{Jon}

When Rev. Marisol lifted her hands to bless and dismiss them, Kurt was out of the pew a step ahead of everyone else. Jon followed, laughing a little as Kurt ran down the steps of the church to the car, and then put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His boyfriend's blue eyes found his, grinning back at him. Jon knew him well enough now to know there was a grain of truth and a generous helping of drama in Kurt's emotional performances.

On the way home, Jon asked. "How was that for you?"

"Oh my god so lonnnnng." Kurt groaned. "Were our church services always so long?"

"Shorter sermon," Jon pointed out.

Kurt gave himself a shake, like a dog shedding water. "Let's do something today, White. Let's go somewhere."

Jon glanced warily at him.

Kurt's face lit up, his hands talking with his words. "What if we drive to Red Deer? That's an hour and a half away. And go for lunch and walk in a park and just—be somewhere together."

Jon's face slowly loosened--it was a completely viable idea. "Are you asking me out on a date, Kurt Visser?"

"Yes!" Kurt slapped the dashboard. "I am asking you out on a date, Jon White!"

Jon wrinkled his nose at him. "You expect me to be seen in public with you, in that outfit?"

Kurt's lips curled, pleased. "Obviously we'll go home to change first."

"Then yes," Jon said. "It's a date."

At home, Jon leaned in the doorway of Kurt's room, watching his boyfriend open every drawer. Finally, Kurt threw his robe over his black ensemble, spinning to make it flare around him. "Better?" he asked.

Jon crossed the room and reached up to pull Kurt's hair out of the elastic, messing it up so it fell over his forehead and tucking it behind his ear. "Better," he agreed.

Kurt took a step back to study him, looking pained. "Is that what you're wearing?"

Jon shrugged. "It's this or the damned hoodie."

Circling him, Kurt gathered the sides of Jon's sweater in his hands. "Why are all of your clothes so big? If you're going to wear a grey poly-blend could you at least wear one that fits?"

Jon laughed a little. "I don't know--I though this did fit."

Kurt walked Jon to stand in front of the full-length mirror on his door, his eyes wide and appalled. "Bish, I could literally climb inside this sweater and join you."

Jon shrugged, amused. "I mean, not literally, but it might be fun to try."

Kurt was riffling through his closet, and he held up a warning finger behind him. "Don't tempt me." He pulled a shirt off the hanger, tugging tags off as he handed it over. "Try this."

It was a button-down short sleeve, in a coppery brown colour, with embroidered chrysanthemums gleaming gold all over the fabric. Kurt watched him, fingers over his mouth as Jon shucked off the offending sweater and Tshirt as one and pulled on the button-up instead. It was snug enough to touch the skin of his body and Jon shrugged his shoulders a little, uncomfortable with how exposed he felt in it.

Kurt bit his lip, his eyes sparkling behind him. "That fits."

Jon glowered at his reflection, his fists closing at his sides. "I look tiny," he said. The fit of the shirt made his compact frame blatantly obvious. Either of his housemates could have circled his waist with their normal-sized-man hands and touched their fingers on both sides.

"Oh for god's sake, White," Kurt said exasperated, smoothing his hands over the spread of Jon's shoulders. "You're not 'tiny.' None of your important parts are 'tiny.'"

"Ha." Jon's eyes flicked to his face, a little colour in his cheeks.

Kurt laughed. "Sure, also that." Pulling his robe out with a flourish he settled on the end of the bed. "Darlin', I'm not hung up on size whatsoever. There's dudes out there who only want a hook up with one type of guy and it's a crying shame, when there's so many men out there and you could be sampling the whole smorgasbord."

"Uh huh, sounds delicious." Jon's voice was very dry. He was not reassured to be added to Kurt's varied buffet of men. "How many."

"How many?" Kurt sat a little straighter. "Is that important?"

Jon shoved his hands in his pockets, twitching his shoulders in a shrug. Honestly, he just wanted to get the worst part over with, like ripping off a Band-aid. No more guessing what number he was in line. "I really have no idea. And this has been—something important to you. So, I guess yeah. I'd like to know what I'm up against."

