{Jon}

On Friday morning, Jon's alarm and Kurt's alarm chimed within seconds of each other. Groaning, Jon swiped his phone silent, throwing his arms over his eyes. "We are going to need naps before we go to the club," Jon said.

"You can take a nap while I do your make up," Kurt said, his lips curling in a smile with his eyes still closed. "It's gonna take a couple hours."

Jon's eyes flew open. "A couple hours?" His voice cracked with astonishment and he flipped over to look at Kurt. "I've seen you do your make up--it takes you fifteen minutes, tops."

Kurt chuckled. "I have a very low maintenance daytime look. We're not doing my make up--we're doing drag make up. I'm going to erase your handsome, masculine Jon White face and replace it with fabulous, ultra-feminine--what are we calling this baby queen anyways?"

Jon's mind was still reeling. "I don't know. Something easy for me to remember so you don't end up hollering 'Jon White' over the dance floor."

"Honey?" Kurt asked.

"Mm-hm?" Jon said.

Kurt grinned. "That's her. Honey Angel Baby Face."

Jon snorted and started to laugh. "I still haven't agreed to this whole 'hours of make up' plan. It's just two eyes and a pair of lip--mfph." Kurt's own lips muffled the end of that sentence, and Jon melted a little under his soft, stroking tongue. When he was completely relaxed, Kurt let up, kissing his nose.

"So that's a yes?"

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to lull me into agreeing with kisses?"

"Is it working?" Kurt's eyes twinkled back at him. "Darlin', if we were doing this my way you'd be tucking."

"What is--" Jon started to ask, and Kurt's positively wicked expression gave him serious second thoughts. "You know what, never mind. This gay doesn't need to know."

Kurt laughed out loud.

"Change of subject," Jon said, and stroked the beard filling in over Kurt's jaw, just long enough to be soft under his fingers and a few shades darker than the hair on Kurt's head. "Are you keeping this? I'm extremely envious--it's so nice and full."

Kurt turned his face from side to side. "No holes?"

"No holes at all." Jon grinned.

"Yeah, I'm wearing it tonight," Kurt said. "King to your queen. It's a little unconventional, but when have I ever been conventional?"

"You're wearing make up too though," Jon checked, worried. "Not just me."

Kurt blew out his lips. "Of course."

"Hours of make up?"

"I mean, my nighttime look is a little more glitzy than my everyday," Kurt said. "But I think thirty minutes, tops. Plus hair."

The math was boggling. "We're going to spend more time getting ready than actually at the club," Jon said.

Kurt smiled slowly. "And we're going to be spectacular."

Jon's alarm chimed again and he sighed, slipping out of their warm bed to pull on his hoodie for work one more time before his holidays. Kurt rolled over and buried his face in their pillows. "I'm hitting snooze five more times." His voice was muffled. "See you tonight."

Jon stretched and then gently touched his toes, trying to wake his tired body up. "You'll see me at lunch, love. The minute I'm done shift I'm driving to your worksite to do a happy dance with you and Cary."

"Cary doing a happy dance." Kurt's was still chuckling when Jon softly shut their door.

Jon jogged to his van, breathless with cold in just his hoodie and thin chinos, and started the engine before running back into the warmth of their house. It was black as night, but commuter traffic hushed on the major road just beyond their neighbourhood. In this northern city, life carried on whether the sun was up or not since winter days were tragically short.

Feeling half-asleep still, Jon made a coffee while the van whined about the cold in their back driveway, chuffing steam and exhaust. Sipping his pale-brown attempt, Jon made a face. Really, how was he so crap at making coffee when he drank it five times a day?

Fortunately, his work house had a Keurig machine. Even Jon couldn't screw up that system with its trashy little coffee pods and one-button convenience. He abandoned his weak-ass cup of coffee in the sink and bundled up to take himself to work for a better brew.

*

The office at his work house was empty, Angel's colourful mish-mash of a sweater slung over the rolling chair. Glancing in the living room, Jon was pretty sure he caught sight of her feathery hair poking out of a nest of blankets on the couch. He pretended to see nothing; it wasn't technically against house rules to nap on a night shift but it wasn't the kind of thing anyone wanted their boss to catch them doing.

