![\"\"](\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/adoringaudience\/25391511\/279587\/279587_600.jpg\" "\\"Singapore\\"")
<\/div>I do however have a bank loan which many people (will) find irresponsible of me that in spite of being in debt, I chose an uncertain future and quit a job that not only paid well but which I, essentially - highs and lows notwithstanding - loved. To be perfectly honest, the loan is sort of slowly paying itself since the apartment I bought it with is rented out and the rent almost <\/i>covers my monthly rates.
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/adoringaudience\/25391511\/279996\/279996_600.jpg\" "\\"Cameron")
<\/div>My family thinks I'm crazy and wants me to come home. The idea of returning is scary. I don't know if I can ever fit into the life that I had before. It wasn't a bad life, not by a longshot. But I feel like the shape of me has changed and I couldn't fit the mould anymore. What's more: I don't want to.
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/adoringaudience\/25391511\/280252\/280252_original.jpg\" "\\"Angkor")
<\/a><\/div>I am happy. Even not knowing where I'll be next month, next week, or even tomorrow - I wish I could continue like this for as long I wanted. Eventually money will become an issue, I know that and I don't like to think about it. I'm a bit afraid of the moment when that happens.
<\/a><\/div>But despite everything, I wouldn't change a thing; wouldn't do anything different. I don't regret any of the decisions I made. I've seen lots of amazing places, found new homes, met fantastic people. Met some assholes too. The world is not only sunshine and daisies, unfortunately. But it feels like I'm really living now. Instead of merely existing, albeit in a very comfortable fashion. This feels right.
Want to follow me in pictures? Click here to go to the gallery<\/a>.<\/span>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:83772","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/83772.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=83772"}}],"title":"New B\/J Standalone: Traditions (NC-17, I guess?)","published":"2017-02-14T12:10:19Z","updated":"2017-02-14T12:10:19Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"b\/j oneshots"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"qaf: my fics"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"writing"}}],"content":"
Standalone. Post-513. 6000+ words. NC-17?
Turns out, Brian is a romantic, in a closeted, Brian-ish kind of way. Not really Valentine’s Day related, but sort of sweet and sappy nonetheless.
A\/N:<\/b> I started writing this story in August 2012. Remembered it last week. Finished it about an hour ago. Unbeta-ed. Hope you enjoy. If you do, please leave a feedback. Thanks.
<\/div>
Turns out, Brian is a romantic, in a closeted, Brian-ish kind of way. Not really Valentine’s Day related, but sort of sweet and sappy nonetheless.
A\/N:<\/b> I started writing this story in August 2012. Remembered it last week. Finished it about an hour ago. Unbeta-ed. Hope you enjoy. If you do, please leave a feedback. Thanks.
<\/div>
Traditions<\/span><\/b><\/u><\/div>
<\/div>
<\/div>
It took Justin four years to catch on and when he did his reaction alternated between disbelief and despair. He couldn’t help grinning like a sappy fool and alternately turning red from shame and guilt at not having figured it out sooner. Though, in his defense, he had to point out that Brian was a meticulous and secretive bastard who notoriously played his cards close to his chest which might excuse Justin being a bit slow on the uptake.
I.<\/b>
It was during his first spring in New York that Justin had begun to grow increasingly depressed. Almost a year had passed since he left Pittsburgh and thus Brian and his family to make it big here, in the city that never slept. But things were going slow at best. In New York, inspiration was never far; unfortunately, Brian was (who, as Justin was slowly getting ready to admit was maybe a big-ish part of his inspiration). The combination of those two facts led to a drastic change in Justin’s art, making it gloomier and more depressing by the day. It was very simple math really - New York was exciting, and an adventure, and everything Justin hoped it would be. Only, in his dreams, he never imagined how lonely he would feel and how much he would miss the person he wanted to share all his experiences with. After almost one year in New York, Justin had nothing to show for it. No great shows, no paintings he was particularly proud of, not even a decent job that merited a further stay in the city. He hadn’t talked to Brian or any member of his family yet, but secretly he was contemplating coming back and admitting defeat.
It was then that Brian had suddenly appeared on his doorstep, looking better than ever in a dark brown tailored suit and waving a piece of paper in his face.
Justin’s brain barely had time to process that it was an envelope before… “Wha--?” It was all Justin managed to get out before Brian’s lips sealed themselves to his and stole his breath. Justin allowed Brian to ravage his mouth and in the process to wipe away all memory of depression or giving up.
When Brian was done, Justin looked up at him dreamily, no longer a care on his mind, but with a little stupid smile on his face.
“How fast can you pack?” Brian asked.
“Depends on where we’re going.”
Instead of an answer, Brian thrust the envelope against Justin’s chest. Justin opened the flap and scanned the piece of paper. Two<\/i> pieces of paper. “Martinique? That’s the Caribbean, right?”
Brian’s reply consisted of a pair of raised eyebrows and the following information, “Forecast highs for today are in the upper 80s. Not a cloud in the sky.”
“Today,” Justin mumbled and then grinned. “Five minutes,” he answered Brian’s initial question. He wouldn’t need too many clothes, he figured. And five minutes should be enough time to throw his toothbrush and shaving kit into a bag as well as a change of underwear. He was certain Brian had already taken care of the condoms and lube part of the packing.
“Good,” Brian said and pulled Justin towards him again. Justin’s arms wound around Brian’s body. “That leaves a good half hour to fuck.”
He reached behind him and extracted the tickets from Justin’s grip, placing them on the shelf next to the entrance door so they wouldn’t forget them later.
<\/div>
I.<\/b>
It was during his first spring in New York that Justin had begun to grow increasingly depressed. Almost a year had passed since he left Pittsburgh and thus Brian and his family to make it big here, in the city that never slept. But things were going slow at best. In New York, inspiration was never far; unfortunately, Brian was (who, as Justin was slowly getting ready to admit was maybe a big-ish part of his inspiration). The combination of those two facts led to a drastic change in Justin’s art, making it gloomier and more depressing by the day. It was very simple math really - New York was exciting, and an adventure, and everything Justin hoped it would be. Only, in his dreams, he never imagined how lonely he would feel and how much he would miss the person he wanted to share all his experiences with. After almost one year in New York, Justin had nothing to show for it. No great shows, no paintings he was particularly proud of, not even a decent job that merited a further stay in the city. He hadn’t talked to Brian or any member of his family yet, but secretly he was contemplating coming back and admitting defeat.
It was then that Brian had suddenly appeared on his doorstep, looking better than ever in a dark brown tailored suit and waving a piece of paper in his face.
Justin’s brain barely had time to process that it was an envelope before… “Wha--?” It was all Justin managed to get out before Brian’s lips sealed themselves to his and stole his breath. Justin allowed Brian to ravage his mouth and in the process to wipe away all memory of depression or giving up.
When Brian was done, Justin looked up at him dreamily, no longer a care on his mind, but with a little stupid smile on his face.
“How fast can you pack?” Brian asked.
“Depends on where we’re going.”
Instead of an answer, Brian thrust the envelope against Justin’s chest. Justin opened the flap and scanned the piece of paper. Two<\/i> pieces of paper. “Martinique? That’s the Caribbean, right?”
Brian’s reply consisted of a pair of raised eyebrows and the following information, “Forecast highs for today are in the upper 80s. Not a cloud in the sky.”
“Today,” Justin mumbled and then grinned. “Five minutes,” he answered Brian’s initial question. He wouldn’t need too many clothes, he figured. And five minutes should be enough time to throw his toothbrush and shaving kit into a bag as well as a change of underwear. He was certain Brian had already taken care of the condoms and lube part of the packing.
“Good,” Brian said and pulled Justin towards him again. Justin’s arms wound around Brian’s body. “That leaves a good half hour to fuck.”
He reached behind him and extracted the tickets from Justin’s grip, placing them on the shelf next to the entrance door so they wouldn’t forget them later.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
The one week getaway helped and Justin was almost tempted to admit that, at least sometimes, Brian knew better than him what he wanted or needed. When they parted ways again at the airport in New York, Justin promised to try to find his mojo again. And Brian in turn promised to visit more often to provide the sometimes lacking inspiration or, as he stated it, “Fuck the spirit back into you.”
The plan, however vague and unformed, worked. It took Justin a while to get back into painting the way he used to - where he would lose himself and paint for hours at a time, forgetting about technique and just getting all the emotions out on the canvas. Whenever his hand forced him to take a break, he managed to slip into something presentable and grab his portfolio to try to impress the shit out of any and all agencies and galleries in subway riding distance.
II.<\/b>
With all his focus directed towards putting his art out there, it took Justin another year before he found a place that was willing to display his art. And even that was only a small gallery and a few pieces in a group show. But one was followed by another and another and slightly bigger and better known galleries and soon his combined earnings from the sale of his paintings and the side job bartending in a posh VIP club were enough to move into a place that Brian didn’t completely hate. He still claimed he would need to hide his face on the street when visiting lest his reputation would be damaged by being seen in this part of the city, should someone recognize him, but at least he didn’t insist anymore that Justin met him at a hotel.
“Are you gonna be there?” Justin asked excitedly.
“On moving day?” Brian asked back.
“Yeah.”
“Unless you hired some hot movers and need help ogling their asses, that’s a no. Surely you don’t expect me to carry boxes, Sunshine.”
Justin grinned. “No. But I might need help christening the new apartment.”
He waited as Brian breathed into the phone. Eventually, he replied non-commitally, “We’ll see.”
So, no, Justin hadn’t really been expecting Brian to help with the move. It was okay though; what little things he did own were quickly moved into the new place with the help of his friends and a few colleagues. So it did come as a small surprise when, in a gesture of previously undocumented consideration, Brian arrived at Justin’s door in the early evening. Justin suspected he had waited until even the last box and canvas was inside before ringing the doorbell. But his happiness at seeing Brian won and he didn’t actually care if Brian timed his entrance until after all the hard work was done. He especially didn’t mind that it was Brian at the door and not the delivery guy with his double order of Szechuan chicken.
Justin devoured Brian right in the doorway, as if he was his dinner and only let go of him when a discreet cough behind Brian’s back announced that they had an audience. Looking up he saw the delivery guy giving Brian an appreciative once-over and Justin quickly paid him before almost slamming the door in his face, grinning devilishly.
Picking up two forks from a still not unpacked box on the kitchen counter, he navigated between the mess of boxes and half-assembled furniture and went in search of Brian. Eating out of the carton, Justin followed Brian’s path which, unsurprisingly, had let him to the bedroom. Justin still couldn’t believe he had an apartment where he had rooms instead of areas.
“At least the bed is done,” Brian commented, referring to the jumble of shelves and screws and bolts in the living room.
“It was the first thing I put together,” Justin replied, munching on a piece of chicken.
“Good to know you have your priorities straight.”
Justin didn’t comment on it, instead pushed another fork loaded with rice and chicken into his mouth. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and asked, “How long can you stay?”
“Just tonight. Got an important pitch tomorrow afternoon,” Brian answered while rummaging through his travel bag. Justin only then noticed that Brian had brought a bag at all, he had been so focused on Brian actually being here, in his new apartment. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but Justin hadn’t been looking forward to spending his first night in this place alone. Having Brian here felt right, even if he was only staying for one night.
His eyes grew wide when Brian retrieved a bag with the Bed Bath & Beyond logo on it. “You went shopping at Bed Bath & Beyond?” Justin couldn’t help his voice rising an octave in disbelief at the end of the question.
“Please,” Brian sneered and then shrugged. “Paid Cynthia to do it.”
“But why?”
Brian pulled out several smaller boxes from the bag, all containing the same patterned bed linens. They were glossy white with an off-white stripe pattern. He started ripping open the packages while replying, “Because I’m not sleeping in this, whatever this is.” He motioned towards the bed’s sheets, an expression of disgust on his face.
“Those are perfectly fine linen and they’re freshly laundered,” Justin protested.
“You say potato...” Brian trailed off and started to change the freshly made bed.
Justin’s eyes lit up with reminiscent nostalgia when he saw the pillow covered in the blindingly white material. No longer hungry, or rather hungry for something else all of a sudden, he put down the container of food on one of the unopened boxes and advanced Brian. The man halted his motion however, throwing a sheet at him.
“Grab a corner and help me.”
Justin pouted but got to work, pulling off the old sheet and tugging the new one under the mattress’ corner. “You do realize that you’re taking the spontaneity out of fucking, don’t you?”
“This is 300 thread count, 100 percent pure cotton. Your knees will thank me once I’m done with you.”
Justin was instantly mollified. And horny as hell.
<\/div>
The one week getaway helped and Justin was almost tempted to admit that, at least sometimes, Brian knew better than him what he wanted or needed. When they parted ways again at the airport in New York, Justin promised to try to find his mojo again. And Brian in turn promised to visit more often to provide the sometimes lacking inspiration or, as he stated it, “Fuck the spirit back into you.”
The plan, however vague and unformed, worked. It took Justin a while to get back into painting the way he used to - where he would lose himself and paint for hours at a time, forgetting about technique and just getting all the emotions out on the canvas. Whenever his hand forced him to take a break, he managed to slip into something presentable and grab his portfolio to try to impress the shit out of any and all agencies and galleries in subway riding distance.
II.<\/b>
With all his focus directed towards putting his art out there, it took Justin another year before he found a place that was willing to display his art. And even that was only a small gallery and a few pieces in a group show. But one was followed by another and another and slightly bigger and better known galleries and soon his combined earnings from the sale of his paintings and the side job bartending in a posh VIP club were enough to move into a place that Brian didn’t completely hate. He still claimed he would need to hide his face on the street when visiting lest his reputation would be damaged by being seen in this part of the city, should someone recognize him, but at least he didn’t insist anymore that Justin met him at a hotel.
“Are you gonna be there?” Justin asked excitedly.
“On moving day?” Brian asked back.
“Yeah.”
“Unless you hired some hot movers and need help ogling their asses, that’s a no. Surely you don’t expect me to carry boxes, Sunshine.”
