{Jon}

It was nearly midnight when Jon came on shift, and Angel was yawning and rubbing her eyes in the office. She brightened when he came in.

"Hey boss, you look nice," Angel said.

Jon glanced at himself, realizing he'd grabbed a button-up sweater Kurt had bought for him instead of his hoodie. The camel-brown sweater was buttery soft and light, but still incredibly warm. Kurt said it was cashmere and Jon had no idea what that meant except he wasn't allowed to wash it with his normal clothes. In spite of being such a high-maintenance garment, the sweater had become Jon's favorite.

"Thanks. Uh, I can take zero credit for this outfit." A tailor had helped him find pants that actually fit and the boots and patterned shirt were Kurt's good taste again.

"Suits you," she said.

"Any news from the day?" Jon asked.

She shook her head, pulling on her sweater and tuque. "All's well. I'm heading to bed. Someone scheduled staff meeting bright and early tomorrow."

Jon smiled ruefully. "I take 100% credit for that. Thanks Angel."

He paced through the house, checking that his kids were peacefully asleep in their beds and eyeing the menu for tomorrow that he would prep tonight. He put in a load of laundry and set a timer on his phone before curling on the couch under a blanket, in case he fell asleep.

<still up?> he texted Kurt.

His phone lit up and Kurt's voice said, "Natty Lite," smokily in his ear. "How's the house?"

Jon smiled. "All quiet. Laundry going. Tomorrow's staff meeting is just a check in and prayer time. Nothing I need to prepare. How's the tent?"

"Cozy," Kurt said. "Think I'll keep it."

"Where did you even find it?"

"Camping supplies store. I think it's a portable beach change room? I dunno, just when I saw it I had to have it."

Jon laughed softly. "You're outrageous."

"You like it," Kurt said, chuckling.

"Could I be any more obvious than I am already?" Jon put his hand over his eyes, smiling.

Kurt hummed, pleased. "I do love that about you. Your whole body blushes and now I know that."

Jon's ears were hot and he could feel his whole body blushing now. "Ugh. Never tell anyone that."

"Of course not. Just for us."

Jon took a breath. It felt like Kurt had unlocked and opened every part of his heart tonight and, as scary as it felt, he was stepping off the ledge to talk about that. "Hey Kurt?"

"Mm-hmm?"

Jon fisted his hands, burrowing his shoulders deeper into the couch. "You said some things tonight about getting old together. Did you--mean that?"

There was a pause. "Yeah of course I meant that," Kurt said quietly. "We're playing for keeps, aren't we? I'm ready to settle down and make it work with you for the long haul." He cleared his throat. "If that doesn't mess up your plans. Is that not...what you want?"

Jon pressed his fingers against the heat of his eyes, taking a slow breath. He could barely get his voice louder than a whisper. "That's what I want so much." He took the phone away from his mouth, feeling himself start to cry like he had when Kurt sung 'Lovers' Prayer' over him, a song so full of hope and goodness that he could hardly believe it when Kurt said was about him.

"I want to marry you." Kurt's warm, muffled voice made it sound like he was hugging the phone. "I'm not in a rush but...I been dreaming about having kids with you. And getting old together. And taking off your socks when you're too decrepit to reach them."

Jon's laugh shook him and more tears came out of his eyes. "I thought you'd run the other way if I said I wanted that. I didn't want to pressure you to be someone you're not."

Kurt snorted. "Bish, I've been planning my big fat gay wedding for years. I'm not scared of marrying you. I'm scared of not. I have nightmares about you--leaving me. An' I just--" Jon heard him take an unsteady breath. "I just love you, Jon. I don't wanna do life without you. I can't even imagine it anymore."

In the quiet, Jon took another damp, shuddering breath.

"I wish you were here," Kurt said in a small voice. "Are you cryin'?"

Jon laughed through his tears. "Yes. Again. Thank you."

"Are you sad? I know this wasn't what you planned. You coulda passed for straight and just kept doing your thing if I hadn't showed up on your doorstep."

Jon exhaled slowly, wiping his face on the blanket. "No, I'm not sad." His voice was rough with tears. "I'm not straight. I don't want to keep doing my thing alone. I want to be with you. I'm crying because I'm so--happy. That you want to be with me too."

Kurt laughed shakily. "Why are we like this? Why are we doing this over the phone when you're so tired you can hardly walk a straight line? When am I seeing you tomorrow?"

With effort, Jon dredged up his memory of the day ahead of this shift. "I have a paper due at midnight. I'm sleeping after staff meeting then going to the library. Bedtime?"

Kurt groaned. "Too far away. You eating at the library?"

"Yeah I'll have to grab something. Only thing I can have from the vending machines is potato chips and those go right to my love handles."

"Why don't I pick something up and come see you? At five?"

"I would love that," Jon said quietly.

"I'm counting the hours, Natty Lite," Kurt said, and hung up.

Jon tucked his phone into his pocket, slinging his arm over his eyes. Me too, love. The realization that Kurt Visser wanted to be with him with no end date felt like sunrise in the middle of the night. However, that did not keep Jon from dropping instantly asleep.

{Kurt}

After taking a long hot bath, Kurt pulled his guitar case out from under his bed. He'd managed to save two things in all the years he'd been without a home of his own: his guitar, and inside the belly of this case, a worn leather box stamped with gold printing, now rubbed away with time. Kurt opened his guitar case, then the little compartment inside the neck of the case, pulling out Grandma Visser's ring box.

Nestled in the faded black velvet of the box were two wedding rings, one wide, one slender and small. Otto Visser had not been well off when he asked Kurt's Grandma to marry him right after the war; both bands were plain yellow gold. Over the years Otto had given his wife other more ornate rings and these had gone to her married daughters when she had passed away.

But Grandma Visser had left her simple wedding bands to her oldest grandchild, Kurt. At age eighteen, holding this box in his hand, Kurt had barely any idea if he would even have a marriage partner like she'd had, but he'd kept these safe all this time knowing that she wanted that for him. He didn't think anyone in his family even remembered he still had them. These rings weren't valuable at all compared to the jewellery his mother had in her collection.

Kurt slipped Otto's wedding band over his ring finger; it was a little loose. Grandma's band might have made it past his knuckle if he never wanted to get it off again.

He couldn't fall asleep before he had looked up a jewellers to get them sized. Just in case. A man liked to be prepared.

1294 words.