A Port Clinton Christmas
Media: Fic
Title: A Port Clinton Christmas
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Finn, Santana/Brittany, Mercedes/Sam, Mike/Tina
Spoilers: up to 3.3 Asian F, AU from then on.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Set five years after A Minor Musical Mutiny The New Directions "family" are gathering at Kurt and Blaine's house for the first time and Kurt will accept nothing less than a perfect Christmas...
Author’s Note (if any): Can be read without having read AMMM, but will make more sense if you have. N.B.This was planned and partially written before the Christmas ep aired. All similarities are coincidental and somewhat shocking for us ;P. Beta'd by the excellent prologi
‘Blaine!’ The urgent whisper, and accompanying jostling of the mattress, roused Blaine from a gentle slumber. He opened his eyes to find Kurt leaning over him, smiling with an infectious, if slightly maniacal, excitement.
‘Morning,’ Blaine murmured, smiling in response.
‘Morning!’ Kurt replied brightly, and leant closer to give Blaine an exuberant kiss.
Blaine laughed quietly. ‘What’s got you all wired this morning?’ he asked.
‘It’s time,’ Kurt said dramatically, ‘to get ready for Christmas!’ He bounced off the bed, and strode from the room.
Blaine lay there for another moment, staring with bemusement at the bright sunshine streaming into their attic bedroom and wondering if he had managed to sleep through three whole months. Eventually, he climbed out of bed, ran a hand through his sleep-tousled curls, and padded after his absent fiancée.
~*~*~
He found Kurt in the kitchen; he had already filled the coffee machine with water and was slicing freshly-washed peaches as he waited for it to boil.
‘Kurt?’ Blaine said, fetching two glass bowls and setting them beside the chopping board.
‘Hmm?’ Kurt continued to slice the peaches without looking up, but did raise his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Blaine’s questioning tone.
‘What month is it?’ Blaine asked, leaning against the nearest counter and watching Kurt.
Kurt looked over at him with a faintly puzzled expression. ‘August. Why?’ he responded.
‘Just checking,’ Blaine said, yawning slightly, and rumpling the hair at the back of his head as he retrieved the summer blend from the top cupboard and began to fill the coffee machine. ‘So,’ he said, when the sound of falling beans had stopped, ‘how are we getting ready for Christmas today?’
Kurt paused in the process of peeling the peach slices, and beamed at Blaine. ‘Today, we are making the invitations to send out for our family get-together.’
Again, Blaine’s gaze slid involuntarily to the bright sunshine streaming in the windows. Outside, hibiscus and bougainvillea flourished, turning their back-garden into a riot of colour. Inside it was hot enough that they were sleeping under a light sheet instead of a duvet; Kurt in silk pyjamas, and Blaine in boxers. Blaine looked back at Kurt who was frowning. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little...early?’ he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Kurt set down his knife and turned to face Blaine, his expression strained. ‘This isn’t any Christmas party,’ he said, crossing his arms. ‘This is our first family get-together. Everything we do this year lays the foundations for years to come. That means everyone has to be here, and that means we have to send the invitations out now to make sure everyone can come.’ He stopped speaking and pressed his lips tightly together.
Blaine crossed the room to stand in front of Kurt, his expression solemn. Reaching up, he gently stroked Kurt’s arms, before cupping one cheek in his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to Kurt’s lips.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, ‘I didn’t mean to trivialise it.’ Kurt nodded, his arms unfolding as he relaxed. Blaine enveloped him in a hug. ‘I will do everything I can to make this go well,’ he promised. Kurt returned his hug, pressing his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck.
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he murmured, his breath blowing gently over Blaine’s skin. Blaine squeezed him tighter for a moment, and then let go.
‘First, breakfast,’ he said, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt’s lips, and moving away to retrieve the natural yogurt from the fridge as Kurt returned to peeling the peaches. ‘At least they can all have a room in this house,’ Blaine commented, setting the yogurt beside the bowls and retrieving two mugs from an overhead cupboard. ‘No one’s sleeping on the living room couch here.’
‘If we get them all decorated in time,’ Kurt said, briskly chopping the peeled peach slices in half and dropping them into the glass bowls.
‘I thought we were letting everyone choose their own colour scheme?’ Blaine responded, shouting to be heard over the sound of the coffee machine frothing the milk for Kurt’s coffee. ‘Like Puck, and Finn and Rachel, did.’
‘We are,’ Kurt called in agreement, dolloping yogurt on top of the sliced peaches as he spoke. ‘But,’ he continued, as the coffee machine quietened down, ‘we can’t have them staying in unpainted rooms for Christmas. I thought we could just give them all a splash of cream, it’s the easiest colour to paint over.’
‘Because it’s not a colour,’ Blaine commented, carrying the full mugs, and two spoons for the peaches, over to the island. ‘It’s an undercoat.’
Kurt smiled softly. ‘Undercoat is white,’ he said, scraping the peach skins into the bin and depositing the chopping board and knife in the sink.
‘So cream is...dirty undercoat?’ Blaine suggested, returning the yogurt to the fridge and dumping the serving spoon in the sink.
