For Us

43. Safe.

{Kurt}

It turned out risotto was hard. Kurt sweated over the stove, slowly stirring the simmering mixture of rice, milk, olive oil, white wine and finely diced onion and celery. It smelled heavenly, but he'd had zero time to fix his hair, and there was a sticky mess of one failed risotto in the sink already.

Fortunately, he had no witnesses. Cary was buried in a new drawing project in his studio, and Jon was catching up on some sleep.

He babied this pot, spooning in more broth every couple of minutes, constantly stirring it, even singing a little song over it to help it be tasty. To hell with his hair, this meal was going to be fabulous.

When it had thickened and the energetic Italian man on YouTube said it was done, Kurt set the pot aside and turned off the burner, breathing a huge sigh of relief. He threw up his arms in the empty kitchen.

"Touchdown! Visser for the win," he whispered, hissing the crowd noise. Chuckling, he jogged up the stairs to fetch his housemates.

*

Cary grated Parmesan, the nub of cheese dwarfed by his fingers, and Jon lit the candles while Kurt poured the white wine, making a little face. The only thing he knew about wine was that the hangover was the worst. The smell still turned his stomach.

Jon glanced sideways at him. "Are you sure it's okay if we have that?"

"Oh yeah," Kurt said. "Douglas picked it up for the recipe. Drink the rest, please, I want none of it."

Jon's mouth curved, and he helped himself. "Lovely," he said thoughtfully, after rolling it around in his mouth.

Kurt laughed at him. "You wine people are such snobs."

Jon punched his arm lightly. "You teetotallers are so self-righteous."

Kurt laughed again. "Words which have never been applied to me in my life."

Jon grinned back. "What did you make us for dinner, Kurt?"

"Please tell me there's something Italian to put this Parmesan on," Cary said.

Kurt brought the pan to the table and lifted the lid with a flourish. Steam wafted out, carrying with it the heavenly smell of creamy cheese and olive oil. Both men made a little noise of wonder, and Kurt grinned at the happiness in their faces.

"Gennaro Contaldo taught me to make risotto! My first... uh, technically, my second try."

The meal melted in their mouths and when it was done, Kurt got up from the table to announce, "There's music for dessert."

Cary glanced around. "Is there dessert?"

"No, Douglas" Kurt said, folding his legs on the carpet and tuning up his guitar. "Music is the dessert."

"Oh," Cary said, obviously disappointed.

"There's ice cream in the freezer," Jon offered. "If you want all the dairy."

"Mmm," Cary rubbed his stomach. "Maybe I better not."

Kurt chipped in, "You're not seeing your girlfriend later. Have all the dairy you like."

Cary's face brightened. "That's true." And he scooped himself a bowl of ice cream, settling in to lick his spoon while Kurt played dessert.

Laying his cheek against the smooth hip of his guitar, Kurt finger-picked the first bars of the song he would have opened the show with, if he got to choose, a grungy ballad called 'With Me Tonight.' He got lost in the music while he pulled the song out of the strings, the story out of his own chest. All week, practice had felt a lot like work, but this was easy as breathing. He plucked the last notes, then strummed a big chord to finish, looking up with a grin.