Justin grinned. “No. But I might need help christening the new apartment.”
He waited as Brian breathed into the phone. Eventually, he replied non-commitally, “We’ll see.”
So, no, Justin hadn’t really been expecting Brian to help with the move. It was okay though; what little things he did own were quickly moved into the new place with the help of his friends and a few colleagues. So it did come as a small surprise when, in a gesture of previously undocumented consideration, Brian arrived at Justin’s door in the early evening. Justin suspected he had waited until even the last box and canvas was inside before ringing the doorbell. But his happiness at seeing Brian won and he didn’t actually care if Brian timed his entrance until after all the hard work was done. He especially didn’t mind that it was Brian at the door and not the delivery guy with his double order of Szechuan chicken.
Justin devoured Brian right in the doorway, as if he was his dinner and only let go of him when a discreet cough behind Brian’s back announced that they had an audience. Looking up he saw the delivery guy giving Brian an appreciative once-over and Justin quickly paid him before almost slamming the door in his face, grinning devilishly.
Picking up two forks from a still not unpacked box on the kitchen counter, he navigated between the mess of boxes and half-assembled furniture and went in search of Brian. Eating out of the carton, Justin followed Brian’s path which, unsurprisingly, had let him to the bedroom. Justin still couldn’t believe he had an apartment where he had rooms instead of areas.
“At least the bed is done,” Brian commented, referring to the jumble of shelves and screws and bolts in the living room.
“It was the first thing I put together,” Justin replied, munching on a piece of chicken.
“Good to know you have your priorities straight.”
Justin didn’t comment on it, instead pushed another fork loaded with rice and chicken into his mouth. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and asked, “How long can you stay?”
“Just tonight. Got an important pitch tomorrow afternoon,” Brian answered while rummaging through his travel bag. Justin only then noticed that Brian had brought a bag at all, he had been so focused on Brian actually being here, in his new apartment. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but Justin hadn’t been looking forward to spending his first night in this place alone. Having Brian here felt right, even if he was only staying for one night.
His eyes grew wide when Brian retrieved a bag with the Bed Bath & Beyond logo on it. “You went shopping at Bed Bath & Beyond?” Justin couldn’t help his voice rising an octave in disbelief at the end of the question.
“Please,” Brian sneered and then shrugged. “Paid Cynthia to do it.”
“But why?”
Brian pulled out several smaller boxes from the bag, all containing the same patterned bed linens. They were glossy white with an off-white stripe pattern. He started ripping open the packages while replying, “Because I’m not sleeping in this, whatever this is.” He motioned towards the bed’s sheets, an expression of disgust on his face.
“Those are perfectly fine linen and they’re freshly laundered,” Justin protested.
“You say potato...” Brian trailed off and started to change the freshly made bed.
Justin’s eyes lit up with reminiscent nostalgia when he saw the pillow covered in the blindingly white material. No longer hungry, or rather hungry for something else all of a sudden, he put down the container of food on one of the unopened boxes and advanced Brian. The man halted his motion however, throwing a sheet at him.
“Grab a corner and help me.”
Justin pouted but got to work, pulling off the old sheet and tugging the new one under the mattress’ corner. “You do realize that you’re taking the spontaneity out of fucking, don’t you?”
“This is 300 thread count, 100 percent pure cotton. Your knees will thank me once I’m done with you.”
Justin was instantly mollified. And horny as hell.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
III.<\/b>
It seemed that with Justin leaving Pittsburgh, Brian had become even more of a workaholic than before. In his more maudlin moments Justin liked to picture his absence having something to do with it, though it was probably more to the fact that with Michael, Ted, and Emmett all playing happy family with their respective partners, Brian’s enthusiasm to go out and get drunk every night just wasn’t the same anymore. And even though Justin had made quite a few good friends in New York, he wasn’t keen on spending all that much time partying, especially since he bartended in a night club 4 days out of the week. Also, he was now more than ever focused on his goal. He’d come to New York for a reason and he was not going back home a failure.<\/span>
With both of them working constantly, it wasn’t easy finding time to spend together. Especially since it involved getting on a plane first. There were stretches of time where two or three whole months would go by before they would be able to see each other again. Personally, Justin thought his pain threshold was 10 weeks. It had now been closer to 15 and Justin was slowly but surely going crazy. They had managed to spend Christmas together with the family in Pittsburgh before coming to New York for New Year’s Celebrations. But ever since then every planned meeting had to be rescheduled due to some freaky snow storm and then cancelled because of some last minute business emergencies. Justin’s newly developed hate of snow storms as well as business emergencies was fierce and absolute.<\/span>
His job in the club was demanding a lot of his time and energy, but he was slowly building a name for himself as an artist. Which was rewarding, of course, but all he could think about was Brian. Brian’s lips, Brian’s laugh, Brian’s smell, Brian’s cock. He felt a lot like the stalker that he was back when he was 17 and Brian was the center of his universe.<\/span>
More often than not his nights now ended with him jerking off to images of Brian in his head while he replayed random voice messages Brian had left for him on his phone. It was pathetic and he knew it. But it seemed to take the edge off, even if only for a little while.<\/span>
It was a random Wednesday in the middle of April, shortly after midnight, Justin had just returned from a shift in the club where he’d been sent home early because apparently he looked like shit and was mixing up orders on top of it. Justin would have been worried if he didn’t know that the manager completely loved him and Wednesday was a slow night anyway, so he wouldn’t be too sorely missed.<\/span>
Still, the prospect of a full night’s sleep had invigorated him somewhat and he was just settling in for a drawn-out jackoff session when he heard a key in the apartment door.<\/span>
He didn’t bother panicking with thoughts of possible burglars since they weren’t usually known to use a key. But he did jerk upright, because there was only one other person who had the key to his apartment.<\/span>
He pulled up his boxer briefs and almost stumbled over his own feet in his haste. In the corridor outside his bedroom he came to a halt when his eyes landed on… “Brian?” he barely breathed, afraid to dispel the fata morgana.<\/span>
“Surprise.” Brian’s voice was like a jolt to his nervous system, after hearing it only through phone speakers for too long. He sounded a little tired and absolutely perfect.<\/span>
“Are you actually here?” Justin inquired, still dazed and unable to take his eyes off of Brian’s form. “Or is this some kind of fever dream? It if is, don’t wake me.” Then his feet propelled him forwards and he smashed into Brian full force. “Please,” he pleaded while at the same time pressing his lips against Brian’s. “Need this,” he mumbled, barely intelligible. He continued mauling Brian as his hands pushed the coat off of Brian’s shoulders, followed by the suit jacket and tie.<\/span>
“Jesus Fuck,” Brian managed to get in, “someone’s desperate.” He immediately went back to leave bruising kisses on Justin’s neck that would definitely leave a mark.<\/span>
“It’s really you,” Justin noted unnecessarily, coming up for air.<\/span>
“It’s me.”<\/span>
“How? I thought you were in…” Justin asked and let off of Brian to give him a chance to answer. His fingers meanwhile were unbuttoning Brian’s dress shirt.<\/span>
“Chicago,” Brian replied. “Yeah, I was. The pitch went great, by the way, thanks for asking. I was sitting in the airport on my way back to the Pitts. Then heard the announcement for a boarding call to NYC. Went up to the counter, bought a ticket. And here I am.”<\/span>
“Here you are,” Justin whispered and leaned forward to kiss a stripe down Brian’s now naked chest.<\/span>
“Have to be back at work at 9. Ten at the latest.”<\/span>
“Uh-huh.” Justin sank to his knees, tongue dancing around Brian’s navel while his hands were busy opening Brian’s belt and fly. “So, this gives us what? Six, seven hours?”<\/span>
“Something like that,” Brian agreed and pushed his hands in Justin’s hair, pressing his face closer to where he needed it. Justin went along with it willingly, making happy noises.<\/span>
“Better make the most of it then,” Justin said and rose back to his feet but not before leaving a lingering kiss on the tip of Brian’s now fully erect cock.<\/span>
As he made his way back to the bedroom, he kicked aside some of Brian’s clothes that he’d had carelessly dropped when he was undressing Brian.<\/span>
“Careful,” Brian admonished, “I didn’t bring a change.”<\/span>
Justin turned around and smirked at him. “Don’t care. Want everybody to know that you’ve been thoroughly fucked last night when you get back on that plane.”<\/span>
“Is that so?” Brian sneered a little, but underneath Justin could see the feral grin.<\/span>
“Oh, yeah,” Justin groaned.<\/span>
“Look at you, you’re already half-hard.”<\/span>
“I had kind of started without you,” Justin admitted. “Actually, you interrupted a really good wank.”<\/span>
“Wank?” Brian parroted. “How very British of you.”<\/span>
Justin just shrugged, too horny to come up with a witty reply, eyes roving across Brian’s chest and long legs. God, he’d missed just looking<\/i> at him.<\/span>
Brian bent down to kiss him, one hand cupping the back of Justin’s head while the other produced a small velvet bag, not bigger than his palm, from out of nowhere. Both their lips still attached, he pushed Justin so he fell backwards on the bed and then crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs. Then he upended the little bag and out fell something Justin didn’t immediately recognize in the dim lighting. From his position on the bed it looked like a bow, made out of black leather. Understanding dawned seconds before Brian reached for his cock.<\/span>
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Justin cried out. “This is torture. Brian, I want to come. I wanted to come even before you showed up here.”
“Shh…” Brian didn’t seem to care as he quietly slipped the broader loop over Justin’s cock and balls and then fixed the thinner one around the base of Justin’s shaft. Justin whimpered. “How’s this?” he asked when he was done.
Justin glared at him. “Sadist.”
“Too tight?”
Justin glared some more but when he was only met by Brian’s amused stare, he settled down. “No, it’s okay. I think.” He looked down himself. His cock was nicely trussed up in the leather harness and was still filling, slowly turning a dark shade of purply red. Justin still wanted to come, badly, but at least he didn’t feel anymore like he would spontaneously combust the moment Brian touched him. It felt actually… quite nice. Though he would never admit it to Brian.
The bastard seemed to know anyway because his smirk only grew.
“Now,” Brian mused, “about that plan of yours. I believe you said something about making me look thoroughly fucked? You may begin now.”
With those words, he flipped them both over and Justin, having suddenly found himself on top of Brian, let out a surprised yell. It only took him a second to assess the situation. Eyes lighting up with possibilities and a wolfish grin on his face, he declared, “Gonna make you beg.” With that he bit not too gently into the fleshy part of Brian’s pecs.
Brian laughed darkly but the laugh was half smothered by a groan. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yeah, we will,” Justin promised.
<\/div>
III.<\/b>
It seemed that with Justin leaving Pittsburgh, Brian had become even more of a workaholic than before. In his more maudlin moments Justin liked to picture his absence having something to do with it, though it was probably more to the fact that with Michael, Ted, and Emmett all playing happy family with their respective partners, Brian’s enthusiasm to go out and get drunk every night just wasn’t the same anymore. And even though Justin had made quite a few good friends in New York, he wasn’t keen on spending all that much time partying, especially since he bartended in a night club 4 days out of the week. Also, he was now more than ever focused on his goal. He’d come to New York for a reason and he was not going back home a failure.<\/span>
With both of them working constantly, it wasn’t easy finding time to spend together. Especially since it involved getting on a plane first. There were stretches of time where two or three whole months would go by before they would be able to see each other again. Personally, Justin thought his pain threshold was 10 weeks. It had now been closer to 15 and Justin was slowly but surely going crazy. They had managed to spend Christmas together with the family in Pittsburgh before coming to New York for New Year’s Celebrations. But ever since then every planned meeting had to be rescheduled due to some freaky snow storm and then cancelled because of some last minute business emergencies. Justin’s newly developed hate of snow storms as well as business emergencies was fierce and absolute.<\/span>
His job in the club was demanding a lot of his time and energy, but he was slowly building a name for himself as an artist. Which was rewarding, of course, but all he could think about was Brian. Brian’s lips, Brian’s laugh, Brian’s smell, Brian’s cock. He felt a lot like the stalker that he was back when he was 17 and Brian was the center of his universe.<\/span>
More often than not his nights now ended with him jerking off to images of Brian in his head while he replayed random voice messages Brian had left for him on his phone. It was pathetic and he knew it. But it seemed to take the edge off, even if only for a little while.<\/span>
It was a random Wednesday in the middle of April, shortly after midnight, Justin had just returned from a shift in the club where he’d been sent home early because apparently he looked like shit and was mixing up orders on top of it. Justin would have been worried if he didn’t know that the manager completely loved him and Wednesday was a slow night anyway, so he wouldn’t be too sorely missed.<\/span>
Still, the prospect of a full night’s sleep had invigorated him somewhat and he was just settling in for a drawn-out jackoff session when he heard a key in the apartment door.<\/span>
He didn’t bother panicking with thoughts of possible burglars since they weren’t usually known to use a key. But he did jerk upright, because there was only one other person who had the key to his apartment.<\/span>
He pulled up his boxer briefs and almost stumbled over his own feet in his haste. In the corridor outside his bedroom he came to a halt when his eyes landed on… “Brian?” he barely breathed, afraid to dispel the fata morgana.<\/span>
“Surprise.” Brian’s voice was like a jolt to his nervous system, after hearing it only through phone speakers for too long. He sounded a little tired and absolutely perfect.<\/span>
“Are you actually here?” Justin inquired, still dazed and unable to take his eyes off of Brian’s form. “Or is this some kind of fever dream? It if is, don’t wake me.” Then his feet propelled him forwards and he smashed into Brian full force. “Please,” he pleaded while at the same time pressing his lips against Brian’s. “Need this,” he mumbled, barely intelligible. He continued mauling Brian as his hands pushed the coat off of Brian’s shoulders, followed by the suit jacket and tie.<\/span>
“Jesus Fuck,” Brian managed to get in, “someone’s desperate.” He immediately went back to leave bruising kisses on Justin’s neck that would definitely leave a mark.<\/span>
“It’s really you,” Justin noted unnecessarily, coming up for air.<\/span>
“It’s me.”<\/span>
“How? I thought you were in…” Justin asked and let off of Brian to give him a chance to answer. His fingers meanwhile were unbuttoning Brian’s dress shirt.<\/span>
“Chicago,” Brian replied. “Yeah, I was. The pitch went great, by the way, thanks for asking. I was sitting in the airport on my way back to the Pitts. Then heard the announcement for a boarding call to NYC. Went up to the counter, bought a ticket. And here I am.”<\/span>
“Here you are,” Justin whispered and leaned forward to kiss a stripe down Brian’s now naked chest.<\/span>
“Have to be back at work at 9. Ten at the latest.”<\/span>
“Uh-huh.” Justin sank to his knees, tongue dancing around Brian’s navel while his hands were busy opening Brian’s belt and fly. “So, this gives us what? Six, seven hours?”<\/span>
“Something like that,” Brian agreed and pushed his hands in Justin’s hair, pressing his face closer to where he needed it. Justin went along with it willingly, making happy noises.<\/span>
“Better make the most of it then,” Justin said and rose back to his feet but not before leaving a lingering kiss on the tip of Brian’s now fully erect cock.<\/span>
As he made his way back to the bedroom, he kicked aside some of Brian’s clothes that he’d had carelessly dropped when he was undressing Brian.<\/span>
“Careful,” Brian admonished, “I didn’t bring a change.”<\/span>
Justin turned around and smirked at him. “Don’t care. Want everybody to know that you’ve been thoroughly fucked last night when you get back on that plane.”<\/span>
“Is that so?” Brian sneered a little, but underneath Justin could see the feral grin.<\/span>
“Oh, yeah,” Justin groaned.<\/span>
“Look at you, you’re already half-hard.”<\/span>
“I had kind of started without you,” Justin admitted. “Actually, you interrupted a really good wank.”<\/span>
“Wank?” Brian parroted. “How very British of you.”<\/span>
Justin just shrugged, too horny to come up with a witty reply, eyes roving across Brian’s chest and long legs. God, he’d missed just looking<\/i> at him.<\/span>
Brian bent down to kiss him, one hand cupping the back of Justin’s head while the other produced a small velvet bag, not bigger than his palm, from out of nowhere. Both their lips still attached, he pushed Justin so he fell backwards on the bed and then crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs. Then he upended the little bag and out fell something Justin didn’t immediately recognize in the dim lighting. From his position on the bed it looked like a bow, made out of black leather. Understanding dawned seconds before Brian reached for his cock.<\/span>
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Justin cried out. “This is torture. Brian, I want to come. I wanted to come even before you showed up here.”
