fiction: Holding On, Ten Years Gone
Title: Holding On, Ten Years Gone
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairing/Characters: Brian/Justin
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 4,996
Description: It had been ten years since the Munchers moved to Canada and last Fall Brian had finally gotten tired of sleeping on pull-out couches and in shitty motel rooms
Warning: Post-513, spoilers for Season 5.
Disclaimer: Written for qafanfic as part of qaf_giftxchnge. Thanks to the lovely shadownyc for the beta.
Holding On, Ten Years Gone
It had been ten years since the Munchers moved to Canada and last Fall Brian had finally gotten tired of sleeping on pull-out couches and in shitty motel rooms whenever he commuted up to see Gus. As usual his solution was done with Kinney style. He’d bought the loft reincarnate three blocks from their house and a car to match.
Although Brian had had the apartment for just under a year, that Christmas was the first time Justin ever visited. Brian hadn’t called to tell him, just booked the plane tickets and mailed them over.
Justin had come home from some awful meet and greet, pale from exhaustion and sick to death of all the goddamn schmoozing he had to do. He’d stumbled through the door, eyes barely open and tripped over the envelope on his doormat.
He’d ripped it open, stopping mid-yawn to stare at the ticket in his hands. He’d felt a little tearful. He was tired of New York. He’d been tired of New York for the last five years, and he was tired of Milan last fall and Paris the year before that. He was tired of the openings and the pretentious critics and having to pretend that he liked prawn canapés.
And after ten years, ten fucking years of ceaseless hard work, Justin had had enough. So he’d stared at his way out in the crumpled envelope, the ticket away from New York and towards Brian, and for the first time in a decade he had not felt tired.
-----
Brian comes to meet him at the airport, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking bored. But the moment he spots Justin, something flashes in his eyes and he gives his little half-smile. Justin can’t help grinning back goofily and hitching his bag up further as he jogs over to the barrier.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
Then he’s leaning forward, metal bar pressing into his stomach as he kisses Brian, lips and teeth clashing clumsily as they grin against each other’s mouths. He pulls away, cheeks a little flushed.
“Good to see you,” he says.
Brian nods. “Yeah, you too,” he says quietly, then promptly ruins all romance by pointing at the barrier and continuing, “So are you planning on coming round the other side of this fucking thing anytime soon, so we can get the hell out of this shithole?”
-----
Stepping out into the parking lot, Brian wordlessly takes Justin’s luggage off him and slings one arm comfortably around his shoulders.
Justin looks up at him. “How have you been?”
“Good. You?”
“Yeah.” Justin smiles and wraps his arm round Brian’s waist. “So, what’s the talent like this side of the border?”
Brian grins. “Surprisingly promising. You get all the muscles out here. None of that stick-thin twink stuff you get in the Pitts. I fucked the postman last week. Built like a fucking brick shithouse, he’d have made Ben look delicate.”
Justin makes a face. “I was never really into muscles.”
“You wouldn’t have much choice here. I had to give up my membership to the gym, you know.” Brian’s mouth gives a disgusted twitch. “People actually went there to work out.”
Justin rolls his eyes. “How disappointing,” he says dryly.
Brian, detecting the note of sarcasm, looks down at him. “You’re looking skinny,” he remarks. “Now we’re on the subject. Thought you were passed the whole starving artist thing.”
Justin shrugs. “Don’t have time mostly. It’s still fucking crazy in New York. Coffee and cocaine’s about as nutritious as you’re gonna get.”
“Well expect to get fattened up. I’ve promised the Munchers our company on Christmas Day and they’ll probably force feed you turkey until you puke.”
“Nice.”
Brian shrugs then peers down at Justin. “You look tired too.”
“Jeez, is this like insult Justin day or something?”
Brian digs out his keys and raises his arm to beep open a car a couple of meters from them. “No, but you look like crap. Just thought I’d let you know.”
Justin just rolls his eyes again. “Thanks,” he says. He looks at the midnight blue convertible that Brian’s just unlocked. “This the new ride then?”
Brian strokes a hand lovingly across the roof. “Uh huh.”
“Hot.”
“I know.”
“So, what’s happened to the 'vette?” Justin asks, watching him carefully. “Has the old model been completely forgotten for the newer, sexier one?”
Brian grins. “The old model’s still sexy,” he says and ruffles Justin’s hair. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”
-----
The house is a good hour or so from the airport and Justin spends most of the journey trying to keep his eyes open. When they eventually pull up outside the building, he looks up at it without really taking anything in. Brian pulls his luggage out of the trunk and nudges Justin forward up the snowy path to the front door.
Standing on the porch, Justin kicks the snow off his shoes and steps inside. Brian, following soon after, throws the switch by the door and the rooms are flooded with light. Justin takes a step back. Tasteful chrome surfaces and ash paneling surround sleek furniture and expensive artwork. It really is the loft reborn, with one small exception.
Everything, absolutely everything, every corner, every crack, every surface, has been festooned with Christmas decorations. There’s fairy lights dangling from the ceiling and tinsel round every door. A huge tree towers in the living room, just visible beneath the ton of multi-colored baubles.
Brian pushes past Justin, scowling darkly but Justin just grins.
“So how is Debbie?” he asks.
Brian surveys his rooms sourly. “Disgustingly festive,” he says. “And currently dead to me.”
“When was she over?”
“Last week. She lugged all this with her.” He waves helplessly at the decorations. “Four fucking suitcases of this shit.”
Justin’s eyes take in the trail of golden cherubs strung angelically across Brian’s liquor cabinet and the shiny festive bows around his bong collection.
“It’s very…” He searches for the right word. “Sparkly.”
Brian shudders. “It’s revolting. And it’s completely fucking with my feng shui.”
“Why haven’t you taken it down then?”
Brian carefully avoids his gaze. “I haven’t had time,” he says evasively. “And, well, Gus likes it so…”
Justin learnt long ago to suppress all signs of shock if Brian ever grudgingly confessed to care about someone other than himself. Instead he just kicks a path through some revolting fake reindeer and slumps on Brian’s couch.
“How is Gus?”
Brian sprawls next to him, clearly relieved at the change in conversation. “Yeah, he’s doing fine. He’s coming over for dinner tonight. Wanted to see you, and anyway he needed an excuse to get out of that fucking Muncher madhouse.”
“Is it really that bad?”
Brian rolls his head to look at Justin. “They’ve been cooking since fucking September, playing Christmas songs since August and you can’t move a fucking inch without getting pine needles stuck in some part of your ass.”
“I’m guessing he’s inherited your festive spirit then?”
“He’s considered death by tinsel.”
