Part II: October
The Rainbow Politico Blog
Greetings, Dear Readers. Our Little Birdies in Important Places have told us that things look very cozy over in the West Wing. So we were wondering why half of the power couple in question was spied sharing an intimate-looking meal with a tall, dark stranger last week. Rest assured that we're on the case here, and we'll keep you all updated.
As Always,
Rainbow Politico
AJ hadn't been surprised to get an early morning phone call from Noah; she was just surprised that it had come a full month before the elections. The most popular date in the newest office pool had the official coming out at Election day + 3, and AJ chucked softly to herself as she eased herself out of bed. It looked like the President, at Election Day -25, was going to win again.
She moved silently through the dark of the bedroom, grabbing jeans and a sweater from the closet on her way into the bathroom. Only after she was inside with the door closed did she turn on the light. She dressed quickly, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, brushed her teeth and stuffed her feet into her running shoes, discarded in a corner after her evening run. On her way back through the darkened bedroom, she dropped a silent kiss onto Jenna's barely-there head where it stuck out from under the blankets. She was just pulling the door closed against the dimness in the hall when a sleep-heavy voice reached out to her.
"Work?"
"Yeah. Sorry, babe. It's the boys." She waved her hand.
"So soon. I thought the odds were stronger for after the election."
"Yeah. Well. Never say never, I guess. I'm bummed, though. We're out another fifty bucks. To the President, no less."
There was an undignified snort from the blankets, and AJ could hear rustling and repositioning going on. "Do you know how long you'll be?"
"With any luck, I'll be home before you even wake up. I'll make you breakfast either way, okay?"
Jenna hummed sleepily. "Waffles. Eggs over medium. Crisp bacon. And stop for a chai on your way?"
AJ waited for the groan she knew would follow her silence.
"I hate you. My kingdom for some fucking caffeine."
AJ stared at the swell of Jenna's belly in the moonlight from the window. "You'll thank me. We don't want a caffeinated baby." She smiled fondly, even though Jenna couldn't see her. "You're bad enough."
Jenna humpfed and turned onto her side again. "Go to work. I'm holding you to breakfast."
AJ backed fully into the hall and whispered into the dark. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
D.C. hadn't given up the ghost of Indian Summer quite yet, but AJ was always cold, and she shivered on the stoop while she waited for Noah to buzz her up. He was waiting on the landing, and she was surprised to see that he looked pretty awake and aware. Not like Kurt, who handed her a mug of hot coffee, extra milk no sugar, and held her gaze with hollow, dark-rimmed eyes.
She leaned into him, her tiny frame ineffectual at wrapping him in a hug, but she still clucked over him and murmured friendly endearments up towards his ear. He'd always been her favorite, since the early days of the campaign when he was holding things together with duct tape and paper clips and donations of nickels and dimes and she was paying off her Communications degree working at Nordstrom and volunteering nights at the campaign.
Sometimes AJ felt like Kurt had created them all. She knew she wasn't the only one, but she didn't think that Kurt even had a clue. She felt like she owed him. She was going to make this right for him, for both of them.
"OK," she began, plopping down into an arm chair, "you called me at 4 am. I can only assume that you guys want to come out about your relationship and we need to hatch a plan?"
Noah sunk onto the sofa, and pulled Kurt down and against him. "You assume correctly. And sooner rather than later."
Kurt looked like he was trying to hide. AJ knew he'd always been worried around any repercussions that might arise from his being out. He had to be scared to death. She caught his guarded eyes. "Sweetie. Are you sure?"
Kurt nodded his approval and cleared his throat. "Before we do this, though, I need two days."
Noah looked mildly surprised, but nodded in understanding. AJ shot him a quizzical look, but he didn't answer. He just rested a hand over Kurt's and squeezed gently. When he spoke, it was in a whisper.
"I need to go home. I need to tell my family in person before things go crazy."
AJ nodded. She knew very little about Kurt's family, only that, like her, he was from a blended family. Though from everything she gathered, his experience was much better than her own. She didn't figure it could get any worsethan her stepmother screaming at her and not letting her even say goodbye to Hanna and Ricky. They had practically been babies then, reaching for her with chubby hands and tear-stained faces. The last email from her dad had included pictures, Ricky at his first football game with the high school band and Hanna with her travel soccer team. He kept sending them like clockwork twice a month, to the email address she'd held onto since she was 19, even though she never responded.
She felt sad that he didn't even know he was going to be a grandfather.
AJ gathered her wandering thoughts and nodded. "I think . . . I think that's wise." She turned to Noah. "Are you going, too?"
Noah shook his head. "Nope." He rolled his eyes at her in a gesture that was pure Kurt and sighed like it was all too much. "I've got something else that needs managing. It could be a game changer for repeal, if it all works out."
"Anything you can tell me about?" AJ was almost salivating at the idea of whatever Noah had up his sleeve.
"No!" Noah and Kurt chorused with identical vehemence.
AJ just chuckled at them. "Okay. I won't ask again. So. Do either of you have any ideas about how you want to handle this?"
They both shook their heads and Kurt looked a little sheepish. "I feel bad," he muttered. "This is all because of me. Noah called you before I could chicken out."
AJ let some teasing mirth creep into her voice. It was the same tone she used to lighten the mood in the press room when they acted like petulant toddlers. "I'm guessing that a press conference is out of the question, then."
At Kurt's stricken look, she threw her hands up. "Kidding! Wow. Okay. Joking, Kurt."
Kurt just slumped back against Noah. "Not funny."
AJ tugged at her ponytail. "How about a tightly worded press release, put out with the trash on Friday, right before I put the lid on? That way we make it look like it's not a big deal."
Kurt chewed on his bottom lip with his teeth. "Or we make it look like we're hiding it because we hope nobody notices, like we're ashamed." He looked at Noah and twined their fingers together. "I'm not ashamed."
Noah pulled their hands to his lips, and pressed a kiss to Kurt's knuckles. "I know, baby." He looked back and forth between AJ and Kurt, and finally nudged Kurt with his shoulder. "You're the word man. Do you want to write the release?"
Kurt started to shake his head in denial, but AJ jumped on the idea. "I think that's perfect! You get to craft your own message, and it will come across as a lot more personal than if we hand it off to someone in my office."
"Besides," Noah smiled sideways, "we don't want the gossip mongers letting it slip yet."
AJ couldn't help it. She burst into laughter and waved her hand at them. "Oh, please. That ship sailed right after Labor Day. You really didn't think you could almost get caught by the guy from the Trib and keep this a secret, did you? You should know by now, the press room is worse than a locker room full of teenage girls."