‘Philistine,’ Kurt said, smiling at Blaine as he turned away from the sink.
‘Snob,’ Blaine retorted fondly, hooking a hand behind Kurt’s neck to pull him down for a quick kiss. ‘Now, eat your farmer’s market peaches with organic yogurt and drink your skinny latte,’ he said, winking at Kurt and giving him a gentle shove. Kurt smiled warmly at him, stealing a quick kiss before he crossed to sit at the counter. ‘Maybe we can get Finn and Rachel to help,’ Blaine suggested, taking a long draw on his coffee. ‘Puck, too,’ he added.
Kurt beamed at him. ‘You are so clever,’ he said, grinning at him.
Blaine shrugged modestly. ‘Must be the company I keep,’ he said, smirking at Kurt over the top of his coffee cup.
August
‘What do you think?’ Kurt asked, standing in the middle of the living room, and spinning in a slow circle. He was wearing jeans from his “trucker” phase and one of Blaine’s old t-shirts, having declared that every top he owned was too expensive for decorating.
‘I think it’s the most sedate thing I’ve ever seen you wear,’ Blaine commented, smiling. He was leaning against the kitchen island, drinking a large mug of coffee and wearing similarly plain clothes.
‘I can be sedate,’ Kurt said, turning to look in the Art Nouveau-style mirror over the fireplace as he tied a skull-patterned scarf around his neck with quick, efficient movements. Blaine took another slug of coffee to hide his smirk.
‘Of course, dear,’ he murmured. Kurt threw him a quelling glance, but, before he could speak, the sound of a pick-up truck resounded in the quiet street. ‘Sounds like Finn needs that muffler replaced,’ Blaine commented idly.
Kurt nodded, looking out the window at the familiar black truck pulling up outside their three-storey, dark green house. ‘Well, maybe Dad or Puck can do it before he heads back to New York,’ he said, as Blaine joined him at the window.
‘Speaking of,’ Blaine added, nodding over his coffee cup at a second truck pulling up next to the first. Kurt strode over to fling open the front door.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ he called, clattering down the front steps with Blaine following at a slower pace.
Finn was unhooking the canvas covering the back of the truck, revealing tins of cream paint, rollers, and dust sheets, but he paused to pull Kurt into a hug. ‘Nice outfit,’ he said, grinning at Kurt.
‘Thank you,’ Kurt said, flipping his fringe back and smiling at Finn. ‘Mademoiselle Berry,’ he said, smiling at Rachel, and holding out his arms.
‘Monsieur Hummel,’ she said, winking at him and squeezing him up in a hug. ‘Love the house,’ she said, nodding in its direction.
‘Yes, well, I think the colour’s too dark, but Blaine won the toss on that one,’ Kurt said, shrugging dramatically.
‘It’s sympathetic to its surroundings,’ Blaine responded, gesturing to the pine trees bracketing the house. ‘And you got to pick the flowers for the back-garden,’ he added.
‘Nice to know you win occasionally,’ Finn said, pulling Blaine into a one-armed hug. ‘See you’re still inseparable from that mug,’ he added.
‘The elixir of life,’ Blaine said, toasting Finn before taking a drink.
‘You’re going to need it for today,’ Rachel said, smiling over at him.
‘You have no idea.’ Blaine laughed, setting his mug on the front stoop long enough to sweep her in a hug.
‘Where’s Puck?’ Kurt asked suddenly, nodding to his truck.
‘Under my truck,’ Finn said, smiling lopsidedly. ‘He insisted on looking at the muffler as soon as he got out of his car.’
‘Just as well I did, too,’ Puck said, rubbing his hands on an oil-smudged rag as he emerged from beneath Finn’s truck. Finn reached over to help him up. ‘That thing is gone, dude,’ Puck added, tucking the rag into the back pocket of his jeans and shaking his head ruefully. ‘No way you’re getting back to NY on that.’ Finn frowned and rubbed a hand through his hair anxiously. ‘Lucky for you,’ Puck continued, ‘Hummel Tires and Lube is running a “Friends and Family” program.’ He winked at Kurt, who smiled at him. ‘Bring ‘er by the shop before you go,’ Puck said, addressing Finn again. ‘I’ll get you a new one. No charge.’
‘Thanks, man,’ Finn said, sighing with relief. ‘Are you sure it’s okay, though?’ he asked anxiously.
Puck shrugged. ‘After you got me that job?’ he said, smiling. ‘Least I can do.’
Finn clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you got that job on your own; all I did was give you a nudge in the right direction.’
Rachel, who had been staring at Puck since he reappeared, tapped a finger on her lower lip and said, ‘There’s something different about you.’
‘No mohawk,’ Blaine commented, from his perch on the porch.
‘That’s it!’ Rachel said, grinning. ‘You suit it,’ she added.
Puck ran one hand over his shaved head sheepishly. ‘Well, customers have more confidence in a guy who looks respectable. ‘S what Carole says, anyway.’
Kurt smiled. ‘I thought she might have had something to do with it,’ he commented.
‘She’s an awesome lady,’ Puck said, smiling at them. ‘Anyway,’ he said, suddenly, ‘don’t we have a house to paint?’
