Glorious Christmas

Blaine was sleepy, sitting by the fire and waiting for the flames to really catch. Rubbing his arms to warm himself up a bit, he looked around his brother's cabin. It was larger than the one he used to live in, but about the same age. As soon as he got to the cabin, Blaine carefully built the fire from crumpled newspapers, a pyramid of kindling, and sturdy hardwood mixed with a bit of pine. It smelled fantastic. He knew this was going to be a good Christmas.

Cooper and August were gone from the mountain for the first time in Blaine’s memory. They were so much a part of the life here on Warner Mountain that their absence was felt by everyone. Of course his brother would be back, he and his husband were just gone to a warmer place for the holidays. Like Blaine and Kurt, Coop and August lived in a modern house now and the cabin was mostly unused. They had graciously let Blaine use it for the Christmas holiday when he asked – he wanted to be alone with Kurt this year to celebrate their ten years of marriage. The twins, Katura and Jordan, were spending the next three days with their grandparents, Burt and Carole, down the mountain in Philomath.

Kurt was due to be back here any time - he had taken the children to their grandparents' house and stopped by his office to drop off some plans for a new children's library on the campus of the charter school. He’d already been gone since nine this morning, but Blaine knew how difficult it could be for Kurt to leave his father’s house. Once they started talking it could go on for hours.

Blaine began to think of other Christmases, some from long ago. He remembered when he lived in the tiny cabin – the one that he’d later lived in alone and finally with Kurt before they had their big house. This memory was from back when his father, Sterling, lived with them. Blaine was about twelve years old.

~*~

“Blaine! Get in here with that firewood and shut the door. I’m not trying to warm all of Warner Mountain!” his dad called.

Blaine just laughed. His dad might have sounded gruff but Blaine knew he was just a big teddy bear and this was his way of joking. Nonetheless, he hurried in with the canvas carrier full of mixed hardwood and soft sugar pine to set the fire. He also brought enough to fill the fire box of the stove so they could get supper ready. Cooper would be back any time now with either a turkey, a bag of doves, or some other delicious thing to cook for Christmas tomorrow.

Blaine had hung his stocking alongside Cooper’s and Dad’s. He hadn’t known what to ask for as a present from Santa, so when he wrote his letter to the North Pole he had left it up to the jolly fat elf to give him whatever he deemed appropriate. Maybe a new pair of thermal underwear and wool socks – it was the coldest winter the boy could remember.

Lenore was always hanging around and since she was about his same age they were often interested in the same things. Just last week she said that there was no such thing as Santa Claus, that it was their parents that left presents in their stockings. Blaine thought she was probably right, but it was a tradition in his family that they open their stockings on Christmas morning and Blaine really enjoyed it. So maybe it was okay to believe, just one more year.

When everything was done, fire going both in the fireplace and the stove, Blaine fussed with the dishes, straightening them on the table, then filled the sugar bowl and salt shaker. He felt fidgety. He’d only just decided he liked to look at boys in the Sears catalog instead of girls and he wasn’t sure what that meant. The guys in the gym that trained with Cooper always talked about girls and it bored Blaine. He didn’t understand why anyone would find them interesting but all they guys seemed to. It was confusing. He had begun to screw up his courage to talk about his feelings with his dad – but he wasn’t quite there yet.

“Blaine, stop fussing like an old lady and come sit down. You’re nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” his dad smiled, pulling out a chair from the myrtle-wood table he’d made. It was sturdy, like all the furniture in the cabin. Some of the pieces had been made by Blaine’s grandfather, but most of them by his dad.

“Sure, Dad. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today. Anxious to see what Coop will bring home I guess,” Blaine smiled at his dad.

“Well, let’s play a game of cribbage while we wait, okay, son?”

“Sure thing, Dad. You know I’m gonna whip you at it though….” Blaine grinned. The older he got the more games he won with his dad.

“Don’t count your chickens, Blaine,” his dad winked. “Cut to see who deals first.”

Blaine cut and got an five of spades. Sterling cut and turned up a eight of hearts.

“You got the low card, so its your deal, Blaine, and I'm the Pone.”

Blaine laughed at the word. 'Pone' was the word for the non-dealer. Cribbage was a game not just of mathematical calculation, but of etiquette, rules, and intuition. He was proud each time he learned another aspect of play and it had become his favorite game.

Blaine dealt the cards, six to each of them, smiling as he checked his hand and threw a pair of jacks into his crib. He hoped his dad would give him something to work with. He blinked and knew there would be no fives thrown carelessly his way, not by his father. That would make it too easy and his dad never gave an inch with cards. He rethought his hand, picked up the jacks and threw in his seven and eight. That left the ace and four to go with the pair of jacks to make score of six when he counted at the end. With fifteen in the crib for two points he might make a good start. His eyes really lit up when his dad turned a jack as the Starter.

