{Kurt}

Cary and Bea were unpacking the third Christmas tote, laying out shoeboxes stuffed with ornaments, when Kurt noticed Jon had fallen asleep. A moment earlier, his partner had been lobbing out song ideas for a Christmas playlist, reclined on the carpet with one arm propped behind his head. The next minute, his cheek had fallen against his scarred bicep and he was softly snoring with his mouth open.

Chuckling, Kurt tucked the sheep blanket around his partner's body. Apparently Jon's powers of sleep were restored.

His own normally expansive energy for people was feeling pretty played out, after an intense night of feelings, a short sleep, and the jolt of an anxiety attack at the garden centre. He pulled his Tshirt off to cover Jon's face the way his partner liked for a good long nap, then reached for the hoodie Jon had discarded near by to pull it on instead.

"Hey Douglas," Kurt said quietly. "Jon's asleep and I think I need some down time before tonight. Can you watch him?"

Cradling half a dozen feathery bird ornaments, Cary was absorbed in finding the perfect arrangement in the branches. "Sure, go have fun," he said, waving a shovel-sized hand.

Kurt laid his hand on his partner's gently breathing chest. Whatever the two of them had been doing in December before this hadn't been working for Jon, so he probably needed to say this. "Cary." The name made the big man meet his eyes. "I mean it. Please don't leave Jon alone today."

Bea's hazel eyes glanced between the two of them before she pretended to be absorbed in untangling a ball of ribbon. Cary nodded, his eyebrows pulled down low. "Yeah, you got it."

Kurt took himself to the spa.

Two hours later, he arrived home rejuvenated by a nap on the massage table and a little shopping excursion on his own. The big tree glowed softly in the living room, birds tucked into every crook of branch and hanging mid-flight, each one a shade of pink ranging from pale blush to deep strawberry, vivid against the silvery evergreen. Kurt's mouth curled in a smile and he took the stairs two at a time, his arms full of packages. "Honey, I'm home," he called.

Cary looked up from his bed, where he was sitting with his sock feet stretched in front of him and a sketchbook balanced on his legs, sticking his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. The door to the bathroom flew open and Jon stood there, looking grim. "We have a situation, Visser."

Kurt's heart rate picked up. "Oh?'

His partner turned his face from side to side, pointing to his cheeks where scruff glinted red and gold. "On this side my beard joins and on this side there's a gap. There is a hole in my beard."

Kurt laughed with relief. Jon's hair was damp and curling and he was shirtless, his chinos sitting low on his hips, the hair in the centre of his chest slicked flat against his muscles. "I see," Kurt said. "What do you propose?"

Jon held out his hand. "My shaving razor. I told you I'm not a beardy person and there's a reason."

"Maybe by the time you're forty you won't have such baby cheeks," Kurt suggested.

Jon's mouth dropped open in pretend outrage, and then he grinned briefly. "I guess we'll find out."

Kurt unloaded his purchases across their bed, then dug between the mattresses for the razor, wrapped in a facecloth. While Jon shaved at one side of the sink, Kurt leaned into the mirror on the other side, fixing his hair and re-applying his lipstick. He smushed his lips together, and narrowed his eyes in a smile at himself, fingering the smooth weight of the lipstick tube with pleasure. His mother liked a matte finish, but Kurt loved the moist look of this brand, like he'd just licked his lips.

Tapping the razor dry in the sink, Jon handed it back to him. As Kurt folded it back into the washcloth, he asked casually, "So how long are we doing this for?"

Jon's bare shoulders moved. "I'll let you know."

Kurt's eyes ran over the black, curling lines of Jon's tattoo and the faint scars on his hip showing above the waistband of his pants, then went to their room to tuck the razor away again.

As Kurt had passed the spa gift shop this afternoon, a scarf had caught his eye in the window display that he knew immediately he wanted to drape around his own neck. He drew it out of the bag now, stroking its silky opalescent fabric. Some dye process had left ink curling and fading like smoke, deep purply-black and charcoal grey like thunderclouds against the pearl-white fabric. Beads clinked softly at the end of the tassels. It was less colorful than Kurt usually enjoyed, but today it matched his feelings and was exactly what he wanted to wrap around himself for the party tonight.

Sighing happily, Kurt tugged the tags off of a pair of dove grey chinos and slipped them on with a V-neck Tshirt, before draping the scarf around his neck to admire the effect.

Jon glanced at him as he came in the room, then took another lingering look. Kurt pursed his lips, pinching the half-inch of loose fabric over his thighs. "Do these pants make my legs look fat?"

Jon snorted a laugh.

"I mean, I know my legs are not fat, obviously." Kurt stepped his legs up and down, feeling the loose fabric bunch and move against his skin. "The tailor-man said they were the right fit but they feel too baggy to me."

"Or possibly your other pants are too tight," Jon said drily. "Who's to say?"

Kurt laughed. "Who's to say--you trying to tell me I'm showing too much leg around here?"

"Oh no." In the mirror behind Kurt, Jon lifted his eyebrows. "Never. I'm a legs' man, Visser. Always have been."

"Hm." Kurt turned to admire his legs in the mirror. "I do have legs for days. I mostly just notice how flat my butt is now."

"Kick the bag around downstairs a little more," Jon said. "That's what I do to have enough ass to keep my pants up." He stood in front of Kurt's crammed closet, looking a little lost. "Can you find me something to wear tonight?"

"It's your birthday--what are you feeling like?" Kurt said.

"It's not my birthday," Jon said softly. He pushed his shoulders back, rubbing his fist against the left side of his chest. "I don't know; feelings aren't really...a thing for me right now. Just dress me to go with you."

Kurt came up behind him, rubbing Jon's shoulders while he scanned his closet. Exhaling, Jon leaned back against his chest. He turned his cheek against the pillowy fabric around Kurt's shoulders. "I like your scarf," Jon said. "You look so beautiful all the time, Kurt."

Kurt glanced in his partner's face, kissing his nose and smiling. "Eye of the beholder, darlin'. You don't think I have a shopping problem we need to talk about later?"

Jon's quiet laugh puffed against his throat. "I'll just get a better job to pay for you."

"And a bigger closet," Kurt said.

"You can just use my closet."

Kurt did the math on the space in Jon's closet; it was even smaller than this one. "Maybe I'll just move into your room and turn this room into a walk in," he teased.

Jon's laugh rang out. "Oh wow, yes. Some people have a spare bedroom--we'll have a spare walk in closet for all of Kurt Visser's beautiful shoes and clothes."

Kurt chuckled, his body warming against Jon's. "Stop it--you're turning me on. We have to be good for your parents."

Jon stroked his face and his narrow-eyed smile made Kurt promises not only for later but for always.

As he slipped on his wedge boots to head out to 'White family cry day,' Kurt was more nervous than he would have liked to admit. Beside him, Jon zipped his puffy jacket with a jerk and rolled out his neck. His partner jumped a few times and shook out his legs like he was heading into a match.

"Let's do this," Jon said under his breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets to head to the truck.

1363 words.