Fic: Put Up the Tree Before My Spirit Falls Again
Title: Put Up the Tree Before My Spirit Falls Again
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5500
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Burt
Spoilers: episodes 4x08-4x10
Warnings: discussions about the death of a parent & vague mentions of infidelity
Summary: Kurt has secretly hated Christmas since he was eight years old, and now that he's living away from home he can avoid it with nothing but a little excess guilt. So when he calls to say he isn't coming home for Christmas this year, Burt decides it's about time he did something about that. It's a good thing he's bringing along a right-hand man.
I'm supposed to be working on my NaNo, but after the Christmas episode spoilers I couldn't help myself. I knew I'd never be able to concentrate until I got this out of my head. Title from the song 'We Need a Little Christmas'.
~*~*~
Burt knows the flight safety procedures by heart. He's heard them enough times over the past year with all his flying back and forth to Washington D.C. He takes out the heavily creased flight safety card anyway and pretends to go over it as the stewardess talks a plane full of restless travellers through it all and the plane starts taxiing down the runway. He feels bad because no one is really paying any attention and she seems like a sweet girl. She's young, too, not much older than Kurt. Or Blaine, who sits stiffly next to him and stares blankly ahead at the upright plastic tray on the back of the seat in front of him.
As the girl finishes up and wryly thanks everyone for their attention, Burt catches her eye and smiles. She nods and motions infinitesimally towards Blaine, her face clearly saying is he okay? Burt nods back and glances casually over at him.
He looks strange, almost sick to his stomach. He's still staring straight ahead, even though Burt insisted that he take the window seat. Not that either of them would be able to see anything anyway, what with the cloud cover and the setting sun.
“You all right, kid?” Burt asks. Maybe he doesn't like to fly. But Burt doesn't really believe that. He knows what's actually eating at the kid's insides is a toxic combination of nerves and guilt and excitement, with a generous topping of more guilt on account of being excited in the first place. He's done his fair share of hurting the people he loves most and he can spot the face from a mile away. And Burt won't pretend that he wasn't mad as hell at the kid when Kurt told him what happened, but he knows there was more going on and that it's not his place to hand out forgiveness like free tire rotations at the shop. That's up to Kurt, and what Kurt wants more than anything - more than that fancy school that was too stupid to snatch him up the second he opened his mouth, or a job at his favourite magazine since he was five years old and flipped through it at the beauty parlour with his mother - is Blaine. Through all the years and all the wanting of things and dreams, there has never been anything Burt's known his son to want more than the tiny little guy sitting next to him with his face getting pale and his hands gripping his own knees.
“Huh? Oh, I.... yeah, I'm fine. Good.”
“Uh huh.” Burt decides not to push the issue. The kid looked scared enough when he showed up at his house and told him to pack a bag because they were going to spend Christmas with Kurt in New York. Well, he may have let the kid sweat a bit before telling him they were going to New York. He is only human after all and Kurt's tears are not easy to listen to over the phone. Especially when he can't hug him and tell him it's all gonna be okay. But when Sam let it slip that Blaine's folks had gone to California to visit his brother for Christmas and Blaine stayed home alone, well, Burt thought maybe some things happened for a reason. Didn't make him wanna find the Andersons and knock their heads together for leaving their seventeen year old kid all alone at Christmas any less, though. Some people don't deserve the great kids they got.
“You know,” Burt starts, taking off his ball cap and resting back against the seat. The seat belt sign goes out and the girl from earlier announces that although the captain has switched it off, please only unbuckle it when necessary. Same old song and dance. “When Kurt's mom was pregnant with him, I had only just bought the shop. Had all these plans for expansion and upgrades and ways to make money so we could buy a bigger house... Always making plans. I was there all the time. Kate, she never said much about it. Knew sometimes she was pissed at me, but it never lasted so I didn't stop. Told myself it was for her, it was for us, it was for Kurt, who at that time I thought was gonna be a Claire since Kate was dead sure she was carryin' a girl.” He looks over at Blaine finally. He's gazing up at him like he's a rock star or something, which unnerves Burt some. He seems confused though, so Burt keeps talking.
