Happy Holidays Fckyeahitslauren!
Title: Earlier Heaven
Recipient: fckyeahitslauren
Author/Artist: to be revealed January 3rd, 2012
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Homophobic attitudes
Word Count: appx. 6700
Summary: After Blaine is kicked out of his house, he finds a home at the Hudmels.
Notes: I tried to work in everything from your first prompt. Merry Christmas to you and yours. Thanks to the endless patience of my beta, J. She’s been a lifesaver on this.
A happy family is but an earlier heaven.
--George Bernard Shaw
When Blaine was really little his mother had trained him to wait to ask if it was almost Thanksgiving until after they went Trick-or-Treating for Halloween. At age three or four “Is it Thanksgiving, yet?” really meant “Is it my birthday, yet; is it Christmas, yet; can we see Santa, yet; can we drive around town and look at lights, yet?” all rolled into one.
When he was little, he thought having a birthday near Thanksgiving was the coolest thing ever. He and his cousins and aunts and uncles would all celebrate the day after Thanksgiving. No one wanting to try for Black Friday sales anyhow. Then on Saturday, they would brave the mall and visit Santa. Thanksgiving was his birthday and cousins -- the warm-up for Christmas, which he loved just as much.
He didn't know when Thanksgiving started to change from being one of his favorite holidays to a chore he had to get through. When he looked back, he thought maybe it was when he was ten, and there was a snowstorm so his cousins couldn’t make Thanksgiving that year, so it was just going to be him and his parents. It might have been when he was twelve and his mother decided that planning a kid party was too much on top of a family party so he could pick one from then on. Maybe it was when he was fifteen, and in the hospital and recovering after the nightmare that was Sadie Hawkins, and any thoughts of birthdays were completely put aside in favor of what the hospital deemed a Thanksgiving meal.
Blaine’s parents had the biggest house of his mother’s siblings. It wasn’t huge, but it fit the four families in a comfortably tight way. It was only his mother’s family that came for Thanksgiving, but they tried to make it every year. People tripped over each other as his aunts and mother bustled in and out of the kitchen making the best turkey dinner ever. His uncles and father watched football in the den, yelling and screaming.
When they were little, the six cousins piled into the living room was great fun. The four-day weekend of Thanksgiving was spent talking and screaming and watching movies and ignoring calls from upstairs of “Go to sleep, now, guys. I mean it!” The four boys would have pillow fights while the girls would run from them before joining in and giving back as good as they got.
On Thanksgiving day, the kids would run between the living room, den, and kitchen. They’d trip the grown-ups; the house would be filled with laughter. As they got older, the boys would end up watching football with the men. The girls sometimes helped their mothers, but mostly the two of them ended up looking over magazines or listening to music.
What had once been a fun dog-pile of giggling kids and laughter and staying up late and who-cares-whose-parent-shouted-to-go-to-sleep-we’re-having-fun was now six sweaty teenagers trying to find space in a room that had somehow become smaller over the years. Elbows and knees ended up in awkward places. The girls refused to sleep on the same plane as the boys, so the two of them automatically got the couches. Nobody wanted to stay up late and laugh and talk. They hardly knew each other. They weren’t friends -- not even on Facebook.
Knowing the answer, Blaine asked his mother a week in advance if his cousins were coming in for Thanksgiving.
She gave a noncommittal, "Yes, dear. Just be on your best behavior."
Blaine rolled his eyes. Don't be gay for the weekend, he mentally translated. "Of course, Mom."
He thought about going to Kurt. Wonderful Kurt, who seemed to look at all holidays with an odd air of skepticism. Thanksgiving seemed to put him in a weird buzzing mode. Blaine tried desperately to read him, but he kept him on his toes. Blaine couldn’t tell if Kurt loved that there seemed to be a billion things to do to get ready for Thanksgiving or if he was driving himself crazy with it.
“Honestly, Blaine, I still have to go over the menu with Carole so we can divide an conquer this. And if Finn thinks he’s setting one foot in that kitchen before dinner starts at two, he’s got another thing coming. Honestly, he and Dad can just sit and watch football. I’m okay with it, really! Are you going shopping with me on Friday? I still haven’t decided if I’ve forgiven Mercedes. But it’s not nearly as much fun shopping alone. We’ll camp out all night! I have a schedule all drawn up...” He didn’t stop until Blaine forced him to with a kiss.
“Of course I’ll go with, silly,” he said with a laugh. He thought he could get into this again after all; Kurt’s enthusiasm was contagious at times.
Sure enough, Wednesday before Thanksgiving was just as crowded as he expected. He told Kurt that he was having his family over starting Wednesday night, but there was no way he was going to miss shopping, even if he had no clue what he was getting anyone. So they parted ways after school on Wednesday with a quick, “See you after dinner tomorrow. Call me!”
Blaine pulled up to his house, somewhat amused that his cousins seemed to miss that Wednesday’s classes just to drive to his house. They greeted him little grunts and “heys” and nods as he threw his backpack into his closet, hoping to get his homework done at some point in time that weekend, and cursing the teachers that didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have any time to do it.
He came downstairs with a smile plastered on his face. Time for the annual pizza dinner, because no one wanted to actually cook the day before they had to cook.
Finding room on the floor with the other boys was an interesting experience. He finally found a small sliver of space between one of his cousins and the couch and squeezed in. He brought his phone down with him, placing it in his pillowcase. It vibrated softly. He pulled it out.
I love you! Have fun with your family. ♥
He knew he was grinning as he stuffed his phone back under his pillow and tried to find a way to get comfortable. He eventually fell into a restless sleep listening to the strange sounds of people he barely knew breathing in rhythms that never quite felt right. He dreamt of the perfect scarf and glove set to find Kurt.
Blaine woke up the next morning to the phone vibrating again.
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, dear Blaaaaaine.
Happy Birthday to you. ♥
How’d you know it was my birthday?
I have my ways. And you told me last year. Kurt Hummel forgets nothing. ♥
Thanks! I wish I could see you today. I’ll miss you.
Maybe I’ll be able to sneak out later with a pumpkin muffin. You need something sweet from me on your birthday. ♥
Well, you sang to me! That was pretty sweet. Though a pumpkin muffin does sound good. Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ll see you tonight. Black Friday really means tonight, right?
Sure does. We’re camping out! ♥
Love you, ttyl
Love you, too. Happy Birthday! ♥
“Can you please pass the green beans?” Blaine shouted over the din.
“Sure.” His uncle passed him the dish. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Not much. Junior year at McKinley is pretty easy, but my class load is full. I’m taking more this year so next year will be light. I think I’ll double-up at the community college next year.”
“You always were a smart one for that. Never did quite get why you did ninth grade twice.”
“I was... sick, and in the hospital. Remember? You guys didn’t come down that year.”
“Oh, yeah. So, got a girlfriend?”
His mother shot him a look. He let out a strained sort of sort of chuckle. “Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
“So who were you making love eyes at through your phone this morning?” one of his cousins piped in.
“Love eyes?”
“Yeah, you got a text message this morning, and you were grinning at the phone like an idiot.”
“Oh. Um. Just a friend. We’re going to the mall tonight together.” Blaine was sure he flushed bright red and was hoping the conversation would turn away from him.
“Hey, Blaine, isn’t your birthday this time of year? I remember we used to have a party for you with left over turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie instead of cake.”
“Oh, yeah... it’s today actually. Mom, can I have the potatoes? They’re great.”
His father looked up and over from the conversation he’d been having. “Today? I suppose it is. Isn’t it. I...”
Blaine knew he was about to say he forgot. He’d forgotten the last few years. It wouldn’t be the first time. He stopped caring. “The potatoes, Mom?”
She passed them over, glancing between them.
“So that means your eighteen.”
“Yeah, Dad.”
The entire table had gone incredibly silent. Blaine wasn’t sure why. He had a birthday every year, this wasn’t particularly interesting.
“So, have you made any decisions regarding your future?”
Blaine looked around at the table. He felt the tension itching at the back of his neck, but there wasn’t room at the crowded table to lift his arm enough to rub at it the way he wanted to. “I thought I was just going to finish this year of school. Start looking at colleges next year.”
“What about that other thing you were having a problem with?”