“That's two for his heels!” Blaine said, pegging two points on the cribbage board with his nail. The cribbage board was older than Blaine, made by Sterling's grandfather when he first came to be a lumberjack so many years ago. The hand-whittled pegs had become so fragile that Sterling put them away in a drawer and they used nails as pegs now.

Counting the Starter that his dad turned up (the jack) Blaine had a Pair Royal in his hand now (three-of-a-kind) that would count six points at the end of this round. With all the combinations of Fifteens, he had a very good hand, but he was careful to keep his face neutral.Or so he thought.

“Blaine, I know you have a good hand now – your eyes twinkle when you're excited,” his father observed and Blaine blushed. “Take my advice, son, and never play poker.”

The game progressed over the next half hour, the same words used over and over as they pegged or counted their hands...’fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six and a pair is eight’. Blaine had begun playing cribbage as soon as he could hold the cards and count. He was pretty good – he won against a lot of the lumberjacks around camp but very rarely beat either his brother or his dad. Today was no exception apparently. He was still a few holes away from winning but his dad would count his hand first. Unless he could peg out, he was a gonner.

It must be a Christmas miracle because his dad played a king and Blaine played his king, pegging two for a pair. Then in the next play he got the last three cards and pegged his nail the last hole and won. He got up and did a whirl, then sat down and shook his father’s hand like a gentleman should.

“Good game, Blainers. You got lucky at the end, I should have won that one,” his dad laughed.

“Hello the house!” they heard from down the path. Blaine grinned, getting up to open the latch on the cabin door.

“Cooper! What did you get?” Blaine asked, looking at the fat game sack that hung from Cooper’s shoulder.

Coop made his way inside, setting the bulging game bag on the table before removing his coat and gloves and sitting on the settee by the fire.

“Dad and I played cribbage...I pegged out,” Blaine grinned, proud of himself.

“You did? Well, good for you. Maybe I can play you a game after supper and you can have some real competition,” Coop laughed.

Sterling was anxious to see what Coop had brought home from his foray into the forest. This was the first year his son had gone by himself to get Christmas supper. It was a real right of passage in the Anderson family and Cooper looked happy, so maybe he was able to get a few ducks or something.

Blaine was even more eager to see what his brother brought and slowly sidled his way over to the table.

“Please, Cooper, can I see?” he pleaded. He used his best puppy eyes and Coop gave in.

“It looks huge -did you get a turkey?” Blaine asked.

“I didn't think there were any turkeys around this year, did you go as far a Mt. Russell?” Sterling asked, looking concerned. Cooper shook his head 'no'.

Blaine opened the sack to find a large goose, gutted and plucked.

“Oh! Goose for Christmas? Cooper, you know that’s my favorite!” Blaine crowed, grinning at his beloved brother. “And three fine trout for tonight,” he added.

“I got the goose early in the day, so I sat and fished while I plucked the bird. It was better than getting all those feathers in the house. You’ll find a few sprigs of sage in the front pocket along with mushrooms and I dug some potatoes, too,” Coop explained.

Blaine was practically drooling, thinking of the supper they’d have tomorrow. He loved Christmas.

~*~

Blaine shook himself awake. He remembered that Christmas in the little cabin – roast goose with potatoes browned in the grease, dressing made with wild mushrooms, cubes of Shannon’s bread, and sausage made from the deer his father had shot at the beginning of winter. He’d made mincemeat pie for dessert – a recipe he'd learned from Shannon and Cookie. He remembered how proud he was of that pie.

Maybe he could make one this year, the recipe was still in his cookbook. He thought about all the people that had contributed to that cookbook. His father had given it to him that very Christmas, when he was twelve. It had been his mother’s and was written in her handwriting. The recipes were handed down from both her side of the family and Dad’s.

Some of the recipes were just plain funny to read – how to make fig wine from some distant Irish great grandfather. There were recipes for roast raccoon (how could anyone kill a cute little raccoon?) and how to make soap in a tin washtub. Some of the recipes were things he’d done every day for most of his life: churn butter, set milk out on the back of the stove to clabber to make cottage cheese, make cheese from the goat milk. He could mix and put a stew to simmer or bake a rabbit pie without even a thought since he was ten.

He learned to bake watching his dad and Cooper make biscuits every morning, or cinnamon rolls or coffee cake. He could make a cake of cornbread with his eyes closed, or fry a trout. Rabbit pie graced his table more often than any other dish because rabbits were so plentiful on the mountain. Years later he'd even taught Kurt how to make one. Some things just didn’t need recipes. He hesitated to write down the simple instructions until Kurt reminded him that they now lived in a modern house and their children might want to know how their Tatay did things when he was young.

Thinking of Kurt put a smile on Blaine’s face.

