Fic: Three's A Crowd [ 8 ] (1/2)
Title: Three's A Crowd
Author: museme87
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin, Ben/Michael, Mel/Lindsay, Ted/Blake, Deb/Carl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Over the course of his and Justin's seven year non-relationship, Brian had never been one to say no to a third party addition. But when the addition is far more permanent and redefines playroom for the worst, Brian thinks twice about rekindling their old flame. [Post 5.13]
Chapter: 8
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 11,719
Warnings: strong language, explicit sexual situations, discussion of past Brian/Other and past Brian/Lindsay
Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this chapter and for those who participated in my Meet & Greet. Given the massive word count for the chapter, it'll be split into two parts again. Major thanks to L for the beta and to C and P for helping me with some spotty characterization in the draft; these girls can never be thanked enough for putting up with me.
Before they manage to get to the Loft, Justin insists that they swing by the Rite Aid on Tremont to fill the urchin's prescriptions. There's a minor queen-out in the Jeep over whether or not Brian's staying in the car with the kid-which he fucking isn't because he needs to grab a couple things while they're here and Justin won't do it for him-but Brian wins out in the end. It's not like the urchin isn't bundled up like some sort of Eskimo anyway; she's not going to feel the cool air. But, as what Brian takes as punishment for his pissy attitude, Justin saddles him with the kid while he heads back to the pharmacy.
That's essentially how Brian winds up in the "family planning" aisle-Brian snorts at the name-with the very much unplanned kid in his arms, perusing his choice of condoms. Since he probably has fifteen minutes to kill before the kid's prescriptions are up, he doesn't bother rushing to find his usual kind.
Her tiny, gloved fingers tickle his collarbone as she plays with the collar of his leather jacket in a daze. He must look like such a fucking hick, wearing sweats and a two thousand dollar Dolce & Gabbana jacket. Glancing down at her blond head resting on his shoulder, Brian wonders if she's worth being caught so close to Liberty in some trailer-trash getup. As she gives a small, miserable sigh, he has his answer. Brian holds her a little tighter, in spite of himself.
Since he started buying rubbers as a teen, it seems like the types have quadrupled in number-ribbed, pulse intimate massager, vibrating ring, intense lubricated, climax control. Jesus fuck. Whatever happened to lubed and non-lubed?
The one that does catch his eye has Brian pausing for a long moment-Bareskin or something like that. Whatever it is, it's purporting to be more than a third thinner than the run-of-the-mill condoms. He picks up the small box and glances it over.
"What do you think, kiddo?" Brian asks as the urchin begins to make this high-pitched squeaking sound that can't be a good sign. "Think your old man would want to give these a try? He's a total slut for the idea of barebacking."
It's the closest they'll ever get to it, that's for sure.
Before now, Brian's never even considered switching up his usual brand. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as his old man used to say. He's hardly had an incident with his regular kind, just once with Justin a few years ago. And for that very reason, Brian slips the box back where it belongs because he doesn't want to risk it. Even if they're supposed to be safe, Brian won't trust them; not with Justin.
Instead, he grabs three of the largest boxes of the simple lubricated kind, juggling them in his hands. Maybe he should have grabbed the fucking cart like Justin had suggested, or at least one of the baskets. After the second time he drops one, Brian comes up with a plan.
"Here, kid," he says, handing her one of the boxes to hold. "Make yourself useful."
Brian finds out that she's an obedient little shit for the most part. They only have to play the pick-up game-a personal favorite of Gus' for a solid two years-once before they hit the end of the aisle. As Brian stands up from retrieving it, he comes face to face with some young chick who nearly runs into him.
"Oops, sorry!" She laughs a little, doesn't sound sorry at all. Just very interested.
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, trying to slip around her and failing.
"It looks like you're going to be busy." She bends over a little-Brian guesses to give him a nice view of her tits in some low cut shirt-and starts making faces at the kid. "Aren't you a sweetie? Yes, you are."
"Do you-"
"I think it's hot. Single fathers taking care of their kids, you know? I can respect that."
Brian wonders how the fuck she's deduced that he's single. Then again, the absence of any sort of wedding band might have given that much away. And why she thinks that her respect would mean anything to him is a goddamn mystery. Is this really how the breeders do it? Obnoxious encounters in the condom aisle? Give him the backroom of Babylon any day.