“Dad...” Blaine said through clenched teeth, nodding his head at the rest of the table.
“No, I think that they should know. You certainly don’t hide it from anyone else in the world. You parade around town, around school. Well, son, you’re eighteen. You’re a man, now.”
“Legally, yes. I suppose.”
“Well, you can choose now. Are you going to be a man? You going to toughen up? Or are you going to tell your cousins the truth about those love eyes you were making. Tell them who you’re going shopping with tonight. Tell them why you don’t have a girlfriend.” He slammed his fist on the table. “You’re eighteen today. You may have a year left of school, but I don’t have to put up with this if I don’t want to.”
Blaine’s mother sat stiffly next to his father. Forcing a smile on her face. She didn’t say anything.
Blaine scooted his chair back and stood slowly, calmly. “Okay, Dad. Guys, what my dad is trying not to say is that I have a boyfriend. His name is Kurt. He’s fabulous, and adorable. We’re both out and proud of who we are. We’re singers and actors. I’m a good singer. And no matter how hard Dad tries, he can’t make me into more of a man. I’m not even quite sure what that is.
“So the big elephant in the room that they’ve been trying to hide ever since I got ‘sick’ my freshman year is that I was never sick. I was beaten. I was put into a hospital because I’m capital G-A-Y and dared do go out with another boy. And now I’m happily in a relationship with another boy. And Mom and Dad and I have simply been keeping it from you.”
“Blaine, sweetie, while you’re up can you go into the kitchen and see if there’s any more sweet potatoes.” His mother’s plastic smile didn’t waver.
“No. He won’t. He won’t be going into the kitchen. He will be handing me the keys to his, our, car. He will be handing over his phone. He may grab his backpack. And he will leave this house.”
“Seriously, Dad?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s how you want it. Bye, guys.” He couldn’t feel his fingers -- he couldn’t feel anything -- as he handed over the keys to his car. He looked down at the phone that had a picture of Kurt and him goofing off in Glee together as the wallpaper. He handed it to his father, too.
He ran up to his bedroom. It didn’t even smell like his room, instead smelling of his aunt’s shampoo and perfume. He grabbed his backpack and his winter coat. He shoved his feet into some warm boots. He had some cash stashed in the back of his closet; he grabbed it, not knowing if his father would be able to disable his access to his bank account and debit card.
When he walked out of the front door, some part of him knew he should be upset. He had just been kicked out of his house. Instead, he felt relieved. He had just come out to his extended family. None of them had stood up for him, but none of them had jumped onto his father’s side either. When he thought back to their faces, they all just seemed shocked. He probably would have been had he been in their place.
What kind of father kicks their kid out like that? “Fuck you, too, Dad,” he said aloud.
He looked up and down the street, futilely wishing his father hadn’t taken his car keys. He mentally mapped out the quickest way to the nearest gas station and most likely working pay phone -- at least it wasn’t snowing.
“This is Burt Hummel, and I’ve already said I will not do any more interviews until after the long weekend. We’re eating Thanksgiving Dinner. Call back on Monday.”
“Hi, Mr. Hummel, um, Burt, it’s Blaine. I had to use the phone book, because I stupidly didn’t memorize Kurt’s number.”
“What’s up, kid? Where’re you calling from? The caller ID is whacky.”
“Uh, the Exxon station at Fifth and Smith. Can I talk to Kurt?”
Burt must have recognized something in his voice, because it just a second later that he was talking to Kurt.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I might have just been kicked out of my house.”
“Might have been? Blaine...”
“Okay, I was.” he interrupted. “I’m eighteen. And in my father’s mind that meant I had a choice. Gay or him. And I chose gay.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where are you? I’ll be there in minute. You can come here.”
“Shouldn’t you ask your dad? He didn’t exactly like it the last time I stayed over.”
“He’ll be okay with this. I promise. And if he’s not, I’ll make him be. You can’t sleep outside. Even if it’s just for a few days. You’re coming here. Don’t argue.”
“All right.” He told Kurt where he was quickly before the time ran out on his call.
Blaine wasn’t expecting Burt to come too. But when Kurt’s Navigator pulled into the gas station parking lot, Kurt jumped out of the passenger seat with a large blanket. He ran up to Blaine and wrapped it around him, guiding him towards the back seat where they both climbed in together.
Blaine didn’t realize he was shivering. He curled into Kurt’s heat next to him. Burt turned up the heat as high as it would go, not caring that he and Kurt were both sweating.
“Rub his arms. The shivering’s a good thing.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I wasn’t out there that long. I didn’t even think I was cold. You don’t live too far from here.”
“Yeah, sometimes when the weathers cold but there’s no snow it tricks your brain into thinking it’s warmer than it is. You walked there, right?” Burt waited for Blaine’s affirmation before continuing, “That’s good. You were moving, but then you stopped. And it took us a little bit to get over here, so let’s get you back to the house. We got some warm food and football to watch.”
“So, you’re okay with me staying at your place?” Blaine asked through chattering teeth.
“Yes. Well, tonight I thought you and Kurt had plans. Something about Blue Friday or something. And it’s probably a good thing, since it doesn’t look like they let you even take any clothes. But we’ll set you up with Finn or something tomorrow as soon as you two get back. And Kurt, he’s had a tough day. If he gets tired, you head home early. I don’t care if there’s a special on hats at Sears.”
“Really, Dad. You think I would jeopardize my boyfriend’s health for hats? And Sears. Like we’re heading there anyhow.”
“You better be. There’s a few things I want...” Blaine let their banter wash over him as he warmed up both inside and out.
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
--Maya Angelou
Blaine fell into a routine fairly quickly at the Hudson-Hummel home. They took him to the bank on Friday and quickly switched his account over to one that his father wouldn’t have access to. One small benefit of being a legal adult, he found.
His and Finn’s room -- which was joke, because the only thing he did in there was sleep, all of his awake-time was spent in Kurt’s presence -- was small, but they got along. Blaine didn’t understand why he was told, rather forcefully at first to “Just don’t try and put up any lamps or come at me with toilet-thingies.”
Blaine looked to Kurt, who smiled and said, “Towellette, Finn, and he won’t. No worries.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
Sharing living space with his boyfriend in high school wasn’t all he expected, though. Burt kept a closer eye on them. Blaine mostly focused on getting his schoolwork done. He was asked back to work at the amusement park for the holidays. He thought of declining, but realized he needed to think about money. He didn’t want to stay at the Hudson-Hummels’ without paying some sort of rent. (Even if Burt had told him not to worry about it.) Plus he had clothes to buy, since his entire wardrobe was left at his parents’ house.
By the time Blaine came home, he was exhausted, sore, and too worn out to think. He often caught Kurt looking at him with a curious expression on his face, but neither one pushed it.
The phone rang as they were heading out to school on Blaine’s day off from the park. Kurt answered and called up to his dad, “Hey, your prescription is ready.”
“Aw, crap. Yeah, hey, bud, do you mind grabbing it? I’ll need more tonight.”
Kurt looked to Blaine. A quick stop at the pharmacy after glee rehearsal wasn’t a big deal for either of them.
It seemed no store was safe from holiday shoppers, not even the pharmacy. Kurt wanted to browse a bit. “Just in case. The products might be cheap, but there are a few teachers I still need to get things for. Plus I always give out little mini candy canes, and I need to pick those up.”
Blaine found the decorations aisle and his eyes lit up. Kurt gave him a bemused smile. “What?”
“There’s buttons!”
“What are you talking about?”
“When I was little, my mom never used to let me hit the buttons on the little singing Christmas trees. I always wanted to. And then they came out with snowmen and reindeer and there’s a singing Mickey Mouse! Please, Kurt!”
“You want to hit the buttons, what are you, five?” Kurt blushed in embarrassment and looked around.
“Please?” Blaine bounced on his toes a bit.
“Oh, all right.”
Blaine bounded down the aisle, he snatched up a Pluto with a Santa hat and hit the “press here” sticker. Pluto immediately started shaking in his hands. Blaine let out a laugh. He then hit the button on a snowglobe which let out a high-pitched, tinny rendition of “Deck The Halls”. He moved on to a group of penguins all attached together holding little choir sheets in their hands.
