{Jon}

After sending that text, Jon got up, stretching his arms over his head and getting a full breath in. A day with nothing he needed to do except anticipate Kurt's arrival. His stomach was fluttering with what might have been hope, but could also have been dread. This was not like him, and he felt unbalanced.

He surveyed the kitchen and living area which were littered with used dishes, to-go coffee cups, school textbooks and balled up dirty socks, all washed up in the tide of six ten-hour work shifts in a row and a full course load. He let out his breath, smiling: it was going to feel so good to deep clean this whole space.

Jon's feet hurried up the stairs, his whole body feeling quick and light. He'd stepped over the ledge and he was flying now. Cary had his drawing studio in the top room of the house, and Jon knocked on the wall at the top of the last set of stairs since there was no door.

It took Cary a second to emerge from his other world, lifting his pencil off the page and turning from his desk. His broad shoulders and messy dark head were framed by sketches of their family and scenes from his graphic novel papering the walls and ceiling around him.

"Kurt's coming over," Jon said breathlessly. "I'm going to clean and I need you to shop. Can you get us drinks and snacks? And then, like, make yourself scarce tonight?"

Cary's face opened in a slow smile. "No shit. Yeah you got it."

Laundry, dishes and mopping the floors took most of the afternoon. Cary returned loaded down with grocery bags and a suspiciously large brown paper-wrapped package.

"Did you buy flowers?" Jon said incredulously.

Cary gave him a crinkly-eyed look. "Maybe. They're for the house."

Jon unwrapped the blooms, alstroemeria and sunflowers and fall foliage, the sharp, green fragrance making him feel lighter than ever.

Cary slid one blushing pink rose out of the bunch. "This one's for me."

Jon shot him a look. "Plans tonight?"

Cary put the rose between his teeth, his grin flashing in his dark beard. "Pot calling the kettle much?"

Jon's face pinked again. "We're barely--even friends. We're not doing... whatever you're planning on doing tonight."

"Yet." Cary laughed his soundless laugh.

When Cary came down, showered and neatly groomed, the floors were gleaming, the flowers were tucked discretely in a corner of the counter and there was calming music coming out of the Bluetooth speaker. Jon looked up from where he was arranging and re-arranging the candles in the corner of the room--maybe he should just clear them away. Was it lame that he was a man that liked candles?

"Hey," Cary said, his face serious.

Jon straightened, almost vibrating with tension now with under an hour until Kurt was due to arrive.

Cary walked over and put his arms around him. Jon felt like the bigger man's weight grounded him and anxiety quieted in his stomach. "Just be who you are," Cary said. "Relax. Have fun. You're good, Jon. He's gonna love you."

Jon took a big breath. "Thanks," he said, muffled into Cary's crisp shirt.

Cary drew back, patting him on the top of his head, which made Jon laugh. "See you tomorrow." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Jon shooed him out the door, laughing a little hysterically.

Once Jon had showered and changed into clean clothes, and made vegetarian nachos and put them in the oven, there was nothing left to do. His neck and shoulders were tight and aching with tension; he usually did an extended cardio workout and yoga flow on his day off. In the living room with the stereo sound surrounding him, Jon inverted himself, stretching his arms out long in front and then setting his forearms on the floor and unfolding his legs into the air. He breathed, feeling his head and neck release with the pull of gravity.

"Am I too early?" A voice drawled softly.

Jon's eyes popped open, seeing Kurt upside down in the kitchen doorway, barefoot and holding the neck of his guitar. He flipped himself right side up, all the blood still in his face. "Hey," he said breathlessly.

"I let myself in," Kurt gestured to the back door. His mouth was curled and he checked Jon out with quick sideways glances. "Is this why you have no furniture? So you can do headstands?"

Before Jon could adequately respond, Kurt had his own feet in the air, hands walking awkwardly over the floor to try to keep his balance, his eyes laughing upside-down at Jon. He quickly over-balanced and landed flat on his back. Jon laughed out loud and Kurt laughed with him.

"You made that look easy, White. Show me again."

Jon turned his blushing cheek to the side, rubbing his shoulder up to his ear. His first impulse was to refuse, to deflect attention from himself.

"Like this?" Kurt was trying again, this time starting from his forearms and trying to kick his legs up in the air like Jon. Stepping in, Jon caught his legs before they over-balanced, steadying them. He felt Kurt's breath on his bare toes as he gently drew Kurt's legs into the centre of his balance and moulded his feet into points with his hands.

(These legs though. So lonnnnng he could have wrapped them around his body like a scarf.)