“Right.”
Across the room an electronic Santa Claus senses the pause in conversation and clicks on, letting out some robotic ho-ho-hos. Brian visibly twitches.
“So, when are we picking him up?” Justin asks hurriedly.
“He finishes work at seven.”
“Work?” Justin blinks at him in surprise. “God, I forget that he grows up while I’m away. Shit, what is he now, fifteen?”
“Sixteen,” Brian corrects.
“Fuck. Where’s he working?”
“Some shitty CD store downtown.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
Brian shrugs. “Fifteen minutes or so, why?
Justin waits long enough for the mood to switch, smiling at Brian a little wickedly as he asks, “Just wondering how much time we’ve got.”
A smirk twitches at the corner of Brian’s mouth and he lifts his wrist, not even bothering to glance in the general direction of his watch when he answers smoothly, “Enough.”
His eyes drag along the length of Justin’s body, resting dark and hungry on his lips and Justin, blushing and half-hard from that look alone, leans forward. Just before their lips meet, he pauses. They are close enough to feel each other’s breath, hot against their open mouths, but never touching. Justin tilts his head, ghosting their lips and inching closer until their hips are tight in line.
He can feel Brian hard between them and he presses their cocks together, smiling as Brian’s moan slides over his lips. Brian’s hand reaches up, warm on the back of his neck, tugging him closer, but still Justin doesn’t give in. He lets his tongue poke out and licks his lips, their mouths so close that a millimeter forward and he would be licking Brian’s.
All the while, as their mouths tease, Brian is pressing his cock against Justin’s hip and Justin’s pressing back until Brian finally growls, “Christ Justin, we don’t have that much fucking time.”
And Justin grins, putting a firm hand on Brian’s chest to push him against the back of the couch. Then he’s kissing Brian’s mouth, his jaw, his chest. Hoisting up his shirt to press fingers against flushed skin.
He can feel Brian’s breath hitch as his hands trail down over ribs and hips to the waistband of Brian’s jeans. He straddles him, mouths firmly together now, too desperate for teasing as he reaches between them to undo Brian’s zipper.
Then he slides from the couch, kneeling between Brian’s open legs and nudging them wider. His hands reach round, resting on the small of Brian’s back and pushing him to the edge of the seat so that he can shove his boxers down.
His mouth barely touches the head of Brian’s cock, lips sliding round then tongue. Like their mouths it’s teasing and gentle, Justin’s hands tight on Brian’s hips to stop him thrusting into his mouth and letting it end in seconds. He pokes the tip of his tongue out, brushing it briefly across the underside of Brian’s cock grinning as Brian groans in frustration.
It’s another five minutes of those torturous, teasing licks before Brian finally snaps and says breathlessly, “Do you want to be the one who has to explain to my son why we were late picking him up?”
Justin slides forward suddenly and the rest of Brian’s snark is lost in a groan as his cock hits the back of Justin’s throat. Justin waits until the groans die down into harsh breathing then he swallows.
“Christ,” Brian moans, his hips jerking forward and his fingers tangling into Justin’s hair.
Justin pulls back then slides forward again, his tongue licking a wet stripe down the shaft. And the sound of Brian’s breathless gasps above him and the steady thrust into Justin’s mouth is suddenly a thousand times more arousing than any of the meaningless faceless fucks in the six months or so since they’ve been apart.
Justin slides his hands into his own pants, needing the relief, jerking his own cock in time to Brian’s thrusts. He feels Brian shift, craning forwards to watch, Justin’s hums of pleasure shuddering through him.
His eyes flutter, heavy-lidded with lust as his own arousal makes Brian gasp and buck against him. And Brian’s hitched breathing speeds up Justin’s hand and the sight of that speeds up Brian’s thrusts, cock fucking Justin’s mouth, his lips red and swollen, till they’re both panting and so fucking close.
And then, just as Brian’s fingers pull tight in Justin’s hair, he pulls away. But Brian only has time for one grunt of protest before Justin’s up again and straddling his lap, his hand wrapping round both their cocks, fist jerking tight and fast.
Brian watches for a breathless moment, swallows hard, then his hand wraps round Justin’s and they manage one more stroke before they’re both coming, Justin’s face buried in Brian’s neck, their fingers still wrapped together.
They lay boneless, breathing hard, their chests rising and falling in unison. Eventually Justin peels himself away and says, “We still on schedule?”
“Gosh, Justin. It’s just so hot when you talk dirty.”
Justin rolls his eyes and laughs. Climbing off Brian’s lap, he eyes their stained clothes ruefully. “Come on, we should probably get changed.”
-----
Justin goes in to fetch Gus while Brian parks the car. The store where he works is tiny. Shelves stand at precarious angles in every corner, stacked high with CDs and record cases. Plastered over the walls are peeling posters of rock stars from every era, the faces changing but the tight trousers and terrible hair staying constant throughout.
Peering through the gloom, he spots Gus sitting on a stool, his front half slumped over a counter. He’s wearing headphones, the big chunky ones that are so old they’ve come back into fashion. Every now and then a customer will stand in front of him and he’ll peer lazily up at them through his bangs, pull one earphone away from his ear and point silently to one shelf or another.
There are things that make Brian’s son stand out from other boys his age. His laid-back charm is one, he’s inherited his father’s good-looks but he makes them his own with a lazy comfortableness that Brian could never manage. His dark clothes are another, as far from his father’s label-queen status as he can get, he prefers the crap found second-hand or the black jeans Justin sent from New York.
But the thing that sets Gus apart most of all is his silence. Learned all his words by the age of five and then stopped using them. His quietness isn’t from some teenage surliness or lack of confidence, but rather, personal choice. Or, as Justin thinks of it, a certain genetic disinclination to see the point of words. He’s not mute. He speaks but it’s rarely, and briefly. And when he says something, you know it’s important.
Justin navigates his way round the piles of sheet music on the floor, reaching the counter and peering down at the back of Gus’ head. There’s a small bell next to his ear, Justin pings it and Gus looks up startled. He stares at Justin for a second, then his face breaks into a wide grin. He shoves his earphones off and comes round the other side of the counter, hugging Justin and slapping him on the back.
When they break apart, Justin grins at him. “Hey Gus. Long time, no see.”
Now they’re both standing at the same level, Justin can see that Gus has grown, really grown. Already he towers over Justin, all long limbs like his father. He’s grown his hair long too and he has to keep on pushing the bangs out of his eyes. Justin forces himself to squash the maternal instinct to look at him with mild disapproval and say, “Sweetie, you need a haircut.” Instead he concentrates on the next new installment, a small silver ring punched through one corner of Gus’ mouth.
