fiction: Day Will Be Richer Than Night
Hmm, is LJ sucking for anyone else tonight?
Title: Day Will Be Richer Than Night
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairing/Characters: Brian/Justin
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 5,504
Description: Mel and Linds's anniversary is the thing that brings them back together again, an inevitable regroup. The Pittsburgh gang, now scattered across the states and further, all trailing in unison towards stations and airports to start their journey across the border.
Warning: Post-513, spoilers for Season 5.
Disclaimer: All Cowlips, all the time. Special thanks to dontyouwaitup who kindly allowed me to distract her from physics work and did a speedy beta. ♥'s And also to mclachlan who came up with the title when I realised that "untitled" really wasn't cool anymore (from a song by Katy Havnevik).
Day Will Be Richer Than Night
Mel and Linds's anniversary is the thing that brings them back together again, an inevitable regroup. The Pittsburgh gang, now scattered across the states and further, all trailing in unison towards stations and airports to start their journey across the border.
And in their pockets is the invitation that reads, "Mel and Lindsay would like you to join them for a celebration of their anniversary, on Saturday the 8th at their new home." And that little piece of white card is a ticket back to the time when meetings like this were commonplace, because no matter how far they travel, how much they try to forget, Pittsburgh and the people they knew there, will always be home.
-----
Brian Kinney. Leave a message.
Hi, it's me, uh, Justin. Just calling to ask whether you're going to Mel and Linds next weekend. I know you have the new account, but ... I'm flying out on the Saturday, I'll get there mid afternoon-ish. So ... um, let me know what your plans are. Speak to you later. Love you.
This is Justin Taylor's phone, I'm not here to take your call so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
Hey, yeah I'm going to the Munchers’ Bash, flying from Pittsburgh, early morning. See you Saturday.
-----
Brian and Justin, living apart for just under a year now, had still kept their regular meetings. After a while the distance between Pittsburgh and New York stopped feeling so great, and a phone call each evening shortened it further still. They found it easy enough to fall back into the people they used to be. A weekend spent holed up inside the bedroom let them forget that time had passed.
But summer had been difficult; new campaign for Brian, new gallery to fill for Justin and finding free time was hard. Hours were spent together now, rather than days, and each morning was a rush to catch the next flight home. Phone calls were frequent enough, but usually ended with one or the other, exhausted from work, falling asleep halfway through the conversation, their breathing slow and heavy down the line.
So May and June passed without a visit, and July passed without a call and it wasn't until August and the arrival of the invitations to Canada that they spoke again. And as they stand in their separate apartments, listening to the messages left on their answer machines, they can't help but wonder if things will be different.
-----
Brian is the first of the Pittsburgh gang to arrive at Mel and Lindsay’s, knocks on their front door at insane o’clock in the morning, cigarette in one hand, suitcase in the other. And Mel stands in the hallway, cursing him and yawning in equal amounts, too tired to put any real effort into the insults.
He makes himself at home in the kitchen, disgustingly cheerful for so early in the morning and Lindsay, still dressed in pajamas and rubbing sleep from her eyes, makes them all coffee.
"How was your flight?" she says through a yawn.
Brian shrugs. "Let's just say I received membership to the Mile High Club six ... make that seven times."
"Congratulations," Mel says sarcastically.
Brian smiles. "Aw, thanks Mel."
He slurps at the coffee and looks around the kitchen, "Where's Gus?"
"Asleep in his room, but if you drink that coffee any fucking louder he won't be for much longer."
"Gee Mel, am I glad you haven't been tragically gnawed to death by rabid wildlife during your stay in Canada."
"Aw, thanks Brian. And I am fucking over the moon about the fact your dick hasn't unexpectedly rotted and dropped off since I last saw you."
Lindsay rolls her eyes and starts buttering the toast.
-----
The extended Novotny family is next to arrive. Michael, Ben, Hunter, Debbie and Carl bundle into the small house and fill up the spaces with their cheerful bustling.
Hunter, who Brian is sure has grown about three feet since they last met, lounges in the doorway, trying to look moody as Mel and Linds fuss around him, exclaiming over how handsome he’s become. Then there’s Michael, grinning goofily and saying “He takes after his fathers” and embracing Brian, patting him on the back, looking up at him in that way that’s still a little bit adoring.
Carl shakes his hand and so does Ben and there’s a tiny part of Brian that almost expects Vic to follow behind them, grinning and kissing him on each cheek. But it’s just Debbie, large as life enough for the two of them, nearly smothering Brian with her embrace, her coat still damp from the rain outside.
They all trail through the living room to the kitchen in a seemingly endless stream until Brian starts to think that half of Pittsburgh has turned up.
Wet coats are piled over the banisters and dripping umbrellas seem to be in every sink in the house, there are at least four pairs of muddy boots draining in the bath. Brian retires quickly from the chaos.
Downstairs he can hear Debbie marching straight into the kitchen and, in her usual manner, taking complete control of all party preparations. Lindsay, a little helpless, is sent to chop carrots, Mel to the dishwasher, and in quick succession Ben, Michael and Carl are all put to work, rolling pastry, slicing meat and washing vegetables.
Brian quietly takes his bottle of beer and turns left to Gus’s room where he spends the next half hour anxiously checking for any sign that his son might be turning Canadian.
-----
After the old gang is back together there comes a slow trickle of new friends, met with warmth from the Novotny’s and active dislike from Brian. He happily wastes a large majority of the afternoon whispering snide comments into Lindsay’s ear and watching her blush and try not to giggle.
The wine flows freely and Debbie assigns Hunter the task of handing round the chips and dip, which he does with only the minimal amount of sulking. Brian sits with Gus, and Mikey is next to them with JR on his lap. They fight lazily over who’s kid is the best. Gus wins hands down, though Mikey claims it’s an unfair contest seeing as his daughter can barely speak yet.
Brian rolls his eyes and leaves him to his muttering. He follows Lindsay into the kitchen and helps her stack the empty plates on the draining board. She smiles up at him.
“It’s good you came, Brian,” she says.
He shrugs. “You know me, nothing I like better than celebrating your continued lesbian love for darling Melanie.”
She ignores the sarcasm. “Gus is glad to see you too.”
He nods. “Yeah. He grows quick.”
“Going to be as handsome as his father.”
“Of course.” He leans forwards and steals an olive from the tartlet she was just arranging on a plate.
“Brian.” She slaps at his hand good-naturedly, but he’s too quick and pulls away munching on his prize gleefully.
A comfortable silence passes between them. Brian leans back on the kitchen counter as Lindsay sets out more plates. There’s a movement in the hallway and Brian’s eyes flicker expectantly to the front door.
She looks at him and smiles. “He’s not coming till later.”
Brian could have lied and said “Who?” but this is Lindsay for god’s sake and like it would have fooled her anyway. So he says, “Why?”
“Plane was late taking off. He sent his apologies and said he’d be here sometime this evening.”
