ASGC 'Verse: Birthdays and Other Surprises
A/N: This is a oneshot that is set in the A Storm’s Gonna Come universe. It’s supposed to be a direct follow-up to the last installment of The Next Best Thing, but I guess it can work as a standalone, too. There’s barely a reference to what happened before, so if you don’t want to read or re-read the previous parts, you don’t necessarily have to. You just have to accept that BJ are raising two little girls which appear in this story but are not relevant to the plot.
Summary: It's someone's birthday; someone gets very drunk; and someone's in for a surprise. Consider yourself spoiled.
Warnings: None. It’s ‘fluff without the cheesiness’, to roughly quote a commenter.
Word Count: ~7,300
Rating: NC-17, but only barely. There’s more talk about the action than actual action.
Credits: The drunk/slurred talk comes to you courtesy of galeandrandy. Thank you, Rory. ❤
Disclaimer: Uhmm... Oops?
Birthdays and Other Surprises
January 2013
It wasn’t that Brian despised having family over; it was just that the simple thought of it made his skin crawl and teeth tingle. At 41 Brian thought of himself definitely not as old - Justin made sure to diffuse any such thoughts by regularly demanding to be fucked hard into the mattress to which Brian obliged willingly - but he did berate himself occasionally that he’d come to enjoy the quiet life, alone with Justin and their kids. Being removed from the family in purely logistical terms, first by living outside the city limits of Pittsburgh - or Pennsylvania, for that matter - and secondly by spending half the time of a month in New York until moving back for good a couple of months ago, had done wonders for his complexion. Well, not so much for his complexion, Brian reasoned, as for the worry lines that had started to appear around the time of his 35th birthday. He figured it was either that or the fucking imported French facial cream had finally started working. Not having every member of their family come running whenever they cut themselves on a piece of paper really did make his days more relaxed.
So when Justin’s thirtieth birthday loomed around the corner, and the excuse of only celebrating achievements ceased to work years ago, around the time when the twins were nearing their first birthday - an occasion which Brian seemed fit to celebrate with the biggest fucking party two one-year-olds had ever seen - Brian saw himself dreading the invasion of the well-meaning family. As expected and feared, they were just as loud and gaudy and tiresome as he remembered them from countless Friday night dinners at Debbie’s, but which had turned to Sunday night dinners at Ben and Michael’s a few years ago. But he managed surprisingly well, playing the ever cordial host, filling his guests’ glasses, joking, making small-talk, and generally earning himself a blow-job from his almost-husband he’d probably never forget. Despite all his appearances and the genuine joy of seeing Justin happy, he only started to breathe easier again when the members of their colorful family began piling out one by one after a long night of drinking (thanks to Brian’s impeccable taste in spirituous beverages), eating (thanks to Debbie’s conviction that if she stopped cooking, everyone would die from starvation immediately), and celebrating (thanks to two birthday boys and the overall neediness for amusement - the official version, or rather an excuse to get sloshed - Brian’s guess). The noise level died down considerably after the last guests left, especially when Deb said her goodbyes and left Ben and Michael behind, tugging only the half-asleep Carl with her. Brian offered his friend and Ben to stay and spend the night in Britin which not only gave Justin and Michael an opportunity to discuss the next issue of Rage in the morning, but also relieved Ben from driving home a very drunk Mikey. And Brian decided nobody should have to deal with a puking husband on their birthday.
Leaving the dining room in its post-war mess, the four men retreated into the living room, lounging on couches and comfy chairs around the fireplace, enjoying the quiet and nursing their drinks. Michael was the first to speak, or rather mumble unintelligibly.
“We sh… should play sommin’. I know a game. An’ isss called Boddoms.”
“I refuse to play a game which would put you and Justin at an advantage,” Brian objected.
Michael chuckled and slurred, “Izza party game, Briiiiannn. Nobody askin’ you ta demo’strate your abil’dies or gonna ‘valuate,” he paused to hiccup, “your essa… exa… excellence.”
Brian was seriously impressed. The alcohol seemed to have a completely opposite effect on Mikey’s eloquence as it had on other people. Brian even thought that Michael should drink more often for that reason alone and said so.
“Ha ha. Ass’ole,” Michael replied. “I’ll have ya know, I’m a’ways equol- … ecole- … e- … Ass’ole!” Michael finally gave up.
Ben threw an arm around his husband and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on the side of his head.
“I’m s’not drunk!” Michael insisted and Ben nodded in a calming way.
“Of course not,” Ben assured. Being the only one completely sober in their round, he chuckled at their all bedazzled state.
“And I’ll ’ave ya know,” Justin inserted, cutting into the descending silence and pointing a finger at Michael - a process made more difficult by the amount of alcohol running through his blood stream which made Justin’s pointing finger wobble back and forth, “tha’ Brian’s a skilled mas’er in aaaaall kindz of ho-ri-zon-tal,” he spoke very slowly, concentrating on pronouncing it correctly, “’robics. He’d kick ev’ryone’s ass at Boddoms.” Justin finished, waited a heartbeat and then beamed as if awaiting praise, obviously very proud of his accomplishment of putting a dozen words together to form a sentence. Brian reached over and patted his head appreciatively. Justin seemed satisfied with that. He crawled over on all fours and stretched out on the couch beside Brian, resting his head in Brian’s lap.
When Brian turned his attention back to his best friend, he almost laughed out loud at his expression. It took him some time in his inebriated state, but eventually the meaning of Justin’s words sunk in. Michael’s eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets. “Oh, mahgod, Brrrian. You soooo boddom for Jussin. I don’t b’lieve it!” Michael rolled onto his back and laughed.
Brian regarded him calmly, amusement painting creases into the corners of his eyes. Before he could give a reply, Justin piped up, “Puh-leeze. We fuck like, wha’? Three, four times a day?” He looked at Brian for confirmation and Brian affirmed with a shrug. “Times twelve years. Minus business trips. Plus welcome back home spesh… especial fucks. Makes…” Justin’s whole face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to calculate the data. Finally, his brain seemed to have computed a number, “… a lot.”
A second later he forgot about the conversation completely and buried his face in Brian’s crotch, making furtive attempts at unzipping Brian’s fly. Brian froze for a moment, aware of their company, but Justin’s hands were so clumsy that Brian let him be. At his degree of befuddlement, it would take Justin a while before he realized that he was pulling in the wrong direction. Brian chuckled and caressed his hair fondly, looking back up to his friend who sat half-slouched across from him. He didn’t care for Michael’s shocked expression. Most of tonight would be gone from his memory by tomorrow anyway. Not that Brian would terribly mind if it wasn’t; he simply didn’t want to give Michael ammunition to poke fun of him. And he knew that Michael would, at least for as long as it would take him to adjust to this new worldview.
“O’mahgod,” Michael repeated and continued to gawk. Brian figured, the alcohol was also slowing down the process of accepting a new found truth. Turning his attention on Justin, Michael asked, “Jussin, did ya know?”
Brian’s face scrunched up in confusion. Apparently Mikey was even drunker than he thought. Brian’s eyes strayed over Ben who sent Brian an amused smile, patted Michael’s shoulder then reached to take Michael’s drink from his hand. “I think you’ve had enough,” Ben quietly said and kissed his husband on his forehead.
“Well, did ‘e?” Michael insisted on knowing.
“Don’t worry, Mikey,” Brian said, hoping to make his friend focus on things his smashed mind could grasp, “Justin did know. And he still begs me daily to fuck him because he just loooves my cock.”
Justin removed himself from Brian’s belly button - he’d somehow strayed there after giving up on his attempts to unzip Brian’s fly - and emerged under Brian’s shirt, looking up with a guilty as charged look on his face. “Iz true. I do.” Brian was somewhat surprised that he’d followed the conversation, or what barely resembled one, at all. Then Justin added drunkenly, “But to my d’fense, it is a thing of beauty.” He smiled a smile that only the truly drunk could produce, sluggish and ridiculously proud and happy.
Michael thought for a moment, then asked, “Weren’t we gonna play so’thing? Or tell each otha all our kinkiest sex sec’ets.”
“Jeez, Mikey,” Brian said in mock seriousness, “this sex fixation of yours is not healthy.”
Michael reacted like the mature person that he was and replied by sticking out his tongue. “What? ‘fraid of what ya might learn?”
Brian raised an eyebrow in an ‘are-you-fucking-serious?’ mocking expression. “No,” he answered, “there’s just no such thing as a sexual encounter of Justin’s that I don’t know about and I’m not keeping you entertained with stories of our most glorious fucks. What? You and the professor are running out of ideas?” he teased, looking from Michael to Ben and back.
“Ashually…” Justin interjected and Brian’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oooh,” Ben rubbed his hands in glee, “this ought to be good.”
Brian looked at Justin, furrowing his brow and trying to gauge whether the blond was being serious or just teasing him.
Justin gazed openly back and replied, “Well, you ne’er assed me ‘bout the first time I topped someone.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped in relief. He answered matter-of-factly, “It was the guy from the King of Babylon contest.”
Justin hesitated before continuing. “No, ‘t wasn’t. Iz was a guy in the bathroom stalls at the mu-se-uhm.” Everyone looked at Justin, mouths agape.
“Fuckin’ in public? Gosh, ya really were a model student ofs Brian’s,” Michael commented.
