre the only candidate. What choice do I have? Hell, they may name you Generalissimo for Life."

The next meeting caused him heartburn.

He had put it off long enough, really. Though Kurt had hinted strongly that he would not accept Quinns job offer, he had never turned her down outright. And now, he had to tell her why.

They had worked together for years, been friends even longer, and Kurt knew that his news could more than strain that relationship.

It could end it, unless he found a constructive out.

"Quinn, I decided that it was time to downsize," he said. "I want to devote more time to my home, and bouncing back and forth between California and New York cant be part of that equation."

He told her, in less-than-specific terms, about his career plans. Before she could respond, he added a caveat.

"Im also going syndicated, Quinn.  And if youd like, Taste can have first shot at my columns."

He outlined his idea: that his review column be syndicated out of Taste, appearing in newspapers and other periodicals only after his longtime home had first crack at it - for a price reflective of the exclusivity - but he would not consider another staff position with the magazine.

"Its your call, Quinn. I wont come back on staff, but Taste can still run my column, rather than have me as a competitor."

She didnt agree immediately, but it didnt take long to get her on board, either.

The next call, to Cooper, was a videoconference - at Coopers insistence.

"This is as much Blaines request as yours. Tell him to get his ass out of that bean patch and join us on Skype."

"Its a vineyard, Cooper."

"Whatever."

Kurt knew it wouldnt take much to get Cooper to yes - Cooper was all about yes -but he knew that they could use his expertise to get it launched, noticed and solidified. And of course, Kurt had a plan, because he knew that if he went into business with Cooper Anderson, then Blaine would be in business with him as well. And in Kurts mind, a bridge to the family was a bridge, even if it was made of baling wire and spit.

The rest of it was relatively simple - extensive and time-consuming, yes, but really just a matter of research and contacts and planning. Kurt touched base with graphic artists and web designers he had come to know from his time at Taste, then made plans to call in favors based on good will and good business sense from companies likely to see an opportunity in investing in Kurt Hummel-Anderson, Version 2.0.

He also built a plan to pitch his business to investors, or to a bank willing to float a business line of credit.

There were still months of planning needed before he could consider himself open for business, but Kurt had a firm sense of direction in place, so long as he could dig himself out from under the paperwork he had piled up.

It was one of these moments that Blaine walked in on late Christmas Eve. It was nearly 10 p.m., and Kurt had scarcely poked his head out from the cave he had created in the guest quarters since late afternoon.

"Well clean it tomorrow, Kurt. Take a break with me," he said. "Its our first real Christmas together, you know."

"We were together last year."

"Only technically. You went home. I got drunk. We broke up when you came back - we were together by a thread. Id rather count married years, anyway."

They collapsed on the couch together. Kurt leaned back into Blaines chest, tucking his head on to Blaines shoulder.

"I like that plan," Kurt said. "Merry Christmas, husband."

"Merry Christmas. What do you say about opening one gift tonight, before everyone comes over tomorrow?"

"Just as Im getting comfortable?"

"Well, we dont have to..."

Kurt jumped up from the couch, and extended a hand to pull Blaine to his feet.

"Just one," he said. "The big one."

Kurt sat on the floor in front of the tree while Blaine reached through the gifts toward the back, where a large package wrapped in crimson and gold paper sat apart from the others. It was decorated with a large gold silk ribbon and a gift card.

"For you," he said, setting the box on the floor and sitting alongside Kurt. "Merry Christmas, Kurt."

Kurt Hummel-Anderson did not believe in recycling giftwrap. Nor did he believe in wasting time when it came to opening gifts. He tore into the paper.

"Card first," Blaine said, earning a mock scowl.

Kurt opened the gilded envelope and pulled out the card, an old Currier and Ives winter print. Inside, Blaine had written a quote.

            "At the typewriter, you find out who you are."

             - Tom Robbins

            I know who I am. I am yours, forever more.

            B.

Blaine was typically a man of few words, but he measured and chose them carefully. And with Kurt, he spoke from the heart.

Kurt opened the box, and began to tear away at sheet after sheet of gold tissue to reveal what looked like a small, old leather suitcase.

He looked up at Blaine, confused.

"Open it," Blaine said.

Kurt lifted the case from the box, and slid the two metal latches out to open its lid. Inside sat a pristine antique typewriter, a sheet of paper already in its roller.

"Its a 1941 Royal Quiet Deluxe," Blaine said. "The Cadillac of manual typewriters, and a favorite model of Hemingway."

"Blaine, its beautiful, but what made you think...?"

"Its a writers typewriter, Kurt. A model used by some of the greats. Id seen it in a thrift store, then did a little research..."

"Youve been doing a lot of that lately..."

Blaine laughed, his trademark self-conscious chuckle-and-look away move that could move Kurt to tears.

"I love it," Kurt said, leaning in for a kiss. "Tell me more."

"When I found out what it was, I went down and bought it and had this typewriter repair guy in the city restore it. Did you know theres a website that lists the typewriters of famous authors? So I thought, ‘Kurt deserves an authors typewriter, even if he is going all-digital. "

Kurt reached over to look at the paper inserted into the roller. It had doubled over on itself inside of the case, but as he flipped it upright, he could see that Blaine had tested the vintage machine.

            For my husband, my confidante, my love

            ... And my business partner, if hell have me.

"What does that mean?" Kurt said.

Blaine looked away and smiled, then met Kurts eyes.

"I know youre trying to do this all yourself, and I respect it, I do. But I dont want you to have to go securing a loan to get your business off the ground," Blaine said.