“Aww, Kurt, it’s you! In triplicate.”
Kurt was still flushed with embarrassment. Though they both knew no one was really paying any attention, so focused were they on their own business. “What are you on?”
“Last year you said you were a penguin. They remind me of you.” He picked them up, pressing the button.
The penguins started bobbing and singing “Sleigh Ride.”
“Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we,
We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather should be...” Blaine sang along.
“Blaine!” Kurt hissed. “We’re in the middle of a store!”
“Can I get them?” Blaine pouted, sticking his lower lip out.
“You are eighteen, not eight.”
“But they remind me of you. And they’re adorable. You have to admit that.”
“They’re tacky.”
“They’re cute. And they sing.”
“No.”
“Please? I’ll be your best friend!”
“You already are my best friend.”
“Please? I’ll be your boyfriend!”
Kurt bit back a laugh. “You’re that, too.”
“But they’re penguins.”
“Yeah. And you’re just being silly. Come on, let’s go get my dad’s meds.”
Blaine headed to the back of the store where the pharmacy was located, not noticing Kurt sneak the singing penguins into his basket with the rest of his prizes.
When he got home from the park the next day, he smiled at the little penguins sitting on his pillow. A little note was pinned to one of them. “I love you” was printed in Kurt’s even handwriting.
Sunday before finals came before anyone realized it. Finn went over to Rachel’s, where he claimed he would study. Blaine begged off work, getting his understudy to cover for him. As soon as finals week was over, they were getting him nearly non-stop over the break, and he needed to study. Kurt had managed to only have two major exams, neither of which he was stressing over. Carole dragged a grumbling Burt out the house for some Christmas shopping, winking at Kurt and saying that they would be back long after dinner and to fend for themselves.
Blaine threw his AP Physics binder down on his bed and cursed.
“You okay,” called Kurt from across the hall.
“I know I told you to stay away, if I look at those formulas any more my brain is going to explode.”
“I think you need a break. I know I do. I’m not worried about my French test at all. But Mr. Davis’s English finals consist of 500 vocab words. And, honestly, when is,” he grabbed a flashcard, “anthropophaginian going to come up in normal conversation?”
“True, most people would just use cannibal.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you love me.”
“You’re right. But why do you know that?”
“I don’t know. I just do. At least I’ll be prepared for next year? If I can make it through this year. Ugh. What were you saying about a break?”
“Come on you.” Kurt tugged at Blaine’s arm. “Let’s go watch a movie. Chemistry...”
“Physics.”
“Science isn’t going to change its formulas in the time it takes to watch ‘A Christmas Story’. ”
“Will you make popcorn?”
“Of course.”
Kurt led Blaine down the stairs and set him up on the couch. He turned on the fireplace, thankful they had chosen a place with a gas fireplace, lugging firewood in when it was snowing out was not romantic (though he did miss the smell). He started up the DVD and tucked an exhausted-looking Blaine in on the couch before dashing into the kitchen to start the popcorn in the air popper.
It wasn’t long before the two of them were curled next to each other, eating popcorn and snuggling under the warm blanket.
“Were you afraid of the mall Santa as a kid?” Kurt asked.
“Um, no? I don’t think so. I don’t know if I ever got to see him.”
“Really? Your parents never took you to meet Santa?”
“Well, we did office Christmas parties. I got to meet Santa there. I think I always knew he was a guy in a suit dressed to look like Santa. It was always me and a few other kids dressed in stiff clothes and shoes that were two sizes too small. We would smile, sit on his lap, and he would smell like the wine our parents were drinking. He always gave us the same pencil and journal set every year.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Right? The kids at school talked about meeting Santa at the mall or Walmart or Dillard’s, and I just sort of thought that that was where the real Santa was when he wasn’t at the North Pole. Then I grew up.”
“When’s your next day off?”
“Christmas Day. But I have a few hours break this week because of half-days with finals week. Why?”
“Because, little boy, you’re going to meet the real fake Santa.”
“What?”
“Well, they took Brittany last year. She still believes, don’t tell her otherwise, so I see nothing wrong with taking you. Also, tonight, after dinner, you and I are going to go look at Christmas lights.”
“I don’t have time!”
“You do. We’re making it. And remember, ‘All work and no play makes Blaine a dull boy.’”
“I’m not dull. I just want to pass this class with an A so I get college credit and have a good chance of getting a scholarship. And can we finish the movie now?”
“Sounds like an idea. Or we could ignore the movie that we’ve both seen at least a hundred times.” Kurt placed the empty popcorn bowl on the floor and gently pushed Blaine over so he was lying on the couch. “And take advantage of the fact that this is the first time since you’ve moved in that we have the house to ourselves.”
“Blaine is not a dull boy?” Blaine responded with a smirk, tilting his hips upwards.
Kurt stretched his body over Blaine’s, rubbing up along too many layers of clothes, feeling an unmistakable hardness underneath. Kurt kissed Blaine’s jaw, his nape, just behind ear. Pale white fingers curled into Blaine’s dark hair, tugging gently as Blaine parted his mouth.
“What if,” he panted, “your family comes home?”
“They won’t. Not for hours. Stop thinking.”
Kurt reached under Blaine’s sweater, pulling it off to reveal another shirt. Blaine didn’t bother with helping Kurt remove layer by layer, he snaked his hands under the hem of the bottommost shirt, and the cold fingers against his skin made Kurt shiver.
“I need to warm you up.”
“Mmm... Okay. Not really cold, though.”
Kurt reached under the blanket and palmed Blaine’s erection through his pants.
Blaine let out a harsh moan. “Bed... Bedroom.”
“No. Here. Now.”
“Okay.”
Kurt undid Blaine’s pants. He slipped them down over his hips and ducked under the blanket, warm and comforting over them. A kiss was placed on Blaine’s inner thigh as Kurt worked the pants lower. They finally came off all the way. Kurt, who Blaine had never seen careless with clothes before, tossed the pants in a pile next to the couch before removing his underwear and dropping them on top.
Kurt came up from under the heat of the blanket flushed. He kissed Blaine fully, deeply on the mouth. They took in each others’ breath, Kurt still fully clothed on top of Blaine, and Blaine trying to remedy that but not having any purchase to do so.
Blaine grasped at Kurt’s ass, pulling them even closer, their lips never separating. One of them moaned, or they both did. It didn’t matter who. Erections were forced together, the soft clothing between them both frustrating and exhilarating at once. Blaine couldn’t stand it anymore, though. He reached between them and clumsily unclasped the pants.
Kurt wriggled out of his jeans and underwear, never moving from his position on top of Blaine. The movement sent jolts of electricity firing through Blaine’s body. He groaned into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt groaned back.
They broke the kiss.
Both removed their own shirts, Kurt revealing a smooth expanse of pale skin, Blaine with dark hair leading down to his erect penis. Kurt licked his lips and took a deep breath as he glanced at it. Blaine panted in anticipation at the way Kurt was looking at him.
Kurt nuzzled Blaine’s neck once, sucking gently. He rubbed his hands over Blaine’s shoulders, lightly touching his collarbone and chest. Kurt brushed Blaine’s nipples, and his breath hitched. He gulped and shuddered. Kurt’s mouth moved from his neck, following where his hands had just been.
Blaine brought his hands up to Kurt’s back, using his nails to rub in a way he knew Kurt loved. Kurt latched gently onto Blaine’s right nipple, teasing it to hardness, rolling it softly between his teeth. He flicked his tongue over the top, then blew on the wet nub. He repeated the process on the other side.
Kurt moved down. Blaine bit back a cry as Kurt engulfed him in one move. Kurt swirled his tongue over the head of Blaine’s erection, flitting it in and out of the slit. He pulled off with an obscene “pop” and started to lick with long and hard strokes.
Kurt was holding Blaine’s hips still as he took him in his mouth again. Blaine wanted nothing more than to thrust up and into it -- into something. He growled and pushed Kurt off.
Kurt’s pale skin was flushed red past his collar bone. Both young men were panting. In one swift move Blaine reversed their positions, flipping Kurt onto his stomach with the blanket below them. He lay his still-wet penis down between Kurt’s ass cheeks. He spit into his palm and roughly reached underneath them both to grasp Kurt, who hadn’t been touched yet.
