"Produce sect. Need cranberries," says Kurt's text reply to Blaine's about where to meet in their local grocery store a couple weeks before Christmas.

That's exactly what they don't need. Hurrying his pace from the floral department check-out, Blaine hides his hands behind his back as he reaches the produce.

Kurt is roaming from one end of the department to the other, one arm tucked through the handles of an empty store basket, the other tapping his mouth. He keeps picking up, sniffing, and returning various organic fruits and vegetables to their bins.

"If I didn't know you better," Blaine says, sneaking over to lean up and hook his chin over Kurt's shoulder from behind, "I'd think you were doing that at random."

"But you do know better than to question my process." Kurt slides his unencumbered arm warmly around the back of Blaine's neck to pull him even closer. "Also, hi."

Instead of a greeting, Blaine quietly sings into Kurt's ear, "'Rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop.'"

Kurt giggles and turns to face him. "In a festive mood, Blaine?"

"'Mistletoe hung where you can see every couple tries to stop,'" Blaine continues, grinning. He swings one hand out from behind his back, up over their heads, and dangles his floral purchase there.

"Will a kiss shut you up?" Kurt asks, raising an eyebrow at the sprig of mistletoe.

Blaine pretends to think for a second. "Try it and see."

Kurt sighs as though dreadfully put-upon, but a smile plays around his lips as he presses them to Blaine's. Blaine can feel both the smile and the kiss all the way to his toes. He hums happily. Kurt pulls away laughing, and says, "I guess that's a 'no.'"

"Sorry." Tucking the mistletoe into his shirt pocket (only because stretching out Kurt's pocket with it would be suicidal), Blaine drops the contents of his other hand into the basket. He takes Kurt's hands and starts pulling him toward the check-outs at the front of the store. "I'm going to keep singing until you agree just to buy that and leave."

"What did you put . . . ? Blaine." Kurt yanks them both to a standstill. "We are not buying canned cranberry sauce."

"Why not?"

Kurt's voice pitches higher almost every other word. "It's culinary sacrilege, Blaine. That gelatinous muck holds the steel imprint hours after squelching its way out of the can. It's barely even food."

"It's awesome," Blaine contends cheerfully, and launches back into the rest of "Rockin' around the Christmas Tree."

Repeating his name, Kurt yanks on Blaine's hands. Blaine shakes his head and keeps singing, even swaying them in a Warbler shuffle around a rack of fair trade candy bars. Eventually Kurt groans and marches them to a check-out.

~*~*~

"I can't believe you made me buy that. And I can't believe you've made us wait so long to take the picture for our holiday cards!" Kurt grumbles, arranging himself on their couch as Blaine adjusts his camera settings.

Their decorated Christmas mini-faux-tree sparkles behind Kurt, but it has nothing on him. Kurt designed and created his and Blaine's outfits for this picture. While Blaine adores his own tailored forest green suit, complete with Dalton-red piping and a certain Christmas tree bowtie, he can't take his eyes off Kurt. Kurt's ensemble is a concoction of silvery, minty green that makes him look like an ice prince come to life through a mirror, especially with the haughty look now on his face. Blaine itches with the desire to lick Kurt until he thaws.

"I told you, there's a reason for the delay on the cards." Blaine watches Kurt in the digital image on the screen and surreptitiously angles the camera a little more on the tripod. "Plus, we did already record 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' for the chip going in them."

"So, you admit there's no reason -- no excuse -- for canned cranberry sauce?" Kurt sounds triumphant, although Blaine knows this isn't even an actual argument, let alone a battle Kurt needs to win. And Blaine finds himself with other plans for this evening.

He shakes his head without otherwise acknowledging the comment and moves to settle himself against Kurt's side. "Okay, I think we're ready. The timer will just keep snapping pictures every few seconds."

"Now?" Kurt brushes away nonexistent stray threads from his clothing.

"You look gorgeous," Blaine says, wrapping his arm behind Kurt's shoulders.

That earns one of Blaine's favorites of Kurt's smiles, broad with surprise.

Blaine leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss, trails his free hand up the inner seam of Kurt's sinfully tight pants, and murmurs, "Now, give me sensual."

Kurt chokes out a half-laugh, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Don't make fun of it." Blaine traces his tongue along the edge of Kurt's ear, then bites the lobe. His palm grinds down in slow, weighted circles against the hardening bulge in Kurt's trousers.

"Blaine, the camera, you -- oh, God, what the fuck, Blaine," Kurt groans, arching into the pressure.

"It's aimed right at you. Now, give me sultry." Blaine pops the button on Kurt's pants and slides down the zipper so that he can just squeeze his hand inside, pressing hardhotheavy against Kurt's cock through his boxer-briefs. He shifts a little trying to relieve the pressure of his own slacks. "So sexy."

