{Cary}

Monday morning, Kurt looked rumpled and hung over, slouching up to Cary's truck at the work site. Cary checked him with quick sideways looks as he passed Kurt the tool box and gloves.

Not hung over--beat up. Kurt's mouth was faintly swollen and pink in the plain morning light, and his eyes were lidded and wary. Cary had seen that face in the mirror enough times growing up to recognize it.

Neither of them were prone to chatting before noon; it gave Cary time to mull the whole thing over. Jon had pretty much floated through his Sunday afternoon with a smile on his face; Cary had a knot in his stomach, worrying that things with Kurt were moving faster than he'd expected and Jon was maybe too inexperienced to be careful. Kurt didn't say much about his personal life—for all Cary knew, his ex-boyfriend was still in the picture somewhere. Or some other bad news dude.

At lunchtime Cary took them to a family-owned Mexican place where they could sit down over hand cut nachos and talk. They weren't in the booth a minute before Kurt curled up with his face in the corner of his elbow, looking like he planned to take a nap on the table.

"Hey," Cary said. "Visser. We need to talk about you and Jon."

"Yeah? My favourite subject." One corner of Kurt's mouth curled up.

Cary crossed his arms; first things first. "When was your last check up. For STIs."

Kurt drew a knee to his chest, sighing. "I'm on it, big man. Safe as houses."

Cary made a dry noise. "I think we both know houses aren't safe."

Kurt cut him a look, his mouth flat-lining. "We're not fucking," he said quietly. "We established that ahead of time. I'm pretty sure I've had about a hundred more partners than Jon's comfortable with. So. That's that."

Cary frowned. "What do you mean, that's that."

Kurt lifted his shoulders.

"Are you not—seeing each other anymore?"

Colour came up in Kurt's cheeks and he hid his face in his arms. "No, we are." His voice was muffled. "I made him a deal. I'm on a holiday from hook ups and he's...letting me pretend he's my boyfriend. Just for a bit. Because he's curious, I think? And he's too kind to turn me down flat."

Cary blinked and gave his head a shake, unsure if he should be alarmed or amused. "You're pretending Jon's your boyfriend? What is he really then?"

Kurt drew his shoulders up in sharp shapes under his T-shirt. "He's my friend I wish was my boyfriend." His voice was breathy and feminine an Cary was abruptly worried Kurt was going to cry in public—he wasn't great with public crying.

To Cary's great relief, the nachos arrived, piled high with cheese and spicy ground beef. Kurt unfolded, brightening for the first time all day. They ate through the pile while Cary turned over what Kurt had said.

"So you're not seeing anyone else," Cary clarified.

Kurt shook his head.

"That drummer dude?" Cary asked.

Kurt made a face. "Oh hell no."

"Well," Cary said slowly. "Okay then. You wanna tell me why you look like you been sleepin' in your car?"

Kurt laughed once. "Because I am sleepin' in my car. I'm stayin' on a friend's couch tonight maybe, if I don't mind her toddler jumping on me for an alarm clock."

"What happened to your home-sweet-shit-hole?"

Kurt brushed his hand over his face. "My landlord's a dick. Raised the rent, like, a thousand dollars." He wouldn't meet Cary's eyes, and Cary swiftly used a finger to flip Kurt's palm up on the table. The rainbow welts of a stove burn were unmistakable. Kurt yanked his hand back, crossing his arms and hiding it against his shirt.

"A dick, huh," Cary said, his voice a little flat. "You okay?"

Kurt made his mouth smile, but his eyes were tired. "I'm moved out. Any chance you'd trust me with an advance? I'm gonna need to make a damage deposit on someplace new. With, like, clean carpets. I'm good for the work, I promise. I'm a little--invested, at this point."

"Your landlord isn't givin' you any back?"

Kurt drooped a little and shook his head. "I didn't pay him in cash when I moved in, Douglas," he said softly. His throat moved as he met Cary's eyes.

Cary looked away first, angry with himself for backing Kurt into a corner where he had to admit that. Cary had just been trying to adult his way out of this problem—apparently he'd been off the street so long he'd forgotten there weren't a lot of tidy adult solutions on the wrong side of the poverty line. Just some shitty workarounds.

"Yeah I'll see what I can do," Cary said.

{Jon}

Cary called thirty minutes before he needed to leave for his work shift, saying gruffly without preamble: "Hey Jon, I need to ask you something."

"Uh-huh?" Jon said, pulling pages off the printer and checking that they were in the right order. Who even wanted hard copies of student essays anymore?

"Uh--"

Jon waited.