Brian nods and absentmindedly chips varnish off the wood counter he’s leaning on.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”
His head shoots up and he raises his eyebrows. “Why the fuck would I be nervous?”
She shrugs calmly and picks up a fresh plate of food. “Fine. Then would you please stop picking apart my kitchen.” She shoves two plates in his direction. “And make yourself useful.”
-----
By the time Justin arrives it’s late and the party is well and truly over. New friends left long ago and now it’s just the Pittsburgh group, gathered round the kitchen table, catching up and attempting to eat the three course dinner Linds and Mel prepared.
When his taxi pulls up outside the house, it's dark and pouring rain. Through the rivulets streaming down the car window he can make out the yellow square of light from the front porch and the soft sound of music drifting from a room at the top of the house. Leaning forward he pays the fare and hitches his jacket up so that the collar covers his head. Grabbing his bag and pushing open the door, he makes a dash up the front path, feet splashing through puddles.
The doorbell chimes inside the house and seconds later, Lindsay flings the door open, eyes bright and JR on her hip. She smiles and hugs him with her free arm, pulling him quickly inside, "Justin! God you're soaked, get that jacket off, I'll hang it over the bath to dry later."
He shrugs it off, letting the warmth of the hall soak through his sweater. He grins up at Lindsay as he hands the soaked coat to her and finds her watching him closely.
"You look different," she says. "Older."
He grimaces, "Thanks."
"No, not in a bad way, just...different."
He raises a hand and runs it ruefully through his dripping hair. "The hair?" he asks. "It's longer."
She smiles and hitches her daughter further onto her hip, "Maybe that's it."
He looks at JR, "She's grown."
"They always do. Come on, the others are in the kitchen."
They head down the hallway to the room where most of the noise seems to be coming from. Justin can hear Michael's voice louder than anyone's, talking about the latest Rage project, and there's the sound of cutlery and people eating, all under-laid with the quiet buzz of separate conversations.
He stands just inside the doorway for a minute, suddenly inexplicably shy, until Lindsay announces "Justin's here" and all heads turn his way. He grins and gives a little embarrassed wave, "Hi."
There's the sudden lull in conversation that Justin always dreads, but then a wave of noise fills the room again and people are standing up to greet him properly and shuffling along to make room at the table. It's all such a whirlwind of familiar faces and crowding friends that he's overwhelmed and it's not until he's sat down and Mel's started filling his plate that he realizes someone's missing.
He looks round the table. "Where's Brian?"
Mel rolls her eyes, "He's out the back, having a cigarette. I didn't want him fogging up the place with two kids in the room."
Justin nods, takes a mouthful of whatever the fuck Mel just put on his plate, then casually puts down his fork, "You know, I think I'll just go say hi."
-----
There's a rickety covered porch running round the back edge of the house and Brian's sitting at the farthest end of it, rocking absentmindedly on a swing-chair and staring at the rain. He looks up when the backdoor shuts behind Justin, cigarette smoke rising from his mouth.
He smiles. "Sunshine."
"Hey."
There's an awkward pause, then Justin takes a step forward and Brian stands up. They move closer, Justin, looking up at Brian, chews anxiously on his lip, suddenly tongue-tied. After a moment's hesitation, he leans forward for a kiss but at the last moment changes his mind and turns it into a hug and Brian ends up with his lips pressed on Justin's ear.
Justin pulls back red-faced and Brian raises his eyebrows.
"Sorry," Justin mutters and leans forward again, but Brian's wasn't expecting a second attempt and steps back in surprise, accidentally knocking his cigarette ash onto Justin's hair.
"Shit, ow. Shit"
Brian hurriedly brushes it out and flicks the rest of the cigarette off the porch. They take a step apart and Justin can feel a barrier between them, thick and unfamiliar. This is not their first meeting since Justin moved to New York, but it's as though, away from Brian's loft or Justin's new apartment, stuck on alien ground, they're like strangers, embarrassed and uncomfortable in the other's presence.
There's a silence, then Brian says, "When did you arrive?"
"Just now, about five minutes ago, you?"
"This morning."
Another uncomfortable pause. Then Justin says hurriedly, "Well, the others will be wondering where we are, better get back and join the party." And he heads for the door, feeling Brian's eyes on his back until the moment the door swings shut behind him.
-----
Brian stays outside until the cigarette burns down to his fingertips. Though he won’t admit it, the worst has just happened. He’d said it’s only time and believed it himself. But it turns out it’s not only time, it’s distance, and age, and different lives and they all build up until, one day, this happens. They’re strangers again.
-----
Ten minutes later he comes inside and slides back into his seat, trying to ignore the odd looks he’s getting from Mikey and Debbie and fucking everyone else around that table. With one exception. Justin’s head remains bent, staring intently at his fork of potatoes as though he’s never seen anything so fascinating.
And throughout the whole meal, even after the chatter starts again and the warmth of the room makes them sleepy and comfortable, Brian and Justin sit opposite from each other and don’t look up and don’t say a word.
-----
The meal doesn’t finish until midnight and they lounge around drinking for at least another hour after that. But when it gets to two and Gus has already come down three times in that scarily adult way of his to ask them whether they can keep it down, people start to head to bed.
Brian, to his disgust, is sharing a room, not only with Justin, but also Ted, Emmett and Carl. His mood is not helped by Emmett's cry of, "Oh my God! Slumber party!"
He turns to Lindsay. "Thanks, but I'll take the couch."
However the couch, it turns out, is already reserved for Hunter. He graciously announces that Brian can join him, an offer which Brian not-so-graciously refuses. And his voice is tinged with desperation when he asks, "The back bedroom?"
"For Ben, Michael and Debbie."
"The porch?"
"Leda's coming tomorrow but her stuff’s there already."
"The garage?"
"We don't have one."
Eventually, grudgingly, Brian has to admit defeat. He gathers the last shreds of pride and says, "Well, I'm not sleeping on those shitty cots. I'm getting the bed, no fucking matter what."
-----
Although Brian and Justin have studiously avoided each other for most of the evening, somehow they end up stuck together in the bathroom, side by side as they get ready for bed. They stand brushing their teeth in front of the sink. The scene is domestic and familiar but something that feels horribly like an awkward silence stretches between them once more.
Justin spits out the toothpaste foam and says, "So, good party?"
Brian just shrugs and bares his teeth for checking in the mirror. Silence again, then Justin says, "Must've been better than the last one."
Another shrug.
"Gus is getting tall."
Brian nods and rinses his mouth. Justin does the same and tries once more, voice, by now, a little desperate, "It's nice to see everyone again."
At last Brian responds, his head lifts, expression unreadable and he looks at Justin searchingly. Suddenly he lunges forward, his lips meeting Justin's, clumsy and awkward, all teeth and banged noses. Justin goes rigid with surprise, barely relaxing before Brian pulls away again.
And then, as though nothing happened, Brian turns wordlessly back to the sink, his face dark. He examines his toothbrush carefully for a second, seems to be considering something. Then he looks at Justin. His voice is calm but there's anger sparking in his eyes. "Have you met someone in New York?"
