Hi, I'm C Coulter, your writer for this fanfic.

First: If you are wondering why I delayed, the reason is in a statement I posted in cpcoulter in livejournal (I usually post advisories there, and also in my shiny new tumblr (cpcoulter) where some original works may also appear). It in itself is not a very good excuse, and I still apologize. I receive messages saying that they were hoping for an update very quickly, and I do feel I should be able to deliver.

Second: While the episode preview last time mentioned a party, the party itself does not happen right now. The New York will likely span three eps (it becomes obvious what the likely titles will be judging from today's title), and they will all fly back home as quite frankly I do prefer they spread mayhem in Dalton and not in New York as I do not want them risking New York police force.

I am truly grateful for each and every one who reads my work and have put up with me and my idosyncracies as of late. Back in the first chapter, I mentioned that I was not even hoping for reviews-I just wanted to put the fic out there. Your support, your words and encouragement mean worlds to me. . In an attempt to appeal to your forgiveness, I now deliver you a load of Klaine. So I hope you will enjoy this episode

(I do not own Glee. It will not have become as successful if I did.)


Episode 14: Bad Things...

Kurt was confused. He had no idea how a single song practice back in his room got them to where they were, but he had the suspicion that what was being done to him was intentionally made so he would not want it to stop.

The body beneath him was warm and firm, those heated lips trailing over his neck, up his jaw, before just teasingly brushing his. So much warm breath, soft murmurs in his ear, and all the touches that set fire to every inch of his skin that connected to the other's.

So unbelievably close that their eyelashes nearly touched as the warm strong hands brought him closer. Kurt was straddling his lap, delirious in the sensation and all inhibitions were deteriorating, leaving so much room for sheer want.

"Wait…" he breathed as other concerns pressed, unwelcome, into his mind.

"Shh…" that talented mouth was distracting him again. And when those hands pulled at him, grinding their hips together, Kurt groaned.

"We—have to get to—" rational thought was becoming impossible at the playful nip at his neck. "—the Hall… Harvey and Medel…"

"Later…" there was the sound of fabric being pulled—and then a hand was wandering up his chest, exploring. The voice was almost desperate. "We have time…"

"…right…" Kurt didn't have the strength anymore. Why was he even protesting? A fire hot weight was pressing against him. He breathed in deep, hands bringing the other's face to his again, feverish foreheads pressed and lips brushing with each breath.

Kurt gazed through his lashes to see heat in the other's eyes.

"Kurt…" he breathed. Kurt all but grabbed at him and kissed him deeply, as though he wanted to drink him in. In that heady atmosphere of heat and scent and touch, Kurt let himself be taken over, pushed down onto the couch, his lover leaning over him.

"Kurt? Are you all right?"

From where he was sitting at the food court table, Kurt raised heavy-lidded eyes with dark circles. Mercedes was looking down at him in concern. It had not been a good morning after that dream. It was one thing to have that kind of a dream—that had been jarring enough—but he had the suspicion that he actually had no idea who the other person even was.

Mercedes saw his expression and gave him an incredulous look, handing him the latte cup. "What's the matter?"

"My life is getting complicated," Kurt grumbled, gratefully taking the cup.

"Those boys giving you a hard time?" she raised an eyebrow as she sat down.

"No, they're…it's my…um…guys."

Tina looked up from where she was texting Mike and grinned. "That problem you were talking about before Christmas?" She immediately put the phone down and gave him her full attention. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I still don't understand how you just had a harmless kiss," Mercedes snorted, shaking her head. "If you like the guy, no kiss is actually harmless."

"Trust me, Mercedes, compared to what the Cheerios get on a daily basis, it's pretty harmless. And now I've been…" Kurt gestured in the air, looking for the right word, "…poisoned. Hormone poisoned. I haven't been this worked up over a kiss since—"" he stopped himself, remembering that particular locker room moment, waved it away quickly and said, "—since…Modern Family. This morning I forgot to put hairspray in my bag—I was that distracted."

"And now you want more?" Mercedes said, still smirking.

"God yes," Kurt dropped his forehead down onto the table. "And at the same time no. I felt like I was having cardiac arrest while it was happening. I had no idea human contact can cause such a substantial IQ drop in seconds."

"Can I just say that I like this flustered side of you?" Tina laughed. She received a trademarked bitch stare from Kurt, but this just made her laugh even harder.

Kurt was staring into empty space, mumbling, "Logan told me he was in love with me…"

Mercedes choked on her drink. "What? We were talking about Blaine—who's Logan?"

"I think he means that tall guy—remember when we crashed their party when we thought Karofsky was going to kill him? The one with the green eyes and looks like, uh, a model or something."

"Him?" Mercedes didn't look particularly pleased as she remembered the tall one who looked at Kurt with eyes that smoldered. "Yeah, he's pretty hot but…" she glanced at Kurt with a sparkle in her eye. "…he is so not the one you're thinking of right now."

Kurt sighed deeply. "What did Blaine do to me…?" He put his head in his arms on the table. The girls looked at each other and grinned.

I'm Kurt.

I recently transferred to Dalton Academy.

Holidays are in, and I'm back in Lima with my friends, and I can't tell you how happy I am.

I think about the Dalton boys sometimes.

all right, all the time.

but just a particular one.

"Hi, Mr. Hummel!" Mercedes said brightly as they arrived at the front door. "We've brought Kurt back! Barely alive, but there."

The three finished their shopping that resulted from the post-Christmas sales, talking about everything that had happened over the time Kurt had not been around. The girls had also wanted to hear about Kurt's time in Dalton, but whenever Kurt would describe some of the things that went on, they always laughed. They had probably thought he wasn't serious. It had gotten late, and they decided to go over to the new Hudson-Hummel home.