"She's not my kid," Brian says, tone warning. "And I'm not single."
The bimbo frowns, smacking her gum and glancing down at the condoms in his hand. "Oh. You and your wife or girlfriend or whatever must be very busy then."
"He's insatiable. Now if you don't mind, get the fuck out of my way."
As Brian pushes past, she throws him a dirty look, whether because he rejected her or because he's a fag, Brian has no fucking clue. What he does know is that he's getting tired of this place; there's a reason-which he is conveniently remembering now-why he always hits the CVS on Liberty. At least most of the shoppers there are queers and queens.
He tries to ignore the fact that he'd admitted to being in a relationship. It'd just slipped out. Sure, he'd always been single in some sense of the word, but mostly that was dependent on how many days Justin would withhold sex or bitch him out if he overstepped any boundaries. The longer he'd hold out, the more Brian felt like a condemned man. But if this three year separation taught him anything, it was that it's far better to be condemned than alone. Justin is something special.
So maybe he isn't exactly single right now, in the Brian-and-Justin-defined sense of the word. Had he just walked off with some twink, Justin wouldn't forgive him for ages, if ever. Right now, with Justin and this kid-currently chewing on a corner of his box of condoms-is where he ought to be. And if that means he's not really single, so fucking what?
Maybe he could be alright with that.
Brian finds Justin down the snack aisle, pondering over a selection of Doritos. Some things never change, and the fact that he'll always know where to find Justin at any store carrying food makes him grateful for that. It's as if there's still a little part of his Justin locked inside this newer, more unfamiliar one.
"Don't get the Nacho Cheese. If you're going to bring that garbage into my place, at least get the good kind."
"Which do you want then? They're two for four bucks on sale."
Brian leans down, pressing a kiss to Justin's lips. "Still clipping coupons, I see. What a good little housewife."
Justin smirks, rolls his eyes as he flips Brian off with a stifled laugh. He grabs two bags and tosses them into his cart, which Brian notices is filled up with some things-milk, bread, diapers, and a few other staples. As Justin turns back towards him to say something, Brian watches as his brow furrows.
"What's she chewing on?"
"A box of condoms."
"Brian!"
Giving Brian the patented you-are-such-an-irresponsible-shithead look, Justin pries the kid's fingers from the box and tosses it into his cart. Not at all impressed, the urchin's face crumples into a frown, and then she begins wailing, fat tears slipping down her red cheeks.
"Now you've done it," Brian says.
"Do you know how many germs were on that box that you were letting her stick in her mouth?" Justin asks, scathingly.
"She's a kid. That's what they do. Jenny spent all last summer eating dirt, and she lives to tell the tale. Stop being such a twat."
Pissy, Justin reaches for the urchin, but Brian evades him and drops the rest of his condoms in the cart instead. With a few bounces, he has the kid calmed down again. Her nose is running, but he doesn't have anything to wipe it off with and the diaper bag is still in the car. Since he has to grab some lube anyway-thank god he fucking remembered-Brian figures he'll just swing by the bathroom on the way.
"Hey, where are you going with her?" Justin asks as Brian walks away from the cart.
Brian looks at him, shrugs. "I thought I'd head over to automotive. Let her lick some antifreeze while we're waiting."
He doesn't have to glance back at Justin to know that there must be a very unamused expression on his face. While Brian always knew Sunshine was a fucking spazz at times, he never figured it'd ever get this bad. Drama princess.
Brian looks over at the kid, who is sucking on her index finger. "How the hell do you put up with him?"
~*~*~*~
"Oh my god, Brian," Justin moans.
He smirks, leans down to kiss Justin long and hard on the mouth-the taste of chili pepper on Justin's mouth heating up his lips. Sunshine tries to bat Brian away since he's still chewing, but Brian doesn't let him. His tongue slips out to swipe a long path across his lips, begging Justin to let him in. He doesn't though, pushing him away with a strangled laugh.
"Christ, can I chew my food without you shoving your tongue down my throat?" Justin asks, wiping his mouth off with a napkin. "That's disgusting."
