QAF FIC: Flying on a Star
Even though I was struggling with my first fic for the QAF Gift Exchange, I agreed to do a pinch hit. I am glad I did because I've been trying for years to write this fic. I could never decide if it should be a drabble series or not. It's also the 2nd time I've written a fic based on a dream I had about Brian and Justin. The 1st took me years to write as well.
TITLE: Flying on a Star
GIFT REQUEST: Fic. - Post-513 (rating is authors choice) - Focus on Brian and Justin is appreciated but not necessary
NOTE: Happy Holidays maybe742! Sorry this took so long. I've had this particular vision of Brian and Justin post 513 in my head for years, and you finally gave me the push to write it. I hope you enjoy. Title is taken from REM's "Uberlin."
Justin loved New York until he didn't. Over the years, it gradually shifted from a place of constant excitement and inspiration to simply the place where he lived. He still found inspiration in the city, still enjoyed the perks and conveniences of living there, but it was no longer enough to dull the ache that came from missing home, from being away from Brian more than he was with him.
As much as he wanted to do something rash like show up at the loft and declare, "I'm Home," Justin needed to make sure everything was in place before leaving New York. He spent a few months securing his contacts and booking as much work ahead as he could. When he realized all that was left to do was finish the few pieces he already had in progress, he called Brian.
"Hey," Brian answered absently while continue to review the stack of reports Ted had left him.
"I wanted to give you a months notice," Justin began.
"Of what?" Brian asked, half curious and half amused. "You haven't taken up with one of those doomsday cults, have you? Because I hate to be the one to tell you, the world should have ended at al least five times by now."
"The world isn't ending, but I am coming home."
"For how long?" Brian pulled up his calendar and began entering the dates.
"For good," Justin answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm coming home to stay."
"Are you sure? What about. . . "
"Brian," Justin cut him off. "I'm sure. Everything is taken care of. This is what I want; I promise."
"OK, that's great," Brian wanted to smile, wanted to sound more excited, but they've lost too many moments like this for him to feel comfortable with everything he wants falling out of the sky. "I have meeting, but I'll see you. . .soon."
"Very soon," Justin promised before hanging up.
Brian sat there for a few moments longer before it sunk in. Justin was coming home. He was on his feet before he knew it, striding down the hallway.
"Ted," be bellowed as he reached his office. "Get Emmett on the phone and tell him he has three weeks to get everything in place, not a day longer."
Justin hurried off the plane, carrying nothing but a small backpack. He'd shipped everything to Pittsburgh earlier in the week to make the final trip easier. Brian waited for him just past security, and Justin flung himself into his arms. They hadn't been together in over four months, and they kissed like they're at Babylon, not in the middle of the Pittsburgh airport.
Eventually, they break apart, and Brian pulled Justin into the closest bathroom where they crowd into a stall together. The kiss began again as if it never stopped, mouths pressed tightly together to muffle the noise as they jerk each other off.
Justin didn't notice anything until they've been on the road for about twenty minutes. "Brian, I think you went the wrong way."
"No, I didn't."
"I haven't forgotten how to get to the loft. You're going the wrong way," Justin insisted.
Brian smiled smugly. "We're not going to the loft." He paused a beat before continuing, "You said you were coming home."
Justin knew what that means, knew what it had to mean, but he couldn't bring himself to saying anything. Instead, he reached for Brian's hand and held it tightly for the rest of the ride.
It felt like déjà vu as Justin wandered awestruck through the house again. A fire roared in the living room, but this time the rest of the house wasn't empty. Every room is filled with furniture and stuff, their stuff, Justin realized as his gaze lingered in every corner. It felt like they already live here, like they just stepped out for a few hours, instead of coming back after years of absence.
Brian followed, hands in his pocket, pleased smile he only lets Justin see never leaving his face. They finally circled back to living room, and Justin stood there, still stunned, before he spoke. "You did this, all this, for me."
