"So, that wasn't so bad," Blaine said as he and Kurt left Sue Sylvester's office. Artie was well on his way down the hall, eager to put as much distance between himself and the woman who nearly gave him a forcible dental works six months prior.

"Yes, well, she doesn't like to let people know it but deep down Sue Sylvester has a heart," Kurt mused. "Deep, deep, deep down, under many layers of coal and soot and other unmentionable substances."

"Kurt," Blaine chided. "I think it's very sweet that she's giving back during the holidays. You must admit that she's extending the olive branch by asking us to sing at the shelter."

"No, she's looking for free entertainment and I'm sure that somehow this will end up turning horribly wrong for the glee club, you just wait and see." Kurt smirked at Blaine. "And don't let her catch you calling her 'sweet' or she may just shave those beautiful curls of yours that you've hidden under copious amounts of hair gel. I swear, darling, you must learn portion control with your styling products. Have you never heard the expression 'too much of a good thing'? That's the relationship you have with your gel."

Blaine pouted. "You're mean. Besides, Sue thinks I look like a young Burt Reynolds."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. "Blaine, never speak of what she called you in there again."

"What?" Blaine's pout intensified until he was in full on puppy-face-mode. "Why? I took it as a compliment."

"You would, sweetie," Kurt said patronizingly. "But there is just one small problem: I love you and I love having sex with you, but if anyone were to ever refer to you as Burt, I could never be naked around you again."

"What? Why—oh." Blaine blanched. "Oh god. I see what you mean."

Kurt reached out a hand to stroke his boyfriends arm soothingly. The color had yet to return to his face and his expressive hazel eyes were wide with horror.

"Try not to think too hard about it, honey."