{Kurt}

Kurt wasn't sure how much time to give the White parental units to clear out; he tucked himself in a back corner of the library, paging through slick fashion magazines and day dreaming about shoes until closing time. When he returned to the house, the living room was dark and quiet, the glow of a fire in the kitchen window.

In the shadowy backyard, Jon was pulled up to the fire pit alone, his hands folded between his knees as he gazed at the flames. As Kurt slipped out the back door, he caught a whiff of cigarettes under the wood smoke and he wondered if Cary had been here earlier.

"This is lovely," Kurt said.

Jon's eyes lifted to him, his smile flickering in the firelight.

Kurt stretched out in the Muskoka chair next to Jon, slipping his heels off with a sigh of relief and wiggling his bare toes to the warmth of the flames.

"Wondered if you were coming back," Jon said lightly.

Kurt flipped his hand. "Of course I'm coming back. All my clothes are in your closet."

Jon eased back in his chair, giving him an enigmatic look as he tucked his chin into the collar of his hoodie.

"How was dinner with Ma and Pa White?" Kurt asked.

"Fine." Jon's voice was neutral. "Then Cary took Mom home and Dad and I had a shout."

"Oh no," Kurt breathed, his stomach knotting again. "Are you okay?"

Jon sighed. "Yeah I'm okay. We just disagree." He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This might be hard to imagine but, in my family, shouting always ends in hugging."

Startled, Kurt laughed. "That is very hard for me to imagine."

Jon made a flat smile. "I was afraid of that."

"Were you shouting—about us?" Kurt asked, bracing.

"They're happy for me. But Dad thinks if I want to start dating I should resign to do it." Jon stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket, obviously still tense from the conversation. "He works so hard to hear me, but I forget sometimes. That he doesn't have to live this. In the messy imperfect, all the time." He made a dry noise. "The answers are so easy and obvious to him. I lost all my easy answers the year I realized I liked guys the way we're supposed to like girls. I never—have the luxury of just knowing what's the right thing to do to follow God, as a Christian man."

Kurt leaned his cheek in his hand, watching Jon. He felt as if, by stepping out here in the firelight, he had just shucked off the shell he'd been wearing to be Kurt Visser 'at large.' It was comfortable as breathing to be in his skin with this man, who kept undressing for him. Jon White had so many soft, secret corners on his inside; Kurt didn't want to look away for a moment.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked. He'd just given up on 'following God' entirely—it had never seemed worth wrestling for.

Jon sat for a minute, hands clasped. "So I still think the Bible has something to say about what it means to be human," he said. "It's so basic it seems stupid to have to point it out but. The whole—blessing God gives humans to be fruitful and multiply is in our DNA. Making babies and raising a family is such a good and beautiful and essentially human thing to do.

"When my dad became a man he just...did that. He married my mom and they had children together. At the end of the day, I think Dad will point to us as the most meaningful thing that he did with his life. Being a husband, being a dad, is what it means for Pete to be a man. Easy. I don't think he even—thinks about it."

Kurt hummed softly, feeling where this was going.

"I can't—do that." Jon's voice was deceptively light. "Making babies with a woman isn't open as an option for me. So whatever's left is already the messy imperfect. Because sex is part of being human too—enjoying our bodies together is a gift from God." He laughed once. "No one gave us that talk in Sunday school, but our Maker is surprisingly sex-positive. So if I say no to sex—I'm in the messy imperfect. If I say yes to sex with another man—the messy imperfect.

"What's the right way to do a less than optimal thing? As a gay Christian, those are always my only options. It's not a lifestyle; I don't get, like, a day off from being gay when it's easy and clear to be in my body. The messy imperfect is just my life." He sighed, sagging a little in his chair. "Well. You know, Kurt."

Reaching over, Kurt took Jon's hand, clasping it in the space between them. He hadn't thought of it this way, probably because he'd never had a firm belief in the 'tidy perfect.' But he was very familiar with the daily struggle to keep showing up as the person he felt himself to be, when stepping out as an expressive, emotional man wearing make-up was something most people didn't get, and a few people hated with a depth of personal feeling Kurt didn't understand.  Why did it matter to them if he wanted to wear eyeliner?

