{Kurt}

Kurt kept an eye on his partner through their supper meal; it seemed like Jon recovered some of his usual forward momentum after Thai noodles and veg stir fry and a bullet proof coffee crafted by Cary's expert hands.

As he washed up their dishes, Jon asked, "Anything you want me to wear tonight, Visser?"

Kurt brightened. "Is your dove shirt clean?"

"How do you feel about checking my closet to find out, while I finish up here?" Jon asked, giving him half a smile.

Humming, Kurt bounded up the stairs to pull together a look for his partner tonight, laying the clothes out on their bed in his room. He felt a hopeful buzz in his stomach as he leaned back on his hands to watch Jon change. Tonight he was getting all the stories he'd been missing this week, right from Jon's mouth, and he didn't care if Jon thought they were shitty. They were Jon's stories and he loved Jon.

Fumbling with his buttons, Jon fisted his hands and shook them out, swearing softly.

"Are you nervous?" Kurt asked. "You don't need to be nervous."

Jon made a dry noise. "I don't think you realize how much I hate talking in front of people. Let alone about shit I don't say to anyone."

"Not literally in front of people," Kurt said. "We can sit in the back. You just talk from your chair."

Jon shot him a look. "I love you, Visser. And that's barely a comfort. Everyone is still going to be looking at me." He ducked his head, swallowing and smoothing his hand over his stomach.

Kurt almost pointed out that he didn't have to come, but some instinct kept him quiet. Jon had pulled his shit together in the last hour, but he wondered now if his partner needed this meeting more than he did. "You do look pretty fine," he said instead, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ha," Jon said, but a small answering smile flickered over his face. Tugging on his cashmere sweater, he shoved the sleeves up his arms and shook out his shoulders. "Okay. I'm ready."

In the car, Kurt flicked the radio to a smooth jazz station he hoped would be soothing. It was funny how different people could be--he loved having everyone's eyes on him. He'd wriggled into a pair of hot purple denim jeggings tonight knowing everyone would turn to look as he went by. One of the only things he'd enjoyed about AA his first weeks attending was the feeling of people not only looking at him, but also listening without interrupting and really hearing him.

He laid his free hand palm up on Jon's jumping knee and his partner clasped it tight, his palm clammy. Jon's knee settled.

As they hung up their coats on the hooks at the back of the classroom Jon stayed close to Kurt's shoulder, watching everything with a neutral, friendly expression that Kurt recognized from church youth group days. It occurred to him for the first time how much his introverted partner must have hated the attention that came with being the pastor's kid.

Catching sight of Laurel's flame red hair across the room, Kurt wiggled his fingers at her, unable to suppress a mischievous smile. Laurel was going to lose her shit that he'd brought Jon to this meeting.

Laurel practically made a wake in the air behind her as she maneuvered her huge belly around chairs to get to them. "Hey darlin', you made it," Kurt said, as he air-kissed her cheeks.

Laurel flourished her hands in an arc over her head; her nails were a shiny shade of orange as loud as her hair. "The fairy Grandmother granted all my babysitting wishes tonight."

Kurt swivelled to Jon. "Laurel this is Jon. Jon, this is my AA buddy Laurel."

Jon's mouth flicked up in a smile and he gave her a small, silent wave hello.

"Um, wow. Oh my god." Laurel looked pointedly at Kurt. "So nice to meet you, Jon." She grabbed a handful of Kurt's scarf and pulled him towards the snacks table. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt said, "Coffee, love?" He saw Jon's eyes widen slightly as he left him standing in the middle of the floor.

"What the hell are you doing bringing your boyfriend to a meeting?" Laurel hissed at him.

Pouting innocently, Kurt filled three Styrofoam cups with scorched-dark coffee. "Seems pretty self-explanatory."

"Okay, first off," Laurel held up one pointed finger. "How many times have we seen that blow up in everyone's faces? And secondly--did you check your calendar? It's not an open meeting tonight. I have shit I need to talk about and I am so not interested in doing that in front of your churchy boyfriend."

