"Coup de Foudre" 73

Aug 25, 2014 00:51

Hang on.

I mean it.

By Gaedhal





Pittsburgh, July 2016

Justin wanted this dinner to be perfect.

It was his chance to show Gus that he wasn’t... well, whatever Gus mistakenly thought he was. It was also a chance to show Brian that he wasn’t a fuck-up. Why he needed to demonstrate that, he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to anyway. This would be all about how Justin Taylor could handle things. How he wasn’t only talented in the office and the bedroom, but relationship-wise, too. With all the guys he’d messed up with in the past, none of them mattered the way Brian did - the way Brian always would. And impressing his son was at least a start.

Gus - he was at the center of the problem. He’d decided that Justin was… what was it he thought Justin was? Evil, that was it. Justin shook his head. Fucking teenagers! Where did they get such stupid ideas? And why did they cling to them so tenaciously? But Gus was a smart kid. He could be convinced. He could be made to see reason. Justin remembered himself at that age. He was completely reasonable. Willing to compromise. Willing to look at all points of view and make a rationale decision. Not the kind of kid to jump to conclusions, or fly off the handle, or get obsessed with one particular thing and sink his teeth into it like a dog with a 9-inch bone.

Justin winced. Well, maybe he was occasionally unreasonable. Or pigheaded. Or a little fucking shit. But that had passed. He learned from his mistakes… eventually.

That ‘eventually’ was what had Justin worried.

Brian had given him the key to the house and the code to the security system, along with the cash to get the ingredients for dinner. He actually hadn’t made Jambalaya in a long time - he didn’t have all that much time to cook and most of his boyfriends hadn’t been all that into food. Robbie lived on pizza and stale pastries from Starbucks, with a burrito thrown in there once in a while. Justin once asked Robbie if he had a favorite food, maybe something his mother made? If he got the recipe, they could cook it together. That might be fun. But Robbie only shrugged and said that if he wanted his mom’s cooking, he’d go home for it. His parents didn’t live that far away. And why would they bother to cook when there was take-out?

That seemed to be the attitude of a lot of guys - why cook when you could just buy food? That had been Brian’s attitude as well, except he always seemed to enjoy it when Justin did make dinner. He never criticized, even when the dish didn’t turn out perfectly. Instead, he ate it, always proclaiming it was a hell of a lot better than anything his mother made, which was probably true. The only thing Justin ever made that Brian openly told him was shit, was some recipe he and Michael got from that Chinese herbalist when Brian was recovering from cancer. Justin boiled up the herbs into a disgusting brew and Brian closed his eyes and drank it down, terrible as it was. Justin should have known that only a guy who truly loved him would have done that, all because Justin went to the trouble of trying to find a cure for Brian’s ‘dick problem.’ The terrible tea hadn’t fixed Brian, but at least it hadn’t killed him. And Brian’s dick did eventually come back to life, so no harm was done.

No harm done. But that wasn’t true, either. Justin had done harm when he left Brian to go to Hollywood. Left him still weak from his cancer treatments and with a broken collarbone on top of it. All for ‘Rage.’ All for Brett Keller’s seductive offer of fame and fortune. All for… nothing, in the end. Another one of those fucking dead ends in his life. But Brian took him back, as always. And the next time, too. But after that, after New York… that’s when Justin’s fucking luck ran out.

He checked the skillet and stirred. Too bad Brian didn’t have a paella pan or a wok. That would make the Jambalaya easier to cook. But it was much better with fresh shrimp and real Andouille sausage, he thought, remembering the first time he made it, with everything frozen and the rice way under-cooked. Who was the guy Brian brought home that evening? Hotlanta, that was the one. Justin never did find out the guy’s real name, but probably neither did Brian. No matter. The Jambalaya was eaten the next day. Brian even had two helpings. “Some things are better the next day,” Justin had told Brian. You don’t always have to have something new and different when what you’ve got at home is tasty and willing. Yeah, Brian got that message - eventually.

How many years would it take before they both got the message at the same time? Maybe that time was now, finally.

Except for Gus.

He and Brian would explain things to the kid. Make him see that he had everything all turned around. He and Brian had loved each other a long time ago. Loved each other and been unable to communicate, and so they broke up - a couple of times. But so what? They were older now. Wiser. Brian knew what a relationship was now. He wasn’t so afraid of it. And Justin wasn’t some punk teenager. He’d been around the block, too. But he knew what he wanted - Brian. Gus was right about that. So how could they both make Gus see that this was something real? Something good for both of them? Brian’s heart had been broken, but Justin could heal it. He knew he could. The last thing in the world he would ever do was hurt Brian. Never. Not again.

Justin glanced at the clock. It was getting late. They should have been here by now.

Brian said he was going to take Gus somewhere to have a talk with him. Maybe the talk went well, so they were still there. Or maybe the talk went badly, so they were still there. Justin got out his cell, anxious to call and find out what was going on. But if he interrupted, Brian would be pissed. He put the phone away. No sense in chancing it. He wanted everything to go perfectly.

Salad. Jambalaya. Cornbread from the Liberty Bakery. And for dessert he’d bought vanilla bean ice cream and fresh strawberries. That should be perfect. Justin was starving thinking about it, so Gus, who Brian said was basically a stomach on two legs, should be ravenous by the time they got to the house.

Justin took out the bottle of wine that had been chilling in the fridge. He wasn’t an expert on wine, but he thought it would be nice to have with the Jambalaya. The guy at the wine shop suggested a Riesling, so Justin bought two bottles. He opened the first one and poured a glass. It was a little sweet, but the Jambalaya was spicy, so he guessed one would counter the other.

