{Kurt}

It turned out risotto was hard. Kurt sweated over the stove, slowly stirring the simmering mixture of rice, milk, olive oil, white wine and finely diced onion and celery. It smelled heavenly, but he'd had zero time to fix his hair, and there was a sticky mess of one failed risotto in the sink already.

Fortunately, he had no witnesses. Cary was buried in a new drawing project in his studio, and Jon was catching up on some sleep.

He babied this pot, spooning in more broth every couple of minutes, constantly stirring it, even singing a little song over it to help it be tasty. To hell with his hair, this meal was going to be fabulous.

When it had thickened and the energetic Italian man on YouTube said it was done, Kurt set the pot aside and turned off the burner, breathing a huge sigh of relief. He threw up his arms in the empty kitchen.

"Touchdown! Visser for the win," he whispered, hissing the crowd noise. Chuckling, he jogged up the stairs to fetch his housemates.

*

Cary grated Parmesan, the nub of cheese dwarfed by his fingers, and Jon lit the candles while Kurt poured the white wine, making a little face. The only thing he knew about wine was that the hangover was the worst. The smell still turned his stomach.

Jon glanced sideways at him. "Are you sure it's okay if we have that?"

"Oh yeah," Kurt said. "Douglas picked it up for the recipe. Drink the rest, please, I want none of it."

Jon's mouth curved, and he helped himself. "Lovely," he said thoughtfully, after rolling it around in his mouth.

Kurt laughed at him. "You wine people are such snobs."

Jon punched his arm lightly. "You teetotallers are so self-righteous."

Kurt laughed again. "Words which have never been applied to me in my life."

Jon grinned back. "What did you make us for dinner, Kurt?"

"Please tell me there's something Italian to put this Parmesan on," Cary said.

Kurt brought the pan to the table and lifted the lid with a flourish. Steam wafted out, carrying with it the heavenly smell of creamy cheese and olive oil. Both men made a little noise of wonder, and Kurt grinned at the happiness in their faces.

"Gennaro Contaldo taught me to make risotto! My first... uh, technically, my second try."

The meal melted in their mouths and when it was done, Kurt got up from the table to announce, "There's music for dessert."

Cary glanced around. "Is there dessert?"

"No, Douglas" Kurt said, folding his legs on the carpet and tuning up his guitar. "Music is the dessert."

"Oh," Cary said, obviously disappointed.

"There's ice cream in the freezer," Jon offered. "If you want all the dairy."

"Mmm," Cary rubbed his stomach. "Maybe I better not."

Kurt chipped in, "You're not seeing your girlfriend later. Have all the dairy you like."

Cary's face brightened. "That's true." And he scooped himself a bowl of ice cream, settling in to lick his spoon while Kurt played dessert.

Laying his cheek against the smooth hip of his guitar, Kurt finger-picked the first bars of the song he would have opened the show with, if he got to choose, a grungy ballad called 'With Me Tonight.' He got lost in the music while he pulled the song out of the strings, the story out of his own chest. All week, practice had felt a lot like work, but this was easy as breathing. He plucked the last notes, then strummed a big chord to finish, looking up with a grin.

Cary smiled back around his spoon. "Amazing."

Jon was leaning his elbow on his crossed leg, his fingers over his mouth, his eyes crinkling in that very particular smile of his. "You're not done, are you?" he asked after the chord hung in the air a moment. "I want more dessert."

"Me too," Cary said, going to the freezer.

Kurt ducked his head, laughing a little. "Darlin' there's so much more where that came from."

Jon leaned back to check the clock on the stove. "I have forty minutes 'til I have to leave. I just want to sit here and listen to you play."

Kurt fa-diddled on his strings, putting together a forty-minute song list in his mind. All his favourites, including the songs that had always been about Jon even though he'd never tell Nicky that.

"Well then, here you go," he drawled, before he sang and played his heart out. Even if it was just an audience of two, he brought down the house with his last song, an ode to their carpet that he'd just written. He bobbed his knee in time with his strumming, shaking his hair and laughing while he sang, and Jon and Cary clapped along. They made the walls of their home ring.

When Kurt set his guitar back on the stand beside the carpet, Jon padded over the hardwood floor and settled lightly into Kurt's lap, hooking his arms around his neck. "Your risotto was delicious," Jon said. "Dessert was even better."

Kurt laughed, and then Jon kissed him, and Kurt's awareness of anything else melted away.

Love, Jon.

They hadn't talked about it, but Kurt felt like every touch of Jon's mouth and hands, every look over the table tonight said the words again. He had never in his life felt so entirely safe and treasured. Jon's love wasn't loud and dramatic like his mother's--it wasn't needy and manipulative like Nicky's. Jon's love was a lot like his hugs--strong and steady and warm.