He thrust, not penetrating or wanting to, just feeling Kurt around him and under him.
Kurt hissed, “Harder, it’s not going to come off.”
Blaine laughed and pulled, thrusting harder as he did. He bent down, biting at Kurt’s neck and sucking. He knew it would bruise, he wanted it to. Kurt pushed himself into Blaine’s hand as Blaine sucked.
Blaine gave a squeeze and another pull as he thrust again. Kurt howled into the couch below him as he came, pulsing over Blaine’s hand and onto the blanket below him. Blaine couldn’t take it; he thrust again between Kurt’s ass and was coming all over Kurt’s back with a shout.
He collapsed on top Kurt who gave a grunt. They both tried to catch their breath.
Kurt cherished the weight blanketing him, allowing their breaths to sync. Blaine tangled their fingers together, playing with them lightly. He nuzzled Kurt’s neck, his breath tickling the little hairs there. Kurt smiled, his eyes drifting closed.
“Blaine?”
“Hmm?”
“Get off. We need to, um...” Kurt tried to speak. “Um... clean. Blanket needs to be washed.”
“And physics needs to be studied for.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s throw the blanket in the wash. Then a shower. Then a nap. Then physics.”
“Then Christmas Lights.”
“You’re determined, aren’t you?”
“You know I’m going to win on this.”
“Yes, I may as well give in now.”
“Dude! Get up. There’s snow! And it’s Christmas!”
Blaine peeled his eyes open. “What time is it?”
“It’s Christmas morning. It doesn’t matter, there’s snow!” Finn bounced Blaine’s bed lightly.
“Can you wake me when it’s actually light out? I know there’s snow, I drove back last night in it.”
“But, Blaine, it’s Christmas.”
“Wake Kurt up. I was working until late and I want at least another hour of sleep.”
“I tried that last year, and he said if I ever did it again, he’d never bake me cupcakes again.”
“One more hour. Then I promise I’ll get up with you.”
“You aren’t at all curious to see if there’s extra presents under the tree for you?”
“Why would there be? I already got something from Kurt. Right now, I’m more interested in some coffee.”
“Maybe I got you something. And I can totally make you some coffee if it’ll get you up faster.”
“Finn!” Carole’s voice came from down the hallway. “You know there won’t be any present opening until after 7:30. Lie down and let that poor boy rest. He got in late last night.”
“But...”
“But nothing. At 7:30 we’ll get up. Not another peep!”
“Okay.”
Blaine pulled the pillow over his head and rolled over and tried desperately to ignore the energy he could feel rolling off the other boy. He tried to go back to sleep, but gave up after five minutes.
“Finn,” he whispered.
“What?”
“If we go downstairs and into the kitchen to make cinnamon rolls for everyone, do you think you can keep it down?”
“Really?” He practically shouted. “Really?” He whispered after realizing what he did. “I mean, it’s not opening presents, but yeah. Do you know how to make them? I don’t think we have the kind in a can. Kurt won’t let my mom buy those anymore.”
“Yes, I know how to make them. I’m not Kurt, but I do know how to bake a little bit. Just keep it down, okay? We don’t want to wake everyone else up, and it’ll be a nice surprise for them.”
They trundled down into the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients. Blaine set Finn to heating some milk, “Just to where it starts to bubble, then let me know, okay?” Then he busied himself with the rest of the recipe.
Kurt woke when he realized someone was in his kitchen. He peeked through the doorway and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Finn had somehow managed to get flour in his hair, and seemed determined to make as much of a mess with Blaine supervising as possible. Blaine wasn’t much better, but he at least didn’t look like he was trying to powder the floor.
Kurt decided to keep silent and just watched as the rolls somehow managed to be put into muffin cups and placed into the oven. Then he raised an eyebrow as Blaine looked around the kitchen at the mess the two of them had caused.
“Finn, You can’t just dump a bunch of water on the flour to clean it up.”
“Why?”
“Because all you’ll do is make paste.”
“But there’s flour everywhere on the counter.”
“Because you used a mug to measure it instead of a measuring cup. Measuring cups go into the flour bag a lot easier. And they’re more accurate.”
“So how do I get the flour off the counter?”
“Well, wipe it off dry, first.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” Finn grabbed a paper towel and swiped at a large pile of flour. A cloud of flour flew towards Blaine.
Blaine gave a yelp then clapped his hands over his mouth as he looked down at his pajama top, now covered in white dust. “Finn!”
“Sorry!”
Blaine grabbed at a bit of flour that was sitting on a different section of counter and tossed it at Finn -- who had to retaliate with a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar.
Kurt couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped that time.
Finn and Blaine turned to look at the new target. They got twin grins on their faces and both reached for the bag of flour.
“Oh, no! No you don’t. Finn Hudson! This is not acceptable. Blaine! Don’t you dare.” He was backing up, his hands in the air.
They reached for his hair, and he was covered in the flour.
“You do realize that this is war.”
“Bring it on!”
The boys tossed flour and cinnamon at each other, not noticing Carole and Burt with the camera until Carole cleared her throat and said, “Say cheese.”
Burt tried to put on a stern face. It was somewhat ruined when Kurt went over to him and rubbed a stripe of flour down his nose.
“I think this is the first white Christmas we’ve had inside the kitchen,” Kurt said just as the buzzer went off for the cinnamon rolls.
“Okay, you boys run upstairs and get cleaned up. We’ll clean up in here later. I’ll put the rolls, which smell delicious, thank you, on a plate and we’ll go into the living room and look at presents.”
Finn nearly bowled the other boys over at the mention of presents, and Kurt trotted up the stairs behind him with a smile on his face. Blaine held back and looked at Carole and Burt.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us, kid,” Burt said.
“Yeah, I really do.”
“Naw, just go get cleaned up. Besides, I know you made those rolls. That’s a pretty good thank you.”
“Finn helped. And Kurt helped, well, destroy the kitchen.”
“I bet Finn helped with that too.”
“Yeah, he did. Seriously, though, thank you.”
“Go on. Merry Christmas, Blaine.”
“You too. Merry Christmas, both of you.”
Blaine sat between Finn and Kurt. Wrapping paper was strewn about the room, the cinnamon rolls long eaten, and no presents remained under the tree.
“Blaine, I have one more present for you,” Kurt stood up.
“You got me the Red Ryder BB gun?”
“No, Ralphie. Hold on, I hid it in my closet.”
“Well, that was a guarantee none of us would ever find it.” Burt chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute.”
Kurt came down the stairs with his arms full of a wrapped something. Blaine couldn’t figure out what it could be. It was huge.
“Well, open it,” Carole prompted, once it was in his lap.
Blaine pulled at the paper, which gave in easily under the soft bulk.
“You couldn’t have! How’d you get this?”
Under the wrapping was his grandmother’s quilt. It was the only thing he actually had cared about leaving at his house, and had mentioned it more than once to Kurt.
“Well, Puck may have helped. Don’t worry about it. I don’t think your parents actually noticed it’s missing. We’ve been listening in on the police scanners. It’s yours anyhow. She left it to you.”
Blaine ran his hands over it, not quite believing it was there.
“Thanks doesn’t seem to be enough. You’re wonderful, Kurt. And I love you more every day. And your family has been so, so great. Thank you. All of you.”
“Hey, kid. You’re not so bad yourself.” Burt put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I mean, I know we had a rocky start this year, but you’re kind of one of us now. Come on stop crying, it’s Christmas!”
Blaine wiped his face and pushed the blanket to the side. He jumped up and wrapped Kurt in a hug chanting, “Thank you,” and, “I love you,” over and over again. Finn joined in on the hug.
Burt and Carole laughed when Finn gestured them over, too, saying, “Come on, Mom! This is totally a group hug moment!”
When they all broke apart, Blaine was laughing through his tears. “This has seriously been the best Christmas ever.”
“I always did whatever I liked, but now I really can do it.”
--A.A. Milne
Please consider spreading holiday cheer by commenting on and/or reblogging this fanfic! If you rec this fic, please be sure to attribute it to anonymous until the author/artist is revealed on January 3rd, 2011. Don’t forget to check out all of the other amazing works that will be posted throughout December!