The slurp and pour of the Keurig machine filled the kitchen with a dark-roasted coffee smell and Angel appeared in the kitchen doorway, smoothing her ruffled indigo hair. "Morning boss," she said hoarsely. "Didn't expect you so early."

Jon gave her a smile. "How was the night?"

Angel lifted a narrow shoulder, rubbing her fist into one eye. Her cheek was still creased with sleep. "Mixed. Dusty's still pretty worked up about his mom coming today. Jordi wouldn't take her headphones out at dinner time and refused to do her chores. I had to confiscate her phone. It was a big drama. We mostly got them settled by bedtime."

"Thanks for covering for me," Jon said. He sipped his coffee and made a small happy noise. Not near as good as Kurt or Cary's pour overs, but all the cream he was planning to dump in would cover a multitude of sins. Thank God he didn't have to give up dairy along with gluten--dairy made everything better.

"Looking forward to your holidays?" Angel asked.

Jon laughed quietly. "Yes. So much." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep for days." After lacing up my drag queen boots and going dancing with Kurt tonight. He kept his eyes lowered on his coffee in case any spark of that plan might be gleaming there.

Abruptly, Angel's slim brown fingers were on his hand, pulling it off his mug. "Oh Jon," she breathed, touching his ring.

Jon's hand fisted and jerked away at her touch, and Angel covered her mouth, her eyes almost disappearing in her smile.

"Any chance that's from a certain tall, blond guitarist you went to youth group with?" Angel whispered.

Slowly Jon opened his fist, thumbing the gold band there. His heart was galloping and sweat prickled under his arms. He turned aside, clearing out the Kpod.

"Do you want me to make you a coffee?" he asked. "Then I need to pull the January schedule together before staff meeting."

There was a small pause. "No, thanks, I don't drink coffee," Angel said. She flipped the electric kettle on instead, seeming to change the subject. "Something you should know that I didn't include in the shift log--"

Jon shoved his fist in his hoodie pocket, listening without looking at her.

"Jordin outed me," Angel said simply. "To Patrick, while you were gone."

He shot her a wide-eyed look. "To anyone else?"

Angel shook her head, her mouth wry. She didn't look half as terrified as he would have been. "Pat was surprisingly cool about it. Go diversity training." She gave an ironic little fist pump. "He asked some questions and listened and that was it. I went back to Jordin and asked her to keep me private in the future." She rolled her eyes. "Hopefully she's not so angry with me for taking her cell phone that she tells the whole staff team this morning."

Jon pulled up on his neck, breathing out slowly. "Shit. Are you okay?"

She nodded, rummaging through the basket of tea bags until she came up with a minty green option. "I think I'm relieved, actually. Pat and I have logged a lot of hours together and he kind of feels like family. Like my big white brother with a lame sense of humour." She laughed to herself. "It feels good to have that secret out to him. I know I can trust him and it makes our friendship stronger, you know? And I need all the friend-family I can get right now." Her expression was bleak for a moment.

Jon wished he could open up in return, pull out his phone and show her the photos on the mountainside. It would feel so good to have someone other than his mom gush over how amazing Kurt was. His habit of reserve and deep caution about trusting anyone with the vulnerable parts of his story pulled him back. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said. "That you can be yourself with Pat, even here."

She glanced at him, her expression questioning.

Jon lifted his chin, choosing his words. "I don't want to put you in a position where you have to lie to cover for me, Angel. I know you would hate that. I would."

"I can just do what you do and say nothing," she said. "No one's asking. Although...you should probably leave the ring off."

Jon hunched his shoulders, his throat aching. He didn't want to leave Kurt's ring off his hand, at all. He hadn't expected anyone at his workplace to pay attention to him. It turned out his reticence to share about his personal life over the years had not dampened the interest of a staff like Angel, and likely also a number of others.

"I'll take it off for staff meeting," Jon said. The words came out a little frayed at the edges.

She touched his arm, one light clasp through the thick fabric of his sweater. "I'm just saying--you're more than my boss, Jon. If you wanted, you could trust a few of us to be happy for you."

