*This ones for the thoughtful CozyCurly, whose Zoom calls about the new chapters were a highlight through my COVID.*

Five hours on the couch at his work house counted as a night's sleep, right?

In staff meeting, Patrick was full of news about getting ready for his wedding, which was taking place on New Years day, just weeks away. Jon had never been so aware of how many of his staff had wedding rings on their fingers. He'd never thought of half the things Patrick mentioned: getting a license, finding an official, registering their marriage.

He drove home from work in a daze and staggered up the stairs to strip and fall into Kurt's bed, only pausing long enough to fold up his cashmere sweater and lay it on Kurt's pillow so it wouldn't get wrinkled. The covers were unmade and smelled like the other man; Jon rolled himself tight in Kurt's blankets and pulled his shirt over his face to just nap for a couple hours before he had to go to the university.

{Kurt}

Kurt was mid-way through an afternoon of work when his phone burbled with Jon's distinctive ringtone. He picked up, the sound of Cary on the nail gun loud in the background. "Natty Lite."

Jon sucked in a breath. "You're at work." His voice sounded thin and unsteady. "Sorry. I don't know what the hell time it is anymore."

"White, you okay?" Kurt asked.

His boyfriend made a sharp noise. "It's not urgent. Sorry for interrupting." He hung up.

Kurt stared at the phone, then rapidly texted: <I can take a break whats up?>

It was a couple minutes before the phone rang again, and Kurt ducked into the basement laundry room to take it.

"It's me. Sorry again." Jon exhaled and swore softly. His voice echoed like he was in a tin can.

"Where are you?" Kurt asked.

"Hiding in a stall in the men's washroom," Jon said in a small voice.

"What is going on?"

"I can't--Kurt I can't--" Jon made a broken noise and Kurt shoved the phone to his ear, his stomach dropping. "I can't marry you," Jon said.

Kurt sagged against the wall, sliding to the concrete floor, gutted.

"I was looking online at getting a license," Jon went on, rapid and shaky, "And just what it costs and all the boring shit I'm good at and--it's public. Anyone can look up who you're married to--it's public record."

"Oh shit," Kurt said.

"I love you," Jon said miserably. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Are you--breaking up with me, White?" Kurt asked in a hollow voice.

Jon sucked in his breath. "What? No. Jesus, Kurt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this over the phone I just--I'm losing it in the men's washroom and I wanted to hear your voice. I don't know why I called, I'm an asshole, I'm sorry." Jon hung up.

Kurt put his face in his hands and burst into tears. Cary found him folded in front of the dryer crying into his work shirt.

"Visser," he said, bewildered. "What happened?"

"Jon's not breaking up with me and he wants to marry me," Kurt sobbed.

Cary stood for a second staring at him, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. "None of that sounds like new information. Why are we crying about this?"

"We're not," Kurt said, scrubbing his face on his shirt. "We're fine." He got to his feet, his eyes still overflowing. "I'm fine. I gotta see Jon tonight, is all."

"All right," Cary said slowly, like you might talk to someone who was mentally unhinged. "That sounds fine. I'm sure it's been at least ten hours since you saw him last." He gestured to their unfinished job. "How about we just finish up here, first?"

Kurt nodded, pressing his lips together. "Mm-hm. Yup. I'm good to go."

Cary shook his head, muttering as he turned aside, "God help the gays."

Possibly Cary took pity on him and made up an excuse to call work off early. Kurt could've hugged him. At home, he took the fastest possible shower and flung open his closet.
Sighing, he ran his hands over his lovely clothes; everything in here was colourfully queer. Campus was public.

He was going to need more plain black Tshirts.

Kurt went to Jon's closet instead, making a face as he put on one of his boyfriend's ubiquitous grey shirts. At least he could wear his own faded-soft jeans. He shrugged into one of Cary's flannel work jackets, and pulled Bea's striped tuque with ear-flaps over his hair. He bit the corner of his mouth, looking at himself in the mirror.

Was the sparkly purple stripe too much? It was the only part of this outfit he even liked. He guessed with his battered work boots, bare face and naked ear lobes he could get away with it. He wasn't wearing a plain black tuque like he was planning to rob the place. This gay had his limits.

