{Jon}

Jon brushed snow off his hair and wiped his boots as he stepped in the nave of St. Aidan's United church. The prelude music had already started; a heavily pregnant woman was at the piano, leaning in as she played, accompanied by a young man with a long Moses-like beard on an acoustic guitar. Jon recognized the tune of 'O Come O Come Emmanuel' and rubbed tension in his neck.

Was it that time of year already? December meant an avalanche of final exams, awkward parties, scheduling headaches juggling everyone's holiday requests, and hoping for a Christmas miracle for his kids to have a safe day with their bio families on the 25th.

Behind him, Kurt swept snow off the shoulders of his wool peacoat and shook the flakes out of his dark-blonde and multi-coloured hair. He grinned at the musicians in the front of the nave. "Are we singing Christmas carols already? It's not even December."

"Thank God," Jon muttered.

"It's Advent," Cary said, stomping off his boots. His canvas chore jacket looked incongruous over his crisp button-up shirt. Sunday was still the one day Cary dressed up. His face lifted in a smile as he glanced at the wreath beside the communion table. "I've been looking forward to this for weeks. We light the first candle today."

"Does this mean you're putting up the Christmas trees this afternoon?" Jon asked drily.

"Tree-s?" Kurt's face lit up. "As in more than one?"

"Yup," Cary said. "One for each floor."

Jon sighed, rubbing his face. "Ughhh I have so much homework to do. I can't even think about Christmas right now."

"Wanna help, Visser?" Cary asked.

Kurt raised his arms like he was celebrating a touchdown. "Hell yes!" He whisper-yelled, then glanced at the elderly couple hanging up their jackets beside them. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes sparkling with irrepressible mischief. "Sorry Mr. And Mrs. Sannes, I got a little excited. It's Advent!"

The couple smiled indulgently at him, and Jon laughed. Over the past six weeks of Sunday service and soup potlucks, Kurt had pretty much charmed everyone over sixty in their church--which was over half the congregation. His boyfriend had a weekly Bridge night now with a trio of gossipy old women in permed and purple-tinted hair. Jon hoped Kurt didn't get any ideas-he was very fond of the pinkish highlights Kurt had now.

They filed into the pew, and Kurt leaned his chin on Jon's shoulder to read the printed order of service in Jon's hands. "What are we singing today?"

Jon glanced at his face, his heart bumping a little in his chest. Kurt didn't sing in church, and Jon only caught snatches of him singing at home--in the shower, or practising with his guitar in the basement. He missed Kurt's voice, but he was trying to be patient for the other man's timing.

Silently, he put his thumb next to the songs listed, and Kurt's pleased hum was warm against his shoulder. Relaxing back in the pew, Jon took Kurt's hand, folding their fingers together on the smooth wooden seat as he turned his attention to the front.

Kurt's eyes wandered all over the sanctuary, as usual, and abruptly Jon felt his boyfriend go rigid against his arm. "Jon," Kurt whispered. "Is that--?"

Jon glanced in the direction Kurt was looking, his heart stuttering to a halt as he recognized a familiar slight form bundled up in a Frankenstein sweater, brushing snow out of her feathery pastel hair.

"Angel," he said, low.

Kurt tugged their hands apart, giving Cary a shove next to him. "Move over, Douglas," he hissed. "I'm sorry but you're playing my boyfriend in church now."

Jon's heart started again, double time, and he caught Kurt's belt loops to tug him back in the pew beside him. "No. Kurt, stay."

Kurt swivelled his head to Jon, his eyes wide and alarmed.

Lifting his chin, Jon met his look. "This is our church. I'm not hiding here."

Kurt made a soft sound, trying to unhook Jon's fingers from his belt loops. "Love, I would really like you to keep your job," he said in a strained undertone.

Jon caught his fingers, pulling their hands to where they had been before, folded together on the pew. He squeezed Kurt's hand, taking a slow breath to try and steady himself. "Me too. Just--relax, Kurt. I think Angel's one of the good ones."