“One day I get home and Kate, she looked like she'd swallowed one of the tires from the shop. She'd got so big and I hadn't even noticed cause I was too busy makin' plans for the next few months, and the next year, and five years down the road when I could maybe expand the shop. And I was stupid, so I went and asked her when she got so damn huge!” Burt chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “Not my smartest moment, let me tell ya. That woman could set you on fire with a look - boy does Kurt ever take after her with that.” Blaine nods and flashes a grin. He almost looks like himself until his smile falls apart and the corners of his mouth turn down instead of up.
“She gave it to me, let me tell you. I hadn't been around, and did I know she almost fell down the front steps bringing in the groceries the other day? I felt like the worst husband in the world. I'd been too busy makin' plans for the future and it made me blind to the present. Kurt gets that from me. Which I'd wager you found out the hard way these past few months.”
Blaine swallows thickly and turns away, his hands finally abandoning their grip on his knees and reaching up to wrap around his chest. Burt faces front again; he doesn't wanna embarrass the kid. He can see him nod in his peripheral vision.
“Sorry about that, kid. Bad genes,” Burt says, trying to lighten the mood. And then more seriously: “I never thought to warn him.”
“It's fine,” Blaine says, voice hoarse. “Not your fault. Or Kurt's.” His voice breaks a bit on Kurt's name and Burt reaches out and pats him on the shoulder.
“He says you guys have been talkin'.” Blaine nods again. “That's good, kid. That's real good.”
Blaine tries to smile but he's mostly looking kinda like he might puke or cry or both at the same time.
“Did he tell you?”
“Yeah. But that's between the two of you, Blaine. You can talk it out with Kurt.”
It's silent for a few minutes and Burt finally slips his hand off of Blaine's shoulder when the nice girl comes down the aisle with the snack cart and offers them something to eat and drink. When they've got their soda and peanuts and tiny, useless napkins, Blaine finally breaks it.
“I will never, ever do it again, Burt. I swear. Never.”
And damn if Burt doesn't want to take the kid and his big wet eyes into his arms and give him a good old fatherly hug like he's probably never gotten from his own father, no matter how mad it makes him that it's something he even did in the first place.
“I believe ya, Blaine,” he says. “I believe ya.”
Instead of the hug he just pats Blaine's shaking hand and pretends he doesn't notice him wiping his eyes.
When they're tucking their napkins and packets into their now empty plastic cups and sitting back in their seats, Blaine finally speaks again. His voice is stronger now and he looks a little sturdier. “Why did Kurt change his mind about coming home for Christmas?”
Burt sighs and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose now that he's away and got a job and all, it's too tempting to avoid it all together.”
“Why would he want to avoid it?”
Burt furrows his brow. “He never told you?”
“Told me what?”
“That he hates Christmas.”
“What? No. He doesn't - He can't. Last year -”
“Yeah, well, last year was a bit of a... exception. Somethin' about a ring and that TV thing you all did... It was a good year and he was distracted.” Burt sighs again and lays his head against the headrest. He shifts to the side to find Blaine still watching him. “Did Kurt ever tell you that we lost his mom the week after Thanksgiving?”
Blaine shakes his head, his mouth twitching up sadly at one corner. “I'm sorry,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Yeah. Me too.” Burt smiles sadly, memories he wishes he could block out flooding his head. His poor Kate wasting away in that damn hospital bed while Kurt tried to feed her turkey and mashed potatoes, and sitting with her in bed afterwards and brushing her wig. “I was in a daze after that. Didn't know whether I was comin' or goin' half the time. My sister come over from Toledo to watch Kurt when I started back to work. Then my sister had to get home and things went back to as normal as they could get. Christmas crept up and I forgot all about it. No presents. No decorations. No tree. Poor little Kurt asks me on the twenty-third when I was gonna get one. Eight year old son and I forget all about Christmas! Father of the year, let me tell ya. So I bundled him up in this snowsuit he hated, but he didn't even pitch a fit like he usually did. It was like he knew I was lost and was tryin' to help me by being easier. We went out to the back yard and I got my hacksaw and cut down this pathetic little tree. Kate had been trimming it, getting it ready to use for Christmas one year, but it wasn't ready.
“When we got it inside I went and got her ornaments. She collected them since she was a kid and each one was different. When we trimmed the tree Kurt used to ask her to tell him the stories, you know, where she got 'em and how they were special. It was their thing. And when I opened that box and pulled the first one out, he lost it.
