For Keeps

52. Everlasting arms.

*This one is for my mom, with all my love. Everything I know about being a good mom I learned from @BonnieNikkel. She even followed me to Wattpad and that is true love from a 70-something. *

{Jon}

The next morning Jon's head was stuffy but felt no more fragile than a normal head-cold. Cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood, leaning against the walls to get to the bathroom upright. He ran a very hot bath, his second in as many days and he wasn't sorry. It was not near as fun without Kurt, but the heat eased the tension in his neck and shoulders and his face felt open and clear when he was done. Clean and in a clean set of yoga pyjamas, Jon felt more like himself than he had in forty-eight hours.

Also, ravenous. The house smelled like Kurt had been cooking soup before he left for work.

Jon eased down the stairs one at a time on his butt and swayed into the kitchen.

His mother was stirring a pot on the stove, her apron buttoned around her ample hips, her greying hair in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck. A symphony orchestra was playing on the television, and apparently she had not heard him come down.

Almost tripping over his own feet, Jon backed out of the kitchen into the hall, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. Kurt had not said anything before he left--had Mel just come over on her own? Jon did not feel up for this today--making words for his mom that wouldn't trouble her any more than necessary.

If he wasn't so hungry his legs were about to give out on him--and if that soup on the stove didn't smell so good--he would have crept back upstairs to pretend to sleep all day.

Kurt's words came back to him, and Jon took a breath. She's showing up for you now and it's December for her same as you.

How petty would it be if he threw away a chance with the mom he had when Kurt longed for even this much, just a mom who took his calls when he needed help? His partner's story made Jon aware again just how good his parents were, even if they weren't perfect by a long shot.

It also made him angry as hell, but that was a whole other thing. He would kick it into the bag downstairs when he was feeling better.

In the end, Jon's body made the decision for him. His head was spinning gently, done with standing, and he shuffled to Cary's big man chair and huddled gratefully in it's sturdy embrace. Jon rested his head against the argyle fabric and closed his eyes to just breathe a bit.

"Jon--you're up," his mother said, happiness in her voice.

"Hey Mom," Jon said softly without opening his eyes.

"I thought I would pick up a few groceries for you men and make some chicken soup and rice. Bone broth is just the thing for a cold. Your dad swears by it." He could hear her worry. "You haven't been answering your phone so...I texted Kurt."

Jon couldn't remember yesterday very well but he was afraid that he might not have been very friendly, drugged up and in pain and unpleasantly surprised by her first visit.

"It's fine you're here," he said. "I'm feeling better today."

It was quiet a moment. "You're a little pale, honey," Mel said. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

Jon opened his eyes, looking at her concerned face and hands clasped tightly at her waist. He could get it himself--he wasn't incapable of making it to the sink for a cup of water and a handful of crackers. "Sure," he said. "Thanks Mom. Soup smells great."

She smiled. "Ready in twenty minutes. I'll just put on tea and toast to start."

If he kept his head still and avoided watching the TV screen, Jon felt pretty normal--if his normal had ever been curled motionless in a massive armchair. He made small talk with his mom while she made the tea--what program was she watching? How were the girls today? What was in her soup recipe? He didn't always remember to open his eyes and animate his face when she was looking.