A/N: I've never dedicated any of my stories before, but this one definitely deserves a dedication. This is for all the wonderful Kurtofsky writers out there who sold me on this relationship. Without all your wonderful stories that implanted the scenes that made me need to write this story, I never would have even considered writing a Glee fic. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed your wonderful creations.

Legal stuff: I don't own Glee, but I do own this story. Let me know if you like it.

Dave ran the sponge around the rim of the last of the lunch glasses. His hands had long since turned to prunes. It was his own fault, really. He should have known better than to try and snag another roll from the kitchen before the dishes were done. His grandmother had spotted him and put him to work. It could have been worse. At least the assorted aunts, uncles and cousins hadn't descended on Gram's house yet. Most would be there for Christmas Eve dinner that night. And this way, Dave already had his washing in.

He stared out the window as the water swirled down the drain. Snow and ice covered the quarter acre that made up his grandparent's back yard. As it did almost every year. It was tradition. As much as spending Christmas Eve in the old farm house that Dave's dad had grown up in. When Dave was little he decided that the reason the family stayed at Gram and Gramp's was because they had a chimney, and Dave's place, less than an hour's drive away, didn't. So here, Santa had a way in. And now it was just what they always did, even though they ended up shoved in like sardines by the time all his dad's siblings and there assorted kids packed into the house. Dave's bed consisted of a sleeping bag wedged in between a closet door and the bed his twin sisters, Abigail and Rebecca, shared.

Dave was drying off his hands when Gram came into the kitchen. She was a solid woman, not fat by any means, but with a lot of the Old Country in her. Strong shoulders and hands. Dave's mom always said that Dave had a lot of Gram in him.

She smiled at him as she made her way to the stove and turned the burner on under the large, ever-present kettle.

"Have a cup of tea with me," she said. It wasn't a question. Dave smiled and pulled two mugs from the drying rack and put them on the table before sitting down. He watched as Gram moved around the kitchen, getting the tea bags and the pot. "It's so good to have you kids in the house again. With Gramps gone, this big old place get's kinda quiet."

Dave ran his hand through his short hair. He didn't like thinking about that. Gramps had always been there for him, always at his games. It was hard to believe that he had been gone over a year now.

The kettle whistled and Gram filled the pot and took the seat at the other end of the table.

"So," she said slowly, "Your father tells me you've been having some trouble at school"

Dave's heart dropped. He did not want to have this conversation. Not with Gram. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" she asked, her eyebrow lifted towards her silver hair; "C's and D's are nothing?"

Dave shrugged, his eyes on his empty cup in his hands. He didn't know what to say. He didn't care about school. He didn't like being there. Not that he'd admit it, but even though Hummel had transferred to a different school, he was everywhere Dave looked. Hell, he was all Dave could think about. Dream about.

That kiss. God he wished it hadn't happened. He didn't want the memory of how Hummel's lips felt against his own. Or the horrified look in Hummel's eyes when he'd gone back for a second. Or how, for one split second, he had felt gravity turn off, and his insides had turned upside-down and all the crap he carried ever day had just floated way. Because if he had never felt it, he wouldn't want it so much.

He heard Gram sigh, "Give me your cup."

He passed it over without looking up. When she put it back in his hand it was full of steaming tea. Dave busied himself with adding sugar, trying to distract himself from his thoughts and hoping Gram would just let the matter drop.

"And Paul tells me you were almost expelled for bulling." The emphasis she put on expelled made Dave wince, and the way she said bulling made it sound like the word left a dirty taste in her mouth. "What could you possibly be thinking David?"

Dave sighed; Gram was the only person that called him David. No matter how many times he'd asked her to call him Dave, she just smiled at him and kept right on calling him David.

"It's no big deal Gram," he said, his eyes still on his tea, "It's just some fag at-"

Gram slammed her cup onto the table so hard the lid of the sugar jar clanked against its base. Dave's eyes flew up in surprise. The look on Gram's face was frightening. He had never seen such rage. Her mouth was a thin line and her eyebrows were pulled down tight across her brow.

"Do not ever let me here you use that word again. Ever." Her voice was ice. All Dave could do was nod. She stood, leaving her tea on the table, "I expected better from you David."

She left the room without looking back. Dave sat there for a long moment, staring that her cup. Tea pooled around its base. He vaguely realized she had slammed it down so hard it had spilled.

Dave became aware he was trebling. His mind was whirling. Gram never got mad. Ever. Even when he was ten and had broken her mother's vase from the Old Country by playing hockey inside when he knew he shouldn't. Gram always loved him. No matter what.

Something wet splashed on his hand. Only then did he realize he was crying.

Kurt sighed and stared out the living room window. It was too hard to look anywhere else. Everything was wrong. Everything. The tree had colored lights, there were greens on the mantle rather than a wreath on the door, and there was prime rib in the oven. A prime rib! No turkey, no stuffing, no cranberry sauce.

Granted he couldn't see any of that from here, but he could smell it. And it was just so wrong.

Intellectually he knew that things were going to change. His dad was remarried. They had to blend two family traditions. But there was nothing left of the Hummel traditions. But then, Kurt hadn't been home to make sure they happened like he always had before. His dad probably didn't even know where the tree decorations where, so they had used Carole's. Kurt hadn't been home to go shopping for the turkey and the fixings, or to cook them, so Carole had cooked what she liked.

Kurt couldn't help but sigh. It was his own fault really. He had stayed at Dalton until this morning. Ostensibly catching up on school work. But Blain had left last night and he couldn't skip Christmas all together. And he had been hoping for…something. Some connection. Some sense of fulfillment. He just felt so empty.

He had felt empty for a while. Dalton was not what he had thought it would be. True, there were no physical altercations, no verbal threats. But it was like they were trying to make him fit into they're 2D world, and, Prada knows, Kurt was definitely 3D. So the best he could do was make himself thin. Metaphorical speaking. And it left him feeling…hollow.

"Hey, bro," Finn's voice broke into his thoughts.

Kurt pulled on his best fake smile and turned from the window, "Hey yourself."

"So," Finn said, rolling back on his heels, "What do you think of the tree?"

"It's…" Kurt groped for an appropriate, non-critical word, "…colorful."

"Yeah, it's the way me and Mom have always done it." Kurt looked at Finn, really looked at him, for the first time since he got home. He looked tired, worn. By the look of him, Kurt would bet things were not going well with Rachel.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, reaching out and placing his hand on Finn's arm.

Finn sighed, "Yeah. It's just…life sucks."

Didn't Kurt know it.

A/N: I do not have a beta reader. If anyone would like to sign up for the passion, give me a PM. Otherwise, feel more than free to review and let me know what you think. (Like many other muses, mine is an attention glutton. The more reviews you feed her, the harder she'll ride me to write down what she's whispering in my ear.)