“Where’d the cookies go,” Finn asks, frantically rearranging the rest of the cookies on the tray. “The special cookies. The Isabelle cookies!”
“They’re all in the cupboard over the sink. Not the right one, the left one,” Kurt answers from where he is straightening the garland on the radiator.
“And you remembered to tell Santana that if she drinks too much punch and starts telling those stories from high school, we’re kicking her out, right?” Finn says. “Or, I guess, you told Dani that?”
Kurt laughs. “Yes, exactly, I reminded Dani. Who is bringing the wine for the mulled wine.”
“Did you have a chance to look at the file?”
“Your stalker-file?” Kurt says, walking over to Finn and sliding his arm around Finn’s waist. “I don’t think we need to know his shoe size, Finn.”
“I didn’t differentiate between the importance of the information, Kurt! I just wrote down everything I heard Isabelle say about him, plus the background check stuff,” Finn says. He gets the bag of Isabelle’s favorite cookies out of the left cupboard over the sink, and uses them to fill in the gap in the tray of cookies before moving the tray to the table.
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t necessary,” Kurt says with a sigh, and then he raises his eyebrows. “Should I be jealous?”
“I didn’t have to do a background check on you. I already knew you,” Finn says.
Kurt laughs. “Maybe you should have, though. I’m sure he’s a very lovely man, Finn, and it’s just a Christmas Eve gathering.”
“I’m her personal assistant,” Finn says. “That means I have to assist her with, like, stuff. Personal stuff. Like making good boyfriend decisions. You know how bad the last one ended up being!”
“And she realized that,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “You should help me fix the last piece of garland by the window, and then you should kiss me.”
“Those both sound like things I can do,” Finn says. He walks over the last garland, which he thinks looks fine, but since Kurt thinks it needs fixed, probably is crooked or something.
“A little bit to the right,” Kurt instructs, stepping close behind Finn and putting his head between Finn’s shoulders. “Just don’t interrogate the poor man.”
“I’m paid to interrogate people,” Finn insists.
“No, you really aren’t,” Kurt argues.
“I didn’t say I was paid a lot to interrogate people,” Finn says. “Besides, just because you’re all editorish now, you remember what it was like. Everybody wants to just be able to call her on the phone, or send her emails, or, like, talk to her, so I have to keep them away from her until I’m sure it’s actually important enough.”
“Yes, Finn, you’re an excellent gatekeeper. At work. Shouldn’t she be able to select a date?” Kurt says, his head still between Finn’s shoulders.
“I just really love Isabelle, okay? She’s the reason I’m here! Well, I mean, the reason I could afford to fly here and stay here, since the reason-reason I’m here is you,” Finn says.
“And she adores you, too,” Kurt says. “I think that’s everything, so we should go sit on the couch and wait for them.”
“Do we need to let anything breathe? Isn’t there some kind of wine that you’re supposed to let breathe?”
“Wine that we cannot afford,” Kurt answers.
“Okay, then we’ll breathe,” Finn says. “On the couch. We’ll sit and wait and breathe on the couch, and maybe make out a little.”
“Only a little?”
“Until the guests get here,” Finn corrects himself.
Kurt smiles. “If we’re lucky, they’ll be at least a few minutes late.”