Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"I want you to come to our Christmas party this year," Kurt said, iPhone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he watched Blaine attacking the newly snow-covered driveway with a shovel. He was dressed from head-to-toe in wintry gear for the occasion, including a hat that Kurt had playfully wrestled over his curls before tying a scarf around his neck and sending him out on his merry way, gloves, boots, and all. Watching him work, Kurt could tell that his efforts were mostly in vain, but the attempts were nonetheless amusing. Blaine huffed in exasperation as he looked up at the heavy snowfall already beginning to accumulate over top of the current drift he'd been shoveling away. Kurt smiled to himself as he watched, keeping his hands busy with tying the ribbon on a red-wrapped box in front of him.

"Kurt, you know Finn and I would love to, but we're just not sure if we have the time," Rachel replied. "We can't stay the night, either, so it would just be for a few hours and then we'd leave."

"That's fine," Kurt assured, inwardly relieved that Rachel didn't want to stay the night. Even after nearly twelve years of friendship, there were still some aspects that he couldn't live with and remain sane, and sleepovers more than twice a year counted. "Just stop in and have something with us, would you? I'm baking," he added temptingly.

Finn couldn't cook for his life, leaving Rachel to handle it (even though she did force him to do most of the cleaning; their relatively tidy home was a monumental achievement on Finn's part). It was no secret that Kurt cooked fabulous holiday meals, either.

"Hmm. . . ." Kurt smirked as he finished the knot on the box, already knowing what she would say next. "Very well. What time do you want us over?"

Kurt tapped his chin in mock-thought before walking over to the door and holding it open. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Yeah?" Blaine called back, halfway down the driveway and up to his knees in snow. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. What time do you want Rachel and Finn to come over?"

"Who?"

"Rachel and Finn," Kurt repeated emphatically.

"Oh." Blaine scratched at his hat-covered head once before shrugging. "Whenever you want is fine," he said, digging the shovel into a partially cleared section of the driveway and continuing his work.

"How does five?" Kurt asked, shutting the door and walking over to the windowsill. It had a built-in sitting area, just wide enough for one person to fit comfortably or two people snug (which was convenient for late-night cuddling when Blaine and he just wanted to watch the snow fall or be close to each other under the stars).

"Sounds perfect. We'll try to be on time, but you know your brother."

"Oh, trust me, I know. If you make it before seven, I'll call it a success," Kurt assured. "In fact, I'd tell him that it's at three just so he arrives on time for once."

A pause, then: "That's not a bad idea, actually. Why you didn't tell me that sooner?"

Kurt laughed at the indignation in her voice, shaking his head and watching Blaine chop steadily through the snow. "What, and ruin all of the mystery of your relationship? That wouldn't be any fun, now, would it?"

"Of course it would," Rachel retorted primly, "because we still have things you'll never know, and—"

"Oh, no, no, no, too much information, I don't want to know!" Kurt interjected, humming loudly to cover up Rachel's laughter on the other end.

"We'll see you this weekend, Kurt. Love you. Tell Blaine I love him, too."

"Just as long as you remember that he's mine," Kurt replied loftily, "then sure. See you later, Rach."

She hung up before he did and he tucked the phone aside as he folded his arms comfortably against his knees to watch Blaine.

It was the first Christmas that Blaine and he would be spending in their new home. While Kurt was eagerly anticipating the event, he was also somewhat in a state of unreality about the whole affair. If someone had walked up to him nearly twelve years ago and told him that he would meet the most wonderful person of his life while spying on a rival show choir group, then he would have promptly laughed his head off before filing to have that person's sanity re-evaluated. If that same person had told him that he would still be living with that same wonderful man, then he would have had his own sanity checked for listening at all. The reality was even better than he could have imagined in his cynical years before Blaine came into his life.

