{Jon}

Jon woke up to the sound of Kurt's guitar floating up through the floor boards. He took a slow breath, registering that he was in his own bed, his scalp tender and his body aching like he'd been beaten in a whole series of Jui Jitsu matches. He sat up slowly with his eyes squeezed shut, testing his head. All the eggshell pieces of his skull held together and he breathed out with relief, opening his eyes.

He couldn't keep doing this, wiping out an entire weekend with head-splitting pain and painstaking recovery. He'd never had two migraines in such a short period of time and it made him afraid something had changed and this was his new normal.

He went down the stairs slowly, easing his weight from foot to foot to keep from jostling his body. The smell of bacon wafted up from the kitchen; Cary was cooking at the stove, in pyjama pants and slippers, his dark hair messy with bedhead.

Jon helped himself to coffee, glancing into the living room. Kurt was cross-legged on their carpet, pulling music out of his guitar, his notebook open in front of him.

A smile lifted Jon's mouth for the first time in days.

Cary glanced back at him. "He lives. How're you doing Jon?"

Jon kept his eyes lowered, sipping the coffee. "Thanks for finding me. That wasn't--a good one." He shivered and tried to breathe and release the memory of pain.

"Wasn't me," Cary said. "Visser called me at the folks. He looked after you till I got home."

Jon's eyes flicked to Kurt's bent head, then away, his face heating with embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned aside. "Are you doing eggs? Can you throw some veg in for me?"

Cary nodded. "Think you need to see your head guy next week?" The same worry Jon felt was in the lines around his mouth.

Jon exhaled. "Yes. Could just be stress, right? Maybe I need to change my hours. Flipping back and forth on nights is wrecking me a little bit."

"I've been saying that for months," Cary grumbled. "You have to be absolutely flattened to listen?"

Jon bowed his shoulders. He didn't have the energy to argue. Everything he'd taken on was important and he didn't want to drop any of it. It seemed to him like he should have been able to do all the things--on normal days he felt strong enough to keep up. It felt like he'd smacked into his own limitations--his normal wasn't as strong as he thought.

Kurt sauntered into the kitchen. His colourful dressing gown was back, swishing over a faded pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. "Smells amazing, Douglas. You cooking for all of us?"

Cary's eyes laughed back at him. "I got a dozen eggs cracked here; how hungry do you think I am Visser?"

"A man doesn't like to assume." Kurt waved his hands in the air, making rounded shapes for Cary's chest and ass. "You do have your figure to maintain."

Jon laughed into his coffee. Kurt's eyes flicked to him, checking him over.

"Plans for the day, Kurt?" Jon asked softly. He wasn't sure how long he could spend in the same space as his probably-ex-boyfriend. Sadness gaped in his chest. If Kurt was home, he was stepping out.

"It's a Kurt Visser day for me," Kurt said, swooping his robe out of the way to sit and stretch his long legs into the kitchen. "Heading to the spa for a mani-pedi and a massage, and then to my salon to touch up my roots." He messed up his hair and Jon noticed the darker colour coming in. "Hot towel and shave..." Kurt patted his stubbly cheeks and closed his eyes with a blissful smile. "It's going to be fabulous."

"It was payday yesterday," Cary said, aside to Jon.

Kurt chuckled. "Every minute of back-breaking labour was worth it: beautiful basements, beautiful me."

Jon lowered his eyes. "Are you here for supper?"

Kurt was quiet and Jon fumbled on. "I'd like to do something to celebrate you--moving out. Getting set up someplace good. I'll make us all my best party snacks."

"Sure," Kurt said. "I'll be home for supper."

*
Even if Jon's body had been able to do the normal things, he didn't feel up to making words for his papers, his emails, or really, people in general today. Every scrap of energy he had he'd spent telling Kurt they would celebrate him moving out, because Kurt Visser loved a party and he deserved something good.

Jon went back to bed and lost a couple hours to sleep and dull thoughts about things he needed to do in the upcoming week that he couldn't do today or likely tomorrow.

In the afternoon, he showered and stretched and went out to get everything they needed for the party it was going to break his heart to attend. On his way home with a trunk full of food and flowers, he found himself pulling into the car dealership in their neighbourhood. He'd been thinking for some time he needed to upgrade his car for something bigger, so he could fit the kids from River House plus a couple friends.

