For Keeps - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

{Kurt}
"Ready to go, big man?" Kurt knocked on the door to Cary's bedroom, and it flew open under his hand. Cary's maroon Christmas jumper just about punched Kurt in the eye with it's glaring combination of maroon, gold, red and and green. Eight tiny reindeer and Santa's sleigh sailed across Cary's broad chest; the stars in the night sky were picked out with sequins. Kurt admired a straight man brave enough to wear sequins.
Cary's knitted hat jingled as he tugged it back over his hair. "Get your Jon time in?" he asked, glancing sideways at Kurt.
Kurt's lips curled in a smile. "Yup. Thanks for clearing out after supper."
Cary shrugged, clomping down the stairs. "Just trying to avoid being the awkward third wheel in my own house," he said gruffly.
The library classroom where their AA group normally met was decorated for Christmas, with hand-painted pictures of Santa's face with a cotton ball beard pinned up on the walls, and a small tree hung with LEGO creations at the front. Kurt squeezed their dessert offering, a chocolate tiramisu cake from a near-by Italian bakery, onto the table next to the coffee urn. He noted with interest a tray full of homemade Nanaimo bars and a gallon of candy cane ice cream among the offerings.
The room was nearly full of people chatting with coffees in hand. Cary edged around conversations to get to the Christmas tree, bending to examine every LEGO creation. Kurt looked for Laurel, then sent her a text.
Immediately a response bubbled up from Laurel:
Cary and Kurt weren't the only people in Christmas-themed attire: Phyllis's tinsel kitten sweater had made a re-appearance; the pair of white kittens in Santa hats, framed by a wreath of actual tinsel sewn onto the knitted pink sweater would have done Delores Umbridge proud. With her fluffy white hair and cat-eye glasses, Phyllis looked like Mrs. Santa presiding over their party.
Kurt was slurping his second cup of bad coffee when Laurel blew through the door in an enormous emerald green parka she couldn't close over the taut, round shape of her belly. Molly pulled free of her mother's hand to run to Kurt, calling, "Auntie Kurt!" and holding up her chubby hands for him to bend down and let her 'muh-wah' both his cheeks.
Laurel was struggling out of her jacket and, after a second, Cary stepped in and helped her free her encumbered body from the sleeves. She flashed him a grateful look, brushing a coiffed wave of bang out of her glittery, lined green eye.
"God, thank you," Laurel said. "I'm so done with this." She flicked her manicured fingers over her abundant curves. "I just want to get this baby out and put her down already." She laughed ruefully.
Kurt leaned in for a careful hug and kissed her cheeks. "You look gorgeous, darlin'," he said reassuringly. "You make pregnancy look hot."
Laurel groaned, fanning herself. "Pregnancy is hot." Her downy white turtleneck hugged every curve, while her leggings and knee high boots showed off her shapely legs.
"There's ice cream," Cary said, a smile in his dark eyes as he nudged his beard at the food table.
"Is there?" Laurel's eyes lit up. "I'm literally living on ice cream right now."
As they lined up to serve themselves dessert, Cary asked, "When do you get to put your baby down?" His gruff, quiet voice was almost lost in the hubbub of the crowd and the carols playing on a stereo.
Laurel smiled up at him. It was unusual for her to find a man taller than she was in heels. "I wish I could tell you this is as big as I get. But she's not coming 'til January. Five more weeks—but who's counting?"
Cary glanced in her face; Kurt was very interested in the smile crinkling his friend's eyes. "You're havin' a baby girl? I have sisters too. They're the best."
Kurt smacked his broad bicep. "Hey now. Jon's the best."
Cary huffed a laugh. "You're biased."
Kurt touched the ring on his hand, grinning goofily. "I really am."
Laurel was heaping ice cream and chocolate cake onto her plate; Kurt was gratified to see their tiramisu was already gone. "Oh my god, Kurt, your weekend in Jasper! You have to tell me everything. What did you say—what did he say? Was there hot—" she glanced at Molly. "--you know—after?"