Justin chanced a quick glance at Brian, looking pleased with himself at having caught him off guard, before he plunged into the story. “I think ‘e intended to fuck me. An’ he was cute, in that grungy college boy type. But then I took out my cock an’e changed tactics and begged me to fuck ‘im.” Justin’s hand disappeared under his waistband and he slowly started stroking himself. “I guess ‘e just couldn’t resist,” the blond snickered.
Brian reached over for the blond’s wrist and pulled his hand out. “Jesus fuck, Sunshine, keep your privates private. We have company.” But he squeezed Justin’s engorged package briefly through the denim of his jeans and let his palm rest there for a while which earned him a sunshine smile and a kiss. Justin was in that state of inebriation where his limbs were heavy and his movements slow. It would make for some very languid and unhurried sex tonight, Brian realized, and he was looking forward to that.
“God, you are soooo wasted,” Michael said as he watched his best friend and Justin slowly work up a heat between them. “Why are you s’not drunk?” Michael demanded to know with a reproachful look thrown at Brian.
“Yeah, why aren’t ya?” Justin agreed.
“You haven’t opened all your presents yet,” Brian replied cryptically. He hadn’t played his trump card yet - the main present was yet to come, Brian smiled inwardly as he thought of the little package in the pocket of his winter coat.
“A present you need to stay sober for but not Justin?” Ben asked and raised an eyebrow. “Huh. What could that be...” he wondered aloud.
“That’s for me to know and Justin to find out,” Brian answered with a satisfied smirk. Even with the bait thrown out there he knew that Justin wouldn’t bite. At least not now while his thoughts were still scattered all over the place. As if to prove Brian right, Justin snickered suddenly.
“An’ my mom was owside,” Justin announced, laughing at the ‘huh’ looks on his listeners’ faces. “Yeah, she was there in the mu-se-uhm, waitin’ for me to get done pissin’. And after, she talked to me about art and paintin’s and artsists. And all I could think ‘bout was ‘I just fucked a guy in the bathroom!’” Justin smiled lopsidedly at the memory. “She prolly thought I was comin’ down with the flu or somethin’ ‘cause my face was so red the whole time.”
“I thought you looked too experienced when you were doing the King of Babylon junkie in the backroom.” Brian mused, his voice slightly detached, he was so deep in thought.
“You saw me?” Justin asked in disbelief. “Awww, were you jealous I stole your trick?” he teased Brian.
“Fuck off!” Brian groused, sending a death glare in his lover’s direction.
“Don’t be jea-ick,” Justin hiccupped in the middle of the word, but continued unperturbed, “jea-jealous. They had ‘sssolutely nothin’ on you. Your cock iz still the only one I fan’asize ‘bout an’ jerk off to when you’re not there,” he assured him.
“God!” Michael exclaimed. “D’ya two eva think or talk ‘bout nothin’ else?”
Justin pretended to think hard. Or maybe he really did, Brian couldn’t tell for sure because the alcohol was clouding Justin’s facial expressions considerably or fucked with Justin’s control over his own facial expressions. Or both. Finally, the blond said, “Hmmm, he also haz the mooooost ahhhmaaazin’ tongue. I’m tellin’ ya, the things he can do with it…”
He was cut off from elaborating on what exactly those things were as Brian swept in and pressed his lips against the blond’s. He leaned back a little and stared into the eyes of a smirking Justin, grinning back at him, their faces only inches apart. Brian let a few seconds pass before his tongue darted out and took a swipe across Justin’s tongue, getting a taste of his lover, heavily flavored with Beam. He pulled back quickly, not allowing their lips to touch, leaving a panting Justin behind.
“Now looks what you’ve did!” Justin pouted and accused, “You made me hard!”
“That’s our cue. Good night, gentlemen.” Brian stood up and pulled Justin with him.
“Whaddabout da game we were ‘bout to play?” Michael complained.
“I’m sure you and your better half will find something to keep you two entertained.” Brian suggested with a raised brow.
“Don’t hold back none. The walls are sound-proofed,” Justin called and laughed from the stairs as he followed Brian up to their bedroom, holding himself upright by grabbing tightly onto the waistband of Brian’s pants from behind.
Brian was about to sink into the warmth of his lover, when they heard a timid knock on their door.
“Oh, fuck, no.” Brian breathed out as he pushed against Justin’s opening, waiting for the tight muscles to give and let him inside.
“Brian?” Justin cautioned him.
“No,” the brunet objected, “I’m not stopping.” He pushed firmer just to prove his point, groaning loudly when the head of his cock breached the barrier of Justin’s body.
“Brian,” Justin tried again, softer this time. “T’could be Molly.”
Brian let out a plethora of expletives but pulled out and got up from the bed. Justin hissed at the loss of contact and let himself fall back on the mattress, following the naked form of Brian with his eyes.
Brian released the automatic lock and opened the door just a crack. His eyes stared disbelievingly as he saw his best friend in the hallway. At first Brian thought Michael’s unsteady posture was due to the amounts of alcohol they’d consumed, but eventually he realized that Michael was nervously shifting his weight from one leg to another, not meeting Brian’s eyes.
“Mikey,” Brian whispered urgently, “I’m standing here with a raging hard-on. Naked. And Justin’s over there on the bed. Naked. Talk. And do it fast.”
“Ummm… Well…” Mikey started. He looked considerably less drunk now, but then again so did Justin. Brian idly wondered how much time had passed since they all retreated to their respective bedrooms. “Would you…” Suddenly he changed directions and exclaimed in a reproachful voice, “Your door was locked!”
Brian looked at him like he had lost his mind. “It’s our bedroom, for Christ’s sake! And we have two three-year-olds living across the hall. Of course it was locked! Yours better be locked too once you get back.” Brian glared at Michael pointedly on the last line, reminding him to hurry the fuck up.
Michael paused again but continued after a glance at Brian’s impatient stare. “We need condoms,” he finally spilled. “Ben and I, we didn’t bring any condoms. We didn’t think we’d be spending the night. So… we need condoms.”
Now it was Brian’s turn to shift nervously. “Mmm, Mikey, we don’t have any,” he said slowly.
“Lissen, Brian, it’s embarrassin’ enough that I have to come an’ ask you. So would you please stop fuckin’ round with my head.”
“Michael,” Brian said, changing his voice to a serious tone, “we don’t have condoms in this house.”
The two best friends stared at each other for a long while. Brian didn’t say anything, letting the reality and implication of his statement sink in. Eventually, Michael replied, “Oh,” which was followed by another, more stretched, “Ooooohh.” He tried a smile and Brian could see how difficult the simple gesture was for his friend. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for springing it on Michael like that. “Another first to add to the list, huh?” Michael said before turning and walking towards one of the guest rooms.
“Mikey?” Brian called after his friend, biting the nail of his thumb absentmindedly. “I could check Gus’ room,” he offered half-heartedly, not really wanting to intrude on his son’s privacy in his absence. Gus was only thirteen, but ever since his birthday Brian made him carry condoms on him at all times. He wasn’t sure though if Gus would have any in his room at Britin.
“It’s okay, Brian,” Michael refused. “Go back to Justin.”
Brian watched Michael disappear behind one of the oak doors at the end of the floor before he closed and locked the bedroom door again. He stood there for a while, his forehead braced against the dark wood. Eventually he shook himself as if to get rid of unwelcome thoughts and walked back to the bed. He sat down on the edge beside Justin’s hip. Justin’s arm came up to stroke down his back.
“Whaz wrong?” Justin asked.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” Brian assured and leaned in for a kiss. He kissed Justin hard, with unyielding lips, pouring all the frustration into the kiss as well as all the gratitude that he felt and the guilt that came from feeling grateful in a situation like this. When Justin climbed onto Brian’s lap and wrapped his arms and legs around his form, providing shelter and safety by instinct, Brian’s touch became softer and he let himself relax into his lover.
“I’m so fucking glad you’re healthy. I’m glad we’re both healthy. So fucking glad,” the brunet breathed against swollen lips.
Brian walked into the kitchen from where he could hear voices coming. He was disheveled and, despite having had only a few drinks, slightly hung over. He fondly remembered times when he’d been able to handle his alcohol better; to handle amounts of alcohol ten times than what he’d had last night. He also idly wondered if it was a sign of -cough- old -cough- age. Deciding not to let it get to him, he chalked his general grogginess up to not having taken a shower yet. His self-preservation mode decided he should have coffee first. He was surprised to see Michael sitting with a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, behind which Trish, the housekeeper, was preparing breakfast. His walking in obviously interrupted no talk of big importance.
“Good morning, Mr. Kinney,” Trish greeted him with a warm smile and pleasantly measured voice. Brian had given up years ago to correct her or to tell her to call him Brian. Strangely enough, Justin had always been Justin, never ‘Mr. Taylor’. Brian refused to think about the implications of that and whether, once again, his age had anything to do with it. But since Trish felt and behaved like a mother - someone else’s mother, not the Joan kind - to him, he didn’t really mind. “Mr. Novotny just told me that the party ended late last night.”
Brian nodded.
“You’ll feel better once you’ve had a decent breakfast,” Trish promised. Brian couldn’t find it in him to tell her that all his body craved at the moment was a cup - or a bucket - of a good, hot, dark coffee.
With a last glance at Michael and a question whether he needed anything else, Trish excused herself quickly, announcing she was going upstairs to check in on the twins, but not before pouring Brian a generous cup of the freshly brewed beverage.