Kurt looked like he was doing an unpleasant math sum in his head. "I didn't keep count." He set his elbows on his knees and opened his phone, flicking through the screen. "Times when I was drinking are pretty blurry, to be honest. A couple times a week? When I wasn't with Nicky." He made a face. "Sometimes when I was. Christ, I don't know, Jon." He tossed the phone away onto the rumpled bedspread and shoved his hands through his hair, looking up at him. "Definitely more 'n a hundred. A hundred thirty maybe? If that—gives you some idea."

Jon sucked in his breath. It was an unthinkably large number, when he could barely wrap his head around having one sexual partner who was a man. He turned on his heel to glare at himself in the mirror. "That's not intimidating at all," he muttered, yanking the hem of the shirt down. "Jesus."

"Does it have to be a competition?" Kurt asked in a small voice.

"I hope not, or I'm clearly outmatched," Jon said sharply. "A hundred thirty guys who know what the fuck they're doing. And have no reservations about it." He rubbed his face, feeling a little sick. How in the world did he imagine Kurt would stay interested in a man like him?

Kurt's hands crumpled and smoothed the robe in his lap. "I'm not with you because you're... hot in bed, Jon," he said. "That's, um. Pretty easy for me to come by."

Jon turned, all his anger collapsing into despair. "Why are you with me, Kurt? I still don't understand what you get out of this."

"Is it really so hard to believe I might like you for you?" Kurt asked softly. He brushed hair out of his eyes, his long mouth crooked and unhappy. “Ask me how many actual boyfriends I’ve had, Jon. Ask me how many men have signed up to be with Kurt Visser when I’m not doing sexy things for them.”

Jon tipped his face to study his expression. “How many?”

“Two,” Kurt said promptly. “Not counting you. A guy on my football team who was—and is—still closeted. And Nicky.”

Kurt arched his back and crossed his legs, winding his foot behind his calf so his long limbs looked braided together.

(He was so effortlessly sexy. Was he even aware of how hot he looked right now?)

"Darlin', I'm aware I'm not the kind of gay you bring home to keep," Kurt said. "I'm the wildly impractical floor model everyone takes for a spin before picking the real thing. That's why I have so many rules now."

His sharp hand gestures betrayed some anger. "No kissing unless we're having sex. No chitty-chat over text in between. No third dates. Because by the third date, I get attached and they--detach. They do the math on how expensive and high maintenance and overly emotional Kurt Visser would be to keep. I mean. Might as well be with a woman." The word snapped and broke and it sounded to Jon like he was quoting.

Jon's mouth was open. He couldn't imagine someone not wanting Kurt, just like this, how he was, fancy and expressive and quick to tears and quick to smile again after. "Well that's nonsense," Jon said. "You're a perfectly adorable queer man. Seriously, who says this shit about you? Point me at him and I'll sort him out for you."

Kurt rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrists, laughing unsteadily. "I like you so much Jon."

Jon lifted his chin; that was really all he needed to know. This conversation had obviously hurt Kurt's feelings and he wasn't standing for that a minute longer. He crossed the bedroom, tugging on Kurt's robe and running the fabric through his fingers. "Hey. Kurt Visser. Want to go on a date with me? I think we should take this 'wildly impractical' model for a road trip. I want to make every head in Red Deer turn as you go by."

Kurt glanced at him through his hair, a little smile curling the corner of his mouth. "Do you?"

"Definitely." Jon stepped back, glancing back at the mirror to look critically at his body. "I'm just going to take your word on this shirt."

"Hella hot." Kurt helped himself to the Kleenex box next to the bed, loudly blowing his nose and then making a few clean tissues disappear up his sleeve. "Hand to god, White. No one is going to be able to stop checking you out."

"I don't think you grasp how much I hate being noticed," Jon said drily.

"Just me then," Kurt said. "I'm not going to be able to stop checking you out."

"Slightly less terrible," Jon said. "I'm counting on you to draw everyone's attention away from me."

Kurt got to his feet, shaking his hair out of his face. "Then I guess I better go do my face."

Grinning, Jon hurried after him. "Wait, I'm coming to watch."

*Well that was almost a huge fight, phew, date day in Red Deer is saved!*

1608 words.