"Um--"

"Cary, spit it out, I have to hand in a paper and get to work."

"Are you in trouble if Visser comes to live with us?"

Blank.

Kurt coming down the stairs, shirtless from the shower. Kurt curled around his guitar in his living room, looking up from the lyric sheets spread on the hardwood around him.

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked.

"Look, I been there and his place is a shit hole. Something went down with his landlord and he's sleeping in his car. It's gonna take his whole paycheck to afford something better on his own and I thought—he could split the cost of living with us."

Jon's throat made soft, involuntary sound, and he cleared it, giving his head a shake. "Does Kurt know you're asking me this?"

"No," Cary said. "If this is gonna make things harder for you I won't offer. I'll just advance him the next week's pay and help him find someplace else."

Jon's mind had restarted, processing. "No one at work knows where I live." Technically his address was on his file, but he never hung out with staff outside of work anywhere, let alone in his personal home. "Shit—I wish his car was less recognizable." He tugged his hand through his hair, looking out the window at the blank-faced houses lining his street, wishing he didn't have to consider that.

"I shouldna asked," Cary said. "I'll just--"

"No, it's okay," Jon said quickly. "If Kurt's in trouble, we'll make it work. Go ahead and ask. It's your house and he's your crew. That will make sense to people. Right?" He rubbed his hand against his fluttering stomach. "Oh my god all my shit is in that closet. I don't have time to clean it out."

Cary huffed a laugh. "Least of my worries, the shit in your closet. He might not even say yes."

{Kurt}

<Did Douglas ask you if I can fdfhjuv>

<can't type so flustered>

<Douglas offered me a room in your house>

<You do not need to say yes>

<I'm ok>

Cary was watching Kurt text, leaning against his truck. "I told you already he said it was fine."

Kurt shot him a glare. "I'm not taking Jon for granted just because he has a spare room."

"It's my spare room too," Cary grumbled.

Kurt's phone rang in his hand and he swiped it and put it to his ear, heart drumming. "Hey Jon?"

"Hey Kurt?" Jon said back. "You're spelling and punctuating your texts? It made me a bit worried you're not okay."

"I'm—uh—what?" Kurt laughed. "No, the opposite of what I'm trying to say. I am okay, White. I didn't ask Cary to ask you if I can stay at your house—I had no idea he was going to call you. I'm not—I don't need you to say yes. I just want that to be clear." He was having trouble getting a full breath in.

"Do you have someplace to sleep tonight?"

"I—technically no, but there's someone from AA I'll just call and ask—"

"Someone with a spare room you can use a couple weeks to find a new place?"

Kurt shoved his hair back from his forehead, grimacing. "No, but I don't need you to go out of your way for me. I really can figure this out for myself."

There was a pause, and the sound of an espresso machine whooshing in the background. "Yeah I know you can," Jon said. "Would you, um, consider it? It's no trouble. The room's just there. We talked about renting it, but it's a hassle to find a stranger we like enough to live with. So. You could help us out. If it was you—renting it. For a bit."

Jon's soft, rational arguments were reeling him in, hook line and sinker. "I'm gonna be all up in your space, White," Kurt said, exasperated. "You're gonna be sick of me in three days flat."

"I won't be around very much," Jon said. "You'll have your own space, Kurt, to do your thing."

Kurt pressed his lips tight, feeling himself shivering. How did Jon know that was the answer he actually needed to hear? The minute he'd moved into Nicky's house, Kurt had kissed every shred of independence or privacy good-bye. Everything in Nicky's house belonged to Nicky.

He didn't know how to tell Jon how scared he was that would happen again. "Okay," Kurt said shortly. "Just for a bit. Until I find my own place."

"Sure," Jon said, and Kurt heard the warmth of his smile in his voice. "Guess I'll get to see you before Saturday."

Kurt laughed, some of his tension releasing. "You won't be able to miss me. Six-foot-tall queer in your kitchen."

"Hm, sounds lovely," Jon said.

Cary gave Kurt a pointed look when he got off the phone. "Told you so."

Kurt shoved his phone back in his pocket, foolishly unable to wipe the smile off his face. Hearing Jon's actual voice made him feel better than he had all morning. "Yeah, it's on." He stuck out his unburned hand to shake on it. "Just this month, while I get my shit together."

"Sure," Cary said easily. "You eat bread right? And sugar? I'll shop for groceries on the way home."

1766 words.

*Re-readers, this was a new dynamic that came out in this version. In the previous version I didn't explore how ambivalent Kurt might feel about moving in with Jon, given his history with Nicky. You like?*