Justin takes a step back in surprise. "What? Fuck, Brian. Don't you think I would ..." He stops, swallows and says firmly, "I would tell you."
Brian nods and looks back at the toothbrush. The quiet presses heavy on their ears. Eventually Justin gives a little helpless shrug and heads for the door, turning round just before he reaches it. He walks back and kisses Brian softly on the lips, hesitating before saying quietly, "Coming to bed?"
And there are so many other questions behind the first that for a moment Brian looks like he doesn't know which one to answer. Finally he meets Justin's gaze steadily and gives a shallow nod. "Give me a minute," he says and Justin heads for the door.
-----
When he's finished cleaning up, Brian makes his way down the hallway to the guest room at the back of the house. Cots and air mattresses fill the floor and Ted and Emmett are already happily tucked in, a flashlight and a book of Gus's ghost stories held gleefully in their hands.
Brian chooses to ignore them, hefting himself up, to walk mattress to mattress, lily-pad style, in an attempt to reach his bed at the back of the room. When the yells of people, who were not-so-accidentally stepped on, die down, he announces, "Goodnight, Girl Scouts" and falls into bed.
It's not until he rolls over on his pillow, that he realizes the other side of the bed is empty. It's a narrow mattress, his frame only just fitting its confines, but normally that wouldn't be a problem. An advantage, even, blond head tucked close to his on the pillow, bodies pressed together. But tonight Justin has opted for the floor instead and when Brian looks down at him, his head is turned away and his eyes are tightly shut.
-----
He wakes, suddenly, neck cricked from the cramped bed and unsure what disturbed his sleep. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and another moment to remember where he is. And in that moment he hears it again, the muffled clanging from downstairs that must have woken him.
Completely awake now, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads quietly through the room, edging carefully around his sleeping friends to get to the door. He pushes it open and steps into the hallway, ears straining to identify the source of the noise.
There it is. A muted clank and thud from somewhere beneath him. Brian considers the possibility of intruders, wonders whether he should go in search of a make-shift weapon but then, this is Canada for god’s sake so he continues down the stairs with courage.
Feeling his way blindly through the hallway he can see the faintest glimmer of yellow light coming from the living room. Following it he enters the room only to realize the light is not from there but further, through the open door into the kitchen.
His feet move silently across the carpet and he navigates himself carefully through the minefield of furniture and children’s toys. When he reaches the doorway he can see the source of the light.
The fridge door is open a crack and in front of it is a figure sat cross legged. Brian’s eyes strain and adjust to the dim light. It’s Justin. He’s dressed in boxers and an over-sized tee that Brian thinks used to be his. In Justin’s lap is a bowl of leftover chocolate sauce, half of which now seems to be staining Justin’s fingers and lips.
Brain’s eyebrows rise casually. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Justin’s head jerks up in shock, eyes wide until they settle on Brian and his shoulders relax a little. “Jesus Brian, you scared the shit out of me.”
Brian stays silent and Justin’s gaze drops guiltily to the bowl in front of him. He blushes. “I was … I was just … hungry,” he finished lamely.
“Why didn’t you just order late night takeout like normal people?”
Justin runs a hand through his hair, a smear of chocolate left in its wake. “That’s not normal Brian, that’s just you.”
The guardedness between them, which had been forgotten for a moment in Justin’s surprise, is back. The gentle hum of the fridge is the only thing that breaks up the silence of the sleeping household.
Brian tilts his chin, looks down. Justin, sitting that way, hair still mussed from sleep, could be seventeen again and Brian, out of the confines of suit and tie, could be twenty-nine. They watch each other warily, that barrier still in place between them.
Eventually Brian breaks the stalemate. He moves forward and takes a seat on the floor next to Justin, back pressed against the wall. Justin shifts uncomfortably then shrugs and tilts the bowl towards Brian. “Want some?”
Brian’s gaze flickers from the chocolate in the bowl to Justin’s face without skipping a beat. He leans forward, his hand wrapping round the base of Justin’s skull and his tongue gently traces the smudge of sauce across the bridge of Justin’s nose.
Justin’s shoulders jerk in surprise but he doesn’t pull away. Brian leans closer, licking along Justin's jaw line, then across his cheek and finally down to drag over chocolate-stained lips. Justin's mouth opens and Brian's tongue slides in, hot breath meshing together. Their lips touch and Brian feels Justin shudder beneath him, and knows his own hands are shaking.
When Justin pulls back, his eyes are lost and he looks younger than he has in years. He curls his fingers into Brian's shirt, bunching the material in his hands and says, "Have we changed Brian? Have we really changed that much?"
Brian doesn't answer, just pulls Justin fiercely to him, pressing their lips together. And the kiss is desperate and hungry and doesn't stop until they're both on the floor, legs entangled, making out like teenagers.
Brian's back is pressed against the cold flagstones and Justin lies above him, mouth trailing a hot path along his neck and down to his collarbone. Their hands fight for purchase, tugging at clothes and tangling in hair, a brawling, scrapping fight to cover each inch of the other's skin.
Brian's hand shoves roughly into the back of Justin's shorts, sliding round to the front and feeling Justin moan against his neck. And he can feel Justin's hands on him too, hot, tugging at his waistband, exposing his skin to the cool air of the kitchen.
They rut against each other, hips and spines and elbows jarring against the floor until they’re both gasping with desire. A noise from a room above them makes them pause in unison and look up. It’s just a creaking floorboard, the old house settling but it breaks the mood.
Brian pulls away because suddenly it feels shaky and unfamiliar again and he hates it because this is Justin and it shouldn’t be like that. He tears himself away angrily, his jaw tight and Justin sits up and doesn’t look at him.
Brian hits his fist against the floor. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck this.” And feels the satisfying sting along his knuckles.
Justin looks up, watches him wordlessly. Then slowly, carefully he leans forward, places his palm flat against Brian’s cheek. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it helplessly, instead he bends further forward to touch Brian’s lips with his own, fierce and protective, his hand moving from Brian’s cheek to his hair, tugging them closer together.
This time, when they pull apart, the anger has left Brian’s eyes.
“Give me a minute,” he says and disappears from the room.
-----
He takes the stairs two at a time, torn between trying not to wake everyone and urgency in his search for condoms. He settles on speed and is back by the kitchen door in less than a minute, packets clutched tight in his hand.
Justin’s still on the floor, hands lifted to cover his eyes, face flushed beneath them. He peers out as Brian closes the distance between them, tries for a shaky grin. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
Brian kneels over him, still lit by the soft hum of the fridge light, and tries not to let Justin see that his hands are trembling as he fumbles with the condom packet. But Justin doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and a moment later his hands are covering Brian’s, steadying them. Brian doesn’t meet his eyes, just says, “Fucking ridiculous” and tears the packet in two.