Kurt nodded knowingly, some of the tension slipping from his body. "Yeah. I think we were deluding ourselves. I just can't believe this hasn't gone further than that."
AJ leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I'll tell you a secret. The press loves you guys, individually and as a couple. They might be as protective of you as I am. They'll take care of you on this. Trust me."
"We do." Noah's voice was soft. "We trust you. It's the rest of the world that might be a problem."
AJ let her mind fill with thoughts of her stepmother, of the siblings she'd lost. Of Jenna's brother, who wouldn't let her have contact with her young nephew. Of the kids she met at the teen shelter where she volunteered, some as young as 11 or 12, tossed onto the street like garbage. She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I wish I didn't agree with you on that one."
The best flight Kurt had found was an 8 am Dulles to Dayton on Tuesday morning, and he'd booked a rental car so that nobody had to take time off from work to drive down and pick him up.
He'd always liked the freedom of driving, of losing himself in the long stretches of miles under his tires and the vacant musings of his subconscious. He wasn't sure what it meant, though, that his subconscious led him into the visitor's parking lot at his old high school before he could reach the exit ramp for his dad's house.
"Oh, what the hell," he muttered, stepping out into the crispness of the day. For as many times as he'd been back to Ohio since graduation, he really hadn't spared McKinley High School a second thought. It wasn't that he had been miserable, he just hadn't been happy. He had been on Honor Roll and in Glee Club, and it didn't matter that they had won Nationals the year before he'd gotten there, Glee had still been on the bottom of the social heap and Kurt had been largely invisible outside of his small group of friends.
He crunched through the leaves littering the broad expanse of pavement and hauled open the double doors. Huh, he thought. It even still smells the same. The halls were empty, and when he poked his head into the office there was nobody on duty. He felt odd just wandering the halls, but his feet knew where to go. He ended up in the Social Sciences hall facing a handful of closed doors. He moved slowly, trying to remember, counting room numbers in his head. He whispered to himself as he walked. 136, Freshman World Civ. 140, Sophomore European History. 142, Junior US. 145, Senior AP. And then the name of that teacher, the one who had pulled him from European History that winter day of his sophomore year and stuffed the Senate Page application into his hand. The one who let him hang out in her classroom after school Junior spring when he'd been lost and struggling to fill the empty hours that weeks before had seen him at the Capital. Ms. Feinberg. He thought he had settled on the right room when the trilling of the bell sent him jumping as all of the doors slammed open and the halls were full of kids. A man with thick glasses poked his head into the hall and caught sight of Kurt.
"You belong here? Office is that way." He pointed back the way Kurt had come.
Kurt shook his head. "No, I used to be a student here. I was looking for Ms. Feinberg. Does she still teach here?"
"Dolores? Yeah. " He pointed further down the hall. "153."
"Thanks." Kurt turned and started to walk away when the man stopped him.
"Wait. I know you."
"I don't think so." Please just let it go, he willed the man. Don't make a scene.
"I'm sure of it. You look so familiar."
"No. You don't know me. Trust me." Kurt let the crowd swallow him before he could be met with more questions, and he darted in and around clumps of kids until he stood at the open door to room 153. Ms. Feinberg had seemed so much older and professional when Kurt had been a student, but she had also been new, which told him that she really couldn't be more than 10 years older than he was. He knocked gently on the door frame and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, Ms. Feinberg?" She looked up from the stack of papers on her desk and didn't say a word. Just stared at him for a few silent moments, and then she chuckled softly.
"Kurt." Her smile was warm, and Kurt ran his hand over the back of his neck.
"You remember me." He was honestly surprised. "You've taught so many kids."
"True." She pointed at him with her red marking pen. "But you're the only one who works at the White House."
"Yeah. I'm just here for a short visit, but I wanted to stop in and thank you."
"For what?" She looked at him in surprise.
"You're the one who urged me to apply for the Page program. And you let me hang out in your classroom when I got back from Washington, and wrote me an amazing college recommendation." He stepped two steps into the classroom and lowered his voice. "You taught me to go after what I wanted."
"And have you?"
"Gone after what I wanted? I-" He was overcome, suddenly, with visions of Noah. The two of them singing together, talking in Noah's dorm and Kurt's apartment. That night in Columbus when Kurt had given it one more chance, told himself that if Noah said no then he'd stop pushing. And barely a month ago, kissing Noah on the street corner. He laughed, light and lively. "Yes. I guess I have."
"Good. I did my job, then, I suppose." She looked at him wearily, tucking a black curl of hair behind her ear. "Some days I wonder if I mean anything at all."
"You'd be surprised. I suspect you reach more kids than you think. The ones you matter to will never come back to tell you because they'll never come back here, except for holidays and not even then if they can avoid it."
"Like you." Her gaze was pointed, and Kurt knew she had a point, as much as he didn't want to admit it.
"Yes. Like me. But I do come back." He thought about his dad and Carole, and the quiet, happy life they shared. Kurt knew he was fooling himself to think that he didn't want that, didn't want that kind of a life with Noah. "I'm lucky," he shrugged. "My family doesn't care about who I am or what I do. They love me and just want me to be happy, so that makes it easier to come back. And," he added, thinking of AJ and her father, over a decade of email that she never responded to, "I come back for the ones who can't."
Ms. Feinberg dropped her pen onto her desk and stood, crossed the small space between them, and put her hands on Kurt's shoulders. "Come talk to my classes tomorrow. If you don't have plans."
"I don't think-"
"Please. You can make as much of a difference as I do."
Well, fuck. "Okay. I have to be on the road to Dayton by 4, though."
"Great. 10 am." She squeezed his shoulder again. "you won't regret it."
I already do, he thought grimly.
The garage was the same as it had always been. As a young boy, after his mother died, it had been entertainment. When he got older, it had been another sanctuary, a place where he was good at something that had nothing to do with school. It had always been a place where he and his dad could talk. They had talked about dad and Carole getting married over the fan belt on an old, crumbling Ford pickup, and Kurt had come out to his dad even as his hands shook around the connectors of the battery he had been installing, his dad keeping a watchful eye over his shoulder; when the battery was in and Kurt's confession out, his dad had pulled him into a tight hug and told him he had never been more proud. Kurt still wasn't sure if he'd been talking about the coming out or the battery installation. They had filled out Kurt's college applications in the office, and when the offers began pouring in, his dad had pinned every acceptance and scholarship letter on the bulletin board above his desk.
So it only seemed right to Kurt that his newest confession come over tools and under the hood of a car.
