{Jon}

On Tuesday, Jon found himself looking forward to 'coffee break' with Kurt as he drove home on the quiet, early morning streets. When he jogged up the steps of their porch, he heard the rhythmic sound of guitar and the sound of Kurt singing, plain through their door. Jon paused with his head down to just listen, a smile pulling up his lips. That sounded like a happy Kurt Visser at home.

The rich smell of beef and onions hit him full in the face when he stepped inside, and his stomach growled. What on earth was Kurt making for breakfast? Jon peeked into the living room. "Honey, I'm home," he said, imitating the lilting voice Kurt used.

Kurt was scribbling in his notebook, a pick in his mouth, his hair spiked up in wild peaks. "Hey darlin'. Gimme a minute; I'll be right with you."

Jon pulled off his hoodie and nosed into the kitchen, looking for the source of the mouth-watering smell. Steam was rising from a saucepan of stew on the stove; Kurt caught him just as Jon was about to pick the pot up with his bare hands and drink it.

"How do you feel about supper for breakfast?" Kurt asked, bringing a couple bowls down from the cupboard. "Brupper? Brinner? Hm I don't know what this meal is called. Cary and me made 'Beef Bourgeoisie' and I didn't want you to miss out." Kurt made a haughty face for the French word, that made Jon laugh imagining it on Cary's face.

Jon grinned. "I love 'brupper.' If you just invented that word, you're a genius, Kurt. I'm starving."

They spent more time blowing on their stew to cool it than kissing, but when he hugged Kurt goodbye, Jon felt completely satisfied.

*

As Jon applied himself first to school, and then to his work shift, he found himself counting the hours until he could come home to Kurt. Early Wednesday morning, as he was logging off his work email, a text dropped into his personal phone.

Kurt: <too sleepy to get up *zzz face emoji* find me in bed k?>

Jon texted: <there in 45> and tucked his phone away again. On the drive home, a little tension coiled in his stomach. His head was full of homework and staff scheduling headaches and he hoped Kurt wasn't looking for him to 'turn on' this morning.

Kurt's room was dim, and Kurt himself was a lump under the covers when Jon crept inside. At the sound of Jon unzipping and stepping out of his pants, he rolled over, poking his face out of the covers. "Izzit Jon?"

Jon smiled at him. "Hey love. I hope you don't have any ulterior motives here. I'm not feeling sexy."

Kurt's mouth curled in a sleepy smile back. "Nope, nope, nope." He lifted the blanket for Jon to see him fully dressed in his fat grey cat nightshirt. "New rules--my bed is for sleepin' and cuddlin' with Jon White, only. I just didn't want to leave the warm and comfy to hear your stories today."

Jon climbed under the blankets, sliding his chilly body gratefully into Kurt's. Kurt tucked around him, making a big 'spoon' to his little one. "No stories," Jon said wearily. "Boring." He sighed as Kurt wrapped his arms around his chest. "You feel nice."

Kurt also felt a little aroused, a morning 'chubby' saying hello against Jon's hip. Jon's own body stirred, warming to say hello back, which surprised him a little. He stayed quiet, stroking Kurt's arms, trying to hold this feeling in his body with no expectation. He didn't know yet if he could count on this, when it would come and go. "What about you? Stories from your day?"

Kurt stirred. "Mm-hm." He sounded like he'd nearly fallen back asleep. "Normal things. Okay AA meeting last night. Cooking somethin' with Cary tonight. Just doin' my thing, waiting for you to flip over to days." He put his lips to Jon's shoulder, kissing him through his shirt. "Miss you in bed with me, Jon," he said, husky and soft. "I don't sleep as good without you."

"I miss you too," Jon admitted. He'd never kept track of how many hours he spent away from home every day. Now that they were hours spent away from Kurt, he felt the strain of his schedule. He didn't always remember to eat when Cary wasn't setting food in front of him at the proper time--he wasn't sure he'd eaten anything yesterday except the stew Kurt made for him in the morning.

