{Jon}

Monday morning, Jon was up before either of his housemates, wading into the pile of readings and assignments that he'd been unable to tackle in the aftermath of a migraine. Grimly, he blocked out the time it was going to take to catch up on his homework between his shifts. He was barely going to be able to squeeze in a fifteen-minute yoga stretch, let alone extended time with Kurt.

The last thing he had time to worry about what whether or not his body was even going to work for them.

Folding his hands behind his neck, Jon got lost remembering Kurt singing in his ear last night, the tender heat of his skin against his fingers. He didn't trust his head, but he was good with his hands. He had long relied on them to do all the needful things--fold laundry and make meals for the kids at River House, type papers for school, grip and block in Jui Jitsu class to teach his students good defence. It shook Jon to realize that he held this in his hands now too--he could give Kurt a moment of pleasure so intimate it was almost unbearable.

If that wasn't enough to turn him on, Jon didn't know what was. He was just going to have to work with what he had. He hoped to God it wasn't a deal breaker for Kurt.

When Kurt padded into the kitchen in his paint-spattered jeans and T-shirt and helped himself to coffee, Jon emerged from his laptop, stretching and getting up.

"Bad news, Visser," he said. "Your boyfriend is buried in homework all week."

"Guess I'll just have to catch him in passing and look forward to the weekend," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes in a smile. He put out an arm invitingly, and Jon leaned sideways against him, sighing. It already seemed like the most natural thing in the world to fit himself under Kurt's arm.

A few sips later, Kurt seemed a little more alert. "You work the same as last week? Done shift Thursday at 11?"

"Yes," Jon said.

For a second, Kurt looked hopeful, then his face fell. "Shit, Nicky's on nights. That's the one he has off and we have practice. I think I can get away by midnight. Is that too late for you?"

Jon pulled up on the base of his neck, stretching out the tightness that lingered there. He added to his mental do-list the notes for the next session of diversity training, 9 a.m. Friday morning. "I can wait up."

"What are you doing right now?" Kurt asked.

Jon felt like the closeness of Kurt's body was recharging him for the day. "Coffee break with my boyfriend," he said drily.

Kurt bit his lip, stroking his hand over Jon's shoulders and neck. "Um, your boyfriend is wondering if you're interested in kissing this morning? Or talking and backrubs?"

"No talking," Jon said. He slid his hand around the back of Kurt's neck to draw his face down to his. "I'm always interested in kissing you." Even dressed in paint-spattered work clothes, Kurt smelled faintly floral and his mouth tasted cool as mint.

Kurt blindly set his mug on the counter as they kissed, sliding his sock feet wide so they were the same height. His hands pressed through the shirt on Jon's back but didn't wander to try anything else. The warmth of his presence unpicked the knot of concern in Jon's stomach. This he could do anytime, anywhere with Kurt.

Kurt's coffee was cold before he picked it up again and slurped it down in one gulp on his way out the door with Cary, turning walk backwards and catch Jon's eye, his lips curling in a smile. "'Til tomorrow, White."

{Kurt}

Mid-morning, Kurt and Cary scraped the last of the drywall mud into the seams of their latest basement job, and Cary started packing up.

"Nothing to do 'til this dries, Visser," he said. "And I'm craving soul food. Want to come shopping?"

"What sort of question is that?" Kurt laughed, and took the stairs two at a time to the truck.

To his surprise, Cary did not head to a restaurant--he pulled up in front of an unassuming pink brick building with a hand-lettered sign that said 'Fellingers' Meats.' Inside, Kurt tagged along behind Cary's shoulder, peering at cuts of meat in glass cases. The air smelled like pepper and, faintly, of blood. Nothing was plastic-wrapped onto Styrofoam trays, like he was used to in the grocery store.

"I like to know where my cow came from," Cary said. "You don't know what you're missing if you never had fresh, locally farmed beef."

"If you say so, big man," Kurt said, bemused. His family ate red meat almost every night, but he had no idea where his mother bought it. There were very strict rules in his house about which were pink jobs and which were blue. He had snuck into the kitchen to peer over the women's shoulders as often as possible, feeling that pink suited him just as well.

In their kitchen at home, Cary unwrapped the brown paper from a massive side of dark red beef, marbled white with fat. "Fall makes me hungry for my Aunt Tru's beef bourguigon," he explained. "There's red wine in it, but the alcohol cooks off so no worries for you." He put a peeler in Kurt's hand and a mountain of carrot and onions in front of him.

"The secrets in the time," Cary said, hauling out an enormous stoneware baking pot. "Low and slow makes the juices all come out and do a dance. In six hours we'll have beautiful, falling apart meat with caramelized veggies..." He trailed off, looking dreamy.

Kurt had other dreamy things on his mind. "Douglas, can I ask you some advice about Jon?"