Brian smirks. "I took your moaning to mean you wanted something other than Szechuan Beef in your mouth."
Tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt, Justin kisses him properly this time, tongue and all. Brian can't keep his hands off him, slipping them over shoulders and arms, abs and hips. He tastes spicy, his pale skin warm from so much hot food. Suddenly, Brian's at a complete loss as to why he hadn't invited Justin over for dinner sooner.
"No," Justin says, peppering him with a few more kisses before turning back to his food. "I just forgot how much I love Chang's."
"You probably get far better Chinese in New York."
"True, but Chinese in New York doesn't come with a hot stud willing to feed me with his chopsticks in his very glamorous loft apartment. So, Chang's is definitely better."
"Where'd you learn to sweet-talk a guy like that?" Brian asks, teasing note in his voice.
"The two years I spent peddling my ass on New York City street corners?" Justin offers.
Brian chokes on a piece of Sesame Chicken mid-swallow. What the fuck? After a giant gulp of water, he turns to stare at Justin wide-eyed while Justin gives him a few firm smacks on the back to loosen his cough.
"It was a joke, Brian," he says, laughing.
"That's not fucking funny."
"I'm sorry."
As if to make it up to him, Justin's lips drift across his jaw as his fingers skim along his chest to tease his nipples. Brian's eyes shut tightly, his breath catching as Justin pinches just hard enough to send a jolt racing towards his lower belly. Sunshine has had him half-hard all night, and it's driving him into a slow frenzy.
He leans closer to Justin's ear, whispering, "Let me suck you off."
"Not yet."
"Why the hell not?" Brian's hand slips down to grab Justin through his jeans.
"One, because Elise is still up."
Glancing over to the kid, Brian confirms that she's still awake, blue eyes transfixed on Finding Nemo while she drinks juice from her bottle on her blanket. He groans inwardly and shifts his gaze back to Justin. Well, that shut down that possibility for a while, but that doesn't mean that they can't do a little flirting until then. If Justin thinks he's off the hook, he's out of his fucking mind.
"She's busy with the fish."
"Granted, she's usually entranced by the movie, I think she'd still notice if my dick was in your mouth," Justin says in a low voice.
"We could move to the bed."
"It's been all of fifteen hours since you've gotten off. Are you really that desperate?" Justin asks with a laugh, pushing Brian back as Brian leans in to suck on his neck.
"Fifteen hours is a long time."
"The answer is still no, and besides-"
Justin's abruptly cut off by the sound of someone buzzing from the downstairs door. Getting up quickly, Sunshine walks over to buzz whoever-the-hell-it-is up.
"And that," Justin says, "is the other reason why we can't."
As soon as there's a knock, Justin slides the door open and in pops Daphne, laden with a duffle bag and two plastic bags from some take-out place. Brian scowls, unamused.
"What? You're at my place for all of four hours and you're already inviting people over?" Brian asks.
"Nice to see you too, Brian," Daphne says, rolling her eyes and scrunching up her nose in that infuriatingly Daphne way. She turns back to Justin. "I picked up your stuff. Your mom was already home from getting Molly, so she packed your bag. If you're missing anything, bite her head off."
Justin takes the duffle and then hugs her. "Thanks, Daph."
"So where is she? I can't wait to see her. I bet she's like twice as big since I saw her last."
Not wasting any time, Daphne tears through the room as soon as Justin points her in the general direction of the TV. She drops the two take-out bags on the coffee table to free up her hands so that she can pick up the kid. The urchin makes a surprised sound before looking up at Daphne and giving her a wide, sleepy smile.
"Oh my god, she's so cute. How is it possible for her to be any cuter than she was a couple months ago?"
Justin joins them in front of the coffee table, checking the kid's temperature with the back of his hand while smiling with Daphne. Christ, they both look so grown up now; Brian remembers some of the first nights he ever saw these two on Liberty Avenue. That'd been almost ten fucking years ago. Still, there's something about the way they are together that reminds Brian of the old Daphne and Justin, who used to camp out on his couch and watch MTV on school nights, who used to talk about cute boys and fall asleep in a tangled heap by the time that Brian got home from the clubs.
"You did good, Dad," she teases, smiling up at Justin with a sort of bright affection that Brian had always assumed was puppy-love.
