There is a tree, in the backyard of their suburb home, some twenty-five years after their marriage, a mere twelve years after they’d purchased the home.
It’s been a long time in the making. It had originally been a housewarming gift—a strange, morbid, totally apropos gift.
"You bought us…a tree?"
There was something special about cuddling by a fireplace in the winter that always kept Kurt coming back to Blaine’s house over the holiday break from school. Underneath the brick mantle hung with stockings, the Andersons often had a fire lit in the evenings. The crackle of a real wood-burning flame and the flickering heat that warmed his bones was irresistible.
Blaine didn’t usually think much of it, admittedly. He’d had the fireplace around for as long as he could remember, and a lot of his interest had been lost as soon as he’d learned that a jolly old man in a red suit didn’t really come down the chimney each year. Kurt’s love of it, though, had rekindled his own appreciation of the fixture, especially when they spent hours huddled close on the carpet while his parents were away, sharing lazy kisses and twining their ankles together to see whose cold toes would make the other squirm away first.
feeling pretty glad I’ll be seeing John Williams conduct the Houston Symphony tomorrow night instead of watching this lame Glee episode