Having Blaine around was like always having his best friend around in the best way possible. They both spent some time apart, and overall the reunions were well worth the periods of separation. Kurt's time at NYADA had demanded more of himself than had ever been required before, and Blaine's enrollment in Julliard had caused a similar effect, preventing them from ever having too much time to spend with each other. They had been fleeting moments of desperation reunion, reaffirming the connections that had felt frayed and stretched for far too long. Kurt had waited anxiously in New York for the day when Blaine would arrive while Blaine had waited in Ohio with the same desperate longing.

Now that they had both graduated from college and Kurt was involved as a young contender in the fashion designing field while Blaine was working on his career as a singer, they both had suitably hectic lives to prevent their time from being overwhelmingly spent in each other's company. Were it up to Kurt, he would have given them both at least three more hours a day to be with one another, but he settled for tired smiles and as much closeness as he could have. They couldn't stay away from each other: even during work Kurt found himself texting Blaine asking him about his day insofar. Blaine's responses were usually short but sweet, little notes and lofty comments that made Kurt smile and stifle laughs.

The holiday seasons were different from their normally chaotic lives, however, because while the workload intensified, there was still that beautiful change of finally having some time off. Courtesy of mutually sparing their vacation and sick days as often as possible (Kurt had had to literally force Blaine to use several of his when he had picked up a terrible case of the flu the previous year), they had more than enough time to spare for lazy days such as these, and Kurt savored the simplicity of it all. A roaring fire in the fireplace (well, a crackling and rather frightening fire was a more apt description, but few people walked around singing about how their fires were borderline terrifying with the way they spat sparks), a mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table where he had left it, the Christmas tree set up and decorated in the corner with all of the 'friends' gifts' piled underneath it, everything felt like home.

Kurt had dreamed of the years when he would be with Blaine like this. Now that they were here, though, with their first house (their first house, not an apartment, not a college dormitory, but an actual house that Kurt had to admit was stunning and perfect and exactly what their house should be), Kurt felt his mouth go dry with the satisfaction and aching relief he felt.

We're actually here, he thought, staring bemusedly at the white scattered across Blaine's hat from the still falling snowflakes. We beat the odds. We're still together.

Granted, it hadn't been an easy journey, and by no means without faults, but that was what had made it even sweeter that they were here now, he supposed. There had been days when Blaine wouldn't talk to him because he missed him so much it hurt and wouldn't it just be easier to break things off and maybe try again in five years when the pain had dulled down to a healed-over ache instead of an open wound? Kurt had listened to the entire conversation sitting in one of the lounge chairs and clutching his phone tightly, wishing with everything he had that he could somehow alleviate some of that burning sadness. It was a mutual feeling—Kurt had missed him more than he could form into words, usually just breaking down and half-sobbing as he tried to apologize for being so emotional but honestly, how could Blaine expect him to survive when he was so far away?—and Kurt had just let him talk until he was almost dozing off in the chair, hearing Blaine's voice descend into sleepy registers as well. He had then told him, in as gentle a voice as he could, that Blaine would just have to keep being strong and forge ahead until they could meet again.

It's like my dad once said. Until you meet the person in your life that really makes a difference, you have to go it alone. And until we can be together again, then we'll just have to endure.

Blaine had thanked him in a thick voice, apologizing for getting emotional on Kurt (which, really, wasn't half as emotional as Kurt usually got but he made sympathetic noises and said it was fine), and wished him good night before hanging up.

Those had been the longest days of Kurt's life, and he had had moments where he had wanted to pack his most vital possessions, hop on the first plane to Ohio, and find Blaine until he could hold him again and never let go. It broke Kurt's heart, not only knowing that he was so far away from him but also that Blaine was hurting so much because of it. Blaine had had to walk back into McKinley every day and not see Puck or Finn or Sam, Rachel or Santana or Quinn, so many of the people that had defined Kurt's senior year gone. Artie and Tina and Rory had still been there, as well as Brittany and a few others, but the vast majority had moved on and Kurt had known that the phrase left behind had never been more appropriate.

