As the clock struck midnight on Christmas Day, Tom and Lydia lay curled by Ben’s fireplace. Tom considered the state of their relationship. It was not a close one, he supposed. Rather, it had been a lengthy and desperate one. He had been enraptured with her when they were young and lustful and desperate for companionship. Theirs had been a relationship of, well, availability. They had even made love in front of this very fireplace in years past, back when they were teenagers, vibrant and na�ve and free, for they knew that surely this life would not last forever.

Yet as the years drug on, they leaned on one another, for each was the only familiarity the other had left as other animals came and went. Each took a turn with Ben on various nights of the month, though neither acknowledged it aloud. Though on those nights, when he lay alone by the fire and Lydia was upstairs, doing things he couldn’t even allow himself to consider, he found himself missing the warm weight of her body against his, the light peppermint smell her fur always carried, the way her tail curled around his at night.

“Merry Christmas,” Lydia murmured as the clock struck midnight, careful not to awaken the other animals, cramped as they slept around them.

“Damn it, Lydia. We’re not teenagers anymore. It’s too late to sit around pitying ourselves, muttering ‘merry fucking christmas’ as if it’s going to change anything. I’m too old to sit here commiserating and whining about this shit.”

Lydia had grown accustomed to Tom’s abrupt changes in mood through the years and sighed, reaching an arm out to wrap around his stomach, hoping to calm him. She had, after all, learned not to take his sharp temper personally.

“That’s not going to work every time, don’t you understand? We’re old, Lydia.”

“I didn’t know you considered me old, Tom,” Lydia murmured, feeling helpless and overly sensitive, tears prickling her eyes.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then help me understand, Tom, because I’m at a loss right now.”

Tom sighed and rolled over, throwing an arm over his eyes, at a complete lack of anything to do, to hope for, restless and anxious with no outlet for his energies.

Lydia turned away from him and said nothing, and Tom pulled her up by the waist, bringing her to sit on the windowsill with him.

“You know I don’t like it when you pull me around like that,” she muttered, Tom’s negative energies rubbing off on her.

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have… just…. I’m frustrated. There’s nothing to do here. I don’t want to waste my life away here. I’m sick of it.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Tom. Not if we want to live.”

“Live for what? We’re hardly living anyway.”

Tom took Lydia’s hand in his and guided it to press against the window. She flinched with the cold but allowed it to remain there.

“Look out there, Lydia. Just look out there. Look at the stars, look at the people, at the lights and the snow and the colors. Don’t you ever want to be out there with them? Experience it for yourself, by yourself, without some human dragging you around by the leash?”

Lydia turned away in frustration. When they were young, she had allowed herself to become wrapped up in Tom’s grandiose visions for the future, of happiness and love and rainbows. And it had led nowhere.

Frustrated, she ripped her hand from Tom’s, walking a few feet away from him and sinking into a corner. “What’s the point of this?” she spat, desperate to hide the tears clouding her eyes. “To make me feel bad about myself, about what we’re going through? To remind me that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I wish and long for things, it makes no difference? Not to me, not to anyone? To make me dream of what I can never have, just to sustain this… existence that means nothing to me anymore?”

She looked so weak, so vulnerable despite her anger, that Tom felt guilt prick at his heart and approached her with tenderness.

“No, Lydia. It’s… that’s what I’m saying. I don’t want to sit here and pretend anymore. And what’s stopping us, really? What’s keeping us from breaking free, from exploring the world on our own?”

“We need owners, Tom. Human owners. You know that.” She said flatly.

“Lydia, I… I know we’re supposed to be submissive or whatever the hell those humans told us since we were young, but all I know is that I love you, and I want to be with you. But more than that.. I want to be free. It’s in my blood, I can’t help myself. I want us to be together, free to experience everything this world has to offer. We can take care of ourselves. We don’t need any owner lording over us, telling us what we can and can’t do.” Tom was pacing fervently back and forth, tail swinging rapidly.

