"You do know that there's a reason people have alarm clocks? To set alarms. So they don't be late, for things like these! I swear Noah, do you have any common sense inside that head of yours at all?"

"Yeah, I do Rachel, thanks for reminding me. And for the sixtieth time, this isn't my fault!"

"Oh, so it's my fault now? I wasn't the one who said they would set the alarm clock so we would get up on time."

"Okay, so that part is, but just don't freak out, okay?"

"Don't freak out? In case you haven't noticed Noah, we're stranded at a ski lodge, with dead cell phone batteries, a staff that wants to go home as much as we do, a freak blizzard, and a power outage! If that isn't a call for a freak out, I don't know what is." Noah shrugged.

"Maybe if we were stuck at a ski lodge with dead cell phone batteries a staff that wants to go home a freak blizzard a power outage and no food supply?" Rachel rolled her eyes and made one of those aggravated noises that always made Noah realize she meant business. Even after a year of dating he didn't always know when Rachel was serious. Which was a good portion of the time. Or maybe he always knew, but he just liked seeing her agitated. He had once told her he thought she was hot when she got mad at him, resulting in a huff and a cold shoulder for twelve hours before she went over to his house and told him she forgave him and they made out for a while before watching Beauty and the Beast with his little sister. But this was not a matter that could be resolved with a kiss and a movie. This was a problem. A big problem.

Up until that point, Rachel had actually been having a very pleasant weekend. In light of the Glee club winning Sectionals two years in a row Will had taken them all on a long weekend trip to a ski lodge in Wisconsin that a friend of his dad's owned. The place was large and busy, but cute, and homey. The only ones of the club who actually skied were Mike, Matt, and Quinn, so while they hit the slopes with the rest of the hardcore residents, the rest kept to the warmth of the buffet and watched TV in the sitting room. It wasn't even weird having Mr. Schue hang out with them, he just sat and chatted with the rest. At night Rachel confined to her room with Noah, doing the opposite of what everyone else believed of them doing. By now the whole club were surely convinced the long-standing couple had convulsed in sexual intercourse (or flat-out sex, as everyone else would put it, although Rachel preferred to be less blunt). Instead the two watched movies and she told Noah of her first attempt at downhill skiing, which ended in snow-filled boots, a sobbing Rachel, a young man with a fractured wrist, and two disgruntled dads.

The club had preformed Christmas carols at dinners, and had even hosted a karaoke night the eve of their departure. Except Rachel and Noah had missed that departure, due to Noah's forgetfulness.

"Look, Rachel, let's just go back to our room and hang out until later, okay? I'm sure by this evening the plows will have done their thing and we can get out of here. Wisconsin people are really known for their obsession with snow plows right?" Rachel sighed, irritated, but given no other choice.

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow of course, we'd never make it back to Lima driving in the night. Hopefully they'll realize they left us behind and they'll contact dad and daddy." she stuck out her bottom lip, pouting. "How did they not even realize we weren't on the bus anyway?" Noah shrugged.

"Mr. Schue was up late last night at the bar. My guess is the guy was to hungover to even make roll call."

"I can hardly imagine Mr. Schuester under the influence of any sort of alcoholic beverage. He's so amiable and winsome. Not that I am attracted to him, at all. Under any circumstances." she added at Noah's expression.

Come on," he took her hand, leading her back to their room, "Didn't you say that show you've obsessed with is a having a special this afternoon?" Her eyes lit up.

"Dexter? Oh yes, three episodes in a row." she beamed.

"Isn't it something about an assassin? I could make do with that."

"I'm sure you'll soon be made into a crazed fanboy Noah."



Okay, Finn did not want to be cooped up at a ski lodge. Or more specifically, he didn't want to be cooped up at a ski lodge with Kurt. He did like Kurt, sure, but being alone with him was weird sometimes. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he thought the dude might like him sometimes. Like, like like him. Which was a disturbing thought. Still, Kurt was a good friend a lot of the time. Last winter when Quinn had kissed him during a seven minutes in heaven game he had been really confused and desperately needed someone to talk to, Kurt had been there. Later, when Finn had told Quinn there was no way he could ever be with her again, simply because he couldn't trust her fully again, and he had gone home crying like a baby, Kurt had been the one he called to talk to. But still... weird.

Like it or not though, Finn was stuck with him. Both had overslept and missed the bus going out, leaving the two to sit in the room they had... shared (Finn had tried to get out of that one). Kurt was humming while he sorted and resorted his hair products in this shiny little toiletries bag that had 'Hot' written across on it in curly letters. Finn was trying to recognize the tune when Kurt looked up at him and caught him staring, and grinned.

"It's Fireflies," he said, zipping up his bag, "by Owl City. Tina introduced it to me."

"The techno-y band?"

"That's the one." Finn yawned.

"What, you don't enjoy it? I find it a rather soothing song; I listen to it during Sunday makeovers."

"You have a makeover for certain days of the week?"

"Of course. I can't just randomly have one any day I please, that's absurd. The irregular schedule would distort the whole objective of a makeover, to improve your appearance. A planned agenda lets things run much more smoothly." Finn didn't really understand any of what Kurt said, but he nodded as if he did. They sat in silence a while longer as Kurt began organizing yet another bag, this once full of skin care products.