It had been on Blaine's mind a lot then, Kurt had found out later, when they had finally reunited after Blaine's graduation when Kurt was visiting after the end of his first year at NYADA. He had taken Kurt out to dinner to celebrate and told him in bright tones all about how excited he was and how Julliard had accepted him and how they wouldn't have to fly to see each other and it wouldn't be half as infrequent and they would be together again because somehow in the midst of it all, neither of them had been able to latch onto someone else. Even Sebastian's renewed advances had not made him stray from his loyalty to Kurt.

"You're my first," Blaine had said simply, holding Kurt's hand (he hadn't let go since they'd hugged once Blaine had hopped off stage at the graduation ceremony) and smiling so, so softly, his eyes alight.

There had been so much to it, too. Not just my first boyfriend, or my first lover, but so, so much more. My first everything.

Kurt hadn't even been able to form a verbal response to that, opening his mouth and closing it a moment later stupidly, feeling his vision blur with unshed tears. It had been a bittersweet night, the two of them reminiscing all the hurt and pain and loss that separation had forced upon them and also their renewed eagerness to plan out what life would be like from then on.

Still, if anyone had told him, even then when Blaine had been looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world, then Kurt still wouldn't have believed that he would behere. Now. With his own home, their home, their first home, celebrating Christmas for the first time in it.

Kurt sniffed, wiping at his eyes. Now was not the time to get emotional.

He let out a watery laugh as Blaine slipped and landed in a snowbank, a flurry of light snow flakes pluming around his makeshift crater as he climbed out of it, brushing off his jacket and pants with another visible huff. If there was one thing about Blaine that he loved most, he thought, it was his ability to make Kurt laugh when he was on the verge of tears, regardless of how the situation played out.

Watching Blaine work for maybe twenty minutes or so as he mentally reviewed all of the preparations he had yet to make before the Christmas party that weekend, Kurt at last rose from his perch and slipped on one of his coats from the coat rack. Making sure that it was bundled up tightly—the weather was frigid, after all—he opened the door and stepped outside, snow drifting steadily around him.

Blaine looked up as he appeared, finishing with the shovel full and tossing it into a snowbank, his cheeks red with exertion and cold. He smiled warmly at Kurt's approach, tilting his head slightly in casual inquiry.

"You do realize that's just going to build up into another five inches tomorrow morning, right?" Kurt asked, looping his arms around Blaine's waist as he surveyed the drive. It was almost done with only a small fringe of unattended path remaining. Blaine huffed a third time at the observation.

"Less snow to pick up tomorrow," he pointed out, turning in Kurt's arms and planting a kiss on his cheek. "What brings you out here? Surely you're not going to do that," he added, gesturing at the remaining patch of snow.

Kurt shook his head, freeing the shovel from Blaine's grasp and pulling away, sidling back over to the door. "No," he said, "I came to rescue my boyfriend before he freezes."

"It's not even that cold out," Blaine protested, still smiling as he trailed after Kurt. Kurt set the shovel off to the side, halting Blaine in front of the door.

"Hat," he ordered, making a dusting motion with his hand.

Blaine blinked at him in confusion.

Kurt sighed fondly as he reached up and brushed the snow from Blaine's head and shoulders.

Blaine hummed when he finished, offering him a sheepish smile. "You would think that I could bring a little snow into my own home," he grumbled, mock annoyed as he stepped into the house.

"Not in this house, you won't," Kurt retorted, smacking his shoulder lightly as he pulled off his own coat.

Blaine laughed and pulled off his own gear, a slightly more involved process as he was wearing two jackets, winter boots, gloves, hat, and scarf. "Anything else?" Kurt asked dryly as he was unraveling the scarf.

Blaine quirked an eyebrow at him, smiling wolfishly, and asked, "Layers bother you?"

Flushing slightly, amazed that he still would even after this many years knowing Blaine—and knowing him like that—Kurt rolled his eyes and smirked over his shoulder at him, walking back over to where his now lukewarm hot chocolate was. "Look what you did," he accused, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Now my hot chocolate's cold and it's all your fault."

"My fault?" Blaine asked, stepping over beside him and peering down at the mug. He reached over, casually plucked it from Kurt's fingers, taking a long sip before shrugging a little. "Tastes fine to me."