Kurt's thighs brushed his stomach and the other man puffed a laugh. "Look, I'm doing it! Oh shit--how do I get down?"

Quickly, Jon adjusted his legs, folding them at Kurt's hips and setting his hand against Kurt's lower back to steady him. Kurt's shirt had fallen up around his shoulders and Jon felt his smooth bare skin against his fingers like an electric charge.

Safely right-side-up, Kurt sprawled on the ground, gesturing with his hands. "Now you," he said. "Show me how it's really done, White."

Jon rolled his eyes, then rolled out his shoulders and inverted himself in one fluid movement. He was conscious of his own shirt falling under his shoulders, exposing his stomach. He rolled out and popped back up onto his feet.

"Dammmmmn." Kurt said appreciatively.

"Shut up," Jon said drily. "Yoga is so gay."

"I love it," Kurt laughed.

Jon messed his hair into his familiar rumple, still unable to look directly at the other man. Any second now the conversation was going to dry up and he wouldn't have anything to say to start it again. "Are you hungry? I made us nachos."

"I'm always hungry," Kurt said. He was cradling his guitar in his lap, his head bent while he tuned the strings. "Can I just play what I got so far?"

Jon leaned against the wall, pressing his hands against the small of his back. "Yeah I'd like that." When Kurt wasn't looking he could drink him in, noting the things that were different than he remembered: Kurt's angular shoulder bones, the ragged shape of his haircut like he'd done it himself.

Kurt's blue eyes gave him one quick glance through his hair before he ducked his head again. His rib cage expanded and he started to sing. A bunch of lines were unfinished and Kurt just hummed the melody he was imagining.

Jon smelled smoke and it wasn't just how hot Kurt looked when he made music--the nachos were burning. He fled into the kitchen, yanking open the oven and pulling the smoking tray out, then throwing open the windows.

Kurt followed him, eyes bright. "Those look amazing."

"They look burnt to a crisp," Jon said.

The other man had already helped himself to a plate and was pulling nacho chunks onto it, hissing and licking his fingers at the heat. Silently, Jon handed him the flipper to finish dishing himself up.

"Same for you?" Kurt said, shovelling a nacho pile onto the second plate without waiting for an answer.

"Thanks," Jon said, and the kitchen fell silent except the sound of Kurt eating and the soft croon of Jon's music. Jon picked at his plate for the parts that weren't burnt. After what felt like a painfully long time he thought to say, "So what are you thinking for the song?"

"I want some harmonies," Kurt said immediately, his hands weaving in the air. "And I remembered you were a counter-tenor--"

Jon made a soft, dismissive noise.

"--just go with it, White." Kurt's mouth curled mischieviously. "I wanted an excuse to see you and try something together."

His honesty caught Jon's breath and disarmed him. He set his plate on the counter, carefully wiping his fingers on the cloth in the sink. "I think I'm really bad at this, Kurt," he said in a low voice. "I don't date. I literally don't know how to talk about anything except school and work. And those things are--boring."

"You're not boring," Kurt said.

Jon exhaled, looking aside. It was quiet a moment, then he added his own honesty. "I have this tiny handful of people I can be my full self with." He combed through his memory of university, wishing that was an exaggeration. His decision to keep his sexuality to himself had a cost and he was still paying it.

"I'm friend-ly with people in class and my coworkers but that's like--" Jon held his fingers an inch apart. "I don't know how to--" He set his hands against his body, opening them like they were doors. "--the way you do. I think you're going to get bored of me really fast." He rubbed the heel of his hand into the socket of his eye. "Like you built us up into something I'm not."

Kurt lifted his eyes to look around the kitchen, then returned to Jon's face. "Maybe you've picked up that... my last year was a dumpster fire. And I'm still a little singed." He brushed a hand over his chest, laughing self-consciously. "You--and Douglas--and this place feel really good. Like really peaceful. I don't want more." He paused. "Except for those nachos--I do want more of those."

Jon laughed softly, serving seconds onto his outstretched plate. He had to adjust the way he thought about Kurt: he'd appeared to be as full of confidence and swagger at the concert as he'd ever been in high school. As he leaned next to the other man, Jon wanted to stroke his hand over his choppy hair and hear everything.

He kept his hands to himself and tried to make small talk instead. It felt like he was peddling a bike, uphill, with no grease on the chain. "How's working with Cary going?"

"Can't complain," Kurt said. "He's fair, he keeps finding us jobs, he doesn't talk much. He probably saved my ass last month offering me work." He darted Jon a look. "How long have you lived together?"

"Since high school. He got this house a couple years ago and we fixed it up together."