“Had barely said boo since the funeral and he was bawling so hard he could hardly breathe and I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to calm him down. Took me a whole hour and then he was asleep, tucked in his bed. I went out to the living room and packed up those ornaments and hid them in the attic. Then I picked up that damn tree and heaved it into the backyard where it come from. I called and booked us tickets to Florida for the next day and packed a suitcase. We spent Christmas at Disney with all them people in the costumes.”
Burt takes a deep breath and looks away. He hasn't told anyone that story before; not even Carole. He still feels terrible about it. He suddenly wants his boy with him. He needs a hug as much as Blaine does.
“That sounds like father of the year material to me,” Blaine says quietly after a moment. His eyes are filled with emotion. They are a lot of the time, and no more than when he's looking at Kurt.
Burt shakes his head and hums a little disagreement. If the kid thinks that's what a good father does, then his own must be even worse than Burt thought. Poor kid.
“You know,” he says, “those ornaments sat and gathered dust in our attic til we moved into the new house. When Kurt set eyes on that box the day the movers came, it was like he'd seen a ghost. He wouldn't go anywhere near it. So I suppose, what I'm tryin' to tell ya in the longest and worst way possible, is why Kurt and Christmas are in the middle of a ten year grudge match, and Christmas, well, it's not doin' so hot.”
Blaine smiles a little at that. “Not much can be done when its opponent can set fire to it with a single look.”
And Burt laughs finally. He gives Blaine's shoulder a squeeze and his smile gets a little stronger, a little more sure. “So, are we the Ghosts of Christmas Present or something?” he asks.
“Something like that, kid. Something like that.” Burt thinks that he might be the Ghost of Christmas Present, sure, but most likely Blaine is the Ghost of Christmas Future, and not the scary kind. As for the Ghost of Christmas Past, she is wrapped in miles of bubble wrap and waiting to be unleashed.
The nice girl comes and collects their trash and Burt and Blaine settle into a silence much more comfortable than all the ones so far. Blaine looks out the window some, though Burt's sure he must be looking at nothing besides his own reflection.
Burt is just about to close his eyes and have himself a little nap when Blaine asks, “Are you sure he wants to see me? We've been talking, but -”
Burt turns his body in Blaine's direction and gives him a small smile. “I'm sure, kid. He wants you. He misses you something terrible. And well, he's gonna need you,” Burt admits. “I'm not being selfless in bringin' you along. Because them ornaments that he's so afraid of, they're in the belly of this plane making their way to Kurt same as we are. And you and me? We're bringin' the tree.”
~*~
It takes them three trips up the stairs before they've got everything waiting next to Kurt's apartment door. Mostly because Blaine wouldn't let Burt carry the tree. Or the suitcases. So he was stuck with just Kate's box of delicate ornaments that he hoped to hell the airline hadn't smashed to dust despite all of his careful wrappings.
Kurt slides the door open just as Burt's about to start knocking for the second time. He doesn't like that there isn't a peephole. He forgets to mention it, though, because Kurt is there, staring straight across at him and all he can think is that the two of them are the same height and when the hell did that even happen?
“Dad! Oh my God!” He practically jumps into Burt's arms and he knows he made the right decision in coming. “What are you doing here?” Kurt asks when he pulls back. “Where are Carole and Finn?”
“Come on, I couldn't spend Christmas away from my baby boy. And Carole and Finn are fine. They could use the time together.”
Kurt's shoulders droop with something that looks a lot like relief and he gives Burt a smile. “I can't believe you're here.”
“Yeah, well... also brought you a surprise.”
Kurt scrunches up his face and looks around Burt. “A tree, Dad? I don't need a tree.”
“A tree, yeah, but that's not what I was talkin' about.”
Blaine pops his head out from behind the spruce and smiles hesitantly. Poor kid still thinks Kurt won't want him.
“Blaine!” Burt has to keep the tree from toppling over when Kurt grabs Blaine and pulls him into his arms. The kid's smile turns wide and he closes his eyes and buries his whole face in the side of Kurt's neck. Burt smiles to himself and drags the tree inside. They could use a minute.
He leans the tree in the corner behind where Kurt and Rachel have a sorta sitting area set up with a sofa and a couple weird lookin' chairs. One looks like it belongs at the dentist's. Burt just shakes his head. He doesn't know anything about that interior design whatnot and Kurt can go on about Boho chic until his hair falls out just like Burt's and he's still not gonna get it. But that's okay. They can be two completely different men and still be on the same wavelength. That's something Burt is glad he's learned.