Kurt's mouth quirked wryly. Jon would die of embarrassment if he shared the details of their sex life with anyone else. "Sorry darlin' you're gonna have to live vicariously through some other gay from now on. My bedroom door is closed." He held out his hand to show her the ring. "Grandma Visser's. Nothing special," he said.
Laurel took his fingers and blinked, running her thumb over the smooth gold band. "It's a wedding ring." She flashed Kurt a look. "I was expecting some kind of big sparkly rock for you."
"Nope," Kurt said. He took a big, happy breath. "I guess we skipped the engagement."
"I was watching your Instagram all weekend and–nothing," Laurel snapped her fingers. "Kurt, honey, you're only updating once a week. You gotta give your followers more than that or they'll forget you exist."
Kurt glanced at Cary, who was listening, bemused. "You want daily updates about the basements we've been mudding? I don't know what to tell you."
Every part of Kurt's life touched Jon's now; he didn't feel comfortable posting anything publicly from their home. The highlights of Kurt's week that he would normally be snapping pics of—the food they made, the places they went, the clothing he was wearing for the occasion—just came too close to raising awkward questions about who he was with. And it wasn't like he was famous anymore; he had no albums and no shows to promote.
Laurel eased her enormous body into a chair, giving him a plaintive look. "Throw a girl a bone--I'm reduced to binge-watching Queer Eye on Netflix. I need a gay happy ending!"
Lips curling in a smile, Kurt swiped through the passcode on his phone and tapped the photo stream from Jasper, handing it across to her. "Eat your heart out, darlin'."
Laurel cooed over every shot of the mountains, of their hotel room, of Jon's 100 watt grin at the top of the SkyTram. "He is seriously so adorable. You both are, oh my god."
Kurt snorted a laugh. "Ohh-kay. Grown-ass man over here. Next you're gonna pinch my cheeks and feed me milk 'n cookies with Molly." He took the phone back and smiled fondly at the picture of Jon on the screen. "You're not wrong, though; he is so adorable."
Molly was wriggling in her seat, craning her head around the room. "Mommy, can I play with the LEGO?"
Laurel sat up straighter to check how close the toy bins were from her watchful eye. "Sure baby, if you clean up after."
Cary huffed a quiet laugh. "I was thinkin' the same thing. You mind if I keep an eye on her?" He checked Laurel for permission.
She looked taken aback. "Oh. Sure." Her eyes followed Cary's broad maroon shoulders as he crossed the room and got stiffly on the floor in front of the LEGO bins, across from Molly. "That's not weird, is it?" she asked Kurt. "Tell me your friend isn't a creeper."
Kurt laughed out loud. "No, that big man's love for LEGO is the real deal."
She touched her finger to the bare ring finger on her own hand. "How's it feel?" she asked, her voice a little wistful. "Being a one-man man. Are you going to miss being fancy-free and available?"
Kurt rubbed his aching cheeks; he'd been smiling so much his face hurt. "Nope. Would you?"
He noticed her eyes go to Cary's dark messy head, bent over something he was building between his hands. Molly was closely watching his progress. "Depends on the man," Laurel said, flashing Kurt a sassy smile.
"Mm-hm," Kurt said, his own mouth curling mischievously.
"What?" she said. "Cary's not coming to meetings. That makes him a friend of a friend—fair game."
"True," Kurt allowed.
"Want to be my wingman and feel him out for me?"
"Girl, no," Kurt said, pretending to be appalled. "Not if you put it like that. The man does not like to be touched."
Laurel laughed a little, curiosity alive in her look. "You know what I mean. Is he straight? Single? Looking?"
"Uhh—" Kurt thought of all the times Cary had shut down his teasing about finding a new girlfriend and realized he maybe didn't know the answer to that last question. "He's straight, yup. Broke up with someone a couple months ago. But I don't know if he's looking, to be honest."
Laurel made her eyes wide and pleading and Kurt grinned back at her.
"But I will find out," he promised. "Now I'm dying to know myself."