Paulie, who'd been a fixture since Kurt was a toddler, waved him through the waiting area to the back and smiled before turning back to ring up a customer. Kurt found his dad in the last bay, the disassembled detritus of some severely worn brakes on the ground.
"When was the last time they replaced their brakes?"
His dad turned at the sound of his voice.
"Hey, kid." He ran a hand over the bill of his Red Sox cap. "If you wanna help, there's a spare coverall in the office."
Kurt just nodded and stripped off his sweater. He shivered lightly in his t-shirt, but slid the tools over anyway. They worked in silence for a while until Kurt's head felt clear. He put his wrench down and rubbed at his forehead with his elbow. His dad tossed him a shop rag, and he scrubbed at the grease on his hands. "Dad."
His dad looked at him, soft and stern at the same time. "It must be big, if you flew in."
"Kind of. I, um." Kurt felt a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.
"It's not that asshole JAG lawyer you told me about, is it?" Kurt startled, mostly because the asshole JAG lawyer in question had only been good for some awkward groping and three cancelled drink dates.
"No. Not the JAG lawyer."
"Then it better be Puckerman. Because I gotta tell you, kiddo, you've strung him along for too many years."
Kurt swallowed noiselessly a few times, and then gaped at his father. "How- what- ?"
His dad wiped his hands on his own shop towel and placed them squarely on his hips. "I'm not blind, Kurt. You've been half-gone on him since you both were kids." His eyes sparkled. "I should call Carole. She owes me dinner now."
"What?" Kurt wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
Burt waved his hand in the air. "Finn lost a long time ago. Since Carole guessed never, it doesn't matter that I picked vaguely. I still win!"
"What's vague in a relationship poll?"
Burt rubbed his hands together and laughed, rich and full. "Before your 35th birthday!"
The three of them went to dinner, and Kurt tried three times during the meal to tell them the rest of things, but there was too much other talking going on, and Kurt didn't get his best chance until dessert was in front of them and his dad and Carole were busy with chocolate mousse and tiramisu. Kurt took a bite of his crème brûlé and let the crackly sugar crust mix with the creamy custard before swallowing and letting his spoon clatter to the side of his plate.
"We're telling everyone. On Friday." He took a breath, a sip of water, and went back to his dessert.
Carole looked at him, a forkful of tiramisu halfway to her mouth. "Okay."
His dad eyed him cautiously. "There's a lot going on right now, with the elections and everything. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Noah, he's having a really hard time with keeping it a secret. He's been working with all these soldiers, on the repeal?" His dad and Carole nodded at him. He'd always been proud at the way they follow not just his career but also the inner workings of politics. It's not for everyone, and he sometimes feels bad, like he's sucked them into his crazy world, but it also means that he doesn't have to spend a lot of time talking about the smaller details in situations like this.
Carole's voice danced across the table. "It's a matter of integrity for him, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Kurt poked his spoon back into his ramekin, enjoying the satisfying crack of the crust against metal; he thought absently that the sound might be his favorite part of crème brûlé. "I mean, I get it. I get why it's important, for him and for us and for . . . the community and all." He shook his head against the feeling underlying his light fears of being so much farther out than he already was. "I'm not ashamed. I know that's what a lot of people think, because I'm not shouting from the rooftops. There's just so much at stake."
His dad watched him carefully before speaking. "You've always wanted to make everyone happy, sometimes at the expense of your own happiness. But I think you're worrying too much here, Kurt. Sure, you're not… what, shouting from the rooftops. But you're not hiding either. You've always been honest about who you are. This isn't any different."
"But-" Kurt began, stuttered, and started again. "What if Noah and I tell the truth and it hurts the party? Or rolls back the repeal bill?"
Carole reached over and covered his hand with hers. "Honey. I know it feels earth-shattering, but I doubt you and Noah being honest about your relationship is going to do a whole lot either way. The people who think that gays are bad soldiers and incapable of being kind, caring, devoted partners and members of society are still going to think those things. The people who support equal rights and couldn't care less are still going to think those things. The only difference might be in the people who never think about it, who don't understand. And those are the minds you stand a chance at changing."
Kurt let her hand linger for a moment before he pulled away and finished his dessert.
He was going to have a lot to talk with Noah about later.
Noah had been on his way out of the office when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Kurt, he thought, and smiled before answering. "Hey, baby."
The laugh on the other end wasn't Kurt. "One meal together and I'm already your baby? I better not tell my boyfriend."
Bill Brennan. Noah snorted with laughter and almost dropped the phone before tucking it between his shoulder and ear so he could lock his door. "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."
Brennan snickered. "Clearly. Anyway, I've talked with SLDN, and with Jamie, and my father. We were hoping to make an announcement before the weekend, so Jamie and I will be flying in tomorrow morning. We need to talk logistics, and we'd also like to take you and your boyfriend to dinner."
Noah felt his stomach flip-flop as he stalked through the not-quite empty halls on his way to the exit. "I'm not in the best place for talking, but this is kind of complicated. We've got a lot going on at the end of the week." He pushed through the staff exit and out into the early dusk. "But this all might work out. I need to talk to K- um, my boyfriend. He's out of town until tomorrow night."
"Kurt. Kurt Hummel is your boyfriend, isn't he?"
Noah almost tripped over his feet. "Yes. How did you know?"
"My father is not a subtle man. He's also not a stupid man. He's been around a long time, and he's secretly a sucker for a good romance."
Noah thought about the email, the one that had started this whole thing. "But there was-"
"An email, I know. It wasn't him, Noah. It was one of his interns, some college girl who thought that she needed to impress him. He only found out after the Secret Service showed up, and the girl has been fired. She said," Noah could hear Brennan biting back a laugh, "that she did it to raise my father's status with Nate Callahan."
"Nate Callahan from the DNC?"
"Yeah."
Noah couldn't help the roar of laughter that bellowed from his lungs. When he had finished, and wiped the tears from his cheeks, he continued talking. "I'm not sure I want to know where your father finds his interns. She did know he's a Republican, right? And that, by definition, the vice-chair of the DNC is a Democrat? And that your father wouldn't even talk a call from Callahan, much less want to be held in his esteem?"
"I have no idea. But she got herself fired, and my father will be apologizing when he sees you at the press conference, so pretend that you and I haven't had this conversation."
"No worries. I can do that. Let me talk with Kurt, and I'll call you back later tonight, okay?"
"Great. Jamie is really excited to meet you both."
"Same here." Noah spotted AJ walking leisurely ahead of him, so he quickened his pace and made a perfunctory goodbye to Brennan. He was still stuffing his phone back into his pocket when he caught up, snaking a territorial arm across AJ's shoulder.
