{Cary}

Cary slept poorly, eyes blinking open at every sound, ears straining in the dark. By four in the morning it occurred to him that he had forgotten to take the tiny pink pill his doctor had prescribed years ago to smooth out his nighttime anxiety, which nudged him over the edge of sleep every night. Sighing, Cary got up. It was too late to take that med now, unless he wanted to sleep half of Saturday away. He was too worried about Jon to stay in bed.

Quietly, he paced through their house, floor by floor, checking every room and behind every door, leaving the basement for last. He guessed he could have just checked Kurt's room first, but that felt like a pretty serious invasion of the other man's privacy, to poke his head in while he was sleeping and defenseless.

Misty trotted at his heels, her tail flipping back and forth, and Cary nudged her back with his sock foot at the basement door. "No cats downstairs. Tinsel will give you a hell of a hairball, sweetheart."

He hurried down the steps to slap on the light at the bottom; the lack of light switch at the top of the basement stairs was by far his least favorite thing about this house. Bright fluorescents lit up their empty sparring floor, Jon's battered punching bag, the glittering toy tree and the mini fridge tucked beside it.

Telling himself he just wanted to turn on the string of twinkle lights to admire the tree, Cary padded over the springy floor and plugged them in. Then he looked over his shoulder to check the last corner, his stomach in knots.

There was a storage space under the stairs, the half-door not visible from the top of the steps. Cary pressed his knuckles hard against his moustache, for a single second seeing that door open to the dark, dusty space, partially concealing Jon White's body curled behind it, like an animal that had crept away to die.

The door was closed; the unfinished concrete floor in front of it swept clean.

He let out his breath, scrubbing his hands through his hair and blinking against his burning eyes. Of all the scary shit Cary had lived through, that moment and the ones that followed haunted him still--he guessed because there was always a chance he'd have to live through that again. His father was a broken-down old man drinking himself to death in southern Alberta and couldn't have hurt him now if he tried.

Jon White was still very much capable of crossing himself off the list of the living people Cary loved more than life. He left the toy tree lights on and went back upstairs.

Footsteps pattered lightly down from upstairs as he was starting his coffee and Jon came into the kitchen, dressed for a workout, his arms bare. Seeing Cary, his face lifted in an honest-to-God smile.

"Morning," Jon said softly.

Cary's own mouth lifted and he turned aside. "Hey Jon. Want a coffee?"

Jon's hand touched his shoulder briefly on the way by. "After my yoga sesh, yeah I do." He shoved their carpet to the edge of the room and rolled out his mat in front of the tree. "You're up early." Jon's eyes flicked to him, concern plain in their look.

"Forgot to take my sleep med," Cary said, shrugging.

He lingered over his coffee at the table while the whole main floor filled with steamy warmth, listening to the sound of his brother breathing.

{Jon}

The smell of the tree beside him intensified in the heat; every breath was a lungful of fresh green pine scent. It was more effort than usual to move through his yoga flow; his body was stiff and out of shape from weeks cramming hours of studying around his work schedule. His yoga mat was damp with his own sweat under his palms as he pushed his body into the air and leaned the soles of his feet against the wall in an assisted handstand.

His shoulders ached and he breathed, softening his shoulders, tightening his stomach, then gradually bringing his feet off the wall to hang in the air, poised and balanced. He held the pose until his body shook, then released and folded onto his knees in child's pose.

He'd been deep in his body, no thoughts running through his mind, no monkey whispering in the background, while he worked out. Now, cooling down, he remembered waking up early this morning. Kurt had been folded around him, one arm wrapped loosely over his chest, his body breathing warm and slow against Jon's bare back. It was so much more than Jon had ever imagined or felt he deserved.

His prayer habit had been quiet this week, more like him just leaning against the massive bulk of the presence of God in the complete dark than any exchange of words. Kneeling on his yoga mat, Jon opened his heart on all the thank yous he had inside him, all the sorries, all the grief of not being good enough for any of the people he loved.

And the memory of Kurt loving him intensified, as if Jon was meant to see through his partner to the source of Love far bigger than Kurt, under-girding them both.

You're never doing December alone again, love.

The whisper could have been Kurt's voice, but Jon recognized the hum of Someone bigger.

He washed his face in the little washroom, holding cool fingers against his heated eyes, unable to tell if he had cried or if he was just soaked with sweat. Tears were nearly impossible on this day in December, but his chest was unknotted and open, so maybe miracles still happened.

He found Cary still sitting at the kitchen table, head propped in his hand as he read on his phone. "Is that coffee still on offer?" Jon asked.

Cary took a moment to answer, dragging himself away from something on his screen. "Mm." His brown eyes crinkled at Jon. "Your boyfriend is better in the kitchen than you are."