“Nice lip ring, Gus. I bet your moms loved that.”
Gus pulls a face and shakes his head.
Justin laughs. “Yeah, maybe not.” He motions to the window. “Your dad’s just parking the car. You done here?”
Gus looks round the shop where a few customers still stand engrossed by the dusty shelves, he shrugs and nods, pulling a bag out from under his stool and heading for the door. Justin’s eyebrows raise, but he follows him without a word.
Once they’re out in the street, Justin scans the road quickly until he spots Brian’s car. He nudges Gus in the right direction and they start a brisk walk, keen to get out of the cold air.
“So, how’ve you been, Gus?”
Gus blinks the hair out of his eyes. “All right,” he mumbles.
“You’ve grown loads since I saw you. Been drinking your milk?”
He laughs and nods.
“Your moms’ okay? And JR?”
Gus nods again.
“Good,” Justin says. “Didn’t get that much chance to talk to Brian yet.”
Gus gives him a knowing look and rolls his eyes. Just ahead of them, Brian flashes his headlights and Justin gratefully shuts up and hustles them towards the car.
Gus pauses to bend his knees and give his dad a brief wave through the car window before opening the door and sprawling himself across the backseat. Justin slides into the passenger seat and the car pulls out.
Brian watches Gus through the driver’s mirror. “Good day at work?”
Gus nods.
“You see that girl today? The one with the pink dreads?”
Gus’ face goes a little red and he nods again.
Brian smirks at Justin. “Gus has crush.”
Justin grins and peers round his seat. “Really?”
Gus slouches further down and stares determinedly out the window.
“Ah, my son, constantly ashamed of his heterosexual tendencies.” Brian sighs and looks pious. “I’ve tried telling him, I’ll love him no matter how sick and unnatural his desires, but…”
Brian manages to keep his declarations going for the rest of the journey, his speeches of “acceptance” getting more and more ridiculous until Gus’ glower eventually turns into a reluctant grin. And when Justin turns to him and says, “How the fuck are you so well-adjusted?” he just shrugs and smiles at his dad.
-----
It’s just reached seven thirty when they arrive at the house. Gus dumps his stuff in the hallway then happily wanders round through the rooms switching on every electronic decoration he can reach. At the sight of Brian’s face, Justin has the sneaking suspicion it’s Gus’ idea of pay-back.
Dinner is an area of minor conflict. Brian, predictably enough, suggests take-out.
“It’s my first fucking night back, Brian,” Justin moans. “I want a decent meal. And anyway, you can’t eat noodles at Christmas.”
“Well, you cook something then.”
Justin looks abashed. “I can’t.”
“You can’t? You could before. What the fuck happened in New York?”
“Eating disorders are in this year, I told you. And anyway I have to go to parties most evenings, there’s not much culinary skill involved in eating canapés.”
In the end Gus makes them dinner. A rather sloppy mac’n’cheese which seems to be considerably more cheese than mac, to Brian’s obvious distaste.
Gus serves it into bowls, sitting down and grinning cheerfully as his father mutters under his breath about calories and carbs.
“I’ll get fat,” he scowls. “And you won’t look so smug when no one thinks your dad’s hot anymore.”
“I think you’re hot,” Justin mumbles through a mouthful of pasta.
“You’re prejudiced.”
Justin picks some food out of his teeth and nods. “True,” he says. “My eyes are blinded by love.”
“Well, exactly.”
“And anyway, I think you look good in your old age.”
“Fuck you.”
Justin smiles sweetly. “Sorry. Middle age.”
Brian doesn’t answer just forks up another mouthful of pasta and gives him the finger.
“Well, at least you got through that whole I’ll-kick-it when-I’m-forty phase.”
Brian sighs. “It’s true,” he says. “I’ve decided to grow old gracefully.”
Justin laughs. “Grow old gracefully?” he scoffs. “You’ll have facelifts until you run out of scalp.”
Gus silently puts down his fork and raises his hand for a high five. Brian spends the rest of the meal glowering at both of them.
-----
By the time dinner’s over, Justin’s yawning till his jaw cracks, eyes dopey from food and tiredness. He props his head up, elbow on the table and lets the hum of Brian’s voice wash over him. The room glimmers in the over-head lights, the messy tangle of tinsel blurring into one ball of color as his eyelids droop. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in months.
“Justin.” Brian’s voice breaks through his doze. “…Justin.”
He raises his head sleepily. “Huh?”
“Just thought I’d let you know, if you fall asleep there, you’re staying there. I’m not fucking carrying you to the bedroom.”
Justin stifles a yawn, looks apologetically at Gus. “Sorry, I’m not really tired. I just…” Another yawn finishes the sentence for him.
Brian rolls his eyes. “You’re pathetic,” he says. “JR’s up later than this. Gus, go shove on a movie or something for him in the living room.”
Gus lazily extricates himself from the chair.
Brian looks at Justin, shakes his head a little. “Do you ever sleep in New York?”
Justin shrugs. “Sometimes.”
“Without sleeping pills?”
He chews on his lip. “Not so much.”
Brian looks at him, then he runs a hand through his hair. “Go on,” he says. “Go watch whatever crap Gus has put on the TV. See if you can make it till nine.”
-----
Brian’s standing in the doorway watching Justin snooze on the sofa when Gus comes up beside him and nudges his shoulder with his own.
“Time to go, Gus?” Brian asks and Gus nods. “Well grab your stuff and I’ll drive you over.”
But Gus pauses in the doorway, his eyes on the sleeping Justin. Brian follows his gaze and sighs.
“Flights wear him out,” he says quietly. “And he doesn’t sleep that well in New York anyway.”
Gus raises an eyebrow but Brian doesn’t notice. He’s staring at Justin, a small frown creasing his brow.
“He works too hard,” he says. “And he doesn’t look after himself properly. Sometimes I think he’d do a whole lot fucking better back in Pittsburgh.”
Gus slouches against the doorframe and looks at his dad pointedly. Brian’s frown deepens. “Don’t look at me like that, sonny boy. I did ask him you know.”
Gus turns to face him properly, then sighs and opens his mouth. “That was ten fucking years ago, Dad,” he says. “Try asking again.”
-----
When Brian gets back from dropping off Gus, Justin’s fast asleep in front of the TV, the end credits of ‘X-men’ rolling up the screen. Brian sighs and hits the remote, the machine whirs into silence and Justin’s slow steady breathing fills the room.
Leaning over the couch, Brian shakes Justin’s shoulder gently.
“Justin… Hey, Justin.”
Justin blinks his eyes open blearily for the second time that evening and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Did I crash again?”