“Shh…” Brian didn’t seem to care as he quietly slipped the broader loop over Justin’s cock and balls and then fixed the thinner one around the base of Justin’s shaft. Justin whimpered. “How’s this?” he asked when he was done.
Justin glared at him. “Sadist.”
“Too tight?”
Justin glared some more but when he was only met by Brian’s amused stare, he settled down. “No, it’s okay. I think.” He looked down himself. His cock was nicely trussed up in the leather harness and was still filling, slowly turning a dark shade of purply red. Justin still wanted to come, badly, but at least he didn’t feel anymore like he would spontaneously combust the moment Brian touched him. It felt actually… quite nice. Though he would never admit it to Brian.
The bastard seemed to know anyway because his smirk only grew.
“Now,” Brian mused, “about that plan of yours. I believe you said something about making me look thoroughly fucked? You may begin now.”
With those words, he flipped them both over and Justin, having suddenly found himself on top of Brian, let out a surprised yell. It only took him a second to assess the situation. Eyes lighting up with possibilities and a wolfish grin on his face, he declared, “Gonna make you beg.” With that he bit not too gently into the fleshy part of Brian’s pecs.
Brian laughed darkly but the laugh was half smothered by a groan. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yeah, we will,” Justin promised.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
IV.<\/b>
Justin had promised himself and Brian that he would start planning his return home the day he signed the contract for his first show. The promise was made years before the event was even looming on the horizon. It was a normal Wednesday morning as Justin’s future slowly morphed into present time. After Justin stepped out onto the sidewalk again, the first thing he did was to pull out his cell phone and call Brian.
“Hey, what’s up?” Brian’s voice greeted him though the line.
“It’s Thursday, April 16.”
Brian was silent for a few seconds then slowly said, “What is?”
“My show,” Justin explained.
Again silence, though Justin thought he’d heard Brian release a breath. Then, “Your<\/i> show? As in yours alone?”
“Yes!” The grin could be heard all the way over in Pittsburgh.
“I’m proud of you, Sunshine.” The words were spoken softly, quietly. Justin’s heart squeezed painfully. He wanted so much to feel Brian’s arms around him this very second.
“I’m kind of proud of me too,” Justin admitted. “I wish you were here.”
“I will be,” Brian promised.
“No, I mean right now.”
They both knew it was impossible. It was the middle of the week and Brian had been to New York for a visit only ten days before. There was simply no way he would be able to get away from work again so soon. They both knew it and remained quiet for a while, just breathing into the phone.
“So, you’ll be there?” Justin eventually asked, trying to break the silence and hoping for a positive answer.
“Told you so, didn’t I?”
“You haven’t even checked your calendar yet.”
“Don’t have to,” Brian replied. “Never too busy on such an important date.”
Justin rolled his eyes. He was way past the time where he wondered where on Brian’s list of priorities he stood, but he didn’t want Brian to blow off an important meeting for him either. And lately it seemed like Brian was constantly in some kind of important meeting. It was no secret that Kinnetik was doing well and he thought he’d heard Ted talking about an expansion the last time he’d been home for a visit. “We’ll see how important it’ll turn out to be once the critics had their go at me,” Justin said, for the first time voicing his doubts as the enormity of a single show made its way into his consciousness.
“Stop fishing for compliments, Sunshine. It’s unbecoming.”
“Just wanted to hear that I’m brilliant again,” Justin sheepishly gave back.
“You are... brilliantly lacking modesty.”
“Aren’t you the one running around, saying modesty is overrated?”
“Touché.”
Again silence descended upon them until Justin broke it one more time. “I miss you, Brian.”
This statement, however redundant or unnecessary, had slowly clawed its way into their phone talks until it became a fixed installment of every conversation. The more time passed, the more independent and successful Justin became, the more he wanted Brian and wasn’t as willing to live without him anymore. All that the years apart had managed to accomplish was to make it perfectly clear to him where his priorities lay.
<\/div>
IV.<\/b>
Justin had promised himself and Brian that he would start planning his return home the day he signed the contract for his first show. The promise was made years before the event was even looming on the horizon. It was a normal Wednesday morning as Justin’s future slowly morphed into present time. After Justin stepped out onto the sidewalk again, the first thing he did was to pull out his cell phone and call Brian.
“Hey, what’s up?” Brian’s voice greeted him though the line.
“It’s Thursday, April 16.”
Brian was silent for a few seconds then slowly said, “What is?”
“My show,” Justin explained.
Again silence, though Justin thought he’d heard Brian release a breath. Then, “Your<\/i> show? As in yours alone?”
“Yes!” The grin could be heard all the way over in Pittsburgh.
“I’m proud of you, Sunshine.” The words were spoken softly, quietly. Justin’s heart squeezed painfully. He wanted so much to feel Brian’s arms around him this very second.
“I’m kind of proud of me too,” Justin admitted. “I wish you were here.”
“I will be,” Brian promised.
“No, I mean right now.”
They both knew it was impossible. It was the middle of the week and Brian had been to New York for a visit only ten days before. There was simply no way he would be able to get away from work again so soon. They both knew it and remained quiet for a while, just breathing into the phone.
“So, you’ll be there?” Justin eventually asked, trying to break the silence and hoping for a positive answer.
“Told you so, didn’t I?”
“You haven’t even checked your calendar yet.”
“Don’t have to,” Brian replied. “Never too busy on such an important date.”
Justin rolled his eyes. He was way past the time where he wondered where on Brian’s list of priorities he stood, but he didn’t want Brian to blow off an important meeting for him either. And lately it seemed like Brian was constantly in some kind of important meeting. It was no secret that Kinnetik was doing well and he thought he’d heard Ted talking about an expansion the last time he’d been home for a visit. “We’ll see how important it’ll turn out to be once the critics had their go at me,” Justin said, for the first time voicing his doubts as the enormity of a single show made its way into his consciousness.
“Stop fishing for compliments, Sunshine. It’s unbecoming.”
“Just wanted to hear that I’m brilliant again,” Justin sheepishly gave back.
“You are... brilliantly lacking modesty.”
“Aren’t you the one running around, saying modesty is overrated?”
“Touché.”
Again silence descended upon them until Justin broke it one more time. “I miss you, Brian.”
This statement, however redundant or unnecessary, had slowly clawed its way into their phone talks until it became a fixed installment of every conversation. The more time passed, the more independent and successful Justin became, the more he wanted Brian and wasn’t as willing to live without him anymore. All that the years apart had managed to accomplish was to make it perfectly clear to him where his priorities lay.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
As it turned out, Brian’s calendar had in fact been free on April, 16th<\/sup> and as promised, not that there had been any doubt in Justin’s mind, he showed up on Justin’s doorstep the night before the event to keep him busy (with sex) to keep him from freaking out. After being thoroughly fucked through the mattress, twice, thank you very much, Justin finally drifted off to sleep and woke up to the delicious smell of coffee.
The sight of Brian shirtless in the kitchen, making breakfast – in Brian’s case ‘making breakfast’ consisted of opening the paper bags from the deli downstairs – made Justin long for home.
He came up behind Brian and slid his arms around Brian’s naked torso. Nuzzling into the skin of Brian’s back, he said, voice small, “You haven’t sold the house, right?”
The, ‘I wanna come home’ went unsaid but was clearly heard. Brian pulled on Justin’s arm to bring him face to face. He took hold of Justin’s chin and said, “You’re so close to what you’ve always wanted. Don’t give up now when you’re almost over the finish line.” He shook Justin gently to make his point.
It was on the tip of Justin’s tongue to say, ‘What I always wanted was you<\/i>.’ But he refrained. There were still, and Justin suspected there would always be, things that would send Brian running for the hills. Better to keep them to himself. So he said instead, “No. I’m not close. I did it. I wanted a solo show. I wanted the art world to take notice. It’s done. I accomplished what I came here to do. The rest I can do from home.”
“So sure of your success,” Brian muttered fondly.
“I’m brilliant. You said so yourself.”
Brian laughed. “Alright, genius. Let’s make sure you’re dressed nicely for all the important people that’ll want to talk to you tonight.”
With that, he let go of Justin and disappeared in the bedroom where his travel bag was. A minute later he came back out carrying a flat, rectangular package. He thrust it at Justin, “Here, try it on.”
Justin unwrapped the store paper and pulled a beautiful sky blue shirt from the box.
“Silk,” Brian commented. He took the shirt from Justin and held it up to Justin’s frame. “I’d say it’s a perfect fit.”
Justin slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror in the hall. Brian was right – it fit perfectly, tight in all the right places and the color accentuated his eyes. Justin turned to Brian and slung his arms around him, going in for a thank you kiss.
“Careful,” Brian admonished and pulled away. “Don’t wanna crease it before tonight.”
<\/div>
As it turned out, Brian’s calendar had in fact been free on April, 16th<\/sup> and as promised, not that there had been any doubt in Justin’s mind, he showed up on Justin’s doorstep the night before the event to keep him busy (with sex) to keep him from freaking out. After being thoroughly fucked through the mattress, twice, thank you very much, Justin finally drifted off to sleep and woke up to the delicious smell of coffee.
The sight of Brian shirtless in the kitchen, making breakfast – in Brian’s case ‘making breakfast’ consisted of opening the paper bags from the deli downstairs – made Justin long for home.
He came up behind Brian and slid his arms around Brian’s naked torso. Nuzzling into the skin of Brian’s back, he said, voice small, “You haven’t sold the house, right?”
The, ‘I wanna come home’ went unsaid but was clearly heard. Brian pulled on Justin’s arm to bring him face to face. He took hold of Justin’s chin and said, “You’re so close to what you’ve always wanted. Don’t give up now when you’re almost over the finish line.” He shook Justin gently to make his point.
It was on the tip of Justin’s tongue to say, ‘What I always wanted was you<\/i>.’ But he refrained. There were still, and Justin suspected there would always be, things that would send Brian running for the hills. Better to keep them to himself. So he said instead, “No. I’m not close. I did it. I wanted a solo show. I wanted the art world to take notice. It’s done. I accomplished what I came here to do. The rest I can do from home.”
“So sure of your success,” Brian muttered fondly.
“I’m brilliant. You said so yourself.”
Brian laughed. “Alright, genius. Let’s make sure you’re dressed nicely for all the important people that’ll want to talk to you tonight.”
With that, he let go of Justin and disappeared in the bedroom where his travel bag was. A minute later he came back out carrying a flat, rectangular package. He thrust it at Justin, “Here, try it on.”
Justin unwrapped the store paper and pulled a beautiful sky blue shirt from the box.
“Silk,” Brian commented. He took the shirt from Justin and held it up to Justin’s frame. “I’d say it’s a perfect fit.”
Justin slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror in the hall. Brian was right – it fit perfectly, tight in all the right places and the color accentuated his eyes. Justin turned to Brian and slung his arms around him, going in for a thank you kiss.
“Careful,” Brian admonished and pulled away. “Don’t wanna crease it before tonight.”
<\/div>
***<\/div>
The show was just as successful as Justin had hoped it would be. He’d been interviewed several times, saw the number of orange dots on his works, indicating the painting had sold, rise and had been introduced to so many people that he couldn’t remember a single one of them by name. Though the last one might have been due to the constant supply of alcohol courtesy of Brian. Whenever he found himself with an empty glass, Brian wasn’t far, pushing a new one into his hand. The wine was fantastic, but Justin was starting to feel tipsy.
