COQUELICOT, 1/1
I wrote a Valentine's Day story. I can scarcely believe it myself.
A/N: Coquelicot (French): another name for corn poppy.
The icon was made by the lovely pam81. Thank you for letting me use it, sweetie. ♥
And another big thank you goes to my wonderful beta moonbrightnites, who is super-helpful and super-fast. ♥
COQUELICOT
While Brian is having an early lunch at the Liberty Diner, his mind is half on the staff meeting that he's scheduled a little early this week to give himself more time before his three o’clock meeting and half on Debbie chattering away, when suddenly his attention is drawn to her with some urgency.
“... and afterwards Carl's taking me to a hotel, for a nice meal and an all-night...”
“Deb!” It comes out sharply and somewhat louder than intended, eliciting a few startled looks from the other diner customers.
Brian likes Carl, he really does. He isn’t bad for a cop and, you know, being straight, and he has embedded himself so successfully into the family’s life that it's difficult to remember at times what it was like before he arrived on the scene. And what is more, he makes Debbie happy and even if Carl was the biggest moron on the planet with bad personal hygiene to match, Brian would still welcome him for that reason alone. As it is, they get on well, so it’s all good.
But he draws the line at hearing about their sex life. He can barely fathom anybody’s straight sex life - although his display of disgust is mainly for effect because it's still all cocks and orifices after all - but if she should manage to impart an image of her and Carl together, he will have to bleach his brain. It’s like thinking about your parents having sex - and now he really needs a level one decontamination.
“Spare me the hetero imitation of real sex, please.”
Debbie grins at him impishly. “Just checking to see if you’re listening. I was wondering how much detail I’d have to give you before you stopped me.”
“Well, let’s leave it at the movie and dinner and call it a day, shall we?”
She's still grinning and he silently admits to himself that she won this round. “When is Sunshine coming?” she asks then.
“About twenty minutes after his plane lands.” He acknowledges her raised eyebrows and amused smile with a smirk. “Hey, it’s different when I talk about fucking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Because I have style. And I’m gay, so it’s real sex.”
She smiles and ruffles his hair. “So when's Sunshine... arriving?”
“Justin,” he says pointedly, “is arriving on Tuesday afternoon.”
“Oooh, just in time for...”
“Don’t say it, Deb! Don’t say it!”
“...Valentine’s Day.”
“If you suggest that we join you and Carl on your date, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Debbie smiles and slips into the seat opposite him. Her face takes on that gentle, serious expression that lets him know he’s in for one of their ‘talks’, where she will impart the wisdom of her life experience on him. All it needs is that tuna shit she likes to bring around for the occasion and some weed. But he has to admit that she's usually worth listening to when she gets like this and that’s what makes it so annoying.
“Brian, honey, I know you don’t believe in this stuff. But maybe you should do something for him this year. He’s so far away all the time and it might just help him to keep going. You’re in a relationship now. These things come with the territory. Relationships need work, honey, especially long distance ones. And it would make Justin happy. Isn’t that worth it? Even if you don’t believe in it?”
“I don’t need flowers and candles to get laid,” he grumps, scarfing down the last of his French fries to get out of here. He doesn’t mind being in a relationship and if he’s honest, he's been in one for years now - unconventional, undefined and unacknowledged though it may have been for most of that time. But the unsolicited advice that comes with going public and admitting it is hard to take. What, do all his friends think he’s an idiot?
“I know that. But isn’t that the whole point, that Justin's about more than getting laid?”
Brian, already half out of his seat, shoots her a glance, seeing nothing but concern in her eyes. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he says off-handedly, knowing that he'll do his hardest not to.
That night, he calls Justin and they have an hour of phone sex with very little foreplay in the form of casual conversation. And Brian thinks he knows just fine how long-distance relationships work.
*******
He has three days blessedly free from Valentine reminders, as long as he ignores the decorations in every shop and the ads on TV and in the papers, which he unfortunately has to scour for the ones that Kinnetik is placing whether he likes it or not. Everything looks perfect, as he knew it would, because Cynthia is very good at her job. The best thing about Valentine’s Day is that by the time it rolls around every year, all the campaigns are already set in motion and he can pretend that it isn’t happening. The only thing that’s ever interested him about the day is how much profit it will bring his clients and hence Kinnetik.
When he meets Jennifer briefly, during his business lunch on Thursday, she mentions Justin coming home on Tuesday and that she won’t expect to see him that day. He decides to take it as a general remark about the fact that he and Justin have to catch up on their fucking after their separation and not to mean that it’s because Tuesday is a special day. In general, Jennifer is too well-mannered to interfere in their relationship or to give unsolicited advice. He likes that about her.
On Friday, he goes to Michael’s place for a night of weed and alcohol. Ben’s away at a conference until Sunday and on those occasions Michael always takes the opportunity to pig out. Brian brings Thai food from his favorite take-out place, only to find that Michael has already ordered fried chicken and pizza. He calculates how many hours at the gym partaking in all of that will cost him, then throws caution to the wind and eats everything regardless. To hell with it, Debbie always tells him he’s too skinny anyway.
“Is Justin bringing the panels?” Michael asks. He's always nervous about deadlines for Rage, now that Justin is in New York and can’t just pop over whenever minor corrections need to be made. So far, their remote collaboration has worked out well, helped by the fact that there have been plenty of occasions for Justin to come back to Pittsburgh - Thanksgiving, Christmas, and twice for no particular reason whatsoever.
“How the fuck would I know?” Brian says. Although he does know. Justin told him that he’s solved his problems with the new super-villain, who has more appendages than an octopus and all of them full of intricate weaponry. But Brian doesn't want to interfere in their business partnership because if he does that, he’s bound to end up as a referee at some stage in the future when they can’t agree on some minor point or other. He prefers to leave them to it and lets them discuss all their business decisions with Ted. “He said he was finished,” he adds grudgingly, just to shut Michael up. “He’s coming on Tuesday.”
“Ah, yes,” Michael says and Brian thinks he’s getting away without any helpful suggestions for once. He credits the weed with that. They're sprawled on the couch, each of them a bottle of beer in their hand and passing the toke back and forth.
“Ben wanted to take me out, but I said we could save the money and just rent some movies and have a nice dinner. All we have to do is find somewhere for Hunter to stay the night.”