But he does it too quickly and the edge of his nail slices across latex. He drops the split condom and sits back on his haunches, lifting his hands to press the heels of his palm into his eyes, keeping them there until he sees stars. Fuck it.
He jumps at a touch to his arm and then a brush against his cock and looks down. Justin has taken the second packet and is rolling another condom onto Brian.
“Second chance?” he says quietly. Brian stares at him then nods.
When he’s finished, Justin leans back, propping his body up on his elbows and Brian moves forward to close the gap between them. He nudges at Justin’s knees so that he bends his legs, feet flat on the floor and Brian settles between them. Placing his palms either side of Justin’s head, he butts Justin’s chin up, leaning down for a kiss.
Justin meets his lips softly, slow and it feels like the first time all over again. Brian moves forward further still, his breath hitching as his cock slides into Justin. He rests their foreheads together, his eyes dark and determined. He feels Justin tense beneath him, then that measured, forced relax of his shoulders. He takes his own moment to calm himself, for the first time in years unconfident of technique, though he’s fucked if he’d ever admit it.
“Brian?” Justin says uncertainly. “You okay?”
Brian nods and grits his teeth, willing himself to go through with this, because once he does everything will be back to how it was, it has to be. An argument, a fuck then they’re back on equal ground. This is what he and Justin do.
He slides in further, feeling Justin groan and adjust beneath him. Slowly he shifts and peers down the length of Justin’s chest to where their two bodies meet. He swallows sharply. Justin follows his gaze and bites his lip. In the dim light Brian can see his eyes darken with lust.
He pulls out and angles deeper on the second thrust, Justin stays mesmerized by the sight, eyelids flickering in pleasure. And Brian watches him, watching them, his own cock jumping at the sight of Justin’s lust.
He can feel the thrusts move easier now, setting a steady rhythm but Justin is tight. Three months it’s been and he’s still tight and Brian grins grimly into the dark because in three months he knows Justin has done this for no one but him.
His hips pick up speed, moving till he hits just the right spot, triumphant as the old pace comes back to him, hearing Justin moan, so sweetly fucking familiar. Because this is what they do.
He leans forward till his forearms rest on the floor by Justin’s head, short sharp thrusts until his eyes are heavy-lidded in pleasure. Justin’s hands reach down between them, fumbling at the place where they join and groaning as he feels Brian’s cock sliding into him.
Then the hands skim round to sharp hipbones, urging Brian on and Justin’s own hips are snapping upwards. Brian hears Justin’s sharp cry, feels his body contract around him and he has time for one more clumsy thrust before he’s coming too, sinking his forehead into the crook of Justin’s neck as the orgasm wracks his body.
Their gasps echo around the quiet kitchen and Brian collapses onto Justin’s heaving chest, wiping the sheen of sweat from his eyes. A breathing space later he pulls away and reluctantly they disentangle.
Brian moves to chuck the condom in the trash but he stops just before he turns back to Justin. Head down he says quietly, “Some things don’t change.”
-----
They’re still in the kitchen half an hour later, lying side by side in silence. Suddenly Brian blurts out, “This is stupid.”
Justin looks at him. “What is?”
“This ... Us. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”
Justin tilts his head back onto the cold floor and shuts his eyes. His voice comes out flat. “You think ‘us’ doesn’t make sense anymore.”
“No, not us… No. Our situation.”
Justin opens his eyes and peers through his bangs. “Situation?”
“Yeah. This.” Brian waves his hand at the two of them. “It doesn’t make sense.” He sighs, then says suddenly, “I mean, I asked you to marry me and you said no and -”
“I didn’t say -”
“Fine, you said yes and then you said no. But we had still had something, right? We were … partners or whateverthefuck. So, what’s the point in spending all that fucking energy getting a relationship to work if, whenever we split, we have to go through it all over again the next time we’re together?”
“What’s your solution?” Justin says quietly. “That we’re not together?”
“No,” Brian says angrily. “That we don’t split up in the first place.”
Justin looks up at him wordlessly. Brian meets his gaze. “Oh come on Justin, don’t act like it’s such a novel fucking idea. Your new gallery in New York, it’s a success?”
“Well, I…”
“Is it a success?”
“Yeah,” he says and grins. “It’s a big fucking success.”
Brian looks at him firmly. “Then you’re coming home.”
“What?”
“You’ve got the contacts now, you’ve got the connections. New York’s got enough starving artists to last it a life time and Pittsburgh could use some fucking star potential.”
Justin meets his gaze levelly and suddenly his face is calm. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m coming home.”
Brian nods. “Good.”
They stare at each other for a moment in silence, delighting in the sudden sense of closeness. The barrier has gone.
A grin begins to creep across Justin’s face.
“Oh my god,” he says softly, staring at Brian.
“What?”
“You’ve gone all starry-eyed!”
“What the fuck? No I -”
“Yes, you have!” Justin crows. “Your eyes are all starry and you’ve got this goofy smile on your face.”
“Fuck off.”
“Brian Kinney has just gone starry-eyed for me!”
“You know what? I think Pittsburgh has enough star potential after all, I’d go back to New York, or even better? California. See if you can see my fucking starry eyes and goofy smile from there, Sunshine.”
Justin laughs and backs off. “I was kidding. Come on Brian, I was just kidding.”
But he wasn’t. And he doesn’t mind Brian’s sniping one bit because throughout the bickering, no matter how much Brian tries to deny it, his smile stays a little goofy and his gaze is all starry-eyed.
-----
The next morning, Mel and Linds walk into their kitchen to find Brian and Justin still sprawled there, naked and eating last night’s cheesecake. Mel groans and says “Oh for fuck’s sake” and hurriedly goes to divert Gus who was trailing in after them.
Justin blushes and tries to cover himself with the cheesecake platter, Brian just stretches out further and grins.
Lindsay sighs exasperatedly, “Brian, did you have to? We’ve got to eat breakfast in here.” But a smile twitches at the corner of her lips and she sends Justin a pleased look.
He grins at her sheepishly and mumbles something about getting dressed before hurrying from the room, plate still covering his dignity.
Brian’s head follows him lazily until his ass is out of sight then he turns back to Lindsey with a grin. “So…”
“I guess the great rolling epic that is your relationship is off the rocks again then?”
Brian scoops some more cheesecake with his finger. “You could say that.” He licks his lips and says airily, “Justin’s decided to come back to Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, Brian.” She smiles and he knows she’s truly happy for them. “That’s great.”
“Mmm, well I guess he couldn’t resist the Kinney charm for much longer,” he says nonchalantly but he gives her a little sideways glance and a grin that tells her it’s more than that.
“Oh, of course. Well, I’m really happy for you.” She looks down at him fondly. “I’m proud of you Brian. I want you to know that.” She turns her gaze to the rest of the kitchen and without skipping a beat she continues, “And if you fucked him on the table you are so bleaching it for me.”
“Relax. We were on the floor…And once over the kitchen counter. Oh, and once on that chair. And did we…?”
