{Kurt}

Jon was very quiet in the car after the AA meeting, leaning his shoulder against the passenger side door, his fists closed tight under his folded arms.

The interior warmed up as Kurt drove and he pulled off his tuque and ran a hand through his hair, counting his breathing to try and settle his feelings. He'd worked his ass off to get here; that wasn't for no good reason, right? He could walk through this with Jon without flaking out on him.

In the drive-through, Jon spoke for the first time. "Just tea for me. Mint."

Kurt got a hot chocolate for himself, topped with a fluffy heap of whipped cream that he licked up with his tongue before sucking cautiously at the scalding beverage below. Jon held his paper cup close to his chest like he was still cold.

Turning onto the main artery running alongside the river valley, Kurt ventured, "So you survived your first AA meeting. How you doing, White?"

Jon took a deep breath. "I've never felt so fucking seen in my life."

Kurt laughed. "I know, right?"

"Ugh. Hated it." Jon rubbed his face, then slapped his cheeks. "Need it. Hate that." He slouched in his seat, glaring out the front window.

"You got more shitty stories for me?" Kurt asked gently.

Jon's toe tapped, quiet and constant. "Do you know how to tell when an addict is lying to you?" he asked.

Kurt hesitated. "Is this a trick question?"

"His lips are moving," Jon answered himself, soft and flat.

Kurt watched the night rush past as their car ducked into a tunnel under the river. "In my experience, that's only true when an addict doesn't want to get better," he said, glancing at Jon's down-turned face. City light and deep shadow alternated over his partner's still features. "Is this the part where you tell me the truth?"

"This is the part when I try." Jon shoved his shoulders more deeply into the seat, exhaling. "The truth is, I've fucked up in December. More than I ever told Cary. Or anyone." He took a sharp breath, eyes darting sideways for Kurt's reaction.

Kurt's face opened with empathy. "December's a slippery time for you; I can see that." There was a whole other layer on this month for Jon, the burden of grief that came with the days that marked his brother's passing, and the celebration of his own life in the midst of that. "Fucked up how?"

"All the ways," Jon said shortly. "That I've fucked up before." His voice was dry as the sound of their tires on the road. "There's opes in Tylenol 3s, did you know that? Cary keeps his in the truck. He doesn't...count them."

Jon cleared his throat. "It's been less than--what day is it?"

"December 11," Kurt said.

Jon blinked. "His birthday was yesterday. I made it over one year."

Overhwelmed, Kurt pulled into a parking lot overlooking the river and the chilly sparkle of city lights beyond, killing the car engine and turning his body to look directly at his partner. Jon eyed him sideways, pale as paper against the dark pressing on the windows.

"Start at the beginning, love," Kurt said.

Jon drew his tea cup up to his mouth. "I only know how to start at the ending," he whispered. "This has been my best December. With you." He turned his face aside so Kurt could only see the side of his cheek and the flutter of his pulse in the corner of his jaw, lit by the soft blue light of the dashboard.

"It's been--two years and a day since I last used. I never make it through this month without cutting. One year I relapsed with, um, Oxycodene and just about...wiped myself out for good." Shivering, Jon sipped his tea, obviously trying to hold the thread of the story.

"Cary found me. And I am so fucking sorry to this day." Jon bowed his head and Kurt touched his shoulder, gripping it briefly through his puffy jacket. Jon gave his head a shake. "He got me to the hospital without telling mom and dad and I...just got better at hiding from him."

Kurt's throat made a soft noise and he pressed a hand against his own chest, trying not to feel what he would have felt if Cary hadn't found Jon in time. He shoved his feet into the floor; Jon was still here, telling him the whole story that he'd been missing. "This year?" he asked.

Jon's face flinched and his toe tapped a rapid Morse code.

"Have you cut?"

Jon shook his head once.

"Have you used?"

Jon shook his head. His toe was beating a rhythm as quick and soft as his heart. "Haven't yet," he whispered.

That one word made Kurt's breath catch.

Jon bowed his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "I got a prescription today. Yesterday? I don't even know. For sleeping pills. And I--got one last month. For Oxycodene. For my migraines. That I've been saving. I was going to..." He made a mix 'n match gesture with his hands. "With the pills in Cary's truck. To have a perfect weekend, maybe." He took an unsteady breath. "Probably. After you were asleep tonight."

Kurt caught his breath, unable to keep tears from falling out of his eyes. "Shit. Where are they?"

"Top of my closet," Jon said softly. "Rolled in a pair of socks."

Kurt pulled his phone out and stabbed the top number in his contacts, Jon's wide eyes following his movements.

"'Lo?" Cary' growly voice answered.

"Hey Cary." Kurt made his voice light. "Can you do me a solid?"