Brian clamps down on his immediate reaction, which is wanting to pay for anything Michael's little heart might desire. He knows that neither Michael nor Ben would accept it or even thank him for offering. The days when he took care of Mikey in that way are long gone. Their friendship has shifted to a different level, one that requires attention and support of a different kind.
He huffs a laugh. “As long as you’re not expecting me to put him up. I’m planning on spending Tuesday night with nothing but Justin’s ass.”
“Of course, you are,” Michael smiles, grabbing the half-empty bucket with the chicken and putting it back untouched after just one look. Brian can sympathize. He feels incredibly stuffed in all the wrong places and now he regrets eating so much. He'll definitely be spending a lot of time on the treadmill over the weekend.
“Maybe you should do something special for him,” Michael continues after a while.
Okay, perhaps he won’t get away without the helpful suggestions. “Mikey, you have no idea how special being with me really is.”
Michael laughs. “So I’ve heard.” Then he becomes more serious and Brian marvels at how much like his mother he's becoming. “But you don’t see him a lot. And after proposing to him, surely Valentine’s Day can’t be that terrible any longer.”
“It will always be terrible. It’s a commercialized event invented and hyped by money-grabbing, cynical card manufacturers to divest poor schmucks of their hard-earned cash. It has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It’s a sham. Believe me, I know. I’m the one who helps those money-grabbing, cynical card manufacturers exploit the rest of you mercilessly. And anyway, Justin would hate it.”
“Don’t be stupid. He’d love it. He’s a romantic at heart.”
Brian wonders about that sometimes. He always blamed his own lack of romance for their first break-up and Justin has said as much, but ever since then, things have been different. Yes, Justin still wants things, but flowers and candle-lit dinners don’t seem to feature in the line-up any longer. On the whole, he seems pretty content with the way their relationship is going. Several phone calls and emails a week and a lot of fucking when they meet seems to be what they both want. Brian hasn’t told him once that he loves him since Justin went to New York just over six months ago and Justin hasn’t said it much either. There have been several miss yous, which usually elicit a vague grunting noise from Brian that Justin correctly interprets as a me too and that’s it. Brian sees no reason to fuck with what works for them.
But this is Justin he’s talking about, so he can never be completely sure. Twice now, Justin has left him and both times he didn’t see it coming. By the time he realized that Justin was unhappy and looking for a change in his life, it was already too late. What if he's wrong this time as well? What if Justin needs more from him and Brian just doesn’t realize it? He's at a point now where he's quite willing to supply whatever is necessary to make this work. If Justin needs roses and chocolates, all he has to do is say it. Brian would feel stupid buying them and even more stupid handing them over, but if that’s what it takes, it won’t kill him.
“I could let him fuck me, that would be special,” he says lightly.
Michael frowns at him. “You let him do that?”
“It’s rare enough to qualify as special, I can assure you, but yes, why not?”
Michael shrugs. “No particular reason. I just never thought about it. I don’t top Ben.”
In the old days, Brian would have told him not to be such a pussy and to just tell Ben that he's bottoming and then get on with it, but nowadays he doesn’t interfere in Mikey's relationship any longer. How would he know if Mikey even wants to top? It didn’t sound like it and Brian finds that he doesn’t want to think about it either. It’s not quite on the same level as thinking about Debbie having sex but almost. Maybe she was right that time when she told him that Michael was almost his brother. He is. So no thinking about his relatives having sex! He changes the subject.
*******
On Saturday, he has a late start because he was very drunk and very high the night before and he’s pleasantly surprised that he even made it home at the end of it. Feeling rested after sleeping in his own bed instead of Michael's lumpy couch definitely counts as a win in his books.
After breakfast he makes his way to Babylon to meet with Ted and go over the books. It's Ted’s last working day before a weeklong holiday, which he booked well in advance sometime last summer. He’s taking Blake on a trip to New York, with a visit to the Met on Tuesday.
“It’s our first Valentine’s together,” he says while checking a column of numbers that he said didn’t look right. “I assume that you’re not doing anything special?”
Ted laughed for about a week after Justin and Brian announced their wedding plans. It was really irritating to work with someone who could barely refrain from grinning at him while they talked about business. But when they aborted their nuptials, Ted never mentioned it again and, in general, he and Blake are pleasantly romance-free from what Brian can see.
“You assume right,” he says coldly, trying to block this conversation before it starts.
“Just as well. Justin would probably die of a heart attack if you did anything romantic. Mind you, he is a lot younger than you, so maybe he’d survive.”
Brian glares at him, getting ready to point out to him how much, much older Ted is, but all that follows is a neutral, “Shame he’s here while we’re in New York. It would have been nice to see him.” And Brian decides to leave it at that.
In the evening, he can’t reach Justin for the second night in a row and goes to Babylon instead, where he makes up his fuck tally for the week within the hour. He reckons that getting laid four times a week pushes him nicely out of the ‘pathetic’ and into the ‘stud’ bracket, so he generally aims for that. Sometimes he overshoots the mark and so far he’s slipped below it only once since Justin went to New York. Of course, whenever he sees Justin, the tally is off the scale. But Justin doesn’t fit into the pattern anyway. Justin is different.
He goes to the gym on Sunday morning and speaks to Gus and Lindsay afterwards. She practically squeals when he tells her that Justin is coming on Tuesday and staying until Sunday because his apartment is scheduled to be fumigated. He holds the phone away from his ear for a moment until she calms down. He doesn’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s not as if he doesn’t see Justin a lot anyway.
“You must do something nice for him, Brian. It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s your first Valentine’s Day since he left.”
Brian prefers to think of it not so much as leaving but as relocating. “I don’t have to do anything. Justin doesn’t need that shit.”
“Maybe not need, but he wants it, Brian, you know that.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t be such a grump all the time. Just for once, try thinking less about sex and more about Justin. Do something you’ve never done before. It doesn’t have to be traditionally romantic.”
Brian doesn’t point out that just about anything would qualify as doing something they’ve never done before on Valentine’s Day, nor how thinking about Justin and thinking about sex have become more or less synonymous nowadays. He can freely admit that he misses Justin’s ass pretty much all the time and he doesn’t really like to think about the other things he misses about him.
So he tells Lindsay to stay out of it and asks her how her job is going instead.
Later he spends another hour on the treadmill in the loft. He’s still horrified when he considers all the calories he consumed at Mikey's and the hour and a half at the gym this morning doesn’t seem nearly enough to combat the clogging arteries and impending fat deposits. And he needs to consider the fact that Justin is coming the day after tomorrow, too.