"It takes money to start a business, Blaine."

"We have money - plenty of money. And Id like to invest it in you."

"Thats your money, Blaine. You need it for vineyard expansion," Kurt said.

"First of all, its our money. Were married, remember? Whats mine is yours. And even if you think of it as my money, then I should be able to invest where I want to, right? Were just fine. The winerys doing well, and I want to be your partner - your silent partner - if youll have me."

"So Vino Veritas becomes a part of Rhapsody, Inc.?"

"Thats the name?" Blaine asked.

"A working title. Well see."

"Fair enough," Blaine said. "And no, I think they need to stay separate businesses, but Im thinking we can create a corporate umbrella for all the future Hummel-Anderson ventures."

"Hummel-Anderson Inc.?" Kurt asked.

"Something like that, but I was thinking something along the lines of the Rhapsody names," Blaine replied. "Something like Duet."

Kurt tried names on for size: Duet Inc., Duet LLC, Duet Holding Corp.

"Ill leave that to you," Blaine said, pointing a finger to his chest. "Remember, Silent partner."

He leaned over, reaching for Kurts cheek, and pulled him close. They kissed, a relaxed, familiar kiss, the likes of which they would share countless times for years to come.

Blaine moved to deepen it, to taste and touch, but Kurt broke away with a wink and crawled under the tree. He emerged with a shimmery copper rectangular box that had been hidden under several smaller gifts.

"For me?" Blaine said. He had mischief in his tone and the lights of the Christmas tree reflected in his eyes.

"For you. Ive been holding onto it for a while."

Blaine started to weigh and shake the package, a childhood habit hed never grown out of, when Kurt stopped him.

"I wouldnt advise that," he said.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, and set out to open the package, taking care not to rip the delicate metallic paper.

"Why would you do that?" Kurt said. "Tear it open."

"I like to savor every moment," Blaine said. "Besides, I like the paper."

Inside the box, Blaine found a wooden case, the type used to package and ship gift bottle of wine. He stopped, a look of confusion on his face.

He slid the cover open to find a bottle of dark red wine. It was embellished with a black and gold label covered with a signature written in gold Sharpie pen: Blaine Anderson, right alongside the Sotto Voce logo scrawl.

Blaine bit his lip, and stared at the box.

"Now, before you go asking why I would give you a bottle of your own wine..."

"The auction," Blaine interrupted, silencing him. "You were the phone bidder at the charity auction that first year."

Kurt remembered every detail. Taste had scheduled the charity dinner and auction one week before its inaugural Challenge between Napa and Sonoma. Fueled by a stash of cash intended to raise the bids on Napa wines, the bidding on Blaines competitors from Napa had been heated, as was Kurts temper. He let the auctioneer know that an anonymous bidder had been in contact, and would bid by phone for the bottle of Sotto Voce.

Then he left the room, cell phone tucked discreetly in his jacket pocket.

By the time the bidding was over, Kurt had paid close to ten times the retail value of the wine, and Blaines celebrity among wine enthusiasts was cemented.

"You knew."

"I saw it in your nightstand drawer back at your hotel," Blaine said.

"Why didnt you tell me?"

Blaine smiled.

"I didnt talk a lot back then. Besides, you didnt tell me youd bought it, either. I figured there must be a reason why."

"You deserved it. I hated watching those other bottles get bid up because someone had taken up a collection. You had the best wine, and I wanted you to get credit for it." 

Blaine picked the bottle up from the case and turned it over in his hands.

"And I wanted to get in your pants."

Blaine burst out in laughter, falling down from his spot on the floor to stretch out, pulling Kurt along with him. 

"Always the romantic."

"Just goal-oriented," Kurt said, rolling on top of Blaine, propping his chin up with his hands.

"So you spent - what was it, $1,700? You spent all that as part of a plan to get lucky?" Blaine said, shaking his head. "I should tell you: I was a sure thing."

Kurt bracketed Blaines face with his hands, and angled his face to dot the line of his jaw with firm kisses.

"I cant believe you knew the whole time, and never said anything," Kurt said.

"I thought that was the problem with me all along. You stayed mum, too, you know."

"I was going to give it to you for Christmas last year, but..."

Kurt didnt need to finish the sentence. The Christmas vacation that ended in their brief break-up was a subject neither cared to bring up again.

"It wont happen again," Kurt said.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurts waist, pulling him close. He rested his chin on Kurts shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"You cant promise that. Neither can I," he said, punctuating the sentence by placing his lips to Kurts ear lobe.

They stayed like that for several minutes, sharing soft kisses and gentle touches, in no rush to move on.

"The Sotto Voce, should I open it?" Kurt asked.

"Some day, not right now. Lets save it for a while."

"For our anniversary?" Kurt asked, smiling.

"No. I have another idea for that, a tradition to start," Blaine said.

"Do tell."

"The Appoggiatura," Blaine said. "The first vintage. I want it to be our anniversary wine. We can sell the later vintages, but Id like those first bottles to be ours, every year."

Kurt had suspected that Blaine would never sell that first wine that Blaine had dedicated to him, but he had underestimated the sentiment Blaine had attached to the rich, delicate red.

He had made the wine to last, to age well, to live in their cellar for years to come. And based on his plan, Blaine must have fully expected to celebrate a golden wedding anniversary some day.

"You think well make it that long?" Kurt said.

Blaine rested their cheeks together, and closed his eyes.

"Without a doubt."

****