She startled at the contact before smiling up at him. "Hey, you. Good news?"
"Movement on the repeal front. Let me buy you a drink and tell you about it? And the other problem we might have, in the form of a very homophobic higher up at the national committee."
AJ pulled her own phone from her pocket and shot off a quick text. The reply that came back was just as speedy. "No need to buy drinks. Come to the house and have dinner with us."
Kurt was half-asleep, exhausted from the plane trip and the endless talking and the mild panic he was feeling at talking to three classes of high schoolers the next morning, when the trilling of his phone jostled him from his reverie.
"Hey, baby. How's the District?"
"Fine. How'd things go?"
Kurt sat up, sliding his laptop aside and stretching. "Dad and Carole are fine with things. They think that our coming out might help things."
Noah hummed in his ear. "They might be right. I know something else that might help things."
"Really?"
"Yes. Our man is ready to man up, as it were. And they want to do it before the weekend."
"What about-"
"Baby. We can still do the press release. Don't worry. It's just that this thing is also going to happen on Friday. And AJ wants you to write his speech. I haven't talked with him about that yet, but I think it's a good idea." Kurt could hear the excitement creeping out of Noah's voice. And, if he swallowed back his own mild panic for a moment, he could admit that he was feeling similarly. Things were in motion now. There was no way to take any of it back. And the chance to write for someone he didn't know was the kind of challenge Kurt loved.
"I'll do it. I'll write for him. And…" he took a deep breath, "if you wanted to be more public than a buried press release, we could do that, too."
Noah's intake of breath was sharp, but his tone was gentle. "I really don't think that's necessary. But maybe we'll let AJ release at the morning briefing instead?"
Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "I think that's a good idea. Now. I have to talk with some high school kids tomorrow, and if I'm going to write a speech by Friday I need to contact your man to find out what he wants to say."
"I need to talk to him, too. Let me do that, and I'll have him call you."
"Sounds good. I love you, Noah."
"I love you, too, Kurt. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
Kurt stood awkwardly by Ms. Feinberg's desk, a large mocha from The Lima Bean in his hand, watching the kids in her AP US History class filed in and pulled their desks into a circle. The earlier classes, two junior history classes, had seen Kurt doing most of the talking. The kids had all listened politely, but he'd only answered a handful of fairly generic questions about working in the White House. He leaned across the desk and lowered his voice. "They'll ask lots of questions, right?"
Ms. Feinberg smiled. "They will if I make it part of their participation grade for the week. Watch this!" She strode to the circle of desks and clapped her hands. "Okay, everyone. As you can see, we have a guest this morning. This is Kurt Hummel. He was one of my students, and now he works at the White House. He's going to talk for a few minutes, and then he'll answer any
questions you have. And you willask questions." The kids all nodded, and scooted their desks out to make room for Kurt.
When he had wedged himself into the desk, he took a sip of his mocha and started talking.
"Like Ms. Feinberg said, I grew up here in Lima. I went to Washington for the first time as a Senate Page when I was in high school, and I went to college at George Washington. I always knew I wanted to be involved in politics, and after college I took a job as an aide with a state assemblywoman in Maryland." He shrugged to himself. "I'm kind of a rarity in politics, because that assemblywoman was Kelly Jackson. I stayed with her after she won her Congressional seat, and I worked on her campaign for President. And now I am a White House speechwriter."
A short dark-haired girl two seats over from him eyed him sideways. "And you went to school here?"
Kurt couldn't help laughing. "Yes, I did."
"So how did you manage to escape?"
"Rachel!" Ms. Feinberg started to scold the girl, but Kurt waved her off.
"Rachel, is it?" She nodded. "Well. Escape is an interesting term, because I never really thought of it like that. Don't get me wrong, there were lots of reasons I wanted to get out of Ohio, but it was mostly that I wanted more for myself than what I was going to be able to get here. The biggest thing for me was that when it came time to apply to college, I didn't apply anywhere local."
He waited while Rachel scribbled in her notebook, and looked around the circle for more questions. A slim brown-haired boy at the back of the circle caught his eye, but looked away before saying a word. Kurt leaned back in his chair. "You guys can ask me anything. I have lots of good stories about the Presidential campaign."
"What speeches have you written?" A boy in a letterman jacket slouched behind his desk.
"The biggest one, the most important one for me, was the President's acceptance speech on election night. Most of the others, like the Inaugural and the State of the Union, are things I work on with all of the speechwriters. But I did write her speech for the last campaign swing, and I'm working on something for a press conference on Friday."
The brown-haired boy shifted again, and Kurt looked at him gently. "Do you have a question or a comment?"
The boy nodded. "I, uh. I don't want to be inappropriate."
Kurt laughed lightly. "There's not much that's inappropriate as far as I'm concerned. That's the thing about politics... your life becomes pretty much an open book."
The boy still flushed pink before blurting out, "so it's true that you're gay?"
"Michael..." Kurt felt Ms. Feinberg move next to him, but he put a hand on her arm.
"No, it's okay," he whispered before turning his attention back to Michael. "Yes, it's true that I'm gay." He looked at each of the twelve students in turn. "I've never hid that part of my life, mostly because it's hard to do in a place where everyone is in your business. But I also know that it's not always easy to be out. So don't feel like you have to follow my example. There's always a lot to consider."
"But- but weren't you worried that being out would hurt President Jackson?" Michael's face was still pink, but he was meeting Kurt's eye; that was better, Kurt thought.
"I told her at my first job interview. It was her decision at that point. But yes, I did worry. I still do, sometimes. Especially at times like now, when we have a lot going on. Is anyone here following Don't Ask Don't Tell?"
He was met with mostly blank stares, though Michael nodded gently, and Rachel was waving her hand around.
"My two gay dads and I discuss GLBT current events every night over dinner."
"That's . . . good, Rachel. But do any of you know what Don't Ask Don't Tell is?"
The rest of the students shook their heads. "Okay. So. Don't Ask Don't Tell is the law that prohibits openly gay men and women from serving in the military, and it means that gay soldiers who are serving in secret risk being discharged if they're found out. We are working to get the law repealed. And what's hard, for me at least, is worrying that there are people who aren't going to support the repeal just because they don't like the President having an openly gay staffer."
"Do things like that really matter?" Letterman jacket shrugged. "I mean, it's not a big deal like it used to be." He shot a gentle glance at Michael. "Okay, so it's a big deal for some people, but most of us don't care. Politics isn't like that?"
"Politics is nothing like that," Kurt scoffed. "Let's just say that the institution is resistant to change. And while certain behavior tends to be overlooked, being gay still isn't popular in Washington."
