A/N. Future Klaine. Christmas Eve. Daddy Blaine and Kurt. I didn't come up with the name for their child, but I've read it in so many fanfictions I don't actually know who came up with it first. Kind of early for Christmas, but this story has been bugging me, so….. yeah. In my head, Toronto is about five here. To save confusion, Toronto calls Blaine Daddy and Kurt Dada. Italics is Kurt reading and bold is Blaine reading. Bold italics is the both of them reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I do not own the song or poem used in the episode. I did not come up with the name of their child.

Winter Cuddles

Kurt smiled as the movie ended on the television, looking at the small boy on the sofa beside him 'Come on, Tor, do you want to go set out the snacks for Santa with Daddy and I?' Toronto nodded eagerly 'Yes Dada, I do.' Kurt smiled softly and stood before lifting him into his arms 'Come on then.' Blaine stood and pressed a kiss to the head of his son and to Kurt's cheek before wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist, guiding him into the kitchen. Kurt smiled as he allowed his husband to lead him, snuggling in closer to him.

Blaine opened the door to the kitchen as they reached it, allowing Kurt to walk through ahead of him. Kurt gave Blaine a quick kiss before walking through the door, sitting his son down on the counter. 'So, what should we set out for Santa, Tor?' Blaine asked as he entered the room after the two of them. Toronto grinned excitedly 'Some milk for Santa and a carrot for the reindeers and a mince pie for Santa. Oh and we have to put it on the Christmas tray!'

Kurt laughed and went to the cupboard, taking out the Christmas tray and placing it next to Toronto as Blaine got out the things Toronto wanted to leave out for Santa. Toronto grabbed for them eagerly and started placing them out on the tray and Blaine laughed as Kurt watched on fondly. 'Easy, tiger.' Blaine laughed. Toronto giggled 'I'm sorry Daddy, I'm just so excited.' He held his arms out for Blaine and Blaine scooped him up. 'Come on kiddo, let's get you ready for bed.' Toronto nodded and snuggled into Blaine's arms. Kurt picked up the tray of treats and took it through to the front room, placing it by the fireplace before starting to head upstairs, Blaine following with Toronto in his arms.

Kurt opened the door to Toronto's bedroom, holding it open for Blaine who walked through with Toronto 'Thank you baby.' Kurt followed Blaine through into the room 'You're welcome love. You go brush Toronto's teeth with him, okay? I'll get his pyjamas out. Tor, what pyjamas do you want to wear?' Toronto murmured sleepily from Blaine's arms 'Thomas, Dada.' Kurt smiled 'Of course, son.' Blaine kissed Kurt softly before carrying Toronto through to the bathroom.

Kurt went to Toronto's closet, dipping down to look through his pyjamas for the Thomas the Tank Engine pair Toronto had asked for, and let his mind cast back to when Toronto had been born. They'd taken inspiration from Rachel's Dads, mixing their sperm together so they didn't know who was Toronto's biological father. His mother was a family friend of Blaine's, and although Toronto didn't know she was his mother, but she saw her son quite regularly, and Toronto was introduced to her as her nephew. They figured they'd explain properly once he was older and could understand.

Kurt smiled as he took out the pyjamas and remembered holding Toronto for the first time, and the rush of love he'd felt for the small baby he held in his arms. He could scarcely believe it had been five years, and that he and Blaine had recently been discussing bringing another child into their family.

Kurt was distracted from his thoughts as a singing Blaine entered into the room, a giggling Toronto in his arms and he grinned 'There's my two favourite men.' Blaine smiled and set Toronto down on the cabinet before scooping Kurt into his arms and giving him a kiss. Toronto giggled again 'Daddy! Dada! Yuck!' Kurt grinned and said 'One day you're going to like kissing too, Tor.' Toronto pulled a face and shook his head 'Never!' Kurt laughed, letting go of Blaine, heading towards Toronto, pyjamas in hand 'Ready to get into bed and read a bed time story?' Toronto nodded eagerly and started wriggling out of his clothes, dropping them to the floor, Blaine picking them up and putting them in the hamper.

Kurt lifted Toronto off the cabinet, carrying him to the bed and standing him on it, pulling his pyjama top over his head and lifting his small legs to slide on his pyjama pants. 'Go on Tor, into bed.' Blaine said, as Kurt went to Toronto's bookshelf. Kurt smiled 'Daddy and Dada are going to read a Christmas story to you tonight, Toronto. Is that okay?' Toronto nodded eagerly and clambered into bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin.

Kurt sat down on the bed, Blaine settling down beside him, and the two of them started to read.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the courses they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Toronto had slowly gotten closer and closer to drifting into sleep as his Dads read the poem to him, but he smiled regardless 'I love you Daddy. I love you Dada.' Blaine smiled and pressed a kiss to his son's forehead before moving back to allow Kurt to do the same 'And we love you too, Tor. Sleep well, sweetheart.' Toronto nodded and snuggled up in the sheets. Kurt and Blaine watched him for a moment before linking their fingers together and quietly walking out of the room, closing the door and heading back down the stairs again. Blaine smiled 'Come on baby, let's put out Toronto's gifts and then we can put on the radio and cuddle in front of the fire, okay?' Kurt nodded and pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek 'That sounds wonderful baby.'

Blaine smiled and grabbed the key to the cellar, unlocking the door and starting to walk down the stairs, Kurt following behind him. Blaine grabbed one bag of gifts and Kurt grabbed another, carrying the two bags up back out of the cellar and locking the door again. Kurt and Blaine quietly sat Toronto's gifts out around the tree. Both stood and turned to each other after they finished, both clutching a smaller bag in their hands, and they both simultaneously blushed. Kurt was the first to break the silence with a smile 'So much for agreeing to not buy anything for each other this year.' Blaine grinned 'I couldn't do it.' he scratched the back of his head sheepishly 'Christmas is the time of year where you spoil the ones you love. I couldn't not buy you anything.' He placed the bag down by the tree and Kurt smiled, following suit, placing down his own bag 'Neither could I.'

Blaine smiled and went to put on the radio while Kurt picked up the blanket, settling down on the sofa underneath it, waiting for Blaine. Blaine laid back on the sofa and Kurt curled up on top of him, dragging the blanket over them both and snuggling down, head resting in the crook of Blaine's neck. Blaine's hand stroked gently through Kurt's soft hair, and Kurt couldn't even bring himself to mind as he found himself slowly slipping into sleep from the warmth Blaine surrounded him with. 'I love you.' Kurt murmured against Blaine's neck, and he felt Blaine's neck muscles move as he smiled 'I love you too, Kurt.' Blaine whispered, and Kurt gave a soft little smile of his own before closing his eyes and nestling closer to Blaine 'Forever.' They whispered to each other at the same time. Seven years after getting married, almost fifteen years after meeting in high school, the two of them were still as in love as ever.

Blaine and Kurt slowly drifted off by the roaring fireplace, the song playing on the radio singing out its final line.

Cause baby its cold outside.

A/N. I can't decide whether to write Christmas day or not. Opinions?