"For us," Brian corrected.
They spend the next month fucking on every available surface in the house, in the stables, and several other places on the grounds. It's desperate and glorious, and Justin swore it was the best sex they've ever had including the time he took up hot yoga with Daphne which led to several very successful experiments with tantric sex.
It took a while for it to sink in, for Justin to realize they were actually living in the country manor of his dreams. It took even longer for him to admit it's not what either of them really wanted.
Justin loved everything about the house. In theory. In reality, it's too big and inconvenient. He never even knew where the tennis courts were, and after the first celebratory fuck in the staples, neither of them ever had a reason to go back there. Justin's studio was on the third floor, which was great for light and privacy, but he couldn't even tell when Brian was home.
The drive to Pittsburgh seemed reasonable until winter hit or when Brian had a late night followed by an earlier meeting. Justin was often the one to insist it made more sense for him to crash with Michael and Ben then drive home, but he still hated it.
Over the years, Brian had suggested selling the house, but Justin has always resisted. Selling it, even when it was sitting empty, felt like giving up. The house represented everything Brian and Justin had put on hold so Justin could have his chance it New York, and Justin could never bring himself to let that go.
And now, he didn't have the words to tell Brian he'd been wrong. How do you say thank you for giving me everything I told you I wanted, but now I want something else? He couldn't risk Brian seeing it as a rejection or shake the superstition that their future was tied somehow to the house so he made the best of it.
It wasn't a hardship. Justin loved his life. He had a continually growing career as an artist; he and Brian were living together again, and everyone he loved was within a short drive. He couldn't' really complain about living in a house that was too perfect.
So he filled the space with people. Every holiday, birthday or day vaguely resembling a special event was celebrated at the house. They had dinner parties, theme parties and a few accidental orgies.
Convinced Justin was having some sort of identity crisis, Brian bought him an apron embroidered with 'Mrs. Kinney' and offered to replace their bed with two twins. Justin laughed until he cried the reminded Brian that most housewives didn't know how to deep throat or take it up the ass both of which he proceeded to do wearing nothing but the apron.
A year and half after they moved in, Justin took a break from painting and reached for his phone. Just as he had countless times in New York, he started to send Brian a message to let him know he was thinking of him. He had 'I miss you' typed into the message screen, ready to send, before he remembered that Brian wasn't in another state; he was just downstairs.
Two weeks later, he caught Brian finishing his coffee before he left for Kinnetik. "I'm having lunch with my mom today."
Brian eyed the towel wrapped around Justin's waist. "As much as I appreciate you in as little clothing as possible, you are going to need to get dressed if you're coming with me."
Justin shook his head, laughing as some of water droplets from his still wet hair landing in Brian's coffee. "She's coming here. She has a client who is looking in the area. She's shown him a few houses already, and he loves the neighborhood, but I guess his daughter is really into tennis so he is holding out for something with private courts."
Brian raised one brow, "Is that so."
He didn't say anything else, but Justin wasn't surprised when he canceled his appointments and stayed for lunch. Justin had never believed for one minute that Brian didn't know exactly how he felt. Brian chose to willfully ignore it, just like Justin did, until one of them was ready to make a move.
In less than a week the deal was done; they sold the house.
Jennifer reminded herself frequently that she loved her son. She reminded herself just as frequently that she'd come to love Brian as well. But in all her years as a real estate agent, she'd never had clients as unreasonable as the two of them, and she'd worked with some real assholes.
Justin hated the first house she'd shown them. He'd bitched through the entire tour in a way the reminded her for the first time in years of the pretentious know-it-all he'd been as a teenager. Brian refused to get out of the car at the second house once he spotted minivans in three of the neighbors driveways.
Someone was going to get their ass reamed over the mistake on the third listing. What was supposed to be post modern minimalism turned out to be country cute at it's worst. They walked into a living filled to overflowing with quilts and candles, the walls covered with hand-stitched words of wisdom. After a muttered, "are you fucking kidding me," Brian and Justin walked right back out. Jennifer just sighed and followed them.