The next time he was able to break free from schmoozing the critics, he sought out Brian who was studying one of his works. Brian looked up from the canvas and raised his glass in greeting as Justin approached. “This is good,” Brian said, motioning towards the painting. He sipped from his glass and then offered it to Justin.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Justin asked, leaning against Brian a little.
Brian chuckled. “Just celebrating, Sunshine. Not my fault you’re such a lightweight.”
Justin was quiet for a little while before speaking, quietly, “This is going good, isn’t it? I’m not just imagining it, right?”
Brian’s hand came up to Justin’s neck and he pulled him in for a quick, firm kiss. “It’s going great, but that’s not all we’re celebrating.”
Before Justin could question the cryptic remark he was once again whisked away by the gallery curator to meet some prospective buyer. He’d forgotten all about it until after he and Brian had come back to his apartment, celebrated some more horizontally, and then fell asleep.
<\/div>
The show was just as successful as Justin had hoped it would be. He’d been interviewed several times, saw the number of orange dots on his works, indicating the painting had sold, rise and had been introduced to so many people that he couldn’t remember a single one of them by name. Though the last one might have been due to the constant supply of alcohol courtesy of Brian. Whenever he found himself with an empty glass, Brian wasn’t far, pushing a new one into his hand. The wine was fantastic, but Justin was starting to feel tipsy.
The next time he was able to break free from schmoozing the critics, he sought out Brian who was studying one of his works. Brian looked up from the canvas and raised his glass in greeting as Justin approached. “This is good,” Brian said, motioning towards the painting. He sipped from his glass and then offered it to Justin.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Justin asked, leaning against Brian a little.
Brian chuckled. “Just celebrating, Sunshine. Not my fault you’re such a lightweight.”
Justin was quiet for a little while before speaking, quietly, “This is going good, isn’t it? I’m not just imagining it, right?”
Brian’s hand came up to Justin’s neck and he pulled him in for a quick, firm kiss. “It’s going great, but that’s not all we’re celebrating.”
Before Justin could question the cryptic remark he was once again whisked away by the gallery curator to meet some prospective buyer. He’d forgotten all about it until after he and Brian had come back to his apartment, celebrated some more horizontally, and then fell asleep.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
When he woke up in the morning, Brian was gone. Justin groaned and remembered that Brian had an early flight back to the Pitts to make it to some undoubtedly yet another important meeting.
As he stood in front of the mirror, leaning heavily on the sink while brushing the taste of dead animal off his teeth, the highlights of last night swam to the forefront. He remembered cheering with Brian in the car on the way home; remembered toasting Brian when the gallery manager whispered in his ear that more than half of the paintings had sold; remembered Brian’s proud gaze. Everything about last night had been perfect and he was glad that he got to share it with Brian. Then the cogs in his brain slowly began to turn. The interrupted conversation. Brian had said something about celebrating more than the show, but Justin had no idea what he might have meant. He racked his brain for an explanation.
He stopped suddenly, staring at himself. With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he flatly told his reflection, “You’re an idiot.”
He had no way of checking for the year before but he was pretty certain he could find the day of his moving into the apartment on the lease agreement and then, needing to know that it wasn’t just a massive coincidence, pulled out the shoebox full of memorabilia from under the bed. Being the sap that he was, he had kept the flight tickets of his and Brian’s trip to Martinique – after all, it had been their first vacation together. And yes, there it was: April 16.
As far as he could tell, he had spent the last four April 16ths with Brian. He rummaged further through the shoebox and pulled out the brown silk paper envelope he was looking for. He lifted the flap and sat there for a while, staring at the invitation card.
<\/div>
brianKINNEY
justinTAYLOR
Please come celebrate
our commitment
April 16, 2005
4:30pm
Fallingwater, Mill Run
RSVP by April 1, 2005<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>
“You really are an idiot!” he said again to the empty apartment. Brian had spent the last four years celebrating the anniversary of what would have been their wedding with him and Justin hadn’t even noticed. He banged his head lightly on the closet door. “Ouch,” he whined as his head reminded him of his hangover.
“Okay,” he mumbled, slightly panicked, “okay. No, I got it. I can fix this,” he vouched. He had one year to come up with the greatest gift ever.
As he sat there contemplating his options, his gaze fell to last night’s clothes, still strewn haphazardly around the bedroom. He reached for the shirt that Brian had given him and let it run over his fingers as he thought furiously. Suddenly, his gaze whipped back to the tickets still lying on the floor next to his shoebox of memories. He brushed a thumb over the paper as a suspicion overcame him. A quick google search on his phone confirmed it: First Year – Paper Anniversary. He read up on the other ones and laughed as he remembered the leather cockstrap.
Justin groaned, “Briiiiaaaan”. Meaningful and<\/i> romantic; how was he going to compete with that? He sighed. “I fucking love you, Brian Kinney.”
“Alright,” he said decidedly. He couldn’t remember when exactly he’d picked up the habit of talking to himself, but he’d read somewhere once that it was a sign of creativity, so he didn’t really bother to stop. “First things first,” he said, grabbed his suitcase from the closet in the hall and began packing.
V.<\/b>
April 16, 2010
Justin was nervous. He was pacing the floor of the entrance hall in Britin, waiting for the sound of Brian’s car. Cynthia had told him Brian had left Kinnetik over half an hour ago; he would be home any minute now. Justin didn’t know what plans Brian had for tonight and now and again his nerves convinced him that everything was just a huge fucking coincidence. That there was no grander scheme going on. That Brian wasn’t secretly celebrating the anniversary of a wedding that never happened. In those moments when the doubts got the best of Justin, he was almost wishing for it to be true. Because even after a year of excessive thinking, he hadn’t managed to come up with something that would even begin to make up for the fact that he’d been a complete and utterly ignorant asshole.
The sound of tires on gravel announced Brian’s arrival. Justin stopped pacing and sat heavily on the stairs facing the doorway.
The door opened and a slightly tired looking Brian stepped inside.
“Justin?” he asked in surprise at seeing him sitting on the bottom step. “Everything okay? What are you doing here?”
Justin looked up at Brian and his fluttery nerves disappeared as he understood something. This was their day. And it wasn’t about having the perfect present. It wasn’t about doing something special. And he had nothing to make up for. It was their day and the only thing that mattered was spending it together. Which was what Brian had managed to do for the last 5 years. Justin smiled a real, relaxed smile. “Nothing. Just waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Brian replied, still sounding a little suspicious.
“I finished the painting.” He’d had lots of nervous energy all day that needed channeling.
“The one for the bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see?” Brian asked in that reserved I-am-actually-excited-but-don't-want-to-show-it kind of way.
Justin laughed, happy and free. “Of course. I would have put it up already, as a surprise. But it’s not dry yet. Also, kind of heavy.”
Brian put down his briefcase next to the stairs and took Justin’s outstretched hand, tugging him to his feet. The propelling force brought Justin’s face to his and Justin kissed him briefly. “Hi,” he said close to his mouth.
“Hi,” Brian breathed back.
Together they went out the backdoor and to the building outside that once used to be the stables and was now Justin’s studio.
<\/div>
When he woke up in the morning, Brian was gone. Justin groaned and remembered that Brian had an early flight back to the Pitts to make it to some undoubtedly yet another important meeting.
As he stood in front of the mirror, leaning heavily on the sink while brushing the taste of dead animal off his teeth, the highlights of last night swam to the forefront. He remembered cheering with Brian in the car on the way home; remembered toasting Brian when the gallery manager whispered in his ear that more than half of the paintings had sold; remembered Brian’s proud gaze. Everything about last night had been perfect and he was glad that he got to share it with Brian. Then the cogs in his brain slowly began to turn. The interrupted conversation. Brian had said something about celebrating more than the show, but Justin had no idea what he might have meant. He racked his brain for an explanation.
He stopped suddenly, staring at himself. With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he flatly told his reflection, “You’re an idiot.”
He had no way of checking for the year before but he was pretty certain he could find the day of his moving into the apartment on the lease agreement and then, needing to know that it wasn’t just a massive coincidence, pulled out the shoebox full of memorabilia from under the bed. Being the sap that he was, he had kept the flight tickets of his and Brian’s trip to Martinique – after all, it had been their first vacation together. And yes, there it was: April 16.
As far as he could tell, he had spent the last four April 16ths with Brian. He rummaged further through the shoebox and pulled out the brown silk paper envelope he was looking for. He lifted the flap and sat there for a while, staring at the invitation card.
<\/div>
brianKINNEY
justinTAYLOR
Please come celebrate
our commitment
April 16, 2005
4:30pm
Fallingwater, Mill Run
RSVP by April 1, 2005<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>
“You really are an idiot!” he said again to the empty apartment. Brian had spent the last four years celebrating the anniversary of what would have been their wedding with him and Justin hadn’t even noticed. He banged his head lightly on the closet door. “Ouch,” he whined as his head reminded him of his hangover.
“Okay,” he mumbled, slightly panicked, “okay. No, I got it. I can fix this,” he vouched. He had one year to come up with the greatest gift ever.
As he sat there contemplating his options, his gaze fell to last night’s clothes, still strewn haphazardly around the bedroom. He reached for the shirt that Brian had given him and let it run over his fingers as he thought furiously. Suddenly, his gaze whipped back to the tickets still lying on the floor next to his shoebox of memories. He brushed a thumb over the paper as a suspicion overcame him. A quick google search on his phone confirmed it: First Year – Paper Anniversary. He read up on the other ones and laughed as he remembered the leather cockstrap.
Justin groaned, “Briiiiaaaan”. Meaningful and<\/i> romantic; how was he going to compete with that? He sighed. “I fucking love you, Brian Kinney.”
“Alright,” he said decidedly. He couldn’t remember when exactly he’d picked up the habit of talking to himself, but he’d read somewhere once that it was a sign of creativity, so he didn’t really bother to stop. “First things first,” he said, grabbed his suitcase from the closet in the hall and began packing.
V.<\/b>
April 16, 2010
Justin was nervous. He was pacing the floor of the entrance hall in Britin, waiting for the sound of Brian’s car. Cynthia had told him Brian had left Kinnetik over half an hour ago; he would be home any minute now. Justin didn’t know what plans Brian had for tonight and now and again his nerves convinced him that everything was just a huge fucking coincidence. That there was no grander scheme going on. That Brian wasn’t secretly celebrating the anniversary of a wedding that never happened. In those moments when the doubts got the best of Justin, he was almost wishing for it to be true. Because even after a year of excessive thinking, he hadn’t managed to come up with something that would even begin to make up for the fact that he’d been a complete and utterly ignorant asshole.
The sound of tires on gravel announced Brian’s arrival. Justin stopped pacing and sat heavily on the stairs facing the doorway.
The door opened and a slightly tired looking Brian stepped inside.
“Justin?” he asked in surprise at seeing him sitting on the bottom step. “Everything okay? What are you doing here?”
Justin looked up at Brian and his fluttery nerves disappeared as he understood something. This was their day. And it wasn’t about having the perfect present. It wasn’t about doing something special. And he had nothing to make up for. It was their day and the only thing that mattered was spending it together. Which was what Brian had managed to do for the last 5 years. Justin smiled a real, relaxed smile. “Nothing. Just waiting for you.”
“Okay,” Brian replied, still sounding a little suspicious.
“I finished the painting.” He’d had lots of nervous energy all day that needed channeling.
“The one for the bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I see?” Brian asked in that reserved I-am-actually-excited-but-don't-want-to-show-it kind of way.
Justin laughed, happy and free. “Of course. I would have put it up already, as a surprise. But it’s not dry yet. Also, kind of heavy.”
Brian put down his briefcase next to the stairs and took Justin’s outstretched hand, tugging him to his feet. The propelling force brought Justin’s face to his and Justin kissed him briefly. “Hi,” he said close to his mouth.
“Hi,” Brian breathed back.
Together they went out the backdoor and to the building outside that once used to be the stables and was now Justin’s studio.
<\/div>
***<\/div>
Hours later, after they had a light dinner which they ate on the sofa in front of the TV, Justin was waiting for Brian in their bed.
Brian killed the light in the ensuite bathroom and stretched out beside Justin on the bed. They looked at each other for a moment, both on their sides, head propped up on one elbow. Brian pushed aside the blanket and rested his palm on Justin’s shoulder for a moment before letting it slowly stroke over Justin’s chest. The gesture was always a sure sign that Brian wanted a slow and languorous fuck tonight. Justin was more than ready to comply. He let himself fall backwards and Brian followed the movement, slipping on top of his smaller frame.
Sighing, Justin relaxed into the mattress and closed his eyes, enjoying Brian’s unhurried, explorative touch. When Brian’s mouth descended to follow the path of his hand, the hair on top of his head tickled Justin’s chin. He pushed his fingers into Brian’s thick strands and with both hands lifted his head to look him in the eyes. They stared quietly at each other before Brian moved to kiss him once on the lips and slid lower again to lick at his nipples.
Justin groaned in the back of his throat and tugged on Brian’s hair in pleasure.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, Brian was kissing the inside of his thigh by then, when he suddenly stopped and grinned lopsidedly and somewhat excitedly. He reached over the bed to the drawer of the night table and produced a tiny rectangular box. For a tiny moment Justin thought it was a ring box, but then realized the box was too flat.
Brian pushed it at him with an almost sheepish grin. “For you,” he said.
With a quizzical expression, Justin reached for it and ripped away the black bow, producing… “A condom?”
For a tiny second Justin was of half a mind to get angry. After all, they had stopped using condoms shortly after he’d moved back home. And Brian producing one now could only mean that something happened that necessitated them going back to condoms. Right? Only, Brian didn’t look guilty or even bothered at all at Justin’s reaction. He actually looked amused.
“I don’t get it,” Justin said.
Brian chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a bit of an inside joke.”
“The anniversary kind of joke?” he asked a stunned looking Brian.
Brian paused before answering, “When did you figure it out?”
“Too late,” Justin replied, some of his own guilt stealing back into his voice. “Last year. After you were gone.”