Recipient: fckyeahitslauren
Author/Artist: to be revealed January 3rd, 2012
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Homophobic attitudes
Word Count: appx. 6700
Summary: After Blaine is kicked out of his house, he finds a home at the Hudmels.
Notes: I tried to work in everything from your first prompt. Merry Christmas to you and yours. Thanks to the endless patience of my beta, J. She’s been a lifesaver on this.
A happy family is but an earlier heaven.
--George Bernard Shaw
When Blaine was really little his mother had trained him to wait to ask if it was almost Thanksgiving until after they went Trick-or-Treating for Halloween. At age three or four “Is it Thanksgiving, yet?” really meant “Is it my birthday, yet; is it Christmas, yet; can we see Santa, yet; can we drive around town and look at lights, yet?” all rolled into one.
When he was little, he thought having a birthday near Thanksgiving was the coolest thing ever. He and his cousins and aunts and uncles would all celebrate the day after Thanksgiving. No one wanting to try for Black Friday sales anyhow. Then on Saturday, they would brave the mall and visit Santa. Thanksgiving was his birthday and cousins -- the warm-up for Christmas, which he loved just as much.
He didn't know when Thanksgiving started to change from being one of his favorite holidays to a chore he had to get through. When he looked back, he thought maybe it was when he was ten, and there was a snowstorm so his cousins couldn’t make Thanksgiving that year, so it was just going to be him and his parents. It might have been when he was twelve and his mother decided that planning a kid party was too much on top of a family party so he could pick one from then on. Maybe it was when he was fifteen, and in the hospital and recovering after the nightmare that was Sadie Hawkins, and any thoughts of birthdays were completely put aside in favor of what the hospital deemed a Thanksgiving meal.
Blaine’s parents had the biggest house of his mother’s siblings. It wasn’t huge, but it fit the four families in a comfortably tight way. It was only his mother’s family that came for Thanksgiving, but they tried to make it every year. People tripped over each other as his aunts and mother bustled in and out of the kitchen making the best turkey dinner ever. His uncles and father watched football in the den, yelling and screaming.
When they were little, the six cousins piled into the living room was great fun. The four-day weekend of Thanksgiving was spent talking and screaming and watching movies and ignoring calls from upstairs of “Go to sleep, now, guys. I mean it!” The four boys would have pillow fights while the girls would run from them before joining in and giving back as good as they got.
On Thanksgiving day, the kids would run between the living room, den, and kitchen. They’d trip the grown-ups; the house would be filled with laughter. As they got older, the boys would end up watching football with the men. The girls sometimes helped their mothers, but mostly the two of them ended up looking over magazines or listening to music.
What had once been a fun dog-pile of giggling kids and laughter and staying up late and who-cares-whose-parent-shouted-to-go-to-sleep-we’re-having-fun was now six sweaty teenagers trying to find space in a room that had somehow become smaller over the years. Elbows and knees ended up in awkward places. The girls refused to sleep on the same plane as the boys, so the two of them automatically got the couches. Nobody wanted to stay up late and laugh and talk. They hardly knew each other. They weren’t friends -- not even on Facebook.
Knowing the answer, Blaine asked his mother a week in advance if his cousins were coming in for Thanksgiving.
She gave a noncommittal, "Yes, dear. Just be on your best behavior."
Blaine rolled his eyes. Don't be gay for the weekend, he mentally translated. "Of course, Mom."
He thought about going to Kurt. Wonderful Kurt, who seemed to look at all holidays with an odd air of skepticism. Thanksgiving seemed to put him in a weird buzzing mode. Blaine tried desperately to read him, but he kept him on his toes. Blaine couldn’t tell if Kurt loved that there seemed to be a billion things to do to get ready for Thanksgiving or if he was driving himself crazy with it.
“Honestly, Blaine, I still have to go over the menu with Carole so we can divide an conquer this. And if Finn thinks he’s setting one foot in that kitchen before dinner starts at two, he’s got another thing coming. Honestly, he and Dad can just sit and watch football. I’m okay with it, really! Are you going shopping with me on Friday? I still haven’t decided if I’ve forgiven Mercedes. But it’s not nearly as much fun shopping alone. We’ll camp out all night! I have a schedule all drawn up...” He didn’t stop until Blaine forced him to with a kiss.
“Of course I’ll go with, silly,” he said with a laugh. He thought he could get into this again after all; Kurt’s enthusiasm was contagious at times.
Sure enough, Wednesday before Thanksgiving was just as crowded as he expected. He told Kurt that he was having his family over starting Wednesday night, but there was no way he was going to miss shopping, even if he had no clue what he was getting anyone. So they parted ways after school on Wednesday with a quick, “See you after dinner tomorrow. Call me!”
Blaine pulled up to his house, somewhat amused that his cousins seemed to miss that Wednesday’s classes just to drive to his house. They greeted him little grunts and “heys” and nods as he threw his backpack into his closet, hoping to get his homework done at some point in time that weekend, and cursing the teachers that didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have any time to do it.
He came downstairs with a smile plastered on his face. Time for the annual pizza dinner, because no one wanted to actually cook the day before they had to cook.
Finding room on the floor with the other boys was an interesting experience. He finally found a small sliver of space between one of his cousins and the couch and squeezed in. He brought his phone down with him, placing it in his pillowcase. It vibrated softly. He pulled it out.
I love you! Have fun with your family. ♥
He knew he was grinning as he stuffed his phone back under his pillow and tried to find a way to get comfortable. He eventually fell into a restless sleep listening to the strange sounds of people he barely knew breathing in rhythms that never quite felt right. He dreamt of the perfect scarf and glove set to find Kurt.
Blaine woke up the next morning to the phone vibrating again.
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, dear Blaaaaaine.
Happy Birthday to you. ♥
How’d you know it was my birthday?
I have my ways. And you told me last year. Kurt Hummel forgets nothing. ♥
Thanks! I wish I could see you today. I’ll miss you.
Maybe I’ll be able to sneak out later with a pumpkin muffin. You need something sweet from me on your birthday. ♥
Well, you sang to me! That was pretty sweet. Though a pumpkin muffin does sound good. Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ll see you tonight. Black Friday really means tonight, right?
Sure does. We’re camping out! ♥
Love you, ttyl
Love you, too. Happy Birthday! ♥
“Can you please pass the green beans?” Blaine shouted over the din.
“Sure.” His uncle passed him the dish. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Not much. Junior year at McKinley is pretty easy, but my class load is full. I’m taking more this year so next year will be light. I think I’ll double-up at the community college next year.”
“You always were a smart one for that. Never did quite get why you did ninth grade twice.”
“I was... sick, and in the hospital. Remember? You guys didn’t come down that year.”
“Oh, yeah. So, got a girlfriend?”
His mother shot him a look. He let out a strained sort of sort of chuckle. “Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
“So who were you making love eyes at through your phone this morning?” one of his cousins piped in.
“Love eyes?”
“Yeah, you got a text message this morning, and you were grinning at the phone like an idiot.”
“Oh. Um. Just a friend. We’re going to the mall tonight together.” Blaine was sure he flushed bright red and was hoping the conversation would turn away from him.
“Hey, Blaine, isn’t your birthday this time of year? I remember we used to have a party for you with left over turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie instead of cake.”
“Oh, yeah... it’s today actually. Mom, can I have the potatoes? They’re great.”
His father looked up and over from the conversation he’d been having. “Today? I suppose it is. Isn’t it. I...”
Blaine knew he was about to say he forgot. He’d forgotten the last few years. It wouldn’t be the first time. He stopped caring. “The potatoes, Mom?”
She passed them over, glancing between them.
“So that means your eighteen.”
“Yeah, Dad.”
The entire table had gone incredibly silent. Blaine wasn’t sure why. He had a birthday every year, this wasn’t particularly interesting.
“So, have you made any decisions regarding your future?”
Blaine looked around at the table. He felt the tension itching at the back of his neck, but there wasn’t room at the crowded table to lift his arm enough to rub at it the way he wanted to. “I thought I was just going to finish this year of school. Start looking at colleges next year.”
“What about that other thing you were having a problem with?”