After a near silent tour of the fourth house on her list, she snapped. Leaving Brian to sneer at the kitchen appliances, she dragged Justin into the backyard. "What do you want?"
Justin started to answer, looked away then crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "Ask Brian."
"Oh, honey," Jennifer chided. "I have. I know how to do my job, but there are just so many ways I can listen to him tell me he wants whatever makes you happy without using those exact words before I lose it."
"We tried that already, and look where that got us."
"Moving isn't the end of the world, you know. People do it every day otherwise I wouldn't have a job."
"But you don't give up your dream house unless you have to."
"Justin, did you really want a country manor with a pool, tennis courts and stables?"
"Did he tell that to everyone?" Justin groaned. Jennifer stared at him until he answered. "Not exactly," Justin admitted. "It sounded perfect in that moment, but I'd never really thought about it."
"People dream about a lot of houses they don't really want. They aren't normally in love with crazy people who take them literally and buy exactly what they ask for without consulting anyone else." She watched Brian through the window remembering how desperate he'd been to please Justin. "You're lucky you didn't tell him you wanted a house full of children or he might have bought an orphanage as well, and you really would have been screwed."
"Oh my God," Justin laughed.
"So what do you like about the house?"
"The fireplace, the master bedroom and bath, especially the jaccuzzi, the pool. . .:
Justin's gaze started to become unfocused so Jennifer cut him off. "Stop, if you were just looking for a bunch of places to fuck, you could get the loft back."
"Mom!"
Jennifer just gave him a knowing look. "Try telling me what you don't like about the house."
"It's just too big. We can be there together and never know it. There are so many rooms we don't use. And the grounds are too much. We only really use the space by the pool, but we need a gardener and a landscaping company to take care of all of it. We're too far from the city. Brian spends way too many nights at Michael's."
"I can work with that," Jennifer felt confident again. "Let's get out of here, and you two can buy me a drink."
A week later she showed them the perfect house. A redone Victorian, it had the size they were looking for along every modern convenience imaginable. The yard was just big enough to give them privacy from their neighbors and hold an inground pool. Just ten minutes from Pittsburgh, the area once housed oil and steel barons who built homes to impress and last. Most set empty for decades when the economy crashed and no one could afford the upkeep or heating bill. But several years ago, the next wave of Pittsburgh wealthy had reclaimed them. The neighborhood was filled primarily with childless couples who put their careers first and wanted the creature comforts that came with success.
The master bath rivaled any they'd seen for decadence. Fireplaces burned in the living room, dining room and master bedroom. Justin adored the turret that also ran up through the bedroom even though Brian mocked him endlessly for it. Jennifer pointed out the large attic would make a perfect place for Gus when he visited. The basement was already finished and set up for entertaining. Neither of them cared much for the home theater system, but Brian was impressed with antique hand-carved bar that ran the length of the basement. The original solarium was now energy efficient and would make a perfect studio for Justin.
Jennifer smiled proudly while they signed the papers. She's offered to wave her commission, but when Brian insisted she take it, she didn't protest. She'd more than earned it.
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Brian again put Emmett in charge of the move including setting the new house up. Justin wanted to oversee the moving of his work himself, and Brian quickly learned to stay out of his way.
Once they got the keys, Brian's first order of business had been to make sure the bar was fully stocked. He knew immediately it would be one of his favorite places in the house, and once he examined the bar height along with the mirrors covering the wall and ceiling behind it, he put it high on his list of places to fuck Justin. Somewhere between the jacuzzi and the window seat Justin was so ridiculously fond of.
The day of the move was absolute chaos, and it wasn't until the last truck pulled away that Brian realized he hadn't seen Justin in hours. Sighing loudly, he went off in search of him.
