For Keeps - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

{Angel}
Angel held up her hands. "Stop." She pled with Pat with her eyes. "Pat. Just--zip your lip, okay? Our boss can't be gay. You signed the same thing I did--you know he can't."
Pat was blinking over and over again, like he was replaying the past months in his mind. "Is his brother gay too?"
Their eyes went to Cary Douglas; the big man's flannel-shirted form was easy to pick out from a table full of chatty women with identical silvery perms and one bemused elderly man.
Angel exhaled. "Ugh. No, I very much doubt his brother is gay too. This is Jon's church. He can be himself here. But you could muck this all up if you don't--just be cool."
Pat put his fingers over his mouth, a wide-eyed. "I tried to set him up with my cousin, Rebecca." His laugh was a little hysterical, as he glanced at Tiffany. "Well crap. I'm an idiot."
He blinked back at the two men beside the piano. Kurt's tangerine-tipped fingers were picking a melody they couldn't hear over the noise of the room, Jon's hand resting comfortably on his shoulder, Jon's eyes closed as he sang. There was no mistaking the warmth of the glance Kurt gave Jon through his colourful bangs as he joined his voice to his.
"Kurt Visser is a lot. For Jon," Patrick said. "I mean, he's so..." He threw his hand out in an expressive gesture humorously reminiscent of the queer man. "Outgoing? And quite...good looking. I feel like? Am I right?" He checked with the women and Evan at his table.
All three answered, "Yes," in unison. Tiffany's eyes danced with amusement at her partner's discomposure. "Maybe Kurt likes to be with someone who's a good listener," she teased. "I know I do."
"Jon is good looking," Angel said defensively. "Just because he's not tall."
Pat looked alarmed. "I'm not--I mean, sure, Jon is good-looking too." He laughed again, pink to his hairline. "Tiff, save me here."
Tiffany shook her head, pressing her lips together as she laughed at him with her eyes. "You got yourself into this, Pat."
"I think they make a nice match," Evan said wistfully. Light glinted off his massive windshield glasses as he looked around the room. "Is there a singles' group here?"
Angel tugged her hair up higher, exasperated. "OH-kay, moving on. They could just be friends. They could just be--two men hanging out. Jon could have a cuddly side. None of us know. Can we just leave it?"
They left it, but Pat's eyes wandered over to Kurt and Jon numerous times as they finished their lunch.
When everyone was full of soup and buns, a crew of industrious middle-aged men folded the tables and rolled them away, and a wide assortment of elderly people and young adults like themselves set the chairs in rows arranged in a rough half circle like a choir loft.
The choir director who had made the announcement in service ("Y'all can call me Miss-T") had added a pair of red sequinned finger-less gloves to his ensemble and he waved these about moving everyone into their sections by part. As an alto, Angel found herself next to Evan again, on the edge of the tenor section, and he gave her a shy, sideways smile.
"This evening is going to be a bee-yoo-tiful potpourri of song offerings," Miss-T sang out, seating himself (herself? Angel was no longer clear on the pronoun) at the piano bench. "My lovely assistant is passing around your music."
This apparently referred to Cary, carrying a stack of binders in his tattooed arms.
"We'll be singing carols you're probably all familiar with." Miss-T clasped their glittery hands under their stubbly chin. "Our children's choir will come on and do a piece, as well as yours truly and then--" Miss-T's teeth flashed in a grin. "--for our grand finale, we have a very special performance by our own Mister Kurt Visser."
There was some clapping and Angel couldn't resist whistling through her teeth. She glanced back to where Kurt sat in the last row next to Jon, his arms folded over his loud pink shirt, grinning good-naturedly.
"Miss-T, those children are going to steal the show and we all know it," Kurt drawled back. "When they're done we might as well go home. No offence, darlin.'"
Miss-T waved their hand airily. "None taken. That's why this queen plans to go first."
Angel's combat boots tapped along as they sang through a cheerful repertoire of carols. Her voice wasn't anything special, but as a pastor's kid she darn well could carry a tune. Beside her, Evan had a light, creamy tenor, delicious to listen to and sing with. Miss-T banged out the accompaniment on the piano, occasionally wiggling their sparkling fingers at a section to run through their harmony line separately.
All together, the impromptu Queer Choir sounded pretty good, making up for their lack of polish with general merriment. When they belted out the last 'Gloria' Angel decided maybe she was inviting Bri to this Christmas Eve performance. Her non-binary friend had zero experience, good or bad, with church and they just might get a kick out of this.
Then Kurt and Miss-T changed places, and changed Angel's 'maybe' into 'for sure.' As Kurt swung out a stool and folded his long body to sit with his guitar in his lap, he glanced over the group. Angel felt like his eyes paused on her, then went to Pat in the next row.
Jon joined him with the music stand, rumpling his hair up nervously without looking at the crowd.
"Thanks Jon," Kurt said, glancing up at him with a smile. Something passed between them that Angel couldn't read. "We still doing this?" Kurt asked quietly.
