For Us

6. Work around.

{Jon}

Jon was buried in a research paper when the sound of Cary laughing and flames crackling intruded on his awareness. He checked out the window, expecting to see Cary and his girlfriend in their backyard.

Kurt Visser was pulled up to the fire pit, his hands moving expressively as he talked. Cary laughed again.

On impulse, Jon threw on a sweater and went out to their tiny, sheltered backyard, which Cary had paved with concrete slabs. Cary glanced up first. "Hey Jon."

Kurt looked around quick, his eyes lighting up.

Jon's chest felt tight. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt's smile wavered and he lifted his hands a little, like he needed to smooth Jon down. "Having a fire. Is it not okay that I'm here?"

"Sure, of course," Jon said quickly. "You don't need permission."

"Pull up a chair, Jon." Cary said drily.

Jon shifted his weight from foot to foot, wanting to join, but needing to write one more paragraph tonight before his shift. It felt like the words that came so easily over text with Kurt were stuck in his chest and it was hard to breathe. He settled on the edge of a chair, holding cold fingers to the fire and trying not to look at the long legs in faded jeans folded beside him.

After a moment, the conversation resumed: an in-depth analysis of the latest hockey season and some of the teams' chances in playoffs.

"Who do you like for the top two, White?" Kurt's hand was on the periphery of his vision, open towards him like he would draw him in closer.

Was it just him or did the silence go on awkwardly long while he tried to make the words go from his brain to his mouth? "I don't really follow sports." He made his mouth smile, glancing at Kurt briefly. There was a familiar knot in his stomach; as usual he wasn't adequately masculine.

"Oh god, sorry for boring you." Kurt waved the conversation away. "Nothing worse than a couple rednecks getting going about hockey."

"Speak for yourself," Cary said, flashing his teeth in a grin across the fire.

"I will," Kurt said comfortably. "I come from a long and distinguished line of rednecks." He looked the part tonight, from his worn black T, to his Levis and battered cowboy boots. The only thing spoiling the look was the slogan on his shirt in grungy lettering: 'Sounds gay - I'm in.' "What's your night look like, White?" Kurt asked.

Jon puffed out a breath. "Just finishing a paper. Going to work. Same same. I'm off tomorrow and I'd like to not have homework. I need a day to, like, recover." He rubbed his thumb into his eye.

"There's a 'Rayleigh' concert in Hyde Park," Kurt said and Jon realized a second too late what was coming next. "Do you want to go with me?"

Why had he told Kurt he was off? Of course he took that as an invitation; it sounded like he was fishing for Kurt to ask him out.

Across the fire, Cary raised his dark eyebrows, making a little smile like: go.

Jon glared back at Cary, knotting his fingers together until his knuckles were white. "No." He tried to soften it by offering a smile to Kurt. "Thanks."

Kurt had his arms crossed loosely over his front--he didn't look hurt, just curious. "Is it me or the band? I mean, they are a little hit and miss."

"I just can't." He tried to make the words fall lightly, unwilling to hurt Kurt again but unable to say less than the truth. He let out his breath and got to his feet. "I need to get back to work. Nice to see you." As he left, he felt Kurt's presence dragging against his limbs like water.