“Dad...” Blaine said through clenched teeth, nodding his head at the rest of the table.
“No, I think that they should know. You certainly don’t hide it from anyone else in the world. You parade around town, around school. Well, son, you’re eighteen. You’re a man, now.”
“Legally, yes. I suppose.”
“Well, you can choose now. Are you going to be a man? You going to toughen up? Or are you going to tell your cousins the truth about those love eyes you were making. Tell them who you’re going shopping with tonight. Tell them why you don’t have a girlfriend.” He slammed his fist on the table. “You’re eighteen today. You may have a year left of school, but I don’t have to put up with this if I don’t want to.”
Blaine’s mother sat stiffly next to his father. Forcing a smile on her face. She didn’t say anything.
Blaine scooted his chair back and stood slowly, calmly. “Okay, Dad. Guys, what my dad is trying not to say is that I have a boyfriend. His name is Kurt. He’s fabulous, and adorable. We’re both out and proud of who we are. We’re singers and actors. I’m a good singer. And no matter how hard Dad tries, he can’t make me into more of a man. I’m not even quite sure what that is.
“So the big elephant in the room that they’ve been trying to hide ever since I got ‘sick’ my freshman year is that I was never sick. I was beaten. I was put into a hospital because I’m capital G-A-Y and dared do go out with another boy. And now I’m happily in a relationship with another boy. And Mom and Dad and I have simply been keeping it from you.”
“Blaine, sweetie, while you’re up can you go into the kitchen and see if there’s any more sweet potatoes.” His mother’s plastic smile didn’t waver.
“No. He won’t. He won’t be going into the kitchen. He will be handing me the keys to his, our, car. He will be handing over his phone. He may grab his backpack. And he will leave this house.”
“Seriously, Dad?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s how you want it. Bye, guys.” He couldn’t feel his fingers -- he couldn’t feel anything -- as he handed over the keys to his car. He looked down at the phone that had a picture of Kurt and him goofing off in Glee together as the wallpaper. He handed it to his father, too.
He ran up to his bedroom. It didn’t even smell like his room, instead smelling of his aunt’s shampoo and perfume. He grabbed his backpack and his winter coat. He shoved his feet into some warm boots. He had some cash stashed in the back of his closet; he grabbed it, not knowing if his father would be able to disable his access to his bank account and debit card.
When he walked out of the front door, some part of him knew he should be upset. He had just been kicked out of his house. Instead, he felt relieved. He had just come out to his extended family. None of them had stood up for him, but none of them had jumped onto his father’s side either. When he thought back to their faces, they all just seemed shocked. He probably would have been had he been in their place.
What kind of father kicks their kid out like that? “Fuck you, too, Dad,” he said aloud.
He looked up and down the street, futilely wishing his father hadn’t taken his car keys. He mentally mapped out the quickest way to the nearest gas station and most likely working pay phone -- at least it wasn’t snowing.
“This is Burt Hummel, and I’ve already said I will not do any more interviews until after the long weekend. We’re eating Thanksgiving Dinner. Call back on Monday.”
“Hi, Mr. Hummel, um, Burt, it’s Blaine. I had to use the phone book, because I stupidly didn’t memorize Kurt’s number.”
“What’s up, kid? Where’re you calling from? The caller ID is whacky.”
“Uh, the Exxon station at Fifth and Smith. Can I talk to Kurt?”
Burt must have recognized something in his voice, because it just a second later that he was talking to Kurt.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I might have just been kicked out of my house.”
“Might have been? Blaine...”
“Okay, I was.” he interrupted. “I’m eighteen. And in my father’s mind that meant I had a choice. Gay or him. And I chose gay.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where are you? I’ll be there in minute. You can come here.”
“Shouldn’t you ask your dad? He didn’t exactly like it the last time I stayed over.”
“He’ll be okay with this. I promise. And if he’s not, I’ll make him be. You can’t sleep outside. Even if it’s just for a few days. You’re coming here. Don’t argue.”
“All right.” He told Kurt where he was quickly before the time ran out on his call.
Blaine wasn’t expecting Burt to come too. But when Kurt’s Navigator pulled into the gas station parking lot, Kurt jumped out of the passenger seat with a large blanket. He ran up to Blaine and wrapped it around him, guiding him towards the back seat where they both climbed in together.
Blaine didn’t realize he was shivering. He curled into Kurt’s heat next to him. Burt turned up the heat as high as it would go, not caring that he and Kurt were both sweating.
“Rub his arms. The shivering’s a good thing.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I wasn’t out there that long. I didn’t even think I was cold. You don’t live too far from here.”
“Yeah, sometimes when the weathers cold but there’s no snow it tricks your brain into thinking it’s warmer than it is. You walked there, right?” Burt waited for Blaine’s affirmation before continuing, “That’s good. You were moving, but then you stopped. And it took us a little bit to get over here, so let’s get you back to the house. We got some warm food and football to watch.”
“So, you’re okay with me staying at your place?” Blaine asked through chattering teeth.
“Yes. Well, tonight I thought you and Kurt had plans. Something about Blue Friday or something. And it’s probably a good thing, since it doesn’t look like they let you even take any clothes. But we’ll set you up with Finn or something tomorrow as soon as you two get back. And Kurt, he’s had a tough day. If he gets tired, you head home early. I don’t care if there’s a special on hats at Sears.”
“Really, Dad. You think I would jeopardize my boyfriend’s health for hats? And Sears. Like we’re heading there anyhow.”
“You better be. There’s a few things I want...” Blaine let their banter wash over him as he warmed up both inside and out.
The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
--Maya Angelou
Blaine fell into a routine fairly quickly at the Hudson-Hummel home. They took him to the bank on Friday and quickly switched his account over to one that his father wouldn’t have access to. One small benefit of being a legal adult, he found.
His and Finn’s room -- which was joke, because the only thing he did in there was sleep, all of his awake-time was spent in Kurt’s presence -- was small, but they got along. Blaine didn’t understand why he was told, rather forcefully at first to “Just don’t try and put up any lamps or come at me with toilet-thingies.”
Blaine looked to Kurt, who smiled and said, “Towellette, Finn, and he won’t. No worries.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
Sharing living space with his boyfriend in high school wasn’t all he expected, though. Burt kept a closer eye on them. Blaine mostly focused on getting his schoolwork done. He was asked back to work at the amusement park for the holidays. He thought of declining, but realized he needed to think about money. He didn’t want to stay at the Hudson-Hummels’ without paying some sort of rent. (Even if Burt had told him not to worry about it.) Plus he had clothes to buy, since his entire wardrobe was left at his parents’ house.
By the time Blaine came home, he was exhausted, sore, and too worn out to think. He often caught Kurt looking at him with a curious expression on his face, but neither one pushed it.
The phone rang as they were heading out to school on Blaine’s day off from the park. Kurt answered and called up to his dad, “Hey, your prescription is ready.”
“Aw, crap. Yeah, hey, bud, do you mind grabbing it? I’ll need more tonight.”
Kurt looked to Blaine. A quick stop at the pharmacy after glee rehearsal wasn’t a big deal for either of them.
It seemed no store was safe from holiday shoppers, not even the pharmacy. Kurt wanted to browse a bit. “Just in case. The products might be cheap, but there are a few teachers I still need to get things for. Plus I always give out little mini candy canes, and I need to pick those up.”
Blaine found the decorations aisle and his eyes lit up. Kurt gave him a bemused smile. “What?”
“There’s buttons!”
“What are you talking about?”
“When I was little, my mom never used to let me hit the buttons on the little singing Christmas trees. I always wanted to. And then they came out with snowmen and reindeer and there’s a singing Mickey Mouse! Please, Kurt!”
“You want to hit the buttons, what are you, five?” Kurt blushed in embarrassment and looked around.
“Please?” Blaine bounced on his toes a bit.
“Oh, all right.”
Blaine bounded down the aisle, he snatched up a Pluto with a Santa hat and hit the “press here” sticker. Pluto immediately started shaking in his hands. Blaine let out a laugh. He then hit the button on a snowglobe which let out a high-pitched, tinny rendition of “Deck The Halls”. He moved on to a group of penguins all attached together holding little choir sheets in their hands.
