fic - Go
When burnitbackwards first suggested the dream ending challenge that became comingthengoing, I was worried about it for two main reasons:
1. I feared that as a spoiler virgin, I would not be able to read most of the submissions seeing how the majority of the fandom is spoiled, and
2. I thought the fic would get repetitive since a lot of people might have similar ideas about how they want things to end. I have no idea if this is true (see #1.)
This is not really my dream ending as much as it is my attempt to write something that falls into neither of the above categories.
Notes: There are absolutely no S5 spoilers in here unless I have stumbled across something unintentionally and let's just say I highly, highly doubt that. Thanks to burnitbackwards for reading and finding my mistakes. Rated R/NC-17. I hope you all still love me in the morning.
Go
Justin rubs a hand across his eyes as he gazes out the window of the Corvette. They’re headed west, somewhere in New Mexico, and he’s not really sure where they’re going, only that they can never go back.
****
Justin made the front cover of People magazine the same week Brian made the front page of the Pittsburgh Post Gazette.
How was Justin supposed to know that Connor James would fall in love with him? It was just a couple of fucks when Justin was horny or lonely, but somehow Connor thought there was something else, and he pursued Justin relentlessly. Finally, Justin told him to fuck off and he thought that had been the end. It turned out that Connor was emotionally unstable and even mentioned Justin by name in the suicide note. Justin left the movie in disgrace, eager to get back to Pittsburgh and escape the cameras and whispers.
Michael picked him up at the airport, and Justin wasn’t disappointed as much as he was surprised since the day before, Brian specifically said that he would meet him there.
“Brian’s at the hospital,” Michael said, and he refused to offer any more details.
Apparently Brian dozed off on the couch while babysitting, and somehow Gus got into the drawer where Bran kept the E-- the little pink pills looked an awful lot like candy. Thankfully Brian woke up not long after and called an ambulance in time, and so Gus was just fine, but Brian was a mess. Justin walked in just as Melanie attacked Brian, and no one made a move to stop her.
Lindsay vowed to never let Brian see Gus again, and no one else except for Michael would even speak to him. The police decided not to press charges, but Pittsburgh wasn’t that big of a city and a successful businessman almost poisoning his own kid was big news. Cynthia received a steady stream of calls from clients wanting to cancel their accounts, and the press camped below the loft for a week, capitalizing on the story of the almost-baby killer and the guy from the movie star’s suicide note.
The story died down eventually, but Kinnetic was falling apart and Justin and Brian stayed at the loft, not fucking and barely speaking.
“Fuck this,” Brian finally said one night. “Pack your shit. We’re leaving.”
Justin agreed after making Brian promise they wouldn’t go near LA.
“We’ll just keep going,” Brian said reassuringly, kissing Justin on the top of the head.
****
That had been a week ago and the thrill of starting over quickly fades as they drive in increasingly long silences, each lost in their own thoughts.
They stop for the night at a crappy looking motel which seems to be the only option in the middle of the desert. Justin is irritated with everything, and his mood doesn’t lift when he sees the room.
“This place is disgusting,” he declares. The tacky wallpaper hangs off the walls, and the carpet is worn in spots, revealing the cement floor below. It smells like a mix of stale cigarettes and floral air freshener and Justin hates every single thing about it.
“Can’t you quit whining for one second? You wanted to get away, and we’re away, but you just can’t stop acting like a fucking princess, can you?” Brian tosses his bag on the bed and stomps put of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Justin is momentarily grateful for the fact that the room has two beds.
There’s a bar just down the street and Justin is relieved not to see the Corvette in the parking lot. Cool air rushes over him when he enters, and Justin orders a beer because that’s what you get in a place like this. A few drinks later, Justin is feeling a little better about everything-- Pittsburgh was a shitty town anyway, and Hollywood is full of stuck up phonies. They can go to Mexico and sleep on the beach and drink margaritas and no one will know who they are and what they’ve done.
Justin is distracted from his thoughts by the sound of high pitched giggling. A few seats down, two girls are draped over a guy wearing a cowboy hat, and they appear to be practically molesting him. The guy catches Justin’s eye for a second and looks him up and down appreciatively in an unequivocal come-on and Justin thinks a fuck might be just the thing to shake the remainder of his shitty mood.