Running affords him time to think.
He detests Valentine’s Day with a passion. It always brings home to him how stupid people really are, how easily led, like a flock of sheep. Even at work, Valentine’s is a no-brainer, it practically sells itself. He has always felt smugly superior for not falling for that bullshit. The very idea of succumbing to society’s collective follies and, even worse, being seen doing it is abhorrent to him.
But this isn’t about him, is it? It’s about Justin. Personally, he thinks that Justin is a lot like him - less bullshit and more substance. He's never heard him say a single word about Valentine’s Day that wasn’t as pejorative as his own. Justin mocks and sneers with the best of them.
But what if it’s all just a front? What if deep down he wishes for Brian to do something ordinary and simple like surprise him on Valentine’s Day? Or - and he thinks this much more likely - what if he simply wishes he could do something romantic for Brian without being sneered at? But no matter how many times he turns things over in his head, he cannot decide whether he simply knows Justin better than anyone else or just wants to believe that because it means that he doesn’t have to do anything that he finds distasteful.
It isn’t until the evening that his doubts win the upper hand. Justin calls him just after eight o’clock and they chat a little about their weekend. Justin is full of excitement about this new club he’s discovered, where he has spent the last couple of nights getting laid.
Then they talk about Tuesday. Brian is all set to pick Justin up from the airport and, as always, Justin says it isn’t necessary, but is easily persuaded with very little pressure from Brian. However, he gets weirdly quiet when asked if there's something he wants to do on Tuesday.
“Uhm… I was thinking about reacquainting my ass with your dick?”
Instantly distracted, Brian smiles. “Good plan. So what are you wearing?”
*******
On Monday Brian meets Emmett outside the diner, just as he's going in and Emmett is coming out. He hasn’t been able to shift this feeling that Justin was ‘weird’ on the phone in some obscure and unfathomable way and he takes meeting Emmett as fate.
“Got a minute?” he asks.
“Oooh, the great Kinney requires my humble presence,” Emmett coos, then looks at his watch. “I have to be at the cake maker’s in half an hour. Can you make it quick?”
Brian nods and pulls him a little to the side to smoke a cigarette in the sheltered corner next to the diner. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Emmett rolls his eyes. “What day's tomorrow, Brian?”
“Tuesday,” Brian deadpans, just to fuck with him a little.
“Yes, it is and it is also the 14th of February, commonly known to mere mortals as St Valentine’s Day - not that boring people like you would know anything about that.”
Brian has been called many things in his life but never boring. He lets it slide because he’s under a time constraint, both right now and with his plan, which isn’t really a plan just yet. So he just raises an eyebrow.
“I’m in catering, Brian,” Emmett says in a more serious voice. “It’s one of the busiest days of the year for me.”
Brian nods and wants to kick himself for not realizing that before now, but Emmett just dips down ever so slightly to look into his downcast eyes. “What do you need?”
Brian hesitates a little on account of those other doubts that tell him that he’s making a complete ass of himself, but then takes a deep breath and tells him.
Emmett nods a few times, asks a few questions and then says: “Leave it to me. Justin won’t know what hit him. Gotta go.” He starts winding his garishly bright scarf around his neck.
That's exactly what Brian fears, that Justin won’t know what hit him. That he doesn’t need it, doesn’t expect it and doesn’t want it. “Honeycutt,” he says as Emmett starts moving away.
“I know. Tasteful, discreet, understated. Got it. Not a word to anyone. Got it. And don’t call me Honeycutt.”
Brian grins. “Got it.”
Emmett hits the back of his hand against Brian’s chest playfully, and walks away, singing, “Brian and Justin sitting in a tree…” under his breath.
Brian feels a little sick.
*******
When Brian is waiting for Justin to come out of the gate, he's nervous. He’s always a little nervous with anticipation before seeing Justin after a separation and he kind of thinks that’s okay, because if he didn’t care, what would be the point? But he also thinks about what he’s got planned for today and he can’t help worrying. Three times he takes out his cell phone to call Emmett and cancel it all - there’s still time for that - and three times he listens to the voices in his head that tell him that this is for Justin, no matter how he feels about it and those voices sound suspiciously like Debbie, Michael and Lindsay in turn. So, maybe he feels stupid, but what does that matter as long as Justin is happy? He does so little for the lad nowadays that he deserves to have it all his own way for once.
But there is that other voice in his head telling him that he's pathetic, cock-whipped, conformist. If he twists himself into something he’s not, where will it end? Or rather, will that be the end? Wasn’t that the whole point of calling off the wedding, so that they could both remain who they are? Justin hasn’t given him any indication that he’s changed his mind about that. But Brian finds it harder to tell what he thinks from a distance.
He forgets about all of that when Justin comes rushing out of the gate and practically jumps into his arms. Dropping his duffle bag by their feet, he kisses him thoroughly, both of them not so much ignoring the stares from the other passengers as being oblivious to their surroundings. There is Justin’s warmth and his scent and his hands searing into his back through his shirt and Brian’s cock stirs in that familiar way that only Justin can engender.
“Men’s room?” Justin asks in a husky whisper, but Brian forces himself to shake his head.
Justin steps back a little and looks him over. “No?” Surprise is mixed with uncertainty and disappointment.
And Brian almost forgets that he wants to do this properly, but in the end he just smiles and says: “Let’s go home.”
“Uhm… okay.”
Justin never brings much baggage. He keeps a lot of stuff at the loft still for the sole reason that it means not having to wait at the baggage retrieval. Picking up his bag, he follows Brian out of the airport, already talking about his day at full speed. “...and the guy got bright red when he pulled out the panels. But I swear to you, he lingered over every single one of the fucking scenes for half a minute longer than all the other panels. And then I had to try not to grin at him when he was finished because I didn’t want any trouble. I was worried I’d miss the plane. Security people can be such shits when they want to be.”
Brian listens to him and wishes that it was an ordinary day, so he could fully enjoy it. In the car, Justin kisses him again - in a tentative manner, as if he’s just checking whether Brian wants to fuck him now. Then he sits back in his seat and puts his seatbelt on with a slight frown when there's no reaction from Brian in that direction. Brian decides that being a proper romantic stinks.
After a few moments of silence, Justin starts talking about his job at the stationary company where he's been working since the start of the new year and about his colleagues, whom he mocks endlessly.
“Is that Harold guy still being a shit to you?”