Burt looked up from the living room. "Back so soon?"

Mercedes grinned, "Yes, he's already given us all our Christmas gifts! He can get off our custody."

Kurt shot her a look and then rolled his eyes. "Hey dad." He gave his father a hug and saw Finn also on the couch, watching a rerun of a football game. "Finn, I told you, you can't wear that sweater in the house. I'd have to charge you with a serious crime against clothing. Or taste in general."

Finn, who rather liked his heinous sweater—it really was cozy and in spite of Kurt's protests, he just liked it—grumbled as he said, "It's a statement…"

"Yes, it says "shoot me"," Kurt remarked as he shed his coat.

"Welcome back!" said Carole brightly. And she was wearing something similar to Finn's sweater, only slightly less hideous. Kurt's face fell at the sight of it. Tina just laughed, "It's still technically the holidays, Kurt. It's part of the joy."

"Yes, joy. So much joy at the twenty-sixth. Hi…" Kurt just gave Carole a hug and a smile. "There's hope for you yet. But Finn, I've given up on."

"Be nice, now…" Burt warned from the couch with only an affectionate glance back at his son. "You're not going to be here that long, after all."

Mercedes blinked, "Yeah, Kurt, I thought you said your Dalton friends invited you to go on vacation with them." She looked at Carole. "They wanted him to come to New York with them—did he tell you?"

"He told us all about it, and we said it was all right as long as it was after Christmas…" Carole blinked at her stepson. "Did you change your mind about going?"

"No, it looks like they did," Kurt shrugged a little. "I sent them a text saying that you let me go, but they've yet to answer it. The only messages I've gotten for them are the customary "Merry Christmas" greetings." He couldn't help but sound slightly disappointed. He did want to see New York.

…and he had heard nothing from Blaine.

A package had arrived that morning, addressed to him—it had come straight from Paris. When he took it out, it was a long, luxurious winter coat in blinding white mink, with a note wishing him Merry Christmas. It had been from Logan. He was the only Dalton boy he'd heard from post-Christmas. Carole had gotten terribly excited when she saw it and started asking questions.

As his new stepmother handed out hot cocoa to everyone—Tina shooting Finn a disturbed look as she saw the amount of marshmallows the quarterback subsequently heaped in—Kurt stared into the brown liquid and wondered where everyone was.

Happy as he was back to be with Lima—he had spent every waking second with his family and with New Directions—he couldn't help but miss them. It was so quiet back at home, especially now that he and Finn didn't squabble quite as much anymore.

…and after the mistletoe kiss, he had to admit that he wish he'd heard something, anything from Blaine. Just to see where they stood now, of course. He was dreadfully in love with Blaine, and Blaine clearly liked him right back. And he just wanted some actual confirmation of what they were. He didn't want to think that Blaine simply kissed him because he was under mistletoe.

But Mercedes had said, "He didn't have to kiss you then. He could've let you go. But he made you stop, right? Means he likes you enough to want to kiss you. Good sign."

"I sure hope you're right, Mercedes," Kurt sighed as he saw his friends to the door later on. Tina looked sympathetic. "You'll hear from them. Him. It'll be fine. Besides, you'll see them all again at school!"

Mercedes gave him a big, warm hug, which Kurt returned with a smile. "Hey, if you do get to New York, you better tell us. And we want documentation. We want photos. Lots of them."

"If I do, you'll be the first to know," Kurt agreed. "My incoherent texts will inform you."

After they had gone, Kurt headed upstairs to his room. It wasn't as large as the basement, but it was his own space and he had already begun decorating it heavily. It was now white and dark blue, splashes of colorful patterns here and there, with plenty of pillows lying around. He was inspired by Jean Paul Gaultier's minimalist design.

He looked at his phone. No messages. A glance at his laptop revealed an email. He clicked it open.

Hi Kurt!

Merry After-Christmas! Where are you right now? Let me know soon, can't wait to see you again!


PS. What was that cream you told me about that's good for getting rid of scars? I totally tripped into the fireplace—it was not lit, thankfully—when I took down my Christmas stocking.

Kurt smiled and gave him a response that both greeted him a Merry Christmas and scolded him for not being more careful before adding the name of the skin cream. He preferred to have his friend intact upon their next meeting. He also told him that he was at home, about the trials of the Hudson fashion sense, and how he missed the boys of Windsor.

Then he lay down on his bed and stared, thinking about his last dream. Hanging at his closet door was the mink coat from Logan. He felt a guilty twinge. He still couldn't, for the life of him, remember who it had been that he was straddling in a heat-loaded makeout session in a Dalton room. He wasn't sure he ever knew to begin with.

Even my subconscious is getting more than I am… was Kurt's last thoughts before he fell asleep.

His subconscious granted him a truce. He didn't dream at all that night. It was as though he simply blacked out. But it was frigid in his room in the morning, and he buried further into the comforter he'd brought home from Dalton.

Odd. It was really warm under there.

He opened his eyes and gasped when he saw another body next to him. He popped his head out of the covers, wide eyed, and found one smiling Tweedle twin lying there, wearing pajamas. "Good morning, Alice!" Evan said brightly.

Kurt stared, aghast and scandalized, mouth open but no sound coming out. Evan continued to beam happily, hair trussed up with sleep. Kurt jerked backwards only to hit another warm body. He turned around to find the other twin, in the mirror image of his brother. "Rise and shine!" Ethan said happily.

"What are you both doing in my bed?" Kurt burst out. No matter how weird and hormonal his dreams had become, none of them had involved waking up in bed with the twins.