He shoved his fists back in his pocket, looking sideways at her, weighing those words. She sipped her tea, her face relaxing in the familiar ritual.

Jon's feet were planted wide, his whole body coiled for a fight. "I'm not done here, Angel," he said low. "I still have things I want to do. The day I answer your question--is the day I'm willing to walk away from this job at a moment's notice. If Terry asks me directly? I'm not lying to cover for me."

She met his eyes, lifting her chin in a nod. "I agree. I don't want you to lie for me either."

"That's good to know, thank you." Jon bent his head, clasping his cold fingers around his coffee again. "Honestly, I think we just moved the needle enough that you could be queer and single and Terry would get over it."

Angel gave him a small, hopeful smile that made his chest tight. He made himself return the smile. "You know I would advocate for you. Jordin needs adult role models she can relate to on some level. As long as you're not, like, marching in a Pride parade wearing a Tshirt with our organization's logo on it, you could keep your job here."

"Why would I ever?" Angel said, and they both laughed.

What stayed unspoken was that the same could not be said about him. Jon took a hot swallow of coffee to try and ease his tight throat. "I want to be here to make sure there's space for you--and Jordin and any other LGBTQ+ kids who come through our home. As long as I can stand it, anyways," he added, feeling his tiredness again. He sighed, rolling out his shoulders. "So I'm sorry but your boss--and Jon from your church..." He made a gesture with his hands like he was separating the two far apart.

Angel gave him a little salute, the smile tucking in on one corner but not wiped off her face. "Yeah, you got it, boss."

Back in the privacy of the office, Jon put his ring finger in his mouth and used his teeth to take the snug band off. Holding it in his fist, he opened a couple desk drawers until he found a spare package of shoe laces. He threaded his ring onto a lace and tied it around his neck, tucking it out of sight under his sweater. Putting his hand against the little lump lying over his heart, Jon booted up the computer to make the January schedule for his staff.

The pang he felt about taking off the ring Kurt had slipped on days ago was soothed by the thought that Kurt got to wear his ring everywhere and his promises to Jon still held fast, whether that ring was around Jon's finger or around his neck.

*

At quarter to nine, Jon emerged to help Angel set out the living room and kitchen chairs in a circle for their meeting. The Christmas tree shedding tinsel in one corner of the living room made the chairs more crowded than usual. Jon found a TV channel with a yule log and carols, and the fire crackled merrily in the background.

Terry bounded in, the first one to arrive, with a flat of donuts iced and sprinkled to imitate gingerbread men, and a fistful of hand-written cards. "Ho ho ho gang, how is everybody?" he asked. Terry had never quite gotten over his habit of treating staff meeting like a Friday night youth group games night. Jon had no idea where the older man found the energy.

"Merry Christmas, Terry," Jon said. "Thanks for bringing donuts."

Terry set the donuts on the coffee table, sorting through his cards until he found the one addressed to Jon, handing it over with a grin. "There's a little something in there for you, Jon. You know we can't afford much, but I wanted to recognize your outstanding work this year. And I thought you'd prefer I not make a fuss front of everyone."

Jon smiled back, wondering if he was supposed to open this envelope now. Terry was watching expectantly, so he guessed he should. A gift card to a high-end steak house dropped out of the Christmas greeting card into Jon's palm.

"My wife's idea," Terry said. He looked sincerely concerned that Jon might not like it. "It's our favourite place for a date night. I know you're not seeing someone but I thought you could still enjoy a night out with a friend or two..."

Jon's smile warmed to the real thing. "Definitely. Thank you." How hard was Kurt going to laugh when he realized Jon's workplace had paid for them to have a gay date night? He couldn't wait to check if this restaurant had locations in Red Deer. Maybe he would rent a tux and make that particular Kurt Visser dream come true...

Jon turned aside, feeling his ears warm. "Why don't I just put the coffee on for everyone?"

Angel rushed to join him. "Oh no, I'll do the coffee, boss. You just get out the stir sticks and sugar cubes. No one wants that brown water you make--no offence. We need the strong stuff."