He narrowed his eyes at himself in a smile. He knew who he was and he loved who he was with. That was what mattered.

Finding his way through the maze of the library stacks, Kurt caught sight of Jon typing rapidly, checking an open book from a pile at his elbow. He slowed down to check out his boyfriend unobserved; Jon looked way nicer than he did.

Jon's slim jeans were cuffed above his shiny black lace-up boots, one knee jumping under the desk, the other boot hooked under the chair. That cashmere sweater Kurt had spent a small fortune on was shoved up his elbows, highlighting the lean muscles of his forearms, and hanging just right over the curve of his shoulders. The collar of a button-up shirt, printed with doves in flight, peeked out from the top of the sweater, brushing the buzzed back of Jon's neck.

Kurt's lips curled in a smile, his whole body warming with attraction. The thing was, if Jon White had been a stranger across the library, Kurt would've taken a second look and tried to chat him up. His gay-dar was pinging off the charts. And that beautiful gay man was his. Every second of wearing this shitty grey shirt and frayed jacket to be with Jon right now was worth it.

Kurt sauntered up with his tray of coffees and bag of warm grill-pressed gluten free sandwiches. "Well fancy meeting you here, Jon White."

Jon's eyes lit up, smiling at Kurt, before he reached eagerly for the coffees. "Thank God for you, Visser." He buried his face in the cup. "Mmmm I love this roastery. You went all the way across town for these?"

"Seemed like a bit of an emergency situation," Kurt said. "And I didn't have to do my hair." He was checking Jon's face for signs of the distress he'd heard in his voice earlier; he was glad to note it looked like his boyfriend had pulled himself together to do what he needed to do this afternoon. He held up the bag of food. "Somewhere we can eat these?"

"Yeah there's a stairwell just a minute away." Jon grabbed his puffy jacket, keeping the coffee cup attached to his hand at all times.

{Jon}

The southwest stairwell had a floor to ceiling window looking out over a parking lot, a tangle of bare trees and the icy curve of the river Saskatchewan gleaming dully in the last light of day. A tinsel 7-stem menorah hung halfway up the window, an extension cord dangling from the row of candles to the landing and snaking up the stairs as if some student were powering it from their own apartment.

Jon leaned his shoulder against Kurt's arm as he wolfed down his sandwich, pretty sure this was the only thing he'd eaten since his birthday supper twenty-four hours ago. Kurt passed him a bottle of water and didn't ask any questions.

When the food was gone, Jon licked his fingers, sighing with relief.

"Better?" Kurt asked.

"Much," Jon said. The smell of Kurt freshly showered was irresistible; he burrowed into the other man's flannel jacket, and Kurt snugged one arm around Jon, eating his sandwich with the other. The cement floor was gritty, cold and hard even through the cushion of his puffy jacket, but Kurt's body was warm and his heart thudded under Jon's cheek.

"How's the homework coming?" Kurt asked. "Any chance I can take you out somewhere tomorrow night?"

"Done by midnight tonight," Jon said. "I've never taken a late penalty and I don't plan to start now."

"You're a very determined person," Kurt remarked. He wiped his fingers clean on his jeans, then pulled Jon closer, one hand idly rubbing the brush cut at the back of his skull. "You must be almost done your degree. When do you graduate, White?"

"Three semesters left," Jon said. "But I don't know if I'll finish."

"What do you mean?"

Jon rubbed his eyes. Kurt's warmth, the comfortable familiarity of him was making him realize how tired he was. "Don't have the money for January. Spent it on the van. I think I'm taking a break from school anyways. This semester has been--crazy. Third year classes are way harder than first year classes. I think if I didn't have you I would've burned out and needed a stress leave from work."

"What did I do?" Kurt asked blankly.

Jon wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist to hug him tight. "Just--everything," he said quietly. "I'm a better human with you."

"Huh," Kurt said. He put a kiss on the top of Jon's head. "I kinda like the idea of you being home more. If you're just doing work and not school."