Brian thanked her with a devoted if maybe a bit too dramatic grab to his heart. She laughed melodically, the sound trailing slowly behind her as she disappeared up the stairs. After taking a few sips of the delicious drink, Brian turned to meet his best friend’s eyes. The incident from last night very fresh in his mind, he didn’t know how to broach the subject adequately. Frankly, he would have liked nothing more than to ignore it completely, but he also knew that he wasn’t this person anymore. Besides, he felt bad for springing it on his best friend like that; even if it wasn’t really his fault.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“There’s nothing you should be sorry for,” Michael mumbled and stared down into his cup.
An uneasy quiet descended upon the kitchen and Brian began to rummage through the cabinets in search of two small bowls, eventually locating them in the dishwasher that Trish hadn’t gotten around to unloading yet. Grateful for the task that gave him an excuse not to face his friend, Brian methodically put away dishes and sorted through the cutlery tray. He didn’t know how to address the subject, whether to address it at all, and let the tension build. He suddenly wished Trish hadn’t left and immediately berated himself for the thought. This was his best friend after all. He shouldn’t feel awkward around Michael.
Michael broke the silence before Brian managed to find the right words. “How long?”
Brian blinked. He wasn’t going to pretend not to know what Michael was referring to. “How long what? How long has the M-word been happening or how long since condoms stopped appearing on our shopping list?”
If Michael was surprised, he didn’t show it. “They weren’t synchronized events?”
Brian smiled briefly, remembering. “Not really. This,” Brian shuddered before speaking the word, “monogamy thing just took on a life of its own and happened. Without me noticing. The… rest… came later. Two years ago maybe?”
Michael nodded while digesting the information and smiled absentmindedly. “Are you happy, Brian?”
“Yes,” Brian didn’t hesitate even a second before answering. He thought about Justin sleeping upstairs, hogging all the pillows and covers even though the room temperature was probably around 90 degrees because the twat was always freezing and turned the thermostat up to the max whenever Brian wasn’t looking. And about Emma probably driving Trish crazy right this second by not being able to decide on the dress she wanted to wear today. And Alex, watching her sister for exactly three minutes before she stepped in and pulled Emma away from her wardrobe. And Gus who loved to spend his afternoons at Britin but pretended like he was doing it simply on his mother’s orders. “God, yes,” Brian added, awed and somewhat surprised.
Michael nodded and smiled. It wasn’t forced, but a true and genuine smile, though Brian thought he detected a hint of sadness in it. Brian waited if Michael would ask something else while picking up a box of cheerios from the cabinet behind him and filling the two bowls sitting on the counter.
“You admit it,” Michael mumbled, more to himself, so Brian didn’t comment. “How things change, huh?” he said, louder now, clearly directed at Brian and meant to be heard. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“I know,” Brian answered. And he did.
“It’s just that… it’s so not the life I expected you to lead. I never thought of you as a father, and, to top it off, in a monogamous relationship!”
“If it’s any consolation - me neither.” Brian admitted and was thankful for having a reason to turn his back on his friend for a moment when he opened the fridge and took out the milk carton.
“Do you sometimes wonder how you got there?” Michael asked.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Brian repeated, getting a package of raisins. “Because I know. It’s this little shit upstairs who’s still snoring into his pillow and will wake up in a few minutes looking fresh and disgustingly perky as if he didn’t get completely shit-faced last night. It’s this incredibly frustrating twat who has these ridiculously high demands of life and of people and of himself in general and who keeps challenging me and expects things of me I’m not sure I can give him but then I do and it always turns out to be exactly what I needed.” Brian turned away when he finished, a little embarrassed.
“He was everything you wanted,” Michael concluded quietly.
“No. Because I never thought I wanted this. He’s stubborn, and chatty, even after I’ve fucked him into the mattress, and he’s annoying when he wants something, like a dog with a bone who just wouldn’t let go. I don’t wish those qualities of his on my worst enemy.”
“Then why? Why Justin?” Michael asked and he sounded like he’d been wondering for years now. Brian was glad to notice that the question held no enmity; there was nothing but pure curiosity.
Brian couldn’t say that it was because Justin had been a splotch of color in an otherwise gray week; or was it year? Justin hadn’t known the rules, so he made them up and provided Brian with more amusement and entertainment than Brian had had in a fucking long time. God, he’d been so bored with his life back then. Justin had been literally like a breath of fresh air, a door to a room full of untouched potential and endless opportunities. He’d grabbed Brian’s attention because he sparkled. Maybe it was the drugs that made the light from the street lamp seem infused with glitter, but Justin had stood out. Even after the drugs had worn off. Justin had been shiny new. And in the beginning Brian had only been interested to know how long it would take for the effect to wear off. But it never did. And in the end, he’d accepted it as something inherently Justin and admitted to himself that even though he’d done a great job of controlling his other addictions, Justin was the one he was willing to succumb to. But Brian neither could nor would tell Michael that. So he said, “He doesn’t buy into my bullshit. And because with Justin you never know what he’s going to throw at you next. You let your guard down with him for even one second, and he’ll slip in under the wire. He’s fucking sneaky like that.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Michael noticed.
Brian just shrugged. What relationship was not hard work?
“Isn’t it exhausting?” Michael wondered curiously.
“It isn’t boring,” Brian replied.
And Michael suddenly understood something. Of all the things in this life what Brian feared most was not relationships, not emotions, or monogamy, not even marriage and a happy homo home. No. It was boredom. But Justin, in addition to his many other qualities, kept him on his toes, kept him guessing. Kept the complacency out the door. In return, Brian did the same for him - made him work for everything. Michael couldn’t imagine living a relationship like that, but then again, he couldn’t imagine living the life that Brian and Justin were living. To everyone his own, he concluded and smiled as he heard the words in his head spoken in Ben’s voice.
When Brian dared look at his friend again, he saw him nodding again. And judging by the look on Michael’s face, he understood.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Mikey,” Brian suddenly said, voice thick with emotion as he remembered last night or rather this morning.
“I’m more than okay,” Michael’s face brightened. “I’m fucking happy.” He spread his arms. “Look at me. I’m married to a hunk of a guy. I have two kids and I suspect soon I’ll have a daughter-in-law as well. I’ve my own business. What else could I possibly ask for?”
Brian smiled, genuinely happy for his best friend.
“Do you sometimes miss your old life?” Michael asked.
Brian was in the process of refilling his cup but paused and looked at his friend. When he only saw real curiosity there and not reproach as he’d expected, he decided to be honest with him. “What exactly, Mikey? The clubs? We still do that. The drugs? We still do that too; though, admittedly, less frequently. Or the tricks? I have the hottest one of them all sleeping next to me every night. Or am I supposed to miss mediocre blowjobs that bored me out of my fucking mind before they even started?” Brian shook his head. “What’s there to miss? There was nothing there that is worth going back for. Not one fucking thing.”
“You spent a lot of time and energy defending and protecting your old lifestyle back then,” Michael observed.
Brian had to think about that. Michael wasn’t wrong. He did put a lot of effort to deceive not only everyone around him but himself too. “Wouldn’t you?” Brian eventually asked back. “If that’s the only thing that you know, then wouldn’t you cling to it and try to protect it as well? Especially if someone comes along who threatens to overturn each of your beliefs?”
“He came, saw, and conquered,” Michael snickered, imagining Justin as the big conqueror. Brian threw a dish towel at him, catching him squarely in the face. “Hey,” Michael protested, “you should be thankful he didn’t throw a look at you and decided you weren’t worth conquering.”
“Shut up,” Brian replied, but couldn’t help but join in the laugh.
Michael grew serious again and pondered what Brian had said for a while and finally grinned huge. “You’ve become such a softie!”
“You wouldn’t say that if it was your ass.” Justin entered the room, walking a little funny and squirming with every step. When he reached Brian, he said, “You know, I’m thirty now. You could have taken it easy.”
“Now it’s my fault?!” Brian exclaimed. “Who kept screaming at me, demanding to fuck him harde-” Justin clapped a hand over the brunet’s mouth, effectively cutting off Brian from throwing Justin’s own words back at him.
Keeping Brian’s mouth covered, Justin said, “Why do you listen to me?”
Not being able to speak, Brian just rolled his eyes.
“Zip it, boys. Youngsters coming through,” Molly’s loud voice announced, a second before her head popped around the corner of the door frame. “Everyone decent?” Quickly scanning the situation and deciding it was safe, she stepped aside and let the twins barrel in. “I offered to take them down for breakfast because Trish wanted to get started with cleaning the other rooms,” Molly explained.
After receiving their good morning greetings from both of their dads, the twins climbed into their chairs at the breakfast table and looked expectantly at Brian and Justin. Brian picked up a banana and started peeling it while Justin asked, “Alex, you want bananas or raisins with your cereal?”
“Both,” she answered after a moment of consideration and Brian began chopping the peeled banana into one of the small bowls.
“What do you want, Princess?” Justin asked Emma while he poured a handful of raisins into Alex’s cereal.
“Same as Alex.”
Brian looked at her and objected, “But you don’t like raisins.”
“I wanna same as Alex!” Emma repeated insistently.
Justin glanced at Brian before shrugging his shoulders and adding a few raisins to Emma’s cereal as well, knowing she’d be picking around them while she ate. Placing the bowls in front of the girls, Justin started to pour milk, waiting for each girl to say stop.