As if reading his mind, Brian said, “It was just a bit of fun I had by myself. Don’t make it into anything more.”
“Like a romantic gesture?” Justin joked.
“Only you would see romance in a condom. An expired one, too, by the way.” Brian pointed at the foil package still in Justin’s hand.
Justin looked closer at the packaging. It was true; the expiration date was some months ago. “Why are you giving me an expired condom? Why a condom at all? I don’t get it.”
“Well,” Brian answered, looking uncomfortable. “As I said, it was kind of a joke. Needed something to keep up with the theme and that was all I could come up with for rubber. And I wasn’t going to buy a whole new box since we don’t really need them anymore, right? So I went through the drawers, looking for a stray old one. And voilà.”
“Rubber?” Justin repeated.
“Yeah.”
“But…” Justin scratched his head. “The fifth is wood.” He stared at Brian, completely lost. Then he reached over too, opened a different drawer in the same night stand and produced a box of his own. A bigger, longer package, that he held out for Brian. “That’s why I got you this,” he explained.
It was Brian’s turn now to open a present. When the packaging was stripped away, Brian laughed out loud. “A literal woody.” He held up the shiny, beautiful dildo, carved from dark rich mahogany. “Where did you find this?” Brian wondered, turning the sex toy over and over in his hands.
“Custom order,” Justin replied. “I still don’t get the condom.”
Brian sighed but then settled back to explain. “On this website where I looked up all the anniversary meanings, it says that for the fifth anniversary they differentiate between couples with children – where the traditional gift is something made out of wood.” He waved the wooden dildo around as sign of proof. “But it also says for couples without children, the symbol of the five year anniversary is rubber.”
“Hence the condom.”
“Hence the condom,” Brian repeated.
“You’re such a dork,” Justin exclaimed and slapped Brian on the chest.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brian replied. Next he grabbed Justin’s hands and pulled them both over Justin’s head, holding the wrists as he went back to licking and biting at his nipples.
Justin laughed and gasped at the same time, sing-songing, “You love me. You love me soooo much.”
“Shut up or I’m gonna use this on you,” Brian warned, adjusted his grip on Justin’s wrist to hold them with one hand only and brandished the wooden dildo threateningly in front of Justin’s face.
Justin, never to back down from a challenge, taunted, “You love m… Hmfph.”
<\/div>
Hours later, after they had a light dinner which they ate on the sofa in front of the TV, Justin was waiting for Brian in their bed.
Brian killed the light in the ensuite bathroom and stretched out beside Justin on the bed. They looked at each other for a moment, both on their sides, head propped up on one elbow. Brian pushed aside the blanket and rested his palm on Justin’s shoulder for a moment before letting it slowly stroke over Justin’s chest. The gesture was always a sure sign that Brian wanted a slow and languorous fuck tonight. Justin was more than ready to comply. He let himself fall backwards and Brian followed the movement, slipping on top of his smaller frame.
Sighing, Justin relaxed into the mattress and closed his eyes, enjoying Brian’s unhurried, explorative touch. When Brian’s mouth descended to follow the path of his hand, the hair on top of his head tickled Justin’s chin. He pushed his fingers into Brian’s thick strands and with both hands lifted his head to look him in the eyes. They stared quietly at each other before Brian moved to kiss him once on the lips and slid lower again to lick at his nipples.
Justin groaned in the back of his throat and tugged on Brian’s hair in pleasure.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, Brian was kissing the inside of his thigh by then, when he suddenly stopped and grinned lopsidedly and somewhat excitedly. He reached over the bed to the drawer of the night table and produced a tiny rectangular box. For a tiny moment Justin thought it was a ring box, but then realized the box was too flat.
Brian pushed it at him with an almost sheepish grin. “For you,” he said.
With a quizzical expression, Justin reached for it and ripped away the black bow, producing… “A condom?”
For a tiny second Justin was of half a mind to get angry. After all, they had stopped using condoms shortly after he’d moved back home. And Brian producing one now could only mean that something happened that necessitated them going back to condoms. Right? Only, Brian didn’t look guilty or even bothered at all at Justin’s reaction. He actually looked amused.
“I don’t get it,” Justin said.
Brian chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a bit of an inside joke.”
“The anniversary kind of joke?” he asked a stunned looking Brian.
Brian paused before answering, “When did you figure it out?”
“Too late,” Justin replied, some of his own guilt stealing back into his voice. “Last year. After you were gone.”
As if reading his mind, Brian said, “It was just a bit of fun I had by myself. Don’t make it into anything more.”
“Like a romantic gesture?” Justin joked.
“Only you would see romance in a condom. An expired one, too, by the way.” Brian pointed at the foil package still in Justin’s hand.
Justin looked closer at the packaging. It was true; the expiration date was some months ago. “Why are you giving me an expired condom? Why a condom at all? I don’t get it.”
“Well,” Brian answered, looking uncomfortable. “As I said, it was kind of a joke. Needed something to keep up with the theme and that was all I could come up with for rubber. And I wasn’t going to buy a whole new box since we don’t really need them anymore, right? So I went through the drawers, looking for a stray old one. And voilà.”
“Rubber?” Justin repeated.
“Yeah.”
“But…” Justin scratched his head. “The fifth is wood.” He stared at Brian, completely lost. Then he reached over too, opened a different drawer in the same night stand and produced a box of his own. A bigger, longer package, that he held out for Brian. “That’s why I got you this,” he explained.
It was Brian’s turn now to open a present. When the packaging was stripped away, Brian laughed out loud. “A literal woody.” He held up the shiny, beautiful dildo, carved from dark rich mahogany. “Where did you find this?” Brian wondered, turning the sex toy over and over in his hands.
“Custom order,” Justin replied. “I still don’t get the condom.”
Brian sighed but then settled back to explain. “On this website where I looked up all the anniversary meanings, it says that for the fifth anniversary they differentiate between couples with children – where the traditional gift is something made out of wood.” He waved the wooden dildo around as sign of proof. “But it also says for couples without children, the symbol of the five year anniversary is rubber.”
“Hence the condom.”
“Hence the condom,” Brian repeated.
“You’re such a dork,” Justin exclaimed and slapped Brian on the chest.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brian replied. Next he grabbed Justin’s hands and pulled them both over Justin’s head, holding the wrists as he went back to licking and biting at his nipples.
Justin laughed and gasped at the same time, sing-songing, “You love me. You love me soooo much.”
“Shut up or I’m gonna use this on you,” Brian warned, adjusted his grip on Justin’s wrist to hold them with one hand only and brandished the wooden dildo threateningly in front of Justin’s face.
Justin, never to back down from a challenge, taunted, “You love m… Hmfph.”
<\/div>
The End.<\/b>
<\/div>![\"Invitation.jpg\"](\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/adoringaudience\/25391511\/279392\/279392_300.jpg\" "\\"Invitation.jpg\\"")
<\/a><\/div><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:83522","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/83522.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=83522"}}],"title":"ASGC Universe oneshot: 2017","published":"2017-01-18T13:54:25Z","updated":"2017-01-18T13:54:25Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"b\/j oneshots"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"asgc verse"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"writing"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fic: asgc"}}],"content":"
<\/div>
<\/a><\/div><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:83522","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/83522.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=83522"}}],"title":"ASGC Universe oneshot: 2017","published":"2017-01-18T13:54:25Z","updated":"2017-01-18T13:54:25Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"b\/j oneshots"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"asgc verse"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"writing"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fic: asgc"}}],"content":"Because I'm lazy, please check this post<\/a> for previous installments of this universe. Thank you. Feedback welcome, if only as a way for me to know if anybody's actually still reading this.<\/i>
<\/div>
ASGC Universe Oneshot:
2017<\/b><\/div>
Britin, January 2017<\/u>
It’s the morning after the Babylon New Year’s Party.
Or rather afternoon. The sun had just begun grazing the horizon when the hired driver delivered them to Britin’s doorstep. Brian is nursing an enormous cup of black coffee and scrolling through something on his iPad. His fingers stop as he stumbles across something read-worthy. “Hey, Sunshine. Did you know it’s the year of the cock?”
Justin doesn’t bother looking up from the morning paper where he’s immersed in the comic section. “I don’t think they mean that kind of cock, Brian.”
“Semantics.”
“As if you need any more encouragement,” Justin mumbles.
“What’s that?” Brian asks as he pretends not to have heard. “Am I hearing a complaint there?”
“No, not a complaint really. Just a genuine curiosity about the medical wonder that is your libido.”
Brian’s eyes narrow dangerously and he drawls, “Explain.”
Justin continues undeterred, “Do I need to remind you that you’re almost fif—“ He’s silenced as Brian clamps a hand over Justin’s mouth.
“We don’t use the bad F-word in this house.”
“Uh bmnmhh hmghpfh.”
Brian removes his hand from Justin’s mouth and Justin repeats, “I think you’re confusing the words again. Honestly, Brian, you used to be sharper. Is your advanced age actually catching up t—“ And he’s silenced again. More effectively this time, as Brian warningly bites down on Justin’s lower lip moments before his tongue sweeps in to soothe the pain.
“But—“ Justin tries to protest between kisses. “I wasn’t going to… mmph… use… gnhhh… the bad… oh, fuck, Brian, yes!<\/i>.... the… mmh… bad F-word… mpfff.. again.”
Brian laughs into his mouth and grabs the front of Justin’s t-shirt to drag him upstairs. “I think it’s my libido needing some attention again. It can't wait, you know. It's a medical thing.”
Justin laughs and lets himself be dragged up to the master bedroom.
In the stairwell, Emma and Alex have to press up against the wall suddenly to avoid a collision with their dads who are too far gone to notice the oncoming traffic.
Emma looks after them with a bewildered and slightly repulsed expression, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Weirdos.”
Alex grabs Emma’s wrist to pull her down the steps with her and shrugs it away in a ‘what can you do’ fashion, but she doesn’t disagree. “I guess we’ll have to make breakfast for ourselves today,” she concludes.
“Do we have donuts left from last night?” Emma asks hopefully. With the dads upstairs and busy<\/i>, they could probably get away with chocolate donuts for breakfast which, really, is almost worth the scene they had to witness on their way down.
<\/div>
ASGC Universe Oneshot:
2017<\/b><\/div>
Britin, January 2017<\/u>
It’s the morning after the Babylon New Year’s Party.
Or rather afternoon. The sun had just begun grazing the horizon when the hired driver delivered them to Britin’s doorstep. Brian is nursing an enormous cup of black coffee and scrolling through something on his iPad. His fingers stop as he stumbles across something read-worthy. “Hey, Sunshine. Did you know it’s the year of the cock?”
Justin doesn’t bother looking up from the morning paper where he’s immersed in the comic section. “I don’t think they mean that kind of cock, Brian.”
“Semantics.”
“As if you need any more encouragement,” Justin mumbles.
“What’s that?” Brian asks as he pretends not to have heard. “Am I hearing a complaint there?”
“No, not a complaint really. Just a genuine curiosity about the medical wonder that is your libido.”
Brian’s eyes narrow dangerously and he drawls, “Explain.”
Justin continues undeterred, “Do I need to remind you that you’re almost fif—“ He’s silenced as Brian clamps a hand over Justin’s mouth.
“We don’t use the bad F-word in this house.”
“Uh bmnmhh hmghpfh.”
Brian removes his hand from Justin’s mouth and Justin repeats, “I think you’re confusing the words again. Honestly, Brian, you used to be sharper. Is your advanced age actually catching up t—“ And he’s silenced again. More effectively this time, as Brian warningly bites down on Justin’s lower lip moments before his tongue sweeps in to soothe the pain.
“But—“ Justin tries to protest between kisses. “I wasn’t going to… mmph… use… gnhhh… the bad… oh, fuck, Brian, yes!<\/i>.... the… mmh… bad F-word… mpfff.. again.”
Brian laughs into his mouth and grabs the front of Justin’s t-shirt to drag him upstairs. “I think it’s my libido needing some attention again. It can't wait, you know. It's a medical thing.”
Justin laughs and lets himself be dragged up to the master bedroom.
In the stairwell, Emma and Alex have to press up against the wall suddenly to avoid a collision with their dads who are too far gone to notice the oncoming traffic.
Emma looks after them with a bewildered and slightly repulsed expression, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Weirdos.”
Alex grabs Emma’s wrist to pull her down the steps with her and shrugs it away in a ‘what can you do’ fashion, but she doesn’t disagree. “I guess we’ll have to make breakfast for ourselves today,” she concludes.
“Do we have donuts left from last night?” Emma asks hopefully. With the dads upstairs and busy<\/i>, they could probably get away with chocolate donuts for breakfast which, really, is almost worth the scene they had to witness on their way down.
The End.<\/b><\/div><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:83212","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/83212.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=83212"}}],"title":"ASGC 'Verse Sequel: Reflections","published":"2016-07-04T20:44:07Z","updated":"2016-07-04T20:44:07Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"qaf: my fics"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"asgc verse"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"writing"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fic: asgc"}}],"content":"A\/N:<\/b>
This is a follow-up to yesterday's posted story Courage<\/b><\/a>. All warnings from Courage<\/i> apply here as well. Please be aware and read at your own risk.
For your convenience, here are the links to all installments, listed in chronological order of events:
This is a follow-up to yesterday's posted story Courage<\/b><\/a>. All warnings from Courage<\/i> apply here as well. Please be aware and read at your own risk.
For your convenience, here are the links to all installments, listed in chronological order of events:
- A Storm's Gonna Come<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Birthdays and Other Surprises<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- What Comes Naturally<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Valentine's, Taylor-Kinney Style<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- 2.4 Children and Other Common Facts of Average Domesticity<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Last Days of Summer<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- B was for Blane, C is for Charlie<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Intervention (a.k.a. Revelations)<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Courage<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Reflections (read below)<\/b><\/li>
- The New Guy<\/b><\/a><\/li>
<\/ol>
REFLECTIONS
***a sequel to the ASGC Story Courage<\/a>***<\/b><\/center>
Emma had been the first to call him after his desperate and hasty escape out of the country, though, not knowing that he was on a Transatlantic flight, she only got his voice mail and left a message.