Jon felt his crumpled heart aching and hid his face against Kurt's shirt. "For a second I thought I was going to plan your big fat gay wedding this spring." His laugh broke.

Kurt's arms tightened around him. "Ohh love," he said softly. "Let me get my one year sober chip first. I want to be sure I'm good to go for you."

"You are," Jon said. He glanced at Kurt's face. "Even if you slipped you'd get back up. We'd figure it out." He sighed, leaning his head against Kurt and closing his eyes. "You're probably right though. It's too fast. I just...didn't realize how much I wanted a wedding until you said you wanted that. And then I got thinking about saying our vows in a beautiful church and a big party with my family and a ring to say you're mine and just settling down as husband and--husband."

Kurt chuckled quietly.

Jon admitted, "I couldn't sleep, daydreaming about it and--" His voice cracked and he pressed his hand against the heat of his eyes. "--and then I saw we can't. I can't." His throat closed like a fist.

Underneath him, he felt Kurt tense and his boyfriend tugged his jacket more closely around Jon's shoulders, pulling it over Jon's head. The sound of the door opening at the bottom of the stairwell intruded on Jon's awareness and he made himself small under Kurt's arm. Kurt hugged Jon's head against his heart, as steps hurried up the stairs, barely pausing. It wasn't uncommon to find couples tucked into stairwells or in the corner of common rooms; Jon had stumbled over them himself. What surprised him, dulled by tiredness, was that he wasn't alarmed at all. Kurt's body was familiar and safe, and Jon knew the other man wouldn't say or do anything that would expose him.

When the door closed two flights above them, Jon poked his head out of Kurt's jacket, smiling ruefully.

Kurt's blue eyes twinkled back at him. "I think we gave that freshman a story to tell her roommates," Kurt drawled.

Jon laughed softly. "Two gays making out in a stairwell? Old news around here."

"Hm is that what we're doing?" Kurt asked.

Jon slid his hand around the back of Kurt's neck, pushing up on his body to find his lips with his. Kurt breathed in slowly, cupping Jon's face with his hands as they kissed. Sighing, Jon tucked his face into Kurt's throat, playing with the snaps on the other man's quilted jacket.

"Are you okay?" Jon asked, low. "Do you still--want to be with me? Even though I can't marry you?" His voice frayed. He really hoped he knew the answer to this question.

"Hmm." Kurt's chuckle hummed against Jon's chest. "Living in sin with my boyfriend. I don't know, White; might tarnish my reputation."

Jon laughed, close to tears again.

Kurt pushed his fingers through Jon's hair and sighed. "Honestly, Jon, I believe in what you're doing at your job. I don't love the company policy on us but...your work is making a difference for those kids and that matters. So I don't get the rainbow wedding of my dreams." Jon felt him shrug. "I still get ten thousand days with you."

Jon's hands fisted in the other man's shirt, feeling the press of the things they didn't say: not only could he not give Kurt the rainbow wedding of his dreams but they would always have to be careful. When Kurt was out with him, he'd have to dial the volume back on his flamboyant personality as far as it would go. Something about that hurt Jon and he couldn't talk about it anymore.

In the window, the tinsel decoration blinked on, each tiny point of light picking out the candle shapes against the soft blue-grey of winter dusk.

"I never asked what you want," Jon said. "Have you ever thought of coming back here to finish?"

Kurt was quiet a moment. "Yeah I have. I just have five classes left. Kinda seems a waste not to."

"Maybe we could be on campus together," Jon said. "Make out in stairwells every week."

Kurt laughed, shifting his butt on the hard floor. "I like your bed better." He paused. "I guess I don't really know what I want to be when I grow up. Hate to say it: Pa Klassen was probably right. Being a rock star for a living isn't practical."

"Do you like contracting?"

"Yeah I do," Kurt said thoughtfully. "I could do this for a bit. I kinda like what we have right now, if you weren't so stretched doing double. You know there's only one of you, right?"

Jon leaned his aching head against Kurt's chest. "Think I'm a slow learner," he said muzzily. He pulled Kurt's jacket loosely over his face to rest his eyes, just for a minute.

