Hahaha! I totally forgot I wrote this! I remember posting it around Christmas time two years ago... Actually, on Christmas. Since it's the holiday season again, I'll repost it. It's so poorly written xD Some of you probably already read it, but whatever! And Holly stills calls him Mr. Heywood xD I forgot about that!

I love Kurt and Blaine. SO CUTE.

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       Familiar images flashed across the television screen as for the millionth time they played a Trojan condom commercial. If this station was trying to promote safe sex, they were doing a good job of it. Feeling my face heat up, I brought my hand out from under the blanket I was under and reached for the remote, aiming to change the channel. Mr. Heywood captured my hand before I could, pulling it back to our bodies.

            "Are you going to change the channel every time a condom commercial comes on, Holly?" he asked, his jaw moving on my shoulder with each word.

             Shaking my head, I let him take the remote away from me. He placed it back on the side table, and shifted his position so I could lean more comfortably into him. Our hands returned to under the blanket and his found mine, entwining together. I turned my head, glancing at the clock on the wall.

             "Oh my god," I started, sitting up quickly.

             "What?"

             I gestured to the clock with my hand while trying to free myself from Mr. Heywood and the tangle of blankets we were under. "Look at the time!"

             "What about it?" Mr. Heywood asked in a curious voice. "If you’re worried about it changing, it changes every second…"

             Rolling my eyes, I finally managed to throw the blankets off us. "It’s late."

             "Now it’s cold," Mr. Heywood groaned, pulling me back to him. "No one likes being cold."

             "Mr. Heywood, I have to go," I told him, quickly throwing on my coat, scarf, and hat.

             "No you don’t."

             "Yes I do."

             Mr. Heywood shook his head stubbornly. "Nope."

             "I really can’t stay—"

             "Baby, it’s cold outside," Mr. Heywood pointed out, a frown slipping onto his face.

             I stared at him for a moment. Was he just saying that or…? I shook my head. Might as well try. "I’ve got to go ‘way."

             Mr. Heywood grinned. "Baby, it’s cold outside."

             A smile of amusement slipped onto my face too. Who knew Mr. Heywood knew Christmas songs? "The evening has been—"

             Mr. Heywood cut me off, pulling on my arm as I tried to move away from him. "I’ve been hopin’ that you’d drop in."

             "So very nice," I finished firmly, pushing away from him.

             He quickly grabbed my hand. "I’ll hold your hand, they’re just like ice."

             "My mother will start to worry—" Which probably wasn’t true. She probably wanted me here just as much as I wanted to stay.

             "Hey beautiful, what’s your hurry?" he sang in a quiet voice.

             "And father will be pacing the floor," I said, rather awkwardly.

             "Listen to that fireplace roar."

             The funny thing was he didn’t have a fireplace. He nodded to the television screen where, coincidentally enough, there was a commercial for a fireplace on it. I laughed, pulling my hand out of Mr. Heywood’s grasp.

             "So really, I’d better scurry," I told him, moving towards the door.

             "Beautiful, please don’t hurry," he requested, now getting off of the couch. He sent me a suggestive wink.

             I smiled bashfully at him. "Well, maybe just a half a drink more…"

             "Put some music on while I pour."

             I paused for a second, trying to remember what came next as he disappeared from the room. When he returned, I took a guess. "The neighbors might think—"

             "Baby, it’s bad out there," he told me, handing me a glass of eggnog.

             I took it, taking a small sip. I made a face. "Say, what’s in this drink?"

             "No cabs to be had out there," Mr. Heywood told me, ignoring my question. Even if it was the lyrics, there was something strange in there.

             He came closer to me, taking the glass from my hands again. He took a sip, made a face, and then spit it out. "What the hell did Jeremy put in this?"

             "Poison?"

             Mr. Heywood snorted. "I wouldn’t be surprised. Now come on, Holly. Let’s finish watching out Christmas movie." He grabbed my hand, leading me back to the couch.

             "I wish I knew how—" I started wistfully.

             "—Your eyes are like starlight now—"

             "—To break this spell," I finished, pulling my hand free once again. I gave him a scolding look.

             "I’ll take your hat," Mr. Heywood said, pulling my wool cap off my head. "You hair looks swell," he added, taking a piece and twirling it around his finger.

