For Us

21. Babysitting Jon.

{Kurt}

When they turned onto their street after a long day of work, Kurt immediately noticed Jon's car parked in front of the house. "Jon's home!" He jumped out of the cab before Cary was done rolling up to the curb, ignoring Cary yelling behind him, "Visser, you're gonna break your ankle!"

He took the steps up to the porch in one long stride, and pulled the door open, singing, "Honey, I'm home," like the heroine of the ninteen-fifty's sitcoms his grandma used to love.

All the curtains were drawn and the main floor was dim and gloomy, the sound of tapping coming from the kitchen. "Jon?" Kurt said.

"Here," Jon's voice said faintly. His face was pale in the light of his laptop screen, one hand holding his forehead while he typed rapidly with the other. The strain in his expression was concerning.

"You okay?" Kurt asked. "I thought you had to teach Jui Jitsu tonight."

"Partner covering the class. Migraine coming on and need to finish this book report before it hits."

Cary clomped up behind Kurt's shoulder, took one look, and growled, "Save and quit or I'll be carrying you upstairs again. You bulked up since last time and I had a long day."

Jon blinked a slow blink, clicked a button and closed the laptop lid. "Didn't realize what time it was." He got to his feet, listed a little to the left, and swayed to the washroom off the kitchen with his hand over his mouth.

"Ugh," Cary said softly, rubbing his face at the sound of throwing up.

Kurt squeezed his freezing hands together. "Can I do something?"

"Call for a pizza," Cary said, which was weirdly comforting because things couldn't be so bad if they just needed a pizza, right?

Jon staggered out of the washroom, briefly upright on his own steam. Cary was quicker than he looked, catching Jon as he dropped and hefting his body against his chest with a grunt. Helplessly, Kurt watched his boyfriend's white face go up the stairs in Cary's arms.

{Cary}

The stairs were too narrow to haul a fully grown man up them and Cary had to manoeuvre Jon sideways, while his hip yelled at him with every step up that it was done for the day. "You drink any fluids today, asshole?" Cary growled. "You eat?"

"No." Jon made a small noise, digging his head into Cary's chest like he could press away the pain, even as he hung on tight, trying to help hold his own weight.

"You fucking know better," Cary grumbled. "I'm making you one of those yuck-o smoothies to take with your pills and I'm sitting here watching you drink it all."

"Thanks Mom," Jon whispered.

Cary dumped his friend onto his unmade bed, then twitched the curtains closed, darkening the room. Jon was swimming out of his hoodie and jeans, his face buried in the pillow. Cary sighed. "Back in a few."

When he got downstairs, Kurt was standing in the middle of the kitchen, yelling into his phone. "Meat-love-ers! All the meat!" Like the person on the other line was at the end of a tunnel with a train rattling by. Kurt stabbed the phone to hang up, gesturing sharply at the stairs. "What the hell is happening to my boyfriend."

Cary took a moment to dump a scoop of smoothie powder into the bullet cup, adding yogourt and water and a banana. "He's fine, Visser." He rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight off his aching hip. "His head is imploding right now but he'll feel better tomorrow. He burns through his margin and forgets to eat or drink and then a migraine knocks him on his ass for a day. Or maybe he doesn't eat because he feels a migraine coming on, I don't know." The buzz of the blender interrupted him briefly and the smoothie turned an unappetizing shade of green-brown.