TIME AND FEVER BURNS AWAY
Title: Time and Fevers Burn Away
Written By: burkesl17
Rating: NC-17
What if: Justin not Brian was diagnosed with cancer in season 4?
Author's Notes: Very obviously I don’t own them. I’ve done some research for this story but I’m not a doctor and I don’t know any doctors. If you are and spot a glaring error, sorry! Title belongs to Auden.
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.”
W.H. Auden, Lullaby
Discovery
Brian discovered the lump on Justin’s balls when they were watching porn. They were lying together on the sofa watching a guy with blond hair getting fisted on the screen and Brian was groping inside Justin’s sweats. He rubbed his cock and cupped his balls and Justin practically purred at the feeling.
Things finally felt like they were getting back to normal. The Pink Posse time was fading, like a nightmare that tasted of acid. He still had trouble thinking about it. Sometimes it felt like something alien had taken over his body and got in his blood. Other times he knew it had been him, could still vividly remember the smell of cordite and the sound of the safety clicking, the loudest sound he’d ever heard.
But it was fading and he was taking back control of his body and brain. Brian had been brilliant actually, he hadn’t really asked anything, just constantly been there. Warming him in bed and teasing him over the kitchen counter and perhaps being a little more emotionally ‘there’ than he normally was.
Justin felt like he had his life back again.
He smiled and pushed into Brian’s hand and rubbed his ass back against his cock.
“You want me to do this to you?”
Justin groaned and forced himself to keep watching the screen.
“You want this?”
The guy on the screen was tied up with leather straps and Justin shook his head,
“No.”
“But you do, you’re hard as a fucking rock, hard as fuck, your balls are drawing up, you’re going to come all over yourself and you’re telling me you don’t want it?”
“No.”
“No you don’t want it? Or no you can’t admit it?”
“No.”
The guy on the screen came and another man started fucking his mouth. Brian slid his hand down to Justin’s balls and started rubbing them. It was good, better than good and Justin wanted his hand back on his cock, especially when Brian seemed to loose the really good rhythm and started pressing on him uncomfortably.
“Brian, touch my fucking cock, please.”
“Oh, yeah.”
The magic had kind of gone out of it though and Justin did come shortly after but the moment had been lost. He watched Brian wipe the come off his hand and reached to pull him down for a kiss, but Brian broke it pretty much instantly and said,
“Justin pull your sweats down.”
He did, assuming Brian wanted to fuck, but the mood felt off. Brian didn’t look aroused and glancing down, Justin realised he’d lost his erection.
Brian knelt between his legs and gently moved his cock out of the way. It was odd, his cock twitched because Brian was kneeling between his legs, but it didn’t feel sexy. The men grunting on the screen didn’t seem sexy any more either and he turned it off, suddenly feeling exposed and uncomfortable as Brian softly rubbed one of his balls.
“Justin you’ve got a lump here.”
“A lump?”
He bent over to try and see but it was an awkward angle and he couldn’t manage it. He decided he must look ridiculous and sat up straighter.
“You need to go to the doctor.”
They sat in silence for a moment and then Justin pulled his pants back up and reached around to put his t-shirt on.
“I’ve been careful. I’ve never fucked raw, ever.”
He couldn’t have an STD, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he could think of anything more mortifyingly embarrassing.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Good thing you didn’t blow me isn’t it? Just jerked me off, oh fuck Brian what if I’ve given something to you?”
“What if I gave something to you?”
Justin turned and looked down the couch. Brian’s eyes were dark and upset, he was biting his lip and Justin unbent enough to hold out his hand. Brian hesitated to take it and he snapped it back against his chest, suddenly feeling dirty.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
He moved quickly off the couch and into the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and turning the water up as hot as he could stand it. He scrubbed his skin and balls and jumped as Brian opened the door and moved in behind him.
“You’re probably fine. Lumps happen, hell I had one once. I went to the doctor and it was nothing. There’s probably fuck all to worry about and you’re going to feel even more stupid than usual once you stop queening out.”
He lent back in Brian’s hands and let his mouth take him away, let himself believe it for a little while.
He didn’’t tell Brian in the morning that he saw blood in his urine.
Diagnosis
He walked from the doctor’s office to Kinnetik. It was a long way and a really windy day. Rubbish blew round his feet and he kept having to blink the dust out of his eyes.