"We brought coffee." They said this as though it explained everything. Kurt looked around his room and found that, yes, dozens of coffee cups were everywhere. And that wasn't all. On the carpet on the floor, snoring on his many pillows, slept Wes and David, who looked so asleep, an earthquake wouldn't have woken them.

Kurt stared at them. "What the—"

"Get used to it, this'll happen after every major party," Evan said kindly, holding out a coffee cup to him.

"How did you get in here?" Kurt demanded, but nevertheless taking the cup. Ethan just shrugged, gesturing, "Took a ride from the airport, headed here. Climbed tree. Window was open."

"…I'm on the second floor."

"And…this is a problem, why?"

"And I locked my windows!"

"Your window's lame—I opened it on the first try," Evan smirked as he sat up. He looked around. "Interesting room, by the way…"

"Nice interior decorating."

"And the interesting size…"

"…approximately the size of Reed's Windsor closet."

Kurt's caffeine-deprived glower checked the Twins. Evan threw pillows down onto the pair on the floor. "Up! Up! Time to go! Or we'll be late for a very important date!"

"Late how?" grumbled Wes from under a pillow, sounding annoyed. "It's your plane."

"Time waits for no one," said Ethan sensibly, getting up. "Neither do our attention spans. Let's go! Alice, get dressed!" he picked up the mink coat and tossed it to Kurt.

Kurt caught it and asked, "How long have you guys been in here?"

"Two, three hours?" David mumbled, yawning as he sat up. "You sleep like the dead, did you know? This is exactly why we managed to kidnap you, that first day."

Kurt sank his head into his hands. "And you slept here…?"

"Couldn't help it, Tweedles flew in late from San Diego…" Wes explained, yawning hugely. "I came in from Hawaii."

"I've been up all night with Katherine," David explained, rubbing his eyes. Wes nodded, "Anyway, I met the Tweedles in Florida—to pick up Dwight…"

"Where is Dwight?" Kurt asked blearily.

As if in response, a powerful honk sounded outside. Kurt jumped, but David stuck his head out the window. "Yep. He got the car. Let's get going!"

"Wait—wait—!" Kurt stopped the twins, who were dragging him off. "I haven't even packed!"

"You don't need to pack," said the twins sensibly. "Everything you need'll be there."

"Clothes? Skin care products? Toiletries? Underwear, maybe? Ring any bells to you?"

"You're making this more complicated than it is, Alice—if we couldn't already give you those things, Reed could," Evan said patiently.

"Just—just let go for a second!" Kurt flicked them both off, and they did oblige. Still rumpled and a bit in shock, Kurt tried to get his thoughts together. "You're taking me to New York—now? I hadn't heard from any of you about it at all!"

"I'm sorry, did you make other plans?" Ethan asked, looking worried.

"Because if your plans involve other people, we can take them too," Evan said helpfully.

Kurt dropped his face into his hand. And then Finn burst into the room. "Hey Kurt, outside, there's—" He stopped abruptly when he saw all the sleepwear-clad young men within the room, half of them getting dressed. It was not the best sight to greet him if he was to walk into his brother's bedroom. "Whoa." He looked at them all in confusion and alarm. "Uh…Kurt, you mind catching me up a bit…?"

"Breaking and entering, apparently," Kurt grumbled. "Also, that neat little maneuver humans do before they come into a room, is called knocking." He looked to the others. "Come on, guys, downstairs. Out, please? Let me manage to look human again, and I'll join you."

"Make it quick!" said Evan hopefully, clearly very excited.

"Yes, jet's waiting!" added Ethan.

"Wait—jet?" Finn looked back and forth to them and to Kurt. "Jet? You're going to New York?"

"Apparently," Kurt sighed, ushering Wes and David out, David scooping up one of the coffee cups as he left. "I'll be out in a minute, Finn. Please tell dad and Carole? Are they awake?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Hey, Mr. H!" exclaimed the twins happily, voices echoing downstairs. Kurt leaned out the door and yelled, "It's all right dad! They're harmless and they've had all their shots—just don't let them near anything flammable! I'll be down in a minute!" He looked at his stepbrother. "You too, Finn."


"Yes?" Kurt asked with great patience evident in his voice.

Finn smiled and picked up one of the nearby coffee cups. "Have fun in New York, all right?"

Kurt grinned. "Thanks, I plan to."

It took Kurt only a few moments to get everything he presumably needed, packed into an overnight bag. By the time he came downstairs, the boys were dressed and Wes was engaged in a debate with his father about The Longest Yard.

"All I'm saying is, it's unrealistic!" Burt said, almost laughing. "Half the guys there were wrestlers!"

"But that doesn't mean they can't play decent football," Wes was saying as he looked up and spotted Kurt. "Ah! Finally! Let's get going before the twins freak out your mom."

The twins were happily regaling Carole with the story of how the Warblers were first introduced to Kurt's voice. Carole looked amused, but asked Kurt, "Is there a particular reason they call you "Alice"?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "They have weird nicknames for everyone. For some reason, they called me Alice. Because I went into…WarblerLand." But he smiled and gave her a big hug, and then his dad. "I'm going now. I'll be back right after New Year's."

"You boys look after Kurt, then," Burt said gruffly to the batch of young men heading out the door. Outside, Dwight was honking the horn for them to get going. "Don't worry, we will, Mr. Hummel," David assured him.

"That kid Blaine going to be there?"

Kurt froze to his fingertips, looking at his dad. Burt had his arms crossed over his chest. Wes and David looked at each other. "Yes, sir, he will be," said Wes.

"Well, tell him that nothing better happen to my son while under his watch."