Slapping some money down on the bar, Justin catches the guy’s eye again and raises an eyebrow before walking out the door without looking back. Two minutes later the cowboy joins him in the parking lot and ten minutes after that, Justin is bent over the hotel bed passing the lube over his shoulder.
The cowboy fucks him hard, and Justin has to brace himself to stay up in his feet. Suddenly he feels a sharp slap on his ass and Justin cries out, more surprise than pain. Behind him, the guy’s hips snap a little faster, so Justin lets out another cry, testing the waters. The fingers on his hips grip tighter and the guy is pretty obviously getting off on this so Justin decides to humor him.
“Oh god, your cock is so big!”
He feels another smack on his ass. “You like that don’t you, you little bitch?”
Justin can barely refrain from rolling his eyes in disgust. This guy is not the first to assume that just because he is small and blond and pretty that he needs some kind of big strong man to teach him lessons and put him in his place. Still, Justin figures there is no harm in letting this guy get his rocks off, so he whimpers appropriately. He knows he won’t come from this since it really isn’t his thing, but the thought of letting the cowboy finish and then pushing him face first into the bed and fucking his brains out sounds pretty damn good.
The noises behind him indicate that Justin doesn’t have much longer to wait, and so he turns it up a notch.
“Ahh! I can’t…”
A loud bang startles Justin, and a moment later he’s knocked off his feet and tumbles onto the bed in front of him, the cowboy’s cock yanking roughly out of his ass. Justin struggles for a moment to stand, and turns to see Brian pushing the guy down on the other bed, his hands wrapped tightly around his neck.
“Brian! Stop!” Justin yells and grabs Brian’s arms, but he is no match for Brian’s strength and so he can only watch as the cowboy’s hands slap uselessly at Brian’s chest, and his face turns from pink to red to purple. It seems like an eternity until the guy’s arms flop to his side, but later Justin realizes that it was all over pretty quickly.
Justin turns to face Brian, whose eyes are fixed on the cowboy spread out naked on the cheap polyester bedspread.
“Brian. What the fuck?”
Brian looks at Justin for just a second, his eyes blank, and then turns back to the dead cowboy.
“Brian?” Justin tries again.
“His cock is still hard.”
Justin closes his eyes and shakes his head.
****
They’re on the road several hours and well into Arizona before either of them speaks.
“I’m kind of hungry.” At first Justin isn’t sure Brian even hears him, but after a long silence he answers.
“There should be some places to stop coming up. The signs say we’re almost at the Grand Canyon.”
Half an hour later they’re in some tourist trap diner where everything is plastered with pictures of the canyon. Justin orders for both of them and Brian doesn’t even protest when he asks the waitress for extra fries. Across the table, Brian fiddles restlessly with a cigarette before lighting it and taking a deep drag, finally meeting Justin’s eyes.
“I thought he was hurting you.” Brian’s voice is soft.
“I know, Brian. But still. I mean--”
“I didn’t want him to hurt you.” Justin is reminded of Gus with the simplistic sentences, but thinking of Gus reminds him of all the shit in Pittsburgh and somehow the thought of the dead guy back in the hotel room paid for with Brian’s credit card is not as bad as that.
“Brian,” Justin says, “I’m fine. I was just playing around with him.”
Brian continues like he doesn’t even hear Justin.
“I don’t want anybody to hurt you.”
Brian finally meets his eyes and Justin smiles at him, because it is better than crying. After a few moments, Brian smiles back, his eyes brightening for the first time since before they left.
“What do we do?” Justin is surprised to hear his voice come out as a whisper.
Brian’s eyes narrow and his smile fades as he stubs out his cigarette.
“We keep going.”
That night Justin dreams of empty white beaches in Mexico and Brian beside him, golden from the sun.
****
“I think we should see it since we’re here. We’ll probably never be back.” Brian protests a little, but Justin knows he’s going to give in, so soon they’re pulling into Grand Canyon Village near the South Rim, and Brian waits in the car while Justin runs into the visitor’s center for a map and a snack.
The young girl behind the register moves slowly, talking to the other cashier about her escapades the night before as she rings up Justin’s stuff, but when she hands him his change, she freezes. Panic spreads through Justin like fire and he resists the urge to turn and run; instead he smiles his biggest smile and walks as calmly as he can out of the shop.