"I said it was cold, not yours."

"It was implied," Blaine defended, cradling the mug close when Kurt tried to snatch it away. "Hey, don't spill it," he added cheekily. "I'll make you another one." He kissed the tip of Kurt's nose once before sashaying off to the kitchen area, humming cheerfully.

"I expect perfection, Anderson," Kurt called after him, unable to stop smiling. Blaine did make fantastic hot chocolate—he was responsible for Kurt's original mug—and Kurt didn't mind surrendering kitchen duty over to him if he wanted it. They traded roles: sometimes Kurt cleaned and Blaine cooked, sometimes Blaine cleaned and Kurt cooked, sometimes Kurt handled outdoor chores and Blaine indoor (even though Blaine overwhelmingly presided over cold-weather outdoor maintenance, since Kurt couldn't bring himself to work in the snow). Overall, Kurt was proud to say that the responsibilities were shared between them.

Sometimes he would come home after a busy week and find one of his favorite snacks sitting on the counter with a note from Blaine attached to it. Other times he would be the one who would do a load of Blaine's laundry so his favorite shirt was still clean and fresh and warm when he came home after an exhaustive afternoon and just wanted to relax. It was comfortable and simple and sweet, and Kurt smiled to himself as he wandered over to one of the couches and watched the fire crackle as he listened to Blaine's humming in the background.

This is all that I need, he thought, closing his eyes and basking in it all.

"Annnd . . . they're late," Kurt announced, smiling as he looked at the clock.

"Hmm," Blaine hummed, sidling over to where he was standing next to the door and nuzzling his neck, arms wrapping companionably around his waist. "Why are you in such a rush? I kind of like the extra time."

"We'll have plenty of time on Christmas eve, Blaine," Kurt reminded primly, batting at his head playfully.

Blaine wrinkled his nose, burying his face in Kurt's shoulder in response. "I didn't mean it like that," he added with a huff. "What's wrong with just cuddling?"

"You're a cuddle monster," Kurt replied, relenting and turning in his arms, draping his own around Blaine's back and hugging him close. "See? Even this is just a ploy to cuddle."

Blaine hummed, close-eyed and peaceful, and Kurt sighed because it was impossible to be annoyed at Blaine sometimes and that was one of those times. "All right. Why don't we go sit by the fire?"

"Sounds good," Blaine said, making no move towards it.

Kurt rolled his eyes and nudged him in the right direction, sitting down on the couch next to him while Blaine planted himself as close as humanly possible to Kurt, maintaining his spot against his shoulder. "So what happens when our guests arrive and you refuse to let me up to answer the door?" Kurt asked, his fingers trailing down Blaine's back absentmindedly.

"They're our friends. They'll just come in on their own," Blaine answered with a shrug.

Precisely at that moment, a knock came on the door, followed by what sounded like Tina and Mike as they chatted. "Blaine," Kurt ordered, nudging his hip because Blaine wasn't tall but he could be heavy when he wanted to be. "Come on, we have to let them in."

Blaine lifted his head and for a moment Kurt thought he would get up, but he just opened his mouth and called loudly enough that even they would hear it through the door, "It's unlocked," before snuggling back down to his previous position.

Kurt sighed, relenting because it was only two days before Christmas and he knew that Blaine had had a busy enough week and genuinely wanted to cuddle rather than greeting party-goers. Even if the party-goers were attending their party. Fortunately, Kurt had left their instrumental Christmas music track on (it had been on all day, actually; he loved the sound of Christmas music in the house), keeping the silence from becoming uncomfortable and relaxing all parties involved. Tina and Mike stepped inside the house and shut the door behind them, exclaiming over the decorations that Kurt and Blaine had assembled over the past month ("These look amazing, guys," Tina gushed; "Wow, guys," Mike said). Kurt smiled indulgently and gestured for them to sit on the couch adjacent to the one he was sitting on. Blaine didn't bother make a reappearance from his shoulder; musingly, Kurt wondered if he had actually fallen asleep. He wouldn't put it past Blaine; he had fallen asleep in any number of places before, including the kitchen table, by the windowsill, and even the floor on several occasions.

