{Jon}

Jon couldn't think of the last time he'd had this feeling in his body, loose and light, all the doors thrown wide open on the spaces that he had kept closed tight and dark. Maybe the day he came out to his parents, nearly a decade ago. In the parking lot on the way to the car he tipped his face up, feeling the soft brush of snow on his cheeks and opened his mouth to catch snowflakes on his tongue and then pretended to eat them while Kurt laughed. This was the feeling of no secrets.

Kurt caught his hand before Jon got in the car, glancing around the deserted parking lot. They had been the last people unlacing their skates in the lodge, a sleepy-looking staff person waiting for them to leave. The only thing watching the parking lot were the tall pines standing sentinel black against black. Pulling his mittens off to cup Jon's face in his bare hands, Kurt kissed him, backing Jon up against the car.

Breathing Kurt's breath, Jon tipped his face to taste his mouth, completely alert to Kurt's body against him.

This was the feeling of not fucking up his relationship in December. God, he was so grateful he could have burst.

Kurt spread his legs so they were the same height, pressing closer, and with a soft noise Jon opened his mouth to let him in deeper. At this point he would have spread his own rib cage to tuck Kurt inside his body if his partner said he was cold. It shook him how unguarded he'd become, and yet he had a bone-deep deep certainty that he was safe here in Kurt's hands. Everything could be out in the open between them, even when it wasn't tidy and strong.

Breathless, Kurt let him go, rubbing his cold nose against Jon's neck. "I really don't want to stop kissing you," he murmured in his ear. "But I can't feel my legs and someone needs to drive you home."

Jon laughed, dazzled by the look of love in Kurt's blue eyes. "It's a real dilemma, Visser."

Kurt's exasperated 'huff' went down Jon's collar and made his skin shiver and tighten. "Hmm," Kurt said. "I guess it's warmer in our house."

"It is," Jon said ambivalently, working his hand between the buttons of Kurt's coat to find the chunky knit of Kurt's jumper over his stomach. "But cars are warm." Kurt's eyebrows flicked up, reading his face, and Jon spread his hand flat against Kurt's body. "Whatever you want, love," Jon said softly. "It's a Kurt Visser night for you."

Kurt chuckled, colour coming up in his cheeks. "I do know a place to park. Just around the corner from here. The view of the city lights is magic."

Steam obscured the view of the city lights as they made their own ordinary magic in the front seat of Kurt's car. Jon took his time to attend to Kurt, gently repairing what he had stretched thin this week. Following his partner's pleasure, he lost time and any lingering sense of self-consciousness, fitting himself into the space at the foot of the passenger seat, Kurt's long legs wrapped around his shoulders, Kurt's hands buried in his hair, Kurt's voice filling him with warm, surging energy.

When his partner was spent, Jon laid his cheek on Kurt's leg to watch him swim back from ecstasy, his eyelids fluttering, his pale eyelashes thick with tears.

"Crying?" Jon asked, worried.

"Happy tears." Kurt said huskily. "Everything feels like the first time with you right now."

Jon sighed with relief, closing his eyes to just hold this feeling in his body, of being folded so small to make his partner feel enormous, cherished and safe. He put his lips against the bare skin of Kurt's inner thigh. "I'm sorry for taking you for granted this week, Kurt."

Kurt was moving slow as he pulled himself back together, like his limbs were weighed down with pleasure. He laughed, low. "Well I felt that apology in all the places--thank you, love. Just gimme a second to get blood flowing back to my brain before I drive us home."

Jon unfolded, pulling himself onto Kurt's lap, the only available space in the crowded front seat of the car. "I think my foot's asleep," he said wryly. "Where did you chuck my clothes?"

"Hmm," Kurt arranged Jon more comfortably, fishing one long arm into the backseat for his shirt and sweater and puffy jacket. "They're here somewhere." He put his arms behind his head to watch Jon dress, perched in his lap.

"Sometimes I can't believe I'm with you," Kurt said slowly, his face opening with wonder. "And this is real."

Jon darted him a smile, his fingers swiftly buttoning his shirt over his chilly skin. "My pants are soaked from sitting in a slush puddle. Feels pretty real to me."

Kurt's eyebrows knit together. "That's what I mean. We're all the things together. Not just a fairy tale I tell myself out of the good parts. I don't think I...ever believed I would have this."

"I definitely didn't," Jon said.

"Were you really going to be alone your whole life?" Kurt asked.