Cancer.
Cancer.
It was a monotone beat in his head. Cancer, cancer, cancer.
He might have cancer.
He crossed roads and the traffic flew past him but he felt disconnected from it. He normally felt so plugged into the world, like he wanted to experience all of it and then get those tastes, sounds and gorgeous, gorgeous sights down on paper. Even before the bashing it had all been too much to communicate just through pencil, that’’s why he’d had to go to art school, he had to learn how to paint the world.
But now he didn’t feel it, barely saw it.
Now he might have cancer.
He reached Kinnetik eventually and wondered to Brian’s office without speaking to anyone.
“Justin?”
He jumped when he saw Cynthia looking at him, her face worried and concerned.
“Are you okay?”
He opened his mouth and realised he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know if he was okay, he might be fine. But he might have, probably did have because he’d got pretty good at recognising doctors’ expressions of pity and ass covering, cancer.
“Is Brian here?”
“He’s got clients in, he’ll be done in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait?”
He nodded and sat down in a chair in the reception area. He’d gone with Brian to look at the chairs, they’d sat on them. They’d both agreed on these, they were stylish and looked more expensive than they were. They weren’’t that comfortable.
Brian had pulled him down onto these, onto other ones and said he needed to kneel to make sure they were perfect height for giving blow jobs.
But that was before he had cancer.
Or was it? How long did you have cancer for before it grew enough to give you lumps?
He looked up at the clock and realised only a few minutes had passed. He leafed through one of the advertising or lifestyle magazines that were there for visitors. He didn’t take in a single word or picture.
The door opened and he stood up awkwardly, the magazine tumbling out of his hands and he had to pick it up whilst Brian ushered out his clients, all smooth business suits and sharp shirts. They looked at him curiously and he tried to force his lips to smile but had no idea how it came out.
When they’d gone Brian took his arm and led him into his office. He sat down opposite the desk and then got up because he just had to move, dammit and began pacing, trying to speak, but unable to get the words out of his throat.
“What did the doctor say?”
Justin stopped and looked at Brian. He was leaning against the desk and his face was blank, but his hands were gripping the surface so hard his knuckles were white.
“I have to have more tests.” He felt like he was going to be sick, like vomiting the words was the only way to say them.
“It might, fuck it Brian, it probably is…”
The last word was too much to say. Brian grabbed the top of his arm and tilted his chin up to look at him.
“It probably is what?”
“Cancer.”
They stared at each other for a long impossible moment and then Brian dropped his forehead against his.
“Cancer?”
The word was a whisper, breathed between them.
“Cancer. I have to have tests, but I think the doctor isn’t just being on the safe side, I think, I think it’s pretty certain.”
Arms wrapped round him and he buried his face in Brian’s neck. Breathed him in, cologne, some sweat, Brian. The smell that was Brian.
“You’re that sure.”
“Yes. He said, he said 95% of cases of testicular cancer are cured. It has a really low mortality rate.”
He tripped over the words, mortality rate, rate at which people die of a disease, a disease he might have.
“That’s really low.”
“Yes, it’s because they can just, just remove the whole ball.”
Brian stiffened in his arms and his breath in Justin’s ear was shaky.
“They remove a ball?”
“Yes and you have radiotherapy.”
The room was silent, just the sound of their breathing and then their clothes rustling slightly as Brian pulled back.
“You’re going to fucking well live then.”
And he was being kissed, his hair pulled and his neck scratched. They fell to the floor, shoving and ripping material out of the way. Justin suddenly felt connected to the world again as Brian bit at him and dragged his t-shirt over his head. He hit the floor and the pain sent a jolt through him, but Brian’s cock was hot in his hand and their mouths met again.
His legs went over Brian’s shoulders and he was barely prepared at all when Brian shoved in. There was the taste of blood in his mouth and his back scraped against the hard floor. Then there was only sensation, Brian’s eyes, Brian’’s face, Brian’s cock, the pleasure, the burn in his balls and rapidly shooting up his spine. In barely any time at all he was almost there, Brian’’s body making him feel stronger, more alive, completely in the moment.
He came with his whole body twanging and arching, begging with his skin and sweat. Brian ground in a few more times so he whimpered because that hurt so oddly beautifully and then he came too, gasping Justin’s name and then collapsing on him.