Mike and Tina were easily the most conversational people Kurt had ever met. They started talking and didn't stop, filling the air with chatter. Blaine occasionally grumbled something unintelligible when Kurt's laughter displaced his position on Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt traced his hand soothingly over his back and kept listening.

A half hour passed before a second knock came and, without further announcement, Mercedes entered, Artie, Puck, and Quinn in tow. By the time Finn and Rachel arrived (the last to appear, but surprisingly prompt at quarter after five), Blaine had roused himself enough to greet everyone before yawning expansively and ambling off to make himself a coffee. Belatedly he asked if anyone else wanted one and received negatives in response, even though Kurt's dry offer for a hot chocolate was met with enthusiasm all around. "That's ten, Blaine," he added at Blaine's back.

"All for the Puckster," Puck added helpfully. "So just make like three pots' worth."

"Mmmhmm," Blaine called back noncommittally, re-emerging ten minutes later with enough hot chocolate to fortify an army. Which was good, since Finn and Puck alone could have down half a gallon's worth, the rest of the group settling for more reasonable portions. As soon as the first round had been downed, the group assembled and, by mutual unspoken consent, split into two groups. Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt stayed in the living room looking out the windowsill while Puck, Finn, Artie, Mike, Rory, and Blaine went outside, splitting into two teams for their snowball fight.

Kurt was immersed in the conversation with the women, catching up on everything that he had missed and enjoying their company. Rachel was a fountain of information, but Mercedes kept her from carrying on too long and Quinn and Tina had their say as well. Kurt explained his own crazy schedule and how Blaine and he could barely find time to even inhabit their house most days, forced on diets of caffeine and cat naps to survive.

"Poor boo," Mercedes said, smiling at him from where she was seated next to Quinn. "Life's so hard being almost famous, isn't it?"

"Almost?" Kurt scoffed in mock offense. "I'll have you know three of my designs are pending release."

Which prompted another explanation as the women eagerly asked what said-designs were about, the laughter and shouting conversation of the men outdoors seeming to add a whole new level of familiarity to the scene.

"Oi!" a voice called suddenly, a very snowy Rory appearing in the doorframe. "Hummel, we need you out here! These guys are handin' it to us!"

"Tell Blaine to switch sides," Kurt called back.

There was a pause during which Rory turned around and shouted something before disappearing. Five minutes later he re-appeared, even more flushed and covered with snow but beaming more brightly than before. "Sure you don't want to join us, Hummel?" he asked, all but bouncing on his toes with eagerness to rejoin the game.

Kurt opened his mouth to say no, he absolutely did not do snow fights, but Mercedes was already dragging him to his feet, laughing as she did so. Kurt almost squawked with indignity as she stuffed a hat over his head and thrust a jacket into his arms, pulling on a hat and jacket for herself. "Come on, white boy, we've gotta show them how this is done," she said.

"Mercedes, I don't—" he protested, but she was already dragging him over the threshold and into the warzone. He barely had time to say 'snow' before a flurry of white smacked into his right arm.

"Aww, man, I missed!" Puck called, partially hidden behind a massive snow mound.

"Lame," Finn's voice assessed, also behind the snow mound, and there was a brief movement before Finn said, "Hey!" indignantly as another snowball presumably smashed into him.

"Oh, that's it," Kurt said as Puck launched another snowball at him.

He didn't even know how it happened or whose side he was supposed to be on, but he found himself scooping up snow and returning Puck's tosses with gusto, managing to nail him twice on the mohawk. "Damn, Hummel," Puck said after the second successful hit, grinning as he launched another snowball.

The entire game seemed to last for hours, people running around (the women had joined the game now, too, Quinn's shrieking laughter and Mercedes' laughing appraisal testifying to it) and snow flying everywhere. At some point, Mike tackled Kurt, a maneuver he suspected was quite accidental and more spur-of-the-moment than actually purposeful.