He finally found him in a small wooden staircase that ran behind the kitchen down to the basement. Brian didn't say anything, just sat on the step behind Justin, settling his feet on either side of him. Grateful he was wearing his long winter coat which he tucked under himself, making the narrow wooden step marginally more comfortable, he rested his forehead against the back of Justin's head and waited.
"What if we are making a huge mistake? What if this house is part of the promises we made and by leaving we're breaking those promises without even knowing it? What if all the things we want are only possible here?"
"If I recall the first time I proposed, we were in that hovel you pretended was an apartment, and neither of us even knew this house existed."
"I didn't believe you then."
"Well, you should of. It might have saved us a ton of money in real estate taxes. Also, we managed just fine all the time you were in New York."
"It was here waiting for us."
Brian wanted to say 'I was here waiting for you,' but that was too much. "You're being ridiculous," he said instead.
"Brian," Justin turned to face him, his eyes pleading with him to understand. "You offered this house to me as proof of what you wanted, of how you felt. I don't want to leave that behind or lose it. I don't want you to think. . ."
"You never used to be this obtuse," Brian rested his face against Justin's for a moment before pulling back. "You have to know the only way this ends is if you walk away. I can't, won't, don't want to. It doesn't matter where we live." He reached into his pocket, glad he grabbed the box at least minute before packing it away. He didn't question how he'd known today would be the day. Flipping the lid open, he set the box on the step next to Justin, rings catching the meager light in the stairwell.
"Brian," Justin breathed, his eyes wet.
Then he was in Brian's lap, kissing him desperately. Brian leaned back, taking Justin's weight as they kissed. And there was nothing but Justin's mouth against his, the press of their bodies together, the feel of Justin's hair twisted around his fingers. They awkwardly shoved their clothes aside as much as they could until it was skin on skin as they rutted against each other. It was frantic and beautiful, perfect, the sharp press of the edge of the step against his back grounding Brian, as they came together, never breaking the kiss., sealing new promises between them. They stayed together, still kissing, touching as come and sweat cooled on their skin, binding themselves together in a way no vows ever could.
In the end, all they left behind was an empty box on a rarely used staircase. Everything that mattered, they took with them.
TITLE: Flying on a Star
GIFT REQUEST: Fic. - Post-513 (rating is authors choice) - Focus on Brian and Justin is appreciated but not necessary
NOTE: Happy Holidays maybe742! Sorry this took so long. I've had this particular vision of Brian and Justin post 513 in my head for years, and you finally gave me the push to write it. I hope you enjoy. Title is taken from REM's "Uberlin."
Justin loved New York until he didn't. Over the years, it gradually shifted from a place of constant excitement and inspiration to simply the place where he lived. He still found inspiration in the city, still enjoyed the perks and conveniences of living there, but it was no longer enough to dull the ache that came from missing home, from being away from Brian more than he was with him.
As much as he wanted to do something rash like show up at the loft and declare, "I'm Home," Justin needed to make sure everything was in place before leaving New York. He spent a few months securing his contacts and booking as much work ahead as he could. When he realized all that was left to do was finish the few pieces he already had in progress, he called Brian.
"Hey," Brian answered absently while continue to review the stack of reports Ted had left him.
"I wanted to give you a months notice," Justin began.
"Of what?" Brian asked, half curious and half amused. "You haven't taken up with one of those doomsday cults, have you? Because I hate to be the one to tell you, the world should have ended at al least five times by now."
"The world isn't ending, but I am coming home."
"For how long?" Brian pulled up his calendar and began entering the dates.
"For good," Justin answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm coming home to stay."
"Are you sure? What about. . . "
"Brian," Justin cut him off. "I'm sure. Everything is taken care of. This is what I want; I promise."
"OK, that's great," Brian wanted to smile, wanted to sound more excited, but they've lost too many moments like this for him to feel comfortable with everything he wants falling out of the sky. "I have meeting, but I'll see you. . .soon."