His cool demeanor breaks when he enters the car and he freaks out.
“Oh my god, Brian, we have to get out of here! That girl totally knew something was up!”
“She probably just saw you on in a magazine and is pissed off because you made her imaginary boyfriend kill himself.” Brian is unfazed and reaches for a bottle of water from the bag Justin flung on the floor.
“No, I’m telling you-- it was something else. Please can we just leave?”
“You were the one who begged to come, remember?” Brian is teasing him, and Justin can’t understand why he isn’t taking this seriously.
At first Justin thinks he must be imagining it, but when Brian’s face pales, he knows the sirens are real. Brian drops the water and slowly backs the car away from the shop, heading down the road toward the canyon. For a few minutes Justin believes that Brian will fix this-- he’ll drive them away from this place and right into Mexico-- but when the sirens get louder and the road ends in front of them, Justin realizes there’s nowhere else to go.
There are eight police cars that Justin can count blocking the way behind them, and nothing but a cliff ahead. The fear that hit him back in the store flares up to a fevered pitch and Justin feels like he should be screaming or crying or running away.
“Brian?”
Brian turns to look at him, a grin spreading across his face.
“We keep going.”
Justin laughs because there is really nothing left to say.
Glancing in the side mirror, Justin feels a flash of panic at the sight of the police lights and guns pointed at them and he impulsively reaches for Brian.
“Let’s hold hands.”
Brian smirks and grabs Justin’s wrist. “Holding hands is for dykes. You can hold my cock instead.” And with that, he lowers Justin’s hand to his dick, which Justin is not surprised to discover is hard.
Justin watches as Brian checks the rear view mirror and then puts the car in gear. A puff of dirt rises beside them as the tires spin and then they’re moving, slowly at first but gaining speed quickly. The windows are closed, but Justin is sure he hears the rush of the wind in his ears, getting louder and louder. Justin squeezes Brian’s cock and scoots closer, unable to take his eyes off the path ahead which is shortening by the second.
When the tires leave the ground, he buries his face in Brian’s neck, but he’s not really scared, because Brian will fly him to the other side, and they’ll just keep going.
1. I feared that as a spoiler virgin, I would not be able to read most of the submissions seeing how the majority of the fandom is spoiled, and
2. I thought the fic would get repetitive since a lot of people might have similar ideas about how they want things to end. I have no idea if this is true (see #1.)
This is not really my dream ending as much as it is my attempt to write something that falls into neither of the above categories.
Notes: There are absolutely no S5 spoilers in here unless I have stumbled across something unintentionally and let's just say I highly, highly doubt that. Thanks to burnitbackwards for reading and finding my mistakes. Rated R/NC-17. I hope you all still love me in the morning.
Go
Justin rubs a hand across his eyes as he gazes out the window of the Corvette. They’re headed west, somewhere in New Mexico, and he’s not really sure where they’re going, only that they can never go back.
****
Justin made the front cover of People magazine the same week Brian made the front page of the Pittsburgh Post Gazette.
How was Justin supposed to know that Connor James would fall in love with him? It was just a couple of fucks when Justin was horny or lonely, but somehow Connor thought there was something else, and he pursued Justin relentlessly. Finally, Justin told him to fuck off and he thought that had been the end. It turned out that Connor was emotionally unstable and even mentioned Justin by name in the suicide note. Justin left the movie in disgrace, eager to get back to Pittsburgh and escape the cameras and whispers.
Michael picked him up at the airport, and Justin wasn’t disappointed as much as he was surprised since the day before, Brian specifically said that he would meet him there.
“Brian’s at the hospital,” Michael said, and he refused to offer any more details.
Apparently Brian dozed off on the couch while babysitting, and somehow Gus got into the drawer where Bran kept the E-- the little pink pills looked an awful lot like candy. Thankfully Brian woke up not long after and called an ambulance in time, and so Gus was just fine, but Brian was a mess. Justin walked in just as Melanie attacked Brian, and no one made a move to stop her.