‘Sure do,’ Rachel said.
‘Not the whole house,’ Kurt reassured them. ‘Blaine and I managed your rooms, our room, and the public rooms on our own.’
‘What did you choose for the living room in the end?’ Puck asked. ‘Cream or green?’
‘Both,’ Kurt said, looking pleased. ‘We got a nice sage colour. Paler than Blaine wanted but more colourful than cream.’
‘Very classy,’ Blaine commented, setting down his mug and standing. ‘You need a hand with those ladders?’ he asked, gesturing to the metal ladders strapped into the back of Puck’s truck.
‘Won’t say no,’ Puck said, smiling at him.
‘Here, I’ll help, too,’ Finn said, following Puck back to his truck.
‘So what are we painting?’ Rachel asked Kurt, hooking one arm through his.
‘The family bedrooms, well, the unclaimed ones,’ Kurt said, scooping up Blaine’s mug as the two of them headed back into the house. ‘We can repaint them with people’s colour choices in the new year, but I thought a nice, neutral cream would do for now.’
‘Well, we can’t have people staying in unpainted rooms for Christmas,’ Rachel said, letting go of his arm as they passed through the door.
Kurt beamed at her over his shoulder.
September
‘Isn’t it a glorious day?’ Kurt asked, smiling at Blaine as they ambled along the edge of Port Clinton Public Park. The city’s venerable pines soared above them, already tinged with autumn colour.
‘Gorgeous,’ Blaine agreed, tipping his face up to the soft autumn sun. It was still warm enough for short sleeves and Kurt’s bare arm brushed against Blaine’s as they walked. They were collecting pine cones for Kurt to spray silver as part of his evergreen-and-silver Christmas colour scheme, and the wicker basket slung on Kurt’s arm already contained a number of fallen pine cones.
‘Oh, here’s some more,’ Kurt said, releasing Blaine’s hand to crouch before a pile of them, sorting through them for the most aesthetically pleasing ones.
‘How many do we need?’ Blaine asked, leaning against the tree trunk to watch Kurt work.
‘Well, we’ll probably need two for each of the garlands in the bedrooms, plus three or four for each of the garlands in the public rooms and some for the dining room table so...fifty?’ Kurt responded, dropping a few pine cones into the basket and discarding the rest.
‘And how many have we got?’ Blaine asked, straightening up and helping Kurt to his feet. Kurt sifted through the basket counting under his breath.
‘Ten,’ he said, grimacing. He sighed. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Well,’ Blaine said, taking Kurt’s free hand and interlinking their fingers again, ‘it is, as you say, a glorious day, we’ve got more than half the park to go, and I’m in no hurry. Are you?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning in to rest his forehead against Kurt’s.
Kurt smiled, tilting his face so he could kiss Blaine deeply. ‘No hurry at all,’ he said, when they parted. Letting the wicker basket dangle from one hand, Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand lightly as they turned and wandered on.
October
‘How many of those are you planning to carve?’ Kurt asked, looking over at the six large pumpkins Blaine had set out on the kitchen counters. Kurt was sitting in one of the armchairs before their large, currently empty, fireplace. A box of wool and knitted gloves sat beside his chair and he had a half-finished glove in his lap. The box of wool next to Blaine’s chair overflowed with scarves of many colours.
‘Um, all of them,’ Blaine said, archly. ‘I’m going to put candles in them and line them along the path to the door. Lighting the candy trail,’ he added, grinning broadly.
‘Are there even any kids in Port Clinton?’ Kurt asked, watching Blaine with amusement.
‘Halloween is not just for kids,’ Blaine said, his eyes dancing with excitement as he retrieved a very sharp knife from one of the drawers and plunged it into the nearest pumpkin. ‘Sure you don’t wanna help?’ he asked, slicing the top off of one of the pumpkins and reaching in to pull out the contents.
‘I’ve got gloves to knit,’ Kurt said, smiling nonetheless at Blaine’s obvious glee.
‘I’ve got fancy patterns for the front,’ Blaine said enticingly. He had dumped the contents of the first pumpkin into the bin and was now cutting a lid into the second one.
‘You’re not just going to do creepy faces?’ Kurt asked, intrigued.
Blaine scoffed. ‘Whose house d’you think this is?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘I have got fretwork patterns that will make our front walk the most interesting place in all of Ohio.’ Kurt bit his lip, his gaze flickering from the knitting in his lap to Blaine, up to his elbow in pumpkin guts and beaming like a big kid. ‘Come on,’ Blaine wheedled. ‘You know you want to.’
Kurt grinned and set his knitting to one side. ‘Fine,’ he said trying to look stern as he crossed to the kitchen island, ‘but I’m not getting pumpkin juice on anything, and if there aren’t enough gloves this Christmas-’
‘I will take all the blame,’ Blaine said, leaning over to kiss him as he started on pumpkin number three.
‘You’d better,’ Kurt said, kissing him in return. ‘Now where’s this pattern?’