He turns around to get his suitcase where he packed a brand new tree stand to find Kurt standing clutching its handle, staring at Kate's box of Christmas ornaments like it's gonna jump up and bite him.
“Why'd you bring that here, Dad?” Kurt's voice is wet sounding and accusatory.
“Because it's yours, kiddo. They're yours. And they been neglected long enough, don't ya think?”
He turns his head and gives Burt a look he's gotten used to over the years and he calls Kurt's how can you do this to me? look. Burt sighs and goes over to collect the box from the hallway, sharing a glance with Blaine.
Kurt and Blaine talk quietly in the kitchen while Burt puts together the tree stand and clamps the trunk of the spruce inside it, sitting it upright and stepping back to make sure it's standing straight. He has to adjust it a little. When he goes into the kitchen to get a container of water to fill up the stand, Blaine's got Kurt in his arms and is whispering something in his ear. Burt made the right decision in bringing him, too. Kurt is nodding along with whatever he's saying. He's probably saving Burt's ass.
“You got somethin' I can put water in, Kurt?”
Kurt pulls away from Blaine and nods, fetching a pitcher from a high cupboard and filling it up from the tap. He goes into the living area himself and lies down on his belly to water the tree. Blaine smiles crookedly and scratches his head. “I'm making coffee,” he says. “Decaf, right?”
“Yeah. I already dodged getting set on fire just now. Don't wanna push my luck by drinkin' the regular stuff.”
“I heard that!” Kurt hollers from under the tree and Blaine chuckles along with Burt, taking down a jar of coffee.
They sit on the mismatched furniture, sipping their cups of coffee and staring silently at the bare tree. Burt finds he kinda likes the weird dentist's chair after all. He notices Kurt sat himself down pretty damn close to Blaine. Closer than Burt's ever seen the two of them sit before. He's also pretty sure they're holding hands. He leaves them to it and gets back to his suitcase. He's got boxes of lights in there that he bought specially the day he decided he was gonna do this. For Kurt. And for himself. And for Blaine, too, because Burt is pretty damn sure that if Kurt can forgive Blaine for what he done, they're in this thing for the long haul. The kid is gonna be a part of these traditions from here on out.
He strings the lights on the tree - his only decorating job back in the old days. He plugs the extension cord into one of the shifty looking outlets. He thinks maybe he needs to have a word with Kurt's landlord, because this place looks like a fire trap and there's no peephole and not nearly enough locks for his liking. But he supposes, looking over at Kurt who now has his head resting on Blaine's shoulder, that he's not a kid anymore, and if someone needs a talkin' to, it's his place to do it now, and not Burt's anymore. It's a pretty bitter pill to swallow.
“They evenly spaced?” Burt asks, motioning to the tree with his head. He's still fiddling with the outlet. One thing he is doing, sticking his nose in or not, is rewiring the thing before he heads back to Ohio. It's not even flush against the wall.
Kurt squints his eyes to check. “Yeah. Looks great, Dad.”
“Perfect,” Blaine agrees. His hand is petting up and down Kurt's side. He knows what comes next. So does Kurt; he's eyeing the box of Kate's ornaments with frightened eyes.
He looks over at Burt and Burt kinda wants to take them away and hide them in the attic again, but that's not healthy. They can't keep avoiding her like they've been doing. She deserves better than that. Kurt seems to come to the same conclusion. He straightens his spine and pulls the box over in front of him and begins removing the tape Burt used to secure it shut. He's glad it peels easily from the glossy, colourful winter scene that decorates the box. Kurt always liked it. He used to name all the animals and trace his little fingers over their tracks in the snow.
The angel is on the top. Kurt removes it from the box with shaking hands and studies it for a minute before holding it out towards Burt. “You do it,” he says. His voice is as shaky as his hands.
“It's your house, Bud.”
“I don't care. Just, please Dad. Take it.”
Burt nods and gets up from where he's crouched next to the wall. His knees creak and he stretches out before taking the delicate angel from Kurt's hands. He walks over to the tree and slides it over the top branch. It settles in nicely, looking down at them with a serene sort of smile. It's the oldest thing in the box, Burt knows. It belonged to Kate's grandmother.