“You're a shit brother, you know that?”<\/i> Her voice rang tinny from the recording, but the accusation was still plain. “What happened that you had to run away like that? And without even saying goodbye? What the fuck, Gus? You just came back from college not even a year ago. I was still getting used to having you back. And now you're gone again? For how long? Daddy says he doesn't know; Dad says nothing at all. Did you fight? Ugh, I don't even care. But you could have stopped by for a hug. Okay. I'm done. Call me. I still love you, even though you're an idiot. Okay, bye. Oh, and Gus? You're not a shitty brother. Not really. Sorry I said that. And could you not mention to Dad that I said you were? And not mention that I called you idiot and used 'fuck' either? Thanks, 'ppreciate it. Love ya. Call me.”<\/i>
Gus had to grin through the entire message. That was Emma down to a T.
His father sent an email. He didn't express his curiosity at the abrupt leaving, having been the only one Gus had actually talked to before packing his bags.
Gus,
I had to call in a favor with one of my international clients and he managed to get you an interview. It's Wednesday at 9 am. This is your only chance to make an impression and get into the program; if you still want that. Don't fuck it up!
Don't forget to call home every once in a while.
-Dad<\/i>
After those two messages, he didn't hear from his immediate family for a while. Gus wasn't counting weekly calls to his father where he received a general update on things, but refused to talk to anyone, citing various more or less believable reasons and struggled with every passing week to come up with new ones. He and Emma text messaged almost every other day, but never about anything of importance.
Justin and Alex had never tried to contact him, but to be fair – neither had Gus. He did receive a large package for his birthday which included a card that all four of them had signed. But there were no personal messages attached to it.
Weeks went by before, out of the blue, one Sunday morning Gus woke up to an Email from Alex.
I'm sorry I made you leave your home. I didn't mean to. But I'm not sorry about what I said. And I'm not taking it back.
Unless you want me to?<\/i>
Gus could practically see her biting her lip uncertainly as she wrote that last sentence.
He went for a jog, concentrating on nothing but the crunching leaves under his feet. It helped clear his mind. When he returned, he took a long shower and thought hard about what he was going to write back.
In the end he ended up writing about everything – the classes, his fellow grad students, the professors, the work load, the food, the weather, the broken heating in his unit, the windows that wouldn't close properly, the fact that once the winter season kicked in he fully expected to wake up only to notice he'd been frozen solid while he was sleeping. He talked about every minutiae of his life, writing pages of boring and insignificant stuff that he knew Alex would love to read. It made him realize how much he missed their talks. They used to talk for hours – about everything. And writing it down, re-establishing this sort of communication felt as soothing as cooling lotion on sunburned skin.
She was still his sister and one of his best friends. Gus decided he would concentrate on that and leave all other feelings – attention demanding though they might be – out the door. At least for the time being. Until he was ready to face them.
He added one last line to his email.
I don't want you to take it back. But I don't want to talk about it either. Not now at least.<\/i> He thought for a moment and then added, “Please?”<\/i>
Her reply came shortly after and Gus hoped that she hadn't been sitting in front of her computer the whole day, waiting to see if he'd answer. Her email was simple.
OK. I agree to your conditions. For now.<\/i>
Justin was the last to re-open communication. Justin was also the one whose reaction Gus was most afraid of. Justin had always been able to see more than all the people around him. And Gus didn't doubt for a second that he had his suspicions about Gus's true reasons for running away. It started as a simple call to his dad. After some 10 or 15 minutes of updates, Brian closed with, “Justin wants to talk to you. I'm gonna pass you over to him.”
And so with no warning at all, Gus waited with bated breath for Justin to pick up the receiver while his heart rate was picking up with every passing second of silence.
“Hey Gus,” Justin's voice came on the line. He sounded warm and affectionate, just as Gus remembered him always being.
“Hey Justin,” Gus barely breathed. He didn't know why, but tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked rapidly in an effort not to let them fall. He hadn't been aware of how much he'd missed Justin too.
There was a moment's silence where neither of them said anything. Then Gus heard Justin take a deep breath.
“You know I love you, right?” Justin asked.
Gus shrugged with one shoulder even though he knew Justin couldn't see him. “I guess,” he replied carefully.
“No,” Justin replied and added with emphasis, “I love you! I do love you. Tell me you know that.”
Of course Gus knew. He'd just gotten so caught up in the confusion of his new-found but barely acknowledged feelings and the fact that he couldn't talk about it. With anyone. Least of all the person he usually talked everything through with. “Yes. I know. Justin, I know. I love you too.”
“Well, that's good. We're agreed then that lack of love is not the problem here.”
“No, it's not,” Gus confirmed.
“Okay then. That being out of the way, I gotta say—” And Gus could hear footsteps as though Justin was walking towards a room where he would have privacy. But all that came out was a sigh and, “...Gus.” Just his name. But there was so much emotion in it. Despair and disappointment but love and affection too.
“I know,” Gus wailed. “I know, Justin. I know. It's... I tried. And I'm sorry. So sorry.”
“What exactly are you sorry for?” Justin asked, voice sounding careful and controlled.
“I tried to be her brother. Just<\/i> her brother. But I love her. And not like a brother should. Not only<\/i> like a brother should. I know it's bad. And wrong. And... and... sick,” he said, even though he didn’t believe it, not really. “And I'll try. I'll continue trying. I swear I will. That's why I left!”
“You didn't have to leave, Gus.”
“But I did. I had to. This is the only way I can make sure that nothing ever happens.”
“You mean, nothing... happened between you two?” Justin asked.
“No.”
“Then why did you leave?” Justin asked perplexed. “I thought... When I saw you at the pool... You were looking at each other... And I thought... I assumed...” Justin stammered.
Realization dawned on Gus. “Oh, shit. No. Nuh-uh.” Gus was shaking his head violently. “Justin. I'm not deranged. I'd never touch her. Oh my god. I may have feelings I shouldn't have, but I am still me and I know what's right and wrong. And I would never. Even if she wasn't my sister, she's still a minor and Justin, I'd never...”
“I believe you. But if you two never...” Gus heard him take another calming breath and continue, “Why didn't you come and talk to me?”
“And said what? 'Oh, hey, Justin. By the way, I love your daughter and guess what, she says she loves me too. Yes, the very same that is also my sister. My 15 year old kid sister. Pass the salt, please?'<\/i> Something like that?”
There was a long pause until Justin spoke again. “She said that?”
Gus sighed. “Not with those exact words. But it was strongly implied.” When Justin didn't say anything, Gus added, “Please don't tell Dad.”
“Oh, Gus. You're putting me in a real bad position here, buddy.”
“I know. And I'm sorry. Again. But I'm not ready to tell him. Not yet. Maybe we'll never have to tell him.” The prospect was both, a relief and terrifying to consider.
“I'm not going to lie to your father,” Justin answered with finality.
“It's not a real lie when you simply don't mention it,” Gus tried.
“It's a white lie.”
“Please?” Gus begged. “For me? For Alex?”
After another one of the long silences filled with static, Justin finally relented. “Okay. But only for as long as you are abroad. Once you're finished with your studies and you come back home, you're telling him. Assuming your feelings haven't changed until then.”
“Promise,” Gus easily agreed, happy to have bought some time. “Justin?” Gus asked before they disconnected.
“Yeah?”
“Are you... uhm... well, are you... okay with... it?”
One more deep sigh. “To be honest, I don't know. I... I wasn't completely surprised, if that's what you're asking. I've had a sneaking suspicion for a while now and I thought I was getting used to the idea, bewildering though it might be. But recently I had to find out that reality is a far cry from theory – no matter how much time you had to prepare yourself for it. Besides, I was assuming things that... Nevermind. I guess, what I'm trying to say is: I have to mull it over. But Gus? That's not a reason for you to run. Do you understand me? You'll never<\/i> have a reason to run. I will always love you. No matter what. You're my son.”
Gus's eyes were flowing over with tears and this time he didn't try to stop them. “Thank you,” he choked out.
“You've missed Thanksgiving, but we'll expect you back home for Christmas,” Justin admonished.
“Understood,” Gus replied with a teary smile.
Gus never made it home for Christmas, but for once it wasn't his fault. The Northeast was suffering from the biggest snowstorm in over 50 years. No chance to get a flight in or out of the country. Once the weather went back to normal, Gus's semester picked up again and travel plans were shelved. And it continued like that for the next two and a half years. Sometimes it was Gus who came up with the excuses; sometimes circumstances helped. And somehow, time continued to pass and he hadn't been home in almost 3 years.
He'd seen some of his family, of course. Both his dads flew out to St. Andrews for his graduation, leaving Alex and Emma in the care of their Grandma Deb. But it was a week full of sightseeing and last-minute organizations as it became clear that Gus had gotten the job on the senator's campaign team – no time for the talk that Gus knew he still owed Justin.
He facetimed with everyone regularly, but by a mutual silent agreement nobody mentioned his reasons for fleeing the country over the phone.
And now he was coming back home, surer of himself and what he wanted than when he left. But scared too. But Dave had been right – no point dragging out the inevitable. Fortune favors the bold, and all that shit.
So lost was Gus in his musings that he didn't notice how the over an hour long drive from the airport flew by and he found himself steering the rental car into Britin's driveway. A smile slowly spread on his face as he eyed the familiar building that he hadn't seen in far too long.
A wave of calm washed over him then; a calm that he hadn't felt ever since the day he left. Suddenly he knew, with perfect clarity, that everything was going to be okay. Maybe there'd be words, or raised voices, maybe even a fight – though he really hoped to avoid it, but at the end of it they would still be a family. Maybe with a slightly different dynamic, but a family still.
With that thought in his mind, Gus got out of the car and walked across the gravel path to the entrance.
Showtime.The End.<\/b><\/div>
(this will be continued eventually; hopefully soon)<\/i>
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:83182","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/83182.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=83182"}}],"title":"Story from the ASGC 'Verse: COURAGE (please read the A\/N and the warnings)","published":"2016-07-03T20:24:32Z","updated":"2016-07-04T20:50:49Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"qaf: my fics"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"asgc verse"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"writing"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fic: asgc"}}],"content":"PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING\/COMMENTING:<\/b>
(1) This story is set in the ASGC verse but, strictly speaking, features almost no canon characters. There's Gus of course, but he's 26 in this story. Brian and Justin only get mentioned, but don't appear in the story as this is exclusively Gus's viewpoint. This is unavoidable once you take your universe into a future and direction so far away from canon.
(2) I sincerely apologize for jumping back and forth in time with my recent updates. It is not made easier by the writing style. I have people talk about things that supposedly happened but that I haven't written about before. So we only learn about them through the character's narrative. Again, sorry for any confusion. It will all make sense at the end, I promise. In the meantime, please confer with the list below to orient yourself time-wise within this universe.
(3) This story is probably for die-hard fans only. Also, please heed the following warning, and when in doubt, please DON'T read. Thank you.
Warnings:<\/b> (Purely theoretical) discussion of (implied) sexual attraction to minors that are, however, above<\/b> the legal age of consent. To be completely on the safe side, this story also features a discussion of a hypothetical relationship that some might consider incestuous, though strictly speaking it is not<\/i>.
For your convenience, here are the links to all installments, listed in chronological order of events:- A Storm's Gonna Come<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Birthdays and Other Surprises<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- What Comes Naturally<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Valentine's, Taylor-Kinney Style<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- 2.4 Children and Other Common Facts of Average Domesticity<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Last Days of Summer<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- B was for Blane, C is for Charlie<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Intervention (a.k.a. Revelations)<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Courage (read below)<\/b><\/li>
- The New Guy<\/b><\/a><\/li>
<\/ol>
COURAGE
***a sequel to the ASGC 'verse
(prequel to The New Guy<\/a>)***<\/b><\/center>
Albuquerque, Summer 2027<\/u>
“You know, when you called to ask if I was up for a drink or two, I assumed there would be actual drinking involved,” Dave said with a meaningful glance at Gus’s untouched Vodka lemon.
Gus’s looks however could have fooled anyone into thinking that he was well on his way to getting plastered, so pale and sickly did he look already.
Gus summoned the willpower to raise his head from where it was resting on his folded arms on the bar. He gave Dave a sidelong glance. “I don’t know what to do, or rather how<\/i> to do it,” and after a moment's contemplation, added, “or how not to do it.” Which really was unnecessarily, since it didn't help Dave in any way to understand what the hell Gus was going on about. So he decided to try and lighten the mood a little by teasing his friend a little.
“It’s really not that hard. You curl your fingers around the glass, lift it to your mouth, and swallow. Trust me, a couple of drinks have been known to clear a confused mind a lot. Of course, they’ve also been known to make everything worse. But you don’t really look like things could get any worse right now. So, what do you have to lose, right?”
The corner of Gus's mouth pulled up in what Dave guessed was supposed to be a grin, maybe? Gus dutifully raised his drink, saluted his friend and downed it in one go. Gus grimaced, though whether it was from the alcohol or the fact that the drink had been sitting on the bar for so long it had grown stale and warm already, Dave didn’t know. Gus waited a minute, staring straight ahead and not moving, then turned his head to look at Dave with a glare that was partly a question, partly accusation, as if to say, ‘I’m still not feeling better.’ Dave chuckled, and then covered it up with a fake cough.
“Or you could try a different technique,” Dave suggested. “If it’s a matter of needing to escape the bitter realities of an adult life, I have, on occasion, found the company of a pretty girl with even prettier... uhm, you know...” He made a motion with his hands in front of his chest. “...quite helpful.” Dave paused to gauge his friend’s reaction. But said friend pulled a face, so Dave added, “Or bloke, if that’s what's rocking your boat.”
Gus smiled and Dave thought he knew why. Even though Dave had lived most of his adult life in the States, his British origins and heritage still sometimes showed themselves in his choice of phrasing. More so when he was under influence of alcohol. Gus always smiled whenever words like ‘bloke’, ‘fancy’ and ‘shag’ made it past Dave’s lips as it reminded him of his own studies abroad in damp and mostly gray UK not too long ago.