Jon's staff team arrived one by one, some in cozy red-checked flannels or kitschy Christmas sweaters. Naomi's brilliant scarlet scarf made her round cheeks glow as she smiled and chatted in her motherly way with each of the staff in turn. Jon smiled, watching his staff team relax around her, wishing he had a fraction of Naomi's way with people.

There was no particular agenda today, just enjoying coffee and donuts and a chance to share about Christmas plans with one another. Terry threatened to lead them in an ice-breaker game from church youth group days, called 'Honey if you love me won't you please please smile.'

Jon froze with horror before he realized his boss was joking. Jon definitely remembered that game, and what had felt like an eternity glued to a seat in a circle while other teenagers invaded his personal space trying to get him to crack a smile. He'd been so horrified by the situation that he always won--not that it was much of a prize to have rigidly endured every pretty girl and a few pretty boys sitting on his lap, barely keeping their hands to themselves.

Terry laughed uproariously at a few of the expressions around the room. "I'm just kidding people. Wow, how inappropriate was that game, am I right? Can you imagine the lawsuits today?" He pulled a serious face. "We could just do a 'massage train' instead."

This made Naomi crack up, along with a few other older staff. Angel exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jon, half in horror, half amusement. Possibly their former-youth pastor boss needed some post-youth ministry therapy and this staff meeting was his only outlet.

At the end of the meeting, Jon thanked his staff with a few words, meeting each person's eyes as he quietly reminded his team of the progress each of their kids had made in emotional stability and success at school because each one of them showed up for their work and cared. He was a little surprised by how warm the expressions were looking back at him--even a difficult staff like Sharon looked gratified and gave him a smile in return.

What he definitely didn't expect was for Naomi to stand up when he was done speaking and reach under the tree for a gift bag he'd assumed was just part of the decorations. "We all went in together to buy you a gift, Jon."

Terry put up his hand, grinning. "Me too, but it was their idea."

Jon blinked and automatically put out his hands to receive the bag. Naomi's brown eyes twinkled at him. "It's not much, but it's from our heart. Oh and I tucked a few home-baked Christmas goodies in for you and your brother to share. I understand you're close." She dropped him a broad wink that made him very worried for a second, before concluding that she assumed Terry didn't know about his 'gay brother.'

The interior of the bag smelled of nutmeg, molasses and butter, and Jon drew out a pair of Ziploc bags packed with gingerbreads and shortbreads. The room oohhed in appreciation.

Underneath was a navy Tshirt, the kind you could get printed at a novelty store. In big white letters across the chest, it said 'OKAY-EST BOSS EVER.'

"We wanted it to say 'Best Boss Ever.'" Naomi was quick to explain. "And then Angel said you wouldn't like that because it's an exaggeration. So this was our compromise."

Jon started to laugh helplessly. "It's perfect," he said. He pulled his hoodie off and put the Tshirt on over the grey Tshirt he was already wearing. Kurt's ring was tucked safe against his skin, just the knot of the shoelace visible on the back of his neck.

"Everybody get in for a photo!" Terry was waving his hands, holding his phone, and everyone shifted off their chairs to smush around Jon; Angel crouched at his feet leaning against his calf, and Patrick threw his arms around Jon's shoulders, while the rest of his staff team crammed themselves on or around the couch. Jon had to shake tears out of his eyes to smile for the photo, pulling the shirt down to show off the words on his chest.

But possibly Jon's proudest moment was when Terry closed in prayer. The man's usual high-energy patter settled into a tone of sincere concern and his boss spent most of his prayer asking for Jordin and Dusty to have a safe positive time with their mother and grandmother. It was not lost on Jon that Terry got every one of Jordin's pronouns right.

3190 words.

*'Hard love' by NEEDTOBREATHE pretty much sums up my feelings about evangelical Christian settings right now. If you're a person with a queer or otherwise marginalized identity they are hard spaces to be in, and that is real. But the genuinely good work that evangelical not-for-profits like Jon's work house are doing is real too. And I guess the question is--how long can Jon stand to overlook the hurtful and problematic to stay for the good?

Thanks for the reads and votes lovelies--see you Saturday!*