“Well good, then. Let’s sit here and dream some more, pretend that we can do that. Because that’s going to solve all of our problems.” Lydia flung her hands in the air, frustrated, before wrapping them around her bent knees and leaning her head back against the wall behind her.

When she looked back up, Tom had disappeared.

He emerged from around the corner some ten minutes later.

“Tom, what the hell are you… are those Ben’s clothes?”

“The very finest,” he smirked, tipping his hat and spinning in a circle.

Lydia stalked across the room, pulling the hat from his head. “Take these off before Ben sees you,” she hissed. “I don’t know what you’re even thinking anymore, but I’m sick of it.”

“But Lydia, look,” Tom murmured, placing the hat back atop his head and twirling in around. “Do you see ears? A tail? Fur?”

“…no.” Lydia stared at him quizzically, before realization dawned. “You look like… like a human.”

Tom smiled warmly, pulling Lydia in by the waist. “We can leave,” he murmured. “This can be our chance.”

“What am I supposed to wear? It’s not like Ben has a girlfriend or wife, not with the way he make each of us sleep with h-“

“Shhhh, Lydia.” Tom’s face grew serious. “Please don’t make me even think of him doing that to you, love. I just – I know I’m not the same young, happy kid I used to be, but – not to you, I just can’t even think about that.”

Lydia leaned into Tom, expressing unspoken emotions.

“And besides,” he whispered in her ear. “To answer your question, Lydia? You don’t need to hide your fur, dress like a human. I can be your owner.”

Lydia’s eyes widened before she glanced at the rapidly ticking clock. “Okay,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his.

“Okay?” Tom questioned, surprised.

“I trust you, whether I like that fact or not. So okay.”

Tom grinned, opening the door for her as they walked outside.

Neither noticed the pair of gleaming green eyes on the couch, carefully noting their every move before slinking out the front door.

.oO0Oo.

Kurt awoke to sunlight creeping through the windows, and panic rushed through him, tearing into his stomach and ripping to his heart. Sir Morfan hadn’t woken him up. Sir Morfan always instructed him to wake before the sun rose, not that Kurt could manage to anyways, given how late he was forced to stay up, but he surely would have come downstairs to awaken Kurt by now, if not to punish him for oversleeping…

His body jerked instinctively, and he whimpered, grasping his foot in pain as it collided with something blunt, curling into a ball on the corner of the bed…

Oh. The bed. And when he saw Blaine’s eyes jerk wide open and realized in horror that he had kicked the man in the shin, Kurt was filled with a whole new kind of fear, whimpering and tucking himself further beneath the covers as he turned away from him.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” were the only words that greeted Kurt’s ears.

The soft words that had soothed Kurt’s heart earlier now made his insides squirm in discomfort. Why was Blaine so gentle with him? What did Kurt need to do to get the inevitable anger to erupt?

“It’s just me,” Blaine murmured tentatively, misinterpreting the silence. “Blaine. From yesterday, remember?”

Kurt burrowed further beneath the covers as though he could hide from the cloud of guilt that hung over his head at his lapse in judgment, at coming into this man’s house, at using his bed, his clothing, at taking advantage of his kindness, at running away from his owner, which good hybrids were never supposed to do.

“I know it’s going to take a while for you to get used to this, honey. It’s going to be hard to not have a master anymore… but I think you’ll eventually realize how much better off you are.”

Kurt rolled back towards Blaine. Blaine still remained on top of the covers on the other side of the bed, making Kurt feel at once lonely and grateful for the separation. “But you’re… aren’t you?” he whispered, blushing and struggling to not hide his face in the covers. How could this beautiful, perfect man be looking at him with such tenderness?

“Well, I suppose that in the legal sense, I’m your owner,” Blaine mused quietly. “But… sweetheart, in the first place, you should have never been forced or ordered to call anyone your master. That should be something you decide for yourself, of your own free will. That’s a beautiful, beautiful, gift that you give to a human. It’s a gift of yourself, and you are your most precious possession. That human needs to earn your trust, the right to be your master, and he would never, ever abuse you or force you to call him by any title that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“You don’t want-“ Kurt trailed off, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“No, Kurt, of course not. I didn’t…” take you in seemed… harsh, Blaine thought. That wasn’t what this was. “I didn’t invite you here last night to use you. I just want you to be healthy and happy. I want to get you back on your feet.”