Kurt pants, a flush spreading through his cheeks and down his neck, and wraps his hand around Blaine's bicep. "And you are a twisted prick."

"Kurt, you're blushing," Blaine says, working his hand deeper to rub his thumb over the head of Kurt's cock.

One minute, Kurt is writhing in Blaine's arms. The next, he's pulling Blaine's hand free and tackling Blaine down onto the couch. He kisses Blaine roughly, hungrily, making Blaine moan and buck against him. His tongue slides across Blaine's lips, and Blaine sucks it into his mouth, but Kurt pulls back and sits up.

"No, you wanted to see, Blaine. I think this is the view you really want," Kurt says raggedly, standing to peel off his clothes and lay them over the coffee table.

Avidly watching Kurt bare his skin, Blaine palms his own cock through his pants. He's still an addict every time, desperate to fill all his senses with Kurt. It doesn't even occur to him to try to get out of his own clothes until Kurt has already climbed back onto the couch. Kurt pins Blaine's arms above his head, against the arm of the couch, and straddles his chest.

Kurt's eyes are dark, his cock straining toward his abdomen. His hands slip down to frame Blaine's jaw, thumbs pressing gently beside his Adam's apple, just above the bowtie. "Open. And keep your hands up there."

"Fuck, yes," Blaine mutters. He tips back his head a little and spreads his lips wide.

Kurt presses the head of his cock into Blaine's mouth but doesn't wait, just keeps moving, pushing the warm hardness of it along Blaine's tongue.

Blaine's breath stutters in his throat. He fights the reflex, swallowing and feeling his nostrils flare.

Kurt stills while Blaine adjusts. Blaine looks up to meet Kurt's eyes trying to convey that he wants more, wants all of Kurt, always. Kurt's expression somehow both melts and sharpens with comprehension and love.

Moaning Blaine's name, Kurt pushes in further, harder, until the head of his cock nudges into Blaine's throat. He holds himself there, only moving in tiny jerks, his eyelashes fluttering and his thumbs stroking Blaine's jawline.

The thickness is so much. Blaine can barely do anything, barely breathe, and he still wants to suck. His throat muscles working, his tongue flicking, he whines, high and faintly, around Kurt's cock.

Kurt lets out a startled cry and comes. Blaine swallows helplessly, his own dick hard and unreachable in his pants.

Wobbly, Kurt drags his cock across Blaine's swollen lips and mumbles, "I love you. You and your amazing mouth. That was okay, right? Good for me, obviously, but --"

"Kurt," Blaine says. (Wow, is his voice raspy). He draws harsh breaths, clears his throat. "So good. Love you too. So sexy, fuck. Could you --?"

Kurt's fingers, his amazing, wonderful fingers, are opening Blaine's zipper and sliding inside his boxers to stroke his cock before Blaine can even finish the request, and he's coming before he can even offer his thanks. He does so afterward, though, of course.

~*~*~

When Blaine wakes the next morning, sunlight haloes Kurt's head where he has it propped on Blaine's bare chest. Blaine smiles at him. "Good morning."

"Morning," Kurt says, smiling back, then smacking his open palm against Blaine's chest. "Really, Blaine? You had to do that when we were supposed to be taking pictures for cards for our friends? For our families? Not to mention, now we have to clean come off your suit pants before we can try taking the picture again."

Flushing, Blaine rubs at the tingling spot on his chest and admits, "I didn't mean to. You just looked so hot in your outfit last night, and I flashed back to that day in your bedroom and couldn't resist. Besides, Rachel insisted there was some photo op we must use for the cards that you know about but I'm not allowed to yet?"

Kurt buries his face against Blaine's skin, his next words muffled. "Oh. Well, that's part of your Christmas present, and we need to have these cards ready to mail as soon as possible."

"Hmm." Knowing the early morning is one of the few truly acceptable times to do so, Blaine runs his fingers through Kurt's hair. "How about we exchange presents early? I need to give you a pre-present anyway, and it's kind of for both of us."

Kurt's excitement comes through his voice, although his expression when he looks up is skeptical. "A pre-present?"

Blaine licks his lips. "Yeah. You have to have the pre-present to be able to do the real present."

"Okay, now you have me too curious. Give, please?"

Ducking his head, Blaine lifts Kurt and moves from under him so that he can retrieve an envelope from the back of his sock drawer. (That's an honorary title, considering nearly everything but socks goes in there.)

He climbs back onto the bed and hands Kurt the envelope. "Merry Christmas, Kurt."

Only Kurt can tear paper with elegance. His mouth falls open on a gasp. "Plane tickets to Ohio? But I thought we couldn't afford to go back this year!"