"I didn't do much. Just made the deposit," Justin says with a laugh.
Daphne wrinkles her nose again. "Gross! There are ladies in the room, ya know."
"Sorry, Brian."
At that remark, Brian flips him off and returns to his dinner, the whole mood of the evening now ruined. Not that he can really fault Justin too much for inviting Daphne over, despite how much he might bitch and moan about it later. Having been friends since fucking preschool or some shit, Brian supposes that the distance and time constraints keeping Justin and Daphne apart are probably killing them. If it were him and Michael, Brian would feel that way.
"I brought you some Primanti Brothers since it was on my way. Steak & Cheese with onion and a side of Street Fries-your fav," Daphne says, not bothering to look up from where she's playing with the kid on the floor. "You can tell me I'm the most incredible friend in the whole wide world later."
Justin starts digging around in one of the bags. "Thanks, Daph."
"You're eating again?" Brian asks, lifting an eyebrow.
"What? Why do you say it like that?" Justin's expression falls. "Are you trying to say something? Brian?"
As much as he'd like to mess with Justin, Brian understands what it's like to be a self-conscious fag pushing thirty. There's nothing wrong with Sunshine; he's still hot, still baby-faced and insufferably naïve in a lot of ways. A little older? Sure. But maturity is a good look on him-a very good look. So biting back any remarks, Brian settles on tossing a throw pillow at Justin's head and stealing the rest of the Szechuan Beef.
Justin and Daphne settle in by the coffee table, their worlds immediately shifting to revolve around the urchin. After the third or fourth fit of giggles and second round of baby talk, Brian's had enough and heads over to his computer. He almost feels sorry for abandoning the urchin with this pair of lunatics. But, she doesn't seem to mind so much when Brian checks on her as he walks away, her fingers tangled in Daphne's hair and eyes wide in awe of this new person.
He opens up his work email, effectively having tuned the children out for the most part. There's too many emails in his inbox, most of which are marked urgent. Brian snorts. Stupid dickwads can't even manage to handle their accounts without bothering him; he ought to just fire them all already and start fresh again. How can so many people have so many work-related crises over the fucking weekend? Useless twats.
For the most part, Brian ignores the fact that his people are the best in their field; sometimes it just doesn't fucking seem like it.
After answering a few emails-he's going to send around a goddamn memo about what does and does not constitute urgent-Brian's attention drifts back to Justin and Company. Daphne has the kid in her lap, tickling her with that insufferable hedgehog-y thing while Justin lies on his stomach and watches. His face lights up whenever the urchin smiles at her toy-a sight that tears Brian apart as much as it builds him up.
He has no idea what the hell he's going to do with Justin. He brought him here for what? To have him around, maybe. To figure out if, after all this time, Justin's presence still belongs in this too-empty loft. And besides a mentally scarring torture session that involved force-feeding three rounds of medicine into a miserable baby, it was a good afternoon. Too fucking good, even if it was tragically domestic in just about every sense of the word.
"You can tell me, you know," Daphne whispers just a little too loudly, grabbing Brian's attention not only with her voice but with brief eye contact too.
"Daphne," Justin growls, seemingly doing everything in his power to avoid looking at Brian.
Brian's eyebrow arches in response, and Daphne quickly avoids his gaze altogether, tell-tale blush on her cheeks. So they're talking about him? If it weren't for the fact that everything is so fucking confusing between him and Justin, Brian would probably pry-embarrassing Justin and Daphne in the process-to figure out what his once-upon-a-time fan club was saying.
Now though, he'd rather not know. His own feelings on the matter are hard enough for sort the hell out as it is. He doesn't need to know Justin's too, especially since he worries that Sunshine isn't fairing much better than him with the terms of their arrangement. Namely, keeping their fucking emotions out of it.
Maybe out of fear, Brian gets up from his desk and walks up the stairs to the bathroom without so much as a word. He doesn't want to risk it, even though he knows he wouldn't actively eavesdrop. If there's one thing he doesn't need, it's this shit fucking up what would have been a perfectly amenable agreement. Sometimes Brian really hates this person that he's become-a man too soft and vulnerable in comparison to the guarded wall he'd been when he and Justin first met.