Justin smiles. “Nah, he got fired yesterday for - guess what? - yep, stealing stationary.”
Brian laughs. Serves the fucker right for trying to pass half of his workload onto Justin just because he's new at the company.
But Justin is already on the next subject, his painting, talking at length about the piece he just finished over the weekend.
“Did you find that red you were looking for or did you have to mix it in the end?”
Justin is quiet for a few moments and Brian diverts his gaze from the road to him, seeing a small smile and soft eyes.
“It’s called coquelicot.” And they both laugh a little, like they do every time he says it, because he deliberately makes the first syllable sound like cock. “Yeah, I found it in that little artist supply store, three blocks away.”
In the elevator up to the loft, Justin presses against him and practically devours him. Brian would get more pleasure out of this if he didn’t have to stop Justin from partially undressing him out here. Justin withdraws a little and looks at him. “Is something wrong?”
Fuck. It's just as well that they’ve reached the top floor, because Brian doesn’t quite know what to say to that and isn’t convinced that he could keep himself from fucking Justin right here for much longer at any rate - and Valentine’s Day surprises be damned. “Of course not. Come on.”
When they get inside the loft, Justin doesn’t pay any attention to the soft light originating from the dining area and just pushes him back against the door after he slides it shut, kissing him and pulling on his clothes at the same time. “Fuck me now,” he demands.
“Wait,” Brian says and Justin freezes.
He looks over his shoulder into the expanse of the loft and back at Brian with a pained expression on his face. “Surprise party?”
Brian rolls in his lips and shakes his head. By now he would give any amount of money to never have started this whole idiotic thing. He takes Justin’s hand and pulls him further into the loft. The dining table is set with a pristine white cloth and an unfamiliar dinner service. In the middle there is an arrangement of roses with a large burning candle at its center and Brian has to give Emmett credit for tastefulness - and kill him later for leaving a fire hazard in his loft. He knows that the food left warming in the oven will be delicious. It all looks perfect.
Justin pulls his hand free with a rough motion and looks at the table with wide eyes. Then he turns to Brian. “Are we breaking up?”
“What?”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it. This is my way of saying that I hate your guts.”
“Well, you’ve been weird on the phone all week, asking me what I wanted to do today all the time, as if… you know, just being here isn't enough anymore. And when I get here, you don’t wanna fuck. And now this…” He looks at the table as if there is a foul smell emanating from it and Brian thanks his lucky stars that he refused to bow to Emmett’s insistence that there must be soft music in the background.
“This,” Brian says pointedly and walks over to the table to snuff out the candle with his fingers, “is what’s commonly known as a romantic dinner.”
“So, we’re not breaking up?”
“For fuck’s sake, Justin, I wanted to do something for you because…” He can’t actually remember why he ever thought that this was a good idea, probably because he never really did.
He looks at Justin, who's still looking confused. “For Valentine’s Day? Why the fuck would you do that?” He sounds a little angry.
“I’m asking myself the same thing.” Brian is starting to get annoyed now.
“Brian.” Justin’s voice is suddenly soft and he steps close to Brian and wraps his arms around him. “You scared the shit out of me these last few days. Is this really what you want? I’ll have a romantic dinner with you if you’d like one.” Brian can’t help feeling that he sounds condescending. “Do you?”
“I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. That’s all I wanted since I saw you at the airport. That’s all I ever want when I see you.”
“Then why didn’t you? I offered - at the airport and in the car. And in the elevator.”
“I thought you might want to have a proper partner for once.”
Justin laughs, but when Brian tries to wind out of his arms to stomp off somewhere - anywhere but here - he holds him tight to stop him. “I have a proper partner, Brian. But tell me, is this…” He makes a sweeping gesture at the table, “… what you want?”
“Of course not. It’s pathetic.”
“I agree. Okay, now, why did you think that I might want this?”
Brian pulls in his lips and shrugs. “Well, I didn’t. But then everybody was saying that you’d like something romantic…” He shrugs again.
“But you thought I would hate it?”
“Or at least not need it,” Brian admits.
“Next time, trust yourself. You know me better than anyone and we’re gonna run into trouble if you don’t know that. I don’t want this. I hate Valentine’s Day. This isn't even romantic. It’s just pretend. Window dressing. To me, romantic is that you’re righteously angry when some fucker at work gives me a little hassle. That you know that I was looking for red paint even if you don’t know that it’s called coquelicot. And that you insist on picking me up at the airport because usually you can’t refrain from fucking me any longer than it takes to make it from the gate to the men’s room. That’s romantic to me. Why the hell would I want this more than a fuck… which is woefully conspicuous by its absence, by the way. ”
Brian releases his breath slowly in a silent sigh. He could do fake romance, but if this was what Justin wanted, it would mean that they were heading for failure eventually. There is only so much twisting himself into contortions that he can do before he breaks. And there was the worry that Justin might genuinely want this but was afraid to speak up even after all this time. And the biggest one of all: that he could no longer tell what Justin really wanted.
But they’ve been apart for over six months now and he's no longer completely sure of anything other than that he'll wait until Justin comes home and if he never comes home, then forever is how long he’s going to wait. And if Justin turns around one day and tells him that he doesn’t want to do this anymore, then, well, Brian is pretty sure he will carry on waiting even then.
So, this is a relief on many levels. First of all, he won’t have to sit through a drawn-out dinner trying to pretend that he can think about anything other than how horny he is and how he wants to be in Justin’s ass already. Also, he will never have to do this again because Justin doesn’t just not need it, he doesn’t want it. More importantly, he won’t have to worry constantly that he’s misreading Justin because it looks like he was reading him just fine all along. And finally, he appears to be doing all that's required already and without thinking about it, just because that’s how he feels and not because he’s forcing himself to do it.
He feels the tip of Justin’s nose move against his throat, followed by his tongue licking a wet streak up to his jawline, before he says quietly, “You know, I would have been really worried if this is what you really wanted. It would have made me wonder if I know you as well as I think I do. And I'd wonder if we're no longer compatible if you want something that I hate with a passion.”
Brian looks down at him and smirks. “Want me to show you how compatible we really are?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Justin laughs.
Brian bends down and kisses him, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him up onto the table without removing his tongue from Justin’s mouth. He blindly pushes the plates, glasses and silverware to one side and deposits the lube and condoms from his pants pocket in their place. He figures that for what he’s paying Emmett for this fiasco, getting come stains out of the table cloth is included in the price.