"That sucks." Letterman jacket huffed into the air. "But you think you'll get the repeal taken care of?"
Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "Yes. I think we will. Let's just say that a lot of things are coming together."
Ms. Feinberg nodded at him. "We're about out of time, but if anyone would like to stay after class and talk with Kurt some more, I'll write you a late pass."
Kurt downed the rest of his mocha while the kids gathered up their books and bags and slid their desks back into rows. When the bell rang, everyone bolted into the hall but Michael, who hung back just inside the door. Kurt nodded at him. "Michael. Thank you for your questions."
"Mr. Hummel. Is it- does it really- God." He ran an awkward hand over his flushed face and lowered his words to a whisper. "All those videos, you know. The ones on YouTube? They all say that it gets better. But does it really? Will I ever stop feeling like I'm suffocating?"
Kurt leaned back against the wall and sighed. "I'd be lying if I said that things are perfect all the time. But it does get easier. It's never flawless. But yes, I guess it is better." He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them Michael was watching him, hope and the most desperate wantingfor something so clear on his face.
Kurt rested the flat of his palm on Michael's shoulder. "Where are you applying to college?"
Michael raised his hand and ticked off on his fingers. "Amherst. Brown. University of Virginia. William and Mary."
Kurt nodded. "And what do you think you want to study?"
"Education. I want to be a history teacher."
Kurt lowered his voice and leaned in close to Michael. "You're making plans to get away. Hold on to those on the hard days. Because when you get out, you'll find people who don't care about any of the things that make you a target here. And," he held out one of his business cards, "I have a good friend who went to Brown. Email me if you need anything. Anything at all."
Michael sighed with something akin to relief. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel."
Kurt waved him off. "Please. Call me Kurt."
"Okay. K-Kurt. Thank you. Just-"
"Michael." Kurt stared right into the boy's eyes. "I understand. I do. You're going to be just fine. And really. Anything at all."
Michael nodded, and Ms. Feinberg tucked a late pass into his hand. She waited until he had scampered into the hall before turning to Kurt with a light smile. "He's a good kid. Quiet. Smart. And, struggling. But he never says a word, so I don't know how to help him."
Kurt shrugged into his coat. "Just keep an eye on him. He probably won't ask for help, but if you know him well enough, you can offer it."
"Do you think he'll contact you?"
"Maybe. It's hard to know for sure. He might just need someone who isn't inhis life to talk to."
"You might be right." She pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for stopping by, and for talking to my kids today."
"I don't know what good it did."
Ms. Feinberg walked with him into the hall. "You'd be surprised. Good luck with everything."
"Thanks." Kurt glanced around before turning to walk away. "I think I'm going to need it."
Kurt was juggling his messenger bag and the keys to the rental car against the cold wind and gentle rain when a voice reached him across the parking lot.
"Hey! Wait!" Kurt turned to see the kid in the letterman jacket weaving through parked cars. "Dude! Hold up!"
Kurt looked at the kid sideways. "I didn't catch your name."
The boy brushed his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes and held out his hand. "Sam. Sam Evans."
"Sam. Nice to meet you."
"Yeah. Listen. Thanks for talking to us. And, you know." Sam looked down and scuffed the toe of his sneaker against a crack in the pavement. "For being honest. It helps."
"Helps what?"
Sam worried at his lip with his teeth. "Michael. He's good folks. But he takes a lot of sh- stuff, y'know? I think hearing you talk, knowing that you got outof here? That's going to be good for him."
Kurt brushed at his hair, sending freezing droplets of water scattering. "Maybe. But it's also good that he has someone like you looking out for him. You do look out for him, right?"
Sam nodded. "As much as I can. But I can't be everywhere at once." He glanced around, eyes darting to the dumpsters behind the cafeteria.
Kurt nodded. "Is the hall by the gym still a hazard?"
"Yeah. I know the worst places. But I don't always know what happens in the other places."
Kurt put a hand on Sam's sleeve. "You're doing what you can, and that's important. Ms. Feinberg will be doing her part, too. Why don't you talk with her? Maybe she can gather some other sympathetic teachers." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another business card. "Michael has one of these. But you take one, too. Feel free, if you need anything. Or is Michael does and doesn't want to ask. I can't always respond immediately, but I am practically chained to my phone, so." He shrugged, and tried again to unlock the car. "I really need to get on the road if I'm going to make my plane."
"Yeah. Drive safe, I guess."
"I will." Sam turned back towards the school.
"Sam!"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for being a good friend. Michael is lucky."
Kurt chuckled at the light blush that drifted over Sam's pale face before he wandered back into the shadow of the building. Kids, he thought, and tried to remember what 18 felt like.
Kurt had too much work to do on Thursday to risk the distractions of the office, so he stayed home. Not that his email didn't chime every 30 seconds with messages from his assistant, or AJ, or Noah, but working from home meant bigger blocks of uninterrupted writing time. It also meant working in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and ordering Chinese for lunch, and the kind of illicit thrill of speechwriting while watching Days of Our Lives, but he wasn't going to mention the last one to anybody at the office.
By 4 pm, he had a good speech for Bill Brennan and an even better short press release. He emailed the release to AJ and Noah, and the text of the speech to Bill, and then closed his eyes for the rarest of afternoon naps.
He got less than five minutes before his email started chiming.
From: aj . hammonds whitehouse . gov
To: kurt . hummel whitehouse . gov, noah . puckerman whitehouse . gov
Subject: re: release
K-
Good stuff. I'll format it and put it in the morning's press packet.
-AJ
From: noah . puckerman whitehouse . gov
To: kurt . hummel whitehouse . gov
Subject: re: release
Thank you. I know you're still a little unsure, but the press release is good, and it's going to be fine. Besides, we're going to be overshadowed by the time AJ gives the last briefing.
See you tonight.
-N
From: bill . brennan gmail . com
To: keh gmail . com
Subject: re: speech
Kurt-
Wow. Thank you.
I wasn't sure what it would feel like, having someone else give me words to say. But you took everything we talked about the other night and put it here. I know you don't even know me, but these feel like my words. It's perfect.
Jamie and I are very much looking forward to meeting you this evening.
-Bill
Noah could feel Kurt's hand shaking in his as they waited in front of 15 ria for Bill and Jamie. He pulled Kurt close, and into the dark by the side of the building, so that he could press a kiss to the side of Kurt's jaw. "It's going to be fine, baby."
Kurt leaned slightly into the pressure of Noah's body and sighed. "I know. I just- there's so much at stake. What if someone sees us, allof us, and the news breaks on Bill before he can do it on his own terms?"