“Both. Neither. Ugh,” Gus replied. “It’s complicated.” And left it at that.
“Because you’ve already got someone?” Dave shot in the dark.
“No. Yes. Well, sorta.” He sighed. “It's complicated.”
“Sure sounds like it,” Dave cackled. “As a last resort, I offer myself and my admittedly questionable words of wisdom and slightly less questionable qualities of listening and counseling. Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure about the counseling part, but I am<\/i> a fine listener. Especially if you keep my mouth occupied with quality whiskey.”
Gus seemed to seriously consider the offer, but he hesitated. Dave knew why. They hadn’t known each other for very long. It was the job that brought them together, a 4 months stint, traveling with a senator and his committee across the country, campaigning for votes. Gus, who was freelancing, was hired as the photographer and cameraman, working on campaign posters on the side. Dave’s job were the slogans and the speeches. On a completely platonic level, Gus had been drawn to the writer in Dave while Dave was intrigued by the artist Gus. They’d gotten along well from the first meeting and usually shared a hotel room together. But working on a traveling campaign was a grueling and time-consuming job and they seldom had the time to talk about personal stuff, or any stuff really that didn’t connect to work.
“Hey,” Dave said, turning serious, “all jokes aside, I don’t mind listening. Not sure what my opinion is worth, but maybe as an outsider I can provide a fresh perspective?”
Gus almost looked convinced now. And grateful.
“I’ll probably need a few more facts though. Also, a rough outline of what it is exactly that troubles you might be helpful.” Dave’s comment brought back some of the previous lightheartedness again and Gus even sat up straighter, leaning up on his elbows. It occurred to Dave that maybe they ought to take the conversation to a corner with a bit more privacy and he motioned to a secluded spot along the dimly lit wall of the drinking establishment.
As soon as they sat down, Gus began talking. Not that it made any sense to Dave, because Gus had started in the middle and he was mostly muttering to himself. “I have to talk to my dads. Maybe even try to get Justin on my side. Despite everything, he’s more stable, y’know.”
“That the one you're going back to work for after this stint is done?”
“No. The one you mean is Brian. He’s my biological father. Justin’s his husband. He’s the levelheaded one. He’s an artist,” Gus added as if it explained something. “Oh, hey, you might have heard of him. Justin Taylor?” Gus asked, remembering that Dave liked to hang out in art museums a lot.
Dave’s eyes grew big and he snorted derisively. “Yeah, I heard,” he said making it sound like the understatement of the year that it was. “Who hasn’t?” He paused, brain rattling behind squinted eyes. “Wait a moment! Justin Taylor? Brian? Your dad’s Brian Kinney?! The Brian Kinney of Kinnetik NYC – KinNY?!”
Gus nodded and stared at a far away spot somewhere over Dave’s shoulder.
“Fuck,” Dave breathed. Then he remembered, “Hey, I applied for a junior position there, fresh out of college.” His posture flagged a little as he added, “They turned me down.” But then he brightened again. “But they did like my stuff. Said to try again in a couple of years, after I got some experience under my belt.”
“Yeah, that sounds like my dad. He doesn’t have the patience anymore to explain the business to a rookie. Sorry,” Gus finished, feeling like he needed to make excuses.
“No bother. They were really nice. Actually, I’ve never gotten such a friendly turn down before. They even gave me great tips on how to get better. What they’d expect to see next time I applied.”
Both, Gus and Dave, fell silent after that, the topic of conversation having veered off. Dave was the first to break the quiet.
“Hey! But your name’s not Kinney.”
Gus flinched and Dave correctly guessed that it was a sore subject for Gus.
“No. I’ve always had my moms’ names. He’s my dad, but he signed off his parental rights to my moms when I was still a baby. ”
“Sorry, mate.”
“Don't be,” Gus said and shrugged. “He managed to be a pretty cool dad without it.”
“Sounds like you two really get along well.” When Gus nodded in affirmation, Dave asked, “So what's the problem then?”
“I need to talk to him, both of them actually, and I've a suspicion that he's gonna kill me,” Gus admitted. “It might just shock him enough that he’ll die of a heart attack or something. But someone’s sure gonna wind up dead when I tell them. Probably me, though.”
“Tell them what exactly?”
“That I'm in love with her and that I tried, I did, but it's not going away.”
Dave’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ as realization dawned. “So, what, he doesn’t approve of your choice? Doesn’t like the girl?”
Gus laughed, but it was humorless. Before he answered, he ordered a tequila from a passing waitress because this seemed like a tequila kind of talk. “Oh, he likes her. He likes her too much.”
“Huh? Sorry, mate, you lost me.”
“Let me put it this way,” Gus said. “I’m<\/i> not a Kinney, but she<\/i> is.”
Dave scrunched up his face in confusion, looking like something in his head simply refused to compute. “I don’t follow.”
“She’s my sister,” Gus explained. His head dropped to the tabletop with a loud clank.
“O-o-oka-a-a-ay,” Dave drawled and failed to hold back a grimace. “Sorry, mate, but I think I might be with your dad on that one.”
Gus shook his head impatiently. “No, you don’t understand. We’re not blood-related. She’s not his. Well, she is, legally. Adoption papers and everything. But she’s Justin’s by blood. Though sometimes I swear... It's like they share a brain. He's so crazy about her, Alex might as well be his,” Gus concluded.
The waitress came over with Gus’ drink and Dave waited till they were alone again to ask, “Alex? That her name?”
“Yeah. Alexandria. Alexandria Taylor-Kinney<\/i>. But nobody calls her that. It’s always been Alex.” Gus chucked down the tequila and heartily bit into the provided slice of lime.
For a few moments Dave just goggled at Gus. “So, let me get this straight,” he finally said. “You’re in love with a girl who, for all intents and purposes, is your sister, except she isn't, but is<\/i> your dad’s legal daughter while he, being your biological father, has no legal rights to you<\/i> whatsoever.” He nodded appreciatively and gulped down the rest of his drink. “And I thought my family was fucked up,” he muttered when he finished.
“Well, if you put it like that, it does sound kind of weird,” Gus admitted. “But it really is very simple. She’s the single most amazing person I know and I... love her. Don't care how corny that sounds.”
“I’m going to assume there is a reason for you driving yourself insane with this, an actual<\/i> reason, instead of a purely hypothetical one? Like... she feels the same?”
“She does,” Gus replied and for the first time that evening a far-away, genuine smile stole onto his face. For a moment he looked calm and serene.
„So, what exactly is it you expect from the talk with your parents? A license to shag?“
Gus cringed.”No! Just... you know, I wanna be able to take her on a date and not do it in secret. I want them to be okay with it.”
“Have you tried explaining that to them like you did to me? They might be shocked first, but maybe they'll accept it. With time.”
“Yeah,” Gus stretched the word. “How do you begin such a talk? I'm kinda scared he won't let me get to the explaining part.”
“But you’re his son and he loves you,” Dave objected.
“Not as much as he loves her.”
Dave seriously doubted that, but knew Gus was just trying to make a point, so he didn't challenge him and allowed Gus to continue, “You know what the worst thing is? That I get how crazy it is. Not only because she's my sister, but there's also the age thing.”
Which prompted Dave to ask, “How old is she?”
Instead of answering, Gus turned pale and near-sobbed, “Oh god, he’s gonna sic the cops on me.” There were several question marks in Dave’s eyes at the non-sequitur. So Gus had to elaborate. “She’s 17. But she's turning 18 this summer.”
Now Dave really couldn’t suppress his shock. “And how long has this been going on between you?”
“Ages.”
Dave’s eyes almost bulged out of his sockets. “Define 'ages',” he said, not being able to keep the horrified expression from his face.
“Oh,” Gus proclaimed. Then, louder, “Oh! No, no. It hasn’t. No! Nothing’s going on. We haven’t... I’ve... We’ve never even... No. Never. I didn’t mean the physical part, because no. Never. Talking. Words. That's all. Talking about it is all we've ever done. I swear! Well, one talk. Or two, depending what counts as one. We write emails a lot.”
Dave couldn’t hide a relieved breath. “And?” he asked.
“Before she was legal, that was a good enough reason to wait, the perfect excuse that she couldn't do anything about. Because, don't let her age fool ya; she can be determined as hell when she wants something. But with her turning 18 in a few weeks, that excuse won't hold up for much longer. And honestly? I'm not sure I want it to. I've tried to get rid of the feelings; thought if I leave and don't come back, they'll go away eventually. They haven't. And I'm all out of excuses. I think I'm ready to admit what I want. And I know she wants the same thing.”
Dave considered his friend, so torn between doing what he wanted and what he thought was right. As if on cue, Gus hid his face in his palms and mumbled through his fingers, “I’m a perv, right? Oh, god, I am! They’re gonna have me locked up, because clearly I’m a crazy person and a child molester and without morals. And I'm going to kill my father by giving him a heart attack. I'm an awful person.”
Gus looked so miserable again, Dave pitied him. “No, you’re not. At least not more so than any other person who’s head over heels. Okay, so maybe your situation is a bit... unorthodox, all things considered. Certainly not the norm. But you’re not a bad person. As far as I can tell,” Dave tried to joke. “You’re not... It’s not illegal to date an 18 year old, is it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then nobody can tell you no,” Dave reasoned, hoping to brighten Gus’s mood.
“Ha. No, that’s not how it works. If our dads are not on board with it... that's...” Gus stopped, not really wanting to think about that possibility, but needing to explain to Dave. “I'm not saying Dad's 'no' will put an end to things. But it will put a strain on Alex. On everyone, really. And... I could never do that to our family; drive a wedge between all of us. I don't want to be that person. I don't want to start anything off on a situation like that. I won't be that guy who makes her choose.”
“Tell me about her,” Dave prompted, in large part due to his curiosity about the girl that could, even from afar, unravel Gus in such a profound way, but also because he wanted to steer Gus’s thoughts to a more pleasant topic, seeing as how his friend was really suffering from the uncertainty.
“Oh, man,” Gus sighed loudly at Dave’s request. “Where to begin?”
“I’ve always had a soft spot for stories that start at the beginning,” Dave replied. “When did you notice there was something more; when did you know for sure? About her being the one, I mean.” Because it was clear as day that Gus’s infatuation with Alex wasn’t just a passing fling.
Gus thought for a few minutes before answering. “We've always had a special connection. Even as children. It only grew when I was a teenager. In a non-awkward, completely innocent way, of course.”
Dave nodded to indicate he was still listening.
“I just loved spending time with both of them.”
“Them?”
“Oh, yeah, Alex has a fraternal twin sister. That's Emma. I used to spend the afternoons at their house. Gosh, I built tree houses with them, went on treasure hunts, chased ghosts through the attic, sneaked into the garden of one of the neighbors to steal cherries.” Gus smiled, reminiscing. “Emma's the one with the crazy ideas. But then she'd get cold feet and Alex would step up and make us go through with... you know, whatever the recent adventure was. She's awesome like that. She's smart, and talented, and determined. She’s just... fuck, she’s amazing. But things didn't change until they were teenagers.”
“What happened then?”
“It wasn't something that happened. Just... viewpoints, I guess, that slowly shifted. Though I didn't realize it at the time. Like being jealous when she started going out on dates. At the time I thought it was just brotherly concern, you know?”
Dave nodded. He had younger siblings, too.
“I remember the first time a guy took her out. My dad was pacing the floor with me and Justin laughed and mocked us, though he was just as nervous, only better at masking it.” Gus smiled as he reminisced. “And when she came back, she took a look at us three, rolled her eyes and went upstairs.”
Dave used the lull in Gus' story to motion the waitress for two more drinks.
“I wasn't like this when Emma had her first date. Not nearly like this. Don't get me wrong – Dad and I still paced the floor and thought of creative ways to kill the guy she was with when they came back 10 minutes after curfew, but I didn't feel as sick with that blinding rage. You know? Once I realized the difference, things changed. No, that's not completely true. Things didn't change. I did. I looked at Alex and... yes, there was still my sister. But there was also... someone new. I let things get weird. Distanced myself. Threw myself into work and dating.”
Gus's finger circled the rim of his glass. Dave was about to prod him to continue, but that was when Gus spoke again, “I went out almost every night – bars, clubs, dates. Males, females. Didn't matter. Anything to take my mind off of things. I felt like a sociopath. I waited for these feelings to go away, stopped visiting my dads' house, went on extended vacations. Because if I wasn't careful, my thoughts would always circle back to, 'Why not?'”
The guilt was so clearly etched into Gus’s features, Dave wondered how he’d managed to live with it all this time. “When was that?”
“Uhmm,” Gus thought aloud, “about three years ago?”
“A long time to wait and hope,” Dave commented.
“Wait – yes. Hope – never. I was too weirded out about it being my sister to actually have hopes. Then one day, I knew it was going to happen.”
“How?”
Gus laughed. “She told me herself. It was a few months later and we were sitting by the pool, feet in the water. I think it was just after she turned 15. Fifteen going on 50, that's Alex. Wise beyond her years. She was sketching or doodling, I don't remember. Next thing I know she looks up at me and says that she's going to marry me when she grows up. I knew it was just some teenage fantasy on her part – the same way little girls say they will marry their daddies. But the way she said it... I don’t know. It didn’t sound like... You gotta know her to understand. She’s so serious most of the time. And the way she said it... with this... conviction<\/i>, this absolute certainty... She sounded so sure of herself. And there was that moment, that small window of time where you're supposed to joke about it, to point out the absurdity of the statement and ridicule it. But I didn't. And she noticed. We shared a look and I knew I had to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“What’d ya do?”
“Fled the country?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Gus bit into his already dry-sucked lime. “Told ya I got my master's degree in Scotland. Quit my job at Kinnetik and shocked my dad with my decision. Made up a story about a great MBA program I've always dreamed about getting into. Had him pull some strings, which I'm not proud of, but it was preferable to staying. Justin suspected something happened; he had this look on his face, like he knew. But I refused to talk to him. Packed my bags and just left.”