"Very soon," Justin promised before hanging up.
Brian sat there for a few moments longer before it sunk in. Justin was coming home. He was on his feet before he knew it, striding down the hallway.
"Ted," be bellowed as he reached his office. "Get Emmett on the phone and tell him he has three weeks to get everything in place, not a day longer."
Justin hurried off the plane, carrying nothing but a small backpack. He'd shipped everything to Pittsburgh earlier in the week to make the final trip easier. Brian waited for him just past security, and Justin flung himself into his arms. They hadn't been together in over four months, and they kissed like they're at Babylon, not in the middle of the Pittsburgh airport.
Eventually, they break apart, and Brian pulled Justin into the closest bathroom where they crowd into a stall together. The kiss began again as if it never stopped, mouths pressed tightly together to muffle the noise as they jerk each other off.
Justin didn't notice anything until they've been on the road for about twenty minutes. "Brian, I think you went the wrong way."
"No, I didn't."
"I haven't forgotten how to get to the loft. You're going the wrong way," Justin insisted.
Brian smiled smugly. "We're not going to the loft." He paused a beat before continuing, "You said you were coming home."
Justin knew what that means, knew what it had to mean, but he couldn't bring himself to saying anything. Instead, he reached for Brian's hand and held it tightly for the rest of the ride.
It felt like déjà vu as Justin wandered awestruck through the house again. A fire roared in the living room, but this time the rest of the house wasn't empty. Every room is filled with furniture and stuff, their stuff, Justin realized as his gaze lingered in every corner. It felt like they already live here, like they just stepped out for a few hours, instead of coming back after years of absence.
Brian followed, hands in his pocket, pleased smile he only lets Justin see never leaving his face. They finally circled back to living room, and Justin stood there, still stunned, before he spoke. "You did this, all this, for me."
"For us," Brian corrected.
They spend the next month fucking on every available surface in the house, in the stables, and several other places on the grounds. It's desperate and glorious, and Justin swore it was the best sex they've ever had including the time he took up hot yoga with Daphne which led to several very successful experiments with tantric sex.
It took a while for it to sink in, for Justin to realize they were actually living in the country manor of his dreams. It took even longer for him to admit it's not what either of them really wanted.
Justin loved everything about the house. In theory. In reality, it's too big and inconvenient. He never even knew where the tennis courts were, and after the first celebratory fuck in the staples, neither of them ever had a reason to go back there. Justin's studio was on the third floor, which was great for light and privacy, but he couldn't even tell when Brian was home.
The drive to Pittsburgh seemed reasonable until winter hit or when Brian had a late night followed by an earlier meeting. Justin was often the one to insist it made more sense for him to crash with Michael and Ben then drive home, but he still hated it.
Over the years, Brian had suggested selling the house, but Justin has always resisted. Selling it, even when it was sitting empty, felt like giving up. The house represented everything Brian and Justin had put on hold so Justin could have his chance it New York, and Justin could never bring himself to let that go.
And now, he didn't have the words to tell Brian he'd been wrong. How do you say thank you for giving me everything I told you I wanted, but now I want something else? He couldn't risk Brian seeing it as a rejection or shake the superstition that their future was tied somehow to the house so he made the best of it.
It wasn't a hardship. Justin loved his life. He had a continually growing career as an artist; he and Brian were living together again, and everyone he loved was within a short drive. He couldn't' really complain about living in a house that was too perfect.
So he filled the space with people. Every holiday, birthday or day vaguely resembling a special event was celebrated at the house. They had dinner parties, theme parties and a few accidental orgies.
Convinced Justin was having some sort of identity crisis, Brian bought him an apron embroidered with 'Mrs. Kinney' and offered to replace their bed with two twins. Justin laughed until he cried the reminded Brian that most housewives didn't know how to deep throat or take it up the ass both of which he proceeded to do wearing nothing but the apron.