When he turns back around he sees that Blaine has moved and now sits behind Kurt, Kurt between his legs and leaning back against his chest with his eyes shut. Burt has the urge to hide everything again and just when he's about to, Kurt sits up and unwraps the next ornament: a glass ballerina from the show they used to go see in Columbus when Kurt was little.
“Aw, Clara,” Blaine says. Kurt turns her in his hand and nods.
“We bought her the first time we went to see the Nutcracker. Remember, Dad?”
“Yeah. You picked her out. Said you didn't want any of those rat men hangin' on our tree.” Burt chuckles and Kurt smiles sadly.
“You wanted me to get the guy with the sword,” he says and Burt feels a flash of shame.
“You remember that?”
“Yeah. Mom yelled at you.” Kurt stands and heads for the tree, but first he stops and places a hand on Burt's shoulder. Forgiveness. Burt gives Kurt's hand a squeeze of thanks but the shame he feels doesn't lessen. Kurt hangs Clara on a high branch and gives her a little twirl.
They slowly go through the box, talking quietly about each of the ornaments and hanging them on the tree, Blaine joining in when Kurt uncovers a delicate yellow bird. They laugh, saying it looks like the poor bird Kurt got when he went to Dalton. Burt's pretty sure the thing swallowed one of the rhinestones Kurt glued in its cage and choked to death, but he doesn't say a word.
It's going better than Burt imagined it would. Kurt is still a little pale and shaky, but not too bad for someone being visited by the ghost of his dead mother. He's doing all right. That is, until he comes across his Baby's First Christmas ornament.
It's large - an oblong, flat surface that Kate had painted with flowers and birds and trees and baby Kurt himself. On the back is her own handwriting. Burt can't remember the words there and he can't bring himself to read them. It's the ornament that always had the honoured spot on their tree every year. More important than even the angel is my angel, Kate used to say when she lifted Kurt up to place it on a high branch just below the top.
“It's been ten years,” Kurt whispers, a single tear dripping down onto the ceramic. “Why does it still hurt so much?”
“Because,” Burt answers. He stands up and pulls Kurt into his arms. “She's your mom. And it's okay that is does, kiddo. It's okay.”
They hang Kurt's ornament and even the stockings that Kate embroidered. Funnily enough, there are little yellow birds all over the one that once belonged to her. Kurt's decides the honour of using that stocking has fallen to Blaine as he tacks it up between his and Burt's and Blaine looks on with love practically screaming from his eyes.
They're all exhausted after that, so they leave the rest of the box for the next morning. Kurt makes Rachel's bed up with fresh sheets and rolls Burt's suitcase into her room, if you can call it that. If they're going to be staying in this old barn for another year and Blaine likely moving in with them during the summer, they're gonna need more than flimsy partitions. Not that Burt wants to think about those things, but they'll probably want a little more privacy. He starts planning out something more sturdy and a whole lot more like walls. Kurt can ask permission from the landlord before he starts building them.
He lies in bed for a long time, thinking about Kurt and about Kate. As tired as his body is, he can't seem to stop his mind from spinning around like he's in a damn time warp. He hears whispering from behind Kurt's cloth partitions and tries not to listen. But then Kurt says, “come here,” and there is shuffling and what sounds like little wet smacks of kisses and a whole lot of sniffling. They'll be okay. Burt's boys. They'll all be okay.
When Burt stumbles blearily from bed the next morning, the two of them are already up and showered and dressed and he tries to ignore the fact that their hair is the same degree of wet and what that probably means. They've got coffee and are going through the rest of Kate's box and Kurt is smiling now instead of looking like a member of a funeral procession.
Kurt pulls out a strange doodad that Burt thinks is reindeer antlers for a second until he remembers. Kurt laughs and it's the most beautiful sound of Burt's life. “Oh my God,” Kurt says, giving the band a little shake. “We used to play a game with this. Mom would put it on her head and chase me and Dad around the house.” He slides the hairband into his wet hair and adjusts the dangling plastic mistletoe, puckering up his lips at Blaine. “I'll give you a whole second head start,” he warns. Blaine grins and takes off towards the kitchen.
Kurt catches him easily, landing little pecks all over Blaine's arms and neck and face. When he gets to his lips the kisses are no longer so innocent and Burt has to clear his throat awkwardly. They'll have plenty of time for that later.