“Aww, Kurt, it’s you! In triplicate.”
Kurt was still flushed with embarrassment. Though they both knew no one was really paying any attention, so focused were they on their own business. “What are you on?”
“Last year you said you were a penguin. They remind me of you.” He picked them up, pressing the button.
The penguins started bobbing and singing “Sleigh Ride.”
“Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we,
We’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather should be...” Blaine sang along.
“Blaine!” Kurt hissed. “We’re in the middle of a store!”
“Can I get them?” Blaine pouted, sticking his lower lip out.
“You are eighteen, not eight.”
“But they remind me of you. And they’re adorable. You have to admit that.”
“They’re tacky.”
“They’re cute. And they sing.”
“No.”
“Please? I’ll be your best friend!”
“You already are my best friend.”
“Please? I’ll be your boyfriend!”
Kurt bit back a laugh. “You’re that, too.”
“But they’re penguins.”
“Yeah. And you’re just being silly. Come on, let’s go get my dad’s meds.”
Blaine headed to the back of the store where the pharmacy was located, not noticing Kurt sneak the singing penguins into his basket with the rest of his prizes.
When he got home from the park the next day, he smiled at the little penguins sitting on his pillow. A little note was pinned to one of them. “I love you” was printed in Kurt’s even handwriting.
Sunday before finals came before anyone realized it. Finn went over to Rachel’s, where he claimed he would study. Blaine begged off work, getting his understudy to cover for him. As soon as finals week was over, they were getting him nearly non-stop over the break, and he needed to study. Kurt had managed to only have two major exams, neither of which he was stressing over. Carole dragged a grumbling Burt out the house for some Christmas shopping, winking at Kurt and saying that they would be back long after dinner and to fend for themselves.
Blaine threw his AP Physics binder down on his bed and cursed.
“You okay,” called Kurt from across the hall.
“I know I told you to stay away, if I look at those formulas any more my brain is going to explode.”
“I think you need a break. I know I do. I’m not worried about my French test at all. But Mr. Davis’s English finals consist of 500 vocab words. And, honestly, when is,” he grabbed a flashcard, “anthropophaginian going to come up in normal conversation?”
“True, most people would just use cannibal.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you love me.”
“You’re right. But why do you know that?”
“I don’t know. I just do. At least I’ll be prepared for next year? If I can make it through this year. Ugh. What were you saying about a break?”
“Come on you.” Kurt tugged at Blaine’s arm. “Let’s go watch a movie. Chemistry...”
“Physics.”
“Science isn’t going to change its formulas in the time it takes to watch ‘A Christmas Story’. ”
“Will you make popcorn?”
“Of course.”
Kurt led Blaine down the stairs and set him up on the couch. He turned on the fireplace, thankful they had chosen a place with a gas fireplace, lugging firewood in when it was snowing out was not romantic (though he did miss the smell). He started up the DVD and tucked an exhausted-looking Blaine in on the couch before dashing into the kitchen to start the popcorn in the air popper.
It wasn’t long before the two of them were curled next to each other, eating popcorn and snuggling under the warm blanket.
“Were you afraid of the mall Santa as a kid?” Kurt asked.
“Um, no? I don’t think so. I don’t know if I ever got to see him.”
“Really? Your parents never took you to meet Santa?”
“Well, we did office Christmas parties. I got to meet Santa there. I think I always knew he was a guy in a suit dressed to look like Santa. It was always me and a few other kids dressed in stiff clothes and shoes that were two sizes too small. We would smile, sit on his lap, and he would smell like the wine our parents were drinking. He always gave us the same pencil and journal set every year.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Right? The kids at school talked about meeting Santa at the mall or Walmart or Dillard’s, and I just sort of thought that that was where the real Santa was when he wasn’t at the North Pole. Then I grew up.”
“When’s your next day off?”
“Christmas Day. But I have a few hours break this week because of half-days with finals week. Why?”
“Because, little boy, you’re going to meet the real fake Santa.”
“What?”
“Well, they took Brittany last year. She still believes, don’t tell her otherwise, so I see nothing wrong with taking you. Also, tonight, after dinner, you and I are going to go look at Christmas lights.”
“I don’t have time!”
“You do. We’re making it. And remember, ‘All work and no play makes Blaine a dull boy.’”
“I’m not dull. I just want to pass this class with an A so I get college credit and have a good chance of getting a scholarship. And can we finish the movie now?”
“Sounds like an idea. Or we could ignore the movie that we’ve both seen at least a hundred times.” Kurt placed the empty popcorn bowl on the floor and gently pushed Blaine over so he was lying on the couch. “And take advantage of the fact that this is the first time since you’ve moved in that we have the house to ourselves.”
“Blaine is not a dull boy?” Blaine responded with a smirk, tilting his hips upwards.
Kurt stretched his body over Blaine’s, rubbing up along too many layers of clothes, feeling an unmistakable hardness underneath. Kurt kissed Blaine’s jaw, his nape, just behind ear. Pale white fingers curled into Blaine’s dark hair, tugging gently as Blaine parted his mouth.
“What if,” he panted, “your family comes home?”
“They won’t. Not for hours. Stop thinking.”
Kurt reached under Blaine’s sweater, pulling it off to reveal another shirt. Blaine didn’t bother with helping Kurt remove layer by layer, he snaked his hands under the hem of the bottommost shirt, and the cold fingers against his skin made Kurt shiver.
“I need to warm you up.”
“Mmm... Okay. Not really cold, though.”
Kurt reached under the blanket and palmed Blaine’s erection through his pants.
Blaine let out a harsh moan. “Bed... Bedroom.”
“No. Here. Now.”
“Okay.”
Kurt undid Blaine’s pants. He slipped them down over his hips and ducked under the blanket, warm and comforting over them. A kiss was placed on Blaine’s inner thigh as Kurt worked the pants lower. They finally came off all the way. Kurt, who Blaine had never seen careless with clothes before, tossed the pants in a pile next to the couch before removing his underwear and dropping them on top.
Kurt came up from under the heat of the blanket flushed. He kissed Blaine fully, deeply on the mouth. They took in each others’ breath, Kurt still fully clothed on top of Blaine, and Blaine trying to remedy that but not having any purchase to do so.
Blaine grasped at Kurt’s ass, pulling them even closer, their lips never separating. One of them moaned, or they both did. It didn’t matter who. Erections were forced together, the soft clothing between them both frustrating and exhilarating at once. Blaine couldn’t stand it anymore, though. He reached between them and clumsily unclasped the pants.
Kurt wriggled out of his jeans and underwear, never moving from his position on top of Blaine. The movement sent jolts of electricity firing through Blaine’s body. He groaned into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt groaned back.
They broke the kiss.
Both removed their own shirts, Kurt revealing a smooth expanse of pale skin, Blaine with dark hair leading down to his erect penis. Kurt licked his lips and took a deep breath as he glanced at it. Blaine panted in anticipation at the way Kurt was looking at him.
Kurt nuzzled Blaine’s neck once, sucking gently. He rubbed his hands over Blaine’s shoulders, lightly touching his collarbone and chest. Kurt brushed Blaine’s nipples, and his breath hitched. He gulped and shuddered. Kurt’s mouth moved from his neck, following where his hands had just been.
Blaine brought his hands up to Kurt’s back, using his nails to rub in a way he knew Kurt loved. Kurt latched gently onto Blaine’s right nipple, teasing it to hardness, rolling it softly between his teeth. He flicked his tongue over the top, then blew on the wet nub. He repeated the process on the other side.
Kurt moved down. Blaine bit back a cry as Kurt engulfed him in one move. Kurt swirled his tongue over the head of Blaine’s erection, flitting it in and out of the slit. He pulled off with an obscene “pop” and started to lick with long and hard strokes.
Kurt was holding Blaine’s hips still as he took him in his mouth again. Blaine wanted nothing more than to thrust up and into it -- into something. He growled and pushed Kurt off.
Kurt’s pale skin was flushed red past his collar bone. Both young men were panting. In one swift move Blaine reversed their positions, flipping Kurt onto his stomach with the blanket below them. He lay his still-wet penis down between Kurt’s ass cheeks. He spit into his palm and roughly reached underneath them both to grasp Kurt, who hadn’t been touched yet.