Cary's hands deftly made cubes of his beef. "Yuh. Everything okay with you two?" He glanced at him, his eyebrows low and worried.

Kurt couldn't keep a smile from curling his lips. "Uh-huh. I like him a lot. But, uh, I don't think my previous experience is gonna help me much here."

"Not surprised," Cary said.

"Have you ever dated a demisexual?" Kurt asked frankly.

Cary stopped, hands in mid-air, staring at him.

"Like, someone who only feels sexy if--"

"I know what demisexual means," Cary said gruffly. "Just never put it together that's Jon." He glanced up, his expression thoughtful. "Makes sense though."

Kurt was not making very much progress with his vegetables because he was talking with his hands. "Okay, so obviously any dude I've hooked up with is good to go on sight." He laughed. "Never occurred to me there's a world of men I'm never gonna meet with a set up like that. And...Jon's special." His heart burned again, as he remembered Jon's face tucked in his throat, Jon's gentle hands holding him. "I would go a long way around to figure out how to make it work with him."

"That's good to hear," Cary said evenly. "Scared me a little walking out on him like you did yesterday."

Kurt took a breath, realizing how his abrupt exit must have felt to Jon, when even Cary noticed. If Jon needed emotional closeness to 'switch on', Kurt had made that hard for him yesterday in more ways than one. "I'm on a hell of a learning curve," he admitted, rubbing his ear. "Church and family weren't good for me like they were for Jon. I think I can get over it? I'm willing to try."

Cary sighed. "Here's what I can tell you about Jon's--" He tapped his sternum. "--you know, his feely parts. He keeps them a mile deep, Visser."

Kurt applied himself to peeling and chopping the carrots while he listened.

"You might think Jon's a soft, feely guy like us, because he's got that smile and he goes out of his way to be kind." Cary shook his head. "Jon's a vault. He's got goodness on like a bulletproof vest. He's giving you that smile and the real thing he's feeling is way down, out of sight. The first thing he says when you ask how he's doing? Almost never the full truth. He won't let you see he's not okay, unless he's real sure you're safe and you don't need him being strong. He's a better liar than I ever was, and that's been true long as I've known him." Cary seemed to catch himself from saying more, falling silent.

Kurt put his orange-stained fingers over his mouth, matching Cary's words with the reserved person he was coming to know. The glimpses of Jon's vulnerability were captivating because they were so rare. "Is there a reason?" he asked. "Why Jon keeps everything--" He closed his hands against his chest like doors.

"Yeah, course there's a reason," Cary said quietly. Kurt waited, but he didn't offer anything more.

Cary tossed a handful of flour over his mountain of beef cubes, cracking on pepper and then mixing them briskly with his hands. The work seemed to cheer him; a smile pulled up one side of his mouth.

"Listen, Kurt. In my experience, you want to warm up a person on the ace spectrum for the sexy bits, you just keep the heat turned low and slow." He scooped the beef into the pot, washing his big hands and then pouring in a glug of wine. Kurt made a face at the smell.

"You're gonna have to make soul food with Jon, not take-out," Cary said. "And not a fancy date night neither. Keep everything low key: light some candles, put on comfy clothes, look Jon in the face and talk about his day. You just take your time, smell the good food smells without rushing to eat it all up at once. You're gonna be there way before Jon, but you can be patient, yeah?"

"Jon's taking care of me," Kurt said quietly. "I'm not worried about me. I'm thinking about him. I want to make slow food for him."

Cary's eyes softened and the tips of his ears were pink. "Well anyone can learn to cook, if you're willing to give the time. I have a feeling you'll be a natural. You have the instincts for it."

Kurt's eyes stung as he cut into the onion, and he blinked, puzzling over how to go about removing the crispy paper skin and chopping the thing. "You'd don't think I'm--I don't know, stupid to think I could make something work with Jon? I don't want to waste his time--god knows he doesn't have much of it." Tears slipped over his cheeks as he peeled the onion free with his baby-pink polished fingernails, then did his best to chop it into equal-sized chunks like he'd seen Cary do with the meat.

"I don't think you're stupid," Cary said gruffly. "You're good for him. He's the best he's been since you've started coming around. I think it gets dark for him, down there alone." Cary patted his broad chest, his face creased with concern. "An' he only lets me in so far. If there was ever a gay who could light enough lanterns to coax Jon's heart out in the open, you're that gay, Kurt. I'm glad you found each other."

Kurt sniffed loudly, grabbing a dishtowel to cover his stinging face, no longer sure it was just the onion making him cry. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, Cary." His laugh cracked, and he blew his nose loudly on the towel.

Cary made a huffing noise, collecting the cutting board of vegetables. "Well don't let it go to your head."

Kurt laughed again, washing his hands and face. He peered into the crockpot to admire their finished work. "That looks delish'," he said. "I'm gonna need to get me an apron. With ruffles."

1980 words.