Lindsey closes her eyes and reaches blindly for the disinfectant.
Title: Day Will Be Richer Than Night
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairing/Characters: Brian/Justin
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 5,504
Description: Mel and Linds's anniversary is the thing that brings them back together again, an inevitable regroup. The Pittsburgh gang, now scattered across the states and further, all trailing in unison towards stations and airports to start their journey across the border.
Warning: Post-513, spoilers for Season 5.
Disclaimer: All Cowlips, all the time. Special thanks to dontyouwaitup who kindly allowed me to distract her from physics work and did a speedy beta. ♥'s And also to mclachlan who came up with the title when I realised that "untitled" really wasn't cool anymore (from a song by Katy Havnevik).
Day Will Be Richer Than Night
Mel and Linds's anniversary is the thing that brings them back together again, an inevitable regroup. The Pittsburgh gang, now scattered across the states and further, all trailing in unison towards stations and airports to start their journey across the border.
And in their pockets is the invitation that reads, "Mel and Lindsay would like you to join them for a celebration of their anniversary, on Saturday the 8th at their new home." And that little piece of white card is a ticket back to the time when meetings like this were commonplace, because no matter how far they travel, how much they try to forget, Pittsburgh and the people they knew there, will always be home.
-----
Brian Kinney. Leave a message.
Hi, it's me, uh, Justin. Just calling to ask whether you're going to Mel and Linds next weekend. I know you have the new account, but ... I'm flying out on the Saturday, I'll get there mid afternoon-ish. So ... um, let me know what your plans are. Speak to you later. Love you.
This is Justin Taylor's phone, I'm not here to take your call so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
Hey, yeah I'm going to the Munchers’ Bash, flying from Pittsburgh, early morning. See you Saturday.
-----
Brian and Justin, living apart for just under a year now, had still kept their regular meetings. After a while the distance between Pittsburgh and New York stopped feeling so great, and a phone call each evening shortened it further still. They found it easy enough to fall back into the people they used to be. A weekend spent holed up inside the bedroom let them forget that time had passed.
But summer had been difficult; new campaign for Brian, new gallery to fill for Justin and finding free time was hard. Hours were spent together now, rather than days, and each morning was a rush to catch the next flight home. Phone calls were frequent enough, but usually ended with one or the other, exhausted from work, falling asleep halfway through the conversation, their breathing slow and heavy down the line.
So May and June passed without a visit, and July passed without a call and it wasn't until August and the arrival of the invitations to Canada that they spoke again. And as they stand in their separate apartments, listening to the messages left on their answer machines, they can't help but wonder if things will be different.
-----
Brian is the first of the Pittsburgh gang to arrive at Mel and Lindsay’s, knocks on their front door at insane o’clock in the morning, cigarette in one hand, suitcase in the other. And Mel stands in the hallway, cursing him and yawning in equal amounts, too tired to put any real effort into the insults.
He makes himself at home in the kitchen, disgustingly cheerful for so early in the morning and Lindsay, still dressed in pajamas and rubbing sleep from her eyes, makes them all coffee.
"How was your flight?" she says through a yawn.
Brian shrugs. "Let's just say I received membership to the Mile High Club six ... make that seven times."
"Congratulations," Mel says sarcastically.
Brian smiles. "Aw, thanks Mel."
He slurps at the coffee and looks around the kitchen, "Where's Gus?"
"Asleep in his room, but if you drink that coffee any fucking louder he won't be for much longer."
"Gee Mel, am I glad you haven't been tragically gnawed to death by rabid wildlife during your stay in Canada."
"Aw, thanks Brian. And I am fucking over the moon about the fact your dick hasn't unexpectedly rotted and dropped off since I last saw you."
Lindsay rolls her eyes and starts buttering the toast.
-----
The extended Novotny family is next to arrive. Michael, Ben, Hunter, Debbie and Carl bundle into the small house and fill up the spaces with their cheerful bustling.
Hunter, who Brian is sure has grown about three feet since they last met, lounges in the doorway, trying to look moody as Mel and Linds fuss around him, exclaiming over how handsome he’s become. Then there’s Michael, grinning goofily and saying “He takes after his fathers” and embracing Brian, patting him on the back, looking up at him in that way that’s still a little bit adoring.
Carl shakes his hand and so does Ben and there’s a tiny part of Brian that almost expects Vic to follow behind them, grinning and kissing him on each cheek. But it’s just Debbie, large as life enough for the two of them, nearly smothering Brian with her embrace, her coat still damp from the rain outside.
They all trail through the living room to the kitchen in a seemingly endless stream until Brian starts to think that half of Pittsburgh has turned up.
Wet coats are piled over the banisters and dripping umbrellas seem to be in every sink in the house, there are at least four pairs of muddy boots draining in the bath. Brian retires quickly from the chaos.
Downstairs he can hear Debbie marching straight into the kitchen and, in her usual manner, taking complete control of all party preparations. Lindsay, a little helpless, is sent to chop carrots, Mel to the dishwasher, and in quick succession Ben, Michael and Carl are all put to work, rolling pastry, slicing meat and washing vegetables.
Brian quietly takes his bottle of beer and turns left to Gus’s room where he spends the next half hour anxiously checking for any sign that his son might be turning Canadian.
-----
After the old gang is back together there comes a slow trickle of new friends, met with warmth from the Novotny’s and active dislike from Brian. He happily wastes a large majority of the afternoon whispering snide comments into Lindsay’s ear and watching her blush and try not to giggle.
The wine flows freely and Debbie assigns Hunter the task of handing round the chips and dip, which he does with only the minimal amount of sulking. Brian sits with Gus, and Mikey is next to them with JR on his lap. They fight lazily over who’s kid is the best. Gus wins hands down, though Mikey claims it’s an unfair contest seeing as his daughter can barely speak yet.
Brian rolls his eyes and leaves him to his muttering. He follows Lindsay into the kitchen and helps her stack the empty plates on the draining board. She smiles up at him.
“It’s good you came, Brian,” she says.
He shrugs. “You know me, nothing I like better than celebrating your continued lesbian love for darling Melanie.”
She ignores the sarcasm. “Gus is glad to see you too.”
He nods. “Yeah. He grows quick.”
“Going to be as handsome as his father.”
“Of course.” He leans forwards and steals an olive from the tartlet she was just arranging on a plate.
“Brian.” She slaps at his hand good-naturedly, but he’s too quick and pulls away munching on his prize gleefully.
A comfortable silence passes between them. Brian leans back on the kitchen counter as Lindsay sets out more plates. There’s a movement in the hallway and Brian’s eyes flicker expectantly to the front door.
She looks at him and smiles. “He’s not coming till later.”
Brian could have lied and said “Who?” but this is Lindsay for god’s sake and like it would have fooled her anyway. So he says, “Why?”
“Plane was late taking off. He sent his apologies and said he’d be here sometime this evening.”
