Kurt woke up to an itchy crotch. He frowned and tried to roll over, but there was a body over his thighs and suddenly he realized a warm mouth was sinking down on him. A warm mouth lined with thick, itchy stubble.

"Ugh, Blaine, your mouth feels like a scrub brush."

He felt Blaine frown around him and pull back with a pop. "Thats the least sexy thing youve ever said when Ive woken you up with a blow job."

Kurt flung the covers over Blaines head and stared down at his bearded boyfriend. For the first week, the No Shave November idea had been fun, even sexy. It had been nice to see Blaine ungelled and unshaven now that he was in New York with him. Blaine had had stubble for the first time in Kurts memory and feeling that rough scratch whenever Blaine kissed him had been exhilarating. But now, three days from December, Blaine had a full, thick, grizzly beard and Kurt had never hated facial hair, or Sams ideas, more.

"You look like a werewolf," Kurt said, dropping his head back onto his pillow and shutting his eyes. "No blow jobs until you shave that thing. I dont need beard burn on my dick."

"But–" Blaine stroked him slowly and gave the underside of his cock a scratchy kiss. "I want to feel you in my throat. Dont you? When you start pulsing and thrusting like you cant help it because of how tight and hot and–"

"Shut up and shave," Kurt said. "Your words dont work this late in the month."

Blaine groaned and stroked Kurts cock gently a few more times. "Im never listening to Sams dumb ideas ever again."

But Blaine did. The next year, a little over a week before their wedding, Sam and Blaine made the same pact as before: if one of them caved they had to do something crazy that the other decided on.

"Blaine, we are getting married in two days," Kurt snarled. "You look like a hobo!"

"Its only been a week," Blaine protested. "Its not that bad."

Kurt dragged him into the bathroom and placed him in front of the mirror. Blaine winced a little at the sight. What had been stubble three days ago was well on its way to being a thick dark beard.

"Oh, well," Blaine paused and turned his head to admire the sides. "I have to shave, dont I?"

"Yes, you do, Mr. I-Want-A-November-Wedding."

"But its the day we first met," Blaine said. "We couldnt pass that up, not after I proposed where we first met."

Kurt grabbed Blaines razor and a canister of shaving cream from the rack by the toilet. "Shave it, almost-husband."

"Fine," Blaine sighed and turned the water on. "But youre doing whatever Sam decides with me. And hell pick something really dumb like last year."

"Youre the one who shaved three days before December so that you could blow me," Kurt reminded him as Blaine started lathering up his cheeks. "Im sure it wont be that bad."

"That was, hands down, the best blow job Ive ever given," Blaine said as Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaines waist and watched him start on his right cheek. "My throat was raw for a week."

"Mmm," Kurt kissed the newly shaven spot and tucked his chin over Blaines shoulder. "I did black out pretty hard."

Behind them, Sam appeared, yawning and in his boxers. "Hey, guys, whats– I win again! Ha!"

Blaine glowered at the doorway as Sam raced off, still shouting and whooping. "Only because Im getting married," Blaine mumbled. "We should have done Valentines Day like you wanted."

Kurt shook his head as Blaine continued shaving off his stubble. But a week after their honeymoon when they returned to New York and officially moved into their own apartment a block away, Kurt had to agree. There was a box on the kitchen counter with a note in Sams messy, jumbled writing: Wear these when you met us in Rockefeller for the tree lighting. Rachels bringing the camera for your first official Christmas card as husbands!

Inside, was a matching pair of Santa Hats and two tiny thongs in the shape of long candy canes.

Underneath those was another note taped to a box of ornaments: Dont forget to put on your Jingle balls! xoxo Rachel

Beside him, Blaine held one of the little thongs up to his hips. "We have the worst taste in best friends."

"Papa, why are you and Daddy nakie in that picture?"

Blaine blushed as their oldest, five-year-old Abigail, clambered onto his lap and pointed at the enormous picture hung over the fireplace. Burt and Carole had laughed themselves right out of their lungs when theyd received it that first Christmas theyd been married. Ten years later, it still hung in a much larger form over the fireplace back in Lima every Christmas.

"That was Papa and Daddys first Christmas card as husbands," Blaine explained as Kurt came in with a tray of hot cocoa. "Your Uncle Sam and me made a silly bet and I lost."

"Oh," Abigail said as Kurt handed her a little sippy cup. "Is Teagan gonna get one when hes older to cover his wee-wee?"

Burt choked and dribbled hot cocoa down his front. Beside him, Carole paused in rocking baby Teagan in her arms.

"No, sweet pea," Kurt said as he glared over at his father. "They dont make those anymore unless theyre to punish someone. Ruthie, sweetie, you cant unwrap those yet."

As Kurt tugged the two-year-old out from under the tree, Burt leaned over to Blaine.

"Well take it down after they go to bed."