For Keeps

14. Kiss me I'm Danish.

{Jon}

As Jon stepped out of his last class of the semester on Wednesday, he felt his spirits lift. He had a text in his phone from Kurt, a selfie of his partner's expressive face grinning at their stove.

<dinner date chez moi tonight *red heart* looking forward to seeing you love>

All week it had felt to Jon like Kurt was between him and the ledge, his partner's body warm and solid in the dark. It was December ninth and here he was stepping into the winter sunshine, unmedicated, skin intact. Jon was the only person who knew what a miracle that was.

The weekend loomed ahead of him like a boss fight, but he wasn't allowing himself to look directly at that. There was no way to know if he would have enough to make it through those days; he just knew he had enough for today, for tonight with Kurt.

Sniffing as he entered the house, Jon tried to identify the cooking smells; something warm and buttery was roasting in the kitchen. He followed his nose, finding Kurt wrapped in a ruffled apron, browning butter on the stove.

"Smells amazing," Jon said. "What are you cooking?"

Kurt's blue eyes flashed him a smile. "Hey love. I'm hoping this tastes remotely like my Grandma Visser's blomkahlsuppe. Uh--and I bought apricot bread in a moment of weakness before I remembered you can't have flour."

There was a gorgeous loaf studded with dried fruit next to the candles on the table, and Jon felt himself bubbling with curiosity, which was a refreshing change. "What is bloom-coal-suppuh?" Jon asked, fumbling through the pronunciation.

Kurt chuckled. "Roasted cauliflower soup. All the vegetables, all the dairy for my partner. There's hard-boiled eggs for your protein."

Jon tucked his body behind Kurt's, putting his cheek next to his shoulder to watch him stir the sizzling butter. Kurt's apron front said 'Kiss Me I'm Danish' and Jon obliged, kissing him on the cheek. "I enjoy this side of you," he said.

"You're just hungry," Kurt said.

Jon laughed quietly. "You're not wrong. But I'll take one of your kitchen creations over a Freshii wrap any day. Finished my classes this afternoon. Not gonna miss eating in the food fair one bit."

"Well there you go," Kurt said. "Proud of you, White."

Jon shrugged; he still had a final papers and three exams to go, but for the moment the smells and sensations of being with Kurt in their kitchen had crowded those responsibilities right out of his head.

The doorbell rang, followed by a light knock, and Jon padded to get it. He blinked at his sister standing on their porch, hugging her elbows in her puffy yellow parka.

"Hey Bea, were we expecting you?"

She shook her head, her baggy hat bobbing over her unhappy face. "Can I stay for supper? Mom said look after ourselves and dad's working late. Tab-May has practice so I asked her to drop me off here."

Jon's stomach sank; it was a scenario that was very familiar and it stung him that since he and Cary didn't live at home anymore, Bea had been left to fend for herself this week. "Come on in," he said, making a smile. "Cary can run you home for bed."

"Cary's at art class 'til eight," Kurt called from the kitchen. "But I can be the White family taxi." His face lit up when Bea came shyly into the kitchen. "Bea White, are you here for dinner? Two weeks in a row, we're so honored."

Bea's hunched shoulders relaxed down from her ears and she smiled at Kurt. "Hey Kurt. I like your apron."

"I have a weakness for ruffles," Kurt said, chuckling as he took the pan off the heat.