For Us

12. Good bye home-sweet-sh*thole.

{Cary}

Monday morning, Kurt looked rumpled and hung over, slouching up to Cary's truck at the work site. Cary checked him with quick sideways looks as he passed Kurt the tool box and gloves.

Not hung over--beat up. Kurt's mouth was faintly swollen and pink in the plain morning light, and his eyes were lidded and wary. Cary had seen that face in the mirror enough times growing up to recognize it.

Neither of them were prone to chatting before noon; it gave Cary time to mull the whole thing over. Jon had pretty much floated through his Sunday afternoon with a smile on his face; Cary had a knot in his stomach, worrying that things with Kurt were moving faster than he'd expected and Jon was maybe too inexperienced to be careful. Kurt didn't say much about his personal life—for all Cary knew, his ex-boyfriend was still in the picture somewhere. Or some other bad news dude.

At lunchtime Cary took them to a family-owned Mexican place where they could sit down over hand cut nachos and talk. They weren't in the booth a minute before Kurt curled up with his face in the corner of his elbow, looking like he planned to take a nap on the table.

"Hey," Cary said. "Visser. We need to talk about you and Jon."

"Yeah? My favourite subject." One corner of Kurt's mouth curled up.

Cary crossed his arms; first things first. "When was your last check up. For STIs."

Kurt drew a knee to his chest, sighing. "I'm on it, big man. Safe as houses."

Cary made a dry noise. "I think we both know houses aren't safe."

Kurt cut him a look, his mouth flat-lining. "We're not fucking," he said quietly. "We established that ahead of time. I'm pretty sure I've had about a hundred more partners than Jon's comfortable with. So. That's that."

Cary frowned. "What do you mean, that's that."

Kurt lifted his shoulders.

"Are you not—seeing each other anymore?"

Colour came up in Kurt's cheeks and he hid his face in his arms. "No, we are." His voice was muffled. "I made him a deal. I'm on a holiday from hook ups and he's...letting me pretend he's my boyfriend. Just for a bit. Because he's curious, I think? And he's too kind to turn me down flat."

Cary blinked and gave his head a shake, unsure if he should be alarmed or amused. "You're pretending Jon's your boyfriend? What is he really then?"

Kurt drew his shoulders up in sharp shapes under his T-shirt. "He's my friend I wish was my boyfriend." His voice was breathy and feminine an Cary was abruptly worried Kurt was going to cry in public—he wasn't great with public crying.

To Cary's great relief, the nachos arrived, piled high with cheese and spicy ground beef. Kurt unfolded, brightening for the first time all day. They ate through the pile while Cary turned over what Kurt had said.

"So you're not seeing anyone else," Cary clarified.

Kurt shook his head.

"That drummer dude?" Cary asked.

Kurt made a face. "Oh hell no."

"Well," Cary said slowly. "Okay then. You wanna tell me why you look like you been sleepin' in your car?"

Kurt laughed once. "Because I am sleepin' in my car. I'm stayin' on a friend's couch tonight maybe, if I don't mind her toddler jumping on me for an alarm clock."

"What happened to your home-sweet-shit-hole?"

Kurt brushed his hand over his face. "My landlord's a dick. Raised the rent, like, a thousand dollars." He wouldn't meet Cary's eyes, and Cary swiftly used a finger to flip Kurt's palm up on the table. The rainbow welts of a stove burn were unmistakable. Kurt yanked his hand back, crossing his arms and hiding it against his shirt.