Picking himself up from the snow prepared to stuff as much as he could down Mike's shirt in retaliation, he saw that Blaine already had him covered, chasing Mike down with an armful of snow as the other sprinted across the grounds.

It was almost as much fun to watch everyone else play as it was to participate himself, so Kurt found a relatively discrete corner, flushed and bright with the exertion and cold, and watched as everyone else successfully kicked up enough snow to make it look like a pack of elk had come through. At last, when everyone (besides Blaine and Mike, who were stubbornly trying to stuff snow down each other's shirts and mostly succeeding in hopping and darting around a lot as they evaded each other) had stepped aside in a mutual 'we surrender' gesture, Puck thrust a fist in the air and declared, "And the Puckasaurus is still a total badass."

Kurt looked away from him in time to see Blaine launch himself at Mike and stuff his handful of snow triumphantly down his shirt. Mike, of course, did the same thing to Blaine a moment later, both men grudgingly following the rest of the group indoors (after thoroughly patting off the worst of the snow, of course) wearing symmetrically grins. "I still can't figure out who won that," Blaine said at last, shaking off his hat before hanging it on the coat rack.

Mike shrugged and said, "Undecided," as he hung up his gear as well.

Once he had made sure that everything had dried off as much as possible and was not trailing snow over his beautiful carpets, Kurt invited everyone to the section of the house where the dining room was located and, with the women's and Blaine's help, had the food set out in minutes. "All right, everyone," he said, once they were all gathered around. "Dig in!"

The meal was one of continuous chatter, always someone with a story to relate and usually more than one person to contribute to the telling. Kurt leaned back and listened mostly, his left hand intertwined with Blaine's right underneath the table, nodding along to the current thread of conversation politely. He could tell that Blaine wasn't too focused on it, either, even though his gaze was earnest as he looked at the respective speakers. His fingers rubbed soft circles against the back of Kurt's hand, a light, comforting touch that made Kurt feel warm to his toes. When at last plates had been cleared and declarations of never eating again made (even Finn, who had at last given up after his fourth helping of turkey), Kurt left the clean-up to Blaine and the men while he and the women found cozy spots in the living room.

Rachel insisted on singing along to the 'White Christmas' track as soon as it came on, standing up and dramatizing the entire performance until, without even consciously registering it, they were all applauding at the end. Mercedes stood up a moment later, and soon the impromptu performance became the opening number in a competition, everyone contributing to most numbers—even Mike, who danced around (miraculously not breaking any of Kurt and Blaine's possessions, albeit Kurt would not have placed any bets on it beforehand). The atmosphere turned playful when 'Frosty the Snowman' came on and they all chimed in, singing loudly, transitioning from serious and slow to warm and lighthearted easily.

At last, when they were all out of breath and unable to continue, they dug out the presents from under the tree and distributed them around. Kurt and Blaine were promptly overwhelmed as a pile materialized in front of them, the group gathering in an impromptu circle as they all handed out gifts and made sure everything was in order. As soon as the last box had found its owner, tearing paper resounded throughout the room as they all tore into their gifts at once, not even bothering wait for someone to go first. Blaine laughed at the pair of ear muffs Tina and Mike had gotten him while Mercedes exclaimed over a piece of jewelry Rachel and Finn had given her. All around there were exclamations of joy and surprise, wrapping paper soon piling up in the center of the room as they unwrapped boxes and exchanged hugs of delighted gratitude. Kurt found himself overwhelmed by the generosity of his friends, unable to believe that these were still the same people he had once felt almost no connection to in freshman year of high school.

They're not the same, he reminded himself, smiling.

It took fully another hour before the group began to slowly melt away. Tina and Mike were the first to leave, pleading another evening with their families that they had to attend. Artie and Puck left soon after, both stating that Kurt and Blaine hosted the best pre-Christmas Eve parties ever. Quinn and Mercedes left together, both insisting on hugging Kurt and Blaine before they did so.