“And then what?” Kurt stammered, not meeting Blaine’s eyes.

“Well, you’d be free to leave, I suppose. Or to stay. I’d never make you leave. Not that you’d ever need my permission to leave. You’re free to leave right now, if you’d like. I hope that you wouldn’t, though. I like having you here,” he finished carefully.

Something about the way he’d phrased that.. ‘I like having you here,’ not ‘I want to take care of you…’ it did inexplicable things to Kurt’s quiet whirlwind of emotions, and he sunk back into the sheets, embarrassed and uncomfortable yet placated.

“You still sleepy?” Blaine questioned softly. The intensity in his gaze would have burned into Kurt, were it not so gentle.

Kurt shook his head. He had told the truth, in a way. He wasn’t sleepy, but that was beside the point. More importantly, he didn’t want to bore Blaine as he slept, didn’t want to be a burden.

“Alright. Hungry?”

This time, Kurt couldn’t help himself. He nodded.

“Want to come downstairs with me, or…?”

“I can just wait here, if… if that’s okay.” Right now, he just felt the need to be alone, but… he couldn’t tell Blaine that. He did

Yet from the way Blaine’s alert, caring eyes widened briefly with understanding, Kurt couldn’t thwart the realization that Blaine already knew this. “Of course it’s okay. I’ll just be downstairs for a little while.”

Despite the way his heart ached at the way Kurt mewled slightly and rolled over, Blaine couldn’t help the bounce in his step as he walked down the stairs. He had not been looking forward to this Christmas, not at all. His family parties had that uptight, arrogant air as everyone tried to outshine the other, their boasting about their accomplishments hardly hidden beneath false politeness. He had friends, yes, but their idea of Christmas was heading over to the bars. He had always imagined Christmas as something that carried more meaning. Love and joy and warmth and everything it had meant when he was young and na�ve. He wanted that back. He could have stopped in at the shelter, but as much as he enjoyed caring for the animals, their pain wore heavily on his heart, and his fa�ade of happiness was just that – a fa�ade. Not that caring for the animals didn’t bring him joy, but nursing them back to health and then seeing them again weeks later, matted and downtrodden, the weight of the world on their jaded shoulders – it did things to him. His veterinary teachers had always emphasized the importance of emotional detachment, but Blaine couldn’t change the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve.

Caring for Kurt, though – it was different than caring for the other animals. Not in some clich�, romantic, way, no. He would be lying to himself if claimed to not mean it with every ounce of his being when he called Kurt beautiful, but it wasn’t that. It was having him in his home, safe from the cruelty of the outside world. He could be around him constantly, for once able to give someone his undivided attention without the worry that some lying, abusive owner would whisk him away as soon as he was getting back on his feet. He loved the way Kurt’s eyes lit up just slightly when he said just the right thing. He loved the way he relied on him, not because he wanted him to be weak, but because the fact that Kurt was trusting him to care for his needs warmed his heart.

He loved the opportunity to guide Kurt to see the world anew, for what the world was, or what it had the potential to be.

Blaine waited a while before warming another bottle for Kurt. He wanted to give him the opportunity to reflect and be alone.

When he made his way back into the bedroom, Blaine felt a flutter in his throat at the way Kurt’s chapped lips quirked, just slightly.

“I’m sorry about the bottle again, kitten,” Blaine murmured, approaching the bed carefully. “I just thought that it would be easier, for now…”

“I know,” Kurt said softly. “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. He kept one hand on the bottle over Blaine’s as Blaine held it to his mouth. He enjoyed the way Blaine’s hand would gently follow his lead when he pulled the bottle away momentarily to take a breath, swallow, or wipe his mouth. The trust of it all, the way Blaine could so easily ignore his weak movements and continue to press the bottle to his mouth, choking him with milk, but didn’t… it was nice.

