For Us

18. The power of gay.

{Jon}

Jon woke up with his face full of the smell of coconut and vanilla, rubbed off on his pillow, and for a full minute remembered nothing about the previous hours except the kindness of Kurt's hands stroking the knots out of his shoulders. Even as the memory of his boss' visit bled back into his consciousness, it seemed as if Kurt's arms wrapped around him under a pile of hanging coats still held him steady against the toxicity of what his boss had said.

Breathing in, Jon curled with his arms wrapped over his body and allowed himself to just remember being held, and Kurt unabashedly crying with him. If today had been like any other day, and he only had Cary's friendship to anchor him against the dark, he probably would have stayed in bed.

He got up.

He was showered and loose, lying in corpse pose on his yoga mat when the front door opened. "Honey, I'm home!" Kurt sang, and Jon smiled without opening his eyes.

"Goodness, are you asleep waiting for me?" Kurt threw himself on the floor next to Jon, leaning over to look in his face. Jon's soft laugh was interrupted by Kurt's kiss, light as a butterfly wing brushing his lips. His boyfriend smelled of turpentine and sweat, and Jon wrinkled his nose and opened his eyes, still smiling. The shadow of worry in Kurt's expression passed and his eyes shone back.

"Hey," Jon said, feeling oddly self-conscious after crying his face off in front of Kurt earlier.

"Hey," Kurt said back, smiling.

From the kitchen, Cary cleared his throat loudly, thumping bags down on the table. "Hellooo-gays. Lunch isn't getting any hotter."

Kurt jumped to his feet, holding out his hand to pull Jon up with him. "Pho first, hugging later. I'm starving, love."

Laughing, Jon followed him into the kitchen. The ease with which Kurt touched him, his obvious delight in being in Jon's home together, lightened the burden of worry Jon had been carrying about overstepping earlier in the week.

For a full minute there were no sounds except slurping. Cary cradled his bowl of Pho soup close to his face, neatly swirling the noodles onto his chopsticks, which looked tiny in his fingers. Kurt handled his chopsticks like they were a pair of tiny shovels, one for each hand.

"What's your day look like?" Kurt's blue eyes flashed to Jon's face as he shoved noodles into his mouth.

It took no effort for Jon to smile. "It's my afternoon with the boys," Jon said. "I'm picking them up from school and taking them out."

"Where are you going?"

Jon shrugged. "Wherever they want. It's Dusty's week to pick. Last week Jordin picked 'Build a Bear' and Dusty cried when I said we couldn't spend $300 to buy his bear. Candy-sprinkled fro-yo barely repaired the damage."

Cary muttered, "Because ice cream."

Kurt laughed, clapping his hands together. "Oh, I want to come. Douglas, have you met Jon's kids?"

Cary nodded, fishing a last piece of pork out of his broth. "Went to the zoo together last month. They said I looked like a bear. And then they said I smelled like a bear and my feelings got hurt."

Jon felt Kurt's eyes on him, and the held breath of Kurt's unasked question. He slurped the last of his noodle broth from his bowl, considering. His family members had relationships with the boys; the ministry encouraged community connections. And none of the other staff would be there.

And Jon wanted Kurt to come, to show off his kids to him. He snuffed out the acidic little voice that said this was exactly what his boss feared and what if--?