For Keeps

26. High maintenance gay.

*Trigger warning: conversation about hospitals, cancer and death. I promise, lovelies, this lonnnnng night is going to come to an end and the sun rises in Chapter 29--read somewhere safe and push through!*

{Kurt}

Jon slowly unfolded as Kurt drove. His partner set his boots on the floor and hugged his chest. At a stop light, Kurt used one hand to quickly pull up a playlist on his phone and connect it with the car speaker system. It was an acoustic mix of Christmas carols he thought Jon would like because they were mostly about the Christian origin of the holiday: God coming as a baby into the dark of the world.

Which was what Douglas had been reading about the day before, Kurt realized. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light. His galloping heart gradually slowed to a more normal pace.

"You still hungry love?" he asked as he pulled into a 24-hour Tim Horton's drive through.

Jon nodded wordlessly, and Kurt leaned out the window, letting in a chilly blast of air as he ordered two coffees and juice and water bottles and two egg and bacon English muffins, without the muffins. He had to repeat this twice to a very confused and probably sleepy staff person. "Just throw the eggs and bacon on top of each other in a box," Kurt said, exasperated. "And give us a fork. Unless you have a gluten free bread option in there I don't know about."

When he had finally sorted this out and pulled forward to the payment window, Kurt nudged Jon's arm, chuckling. "I thought I was a high maintenance gay."

Jon's laugh was soft but Kurt was relieved to hear it. It felt like they were shaking off the fear of the previous hour, like waking up from a nightmare. Once he had a coffee warm in his hand and they were on the freeway out of the city, Kurt felt entirely normal.

"Okay, plans," Kurt said. "Our check-in isn't 'til noon and we'll be in Jasper way before then. Anything you want to do, White?"

"We could hike the loop around Annette Lake?" Jon's eyes just touched his face as he unpacked the bag of food. "It's beautiful up there. And there's a restaurant at the end."

"I even wore my reasonable boots," Kurt said. "Sure love, let's do that. I have us booked in for all sorts of fabulous things this afternoon: mud facials and massages and mani-pedis."

Jon flashed Kurt a small smile, eating eggs in big bites out of the box. "Sounds gay," he said. "I'm in."

Kurt laughed, rubbing the back of Jon's neck with his free hand. His fingers found a hell of a lot of tension there still, and the tiny hairs on the back of Jon's neck prickled under his touch.

Jon shivered involuntarily, taking a long swig of juice. "Mm. I think I forgot to eat yesterday, except communion and some carrot sticks. God, I'm starving."

Kurt sighed to himself. Seriously, he cared about Jon so much it hurt and he wished Jon was half as good to his body as Kurt would have been.

The highway was dark and empty, stars pricking the night sky above their headlights rolling over the asphalt and endless snowy ditches. There were stories he'd been hoping to hear from his partner today, in the privacy of their car with nowhere they needed to be. "Jon can you--tell me your Judah stories?" he asked. "The ones your parents don't tell on your birthday. It's okay if you cry today, right?"

Jon made a dry noise, leaning against the door with his arms hugged around his body. "I don't remember, Visser. I told you, I was six."

"You told me you remember the scary shit," Kurt said softly.

It was quiet a moment. Jon tucked his chin in, frowning and Kurt reached out to touch his shoulder, worried that he'd pushed too far. Jon drew in a breath. "I never tell those stories. I don't...I don't know how to start."