He thrust, not penetrating or wanting to, just feeling Kurt around him and under him.
Kurt hissed, “Harder, it’s not going to come off.”
Blaine laughed and pulled, thrusting harder as he did. He bent down, biting at Kurt’s neck and sucking. He knew it would bruise, he wanted it to. Kurt pushed himself into Blaine’s hand as Blaine sucked.
Blaine gave a squeeze and another pull as he thrust again. Kurt howled into the couch below him as he came, pulsing over Blaine’s hand and onto the blanket below him. Blaine couldn’t take it; he thrust again between Kurt’s ass and was coming all over Kurt’s back with a shout.
He collapsed on top Kurt who gave a grunt. They both tried to catch their breath.
Kurt cherished the weight blanketing him, allowing their breaths to sync. Blaine tangled their fingers together, playing with them lightly. He nuzzled Kurt’s neck, his breath tickling the little hairs there. Kurt smiled, his eyes drifting closed.
“Blaine?”
“Hmm?”
“Get off. We need to, um...” Kurt tried to speak. “Um... clean. Blanket needs to be washed.”
“And physics needs to be studied for.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s throw the blanket in the wash. Then a shower. Then a nap. Then physics.”
“Then Christmas Lights.”
“You’re determined, aren’t you?”
“You know I’m going to win on this.”
“Yes, I may as well give in now.”
“Dude! Get up. There’s snow! And it’s Christmas!”
Blaine peeled his eyes open. “What time is it?”
“It’s Christmas morning. It doesn’t matter, there’s snow!” Finn bounced Blaine’s bed lightly.
“Can you wake me when it’s actually light out? I know there’s snow, I drove back last night in it.”
“But, Blaine, it’s Christmas.”
“Wake Kurt up. I was working until late and I want at least another hour of sleep.”
“I tried that last year, and he said if I ever did it again, he’d never bake me cupcakes again.”
“One more hour. Then I promise I’ll get up with you.”
“You aren’t at all curious to see if there’s extra presents under the tree for you?”
“Why would there be? I already got something from Kurt. Right now, I’m more interested in some coffee.”
“Maybe I got you something. And I can totally make you some coffee if it’ll get you up faster.”
“Finn!” Carole’s voice came from down the hallway. “You know there won’t be any present opening until after 7:30. Lie down and let that poor boy rest. He got in late last night.”
“But...”
“But nothing. At 7:30 we’ll get up. Not another peep!”
“Okay.”
Blaine pulled the pillow over his head and rolled over and tried desperately to ignore the energy he could feel rolling off the other boy. He tried to go back to sleep, but gave up after five minutes.
“Finn,” he whispered.
“What?”
“If we go downstairs and into the kitchen to make cinnamon rolls for everyone, do you think you can keep it down?”
“Really?” He practically shouted. “Really?” He whispered after realizing what he did. “I mean, it’s not opening presents, but yeah. Do you know how to make them? I don’t think we have the kind in a can. Kurt won’t let my mom buy those anymore.”
“Yes, I know how to make them. I’m not Kurt, but I do know how to bake a little bit. Just keep it down, okay? We don’t want to wake everyone else up, and it’ll be a nice surprise for them.”
They trundled down into the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients. Blaine set Finn to heating some milk, “Just to where it starts to bubble, then let me know, okay?” Then he busied himself with the rest of the recipe.
Kurt woke when he realized someone was in his kitchen. He peeked through the doorway and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Finn had somehow managed to get flour in his hair, and seemed determined to make as much of a mess with Blaine supervising as possible. Blaine wasn’t much better, but he at least didn’t look like he was trying to powder the floor.
Kurt decided to keep silent and just watched as the rolls somehow managed to be put into muffin cups and placed into the oven. Then he raised an eyebrow as Blaine looked around the kitchen at the mess the two of them had caused.
“Finn, You can’t just dump a bunch of water on the flour to clean it up.”
“Why?”
“Because all you’ll do is make paste.”
“But there’s flour everywhere on the counter.”
“Because you used a mug to measure it instead of a measuring cup. Measuring cups go into the flour bag a lot easier. And they’re more accurate.”
“So how do I get the flour off the counter?”
“Well, wipe it off dry, first.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” Finn grabbed a paper towel and swiped at a large pile of flour. A cloud of flour flew towards Blaine.
Blaine gave a yelp then clapped his hands over his mouth as he looked down at his pajama top, now covered in white dust. “Finn!”
“Sorry!”
Blaine grabbed at a bit of flour that was sitting on a different section of counter and tossed it at Finn -- who had to retaliate with a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar.
Kurt couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped that time.
Finn and Blaine turned to look at the new target. They got twin grins on their faces and both reached for the bag of flour.
“Oh, no! No you don’t. Finn Hudson! This is not acceptable. Blaine! Don’t you dare.” He was backing up, his hands in the air.
They reached for his hair, and he was covered in the flour.
“You do realize that this is war.”
“Bring it on!”
The boys tossed flour and cinnamon at each other, not noticing Carole and Burt with the camera until Carole cleared her throat and said, “Say cheese.”
Burt tried to put on a stern face. It was somewhat ruined when Kurt went over to him and rubbed a stripe of flour down his nose.
“I think this is the first white Christmas we’ve had inside the kitchen,” Kurt said just as the buzzer went off for the cinnamon rolls.
“Okay, you boys run upstairs and get cleaned up. We’ll clean up in here later. I’ll put the rolls, which smell delicious, thank you, on a plate and we’ll go into the living room and look at presents.”
Finn nearly bowled the other boys over at the mention of presents, and Kurt trotted up the stairs behind him with a smile on his face. Blaine held back and looked at Carole and Burt.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us, kid,” Burt said.
“Yeah, I really do.”
“Naw, just go get cleaned up. Besides, I know you made those rolls. That’s a pretty good thank you.”
“Finn helped. And Kurt helped, well, destroy the kitchen.”
“I bet Finn helped with that too.”
“Yeah, he did. Seriously, though, thank you.”
“Go on. Merry Christmas, Blaine.”
“You too. Merry Christmas, both of you.”
Blaine sat between Finn and Kurt. Wrapping paper was strewn about the room, the cinnamon rolls long eaten, and no presents remained under the tree.
“Blaine, I have one more present for you,” Kurt stood up.
“You got me the Red Ryder BB gun?”
“No, Ralphie. Hold on, I hid it in my closet.”
“Well, that was a guarantee none of us would ever find it.” Burt chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute.”
Kurt came down the stairs with his arms full of a wrapped something. Blaine couldn’t figure out what it could be. It was huge.
“Well, open it,” Carole prompted, once it was in his lap.
Blaine pulled at the paper, which gave in easily under the soft bulk.
“You couldn’t have! How’d you get this?”
Under the wrapping was his grandmother’s quilt. It was the only thing he actually had cared about leaving at his house, and had mentioned it more than once to Kurt.
“Well, Puck may have helped. Don’t worry about it. I don’t think your parents actually noticed it’s missing. We’ve been listening in on the police scanners. It’s yours anyhow. She left it to you.”
Blaine ran his hands over it, not quite believing it was there.
“Thanks doesn’t seem to be enough. You’re wonderful, Kurt. And I love you more every day. And your family has been so, so great. Thank you. All of you.”
“Hey, kid. You’re not so bad yourself.” Burt put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I mean, I know we had a rocky start this year, but you’re kind of one of us now. Come on stop crying, it’s Christmas!”
Blaine wiped his face and pushed the blanket to the side. He jumped up and wrapped Kurt in a hug chanting, “Thank you,” and, “I love you,” over and over again. Finn joined in on the hug.
Burt and Carole laughed when Finn gestured them over, too, saying, “Come on, Mom! This is totally a group hug moment!”
When they all broke apart, Blaine was laughing through his tears. “This has seriously been the best Christmas ever.”
“I always did whatever I liked, but now I really can do it.”
--A.A. Milne
Please consider spreading holiday cheer by commenting on and/or reblogging this fanfic! If you rec this fic, please be sure to attribute it to anonymous until the author/artist is revealed on January 3rd, 2011. Don’t forget to check out all of the other amazing works that will be posted throughout December!