Once Jon had made that decision in his mind, it took very little time to find something suitable. He signed over the money he had saved for his January tuition as a down-payment.

{Kurt}

Kurt loved the spa: the peaceful atmosphere, the luxurious smells and sensations. His mother used to take a 'self-care' day at the spa every month; when he moved in with Nicky he picked up the habit and quickly realized why his mother made it a priority in spite of her husband's grumblings about the cost.

It wasn't about groomed nails, although that was a perk; it was about having someone care for his body so attentively. After a shitty night when Nicky was drinking and rude and taking what he wanted without asking, Kurt would lift cash out of Nicky's wallet and treat himself to a day of feeling pampered.

Lying on the massage table with hot stones on his back and piano music rippling underneath the sound of running water, Kurt finally felt safe enough to look at the past week with Jon directly. His anger at the other man had ebbed away in that ridiculous closet while he held Jon in his arms, and the fear underlying that anger seemed strange now that it was exposed.

He remembered Jon's face flickering rose-gold in the firelight, as he bared his soul layer by layer. Kurt had had men undress for him many times--never like Jon, who seemed to not only strip off his clothes but also his ego and all his defences to lie skin to skin with Kurt. Like he wasn't afraid of how badly he could be hurt, naked like that.

For that matter, of all the times Jon had put his hands on him, he'd never hurt Kurt once. The memory of Jon moving on him returned to Kurt; he had felt completely safe underneath Jon, even with his full weight on top of him. Every movement of Jon's body had told Kurt the other man treasured and was for him.

It was a little uncomfortable, not just because he was lying on his front and that memory had turned him on, but also because he was pretty sure he'd said some things to Jon this week that he regretted now. Words that didn't really belong to Jon, echoing out of one shitty day or another with Nicky and his dad. Kurt had never been able to speak up for himself when they were in the room and even when Jon was mad, he was just safe enough for Kurt to say out loud what he should have said then.

Which was, Kurt was aware, not fair or kind. And he wasn't sure, because Jon looked pretty invulnerable to him, but maybe he had hurt the other man. He had certainly intended his words to hurt. Cary's vigilance beside Jon's sleeping form the night before suggested that there was more to Jon than he knew, yet.

Kurt exhaled, then gasped as the hot stones were changed for cold ones.

This was, as Laurel would say, his one, beautiful life. What did he want? Was he just going to shake this off, move out, move on, and take a chance on someone new down the road? It was increasingly clear to him that whoever he was with, there was a risk that Kurt Visser would be taken advantage of again. That would be true until he figured out how to use his voice to say what he wanted, even right in the moment when his partner's desire engulfed his own sense of self.

Breathing through the aching cold on his back, Kurt stretched his fingers and wiggled his toes. If he was honest, he really couldn't imagine wanting anyone more than he wanted Jon. He'd loved the dream of Jon White for years, almost from the day they'd met.

The reality of Jon White as an adult was grittier and more complicated than Kurt's daydream boyfriend--from the intensity of Jon's commitment to making life better for the kids at River House, to the warm tenderness of Jon's naked body in bed with Kurt, to the intimidating power of Jon's temper, to his utter vulnerability when he finally hit his limits and couldn't fight any longer.

Kurt had to ask himself if he was ready to take all of that on to be with the real Jon White.

His heart burned in his chest, and his body ached to hold Jon again. Christ, he wanted to try. If he left Jon now, he would be haunted forever, wondering if he'd left a million broken pieces behind. Kurt Visser wasn't a fighter but he was throwing his heart in the ring. Maybe Jon didn't want to fight anymore either.

The house was quiet when Kurt returned, polished from head to toe and laden with boutique shopping bags. He unpacked all his beautiful things, admiring them again as he laid them out on the bed in Jon's guest room. Possibly he should have spent his paycheck less freely since he planned to make a deposit on a new place on Monday and still needed to save for a car.

Possibly that didn't feel as important as the evening ahead.

Fingering the fabric, Kurt mulled over what to wear. He'd been unconsciously making choices based on what Jon would like--there was a strong palette of colours that would not only look fabulous on him, but also coordinate with Jon's simpler taste.