November
Kurt lay in sleepy comfort in his parent’s living room, relishing the quiet and the calm. Soon it would be time for the final Thanksgiving football game of the year. The other men would be yelling at the TV and supporting different teams just for the joy of arguing with each other, and Kurt would retreat to the den with Carole and Rachel to talk of more civilised things. Then it would be kisses and hugs, searching for misplaced scarves, and failing to convince Blaine to let him drive back to Port Clinton since Blaine drove down, but, for now, he was warm and full, and cuddled against Blaine and there was only the murmur of the radio and the rhythmic clacking of Carole’s knitting needles as she finished another hat.
Kurt was barely aware of one song finishing and another starting until he heard Blaine humming beside him. He smiled as he recognised the song. ‘Oh the weather outside is frightful,’ he sang, ‘but the fire is so delightful and, since we’ve no place to go,’ he propped himself up to smile at Blaine, ‘let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’
‘It doesn’t show signs of stopping,’ Blaine sang, smiling down at him, ‘and I’ve brought some corn for popping. The lights are turned way down low,’ Blaine winked at Kurt. ‘Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.’
‘When we finally kiss goodnight,’ Finn joined in, from the other end of the couch, ‘how I’ll hate going out in the storm. But, if you really hold me tight,’ he sang, squeezing Rachel until she laughed, ‘all the way home I’ll be warm.’
‘The fire is slowly dying,’ Rachel sang, smiling up at Finn, ‘and my dear we’re still goodbye-ing. But, as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’
Blaine stood, pulling Kurt up with him and sweeping him into a waltz. Finn, grinning at Rachel, did the same. As they neared Carole’s chair, Blaine twirled Kurt and pulled Carole into a dance. Laughing, Carole allowed herself to be passed from Blaine to Kurt to Finn and back to her chair, just as the instrumental section finished.
‘The fire is slowly dying,’ Blaine sang, slow dancing with Kurt once again.
‘And my dear, we’re still goodbye-ing,’ Kurt sang, smiling softly at Blaine.
‘But as long as you love me so,’ Rachel sang, as Finn twirled her.
‘Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’ they sang together.
As the track reached its rousing finish, the two couples collapsed back onto the couch, grinning at each other.
‘Wish it would snow,’ Kurt said, after a moment.
‘Maybe it’ll snow tonight,’ Blaine suggested, giving Kurt a gentle squeeze. Kurt smiled.
‘It’s certainly cold enough,’ Burt grumbled from behind them. They turned to see Burt and Puck coming in the front door, bundled up and carrying something between them.
‘Dad,’ Kurt said, standing immediately, ‘you’re not supposed to carry heavy objects.’
‘Guess I’m alright, then,’ Burt said archly. ‘Beside, I got Puck to help me.’
‘It’s not that heavy,’ Puck said, shrugging at Kurt.
Kurt pressed his lips together. ‘What is it anyway?’ Kurt said, trying to see between the two men.
‘Well,’ Burt said, as he and Puck moved further into the room, ‘since you guys have been doin’ all that knitting, I thought you might want something to put it in.’ He and Puck stepped into the middle of the room and set down a large cedar chest. It was pale, with simple, elegant lines and polished brass handles. ‘See,’ Burt said, lifting the lid, ‘plenty of space for all them hats and gloves and scarves you’ve been knitting.’
Kurt stared at it, one hand on his chest. ‘Did you make this yourself?’ he asked quietly.
‘Of course!’ Burt said, cheerily. ‘You guys were being all craft-y, I thought it was my turn.’ He grinned at Kurt. ‘Call it a housewarming gift.’
Kurt stepped forward and hugged Burt tightly. ‘Thank you, Dad,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s beautiful.’
‘Eh, it’s nothin’,’ Burt said, patting Kurt on the back. Kurt smiled and stepped back.
‘It really is beautiful,’ Blaine said, smiling at Burt. ‘Thank you.’
‘What’s this?’ Kurt asked, reaching in and retrieving a loosely wrapped parcel from the bottom of the chest.
‘That’s from Burt and me,’ Carole said, standing up and setting her knitting to one side. ‘Since you’ve picked a name for the house now,’ she said, as Kurt unwrapped the package, ‘we thought it’d be nice to have a sign for it.’
Inside the paper there was a slice of pine trunk, cut at an angle, with the words The Pines etched into it in elegant lettering.
‘Carole did the letters,’ Burt said.
‘Thank you,’ Kurt said, pulling Carole into a hug as well.
‘No problem, honey,’ Carole said, hugging him back and then pulling Blaine into a hug too.
‘Right, now we’ve got all that sentiment out of the way,’ Burt said, smiling at Kurt, who rolled his eyes, ‘I believe it’s time for some football.’
‘Excellent,’ Puck said, grinning. ‘My boys are gonna win, I know it. This is their year.’
‘Their year to lose,’ Finn retorted, digging out the remote. ‘Best quarterback in the country is playing on my side. Your boys haven’t got a chance.’
‘Cocoa?’ Rachel suggested, stepping up beside Kurt.
‘And showtunes?’ Kurt added. Rachel grinned.
‘I’ll put the milk on,’ Carole said, smiling at Rachel and Kurt as the three of them left the boys squabbling amiably over which team was assured victory and which was destined for defeat.