A year and half after they moved in, Justin took a break from painting and reached for his phone. Just as he had countless times in New York, he started to send Brian a message to let him know he was thinking of him. He had 'I miss you' typed into the message screen, ready to send, before he remembered that Brian wasn't in another state; he was just downstairs.
Two weeks later, he caught Brian finishing his coffee before he left for Kinnetik. "I'm having lunch with my mom today."
Brian eyed the towel wrapped around Justin's waist. "As much as I appreciate you in as little clothing as possible, you are going to need to get dressed if you're coming with me."
Justin shook his head, laughing as some of water droplets from his still wet hair landing in Brian's coffee. "She's coming here. She has a client who is looking in the area. She's shown him a few houses already, and he loves the neighborhood, but I guess his daughter is really into tennis so he is holding out for something with private courts."
Brian raised one brow, "Is that so."
He didn't say anything else, but Justin wasn't surprised when he canceled his appointments and stayed for lunch. Justin had never believed for one minute that Brian didn't know exactly how he felt. Brian chose to willfully ignore it, just like Justin did, until one of them was ready to make a move.
In less than a week the deal was done; they sold the house.
Jennifer reminded herself frequently that she loved her son. She reminded herself just as frequently that she'd come to love Brian as well. But in all her years as a real estate agent, she'd never had clients as unreasonable as the two of them, and she'd worked with some real assholes.
Justin hated the first house she'd shown them. He'd bitched through the entire tour in a way the reminded her for the first time in years of the pretentious know-it-all he'd been as a teenager. Brian refused to get out of the car at the second house once he spotted minivans in three of the neighbors driveways.
Someone was going to get their ass reamed over the mistake on the third listing. What was supposed to be post modern minimalism turned out to be country cute at it's worst. They walked into a living filled to overflowing with quilts and candles, the walls covered with hand-stitched words of wisdom. After a muttered, "are you fucking kidding me," Brian and Justin walked right back out. Jennifer just sighed and followed them.
After a near silent tour of the fourth house on her list, she snapped. Leaving Brian to sneer at the kitchen appliances, she dragged Justin into the backyard. "What do you want?"
Justin started to answer, looked away then crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "Ask Brian."
"Oh, honey," Jennifer chided. "I have. I know how to do my job, but there are just so many ways I can listen to him tell me he wants whatever makes you happy without using those exact words before I lose it."
"We tried that already, and look where that got us."
"Moving isn't the end of the world, you know. People do it every day otherwise I wouldn't have a job."
"But you don't give up your dream house unless you have to."
"Justin, did you really want a country manor with a pool, tennis courts and stables?"
"Did he tell that to everyone?" Justin groaned. Jennifer stared at him until he answered. "Not exactly," Justin admitted. "It sounded perfect in that moment, but I'd never really thought about it."
"People dream about a lot of houses they don't really want. They aren't normally in love with crazy people who take them literally and buy exactly what they ask for without consulting anyone else." She watched Brian through the window remembering how desperate he'd been to please Justin. "You're lucky you didn't tell him you wanted a house full of children or he might have bought an orphanage as well, and you really would have been screwed."
"Oh my God," Justin laughed.
"So what do you like about the house?"
"The fireplace, the master bedroom and bath, especially the jaccuzzi, the pool. . .:
Justin's gaze started to become unfocused so Jennifer cut him off. "Stop, if you were just looking for a bunch of places to fuck, you could get the loft back."
"Mom!"
Jennifer just gave him a knowing look. "Try telling me what you don't like about the house."
"It's just too big. We can be there together and never know it. There are so many rooms we don't use. And the grounds are too much. We only really use the space by the pool, but we need a gardener and a landscaping company to take care of all of it. We're too far from the city. Brian spends way too many nights at Michael's."
"I can work with that," Jennifer felt confident again. "Let's get out of here, and you two can buy me a drink."
