Entry #24 - "Seven Months and Three Days Longer Than Trotsky Made It"
Title: Seven Months and Three Days Longer Than Trotsky Made It
Written By: bonniebb
Timeline: Post-Season Five
Rating: PG-ish?
Warnings: None
Genre: Romance/Angst
Seven Months and Three Days Longer Than Trotsky Made It
Justin doesn’t want to be in New York anymore. He doesn’t want to wake up and see cracked white ceilings while lying on a too soft mattress on the floor. He hates the sound of his neighbors in the morning. He hates the sound of his neighbors even more at night. He hates the way the heater in his studio makes his skin dry and his eyes itch. He hates the way the city is never dark, never stops moving, never lets up. Not even for one moment. It never stops.
But mostly, Justin hates that he is in New York alone. He misses Brian. He misses the way his skin would tingle from the barest touch of Brian’s breath in the morning. He misses being tangled up in Brian’s thousand-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. He misses the soft hum of the lights in the loft. He misses the loud clank of the elevator. But mostly he just misses Brian. He wants-needs-to be able to see Brian’s face at night and hear his heart beat under his ear as he sleeps. Mostly, Justin misses Brian.
It’s not that New York has been bad to him.
Justin has an agent. He has contacts. He even has a few friends.
But none of that matters.
Justin misses Brian.
More than that, he misses being in Pittsburgh with Brian.
He misses his family, blood or otherwise. He misses the Diner, Woody’s, and the lights of Babylon. He misses helping Brian with a campaign. He misses hot shower fucks. He misses home.
Seven months and four days after leaving Pittsburgh, after leaving Brian, Justin knows that New York means nothing; success means nothing, if he isn’t happy.
And Justin will never be happy if he isn’t with Brian.
And so seven months and four days after leaving, Justin knows it is time to return home.
The only question that remained-
Would Brian let him? They had called regularly, e-mailed constantly, and visited frequently. But each time Brian seemed so proud of Justin for trying to make it on his own in New York. And each time Justin tried to broach the subject of his moving back Brian would change the subject or ignore it entirely.
So the question remained: Would Brian even want Justin back in Pittsburgh? Or had he moved on without him?
~*~
“It’s a gamble, Daphne.”
Daphne sighed into the phone for what felt like the hundredth time. “Justin, he loves you! Of course, he’s going to be happy that you’re coming home. Just suck it up, pack it up, and show up on his doorstep with a smile and a condom.”
Huffing a small laugh, Justin wished it would be that easy.
“I know he loves me,” his voice rough with worry, “it’s not about love. I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“How?”
“By not, by not being the best damn homosexual I can be! By giving up. By fucking quitting.”
“You’re not quitting. You’re just ready. You and Brian, you’ve both tried it apart and now you can both know that you’re better together.”
“Thanks, Daphne.” Justin smiled into the phone and gripped the receiver closer to his ear. He wished that he could hug her right now.
~*~
So Justin packed up his measly apartment, mainly it consisted of his art supplies and a few random pots and pans. He arranged to have them shipped to the loft later in the week. He boarded a plane with a few sketchpads under his arm and a few boxes of colored pencils. Anything else could wait until later. All Justin needed was Brian.
But Brian was at work. Not that Justin could really get upset about that. After all, he hadn’t exactly told his partner about his plans.
He hadn’t actually got around to mentioning that he was moving back at all.
He spent his first few hours back at the loft surveying it. Everything seemed-different. Like it all had been moved two feet to the left. Every time Justin went to place a sketchbook down on the bedside table, just like he used to do for years…
But now a book that Justin didn’t ever remember Brian mentioning that he had read would be on the table. Or a beer brand that Justin didn’t remember Brian drinking before sat on a shelf in the fridge. Movies that Justin would never had thought Brian would watch lay next to the TV.
Justin eventually settled on the couch. Knees curled up under him for warmth. The loft was colder than he remembered it being.
The loft looked more grown-up to him now than it had even when he was a naïve teenager learning about rimming and blowjobs from the master. Justin shakily stood up and went back into the bedroom. This time he tried to see, really see, the changes and what they might mean.
Picking up the book from the bedside table, Justin noticed a piece of notebook paper acting as a bookmark. Not feeling guilty about his snooping (there was very little in the loft that he hadn’t searched through at one time or another), Justin felt his heart move up to his throat.
