ALL ROADS
Title: All roads
Written By: sugardares
Timeline: post-s4
Rating: soft R I think.
Author Notes: Many, many thanks to my fabulous beta.
When Justin wakes up two hours before he's supposed to he doesn't know if it's because of the bad dream he had or because the drapes covering the windows in the small apartment leave much to be desired. His only blanket is tangled into a knot on the floor, undoubtedly kicked off the bed (which is actually just a bare mattress on the floor) in the middle of the night.
The heat is pressing against his pores and he regrets having slept in nothing but his boxers; he can't even pretend that things will get better by taking something off. He ends up taking a cold shower (which he learns pretty fast aren't all that great when you want to jerk off) and eats a bowl of cereal sitting next to the open freezer.
He doesn't have anyone to drive him to work, and he's pretty sure that the bus transfers he'd have to make would give him a headache so he attempts to walk to the studio. He gets lost, and ends up consuming 3 iced coffees before arriving to the studio just on time - even with the two hour headstart - with what was his loose shirt and cargo pants when he left the apartment now clinging to his frame. As he searches for a bathroom so he can splash some cold water on his face he can't help but notice that everyone else is wearing long sleeved shirts.
///
His after work grocery shopping doesn't need a list. He picks up ice cream and cherry popsicles and he bemoans that the first actual thing he's going to buy with his oh-so-glamorous Hollywood paycheck is an air conditioning unit which he won't even have any use for when he goes back home.
He sits on the floor in the middle of his living room with his cell phone next to him as he tries to make something of the shadows his hand is tracing on his brand new sketchpad. His hand moves and lines are formed, curves and intersecting lines that seem random and he doesn't really know what he's trying to transfer onto the paper. His hand gives out after 10 minutes and all he's got to show for it is a blurred face, unrecognizable even to him. He never did like working with charcoal.
He doesn't call Brian until he's sure he's not going to pick up. If Justin were to actually talk to him right now he knows he'd wish he'd sent Michael here in his place - no matter how incredibly underqualified he'd be. Not because being here is so bad but because he can imagine practically seeing Brian taking five steps back when talking to him. He'd be all stoic and pretend-distracted and just so Brian. And just because Justin won't be able to physically be with him when he's doing what he does best (after fucking, naturally) he won't be able to be there through the bullshit and to push Brian back. He can't talk to Brian on the phone when he's like this. It weakens his Kinney brain filter and he can just imagine Brian mumbling something about how the sun apparently made his dick shrivel up. He's not gonna risk Brian taking five more steps back while he's not there to stop him. He calls the loft when he knows Brian won't be there and talks about all the fabulous things his day contained, (because god forbid he didn't have a fabulous time when he could be pursuing a degree, Justin didn't think Brian would ever lay off him on that one. As much as it annoyed him at least it meant Brian couldn't hide that he cared on one level or another) until the machine cuts him off.
///
His mother is the first one to call to plan a visit, but Daphne is the first one to actually show up. He'd managed to discourage his mom from coming anytime soon by telling her chances are he'd be busy with work. And taking Molly with her to silicone-land might not be the best idea even if it was to visit him. Daphne didn't let him weasel out of it, she didn't give him much of a warning. A Friday night a few weeks into his stay he'd checked his messages only to find one from her: ”I really hope you've got some hot straight celebs on standby for me when I get there. If not, you've got twelve hours mister.”
To Daphne's chagrin (although Justin suspects she's faking the disappointment) they end up spending her first night in LA by defrosting the freezer. She doesn't ask why this is necessary and just laughs when Justin tells her the AC got stolen by the girl who had the apartment before him. They end up lying on the floor finishing up all the half melted ice cream that was left, music blasting from the stereo that came with the place.
”If you'd given me more of a warning, I would've cleaned up the place,” Daphne looks up at him from her ice cream in disbelief.
”There's not much to clean here,” she says accusingly as she points the spoon in his direction only to put it back in her mouth quickly, licking off what was about to drip on the spotless floor.
”Okay...I would've bought an AC,” he sits up crossing his legs.
"You're being such a drama queen. I bet thousands of students would kill for an apatment like this.”