Kurt had never realized that so much secondhand embarrassment could be gleaned from a single sentence. And if he thought that had been bad enough—

Burt suddenly said, "What about the Logan kid? Going to be there too?"

This time all the Windsors looked up. Kurt was looking at his dad, begging him to stop talking with wide eyes. Evan said, "No, I don't believe he'll be joining us…"

"We doubt it…" said Ethan. "We haven't heard a word. Why do you mention, sir?"

Burt nodded to what was around Kurt's shoulders. "He sent that coat, didn't he? Figured he'd come along too."

Wes looked like he wanted to set fire to the mink, with the way he looked at it. Kurt stepped away from him, holding onto his coat protectively. He rather liked this coat.

David gave Burt a wonderfully well-made polite smile and said, "Well, don't worry, Mr. Hummel. We'll look after him."

"See you, Dad," Kurt waved as he exited the door, Burt calling a "take care of yourself" after him. Kurt, hitching his bag strap up over his shoulders, followed the others out and into the driveway where Dwight was waiting inside the car, which had actually flown with him. Kurt, who had his fair share of car knowledge, took one look at what he was in and had to smirk.

"A 1967 Chevy Impala. Why am I not surprised…?"

Dwight's ears turned red. "I like them vintage!"

"Sure, you bought it because it was vintage…" Wes rolled his eyes as he got in.

"I didn't buy it—my uncle gave it to me for Christmas." He added in a mutter, "At my request, maybe…but still…"

It was a tight fit: Wes, the twins and Kurt sat at the back, David called shotgun before he and Wes even stepped out of the house. Dwight adjusted and looked at the rearview mirror and said, "I don't think I need to tell you, if any of you so much as damage an inch of the leather, I will literally set you on righteous fire. And I'm good at setting things on fire!"

"To the airfield now, please?" Evan said patiently.

"Before we set you on righteous fire?" Ethan added with a smile.

"Fine, but I'm the pilot of this clown car—I'll be boss until we get to the airfield." He flipped a switch, and music started to blast from the speakers. Everybody else in the car groaned as, predictably, "Highway to Hell" started playing.

Dwight, clearly in the zone again, ignored them all and began driving.

When they got to the private airfield—"Why do you have even have a private airfield?" Kurt demanded—the first thing they did was get out right next to a large white Boeing sitting on the runway. It looked brand new, everything gleaming.

The twins looked deeply excited. "Do you like it?" Evan asked, giddy, jumping up and down as he got out of the car. "It's our Christmas present for the next three years!"

"Including the pilot and the gas!" Ethan said happily, looking up at it.

"Who wouldn't like it…?" Dwight said, grumbling.

Stunned as Kurt was, he walked with them to the ramp. Before he could truly take it all in, the door on top of the stairs opened and Reed stepped out, wrapped warmly in fur and boots. He grinned brightly, pink-cheeked in the wind, and he waved wildly at them. "Hey, guys! You brought Kurt!"

"Reed!" Kurt laughed, glad to see him.

Reed happily jogged down the stairs, and proceeded to trip over his own bootlaces. He tumbled down quite a few steps before Kurt managed to reach him and stop him. "Oh, Reed…" he half scolded, half worried.

"Sorry, sorry—" Reed gasped, looking shaken. "Got a bit carried away." Be he hugged Kurt. "Glad to see you! I got your mail! When I found out you were at home, I told the Twins to go get you." He beamed.

"Oh, they got me," Kurt smiled wryly at him. "Where's—"

A pair of bodies came out of the plane. Kurt looked up and his heart rate skipped up a tad faster than normal. Blaine was on top of the stairs, smiling at him, with Shane next to him, grinning.

"Get in, losers, we're going shopping!" Shane yelled. The Twins laughed. Blaine rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove before he came down.

"Merry After-Christmas," he smiled, giving Kurt a tight hug. Kurt sighed and happily returned it. It was good to know that things weren't awkward, at the very least. It was a good sign. "I missed you."

"Merry After-Christmas," Kurt answered. "And I did miss you too." When Blaine released the embrace, he remained holding his hand. Wes finally complained, loudly, "Can we please have this chick flick moment inside the plane? May we all get out of the cold now? Geez, it doesn't take that long to fly to New York from here, let's get to it!"

Blaine cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed. But he led Kurt up the plane, the others following. Kurt got into the plane, and his jaw dropped. The inside of the plane looked more like a very large den. It even had wood paneling, and the seats were beautifully upholstered. If he wasn't mistaken, that was a Jacuzzi sitting near massive television screen that presided over several gaming consoles. The place was still decorated according to the holidays, including a pile of brightly-wrapped presents in the middle of the area.

Wes and the Twins made a beeline for the gaming system, with Wes popping in a fighting game, while David plopped down on one of the chairs and started to send a few texts before the plane officially got going. Dwight threw himself onto the couch pillows and passed out with frightening speed. When Kurt gave him the odd look, Blaine explained, "He's afraid of flying. He has to sleep it off."

Shane and Reed came in, with Reed keeping a healthy distance from Blaine's excitable brother by sitting next to Kurt. Shane was completely unsympathetic to Blaine's glares—he sat between Kurt and Blaine and gave his brother an innocent smile.

Kurt now looked at his friend. "I thought I wouldn't get to go—I didn't hear from any of you all that much before and after Christmas."

"Christmas is family time—we don't mess with each other," Reed said. "Of course, there's also the chance one of us is in a different time zone, so calling is awkward. But midnight of the twenty-fifth, I already had the Twins ringing me. Asked me to ask you where you were so they could get you."

"And I had a communications blackout," said Blaine, shaking his head.