             "I oughtta say no, no, no sir—"

             "You mind if I move in closer?" he asked with a smirk, grabbing my scarf, and using it as an anchor to pull himself closer to me.

             I sighed. "At least I’m gunna say that I tried…"

             "And what’s the sense in hurting my pride?"

             "I really can’t stay…"

             "Oh baby, don’t hold out."

             "Oh, but it’s cold outside…"

             Mr. Heywood moved in closer and before I could protest, he sneakily stole a kiss from my lips. My face flamed and I stepped away from him, taken by surprise. He chuckled, holding on to the ends of my scarf so I couldn’t move any further away.

             "You know, you’d probably be a good predator," I told him, trying to tug my scarf away.

             "Predator?"

             "Like, someone who kidnaps people, or something. You’re sly."

             Mr. Heywood gave me a flat look. "Hah."

             "I simply must go," I told him, now slipping my scarf off my neck.

             "It’s cold outside," he protested.

             "The answer is no."

             Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. "Baby, it’s cold outside."

             "The welcome has been—"

             "So lucky you dropped in," he cut me off.

             I gave him an impatient look. "So nice and warm."

             He nodded his head towards the window. "Look out the window at that storm."

             I followed his gaze— almost laughing when I realized it wasn’t even snowing at all. In fact, it was crystal clear outside. He turned back to me, a sheepish grin on his face.

             "That kind of ruined the affect," he admitted.

             "My sister will be suspicious."

             "Your lips look delicious," he mentioned, taking another step closer to me.

             I blushed, adverting my gaze. "My brother will be there at the door."

             Mr. Heywood scoffed. "I ain’t worried about your brother."

             "My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious—"

             "That ol’ biddy, she ain’t gunna bother me."

             "Well… Maybe just a… cup of eggnog more…"

             Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow. "Cup of eggnog?"

             "I don’t smoke," I told him.

             "But it’s in the song…"

             I puffed out my cheeks. "Fine. Well, maybe just a cigarette more."

             "You don’t need no cigarette, it’s smokin’ plenty up in here!"

             "I’ve got to get home," I stated forcefully, moving forward to steal my scarf and hat back from Mr. Heywood.

             "Baby you’ll freeze out there," he responded, holding the articles of clothing out of my reach.

             "Say, lend me a comb," I said, looking down, and seeing tangles in my hair.

             "It’s up to your knees out there!"

             "You’ve really been grand."

             "I thrill when you touch my hand," he told me as I accidentally brushed his while trying to reach my scarf.

             Irritated, I stopped reaching for my scarf and hat. "Oh, but don’t you see—"

             "How can you do this thing to me?"

             "There’s bound to be talk tomorrow."

             Mr. Heywood shrugged. "Well, think of my lifelong sorrow."

             "At least there will be plenty implied—"

             He quickly grabbed my shoulders, shaking them, and feigning a panicked expression. "If you caught pneumonia and died?"

             I smiled, pulling his hands off me, and in the process grabbing my hat and scarf. "I really can’t stay."

             "Get over that hold out," he grunted with a pouting look.

             "Oh, but baby it’s cold outside," we said in unison.

             Mr. Heywood frowned at me when we ran out of lyrics. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and pulled on my hat, getting ready to leave.

             "Now are you going to give me a ride home, or am I going to walk?"

             Mr. Heywood heaved a heavy sigh. "I’ll give you a ride… Since you don’t want to stay."

             "Mr. Heywood—"

             "Chris," he corrected moodily.

             "Chris, I do want to stay," I told him, grabbing his hand. "But my mom is expecting me home tonight."

             Mr. Heywood gave me a grumpy look. "Fine. But then I want a goodnight kiss from you. Right now."

             Reddening the slightest bit, I nodded, reaching up on my tiptoes in order to give him a quick kiss. He quickly held my head when I tried to pull away, making me lengthen the kiss. When he finally let go, I pulled away, blushing again.

             "Holly, you’re so cute when you blush," Mr. Heywood told me, flicking my forehead. "I’ll give you a ride home now. But button up your coat. ‘Cause baby, it’s cold outside," he sang, sending me a wink.