Title: A Port Clinton Christmas
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Finn, Santana/Brittany, Mercedes/Sam, Mike/Tina
Spoilers: up to 3.3 Asian F, AU from then on.
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Set five years after A Minor Musical Mutiny The New Directions "family" are gathering at Kurt and Blaine's house for the first time and Kurt will accept nothing less than a perfect Christmas...
Author’s Note (if any): Can be read without having read AMMM, but will make more sense if you have. N.B.This was planned and partially written before the Christmas ep aired. All similarities are coincidental and somewhat shocking for us ;P. Beta'd by the excellent prologi
‘Blaine!’ The urgent whisper, and accompanying jostling of the mattress, roused Blaine from a gentle slumber. He opened his eyes to find Kurt leaning over him, smiling with an infectious, if slightly maniacal, excitement.
‘Morning,’ Blaine murmured, smiling in response.
‘Morning!’ Kurt replied brightly, and leant closer to give Blaine an exuberant kiss.
Blaine laughed quietly. ‘What’s got you all wired this morning?’ he asked.
‘It’s time,’ Kurt said dramatically, ‘to get ready for Christmas!’ He bounced off the bed, and strode from the room.
Blaine lay there for another moment, staring with bemusement at the bright sunshine streaming into their attic bedroom and wondering if he had managed to sleep through three whole months. Eventually, he climbed out of bed, ran a hand through his sleep-tousled curls, and padded after his absent fiancée.
~*~*~
He found Kurt in the kitchen; he had already filled the coffee machine with water and was slicing freshly-washed peaches as he waited for it to boil.
‘Kurt?’ Blaine said, fetching two glass bowls and setting them beside the chopping board.
‘Hmm?’ Kurt continued to slice the peaches without looking up, but did raise his eyebrows in acknowledgement of Blaine’s questioning tone.
‘What month is it?’ Blaine asked, leaning against the nearest counter and watching Kurt.
Kurt looked over at him with a faintly puzzled expression. ‘August. Why?’ he responded.
‘Just checking,’ Blaine said, yawning slightly, and rumpling the hair at the back of his head as he retrieved the summer blend from the top cupboard and began to fill the coffee machine. ‘So,’ he said, when the sound of falling beans had stopped, ‘how are we getting ready for Christmas today?’
Kurt paused in the process of peeling the peach slices, and beamed at Blaine. ‘Today, we are making the invitations to send out for our family get-together.’
Again, Blaine’s gaze slid involuntarily to the bright sunshine streaming in the windows. Outside, hibiscus and bougainvillea flourished, turning their back-garden into a riot of colour. Inside it was hot enough that they were sleeping under a light sheet instead of a duvet; Kurt in silk pyjamas, and Blaine in boxers. Blaine looked back at Kurt who was frowning. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little...early?’ he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Kurt set down his knife and turned to face Blaine, his expression strained. ‘This isn’t any Christmas party,’ he said, crossing his arms. ‘This is our first family get-together. Everything we do this year lays the foundations for years to come. That means everyone has to be here, and that means we have to send the invitations out now to make sure everyone can come.’ He stopped speaking and pressed his lips tightly together.
Blaine crossed the room to stand in front of Kurt, his expression solemn. Reaching up, he gently stroked Kurt’s arms, before cupping one cheek in his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to Kurt’s lips.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, ‘I didn’t mean to trivialise it.’ Kurt nodded, his arms unfolding as he relaxed. Blaine enveloped him in a hug. ‘I will do everything I can to make this go well,’ he promised. Kurt returned his hug, pressing his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck.
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he murmured, his breath blowing gently over Blaine’s skin. Blaine squeezed him tighter for a moment, and then let go.
‘First, breakfast,’ he said, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt’s lips, and moving away to retrieve the natural yogurt from the fridge as Kurt returned to peeling the peaches. ‘At least they can all have a room in this house,’ Blaine commented, setting the yogurt beside the bowls and retrieving two mugs from an overhead cupboard. ‘No one’s sleeping on the living room couch here.’
‘If we get them all decorated in time,’ Kurt said, briskly chopping the peeled peach slices in half and dropping them into the glass bowls.
‘I thought we were letting everyone choose their own colour scheme?’ Blaine responded, shouting to be heard over the sound of the coffee machine frothing the milk for Kurt’s coffee. ‘Like Puck, and Finn and Rachel, did.’
‘We are,’ Kurt called in agreement, dolloping yogurt on top of the sliced peaches as he spoke. ‘But,’ he continued, as the coffee machine quietened down, ‘we can’t have them staying in unpainted rooms for Christmas. I thought we could just give them all a splash of cream, it’s the easiest colour to paint over.’
‘Because it’s not a colour,’ Blaine commented, carrying the full mugs, and two spoons for the peaches, over to the island. ‘It’s an undercoat.’
Kurt smiled softly. ‘Undercoat is white,’ he said, scraping the peach skins into the bin and depositing the chopping board and knife in the sink.
‘So cream is...dirty undercoat?’ Blaine suggested, returning the yogurt to the fridge and dumping the serving spoon in the sink.