Jon lifted his shoulders. "My family. Friends."

Kurt made a soft sound, brushing his knuckles over Jon's cheek. "I hate thinking of you getting old without a partner. No one to spoon you at night and keep you warm."

Jon laughed softly, zipping up his puffy jacket and leaning in to brush his lips against Kurt's. "Lucky for me you showed up on my doorstep."

"Lucky for us both I sobered up in time to save you from another year of celibacy," Kurt said, one side of his mouth curling. "Hm, lucky's the wrong word. What did your dad call it that time?" He snapped his fingers. "Providential. Providentially Kurt Visser sobered up and arrived at Jon's table for breakfast."

Jon tipped his head, smiling back at him. "Really, you believe in Providence now?" he teased.

Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, Providence has been after me for some time now. She's a terrible old nag--never let me be 'til She had me back."

Jon threw his head back, shouting a laugh. "I never thought I'd see the day. God."

"Mm-hm, indeed," Kurt said, his eyes twinkling back at him. He shifted underneath Jon. "Now...love, please tell me you're flexible enough to switch me places so I don't have to go back out in the cold."

Fortunately, Jon was.

*Trigger warning: conversation about self-harm and suicide.*

The Christmas tree lights were still glowing in their living room as they peeled off all their layers, laughing and talking softly. There was a thunderous noise of feet galloping down the stairs, and then Cary appeared in the front hallway, his hair dishevelled above his worried eyes. He hung back, checking them both over. "You were out late. Meeting go okay?"

Jon ducked his head and went to put his arms around Cary's broad body, stretching as far as he could to hug him. He could hear how fast Cary's heart was going under his cheek. "I'm sorry," he said into his flannel shirt. "I used your pills. A bunch of years in December. I won't again."

Cary made a dry, huffing noise, wrapping Jon's shoulders tight. "Love you, asshole," he rumbled quietly. "Glad you're back safe."

"Love you too," Jon said, letting him go.

Cary heaved a sigh. "'Kay, I'm going to bed now. If we're all good." He looked over Jon's shoulder.

"Yeah we're good," Kurt said quietly. "I got you, Care. Sleep tight."

While Kurt warmed up their soup, Jon ran upstairs to clear out his bedroom. He dug every secret out of every secret corner and rolled them up in a towel, hurrying back to Kurt, his feet tripping on the stairs with that dangerous little bundle pressed against his chest.

The warm light above the stove haloed Kurt's hair, fluffy with static from his tuque, as he stirred the soup and hummed to Christmas carols. Jon set the towel roll on the table beside the fluttering candle and went to the sink to wash his hands.

"Soup's ready," Kurt said.

Lightheaded with hunger, Jon filled his bowl while Kurt flipped the towel open. His partner's lips flattened as he nudged a finger through the sharps and pill bottles. Cracking the lid off the Oxycodene, Kurt went to the washroom and Jon closed his eyes, cupping the warmth of the soup bowl against his chest while he listened to the toilet flush. He buried his face in the soup, too hungry to bother with a spoon, tipping the bowl to fill his stomach with the warm, savoury liquid.

Kurt pulled up a chair in front of the rest of the items, the candlelight soft on his cheek and temple as he looked at Jon. "I thought you were done with this," he said, tapping the utility knife lying on the towel. It was just the right size for Jon's hand, clean and razor-sharp as a surgeon's tool.

Jon set his empty bowl in the sink, licking a last drop of soup off the corner of his mouth. He wasn't sure he had good words to explain--but even shitty, clumsy words were better than silence. Taking a seat across from Kurt, he lifted his arm, baring the underside of his tattooed bicep.

"See them?" he asked softly. The scars were very thin and fine, a row of hashmarks above his elbow.

Kurt nodded, weaving his fingers together.

"I don't..." Jon looked up for inspiration, his heart-rate going like he was in the middle of the match. "I don't hate me the way I used to. I never wanted to go back to cutting but--last year I decided opes are worse. Opes withdrawal is harder to hide. And I still needed...something. To get through."

Jon sighed, pushing a hand against his stomach. "This time of year, my body is the strongest part of me. My headspace is--in pieces. So I do all the things I usually do to get through: run and roll and yoga and try and remember to eat. And when that's not enough..." He opened his fingers sharply, unable to find the words for a second. Kurt's eyes were steady on his face, candleflames flickering in their depths.

