It’s just a plant. Green leaves, red and white berries. Finn looks up at the plant hanging from the archway. He’s tall enough that he could take it down if he wanted, but he doesn’t. The fact is, he’s the one who put it there in the first place. And now he’s waiting.
The house is mostly dark. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkle in one corner. The fire in the fireplace casts a soft glow over most of the room. Outside, the Christmas lights on the house and the other houses in the neighborhood fill the dark night with warm light.
The door opens, cold air and fresh snow swirling into the house. Kurt removes his boots, his coat, hat, gloves and scarf, all damp with snow, hanging them up on the coat rack in the hall. His fingers, his toes, his cheeks and his nose are red with the cold. The red is in stark contrast the usual pale of Kurt’s skin. The result is he looks more alive than ever.
From his spot, Finn holds open his arms, offering a hug. Kurt steps into them willingly, wrapping his arms tightly around Finn’s torso. Finn closes his around Kurt, dropping his chin over Kurt’s shoulder and inhaling deeply the scent of Kurt. The one he can still smell when he passes by Kurt’s room sometimes, the one he thinks he catches a whiff of sometimes still in the choir room or the auditorium, the one he smells on the scarf that he doesn’t have tucked away under his pillow.
Kurt loosens his grip and steps back from Finn. Finn tucks his hand under Kurt’s chin and lifts it up towards his face. Kurt’s eyes are big, blue and sparkling like everything else about the holiday season. They are endless and Finn feels like he is drowning in them. Finn swallows thickly as he points a finger towards the mistletoe hanging above them.
The hand under Kurt’s chin moves to cup his jaw, Finn’s thumb brushing over and over the wind chapped and cool skin on the apple of Kurt’s cheek. Kurt’s eyes flutters closed and he sighs softly at the caress. Finn’s other hand finds one of Kurt’s and he grabs it, intertwining their fingers before bringing their joined hands up between their bodies. Kurt’s other hand finds it way to Finn’s shoulder, caressing it slightly.
“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” Finn whispers huskily. He closes his eyes and brings his lips down to cover Kurt’s. Finn expects them to be cool and wind chapped like the rest of Kurt’s face but instead they are soft, full, and almost warm. Finn can’t pull away from them, continually moving his own lips over Kurt’s, nipping at Kurt’s top lip with his teeth. When Finn breaks the kiss and pulls his mouth from Kurt’s he watches Kurt’s eyes blink open. He smiles wide, all teeth, reaching all the way up to his eyes and Finn knows he’s only seen this smile of Kurt’s once more. The night of their parent’s wedding, when Finn sang for him and danced with him. Finn leans down and rests his forehead against Kurt’s.
“You’re all I ever wanted for Christmas.”