“While you’re here, I’ll jump into the shower quickly, okay?” Molly said, interrupting the easy morning routine, and was already gone the next second, not waiting for an answer. Justin grinned at Brian. It was a running gag between the two of them to gauge who’d run out of energy first - the girls or Molly. It was always a tie; they hadn’t declared a winner yet.
Emma and Alex started to munch happily on their cereal while Brian and Justin picked up some glasses and a box of orange juice and took their seats across from the twins. Brian motioned for Michael to come and sit down at the table, too. For a short moment Michael hesitated and just stared at the little family around the breakfast table, barely recognizing his best friend as he joked and laughed with his partner and answered the occasional question of Alex or Emma. Jarring himself awake from the trance-like state, he picked up his own coffee cup and sat down in one of the chairs.
The girls were busy with each other; Alex pointing out familiar letters of the alphabet on the juice box. “O… R…” Alex pointed at every letter she recognized.
“Is Ben still sleeping?” Justin asked Michael.
“Taking a shower. I already had mine,” he explained.
Alex continued undeterred. “A…”
Brian was about to make a joke about lacking in the fantasy department and not taking a shower together, but refrained in the last second, remembering again. He couldn’t help but glance at his friend and forced himself to look at him like he would at a stranger and not someone whom he’d known most of his life. Michael had said he was happy, but Brian could see signs that time hadn’t passed without leaving its mark. Michael’s hair had started greying at the temples and his eyes had tiny wrinkles around them. Brian supposed, with anyone else, he’d chalk those up to age or to having kids; JR could be quite a handful when she came to spend summers with her dad. But strangely enough, those lines in Michael’s face Brian accredited to stress and worry. Ben was doing well; aside from a short hospitalization period about a year ago, his health was as good as could be expected. Still, remembering Vic, Brian knew that everything could change in a blink of an eye. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like if it was Justin; how he would live with the knowledge that every second of the day things could start to spiral downhill. He didn’t know and couldn’t imagine how he would manage to carefree enjoy his days like that.
“N…”
A shiver ran uncomfortably down Brian’s spine and he involuntarily squeezed his hand that was resting on Justin’s thigh under the table. Justin looked at him in response, raising an eyebrow in question. Brian just shook his head and smiled, letting the blond know that it wasn’t about them, and Justin replied with a brilliant smile of his own.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Yes?”
Both, Brian and Justin, responded to Alex’s question and Michael smiled in disbelief, grateful for the smile going unnoticed as both focused on their daughter. That was as strange as it got, Michael thought. Before each of them had had a family of his own, he’d often tried to talk Brian into rethinking his life, tried to argue him into giving another way of living a thought, screamed at him because Brian wouldn’t even consider anything outside of his realm of the known, of what he thought he loved. And Michael eventually gave up, and accepted that he, Michael, would just move on without Brian and live this life that he tried to preach to Brian about; had accepted that the point had come where their roads would diverge. For a long time, he’d really hoped to make Brian reconsider and maybe even change. That was before he’d accepted that this would never happen with him by Brian’s side. But secretly, he’d never stopped to wish and hope that one day Brian would settle down, be a family man, be a father. He just never thought further than that. He’d imagined him becoming that, but never being that. And now that Brian was all those things, he couldn’t help but feel… saddened somehow, excluded. It wasn’t jealousy. And it sure wasn’t spite. Just a quiet sadness that Brian had gone and become all those things; but not for him, not for Michael.
“What letter is this?” Alex asked pointing at the juice carton.
“Which letter is this,” Brian gently corrected before leaning over the table to see what she was pointing at. “G.”
“G,” Alex repeated, then her gaze drifted away as she chewed her cereal while trying to think of something familiar that started with a G. “Say a word?” she finally asked.
Brian tried to think of a word that Alex would know and that started with a G where it was actually pronounced as a G.
“Giraffe,” Justin came to the rescue, remembering their trip to the New York zoo.
“Good Morning, everyone,” Ben greeted, walking into the kitchen. “Trish told me I’d find you guys here.” His eyes swept across Alex and Emma and he added, “guys and ladies.”
Justin got up and asked if Ben wanted a cup of coffee which he declined. “I’d rather have a glass of OJ.” Ben replied.
“Coming right up.”
While Justin got another glass from the kitchen cabinet, Ben took a seat beside Michael and watched as Brian taught Alex how to connect the letters she recognized into syllables and words.
“Aren’t they a little young to learn how to read yet?” Ben asked with curiosity in his voice. “They’re not even four yet.”
Brian suddenly froze, his whole posture changing and becoming rigid. He couldn’t help the scowl that appeared on his face, chiseled into his jaw, and only barely refrained from giving a short-tempered answer - as he usually would when he was met with the family’s butting in. Aside from having practical experience on the how not to raise your kids front, Brian had never given much thought to the different approaches and methods in the upbringing of children. He was more surprised than anyone else when he discovered that he’d developed an acute allergy to well-meaning suggestions on age-appropriate toys and behavior as suggested in countless literary endeavors by every Tom, Dick and Harry who fancied themselves professionals because they carried a doctorate in child psychology. He also didn’t have much patience for the raised eyebrows of bewilderment from people who’d come face to face with Brian’s ferocity when it came to his children. Brian’s perspective on raising children and educating them was simple: as long as certain basic rules were followed, he didn’t give a shit about textbooks, experience, or the advice of so called experts. By anyone’s standards his kids were well-adjusted and by the only standard that counted for Brian they were happy. That was all he needed to know. And if Alex found pleasure in learning letters at the tender age of three and a half years, then that was what he would make sure she was free to do.
Justin quickly glanced at his partner, all too familiar with Brian’s inner seething at Ben’s innocent question. Before Brian could launch into a hearty discussion, he jumped in and explained, “She’s always loved books, even before she knew which way was up. And when the girls were old enough to be read to, Alex was more interested to know which letter was which and how a name would be spelled. We found that great online ABC learning game, just to spend the time during a flight, you know. We have been flying a lot, after all.” Justin added, referring to the frequent flights to and from Pittsburgh. “But she likes it. And nobody’s pushing her to do it, so it’s all good,” Justin added, smoothing a hand across Alex’s soft blond hair.
She looked up, grinned at her father with a big happy smile and then turned to Ben. “I can write your name, Uncle Ben,” she told him. “Daddy taught me. Yours is easy because it’s short, like Gus’. You wanna see?”
Ben smiled back at her. “I’d love to.”
“Alex can write everyone’s name but yours,” Emma piped up, talking around a mouthful of cereal and pointing at Michael.
“No talking with your mouth full,” Justin admonished and Emma hurried with the chewing and obediently swallowed before speaking again.
“Alex says your name is hard to write because it’s so long and conlicated,” she picked up from where she was interrupted.
“Complicated,” Brian corrected her too.
The talk around the breakfast table continued in the same manner till everyone was done and the coffee had turned cold. Somewhere in the middle of it Molly swept in, stole a few gulps from her brother’s coffee and disappeared again, one girl on each arm. Eventually Michael announced that he had to leave to relieve the guy working the counter in Red Cape. Ben mumbled something about needing to grade papers and thanked Brian and Justin one more time for the party.
“We could meet up tomorrow night and go to Babylon together. We haven’t done this in a long time,” Michael said. “What do you say?”
“Can’t. Justin and I have plans.”
“We do?” Justin asked, surprised. It was the first time he was hearing about it.
“We do. And you’d know if you hadn’t been drunk as a skunk last night and opened your birthday present.”
“Another birthday present?” Immediately Justin’s confusion had cleared and made room for child-like excitement. Brian saw his mind starting to work, remembering bits of conversation from the previous evening.
“We’ll leave you two alone to it,” Ben announced wisely and opened the door for his husband. They left moments later.
The second the door closed behind them, Justin was wrapped around Brian’s neck, showering him with kisses all over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered in between.
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Brian laughed but didn’t resist Justin’s invading tongue.
“But I loved my new easel,” Justin said, referring to the gift Brian had given him yesterday. “And I loved the party.” He pressed his lower half against Brian, hooking one leg behind Brian’s. “Have I thanked you properly yet?”
“No, I don’t believe you have,” Brian replied and dove into Justin’s mouth again. After a couple more moments, he came up for air again and sighed. “Alas, you don’t have time to thank me properly now.”
Justin pulled back from the embrace and looked at him in confusion. “Huh?”
Wordlessly, Brian walked to the closet in the hall where they kept all their winter coats and pulled an envelope from an inside pocket of his Hugo Boss corduroy coat. He held out the paper towards Justin who took it gingerly. At Brian’s encouraging nod, he tore into it heartily and scanned the contents.
“Thailand?”
“We’re leaving in about twelve hours,” Brian returned instead of an answer.
“But-”
“Arianna cleared your schedule,” Brian said before Justin could protest.
“But… Thailand?”
“You’ve been there before?”
“No.”
“Me neither,” Brian said as if it was the only reason he needed. He went back to the hall closet and dragged out one of the bigger suitcases. His own as well as those of the twins were already packed and stowed away in the trunk of one of their cars. He carried the trunk upstairs.
Justin followed behind. He was worrying his lip with his teeth and scratching the side of his head. A surprise holiday sounded perfect. And Thailand - the little he knew about the country - sounded like a great destination. But he couldn’t help but feel like Brian was following a higher agenda. Something in Justin’s head rang a bell, but it was too vague to remind him of something specific. “But…” Justin tried again, still confused, “what’s in Thailand?”