Lindsay vowed to never let Brian see Gus again, and no one else except for Michael would even speak to him. The police decided not to press charges, but Pittsburgh wasn’t that big of a city and a successful businessman almost poisoning his own kid was big news. Cynthia received a steady stream of calls from clients wanting to cancel their accounts, and the press camped below the loft for a week, capitalizing on the story of the almost-baby killer and the guy from the movie star’s suicide note.
The story died down eventually, but Kinnetic was falling apart and Justin and Brian stayed at the loft, not fucking and barely speaking.
“Fuck this,” Brian finally said one night. “Pack your shit. We’re leaving.”
Justin agreed after making Brian promise they wouldn’t go near LA.
“We’ll just keep going,” Brian said reassuringly, kissing Justin on the top of the head.
****
That had been a week ago and the thrill of starting over quickly fades as they drive in increasingly long silences, each lost in their own thoughts.
They stop for the night at a crappy looking motel which seems to be the only option in the middle of the desert. Justin is irritated with everything, and his mood doesn’t lift when he sees the room.
“This place is disgusting,” he declares. The tacky wallpaper hangs off the walls, and the carpet is worn in spots, revealing the cement floor below. It smells like a mix of stale cigarettes and floral air freshener and Justin hates every single thing about it.
“Can’t you quit whining for one second? You wanted to get away, and we’re away, but you just can’t stop acting like a fucking princess, can you?” Brian tosses his bag on the bed and stomps put of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Justin is momentarily grateful for the fact that the room has two beds.
There’s a bar just down the street and Justin is relieved not to see the Corvette in the parking lot. Cool air rushes over him when he enters, and Justin orders a beer because that’s what you get in a place like this. A few drinks later, Justin is feeling a little better about everything-- Pittsburgh was a shitty town anyway, and Hollywood is full of stuck up phonies. They can go to Mexico and sleep on the beach and drink margaritas and no one will know who they are and what they’ve done.
Justin is distracted from his thoughts by the sound of high pitched giggling. A few seats down, two girls are draped over a guy wearing a cowboy hat, and they appear to be practically molesting him. The guy catches Justin’s eye for a second and looks him up and down appreciatively in an unequivocal come-on and Justin thinks a fuck might be just the thing to shake the remainder of his shitty mood.
Slapping some money down on the bar, Justin catches the guy’s eye again and raises an eyebrow before walking out the door without looking back. Two minutes later the cowboy joins him in the parking lot and ten minutes after that, Justin is bent over the hotel bed passing the lube over his shoulder.
The cowboy fucks him hard, and Justin has to brace himself to stay up in his feet. Suddenly he feels a sharp slap on his ass and Justin cries out, more surprise than pain. Behind him, the guy’s hips snap a little faster, so Justin lets out another cry, testing the waters. The fingers on his hips grip tighter and the guy is pretty obviously getting off on this so Justin decides to humor him.
“Oh god, your cock is so big!”
He feels another smack on his ass. “You like that don’t you, you little bitch?”
Justin can barely refrain from rolling his eyes in disgust. This guy is not the first to assume that just because he is small and blond and pretty that he needs some kind of big strong man to teach him lessons and put him in his place. Still, Justin figures there is no harm in letting this guy get his rocks off, so he whimpers appropriately. He knows he won’t come from this since it really isn’t his thing, but the thought of letting the cowboy finish and then pushing him face first into the bed and fucking his brains out sounds pretty damn good.
The noises behind him indicate that Justin doesn’t have much longer to wait, and so he turns it up a notch.
“Ahh! I can’t…”
A loud bang startles Justin, and a moment later he’s knocked off his feet and tumbles onto the bed in front of him, the cowboy’s cock yanking roughly out of his ass. Justin struggles for a moment to stand, and turns to see Brian pushing the guy down on the other bed, his hands wrapped tightly around his neck.
“Brian! Stop!” Justin yells and grabs Brian’s arms, but he is no match for Brian’s strength and so he can only watch as the cowboy’s hands slap uselessly at Brian’s chest, and his face turns from pink to red to purple. It seems like an eternity until the guy’s arms flop to his side, but later Justin realizes that it was all over pretty quickly.
Justin turns to face Brian, whose eyes are fixed on the cowboy spread out naked on the cheap polyester bedspread.
“Brian. What the fuck?”
Brian looks at Justin for just a second, his eyes blank, and then turns back to the dead cowboy.
“Brian?” Justin tries again.