They pull apart. Blaine looks embarrassed; Kurt a little too pleased with himself. Burt tries to pretend to be stern but he knows Kurt sees right through him as usual. But Blaine doesn't. He straightens his sweater and tries to flatten his hair which is starting to curl crazily as it dries. “We should definitely keep that one,” he tells Kurt with a shy smile and Kurt laughs again.
It's Christmas eve and Kurt doesn't even have anything for Christmas dinner. “Dad, we can just order in, it's fine,” he argues, but Burt is having none of that.
“You said there's a butcher. I'm just gonna walk down there and see if they're open, Kurt. I got my phone in case I get lost. I'll be fine.” He shakes his head fondly and taps Kurt on the cheek. “You'd think you were the parent here instead of me.”
When he's pulling on his boots, Burt tells them he'll be sure to knock extra loudly when he gets back from his shopping trip. He chuckles when Kurt's cheeks pinken and Blaine looks away with his eyes wide.
As soon as he's got the door shut behind him he hears the two of them scrambling towards each and he has to stifle his laughter.
The butcher is open and he gets a small turkey, then goes off down the street to buy some vegetables and a foil roaster. He wanders around a bit after he's got what he needs, enjoying the sunshine and the people who are far more polite than people ever give them credit for. When he gets back to Kurt's he does knock extra loudly before opening the door. He finds Kurt and Blaine cuddled up watching It's A Wonderful Life. He pretends not to notice that their hair is wet for the second time that day.
They spend most of Christmas morning wandering around New York after they've exchanged gifts and called Carole and Finn. Burt finds himself enjoying the city, though all the hustle and bustle even on a holiday would surely get to him if he spent every day here. Kurt takes pride in showing them his new city - all of his favourite places. He's lit up from the inside out and it does Burt's heart better than any amount of exercise and healthy dinners and vitamin supplements ever could.
The day after Christmas, he packs up his bag and wheels it to the door and makes a pot of coffee. Blaine emerges from Kurt's room first and joins Burt next to the window where he's staring out at the 'view'. A falling down old building that he's pretty damn sure is housing more than a couple squatters.
“Why's your suitcase by the door?” Blaine asks around a yawn, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.
“My flight leaves just after one.”
Blaine furrows his brow, his mouth twisted up at one corner. “But... my itinerary says I don't leave until the morning of the sixth...”
“Yeah,” Burt says with a shrug. “I gotta get back home to Carole before New Year's Eve. Bad luck not kissing the person you love at midnight you know. Messes up your whole year.”
Blaine gives him a grateful smile that he waves off. “I didn't take you for the superstitious type,” he says.
Burt chuckles. “Yeah, well, I'm really not.”
It's started to snow lightly outside, delicate flakes hitting the glass panes of the window and sliding down to melt against the wooden frame. “I'm going to marry him someday,” Blaine says, staring blindly through the falling snow to whatever future he's imagining beyond.
Burt smiles and nods his head. “I know, kid. Why do you think I brought you along?”
Kurt's tears at the airport aren't so hard to take next to the ones Burt's been hearing over the last few months.
“I'll come home soon, Dad. I promise. As soon as I get an extra couple days.”
“I look forward to it, Kurt. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad. And thank you. For bringing her to me. For making me be brave.” A tear slips down his cheek and Burt wipes it away like he used to do when Kurt was just a boy.
“You're always brave. Bravest man I know. Now, enough of that. I'll see you soon. You go have fun with Blaine.”
Kurt kisses his cheek and Burt gives Blaine another hug before shooing the two of them off and going through the gates to security. He can see them walking away, hands clasped and swinging between them. They can do that here. Burt knows that no place is perfect because the world has so much growing to do, but it's better here. Better for them. And that makes him the happiest guy on the planet.
He's still smiling when the security guards run his bag through the x-ray and go over him with the wand. And still smiling when he boards his plane, sending off a quick text to Carole to let her know that their two New York boys are doing great and he'll see her soon.
~*~
While Burt kisses Carole, watching as the New Year's ball drops on TV, Kurt is kissing Blaine right there where it's happening. Their first of many New Year's Eves in Times Square. The snow is coming down in huge, wet flakes, soaking their hair and through their coats. They don't notice a single flake.