Since their miscommunication (or the day of broken gaydar, as Cooper had named it), Kurt and Blaine find themselves getting a lot closer. The coffee dates at the Westerville coffee house-are they dates?-have grown to be Kurt's favorites, movie nights coming in a close second. In the past three weeks, Kurt has learned that Blaine's love for Broadway is as vast as his own.

"Aunt May, had talked my dad into letting her take me see Wicked. It was life changing Kurt. A dream come true. To be able to walk into Gershwin Theater and, oh, I still can't believe I was able to experience that," Blaine had gushed.

Kurt had looked at him with distaste, "Blaine Anderson, I officially hate you. I would cut off all my limbs to have that experience."

Fashion, while something Kurt would like to one day pursue a career in, is only something Blaine keeps up on at his mother's insistence; he does admit to enjoying Vogue and light shopping, though. Blaine shares his passion for football, and Kurt crinkles his nose at the admission.

"You know Kurt, along with my inability to differentiate hunter green, form Kelly green, I continue to break the stereotype by also enjoying football."

Kurt had laughed, "Oh Blaine, that's nothing. I played football my sophomore year of high school; kicked the winning field goal in the only game won that season."

Blaine's jaw had dropped.

Kurt explains how his playing football was short lived; so short, in fact, that he only played the one game.

Kurt is waiting for Blaine at what is becoming their table, sipping on his non-fat mocha and starring at the cup sitting on the table. Hearing the bell above the door ring, he looks up to see Blaine entering the coffee house. He waves at Blaine to let him know that he's here. Blaine's smile grows wider as he makes his way over to Kurt.

"Is that for me?" Blaine asks, pointing to the cup sitting in the center of the table.

"Yep, figured I'd save you from waiting in line," Kurt says with a smile.

Blaine tosses his bag on the floor, sinks into the empty chair across from Kurt, and takes possession of the drink.

"Blaine Anderson, that is a $300 bag-why would you carelessly throw it on the ground!" Kurt chastises.

Blaine waves off Kurt's comment, "Why wouldn't I 'carelessly throw it on the ground' Kurt, I destroy fresh off the lot Escalades."

"And priceless antiques," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

Blaine pouts, "I don't seek those out, Kurt; it's just whatever happens to be in the war path."

Kurt sighs, shaking his head. "You're like a bull in a china cabinet."

"You wound me, Hummel," Blaine says dramatically.

Kurt chuckles and sips at his coffee, watching Blaine pick his bag off the floor and place it gently on the table. "Better?" he asks Kurt.

"Much."

"So, how was your day?" Blaine inquires.

"Same as any other," Kurt shrugs. "How was school?"

Blaine's expression lights up-how is that even possible-and he rambles on about his day. "The Warbler Council decided to perform at a couple of nursing homes for Christmas. It's something we normally do after the competition season, but they wanted to start a new tradition. It's the greatest idea ever. Who doesn't love Christmas, Kurt? It's my favorite holiday. In fact, it's the only holiday we Andersons do big."

Kurt frowns a little; he's been trying to ignore all the Christmas decorations popping up all over town. Even if Christmas had been his favorite holiday, after losing Burt it had lost its appeal.

Blaine stops his rant, noticing the way Kurt's mood has shifted. "Are you okay?" he asks, confusion and worry, evident in his voice.

"I was just-never mind, it's stupid," Kurt sighs. "Go on with what you were saying."

Blaine shakes his head, "No, Kurt, whatever it is, I doubt it's stupid. Just tell me, please."

"Ever since my mom passed, Christmas has been hard. Dad always tried his best to make it special. He would pull out all the home made ornaments and just try to make every year that much better than the last. Since he's passed, I try to forget there's anything special about the day. It's just too hard. I was under the impression that since your family skipped Thanksgiving, you'd pass over Christmas as well."

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine says as he takes Kurt's hand and gives it a squeeze. "We skip Thanksgiving, because Christmas is a huge holiday for us. Plus, my Dad thinks it's irresponsible to take a single day off just to gorge yourself on food."

"Smart man," Kurt chuckles.

"Look, Kurt, if it gets to be too much, I'm sure everyone will understand if you want to go lock yourself away. I don't suggest it, but no one will be hurt by it."

Kurt gives him a tentative smile, "Okay."

Mrs. Anderson pulls the boys into yet another boutique-they've been shopping for hours, getting last minute gifts for family members coming in for Christmas.

"Oh, Kurt, I love this place," Blaine says while bouncing up and down. "They have the best bowties!"

Kurt laughs, "I'm starting to think your bowtie addiction is worse than your coffee dependence."

Blaine sticks his tongue out as he skips over to the bowtie case. Kurt just shakes his head, making his way over to Mrs. Anderson.

"He'll spend hours in here is we let him," she says. "The only places I see him excited about shopping are here and Brooks Brothers."

Kurt giggles, "Explains the grandpa look."

Mrs. Anderson smiles. "He knows what he likes, and it works for him."

Kurt looks at Blaine and takes in his appearance. His hair is gelled down, almost resembling a helmet. He's wearing a white button down that's tight enough to see his muscles shift under it. A red cardigan covers the shirt, and is just as fitted. A navy bowtie sits, snug, under his Adams apple. Kurt looks lower at the kakis that stop just above the ankle, and can't help but notice the way they hug his ass. Thatass. God, Kurt never wants to stop staring.

"Yeah," he agrees a little breathlessly, "it definitely works for him."

Mrs. Anderson smiles, says, "Well boys, I believe I'm done for the day."

The drive home has Kurt's head spinning as Blaine tries to explain who will be coming, how they are related, and what topics to avoid with whom.

He sighs, "I believe I'll take you up on the offer to hide in my room."

Blaine and Mrs. Anderson chuckle. "It won't be that bad sweetie," she coos. "Just remember to take deep breaths."