He wanted this to be the best Christmas they had ever had. He had a surprise and was anxious about how Kurt would receive it – it had been in the works for months now.

He looked at his watch and thought Kurt should be here any time now, even if he’d gotten caught up in a conversation with Burt, the man wouldn’t want Kurt to drive up the mountain in the dark. Blaine laughed. After all these years on the mountain, Kurt could probably drive up here blindfolded in a snowstorm but Burt worried anyway.

Blaine had spent one Christmas in Ohio his last year of school. He lived with the Hummels and went to McKinley High with all the crazy kids in the New Directions. Some of those kids had ended up being his friends for life. Rachel married Kurt’s brother, Finn. Noah had married Blaine’s childhood companion, Lenore. He had seen Mercedes, Sam, Santana, and Brittany just a few months ago. Mike and Tina had come one summer to visit and on a trip to New York to see Finn and Rachel they had caught up with Quinn, Artie, and Rory. Yes, he’d made many good friends in that one year. Life was funny sometimes.

It was getting warm in the cabin now, the fire sending its warmth into every corner of the room. Blaine got up to make sure the bed was made with clean sheets. Check. He searched the cupboards to find the pans he’d need for cooking. Check. Maybe it was time to stoke the firebox in the stove? He put a few wads of newspaper loosely in the box and built a pyramid of pine kindling, then added some hickory for a sustained fire. Check. He stirred the venison stew that was simmering gentle at the back of the stove. He even set the table and put the bottle of wine out the back door to get cool. Then he got busy making a mincemeat pie.

Kurt should be here by now.

Blaine sat back down on the soft sofa by the fire. He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew he was asleep.

~*~

Kurt was struggling to get the old Navigator to behave. The snow was deep here and just when he got it past the treacherous switchback without fishtailing, he ran over something and heard the tire blow. He limped the old SUV to the side of the road and stopped just short of the soft shoulder.

Getting out, he pulled his gloves on tighter and send a silent thank you to his husband for giving him the thick, gloves lined with rabbit fur. He got a shovel out of the back and started moving enough snow away that he could get the spare tire on. It took a while, but eventually he had the spare on the vehicle and was back on his way home. Who would have ever guessed that Kurt Hummel, fashionista of his high school would end up wearing flannel and jeans most every day and living in a log cabin in the woods.

He grinned to himself, remembering his sophomore year of high school:

Kurt was decorating the house, anticipating the evening when his dad would be home for supper. They had put the ornaments on the tree the night before – one of his favorite traditions. As each ornament came out of the box they would talk about it – where it came from, which year it had been added to the tree, who it had been passed down from or who had given it to them. There were ones from Kurt's grandparents' trips to Europe and Australia: pewter baby-in-the-manger from Italy, embroidered felt sheep from New Zealand; there was even one from Burt and Carole's trip to Niagra Falls. A few were from friends in exotic lands from when Kurt had traded ornaments with pen pals from Africa and South America. Many were from friends closer to hand – a glass apple from Rachel, a paper kitten from Brittany, a tiny red and green stocking from Sam knitted by his mother.

The last ones to be put on the tree were from family. There were two stags made of Mercury glass brought from England with a grandparent whose name was lost in memory. Passed down from Burt's grandparents were fragile blown glass fantasies. Kurt had spent many afternoons as a child making up stories in his head about them: the unicorn, the knight on his steed, the princess. Burt told him they had been made in the last century when the Brothers Grimm were popular in Germany.

They put the decorations on the tree, carefully hanging each in their place of best advantage. There was the antique bubbler from Grandma Stella. Burt and Kurt laughed, as they always did, at Burt's imitation of the old lady. At the end there was only the angel that Elizabeth had embroidered.

“I remember when your mom made this. She was pregnant with you and she started it in the middle of summer. I kidded her about that – Christmas in July and all,” Burt started the story.

“There is still the tiny spot of blood on the inside of the hem where she pricked her finger,” Kurt pointed out.

“Yeah, I remember that. You know she took over a month to get it all done. Oh, Kurt, she was so proud of that. She said it would be yours to have for the rest of your life, something to hand down to your children,” Burt said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Kurt went over to sit by his dad on the sofa and snuggled into his arms. He put his head on his dad's chest, taking in the smell of Old English cologne and clean flannel. It was instant comfort and Kurt wondered why he didn't do it more often.

“Thank you, Dad, for keeping her memory alive for me,” Kurt whispered. Burt's arm squeezed around Kurt and both men sighed.