"Bill is a big boy. He and I talked about that possibility, and he's okay. So," Noah ran his hand over the back of Kurt's neck and reveled in the delicious shiver he felt course through Kurt's body, "just relax, okay? You're too tense. This is supposed to be fun."
"Uh huh."
"When was the last time you were out with any gay man who wasn't me or that asshole from JAG?"
Kurt huffed a laugh. "God. You and my father. He was never going to be anything serious."
Noah felt warmth spread through his abdomen at the intensity of Kurt's gaze. "I know. But really, Kurt. When was the last time you went out and had funwith like-minded people?"
"Okay. Okay. I'll do my best."
Noah couldn't help it, he had to kiss Kurt. He was just so fucking in love, and the idea of being out in public with his boyfriendwas more than a little intoxicating. He pulled Kurt close, let his fingers play in Kurt's hair, and sunk their lips together. Kurt let out a little gasp, but didn't pull away even though they were still on the street and Noah could feel him struggling to control his urge to just throw himself into the kiss. He also wasn't surprised that Kurt pulled away first and looked at him with sparkling eyes and pink cheeks.
"Not fair," he said, smiling anyway.
Noah shrugged. "You're more relaxed now, though, aren't you?"
"That depends on how you define relaxed." Kurt reached out for Noah's hand and tugged him back into the light from the streetlamp. "If by relaxed you mean take me home and do unmentionable things to methen yes, you succeeded at your mission."
Noah felt color rise on his own cheeks and stumbled over himself trying to get words out. "I'll file that away for later," he finally managed to choke out.
"Good." Kurt squeezed his hand again and turned at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind them. Noah smiled at Bill, ambling hand-in-hand with a slightly shorter man who had to be Jamie. Noah reached out and hugged Bill like they were old friends, because really, managing someone else's public coming out was as close as you could get to family in Noah's mind, and he was pleased when Bill didn't pull away. He tugged Kurt over, and Bill nodded before extending his hand.
"My wordsmith. I can't even-"
Kurt was shaking his head. "It was an honor, really. I usually only write for the President, so this was fun."
Noah rolled his eyes at Bill, and smiled at Kurt. "I think Kurt might be the only one who thinks that writing speeches is fun."
Kurt nudged him with an elbow. "Says the man who still tracks election results on a color-coded white board map."
"It worked for Tim Russert, man."
Bill laughed, and put an arm around Jamie, pulling him closer. "Noah, Kurt, this is my boyfriend Jamie."
Jamie nodded at them each in turn before fixing his gaze on Noah. His blue eyes were vibrant and piercing. "Thank you," he said.
"For what?" Noah was feeling a little off-kilter.
"For not discounting Bill because of his father. And for helping him with the process." He held back with Noah for a moment while Kurt and Bill slipped into the restaurant. "It's going to be good for him, yes, but good for us, too."
Noah ushered Jamie through the door and spoke softly. "I think coming out is going to be good for everybody."
Noah had been right, Kurt mused as he sipped at his martini and listened to Bill and Jamie banter over the appetizer menu, it was nice to spend some time with other gay men. He never had, really, in social situations. But tonight, being part of a couple, out with anothercouple, made Kurt feel like he belonged to something a little bigger, a little more of himself, than his usual dinner company of other political folks.
Kurt let the vodka burn a trail down his throat, and he could feel his limbs going warm and loose with every sip, and every gentle brush of Noah's arm against his own as they looked over the menu. He felt surprisingly unselfconscious, and leaned further into the touch in the moments after the waitress came and took their orders. He caught Bill and Jamie watching, smiling in the flickering light of the candles on the table, and he couldn't help but smile back at them.
The talk stayed casual through the first round of drinks and appetizers, and then veered off into the edge of slightly too personal with a second round of drinks and their entrees. Noah regaled Bill and Jamie with stories of their time as pages, and what it was like to work on the campaign. Jamie rubbed circles on the back of Bill's hand as he told the story of their whirlwind romance, and Bill kept jumping in with snarky commentary that had Kurt laughing so hard he couldn't eat.
When the plates had been cleared and drinks replaced with coffee, Kurt laid his head on Noah's shoulder and whispered above the light din of the other diners. "I like them. Can we keep them?"
Noah just pressed a kiss to his temple. "I don't think you could pay me to get rid of them now. Our first couple friends."
Kurt was going back and forth between the molten chocolate cake and the apple-pear cobbler when he felt rather than heard Noah gasp next to him, and then the oh, crapunder his breath.
Kurt rested a hand on Noah's forearm. "What's wrong, baby?"
"Goddamn Crandall."
"DNC Crandall?" Kurt wasn't sure why he asked; he followed Noah's gaze to the other side of the room, where Crandall was indeed dining with a woman who was presumably his wife and a trio of teenagers.
"What?" Jamie dropped his dessert menu on the table and looked at Kurt with worried eyes.
"Nothing. Just-" Kurt stammered, but Noah picked up the thread, nodding at Bill.
"Just a bigger bastard than your father."
"That's saying something," Jamie muttered, and Bill nodded in understanding.
"Crandall, isn't it?," he asked before elbowing Jamie. "And my father isn't that big of a bastard." He grinned a sideways grin that made Kurt relax a breath. Bill leaned across the table and whispered conspiratorially at them. "Do we have a plan of attack?"
"I don't think we need one if he doesn't see us," Noah said optimistically, but Kurt was already squeezing at his hand.
"Too late." Kurt swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach. He nodded to where Crandall was crossing the space to their table, stride determined and face stony. "I think we're going to have to improvise." At the panicked look in everyone else's faces, Kurt turned on them. "Are you really going to tell me that I'm the only one who did speech and debate in high school?"
He got blank looks from the three of them, and huffed before sitting straighter in his chair. "I hate you all," he snapped before fixing a docile look on his face and rising languidly to meet Crandall.
"Mr. Crandall, how nice to see you. Are you and your family having a nice evening?" He offered his hand, fully expecting Crandall to brush it aside, but Crandall took it and shook limply.
"Mr. Hummel." Crandall was stone-faced as he took in the rest of the table. He nodded at Noah. "Mr. Puckerman. I don't believe I've met your friends."
Kurt shot Noah a let me take care of thislook and swept his hand in Jamie and Bill's direction. "William Brennan, and his friend James Hamilton."
Crandall nodded at Bill. "Any relation to Senator Ian Brennan?"
"My father, sir." Bill nodded firmly and eyed Crandall without blinking. "How are you and your family enjoying your dinner?"