Brian nods. “Flat out, straight after dinner.”
Justin stretches. “Where’s Gus?”
“I just dropped him home.”
“Crap, I wanted to say bye.”
“You’ll see him tomorrow. Come on, I’m getting you to bed before you get more fucking creases on my Italian silk.”
Justin stumbles sleepily to his feet and with Brian’s hand on the small of his back, propelling him forward, he makes his way up the stairs. He collapses on the bed with a small sigh of satisfaction.
“Bliss.”
Brian sprawls next to him. “You don’t get beds in New York?”
“Brian, you’ve seen my bed in New York. We’ve fucked in my bed in New York. I think we can safely assume that it exists.”
“Then what’s with all the fucking rapture?”
Justin shrugs and rolls over to bury his face in one of the pillows. When he eventually speaks his voice comes out muffled around the material. “Your bed,” he mumbles. “Makes all the difference.”
-----
Brian lies awake for a long time after Justin’s breathing evens out, his son’s words echoing round his head. The room is still light because he couldn’t be bothered to find the switch for all those goddamn fairy lights and he stares, mesmerized by the colors, unable to fall asleep.
It’s not like he hadn’t thought to ask Justin to come home, and it’s not like he hadn’t missed him. Those first few months after he left Pittsburgh had felt empty in a way Brian hadn’t expected. But Justin had called from New York each week and sounded happy and Brian had learned to push that emptiness to the back of his mind. It hurt less that way.
Only things had changed in the last year. Justin still called once a week or so, but he didn’t sound happy any more, he sounded worn-out and fed up. His voice was lifeless and after three months of it, Brian quietly booked flights to Canada and mailed them to New York.
He’d expected… he doesn’t know what he’d expected. He’d just wanted Justin to have a fucking break for once. But then that evening, watching Justin sleep on the couch, Gus had spoke. He’d said “Try asking again” and it was like the opening of floodgates. Everything Brian had shoved away for the last ten years came pouring back. All he’d needed was that tiny nudge, his son’s permission to miss Justin, to want him to come home. Gus doesn’t say things unless he means them.
Brian stares at his ceiling and comes to a decision, an hour spent lying awake, tormenting himself and in the end it turns out that it’s all quite simple. For the third time that evening he wakes up Justin.
“Justin, you sleeping?”
Justin’s eyes flutter open and he shuffles towards Brian.
“Hm?” He smiles sleepily, his hand drifting towards Brian’s chest.
Brian takes a deep breath. “Ten years feels like a long time, huh?”
Justin pulls away surprised, fully awake now. “You woke me up for this?” he asks grumpily. “I thought you wanted to fuck or something or I would have gone back to sleep.”
Brian sighs. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this but… can we talk? And then fuck.”
Justin yawns and stretches out so he’s more comfortable. “Okay,” he says grudgingly. “What was the question?”
“I asked whether you thought ten years felt like a long time.”
Justin, lying on his stomach, props his chin up on the pillow to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean it’s gone fast but when you think about it, like when you look at Gus, I think fuck, when we were in Pittsburgh he was still sucking on a pacifier and now he’s got a fucking lip ring and -”
“Yeah,” Brian cuts in quickly. “But for… us, I mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Justin considers it. “I remember those first six months or so in New York were fucking hell without you. But then more work started to come in, and I was so goddamn busy with all the new galleries and stuff and well you can’t stay heartbroken forever. So I just kind of got on with it and even though I was struggling to pay rent every fucking month I just -”
“But now?” Brian interrupts firmly. “You’re hardly struggling now, are you?”
“Am I a success, you mean?” Justin muses. “I guess I’m about as close as I’m ever going to be. My paintings sell well and I’ve got a couple of big shows lined up around the country. My agent seems pretty pleased and I’ve certainly got enough money to live off -”
“Justin -”
But Justin’s still happily rambling. “I’m thinking of getting a new car, though god knows it’s impossible to drive anywhere in New York -”
“Justin -”
“- and I guess it’s probably better for me to walk anyway. I don’t have time to go to the gym anymore and it’s about the only exercise I -”
“Justin!” Brian’s voice is loud with exasperation and finally Justin shuts up. “Are you trying to make this difficult for me?”
Justin rolls onto his side and looks at him wide-eyed. “Make what difficult? You were asking me about what I did in New York and I was telling you. If you ask questions and don’t want answers then you should -”
“I’m trying to tell you that I miss you!” Brian bursts out, sudden and too loud and Justin’s head jerks up in surprise. He swallows in the following silence and his eyes flicker to avoid Justin’s.
“And that I want you to come home,” he finishes quietly.
Justin stares at him. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, right.”
Brian slumps back on the pillows, scowling. “Well, at least that shut you up.”
He can feel Justin’s eyes on him, piercing, and it only makes his scowl deeper. Eventually Justin says, “Are you serious?”
Brian shrugs, then nods silently.
“Back to Pittsburgh?”
“Yeah.”
“The loft?”
“If you wanted.”
Justin shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not the loft.”
Brian looks at him steadily. “Okay,” he says.
“That’s not a ‘no’,” Justin states hurriedly. “Just not the loft. It would feel…” he hesitates. “It’s too much like a backwards step somehow.”
Brian nods, understands.
“It’s not a ‘no’ to you though,” Justin continues. “Or to Pittsburgh. Actually it’s a ‘yes’.” He smiles tentatively. “A resounding ‘yes’.”
Brian doesn’t look at him, stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “Yes?”
Justin’s hand reaches out, his thumb brushing against Brian’s cheek. “Yes,” he says quietly and for a moment Brian lets himself lean against Justin’s fingertips, pressing his cheek against the palm.
Then the moment passes and Brian pulls back. Justin lets out a little shaky laugh. “Too bad you got rid of the rings then, huh?”
Brian takes a deep breath. “No,” he says firmly. “No rings, no big houses, no bullshit ceremonies. Not this time.”
Justin looks at him, smiles softly. “Would it be corny if I said, ‘just us, that’s all we need’?”
Brian rolls his head on the pillow to look at him, raises an eyebrow. “Yes,” he says. “Incredibly corny.”
Justin shifts onto his back, smirks. “Lucky I resisted then.”
“Yup.”
They lie side by side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in comfortable quiet. They’re lit by Debbie’s fairy lights, strung from every beam, soft reds and blues blinking across their skin. Brian’s eyes drift shut for a moment, lulled by Justin’s steady breathing
But all the same he’s awake enough to smile when Justin leans close to his ear and whispers, “Just us.” And a quiet kiss is pressed against Brian’s temple. “That’s all we need.”