Jon scrambled up so quickly in his seat, Kurt thought he was going to come at him and grab the phone.

"Uh huh?" Cary said.

"Do not--" Jon whispered. "Kurt, please."

Kurt held Jon's desperate eyes; his partner was almost sitting on the dashboard he was so alertly listening to this call. He made a split-second decision. "Would you mind just locking up the pills you keep in your truck?"

"Those been weighing on your mind, Visser?" Cary asked slowly.

"Nope," Kurt said. "Pills have never been my thing."

Jon sucked in his breath, his hands going up, fingers spread. He shook his head wordlessly.

There was a pause. "Yeah you got it," Cary said. "Jon with you now?"

"Yup," Kurt said. "We're good."

"Anything else?" Cary asked.

Jon made a choked sound and Kurt put his hand against his chest, trying to push reassurance into his body. "That's it," he said. "Appreciate it, Care."

"On it," Cary said. "Have a good night, Kurt. I got you."

Kurt shoved his phone back into his pocket, and Jon sagged back in his seat, dropping his face in his hands. "It would kill him. If he knew I have Oxycodene again."

"Could have killed you," Kurt said. "Mixing that shit. Christ." He pushed his hands through his hair, staring out at the dark. The idea that Jon could have slipped out of their bed tonight and gone alone to possibly overdose was making it hard to breathe.

"Do you feel less safe with me?" Jon's voice was small and unsteady. "Knowing all that? That I'm not--reliable?"

Kurt blinked, frowning. "Is that what you think about me?" he asked slowly. "Because I have a past and an alcohol addiction? That I'm unreliable?"

Jon's eyes went wide, and he sat up straight. "No!" His hands reached to touch the front of Kurt's jacket, and Kurt made himself hold still and let him. "Kurt--I trust you more because I know if you feel like you're slipping you'll reach out and grab hold of something good, like you've done before."

Kurt looked in his partner's wide, hazel eyes, sorting through the surge of feelings in his chest. "I'm afraid you won't," he said roughly. "I had no fucking idea, Jon. If you hadn't told me--I wouldna' have guessed. That scares me. Thinking next time maybe you won't reach out, you'll hide that you need help like you've been doing all this time. That scares me. Waking up alone cause you went and--got fucked up in our bathroom and miscalculated your dose..." Kurt shut his eyes, hanging on to the gear shift, white-knuckled, while that wave of emotions collided with his chest. "That scares the hell out of me."

"I won't," Jon said. His hand fumbled and found Kurt's. "I won't," he whispered.

Opening his eyes, Kurt was captured by the raw vulnerability of Jon's expression. Jon gripped his hand, hard, his fingers freezing. "Kurt. I don't...like to need anybody. But I feel like I can lean on you and you'll hold me steady. I've never--felt that before."

His partner ducked his head, like those words might punch him back and Kurt's face opened again. All the love inside him was rising up in a warm, irresistible wave, moving him towards Jon.

Reaching out blindly, Jon caught Kurt's jacket, holding on. "I'm so sorry for lying to you. And scaring you. I want to do what you're doing and not slip so far again. Please help me not fuck this up," he finished in a dry whisper.

Putting his arms around Jon's braced shoulders, Kurt gathered the other man against his chest. "Darlin' I think you've been on your own a long time, looking after everyone else in the world," he said huskily. "I'm not scared to know you need lookin' after too."

Kurt felt Jon's exhale right to his skin. "That was hard to say." His partner's voice was small. "You still want to be with me?"

Kurt put his lips in the corner of Jon's jaw, wishing the gearshift wasn't jammed between them. "I still want to be with you. I want your shitty stories every year."

Jon's laugh shook him. "If you really want them. All yours, Kurt."

Kurt's tears fell on Jon's hair. "You know what's funny, love?"

Jon shook his head against Kurt's coat.

"I've never been happier in my whole life."

Jon's laugh was short and cracked. "I've never been closer to crying on December fucking eleventh."

Kurt sighed, wrapping Jon so tight in his arms he was awkwardly smushed against Kurt's chest and the gearshift.

"Ow," Jon said drily, but he was smiling when Kurt released him, and his hand quickly found Kurt's again, holding on tight.

"Are we still skating?" Kurt asked, swiping tears off his face and smiling back.

"I'm really hoping so," Jon said. "I want to get cold and tired before I crawl into bed to warm up with you.

Kurt restarted the car. "I am completely behind this plan. Especially part two."