"Had to," Shane nodded. "Blaine was home for Christmas for once—and I can tell you, it was so tense up in California that if any of you had called, the room would have blown up."

"So much forced cheer…" Blaine sighed. Kurt reached right over Shane and took Blaine's hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. This surprised both brothers. Shane sighed at them smiling at each other and finally got off the couch to let them sit together.

When they were flying at last, Dwight might as well have been dead, for all they knew; he didn't stir once even as Wes started complaining that the twins may be cheating as they kept beating him in the game. David was next to him, tying to help strategize, but Evan and Ethan were incorrigible—they didn't even have to talk to each other.

"Ow!" Reed, standing with the presents, was now glaring at a brightly wrapped box he was holding onto, clearly getting a paper cut. He looked up at Kurt and smiled. "Hey Kurt! Here!" He held out the package. "Your present!"

Kurt brightened up and said, "Really? Great, I brought yours." He dug into his bag and exchanged gifts with him. Kurt took his package and ripped it open. It was a Kate Spade tote—crammed with Shu Uemura. His eyes widened to their fullest extent. "Reed! What—"

"You got me sheet music and new paintbrushes!" Reed said happily hugging the present. "This perfect for my new concept! I can't wait to try them out and finish my last painting!" He glomped Kurt and happily ran off to get his art things from another part of the plane. He nearly tripped on David, but he was clearly very happy.

Kurt was speechless—he looked down at his present and back at his friend, who he didn't even have the chance to thank yet. Wes saw his shock and grinned. "Aren't you going to open the rest?"

"The rest…?"

"Those are all yours," said the twins without taking their eyes off the game. "We've already exchanged presents."

Kurt stared at the gleaming pile. "You cannot be serious."

"Please—those are definitely not our presents," David snorted. "We wouldn't know what to do with half of them."


"See for yourself."

An hour later, Kurt was surrounded by wrapping paper, opening what had to be his third package from Reed. It was a Prada bag that he was sure could literally not be found anywhere. Inside were two ounces of Clé de Peau and he nearly had a heart attack. Around Kurt sat the rest of the loot—stuff that, collectively, downright blew his mind. On top of the new Alienware laptop David had given him, an Alexander McQueen trench from the Twins was draped. The Louboutins from Wes had tumbled down on the carpet, half hidden by a box of Chanel scarves from Dwight. The shoes were the third pair of shoes he received—the Jimmy Choos and the Fendi suede boots were the first two.

There were clearly multiple gifts from one person. He even got one from Shane—"It's nice to meet you and I look forward to your forthcoming threats of bodily harm," the note inside the Dior Homme jacket said—but he didn't get anything from Blaine.

Blaine said, "It would appear that none of them knew what things to give you—other than David, but he usually gives out tech—so they had to turn to Reed for ideas." He turned a little red. "My…present isn't tangible. But I can tell you that it's waiting for you in New York."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in surprise, but was incredibly pleased. "Interesting."

"I sure hope so," Blaine smiled.

"This is too much," Kurt protested to the others now, mainly out of shock, secondly out of formality, but not without that small part of him that was screaming madly at the sight of all the loot. "Seriously, Reed? You're giving me this?" He waved the Clé de Peau.

"Kurt, when my mom gets presents, she gets presents," Reed said patiently, already happily trying out his paintbrushes. He frowned as a giant drop of green splashed into his coat by accident. He sighed. "Delivery men keep asking if she's stocking a department store when all the gifts come. And she has a lot of them already. So she sends them to me. You are basically a godsend, I can just give the stuff to you—consider yourself my couture disposal chute. Blaine was getting tired of them all too."

"There had come a point when I had nearly an entire fashion show's worth of clothes in my room," Blaine recalled. "The show must've been a disaster for Reed's mom if she sent them all away."

Wes was wearing a Roosterteeth beanie that Kurt had given him—he had not taken it off the moment he unwrapped it. "We almost there yet?" he asked as he continued to play.

The twins, who were devouring massive amounts of beans out of the tub of Every Flavor Beans that Kurt had given them, simultaneously pointed to the intercom. As if on cue, the pilot's voice sounded.

"Attention, we will be landing at our private airfield at New York momentarily…"

"That timing…is just creepy," Shane blinked. "And you have yet another private airfield in New York?"

David was scribbling something on the beautifully covered moleskine notebook that Kurt had given him as his present. "Alright guys. I just got through to Sherry-Lehmann. We're good for New Years. We'll probably have enough to keep going until daylight."

Kurt blinked, not sure. "That kind of sounds familiar…who's Sherry Lehmann?"

The Twins looked at each other with a Cheshire smile and then looked at Kurt. "Oh. They're delivery people."

Reed rolled his eyes and shook his head from behind the canvas, grumbling about "bad influences". Blaine just patted Kurt's arm. "I…think you should stick with me."

"Yes, please…" Kurt shot the twins a suspicious glance, but his fingers twined around Blaine's. Shane, reading a sports mag, glanced at his brother and smirked at the obvious look of happiness that he never had all Christmas.

Dwight came to life the moment the plane came to a full stop on the runway. "Oh, we're here already?" he blinked blearily.

"Yup!" said Wes, getting up from his seat. "Didn't take that long, did it?" He grinned when he saw Kurt with his nose pressed to the glass window. "Hey Blaine? Hang onto him before he has an aneurism—we're not even in the city yet."

Blaine laughed and led Kurt away from the window. "There's a better view outside. Come on, let's go. The crew will put your things in the car."

"Right…" Kurt looked flushed and animated and let Blaine lead him to the exit. He was actually in New York. He had come to New York, and whole months earlier than if he had to wait until Nationals! It was beyond expectations. Outside into the crisp air, it was a bright morning. Below the stairs waited a long black limousine, with the chauffeur waiting with the door open. He nodded to the twins. "Mr. Evan, Mr. Ethan," he nodded.