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairing/Characters: Brian/Justin
Author: knittedshadow
Rating: adult
Words: 4,996
Description: It had been ten years since the Munchers moved to Canada and last Fall Brian had finally gotten tired of sleeping on pull-out couches and in shitty motel rooms
Warning: Post-513, spoilers for Season 5.
Disclaimer: Written for qafanfic as part of qaf_giftxchnge. Thanks to the lovely shadownyc for the beta.
Holding On, Ten Years Gone
It had been ten years since the Munchers moved to Canada and last Fall Brian had finally gotten tired of sleeping on pull-out couches and in shitty motel rooms whenever he commuted up to see Gus. As usual his solution was done with Kinney style. He’d bought the loft reincarnate three blocks from their house and a car to match.
Although Brian had had the apartment for just under a year, that Christmas was the first time Justin ever visited. Brian hadn’t called to tell him, just booked the plane tickets and mailed them over.
Justin had come home from some awful meet and greet, pale from exhaustion and sick to death of all the goddamn schmoozing he had to do. He’d stumbled through the door, eyes barely open and tripped over the envelope on his doormat.
He’d ripped it open, stopping mid-yawn to stare at the ticket in his hands. He’d felt a little tearful. He was tired of New York. He’d been tired of New York for the last five years, and he was tired of Milan last fall and Paris the year before that. He was tired of the openings and the pretentious critics and having to pretend that he liked prawn canapés.
And after ten years, ten fucking years of ceaseless hard work, Justin had had enough. So he’d stared at his way out in the crumpled envelope, the ticket away from New York and towards Brian, and for the first time in a decade he had not felt tired.
-----
Brian comes to meet him at the airport, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking bored. But the moment he spots Justin, something flashes in his eyes and he gives his little half-smile. Justin can’t help grinning back goofily and hitching his bag up further as he jogs over to the barrier.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
Then he’s leaning forward, metal bar pressing into his stomach as he kisses Brian, lips and teeth clashing clumsily as they grin against each other’s mouths. He pulls away, cheeks a little flushed.
“Good to see you,” he says.
Brian nods. “Yeah, you too,” he says quietly, then promptly ruins all romance by pointing at the barrier and continuing, “So are you planning on coming round the other side of this fucking thing anytime soon, so we can get the hell out of this shithole?”
-----
Stepping out into the parking lot, Brian wordlessly takes Justin’s luggage off him and slings one arm comfortably around his shoulders.
Justin looks up at him. “How have you been?”
“Good. You?”
“Yeah.” Justin smiles and wraps his arm round Brian’s waist. “So, what’s the talent like this side of the border?”
Brian grins. “Surprisingly promising. You get all the muscles out here. None of that stick-thin twink stuff you get in the Pitts. I fucked the postman last week. Built like a fucking brick shithouse, he’d have made Ben look delicate.”
Justin makes a face. “I was never really into muscles.”
“You wouldn’t have much choice here. I had to give up my membership to the gym, you know.” Brian’s mouth gives a disgusted twitch. “People actually went there to work out.”
Justin rolls his eyes. “How disappointing,” he says dryly.
Brian, detecting the note of sarcasm, looks down at him. “You’re looking skinny,” he remarks. “Now we’re on the subject. Thought you were passed the whole starving artist thing.”
Justin shrugs. “Don’t have time mostly. It’s still fucking crazy in New York. Coffee and cocaine’s about as nutritious as you’re gonna get.”
“Well expect to get fattened up. I’ve promised the Munchers our company on Christmas Day and they’ll probably force feed you turkey until you puke.”
“Nice.”
Brian shrugs then peers down at Justin. “You look tired too.”
“Jeez, is this like insult Justin day or something?”
Brian digs out his keys and raises his arm to beep open a car a couple of meters from them. “No, but you look like crap. Just thought I’d let you know.”
Justin just rolls his eyes again. “Thanks,” he says. He looks at the midnight blue convertible that Brian’s just unlocked. “This the new ride then?”
Brian strokes a hand lovingly across the roof. “Uh huh.”
“Hot.”
“I know.”
“So, what’s happened to the 'vette?” Justin asks, watching him carefully. “Has the old model been completely forgotten for the newer, sexier one?”
Brian grins. “The old model’s still sexy,” he says and ruffles Justin’s hair. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.”
-----
The house is a good hour or so from the airport and Justin spends most of the journey trying to keep his eyes open. When they eventually pull up outside the building, he looks up at it without really taking anything in. Brian pulls his luggage out of the trunk and nudges Justin forward up the snowy path to the front door.
Standing on the porch, Justin kicks the snow off his shoes and steps inside. Brian, following soon after, throws the switch by the door and the rooms are flooded with light. Justin takes a step back. Tasteful chrome surfaces and ash paneling surround sleek furniture and expensive artwork. It really is the loft reborn, with one small exception.
Everything, absolutely everything, every corner, every crack, every surface, has been festooned with Christmas decorations. There’s fairy lights dangling from the ceiling and tinsel round every door. A huge tree towers in the living room, just visible beneath the ton of multi-colored baubles.
Brian pushes past Justin, scowling darkly but Justin just grins.
“So how is Debbie?” he asks.
Brian surveys his rooms sourly. “Disgustingly festive,” he says. “And currently dead to me.”
“When was she over?”
“Last week. She lugged all this with her.” He waves helplessly at the decorations. “Four fucking suitcases of this shit.”
Justin’s eyes take in the trail of golden cherubs strung angelically across Brian’s liquor cabinet and the shiny festive bows around his bong collection.
“It’s very…” He searches for the right word. “Sparkly.”
Brian shudders. “It’s revolting. And it’s completely fucking with my feng shui.”
“Why haven’t you taken it down then?”
Brian carefully avoids his gaze. “I haven’t had time,” he says evasively. “And, well, Gus likes it so…”
Justin learnt long ago to suppress all signs of shock if Brian ever grudgingly confessed to care about someone other than himself. Instead he just kicks a path through some revolting fake reindeer and slumps on Brian’s couch.
“How is Gus?”
Brian sprawls next to him, clearly relieved at the change in conversation. “Yeah, he’s doing fine. He’s coming over for dinner tonight. Wanted to see you, and anyway he needed an excuse to get out of that fucking Muncher madhouse.”
“Is it really that bad?”
Brian rolls his head to look at Justin. “They’ve been cooking since fucking September, playing Christmas songs since August and you can’t move a fucking inch without getting pine needles stuck in some part of your ass.”
“I’m guessing he’s inherited your festive spirit then?”
“He’s considered death by tinsel.”
“Right.”