Jon's mouth curved. "Yeah we are," he said "I didn't practice my ass off to go sit back down." His laughing eyes flashed a quick look at the group. "Sorry for the language."
One thick-set older man waved a hand dismissively. "We're here for the music!" he called.
Angel whistled encouragement.
The opening notes fell out of Kurt's guitar, rising softly, and the room fell silent. Angel immediately recognized the tune of 'Lover's Prayer,' and Pat swung around to trade a look of 'fan-boy' delight with her. When Kurt lifted his voice to sing, all the hair on Angel's arms raised.
In this echoing church basement, under unlovely fluorescent lighting, Kurt's supple voice opened a story about a yearning heart, a long night, and morning coming. Captured by the song, Angel forgot about Jon until his voice joined Kurt's for the chorus, a little raw and untrained but blending and bending with the other man's. The clarity of Jon's voice perfectly complimented Kurt's smoky one. The lyrics unfurled the climax of the story: two lonely hearts joined, light and peace lit between the meeting of their bodies. Hope dawning.
Angel forgot to breathe. When the last note hung in the air the choir members erupted in applause, and Angel sucked in the breath she'd forgotten, grinning. Kurt waved away the applause, but he was sparkling with happiness.
Jon looked out at the group, finding Angel. He smiled slowly at her, then turned, took Kurt's cheek in his hand and kissed him right in front of everyone. Jon's eyes closed like he was taking a long breath; Kurt leaned up to meet his kiss, tangling his fingers in Jon's hair at the crown of his head.
Pink-cheeked and grinning, Jon finally let Kurt go, taking a bow to the wolf-whistles and cheers of the rest of the room.
"I take no credit for that song," Jon said, holding his hands out to Kurt.
"Love, you can take all the credit for that song," Kurt said, giving him a narrow-eyed smile. "Because it's about me and you."
Angel sat back hard in her chair. "Crap-on-a-stick," she said softly to herself. If Jon was being this open in front of her and Pat, it only meant one thing.
As the choir broke up to head home, Angel had trouble focusing on Evan's friendly inquiries about whether he would see them here Christmas Eve.
Tiffany was all smiles. "Oh we'll be here--won't we, Pat."
Pat seemed similarly distracted, watching a certain tall, queer man cross the room towards them, laughing as Jon towed him by the hand. Angel felt her stomach drop--this was about to get real.
Jon glanced from her to Pat, lifting his chin with a smile. "Hey Patrick, hey Angel. I'm glad you both came."
"Good to see you here, boss," Angel said cautiously.
Jon took a big breath. "Yeah I'm not that. Anymore. I resigned today."
Angel snapped her teeth shut, having nothing suitable she wanted to share with the group. Her eyes pricked, betraying her.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Jon," Patrick said sincerely. "Did something happen?"
Tiffany made a small snort, rolling her eyes.
Jon laughed softly. "Um, well I'm gay. So that happened. And this is my partner, Kurt."
Kurt's lips curled in a mischievous smile as he waved. "It's my fault," he said. "I'm keeping him."
Jon smacked the back of his hand against Kurt's chest without looking. "Stop it; it's not your fault," he said, suppressing a smile.
"It's my dimples," Kurt said, putting a hand under his chin.
"It's your legs for days," Jon corrected him. At Angel's shoulder, Evan laughed softly, his hand over his mouth.
Jon waved the banter away, trying to stay serious. "Anyways. We just got engaged and we all know that's--not going to fly with our workplace."
"Congratulations!" Tiffany said, her face lighting up. "We love love, don't we Pat." She put her arm through her fiancé's.
Pat glanced down at her, his face relaxing in a smile. "Yeah we do."
"How much did you tell Terry?" Angel shot her words across the distance.
"Not very much," Jon admitted, his forehead wrinkling with worry. "And if I can ask...I would prefer that this remain private. I--" He faltered a little. "I consider you both friends. So I wanted to give you the why, even though I can't share it openly. I said in my resignation letter that I can't work for an organization that doesn't affirm the goodness of LGBT+ people. Anymore. I think Terry will assume it's about my brother."
"So wait," Pat said, trying to keep up. "Is your brother gay?"
Jon laughed softly. "No. Just me. I'm sorry, Pat, for that deception. As our relationship got more serious, Kurt and I were out together more and we took some risks that maybe we shouldn't have."
"I have no regrets," Kurt said, slipping his hand around Jon's waist. Jon flashed him a smile that was so warm and open, it became abruptly obvious how guarded he'd been around the office.
"How did you two meet?" Tiffany asked, her face bright with curiosity. Angel wondered if she had met any gay people in church before--it seemed highly unlikely.
Jon glanced at Kurt, who lifted his eyebrows. "It's your show, darlin'," Kurt said. "Take the mic."
Jon pinked up a little, his smile still glowing in his eyes. "Um, we met in youth group, actually--when I was fifteen. I had such a terrible crush on this tall, blue-eyed guitar player. And what I didn't know at the time--"
"--was how very mutual the feeling was," Kurt chimed in, chuckling. "I just wanted to take Jon back to my place and hear everything he wasn't sayin' to the group. Also, I wanted to smooch him all over those adorable freckled cheeks."