"Yes, Finn?"

"Do you remember your mom much?" Kurt was silent for a minute before answering.

"Well, yes. I wasn't an infant or something when she died. But," he looked up to give Finn a sad smile, "I don't remember as much as I would like."

"What do you remember?"

"I was a kid-- it's sad how little I remember of my elementary school days. There weren't many scarring or memorable moments; except for when I found out she had died. After that it's just days and days of nothing. But before... you know how moms leave notes in their kids' lunch boxes? She did that. The one she gave me the day I went to school and came back to find out she was dead is always with me." he grinned at Finn, pulling a folded note from the pocket of his vest. He handed it to Finn, who reached out to take it. He unfolded the paper, soft with age, and read,

Kitten Kurt,

I'm so sorry that we ran out of the low fat peanut butter. I promise you won't grow too obtuse from having one sandwich with the higher fat brand. I hope everything you dream comes true today! I also hope that kid you told me you liked is nice to you.


"Kitten Kurt?" he asked, making a quizzical face.

"When I was two, I pretended to be a cat, like our kitten Mo. Hence the nickname."

"You also knew the word obtuse?" Kurt shrugged.

"I was an intelligent child."

"And... you had a crush on somebody?" Kurt blushed.

"Yeah... um... she moved away, you probably don't remember her..."

"Oh come on Kurt, tell me! I'm not gonna care."

"Okay, it was... um... it was Cynthia Grant." Finn wrinkled his nose.

"She hasn't moved. She just hasn't come out of her house since that local butcher came to our science class in eighth grade and killed a pig in front of us."

"Oh. Well, yeah, her."

"It was pretty freaky... the pig made this really loud squelching, squealing noise before he came down on it--"

"Too much information, Finn." Finn lowered his arms, which he had been using to demonstrate the exact motion in which the butcher had slaughtered the swine.

"Sorry." There was a minute of silence as Kurt continued the organizing of his toiletries. "Anything else?"

"I know her favorite picture books she used to read to me. I remember the time I was five and I wrote her a poem about," Kurt gave a little laugh, "about the scrambled eggs she made me one morning for breakfast." Finn chuckled.

"Hey Kurt-- you wanna go out to the bar to get something to drink?"

"You still have your ID that Mercedes got you last year?"

"Hell yeah. She updated it for me last month, too."

"And mine as well. Count me in."




"Yes, Noah?" Rachel responded absentmindedly as she poured over the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly.

"How come you won't have sex with me?" There was a loud ripping noise as the page Rachel turned tore in half.

"Wow, um-- sorry, about that." she crawled over to her bag, where she pulled out a roll of tape.

"You keep tape in your suitcase for a weekend trip to a ski lodge?"

"Always best to come prepared." A moment's silence.




"Oh. Right. Sexual intercourse."


"Whatever have you. Uh, why do you ask?"

"I'm curious."

"Why are you curious?"

"I'm a curious guy, Rache."

"Well, that's not a good reason, but it's a reason."

"White Christmas quoter."

"I didn't think you'd catch that one."

"I'm also a guy with a good memory." he paused. "Rachel? Would it kill you to look up from that extensive tape surgery you're performing on that magazine?" Rachel slowly lifted her head from her work, but refrained from looking Noah in the eye, and instead at his chest. Which wasn't the best place to be looking, considering the conversation's topic, so she switched to his knees. Also bad. Rachel finally chose his hands. "Answer?"

"Um-- I do not know how to reply." Noah raised his eyebrows.

"I've made Rachel Berry speechless? That's a first."

"Well, I'm not sure what you want me to say, Noah."

"I don't want you to say anything, except the truth. I'm not saying it's a big deal or something, I just want to know--"

"Don't kid yourself, you know quite well it's a huge deal to you. And to me." She dared to glance from his hands to his eyes.

"I should've remembered. Girls want sex just as much as guys do." She smiled at his repeat of her words a year ago. "Well, since it's you, I've done my best to stop from-- pressuring you, the past year--"

"And you've done very well. To be honest Noah when I'm with you, I enjoy it because you're not butchering me about sexual intercourse."

"Please just say sex."

"Whatever. I understand your specimen have needs--"

"Woah, woah, really not looking for a repeat of baby drama--"

"Oh, I know, not specifically your specimen but the rest of your male sex organs have been depraved for nearly twelve months and I feel guilty for causing you such pain, but you see my female ones are also yearning but other parts are also scared Noah, and I feel awfully terrible about it, but it's nerve-wracking, way more than nerve-wracking, it's terrifying, but wonderful too, and every thing's so confusing and I just really hope we can consider the situation more thoroughly before selecting a course of action." she inhaled deeply.

"Well. I think that answers my question."

"Are you sure? Because I don't want to be the cause of any awkwardness--"

"No. There's definitely no awkwardness."

"Good." she grinned. "We can get as close to sexual intercourse as we can without preforming the deed itself."

"Is there any point in me asking you to say sex?"

"No, I don't believe there is."

"I give up, then." she climbed up onto the bed next to him where she wrapped her short but determined arms around him.

"You know that sounded very dirty."

"I guess, yeah." she kissed him, hard, and he pulled her on top of him.