Kurt saw no reason to keep either Laurel or his own curiosity waiting. In Cary's truck on the way home, buzzing pleasantly from a caffeine and sugar rush, Kurt asked, "You ever think if something could work out with Laurel?"
Cary glanced in the rearview. "Thought about it," he said slowly. "She's a beautiful woman."
"She might be interested," Kurt said casually.
Cary made a dry noise. "Nah, she's not."
Kurt gave him a puzzled look.
Cary pulled his knitted cap off his head with a muffled 'jingle' and laid it carefully over his knee. "Visser, ask any of my ex-girlfriends. I'm a stodgy old man with sexy tattoos. They all wanted to return me for an exchange before a year was up."
Kurt blinked, hearing the sting in that. "Stodgy?" he repeated.
"Yeah, that's what my last girlfriend called me. I had to look it up. It means—dull. And heavy."
"Ouch," Kurt commented.
"She's not wrong." Cary's mouth twisted. "I'm not a fun date; I don't care to go out on the town. I'm not ambitious; I'm not planning to upgrade past my Grade twelve diploma. I don't like to travel; stuffing myself in an airplane makes me panic. I'm about as flexible as my hip some days. Not to mention, I'm religious as hell. Know anyone who wants to share a bed full time with a man with PTSD and chronic pain who's goin' nowhere in life and is fine with that?"
Kurt felt all of that and had no desire to shoot back a careless response. Yeah, he knew a gay or two who'd enjoy a bear like Cary, and this wasn't the time for teasing his straight friend. "I don't know--you don't think there's a woman out there who just wants someone who's kind?" he asked.
Cary shot him a look, a little of his edge softening. "That's nice of you to say."
"I'm not just sayin' it to be nice," Kurt said. He slouched in his seat, hugging his arms against his chest while he watched the lights of the night city roll past. "I'll quit bugging you if you're really done."
"I miss having women friends." Cary rubbed his chest; his voice was a little plaintive. "They always want to make it the other thing. I'm tired of setting myself up to get left again and again and again. I think I'd rather do without."
Kurt made a soft noise, the memory of how strained and hungry Jon had been on their first date cracking his heart. "I don't love that for you, Care. Jon was a little—starving, when I got to him."
"I'm not Jon," Cary said bluntly. "It's hard fucking work for me to let someone touch my skin. I haven't missed it yet. I just need hugs sometimes an' I can get those from my mom. Or Jon."
"Or me," Kurt said.
Cary huffed a laugh. "Or you, obviously."
Kurt was relieved not to be left off the Cary Douglas' hug train.
"I think I'm really done," Cary said slowly. "I'm a simple guy, Kurt. I'm pretty sure I can get along fine on my own."
Kurt saw the truth of Cary's words in the plain expression on his face, and it finally sunk in just how different the other man might be from either him or Jon or Laurel. "Oh. You think you might be asexual? Some people just don't—feel like they want that."
Cary was quiet a bit, leaning against the door with his hand shoved through his hair. "Thought about that too," he said slowly. "I don't love one more label. An' I don't want to offend someone who really is ace sayin' I am too." His shoulders slumped. "I just know I been tryin' to make this work and it doesn't for me. I thought if I found the right person it would get easier, but it's been the opposite. Every time is harder. Then she's hurt an' mad at me, an' I hate that." He rubbed his fist into his eyes. "But is that my shit and I should fix it, or how I was born? I have no idea."
Kurt paused, thinking about all the interwoven events, good and bad and neutral, that had shaped him into the man he was today. "I don't know what's my shit and what's how I was born," he said frankly. "I think that's true whatever your sexuality is, straight or gay or whatever. Doesn't mean you need to 'fix it'--it's just complicated being human. You find a label that helps tell people what you're like, but that label doesn't sum up all of you. You're Cary Douglas, a one-of-a-kind human. Like I'm one-of-a-kind Kurt Visser. Good luck labelling me." Kurt's lips curled in a wry smile.
Cary glanced at him, his expression lifting a little.