In the end Kurt pulled on a white tunic with full sleeves that buttoned with pearls just below his elbows. He rubbed the skin of his chest, exposed at the neck of the blouse. The stubble growing in felt weird to him, but he was giving it a try. There was no question he found Jon's body hair hella sexy and maybe he could get over feeling like he looked like his father when his hair was grown in.

The hair on his head didn't look like Rob Klassen's, confirmed again today when Kurt had asked his stylist to bring his platinum blond closer to the colour of his roots. He was still a blond, just a darker shade, with pink and tangerine highlights.

His black skinny jeans from the concert completed the look. Kurt lined and shaded his eyes and stood back, taking himself in. Tipping his head, he checked the bruise on his shoulder. It didn't hurt anymore, but it still looked ugly.

He puffed a sigh. If he covered it with make up, the concealer would rub off on his blouse. He rolled his shoulders and shook his hair back from his face, his lips curling up in a smile. Fuck Nicky. He was leaving it. No one here was going to judge him for that bruise, any more than they would comment on the scars on Cary's back or on Jon's arms. The Kurt looking back at him from the mirror was as healthy and happy as he had been in years, and that bruise was a nothing--a thing that would fade into dim memory.

The front door thumped shut and Kurt ran downstairs to see if his party had arrived.

Jon was hefting grocery bags onto the kitchen table.

"Welcome home, Jon," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes in a smile at the other man, before diving into the bags to help unpack them.

Half of Jon's mouth lifted in a smile as he glanced at him. "Hey. Beautiful you. Good day?"

"The best," Kurt said. "You should try it sometime."

Jon turned aside, pulling his hoodie off and shrugging his shirt straight. The embroidered chrysanthemums gleamed with the movement of his shoulders. Jon had been shopping too, Kurt noted. The pants he had on were new, camel-coloured chinos that actually fit his slender hips and fell just right over the top of his feet. After the first look, Kurt had to check him out several more times as they passed each other putting food in the fridge.

Kurt touched the brown paper package lying on the table, his eyes lighting up. "Who are the flowers for?"

"You," Jon said lightly. "You can take them when you go."

Kurt pulled off the tape, opening the brown paper to reveal a mass of tiger lilies and red red roses. His breath caught as he fingered the petals. No one had ever bought him flowers like these.

"Catch," Jon said, and Kurt looked up in time to grab a set of keys out of the air. Puzzled, he recognized that they belonged to Jon's car.

"I replaced my car today," Jon said. "It's yours if you want it. I figured with the deposit on your new place you wouldn't be able to afford a new one for a while. I know nothing about cars--I assume it's not worth much but it should get you where you need to go."

Kurt blinked at the back of Jon's head; the other man had turned aside to unpack cans into the cupboards. This was too big to just accept.

"Well, I think you're undervaluing it," Kurt said slowly. "You could get a couple grand for your car--put it towards whatever you're driving now."

Jon shrugged. "I'll feel better knowing you have your own ride home, wherever you are."

There was a long moment of quiet while Kurt studied Jon's shoulders, opening and closing his fingers on these keys. Finally he said, "I'm having trouble reading you right now, Jon. Are we...breaking up?"

Jon closed the cupboard door gently and turned to face him, lifting his chin. "I don't know. Are we?"

Kurt touched the flowers again, looking at Jon through his bangs. "Do you want me to go?" His voice was rough with how risky that question was for him.

Jon's hands gripped the counter beside his hips. "I assumed you would, eventually," he said. "I won't hold you back. You're an amazing person. I completely believe in you."

Kurt frowned at him. Those words touched some things that had been hurt this week and felt healing but... "That's not--the question I asked."

Jon was rigid, so pale his freckles stood out like blood spatter on his face. "What I want isn't relevant," he said, clipping the words short. He splayed his hand towards Kurt, open. "Take whatever you need, Kurt. I'm happy for you--to be you. You're free to make your own choices."

Kurt felt like he was sliding his hands over a glass wall around Jon, trying to find the crack to open it. "I assumed you would get sick of me. You juggle a ton of shit with your work and school and I figured you could drop the hassle of an over-dramatic live-in boyfriend and be better for it."

Jon made a dry noise, turning his face aside. "That's not how I see you."