"Fine, fine." Crandall brushed the question away and let his eyes roam over the table a second time. "I didn't realize you knew each other," he said, ignoring Kurt in favor of Bill.
"Noah and Kurt are very kindly helping me with something. I figured a nice dinner out was the least thanks I could offer," Bill said with a nod.
"That's . . . kind of you." Crandall's tone suggested it was anything butkind. "Does your father know you're in town? And that you're socializing with- with-"
Bill smiled sweetly at Crandall. "With who? I have my own friends, Mr. Crandall. That isn't, and never has been my father's place."
Kurt felt the whole situation falling rapidly out of control. He struggled and stammered for his next word or action, while Bill just kept on. "Are you implying something about my dinner company?"
Crandall sputtered for a moment before choking out the thoughts Kurt knew he'd been keeping close for weeks. "I'd be more worried about what your dinner company implies about you, William."
Bill's eyes went cold, and Kurt watched him grip a steadying hand on Jamie's arm. "Mr. Crandall. You're interrupting my evening out. Perhaps you should go back to your family before either one of us says something we might regret. And, for your information, I have no worries as to what assumptions people might make about me based on my friends. Especially not if those assumptions are true."
Kurt could feel something simmering in his gut, something he'd left buried all these years. The very thing he'd been told was wrong about him was burning, and he took a deep breath before turning his most charming expression and tone to Crandall. He let his hand float out and rest gently against the slightly scratchy fabric of Crandall's sport coat and felt his voice rise a few notes. "Mr. Crandall, what exactly are your thoughts about our little soirée this evening? I mean," he gestured again at the table, "it's not every evening that gay White House staffers are seen out on the town. It must seem positively scandalous."
Kurt smiled, and felt every bit of his body relax into the more effeminate posture and gesture that had gotten him teased as a very young child, back before he learned to control it. "I'd love to hear your opinions about gays serving openly in the military, but I suspect you're not exactly toeing the party line on that issue. Are you, Mr. Crandall?"
Kurt fixed the man with a steely gaze, and waited for him to blink before he continued. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, and scrolled through the contacts. "I know you like to think you run the party, but I have the real leaders on speed dial. I'm sure they'd all love to hear your opinions, too. Who should it be? Press Secretary? Chief of Staff? Or, wait, what about the President? I'm sure she'd be especially interested to hear about a little email that a poor intern sent, a very threatening email that resulted in said intern being fired. I do believe your name came up in her story." Kurt waved his phone in the air, and watched while Crandall turned bright red, then pale, then red again.
"I- you- " Crandall sputtered ineffectually, hands opening and closing at the hem of his jacket.
Kurt set his phone on the table and patted Crandall gently on the shoulder. He softened his voice even more. "Why don't you go back to your family. Enjoy the rest of your meal. And be sure to watch the news tomorrow; you'll have a lot to talk about then. I'd just be careful what you say in public. Because we will all be watching."
Kurt waited until Crandall had retreated silently before sinking back into his chair. Noah just stared at him, and Jamie smiled.
"Did you even know you had such a snarky Inner Queen?," he asked as he slid the dessert menu back towards Kurt.
Kurt shook his head. "I haven't- um. No." He shrugged. "I got picked on a lot in elementary school, so I just hid that part of me." He waited while the others took that in, and waved the waitress over.
"Molten chocolate cake and another martini, please." He smiled at her, and then looked back at Noah, Jamie, and Bill. He felt his eyes light up, and his laugh was more like a cackle. "That was long overdue. And," he continued after a sip of water, "it was fun!"
Kurt felt like he was waiting on pins and needles all day. AJ had released their simple, four sentence press release in the packet at the morning briefing, and hadn't taken a single question about it. Kurt spent the morning in his office reading and re-reading Bill's speech, and he kept catching glimpses of Noah pacing anxiously in the hall until he left at 11 am for a final meeting at the Capital with Bill and Senator Brennan. Kurt waited until noon before he couldn't stand it anymore, and packed up to head to the Capital himself. He met Jamie as planned at 12:30, escorted him through security and up to Senator Brennan's office. And then it was just a matter of waiting.
The Senator tried his best to make small talk, but Kurt figured that was kind of futile when both Bill and Noah looked like they were about to vomit. In the end, he pulled Noah into the long-unused copy room on the third floor that was stillunused, and shoved a lukewarm ginger ale at him. "Sip, gently." He rubbed small, soothing circles on Noah's shoulder and felt Noah relax slightly. "You've done all you can. You can't control the outcome, you can just get your message out there. And like you told me last night, Bill is a big boy who can take care of himself."
"What if this is all a mistake?" Noah sipped the ginger ale with trembling hands.
"If those West Point cadets were here right now, would they tell you it was a mistake?"
"Probably not."
"Okay, then. We can only move forward from here." Noah stared at his impeccably shined dress shoes, and Kurt had to strengthen his voice to get his attention. "Baby. It's going to be fine."
Noah reached up and laced his fingers into Kurt's. "When did you get so brave?"
Kurt shrugged. "I guess channeling my inner diva last night did something."
"You're not scared anymore." It wasn't a question.
Kurt shook his head and smiled. "No. I suppose I'm not."
"Good. That's good." Kurt could tell Noah's mind was wandering back to the press conference, so he took his hand and squeezed gently before pulling Noah to his feet and leading him back up the hall to the Senator's office, where the silence threatened to suffocate. He left Noah then, and escaped into the cool bright and bustle of the hallway and waited, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed against the echo of Noah's words in his brain. What if this is all a mistake?
It couldn't be a mistake; Kurt wasn't sure of much, but his new inner resolve was positive of that. And he felt like he needed to hold onto it with an iron grip.
Noah sipped at that damn warm soda for close to an hour before Senator Brennan's assistant threw the office door open and nodded at them. "It's time," she whispered, and Noah followed the Senator and Bill out into the hall, Jamie on his heels. The procession was slightly awkward, the Senator moving briskly while Noah and Bill tried to keep up, Kurt and Jamie lingering back a handful of steps. As they rounded a corner, Noah heard Kurt whisper to Jamie, sotto voce: Welcome to the spouse's club!
Noah was almost surprised at the number of press there; he wondered absently if it had to do with the morning's press release, but he didn't have time to dwell before he was being urged to the podium. He cleared his throat once, and began.
"Thank you all for coming today. As you know, we have been working hard to foster cooperation among both parties on the matter of repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. We are here today for important statements in that matter from Senator William Brennan of Nebraska and his son, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel William Brennan."
Noah stepped aside, and then back to the area at the side of the room where Kurt and Jamie stood, pretending to be invisible. He moved close enough so that the motion of Kurt's hand against his own was invisible, and let out a breath as Bill started his statement.