Kurt continued to look genuinely interested. "Can you give me the tour?"

"Uh..." Jon hedged; he'd only cleaned the bathroom and the main floor, but a 'tour' would pass another twenty-minute chunk of time. "Sure."

Kurt poked his head into every room, noticing and complimenting the little touches they'd made to showcase the old home's original moulding and shapes. Jon's face heated when they got to his bedroom doorway: dirty laundry was strewn around the floor. Kurt's blue eyes flashed back at him. "Yours?"

Jon closed the door quickly on the giant unmade bed--that mattress felt like sleeping on a cloud and it was one of the few luxuries he permitted himself. "Um yeah. I didn't have time to clean it yet. I've just been hanging on 'til these days off to see if I was even going to make it."

When they got to the basement, Kurt's eyes went wide. "What??" He jumped onto the sparring floor to feel it bounce. "Is this what I think it is? You weren't joking about sparring?"

His grin was infectious and Jon smiled back, biting the corner of his mouth. Usually the parts of his life didn't touch: the students at the dojo didn't know Cary or where he lived--the students in his university classes didn't know he taught Jui Jitsu or practised yoga, and neither did his coworkers. None of them knew he played guitar, or sang. None of them knew his family. Weirdly, Kurt already knew him better than anyone in his life except Cary.

Kurt danced from foot to foot, waving him onto the raised floor. "Show me something."

"No," Jon said, laughing.

"I Googled it," Kurt said. "I know what you can do, come on. Throw me--I want to fly."

"Ughh," Jon said. Kurt's happiness was impossible to resist. He stepped up onto the floor and immediately the other man stilled, ready and watching him, his arms loose by his sides.

"How about you throw me," Jon said.

Kurt's eyebrows flicked up and worry flashed in his face for the first time.

"Look, I'll show you how. I'm not breakable--Cary's thrown me a hundred times."

He approached Kurt like they were going to embrace, dropping his eyes from Kurt's face and trying to treat this like a teachable moment with any other student. His blush betrayed him as he set his shoulder against Kurt's chest.

"Put your arm here--" Jon said, threading Kurt's arm around his shoulder. The familiarity of the motions steadied him.

"Grip my other arm here--" Kurt's hand clasped his upper arm.

"Now step forward right--" Kurt put his foot between Jon's and Jon leaned into the move.

"Bend your left leg and slide--drop your left hip to the ground--" Jon allowed the momentum of Kurt's fall to throw him onto his back with a 'thump'. He caught his breath, smiling. "Done. Nice."

Kurt flashed him a grin as he untangled his arms, so close to his face Jon was dazzled. The other man jumped back to his feet. "Again, come on, do me."

Jon sighed, getting to his feet. "I'm not supposed to throw beginners."

"I trust you, Jon," Kurt said.

Jon made a 'tsk' noise with his tongue; he did love the satisfying feel of a take down. Settling his weight over his feet, he said, "Stay loose," and came at Kurt, so quick the other man was flat on his back and Jon was up again in under a second.

Kurt shouted a laugh from the floor. "That wasn't even the same thing."

"It was," Jon said wryly. "Just faster."

Kurt was trying to kick his legs up in a headstand again. "So you and Douglas just get to play down here whenever you want? I'm a little jealous."

"Not so much right now--our schedules don't match. I'm working--he's sleeping. He's working--I'm sleeping or doing school."

Kurt's legs waved wildly and Jon caught him, setting them into balance again. Kurt pointed his toes, then wiggled them in Jon's face. "Why do you work so hard?" he asked, upside-down.

"What else am I going to do with my life?" Jon asked quietly. "I'm not having a wife and kids--I can't make a family. Work is what I have."

"You could make a family." This time Kurt did a passable roll out onto his feet, pushing his long hair out of his face. "Two daddies, adopt a kid that needs a home."

Jon crossed his arms against his chest. "No. I'm not doing that to some kid."

"Doing what." Kurt's voice roughened a little.

Jon tucked in his chin, choosing his words. "Kids bullied the hell out of me in high school. You ever think what they'd do to some kid with two dads?"

Kurt tipped his head, saying slowly, "I guess I just think I want a family and we'd figure it out. They start little..." He put his hand around knee height, making a wide-eyed 'please mom?' face.

A smile tugged Jon's lips. "I know that."

"You could homeschool--you seem smart." Kurt fell in step beside him.

Jon bumped his shoulder, shoving him a little off balance. "First you have to imagine me having time for a relationship."

"I have an excellent imagination." Kurt glanced at him, his lips curling, then raced ahead up the stairs.

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