Blaine hurries down hallways decorated lavishly with white lights and poinsettia-infused garland, past miniature trees peeking out from the alcoves, dressed in shiny blue and red ball ornaments, adding a touch of Dalton spirit to their faux evergreen branches. Boys wearing heavy coats and carrying suitcases in their hands crowd the halls, getting ready to go home to their families for the holidays.

Blaine has plans to leave later in the evening. He’s excited to see his family, and eager to have a break from school for a while, but there’s something important he needs to do first.

Blaine quickens his steps past a cluster of boys who look like they may call him over for a chat. He doesn’t want to be rude. He won’t be seeing these boys for a month, and this would be the perfect opportunity to say goodbye, but he can’t. He doesn’t have the time.

He smiles on auto-pilot at Warblers who call out his name along the way, nodding in their direction when they wish him a happy holiday, but he doesn’t stop, his thoughts fixed on the box in his hands … and its intended recipient. He glances idly at the gift that he’s twirling - a flat, rectangular box wrapped in red jacquard paper, and tied with gold ribbon, a bow of the same gold ribbon adorning the corner. His stomach somersaults when he looks at it, thinking of what’s inside – what this present means.

He’s already given out over a dozen presents today – impersonal trinkets, things he didn’t choose himself. His mother did - one of the perks of her being a professional shopper during the holidays. He doesn’t feel bad about it. Every other boy does pretty much the same thing. It’s almost a Dalton tradition. Before he left his room, he joked with Thad about the seven tie clips he’d received, and the fact that the boys who gave him them more than likely got tie clips from him in return. It’s the handshakes and the well-wishes that Blaine cherishes most, not the obligatory crap.

This present he’s holding is the only one that matters. It took him a week to pick it out and now, as he closes in on the room he’s been rushing towards, his nerves are frayed. He’s worried it won’t be good enough.

His mind blocks out everything else but the plain wood door in front of him as he approaches, his brain muting the impromptu singing of carols and the sounds of feet racing through the hallways as students duck in and out of each other’s rooms, some crossing in front of him. They don’t concern him, his focus solely on calming his nerves enough to get through saying hello.

Blaine stops and blows out a breath, excising the anxiety from his body. He raises a hand to knock, but the door swings open before Blaine touches it.

There he stands, filling the doorway, barring Blaine from entering. He’s out of uniform, dressed in black skinny jeans and a formfitting cashmere sweater in a shade of charcoal that emphasizes the flecks of steel in his blue eyes.

Blaine looks into those eyes, staring at him with cold indifference, and tries not to shrink into the marble floor.

“After yesterday’s fight, I didn’t think I would see you before you left,” Kurt says, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“I know.” Blaine fidgets with the gift, his stomach switching from turning somersaults to twisting like a windsock. “But I wanted to give you this.” Blaine holds the gift out to Kurt. Kurt glares at it, but makes no move to take it.

“What’s this?” Kurt motions to the box with a jerk of his chin, crossing his arms over his chest as if wordlessly declaring he has no intention of accepting it.

“It---it’s a present. It’s kind of a tradition to give these out this time of year,” Blaine says, risking a joke while still affecting the humble demeanor he uses around Kurt.

Blaine grins, but Kurt simply raises an eyebrow, not in the mood for Blaine’s attempted humor.

Blaine sighs. Moving forward isn’t going to work if Kurt doesn’t open his present.

“Look,” Blaine says, “remember before we had that fight? We were talking about boundaries …”

“Yeah ...” Kurt’s eyes return to the box in Blaine’s hands.

“We were talking about trust …”

“A-ha …” Kurt reaches out and snatches the box from Blaine’s grasp, tearing through the red paper while Blaine continues his speech.

“You said you trusted me,” Blaine says with a guilty swallow, “and you wanted to know if I trusted you.”

Kurt tosses the paper aside and opens the box. The lid removed and discarded along with the paper, Kurt stops and stares, his lips parting slightly. He reaches in, his hard blue eyes softening as he pulls out a red silk scarf. He drops the box and holds the delicate fabric up in front of Blaine’s face by the crook of his index finger. Blaine looks past the length of rich red material at Kurt’s expression - bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes roam over the scarf, a smile creeping onto his face. Blaine risks a step closer, bending slightly to whisper in Kurt’s ear.

“I do trust you, Sir. I was hoping you’d let me show you how much.”

Kurt raises his darkening gaze to meet Blaine’s sweetly submissive and obedient eyes, begging for a second chance to please his Master.

Kurt’s smile is for Blaine now – a token of his rare forgiveness.

“Get inside and take off your clothes,” Kurt commands, Blaine’s lips twitching at Kurt’s words, “and we’ll get started.”