”Yeah right,” he looks at her with raised eyebrows as he grabs her tub of cherry garcia.
”Okay, fine, hundreds.”
”You wouldn't.”
”Well, that's because my parents helped me find a place and helped pay for all that cool furniture. Although if they ask, it was the cheapest I could find ok? Besides, seriously, an already furnished apartment? Even sans bed that's a pretty good find.”
"I didn't have to look for it, the studio owns it."
”So? Independence is overrated.”
”Says the girl who lives on her own.”
”In an apartment my parents help pay for yeah,” she swats him playfully on the arm before getting up to toss the empty ice cream tubs. ”So how come there are none of your fancy arty things up? Unless you've taken to making cheap looking Warhol carbon copies,” she says, nodding in the direction of the lonely print hanging above the stereo.
Justin gets up and starts making the bed (mattress), scratching his head before speaking, ”I just haven't felt like it. All the storyboards are absorbing all my creative energy.”
”So...draw Brian or something, he always seems to get the creativity going,” she smirked.
”I don't know if I can. It's like he's not mine to draw anymore.”
”Okay you've totally lost me on this one, he's always gonna be yours.”
”Okay I guess it feels like I have no right to draw him. It's kind of...I, I keep having this dream, it's not really a nightmare but it's not very pleasant,” he sits down on the mattress, crossing his legs and looking down, biting his lip. It reminds Daphne of when he was brooding after he left Ethan. All that was missing from the picture before her were the long bangs falling into his eyes.
”Yeah?”
”It's like that night after Brian and I met, when he gave me his speech. He is standing on the street, but he doesn't look like he did then and he's not giving me the speech; he's asking me to move in. And I start...crying and then I leave,” Justin quietly rubs his right hand and exhales deeply. ”Fuck. I could really use a cigarette.”
”So what just because you're here you have no right to draw him? It's not like you're running away. Besides, even if your subconscious is telling you to leave Hollywood and move in with Brian...is that even...you think he'll let you?” If anyone else had asked him that he would've thought they were trying to put him in his place. But Daphne...her chin is pressed against her knees, and her arms are wrapped around her legs. And she's got this look of hope on her face, like she really wants it to work out, but she's afraid he might get hurt.
”Well...he um, he already asked. Before he knew I was coming here,” her eyes widen a little, and she bites her lip. Not to keep from saying what an asshole he is for not telling her, but because this is the kind of thing 17 year old Justin kept saying was going to happen one day and now it actually had. It was like getting bit in the ass by your past, but in a really good way.
”Does this mean I should find someone to take over your room full time?”
”I don't know Daph. I just...I don't know that he's going to want me to move in when I get back. It's really big thing for him to ask to begin with, and I just fucking left him hanging. Our timing fucking sucks,” Justin sighs, and then chuckles a little before continuing, ”except in bed.”
”Well so far, the whole 'keep going at him'-thing seems to be working. He really can't say no to you.” Justin snorts as his eyebrows jerk up at her words.”Okay, okay, he can't say no forever. Saying no is easier than saying yes anyway. It just takes a little convincing for him to dare to say yes. You're the one with the guts, you'll just have to keep going after him.”
”Except I'm the one who said no. The only things I've ever constantly wanted, needed are Brian and art. I thought I'd sooner die than deny myself those, especially when it's practically handed to me on a platter. And I just fucking left him and I left school, again, I left when he gave me something I never thought he'd give me. To do what? Chase after this fairytale that isn't even what I want? Rage isn't art, it's not my art at any rate, and yet here I am.”
”But you didn't really say no did you? It's not all or nothing. It's like a piece of regenerating cake that you can keep eating from without it ever getting smaller.” She's smiling now and gesturing, he should've known she'd get crazy with too much sugar in her system. ”What did Brian say when you told him about the job offer?”
”He said...that he'd be really fucking disappointed in me if I didn't take it. It just...it feels like I've got to start everything from scratch, back to square one.”