Jon grinned, mussing up his sweaty hair. "Right? God, I'm so smitten. No idea what I did to deserve Kurt Visser. Or you, for that matter."

Huffing a laugh, Cary hefted himself out of his chair to start the coffee. "Check out the thing on my phone."

Jon glanced at the screen; a dynamic graphic comic story unfolded on the tiny screen as he swiped up. "Cool--what is this?"

"A platform for graphic artists. To tell their stories. I'm thinking of putting something on there."

"Your graphic novel? Will your publisher let you do that?"

Cary glanced back once. "No--I got a new thing I'm making with Bea. The Light Circus."

Jon's eyebrows lifted. "Go for it. Your stuff is amazing, Cary. And you have a lot of wisdom to offer kids these days."

Cary laughed soundlessly. "You sound so old, Jon."

"I feel so old," Jon stretched out his back, his muscles complaining about the work out he'd just given them.

Cary swirled the water from the kettle over the coffee grounds, the sweet-strong fragrance of their bloom filling the kitchen. Jon checked the side of his face, wondering if they needed to talk any further about last night. Cary could be hard to read and they were usually content to just co-exist.

"I told Kurt all my shit last night," Jon ventured. "All my shit."

"Yeah?" Cary asked. "How'd that go?"

Jon rubbed his hand over his mouth, unable to find words for how...held and loved he'd felt after. "Somehow...we're still together."

Cary's mouth relaxed in his beard, his eyes crinkling in his smile. Jon took a short breath, smiling back through the pain in his chest. "I can hardly believe it. I think this is real, Care. I think we're the real thing. For permanent. I just--" he opened his hands beside his head, speechless and mind blown.

"I'm glad," Cary said. He dumped the coffee into the blender, whipping the milk and coconut oil into a froth before returning it to Jon's mug and passing it to him. Gratefully, Jon buried his face in it's fragrant depths.

"Too early for bacon and eggs?" Cary said, rummaging through the fridge.

"Never too early for bacon and eggs," Jon said. His eyes caught on the bare branches of the evergreen tree in their living room. "When are we shopping for this tree? I heard you were doing all the pink and purple--did I miss it?"

Cary thumped the fridge shut, hands full of a carton of eggs. "You didn't miss it. Was thinking of going next week."

Jon's spirits lifted. "Let's go today. You and me and Kurt. And the girls, if they want to come along. To that place you love with all the Christmas."

Cary went wide-eyed, like Santa Claus had just made an appearance in all his roly-poly glory. They never even talked about decorating the big tree before Judah's birthday party. "Don't you have homework or something?"

Jon made a face, sticking out his tongue. "Forget school right now. I'm passing all my classes even if I never do another minute of homework. I need a day off. A fun day with my bro and my bae."

Cary laughed soundlessly. "I'm in, obviously. What time is Visser getting up?"

Jon hid his smile in his coffee. "Gimme a few to shower, then we'll be down."

Fresh from his shower, his face still scruffy and unshaved, Jon crept into Kurt's room. It was dim in the tent and he crawled over the bed until he was crouched next to the lump that was his partner, asleep, just a messy multi-colored mop of hair showing above the blankets.

"Kurt Visser," Jon whispered. "We're going shopping."

He walked his fingers all over the lump until he found Kurt's ribs to poke them through the blankets. "If you don't wake up, you're going to miss shopping for all the Christmas."

Kurt's head popped out of the blankets, his blue eyes blinking sleepily and his mouth lifting in a hopeful smile. "Did you say shopping?"

Jon leaned over to kiss Kurt's mouth. "I did. Time to get up, love; we're doing the big tree today."

Kurt's face lit up. "I thought you had school shit you needed to do today."

"Nope." Jon booped his nose with his finger. "You. Me. Cary. Christmas shopping. Let's do this."

Kurt scrambled out of bed, jumping into the first clothes he could lay his hands on. Puzzled, he leaned around to check the window, where dawn was just breaking blue-grey and dim over the snow-covered rooftops. "Wait--what time is it, White? Are stores even open right now?"

"They'll be open by the time we're done breakfast," Jon said. "Let's go--coffee's on and bacon's frying."

But Kurt caught him by the wrist before he made it out the door, drawing him in close. "Hold up," he said. Tipping his face, he kissed Jon slowly and thoroughly, until Jon was on tiptoes in the circle of Kurt's arms, his heartbeat singing in his ears. He felt glad to be alive right to the ends of his fingers, pressed into the muscles of Kurt's back.

"Gotta keep my promises," Kurt murmured in his ear. "Kissin' you every day of your life, Jonathan White."

1904 words.