Brian nods and absentmindedly chips varnish off the wood counter he’s leaning on.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”
His head shoots up and he raises his eyebrows. “Why the fuck would I be nervous?”
She shrugs calmly and picks up a fresh plate of food. “Fine. Then would you please stop picking apart my kitchen.” She shoves two plates in his direction. “And make yourself useful.”
-----
By the time Justin arrives it’s late and the party is well and truly over. New friends left long ago and now it’s just the Pittsburgh group, gathered round the kitchen table, catching up and attempting to eat the three course dinner Linds and Mel prepared.
When his taxi pulls up outside the house, it's dark and pouring rain. Through the rivulets streaming down the car window he can make out the yellow square of light from the front porch and the soft sound of music drifting from a room at the top of the house. Leaning forward he pays the fare and hitches his jacket up so that the collar covers his head. Grabbing his bag and pushing open the door, he makes a dash up the front path, feet splashing through puddles.
The doorbell chimes inside the house and seconds later, Lindsay flings the door open, eyes bright and JR on her hip. She smiles and hugs him with her free arm, pulling him quickly inside, "Justin! God you're soaked, get that jacket off, I'll hang it over the bath to dry later."
He shrugs it off, letting the warmth of the hall soak through his sweater. He grins up at Lindsay as he hands the soaked coat to her and finds her watching him closely.
"You look different," she says. "Older."
He grimaces, "Thanks."
"No, not in a bad way, just...different."
He raises a hand and runs it ruefully through his dripping hair. "The hair?" he asks. "It's longer."
She smiles and hitches her daughter further onto her hip, "Maybe that's it."
He looks at JR, "She's grown."
"They always do. Come on, the others are in the kitchen."
They head down the hallway to the room where most of the noise seems to be coming from. Justin can hear Michael's voice louder than anyone's, talking about the latest Rage project, and there's the sound of cutlery and people eating, all under-laid with the quiet buzz of separate conversations.
He stands just inside the doorway for a minute, suddenly inexplicably shy, until Lindsay announces "Justin's here" and all heads turn his way. He grins and gives a little embarrassed wave, "Hi."
There's the sudden lull in conversation that Justin always dreads, but then a wave of noise fills the room again and people are standing up to greet him properly and shuffling along to make room at the table. It's all such a whirlwind of familiar faces and crowding friends that he's overwhelmed and it's not until he's sat down and Mel's started filling his plate that he realizes someone's missing.
He looks round the table. "Where's Brian?"
Mel rolls her eyes, "He's out the back, having a cigarette. I didn't want him fogging up the place with two kids in the room."
Justin nods, takes a mouthful of whatever the fuck Mel just put on his plate, then casually puts down his fork, "You know, I think I'll just go say hi."
-----
There's a rickety covered porch running round the back edge of the house and Brian's sitting at the farthest end of it, rocking absentmindedly on a swing-chair and staring at the rain. He looks up when the backdoor shuts behind Justin, cigarette smoke rising from his mouth.
He smiles. "Sunshine."
"Hey."
There's an awkward pause, then Justin takes a step forward and Brian stands up. They move closer, Justin, looking up at Brian, chews anxiously on his lip, suddenly tongue-tied. After a moment's hesitation, he leans forward for a kiss but at the last moment changes his mind and turns it into a hug and Brian ends up with his lips pressed on Justin's ear.
Justin pulls back red-faced and Brian raises his eyebrows.
"Sorry," Justin mutters and leans forward again, but Brian's wasn't expecting a second attempt and steps back in surprise, accidentally knocking his cigarette ash onto Justin's hair.
"Shit, ow. Shit"
Brian hurriedly brushes it out and flicks the rest of the cigarette off the porch. They take a step apart and Justin can feel a barrier between them, thick and unfamiliar. This is not their first meeting since Justin moved to New York, but it's as though, away from Brian's loft or Justin's new apartment, stuck on alien ground, they're like strangers, embarrassed and uncomfortable in the other's presence.
There's a silence, then Brian says, "When did you arrive?"
"Just now, about five minutes ago, you?"
"This morning."
Another uncomfortable pause. Then Justin says hurriedly, "Well, the others will be wondering where we are, better get back and join the party." And he heads for the door, feeling Brian's eyes on his back until the moment the door swings shut behind him.
-----
Brian stays outside until the cigarette burns down to his fingertips. Though he won’t admit it, the worst has just happened. He’d said it’s only time and believed it himself. But it turns out it’s not only time, it’s distance, and age, and different lives and they all build up until, one day, this happens. They’re strangers again.
-----
Ten minutes later he comes inside and slides back into his seat, trying to ignore the odd looks he’s getting from Mikey and Debbie and fucking everyone else around that table. With one exception. Justin’s head remains bent, staring intently at his fork of potatoes as though he’s never seen anything so fascinating.
And throughout the whole meal, even after the chatter starts again and the warmth of the room makes them sleepy and comfortable, Brian and Justin sit opposite from each other and don’t look up and don’t say a word.
-----
The meal doesn’t finish until midnight and they lounge around drinking for at least another hour after that. But when it gets to two and Gus has already come down three times in that scarily adult way of his to ask them whether they can keep it down, people start to head to bed.
Brian, to his disgust, is sharing a room, not only with Justin, but also Ted, Emmett and Carl. His mood is not helped by Emmett's cry of, "Oh my God! Slumber party!"
He turns to Lindsay. "Thanks, but I'll take the couch."
However the couch, it turns out, is already reserved for Hunter. He graciously announces that Brian can join him, an offer which Brian not-so-graciously refuses. And his voice is tinged with desperation when he asks, "The back bedroom?"
"For Ben, Michael and Debbie."
"The porch?"
"Leda's coming tomorrow but her stuff’s there already."
"The garage?"
"We don't have one."
Eventually, grudgingly, Brian has to admit defeat. He gathers the last shreds of pride and says, "Well, I'm not sleeping on those shitty cots. I'm getting the bed, no fucking matter what."
-----
Although Brian and Justin have studiously avoided each other for most of the evening, somehow they end up stuck together in the bathroom, side by side as they get ready for bed. They stand brushing their teeth in front of the sink. The scene is domestic and familiar but something that feels horribly like an awkward silence stretches between them once more.
Justin spits out the toothpaste foam and says, "So, good party?"
Brian just shrugs and bares his teeth for checking in the mirror. Silence again, then Justin says, "Must've been better than the last one."
Another shrug.
"Gus is getting tall."
Brian nods and rinses his mouth. Justin does the same and tries once more, voice, by now, a little desperate, "It's nice to see everyone again."
At last Brian responds, his head lifts, expression unreadable and he looks at Justin searchingly. Suddenly he lunges forward, his lips meeting Justin's, clumsy and awkward, all teeth and banged noses. Justin goes rigid with surprise, barely relaxing before Brian pulls away again.
And then, as though nothing happened, Brian turns wordlessly back to the sink, his face dark. He examines his toothbrush carefully for a second, seems to be considering something. Then he looks at Justin. His voice is calm but there's anger sparking in his eyes. "Have you met someone in New York?"