"Hello, Simon!" the twins said cheerily. "Everything's ready back at the pad?"

"Yes, sir, the condominium at Park Avenue has been prepared for all of your friends. I've also just confirmed that you will have lunch waiting for you."

"Food!" Wes exclaimed in relief. "Yes!"

Going down the steps with Blaine, he stared at the limousine. He grinned and pulled out his phone.

Made it to New York with the boys. Just got off the private jet. Limo to take us to Upper East Side. I feel like a star already!

And then sent it to the members of the Glee Club. Blaine, who looked over his shoulder, laughed a little, almost to his ear. To have him—and his lips—so close to his skin again nearly paralyzed Kurt as he turned slightly to look at him. Their eyes met for only a quick moment before Wes and David came up behind them and shoved them happily forward.

"Now, now—be patient, we're in public," David smirked.

"Into the car—let's head to the condo and we promise the twins will give you a room," Was said in the tone teachers took when explaining to kindergarteners.

"You two need to be quiet now, please…" Blaine grimaced at them. "You're being completely unhelpful."

"We were helpful?" Wes blinked in mock surprise. "When, pray tell?"

As Kurt laughingly entered the car, fielding the excited replies of his McKinley friends—and the indignant responses of one Rachel Berry—Shane helped Reed take his unfinished painting down the steps. He grinned at him as he took the canvas. "I hear you paint like a master. What are you painting?"

Flustered and turning a bit red, Reed ducked his head. "Just…a last minute thing." He immediately hurried ahead, not turning back to look at him. Shane, far from being deterred by his obvious reluctance to be near him all that much, just smiled and followed after him.

"You guys go ahead!" Dwight called, jittery while on the bottom of the steps. "They're unloading my car! I don't want to get in yours—it doesn't have the proper protective countermeasures against my enemies!"

"Dwight! You are not taking that Impala to Fifth and Park, I swear, you are not—" Wes yelled from the window.

"No, no," grinned Evan. "Let him. He can park it at the garage."

"I want to see it be the combo breaker amidst those European sportscars," Ethan added with a nod.

Dwight quickly ran off. The door to the limousine closed and they were on their way, heading for Manhattan island. Kurt, magnetized as he was by all the sights, finally looked at the twins, staring. "Who are you two?"

The people in the limousine laughed much in the same way Wes, David and Blaine did back then when Kurt had first asked if they were gay. The Twins looked at him with boundless affection. "We're perfect."

Blaine rolled his eyes but smiled. "They're very very wealthy."

"Their parents manufacture aircraft for a number of companies, and their products have quite percentage of the market," David explained. "They're ridiculously rich."

"What are you doing in Ohio, then?" Kurt asked disbelievingly. "Shouldn't you be in some European boarding school or something?"

"We're very troublesome to keep anywhere too high profile," Evan admitted.

"We've been horribly spoiled by our parents and sister," Ethan explained.

"And so to keep us in check…"

"They sent us to Dalton—"

"—Which is dad's alma mater!—"

"Where we can't make any trouble."

Everyone in the limo gave them a stare that clearly questioned if they (or their parents) were of sound mind and judgment. The Twins only looked at each other pretended to blush. Wes just shook his head. He glanced behind them through the tinted screens and saw Dwight following in the Impala. From the way he was head-banging, it had to be another "mullet rock" classic that was playing in there.

No one had the time to get very impatient before before they made it through Queens, and at which point, the Twins said, "Look out the window, Alice."

Kurt turned, and stared.

There was Manhattan. Right outside his window. The Empire State building soared beyond the rest, and from where he was, he could also see that iconic Chrysler building. That spiraling cityscape full of bustling people, one of the most famous cities in the world and the hotbed of sophistication, arts, and bohemian life, most of all, the home of Broadway—he was going to it. He was having sensory overload.

Reed was grinning as he pretended to fan his friend. "We could've taken the chopper, couldn't we?"

"Yes, but he wouldn't be this flustered if it went by that fast," grinned David. Evan happily snapped a photo, his twin snatching out the Polaroid.

"Aww. Alice's first trip to New York," he said.

"And it won't be the last."

Park Avenue was overwhelming to someone who had never really quite gotten used to a whole lot of luxury. In itself, it was picturesque, with all those old buildings that retain their air of conservative sophistication. Kurt, who was still reeling at the close-up sight of the Chrysler building, the Grand Central Station and the Met-Life building, stared as they stopped before a large building with gleaming gold and glass doors. Dwight pulled up right behind them.

"Yay! New York home sweet home!" chorused the identical ones.

The doorman walked over and opened the limo door. The twins hopped out first—crushing the usual fifty to his hand as they shook hands with him—and nodded to the others. "Let's go."

Blaine helped Kurt, whose eyes looked so big as they looked around, that he nearly laughed. He let the others go ahead and squeezed Kurt's hand to get his attention. Kurt trained his blue eyes at him and for a moment, Blaine just had to smile, before saying, "I'm afraid I can't give you your Christmas gift until tonight. Is that all right?"

"Of course it is," Kurt said sensibly. He nodded to Blaine's hands and smiled. "You're wearing them already?" He had given Blaine suede gloves—and had prepared something else that he planned on giving him later. Blaine smiled and held up the gloves. "I like them." And he used those warmly gloved hands to take Kurt's, leading him into the building.

They followed the twins through the brilliant lobby of sumptuous décor, and to the elevators. But they did not use any of the others in the gleaming banks. They headed towards the sole elevator around a corner. It was one that needed a thumb-scan. Only one of them had to do it—and then the doors opened, and everyone rushed in.