Justin wakes up to a grumpy Daphne, drinking coffee. She has that look on her face, the one it's impossible to say no to cause she's really not gonna take no for an answer - and it's when she puts on that face that Justin realizes he really could've never gotten Brian to give a shit if she hadn't been pushing him. When she hands him a cup of coffee with cream and sugar he's starting to fear that she's gonna talk him into telling Brian everything he told her. Or even worse, that she's got a plane ticket in his name and that it's up to Justin to talk Brian into coming.
”Screw the AC, you're getting a fan and a bed,” Justin can't stop laughing at her words and Daphne looks honestly offended. ”I spent half the night on the floor! The unnaturally cold floor for this climate. It was hard! AND I didn't have a pillow!”
”You fell off the bed?”
”It's not a bed. But you're getting one, cause if you think there's any chance of keeping Brian's respect after you make him sleep on a mattress on the floor when he has enough of Justin withdrawal and shows up, you are dead wrong.”
///
When Justin checks his voicemail only to find out Brian left him a message he doesn't know if he should be thrilled or terrified. The dark voice fills his ear as Brian's using the tone he usually reserves for whispering in Justin's ear right before he's about to give him the fucking of a lifetime.
”Whatever's making you avoid me like a 14 year old girl with braces avoids the hunky older guy, I hope it's fucking worth it because I do hope you realize you're missing out on the best phone sex of your life.”
He heard the click of the receiver and cursed his libido. Brian's voice could get him hard even when he was nagging him - one of his many, many talents. Justin didn't even have to think about the unpleasantness of jerking off when taking a cold shower before hitting the dial back button. He was just gonna have to get over his issues and eat his cake, cause this avoidance thing really wasn't fucking worth it.
///
Getting over his issues turned out to be surprisingly easy when their conversations consisted of ”yes, God yes”'s and ”you're so fucking hot when you make that sound”'s sprinkled between variations of descriptions of where one of them was sucking or kissing or licking.
Justin changes tactic from calling when he knows Brian won't be able to pick up to only calling when he knows he'll pick up. And even when he gets his phone bill he can't help but think that maybe being in LA isn't all bad.
///
A Tuesday night he opens the door to his apartment only to find Brian talking on his cell phone to someone who can only be Ted (he's using his Ted voice, the condescending, whilst caring, whilst not so quietly saying fuck up and I'll have your balls on a silver platter faster than you can say lifetime tickets at the opera one). It's just past six pm and Brian is dressed up in one of the designer suits that all look pretty generic to Justin - not that he would ever actually tell Brian that - with no signs of bagage. Business. The fact that Brian got in to his apartment doesn't so much worry as impress him, he knew he was good at convincing people but Justin was pretty sure getting into someone else's apartment (without force) was pretty high on the list of master acts of power exertion and manipulation. Of course, this being Brian, it could only mean he cared.
Brian's briefcase is open on the kitchen table and there are a few small stacks symmetrically spread across the wooden surface. It doesn't take long before Justin notices his old sketchbook on the kitchen table next to one of the stacks. He thumbs through the pages filled with sketches of Brian from two years ago, 6 months ago and the last one from just after the Liberty Ride, Brian sleeping on his side as to not bump his hurt shoulder. Soft, almost blurred lines and a yellow tint. Justin doesn't usually use pastels to accent his sketches but there'd been something about that day that called for warmth, comfort. There's only a few blank pages at the end and Justin's fingertrips trail across the uneven surface.
He can't stop a smile from spreading across his face and as he looks at Brian, bathed in the remaining daylight spilling into the room through the window and dancing across his shoulders and hair. Justin doesn't know if he wants to draw or blow Brian more. The weight settling into his chest and the sudden itch in his fingers tell him that he'll still want to draw and paint and sketch Brian even after a blowjob and a (maybe two, or three) fucks so he puts the sketchpad back down on the table.
”You forgot to take that with you,” Brian's off the phone with a smile matching his and Justin's grin widens at his tone. Brian toes off his shoes as Justin's shirt lands on the floor, and the last coherent thought Justin has before Brian begins unbuttoning his jeans and their open mouths are sliding hungrily against one another is that he needs to call Daphne as soon as he gets a breather between fucking and drawing to tell her to find someone to take over his room full time.