They lay there, as the clouds thickened and the room darkened and as rain began to strike the windows. Justin still didn’t really know what to think or feel but Brian was here and looking at him with an expression of such oddly fierce, defiant tenderness he felt convinced everything would turn out okay.
The feeling lasted until they pulled apart and realised the semen coating their stomachs was tinged pink with blood.
Operation
Brian sat outside smoking, there was a collection of cigarette butts round his feet, he’’d been chain smoking them one after another. It was something to do with his hands, he didn’t know what he’d do with them otherwise.
It was better outside than inside. Here, if he shut his eyes, he could be anywhere. Waiting at Kinnetik for Justin to meet him there, waiting outside the diner for Justin to finish his shift, waiting outside Babylon for Justin to get their coats.
Not waiting at a hospital for the doctors to finish taking out one of Justin’s balls. Not waiting for Justin to wake up.
He didn’’t want to wait inside, it would be too much like waiting before. Sitting and clutching dirty silk and feeling the tears dry and tighten on his face. He cried twice back then, the first time when he’d barely even realised and the second time a day later. Justin had still been in a coma and he’d been in the bathroom, forced to piss. He’d realised as he’d washed his hands that his nails were dirty and he’d cleaned then in a vaguely disconnected and confused way before realising what the dirt was, that it was Justin’s blood. He’d cried then, biting on his fist and tasting his own blood, struggling to not let anyone hear or realise what he was doing.
He hadn’’t cried this time.
He stamped out the cigarette and realised there were female grey shoes standing next to his male black ones.
He looked up and saw Jen there. She didn’t speak either, just sat down on the bench behind him until he eventually sat down next to her.
He lit another cigarette and sucked it into his lungs. Cigarettes cause cancer. He stomped it out half smoked, disgusted with himself.
She didn’’t speak for awhile and then groped for his hand. He held it awkwardly, not knowing what to say, if he should say anything and then he realised she was trying not to cry.
Adults are so ugly when they cry. He wasn’t bothered by Gus’ tears, aside from desperately wanting to make them stop. He didn’t look ugly, crying uninhibitedly. But Jen, with her scrunched up nose and choky breaths looked ugly and messy, as though her emotions had aged her ten, red years.
“I’m sorry, I’ve cried so much over this, but not in front of Justin. It’s just the idea, of what they’re doing to him in there.””
“It needs to be done.” He was convincing himself, was convinced though it made him feel sick. “Better one ball than…” He couldn’t finish and stood up suddenly, started pacing again and his hands shook as he tried to light the cigarette and he wanted to be sick through the smoke.
She looked at him through clumpy lashes and said,
“I’m glad he can be so confident that it won’t bother you at all.”
He just nodded, not sure what would come out of his mouth if he allowed himself to speak.
***
Brian waited by Justin’s bed, not holding his hand but pressing hard against his pulse. The beat of it was the most reassuring thing in the world.
He watched Justin turn his head slightly and his eyelashes flutter a few times.
“Come on,” he whispered. Justin probably wouldn’t have heard if he’d even been conscious, but it seemed to help as he shrugged off the last of the anaesthetic and his eyes opened, warm and blue.
“Hey.” Brian touched his cheek, felt the soft hair and the beginnings of stubble under his finger tips.
“Hey.” He was alive and his lips twitched just slightly, before his eyes closed again.
Living
Later he’’d remember the whole period as somehow outside of time, outside of the journey his life took. Although that was hippy crap because he also knew a lot of the stuff he, they, decided on afterwards was directly because he’d had cancer.
But the days and weeks themselves were something of a blur. There were memories of the humiliation, sharp as shards of glass in his throat. After vomiting for hours, drinking water just so he had something to puke other than bile, his throat had felt like it had been shredded. It was humiliating. Humiliating to be so gross and incapable, to just lie there unable to move and have to have Brian literally hold him up. Humiliating to make such a mess, to not make it to the bathroom or to miss the bin and puke on Brian’s hand. It was sharp humiliation and it settled in his stomach, bitter like the familiar taste of bile in his mouth.
He was almost glad that sex was the last thing on the planet he felt like in those early days. As it was he didn’t have to know if seeing him like this, this gross, was killing off Brian’s desire for him. The ball thing didn’t actually really worry him, he was prepared to trust the doctors that once he healed up he’d be fully functional again. He could trust that wouldn’t make a difference to their sex life and Brian wouldn’t notice a difference in how hard he came or how much he wanted him.