Jon's blush deepened to the same shade of pink as Kurt's shirt. "Mutual as well," he said. "Anyways, we reconnected at one of Kurt's shows this past year and it kind of--snowballed from there. I really...didn't see this coming." His voice became apologetic. "I planned to stay at the house a lot longer. But staying secret when we want to get married is just...no longer a reasonable ask, for either of us."
"Of course not," Pat said, quick to make up for his previous bewilderment with jovial understanding now. "Do you have a date for your wedding?"
Jon and Kurt exchanged a look. "I'm in no hurry, love," Kurt said quietly. "As far as I'm concerned you already made a respectable man of me."
For the first time, Jon's face was vulnerable and uncertain, and his mouth slipped crooked. "Um, I think we'll wait? It's been a bit of a whirlwind and keeping everything hidden has been...hard on me."
"To say the least," Kurt said, under his breath.
"I can't imagine," Pat said slowly. He looked genuinely stricken. "I've been going on and on about my wedding for weeks. Jon, I never thought you might be sitting there hurting that you couldn't say a thing. I'm just--sorry."
Jon shrugged, his mouth smiling, but his eyes looked tired. "That's okay, Patrick. Um. I hope I haven't created a problem for your conscience, coming out to you and asking for your discretion at our workplace."
Angel watched Patrick's response closely. She'd also been wondering how Pat would do with this revelation. Pat's sandy eyebrows drew together as he met Jon's eyes.
"No, I really appreciate you trusting us, Jon," Pat said. "I'm a little frustrated that it's necessary for you to leave over--" Patrick's frown deepened, gesturing between Jon and Kurt. "You're a good manager. But yeah--I'll zip my lip."
Tiffany leaned over. "We're so looking forward to seeing you both at our wedding! Maybe it'll give you some ideas for your own big day."
Jon clasped Kurt's hand. "I'm pretty sure my fabulous partner has me covered. But thank you for your invitation."
Angel slipped away, hurrying up the stairs to the nave. She was simultaneously overjoyed for Jon to have found an affectionate, creative partner--and devastated to lose Jon's safe, steady presence at her workplace. She couldn't think of anything to say that would be the right thing. She was pulling on her sweater, when Jon found her in the nearly abandoned nave.
"Angel."
She flicked him a look, grief catalyzing into anger in a second. Angel Domingo had more than enough of loss. "What happened to still having 'things you want to do' at the house?" she asked sharply.
Jon sighed, opening his hands. "Someone else is going to do those things," he said softly. "I'm sorry. It didn't hit me until I got on my holidays. How...badly that job fits me now. I can't make myself small enough for them anymore."
Angel met his eyes, lifting her chin. "Maybe if you stayed you could make more room."
Jon was quiet, considering her. "Maybe I could." He stuffed his fists in his pockets, looking aside. "There's been a cost, Angel. To my mental health. I can't--" He shook his head, shrugging like he was slipping free of something that had hold of him. "I need to go."
Kurt was watching his partner with a grim expression on his face that caught Angel up short. She'd assumed Jon was just a serious, melancholy personality. It never occurred to her that maybe their workplace had something to do with that.
She took a breath and made an effort--she didn't want her parting words to be angry accusations. "I don't want you to stay if you're getting hurt, Jon. Obviously. And I'm, I mean, I'm happy for you. Just sad for me." She tried to smile.
"You're not losing me as a friend," Jon said in a tentative voice.
"I better not be," Angel said.
Jon opened his arms a little, a question in his face, and she stepped into his embrace, hugging his thick shoulders back hard. "Don't stay too long," Jon said in her ear. "Okay? Don't let them make you small."
Angel nodded as she pulled away, wiping her nose on the cuff of her hoodie. "I don't feel like you do." Her work house felt like home, like the closest thing she had to family right now. "But I don't have a big gay partner I'm trying to keep in the closet either. So I think I get it."
She made a tearful smile for them both. "Congratulations from me, by the way. I was hoping I wasn't imagining the vibe between you at the concert." She wiggled her fingers at them, then paused, eyes widening. "Wait, is that why your band broke up?" She moved her finger between Kurt and Jon.
Kurt's eyes tightened, but he waved his hand airily. "Past time for me to part ways with the band, darlin'," he said. "I won't say it on the record, but they were a very toxic bunch."
She sighed regretfully. "I'm sorry to hear that. I loved your music."
Kurt smiled. "Oh, I still have my music. You just watch my YouTube channel for what's next. I'm counting on you to rally my queer fan base to the cause."
Angel pumped her fist in the air, grinning. That was truly good news for a Merry Christmas.
On impulse that evening, horizontal with her cat after spending the afternoon trawling through thrift stores with Bri, Angel opened a text to Naomi. The motherly Black woman was her go-to when she needed a little *heart emoji* response to the ordinary moments of her day.