Brian,
This is that author I was telling you about the other day. I found this copy in my apartment and thought that you might be interested in giving him a chance. Justin had mentioned once that he has read a few of his books as well, so you can take that as a second opinion. (And I know that’s the one that means the most.)
Ted
Justin sat on the side of the bed, on his side of the bed, and read the note over again. Happier now than he had felt in months, Justin carefully place the note back in Brian’s place in the book and returned it to the nightstand.
He wandered over to the fridge next and grabbed one of the new beers. Justin opened the refrigerator and surveyed the food.
I can’t believe I didn’t catch that before. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Brian actually had food. That was a miracle in and of itself.
Rummaging in a drawer for a bottle opener, Justin came across a bill of Emmett’s catering company. On it Emmett had written a note to Brian:
Found that beer you had when you went to visit Justin last month. I couldn’t find the one that Justin liked, but have no fear! Super Queer will keep looking. I know you like to keep your man happy.
Justin remembered the bar that Emmett must mean. It was some new place that Justin had been dying to try in SoHo the last time Brian had visited. They had over ninety beers on tap and Justin thought it would be a good idea for Brian to expand Babylon’s selection. Justin had loved trying the different beers with Brian all while trying to convince him that he could write off the trip to New York as a business expense.
Does that mean I am putting your ass on the payroll? Brian teased Justin, snaking a hand into the back of his pants and squeezing the aforementioned ass.
Justin jumped out of his memory as the phone rang. He let the answering machine pick it up. Considering Brian didn’t even know he was back yet, he didn’t want to let anyone else know just yet.
“Brian, I forgot to take the DVD’s with me last night. I’ll pick them up tomorrow to return to the store. Those late fees can be a killer! Anyway, thank for keeping me company while Ben was at his meeting. Oh and by the way, don’t panic because I am sure it is nothing, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with Justin all day. But I’m sure everything’s fine! I know that you two talk a zillion times a day. Not to mention the phone sex, right? I’m probably wasting your tape now, huh? Okay, well, call Justin, tell him to call me, you call me, and I’ll see you at the Diner in the morning.”
Justin listened from the couch as Michael hung up.
Maybe…he thought. Just maybe…
Several hours later, Brian opened the steel loft door. He dropped his briefcase by the door, not caring about the files inside for now. He may own the company, but apparently there were still a lot of stupid fuckers in advertising.
“Hey.”
Brian jerked around at the quiet greeting from his New York lover.
“What are you doing here?” He couldn’t help the smile on his face.
“You tell me.” Justin was proud that his voice didn’t hitch. Though he will admit that his eyes wandered over Brian’s figure time and again trying to memorize every detail. His eyes looked a little older than he remembered from Brian’s last visit up to New York.
“You back?”
That was it?, Justin wondered. Did he simply have to show up after all these months and Brian would take him back?
Did he ever really leave?
He swallowed and licked his lips, noticing with a fair amount of satisfaction that Brian’s eyes watched his tongue dart out.
Justin knew his next line. Seven months and four days. But Justin knew his next line according to the Care and Feeding of Brian Kinney Manual.
“I know what I can expect from you.” Brian smirked at the words and loosened his tie as he walked towards Justin. He was already hard and felt a drop of precum stick from his cock to his boxer briefs. “But Brian, this time around, I want you to know what you can expect from me.”
Smirking and tongue pressed on the inside of his cheek, Brian held his breath. He had been holding his breath for seven months and four days.
“I’m not going anywhere. And you can try all you like to fight this, but I’m a pain in the ass and you know it.”
“I thought I was the pain in your ass.”
“Brian! I’m being serious here.” Justin tried to look sternly at his partner.
“Yeah, and I’m trying to take your clothes off.” Brian grabbed Justin by the belt loop of his pants and pulled their hips together. He ground their hard cocks together, both men loving the friction and warmth.
“I’m not leaving again.” Justin spoke the words into Brian’s mouth as they came together for a wet kiss.
Brian dipped his head to the dip under Justin’s adam’s apple. He licked lightly before baring his teeth and gently pulled at the sensitive skin.