After a while they got up, Burt placing the angel on top of the tree and Kurt getting out his mother's perfume bottle. He'd tied a ribbon around the neck so it could be hung on the tree. Before he placed it, he opened the stopper and took a deep breath – the flowery, spicy, feminine scent curled up his nose as he closed his eyes. Burt leaned a bit closer and sniffed, too. The scent made the memories of his wife come fresh in his mind and he blinked back tears. It was a jumble of dancing in the kitchen, eating a picnic by the stream in the meadow, walking in the rain down starlit sidewalks....so many memories of the love of his life. Burt stepped away, turning to put the packing back into the boxes to set away in the office until Christmas was over for another year and they packed it all back in the attic.

Standing in the office, Burt wanted to go out to the garage to make sure there was room for Kurt's present. One of the guys from work was going to bring it over late Christmas Eve but Burt was still a bit anxious.

“Dad, dinner's on the table,” Kurt called. It might just be the two of them, but Kurt worked hard to make the holiday festive and fun.

“Oh, roast beef? I knew I smelled something wonderful!” Burt crowed. He had gotten used to eating that rabbit food that Kurt called 'healthy'. A man can only eat so many salads before he goes crazy.

“It won't hurt to have it once a year, Dad. Think of it as a present to you from me,” Kurt deflected. He was glad the roast had turned out – he wasn't sure of his cooking skills around large beef cuts.

“What are these?” Burt asked, dishing something from a bowl onto his plate.

“Yorkshire pudding. Mercedes' mother taught me how to make them. It's like popover bread – you put gravy over them,” Kurt explained. Burt smiled. It smelled delicious and anything he got to slather gravy over was good with him.

Kurt blinked, looking over the blanket of snow covering the familiar path up the mountain. The first time he came up here in a car (It was Mr. Warner's hummer) it was barely a gravel logging road. That had changed over the years and it was now a paved mountain road. He glanced up and saw the first stars coming out. Blaine might be worried, but it wouldn't pay to drive any faster and get into a wreck, so Kurt doggedly kept on. He knew from experience that his cell phone had no reception here. His mind went back to that last Christmas he spent alone with his dad.

It was Christmas morning. He'd gotten in a bit late last night after spending the evening with Rachel, Mercedes and Tina. His dad seemed a bit anxious, but nothing Kurt could pin down. Numerous questions had brought no new information, so Kurt decided to just wait and keep an eye on him.

“I made coffee and there's a cinnamon rolls that Mercedes' mom sent,” Kurt said, getting small plates from the cupboard. “You can even have a cup of regular coffee today- no decaf!” Kurt grinned.

“Let's open presents first?” Burt called back.

What? His dad always made him eat first. What was going on?

Kurt would play along, though. He wanted his dad to be happy. He carried two mugs of coffee into the living room where the tree shone and sparkled with light.

“Here's one for you and one for me,” Burt announced as soon as they were seated. He was smiling and Kurt smiled back.

Kurt tore open the edge of his package gently, tucking in the tape as he went and folding the paper to be used next year. His dad saved everything – including Christmas wrapping paper. There was a box of it that had been used year after year.

“Are you sure we need to save all this paper? I'm pretty sure there's some paper in the bottom of that box that the Three Magi wrapped the presents to the Christ Child,” Kurt kidded his dad. He picked up the box and sniffed loudly. “Yep, that's frankincense all right.”

Burt rolled his eyes.

“It's my thriftiness that is going to pay your way to college, young man. Remember that.”

Kurt laughed and put his hand on his dad's forearm and squeezed.

“I love you, Dad,” he said sincerely.

“Love you, too, son.”

Kurt opened the box to find a silk scarf in just the right shade of blue to match his new shirt. It paid to send Mercedes along with his dad when he went shopping.

“Oh, thank you!” Kurt crowed, smiling as he tied the scarf around his neck. Burt smiled and then turned to open his own gift, a pair of warm gloves from L.L.Bean. They opened each gift, unhurried as they sipped coffee, until they were all done. Kurt had a modest pile of things – clothes, DVDs, books – in front of him. Burt did, too, including the usual flannel shirts, jeans, and tools he had mentioned liking.

“Let's watch that Christmas movie, okay?” Burt asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“What movie?”

“You know...Die Hard!” Burt laughed. He said this every year and Kurt fell for it every year. His son rolled his eyes and Burt grinned and got up to put it in the disc player and turn on the wide-screen.

“Really, Dad?” Kurt drawled.”I'll watch it with you, but then we watch White Christmas. It's a war movie you know,” Kurt laughed.

“Hey, I forgot one present. Can you go get it out of the back of my truck?” Burt asked. “Put on your coat – that garage is cold.”

Kurt got up slowly to follow his father's instructions, drawing on his warm pea coat before stepping into his boots.

Burt followed, secretly slipping into his own coat and following his son down the hall to the garage door. He grabbed the edge of the door and opened it as Kurt's eyes grew huge.