“Water buffalos.”
The End.
End notes:
The sequel to this oneshot and the next story in the universe is What Comes Naturally.
Summary: It's someone's birthday; someone gets very drunk; and someone's in for a surprise. Consider yourself spoiled.
Warnings: None. It’s ‘fluff without the cheesiness’, to roughly quote a commenter.
Word Count: ~7,300
Rating: NC-17, but only barely. There’s more talk about the action than actual action.
Credits: The drunk/slurred talk comes to you courtesy of galeandrandy. Thank you, Rory. ❤
Disclaimer: Uhmm... Oops?
Birthdays and Other Surprises
January 2013
It wasn’t that Brian despised having family over; it was just that the simple thought of it made his skin crawl and teeth tingle. At 41 Brian thought of himself definitely not as old - Justin made sure to diffuse any such thoughts by regularly demanding to be fucked hard into the mattress to which Brian obliged willingly - but he did berate himself occasionally that he’d come to enjoy the quiet life, alone with Justin and their kids. Being removed from the family in purely logistical terms, first by living outside the city limits of Pittsburgh - or Pennsylvania, for that matter - and secondly by spending half the time of a month in New York until moving back for good a couple of months ago, had done wonders for his complexion. Well, not so much for his complexion, Brian reasoned, as for the worry lines that had started to appear around the time of his 35th birthday. He figured it was either that or the fucking imported French facial cream had finally started working. Not having every member of their family come running whenever they cut themselves on a piece of paper really did make his days more relaxed.
So when Justin’s thirtieth birthday loomed around the corner, and the excuse of only celebrating achievements ceased to work years ago, around the time when the twins were nearing their first birthday - an occasion which Brian seemed fit to celebrate with the biggest fucking party two one-year-olds had ever seen - Brian saw himself dreading the invasion of the well-meaning family. As expected and feared, they were just as loud and gaudy and tiresome as he remembered them from countless Friday night dinners at Debbie’s, but which had turned to Sunday night dinners at Ben and Michael’s a few years ago. But he managed surprisingly well, playing the ever cordial host, filling his guests’ glasses, joking, making small-talk, and generally earning himself a blow-job from his almost-husband he’d probably never forget. Despite all his appearances and the genuine joy of seeing Justin happy, he only started to breathe easier again when the members of their colorful family began piling out one by one after a long night of drinking (thanks to Brian’s impeccable taste in spirituous beverages), eating (thanks to Debbie’s conviction that if she stopped cooking, everyone would die from starvation immediately), and celebrating (thanks to two birthday boys and the overall neediness for amusement - the official version, or rather an excuse to get sloshed - Brian’s guess). The noise level died down considerably after the last guests left, especially when Deb said her goodbyes and left Ben and Michael behind, tugging only the half-asleep Carl with her. Brian offered his friend and Ben to stay and spend the night in Britin which not only gave Justin and Michael an opportunity to discuss the next issue of Rage in the morning, but also relieved Ben from driving home a very drunk Mikey. And Brian decided nobody should have to deal with a puking husband on their birthday.
Leaving the dining room in its post-war mess, the four men retreated into the living room, lounging on couches and comfy chairs around the fireplace, enjoying the quiet and nursing their drinks. Michael was the first to speak, or rather mumble unintelligibly.
“We sh… should play sommin’. I know a game. An’ isss called Boddoms.”
“I refuse to play a game which would put you and Justin at an advantage,” Brian objected.
Michael chuckled and slurred, “Izza party game, Briiiiannn. Nobody askin’ you ta demo’strate your abil’dies or gonna ‘valuate,” he paused to hiccup, “your essa… exa… excellence.”
Brian was seriously impressed. The alcohol seemed to have a completely opposite effect on Mikey’s eloquence as it had on other people. Brian even thought that Michael should drink more often for that reason alone and said so.
“Ha ha. Ass’ole,” Michael replied. “I’ll have ya know, I’m a’ways equol- … ecole- … e- … Ass’ole!” Michael finally gave up.
Ben threw an arm around his husband and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on the side of his head.
“I’m s’not drunk!” Michael insisted and Ben nodded in a calming way.
“Of course not,” Ben assured. Being the only one completely sober in their round, he chuckled at their all bedazzled state.
“And I’ll ’ave ya know,” Justin inserted, cutting into the descending silence and pointing a finger at Michael - a process made more difficult by the amount of alcohol running through his blood stream which made Justin’s pointing finger wobble back and forth, “tha’ Brian’s a skilled mas’er in aaaaall kindz of ho-ri-zon-tal,” he spoke very slowly, concentrating on pronouncing it correctly, “’robics. He’d kick ev’ryone’s ass at Boddoms.” Justin finished, waited a heartbeat and then beamed as if awaiting praise, obviously very proud of his accomplishment of putting a dozen words together to form a sentence. Brian reached over and patted his head appreciatively. Justin seemed satisfied with that. He crawled over on all fours and stretched out on the couch beside Brian, resting his head in Brian’s lap.
When Brian turned his attention back to his best friend, he almost laughed out loud at his expression. It took him some time in his inebriated state, but eventually the meaning of Justin’s words sunk in. Michael’s eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets. “Oh, mahgod, Brrrian. You soooo boddom for Jussin. I don’t b’lieve it!” Michael rolled onto his back and laughed.
Brian regarded him calmly, amusement painting creases into the corners of his eyes. Before he could give a reply, Justin piped up, “Puh-leeze. We fuck like, wha’? Three, four times a day?” He looked at Brian for confirmation and Brian affirmed with a shrug. “Times twelve years. Minus business trips. Plus welcome back home spesh… especial fucks. Makes…” Justin’s whole face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to calculate the data. Finally, his brain seemed to have computed a number, “… a lot.”
A second later he forgot about the conversation completely and buried his face in Brian’s crotch, making furtive attempts at unzipping Brian’s fly. Brian froze for a moment, aware of their company, but Justin’s hands were so clumsy that Brian let him be. At his degree of befuddlement, it would take Justin a while before he realized that he was pulling in the wrong direction. Brian chuckled and caressed his hair fondly, looking back up to his friend who sat half-slouched across from him. He didn’t care for Michael’s shocked expression. Most of tonight would be gone from his memory by tomorrow anyway. Not that Brian would terribly mind if it wasn’t; he simply didn’t want to give Michael ammunition to poke fun of him. And he knew that Michael would, at least for as long as it would take him to adjust to this new worldview.
“O’mahgod,” Michael repeated and continued to gawk. Brian figured, the alcohol was also slowing down the process of accepting a new found truth. Turning his attention on Justin, Michael asked, “Jussin, did ya know?”
Brian’s face scrunched up in confusion. Apparently Mikey was even drunker than he thought. Brian’s eyes strayed over Ben who sent Brian an amused smile, patted Michael’s shoulder then reached to take Michael’s drink from his hand. “I think you’ve had enough,” Ben quietly said and kissed his husband on his forehead.
“Well, did ‘e?” Michael insisted on knowing.
“Don’t worry, Mikey,” Brian said, hoping to make his friend focus on things his smashed mind could grasp, “Justin did know. And he still begs me daily to fuck him because he just loooves my cock.”
Justin removed himself from Brian’s belly button - he’d somehow strayed there after giving up on his attempts to unzip Brian’s fly - and emerged under Brian’s shirt, looking up with a guilty as charged look on his face. “Iz true. I do.” Brian was somewhat surprised that he’d followed the conversation, or what barely resembled one, at all. Then Justin added drunkenly, “But to my d’fense, it is a thing of beauty.” He smiled a smile that only the truly drunk could produce, sluggish and ridiculously proud and happy.
Michael thought for a moment, then asked, “Weren’t we gonna play so’thing? Or tell each otha all our kinkiest sex sec’ets.”
“Jeez, Mikey,” Brian said in mock seriousness, “this sex fixation of yours is not healthy.”
Michael reacted like the mature person that he was and replied by sticking out his tongue. “What? ‘fraid of what ya might learn?”
Brian raised an eyebrow in an ‘are-you-fucking-serious?’ mocking expression. “No,” he answered, “there’s just no such thing as a sexual encounter of Justin’s that I don’t know about and I’m not keeping you entertained with stories of our most glorious fucks. What? You and the professor are running out of ideas?” he teased, looking from Michael to Ben and back.
“Ashually…” Justin interjected and Brian’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oooh,” Ben rubbed his hands in glee, “this ought to be good.”
Brian looked at Justin, furrowing his brow and trying to gauge whether the blond was being serious or just teasing him.
Justin gazed openly back and replied, “Well, you ne’er assed me ‘bout the first time I topped someone.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped in relief. He answered matter-of-factly, “It was the guy from the King of Babylon contest.”
Justin hesitated before continuing. “No, ‘t wasn’t. Iz was a guy in the bathroom stalls at the mu-se-uhm.” Everyone looked at Justin, mouths agape.
“Fuckin’ in public? Gosh, ya really were a model student ofs Brian’s,” Michael commented.
Justin chanced a quick glance at Brian, looking pleased with himself at having caught him off guard, before he plunged into the story. “I think ‘e intended to fuck me. An’ he was cute, in that grungy college boy type. But then I took out my cock an’e changed tactics and begged me to fuck ‘im.” Justin’s hand disappeared under his waistband and he slowly started stroking himself. “I guess ‘e just couldn’t resist,” the blond snickered.