“Good,” he mumbled into Justin’s skin, tongue tracing an erotic pattern from ear to nape to ear. “Because this time, I won’t let go.”
Written By: bonniebb
Timeline: Post-Season Five
Rating: PG-ish?
Warnings: None
Genre: Romance/Angst
Seven Months and Three Days Longer Than Trotsky Made It
Justin doesn’t want to be in New York anymore. He doesn’t want to wake up and see cracked white ceilings while lying on a too soft mattress on the floor. He hates the sound of his neighbors in the morning. He hates the sound of his neighbors even more at night. He hates the way the heater in his studio makes his skin dry and his eyes itch. He hates the way the city is never dark, never stops moving, never lets up. Not even for one moment. It never stops.
But mostly, Justin hates that he is in New York alone. He misses Brian. He misses the way his skin would tingle from the barest touch of Brian’s breath in the morning. He misses being tangled up in Brian’s thousand-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. He misses the soft hum of the lights in the loft. He misses the loud clank of the elevator. But mostly he just misses Brian. He wants-needs-to be able to see Brian’s face at night and hear his heart beat under his ear as he sleeps. Mostly, Justin misses Brian.
It’s not that New York has been bad to him.
Justin has an agent. He has contacts. He even has a few friends.
But none of that matters.
Justin misses Brian.
More than that, he misses being in Pittsburgh with Brian.
He misses his family, blood or otherwise. He misses the Diner, Woody’s, and the lights of Babylon. He misses helping Brian with a campaign. He misses hot shower fucks. He misses home.
Seven months and four days after leaving Pittsburgh, after leaving Brian, Justin knows that New York means nothing; success means nothing, if he isn’t happy.
And Justin will never be happy if he isn’t with Brian.
And so seven months and four days after leaving, Justin knows it is time to return home.
The only question that remained-
Would Brian let him? They had called regularly, e-mailed constantly, and visited frequently. But each time Brian seemed so proud of Justin for trying to make it on his own in New York. And each time Justin tried to broach the subject of his moving back Brian would change the subject or ignore it entirely.
So the question remained: Would Brian even want Justin back in Pittsburgh? Or had he moved on without him?
~*~
“It’s a gamble, Daphne.”
Daphne sighed into the phone for what felt like the hundredth time. “Justin, he loves you! Of course, he’s going to be happy that you’re coming home. Just suck it up, pack it up, and show up on his doorstep with a smile and a condom.”
Huffing a small laugh, Justin wished it would be that easy.
“I know he loves me,” his voice rough with worry, “it’s not about love. I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“How?”
“By not, by not being the best damn homosexual I can be! By giving up. By fucking quitting.”
“You’re not quitting. You’re just ready. You and Brian, you’ve both tried it apart and now you can both know that you’re better together.”
“Thanks, Daphne.” Justin smiled into the phone and gripped the receiver closer to his ear. He wished that he could hug her right now.
~*~
So Justin packed up his measly apartment, mainly it consisted of his art supplies and a few random pots and pans. He arranged to have them shipped to the loft later in the week. He boarded a plane with a few sketchpads under his arm and a few boxes of colored pencils. Anything else could wait until later. All Justin needed was Brian.
But Brian was at work. Not that Justin could really get upset about that. After all, he hadn’t exactly told his partner about his plans.
He hadn’t actually got around to mentioning that he was moving back at all.
He spent his first few hours back at the loft surveying it. Everything seemed-different. Like it all had been moved two feet to the left. Every time Justin went to place a sketchbook down on the bedside table, just like he used to do for years…
But now a book that Justin didn’t ever remember Brian mentioning that he had read would be on the table. Or a beer brand that Justin didn’t remember Brian drinking before sat on a shelf in the fridge. Movies that Justin would never had thought Brian would watch lay next to the TV.
Justin eventually settled on the couch. Knees curled up under him for warmth. The loft was colder than he remembered it being.
The loft looked more grown-up to him now than it had even when he was a naïve teenager learning about rimming and blowjobs from the master. Justin shakily stood up and went back into the bedroom. This time he tried to see, really see, the changes and what they might mean.
Picking up the book from the bedside table, Justin noticed a piece of notebook paper acting as a bookmark. Not feeling guilty about his snooping (there was very little in the loft that he hadn’t searched through at one time or another), Justin felt his heart move up to his throat.