"It feels bright," Jon said. "Like waking up. All these endorphins and adrenaline release."

Kurt took a soft breath. "Like getting high."

Jon's face creased, shame smudging over his thoughts. "Yes."

Kurt rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I hate that. Christ." He caught Jon with his look again, his expression tight. "Can you be done, Jon? Please?"

Jon touched his partner's knee, aching. That was how he'd got through last year; it already hurt like stepping down from opes to give up cutting as an option. But it hurt more to hurt Kurt. "Yeah, I can be done. You can have all that. Um. Just please don't toss my shaving razor; I'm not the beardy type. If you would just--keep it safe from me for a bit. That would help."

"Yup." Kurt flipped the towel closed on the sharps. "I got you, Jon." He examined the label on the last pill bottle. "You need these to sleep?"

Jon weighed that out. "It's the weekend. If I don't sleep great at night I can nap, right?"

"We can lock them up," Kurt said. "And dole them out. Your headspace will be better if you're sleeping."

Jon nodded, and Kurt leaned his elbows on his knees, hiding the bottle in his fist. "Can I ask you one more question, love?" he asked low and quiet.

"Mm-hm?" Jon agreed, laying his head on his arm so he could still see Kurt's face.

"Are you thinking of killing yourself? Do I need to worry about that?"

Jon held his breath, his fists closing under his arms. In the silence, Kurt's blue eyes looked sharply at his face.

"I don't think you need to worry about that?" Jon said.

"I don't love the question mark at the end of that sentence," Kurt said gruffly.

Jon hid his face in his arm a moment. It was easier to tell the truth when he wasn't looking in Kurt's eyes; he was so used to covering for the people he loved when he saw they were getting hurt.

"I always think about it. This time of year. If I had died instead of Judah." Jon's toe tapped rapidly; his body was charged with nervous energy at the thought of doing whatever it took to cover this up for Kurt. Pushing his toe into the floor, he took a steadying breath. Not covering this up. "It's not rational. I know it wouldn't bring him back. I just--can't help the thought."

"You have a plan?" Kurt asked.

Jon made himself small. "You're holding it." He couldn't deny how reassuring it had been to know he had an ultimate way to control how he was feeling. A literal kill switch.

There was an abrupt scrape--Kurt's chair pushing back from the table--and then the sound of the toilet flushing again. Jon sighed, pushing himself upright, his face prickling with heat.

Kurt dropped back into his chair, pressing the bottle into the table with his finger. "Four left," he said shortly. "Two good sleeps. That's all I feel safe to keep around here. Eight-hundred-pound gorillas can't be trusted." Then his face lifted in a smile at Jon, his eyes still alight. "Good?"

Seeing that light in his partner's face, even in the midst of this moment, Jon felt his own heart lift and he smiled back. "Good. Thank you." It felt as if Kurt had tossed him right out of that gorilla's cage and now Jon was rolling to his feet and dusting off. This year the damage was pretty minimal. It was hard to believe that lonely battle was over--addiction wasn't done with him, but he was done facing it down alone.

"Think we can find you an NA meeting next week?" Kurt asked. "I can ask around for a good group."

Jon pressed his lips together; he would have preferred jumping out of an airplane than sharing in front of Kurt's group tonight and he hated the thought of doing that again. Weekly. "I have you, now."

Kurt tipped his face sympathetically. "Pretty sure you need more than just me, love. Gorilla's are big."

Jon took a breath, pushing his shoulders back into the chair. "You seem pretty big to me."

Kurt took his hand, weaving their fingers together. "Well...I'm not. I'm just one person. I don't want to be your partner and your sponsor; that's too much." He held Jon's eyes, and Jon saw him bracing, expecting him to fight him back.

Jon tightened his fingers on Kurt's, nodding once. "Tap," he said softly. "I hate this idea but I trust you."

Kurt sagged a little, letting out his breath. "Thank you." He pushed his free hand against his chest, closing his eyes. "God, this day. Can we call it done and just go to bed?"

Jon leaned over, brushing his lips on Kurt's cheek. "Done."

*What a weight off. How proud of you of Kurt for standing up to Jon here? It was small but felt really important for their relationship to thrive over the long-haul. Loving partners are a huge help when we're up against addiction or mental illness, but imho there's a limit to what one person can do.

Here's an adorable Danish Grandma with her recipe for blomkohlsuppe! Kurt likes to add hard-boiled eggs, chives and bacon on top.*

2630 words.