THE END.
A/N: Coquelicot (French): another name for corn poppy.
The icon was made by the lovely pam81. Thank you for letting me use it, sweetie. ♥
And another big thank you goes to my wonderful beta moonbrightnites, who is super-helpful and super-fast. ♥
COQUELICOT
While Brian is having an early lunch at the Liberty Diner, his mind is half on the staff meeting that he's scheduled a little early this week to give himself more time before his three o’clock meeting and half on Debbie chattering away, when suddenly his attention is drawn to her with some urgency.
“... and afterwards Carl's taking me to a hotel, for a nice meal and an all-night...”
“Deb!” It comes out sharply and somewhat louder than intended, eliciting a few startled looks from the other diner customers.
Brian likes Carl, he really does. He isn’t bad for a cop and, you know, being straight, and he has embedded himself so successfully into the family’s life that it's difficult to remember at times what it was like before he arrived on the scene. And what is more, he makes Debbie happy and even if Carl was the biggest moron on the planet with bad personal hygiene to match, Brian would still welcome him for that reason alone. As it is, they get on well, so it’s all good.
But he draws the line at hearing about their sex life. He can barely fathom anybody’s straight sex life - although his display of disgust is mainly for effect because it's still all cocks and orifices after all - but if she should manage to impart an image of her and Carl together, he will have to bleach his brain. It’s like thinking about your parents having sex - and now he really needs a level one decontamination.
“Spare me the hetero imitation of real sex, please.”
Debbie grins at him impishly. “Just checking to see if you’re listening. I was wondering how much detail I’d have to give you before you stopped me.”
“Well, let’s leave it at the movie and dinner and call it a day, shall we?”
She's still grinning and he silently admits to himself that she won this round. “When is Sunshine coming?” she asks then.
“About twenty minutes after his plane lands.” He acknowledges her raised eyebrows and amused smile with a smirk. “Hey, it’s different when I talk about fucking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Because I have style. And I’m gay, so it’s real sex.”
She smiles and ruffles his hair. “So when's Sunshine... arriving?”
“Justin,” he says pointedly, “is arriving on Tuesday afternoon.”
“Oooh, just in time for...”
“Don’t say it, Deb! Don’t say it!”
“...Valentine’s Day.”
“If you suggest that we join you and Carl on your date, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Debbie smiles and slips into the seat opposite him. Her face takes on that gentle, serious expression that lets him know he’s in for one of their ‘talks’, where she will impart the wisdom of her life experience on him. All it needs is that tuna shit she likes to bring around for the occasion and some weed. But he has to admit that she's usually worth listening to when she gets like this and that’s what makes it so annoying.
“Brian, honey, I know you don’t believe in this stuff. But maybe you should do something for him this year. He’s so far away all the time and it might just help him to keep going. You’re in a relationship now. These things come with the territory. Relationships need work, honey, especially long distance ones. And it would make Justin happy. Isn’t that worth it? Even if you don’t believe in it?”
“I don’t need flowers and candles to get laid,” he grumps, scarfing down the last of his French fries to get out of here. He doesn’t mind being in a relationship and if he’s honest, he's been in one for years now - unconventional, undefined and unacknowledged though it may have been for most of that time. But the unsolicited advice that comes with going public and admitting it is hard to take. What, do all his friends think he’s an idiot?
“I know that. But isn’t that the whole point, that Justin's about more than getting laid?”
Brian, already half out of his seat, shoots her a glance, seeing nothing but concern in her eyes. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he says off-handedly, knowing that he'll do his hardest not to.
That night, he calls Justin and they have an hour of phone sex with very little foreplay in the form of casual conversation. And Brian thinks he knows just fine how long-distance relationships work.
*******
He has three days blessedly free from Valentine reminders, as long as he ignores the decorations in every shop and the ads on TV and in the papers, which he unfortunately has to scour for the ones that Kinnetik is placing whether he likes it or not. Everything looks perfect, as he knew it would, because Cynthia is very good at her job. The best thing about Valentine’s Day is that by the time it rolls around every year, all the campaigns are already set in motion and he can pretend that it isn’t happening. The only thing that’s ever interested him about the day is how much profit it will bring his clients and hence Kinnetik.
When he meets Jennifer briefly, during his business lunch on Thursday, she mentions Justin coming home on Tuesday and that she won’t expect to see him that day. He decides to take it as a general remark about the fact that he and Justin have to catch up on their fucking after their separation and not to mean that it’s because Tuesday is a special day. In general, Jennifer is too well-mannered to interfere in their relationship or to give unsolicited advice. He likes that about her.
On Friday, he goes to Michael’s place for a night of weed and alcohol. Ben’s away at a conference until Sunday and on those occasions Michael always takes the opportunity to pig out. Brian brings Thai food from his favorite take-out place, only to find that Michael has already ordered fried chicken and pizza. He calculates how many hours at the gym partaking in all of that will cost him, then throws caution to the wind and eats everything regardless. To hell with it, Debbie always tells him he’s too skinny anyway.
“Is Justin bringing the panels?” Michael asks. He's always nervous about deadlines for Rage, now that Justin is in New York and can’t just pop over whenever minor corrections need to be made. So far, their remote collaboration has worked out well, helped by the fact that there have been plenty of occasions for Justin to come back to Pittsburgh - Thanksgiving, Christmas, and twice for no particular reason whatsoever.
“How the fuck would I know?” Brian says. Although he does know. Justin told him that he’s solved his problems with the new super-villain, who has more appendages than an octopus and all of them full of intricate weaponry. But Brian doesn't want to interfere in their business partnership because if he does that, he’s bound to end up as a referee at some stage in the future when they can’t agree on some minor point or other. He prefers to leave them to it and lets them discuss all their business decisions with Ted. “He said he was finished,” he adds grudgingly, just to shut Michael up. “He’s coming on Tuesday.”
“Ah, yes,” Michael says and Brian thinks he’s getting away without any helpful suggestions for once. He credits the weed with that. They're sprawled on the couch, each of them a bottle of beer in their hand and passing the toke back and forth.
“Ben wanted to take me out, but I said we could save the money and just rent some movies and have a nice dinner. All we have to do is find somewhere for Hunter to stay the night.”
Brian clamps down on his immediate reaction, which is wanting to pay for anything Michael's little heart might desire. He knows that neither Michael nor Ben would accept it or even thank him for offering. The days when he took care of Mikey in that way are long gone. Their friendship has shifted to a different level, one that requires attention and support of a different kind.