Kurt really wasn't worried about how long he was going to have to wait to have sex again. Getting off on another man's body paled in comparison with being loved every second of the day by Jon White.

And loving him back. Kurt hadn't said the word since it slipped out by accident in the truck. He was feeling a little shaky about saying it on purpose--not that he hadn't said it before and meant practically nothing by it. But when he said it to Jon, his heart was going to launch itself out of his mouth with the word and he'd better hope the other man was going to catch it and keep it safe.

If the hands playing with the ends of his hair while they kissed were any indication, Kurt Visser's heart was going to be just fine. He just needed to be brave. Until then, he had his whole body to tell Jon he loved him back. Judging by Jon's blissed-out expression as Kurt held him in his arms, that would do for now.

Jon pulled free, laughing into his mouth with his hand on Kurt's chest. "I'm going to be late if I don't go now. I'll be back at nine, will you be up?"

Breathless, senses full of the weight of Jon against his body, the light in Jon's eyes and the taste of his mouth, Kurt laughed back at him. "What am I, seven years old? It's Friday night, yeah I'll be up." He recalled his earlier plans for the evening. "I'm borrowing the truck to get to an AA meeting. I'll be back before you're done."

He leaned to one side to watch Jon run up the stairs, then fell back on the carpet, stretching out with a sigh. For once in his life, Kurt Visser was completely happy.

{Jon}

Sparring in the Jui Jitsu studio had been Jon's favourite thing to do with his body. He still loved it, the complete visceral absorption that came with trying to keep your partner from taking your back and choking you out. However, he had zero regrets when he got up off the mat, brushed off the front of his Gi, and wished his class a good night.

He was texting Kurt before he was even out of the studio, too focused on getting home to bother with changing or even using very many words. <on my way. meet me in my bed>

The house was quiet and dark as he jogged upstairs, light spilling from his bedroom into the hall. He paused in his doorway, catching his breath and grinning at his boyfriend, who was cross-legged, fully dressed on top of the covers, his phone lying in front of him.

Kurt looked sideways at him, his ears pink. "This is a very sexy text you sent me, White," he said a little huskily. "Maybe you didn't know where my mind was gonna go when I got it. We said beds were just for cuddling and sleeping so I've spent more energy than I'd like to admit trying to figure out what you want here."

Jon laughed, rubbing the side of his blushing face. "Oh. Sorry-I'm so awkward. I shouldn't have assumed...maybe you're tired. I just-miss you. And I thought-maybe we could do something nice in my bed. Before we go sleep in your bed." He bit his lip, his eyebrows lifting a little. Since they'd made up from their fight, Jon had felt so open and relaxed he wondered if he'd ever have trouble switching on with Kurt again. And making out was his new favourite thing to do with his body, hands down. "Do you want me to go shower?"

Kurt unfolded swiftly, crossing the room and catching his waist, bending his face to Jon's. After a delicious interlude, Kurt said, "No I don't want you to go anywhere." He ran his fingers over the lapels of the jacket of Jon's Gi, fingering the embroidery on his chest and the knot in the belt. "You fascinating creature," he murmured, his eyes sparkling. "This might be my new favourite look on you."

Jon laughed softly, running his hands through Kurt's hair, while the other man tugged the knot out of his belt and slid it off, tossing it over Jon's dresser. "Hmmm." Kurt's hands were all over him, exploring the ties on the side of his Gi, his lips nibbling Jon's collarbone in an absent-minded way while he figured out how to get him out of his clothes. Jon did not help his focus, his own hands all over Kurt's body under his T-shirt, his breath catching as his skin sparked under Kurt's fingers.

Delicately, Kurt removed the jacket, admiring the embroidery on the back and front. "I very much want one of these, Jonathan."

"Mm-hm?" Jon said. "Should we go online and shop for one right now?"

Kurt shouted a laugh, caught him up under his butt and carried him across the room to dump him on the bed. "Definitely not." He clambered on top of Jon, who grabbed a pillow and smacked the his grinning face.

"I'm not a sack of potatoes for you to just throw around!" Jon said, laughing.

"Caught you off guard, White, I'm surprised at you-I heard you were a black belt or something." Kurt fended off the pillow beating, covering Jon's body with his own and his mouth with his. Surrendering, Jon wrapped his arms around Kurt and opened his mouth to his. The tension from a long stressful week released as he moved under the warm pressure of Kurt's body, until he was so light with pleasure they could have been weightless.

1871 words.