There in the place where Burt used to park his work truck was a shiny black Lincoln Navigator – complete with a huge red bow and an extra large tag that read, 'Merry Christmas, Kurt! Love, Dad'.

It wasn't new, but it was in excellent condition. Burt had tuned it up and fixed everything to make it like new then worked on polishing it until it shone. “Oh, my god, Dad!!!” Kurt whispered, turning to bury himself in Burt's arms. “I can't believe it! Dad!”

~*~

Yes, that was one of the best days ever. Burt always went above and beyond to make Kurt know he was loved. Kurt wiped a tear from his eye and paid more attention to the road. He was almost home.

Driving up to the house, he got out and gathered the sacks and packages. He needed to get to Cooper's cabin, but the Navigator wouldn't make it up that narrow path. He stopped to take in a breath of fresh, pine-scented air and smiled. This was the smell of home and he could feel himself relax.

Then it was off to the stable to get old Caesar the mule from his stall and fit him with his bridle and saddle, then placing his packages in the saddle bags. He slipped his present to Blaine into one of the large over-size pockets of his shearling coat.

Just as he was leaving the stable, Shannon came out of the dining hall.

“Wait up, Kurt. I have something for you,” she called and came over with a large bag.

“Hi, Shannon!” Kurt greeted her. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, sweet pea. I have something for you. One of the guys shot this yesterday and left it with me for Blaine – it's his favorite. I added some mushrooms and potatoes, too,” she said, tying the whole thing over the saddle horn. It wouldn't fit in the saddle bags.

“Well, thank you. I know he'll love it. You and Cookie have a wonderful Christmas.”

“You, too, honey.”

Kurt made his way up the mountain to the cabin. He sang as he went, marveling at the pristine snow that covered everything. The evergreen trees were dark on the hillside but the full moon shone so bright he had no trouble following the path. It wasn't too terribly long before he could hear Blaine singing back to him.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

By the time Kurt and Caesar reached the small stable at the back of the cabin, Blaine was there. He opened the door to the barn and Claudius brayed out to his fellow mule from his stall. Blaine started removing the packages to take in the house while Kurt forked some hay into the manger for the mules to share before unsaddling Caesar.

“I already fed Claudius and put enough for Caesar, too,” Blaine said, taking a few packages and the sack Shannon had sent.

“Oh, well, I was just making sure,” Kurt said, getting the rest of the packages and following his husband.

“What's in here? It's heavy,” Blaine asked.

“It's from Shannon – from one of the lumberjacks - she said it was your favorite?”

“No, it couldn't be!” Blaine squealed, opening the bag and reaching in to pull the heavy object up so he could see in the bright moonlight. “Yes! It's a goose!”

“A what? I thought goose was greasy and not very good,” Kurt said, tipping his head to the side in a quizzical manner.

“Have you ever had goose?” Blaine asked. Kurt shook his head in the negative. “Well then, don't judge. I promise you'll love it.”

“Okay, I trust you,” Kurt said, looking a bit dubious.

Blaine grinned, then licked his lips at the memory of roast goose with oven-browned potatoes cooked in goose fat. Kurt was in for a treat.

The couple settled on the sofa in front of the fire. Kurt was a bit chilled from his ride through the moonlit night and lay with his head in Blaine's lap. He was under a warm wool afghan that Blaine had knit for Cooper years ago. Blaine's arm was draped over Kurt's waist, drawing patterns on his belly as they talked.

“How were the twins about having Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa?” Blaine asked.

“Fine. They wanted me to come get you and bring you back for Christmas morning. I explained that we were having a daddies-only Christmas, but would be back for them on January third. Jordan hugged me, you know how he is, and didn't say anything more. Katie had her hands on her hips, telling me how it was going to be until her Grandma took her in to bake cookies. I think they'll be okay,” Kurt said. He looked up at Blaine with pouty lips and got the kiss he wanted.

“It's their first Christmas without us,” Blaine whined. “I just feel kind of funny about that I guess,” he sighed.

“They're nine years old, honey. I think they will be just fine,” Kurt smiled.

“I know. I just miss them...” Blaine leaned over to give Kurt another kiss. “I have some venison stew on the back of the stove and a loaf of bread if you're hungry.”

“What, no rabbit pie? I thought we were going to be all nostalgic tonight,” Kurt laughed.

“You know as well as I do that rabbits are skinny this time of year. If you want a pie made of winter rabbit, I can go set some snares...” Blaine said. “But you'll be eating it alone. I want venison stew.”

“No, the venison sounds – and smells – wonderful. What were we going to have tomorrow if I hadn't brought the goose?”

“Ham. Cooper left us a beautiful smoked shoulder. We can have that for New Year's now,” Blaine smiled.

“Sure, sounds good. Do you think the kids will like their presents?” Kurt asked, looking apprehensive.