A week later she showed them the perfect house. A redone Victorian, it had the size they were looking for along every modern convenience imaginable. The yard was just big enough to give them privacy from their neighbors and hold an inground pool. Just ten minutes from Pittsburgh, the area once housed oil and steel barons who built homes to impress and last. Most set empty for decades when the economy crashed and no one could afford the upkeep or heating bill. But several years ago, the next wave of Pittsburgh wealthy had reclaimed them. The neighborhood was filled primarily with childless couples who put their careers first and wanted the creature comforts that came with success.
The master bath rivaled any they'd seen for decadence. Fireplaces burned in the living room, dining room and master bedroom. Justin adored the turret that also ran up through the bedroom even though Brian mocked him endlessly for it. Jennifer pointed out the large attic would make a perfect place for Gus when he visited. The basement was already finished and set up for entertaining. Neither of them cared much for the home theater system, but Brian was impressed with antique hand-carved bar that ran the length of the basement. The original solarium was now energy efficient and would make a perfect studio for Justin.
Jennifer smiled proudly while they signed the papers. She's offered to wave her commission, but when Brian insisted she take it, she didn't protest. She'd more than earned it.
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity. Brian again put Emmett in charge of the move including setting the new house up. Justin wanted to oversee the moving of his work himself, and Brian quickly learned to stay out of his way.
Once they got the keys, Brian's first order of business had been to make sure the bar was fully stocked. He knew immediately it would be one of his favorite places in the house, and once he examined the bar height along with the mirrors covering the wall and ceiling behind it, he put it high on his list of places to fuck Justin. Somewhere between the jacuzzi and the window seat Justin was so ridiculously fond of.
The day of the move was absolute chaos, and it wasn't until the last truck pulled away that Brian realized he hadn't seen Justin in hours. Sighing loudly, he went off in search of him.
He finally found him in a small wooden staircase that ran behind the kitchen down to the basement. Brian didn't say anything, just sat on the step behind Justin, settling his feet on either side of him. Grateful he was wearing his long winter coat which he tucked under himself, making the narrow wooden step marginally more comfortable, he rested his forehead against the back of Justin's head and waited.
"What if we are making a huge mistake? What if this house is part of the promises we made and by leaving we're breaking those promises without even knowing it? What if all the things we want are only possible here?"
"If I recall the first time I proposed, we were in that hovel you pretended was an apartment, and neither of us even knew this house existed."
"I didn't believe you then."
"Well, you should of. It might have saved us a ton of money in real estate taxes. Also, we managed just fine all the time you were in New York."
"It was here waiting for us."
Brian wanted to say 'I was here waiting for you,' but that was too much. "You're being ridiculous," he said instead.
"Brian," Justin turned to face him, his eyes pleading with him to understand. "You offered this house to me as proof of what you wanted, of how you felt. I don't want to leave that behind or lose it. I don't want you to think. . ."
"You never used to be this obtuse," Brian rested his face against Justin's for a moment before pulling back. "You have to know the only way this ends is if you walk away. I can't, won't, don't want to. It doesn't matter where we live." He reached into his pocket, glad he grabbed the box at least minute before packing it away. He didn't question how he'd known today would be the day. Flipping the lid open, he set the box on the step next to Justin, rings catching the meager light in the stairwell.
"Brian," Justin breathed, his eyes wet.
Then he was in Brian's lap, kissing him desperately. Brian leaned back, taking Justin's weight as they kissed. And there was nothing but Justin's mouth against his, the press of their bodies together, the feel of Justin's hair twisted around his fingers. They awkwardly shoved their clothes aside as much as they could until it was skin on skin as they rutted against each other. It was frantic and beautiful, perfect, the sharp press of the edge of the step against his back grounding Brian, as they came together, never breaking the kiss., sealing new promises between them. They stayed together, still kissing, touching as come and sweat cooled on their skin, binding themselves together in a way no vows ever could.
In the end, all they left behind was an empty box on a rarely used staircase. Everything that mattered, they took with them.