“Thank you so much for finishing all that, honey. It’s so good for you, and I can tell that it’s already making you feel better.” He spoke carefully, sweetly, noting the way Kurt was latching on to his every word. “Would you like to come downstairs? I’d hate to see you waste all Christmas in bed.”

Kurt nodded. Blaine didn’t even need to ask to carry him, for Kurt had already outstretched his arms. Blaine adored the way Kurt clung to his neck, trusting him with his body as he gently laid him on the couch, propping him up with a pillow. Kurt’s eyes instinctively darted about the room, from the glittering lights winding their way down the banister to the golden angel on the endtable. He felt almost uncomfortable, surrounded by such beauty, until Blaine sat delicately beside him.

“It’s so nice to have you here with me,” Blaine said, the sincerity in his voice so achingly obvious that Kurt couldn’t bring himself to doubt him. “I wasn’t exactly looking forward to Christmas, you know… I like the mood around this time of year, I suppose, but the way some people celebrate it is another story.”

Kurt nodded, touched by the way Blaine just… spoke to him, like an actual person. No one had done that since Alan. “My mom always told me that Christmas is supposed to be about celebrating love, and celebrating each other, about the light that each person gives to the world. Things must have changed, I don’t know when, but… it’s not about that anymore.”

“I know, honey. I like to think, though, that… maybe it still can be. Because the only thing that would hurt more than knowing that something’s gone, is knowing that it’s never coming back.”

Something resonated inside Kurt. “It’s hard, though, when some things really are gone forever.”

Blaine sensed Kurt’s sadness but didn’t pry, allowing him to grapple with his own feelings and maybe take comfort in the fact that Blaine was beside him.

“Things like my parents,” Kurt whispered tearfully. The admission stung Blaine’s heart. He had guessed that this had happened to Kurt, from the fact that he was without an owner at such a young age, when hybrids were still living with their parent owners as they searched for the perfect owner for the rest of their lives. But the fact that Kurt actually brought it up…

“They’re not gone. Not really,” Blaine said quietly. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Kurt’s crying paused as he looked towards Blaine questioningly. He felt as though their eyes were truly meeting for the first time. He had never noticed the flecks of amber, the full roundness of their warmth, their hope.

“I couldn’t believe that. Not when I see how beautiful you are, inside and out, how good and lovely you’re being. It takes such a strong, brave person to let someone else take care of them when they’re sick. You must have had wonderful parents

Blaine’s voice was… contemplative, Kurt thought. It didn’t have that sing-song of clich�s and an overly sincere voice. It was like he was thinking out loud, yet his words reached something inside of Kurt that had gone untouched for so, so long.

At a loss for words yet still desperate for comfort and affection, Kurt shyly moved closer to Blaine, nuzzling his head against the man’s shoulder. Blaine picked up on the movement, the request for touch, and reached out a hand to gently stroke the silky fur atop his head. His touch was tender yet held the perfect amount of friction to cause Kurt to sigh contentedly. Blaine allowed his fingers to play across his head to scratch softly behind Kurt’s ears, and the resulting purr lit Blaine’s heart. He fought to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around him, not wanting to lose Kurt’s trust.

“You’re doing so much for me,” Kurt murmured. “What can I do for you?”

Blaine was taken aback, but simply responded, “I’ll never force you to do anything for me, but it would make me deliriously happy if you would continue to just be yourself and let me help you get better.”

Kurt turned his head on Blaine’s shoulder so that he was looking sideways into the man’s eyes. “Really, though..” he murmured.

Blaine slowly landed on the realization that Kurt needed this. He needed to do something for Blaine, to get rid of his guilt and discomfort, to feel like he was doing something of value to someone and not just taking. He was very much like Blaine in that way.

“Well,” Blaine said pensively, still stroking Kurt’s hair, catching the way Kurt’s eyes lit when he looked towards the shiny silver balls on the tree in the corner. “You know how if you go into a store around Christmas time, they have all those Christmas trees with different decorations and a different color scheme for each one?”