“Let's see...nine-year-olds, been asking for ponies since they were three and your father hired ponies for their birthday party...hmmm?” Blaine laughed. “What do you think?”

“Okay, Yeah. On the way home I was remembering the year my dad got me the Navigator. Gosh, I about had a heart attack. He never breathed a word about it – then sent me to the garage and there it was. I can't believe it still runs. I mean, it's over 20 years old,” Kurt said, smiling at the memory again. “Oh! I forgot to tell you, I had a flat on the way home.”

“In town?”

“No, halfway up the mountain, just after the switchback where Katie fell off her donkey and broke her arm that summer?” Kurt relayed.

“Kurt! That's the worst part of the whole road. Did you have any trouble getting it changed?”

“No, my husband gave me warm gloves for my birthday, so I was fine,” Kurt stopped and kissed Blaine's lips. “There's enough equipment in the back of that SUV to start a new colony so, no, I didn't have any problem. I just need to get the tire fixed. Well, probably get a new set of tires – those are getting old. I'll do it when we go get the kids from Dad's.”

“Okay, baby. I'm sorry you had trouble. I just thought you got into talking with your dad and let the time get away,” Blaine said as he leaned down to give Kurt yet another kiss before standing up to go work on supper.

“Well, there was that. Noah and Lenore came over while I was there. Anthony and Sarah are getting so big, I hardly recognized them. Lenore let Noah give Tony a mohawk! What eight-year-old needs a mohawk?” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Blaine laughed. “I bet Grandma Sophie had something to say about that,” he grinned, thinking about Puck's grandmother.

“Finn and Rachel were there. They're staying until the first part of February, so you can see them before they go back to New York. With getting his license for social work in New York now, Finn is happy to be there. Rachel has a play starting in February. Her doctor gave her the green light to go back as long as she doesn't let too much stress build up,” Kurt reported, getting up to follow Blaine to the kitchen area of the cabin.

“Are they still taking about having kids?”

“I guess right now it isn't in the works. They are thinking about adoption next year, though,” Kurt smiled. They had been sad that Rachel's health wasn't good enough for her to get pregnant, but he knew his brother and sister-in-law would make good parents.

“Is that all the gossip?” Blaine asked, getting up to set the bowls on the table and dish up the stew.

“Ah, well, Puck is doing well at the garage. He and Lenore are still insistent on taking a reduced part of their profits since they don't work on the mountain – in spite of our objection, but you know that. I guess nothing has changed there. With us moving operations from Warner Mountain over to Mt. Russell it will get quiet around here,” Kurt sighed. He knew Blaine would be gone more often if work was on the next mountain.

“Kurt, baby, will you quit worrying. I will still be home with you most nights. What do you want me to do? Build another house on Mt. Russell?” Blaine asked. He walked over and put his arms around his husband, pulling him close and kissing his neck.

Kurt's eyes lit up. Why hadn't he thought of that? He could plan and draw an even better house over there. Although they used plans he had drawn, he hadn't really been in on the construction of the house where they lived now. He pulled back to look at Blaine.

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes searching Blaine's.

“Oh, Kurt. There is no road yet, there is no electricity, no water pipes, no nothing on that mountain. Do you want to live in a one-room log cabin?”

“We've done it before...” Kurt reminded him.

“With two nine-year-olds?”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot for a moment. Well, maybe we can plan something?” Kurt begged.

Blaine just hugged him again, drawing him over to sit at the table and serving him a bowl of stew and a chunk of fresh bread to dip in it. He set the butter and silverware on the table along with two glasses of water..

“Wow, that smells delicious, Babe,” Kurt smiled.

“It's just simple food,” Blaine deflected, blushing at the praise.

“But you make 'simple' food better than anyone on earth, baby. Thank you for taking such good care of me,” Kurt said sincerely.

“You're gonna have me in tears in a moment,” Blaine took a big bite of stew and chewed so he didn't have to say anything else. He was a little embarrassed. Kurt winked at him and Blaine smiled.

Later that evening it started to get cold, the wind was blowing and the temperature dropped.

“I better go check on the mules. I'll be right back,” Kurt said, putting on his coat and slipping on his gloves.

“Okay, Kurt. Make sure you lock the barn door tightly. That wind sounds wicked.”

As soon as Kurt was out the door, Blaine went to the wall and got the bed-warmer out. He filled it with coals and slid it between the sheets. The fire kept the cabin warm enough, but through the night the air cooled and the fire burnt down, making for a frosty morning. He banked the fire as best as he could and fed the stove a bit more just to keep another heat source going.

Out in the barn Kurt looked through the manger of hay. He's put Blaine's present there, but was worried it might get too cold. Well, he could give it to him tonight instead. He shoved it into his big jacket pocket, made sure Claudius and Caesar were bedded down for the night with blankets on their backs and oats in the manger.