Dave’s lips formed an ‘oh’. “You want my advice?” Dave asked rhetorically, because he was going to offer it anyway. But it helped that Gus nodded. “Drink up. Go home. Go to sleep. Then, in the morning, call your dads and tell them you need to speak to them. And then get on the next flight home.”
“Can’t. We can’t take days off,” Gus reminded him.
Dave nodded, thinking. He and Gus, as well as their entire entourage, would be leaving for Denver on Monday. “Tomorrow's Friday; there's not much happening here before we leave. You could go home for the weekend and meet us in Denver on Monday,” he suggested.
Gus blinked slowly, thinking about the feasibility of the plan. Why the hell not? Whichever way the talk went, it would still mean a load off his shoulders. And maybe the excuse to be able to flee the state would come in handy after the talk.
The End.<\/b><\/center>
Gus & Alex's story is continued here<\/b><\/a><\/i>
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Don't read if you haven't read the previous installments since it won't make a whole lot of sense to you. And also please note that, as we progress into the future, the more prominent side characters become. If you're more of a core Brian\/Justin fan, don't read. There's not much Brian\/Justin in this story. Just move on to the next installment or check out my other Brian\/Justin fics. Also, I apologize for not posting them in their "natural" order.
And finally just a heads up, there are 3 (very possibly 4) updates left and then this universe is complete!!!
For your convenience, here are the links to all installments, listed in chronological order of events:- A Storm's Gonna Come<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Birthdays and Other Surprises<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- What Comes Naturally<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Valentine's, Taylor-Kinney Style<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- 2.4 Children and Other Common Facts of Average Domesticity<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Last Days Of Summer<\/b> (read below)<\/li>
- B was for Blane, C is for Charlie<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- Intervention (a.k.a. Revelations)<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The New Guy<\/b><\/a><\/li>
<\/ol>
<\/center>
Story from the ASGC Universe:
LAST DAYS OF SUMMER<\/b><\/center>
September, 2016<\/u>
„Hold up. Hey, Gus-Man, hold up.“
Gus stopped as the voice of his friend penetrated his consciousness. In his head, he was already home at Britin. He spotted Justin waiting for him in one of Brian’s sports cars. Gus knew Justin had picked the car for Gus’s benefit and smiled. Like many other qualities, Gus shared a love for classic cars with his father. Maybe he could even persuade Justin to let him drive the short way to Britin; after all, his dad always said Gus needed more driving practice before he could get his own car. Gus signaled to Justin before he turned to wait for his friend.
Rick jogged up to Gus and smiled. “Hey, you were gone so fast, I couldn’t even ask you if you wanted to join us later.”
“Ehm… Later? I’m...” Gus floundered, wondering if he'd missed something.
Rick didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. “You know how Josh has been ever since he got his driver's license, so he's taking Wilson and me to the arcade. You want to come?” He looked at Gus with a hopeful expression.
It was no secret that Rick had a major crush on Gus. And while Gus really liked Rick and treasured their friendship, he often berated himself for having had sex with his best friend; though, in his defense, they had been barely more than passing acquaintances at the time. His father always preached about the importance of keeping friends and tricks separate. And while Gus agreed in theory, the reality of it was that Gus was still underage and it wasn’t like he could simply walk into clubs or bars to meet guys. And with everyone around him subtly, and sometimes less so, pestering him about whether he’d decided yet what orientation he was, he felt the need to experiment. Rick had seemed like a nice enough guy. He was on the school’s swim team and Gus had caught himself watching his body in the showers after gym class. He also knew that Rick was out; not only to his parents and friends, but in the school as well. It had seemed like a safe bet at the time.
At least that was what Gus had thought when he'd approached Rick back at the end of their freshman year of high school. Having ended a very short-lived, but not less melodramatic, ‘relationship’ – the quotation marks were courtesy of his father – with his girlfriend only a few months before, Gus had been itching to know whether Karen and he maybe didn’t get along because Gus was gay.
Inviting Rick over to his dads’ place had been an easy undertaking and one that had left no room for misunderstanding on Rick’s part as to the reason for the invitation. He’d decided to take Rick to Britin for purely strategical reasons, since he figured there was less chance of getting caught; and also, in case they should<\/i> get caught all the same, less chance of humiliation. They’d had a nice time together; nice enough that they both decided on quite a few repeat performances. However, even after a few weeks spent dating Rick, Gus was none the wiser as to whether he felt more inclined towards girls or boys. And since he had begun to really like Rick as a good friend but unfortunately nothing more, he decided it wouldn’t be fair to Rick to keep leading him on, knowing that Rick was slowly beginning to fall for him. That Gus’s father was more ecstatic about Rick than he had been about Karen – even though he’d never met either one of them – only prompted Gus to end the romantic relationship with Rick. He didn’t want to put his dad’s hopes up either.
Even though Justin always liked to remind Gus that he was his own person and didn’t owe it to anyone to be either gay or straight. Which should have been helpful, only it really wasn't. As far as sexual orientations went, Gus had so far decided that he liked... people. He honestly didn’t have a preference for either sex and as time went on, didn't feel the need to put a name to it.
As it stood, Gus was simply grateful that he and Rick had managed to stay friends after Gus ended things. And of course Gus loved to spend time with his buddies, but sometimes he just wasn't in the mood for it. Today was one of those days.
“Uhm, would you mind if I take a rain check?” Gus asked.
“You already have plans?” There went the suggestive eyebrow. Too often Rick's was a one track mind.
“Yeah, my sisters…” Gus started.
“Man, why do you always have to babysit? Aren’t your dads like, über-rich? Surely they can afford a nanny.”
Gus suppressed a grin as he usually had to when he was reminded of how he’d let his friends believe that his dads forced him to babysit his kid sisters.
The truth was that he’d promised the girls to take them for ice cream. But even if he hadn’t, he’d rather spent the last of the warm and sunny days of this year’s late summer with Alex and Emma, lounging at the pool in Britin’s back yard. His friends would probably think him boring and a loser if they knew, but those days lazing in their dads’ home were Gus’ favorite way of spending his after school hours. And also his sisters were frikkin' cool, despite being only 8. Emma's comedic skills in impersonating every member of their family and her exuberant personality was a stark contrast to Alex's quiet intensity and beyond-her-age wisdom and together they made for very good company.
“Sorry, Rick. But I'll make it up to you. Movies Sunday evening? If you want?” Gus smiled, hopeful to appease his friend with his offer.
“Okay,” Rich reluctantly agreed, dramatically rolling his eyes. “Call me?”
“Sure,” Gus answered. “Will do.”
“Later then.”
“Later. Have fun at the arcade.” Gus playfully hit his friend on his arm before turning to walk back to Justin who was waiting in the car.
“You good?” Justin asked when Gus plopped down in the co-driver’s seat.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” Gus assured. “Rick just wanted to know if I wanted to join the guys at the arcade.”
“Do you? I can drive you if you want,” Justin offered.
Gus answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nah, it’s okay. I told the twins I’d take them to the ice cream parlor.”
Justin bit his lip before replying, “That’s really nice of you, Gus. But if you'd rather go hang with your friends, I’m sure Emma and Alex will understand.”
“But I don't,” Gus answered slowly, like he and Justin were speaking different languages.
“Okay,” Justin replied, still with a skeptical tone. “Just wanted to make sure you know that your dad and I don't expect you to play the babysitter or anything.”
“Yeah, I know,” Gus replied dismissively.
“I mean,” Justin continued, “You’re a teenager. You should be able to spend time with your friends.”
“Al and Em are kinda friends, too.”
“Friends your own age,” Justin tried to explain.
“Did you when you were my age?” Gus asked with a smirk because he knew the answer.
Justin laughed. “Touché.”
“Gus!” Emma jumped onto his back the minute he crossed the threshold, as though she hadn’t seen her brother in months. Gus picked her up, silently thankful for the fact that she was still delicate enough that he could do so, and let her straddle him from behind. Emma riding Gus piggyback, they went outside to the patio where Alex sat sketching in the shadow of the afternoon sun. She smiled briefly up at Gus, her greeting as quiet as it was gentle and he smiled and waved wordlessly back.
He let Emma climb down near the grassy area of the back yard and came over to sit beside Alex. “Another one for the museums, Picasso?” Gus asked teasingly, referring to the masterpiece she was working on.
“Dad’s Picasso,” she objected, not looking up from her sketch book.
“Okay,” Gus thought briefly, “Paloma, then.” Gus amended.
“She’s not an artist,” Alex replied, still not looking up.
“Who isn’t?”
“Paloma Picasso. She’s a designer.”
“Oh, so you’re not creating the next big showstopper for Armani?”
“No,” she simply answered.
“Can I see?” Gus asked, really curious about what it was that Alex was so immersed in.
Alex put down her pencil and held up her sketch book to show her recent drawing.
“Is that Dad?” Gus asked teasingly.
“No. It was supposed to be you.” Alex frowned and studied the sketch critically.
Even though Gus had meant it as a joke, he could see Alex was taking his comment to heart. He knew that for her, any form of artistic expression didn’t come easy – not for false modesty or a lack of talent, but because she was her own biggest critic.
In that, she was very much Justin’s daughter. Art was where they understood each other perfectly. Sometimes, she would quietly sit in Justin’s studio, watching him paint, studying his technique, and when Justin was finally done, she’d break the silence and ask, “Is the itchy feeling gone now?” putting into simplest words what Justin had needed hours and hours to express through brush strokes.
Gus, putting a stop to her contemplations, reached for the sheet and pulled it out of her hands gently before she could destroy it. “Thank you. I think this is my favorite portrait so far.”
She looked up at him, beaming, and he hit the button on his ever-present camera, snapping a picture of her still reaching out for the sketch now out of her range.
“Stop it!” she objected. She always said that after Gus had aimed the camera at her.
“I already did, see?” he replied, grinning as he put the camera down and held his hands up in surrender, because his answer was always the same too.
She pulled up her eyebrows and directed the steady glare at him. She’d perfected the Kinney stare years ago and Gus could only hurry to give in. “Okay, okay. I’ll never do it again.”
“Yes, you will,” Alex answered calmly, knowing it better.
“Yes, I will,” Gus agreed.
Their exchange was usually followed by lighthearted banter and negotiations on veto rights on snapshots that Alex deemed unworthy of development. She was a perfectionist if there ever lived one – something she inherited from Brian, just like his way with words and his ability to say a lot with very little. She also took shameless advantage of the fact that she was only eight years old – a circumstance that constantly led to people underestimating her.
“Gus?” Emma interrupted Gus’s and Alex’s repartee and Gus’s musings.
“What is it, short stuff?” Gus was always teasing Emma about her height. Even though Emma often liked to point out that she was the older twin, Alex outgrew her sister by more than half a foot, which Emma made up for in energy.
“Will you go swimming with us? My friends are coming over.”
“I thought we were going to get ice cream,” Gus said.
Emma nodded. “I know, but afterward. Patty’s and Phoebe’s mom is bringing them over later and we wanted to go in the pool, but Daddy said I have to ask you first 'cause we can only go in when you watch us, he said.”
Pat and Phoebe were Emma’s best friends, aside from Alex, and were also twins, though unlike Emma and Alex they were identical and were impossible to tell apart from each other.
“Sure, short stuff, we can go for a swim.”
“Yay! Thank you, Gus. Can Patty and Phoebe come with us for ice cream too? Please?” Emma pleaded. She even batted her eyelashes for effect.
“You're so easy,” Alex commented fondly at Gus before he even had the chance to give in to Emma’s plea.
“What? Am not,” Gus protested indignantly.
“Okay, then. You're too indulgent.”
“'Indulgent'? Where do you learn these words?” he wondered, shaking his head.
“I read,” Alex replied.
“Must be some pretty advanced children’s literature,” Gus commented drily at which Alex simply shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.
“Gus,” Emma reminded him that she was still waiting for his reply. “Patty. Phoebe. Ice cream?”
“Yes, if their mom says it's okay, then we can all go,” he gave in.
“Ha!” Alex didn’t even try to hide her superior grin.
“Insufferable smart-ass,” Gus gave back, but with no vehemence behind it.
“And you’re an enabler.”
“How so?” Gus exclaimed indignantly.
“Well,” Alex explained, “Patty and Phoebe didn’t even want to come over today. Until they heard that you’d be there, that is. Figure it out.”
Gus tried not to preen.
“Pathetic,” Alex declared and shook her head.
“Seriously,” Gus said, “I gotta<\/i> have a look at the books you’re reading. Or maybe I’ll talk to Dad.” It was a well-known fact that Brian was the one who supplied Alex’s reading material.
Alex laughed, bright and carefree. “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.” She knew full well that their dad was on her side on that. And Gus knew it, too. Still, he had to keep up pretenses. It wasn't time yet to admit defeat.
The End.<\/b><\/center>
the next part to follow in this universe is:
B was for Blane, C is for Charlie<\/b><\/a>
<\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:adoringaudience:82473","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/82473.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/adoringaudience.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=82473"}}],"title":"B\/J ficlet from the ASGC 'Verse: THE NEW GUY","published":"2016-06-26T21:21:06Z","updated":"2016-07-03T18:16:43Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"qaf: my fics"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"asgc verse"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fic: asgc"}}],"content":"I looked into my ASGC folder tonight - something I haven't done in forever. And I found this. I forgot I wrote it. For those of you who don't follow the ASGC Universe, you should probably stop reading here (& start at the beginning), as you won't be able to follow. And to my ASGC readers: I realize this ficlet is a huge jump into the future, made worse by the fact that there's still some parts in the middle missing. But I promise I will put them up eventually. I will, I will, I will!
Summary & Warnings & A\/N:<\/b> As is true for the entire ASGC universe, this story is as angst-free as all previous parts.
For your convenience, here are the links to all installments, listed in chronological order of events: - The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>
- The Next Best Thing<\/b><\/a><\/li>