‘Philistine,’ Kurt said, smiling at Blaine as he turned away from the sink.
‘Snob,’ Blaine retorted fondly, hooking a hand behind Kurt’s neck to pull him down for a quick kiss. ‘Now, eat your farmer’s market peaches with organic yogurt and drink your skinny latte,’ he said, winking at Kurt and giving him a gentle shove. Kurt smiled warmly at him, stealing a quick kiss before he crossed to sit at the counter. ‘Maybe we can get Finn and Rachel to help,’ Blaine suggested, taking a long draw on his coffee. ‘Puck, too,’ he added.
Kurt beamed at him. ‘You are so clever,’ he said, grinning at him.
Blaine shrugged modestly. ‘Must be the company I keep,’ he said, smirking at Kurt over the top of his coffee cup.
August
‘What do you think?’ Kurt asked, standing in the middle of the living room, and spinning in a slow circle. He was wearing jeans from his “trucker” phase and one of Blaine’s old t-shirts, having declared that every top he owned was too expensive for decorating.
‘I think it’s the most sedate thing I’ve ever seen you wear,’ Blaine commented, smiling. He was leaning against the kitchen island, drinking a large mug of coffee and wearing similarly plain clothes.
‘I can be sedate,’ Kurt said, turning to look in the Art Nouveau-style mirror over the fireplace as he tied a skull-patterned scarf around his neck with quick, efficient movements. Blaine took another slug of coffee to hide his smirk.
‘Of course, dear,’ he murmured. Kurt threw him a quelling glance, but, before he could speak, the sound of a pick-up truck resounded in the quiet street. ‘Sounds like Finn needs that muffler replaced,’ Blaine commented idly.
Kurt nodded, looking out the window at the familiar black truck pulling up outside their three-storey, dark green house. ‘Well, maybe Dad or Puck can do it before he heads back to New York,’ he said, as Blaine joined him at the window.
‘Speaking of,’ Blaine added, nodding over his coffee cup at a second truck pulling up next to the first. Kurt strode over to fling open the front door.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ he called, clattering down the front steps with Blaine following at a slower pace.
Finn was unhooking the canvas covering the back of the truck, revealing tins of cream paint, rollers, and dust sheets, but he paused to pull Kurt into a hug. ‘Nice outfit,’ he said, grinning at Kurt.
‘Thank you,’ Kurt said, flipping his fringe back and smiling at Finn. ‘Mademoiselle Berry,’ he said, smiling at Rachel, and holding out his arms.
‘Monsieur Hummel,’ she said, winking at him and squeezing him up in a hug. ‘Love the house,’ she said, nodding in its direction.
‘Yes, well, I think the colour’s too dark, but Blaine won the toss on that one,’ Kurt said, shrugging dramatically.
‘It’s sympathetic to its surroundings,’ Blaine responded, gesturing to the pine trees bracketing the house. ‘And you got to pick the flowers for the back-garden,’ he added.
‘Nice to know you win occasionally,’ Finn said, pulling Blaine into a one-armed hug. ‘See you’re still inseparable from that mug,’ he added.
‘The elixir of life,’ Blaine said, toasting Finn before taking a drink.
‘You’re going to need it for today,’ Rachel said, smiling over at him.
‘You have no idea.’ Blaine laughed, setting his mug on the front stoop long enough to sweep her in a hug.
‘Where’s Puck?’ Kurt asked suddenly, nodding to his truck.
‘Under my truck,’ Finn said, smiling lopsidedly. ‘He insisted on looking at the muffler as soon as he got out of his car.’
‘Just as well I did, too,’ Puck said, rubbing his hands on an oil-smudged rag as he emerged from beneath Finn’s truck. Finn reached over to help him up. ‘That thing is gone, dude,’ Puck added, tucking the rag into the back pocket of his jeans and shaking his head ruefully. ‘No way you’re getting back to NY on that.’ Finn frowned and rubbed a hand through his hair anxiously. ‘Lucky for you,’ Puck continued, ‘Hummel Tires and Lube is running a “Friends and Family” program.’ He winked at Kurt, who smiled at him. ‘Bring ‘er by the shop before you go,’ Puck said, addressing Finn again. ‘I’ll get you a new one. No charge.’
‘Thanks, man,’ Finn said, sighing with relief. ‘Are you sure it’s okay, though?’ he asked anxiously.
Puck shrugged. ‘After you got me that job?’ he said, smiling. ‘Least I can do.’
Finn clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hey, you got that job on your own; all I did was give you a nudge in the right direction.’
Rachel, who had been staring at Puck since he reappeared, tapped a finger on her lower lip and said, ‘There’s something different about you.’
‘No mohawk,’ Blaine commented, from his perch on the porch.
‘That’s it!’ Rachel said, grinning. ‘You suit it,’ she added.
Puck ran one hand over his shaved head sheepishly. ‘Well, customers have more confidence in a guy who looks respectable. ‘S what Carole says, anyway.’
Kurt smiled. ‘I thought she might have had something to do with it,’ he commented.
‘She’s an awesome lady,’ Puck said, smiling at them. ‘Anyway,’ he said, suddenly, ‘don’t we have a house to paint?’