Brian reached over for the blond’s wrist and pulled his hand out. “Jesus fuck, Sunshine, keep your privates private. We have company.” But he squeezed Justin’s engorged package briefly through the denim of his jeans and let his palm rest there for a while which earned him a sunshine smile and a kiss. Justin was in that state of inebriation where his limbs were heavy and his movements slow. It would make for some very languid and unhurried sex tonight, Brian realized, and he was looking forward to that.
“God, you are soooo wasted,” Michael said as he watched his best friend and Justin slowly work up a heat between them. “Why are you s’not drunk?” Michael demanded to know with a reproachful look thrown at Brian.
“Yeah, why aren’t ya?” Justin agreed.
“You haven’t opened all your presents yet,” Brian replied cryptically. He hadn’t played his trump card yet - the main present was yet to come, Brian smiled inwardly as he thought of the little package in the pocket of his winter coat.
“A present you need to stay sober for but not Justin?” Ben asked and raised an eyebrow. “Huh. What could that be...” he wondered aloud.
“That’s for me to know and Justin to find out,” Brian answered with a satisfied smirk. Even with the bait thrown out there he knew that Justin wouldn’t bite. At least not now while his thoughts were still scattered all over the place. As if to prove Brian right, Justin snickered suddenly.
“An’ my mom was owside,” Justin announced, laughing at the ‘huh’ looks on his listeners’ faces. “Yeah, she was there in the mu-se-uhm, waitin’ for me to get done pissin’. And after, she talked to me about art and paintin’s and artsists. And all I could think ‘bout was ‘I just fucked a guy in the bathroom!’” Justin smiled lopsidedly at the memory. “She prolly thought I was comin’ down with the flu or somethin’ ‘cause my face was so red the whole time.”
“I thought you looked too experienced when you were doing the King of Babylon junkie in the backroom.” Brian mused, his voice slightly detached, he was so deep in thought.
“You saw me?” Justin asked in disbelief. “Awww, were you jealous I stole your trick?” he teased Brian.
“Fuck off!” Brian groused, sending a death glare in his lover’s direction.
“Don’t be jea-ick,” Justin hiccupped in the middle of the word, but continued unperturbed, “jea-jealous. They had ‘sssolutely nothin’ on you. Your cock iz still the only one I fan’asize ‘bout an’ jerk off to when you’re not there,” he assured him.
“God!” Michael exclaimed. “D’ya two eva think or talk ‘bout nothin’ else?”
Justin pretended to think hard. Or maybe he really did, Brian couldn’t tell for sure because the alcohol was clouding Justin’s facial expressions considerably or fucked with Justin’s control over his own facial expressions. Or both. Finally, the blond said, “Hmmm, he also haz the mooooost ahhhmaaazin’ tongue. I’m tellin’ ya, the things he can do with it…”
He was cut off from elaborating on what exactly those things were as Brian swept in and pressed his lips against the blond’s. He leaned back a little and stared into the eyes of a smirking Justin, grinning back at him, their faces only inches apart. Brian let a few seconds pass before his tongue darted out and took a swipe across Justin’s tongue, getting a taste of his lover, heavily flavored with Beam. He pulled back quickly, not allowing their lips to touch, leaving a panting Justin behind.
“Now looks what you’ve did!” Justin pouted and accused, “You made me hard!”
“That’s our cue. Good night, gentlemen.” Brian stood up and pulled Justin with him.
“Whaddabout da game we were ‘bout to play?” Michael complained.
“I’m sure you and your better half will find something to keep you two entertained.” Brian suggested with a raised brow.
“Don’t hold back none. The walls are sound-proofed,” Justin called and laughed from the stairs as he followed Brian up to their bedroom, holding himself upright by grabbing tightly onto the waistband of Brian’s pants from behind.
Brian was about to sink into the warmth of his lover, when they heard a timid knock on their door.
“Oh, fuck, no.” Brian breathed out as he pushed against Justin’s opening, waiting for the tight muscles to give and let him inside.
“Brian?” Justin cautioned him.
“No,” the brunet objected, “I’m not stopping.” He pushed firmer just to prove his point, groaning loudly when the head of his cock breached the barrier of Justin’s body.
“Brian,” Justin tried again, softer this time. “T’could be Molly.”
Brian let out a plethora of expletives but pulled out and got up from the bed. Justin hissed at the loss of contact and let himself fall back on the mattress, following the naked form of Brian with his eyes.
Brian released the automatic lock and opened the door just a crack. His eyes stared disbelievingly as he saw his best friend in the hallway. At first Brian thought Michael’s unsteady posture was due to the amounts of alcohol they’d consumed, but eventually he realized that Michael was nervously shifting his weight from one leg to another, not meeting Brian’s eyes.
“Mikey,” Brian whispered urgently, “I’m standing here with a raging hard-on. Naked. And Justin’s over there on the bed. Naked. Talk. And do it fast.”
“Ummm… Well…” Mikey started. He looked considerably less drunk now, but then again so did Justin. Brian idly wondered how much time had passed since they all retreated to their respective bedrooms. “Would you…” Suddenly he changed directions and exclaimed in a reproachful voice, “Your door was locked!”
Brian looked at him like he had lost his mind. “It’s our bedroom, for Christ’s sake! And we have two three-year-olds living across the hall. Of course it was locked! Yours better be locked too once you get back.” Brian glared at Michael pointedly on the last line, reminding him to hurry the fuck up.
Michael paused again but continued after a glance at Brian’s impatient stare. “We need condoms,” he finally spilled. “Ben and I, we didn’t bring any condoms. We didn’t think we’d be spending the night. So… we need condoms.”
Now it was Brian’s turn to shift nervously. “Mmm, Mikey, we don’t have any,” he said slowly.
“Lissen, Brian, it’s embarrassin’ enough that I have to come an’ ask you. So would you please stop fuckin’ round with my head.”
“Michael,” Brian said, changing his voice to a serious tone, “we don’t have condoms in this house.”
The two best friends stared at each other for a long while. Brian didn’t say anything, letting the reality and implication of his statement sink in. Eventually, Michael replied, “Oh,” which was followed by another, more stretched, “Ooooohh.” He tried a smile and Brian could see how difficult the simple gesture was for his friend. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for springing it on Michael like that. “Another first to add to the list, huh?” Michael said before turning and walking towards one of the guest rooms.
“Mikey?” Brian called after his friend, biting the nail of his thumb absentmindedly. “I could check Gus’ room,” he offered half-heartedly, not really wanting to intrude on his son’s privacy in his absence. Gus was only thirteen, but ever since his birthday Brian made him carry condoms on him at all times. He wasn’t sure though if Gus would have any in his room at Britin.
“It’s okay, Brian,” Michael refused. “Go back to Justin.”
Brian watched Michael disappear behind one of the oak doors at the end of the floor before he closed and locked the bedroom door again. He stood there for a while, his forehead braced against the dark wood. Eventually he shook himself as if to get rid of unwelcome thoughts and walked back to the bed. He sat down on the edge beside Justin’s hip. Justin’s arm came up to stroke down his back.
“Whaz wrong?” Justin asked.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” Brian assured and leaned in for a kiss. He kissed Justin hard, with unyielding lips, pouring all the frustration into the kiss as well as all the gratitude that he felt and the guilt that came from feeling grateful in a situation like this. When Justin climbed onto Brian’s lap and wrapped his arms and legs around his form, providing shelter and safety by instinct, Brian’s touch became softer and he let himself relax into his lover.
“I’m so fucking glad you’re healthy. I’m glad we’re both healthy. So fucking glad,” the brunet breathed against swollen lips.
Brian walked into the kitchen from where he could hear voices coming. He was disheveled and, despite having had only a few drinks, slightly hung over. He fondly remembered times when he’d been able to handle his alcohol better; to handle amounts of alcohol ten times than what he’d had last night. He also idly wondered if it was a sign of -cough- old -cough- age. Deciding not to let it get to him, he chalked his general grogginess up to not having taken a shower yet. His self-preservation mode decided he should have coffee first. He was surprised to see Michael sitting with a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, behind which Trish, the housekeeper, was preparing breakfast. His walking in obviously interrupted no talk of big importance.
“Good morning, Mr. Kinney,” Trish greeted him with a warm smile and pleasantly measured voice. Brian had given up years ago to correct her or to tell her to call him Brian. Strangely enough, Justin had always been Justin, never ‘Mr. Taylor’. Brian refused to think about the implications of that and whether, once again, his age had anything to do with it. But since Trish felt and behaved like a mother - someone else’s mother, not the Joan kind - to him, he didn’t really mind. “Mr. Novotny just told me that the party ended late last night.”
Brian nodded.
“You’ll feel better once you’ve had a decent breakfast,” Trish promised. Brian couldn’t find it in him to tell her that all his body craved at the moment was a cup - or a bucket - of a good, hot, dark coffee.
With a last glance at Michael and a question whether he needed anything else, Trish excused herself quickly, announcing she was going upstairs to check in on the twins, but not before pouring Brian a generous cup of the freshly brewed beverage.