Kurt loaded up one of the cups with sugar and powdered coffee whitener and handed it to her. He held onto his smile but felt his feet dig into the floor, pissed on Jon's behalf. "First off, darlin'--I think you forgot to leave your judgy pants at home. They don't look good on you. Jon belongs here same as you and me. If he wants his own Narcotics Anon. group in the future, he'll get one, but I'm pretty sure he needs this meeting tonight. Secondly, you and I have both cried our faces off with complete strangers in this room. I trust Jon with my shit. How about you give him a chance for me?"

She huffed out her breath, looking critically between him and Jon. Kurt frowned at the container of white powder as he fixed the other two coffees. "Does this have gluten in it?"

She made an exasperated noise. "You are so whipped."

"Whipped as cream, honey," Kurt drawled, his mouth curling in a suggestive smile. "You're just cranky because you miss it." He sashayed back to Jon.

His partner had taken a seat on the edge of the rows of chairs, mid-way back, and was reading on his phone, his legs crossed neatly at his knee. He glanced up when Kurt settled beside him, offering him a coffee. "Everything okay?"

Kurt snorted, taking a sip of the bitter coffee that no amount of sugar could improve. "Yup. A-okay." His eyes found Laurel where she was spreading herself over two chairs in the row behind them. "Everyone will get over it."

At the front of the room, Phyllis' lifted her cardigan-clad arm, snapping her fingers for everyone's attention. "It's time--please take your seats." She peered through her cat-eye glasses at her notes, then looked up with a twinkly smile. "Welcome everyone. Just a reminder that next week is our Christmas potluck party. Ugly Christmas sweaters are optional but I will certainly be wearing mine."

Kurt chuckled. Last year Phyllis had appeared with actual tinsel sewn onto her knitted pink sweater, making a wreath around a sickeningly cute pair of kittens wearing Santa hats. He really hadn't been sober enough to appreciate it--apparently he was being given a second chance.

Phylllis started the sheaf of papers at the front of the room and people passed them hand to hand until everyone could read along. Kurt was reminded of sitting in the pew next to Jon, as his partner followed the meeting order with his thumb on the page, the same as he did their church liturgy. Jon's voice was quiet as he read the steps with the group, pausing sometimes as if he was thinking about the words. Kurt brushed the back of his wrist against the faintly freckled skin of Jon's arm as he recited by heart, so glad to be with him here it felt like spangles of light were bouncing off his skin, filling the room.

There was a good turn-out--about a dozen people scattered in the chairs. More than one person shared about the difficulty of December: the parties, the financial burden and stressful family dynamics all adding up to more pressure to turn to old habits to cope. There was another drug-user in the room (along with a couple dual addicts); a thirty-something man in business-casual recounted his story of bottoming out on meth and the way his web of lies gradually tore his relationships apart. Kurt flicked away happy tears on his behalf as the other man shared that he was getting his daughter for Christmas this year.

Jon's eyes stayed on every speaker and he appeared to be relaxed, but his constantly tapping toe told Kurt another story.

When it was Kurt's turn, he tucked his hair behind his ears, flashing the group a grin. "Kurt Visser. Alcoholic. I was just telling my partner today that I used to drink when I was feeling big feelings--which, if you know me, is a lot." There were some understanding chuckles. "And it's been a week of big feelings so...I came to remind myself who I am now."

He slouched back in his chair, folding his arms over his body. "A year ago in December I drank until I blacked out more days than I was sober. I could've killed myself--and if I had I would've missed the best year of my life."

Jon's shoulder leaned into his, and Kurt's mouth curled as he glanced sideways at his partner's downcast face. "This December I can honestly say I have everything I was wishin' for then and I've never felt better about myself. All you beautiful people been putting up with my shit here week after week and I couldn't be more grateful. When I look around this room I know I'm not fucking this up; I'm stepping forward to a better me. So--thank you."

Behind him, Laurel gave him a wry smile, and his sponsor, Brian, thumped him on the shoulder, saying, "You're the one doing the work, Kurt. You have a lot to be proud of today."

There was a pause and Jon flashed him a look. "Is it my turn now?" he asked softly.

Kurt nodded, smiling encouragingly.

Jon straightened his spine, his knuckles whitening where they were clasped in his lap. "My name is Jon White. Kurt is my partner." Kurt startled a little, his face warming with pleasure to hear that out of Jon's mouth in a public place; he had assumed that they were staying on the down low here.