‘Sure do,’ Rachel said.
‘Not the whole house,’ Kurt reassured them. ‘Blaine and I managed your rooms, our room, and the public rooms on our own.’
‘What did you choose for the living room in the end?’ Puck asked. ‘Cream or green?’
‘Both,’ Kurt said, looking pleased. ‘We got a nice sage colour. Paler than Blaine wanted but more colourful than cream.’
‘Very classy,’ Blaine commented, setting down his mug and standing. ‘You need a hand with those ladders?’ he asked, gesturing to the metal ladders strapped into the back of Puck’s truck.
‘Won’t say no,’ Puck said, smiling at him.
‘Here, I’ll help, too,’ Finn said, following Puck back to his truck.
‘So what are we painting?’ Rachel asked Kurt, hooking one arm through his.
‘The family bedrooms, well, the unclaimed ones,’ Kurt said, scooping up Blaine’s mug as the two of them headed back into the house. ‘We can repaint them with people’s colour choices in the new year, but I thought a nice, neutral cream would do for now.’
‘Well, we can’t have people staying in unpainted rooms for Christmas,’ Rachel said, letting go of his arm as they passed through the door.
Kurt beamed at her over his shoulder.
September
‘Isn’t it a glorious day?’ Kurt asked, smiling at Blaine as they ambled along the edge of Port Clinton Public Park. The city’s venerable pines soared above them, already tinged with autumn colour.
‘Gorgeous,’ Blaine agreed, tipping his face up to the soft autumn sun. It was still warm enough for short sleeves and Kurt’s bare arm brushed against Blaine’s as they walked. They were collecting pine cones for Kurt to spray silver as part of his evergreen-and-silver Christmas colour scheme, and the wicker basket slung on Kurt’s arm already contained a number of fallen pine cones.
‘Oh, here’s some more,’ Kurt said, releasing Blaine’s hand to crouch before a pile of them, sorting through them for the most aesthetically pleasing ones.
‘How many do we need?’ Blaine asked, leaning against the tree trunk to watch Kurt work.
‘Well, we’ll probably need two for each of the garlands in the bedrooms, plus three or four for each of the garlands in the public rooms and some for the dining room table so...fifty?’ Kurt responded, dropping a few pine cones into the basket and discarding the rest.
‘And how many have we got?’ Blaine asked, straightening up and helping Kurt to his feet. Kurt sifted through the basket counting under his breath.
‘Ten,’ he said, grimacing. He sighed. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Well,’ Blaine said, taking Kurt’s free hand and interlinking their fingers again, ‘it is, as you say, a glorious day, we’ve got more than half the park to go, and I’m in no hurry. Are you?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning in to rest his forehead against Kurt’s.
Kurt smiled, tilting his face so he could kiss Blaine deeply. ‘No hurry at all,’ he said, when they parted. Letting the wicker basket dangle from one hand, Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand lightly as they turned and wandered on.
October
‘How many of those are you planning to carve?’ Kurt asked, looking over at the six large pumpkins Blaine had set out on the kitchen counters. Kurt was sitting in one of the armchairs before their large, currently empty, fireplace. A box of wool and knitted gloves sat beside his chair and he had a half-finished glove in his lap. The box of wool next to Blaine’s chair overflowed with scarves of many colours.
‘Um, all of them,’ Blaine said, archly. ‘I’m going to put candles in them and line them along the path to the door. Lighting the candy trail,’ he added, grinning broadly.
‘Are there even any kids in Port Clinton?’ Kurt asked, watching Blaine with amusement.
‘Halloween is not just for kids,’ Blaine said, his eyes dancing with excitement as he retrieved a very sharp knife from one of the drawers and plunged it into the nearest pumpkin. ‘Sure you don’t wanna help?’ he asked, slicing the top off of one of the pumpkins and reaching in to pull out the contents.
‘I’ve got gloves to knit,’ Kurt said, smiling nonetheless at Blaine’s obvious glee.
‘I’ve got fancy patterns for the front,’ Blaine said enticingly. He had dumped the contents of the first pumpkin into the bin and was now cutting a lid into the second one.
‘You’re not just going to do creepy faces?’ Kurt asked, intrigued.
Blaine scoffed. ‘Whose house d’you think this is?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘I have got fretwork patterns that will make our front walk the most interesting place in all of Ohio.’ Kurt bit his lip, his gaze flickering from the knitting in his lap to Blaine, up to his elbow in pumpkin guts and beaming like a big kid. ‘Come on,’ Blaine wheedled. ‘You know you want to.’
Kurt grinned and set his knitting to one side. ‘Fine,’ he said trying to look stern as he crossed to the kitchen island, ‘but I’m not getting pumpkin juice on anything, and if there aren’t enough gloves this Christmas-’
‘I will take all the blame,’ Blaine said, leaning over to kiss him as he started on pumpkin number three.
‘You’d better,’ Kurt said, kissing him in return. ‘Now where’s this pattern?’