Brian thanked her with a devoted if maybe a bit too dramatic grab to his heart. She laughed melodically, the sound trailing slowly behind her as she disappeared up the stairs. After taking a few sips of the delicious drink, Brian turned to meet his best friend’s eyes. The incident from last night very fresh in his mind, he didn’t know how to broach the subject adequately. Frankly, he would have liked nothing more than to ignore it completely, but he also knew that he wasn’t this person anymore. Besides, he felt bad for springing it on his best friend like that; even if it wasn’t really his fault.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“There’s nothing you should be sorry for,” Michael mumbled and stared down into his cup.
An uneasy quiet descended upon the kitchen and Brian began to rummage through the cabinets in search of two small bowls, eventually locating them in the dishwasher that Trish hadn’t gotten around to unloading yet. Grateful for the task that gave him an excuse not to face his friend, Brian methodically put away dishes and sorted through the cutlery tray. He didn’t know how to address the subject, whether to address it at all, and let the tension build. He suddenly wished Trish hadn’t left and immediately berated himself for the thought. This was his best friend after all. He shouldn’t feel awkward around Michael.
Michael broke the silence before Brian managed to find the right words. “How long?”
Brian blinked. He wasn’t going to pretend not to know what Michael was referring to. “How long what? How long has the M-word been happening or how long since condoms stopped appearing on our shopping list?”
If Michael was surprised, he didn’t show it. “They weren’t synchronized events?”
Brian smiled briefly, remembering. “Not really. This,” Brian shuddered before speaking the word, “monogamy thing just took on a life of its own and happened. Without me noticing. The… rest… came later. Two years ago maybe?”
Michael nodded while digesting the information and smiled absentmindedly. “Are you happy, Brian?”
“Yes,” Brian didn’t hesitate even a second before answering. He thought about Justin sleeping upstairs, hogging all the pillows and covers even though the room temperature was probably around 90 degrees because the twat was always freezing and turned the thermostat up to the max whenever Brian wasn’t looking. And about Emma probably driving Trish crazy right this second by not being able to decide on the dress she wanted to wear today. And Alex, watching her sister for exactly three minutes before she stepped in and pulled Emma away from her wardrobe. And Gus who loved to spend his afternoons at Britin but pretended like he was doing it simply on his mother’s orders. “God, yes,” Brian added, awed and somewhat surprised.
Michael nodded and smiled. It wasn’t forced, but a true and genuine smile, though Brian thought he detected a hint of sadness in it. Brian waited if Michael would ask something else while picking up a box of cheerios from the cabinet behind him and filling the two bowls sitting on the counter.
“You admit it,” Michael mumbled, more to himself, so Brian didn’t comment. “How things change, huh?” he said, louder now, clearly directed at Brian and meant to be heard. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“I know,” Brian answered. And he did.
“It’s just that… it’s so not the life I expected you to lead. I never thought of you as a father, and, to top it off, in a monogamous relationship!”
“If it’s any consolation - me neither.” Brian admitted and was thankful for having a reason to turn his back on his friend for a moment when he opened the fridge and took out the milk carton.
“Do you sometimes wonder how you got there?” Michael asked.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Brian repeated, getting a package of raisins. “Because I know. It’s this little shit upstairs who’s still snoring into his pillow and will wake up in a few minutes looking fresh and disgustingly perky as if he didn’t get completely shit-faced last night. It’s this incredibly frustrating twat who has these ridiculously high demands of life and of people and of himself in general and who keeps challenging me and expects things of me I’m not sure I can give him but then I do and it always turns out to be exactly what I needed.” Brian turned away when he finished, a little embarrassed.
“He was everything you wanted,” Michael concluded quietly.
“No. Because I never thought I wanted this. He’s stubborn, and chatty, even after I’ve fucked him into the mattress, and he’s annoying when he wants something, like a dog with a bone who just wouldn’t let go. I don’t wish those qualities of his on my worst enemy.”
“Then why? Why Justin?” Michael asked and he sounded like he’d been wondering for years now. Brian was glad to notice that the question held no enmity; there was nothing but pure curiosity.
Brian couldn’t say that it was because Justin had been a splotch of color in an otherwise gray week; or was it year? Justin hadn’t known the rules, so he made them up and provided Brian with more amusement and entertainment than Brian had had in a fucking long time. God, he’d been so bored with his life back then. Justin had been literally like a breath of fresh air, a door to a room full of untouched potential and endless opportunities. He’d grabbed Brian’s attention because he sparkled. Maybe it was the drugs that made the light from the street lamp seem infused with glitter, but Justin had stood out. Even after the drugs had worn off. Justin had been shiny new. And in the beginning Brian had only been interested to know how long it would take for the effect to wear off. But it never did. And in the end, he’d accepted it as something inherently Justin and admitted to himself that even though he’d done a great job of controlling his other addictions, Justin was the one he was willing to succumb to. But Brian neither could nor would tell Michael that. So he said, “He doesn’t buy into my bullshit. And because with Justin you never know what he’s going to throw at you next. You let your guard down with him for even one second, and he’ll slip in under the wire. He’s fucking sneaky like that.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Michael noticed.
Brian just shrugged. What relationship was not hard work?
“Isn’t it exhausting?” Michael wondered curiously.
“It isn’t boring,” Brian replied.
And Michael suddenly understood something. Of all the things in this life what Brian feared most was not relationships, not emotions, or monogamy, not even marriage and a happy homo home. No. It was boredom. But Justin, in addition to his many other qualities, kept him on his toes, kept him guessing. Kept the complacency out the door. In return, Brian did the same for him - made him work for everything. Michael couldn’t imagine living a relationship like that, but then again, he couldn’t imagine living the life that Brian and Justin were living. To everyone his own, he concluded and smiled as he heard the words in his head spoken in Ben’s voice.
When Brian dared look at his friend again, he saw him nodding again. And judging by the look on Michael’s face, he understood.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Mikey,” Brian suddenly said, voice thick with emotion as he remembered last night or rather this morning.
“I’m more than okay,” Michael’s face brightened. “I’m fucking happy.” He spread his arms. “Look at me. I’m married to a hunk of a guy. I have two kids and I suspect soon I’ll have a daughter-in-law as well. I’ve my own business. What else could I possibly ask for?”
Brian smiled, genuinely happy for his best friend.
“Do you sometimes miss your old life?” Michael asked.
Brian was in the process of refilling his cup but paused and looked at his friend. When he only saw real curiosity there and not reproach as he’d expected, he decided to be honest with him. “What exactly, Mikey? The clubs? We still do that. The drugs? We still do that too; though, admittedly, less frequently. Or the tricks? I have the hottest one of them all sleeping next to me every night. Or am I supposed to miss mediocre blowjobs that bored me out of my fucking mind before they even started?” Brian shook his head. “What’s there to miss? There was nothing there that is worth going back for. Not one fucking thing.”
“You spent a lot of time and energy defending and protecting your old lifestyle back then,” Michael observed.
Brian had to think about that. Michael wasn’t wrong. He did put a lot of effort to deceive not only everyone around him but himself too. “Wouldn’t you?” Brian eventually asked back. “If that’s the only thing that you know, then wouldn’t you cling to it and try to protect it as well? Especially if someone comes along who threatens to overturn each of your beliefs?”
“He came, saw, and conquered,” Michael snickered, imagining Justin as the big conqueror. Brian threw a dish towel at him, catching him squarely in the face. “Hey,” Michael protested, “you should be thankful he didn’t throw a look at you and decided you weren’t worth conquering.”
“Shut up,” Brian replied, but couldn’t help but join in the laugh.
Michael grew serious again and pondered what Brian had said for a while and finally grinned huge. “You’ve become such a softie!”
“You wouldn’t say that if it was your ass.” Justin entered the room, walking a little funny and squirming with every step. When he reached Brian, he said, “You know, I’m thirty now. You could have taken it easy.”
“Now it’s my fault?!” Brian exclaimed. “Who kept screaming at me, demanding to fuck him harde-” Justin clapped a hand over the brunet’s mouth, effectively cutting off Brian from throwing Justin’s own words back at him.
Keeping Brian’s mouth covered, Justin said, “Why do you listen to me?”
Not being able to speak, Brian just rolled his eyes.
“Zip it, boys. Youngsters coming through,” Molly’s loud voice announced, a second before her head popped around the corner of the door frame. “Everyone decent?” Quickly scanning the situation and deciding it was safe, she stepped aside and let the twins barrel in. “I offered to take them down for breakfast because Trish wanted to get started with cleaning the other rooms,” Molly explained.
After receiving their good morning greetings from both of their dads, the twins climbed into their chairs at the breakfast table and looked expectantly at Brian and Justin. Brian picked up a banana and started peeling it while Justin asked, “Alex, you want bananas or raisins with your cereal?”
“Both,” she answered after a moment of consideration and Brian began chopping the peeled banana into one of the small bowls.
“What do you want, Princess?” Justin asked Emma while he poured a handful of raisins into Alex’s cereal.
“Same as Alex.”
Brian looked at her and objected, “But you don’t like raisins.”
“I wanna same as Alex!” Emma repeated insistently.
Justin glanced at Brian before shrugging his shoulders and adding a few raisins to Emma’s cereal as well, knowing she’d be picking around them while she ate. Placing the bowls in front of the girls, Justin started to pour milk, waiting for each girl to say stop.
“While you’re here, I’ll jump into the shower quickly, okay?” Molly said, interrupting the easy morning routine, and was already gone the next second, not waiting for an answer. Justin grinned at Brian. It was a running gag between the two of them to gauge who’d run out of energy first - the girls or Molly. It was always a tie; they hadn’t declared a winner yet.