“Good night, fellas,” he whispered and left. Locking the barn door behind him.

Back in the cabin, Kurt busied himself by the door, taking off his coat and stowing his present in the box used for firewood by the door. He checked – yes, there was plenty of firewood by the fireplace.

“I thought you might want to wash up, so there's a pan of hot water by the bed on the little table,” Blaine grinned. He'd washed up with Kurt when they first met – but mostly because he wanted to see Kurt naked. Kurt grinned at him and they both started laughing.

“Sure, my sly husband. Up to your old tricks?” Kurt asked, removing his boots and then starting to unbutton Blaine's shirt. They removed each other's clothing, a piece at a time until they were both naked. Blaine took a cloth and then poured a bit more water into the washtub from the tea kettle. He began washing Kurt's face, wiping the grime from the road from his skin. He must have had a hard time changing that tire, he was spattered with bits of mud.

Blaine worked his way down Kurt's body, washing with the hot water, drying him on a soft towel as he went so Kurt didn't get cold.

“Thank you, baby,” Kurt murmured, pulling Blaine close to his body to keep warm. “Let me wash you...”

So Kurt took a new cloth and towel and washed Blaine.

“Should we wear our thermal underwear to bed to keep warm?” Kurt asked, smiling at Blaine in the dim light.

“Oh, I think you can keep me warm without that,” Blaine teased back. He went over to the bed and moved the bed warmer around to make sure the sheets were warm, then pulled it out. He went to the fireplace, pulling a brick from near the fire and wrapped it in several thicknesses of flannel and placed it at the foot of the bed, then jumped in and opened the sheets in invitation to Kurt.

“Can you feel my heart beating? You have no idea how much it excited me to get in that bed with you in your tiny cabin when we first met. I was half in love with you from the first day, baby, and being so close to you? Well, just imagine,” Kurt sighed, putting his arms around Blaine's shoulders.

“Oh, I don't have to imagine...I was in love with you, too. I couldn't believe I had you in my cabin. I would make up reasons to hold your hand. Well, not at first – I didn't have to make up reasons then, I was sure you were going to tumble down the mountain by yourself on those slick heels you were wearing! I held on to you so you wouldn't disappear on me,” Blaine kidded.

“Hey, that's no fair...”

“City kid.”

Kurt blushed, knowing Blaine was right. Kurt had never been outside of the city in his life when he landed in Blaine's lumber camp all those years ago.

“Yeah, I guess I was. Lucky for me I had you to teach me,” Kurt smiled, leaning in close to kiss down Blaine's shoulder.

“I think we both taught each other a few things – and discovered more,” Blaine laughed good-naturedly. He was so thankful he'd been there that day and saved Kurt. “Remember our first kiss? Or the first time you did this?”

Kurt was ready by the time Blaine worked his way down is chest to nibble at the soft skin of his belly.

“Blaine....” he muttered, sliding under the blankets with Blaine to keep warm.

“Yes, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, just wait a minute and I'll show you.”

Kurt smiled and found the lube he'd hidden in the pillow case.

“I want you, Blaine. Now?”

“Ah....” Blaine blinked, unable to see a thing under the blankets. He heard the distinct click of the bottle, though. Kurt's warm hands ran down his sides and pulled him close, rubbing his back as soon as they were skin to skin. He hitched his leg up on Kurt's hip, opening a path for his hands.

“Do you want top or bottom?” Kurt asked.

“Bottom,” he answered, his lips finding Kurt's and kissing him thoroughly. He liked both topping and bottoming, but early in their marriage Kurt had sustained a tear and had been just a touch shy of bottoming ever since. While he did enjoy that position, he had to work his psyche up to it and Blaine wanted him right now.

Kurt's fingers found what they had been searching for and he began to rub gently, taking his time and kissing Blaine all the while. He liked kissing his neck the best – and the tender skin in the hollow under his ears.

“Oh, Kurt, you know I can't resist that,” Blaine whispered, stretching his neck to give Kurt more room to maneuver. He loved the feel of Kurt's fingers opening him and pushed himself forward against Kurt's hip for some friction.

“Eager tonight?” Kurt asked, taking Blaine in his other hand to stroke him while he was still working him open.

“Yes, baby. Always.”

They worked together, first with gentle hands, then the stretch and slide of their bodies as they made slow, serious love to each other. They ended in each others' arms, still kissing and rubbing their cheeks together.

“You need a shave,” Kurt said, rubbing his cheek against Blaine's once more time. He loved the feel of Blaine's day-old beard. He got a small chuckle in return. Blaine reached up to kiss his lips, then reached over to get the wash cloth he'd left beside the bed to clean up a bit before they went to sleep.

Kurt got up to get their thermal pajamas and stocking caps. He slid back into bed and they got their pajamas on.

