{Jon}

It was a quiet night shift at River House, broken by one phone call from Kurt. Jon lay on the couch in the living room with his arm slung over his face, listening to Kurt's story about AA and laughing quietly. He almost fell asleep on the job, while they breathed together, connected by the thread of the phone line. "Night, love," Kurt said. "See you in a few."

A little bump of adrenaline brought Jon fully awake, remembering his plan for this morning. "I'll be a couple minutes late," he said. "But I'll be there."

Jon went directly to Nicky's house from work and parked in the other man's driveway, getting out to lean against the car to wait. He was vibrating with contained energy and out of smokes. Restlessly, he picked a stone up off the ground, tossing and catching it in one hand while he watched the street.

A bus pulled up to the stop on the corner and Nicky emerged. Jon studied the other man as he walked up the block; Kurt's ex had the over-inflated upper body of a man who knew how to build muscles and no idea what to do with them. Possibly Nicky had been skipping 'legs day' for some time: his legs were comically skinny in proportion with his jacked biceps and shoulders.

At the bottom of his driveway, Nicky slowed up, cocking his hip and tugging at the end of his goatee. His hair was unkempt today, his face baggy and tired, and he was wearing the all-beige uniform of an Edmonton transit employee. "Who the hell are you?" Nicky asked.

Jon lifted his chin, flipping the stone onto the grass and making a flat smile. "I'm here for Visser's shit."

Nicky shuffled up the driveway, jingling through his keys, muttering. "I don't see why I have to give this to you—I bought this shit for that ungrateful little slut—"

"Watch your mouth," Jon said softly behind him.

Nicky threw open the garage door with such a dramatic flourish it bounced off the wall, and shot Jon a withering look. "Please. You know how many times he cheated on me?"

Jon went past him, his body on high alert, turning sideways so he didn't put his back to the other man.

"He's probably out sucking someone else's dick right now for a little cash on the side while you do his chores."

You're a piece of shit, Nicky, Jon said in his head, pressing his lips hard and glancing around the garage. He recognized the guitars and amps he had unloaded from Kurt's car the week before, and grabbed Kurt's acoustic guitar first. When Nicky didn't move to stop him, he picked up Kurt's electric as well. The other man stood in the middle of the room, his unbroken fingers shoved in his pockets, his lower lip pouting as Jon walked out.

Jon bared his teeth in a grin as he dropped the guitars into his trunk. He knew exactly the kind of bully Nicky was now—the kind that rolled over the minute someone stood up to them. He went back for the amps.

Nicky trailed after him, still trying to get his complaint heard. "Case in fucking point—" He held up his bandaged finger. "Who the hell was this dude that broke my finger?"

Ignoring him, Jon grabbed both amps and carried them to the car.

"I shoulda called the cops and charged him for assault," Nicky said. "Except no one knew who the hell he was. I can't believe I bent over backwards for that ungrateful little bitch. I called in every favour to give him a leg up in this town, did you know that?"

At this point, Jon had the balls to say, "Help me with this one," as he grabbed the bigger amp. He smirked to himself as Nicky obliged, carrying one end out of the garage and helping load it into Jon's backseat.

"Is that it?" Nicky said, his hands on his hips. "The little bitch got everything he sent you for?"

Jon slammed the door shut, tension coiling in his body. He dug his feet into the ground, trying to send his anger through the soles of his feet when he wanted nothing more than to turn around, yank Nicky's toothpick legs out from under him and choke him out cold.

(Think of all the lovely fingerprints he could decorate Nicky's neck with.)

Do not go to jail.

Jon gave Nicky a level look over his shoulder. "If you ever put your hands on Kurt again, I'll find you, Nicky." The words were quiet, but something about his delivery caused the other man to drop back a step.

After a second Nicky scoffed, looking him up and down. "Are you serious right now—"

Fists closing, Jon turned, light and ready. "Underestimate me. Come on. Try me."

Nicky dropped back another step, folding his balloon arms and glowering.

Jon spat at his feet, got in his car and tore out of the driveway, tires squealing.

As he unloaded the car in front of their house, Jon laughed to himself. He carried in all the amps and both guitars, piling them in their living room--easy peasy. When Kurt came down the stairs, Jon grinned at him, jittery with unspent adrenaline. "Got a surprise for you, Vissser."

With a flourish he went to the entrance of the living room and held out his hand. "Ta-dah."

Kurt sucked in his breath. "What the hell did you do?"

Jon shrugged, stuffing his fists in his pocket, one hand gripping Kurt's phone inside his hoodie. "Nothing. I just picked up your stuff. Nicky even helped me load it in the car."

Kurt's blue eyes were wide, going from Jon's face to his guitar cases. Stepping to the acoustic case, Jon opened it, like Kurt might think it was empty. "She's safe and sound."

Kurt found his voice. "You went to Nicky's house." His throat made a sound, and he closed his hand against his chest. Jon couldn't understand why Kurt looked so white and furious. "I told you I wanted to leave it. This is Nicky's shit and I wanted to leave it and be done."