In the cramped space, as they shot upwards steadily, the boys kept "accidentally" shoving Kurt onto Blaine. At one point, David and Wes were trying to wrestle each other in the elevator and Wes was successfully pinning Kurt against Blaine.

Blaine was completely unfazed about it—or at least, it looked that way—and he held Kurt quietly without a sign of discomfort. Far more impressive than Kurt's own inability to think past being pressed close enough to feel the other boy's heartbeat.

When the elevator doors opened, Kurt realized why the twins had their own elevator. They owned the entire floor. The place itself was massive, almost to the very top of the building, with a spectacular view that could look out over Central Park and beyond. The condominium was elaborately decorated and had incredible furnishings—the interior trend was black, white and blue—that made it look comfortable and sophisticated at the same time.

There was already lunch waiting for them at the dining hall, and the boys ran towards it with the single-mindedness of the ravenous. As they consumed their meal of angus beef steaks—the only thing that could apparently tame their voracious adolescent hungers—the Twins finally spoke.

"About that party…" Evan blinked.

"Don't we have to explain to Alice?" Ethan asked.

"Explain to me what?" Kurt asked, looking up.

The Windsor boys looked at each other. Blaine put his fork down. "I think we shouldn't do that this year. This wouldn't bode well for Kurt."

"Which is why we have to tell him," said Evan with a smile.

"It's a pretty wild one," said Ethan.

"If it's anything like we have at Windsor—" Kurt began, but David shook his head with a bit of forced smile. "No, no…they means lots of guests, pounding music, girls, epilepsy-inducing lights, some serious booze, and the fact that…" He glanced at Blaine.

Blaine looked at Kurt, and Kurt looked at him, and then glanced to how everyone else in the room looked very awkward.

"Well of course we'd get you out of it, if anything went awry…" said Reed quickly.

"If you stay close to one of us, I mean," added Wes.

The Twins cleared their throats. Evan leaned forward. "What he means to say is that on midnight…"

"When the ball drops at Times Square…" Ethan did the same.



"Gets to kiss someone."

Kurt blinked. "But, isn't that what everyone already does…?"

"But that's not all—"

"Not quite—"

"Because by that time, everyone will be dizzy, disoriented—"

"—and drunk on music, or booze or hormones—"

"And so when the ball drops…"

"The lights go out."

Blaine sat up. Kurt frowned.

The Twins smiled.

"And then you get to kiss anyone. Anyone you like. And you will never know who it is."

"You don't have to go," Blaine said, following Kurt into his room later on that day, when everybody finally finished settling in. He looked more upset about the issue than Kurt was. "It's ridiculous, it's just something that they like to do when it's their turn to host. I figured they wouldn't do it to you after…after you got kissed without consent."

Kurt sat down on the bed and smiled up at him. "If you don't mind my saying, it's starting to sound a lot like Gossip Girl up here?"

"Doesn't it just?" Blaine smiled now and sat next to him. He sighed. "So far, though, is it all that bad?"

"No," Kurt said nonchalantly. "You all have been nothing but overly hospitable. I don't know much by way of wild parties held by hormone-driven boys, but I do know that I have a few more days until the ball drops. Until then, I think I can decide if I even want to participate in the depravity."

He flopped backwards onto the waterbed, which rippled beneath him. "I'm in New York, for crying out loud. I think I'd like to make the most of it."

Blaine tried very hard not to look at him so much as he lay there, supple, looking up at the ceiling with those incredible eyes of his that seemed to take in the light in the room. Blaine turned to the window, then glanced at his watch.

He nudged Kurt's hand. "It's almost time anyway. Come on. I'm giving you your Christmas present."

Intrigued, Kurt sat up. "Oh really."

"Yeah." Blaine stood, held out his hand to him. "Might be a good way to end the day."

Kurt looked down a moment and smiled. He took his hand. "Let's go. We'll have to get out before any of them suspect we're going to escape."

"No, they're occupied with selecting party food. That'll take at least four hours."

The days were short. The light was dying over New York already. With daylight fading away, the city that never slept began to fire up its lights. One building to the next—a carpet of light that steadily grew in intensity as more joined it in the late afternoon.

Kurt and Blaine, carrying his trusty boombox again, walked down Avenue of the Americas. Blaine kept his hand securely on Kurt's as they pushed moved past the people on the street. It didn't take Kurt very long to realize where Blaine was actually taking him. And so when he stopped in front of the building…

Kurt stared up at the edifice and then to Blaine. "Radio City Music Hall…?"

"That's right," Blaine smiled. "I figured if we're going to be huge stars, we might as well get used to seeing it." He laughed. "Let's go." He pulled Kurt along, going all the way around to the back entrance.

"Are you supposed to be doing that?" Kurt asked as Blaine pushed the door open, looking around. "If the place was open, we could use the front door."

"So technically, we're borrowing the place a moment," Blaine answered with a grin, pulling him in. The door slammed shut. Everything turned to darkness, and he saw nothing. He only had Blaine's voice and his hand leading him. "What are we doing here?"

Blaine just smiled to himself, not answering Kurt. He pulled him through the labyrinth of dimly lit backstage halls, where their footsteps echoed through the emptiness. At first, Kurt wasn't sure if they were even going anywhere until finally—into light.

Kurt stopped short as Blaine continued to walk, his footsteps sounding onto the stage. After the dim passages, to suddenly move past the curtains and be exposed to the vast grandness of the entire stage, and to the arch of the ceiling, the seats lit and after that—it was no longer all that difficult to imagine standing in front of a crowd that roared the moment you stepped out into the lights.