But seeing him this dirty could not be attractive. It was a relief he didn’t have to test whether the sight of him could still get Brian hard. He knew how he looked. Not luminously pale anymore, but bleached and white with an ugly, swollen slash across his abdomen. How often could you clean up someone’s sick before that was all you saw of them?
Those were some of the bad times in the early days.
***
Justin was technically not living with him. Technically he was still living at Daphne’’s. When he’d told everyone, Brian hovering behind him feeling useless, a feeling that seemed permanently under his skin these days, the question everyone had been asking was where was he going to live? After the tears and screaming had stopped anywhere.
As Justin had said, he’d never known that getting cancer would make her shoulders so soggy.
He’d asked Justin to move in after Justin had already turned down Jennifer and Debbie. Justin had looked at him like he was mad for a moment and then his lips had thinned and his eyes turned cold.
“No Brian.”
It had hurt actually, he’d assumed Justin would jump at the chance to move in with him, in making the offer it hadn’t occurred to him that Justin might refuse.
He wasn’’t sure what showed in his face but Justin moved forward and pressed his hand to his cheek.
“Brian...”
“Look, you can’t live with Daphne, you’re going to need help. And I don’t think that either you or your mother really want Molly having to see this up too close and Debbie would smother you to death.”
“Brian look at me.”
Justin was staring at him with dark eyes and looked calm. Brian wondered how he could look so confident when they were going to cut into him, slice through his skin and take out a ball.
“I can’t live with you because I need to again, because I need you to do basic things for me. We tried that once and we both know what a failure that was in the end. I won’t be that person again, that reliant on you.
“I love you. And one day, I hope, maybe, you’ll look at your life and want me around all the time. Want me to share this space with you completely, as your equal, your partner. Until then, until we make the decision that’s where we want to be, I’m not living with you.”
Brian held his gaze for a moment and then leaned down and touched their lips together, sliding his fingers into Justin’s hair and sighing against his skin.
“You’ll use the loft when you want. Don’t bullshit me, it’’s a lot more comfortable than Daphne’s. You’ll ask for help if you need it.”
“Okay, yes.”
And then they had tumbled to the floor, kissing and grasping skin and muscle and tasting.
So in essence, Justin was not living with him, but he was certainly here an awful lot.
He was asleep at the moment, sprawled over the bed and Brian walked over and lay down next to him. His hair was stuck to his forehead, sweat plastering it down, to be frank the air in the room didn’t smell good. He knew it was mad, but he couldn’t resist putting his palm in front of Justin’s open mouth to feel the breth on his skin.
Everyday this continued, the treatments and the false bravado. Everyday of Justin drinking soup before going to the doctors and making jokes about throwing it all back up, broke his heart a little more. He hadn’t known it was going to be like this, reading it on a screen hadn’t prepared him for the reality of the sickness sinking into their lives. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything as much as for it to be gone from them.
***
Some days weren’t as bad. He remembers that, looking back it was like his life was lived in cycles. He’d get up in the morning and life would be normal, he’d drink coffee or tea and orange or guava juice. He didn’t eat breakfast on those mornings. Brian would be long gone on those days, desperately making up the time at work early in the morning because he’d miss the afternoon.
He’d get dressed and fix his hair. His mom, or Daphne, or maybe Emmett, once it was even Michael, would pick him up and take him to the doctors for the treatment. Depending on who they were they would either wait or go and then when the treatment was finished Brian would be waiting for him.
He’d get home and feel alright for awhile before the vomiting started. And really just throwing up wasn’t the worst of it. No one mentioned how he would be burning hot or freezing cold but nothing in between, no one explained that when you can’t keep water down you’re unbearably dehydrated, no one told him that he would be so tired, exhausted, but the disease would keep him awake and miles from sleep.
The next day would be bad but better. Brian would try and work from home and it would be a day of sleeping and listening to the keys clicking on his laptop, his voice murmuring on the phone the words often too soft to hear, when they weren’t tearing the art department to pieces anyway. Sometimes he’d lie next to Brian and point things out on the proofs that could be done better, but most of these days are lost in his memory. Just days when he was ill.