At last, at almost ten Rachel and Finn exclaimed over how they hadn't really planned to stay that long and they had work to do and that they had had a lovely time and really, come over to their house for dinner some time? Sure, Kurt had said, hugging them both, Blaine doing the same when Rachel insisted by tugging him up from his seat on the couch and hugging him. Finn gave him a hug, too, still dwarfing him with his gigantic stature, and as soon as the door closed Kurt blinked as he realized that only Rory was left.

"I, uh, just wanted to thank you two for all you've done for me," Rory said quietly when Kurt had sat down on the couch next to Blaine again. "I mean, I know you didn't have to be so nice to me back in high school, but it was nice to have friends who could just like me for me, you know? And all of this . . . well, it certainly beats being alone and everything. My family's coming in tonight," he added brightly. "So at least I won't be spending Christmas alone. But thank you. It means a lot."

"You're welcome," Blaine said, standing to give Rory a brief hug as he stood to leave. "You're our friend; of course we want you over and celebrating with us."

"Yeah, well, that hot chocolate's great," Rory said, grinning, as he gave Kurt a quick hug, too. "Lemme know if you make any more; I'll let my Mummy know. She'd love to try some."

"Sure thing."

He left with his farewells, too, and soon it was just the crackle of the fire and Blaine and Kurt once more. Kurt smiled broadly to himself, sleepy and languid and happy as he curled up on the couch beside Blaine, who already looked more than halfway asleep despite the coffee.

"This was really nice," Blaine said softly. "Seeing everyone again, just having them over."

"Mmm," Kurt agreed, reaching around to drag the quilt Quinn had given them over them. "Very nice."

"Mmm," Blaine echoed, shifting around until they were both lying on the couch, the fire only sparking dimly now, the room pleasantly dark and warm and quiet. "This is perfect."

Kurt smiled slightly, knowing Blaine couldn't see it, pressing a kiss to his hair. "It is," he agreed.

Absolutely perfect.

Kurt and Blaine had a quiet Christmas Eve by comparison, shared mostly in silence and soft conversation as they left the music playing again and savored each other's company. They had both agreed not to open their own gifts for each other until Christmas itself, so they settled down for a pleasantly simple dinner of roast that Blaine had made and chatted about nothing in particular. When at last they had nothing more to say and were simply reduced to soft smiles and grazing brushes of fingertips, they abandoned the kitchen in favor of the living room, Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck as they kissed, languid and relaxed and perfect.

"I love you," Kurt whispered against his cheek. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you, too," Blaine replied softly.

That night, as they lay side by side in bed, looking at each other and delighting in the awareness that they were together again at last and wouldn't be separated no matter what fate threw at them, Kurt couldn't help thinking that he was the luckiest person alive.

And when Blaine gave him a silver promise ring in the morning, he knew that truly, this wasn't a temporary arrangement or a flimsy relationship. This was real, this was them, and with tears threatening to pour over and a wide smile on his face, Kurt thought that he had never been more certain of his love for Blaine than he was in that moment.

I don't want to spend another year with you, he thought, hugging Blaine hard. I want to spend forever with you.

Right then, Kurt decided, he was happy with a promise, a thread of hope for the future, what was to come, what would be.

Because they had survived the separation, the pain and the hurt that came with high school, and they were still there, in their own home, celebrating Christmas.

And, promise ring or not, Kurt's wish had stayed the same ever since he had first met Blaine, had never changed despite how much else had:

All I want for Christmas is you.

Author's Notes: Hello, everyone!

So this is now my third one-shot based on this episode, because I absolutely adored it and have watched it far too many times now to be healthy.

Annnd . . . I did tweak this so that Blaine gave Kurt a promise ring now (when he's 25-26) rather than when he was in high school. Apologies if that upsets anyone; I just felt that now would be as appropriate a time as earlier to have it done.

Oh, and the house mentioned here would look basically identical to the one used in the episode, only in New York instead of the Swiss Alps. :)

Let me know what you thought about this?

Review?