Emma and Alex started to munch happily on their cereal while Brian and Justin picked up some glasses and a box of orange juice and took their seats across from the twins. Brian motioned for Michael to come and sit down at the table, too. For a short moment Michael hesitated and just stared at the little family around the breakfast table, barely recognizing his best friend as he joked and laughed with his partner and answered the occasional question of Alex or Emma. Jarring himself awake from the trance-like state, he picked up his own coffee cup and sat down in one of the chairs.
The girls were busy with each other; Alex pointing out familiar letters of the alphabet on the juice box. “O… R…” Alex pointed at every letter she recognized.
“Is Ben still sleeping?” Justin asked Michael.
“Taking a shower. I already had mine,” he explained.
Alex continued undeterred. “A…”
Brian was about to make a joke about lacking in the fantasy department and not taking a shower together, but refrained in the last second, remembering again. He couldn’t help but glance at his friend and forced himself to look at him like he would at a stranger and not someone whom he’d known most of his life. Michael had said he was happy, but Brian could see signs that time hadn’t passed without leaving its mark. Michael’s hair had started greying at the temples and his eyes had tiny wrinkles around them. Brian supposed, with anyone else, he’d chalk those up to age or to having kids; JR could be quite a handful when she came to spend summers with her dad. But strangely enough, those lines in Michael’s face Brian accredited to stress and worry. Ben was doing well; aside from a short hospitalization period about a year ago, his health was as good as could be expected. Still, remembering Vic, Brian knew that everything could change in a blink of an eye. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like if it was Justin; how he would live with the knowledge that every second of the day things could start to spiral downhill. He didn’t know and couldn’t imagine how he would manage to carefree enjoy his days like that.
“N…”
A shiver ran uncomfortably down Brian’s spine and he involuntarily squeezed his hand that was resting on Justin’s thigh under the table. Justin looked at him in response, raising an eyebrow in question. Brian just shook his head and smiled, letting the blond know that it wasn’t about them, and Justin replied with a brilliant smile of his own.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Yes?”
Both, Brian and Justin, responded to Alex’s question and Michael smiled in disbelief, grateful for the smile going unnoticed as both focused on their daughter. That was as strange as it got, Michael thought. Before each of them had had a family of his own, he’d often tried to talk Brian into rethinking his life, tried to argue him into giving another way of living a thought, screamed at him because Brian wouldn’t even consider anything outside of his realm of the known, of what he thought he loved. And Michael eventually gave up, and accepted that he, Michael, would just move on without Brian and live this life that he tried to preach to Brian about; had accepted that the point had come where their roads would diverge. For a long time, he’d really hoped to make Brian reconsider and maybe even change. That was before he’d accepted that this would never happen with him by Brian’s side. But secretly, he’d never stopped to wish and hope that one day Brian would settle down, be a family man, be a father. He just never thought further than that. He’d imagined him becoming that, but never being that. And now that Brian was all those things, he couldn’t help but feel… saddened somehow, excluded. It wasn’t jealousy. And it sure wasn’t spite. Just a quiet sadness that Brian had gone and become all those things; but not for him, not for Michael.
“What letter is this?” Alex asked pointing at the juice carton.
“Which letter is this,” Brian gently corrected before leaning over the table to see what she was pointing at. “G.”
“G,” Alex repeated, then her gaze drifted away as she chewed her cereal while trying to think of something familiar that started with a G. “Say a word?” she finally asked.
Brian tried to think of a word that Alex would know and that started with a G where it was actually pronounced as a G.
“Giraffe,” Justin came to the rescue, remembering their trip to the New York zoo.
“Good Morning, everyone,” Ben greeted, walking into the kitchen. “Trish told me I’d find you guys here.” His eyes swept across Alex and Emma and he added, “guys and ladies.”
Justin got up and asked if Ben wanted a cup of coffee which he declined. “I’d rather have a glass of OJ.” Ben replied.
“Coming right up.”
While Justin got another glass from the kitchen cabinet, Ben took a seat beside Michael and watched as Brian taught Alex how to connect the letters she recognized into syllables and words.
“Aren’t they a little young to learn how to read yet?” Ben asked with curiosity in his voice. “They’re not even four yet.”
Brian suddenly froze, his whole posture changing and becoming rigid. He couldn’t help the scowl that appeared on his face, chiseled into his jaw, and only barely refrained from giving a short-tempered answer - as he usually would when he was met with the family’s butting in. Aside from having practical experience on the how not to raise your kids front, Brian had never given much thought to the different approaches and methods in the upbringing of children. He was more surprised than anyone else when he discovered that he’d developed an acute allergy to well-meaning suggestions on age-appropriate toys and behavior as suggested in countless literary endeavors by every Tom, Dick and Harry who fancied themselves professionals because they carried a doctorate in child psychology. He also didn’t have much patience for the raised eyebrows of bewilderment from people who’d come face to face with Brian’s ferocity when it came to his children. Brian’s perspective on raising children and educating them was simple: as long as certain basic rules were followed, he didn’t give a shit about textbooks, experience, or the advice of so called experts. By anyone’s standards his kids were well-adjusted and by the only standard that counted for Brian they were happy. That was all he needed to know. And if Alex found pleasure in learning letters at the tender age of three and a half years, then that was what he would make sure she was free to do.
Justin quickly glanced at his partner, all too familiar with Brian’s inner seething at Ben’s innocent question. Before Brian could launch into a hearty discussion, he jumped in and explained, “She’s always loved books, even before she knew which way was up. And when the girls were old enough to be read to, Alex was more interested to know which letter was which and how a name would be spelled. We found that great online ABC learning game, just to spend the time during a flight, you know. We have been flying a lot, after all.” Justin added, referring to the frequent flights to and from Pittsburgh. “But she likes it. And nobody’s pushing her to do it, so it’s all good,” Justin added, smoothing a hand across Alex’s soft blond hair.
She looked up, grinned at her father with a big happy smile and then turned to Ben. “I can write your name, Uncle Ben,” she told him. “Daddy taught me. Yours is easy because it’s short, like Gus’. You wanna see?”
Ben smiled back at her. “I’d love to.”
“Alex can write everyone’s name but yours,” Emma piped up, talking around a mouthful of cereal and pointing at Michael.
“No talking with your mouth full,” Justin admonished and Emma hurried with the chewing and obediently swallowed before speaking again.
“Alex says your name is hard to write because it’s so long and conlicated,” she picked up from where she was interrupted.
“Complicated,” Brian corrected her too.
The talk around the breakfast table continued in the same manner till everyone was done and the coffee had turned cold. Somewhere in the middle of it Molly swept in, stole a few gulps from her brother’s coffee and disappeared again, one girl on each arm. Eventually Michael announced that he had to leave to relieve the guy working the counter in Red Cape. Ben mumbled something about needing to grade papers and thanked Brian and Justin one more time for the party.
“We could meet up tomorrow night and go to Babylon together. We haven’t done this in a long time,” Michael said. “What do you say?”
“Can’t. Justin and I have plans.”
“We do?” Justin asked, surprised. It was the first time he was hearing about it.
“We do. And you’d know if you hadn’t been drunk as a skunk last night and opened your birthday present.”
“Another birthday present?” Immediately Justin’s confusion had cleared and made room for child-like excitement. Brian saw his mind starting to work, remembering bits of conversation from the previous evening.
“We’ll leave you two alone to it,” Ben announced wisely and opened the door for his husband. They left moments later.
The second the door closed behind them, Justin was wrapped around Brian’s neck, showering him with kisses all over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered in between.
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Brian laughed but didn’t resist Justin’s invading tongue.
“But I loved my new easel,” Justin said, referring to the gift Brian had given him yesterday. “And I loved the party.” He pressed his lower half against Brian, hooking one leg behind Brian’s. “Have I thanked you properly yet?”
“No, I don’t believe you have,” Brian replied and dove into Justin’s mouth again. After a couple more moments, he came up for air again and sighed. “Alas, you don’t have time to thank me properly now.”
Justin pulled back from the embrace and looked at him in confusion. “Huh?”
Wordlessly, Brian walked to the closet in the hall where they kept all their winter coats and pulled an envelope from an inside pocket of his Hugo Boss corduroy coat. He held out the paper towards Justin who took it gingerly. At Brian’s encouraging nod, he tore into it heartily and scanned the contents.
“Thailand?”
“We’re leaving in about twelve hours,” Brian returned instead of an answer.
“But-”
“Arianna cleared your schedule,” Brian said before Justin could protest.
“But… Thailand?”
“You’ve been there before?”
“No.”
“Me neither,” Brian said as if it was the only reason he needed. He went back to the hall closet and dragged out one of the bigger suitcases. His own as well as those of the twins were already packed and stowed away in the trunk of one of their cars. He carried the trunk upstairs.
Justin followed behind. He was worrying his lip with his teeth and scratching the side of his head. A surprise holiday sounded perfect. And Thailand - the little he knew about the country - sounded like a great destination. But he couldn’t help but feel like Brian was following a higher agenda. Something in Justin’s head rang a bell, but it was too vague to remind him of something specific. “But…” Justin tried again, still confused, “what’s in Thailand?”
“Water buffalos.”
The End.
End notes:
The sequel to this oneshot and the next story in the universe is What Comes Naturally.