The next day would be better and the day after that better still. In fact every day he felt less sick till the next treatment and then the sickness would start again.
He has a few choice memories of this time though, memories he stored up and brings out when Brian is being a bastard and generally annoying to be around.
There was the first time they had sex after the operation and the treatments started.
It had been a sunny afternoon and he’d woken to see the loft lit by soft, winter sunlight. The wood had seemed to glow gold and he’d stretched, feeling not too bad, not too ill. He’d smiled and then heard soft steps coming out of the bathroom and rolled over to see Brian rubbing his wet hair with a towel.
He’d been naked, his pubic hair was still damp and Justin had just lain there and stared, watched all that tanned skin.
Brian had smiled at him, looking surprised at the look on his face and Justin’s voice hadn’t sounded quite right as he’d whispered,
“Come here.”
Brian had dropped the towel then and moved onto the bed. Justin had watched his prick, the stiffening as the blood flowed into it and smiled. Brian getting hard was hardly something that only he caused, but at least he wasn’t a complete turn off these days.
He’d felt Brian’s hand sliding into his hair and he looked into his eyes, before kissing like they hadn’t kissed in weeks. Long slow kisses that had Brian rolling them over so he was on top and Justin shoving down the sheet between them. Brian’s mouth had moved to his neck and Justin can still remember the feel of his hands tracing his sides, sliding over his skin and soothing it. It had been soft and erotic and he’d shivered and purred as his cock twitched against Brian’s thigh.
Brian had put his hand down and cupped his cock, rubbing it and Justin shifted down to touch his, but he wasn’t really getting hard. Brian bit at his neck and tightened his hold on his cock and he groaned and felt himself stiffening.
He felt Brian sigh then and his body relaxed and Justin had wondered for a moment if this was a crisis that had just been averted. That hadn’t helped the lazy arousal in his body.
Brian had bit his collar bone hard and said,
“Hey, you still with me?”
He’d looked up at Brian’s face then and seen something that might almost be called nervousness. Brian had pressed a hand on his cheek and his body down hard on top of him.
“I want you, Justin, I really fucking want you. So if this isn’t going anywhere can we just stop it now and…”
Justin had kissed him, dragged his hands into his hair and mashed their mouths together. Brian’s voice had been desperate in a way he couldn’t remember hearing. There had been fear lurking there and he didn’t want to hear that from Brian, not ever and somehow he sunk into the rhythm of it.
He was surprised when Brian came, biting his hair and digging the fingers of his free hand into his arm and gasping his name hotly into his ear. It took him awhile longer, so much longer in fact that Brian’s wrist must have been getting tired and when he came it hurt slightly and was more relief than pleasure. But still it was relief and he felt warm and sleepy afterwards, lying on Brian and thinking that Brian hadn’t felt this boneless, this relaxed in weeks. He remembered it as the first time he’d been certain that one day everything was going to return to normal.
***
Brian hadn’t wanted to go to Chicago. Debbie hadn’t wanted him to go Chicago, Emmett hadn’t wanted him to go to Chicago and he’d felt like slapping Mikey at the pitying look he’d shot Justin, because obviously Brian hadn’t grown up enough to be a supportive partner and not go on the very important business trip to Chicago.
Justin, it turned out, had grown up enough and explained that he would be fine for two days on his own. That he knew where the meds were, where the fridge was and, very importantly, where the toilette bowl was. He’d even been backed up by Jen who knew enough about business to know that fledgling companies in their first year didn’t have a lot of choice in giving into client demands and anyway it meant she could spend two days mothering Justin.
Justin had practically shoved him out the door. It had been an oddly backwards feeling of deja vue that had made him feel slightly guilty for shoving Justin away so often in the past.
But the guilt had faded in the face of how brilliant he’d been in front of the Brown Athletics team and now he was going out. He shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, it was tight and hot and he was going to tear Chicago to pieces tonight. Tonight he had no worries, no ill boyfriend in the bathroom, no cupboard full of medicines with scary names and frightening side affects, no need to be Brian Kinney.
Although, even as he styled his hair and rubbed moisturiser around his eyes he had to admit he wasn’t sure who that was anymore.
Case in point, tonight he was going out to fuck as many men as physically possible, to get absolutely wasted and forget everything apart from his name and room number. But as he walked down the stairs and through the lobby he flipped open his cell phone and dialled.