November
Kurt lay in sleepy comfort in his parent’s living room, relishing the quiet and the calm. Soon it would be time for the final Thanksgiving football game of the year. The other men would be yelling at the TV and supporting different teams just for the joy of arguing with each other, and Kurt would retreat to the den with Carole and Rachel to talk of more civilised things. Then it would be kisses and hugs, searching for misplaced scarves, and failing to convince Blaine to let him drive back to Port Clinton since Blaine drove down, but, for now, he was warm and full, and cuddled against Blaine and there was only the murmur of the radio and the rhythmic clacking of Carole’s knitting needles as she finished another hat.
Kurt was barely aware of one song finishing and another starting until he heard Blaine humming beside him. He smiled as he recognised the song. ‘Oh the weather outside is frightful,’ he sang, ‘but the fire is so delightful and, since we’ve no place to go,’ he propped himself up to smile at Blaine, ‘let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’
‘It doesn’t show signs of stopping,’ Blaine sang, smiling down at him, ‘and I’ve brought some corn for popping. The lights are turned way down low,’ Blaine winked at Kurt. ‘Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.’
‘When we finally kiss goodnight,’ Finn joined in, from the other end of the couch, ‘how I’ll hate going out in the storm. But, if you really hold me tight,’ he sang, squeezing Rachel until she laughed, ‘all the way home I’ll be warm.’
‘The fire is slowly dying,’ Rachel sang, smiling up at Finn, ‘and my dear we’re still goodbye-ing. But, as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’
Blaine stood, pulling Kurt up with him and sweeping him into a waltz. Finn, grinning at Rachel, did the same. As they neared Carole’s chair, Blaine twirled Kurt and pulled Carole into a dance. Laughing, Carole allowed herself to be passed from Blaine to Kurt to Finn and back to her chair, just as the instrumental section finished.
‘The fire is slowly dying,’ Blaine sang, slow dancing with Kurt once again.
‘And my dear, we’re still goodbye-ing,’ Kurt sang, smiling softly at Blaine.
‘But as long as you love me so,’ Rachel sang, as Finn twirled her.
‘Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!’ they sang together.
As the track reached its rousing finish, the two couples collapsed back onto the couch, grinning at each other.
‘Wish it would snow,’ Kurt said, after a moment.
‘Maybe it’ll snow tonight,’ Blaine suggested, giving Kurt a gentle squeeze. Kurt smiled.
‘It’s certainly cold enough,’ Burt grumbled from behind them. They turned to see Burt and Puck coming in the front door, bundled up and carrying something between them.
‘Dad,’ Kurt said, standing immediately, ‘you’re not supposed to carry heavy objects.’
‘Guess I’m alright, then,’ Burt said archly. ‘Beside, I got Puck to help me.’
‘It’s not that heavy,’ Puck said, shrugging at Kurt.
Kurt pressed his lips together. ‘What is it anyway?’ Kurt said, trying to see between the two men.
‘Well,’ Burt said, as he and Puck moved further into the room, ‘since you guys have been doin’ all that knitting, I thought you might want something to put it in.’ He and Puck stepped into the middle of the room and set down a large cedar chest. It was pale, with simple, elegant lines and polished brass handles. ‘See,’ Burt said, lifting the lid, ‘plenty of space for all them hats and gloves and scarves you’ve been knitting.’
Kurt stared at it, one hand on his chest. ‘Did you make this yourself?’ he asked quietly.
‘Of course!’ Burt said, cheerily. ‘You guys were being all craft-y, I thought it was my turn.’ He grinned at Kurt. ‘Call it a housewarming gift.’
Kurt stepped forward and hugged Burt tightly. ‘Thank you, Dad,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s beautiful.’
‘Eh, it’s nothin’,’ Burt said, patting Kurt on the back. Kurt smiled and stepped back.
‘It really is beautiful,’ Blaine said, smiling at Burt. ‘Thank you.’
‘What’s this?’ Kurt asked, reaching in and retrieving a loosely wrapped parcel from the bottom of the chest.
‘That’s from Burt and me,’ Carole said, standing up and setting her knitting to one side. ‘Since you’ve picked a name for the house now,’ she said, as Kurt unwrapped the package, ‘we thought it’d be nice to have a sign for it.’
Inside the paper there was a slice of pine trunk, cut at an angle, with the words The Pines etched into it in elegant lettering.
‘Carole did the letters,’ Burt said.
‘Thank you,’ Kurt said, pulling Carole into a hug as well.
‘No problem, honey,’ Carole said, hugging him back and then pulling Blaine into a hug too.
‘Right, now we’ve got all that sentiment out of the way,’ Burt said, smiling at Kurt, who rolled his eyes, ‘I believe it’s time for some football.’
‘Excellent,’ Puck said, grinning. ‘My boys are gonna win, I know it. This is their year.’
‘Their year to lose,’ Finn retorted, digging out the remote. ‘Best quarterback in the country is playing on my side. Your boys haven’t got a chance.’
‘Cocoa?’ Rachel suggested, stepping up beside Kurt.
‘And showtunes?’ Kurt added. Rachel grinned.
‘I’ll put the milk on,’ Carole said, smiling at Rachel and Kurt as the three of them left the boys squabbling amiably over which team was assured victory and which was destined for defeat.