Across the room an electronic Santa Claus senses the pause in conversation and clicks on, letting out some robotic ho-ho-hos. Brian visibly twitches.
“So, when are we picking him up?” Justin asks hurriedly.
“He finishes work at seven.”
“Work?” Justin blinks at him in surprise. “God, I forget that he grows up while I’m away. Shit, what is he now, fifteen?”
“Sixteen,” Brian corrects.
“Fuck. Where’s he working?”
“Some shitty CD store downtown.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
Brian shrugs. “Fifteen minutes or so, why?
Justin waits long enough for the mood to switch, smiling at Brian a little wickedly as he asks, “Just wondering how much time we’ve got.”
A smirk twitches at the corner of Brian’s mouth and he lifts his wrist, not even bothering to glance in the general direction of his watch when he answers smoothly, “Enough.”
His eyes drag along the length of Justin’s body, resting dark and hungry on his lips and Justin, blushing and half-hard from that look alone, leans forward. Just before their lips meet, he pauses. They are close enough to feel each other’s breath, hot against their open mouths, but never touching. Justin tilts his head, ghosting their lips and inching closer until their hips are tight in line.
He can feel Brian hard between them and he presses their cocks together, smiling as Brian’s moan slides over his lips. Brian’s hand reaches up, warm on the back of his neck, tugging him closer, but still Justin doesn’t give in. He lets his tongue poke out and licks his lips, their mouths so close that a millimeter forward and he would be licking Brian’s.
All the while, as their mouths tease, Brian is pressing his cock against Justin’s hip and Justin’s pressing back until Brian finally growls, “Christ Justin, we don’t have that much fucking time.”
And Justin grins, putting a firm hand on Brian’s chest to push him against the back of the couch. Then he’s kissing Brian’s mouth, his jaw, his chest. Hoisting up his shirt to press fingers against flushed skin.
He can feel Brian’s breath hitch as his hands trail down over ribs and hips to the waistband of Brian’s jeans. He straddles him, mouths firmly together now, too desperate for teasing as he reaches between them to undo Brian’s zipper.
Then he slides from the couch, kneeling between Brian’s open legs and nudging them wider. His hands reach round, resting on the small of Brian’s back and pushing him to the edge of the seat so that he can shove his boxers down.
His mouth barely touches the head of Brian’s cock, lips sliding round then tongue. Like their mouths it’s teasing and gentle, Justin’s hands tight on Brian’s hips to stop him thrusting into his mouth and letting it end in seconds. He pokes the tip of his tongue out, brushing it briefly across the underside of Brian’s cock grinning as Brian groans in frustration.
It’s another five minutes of those torturous, teasing licks before Brian finally snaps and says breathlessly, “Do you want to be the one who has to explain to my son why we were late picking him up?”
Justin slides forward suddenly and the rest of Brian’s snark is lost in a groan as his cock hits the back of Justin’s throat. Justin waits until the groans die down into harsh breathing then he swallows.
“Christ,” Brian moans, his hips jerking forward and his fingers tangling into Justin’s hair.
Justin pulls back then slides forward again, his tongue licking a wet stripe down the shaft. And the sound of Brian’s breathless gasps above him and the steady thrust into Justin’s mouth is suddenly a thousand times more arousing than any of the meaningless faceless fucks in the six months or so since they’ve been apart.
Justin slides his hands into his own pants, needing the relief, jerking his own cock in time to Brian’s thrusts. He feels Brian shift, craning forwards to watch, Justin’s hums of pleasure shuddering through him.
His eyes flutter, heavy-lidded with lust as his own arousal makes Brian gasp and buck against him. And Brian’s hitched breathing speeds up Justin’s hand and the sight of that speeds up Brian’s thrusts, cock fucking Justin’s mouth, his lips red and swollen, till they’re both panting and so fucking close.
And then, just as Brian’s fingers pull tight in Justin’s hair, he pulls away. But Brian only has time for one grunt of protest before Justin’s up again and straddling his lap, his hand wrapping round both their cocks, fist jerking tight and fast.
Brian watches for a breathless moment, swallows hard, then his hand wraps round Justin’s and they manage one more stroke before they’re both coming, Justin’s face buried in Brian’s neck, their fingers still wrapped together.
They lay boneless, breathing hard, their chests rising and falling in unison. Eventually Justin peels himself away and says, “We still on schedule?”
“Gosh, Justin. It’s just so hot when you talk dirty.”
Justin rolls his eyes and laughs. Climbing off Brian’s lap, he eyes their stained clothes ruefully. “Come on, we should probably get changed.”
-----
Justin goes in to fetch Gus while Brian parks the car. The store where he works is tiny. Shelves stand at precarious angles in every corner, stacked high with CDs and record cases. Plastered over the walls are peeling posters of rock stars from every era, the faces changing but the tight trousers and terrible hair staying constant throughout.
Peering through the gloom, he spots Gus sitting on a stool, his front half slumped over a counter. He’s wearing headphones, the big chunky ones that are so old they’ve come back into fashion. Every now and then a customer will stand in front of him and he’ll peer lazily up at them through his bangs, pull one earphone away from his ear and point silently to one shelf or another.
There are things that make Brian’s son stand out from other boys his age. His laid-back charm is one, he’s inherited his father’s good-looks but he makes them his own with a lazy comfortableness that Brian could never manage. His dark clothes are another, as far from his father’s label-queen status as he can get, he prefers the crap found second-hand or the black jeans Justin sent from New York.
But the thing that sets Gus apart most of all is his silence. Learned all his words by the age of five and then stopped using them. His quietness isn’t from some teenage surliness or lack of confidence, but rather, personal choice. Or, as Justin thinks of it, a certain genetic disinclination to see the point of words. He’s not mute. He speaks but it’s rarely, and briefly. And when he says something, you know it’s important.
Justin navigates his way round the piles of sheet music on the floor, reaching the counter and peering down at the back of Gus’ head. There’s a small bell next to his ear, Justin pings it and Gus looks up startled. He stares at Justin for a second, then his face breaks into a wide grin. He shoves his earphones off and comes round the other side of the counter, hugging Justin and slapping him on the back.
When they break apart, Justin grins at him. “Hey Gus. Long time, no see.”
Now they’re both standing at the same level, Justin can see that Gus has grown, really grown. Already he towers over Justin, all long limbs like his father. He’s grown his hair long too and he has to keep on pushing the bangs out of his eyes. Justin forces himself to squash the maternal instinct to look at him with mild disapproval and say, “Sweetie, you need a haircut.” Instead he concentrates on the next new installment, a small silver ring punched through one corner of Gus’ mouth.