He huffs a laugh. “As long as you’re not expecting me to put him up. I’m planning on spending Tuesday night with nothing but Justin’s ass.”
“Of course, you are,” Michael smiles, grabbing the half-empty bucket with the chicken and putting it back untouched after just one look. Brian can sympathize. He feels incredibly stuffed in all the wrong places and now he regrets eating so much. He'll definitely be spending a lot of time on the treadmill over the weekend.
“Maybe you should do something special for him,” Michael continues after a while.
Okay, perhaps he won’t get away without the helpful suggestions. “Mikey, you have no idea how special being with me really is.”
Michael laughs. “So I’ve heard.” Then he becomes more serious and Brian marvels at how much like his mother he's becoming. “But you don’t see him a lot. And after proposing to him, surely Valentine’s Day can’t be that terrible any longer.”
“It will always be terrible. It’s a commercialized event invented and hyped by money-grabbing, cynical card manufacturers to divest poor schmucks of their hard-earned cash. It has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It’s a sham. Believe me, I know. I’m the one who helps those money-grabbing, cynical card manufacturers exploit the rest of you mercilessly. And anyway, Justin would hate it.”
“Don’t be stupid. He’d love it. He’s a romantic at heart.”
Brian wonders about that sometimes. He always blamed his own lack of romance for their first break-up and Justin has said as much, but ever since then, things have been different. Yes, Justin still wants things, but flowers and candle-lit dinners don’t seem to feature in the line-up any longer. On the whole, he seems pretty content with the way their relationship is going. Several phone calls and emails a week and a lot of fucking when they meet seems to be what they both want. Brian hasn’t told him once that he loves him since Justin went to New York just over six months ago and Justin hasn’t said it much either. There have been several miss yous, which usually elicit a vague grunting noise from Brian that Justin correctly interprets as a me too and that’s it. Brian sees no reason to fuck with what works for them.
But this is Justin he’s talking about, so he can never be completely sure. Twice now, Justin has left him and both times he didn’t see it coming. By the time he realized that Justin was unhappy and looking for a change in his life, it was already too late. What if he's wrong this time as well? What if Justin needs more from him and Brian just doesn’t realize it? He's at a point now where he's quite willing to supply whatever is necessary to make this work. If Justin needs roses and chocolates, all he has to do is say it. Brian would feel stupid buying them and even more stupid handing them over, but if that’s what it takes, it won’t kill him.
“I could let him fuck me, that would be special,” he says lightly.
Michael frowns at him. “You let him do that?”
“It’s rare enough to qualify as special, I can assure you, but yes, why not?”
Michael shrugs. “No particular reason. I just never thought about it. I don’t top Ben.”
In the old days, Brian would have told him not to be such a pussy and to just tell Ben that he's bottoming and then get on with it, but nowadays he doesn’t interfere in Mikey's relationship any longer. How would he know if Mikey even wants to top? It didn’t sound like it and Brian finds that he doesn’t want to think about it either. It’s not quite on the same level as thinking about Debbie having sex but almost. Maybe she was right that time when she told him that Michael was almost his brother. He is. So no thinking about his relatives having sex! He changes the subject.
*******
On Saturday, he has a late start because he was very drunk and very high the night before and he’s pleasantly surprised that he even made it home at the end of it. Feeling rested after sleeping in his own bed instead of Michael's lumpy couch definitely counts as a win in his books.
After breakfast he makes his way to Babylon to meet with Ted and go over the books. It's Ted’s last working day before a weeklong holiday, which he booked well in advance sometime last summer. He’s taking Blake on a trip to New York, with a visit to the Met on Tuesday.
“It’s our first Valentine’s together,” he says while checking a column of numbers that he said didn’t look right. “I assume that you’re not doing anything special?”
Ted laughed for about a week after Justin and Brian announced their wedding plans. It was really irritating to work with someone who could barely refrain from grinning at him while they talked about business. But when they aborted their nuptials, Ted never mentioned it again and, in general, he and Blake are pleasantly romance-free from what Brian can see.
“You assume right,” he says coldly, trying to block this conversation before it starts.
“Just as well. Justin would probably die of a heart attack if you did anything romantic. Mind you, he is a lot younger than you, so maybe he’d survive.”
Brian glares at him, getting ready to point out to him how much, much older Ted is, but all that follows is a neutral, “Shame he’s here while we’re in New York. It would have been nice to see him.” And Brian decides to leave it at that.
In the evening, he can’t reach Justin for the second night in a row and goes to Babylon instead, where he makes up his fuck tally for the week within the hour. He reckons that getting laid four times a week pushes him nicely out of the ‘pathetic’ and into the ‘stud’ bracket, so he generally aims for that. Sometimes he overshoots the mark and so far he’s slipped below it only once since Justin went to New York. Of course, whenever he sees Justin, the tally is off the scale. But Justin doesn’t fit into the pattern anyway. Justin is different.
He goes to the gym on Sunday morning and speaks to Gus and Lindsay afterwards. She practically squeals when he tells her that Justin is coming on Tuesday and staying until Sunday because his apartment is scheduled to be fumigated. He holds the phone away from his ear for a moment until she calms down. He doesn’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s not as if he doesn’t see Justin a lot anyway.
“You must do something nice for him, Brian. It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s your first Valentine’s Day since he left.”
Brian prefers to think of it not so much as leaving but as relocating. “I don’t have to do anything. Justin doesn’t need that shit.”
“Maybe not need, but he wants it, Brian, you know that.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t be such a grump all the time. Just for once, try thinking less about sex and more about Justin. Do something you’ve never done before. It doesn’t have to be traditionally romantic.”
Brian doesn’t point out that just about anything would qualify as doing something they’ve never done before on Valentine’s Day, nor how thinking about Justin and thinking about sex have become more or less synonymous nowadays. He can freely admit that he misses Justin’s ass pretty much all the time and he doesn’t really like to think about the other things he misses about him.
So he tells Lindsay to stay out of it and asks her how her job is going instead.
Later he spends another hour on the treadmill in the loft. He’s still horrified when he considers all the calories he consumed at Mikey's and the hour and a half at the gym this morning doesn’t seem nearly enough to combat the clogging arteries and impending fat deposits. And he needs to consider the fact that Justin is coming the day after tomorrow, too.
