“Hey, how was it?” Krist asked as Dave walked into the studio, bringing in with him a gust of cold air. That was Seattle in the winter, as evidenced by the heavily bundled drummer coming in from outside, might as well have been in fucking Canada.

“Shit man,” Dave replied, a harsh cough following his answer. Kurt looked up from tuning his guitar, eyes focusing subtly on him, an endeared grin instantly lighting his features at the sight. It was true, the drummer was wrapped head to toe in winter attire, beginning with a ridiculous blue knit beanie at the top, a pom-pom standing out proudly from the yarn, a Black Flag patch hastily attached in a desperate attempt to try and save the piece, but to no avail. Continuing downward, just a sliver of Dave was visible, big brown eyes, pupils dilated (from the dark of winter no doubt), standing out from the mass of cloth, a tacky plaid scarf starting just under them, covering the rest of his face, completely clashing with the blue of the cap. He wore too a large heavily padded black snow-jacket ending just above the knee, the sleeves reaching out to meet two thick wool gloves, which were, at the moment, occupied at the scarf, from what Kurt could tell in a desperate attempt to be warmed by the breath penetrating the fabric. The look was complete with jeans, ridiculously torn at the knee, completely obliterating the purpose of all the other items, and a pair of scuffed old black converse, the canvas material soaked through from the snow. No, Kurt couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, what’d you expect?” Dave looked up, noticing Kurt for the first time upon his arrival. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them every now and then, stepping from foot to foot, almost pacing in place, all in vain efforts to try and warm up.

“Hmm?” A muffled sound emerged from the mass, the just visible eyes squinting in question in his direction.

Kurt smiled again, setting the guitar down and standing up, stretching slowly, he himself clad in simply a thermal and flannel shirt, jeans and converse also a common staple of his wardrobe; of course when you drove to the studio like a normal person, you were pretty much good for the walk from the car to the door, unlike some people who insisted on walking in this weather.

“Well dear,” Kurt smiled mockingly, “what can you expect with family holidays? Divorced parents complaining about each other behind each others backs, irritable old people who can't hear you when you’re yelling right at them, noisy brats who couldn’t care for your presence past the price of the toy you bring them. Reasons why I steer clear of all that holiday bull shit, and trust me, that’s considered normal; just be glad its over, and maybe rethink your plans for next year.”

Dave rolled his eyes, the only available indication of his opinion, as his stifled reply did not reinforce anything. If one listened closely, just maybe they would be able to get something from his tone. Kurt glared in mock annoyance.

“And take off that ridiculous get-up, I can’t hear a goddamn word you’re saying,” Kurt shouted, advancing towards him, arms stretched out with the full intention of ripping that tacky scarf right off his face. Dave backed up, shaking his head, eyes wide in fear. “Trust me,” Kurt said, continuing his advance, “you’ll be a hell of a lot warmer without it. This studio is heated, and that’s got fucking snow all over it.” Finally Dave lost his balance, the bulky attire proving its inefficiency in all things, and came crashing to the ground, Kurt toppling down after him like dominos, a barely audible yelp escaping the clothed heap. Kurt took the opportunity to reposition himself, and promptly tore the scarf off the drummer’s face.

“Now what was that darling?” Kurt asked sweetly. Dave glared, snatching back his scarf and tying it around his neck, pushing Kurt off of him roughly.

“I said, your overwhelming optimism disgusts me,” he repeated sarcastically. Kurt stood up, dusting himself off, reaching out to Dave, grabbing his arm and pulling him up roughly.

“Yeah,” Krist said laughing, “Kurt should talk, he spent his holiday with Courtney’s family.”

Kurt glared. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned miserably. “Her dad’s a fucking lunatic, don’t even get me started.”

Dave shook his head, suddenly a loud beep sounded. Krist’s eyes widened and he pulled out his phone. Glancing briefly at the number, he looked up. “I’ve gotta take this,” he addressed them briefly. “Hey Shelley, what’s up?” He got up and walked in the other room, shutting the door behind him.

“So that’s why you’re so jaded this year,” Dave said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.

“No, I’m always jaded,” Kurt said, smirking; they stood there for a minute in silence, suddenly Kurt frowned. “Seriously man, take that fucking repulsive winter wear off, you’re an eyesore.”

“Hey!” Dave said as Kurt lunged at him, unzipping the nasty thing before he had time to really protest. Before he knew it, Kurt had pulled the cap off his head and thrown it across the room, and was now pulling the cig out of his hand, placing in between his own lips briefly as he shrugged Dave out of the coat, leaving him clad in a grey turtleneck and his tacky plaid scarf. He reached for the scarf as Dave cringed against the wall, his long black hair now free and sticking in all directions, only half dry, but stopped midway, instead thumbing it lightly.

“Well, you can hang on to this, I’m not a complete monster, who knows, may come in handy,” Kurt grinned, pulling the scarf upward and trapping Dave against the wall with one hand, the other holding the cig, his face a mere inch away, skin grazing lightly, slightly against skin; the ghost of breath warming his face. “Warm enough yet?” he whispered, letting go. He grinned that wicked grin once again and backed up, returning the cig to his lips. “Man you smoke the shittiest cigarettes,” he complained, completely oblivious to the flustered drummer, still pressed against the wall. Dave took a moment to regain his composure.

“Don’t complain when you steal my cigarettes, go get your own if your going to be like that,” Dave glared, reaching out trying to snatch his smoke bag. Kurt dodged, a laugh in his eyes.

“I can complain all I want,” he said, pulling the last of the smoke and tossing it on the floor, stubbing it out with his foot. Dave frowned, pouting and crossing his arms.

“Great, thanks to you I’m now fucking freezing without my coat,” he complained, shivering to emphasize his point. Kurt couldn’t help smiling that endeared smile once again. Dave really was quite adorable.

“But you look so much better without it!” Kurt said, eyes resting on Dave’s lithe frame, revealed now without the bulk of the coat. He licked his lips and gave him the once over, loving how cute and uncomfortable it obviously made Dave. He circled him slowly, coming forward once on the other side and slowly backing him into the doorway of the closet.

“Well, what do you know?” Kurt asked, smiling evilly, glancing up at the top of the entrance where there rested a small sprig of green and white plant hanging from a string. “Mistletoe.” Dave’s eyes widened as he followed Kurt’s gaze, and before he knew it Kurt’s lips were on his, his body pushing him back against the doorframe, cold hands pushing up under his thin sweater and resting against his stomach, griping his waist; it was always Kurt’s favorite place to touch, well…second favorite place.

He let out a soft moan, the strong sensations of hot mouth and cold hands proving an overwhelming combination. He shivered, loving the feeling of Kurt’s hands on him after so long an absence. He gripped Kurt’s shoulders, a wicked thought crossing his mind. He pushed Kurt back; the blonde’s eyes widened.

“I thought you hated the holidays?” Dave asked, holding Kurt away from him, pulling his hands off of his body if only for a moment. Kurt smiled, understanding the joke.

“Well, maybe I change my mind.” Kurt grinned, lunging back forward. “Now c’mon, you’re still wearing too many clothes,” he laughed, pulling Dave’s turtleneck up over his head, but replacing his scarf.

“I could say the same to you!” Dave shouted, not bothering to unbutton the flannel, instead tearing it apart, and then helping Kurt pull off the thermal. Kurt grabbed Dave’s scarf again, pulling him onto him, kissing him long and passionate.

“Merry Christmas, I guess.”