“Nice lip ring, Gus. I bet your moms loved that.”
Gus pulls a face and shakes his head.
Justin laughs. “Yeah, maybe not.” He motions to the window. “Your dad’s just parking the car. You done here?”
Gus looks round the shop where a few customers still stand engrossed by the dusty shelves, he shrugs and nods, pulling a bag out from under his stool and heading for the door. Justin’s eyebrows raise, but he follows him without a word.
Once they’re out in the street, Justin scans the road quickly until he spots Brian’s car. He nudges Gus in the right direction and they start a brisk walk, keen to get out of the cold air.
“So, how’ve you been, Gus?”
Gus blinks the hair out of his eyes. “All right,” he mumbles.
“You’ve grown loads since I saw you. Been drinking your milk?”
He laughs and nods.
“Your moms’ okay? And JR?”
Gus nods again.
“Good,” Justin says. “Didn’t get that much chance to talk to Brian yet.”
Gus gives him a knowing look and rolls his eyes. Just ahead of them, Brian flashes his headlights and Justin gratefully shuts up and hustles them towards the car.
Gus pauses to bend his knees and give his dad a brief wave through the car window before opening the door and sprawling himself across the backseat. Justin slides into the passenger seat and the car pulls out.
Brian watches Gus through the driver’s mirror. “Good day at work?”
Gus nods.
“You see that girl today? The one with the pink dreads?”
Gus’ face goes a little red and he nods again.
Brian smirks at Justin. “Gus has crush.”
Justin grins and peers round his seat. “Really?”
Gus slouches further down and stares determinedly out the window.
“Ah, my son, constantly ashamed of his heterosexual tendencies.” Brian sighs and looks pious. “I’ve tried telling him, I’ll love him no matter how sick and unnatural his desires, but…”
Brian manages to keep his declarations going for the rest of the journey, his speeches of “acceptance” getting more and more ridiculous until Gus’ glower eventually turns into a reluctant grin. And when Justin turns to him and says, “How the fuck are you so well-adjusted?” he just shrugs and smiles at his dad.
-----
It’s just reached seven thirty when they arrive at the house. Gus dumps his stuff in the hallway then happily wanders round through the rooms switching on every electronic decoration he can reach. At the sight of Brian’s face, Justin has the sneaking suspicion it’s Gus’ idea of pay-back.
Dinner is an area of minor conflict. Brian, predictably enough, suggests take-out.
“It’s my first fucking night back, Brian,” Justin moans. “I want a decent meal. And anyway, you can’t eat noodles at Christmas.”
“Well, you cook something then.”
Justin looks abashed. “I can’t.”
“You can’t? You could before. What the fuck happened in New York?”
“Eating disorders are in this year, I told you. And anyway I have to go to parties most evenings, there’s not much culinary skill involved in eating canapés.”
In the end Gus makes them dinner. A rather sloppy mac’n’cheese which seems to be considerably more cheese than mac, to Brian’s obvious distaste.
Gus serves it into bowls, sitting down and grinning cheerfully as his father mutters under his breath about calories and carbs.
“I’ll get fat,” he scowls. “And you won’t look so smug when no one thinks your dad’s hot anymore.”
“I think you’re hot,” Justin mumbles through a mouthful of pasta.
“You’re prejudiced.”
Justin picks some food out of his teeth and nods. “True,” he says. “My eyes are blinded by love.”
“Well, exactly.”
“And anyway, I think you look good in your old age.”
“Fuck you.”
Justin smiles sweetly. “Sorry. Middle age.”
Brian doesn’t answer just forks up another mouthful of pasta and gives him the finger.
“Well, at least you got through that whole I’ll-kick-it when-I’m-forty phase.”
Brian sighs. “It’s true,” he says. “I’ve decided to grow old gracefully.”
Justin laughs. “Grow old gracefully?” he scoffs. “You’ll have facelifts until you run out of scalp.”
Gus silently puts down his fork and raises his hand for a high five. Brian spends the rest of the meal glowering at both of them.
-----
By the time dinner’s over, Justin’s yawning till his jaw cracks, eyes dopey from food and tiredness. He props his head up, elbow on the table and lets the hum of Brian’s voice wash over him. The room glimmers in the over-head lights, the messy tangle of tinsel blurring into one ball of color as his eyelids droop. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in months.
“Justin.” Brian’s voice breaks through his doze. “…Justin.”
He raises his head sleepily. “Huh?”
“Just thought I’d let you know, if you fall asleep there, you’re staying there. I’m not fucking carrying you to the bedroom.”
Justin stifles a yawn, looks apologetically at Gus. “Sorry, I’m not really tired. I just…” Another yawn finishes the sentence for him.
Brian rolls his eyes. “You’re pathetic,” he says. “JR’s up later than this. Gus, go shove on a movie or something for him in the living room.”
Gus lazily extricates himself from the chair.
Brian looks at Justin, shakes his head a little. “Do you ever sleep in New York?”
Justin shrugs. “Sometimes.”
“Without sleeping pills?”
He chews on his lip. “Not so much.”
Brian looks at him, then he runs a hand through his hair. “Go on,” he says. “Go watch whatever crap Gus has put on the TV. See if you can make it till nine.”
-----
Brian’s standing in the doorway watching Justin snooze on the sofa when Gus comes up beside him and nudges his shoulder with his own.
“Time to go, Gus?” Brian asks and Gus nods. “Well grab your stuff and I’ll drive you over.”
But Gus pauses in the doorway, his eyes on the sleeping Justin. Brian follows his gaze and sighs.
“Flights wear him out,” he says quietly. “And he doesn’t sleep that well in New York anyway.”
Gus raises an eyebrow but Brian doesn’t notice. He’s staring at Justin, a small frown creasing his brow.
“He works too hard,” he says. “And he doesn’t look after himself properly. Sometimes I think he’d do a whole lot fucking better back in Pittsburgh.”
Gus slouches against the doorframe and looks at his dad pointedly. Brian’s frown deepens. “Don’t look at me like that, sonny boy. I did ask him you know.”
Gus turns to face him properly, then sighs and opens his mouth. “That was ten fucking years ago, Dad,” he says. “Try asking again.”
-----
When Brian gets back from dropping off Gus, Justin’s fast asleep in front of the TV, the end credits of ‘X-men’ rolling up the screen. Brian sighs and hits the remote, the machine whirs into silence and Justin’s slow steady breathing fills the room.
Leaning over the couch, Brian shakes Justin’s shoulder gently.
“Justin… Hey, Justin.”
Justin blinks his eyes open blearily for the second time that evening and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Did I crash again?”