Kurt slid down low beside him. Jon glanced across the nave at Angel; she appeared to have come alone and she was too absorbed in gazing up at the stained glass windows to notice tbem.

Which probably wouldn't last long; Kurt's colorful hairstyle didn't exactly blend in with the silvery-haired folks in the pews around them.

Ducking his head, Jon leaned his shoulder into Kurt's body, giving him a small sideways smile. "You have a good job. If I get fired maybe I'll just be a house husband." He had hoped saying it out loud would take some of the dread out of those words, but his stomach sank.

"Don't even joke," Kurt muttered. "Your kids--my fucking heart would break."

Jon sighed, putting their clasped hands against Kurt's chest. Me too. Kurt pressed his hand snugly against his heart.

After a moment's reflection, Kurt murmured, "Although you would look adorable in an apron."

When Kurt joined his voice with the congregation, singing the opening lines of 'Angels we have heard on high' in his smoky tenor, Jon held his breath a second to just listen. Kurt sang simply, blending his voice with everyone else's. When Jon joined in the second chorus of 'Glorias', Kurt's voice stepped below the melody line, picking out a harmony under him. Jon couldn't stop smiling; he was no longer sorry they were singing Christmas carols already.

Jon went forward for communion with Cary, and Kurt stayed in the pew as usual, leaning back to watch the congregation gather at the rail, his arms folded loosely over his black Tshirt. In the corner of Jon's eye, he saw Angel's pastel head bowed at the prayer rail on the other side of the chancel.

He closed his eyes, unpeeling his hands clenched instinctively on the prayer rail. As he sucked on the wafer and tasted the bitterness of the wine, Jon prayed wordlessly. Every part of his life felt so full of ordinary goodness, but it was a little precarious. He wanted to keep everything balanced just as it was now--holding both the satisfying work he got to do with Dusty, Jordin and Grace on his new 3pm-11 shifts, and coming home to Kurt to tell him all his stories and fall asleep with the other man in his arms.

Getting to his feet, he found Kurt's eyes on him as he came back up the aisle towards him, his boyfriend's face bright with a glow of pride that made Jon feel a foot taller than he was. He slid into the pew next to Kurt, touching his pinky to the back of the other man's hand and closing his eyes.

God, I don't want to choose. Hold this all together for me. I love what you've done so much over the past weeks and I just want 10,000 more days like this with Kurt. Please make a way for us.

Angel made a beeline for their pew when the minister blessed and dismissed them. Seeing her coming, Jon let Kurt's hand go and tucked his fingers in his pocket. They weren't hiding here but he wasn't flaunting their relationship status either. He felt Kurt edging away from him, backing up towards Cary, like the other man completely agreed.

"Hey boss," Angel said, grinning. "Glad to see you here."

Jon smiled back at her. "Hey Angel. We're off the clock. It's just Jon."

She glanced at his companions, her eyebrows lifting in recognition, and Jon pivoted to them, taking matters into his own hands. "This is my brother Cary. And you already know Kurt Visser."

Angel's face lit up, and she didn't seem to pick up on Kurt's discomfort. "Oh my gosh I'm such a fan, Kurt, it's a little embarrassing. The interwebs are all speculating that you're going solo... is there any chance the rumours are true?" She squeezed her thumb and finger together, with a pleading look. "Any chance at all?"

Kurt looked a little flummoxed. "Uhh I'm not really on the interwebs these days. You can't believe everything you read on there, you know."

Angel laughed and sighed. "Well your queer fan-base is ready when you are." She looked between him and Jon, intrigue sparking in her face. "How long have you guys been coming here?"

All the unspoken potential in that question made Jon's words freeze a second, and Cary answered gruffly, patting Kurt's shoulder. "I been coming for years. This heathen just came back."

"Oh, me too," Angel said. "I've been avoiding pews for a bit. I saw the rainbow flag on St. Aidan's website and thought I would give them a chance. It feels weird not to have a church for Advent."