Running affords him time to think.
He detests Valentine’s Day with a passion. It always brings home to him how stupid people really are, how easily led, like a flock of sheep. Even at work, Valentine’s is a no-brainer, it practically sells itself. He has always felt smugly superior for not falling for that bullshit. The very idea of succumbing to society’s collective follies and, even worse, being seen doing it is abhorrent to him.
But this isn’t about him, is it? It’s about Justin. Personally, he thinks that Justin is a lot like him - less bullshit and more substance. He's never heard him say a single word about Valentine’s Day that wasn’t as pejorative as his own. Justin mocks and sneers with the best of them.
But what if it’s all just a front? What if deep down he wishes for Brian to do something ordinary and simple like surprise him on Valentine’s Day? Or - and he thinks this much more likely - what if he simply wishes he could do something romantic for Brian without being sneered at? But no matter how many times he turns things over in his head, he cannot decide whether he simply knows Justin better than anyone else or just wants to believe that because it means that he doesn’t have to do anything that he finds distasteful.
It isn’t until the evening that his doubts win the upper hand. Justin calls him just after eight o’clock and they chat a little about their weekend. Justin is full of excitement about this new club he’s discovered, where he has spent the last couple of nights getting laid.
Then they talk about Tuesday. Brian is all set to pick Justin up from the airport and, as always, Justin says it isn’t necessary, but is easily persuaded with very little pressure from Brian. However, he gets weirdly quiet when asked if there's something he wants to do on Tuesday.
“Uhm… I was thinking about reacquainting my ass with your dick?”
Instantly distracted, Brian smiles. “Good plan. So what are you wearing?”
*******
On Monday Brian meets Emmett outside the diner, just as he's going in and Emmett is coming out. He hasn’t been able to shift this feeling that Justin was ‘weird’ on the phone in some obscure and unfathomable way and he takes meeting Emmett as fate.
“Got a minute?” he asks.
“Oooh, the great Kinney requires my humble presence,” Emmett coos, then looks at his watch. “I have to be at the cake maker’s in half an hour. Can you make it quick?”
Brian nods and pulls him a little to the side to smoke a cigarette in the sheltered corner next to the diner. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Emmett rolls his eyes. “What day's tomorrow, Brian?”
“Tuesday,” Brian deadpans, just to fuck with him a little.
“Yes, it is and it is also the 14th of February, commonly known to mere mortals as St Valentine’s Day - not that boring people like you would know anything about that.”
Brian has been called many things in his life but never boring. He lets it slide because he’s under a time constraint, both right now and with his plan, which isn’t really a plan just yet. So he just raises an eyebrow.
“I’m in catering, Brian,” Emmett says in a more serious voice. “It’s one of the busiest days of the year for me.”
Brian nods and wants to kick himself for not realizing that before now, but Emmett just dips down ever so slightly to look into his downcast eyes. “What do you need?”
Brian hesitates a little on account of those other doubts that tell him that he’s making a complete ass of himself, but then takes a deep breath and tells him.
Emmett nods a few times, asks a few questions and then says: “Leave it to me. Justin won’t know what hit him. Gotta go.” He starts winding his garishly bright scarf around his neck.
That's exactly what Brian fears, that Justin won’t know what hit him. That he doesn’t need it, doesn’t expect it and doesn’t want it. “Honeycutt,” he says as Emmett starts moving away.
“I know. Tasteful, discreet, understated. Got it. Not a word to anyone. Got it. And don’t call me Honeycutt.”
Brian grins. “Got it.”
Emmett hits the back of his hand against Brian’s chest playfully, and walks away, singing, “Brian and Justin sitting in a tree…” under his breath.
Brian feels a little sick.
*******
When Brian is waiting for Justin to come out of the gate, he's nervous. He’s always a little nervous with anticipation before seeing Justin after a separation and he kind of thinks that’s okay, because if he didn’t care, what would be the point? But he also thinks about what he’s got planned for today and he can’t help worrying. Three times he takes out his cell phone to call Emmett and cancel it all - there’s still time for that - and three times he listens to the voices in his head that tell him that this is for Justin, no matter how he feels about it and those voices sound suspiciously like Debbie, Michael and Lindsay in turn. So, maybe he feels stupid, but what does that matter as long as Justin is happy? He does so little for the lad nowadays that he deserves to have it all his own way for once.
But there is that other voice in his head telling him that he's pathetic, cock-whipped, conformist. If he twists himself into something he’s not, where will it end? Or rather, will that be the end? Wasn’t that the whole point of calling off the wedding, so that they could both remain who they are? Justin hasn’t given him any indication that he’s changed his mind about that. But Brian finds it harder to tell what he thinks from a distance.
He forgets about all of that when Justin comes rushing out of the gate and practically jumps into his arms. Dropping his duffle bag by their feet, he kisses him thoroughly, both of them not so much ignoring the stares from the other passengers as being oblivious to their surroundings. There is Justin’s warmth and his scent and his hands searing into his back through his shirt and Brian’s cock stirs in that familiar way that only Justin can engender.
“Men’s room?” Justin asks in a husky whisper, but Brian forces himself to shake his head.
Justin steps back a little and looks him over. “No?” Surprise is mixed with uncertainty and disappointment.
And Brian almost forgets that he wants to do this properly, but in the end he just smiles and says: “Let’s go home.”
“Uhm… okay.”
Justin never brings much baggage. He keeps a lot of stuff at the loft still for the sole reason that it means not having to wait at the baggage retrieval. Picking up his bag, he follows Brian out of the airport, already talking about his day at full speed. “...and the guy got bright red when he pulled out the panels. But I swear to you, he lingered over every single one of the fucking scenes for half a minute longer than all the other panels. And then I had to try not to grin at him when he was finished because I didn’t want any trouble. I was worried I’d miss the plane. Security people can be such shits when they want to be.”
Brian listens to him and wishes that it was an ordinary day, so he could fully enjoy it. In the car, Justin kisses him again - in a tentative manner, as if he’s just checking whether Brian wants to fuck him now. Then he sits back in his seat and puts his seatbelt on with a slight frown when there's no reaction from Brian in that direction. Brian decides that being a proper romantic stinks.
After a few moments of silence, Justin starts talking about his job at the stationary company where he's been working since the start of the new year and about his colleagues, whom he mocks endlessly.
“Is that Harold guy still being a shit to you?”