"Bullshit," Jon said. "You can't tell me your music didn't pay for all this, Kurt. It's yours. Your asshole ex-boyfriend doesn't get to hold it hostage."

Kurt said through his teeth, "It's Nicky's because Nicky says it's his, same as the music and whatever else Nicky decides he wants. Godammit Jon, you think I haven't tried to leave him before?" He shoved his hand through his hair.

"He's just a bully," Jon said dismissively. "If no one stands up to him he'll just keep being a bully. Nicky can't just take whatever he wants, this isn't preschool and he isn't two years old. He needs to learn how to respect other peoples' boundaries. You have what's yours now and it's done."

Kurt's laugh was sharp. "It's not done, Christ. You think he won't be trying to reach me again for whatever the hell you did today?"

Cary appeared on the bottom of the steps, in his work clothes and sock feet. His dark eyes widened as he glanced between the two of them, and he turned and disappeared back up the stairs.

Jon bristled, his fists closing at his sides. "I didn't lay a finger on him—but if he tries anything just fucking point me at him."

"I'm not a child!" Kurt exploded. "I'm not one of your kids to take care of! I made a grown up decision to let this go and you went over my head and stirred shit up again like you just know better. Stay the hell out of me and Nicky, Jon, I don't want you involved at all."

The words me and Nicky lodged in Jon's throat, and for a second he couldn't speak, swallowing them down. "I'm already involved," he said roughly. He felt the proximity of Kurt's damaged body, of the tender bruises that still made his boyfriend flinch in their own home. His chest heaved with that rage, but his voice was quiet. "I'm not apologizing. I'm not standing by and letting Nicky keep hurting you. Just because you won't stand up for yourself doesn't mean I won't."

He brushed past Kurt's rigid body, tossing the other man's phone on the table with a 'thunk' before jogging up the stairs.

{Kurt}

It felt as though the phone landed in the pit of Kurt's stomach. He snatched it up, swiping the screen open.

Glaring up at him were a series of texts to Nicky that he didn't recognize. That Jon had sent, impersonating him to make arrangements to pick up this stuff—messages Kurt knew Nicky would have interpreted as threats.

From his own goddamn phone. Kurt sucked in his breath, shaking with anger. Even his own father never sent messages on his behalf.

Cary edged into the kitchen, looking worried.

Kurt snapped him a glare. "Did you know about this?"

Glancing into the living room, Cary flattened his mouth at the sight of the gear and guitars. He shook his head. "No," he said.

The phone rang, buzzing in Kurt's hand, and they both jumped. Kurt stabbed the screen and put it to his ear. "Nicky I had no fucking idea—"

Nicky's voice was high and sharp, either furious or terrified. "Who the hell did you send to my house, Klassen? I'm so tired of your bullshit—"

Kurt raised his voice to get through to him. "I didn't send anyone! I don't want anything from you—none of that was my idea!"

Nicky's laugh was hysterical. "God if I'd known I would've left you on the street the first day we met and to hell with you. I'm telling the world all the shit you did—someone should know the truth. I'm terrified to walk out my own door right now—you should know what that feels like for a change."

Kurt's voice cracked. "Nicky I won't—"

But the line was dead.

"Shiiiiiit," Kurt hissed softly. With cold fingers he rapidly started to text:

<nothings gonna happen to you I'll tell—>

He jabbed the delete button, shooting a look at the stairs. He couldn't even say that, like he could tell Jon anything right now. He might as well have been speaking to a wall for all that his boyfriend was hearing him. Kurt smacked the phone face down on the table and got up abruptly.

Cary hunched his shoulders, backing up with the coffee pot in his hands. Kurt threw up his hands, "Whatever. I'm fucked. Let's just get take-out coffee. I need to get the hell out of this house."

*Ok look, I wanted Jon to punch Nicky as much as you did. Even after Cary's conversation with him by the fire, I literally wrote the scene where Jon turns around and punches Nicky in the mouth. The thing is, Jon's not a skinny kid any more. He would break something.

My reader-friend Dyllan S. has seen a few things, and he was like... "So Nicky would call an ambulance, and call the cops. The police would check the traffic cameras on Nicky's street and match the description of Jon's car. They would use the license plate to find Jon, pull up to his house in a cruiser, possibly put him in cuffs and definitely take him to the station. He would be charged with assault, a fine, probation and a restraining order."

And I was like rigggght shoot. This really isn't Batman. There's a lot of Dyllan pressed into Cary over the years; Cary said what he said to Jon for a reason. I pictured Cary's reaction to Jon's arrest and I was like... nope he is going to be traumatized forever. No more trauma for Cary.

So... Jon is more disciplined than we would like in this moment. Which in retrospect, seems typical. What do you think, lovelies?

Do you understand Kurt's reaction? Should Jon have left it like he asked?*

2008 words.