Written By: sugardares
Timeline: post-s4
Rating: soft R I think.
Author Notes: Many, many thanks to my fabulous beta.
When Justin wakes up two hours before he's supposed to he doesn't know if it's because of the bad dream he had or because the drapes covering the windows in the small apartment leave much to be desired. His only blanket is tangled into a knot on the floor, undoubtedly kicked off the bed (which is actually just a bare mattress on the floor) in the middle of the night.
The heat is pressing against his pores and he regrets having slept in nothing but his boxers; he can't even pretend that things will get better by taking something off. He ends up taking a cold shower (which he learns pretty fast aren't all that great when you want to jerk off) and eats a bowl of cereal sitting next to the open freezer.
He doesn't have anyone to drive him to work, and he's pretty sure that the bus transfers he'd have to make would give him a headache so he attempts to walk to the studio. He gets lost, and ends up consuming 3 iced coffees before arriving to the studio just on time - even with the two hour headstart - with what was his loose shirt and cargo pants when he left the apartment now clinging to his frame. As he searches for a bathroom so he can splash some cold water on his face he can't help but notice that everyone else is wearing long sleeved shirts.
///
His after work grocery shopping doesn't need a list. He picks up ice cream and cherry popsicles and he bemoans that the first actual thing he's going to buy with his oh-so-glamorous Hollywood paycheck is an air conditioning unit which he won't even have any use for when he goes back home.
He sits on the floor in the middle of his living room with his cell phone next to him as he tries to make something of the shadows his hand is tracing on his brand new sketchpad. His hand moves and lines are formed, curves and intersecting lines that seem random and he doesn't really know what he's trying to transfer onto the paper. His hand gives out after 10 minutes and all he's got to show for it is a blurred face, unrecognizable even to him. He never did like working with charcoal.
He doesn't call Brian until he's sure he's not going to pick up. If Justin were to actually talk to him right now he knows he'd wish he'd sent Michael here in his place - no matter how incredibly underqualified he'd be. Not because being here is so bad but because he can imagine practically seeing Brian taking five steps back when talking to him. He'd be all stoic and pretend-distracted and just so Brian. And just because Justin won't be able to physically be with him when he's doing what he does best (after fucking, naturally) he won't be able to be there through the bullshit and to push Brian back. He can't talk to Brian on the phone when he's like this. It weakens his Kinney brain filter and he can just imagine Brian mumbling something about how the sun apparently made his dick shrivel up. He's not gonna risk Brian taking five more steps back while he's not there to stop him. He calls the loft when he knows Brian won't be there and talks about all the fabulous things his day contained, (because god forbid he didn't have a fabulous time when he could be pursuing a degree, Justin didn't think Brian would ever lay off him on that one. As much as it annoyed him at least it meant Brian couldn't hide that he cared on one level or another) until the machine cuts him off.
///
His mother is the first one to call to plan a visit, but Daphne is the first one to actually show up. He'd managed to discourage his mom from coming anytime soon by telling her chances are he'd be busy with work. And taking Molly with her to silicone-land might not be the best idea even if it was to visit him. Daphne didn't let him weasel out of it, she didn't give him much of a warning. A Friday night a few weeks into his stay he'd checked his messages only to find one from her: ”I really hope you've got some hot straight celebs on standby for me when I get there. If not, you've got twelve hours mister.”
To Daphne's chagrin (although Justin suspects she's faking the disappointment) they end up spending her first night in LA by defrosting the freezer. She doesn't ask why this is necessary and just laughs when Justin tells her the AC got stolen by the girl who had the apartment before him. They end up lying on the floor finishing up all the half melted ice cream that was left, music blasting from the stereo that came with the place.
”If you'd given me more of a warning, I would've cleaned up the place,” Daphne looks up at him from her ice cream in disbelief.
”There's not much to clean here,” she says accusingly as she points the spoon in his direction only to put it back in her mouth quickly, licking off what was about to drip on the spotless floor.
”Okay...I would've bought an AC,” he sits up crossing his legs.
"You're being such a drama queen. I bet thousands of students would kill for an apatment like this.”