“His cock is still hard.”
Justin closes his eyes and shakes his head.
****
They’re on the road several hours and well into Arizona before either of them speaks.
“I’m kind of hungry.” At first Justin isn’t sure Brian even hears him, but after a long silence he answers.
“There should be some places to stop coming up. The signs say we’re almost at the Grand Canyon.”
Half an hour later they’re in some tourist trap diner where everything is plastered with pictures of the canyon. Justin orders for both of them and Brian doesn’t even protest when he asks the waitress for extra fries. Across the table, Brian fiddles restlessly with a cigarette before lighting it and taking a deep drag, finally meeting Justin’s eyes.
“I thought he was hurting you.” Brian’s voice is soft.
“I know, Brian. But still. I mean--”
“I didn’t want him to hurt you.” Justin is reminded of Gus with the simplistic sentences, but thinking of Gus reminds him of all the shit in Pittsburgh and somehow the thought of the dead guy back in the hotel room paid for with Brian’s credit card is not as bad as that.
“Brian,” Justin says, “I’m fine. I was just playing around with him.”
Brian continues like he doesn’t even hear Justin.
“I don’t want anybody to hurt you.”
Brian finally meets his eyes and Justin smiles at him, because it is better than crying. After a few moments, Brian smiles back, his eyes brightening for the first time since before they left.
“What do we do?” Justin is surprised to hear his voice come out as a whisper.
Brian’s eyes narrow and his smile fades as he stubs out his cigarette.
“We keep going.”
That night Justin dreams of empty white beaches in Mexico and Brian beside him, golden from the sun.
****
“I think we should see it since we’re here. We’ll probably never be back.” Brian protests a little, but Justin knows he’s going to give in, so soon they’re pulling into Grand Canyon Village near the South Rim, and Brian waits in the car while Justin runs into the visitor’s center for a map and a snack.
The young girl behind the register moves slowly, talking to the other cashier about her escapades the night before as she rings up Justin’s stuff, but when she hands him his change, she freezes. Panic spreads through Justin like fire and he resists the urge to turn and run; instead he smiles his biggest smile and walks as calmly as he can out of the shop.
His cool demeanor breaks when he enters the car and he freaks out.
“Oh my god, Brian, we have to get out of here! That girl totally knew something was up!”
“She probably just saw you on in a magazine and is pissed off because you made her imaginary boyfriend kill himself.” Brian is unfazed and reaches for a bottle of water from the bag Justin flung on the floor.
“No, I’m telling you-- it was something else. Please can we just leave?”
“You were the one who begged to come, remember?” Brian is teasing him, and Justin can’t understand why he isn’t taking this seriously.
At first Justin thinks he must be imagining it, but when Brian’s face pales, he knows the sirens are real. Brian drops the water and slowly backs the car away from the shop, heading down the road toward the canyon. For a few minutes Justin believes that Brian will fix this-- he’ll drive them away from this place and right into Mexico-- but when the sirens get louder and the road ends in front of them, Justin realizes there’s nowhere else to go.
There are eight police cars that Justin can count blocking the way behind them, and nothing but a cliff ahead. The fear that hit him back in the store flares up to a fevered pitch and Justin feels like he should be screaming or crying or running away.
“Brian?”
Brian turns to look at him, a grin spreading across his face.
“We keep going.”
Justin laughs because there is really nothing left to say.
Glancing in the side mirror, Justin feels a flash of panic at the sight of the police lights and guns pointed at them and he impulsively reaches for Brian.
“Let’s hold hands.”
Brian smirks and grabs Justin’s wrist. “Holding hands is for dykes. You can hold my cock instead.” And with that, he lowers Justin’s hand to his dick, which Justin is not surprised to discover is hard.
Justin watches as Brian checks the rear view mirror and then puts the car in gear. A puff of dirt rises beside them as the tires spin and then they’re moving, slowly at first but gaining speed quickly. The windows are closed, but Justin is sure he hears the rush of the wind in his ears, getting louder and louder. Justin squeezes Brian’s cock and scoots closer, unable to take his eyes off the path ahead which is shortening by the second.
When the tires leave the ground, he buries his face in Brian’s neck, but he’s not really scared, because Brian will fly him to the other side, and they’ll just keep going.