Blaine set the boombox down on the stage and turned around carefully on his heel to look at Kurt, smiling. "…what do you think?"

Kurt stepped out into open stage, looking around himself. This massive location housed some of the most incredible artistic performances the world has seen, and now here he was, Kurt Hummel, right beneath the house lights, looking out to it.

At the expression on Kurt's face and inability to speak, Blaine smiled and decided that his present seemed to be a success. It was worth seeing that in Kurt's eyes.

"How…" Kurt stammered, looking around, adjusting to the shock that even his inner diva had not been prepared for. He had always lived for the stage, that much was certain, but to see it from this side, in this place, in New York City, for the first time…

"I pulled some strings…" Blaine murmured, looking around and admiring it as well. "Actually, my mother did, at my request. They have…some leverage in stage matters. Besides… I only asked for an extension on a period of time when no one was actually using it, or preparing to set up, just yet. So…it's all ours for the next thirty minutes."

Blaine walked to the edge of the stage and leapt into the orchestra pit. Kurt looked up. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Where else? To get a good seat." He headed up the aisles, and unceremoniously plopped down on one of the cushioned seats. He smirked at him. "So I can watch you sing."

Kurt's eyebrows went up. "Sing. Now?"

"No day but today," Blaine said offhandedly.

"Huh…" Kurt seemed to think about it, and a gleam of an idea came into his eyes as he gave Blaine a smirk. "No…I don't think so. You're coming up here to sing with me."

"You've got to be kidding. I thought holiday miracles ended at Christmas—Kurt Hummel gets the Radio City Music Hall Stage to himself for the first time…and he wants to share?"

Kurt answered with the same offhand way, crossing his arms. "Well you did bring me here… And just because it's my first time doesn't mean it's going to be my last, I can assure you that." He smirked. "And a song doesn't last thirty minutes. I think I'll have time to further regale you with my talents after you give in to this request?"

Blaine had to laugh. He got up with a sigh, shedding his coat onto the seat. "And what did you have in mind?"

"Something worthy of the occasion…" Kurt seemed to consider. He then gracefully walked up to the boombox, quickly selected a song, and hit play. And the moment the opening drum beats sounded, Blaine recognized the song and smiled.

Kurt grinned and gestured for him to come hither.

Live in my house,

I'll be your shelter,

Just pay me back

With one thousand kisses

Be my lover and I'll cover you…

Blaine, smiling in amusement, carefully walked down the aisle towards him as he sang:

Open your door,

I'll be your tenant

Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet

But sweet kisses I've got to spare

I'll be there and I'll cover you…

As Blaine reached the edge of the stage looking up expectantly at him with eyes bright, Kurt knelt down on the edge, leaning to him, smirking as they continued together:

I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love

Now I know you can rent it

A new lease you are my love, on life

Be my life…

As Blaine mounted the stage again, the doors to the audience entrance slowly opened. Reed's head peeked in first, and upon seeing the pair onstage, grinned immediately. He turned and gestured for the others to come in.

The rest of the boys quickly came in, tiptoeing down the aisle—Shane romping ahead, with a video camera— watching as the two danced around the stage to the music. Kurt took off his scarf and placed it around Blain's neck, using it to pull him close.

Just slip me on,

I'll be your blanket

Wherever, whatever, I'll be your coat…

"You'll be my King, and I'll be your castle," Kurt sang, grinning as he moved around him, and Blaine shook his head with a cheeky grin, singing, "No, you'll be my Queen, and I'll be your moat…"

The boys in the audience nearly laughed out loud. The pair continued to sing, looking wonderfully alive:

I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love

Now I know you can rent it

A new lease you are my love, on life

All my life…

As the two of them swirled on stage around each other, singing with everything they had, looking intently at each other as they exchanged lines in perfect time:

I've longed to discover

Something as true as this is…

So with a thousand sweet kisses

(If you're cold and you're lonely)

I'll cover you—

With a thousand sweet kisses

(You've got one nickel only)

I'll cover you—

With a thousand sweet kisses

(When you're worn out and tired)

I'll cover you—

With a thousand sweet kisses,

(When your heart has expired)

I'll cover you—

Their hands touched again, pulling each other close, Kurt moving his hands over the scarf that dangled down Blaine's chest.

Oh, lover,

I'll cover you,


Oh, lover,

I'll cover you...

The music faded away, leaving them both leaning close, foreheads just brushing each other's. Kurt glanced upwards a moment, smiling a little, and it made Blaine grin.

The boys in the audience burst into applause and cheers, making the two look up immediately. As the others clapped as hard as they could, Wes was catcalling and Shane was laughing out loud, making sure to take the memory card out of the camera quickly.

Blaine and Kurt laughed from onstage, both flushed red, both abashed and still taken in by the moment. "Encore!" Reed called. "Encore, encore!"

"Just you then," Blaine said, as he released Kurt. "This is your present, after all. The stage is all yours."

"Best Christmas present I've received yet," Kurt smirked back. Other than you. Blaine just laughed and went down to the others as Kurt blew kisses to them, preparing to make his second performance.

On the next episode: SPOTTED: K and R running into Bergdorf Goodman armed with platinum charge cards, but we doubt their combined forces would even make a dent on Mrs. Van Kamp's purchase budget. E&E are still planning the party to end all parties-let's just hope no one gets carded. The inseparable D&W run into some problems when they just happen to 'lose track' of K. B has more than the usual reasons to fret; especially as we just spotted L, fresh from Paris and looking blissfully drugged down, arriving in Grand Central Station without his athletic 'chaperone'. And if he's coming to the party, let's just say that all kissing bets have to restart all over again.