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By skwirelygurli



Knit, a Glee fiction

I do not own Glee. Feedback is always welcome!

He has no clue what he's doing. Well, he has some clue. He knows that he's attempting to knit a sweater for Kurt. Key word be attempting, as he's pretty sure sweaters involve some sort of head hole, unless he wants his beautiful face hidden beneath poorly knit yarn.

In retrospect, maybe knitting was a bad idea. But what else is he supposed to do while he waits for Kurt to Skype him? Okay, so there are many things he could do. Many manly things like work on his car (even though it is in perfect working order), or watch slasher movies (but he doesn't have a chest to bury his face into in something scary happens, or anyone to bury their face in his chest. Really, either way heads will be buried, and hopefully one of them will be brave, because otherwise their heads will hit each other and that's just painful.)

He doesn't know why he decided to make him a sweater for Christmas. They had agreed on homemade gifts this year, since college is leaving Kurt completely broke. He should have just made cookies.

But last time he burnt all his gingerbread men, and no amount of playing fireman saved them from the fire. It just made for soggy cookies. And Kurt deserves more than a soggy cookie.

He tosses the mess of unfinished sweater and knitting needles on the ground. He has two hours before he arrives. There is no way he can pull this together. His fashion major of a boyfriend will laugh in his face.

He glances to the Christmas tree lit up beside him. There's homemade ornaments scattered around the bottom branches. His favorite is the snowman tucked in the back, with glittery purple boots. It doesn't please his dad too well ("It's a gay snowman Blaine."), but it's unique and how was a six year old to know that using purple glitter meant that he'd be knitting a sweater for his boyfriend three days before Christmas, and not some girl met getting a salad in the school cafeteria.

Or that he'd be knitting at all, but that's beside the point.

Maybe there's a chance he could make Kurt a gay snowman?

There's a knock at the door. He gets up off the couch to answer it. When he does, two arms envelope him in a hug. Then he realizes who it is. He hugs back.

He swears he's grown thinner from all the late night cramming and a diet that consists of mostly coffee, just to stay awake.

"Kurt go to bed. You're obviously tired."

"But I miss you."

"I miss you too. But I'm pretty sure if I take pictures of sleepy Kurt, because you are so adorable, you will be angry with me. So bed."

"Fine. I love you."

"I love you too."

He releases him. It's pretty cold outside (hence the idea to make the sweater) and while he would love to hold him all night long, his toes are going numb.

"You're early," he notes, bringing him into the empty house.

"My dad drove me. Told me nobody deserves to be alone on a train for Christmas." He fiddles with the ring on his finger. The one he had received last year. It only affirms Blaine's nerves. There is no way he can give him this sweater.

"He's right. Even if it isn't Christmas yet." They walk past the sweater, still a heap on the ground. He hopes there is a chance that Kurt won't notice, that he'll just say yes to his hot chocolate and be too mesmerized by the marshmallows to notice.

So of course he has to notice.

And of course he has to comment.

"What is that?"

Blaine sighs. "It was going to be your Christmas present." Kurt bends down to examine it. "I know that it's horrible and I was going to make you an ornament instead, one to put on the tree so we could remember this day forever and always but-"

Kurt stands and puts a finger to his lips. The words cease to flow.

"Thank you." He spreads the shirt out in front of him and studies it for a brief moment. "With a little adjusting, it could make the perfect pillow case. I may have possibly spilled coffee on mine."

He blinks back at him, dazed for a minute. Wait, he likes it? All the worry flushes out of him and he laughs. A big, loud, happy laugh.

Once again Kurt is wrapped into his arms, and the sweater returns to its spot on the ground.

Kurt squeaks. It's utterly adorable, and it only makes him squeeze tighter. Arms wrap around his waist, and then they're pulling apart. Slowly. As if they're stuck together like a bandage on skin and the slow removal will make it hurt less. Or like they're stuck together like two boys who miss each other way too much, because it has been way too long and they're afraid if they let go, they'll be apart again. No matter how slowly you pull that, it doesn't hurt any less.

"Don't you want to see what I got you?" He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a ring box.

Blaine's keeping composed very well, that is until Kurt bends down onto one knee. Then he feels his heart drop.

"Kurt?" He doesn't know where to put his hands. His pockets? Folded across his chest? Clasped neatly in front of himself?

He goes for the third one.

"I figured if you gave me a promise ring, it was only fair that I gave you one in return." It's made of Starburst wrappers. Lemon, his favorite flavor.

He accepts the ring as Kurt tugs at his hand. Now they're matching, with their candy rings, and cheesy grins.

And if he didn't know any better, Blaine would swear that the gay snowman was smiling at the two of them.

Kurt glances over to where he's looking and sees it.

"It's as if he's staring at us."

"You have no idea."

A beat passes.

"I like his boots."

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