Justin takes a step back in surprise. "What? Fuck, Brian. Don't you think I would ..." He stops, swallows and says firmly, "I would tell you."
Brian nods and looks back at the toothbrush. The quiet presses heavy on their ears. Eventually Justin gives a little helpless shrug and heads for the door, turning round just before he reaches it. He walks back and kisses Brian softly on the lips, hesitating before saying quietly, "Coming to bed?"
And there are so many other questions behind the first that for a moment Brian looks like he doesn't know which one to answer. Finally he meets Justin's gaze steadily and gives a shallow nod. "Give me a minute," he says and Justin heads for the door.
-----
When he's finished cleaning up, Brian makes his way down the hallway to the guest room at the back of the house. Cots and air mattresses fill the floor and Ted and Emmett are already happily tucked in, a flashlight and a book of Gus's ghost stories held gleefully in their hands.
Brian chooses to ignore them, hefting himself up, to walk mattress to mattress, lily-pad style, in an attempt to reach his bed at the back of the room. When the yells of people, who were not-so-accidentally stepped on, die down, he announces, "Goodnight, Girl Scouts" and falls into bed.
It's not until he rolls over on his pillow, that he realizes the other side of the bed is empty. It's a narrow mattress, his frame only just fitting its confines, but normally that wouldn't be a problem. An advantage, even, blond head tucked close to his on the pillow, bodies pressed together. But tonight Justin has opted for the floor instead and when Brian looks down at him, his head is turned away and his eyes are tightly shut.
-----
He wakes, suddenly, neck cricked from the cramped bed and unsure what disturbed his sleep. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and another moment to remember where he is. And in that moment he hears it again, the muffled clanging from downstairs that must have woken him.
Completely awake now, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads quietly through the room, edging carefully around his sleeping friends to get to the door. He pushes it open and steps into the hallway, ears straining to identify the source of the noise.
There it is. A muted clank and thud from somewhere beneath him. Brian considers the possibility of intruders, wonders whether he should go in search of a make-shift weapon but then, this is Canada for god’s sake so he continues down the stairs with courage.
Feeling his way blindly through the hallway he can see the faintest glimmer of yellow light coming from the living room. Following it he enters the room only to realize the light is not from there but further, through the open door into the kitchen.
His feet move silently across the carpet and he navigates himself carefully through the minefield of furniture and children’s toys. When he reaches the doorway he can see the source of the light.
The fridge door is open a crack and in front of it is a figure sat cross legged. Brian’s eyes strain and adjust to the dim light. It’s Justin. He’s dressed in boxers and an over-sized tee that Brian thinks used to be his. In Justin’s lap is a bowl of leftover chocolate sauce, half of which now seems to be staining Justin’s fingers and lips.
Brain’s eyebrows rise casually. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Justin’s head jerks up in shock, eyes wide until they settle on Brian and his shoulders relax a little. “Jesus Brian, you scared the shit out of me.”
Brian stays silent and Justin’s gaze drops guiltily to the bowl in front of him. He blushes. “I was … I was just … hungry,” he finished lamely.
“Why didn’t you just order late night takeout like normal people?”
Justin runs a hand through his hair, a smear of chocolate left in its wake. “That’s not normal Brian, that’s just you.”
The guardedness between them, which had been forgotten for a moment in Justin’s surprise, is back. The gentle hum of the fridge is the only thing that breaks up the silence of the sleeping household.
Brian tilts his chin, looks down. Justin, sitting that way, hair still mussed from sleep, could be seventeen again and Brian, out of the confines of suit and tie, could be twenty-nine. They watch each other warily, that barrier still in place between them.
Eventually Brian breaks the stalemate. He moves forward and takes a seat on the floor next to Justin, back pressed against the wall. Justin shifts uncomfortably then shrugs and tilts the bowl towards Brian. “Want some?”
Brian’s gaze flickers from the chocolate in the bowl to Justin’s face without skipping a beat. He leans forward, his hand wrapping round the base of Justin’s skull and his tongue gently traces the smudge of sauce across the bridge of Justin’s nose.
Justin’s shoulders jerk in surprise but he doesn’t pull away. Brian leans closer, licking along Justin's jaw line, then across his cheek and finally down to drag over chocolate-stained lips. Justin's mouth opens and Brian's tongue slides in, hot breath meshing together. Their lips touch and Brian feels Justin shudder beneath him, and knows his own hands are shaking.
When Justin pulls back, his eyes are lost and he looks younger than he has in years. He curls his fingers into Brian's shirt, bunching the material in his hands and says, "Have we changed Brian? Have we really changed that much?"
Brian doesn't answer, just pulls Justin fiercely to him, pressing their lips together. And the kiss is desperate and hungry and doesn't stop until they're both on the floor, legs entangled, making out like teenagers.
Brian's back is pressed against the cold flagstones and Justin lies above him, mouth trailing a hot path along his neck and down to his collarbone. Their hands fight for purchase, tugging at clothes and tangling in hair, a brawling, scrapping fight to cover each inch of the other's skin.
Brian's hand shoves roughly into the back of Justin's shorts, sliding round to the front and feeling Justin moan against his neck. And he can feel Justin's hands on him too, hot, tugging at his waistband, exposing his skin to the cool air of the kitchen.
They rut against each other, hips and spines and elbows jarring against the floor until they’re both gasping with desire. A noise from a room above them makes them pause in unison and look up. It’s just a creaking floorboard, the old house settling but it breaks the mood.
Brian pulls away because suddenly it feels shaky and unfamiliar again and he hates it because this is Justin and it shouldn’t be like that. He tears himself away angrily, his jaw tight and Justin sits up and doesn’t look at him.
Brian hits his fist against the floor. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck this.” And feels the satisfying sting along his knuckles.
Justin looks up, watches him wordlessly. Then slowly, carefully he leans forward, places his palm flat against Brian’s cheek. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it helplessly, instead he bends further forward to touch Brian’s lips with his own, fierce and protective, his hand moving from Brian’s cheek to his hair, tugging them closer together.
This time, when they pull apart, the anger has left Brian’s eyes.
“Give me a minute,” he says and disappears from the room.
-----
He takes the stairs two at a time, torn between trying not to wake everyone and urgency in his search for condoms. He settles on speed and is back by the kitchen door in less than a minute, packets clutched tight in his hand.
Justin’s still on the floor, hands lifted to cover his eyes, face flushed beneath them. He peers out as Brian closes the distance between them, tries for a shaky grin. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
Brian kneels over him, still lit by the soft hum of the fridge light, and tries not to let Justin see that his hands are trembling as he fumbles with the condom packet. But Justin doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and a moment later his hands are covering Brian’s, steadying them. Brian doesn’t meet his eyes, just says, “Fucking ridiculous” and tears the packet in two.
But he does it too quickly and the edge of his nail slices across latex. He drops the split condom and sits back on his haunches, lifting his hands to press the heels of his palm into his eyes, keeping them there until he sees stars. Fuck it.