Cary crinkled his eyes approvingly at her.

"I think you'll love it here," Jon said. "It's a very welcoming space."

There was a moment of awkward silence, with Angel looking as if she had more she wanted to say, and both Cary and Kurt checking Jon for cues. "Uh, well, we better get going," Jon said. "Good to see you, Angel."

Angel lifted her hand as if to salute him, then turned it into a little wave. "You too, Jon. See you around."

The three men filed silently to the back of the nave and pulled their coats on, Kurt watching Angel's progress as she made her way out of the church. When the exit doors closed on her slim shoulders, he exhaled, sagging with his face against Jon's shoulder. "Oh my god."

Cary laughed. "I think that went okay, yes?" he asked Jon.

Jon nodded, ruffling Kurt's hair and smiling at his boyfriend's worried face. "How long have I been doing this, love? Don't ask--don't tell. We're fine."

Tyrell hustled up to them just as they were heading towards the door, his large coffee-brown hands expressing in the air as he said, "Just the gays I'm looking for!" He nudged a clipboard at Jon. "You're doing the queer choir for Christmas Eve this year, Jon, don't give me none of your boring 'I have to work' business. I need your manly voice or it's just Marisol doing the tenor part."

Jon took the clipboard, checking the date on the sign up sheet. 'Queer choir' was Tyrell's name for the motley assortment of singers he managed to gather for a Christmas concert every year, not all of them queer. Although, with Tyrell leading the choir in full drag, there was an unmistakable vibe which in previous years Jon had happily soaked up. "When are the practices?"

"Sundays after service," Tyrell said. "But you know how we are--we'll really throw it all together the day before."

If Jon could have stepped over the next 3 weeks to arrive at the fourth Sunday of Advent, he would have. The 24th was at least clear in his mind. "I have Christmas eve off this year," Jon said, jotting his name on the sheet and passing it to Kurt.

"What's this?" Kurt's eyes were bright with interest.

"More carols," Jon said, smiling at him.

Tyrell folded his hands under his chin, batting his eyes at Kurt. "Just a little something I like to pull together for baby Jesus day. Are you too famous to sing in a church choir, Miss-V? You know we'd love to have you."

"Kurt Visser isn't famous at all," Kurt said wryly. "All the carols, all the queers you say? Sounds like my thing." He scribbled down his name.

Tyrell took the clipboard back, pleased. "I don't suppose we can persuade you to slip back into some drag for a Dolly duet with yours truly?"

Kurt's eyebrows shot up and he glanced around the sanctuary like a mirror ball might drop from the ceiling. "You're joking, right? You're not doing drag in church."

"Oh honey," Tyrell said. "It's no joke."

Jon said dryly. "Miss-T is the fabulous director of St. Aidan's choir."

Kurt threw back his head and laughed. "Oh my god, what is happening?" Kurt still dressed down for church: black shirt and jeans, no make-up, no earrings. His only concession to Jon's dislike of the plain look was that he left his hair down, styled in the familiar colourful chunks. "Sorry darlin', my days of slinging on a pair of boobs and fake lashes are over. But I'll be queer as folk the night of, if that'll make the people happy."

Tyrell lifted his hands like he was leading worship. "Hallelujah! I love it--Jesus loves it--this is going to be our best Christmas Eve performance ever."

Kurt was still chuckling on his way to the car. "Can you believe our church?" he said to Jon.

Jon laughed with him, glad warmth filling him like bubbles.

*Oh gosh, things I miss about living in small town Saskatchewan...churches with a big queer community! Who's already excited for St. Aidan's Christmas Eve service?

For Keeps was originally published in the For Us project, and had 2.5K reads there. When I did the Watty's edit I moved For Keeps into it's own project, which is why there are relatively few reads on the chapters as of yet...hoping that will change. Cozy stories are as needed in Winter 2021 as they were Winter 2020!*

2144 words.