{Cary}

As far as Cary was concerned, the biggest disappointment about their renovated house was the fact that they could not, in the end, fit a tub with jets up the stairway. He'd momentarily contemplated removing the entire bathroom wall and using a crane to move in his bubbly dream tub, but Jon had to be all reasonable and point out how many thousands more dollars that was going to cost, when this super-sized tub was surely big enough.

Easy for Jon to say, when he fit neatly into any model. Ordinary bath tubs were not made with plus-sized men in mind.

In the end Cary had installed the largest standard tub that a plus-sized man could haul up the stairs, and it was full of steaming water now, with some of the smelly oil Kurt had left sitting beside the tap. Cary scrubbed the hair on his head and body, then sank back under the water, his legs dangling over the edge to drip on the floor so his aching shoulders could be fully submerged. After a weekend of rest his body felt almost ready to take on a week of work again, but he was in no hurry to get out of this tub.

Mentally, he wiped his calendar clean. Liya had occupied most of his evenings and weekends—now those times were all open, all to himself. Time to stay home, to go to bed early and sleep as long as he wanted, or to stay up drawing the new story idea that was brewing in his imagination. Time to drop by his parents' for tea with Mel and board games with Bea.

He scratched his fingers through his chest hair, sighing contentedly. Women were complicated, and Liya had been more complicated than most. At some point he'd gotten so wrapped up in not being an asshole and making it work for her that he'd stopped checking if it was working for him.

He held his arms above his head, studying the tattoo sleeving his left, and the bare skin on his right, faintly scarred. He could do what he wanted with his body again. Time to finish the project of putting his story on his skin so his outside matched his inside. Liya had tolerated his tattoos but hadn't been thrilled by the idea of more. Probably that should have been a clue early on they weren't going to work out.

Wryly, Cary recognized that if women weren't so comforting to hug and cuddle with, he might be a very contented single man. Maybe it was time to quit trying so hard to find "the one" and just enjoy being the one and only he ever had to check with to make plans.

And get a dog to snuggle with.

*

No one could hug him quite like his mom. Somehow, Mel White's soft arms made Cary feel both big enough to handle anything, and small enough to snuggle up on her lap like he was three years old. Sometimes he daydreamed about being three years old with Mel as his mom, instead of the woman who had given him half his DNA, and half his childhood trauma, now MIA.

Instead of making him sad that he'd never been cozy in a child-sized bed with Mel's voice reading him stories and singing him to sleep, it made Cary enormously happy, because he knew if she could, Mel would go back and do exactly that. Her love for him reached back into those dark years to love the child he had been, as well as embrace the man he was now.

"How are you, Cary?" Mel asked, letting him go with a smile and patting his bearded cheek, still fluffy from his bath. "You look nice and trim—did you get a haircut?"

Cary ducked his head, laughing drily. "Did, yeah. I'm good, Mom. Good to see you."

Behind her, Jon's dad held out a casserole dish wrapped in towels, and Cary took it out of his hands. They hugged, clapping each other on the back. "Good to see you, son," Pete said.

"How're you, Dad?" Cary asked.

"Better than I deserve," Pete said, his mouth curved in a more crinkled, beard-y version of Jon's smile.

Cary grinned back. "Know exactly what you mean." He carried the casserole into the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder at them. "Jon's coming late. I think he's bringing Visser—uh, Kurt."

When he turned, Pete and Mel were both looking at him, surprise and curiosity in their faces. "Is there something we should know?" Pete asked, a glint of good humor in his eyes.

"Uhh," Cary held up his hands. "Not my place to say. I'm just saying...we need one more place setting."

Mel pushed a chunk of greying bangs out of her eyes, her soft face glowing. "Oh my goodness, I've been following Kurt's music since Jon spoke of him weeks ago. He's so talented. I'm a little..." She giggled. "I'm a little fluttery. Is Jon...? Do you think...?"

Pete said quietly, "Let's let the boys tell us themselves."

As they were setting the table, pulled into the living room to make room for five chairs, they heard the sound of car doors slamming. Mel's face brightened and she hurried to the kitchen, standing on tip-toe to look out the window above the sink.

"Peter," she hissed. "Come here! Our son is kissing a man!"

Cary blushed on Jon's behalf. Pete came up behind his wife, peeking out the window with an arm around her waist, fitting together effortlessly with long years of marriage. He laughed softly and put his lips to her hair. "Remember when we made out like that?" he asked quietly.

"We still make out like that," Mel teased back.

