For Us

47. Who's gonna listen.

{Cary}

When the nurse at the clinic called Kurt's name, he grabbed Cary's hand with freezing fingers. "Don't leave, okay?' Kurt said. "Don't leave. You're my ride home." He pushed Cary into a little plastic chair in the waiting room, patting his chest. "Okay Care?" His smudged make up made his eyes look bruised.

"I'm not going anywhere, Visser " Cary rumbled, returning the man's hands to himself. "I'll be right here when you come out. Cross my heart."

Kurt swayed into an exam room and Cary bowed with his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands on the back of his neck. The smell of antiseptic made his skin prickle and he wished he'd smashed Nicky's ugly face into mush and broken every finger. He swallowed, closing his eyes, praying without words, like he pulled the beads of a rosary through his fingers.

To Cary's weary amazement, Kurt came out thirty minutes later, giggling, flinging his arms wide to the room like he'd done a magic trick. "Ta-dah!" Damp hairs stood up around his clean-washed face. He tripped a little, hurrying over, and nearly fell into Cary's lap. "We can go; this ole ass is gonna be fine."

Cary put an arm around Kurt's angular shoulders to get him to the exit doors. As he glanced back, he noticed the exam nurse giving him a scathing look of accusation and he ducked his head, pushing the door open for Kurt. You and me both, lady, he thought.

Back in the van, Kurt waved a slip of paper, his eyes over-bright. "Louise says it's just bruisin' an' a concussion an' she gave me a note for some pills to get better soon."

Cary caught the prescription out of his fingers. "I assume she gave you something for the pain right now."

Kurt chuckled. "Ohh yup yup yup. Kurt is high as a kite."

"Good for Kurt," Cary said, scanning the name of the medication. "Yeah we can pick this up. You'll have to lock it up or keep it in the truck."

"Uh-huh?" Kurt said brightly. "Why?"

"For your boyfriend to stay sober and vertical, Visser. Your alcohol addiction will kill you slow—a bottle full of these will put Jon down in one night."

"Jonathon," Kurt sang softly. He pulled a knee up to his chest, tipping against the door with his eyes closed. "I'm gonna take good care of him. He's a keeper, Care-bear."

Cary rolled his eyes. Hopefully Kurt wouldn't remember the nickname in the morning. "Sounds like you don't need these tonight. Let's just get you home."

Navigating yet another set of streets full of night traffic, Cary felt like he was stuck in a nightmare that was at once horrifying and completely tedious. "You want to report this?" he asked, after long minutes of silence.

Kurt blew out his lips in a rude noise without opening his eyes. "Who's gonna listen? Imma drunk, slutty queer and who's gonna listen, Care. Imma be fine." His face twitched and he shifted.

Cary sighed, knuckling his eye, wishing he could argue with any kind of conviction.

"We're not telling Jon, yeah?" Kurt's voice was soft and light.

When Cary stayed silent, Kurt looked around, his icy hand finding his on the gear shift. "Care?" His eyes were huge with pupil in his white face. "We're not. Please don't." His voice frayed to a whisper. "This was my own stupid fault. An' I can't. Lose him."

"This was not your fault. And you're not gonna lose him," Cary muttered.

Kurt made a noise that broke Cary's heart. "Please Cary. Jon's the best thing I ever had."

Finally Cary tucked his chin in a nod, tracing an 'x' over his chest.

{Jon}

Jon waited up, leaning against the window to watch the street from the darkened living room. Stomach churning with anger and worry, he tried to focus on each breath, his bare feet dug into the floorboards, his fingertips pressing into his arms. He eased his neck from side to side, eyes catching on every vehicle that flashed its headlights around their corner.