"You had girlfriends in high school," Jon said, gripping his hand back. "Is it an option for you? Could you make babies with a woman if you wanted?"

"Ye-es," Kurt said doubtfully. "I can make it work. But that doesn't seem fair to her or me. And that's no way to bring a baby in the world, with one of us wanting to be somewhere else."

"Right?" Jon's laugh was unsteady. "So what am I supposed to do? Dusty and Jordin are the closest thing to children that I have. I..." He seemed to get stuck, his hand open against his chest like he was bleeding into his palm.

"You love them," Kurt said.

Jon took a big, jerky breath. "I do. River House isn't just my job—it's the best way I know how to be the man I'm made to be. There's such a short list, Kurt, of decisions I'm sure were the right thing to do." Jon tapped a finger against his chest for each one. "Bringing Cary home with me. Coming out to my parents. Getting sober from opes. And signing on to River House."

Kurt felt like his understanding of Jon expanded two sizes, seeing the way Jon's work was tied up with his identity and his belief in a good Maker God who cared what you did with your life. He wove his fingers with Jon's a little tighter. He'd never seen anything like Jon White, baring his soul.

Jon's voice broke a little, going on. "And my dad thinks—I have less integrity if I have this secret thing in my private life. Like omitting to mention your existence at my workplace is going to be the blot on my record." He laughed shortly. "He has no idea how fucking messy my faith has always been, with or without a boyfriend. If my Maker isn't big enough to be kind to me in the mess I'm just--lost." The word pressed to a whisper. He stroked his thumb over Kurt's knuckles and let him go, tucking his fists into his hoodie pocket. 

Kurt pulled his robe around him against the chill and tucked his toes against the warm bricks of the fire pit, watching sparks chase each other into the night. He thought of Marcus in his sleek, grey suit musing, What do I have that could interest Kurt Visser? and laughed under his breath. Nothing that could touch this.

"Maybe it's irrelevant anyways," Jon said, low. Kurt shot him a questioning look, thinking he'd missed something.

Jon curled forward, his lips coloured rose-gold by firelight and the rest of his face shadowed by his hood. His mouth tucked in at the corner, and Kurt wanted to put his finger in the dent in his cheek, to smooth it out again.

"You leaving me, Kurt?" Jon asked. "Done your holiday? If you need to go, you can just say."

"Oh." Kurt pushed his hand against his chest, realizing what had been knotted underneath this whole conversation for Jon. "No. I'm not leaving you, Jon. I'll stay as long as you'll have me."

Jon lifted his eyes, looking for the truth in Kurt's face. He wore the same vulnerable expression that had terrified him earlier, his heart laid bare. Kurt smiled back, letting all his own tenderness show. He was still afraid, his past shit was touching him still, but he wasn't going to let that steal this if he could help it. Jon was the real thing. Kurt wanted to pull him close and try making a fire between them, to keep them both warm.

Kurt rubbed his ear, laughing a little at himself. "So I took myself on a date to Long and McQuade. Ran into a dude I hooked up with a couple weeks ago. Marcus. Guy wants to fly me to Europe with him, for some sort of gay holiday in the Alps. Christ. I must have made quite an impression."

"I have no doubt," Jon said. "What did you tell him?"

"Oh, I said no thank you," Kurt laughed. "I have the real thing at home."

Jon's eyes were wide, and he laughed once with him. "You did not. I can't believe you didn't take him up on that. An actual holiday, in the fucking Alps."

"Fucking Marcus," Kurt added. He shook his head. "Please. It's exhausting, being that person." He reached his arm across, touching the back of his hand against the front of Jon's hoodie, warm from the fire. "I like who I am with you."

Jon caught his hand in both of his, kissing the callous on Kurt's index finger before hugging his hand against himself. "Me too. I like who I am with you too."

"I think I'm fine with the messy imperfect," Kurt said thoughtfully. "I don't see what we shoulda been. I just see all the colours and all the interesting humans who don't fit the tidy norm. Like you and me. There's beauty everywhere, Jon."

He felt Jon's ribs expand in a big, slow breath. "Sleeping with me tonight, Kurt?" he asked softly.

"Mm-hmm, gladly," Kurt said.

1827 words.