“I thought you were making fun of me the first time you handed me one of these,” Kurt said, a nostalgic smile gracing his face as he pulled the stocking cap down to his ears.

“Yeah, I could tell by your expression, but I was right, wasn't I?” Blaine giggled.

“Yes, Mr. Mountain Man. I was the dumb City Kid and yes, you were right,” Kurt laughed. He leaned over to kiss his husband once more.

“You were never dumb. Maybe naïve about the mountains, but not dumb. Look at how scared I was when you took me to Lima? I'd never seen an elevator – or moving stairs!” Blaine said, his eyes big.

“An escalator. Yes, that first day we took you to the mall was rather enlightening. It was fun introducing you to things. Like my DVD player. The days you spent watching Disney!” Kurt laughed. Blaine tweaked his nipple.

“Hey, now, you did...” Kurt said. He removed Blaine's fingers and tickles his ribs, giggling when Blaine couldn't hardly catch his breath. They ended up wrestling in the bed until Kurt got too close to the edge and both of them tumbled to the floor.

They laid on the cold, cold cabin floor and stared at each other in shock. Just as they caught their breath, a whine was heard through the cabin.

“What was that?” Blaine asked, scrambling to his feet.

“Ah...here, get back in bed, honey. I'll go check it out,” Kurt said, trying to keep a straight face. It didn't work, so he turned around and went to the firewood box by the front door.

“Hey, little guy,” he whispered, picking up Blaine's present and cuddling it next to his chest. “Were you cold over here?”

Kurt mulled over his options, wondering if he should try to put it in a box closer to the fire but realizing Blaine would figure it out. He might as well cut his loses and give it to him now.

“Hey, Blaine? Looks like Santa came early!” Kurt called out, walking back to the bed. He got back under the covers and picked up the present and put it in Blaine's hands.

“Oh, my god! Kurt! A puppy? Where did you get a puppy?” Blaine asked, cuddling it close.

“At a breeder?”

“Is that why you volunteered to drive the twins down to Burt's?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe...”

Blaine grinned from ear to ear as the puppy began to kiss his ear.

“What kind is he? He looks a lot like Lucy,” he said, mentioning the twins' flat-coated retriever.

“Yes, he does. Probably because he's also a flat-coated retriever. She has been such a wonderful dog that I thought we shouldn't mess with a good thing. Do you like him?”

“Of course I do! I love him already,” Blaine smiled, rubbing behind the puppy's ears.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Oh, thank you.”

They played with the pup for a while, then Kurt got up and fixed the box closer to the fire with an old blanket in the bottom for him to snuggle. The pup settled down and fell asleep.

“That was so kind of you to get him for me,” Blaine said. They had spoken about getting a puppy when Balto had basically retired. The old dog had surgery on his leg after an injury and didn't get around much anymore. He lived at the cookhouse with Shannon and Cookie, hardly ever straying more than 100 feet from their door.

Lucy, the family dog, had been lonely over the past year and Kurt was sure she would welcome a new playmate.

“Let's get some sleep?” Kurt proposed.

“Oh, you don't want to see your present?” Blaine asked, his eyes sparkling with humor.

“Don't tell me you got me a puppy, too?” Kurt asked, his face shocked.

Blaine lifted an eyebrow and then let Kurt wonder for a few moments.

“Really, Blaine? You didn't!”

“No, I didn't. But I hope you like it almost as much.”

“Of course I will,” Kurt said. “What is it?”

Blaine went to the cupboard and got out his laptop. He got back into bed and turned it on, searching through his Gallery to find some photos he'd taken a few weeks ago, then handed it to Kurt.

“What's this?” Kurt asked, looking at the photos of some wooded terrain with pipes, lumber, and tools sitting near freshly dug trenches. There was lots of heavy equipment in the background.

“Guess?”

“Ah...no! Blaine!! Is this Mt. Russell?” Kurt shrieked, his eyes big as he got excited. That is what it had to be. He'd been complaining and moping about Blaine being so far away from home for a year now.

“As a matter of fact, it is. They broke ground on the homesight about a month ago and the road is almost done. In about six months there will be water and electricity. It's about halfway up the mountain, just like this is. There is no house because I want you to plan it and make the blueprints to be exactly the way we want them. It took almost a hundred years to take the lumber out of this mountain, and it's still a very viable source of timber. I imagine we'll live the rest of our lives on Mt. Russell -- if you want to?”

Kurt was in tears, wiping his face on the corner of the sheet as more tears came in their place.

“Of course I do! I love you, Blaine. You are the best husband that ever graced the planet Earth. You made me the happiest man...” Kurt said through his tears. He launched himself at Blaine, hugging him close and kissing him.

“I love you, too, Kurt. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, baby. Merry, merry Christmas.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~