Continue to Part 2
Author: museme87
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin, Ben/Michael, Mel/Lindsay, Ted/Blake, Deb/Carl
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Over the course of his and Justin's seven year non-relationship, Brian had never been one to say no to a third party addition. But when the addition is far more permanent and redefines playroom for the worst, Brian thinks twice about rekindling their old flame. [Post 5.13]
Chapter: 8
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 11,719
Warnings: strong language, explicit sexual situations, discussion of past Brian/Other and past Brian/Lindsay
Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this chapter and for those who participated in my Meet & Greet. Given the massive word count for the chapter, it'll be split into two parts again. Major thanks to L for the beta and to C and P for helping me with some spotty characterization in the draft; these girls can never be thanked enough for putting up with me.
Before they manage to get to the Loft, Justin insists that they swing by the Rite Aid on Tremont to fill the urchin's prescriptions. There's a minor queen-out in the Jeep over whether or not Brian's staying in the car with the kid-which he fucking isn't because he needs to grab a couple things while they're here and Justin won't do it for him-but Brian wins out in the end. It's not like the urchin isn't bundled up like some sort of Eskimo anyway; she's not going to feel the cool air. But, as what Brian takes as punishment for his pissy attitude, Justin saddles him with the kid while he heads back to the pharmacy.
That's essentially how Brian winds up in the "family planning" aisle-Brian snorts at the name-with the very much unplanned kid in his arms, perusing his choice of condoms. Since he probably has fifteen minutes to kill before the kid's prescriptions are up, he doesn't bother rushing to find his usual kind.
Her tiny, gloved fingers tickle his collarbone as she plays with the collar of his leather jacket in a daze. He must look like such a fucking hick, wearing sweats and a two thousand dollar Dolce & Gabbana jacket. Glancing down at her blond head resting on his shoulder, Brian wonders if she's worth being caught so close to Liberty in some trailer-trash getup. As she gives a small, miserable sigh, he has his answer. Brian holds her a little tighter, in spite of himself.
Since he started buying rubbers as a teen, it seems like the types have quadrupled in number-ribbed, pulse intimate massager, vibrating ring, intense lubricated, climax control. Jesus fuck. Whatever happened to lubed and non-lubed?
The one that does catch his eye has Brian pausing for a long moment-Bareskin or something like that. Whatever it is, it's purporting to be more than a third thinner than the run-of-the-mill condoms. He picks up the small box and glances it over.
"What do you think, kiddo?" Brian asks as the urchin begins to make this high-pitched squeaking sound that can't be a good sign. "Think your old man would want to give these a try? He's a total slut for the idea of barebacking."
It's the closest they'll ever get to it, that's for sure.
Before now, Brian's never even considered switching up his usual brand. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as his old man used to say. He's hardly had an incident with his regular kind, just once with Justin a few years ago. And for that very reason, Brian slips the box back where it belongs because he doesn't want to risk it. Even if they're supposed to be safe, Brian won't trust them; not with Justin.
Instead, he grabs three of the largest boxes of the simple lubricated kind, juggling them in his hands. Maybe he should have grabbed the fucking cart like Justin had suggested, or at least one of the baskets. After the second time he drops one, Brian comes up with a plan.
"Here, kid," he says, handing her one of the boxes to hold. "Make yourself useful."
Brian finds out that she's an obedient little shit for the most part. They only have to play the pick-up game-a personal favorite of Gus' for a solid two years-once before they hit the end of the aisle. As Brian stands up from retrieving it, he comes face to face with some young chick who nearly runs into him.
"Oops, sorry!" She laughs a little, doesn't sound sorry at all. Just very interested.
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, trying to slip around her and failing.
"It looks like you're going to be busy." She bends over a little-Brian guesses to give him a nice view of her tits in some low cut shirt-and starts making faces at the kid. "Aren't you a sweetie? Yes, you are."
"Do you-"
"I think it's hot. Single fathers taking care of their kids, you know? I can respect that."
Brian wonders how the fuck she's deduced that he's single. Then again, the absence of any sort of wedding band might have given that much away. And why she thinks that her respect would mean anything to him is a goddamn mystery. Is this really how the breeders do it? Obnoxious encounters in the condom aisle? Give him the backroom of Babylon any day.