*

Hawreluck Park was nearly deserted; it seemed unlikely anyone would care about a pair of dudes doing some late night skating, even if one of them had a very fluffy scarf over his jacket and very gay hot purple jeggings on his mile-long legs. In the nearly-empty lodge, Jon leaned back on his hands to let Kurt tie his skates, an amused smile in his eyes as he watched his partner's bent head. Jon rushed down the rubber path, then pushed off onto the ice, turning to wave his mittened hands at Kurt, who was tucking his scarf into his jacket, arranging it above his collar.

"Come on Visser! Your scarf is very pretty, now let's go!"

Jon's grin made Kurt grin back, and he dropped onto the ice, turning effortlessly to skate backwards ahead of Jon.

"Show off," Jon said, watching Kurt closely to see what he was doing with his skates. "I'm going to get this." He pivoted, matching his strokes so for a few moments they were skating side by side in time.

There were very few other skaters on the river, and abruptly Jon whirled to push off his skates and make a full loop as fast as he could go. Kurt may have been the better skater, but Jon was fearless, tearing around the humped snowy river islands, careening into snow drifts laughing when he couldn't manage a stop, and zig-zagging erratically as he pushed himself to get the backwards' skating rhythm.

Laughing, Kurt used long elegant strokes to just keep up. It was obvious Jon wanted to go fast and work hard, and Kurt was just enjoying the beauty of the night. Snow was falling softly, stark white flakes appearing against the black night sky.

"Faster, Visser!" Jon called.

"It's not a race," Kurt laughed back.

"Yes it is--and I'm winning!"

Goaded, Kurt dug in to catch him, chasing Jon's red tuque around and around the river until his partner eased up, looking up at the falling snow, and Kurt put on a burst of speed, colliding with Jon and piling him into a drift with an 'oof' and laughter and a tangle of skates.

Breathless and pink-cheeked, Jon gathered handfuls of loose snow and tossed them in Kurt's face. Kurt sputtered and shook snow out of his bangs, wrestling with Jon's arms until he got them pinned. "Caught you."

Jon laughed up at him and Kurt grinned back. "I'm kissing you later," he said in an undertone and got to his feet, pulling the other man up beside him. For two or three strokes Jon kept hold of his hand, their skates falling into sync like any other couple gliding over the river. Kurt squeezed Jon's mittened fingers and let him go.

Jon smacked snow off his own backside and tugged off his tuque to shake it out. He shoved Kurt's shoulder, shooting him a narrow-eyed smile.

"Ready to call it quits, White?" Kurt asked. He was starting to feel the chill through his coat, not to speak of his jeggings, which were deeply impractical for the cold of Canadian winter. His mother would have been appalled.

"Nuh-uh," Jon said, imitating him. He flipped backwards again, smoothly making the edge changes to skate as powerfully backwards as he did forwards. "Not tired. Unless--did my partner pack snacks?" His eyes widened hopefully at Kurt.

"Hm unfortunately not," Kurt said. "We could go somewhere. I bet your favourite roastery is open late."

Jon shook his head briefly, glancing at him.

Kurt made a face. They were out more often now in safe spaces, and he sometimes forgot what Jon risked if he was recognized in public as his partner. "There's leftover blomkuhlsuppe at home," Kurt said. "And warm blankets. And a Christmas tree."

Jon flashed him a brilliant smile. "Six more laps," he said, and shot off across the ice.

Kurt put his hands behind his back, gliding slowly around a last leisurely lap or two, enjoying the swoop of his skates and the prick of cold on his cheeks. Jon in motion was a more alive and happy version of his partner than he'd seen in some time, except for in the privacy of their own bedroom. He was looking forward to closing the chapter on school so Jon could be this person in his off hours, instead of the person who had to grind out schoolwork bent over a desk.

Frankly, he was looking forward to turning the page on this whole week in December. As his body moved, his thoughts sifted through each layer of what Jon had shared this evening, feeling the weight and texture of each shitty story. Medicating pain with drugs made all the sense in the world to Kurt; cutting on yourself he still couldn't wrap his head around.

He watched Jon's figure ahead of him; the other man's feet moved neat and quick, his body bent for speed, gliding in long low curves around the corners. Humming softly, Kurt felt the ache of love and grief in his chest for the difficulty of this week, and all the years before this that his partner had battled through these days alone.

It felt as if Jon had come home to him when he'd opened everything in the car tonight, and Kurt found himself deeply moved towards him, but not shaken. There was a well of love dug deep inside him, funded somehow by Grandma Visser-God, enough and more than enough for them both.

*So we're into the gritty long-haul work of just loving your partner through thick and thin. So proud of all the work Kurt did to get here and be with Jon! Do you think this still counts as romance genre? I have no idea anymore lol.

Not gonna lie, Kurt Visser is my favourite person to spend time with right now, with the exception only of my own feely Ennea 4 husband. <3 Thanks for the reads and votes lovelies -- see you Saturday!*

2726 words.