Mentally Jon added up the weeks left to the semester, trying to calculate if he had it in him to finish. Eight more weeks? Could he do eight more weeks of juggling night shifts and day classes? Maybe it was time to see if he could flip his work schedule around, to join the world of waking humans again. Not that he was interested in humans in general, but one human in particular was feeling like less of a weekend hobby and more of an essential part of his everyday.

Jon was almost asleep when Kurt's alarm buzzed, and the other man slapped around for his phone, grumbling some choice words. He put his chin over Jon's shoulder to brush a kiss on his cheek. "Sleep tight, love. See you tomorrow."

Sighing, Jon dropped off in the warmth Kurt left behind.

{Kurt}

Late Wednesday night, Jon's name lit up Kurt's phone. Kurt was curled up in his bed with a library book wishing he had the comforting weight of Jon at his back, and he swiped open the call with a bump of happiness. "This is Kurt Visser, how may I direct your call?"

The soft sound of Jon's laughter made Kurt's whole body warm. "I'd like to speak to someone about Thursday morning coffee break?"

"One moment please," Kurt said, and then started singing some on-hold music full of 'doo-whops.' "Hi, this is your boyfriend, what are you thinking, love?"

"I'm going crazy stuck in buildings all day and all night," Jon said. "Would you be up for meeting me for a run in the ravine instead of sitting around at home?"

Kurt grinned. "Absolutely. Outdoor sports are my middle name."

"Seems clumsy," Jon said. "Kurt 'outdoor sports' Visser."

"It sounds better in Danish," Kurt said, and then made up a string of words that sounded like something his Grandma Visser used to say. For all he knew, she'd been swearing in her native tongue because the bread wouldn't rise.

Jon was laughing as he hung up.

*

Flags of pink and gold clouds were blowing over the sky, wordlessly proclaiming the arrival of another new day when Kurt pulled into the parking lot overlooking a woodsy section of the river valley. Jon's car was parked near-by, empty, and Kurt got out of the truck, scanning for the other man.

This low in the valley, the light was still dim and Jon was blending into the shadows in his hoodie, jogging to a boulder standing at the trail-head. As Kurt watched, he clambered to its flat top and stretched his arms over his head, wiggling his fingers, bending from side to side, and then folded in two, apparently finding purchase for his hands. One leg was already in the air and after a practice kick, Jon's second leg joined it.

His sneakers waved a little to find his balance and as Kurt swished over the frost-pinched grass he heard Jon laughing to himself. Playing like a kid, unaware that he was observed.

Kurt tipped his head upside-down to smile at him. "Hey handsome," he drawled. "I hope you have a plan for getting down."

Jon's eyes widened and Kurt was momentarily alarmed. "Look out," Jon said, his legs curving to one side, and he shoved his hands off the rock, staggering as he landed right side up in the grass. Kurt lunged to catch him with a 'thud' against his chest, and they both laughed breathlessly.

"Hey gorgeous," Jon said, grinning up at him. "Glad you came."

"Glad you invited me," Kurt said. "I dug out my running gear and I'm good to go." It had probably been a year since he'd worn these football sweats with paws on the bum, and he'd had to borrow one of Jon's hoodies to throw over his work shirt.

Their feet fell into rhythm as they headed down the trail under the trees, slim grey-green poplars with yellow leaves just hanging on, and unkempt dark green evergreens. "This loop of trail is my happy place," Jon said. "There's a rest stop half-way if you're blown."

Kurt snorted. "Bish, please," he said. But then he needed to save his breath to keep up with Jon. Jon ran like his legs were made of springs, keeping a steady, tireless pace. As Kurt loped along at his shoulder, he felt just how out of shape he was, and the pleasure of stretching his legs and feeling those muscles move again.

Twenty five minutes later, he was definitely grateful to see the bench at the top of a rise through a break in the trees. Jon dug in to push up the hill in a burst of speed, and then waited, grinning as he wiped the back of wrist over his face, watching Kurt struggle up the hill.

