Blaine looks up, then looks up again to double check that it's there. Why wouldn't it be there? He just put it up a few hours ago. And then he looked – twice. Actually, he looks, on average, three times every five minutes.

His neck's really starting to smart.

Blaine had gone to bed early the night before in order to get up early this morning and hang the mistletoe, making sure it was in just the perfect place to catch Kurt when he walked though, crossing from the bathroom to the kitchen on his way to make coffee and get ready for school. This was his ritual. Happened every morning without fail since the day Kurt moved in to Blaine's loft.

Kurt had been Blaine's roommate going on five months now. He'd been the very first person to answer Blaine's ad, and from the moment they met, they just sort of jibed. They liked the same music, had the same taste in coffee, enjoyed the same movies, read most of the same books. It took a single conversation for Blaine to know Kurt was the right man to share his living space.

It took Blaine about as long to fall head over heels, too.

But here they are, five months later, and Blaine still doesn't know how to tell him.

To date, this mistletoe thing is the best idea he's had. Of course, he probably should learn how to say the words, “Kurt, I really like you,” before going in for a kiss, but he needs an ice breaker. He's not going to push it. He's going to stand there, book in hand (Wonderland Avenue, so he appears breezy and edgy at the same time) and wait for Kurt to notice. Because what's the use of mistletoe if Blaine points it out? He might as well just go up and kiss Kurt, right? And if that's the case, he should have done it months ago.

God, Blaine realizes. I should have kissed him months ago.

Blaine stands beneath his mistletoe, pretending to read, and waits…and waits…and checks on the mistletoe…and waits…then checks again…and waits some more. Fifteen minutes later, it's 6:25 a.m., and Kurt's already slept past his alarm.

Blaine turns around to look behind him, but no Kurt. He fishes his iPhone out of his sweatpants pocket. No texts, no messages. He takes a step out of the doorway and looks left and right.

Still no Kurt.

Blaine sighs. Maybe he's not getting up this morning. Maybe he's sick. Maybe his first class was canceled. Maybe - Oh God! He didn't think about this – Kurt's not here. He'd been cramming pretty hardcore for his vocal performance final, and Blaine's piano has been having some issue with the damper pedal. Maybe Kurt went to school super early to snag a practice room before the onslaught arrives.

That seems more than completely probable.

Blaine sighs. Dammit. Well, attempt numero uno – crash and burn.

Blaine hears the front door open and shut, and he pops back into position, leaning nonchalantly against the door, “reading” from his book. When Kurt doesn't walk by, he peeks around the door frame and sees his exhausted roommate, bundled like an Eskimo from head to toe, put down two insulated cups on the coffee table and start to unravel his weather-proofed self.

“Uh, hey, Kurt,” Blaine calls, loud enough for Kurt to hear him over his earmuffs.

“Hey, Blaine,” Kurt mumbles after he pulls his scarf off his mouth. Eyes half-lidded, he picks up the two cups and shuffles up to Blaine. “Coffee maker's busted. I meant to tell you yesterday, but you went to sleep, like, really early.”

“Oh?” Blaine says, accepting the warm cup that Kurt thrusts in his hand.

“Mm-hmm. Oh, and by the way, your book's upside down,” he points out, walking in front of Blaine…and bypassing the doorway entirely.

“Thanks,” Blaine says, sighing as Kurt passes right in front of him, missing the doorway, and the mistletoe.

A foot past the door, Kurt stops. He takes a step back. He looks at Blaine, cheeks pink, lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes glancing down with embarrassment and disappointment. Kurt steps up to him with a sleepy but mischievous smile on his lips, puts a hand behind his neck, and kisses him. It's soft and it's warm, and it tastes like mocha, but what Blaine loves about it is it's unrushed, with Kurt kissing him as if they could stand there all morning long, all day long, and kiss, and Kurt would be perfectly happy.

Kurt pulls away grinning, leaving Blaine's mouth, and Blaine lets out a giddy, nervous chuckle.

“Mistletoe?” Blaine asks, eyes darting up towards the obvious culprit.

“No,” Kurt says, licking his lips. “Actually, I wanted to do that months ago.”