"Argh," Cary grumbled, covering his burning ears. "I'm right here--your children don't want to know!" But secretly it warmed his heart. Probably Pete and Mel's marriage was the reason why he kept trying to find 'the one.' Their marriage was proof you could have a partner in love and family life over the long haul, with no scars to show for it. One of these days Jon was going to move out to lead his own adult life and Cary tried not to think about all the lonely years ahead, even with a dog to keep him company.

Jon came in from the back entryway, breathless and pink—perhaps from the nipping cold that came with nightfall now. "Hey Mom, hey Dad, sorry we're late. Um—you remember Kurt?" He reached back, tugging his boyfriend forward by the front of his silky dressing gown. Kurt was drawn up tall, poised and watchful.

"Oh my goodness, Kurtis, of course we do," Mel said. "Your music used to sweep me away on a Sunday morning. I still see your mother volunteering at the Mission every week."

"An outstanding philanthropist, Ma Klassen," Kurt drawled. "When it comes to other people's children."

Mel didn't seem to know what to make of this comment and Cary bristled a little. If Kurt was going to be a shithead to his parents, he was going to have trouble restraining himself.

Kurt and Pete sized each other up over Mel's head. Kurt was inches taller in the heels he was casually wearing below his slim black jeans. Jon's dad smiled. "Pleased to see you again, Kurt," he said easily. "Visser, is it now?"

"That's my preference," Kurt said. "And I imagine also my family's. You might remember their very particular views on who's in and who's out. And I'm very—out."

Pete laughed softly, sympathy in his eyes, and Cary wondered if Kurt could see it. "I do remember," Pete said. "You're welcome at our table anytime, Kurt. Any friend of Jon's is a friend of mine."

A wicked glint came into Kurt's eyes and he wrapped his arm over Jon's chest from behind, snugging him indecently close. "Are we just 'friends,' love?" Jon tipped his head back to look up at him and Cary drew a breath, seeing the glow of happiness coming off Jon's skin. He couldn't think of the last time he'd seen his brother that happy.

"I hope not," Jon said drily. He met his parent's looks with that glowing smile as he said, "I told you we bumped into each other at Kurt's last concert? We just...I don't know, picked up where we left off in high school."

"Minus the religious oppression," Kurt murmured into his hair.

"We're seeing each other," Jon said. He laughed a little. "As often as possible."

Kurt rested his chin on the top of Jon's head, narrowing his eyes at Pete and Mel, his arms still wrapped protectively over Jon's chest. Cary's own anxiety was winding up, recognizing the hair trigger on this bomb, and no idea how to diffuse it.

"That's wonderful news," Mel said warmly. Her hands lifted like for a second she thought of hugging them both, then she just clasped them against her soft body. Her face fell a little. "Oh Jon, the boys will be so disappointed to lose you at the house."

Pete stepped beside her, putting an arm around her waist, where her curves tucked in and made a corner just right for his hand to rest. "I hope you're joining us for supper, Kurt," he said. "I confess we had given up hope Jon would ever bring a good man home to meet us. I'm delighted to admit I was wrong."

"Only because I was so adamant, Dad, it was never going to happen. I'm the one who was wrong. I did not in any way see Kurt coming. And I'm not sorry." Jon tilted his head back to look at Kurt again. "You'll stay, won't you?"

Kurt hesitated a second. "I think I'm going to say no," he said. "You seem good here. It's been a long day." He was already stepping back, putting his hands in his back pockets.

"Oh." Jon sounded surprised. "Okay. I'll see you—out, I guess."

"I can see myself out, thank you, Jon," Kurt said.

"Wait," Jon said softly, catching Kurt before he could get away. He stood on tip toes to put a kiss on Kurt's lips, his hands stroking the hair back from the other man's face. Cary turned his face aside from the intimate moment, just watching from the corner of his eye. Jon said something in his ear, too low to hear, and Kurt pulled away, only lowering his eyes in an answer. He didn't acknowledge Pete and Mel at all as he ducked out the back door.

Cary put his knuckles against his moustache, watching Jon stand still and alert, as the back door thumped shut. That looked like it hurt. Jon bowed his head, shoving his fists in his pockets, gathering himself.

Before Jon had to face his parents again, Cary threw himself under the bus. "So, me and Liya broke up," he said gruffly.

1829 words.

*Why do you think Kurt left so abruptly?

For an alternate version of this scene, where Kurt stays for dinner, hop on down to 'Bonus | Happy coincidence - deleted scene.'*