{Kurt}

Kurt felt Jon drop asleep, the weight of his body curled against him, the warm puff of his breath against his chest. Kurt hugged him closer, leaning against the cinderblock wall. They had a couple minutes; White could sleep.

He watched the river through the trees, the lingering light on the horizon gradually deepening to the blue-black of night. There was a feeling rippling inside him: a mix of grief for all the dreams he'd had of living a life out in public with his partner, loud and proud--and a deep, tender desire to hold and love this man in his arms for always. This wasn't the life Kurt had fought for and imagined, but he knew the taste of something good that wouldn't make the room spin and his body pound tomorrow. What he had with Jon would sustain them both, day after day, just plain good bread.

He remembered Grandma Visser's knotted hands kneading bread dough--flour up to her elbows, her wedding band in a dish on the windowsill. She would pull off a knot to make two little buns for Kurt, poking them with butter and raisins and dried apricots. The buns would be round and golden, steaming and fragrant before her loaves were done and Kurt would sit next to her eating his fresh bread snack, completely safe at her table with the radio on and her scratchy voice humming along.

The picture was so vivid it seemed to him that Grandma Visser pulled up the ladder-backed chair next to him, cupping his chin to lift his eyes to hers. She had grey-blue eyes that narrowed when she smiled, like his, and she was smiling now. She didn't say anything, but Kurt felt her pride and approval wrap him like a blanket.

God, he wished he could have brought Jon to meet her. He imagined her sharp eyes looking Jon over before reaching up to fold his boyfriend in a hug. "Ah--yes," she would say softly. "This one is good for you."

It was almost as if she was right here. Kurt pressed the chord of that beautifully sad melody on his chest, asking back. But am I good enough for him? Am I ready?

He felt as if she expanded, infinitely bigger than him but holding him so gently that he wasn't afraid. "You are my treasure." The words poured on the top of his head, filling him down to the bottoms of his feet, warm and thick as honey. "And I am enough for you both. You hold onto that now, child."

{Jon}

Jon was oddly refreshed after what could only have been a twenty-minute nap in Kurt's arms. His head was clear and he finished the assignment he'd been working on and returned the stack of research books with a feeling of quiet satisfaction.

That feeling only expanded when he arrived home and found Kurt with his guitar in his lap, his robe spilling around him, writing music by the light of the Christmas tree.

"Honey, I'm home," Jon said softly, smiling at him.

Kurt glanced up and his face glowed in a smile back. "Hey love. All done?"

Jon put his fist in the air, exhausted but the winner of one more match. He made himself cozy under a blanket on the carpet, curling on his side facing Kurt. "Play me something?"

Kurt chuckled. "You're going to fall asleep on me and then I'll have to haul you upstairs."

"Just one song," Jon said. "I'll stay awake, I promise. "

"Hm," Kurt said, plucking the opening bars of 'O come o come Emmanuel.' "I'll do a short one. Then I'm tucking you into bed and hiding your phone so you can't set an alarm. You need all the sleep, love."

Jon nodded against the pillow, his eyes already sinking closed. "As long as you wake me up by nine. My day's all messed up if I sleep past nine."

"Well I wouldn't want to mess up your day." Jon could hear the smile in his boyfriend's voice. "Cause I have plans for us in the evening."

Jon laughed softly. "Of course you do."

"Do you have skates, White?" Kurt asked.

"Somewhere," Jon said. "Cary probably knows where to look."

"Excellent," Kurt said. Jon sighed happily as Kurt began to sing.

After, Jon swore up and down that he didn't fall asleep, because Kurt's voice wove through his sleepy thoughts, singing that old carol about a God who draws near. But there was a little drool on the pillow so maybe Kurt was right.

*Aw Jon. When he's in, he's all in. I wanted the guys to be able to formalize their relationship somehow, but Jon's position at his job is just too tenuous to risk it. He's already on thin ice living with Kurt, although I suppose with Cary there some sort of plausible deniability is possible, if Jon could bring himself to lie directly. So far he's been able to dodge the question!

What do you think? Are the guys being too careful, or too careless? What do you wish Jon would do, if anything?*

3201 words.