“Hey.”
“Hey, how’d the presentation go?”
“They loved it, I am a god.”
“Well I knew that already.”
“Of course you did.”
“God of hangovers perhaps, or alphabet soup, or aging playboys…”
“Fucker. I’m the Oh God of fucking. Possibly Prada and Armani too.””
“That was a terrible pun. And wouldn’t being a god of three things be a godly conflict of interest?”
“Fuck it. I’m a god and a superhero, I can be the god of whatever I want.”
Justin yawned and Brian asked,
“Taken all the meds?”
“Yup, my own version of alphabet soup these days.”
He hesitated before getting into the taxi, his hand holding the cold metal door.
“You’re doing ok then?”
“I’m fine Brian and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
The conversation left him oddly dissatisfied.
The next day he walked up the stairs to the so loft quickly he was practically running. He pulled open the loft door and stopped short as Justin turned round and smiled at him.
Justin looked ill. He’d forgotten, he’d only been gone two days but he’’d forgotten. Whenever he’d pictured him and he supposed he could just about admit it had been often, he’d pictured him well. He somehow, as he jerked off, listened to his voice over the phone wires, heard that song Justin wouldn’t stop humming, had pictured him well and healthy. He’d forgotten the pallor, how thin he was, the shadows under his eyes, the tiredness that never really left his face.
It was a full body blow, like seeing a bat fall.
He knew something must have shown on his face because Justin’s smile vanished and he turned his head away. That made him move, march across the room, pull Justin round and into his arms and push their lips together. He clung onto Justin and kissed him as though all the lust and spit they could create would be enough to keep everything else away.
When they finally pulled apart Justin blinked up at him and said in a slightly dazed voice,
“Wow. I missed you too.”
***
Another good memory Justin had of the Cancer era was the night of the weed. He’d decided to give up smoking, but wanted one last fling, one last night of being totally and utterly stoned out of his brain. He hadn’t quite expected what he got.
They’’d been lying on the floor, watching the thick smoke above their heads and Justin fancied he could see patterns in it, he thought he could paint it, these swirls of smoke. Turning his head was an effort but he managed as he rolled over to look at Brian and was slightly surprised to see him staring back. There had been a movie playing in the background and the blue glow from the screen had touched the colour of Brian’s skin, he remembered that later, but he never remembered what film it was.
“Hey,” Brian rasped, licking his lips.
Justin watched his tongue and shook himself slightly and reached out his hand to play with Brian’s hair.
“You’ll mess it up.”
“There’s only me here and I’ve seen it in the morning. Is that why you didn’t let tricks stay over, so they wouldn’t see you in the mornings?”
“The ones that did stay over always wanted to fuck me in the morning, I just never wanted to fuck them again.”
Justin snorted and then smiled when Brian draped himself over him. His body was heavy and warm and he thought he’d miss how touchy feely Brian was they got stoned together.
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Anything. Something I don’t know.”
Brian paused for a moment and began to run his fingers over Justin’s collarbone and rub their feet together. It sent shivers up Justin’s legs and made his cock twitch. He smiled at the feeling; he’d been so ill and in so much pain and these frequent rushes of arousal he was starting to feel again were exciting, thrilling in a way they hadn’t been since he was seventeen.
“The distance between the Earth and the moon is 384,403km.”
He laughed and hit Brian lazily.
“You know I didn’t mean like that!”
Brian stretched against him and licked quickly as his neck.
“You didn’t specify. Did you know that?”
“No.”
He felt the chuckle against his neck and wanted to wrap the moment up for ever, keep it safe and warm inside him and never forget it.
“You’re a dork. A secret dork but still a dork. Tell me something no one knows.”
“If no one knows, how can I know it?”
He ran his hand up Brian’s neck, feeling the pulse and the warm skin.
“Tell me something only you know then.”
He felt Brian sigh and didn’t really expect an answer. Their bodies slid together better and he groaned softly at the way they tangled up. He wanted, he realised. Really, quite desperately wanted this night to go somewhere, for them to fuck again, it had been so long and now he wanted it. He was still a bit nervous about it. What if it was different, wasn’t the same, despite all the doctor’s promises. And if he wasn’t as good in bed then would Brian stay? Would he still be here in a few months time?
He felt paralysed, like he didn’t know what to do or say and then Brian’s voice came through the smoky silence.