"Good afternoon. The statement I am about to read has the potential to impact 16 years of military service, but the continued enforcement of Don't Ask Don't Tell will impact many more lives and careers than just mine. I am a graduate of the United States Air Force Academy. I have served two combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. And I am here today to come out publicly as a gay man. I have served proudly in the Air Force since I was 18 years old; I have upheld the values and beliefs of our military because they are myvalues and beliefs as well. But it is no longer prudent for me to keep serving in secrecy, not when my coming out can help the fight. I stand here today to urge all members of Congress to support the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell. It's not just my career on the line. It's the careers of hundreds of service members around the world, and it's about the strength and health of our military. Asking soldiers to keep secrets in order to serve is contrary to every value the military instills in recruits. It harms us and our families, and weakens unit cohesion and readiness. I am lucky; I have parents who have kept my secret, and feared for me every day since I was 22 years old. I have a partner who waits patiently, and supports me, and wonders every day if today is going to be the day one of us slips up and I get investigated. Serving in secret is a life lived in fear. It is time for all of us to come together and repeal Don't Ask Don't Tell, so that nobody else has to sacrifice identity for country."
The press was silent as Senator Brennan stepped up, clapped Bill on the shoulder and turned his gaze into the room.
"I am here today as the proud father of a gay soldier. When William came to me just after his graduation from the Air Force Academy and told me he was gay, I asked him what that meant for his career. William assured me that he wanted to honor his commitment, and wanted to make a career of military service. In that moment, I had to make a decision, and I made the right one, the only one I could make at the time: I promised William that I would support him, and his career. And if that meant keeping his secret, so be it. I urge my colleagues on the Armed Services Committee to move on the bill before us before the close of business on Monday, so that we may begin the ling process of repealing the law that is harming not only our military as an institution but also the men and women who give their lives in service to it. And once the bill reaches the House and the Senate, I will advocate for swift passage. This move is long overdue. We can never right the wrong for those soldiers who have already been discharged in the years since the law took effect, but we canchange things for those who are still serving, who are living lives of secrets and silence. Thank you."
The reporters were silent for half a breath before exploding into a frenzy of shouts and camera flashes and utter chaos. Kurt leaned into Noah and raised his voice to be heard above the noise. "Are you going to take questions?"
Noah shook his head. "Not me, but I think Bill and the Senator might."
They did. Or, rather, the Senator did. Bill stood behind him, slightly to his right, and waited while his father answered questions about being a parent of a gay child, and whether that affected his votes on every social issue under the sun. Noah couldn't help but fidget a little at some of the more inane questions, and he was a little disappointed that none of the reporters asked more about the repeal. But he supposed he had no right to complain; bad questions were better than no questions, and the fact that a known conservative Senator was coming out in support of his gay son was going to get them lots of news coverage regardless.
It was edging close to midnight by the time Kurt and Noah said their goodnights to Bill and Jamie and a surprisingly jovial Senator Brennan.
"I think," Kurt mused into Noah's jacket as they walked, entwined, from the restaurant to the Metro, "that Senator Brennan was a little drunk."
He felt Noah's lips graze his cheek. "I think someone else might be a little drunk."
Kurt felt his cheeks warm in the darkness. "Nope. A little buzzed, maybe, but not drunk."
"It was a good day," Noah sighed, straightening and taking Kurt's hand as they descended the Metro stairs. "Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?"
"Proud of me for what?" Kurt had to dig around in his pocket for his fare card, and he waited on the other side of the turnstile for Noah to swipe his own card before they wandered slowly through the echoing, nearly empty station.
"For everything. The press statement, and Bill's statement, and being there with me today. You didn't have to do that."
Kurt shrugged. "It was important. Not just for you, you know that, right? For all of us. I haven't had a chance to tell you about this kid I met. When I was in Lima?"
"When you talked to those classes." Noah pulled him closer in the cool of the station; their train was still 10 minutes out, by the computerized board over the tracks.
"Yeah. His name is Michael. His teacher said that he's a good kid, quiet and smart. He seemed a little shy, and so gratefulthat I was open and honest about being gay." Kurt scuffed at the yellow safety line with the toe of his loafer. "He asked me if it really did get better, like all those videos say."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him things got easier. Never perfect, but yes, better. And I gave him one of my cards." He huffed a breath of air that turned pale white. "He's got a friend looking out for him, and his teacher. He'll be okay. But he made me realize that being scared doesn't just hurt me. It hurts Michael and the other kids like him, like us."
"I love you, but I also really like seeing a more confident you." Kurt could feel Noah's smile. "You did a really good job on Bill's statement, and the one you gave to AJ for the press? So much in so few words. We'll have to go out for the papers in the morning."
Kurt leaned in a little closer as the approaching train sucked into the station, and they waited, hand-in-hand, for a couple of passengers to get off. The train itself was warm and bright, and Kurt picked a seat in the back, because his alcohol buzz was making him want to be a little handsy with Noah. He waited patiently while Noah folded himself into the seat against the motion of the already-moving train, and then he leaned over and ran the tip of his tongue over the spot just behind Noah's ear that made him shiver every freaking time. He felt the shiver, and heard Noah's faint moan, and then Noah was pulling away and clearing his throat.
"K," he said, voice low and full, nodding at a middle-aged man sitting in one of the sideways seats in the middle of the car. He was clearly trying not to watch them, and Kurt felt suddenly embarrassed. He ducked his forehead against Noah's shoulder.
"Crap. I didn't think-"
Noah's hand was gentle on his arm. "it's okay. But I think we should wait till we get home."
"Yeah. You're right." He still leaned into Noah, though, letting the motion of the train wash over him as the world passed by outside.
After the next stop, though, the man got up and moved closer to them. He smiled, and looked at Noah with kind eyes. "You put together that press conference today."
"Yes, sir," Noah nodded. The man turned his gaze on Kurt.
"Did you write all the statements today?" The man gestured to the folded newspaper tucked under his arm.
"Yes."
"Good work, both of you," he nodded as the train slowed around the final curve before Noah and Kurt's stop. "Brave. I hope . . ." he swallowed against something, and Kurt pretended that he didn't see the man's eyes filling up with tears. "I hope it works. The silence, it takes some people. We need more who speak out, to save the ones who can't. Anyway. Thank you." The man smiled sadly at them, and was up and off the train before Noah and Kurt had even registered he was gone.
"I guess we did good," Kurt whispered as they left the train for the cool of the night.
Noah wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and kissed his hair. "Yeah, we did. C'mon, let's go home."