"This has been working for him, obviously, so I asked if I could come. Um. I have an addiction to opiate-based painkillers. It's been..." Jon's toe tapped the floor. "Six -ish years since I last used."

Jon's mouth pressed in a flat smile. "A bunch of you already said it. December is a shit time to be an addict and I'm not different. Normally, wanting opes is a stupid little monkey in a cage in the back of my head. I can just ignore it and carry on. This time of year--" He took a deep breath. "--it's like being in a cage match with an eight-hundred pound gorilla. And I'm just hanging by a thread, telling myself... I can't fuck up this time. I have everything to lose. Not just my sobriety and my job and my self-respect, but--" He briefly laid the back of his hand against Kurt's chest.

Jon shut up abruptly, like he just remembered how many people were looking at him, and Kurt watched him duck his head and fight to say anything more. Rubbing his hand over his face, Jon said, "I guess I was hoping it would help. To say that out loud." His voice was thin and edged. "I'm not immune. I'm not done with needing help." The words fell even quieter. "That's all."

The thirty-something who'd shared about his meth addiction had turned around in his chair to listen. "We get it, man," he said sympathetically. "That's the first step--admitting we're powerless against that stupid gorilla. That's a great way to describe it."

Jon's ears turned brick red as a warm outpouring of agreement and encouragement came from around the room. His hazel eyes found Kurt's, his expression vulnerable and uncertain. Kurt smiled back, so proud of his partner he could've burst.

Finally, Laurel spoke up. "You did the right thing to come, Jon." She grimaced a wordless apology at Kurt. "I'm glad your partner wasn't intimidated to bring you to his meeting. No one should have to go up against eight-hundred-pound gorillas alone."

Kurt smiled gratefully back at her, and she sighed. "I guess it's my turn then. So most of you know my mom is an alcoholic "who still suffers." Every meeting when we do that thing at the end I'm thinking about her, hoping she'll get her shit together for real this time."

As Laurel shared, Jon reached for Kurt's hand, gripping it tight and pulling it against his chest. Kurt could feel him trembling through the fabric of his shirt and he stroked Jon's wrist with his thumb to try to settle him. Nothing Jon had shared felt alarming to him; of course Jon hadn't left his opes addiction behind in high school. Those drugs carved a path in your brain that you didn't quickly erase. Kurt only regretted that he hadn't asked Jon more questions about that part of his story sooner.

When the meeting wrapped up with their moment of silence and the Serenity Prayer, people started to mingle and a quiet hubbub of conversation rose.

Jon flashed Kurt a desperate glance. "Do you want to stay and chat with your friends?" His voice was still tight with nerves.

Kurt shook his head. "I'll see them Monday. We can go, White; lead the way out." He gave Laurel a wave good bye and she made a phone by her ear, her lipsticked lips mouthing call me.

Jon made a direct line for the exit, skipping the coat hooks to push into the men's washroom. Pausing to grab their jackets, Kurt followed, entering in time to hear the soft sound of his partner throwing up. He hesitated, then threw the lock on the bathroom door.

Jon came out of the last stall, his hair rumpled and dark with sweat. "Sorry," he whispered, and leaned over the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth.

"I'm proud of you," Kurt said.

Jon met his eyes in the mirror, his mouth twisting. "Don't say that yet, Visser."

Kurt dumped their coats on top of the waste bin and crossed the tiled floor to put his arms around Jon's rigid, trembling body. "I'm proud of you," he said again, quietly.

He felt Jon's shoulders shrink and his hands came up to cover his face. "I'm a disaster waiting to happen. Kurt. You don't even know."

Kurt sighed, putting his lips against Jon's hair. "Let's go for a drive, love. You can tell me about it over hot chockies."

*Whoo here we go: all Jon's shitty stories. How do you feel about the way Kurt is handling each layer of the dark that Jon shares?

To my gorilla readers: no offense intended, I know you're not stupid, and also that you typically weigh 400 pounds. Just to set the record straight.

Thanks for the reads and votes lovelies! Be kind to yourself and to one another this weekend; you are loved.*

2555 words.