He jumps at a touch to his arm and then a brush against his cock and looks down. Justin has taken the second packet and is rolling another condom onto Brian.
“Second chance?” he says quietly. Brian stares at him then nods.
When he’s finished, Justin leans back, propping his body up on his elbows and Brian moves forward to close the gap between them. He nudges at Justin’s knees so that he bends his legs, feet flat on the floor and Brian settles between them. Placing his palms either side of Justin’s head, he butts Justin’s chin up, leaning down for a kiss.
Justin meets his lips softly, slow and it feels like the first time all over again. Brian moves forward further still, his breath hitching as his cock slides into Justin. He rests their foreheads together, his eyes dark and determined. He feels Justin tense beneath him, then that measured, forced relax of his shoulders. He takes his own moment to calm himself, for the first time in years unconfident of technique, though he’s fucked if he’d ever admit it.
“Brian?” Justin says uncertainly. “You okay?”
Brian nods and grits his teeth, willing himself to go through with this, because once he does everything will be back to how it was, it has to be. An argument, a fuck then they’re back on equal ground. This is what he and Justin do.
He slides in further, feeling Justin groan and adjust beneath him. Slowly he shifts and peers down the length of Justin’s chest to where their two bodies meet. He swallows sharply. Justin follows his gaze and bites his lip. In the dim light Brian can see his eyes darken with lust.
He pulls out and angles deeper on the second thrust, Justin stays mesmerized by the sight, eyelids flickering in pleasure. And Brian watches him, watching them, his own cock jumping at the sight of Justin’s lust.
He can feel the thrusts move easier now, setting a steady rhythm but Justin is tight. Three months it’s been and he’s still tight and Brian grins grimly into the dark because in three months he knows Justin has done this for no one but him.
His hips pick up speed, moving till he hits just the right spot, triumphant as the old pace comes back to him, hearing Justin moan, so sweetly fucking familiar. Because this is what they do.
He leans forward till his forearms rest on the floor by Justin’s head, short sharp thrusts until his eyes are heavy-lidded in pleasure. Justin’s hands reach down between them, fumbling at the place where they join and groaning as he feels Brian’s cock sliding into him.
Then the hands skim round to sharp hipbones, urging Brian on and Justin’s own hips are snapping upwards. Brian hears Justin’s sharp cry, feels his body contract around him and he has time for one more clumsy thrust before he’s coming too, sinking his forehead into the crook of Justin’s neck as the orgasm wracks his body.
Their gasps echo around the quiet kitchen and Brian collapses onto Justin’s heaving chest, wiping the sheen of sweat from his eyes. A breathing space later he pulls away and reluctantly they disentangle.
Brian moves to chuck the condom in the trash but he stops just before he turns back to Justin. Head down he says quietly, “Some things don’t change.”
-----
They’re still in the kitchen half an hour later, lying side by side in silence. Suddenly Brian blurts out, “This is stupid.”
Justin looks at him. “What is?”
“This ... Us. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”
Justin tilts his head back onto the cold floor and shuts his eyes. His voice comes out flat. “You think ‘us’ doesn’t make sense anymore.”
“No, not us… No. Our situation.”
Justin opens his eyes and peers through his bangs. “Situation?”
“Yeah. This.” Brian waves his hand at the two of them. “It doesn’t make sense.” He sighs, then says suddenly, “I mean, I asked you to marry me and you said no and -”
“I didn’t say -”
“Fine, you said yes and then you said no. But we had still had something, right? We were … partners or whateverthefuck. So, what’s the point in spending all that fucking energy getting a relationship to work if, whenever we split, we have to go through it all over again the next time we’re together?”
“What’s your solution?” Justin says quietly. “That we’re not together?”
“No,” Brian says angrily. “That we don’t split up in the first place.”
Justin looks up at him wordlessly. Brian meets his gaze. “Oh come on Justin, don’t act like it’s such a novel fucking idea. Your new gallery in New York, it’s a success?”
“Well, I…”
“Is it a success?”
“Yeah,” he says and grins. “It’s a big fucking success.”
Brian looks at him firmly. “Then you’re coming home.”
“What?”
“You’ve got the contacts now, you’ve got the connections. New York’s got enough starving artists to last it a life time and Pittsburgh could use some fucking star potential.”
Justin meets his gaze levelly and suddenly his face is calm. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m coming home.”
Brian nods. “Good.”
They stare at each other for a moment in silence, delighting in the sudden sense of closeness. The barrier has gone.
A grin begins to creep across Justin’s face.
“Oh my god,” he says softly, staring at Brian.
“What?”
“You’ve gone all starry-eyed!”
“What the fuck? No I -”
“Yes, you have!” Justin crows. “Your eyes are all starry and you’ve got this goofy smile on your face.”
“Fuck off.”
“Brian Kinney has just gone starry-eyed for me!”
“You know what? I think Pittsburgh has enough star potential after all, I’d go back to New York, or even better? California. See if you can see my fucking starry eyes and goofy smile from there, Sunshine.”
Justin laughs and backs off. “I was kidding. Come on Brian, I was just kidding.”
But he wasn’t. And he doesn’t mind Brian’s sniping one bit because throughout the bickering, no matter how much Brian tries to deny it, his smile stays a little goofy and his gaze is all starry-eyed.
-----
The next morning, Mel and Linds walk into their kitchen to find Brian and Justin still sprawled there, naked and eating last night’s cheesecake. Mel groans and says “Oh for fuck’s sake” and hurriedly goes to divert Gus who was trailing in after them.
Justin blushes and tries to cover himself with the cheesecake platter, Brian just stretches out further and grins.
Lindsay sighs exasperatedly, “Brian, did you have to? We’ve got to eat breakfast in here.” But a smile twitches at the corner of her lips and she sends Justin a pleased look.
He grins at her sheepishly and mumbles something about getting dressed before hurrying from the room, plate still covering his dignity.
Brian’s head follows him lazily until his ass is out of sight then he turns back to Lindsey with a grin. “So…”
“I guess the great rolling epic that is your relationship is off the rocks again then?”
Brian scoops some more cheesecake with his finger. “You could say that.” He licks his lips and says airily, “Justin’s decided to come back to Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, Brian.” She smiles and he knows she’s truly happy for them. “That’s great.”
“Mmm, well I guess he couldn’t resist the Kinney charm for much longer,” he says nonchalantly but he gives her a little sideways glance and a grin that tells her it’s more than that.
“Oh, of course. Well, I’m really happy for you.” She looks down at him fondly. “I’m proud of you Brian. I want you to know that.” She turns her gaze to the rest of the kitchen and without skipping a beat she continues, “And if you fucked him on the table you are so bleaching it for me.”
“Relax. We were on the floor…And once over the kitchen counter. Oh, and once on that chair. And did we…?”
Lindsey closes her eyes and reaches blindly for the disinfectant.