"Well." Kurt almost patted his arm, then brushed his hand over his own leg instead. "You're fine how you are, Care. I'll tell Laurel to switch gears. She could use a big man-friend with a truck and you're the best friend I ever had."
Cary huffed a laugh. "Pleasure's mine, Visser." His broad chest lifted with a big sigh. "Sure. If the label helps--go with that. I love havin' women in my life. They give the best hugs. No offense to you and Jon but you're so...skinny. And flat."
Kurt burst out laughing. "Oh my girl Laurel is the friend for you." He pulled out his phone to get right on that, feeling warm and glad that his friend had trusted him with this conversation. Maybe he was going to pull all his favourite people together in an unexpected way.
He texted Laurel:
There was a long pause, then Laurel's response bubbled up under his message.
And then,
Followed rapidly by:
Kurt chuckled and nudged his shoulder against Cary's. "There you go," Kurt said. "She says she needs more sober friends." He made jazz hands. "You're both welcome."
Cary laughed softly, shaking his head. "You're incorrigible."
"You've been hanging out with Jon too long--I don't even know what that word means," Kurt said innocently.
"Oh I think you do," Cary said. "And you love it."
When Kurt and Cary returned home, the living room was spotless, the gleaming floors reflecting the lights of the Christmas tree. A huge bouquet of roses and evergreens and holly berries graced their kitchen table, and out the window Kurt saw a fire flickering in their backyard. Leaving his boots on, he went out the back door to find Jon.
His partner was slouched in one of their massive Muskoka chairs, legs stretched towards the fire pit, a cigarette between his fingers. Jon's face lit up with a smile when he saw Kurt, the firelight making his skin glow and flicker inside his hood. "You're home." He took a last sip off the cigarette and flicked it into the fire, holding out his arms to Kurt. "C'mere, there's room for two."
Pleased, Kurt tucked himself into the chair with Jon, slinging his long legs over the arm. Jon hugged him tight and Kurt nudged his face against Jon's cheek to breathe in his smoky smell and taste the nicotine in his mouth. Pulling Kurt into a deeper kiss, Jon made a low, relieved sound in his throat.
Kurt breathed a big sigh, feeling how he'd been missed. "Good introvert time?" he asked, curling to lay his head on Jon's shoulder and watch the fire.
"Mm," Jon said, stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair. "Turns out Bunches is open twenty-four hours. For those late-night flower cravings."
"Oh?" Kurt said, feigning ignorance. "Who're the flowers for?"
Jon laughed softly. "Well. The Christmas greens are for Cary. The roses are for you." He kissed Kurt's forehead. "My most favourite-est person in the world."
Humming happily, Kurt snuggled closer. Who was he kidding: he was fancy free and not available and loving every minute of it.
"You know what else I did?" Jon asked. "You've gonna be so proud of me."
"What?" Kurt asked, curious.
"I felt like crying?" Jon said lightly. "And then—I cried. Just like that."
Kurt glanced into his face, which was obscured now by flickering shadow. "Look at you, Jon White, you feely gay," he said. "I am proud of you."
Sighing, Jon rested his chin on top of Kurt's hair. A light came on in the top window of the house, where the tip of Cary's tinsel Christmas tree could just be seen in his drawing studio. Below, silhouetted in their bedroom window, Misty's ears were pricked, gazing down on the fire and her humans with regal calm.
"Were you feelin' sad about Judah?" Kurt asked.
Jon shook his head. "Just some old shit," he said softly. "Over and done." He put his forehead against Kurt's temple, eyes closed. "Glad you're home."
"Oh yup," Kurt said contentedly. "Me too." He blinked at the lowering flames, the coals on the bottom of the log glowing cherry red, chased by silver, while Jon's arms hugged his body and Jon's strong legs supported him. Kurt couldn't put a price on this feeling—the certain knowledge that these were the only hands ever touching his skin again. He never had to think about what another man wanted from him and work out an exchange. There was just Jon for him now, giving himself for free, holding Kurt safe at the end of the day.