”Yeah right,” he looks at her with raised eyebrows as he grabs her tub of cherry garcia.
”Okay, fine, hundreds.”
”You wouldn't.”
”Well, that's because my parents helped me find a place and helped pay for all that cool furniture. Although if they ask, it was the cheapest I could find ok? Besides, seriously, an already furnished apartment? Even sans bed that's a pretty good find.”
"I didn't have to look for it, the studio owns it."
”So? Independence is overrated.”
”Says the girl who lives on her own.”
”In an apartment my parents help pay for yeah,” she swats him playfully on the arm before getting up to toss the empty ice cream tubs. ”So how come there are none of your fancy arty things up? Unless you've taken to making cheap looking Warhol carbon copies,” she says, nodding in the direction of the lonely print hanging above the stereo.
Justin gets up and starts making the bed (mattress), scratching his head before speaking, ”I just haven't felt like it. All the storyboards are absorbing all my creative energy.”
”So...draw Brian or something, he always seems to get the creativity going,” she smirked.
”I don't know if I can. It's like he's not mine to draw anymore.”
”Okay you've totally lost me on this one, he's always gonna be yours.”
”Okay I guess it feels like I have no right to draw him. It's kind of...I, I keep having this dream, it's not really a nightmare but it's not very pleasant,” he sits down on the mattress, crossing his legs and looking down, biting his lip. It reminds Daphne of when he was brooding after he left Ethan. All that was missing from the picture before her were the long bangs falling into his eyes.
”Yeah?”
”It's like that night after Brian and I met, when he gave me his speech. He is standing on the street, but he doesn't look like he did then and he's not giving me the speech; he's asking me to move in. And I start...crying and then I leave,” Justin quietly rubs his right hand and exhales deeply. ”Fuck. I could really use a cigarette.”
”So what just because you're here you have no right to draw him? It's not like you're running away. Besides, even if your subconscious is telling you to leave Hollywood and move in with Brian...is that even...you think he'll let you?” If anyone else had asked him that he would've thought they were trying to put him in his place. But Daphne...her chin is pressed against her knees, and her arms are wrapped around her legs. And she's got this look of hope on her face, like she really wants it to work out, but she's afraid he might get hurt.
”Well...he um, he already asked. Before he knew I was coming here,” her eyes widen a little, and she bites her lip. Not to keep from saying what an asshole he is for not telling her, but because this is the kind of thing 17 year old Justin kept saying was going to happen one day and now it actually had. It was like getting bit in the ass by your past, but in a really good way.
”Does this mean I should find someone to take over your room full time?”
”I don't know Daph. I just...I don't know that he's going to want me to move in when I get back. It's really big thing for him to ask to begin with, and I just fucking left him hanging. Our timing fucking sucks,” Justin sighs, and then chuckles a little before continuing, ”except in bed.”
”Well so far, the whole 'keep going at him'-thing seems to be working. He really can't say no to you.” Justin snorts as his eyebrows jerk up at her words.”Okay, okay, he can't say no forever. Saying no is easier than saying yes anyway. It just takes a little convincing for him to dare to say yes. You're the one with the guts, you'll just have to keep going after him.”
”Except I'm the one who said no. The only things I've ever constantly wanted, needed are Brian and art. I thought I'd sooner die than deny myself those, especially when it's practically handed to me on a platter. And I just fucking left him and I left school, again, I left when he gave me something I never thought he'd give me. To do what? Chase after this fairytale that isn't even what I want? Rage isn't art, it's not my art at any rate, and yet here I am.”
”But you didn't really say no did you? It's not all or nothing. It's like a piece of regenerating cake that you can keep eating from without it ever getting smaller.” She's smiling now and gesturing, he should've known she'd get crazy with too much sugar in her system. ”What did Brian say when you told him about the job offer?”
”He said...that he'd be really fucking disappointed in me if I didn't take it. It just...it feels like I've got to start everything from scratch, back to square one.”