“Where the fuck are they?” Justin said to himself. He turned the burner off and put the lid on the skillet. He didn’t want the food to burn after all that work. Brian would really think he was an idiot if he ruined dinner.

That’s when he heard the sound of the motorcycle. There was no mistaking it.

Justin looked out the kitchen window, but he could only see part of the driveway. He knew he should probably wait until they came inside, but curiosity overcame him and he went to the front door and opened it.



“Fuck you, Dad! I’m not going in there!” Gus was yelling and waving his arms.

“Yes, you are, you little shit.” Brian grabbed for his son’s arm, but Gus ducked away. “You’re going in there, sitting down, and having dinner.”

“Not with him! That’s what that talk was all about - fucking Justin Taylor! That’s his Jeep!” Gus kicked at the tire viciously.

“How do you know it’s his Jeep?” asked Brian.

“Because I followed you,” Justin retorted. “Over to that warehouse where you guys fuck. I know all about it, so don’t tell me you don’t.”

“I never said we didn’t. You know the score,” said Brian, trying to remain calm. “That’s what we were discussing. Me and Justin. So now you’re going inside and we’ll have dinner like civilized people. And you’ll act like a human being and not like a spoiled fucking brat!”

“I’m not eating anything he made!” Gus pointed at Justin, who was standing on the front steps. “He might try to poison me!”

“Jesus!” Brian rolled his eyes. “You’re a bigger drama princess than Emmett Honeycutt on his worst day. Don’t be fucking ridiculous! Why would Justin want to poison you?”

“Because I know the truth about him, that’s why,” Gus said smugly.

“The truth about me is that I love your father,” said Justin, coming down the steps. “And I loved you, too, when you were little. I was there the night you were born. I was there the first time Brian held you. And I named you.”



“That’s a fucking lie!” Gus screamed. “You take that back!”

“It’s the truth!” said Justin. “Why not come into the house and we can talk about this.”

Gus glared at Brian and Justin. “I’m not going into that house! He’s been in there. I’m never going into that house again.”

“Stop being a fucking idiot.” Now Brian seized his son firmly by the arm and dragged him into the house, spitting like an angry cat every inch of the way, Justin following closely behind.

“You’re going to sit at the table, eat, and have an adult conversation!” Brian pushed Gus into a chair at the kitchen table. He sniffed. “Jambalaya?”

“Yup,” Justin replied. “With shrimp and Cajun sausage.”

“I hate it!” said Gus.

“You’re going to eat it. All of it.” Brian picked up Justin’s glass of wine and finished it. “I’m going to need a lot more of this before the night is through.”



“I got two bottles,” said Justin.

“Good thing.”

“I’m not eating that shit,” Gus said darkly as Justin set a plate of Jambalaya in front of him.

Brian sat down next to Gus and Justin gave him a plate and a bowl of salad. “Give him some cornbread, too. I know he’s hungry. I can hear his stomach growling.”

“I’m never going to eat again,” Gus insisted. “Especially if he’s cooking.”

“Good thing I don’t cook all that much,” said Justin, taking his place at the table. “But the few things I can make are pretty good. Wait until you taste my lasagna.”

“Fuck your lasagna,” Gus muttered.

“Apologize to Justin!” Brian roared.

“I won’t!” Gus slammed his plate away from him and bolted from the table.

“This isn’t going well, is it?” Brian sighed.



“It’s a start,” said Justin. “At least you got him into the kitchen.”

Brian snorted. “Yeah, and I had to man-handle him to do it.”

“At least you have a lot of practice,” said Justin, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s my son you’re talking about, twat,” said Brian. He suddenly stood up. “Shit!”

Justin heard the engine. “Is that your car?”

“My car’s in the garage.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Harley.” Justin said.

“It’s not. I have the keys in my pocket,” Brian said, striding out of the kitchen, with Justin at his heels.

Brian and Justin came out the front door to see Justin’s black Jeep lurching down the long, steep street.

“You left your keys in the Jeep?” Brian huffed.

Justin watched the Jeep stall and then start up again. “It never occurred to me that my Jeep would be stolen from the driveway of a house in an exclusive gated neighborhood by my boyfriend’s psychotic son. Can he drive a manual transmission?”

“No,” said Brian. “We haven’t gotten to that yet.”

Justin winced at the Jeep’s mechanical moan. “Jesus! My poor clutch! He’s not going very far in first gear.”

“He’s not fucking going anywhere!” said a determined Brian. He hopped on the Harley and revved up the engine. “When I get hold of him he’s going to see stars! And I don’t mean Brad fucking Pitt!”

“Brian, don’t do anything you’ll regret,” said Justin. “Listen to me!”

But Brian was boiling. “I can’t let Gus get away with this shit anymore. Call the cops and tell them your Jeep was stolen.”

“Wait!” said Justin. “Put on your helmet. It would be just your luck to get nabbed by the cops and have Carl bail you out - again!”

“Fuck you, Sunshine,” said Brian. But then he kissed Justin and put on the helmet, cinching the strap tightly under his chin. “Keep that food warm. We’ll be right back even if I have to hog-tie and carry that kid the whole fucking way!”

The Jeep was at the bottom of the hill and had lurched to a stop again as Brian went roaring down to cut him off.

But then something happened. It was so fast that later Justin wasn’t certain how it had happened. The Jeep started up again and made a sharp turn left as the Harley spun out to avoid it and skidded wildly across the asphalt.

The only thing Justin could remember clearly was Brian, hitting the ground hard. And then loud screaming.

It was only afterwards that Justin realized he was the one who was screaming.



coup de foudre, fanfiction, brian/justin, qaf, gus

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