“At your prom, dancing, I was happier than I’ve ever been. That I can remember anyway.”
He felt stunned and touched Brian’s cheek, not sure what to do or say.
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes. That’s why no one else knows.”
It made him feel sick and broke his heart. He felt Brian’s hand on his skin and he wanted to curl round him, do something, anything to take away the lost sound in Brian’s voice.
He’d heard it a few times in these last months. Helplessness against a disease that couldn’t be fought with anything Brian could give. Every time he’’d seen that expression on Brian’s face he wanted to remove it, but he couldn’t do anymore than he was doing or get better any quicker than he was.
Words had never worked with Brian, never helped, it was actions that did. But he felt he had to offer some first, although finding them was difficult.
“I don’t have one single memory I can pick out and say, that, then, was the happiest I’ve ever been. But all the best memories I have are with you. There’s lots of them, moments I remember being completely happy and with nothing I would change.”
He felt Brian shudder against him slightly and he held him tighter. He thought he could pretend it was the smoke that was making his eyes water.
“We’ll find another memory. I’m not going anywhere.” Ever, he thought but didn’t say out loud.
Brian didn’t say anything, but his hand slid under Justin’s sweats and pressed against the scar.
“No.” He moved sharply, twisting round and holding Brian’s face in his hands. His eyes were dark and slightly red, his lashes were wet, although he hadn’t been crying.
“No. I am not going anywhere. I managed to get a cancer with a 95% success rate. I am going to be fine, they cut it out…” he had to pause after that and Brian gripped his hand. “They cut it out and radiated me and I will be fine. If it ever comes back we will do this all over again and then I will be fine.”
For a long moment they didn’t move and Brian’s eyes closed, Justin looked at the damp lashes against his skin and made a decision. Some things were more important than fear.
He stood and held out his hand.
“Come to bed.”
He hesitated in the bedroom before deciding he was being ridiculous and turned on the light. It seemed glaring after the soft, smoky air but he pulled the t-shirt over his head. Then Brian was behind him, touching him, turning him and kissing him.
They clung to each other as they shoved clothes out of the way and tumbled onto the bed and only stopped kissing when they had to. When Brian pressed his fingers against his hole and whispered, “Justin,” in a pained, desperate voice he just spread his legs without thinking. He let Brian inside him then, for the first time in so long and he sobbed with the pleasure and spread his legs wider and tried to get Brian’s fingers deeper.
“Please, oh God, oh fuck, please…”
It wasn’’t even words really. Just a scary, desperate croon in his head as Brian got the condom on and Justin put his legs over his shoulders and looked into Brian’’s eyes as he pushed inside.
Brian looked wild but the look softened as he moved in deeper and Justin cried out again because he needed this, this made everything right again.
The rest was a blur. His name gasped in his hair, his fingers pressing into Brian’s sweaty skin so hard they bruised, the pain of not being taken in awhile, the jolts of pleasure that shot up his spine and into his balls every time Brian thrust in, the desire and the look on Brian’s face.
It started slow, like they both needed to savour it, get used to it again.
“Like the first time,” he murmured and he knew Brian understood because he smiled, really smiled and began to move deeper.
And then they were moving quicker, giving into it because it had been so long and there was nothing but the mounting, spiralling pleasure that caught up with him so quickly he couldn’t do anything but shut his eyes and arch his back and come. Brian bit down on his neck and cried out and they rocked frantically together for the last few seconds.
After as they lay there, touching all over, eyes closing sleepily and sighing when Brian finally really had to pull out, Justin smiled and whispered,
“Here, now, I’m happy.”
Remission
“I’m going to paint this moment.”
They were lying on the grass in a park near Kinnetik, watching the spring breeze blow clouds across the sky.
“Really?” Brian sounded amused and Justin smiled.
“Yes. I’m going to paint it all, the sunshine, the ache in my ass from how you hard you just fucked me, the kids over there with the stereo and the music, the dogs, the smell of the cut grass, the breeze, the taste of your cock in my mouth…”
“Remember to get in how your ass tastes too.”
“I’ll try and I’ll put in you.”
Justin sat up and grinned at Brian.
“I’ll put in how I feel about you. How fucking happy I am this thing is out of my body and how fucking amazing you are.”