"Yeah, well." Blaine rubs his palms against the thighs of his pajama pants. "I saved up for the surprise."

The way Kurt tackles Blaine this morning is totally different from the night before, and the way they kiss leaves them both breathless.

When they break apart, Kurt says, "So, that's why we can wait on the cards -- we're giving them to everyone in person?"

"Pretty much everyone," Blaine agrees, "and for the rest we can do an electronic version, even though I know the designer in you might hate that."

Kurt smiles fondly at him. "I'll survive. And, hey, that's why you got canned cranberry sauce too, isn't it -- because it won't matter that we're not here to eat it?"

"Um." Blaine considers the truth but decides against ruining the mood. "Sure."

"I still think the chip in the card with our singing that people should 'make the yuletide gay' might be too on-the-nose, though," Kurt says.

Blaine snorts and tightens his arms around Kurt. "Maybe a little, but the parts about dear friends being together through the years will be appropriate when we show up there, right?"

"Mmm, this is true. Oh!" Kurt jerks away abruptly and falls off the side of the bed. He bats away Blaine's concerned hands and grabs his phone. "I need to call Rachel about your present. You go ahead and shower."

~*~*~

"So," Kurt says, his cheeks flushed from the cold and maybe the same nervousness edging his voice, "I saved up for this, and this present is for both of us too."

Blaine's present apparently is in Central Park and involves not just Rachel but also friends of theirs who'd been in the NYADA band and orchestra before they'd all graduated the last couple years. Blaine and Kurt are wearing last night's intended picture clothing, with substitute pants for Blaine that Kurt grudgingly selected because their coats obscure much of the rest anyway.

Everyone is bundled up against the cold and snow. Rachel, though, is cuddling a snowman -- a snowman so sharply dressed, his outfit actually rivals Kurt's, not that Blaine would be foolish enough to say that aloud. And their other friends all have instruments, which they play softly as Kurt and Blaine approach.

Laughing, Blaine says, "Ooh, you're going to perform in public? I can see how this is a gift to yourself, but I'm not sure how it's a gift for me. . . ."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I could just not give it to you."

"No! No." Blaine grabs his hands. "Please. You know I'd love anything you wanted to give me, including a song."

"I do. I do know." Drawing in a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Kurt cues the musicians. He leads Blaine in a slow dance as he starts to sing "Winter Wonderland."

It's lovely, of course, and Blaine wouldn't dream of complaining. And the wink Kurt throws him during the "bluebird"/"new bird" section is adorable. However, Blaine thinks he might be missing something -- until a beaming Rachel backs away from the snowman when Kurt gets to the lyrics about "Parson Brown."

Kurt positions Blaine in front of the snowman and lets go of Blaine's hands. He unwraps the long scarf around the snowman's neck.

"'He'll say, 'Are you married?' We'll say, 'No man, but you can do the job when you're in town,'" Kurt sings, and unties a small box from the scarf as he sinks to one knee.

"Oh, my god," Blaine blurts, and it's not because Kurt is kneeling in the snow. (Okay, it's a tiny bit because of that.)

"Blaine." Kurt swallows hard. "Will you --?"

"Yes," Blaine tells him, no sharpness, all melting with his own comprehension and love. He hauls Kurt up into his arms and into a long, hot kiss.

Neither of them notices or cares until much later that Rachel has captured the perfect picture for their holiday cards. Then she threatens to finish Kurt's performance, herself, until Kurt and Blaine duet on the rest of it for her instead.

Before they leave the park, Kurt strips the snowman, which Blaine tries not to find bizarrely sexy. Kurt, of course, planned every detail of the performance, down to the angle of the snowman's hat: "As if I would have trusted that to anyone else, Blaine."

"Does that mean I don't get any say in planning the wedding?" Blaine nudges Kurt's shoulder as they meander, keeping close for warmth and forever, on the way back to their apartment.

"I have a lot of ideas," Kurt admits, "but it's our present, remember? Our day, our plans. Us."

With a smile Blaine says, "That sounds good to me."

~*~*~

All the Hudmels and all their friends ooh and ahh over the ring (while Blaine vows to get a matching one for Kurt as soon as they're back in the city), they laugh over the card, and they celebrate everything together.

Blaine sneaks the canned cranberry sauce as planned from his checked bag to Burt, who tells Blaine he couldn't ask for a better future son-in-law.

Kurt finds out, despite no one having told him. He snuck the mistletoe here in his own bags, though, and he'll use it creatively on Blaine later -- right around when Blaine is hoping to continue their annual tradition of watching the Doctor Who Christmas special.

Blaine comes to appreciate the new mistletoe tradition.

 - end -