"She's not my kid," Brian says, tone warning. "And I'm not single."
The bimbo frowns, smacking her gum and glancing down at the condoms in his hand. "Oh. You and your wife or girlfriend or whatever must be very busy then."
"He's insatiable. Now if you don't mind, get the fuck out of my way."
As Brian pushes past, she throws him a dirty look, whether because he rejected her or because he's a fag, Brian has no fucking clue. What he does know is that he's getting tired of this place; there's a reason-which he is conveniently remembering now-why he always hits the CVS on Liberty. At least most of the shoppers there are queers and queens.
He tries to ignore the fact that he'd admitted to being in a relationship. It'd just slipped out. Sure, he'd always been single in some sense of the word, but mostly that was dependent on how many days Justin would withhold sex or bitch him out if he overstepped any boundaries. The longer he'd hold out, the more Brian felt like a condemned man. But if this three year separation taught him anything, it was that it's far better to be condemned than alone. Justin is something special.
So maybe he isn't exactly single right now, in the Brian-and-Justin-defined sense of the word. Had he just walked off with some twink, Justin wouldn't forgive him for ages, if ever. Right now, with Justin and this kid-currently chewing on a corner of his box of condoms-is where he ought to be. And if that means he's not really single, so fucking what?
Maybe he could be alright with that.
Brian finds Justin down the snack aisle, pondering over a selection of Doritos. Some things never change, and the fact that he'll always know where to find Justin at any store carrying food makes him grateful for that. It's as if there's still a little part of his Justin locked inside this newer, more unfamiliar one.
"Don't get the Nacho Cheese. If you're going to bring that garbage into my place, at least get the good kind."
"Which do you want then? They're two for four bucks on sale."
Brian leans down, pressing a kiss to Justin's lips. "Still clipping coupons, I see. What a good little housewife."
Justin smirks, rolls his eyes as he flips Brian off with a stifled laugh. He grabs two bags and tosses them into his cart, which Brian notices is filled up with some things-milk, bread, diapers, and a few other staples. As Justin turns back towards him to say something, Brian watches as his brow furrows.
"What's she chewing on?"
"A box of condoms."
"Brian!"
Giving Brian the patented you-are-such-an-irresponsible-shithead look, Justin pries the kid's fingers from the box and tosses it into his cart. Not at all impressed, the urchin's face crumples into a frown, and then she begins wailing, fat tears slipping down her red cheeks.
"Now you've done it," Brian says.
"Do you know how many germs were on that box that you were letting her stick in her mouth?" Justin asks, scathingly.
"She's a kid. That's what they do. Jenny spent all last summer eating dirt, and she lives to tell the tale. Stop being such a twat."
Pissy, Justin reaches for the urchin, but Brian evades him and drops the rest of his condoms in the cart instead. With a few bounces, he has the kid calmed down again. Her nose is running, but he doesn't have anything to wipe it off with and the diaper bag is still in the car. Since he has to grab some lube anyway-thank god he fucking remembered-Brian figures he'll just swing by the bathroom on the way.
"Hey, where are you going with her?" Justin asks as Brian walks away from the cart.
Brian looks at him, shrugs. "I thought I'd head over to automotive. Let her lick some antifreeze while we're waiting."
He doesn't have to glance back at Justin to know that there must be a very unamused expression on his face. While Brian always knew Sunshine was a fucking spazz at times, he never figured it'd ever get this bad. Drama princess.
Brian looks over at the kid, who is sucking on her index finger. "How the hell do you put up with him?"
~*~*~*~
"Oh my god, Brian," Justin moans.
He smirks, leans down to kiss Justin long and hard on the mouth-the taste of chili pepper on Justin's mouth heating up his lips. Sunshine tries to bat Brian away since he's still chewing, but Brian doesn't let him. His tongue slips out to swipe a long path across his lips, begging Justin to let him in. He doesn't though, pushing him away with a strangled laugh.
"Christ, can I chew my food without you shoving your tongue down my throat?" Justin asks, wiping his mouth off with a napkin. "That's disgusting."
Brian smirks. "I took your moaning to mean you wanted something other than Szechuan Beef in your mouth."
Tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt, Justin kisses him properly this time, tongue and all. Brian can't keep his hands off him, slipping them over shoulders and arms, abs and hips. He tastes spicy, his pale skin warm from so much hot food. Suddenly, Brian's at a complete loss as to why he hadn't invited Justin over for dinner sooner.
"No," Justin says, peppering him with a few more kisses before turning back to his food. "I just forgot how much I love Chang's."
"You probably get far better Chinese in New York."
"True, but Chinese in New York doesn't come with a hot stud willing to feed me with his chopsticks in his very glamorous loft apartment. So, Chang's is definitely better."
"Where'd you learn to sweet-talk a guy like that?" Brian asks, teasing note in his voice.
"The two years I spent peddling my ass on New York City street corners?" Justin offers.
Brian chokes on a piece of Sesame Chicken mid-swallow. What the fuck? After a giant gulp of water, he turns to stare at Justin wide-eyed while Justin gives him a few firm smacks on the back to loosen his cough.
"It was a joke, Brian," he says, laughing.
"That's not fucking funny."
"I'm sorry."
As if to make it up to him, Justin's lips drift across his jaw as his fingers skim along his chest to tease his nipples. Brian's eyes shut tightly, his breath catching as Justin pinches just hard enough to send a jolt racing towards his lower belly. Sunshine has had him half-hard all night, and it's driving him into a slow frenzy.
He leans closer to Justin's ear, whispering, "Let me suck you off."
"Not yet."
"Why the hell not?" Brian's hand slips down to grab Justin through his jeans.
"One, because Elise is still up."
Glancing over to the kid, Brian confirms that she's still awake, blue eyes transfixed on Finding Nemo while she drinks juice from her bottle on her blanket. He groans inwardly and shifts his gaze back to Justin. Well, that shut down that possibility for a while, but that doesn't mean that they can't do a little flirting until then. If Justin thinks he's off the hook, he's out of his fucking mind.
"She's busy with the fish."
"Granted, she's usually entranced by the movie, I think she'd still notice if my dick was in your mouth," Justin says in a low voice.
"We could move to the bed."
"It's been all of fifteen hours since you've gotten off. Are you really that desperate?" Justin asks with a laugh, pushing Brian back as Brian leans in to suck on his neck.
"Fifteen hours is a long time."
"The answer is still no, and besides-"
Justin's abruptly cut off by the sound of someone buzzing from the downstairs door. Getting up quickly, Sunshine walks over to buzz whoever-the-hell-it-is up.
"And that," Justin says, "is the other reason why we can't."
As soon as there's a knock, Justin slides the door open and in pops Daphne, laden with a duffle bag and two plastic bags from some take-out place. Brian scowls, unamused.
"What? You're at my place for all of four hours and you're already inviting people over?" Brian asks.
"Nice to see you too, Brian," Daphne says, rolling her eyes and scrunching up her nose in that infuriatingly Daphne way. She turns back to Justin. "I picked up your stuff. Your mom was already home from getting Molly, so she packed your bag. If you're missing anything, bite her head off."
Justin takes the duffle and then hugs her. "Thanks, Daph."
"So where is she? I can't wait to see her. I bet she's like twice as big since I saw her last."
Not wasting any time, Daphne tears through the room as soon as Justin points her in the general direction of the TV. She drops the two take-out bags on the coffee table to free up her hands so that she can pick up the kid. The urchin makes a surprised sound before looking up at Daphne and giving her a wide, sleepy smile.
"Oh my god, she's so cute. How is it possible for her to be any cuter than she was a couple months ago?"
Justin joins them in front of the coffee table, checking the kid's temperature with the back of his hand while smiling with Daphne. Christ, they both look so grown up now; Brian remembers some of the first nights he ever saw these two on Liberty Avenue. That'd been almost ten fucking years ago. Still, there's something about the way they are together that reminds Brian of the old Daphne and Justin, who used to camp out on his couch and watch MTV on school nights, who used to talk about cute boys and fall asleep in a tangled heap by the time that Brian got home from the clubs.
"You did good, Dad," she teases, smiling up at Justin with a sort of bright affection that Brian had always assumed was puppy-love.