Brian nods. “Flat out, straight after dinner.”
Justin stretches. “Where’s Gus?”
“I just dropped him home.”
“Crap, I wanted to say bye.”
“You’ll see him tomorrow. Come on, I’m getting you to bed before you get more fucking creases on my Italian silk.”
Justin stumbles sleepily to his feet and with Brian’s hand on the small of his back, propelling him forward, he makes his way up the stairs. He collapses on the bed with a small sigh of satisfaction.
“Bliss.”
Brian sprawls next to him. “You don’t get beds in New York?”
“Brian, you’ve seen my bed in New York. We’ve fucked in my bed in New York. I think we can safely assume that it exists.”
“Then what’s with all the fucking rapture?”
Justin shrugs and rolls over to bury his face in one of the pillows. When he eventually speaks his voice comes out muffled around the material. “Your bed,” he mumbles. “Makes all the difference.”
-----
Brian lies awake for a long time after Justin’s breathing evens out, his son’s words echoing round his head. The room is still light because he couldn’t be bothered to find the switch for all those goddamn fairy lights and he stares, mesmerized by the colors, unable to fall asleep.
It’s not like he hadn’t thought to ask Justin to come home, and it’s not like he hadn’t missed him. Those first few months after he left Pittsburgh had felt empty in a way Brian hadn’t expected. But Justin had called from New York each week and sounded happy and Brian had learned to push that emptiness to the back of his mind. It hurt less that way.
Only things had changed in the last year. Justin still called once a week or so, but he didn’t sound happy any more, he sounded worn-out and fed up. His voice was lifeless and after three months of it, Brian quietly booked flights to Canada and mailed them to New York.
He’d expected… he doesn’t know what he’d expected. He’d just wanted Justin to have a fucking break for once. But then that evening, watching Justin sleep on the couch, Gus had spoke. He’d said “Try asking again” and it was like the opening of floodgates. Everything Brian had shoved away for the last ten years came pouring back. All he’d needed was that tiny nudge, his son’s permission to miss Justin, to want him to come home. Gus doesn’t say things unless he means them.
Brian stares at his ceiling and comes to a decision, an hour spent lying awake, tormenting himself and in the end it turns out that it’s all quite simple. For the third time that evening he wakes up Justin.
“Justin, you sleeping?”
Justin’s eyes flutter open and he shuffles towards Brian.
“Hm?” He smiles sleepily, his hand drifting towards Brian’s chest.
Brian takes a deep breath. “Ten years feels like a long time, huh?”
Justin pulls away surprised, fully awake now. “You woke me up for this?” he asks grumpily. “I thought you wanted to fuck or something or I would have gone back to sleep.”
Brian sighs. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this but… can we talk? And then fuck.”
Justin yawns and stretches out so he’s more comfortable. “Okay,” he says grudgingly. “What was the question?”
“I asked whether you thought ten years felt like a long time.”
Justin, lying on his stomach, props his chin up on the pillow to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean it’s gone fast but when you think about it, like when you look at Gus, I think fuck, when we were in Pittsburgh he was still sucking on a pacifier and now he’s got a fucking lip ring and -”
“Yeah,” Brian cuts in quickly. “But for… us, I mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Justin considers it. “I remember those first six months or so in New York were fucking hell without you. But then more work started to come in, and I was so goddamn busy with all the new galleries and stuff and well you can’t stay heartbroken forever. So I just kind of got on with it and even though I was struggling to pay rent every fucking month I just -”
“But now?” Brian interrupts firmly. “You’re hardly struggling now, are you?”
“Am I a success, you mean?” Justin muses. “I guess I’m about as close as I’m ever going to be. My paintings sell well and I’ve got a couple of big shows lined up around the country. My agent seems pretty pleased and I’ve certainly got enough money to live off -”
“Justin -”
But Justin’s still happily rambling. “I’m thinking of getting a new car, though god knows it’s impossible to drive anywhere in New York -”
“Justin -”
“- and I guess it’s probably better for me to walk anyway. I don’t have time to go to the gym anymore and it’s about the only exercise I -”
“Justin!” Brian’s voice is loud with exasperation and finally Justin shuts up. “Are you trying to make this difficult for me?”
Justin rolls onto his side and looks at him wide-eyed. “Make what difficult? You were asking me about what I did in New York and I was telling you. If you ask questions and don’t want answers then you should -”
“I’m trying to tell you that I miss you!” Brian bursts out, sudden and too loud and Justin’s head jerks up in surprise. He swallows in the following silence and his eyes flicker to avoid Justin’s.
“And that I want you to come home,” he finishes quietly.
Justin stares at him. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, right.”
Brian slumps back on the pillows, scowling. “Well, at least that shut you up.”
He can feel Justin’s eyes on him, piercing, and it only makes his scowl deeper. Eventually Justin says, “Are you serious?”
Brian shrugs, then nods silently.
“Back to Pittsburgh?”
“Yeah.”
“The loft?”
“If you wanted.”
Justin shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not the loft.”
Brian looks at him steadily. “Okay,” he says.
“That’s not a ‘no’,” Justin states hurriedly. “Just not the loft. It would feel…” he hesitates. “It’s too much like a backwards step somehow.”
Brian nods, understands.
“It’s not a ‘no’ to you though,” Justin continues. “Or to Pittsburgh. Actually it’s a ‘yes’.” He smiles tentatively. “A resounding ‘yes’.”
Brian doesn’t look at him, stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “Yes?”
Justin’s hand reaches out, his thumb brushing against Brian’s cheek. “Yes,” he says quietly and for a moment Brian lets himself lean against Justin’s fingertips, pressing his cheek against the palm.
Then the moment passes and Brian pulls back. Justin lets out a little shaky laugh. “Too bad you got rid of the rings then, huh?”
Brian takes a deep breath. “No,” he says firmly. “No rings, no big houses, no bullshit ceremonies. Not this time.”
Justin looks at him, smiles softly. “Would it be corny if I said, ‘just us, that’s all we need’?”
Brian rolls his head on the pillow to look at him, raises an eyebrow. “Yes,” he says. “Incredibly corny.”
Justin shifts onto his back, smirks. “Lucky I resisted then.”
“Yup.”
They lie side by side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in comfortable quiet. They’re lit by Debbie’s fairy lights, strung from every beam, soft reds and blues blinking across their skin. Brian’s eyes drift shut for a moment, lulled by Justin’s steady breathing
But all the same he’s awake enough to smile when Justin leans close to his ear and whispers, “Just us.” And a quiet kiss is pressed against Brian’s temple. “That’s all we need.”