For Us

36. Soul food.

{Jon}

Monday morning, Jon was up before either of his housemates, wading into the pile of readings and assignments that he'd been unable to tackle in the aftermath of a migraine. Grimly, he blocked out the time it was going to take to catch up on his homework between his shifts. He was barely going to be able to squeeze in a fifteen-minute yoga stretch, let alone extended time with Kurt.

The last thing he had time to worry about what whether or not his body was even going to work for them.

Folding his hands behind his neck, Jon got lost remembering Kurt singing in his ear last night, the tender heat of his skin against his fingers. He didn't trust his head, but he was good with his hands. He had long relied on them to do all the needful things--fold laundry and make meals for the kids at River House, type papers for school, grip and block in Jui Jitsu class to teach his students good defence. It shook Jon to realize that he held this in his hands now too--he could give Kurt a moment of pleasure so intimate it was almost unbearable.

If that wasn't enough to turn him on, Jon didn't know what was. He was just going to have to work with what he had. He hoped to God it wasn't a deal breaker for Kurt.

When Kurt padded into the kitchen in his paint-spattered jeans and T-shirt and helped himself to coffee, Jon emerged from his laptop, stretching and getting up.

"Bad news, Visser," he said. "Your boyfriend is buried in homework all week."

"Guess I'll just have to catch him in passing and look forward to the weekend," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes in a smile. He put out an arm invitingly, and Jon leaned sideways against him, sighing. It already seemed like the most natural thing in the world to fit himself under Kurt's arm.

A few sips later, Kurt seemed a little more alert. "You work the same as last week? Done shift Thursday at 11?"

"Yes," Jon said.

For a second, Kurt looked hopeful, then his face fell. "Shit, Nicky's on nights. That's the one he has off and we have practice. I think I can get away by midnight. Is that too late for you?"

Jon pulled up on the base of his neck, stretching out the tightness that lingered there. He added to his mental do-list the notes for the next session of diversity training, 9 a.m. Friday morning. "I can wait up."

"What are you doing right now?" Kurt asked.

Jon felt like the closeness of Kurt's body was recharging him for the day. "Coffee break with my boyfriend," he said drily.

Kurt bit his lip, stroking his hand over Jon's shoulders and neck. "Um, your boyfriend is wondering if you're interested in kissing this morning? Or talking and backrubs?"

"No talking," Jon said. He slid his hand around the back of Kurt's neck to draw his face down to his. "I'm always interested in kissing you." Even dressed in paint-spattered work clothes, Kurt smelled faintly floral and his mouth tasted cool as mint.

Kurt blindly set his mug on the counter as they kissed, sliding his sock feet wide so they were the same height. His hands pressed through the shirt on Jon's back but didn't wander to try anything else. The warmth of his presence unpicked the knot of concern in Jon's stomach. This he could do anytime, anywhere with Kurt.

Kurt's coffee was cold before he picked it up again and slurped it down in one gulp on his way out the door with Cary, turning walk backwards and catch Jon's eye, his lips curling in a smile. "'Til tomorrow, White."

{Kurt}

Mid-morning, Kurt and Cary scraped the last of the drywall mud into the seams of their latest basement job, and Cary started packing up.