"I didn't do much. Just made the deposit," Justin says with a laugh.
Daphne wrinkles her nose again. "Gross! There are ladies in the room, ya know."
"Sorry, Brian."
At that remark, Brian flips him off and returns to his dinner, the whole mood of the evening now ruined. Not that he can really fault Justin too much for inviting Daphne over, despite how much he might bitch and moan about it later. Having been friends since fucking preschool or some shit, Brian supposes that the distance and time constraints keeping Justin and Daphne apart are probably killing them. If it were him and Michael, Brian would feel that way.
"I brought you some Primanti Brothers since it was on my way. Steak & Cheese with onion and a side of Street Fries-your fav," Daphne says, not bothering to look up from where she's playing with the kid on the floor. "You can tell me I'm the most incredible friend in the whole wide world later."
Justin starts digging around in one of the bags. "Thanks, Daph."
"You're eating again?" Brian asks, lifting an eyebrow.
"What? Why do you say it like that?" Justin's expression falls. "Are you trying to say something? Brian?"
As much as he'd like to mess with Justin, Brian understands what it's like to be a self-conscious fag pushing thirty. There's nothing wrong with Sunshine; he's still hot, still baby-faced and insufferably naïve in a lot of ways. A little older? Sure. But maturity is a good look on him-a very good look. So biting back any remarks, Brian settles on tossing a throw pillow at Justin's head and stealing the rest of the Szechuan Beef.
Justin and Daphne settle in by the coffee table, their worlds immediately shifting to revolve around the urchin. After the third or fourth fit of giggles and second round of baby talk, Brian's had enough and heads over to his computer. He almost feels sorry for abandoning the urchin with this pair of lunatics. But, she doesn't seem to mind so much when Brian checks on her as he walks away, her fingers tangled in Daphne's hair and eyes wide in awe of this new person.
He opens up his work email, effectively having tuned the children out for the most part. There's too many emails in his inbox, most of which are marked urgent. Brian snorts. Stupid dickwads can't even manage to handle their accounts without bothering him; he ought to just fire them all already and start fresh again. How can so many people have so many work-related crises over the fucking weekend? Useless twats.
For the most part, Brian ignores the fact that his people are the best in their field; sometimes it just doesn't fucking seem like it.
After answering a few emails-he's going to send around a goddamn memo about what does and does not constitute urgent-Brian's attention drifts back to Justin and Company. Daphne has the kid in her lap, tickling her with that insufferable hedgehog-y thing while Justin lies on his stomach and watches. His face lights up whenever the urchin smiles at her toy-a sight that tears Brian apart as much as it builds him up.
He has no idea what the hell he's going to do with Justin. He brought him here for what? To have him around, maybe. To figure out if, after all this time, Justin's presence still belongs in this too-empty loft. And besides a mentally scarring torture session that involved force-feeding three rounds of medicine into a miserable baby, it was a good afternoon. Too fucking good, even if it was tragically domestic in just about every sense of the word.
"You can tell me, you know," Daphne whispers just a little too loudly, grabbing Brian's attention not only with her voice but with brief eye contact too.
"Daphne," Justin growls, seemingly doing everything in his power to avoid looking at Brian.
Brian's eyebrow arches in response, and Daphne quickly avoids his gaze altogether, tell-tale blush on her cheeks. So they're talking about him? If it weren't for the fact that everything is so fucking confusing between him and Justin, Brian would probably pry-embarrassing Justin and Daphne in the process-to figure out what his once-upon-a-time fan club was saying.
Now though, he'd rather not know. His own feelings on the matter are hard enough for sort the hell out as it is. He doesn't need to know Justin's too, especially since he worries that Sunshine isn't fairing much better than him with the terms of their arrangement. Namely, keeping their fucking emotions out of it.
Maybe out of fear, Brian gets up from his desk and walks up the stairs to the bathroom without so much as a word. He doesn't want to risk it, even though he knows he wouldn't actively eavesdrop. If there's one thing he doesn't need, it's this shit fucking up what would have been a perfectly amenable agreement. Sometimes Brian really hates this person that he's become-a man too soft and vulnerable in comparison to the guarded wall he'd been when he and Justin first met.
Continue to Part 2