Justin wakes up to a grumpy Daphne, drinking coffee. She has that look on her face, the one it's impossible to say no to cause she's really not gonna take no for an answer - and it's when she puts on that face that Justin realizes he really could've never gotten Brian to give a shit if she hadn't been pushing him. When she hands him a cup of coffee with cream and sugar he's starting to fear that she's gonna talk him into telling Brian everything he told her. Or even worse, that she's got a plane ticket in his name and that it's up to Justin to talk Brian into coming.
”Screw the AC, you're getting a fan and a bed,” Justin can't stop laughing at her words and Daphne looks honestly offended. ”I spent half the night on the floor! The unnaturally cold floor for this climate. It was hard! AND I didn't have a pillow!”
”You fell off the bed?”
”It's not a bed. But you're getting one, cause if you think there's any chance of keeping Brian's respect after you make him sleep on a mattress on the floor when he has enough of Justin withdrawal and shows up, you are dead wrong.”
///
When Justin checks his voicemail only to find out Brian left him a message he doesn't know if he should be thrilled or terrified. The dark voice fills his ear as Brian's using the tone he usually reserves for whispering in Justin's ear right before he's about to give him the fucking of a lifetime.
”Whatever's making you avoid me like a 14 year old girl with braces avoids the hunky older guy, I hope it's fucking worth it because I do hope you realize you're missing out on the best phone sex of your life.”
He heard the click of the receiver and cursed his libido. Brian's voice could get him hard even when he was nagging him - one of his many, many talents. Justin didn't even have to think about the unpleasantness of jerking off when taking a cold shower before hitting the dial back button. He was just gonna have to get over his issues and eat his cake, cause this avoidance thing really wasn't fucking worth it.
///
Getting over his issues turned out to be surprisingly easy when their conversations consisted of ”yes, God yes”'s and ”you're so fucking hot when you make that sound”'s sprinkled between variations of descriptions of where one of them was sucking or kissing or licking.
Justin changes tactic from calling when he knows Brian won't be able to pick up to only calling when he knows he'll pick up. And even when he gets his phone bill he can't help but think that maybe being in LA isn't all bad.
///
A Tuesday night he opens the door to his apartment only to find Brian talking on his cell phone to someone who can only be Ted (he's using his Ted voice, the condescending, whilst caring, whilst not so quietly saying fuck up and I'll have your balls on a silver platter faster than you can say lifetime tickets at the opera one). It's just past six pm and Brian is dressed up in one of the designer suits that all look pretty generic to Justin - not that he would ever actually tell Brian that - with no signs of bagage. Business. The fact that Brian got in to his apartment doesn't so much worry as impress him, he knew he was good at convincing people but Justin was pretty sure getting into someone else's apartment (without force) was pretty high on the list of master acts of power exertion and manipulation. Of course, this being Brian, it could only mean he cared.
Brian's briefcase is open on the kitchen table and there are a few small stacks symmetrically spread across the wooden surface. It doesn't take long before Justin notices his old sketchbook on the kitchen table next to one of the stacks. He thumbs through the pages filled with sketches of Brian from two years ago, 6 months ago and the last one from just after the Liberty Ride, Brian sleeping on his side as to not bump his hurt shoulder. Soft, almost blurred lines and a yellow tint. Justin doesn't usually use pastels to accent his sketches but there'd been something about that day that called for warmth, comfort. There's only a few blank pages at the end and Justin's fingertrips trail across the uneven surface.
He can't stop a smile from spreading across his face and as he looks at Brian, bathed in the remaining daylight spilling into the room through the window and dancing across his shoulders and hair. Justin doesn't know if he wants to draw or blow Brian more. The weight settling into his chest and the sudden itch in his fingers tell him that he'll still want to draw and paint and sketch Brian even after a blowjob and a (maybe two, or three) fucks so he puts the sketchpad back down on the table.
”You forgot to take that with you,” Brian's off the phone with a smile matching his and Justin's grin widens at his tone. Brian toes off his shoes as Justin's shirt lands on the floor, and the last coherent thought Justin has before Brian begins unbuttoning his jeans and their open mouths are sliding hungrily against one another is that he needs to call Daphne as soon as he gets a breather between fucking and drawing to tell her to find someone to take over his room full time.