Kurt nodded against Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine felt the gentle brush of his long eyelashes against his neck and chuckled lightly. “Well, I have a slight tendency to fall in love with pretty much all of them, but I never get around to putting them all up. Want to help me with that tree behind you? I only put the lights op so far.”

When Blaine saw the first smile he had ever seen from Kurt, he swore his heart… well, glowed. Kurt arched his back as he struggled to get up, so eager to decorate the tree, to please Blaine, but Blaine held him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay, love. You need to rest, so you just stay right there. I mainly need some decorative advice,” he smiled.

Kurt’s eyes brightened when Blaine brought heaps of glimmering garlands, ornaments, bows, ribbons, sequins, and anything he could possibly imagine over, setting them down on the couch beside Kurt. Kurt giggled, gazing down at them in wonder before occupying himself with digging through the box, examining items critically. He held up a box of gold, turquoise, and ruby jeweled ornaments with clamps on the bottom to lock onto the branches. They reminded him of the clamps that, so long ago, had been on his stomach, but when he saw the tenderness in Blaine’s eyes as he watched him dig through the box, he pushed the memory to the back of his mind. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“Ahhh, the birds,” Blaine smiled. “One of my more impulsive purchases.”

“They’re beautiful,” Kurt murmured as he handed them to Blaine, pulling out delicate, swirled gold and silver garland and handing it to Blaine, who chuckled as he untangled it from around Kurt’s arms. He dove back into the box, pausing as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored turquoise ball ornaments, overwhelmed with the memory of the way he had gazed into the mirror that first day, years ago, desperately hoping that his owner would find him beautiful and worthwhile. His fur looked eerily the same as before – Blaine had worked out the mats and fluffed it so that it shone – but… it was different. Kevin had seen him that way, but never called him beautiful. And Blaine had called him beautiful even yesterday, when he had seen Kurt at his worst, matted and bloody. Beauty. It was baffling.

“Oh my goodness, these all look wonderful together,” Blaine laughed, arms full of the decorations Blaine had given him. Kurt blushed at the praise.

Blaine worked quickly to decorate the tree, loving the way Kurt’s head eventually came to rest over the back of the couch, ears twitching attentively as he watched the way the shimmering garland contrasted with the tree’s dark green branches, the way the birds glittered, the way Blaine’s eyes lit as he watched the tree come together. And he thought… maybe he could do this. Maybe he had it in him to make someone else happy, too.

When Blaine headed back over to the couch, he saw Kurt carefully cutting at ribbon. Looking down adorably and biting back a smile, Kurt reached behind his back and handed Blaine a huge bow. It was filled with golds and turquoise and ruby, glimmering arches of ribbon intertwining and folding into one another, perfectly interwoven. “It’s for the top,” Kurt said softly, biting his lip nervously.

Blaine beamed, settling down on the couch beside Kurt as he took the bow from his arms. “You made this?” A small nod. “It’s so beautiful, Kurt. How did you learn to make these?”

“My mom,” Kurt said softly. “She used to design clothes and things, so I’d always help her.” Blaine looked carefully into Kurt’s soft face and saw not the tears he had seen earlier, but just fond remembrance shining in his eyes.

And Kurt wondered… maybe his mother did live in him, after all.

Blaine was still beaming down at Kurt, running his fingers across the bow in wonder. “Thank you so much for making this and helping me with everything, sweetheart. I love this bow so much, and I love that you would make it for me. For us.”

Kurt just gave Blaine a teary smile, his body still weak and exhausted from working on the tree and the bow. Blaine’s face was beautiful and heartachingly sweet, his lap warm and welcoming. Tentatively, he pushed the pillow behind him to the side and leaned slightly to rest his head in Blaine’s lap. He felt a fuzzy red blanket drape over him, and he heard Blaine singing to him soothingly. He reached out a hand, searching drowsily for Blaine’s until he felt Blaine’s fingers intertwine with his own. Pulling their joined hands to rest against his chest, Kurt drifted off to sleep as their tree glistened in the background.