Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction

I do not own Glee. Please review!

Dear Kurt,

This morning, I was helping my mom make Christmas cookies. Okay, so I was supervising and sampling the batter. Contrary to belief, I am not perfect. I mumble in my sleep, I have an addiction to Red Vines, and I can't cook to save a hungry man's life. Yes Kurt, I am pathetic. When we get married, you get to be the housewife. At least, the cooking part of it. I'm competent enough to clean the house. Don't ask my mother though. She thinks I need to clean my room. It's organized, in a way that I know where everything is. I'm not one of those people who just rearranges the dust. But considering I'm only here on weekends and holidays during the school year, why bother?

Mom trusts me enough to frost the cookies. Then of course, it's her time to supervise. This year we made sugar cut outs for the Christmas party. They're all dressed up like us. The Warblers that is. There's Wes and David (whose arm almost broke off. Oops, my bad.) There are two cookies that ran together while they were baking. It kind of looks like they are holding hands. You and I happened to be the last two left to decorate. I think we look cute together. In cookie form that is.

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Kurt,

Wes wants me to ask you what kind of chapstick you like best. He's betting any money that it's cherry. Please say it isn't. No, he isn't turning gay. Even if he was, which let me stress again for the sake of my well being he is not, I wouldn't let him kiss you. Because that's my job. Well, not yet. But I'm going to put in my application. Just you watch Hummel. Then we will kiss and sparks will fly. So many sparks in fact that we will ignite the place on fire. Somebody better stand by with a fire extinguisher.

The reason why he is asking is still a little fuzzy to me. He says that it's all part of the master plan. He wants your first official kiss to taste absolutely amazing. I've narrowed it down to two of my tastiest, at least in my opinion, tubes. Would you prefer Pink Lemonade or Tropical Skittles? Let's be honest; you know you want to taste my rainbow.

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Kurt,

My feet are freezing right now. That may be partially due to the fact that I can see my toes. No socks, no slippers, nada. You may be asking yourself, "Jeez Blaine, why aren't you wearing anything on your feet? Are you mentally deficient?" For the record, I am not. Yesterday was laundry day and everything is still hanging up to dry on the line in the basement. Now, I'm one of those people who has seven pairs of socks, one for every day of the week. There are six pairs hanging up to dry. That still leaves me with one pair, yes?

Unfortunately, little cousins have a thing for annoying their baby sitters. And by baby sitters I mean me. Karlie, who is currently reading over my shoulder would like me to emphasize that she is neither a baby, nor does she need to be sat on. This delightful five year old monster has taken my socks and transformed them into puppets. She has one for each hand, and even though they don't have faces, I swear they are having eye intercourse. You know what I mean, but I can't type that with a small child watching me.

Oh goodness Kurt, I think the puppets have reached second base. I think it's time Karlie went to go help her aunt decorate the Christmas tree. Oh Lord Kurt, the puppets are making out. I think one just moaned your name.

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Kurt,

You owe me one bar of soap. Ever since we have met, I have taken to long daily cold showers. Do you know what it is like to take a cold shower when it is ten degrees outside? Ten. Stinking. Degrees. (I was going to add in Fahrenheit here, but it made my rant seem so less psychotic.) Every time I go into the store now, that cashier girl looks at me like I have two heads. I'm buying soap every week now. That's the least of it all. She tries to flirt with me. The first time it happened, I was nice to her and let her keep the change. (A whole whopping 17 cents. Not even enough to buy herself a gumball. Which honestly she needed, because her breath stank.) The second week she tried to make a joke about how serious I was when it came to personal hygiene. I scrub behind my ears as much as the next kid. Was she trying to use some lame pick up line on me? When she asked me out on a date last week, I politely declined. Cashier girl could not take a hint. I don't think you could call it a hint if I told her outright. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I told her I was gay. When she didn't believe me, I pulled out my wallet and showed her your picture. Is it my fault that yours was on top? Alright, so it is my fault. If you weren't so darned adorable, we wouldn't have this problem. It's your hair, and that voice, and those eyes- I need to go take a shower.

Ctrl-A-Delete

Dear Kurt,

My parents can't wait to meet you at the party. Don't forget your secret Santa gift!

Sincerely yours,

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XOXO,

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Merry Christmas Darling, Blaine

(P.S. My mom is a sucker for a guy in a bowtie. I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, huh?)