Justin smiles. “Nah, he got fired yesterday for - guess what? - yep, stealing stationary.”
Brian laughs. Serves the fucker right for trying to pass half of his workload onto Justin just because he's new at the company.
But Justin is already on the next subject, his painting, talking at length about the piece he just finished over the weekend.
“Did you find that red you were looking for or did you have to mix it in the end?”
Justin is quiet for a few moments and Brian diverts his gaze from the road to him, seeing a small smile and soft eyes.
“It’s called coquelicot.” And they both laugh a little, like they do every time he says it, because he deliberately makes the first syllable sound like cock. “Yeah, I found it in that little artist supply store, three blocks away.”
In the elevator up to the loft, Justin presses against him and practically devours him. Brian would get more pleasure out of this if he didn’t have to stop Justin from partially undressing him out here. Justin withdraws a little and looks at him. “Is something wrong?”
Fuck. It's just as well that they’ve reached the top floor, because Brian doesn’t quite know what to say to that and isn’t convinced that he could keep himself from fucking Justin right here for much longer at any rate - and Valentine’s Day surprises be damned. “Of course not. Come on.”
When they get inside the loft, Justin doesn’t pay any attention to the soft light originating from the dining area and just pushes him back against the door after he slides it shut, kissing him and pulling on his clothes at the same time. “Fuck me now,” he demands.
“Wait,” Brian says and Justin freezes.
He looks over his shoulder into the expanse of the loft and back at Brian with a pained expression on his face. “Surprise party?”
Brian rolls in his lips and shakes his head. By now he would give any amount of money to never have started this whole idiotic thing. He takes Justin’s hand and pulls him further into the loft. The dining table is set with a pristine white cloth and an unfamiliar dinner service. In the middle there is an arrangement of roses with a large burning candle at its center and Brian has to give Emmett credit for tastefulness - and kill him later for leaving a fire hazard in his loft. He knows that the food left warming in the oven will be delicious. It all looks perfect.
Justin pulls his hand free with a rough motion and looks at the table with wide eyes. Then he turns to Brian. “Are we breaking up?”
“What?”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it. This is my way of saying that I hate your guts.”
“Well, you’ve been weird on the phone all week, asking me what I wanted to do today all the time, as if… you know, just being here isn't enough anymore. And when I get here, you don’t wanna fuck. And now this…” He looks at the table as if there is a foul smell emanating from it and Brian thanks his lucky stars that he refused to bow to Emmett’s insistence that there must be soft music in the background.
“This,” Brian says pointedly and walks over to the table to snuff out the candle with his fingers, “is what’s commonly known as a romantic dinner.”
“So, we’re not breaking up?”
“For fuck’s sake, Justin, I wanted to do something for you because…” He can’t actually remember why he ever thought that this was a good idea, probably because he never really did.
He looks at Justin, who's still looking confused. “For Valentine’s Day? Why the fuck would you do that?” He sounds a little angry.
“I’m asking myself the same thing.” Brian is starting to get annoyed now.
“Brian.” Justin’s voice is suddenly soft and he steps close to Brian and wraps his arms around him. “You scared the shit out of me these last few days. Is this really what you want? I’ll have a romantic dinner with you if you’d like one.” Brian can’t help feeling that he sounds condescending. “Do you?”
“I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. That’s all I wanted since I saw you at the airport. That’s all I ever want when I see you.”
“Then why didn’t you? I offered - at the airport and in the car. And in the elevator.”
“I thought you might want to have a proper partner for once.”
Justin laughs, but when Brian tries to wind out of his arms to stomp off somewhere - anywhere but here - he holds him tight to stop him. “I have a proper partner, Brian. But tell me, is this…” He makes a sweeping gesture at the table, “… what you want?”
“Of course not. It’s pathetic.”
“I agree. Okay, now, why did you think that I might want this?”
Brian pulls in his lips and shrugs. “Well, I didn’t. But then everybody was saying that you’d like something romantic…” He shrugs again.
“But you thought I would hate it?”
“Or at least not need it,” Brian admits.
“Next time, trust yourself. You know me better than anyone and we’re gonna run into trouble if you don’t know that. I don’t want this. I hate Valentine’s Day. This isn't even romantic. It’s just pretend. Window dressing. To me, romantic is that you’re righteously angry when some fucker at work gives me a little hassle. That you know that I was looking for red paint even if you don’t know that it’s called coquelicot. And that you insist on picking me up at the airport because usually you can’t refrain from fucking me any longer than it takes to make it from the gate to the men’s room. That’s romantic to me. Why the hell would I want this more than a fuck… which is woefully conspicuous by its absence, by the way. ”
Brian releases his breath slowly in a silent sigh. He could do fake romance, but if this was what Justin wanted, it would mean that they were heading for failure eventually. There is only so much twisting himself into contortions that he can do before he breaks. And there was the worry that Justin might genuinely want this but was afraid to speak up even after all this time. And the biggest one of all: that he could no longer tell what Justin really wanted.
But they’ve been apart for over six months now and he's no longer completely sure of anything other than that he'll wait until Justin comes home and if he never comes home, then forever is how long he’s going to wait. And if Justin turns around one day and tells him that he doesn’t want to do this anymore, then, well, Brian is pretty sure he will carry on waiting even then.
So, this is a relief on many levels. First of all, he won’t have to sit through a drawn-out dinner trying to pretend that he can think about anything other than how horny he is and how he wants to be in Justin’s ass already. Also, he will never have to do this again because Justin doesn’t just not need it, he doesn’t want it. More importantly, he won’t have to worry constantly that he’s misreading Justin because it looks like he was reading him just fine all along. And finally, he appears to be doing all that's required already and without thinking about it, just because that’s how he feels and not because he’s forcing himself to do it.
He feels the tip of Justin’s nose move against his throat, followed by his tongue licking a wet streak up to his jawline, before he says quietly, “You know, I would have been really worried if this is what you really wanted. It would have made me wonder if I know you as well as I think I do. And I'd wonder if we're no longer compatible if you want something that I hate with a passion.”
Brian looks down at him and smirks. “Want me to show you how compatible we really are?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Justin laughs.
Brian bends down and kisses him, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him up onto the table without removing his tongue from Justin’s mouth. He blindly pushes the plates, glasses and silverware to one side and deposits the lube and condoms from his pants pocket in their place. He figures that for what he’s paying Emmett for this fiasco, getting come stains out of the table cloth is included in the price.
THE END.