For Us

52. Coming clean.

*Dedicated to Dyllan S. So proud of how far you've come.*

{Kurt}

"Am I going to have to talk at this thing?" Cary's dark eyes were worried as he glanced at Kurt from the passenger seat of his truck.

Kurt shook his head. "This one's an open meeting. You can just say you're here to listen or that you're here with me. Uh, if you're comfortable with that."

"Why wouldn't I be comfortable with that?" Cary asked.

Kurt fingered his earring and touched the top button of his crisp pink dress shirt. He felt like Grandpa Visser in this outfit, a dapper man he knew mostly from his Grandma's photos and stories. It felt good to be dressed up again. "I don't know. I don't want to assume we're... you know, friends. In public."

Cary huffed a laugh. "We're friends, Visser. It's safe to assume. Pretty sure I've spent more time in public as your pretend boyfriend than I spent with my last actual girlfriend."

Kurt flicked him a smile, still worried. He was getting very attached to having Cary around and he didn't want the other man to get sick of him. "These are good people. I'll make sure it's clear we're not together."

Cary waved his shovel-sized hand dismissively. "Sure, sure. I know you like a more compact model. I'll try not to take it personal."

Kurt laughed, relaxing. "Have you been to a meeting before? AA? NA?"

Cary shook his head. After a moment, he said, "Sobered up from a painkiller habit in a hotel room with my mom when I was...twelve, I guess. We didn't believe in talking to people about our shit. Barely talked to each other."

Tucking his hair behind his ear, Kurt looked thoughtfully at the other man. "You keep surprising me, Douglas. Now you're one of the most 'in touch with your feelings' dudes I know."

"One thousand hours of talk therapy and counting," Cary said. "You should try it."

"Christ, can you imagine." Kurt laughed shortly. "I'd be there forever."

His AA group met in a classroom in the basement of the Strathcona library, papered with crayon drawings and posters of kitten memes, and lined with bins of toys and LEGO. Once after a meeting, he and Laurel had stayed back to dig into those LEGO bins, giggling like children.

People were milling around the urn of coffee already, and an elderly woman with wispy white hair caught sight of him, coming over with a smile on her face. "Mr. Visser, I've been thinking about you."

Kurt leaned down, clasping her frail shoulders to air-kiss her papery cheeks. "Can't get rid of me that easy, Phyllis." He turned to Cary, who was sticking close to his back. "This is my friend, Cary Douglas."

Phyllis' hand was tiny in Cary's as he shook it gently.

"Welcome Mr. Douglas, we're just about to get started."

A number of familiar faces gave Kurt a smile or a nod as he helped himself to coffee, and the last of Kurt's anxiety about leaving the house unknotted. This had been his safest place for months, before he'd had Jon's house to come home to.

People stepped out of the way for Laurel's imposing figure, as she sailed across the room, opening her arms. Her pregnant belly was more pronounced every time Kurt saw her, although he supposed someone who didn't know might just think it was one more generous curve. He hugged her like she was made of glass. "Honey, how are you?" he asked.

Laurel smacked his arm. "I was going to ask you the same question." She glared, putting her hands on her wide hips. Her eyeliner was on-point as usual, her brilliant red hair falling in artful waves around her high cheekbones and long neck. "You were amazing on Saturday--I followed it all on Insta, and then...poof. Nothing. I told you a hundred times: if you don't want to slip, stay away from slippery places."