Kurt threw himself down on the bench with a groan, sweat dripping out of every pore of his body. "Oh my god. I need to kick my own ass and get back into running."

"I'll kick your ass for you," Jon teased. "Anytime, Visser." He had one arm bent behind his neck, linking his hands at his shoulder blades to stretch his chest open.

Chuckling, Kurt got up to join him. He was going to be in pain if he didn't stretch these old legs out.

Across a lazy, brown bend of the river, city buildings were catching the horizontal light of morning, every window winking gold. Kurt shook the tendrils of hair that had escaped his pony tail out of his face, taking a deep lungful of crisp morning air and watching it puff back out in front of his face. The tips of his ears and his fingers were stinging with cold, while his heart thudded in his chest, keeping the rest of his body cozy warm—a feeling he loved. It made him think of hundreds of hours playing on the backyard ice rink in his family home, which his father carved out of snow and flooded for his boys every year.

"How you holding up, Kurt?" Jon asked, pulling one foot back to his butt to stretch his hip flexors. "It must seem very boring to you, living with me and Cary, compared to rock star life."

Kurt laughed once, thinking of his shit-hole apartment. "Rock star life isn't as sparkly as it looks onstage, darlin.'" Shaking his legs out, Kurt dropped onto the bench, leaning back to enjoy the view.

Jon edged around and joined him on the far end, laying his arm along the back so his knuckles just touched Kurt's shoulder. "Well, compared to all the variety you had before, then." He glanced over, biting the corner of his full mouth. "You had your pick of guys. Now it's just—me. And I'm not even home in the evenings. And when I am home, we just, like, talk. You're not...missing more?"

Kurt would have laughed, but he could feel how serious Jon was. "Jon," he said, tipping his head. "If I'm missin' more, I'm missin' something I haven't had yet. I want more with you." He waved his hand at the open air over the river. "Sometime ahead. At your speed. I'm not in a rush, love."

Jon's eyes narrowed in a smile, and Kurt nudged his foot against his. "I really like livin' with you, and that's the truth. It's slow, but there's a rhythm I like to each day. I got honest work that's payin' the bills, and at the end of my day I gotta friend I'm going home with. We make food, and then he goes upstairs to draw, and I go see my friends at AA. I been writing new music and playing every night. I feel like the quiet is good for me."

Kurt swallowed; his heart was rising up in his chest like a hot air balloon, so ready to sail across and hand itself over to Jon. He took a risk, loosening the moorings a little more. "And then I go to sleep thinkin' Jon White is somewhere in the world making things better and I'm the man he's coming home to in the morning." He blinked his stinging eyes, a smile curling his mouth. Always the tears with him. "I'm not bored, Jon. I'm very happy."

Jon took a breath, his face opening in a grin. "Me too." He laughed under his breath, rubbing his blushing cheek. "I can't get over how much better it is being with you than I imagined."

Kurt's laugh startled a crow out of the nearest evergreen. "Same, darlin'. Turns out you matter to me—more than fucking."

Jon flashed him a laughing look, slouching down with his arms over his chest and his legs set wide, touching Kurt's knee. "You matter to me—more than not fucking," he said wryly. "How's that sound?"

Kurt laughed again. "That's not very romantic. Is that the best you can do?"

"I haven't had much practice, Visser. Want to stick around and help me brush up my lines?" In spite of his playful tone, Jon's mouth was soft, the dimple tucked in at the corner.

Kurt glanced up the trail; other pedestrians had passed them occasionally. Seeing they were alone, he leaned over, tugged Jon's hood up and kissed him in its shelter. He felt the catch of Jon's breath against his lips.

Jon was very still, eyes wide as Kurt drew away.

"Indefinitely, love," Kurt said huskily. "How's that sound?"

"Yes," Jon said. He lifted his chin, his grin blazing out again.

They heard the sound of joggers a second before they rounded the bend. Jon whirled off the bench, calling over his shoulder. "Race you, Visser. Last one to the truck is a rotten egg!"

2440 words.