Kurt hummed quietly, then lowered his eyes and just opened himself. "White, I'm sorry for this week. I had you wrong. We hit a rough patch here and..." He cleared his throat. "You scared me a little. You're a force to be reckoned with when you're mad."

Kurt took a slow breath, cupping one of the roses in his palm, stroking the tender, velvety softness of the flower. "I had a good think today and I'm pretty sure a pile of that's my shit. Um. If it's not obvious. I've had a few less than ideal relationships along the way. Took me a minute to see you're not Nicky. Or my dad. I just need to get used to you--being your full size even when you're angry. And not running scared like I'm five years old and no one's gonna look if I'm getting hurt. You're not that person and I think maybe--I'm ready for you. So..." He glanced up at Jon. "I want to know what you want. 'Cause I'll bow out and leave you alone if that would make your life better. But that's not--what I want. Anymore."

Jon's eyebrows flicked up. "Of course you make my life better." The colour rose in his face and he seemed to struggle a moment, pressing his mouth together. "I regret nothing, Kurt. From the day you moved in here to the day I went behind your back like an asshole. I regret everything after."

Kurt shook his head. "You apologized," he said quietly. "Water under the bridge, White. I'm askin' what you want now. The honest truth, Jon. Not the shit you say to make people feel better."

Jon set his feet wide, lifting his chin to meet Kurt's imploring gaze. "I want you." His voice shook a little. "I want you planning outrageous outfits and singing too loud when you're happy. I want you using my shirt for a Kleenex when you're sad. I want you making me laugh every day and making me cry way too fucking much. I want you kissing me. I want you making love to me one day. I would quit school forever and turn my schedule upside-down if I could have Kurt Visser for keeps."

Jon's face crumpled and he hung onto the counter as he seemed to reel the rest back in, his chest heaving with the effort. "And that's really not relevant, Kurt. That's just me. What I want most is for you to be well and happy. I don't want you bending for me--you've had enough shitty years of that. Okay? You're free." Two tears dropped out of Jon's eyes and he shook them away, sniffing hard.

Kurt was drawn across the kitchen as he listened and now he leaned his hip against the counter an arm's length away. Two of Jon's words stood out like they were under a spotlight. He nudged his hand next to Jon's on the counter, just touching his fingers with his pinky. "For keeps?" he asked huskily.

Jon shrugged and his smile trembled, a tear slipping into the dimple next to his mouth. "I'm not built for casual. Pretty sure, past this point, you'll take my heart outta my chest when you go."

Kurt lifted his hand, hesitated, then brushed the tear off Jon's cheek. He let his palm settle on Jon's chest, where he could faintly feel the thud of his heartbeat. This was real. Jon was solid. "Me. For keeps."

Jon didn't flinch, biting his lip with his eyes on Kurt's face. "Yes--you. Kurt Visser. How is this not obvious already?"

Kurt leaned down and brushed his lips on Jon's, catching first his upper lip, then his lower lip in his own, tasting him again. He felt Jon shaking through his fingers.

Jon caught his face in his hands, kissing Kurt back, firm and warm. "Please stay," he said into Kurt's mouth. "Please stay, Kurt. Please stay."

Kurt pressed his body against his, answering him without words.

When Cary came down for supper, they were wrapped around each other, Jon perched on the counter with his legs pretzelled around Kurt's hips and Kurt's hands lost up the back of Jon's shirt.

Cary threw up his hands. "Finally! Thank God." He started to rummage in the fridge, completely disregarding their make out session. "Look, you both have beds for that. What's for supper? I heard there was going to be a party with snacks."

Jon buried his face against Kurt's chest, giggling. Kurt set his chin on the top of Jon's head, grinning. "Party's cancelled, Douglas. Sorry to disappoint. I'm staying."

Cary raised an eyebrow at him. "So I see." He held up the meat tray. "Is this fair game then?"

*I'm not crying--you're crying. What stood out to you about that make up conversation?

I dislike when conflict feels contrived in a story, like two characters are just being dumb for the sake of the plot. So I tried to make a real conflict between Kurt and Jon, where we could see both sides. And I HATED IT. I'm so sorry for putting us all through this lovelies, NEVER AGAIN! lol.*

3419 words.