Brian,
This is that author I was telling you about the other day. I found this copy in my apartment and thought that you might be interested in giving him a chance. Justin had mentioned once that he has read a few of his books as well, so you can take that as a second opinion. (And I know that’s the one that means the most.)
Ted
Justin sat on the side of the bed, on his side of the bed, and read the note over again. Happier now than he had felt in months, Justin carefully place the note back in Brian’s place in the book and returned it to the nightstand.
He wandered over to the fridge next and grabbed one of the new beers. Justin opened the refrigerator and surveyed the food.
I can’t believe I didn’t catch that before. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Brian actually had food. That was a miracle in and of itself.
Rummaging in a drawer for a bottle opener, Justin came across a bill of Emmett’s catering company. On it Emmett had written a note to Brian:
Found that beer you had when you went to visit Justin last month. I couldn’t find the one that Justin liked, but have no fear! Super Queer will keep looking. I know you like to keep your man happy.
Justin remembered the bar that Emmett must mean. It was some new place that Justin had been dying to try in SoHo the last time Brian had visited. They had over ninety beers on tap and Justin thought it would be a good idea for Brian to expand Babylon’s selection. Justin had loved trying the different beers with Brian all while trying to convince him that he could write off the trip to New York as a business expense.
Does that mean I am putting your ass on the payroll? Brian teased Justin, snaking a hand into the back of his pants and squeezing the aforementioned ass.
Justin jumped out of his memory as the phone rang. He let the answering machine pick it up. Considering Brian didn’t even know he was back yet, he didn’t want to let anyone else know just yet.
“Brian, I forgot to take the DVD’s with me last night. I’ll pick them up tomorrow to return to the store. Those late fees can be a killer! Anyway, thank for keeping me company while Ben was at his meeting. Oh and by the way, don’t panic because I am sure it is nothing, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with Justin all day. But I’m sure everything’s fine! I know that you two talk a zillion times a day. Not to mention the phone sex, right? I’m probably wasting your tape now, huh? Okay, well, call Justin, tell him to call me, you call me, and I’ll see you at the Diner in the morning.”
Justin listened from the couch as Michael hung up.
Maybe…he thought. Just maybe…
Several hours later, Brian opened the steel loft door. He dropped his briefcase by the door, not caring about the files inside for now. He may own the company, but apparently there were still a lot of stupid fuckers in advertising.
“Hey.”
Brian jerked around at the quiet greeting from his New York lover.
“What are you doing here?” He couldn’t help the smile on his face.
“You tell me.” Justin was proud that his voice didn’t hitch. Though he will admit that his eyes wandered over Brian’s figure time and again trying to memorize every detail. His eyes looked a little older than he remembered from Brian’s last visit up to New York.
“You back?”
That was it?, Justin wondered. Did he simply have to show up after all these months and Brian would take him back?
Did he ever really leave?
He swallowed and licked his lips, noticing with a fair amount of satisfaction that Brian’s eyes watched his tongue dart out.
Justin knew his next line. Seven months and four days. But Justin knew his next line according to the Care and Feeding of Brian Kinney Manual.
“I know what I can expect from you.” Brian smirked at the words and loosened his tie as he walked towards Justin. He was already hard and felt a drop of precum stick from his cock to his boxer briefs. “But Brian, this time around, I want you to know what you can expect from me.”
Smirking and tongue pressed on the inside of his cheek, Brian held his breath. He had been holding his breath for seven months and four days.
“I’m not going anywhere. And you can try all you like to fight this, but I’m a pain in the ass and you know it.”
“I thought I was the pain in your ass.”
“Brian! I’m being serious here.” Justin tried to look sternly at his partner.
“Yeah, and I’m trying to take your clothes off.” Brian grabbed Justin by the belt loop of his pants and pulled their hips together. He ground their hard cocks together, both men loving the friction and warmth.
“I’m not leaving again.” Justin spoke the words into Brian’s mouth as they came together for a wet kiss.
Brian dipped his head to the dip under Justin’s adam’s apple. He licked lightly before baring his teeth and gently pulled at the sensitive skin.
“Good,” he mumbled into Justin’s skin, tongue tracing an erotic pattern from ear to nape to ear. “Because this time, I won’t let go.”