Brian frowned,
“Shut up.”
“No. I know you’ll never want to hear this, but I’m telling you now and I’ll never mention it again. You’ve been amazing, absolutely fucking wonderful and thank you, really, Brian thank you.”
“Anyone else…”
“Would not have done the same.”
Justin flopped back down and smiled.
“This, this is it. The perfect moment when I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Justin…”
He turned his head and looked at Brian and almost laughed. Brian’s expression, torn between almost wanting to say those words but still, after everything, not knowing how, wasn‘t really funny. But he knew now, knew how frightened Brian had been, how much he’d helped and how he relieved he was now that the magic word remission had been spoken. When someone showed you love like that, words truly were superfluous.
He pulled himself on top of Brian and tugged on his hair.
“I know. I know you love me. You don’t have to say it.”
He tucked himself into Brian’s side, not caring who saw and decided that somehow he had to add this into the painting, the security of knowing he was loved.
“I’ve been thinking…”
Brian’’s voice was soft, not much more than a whisper.
“You’re at the loft pretty much all the time anyway and the times you’’re not, I wouldn’t mind if you were.”
He dug his fingers into Brian’s shirt.
“Brian…”
“You once said if I wanted you to move in you would.”
He rolled back on top of Brian and smiled, realising that he could be happier than moments ago, even though such happiness didn’t seem possible.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me since I was seventeen years old.””
“So…”
Hands tangled into his hair and he pressed their lips together, thinking that happiness wasn’’t the right word, ecstasy, bliss, joy were closer to the feeling running through his veins.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes…”
He trailed off then, as the joy murmured between their lips and the sunlight drenched their kisses.
The End
Written By: burkesl17
Rating: NC-17
What if: Justin not Brian was diagnosed with cancer in season 4?
Author's Notes: Very obviously I don’t own them. I’ve done some research for this story but I’m not a doctor and I don’t know any doctors. If you are and spot a glaring error, sorry! Title belongs to Auden.
Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.”
W.H. Auden, Lullaby
Discovery
Brian discovered the lump on Justin’s balls when they were watching porn. They were lying together on the sofa watching a guy with blond hair getting fisted on the screen and Brian was groping inside Justin’s sweats. He rubbed his cock and cupped his balls and Justin practically purred at the feeling.
Things finally felt like they were getting back to normal. The Pink Posse time was fading, like a nightmare that tasted of acid. He still had trouble thinking about it. Sometimes it felt like something alien had taken over his body and got in his blood. Other times he knew it had been him, could still vividly remember the smell of cordite and the sound of the safety clicking, the loudest sound he’d ever heard.
But it was fading and he was taking back control of his body and brain. Brian had been brilliant actually, he hadn’t really asked anything, just constantly been there. Warming him in bed and teasing him over the kitchen counter and perhaps being a little more emotionally ‘there’ than he normally was.
Justin felt like he had his life back again.
He smiled and pushed into Brian’s hand and rubbed his ass back against his cock.
“You want me to do this to you?”
Justin groaned and forced himself to keep watching the screen.
“You want this?”
The guy on the screen was tied up with leather straps and Justin shook his head,
“No.”
“But you do, you’re hard as a fucking rock, hard as fuck, your balls are drawing up, you’re going to come all over yourself and you’re telling me you don’t want it?”
“No.”
“No you don’t want it? Or no you can’t admit it?”
“No.”
The guy on the screen came and another man started fucking his mouth. Brian slid his hand down to Justin’s balls and started rubbing them. It was good, better than good and Justin wanted his hand back on his cock, especially when Brian seemed to loose the really good rhythm and started pressing on him uncomfortably.
“Brian, touch my fucking cock, please.”
“Oh, yeah.”
The magic had kind of gone out of it though and Justin did come shortly after but the moment had been lost. He watched Brian wipe the come off his hand and reached to pull him down for a kiss, but Brian broke it pretty much instantly and said,
“Justin pull your sweats down.”
He did, assuming Brian wanted to fuck, but the mood felt off. Brian didn’t look aroused and glancing down, Justin realised he’d lost his erection.
Brian knelt between his legs and gently moved his cock out of the way. It was odd, his cock twitched because Brian was kneeling between his legs, but it didn’t feel sexy. The men grunting on the screen didn’t seem sexy any more either and he turned it off, suddenly feeling exposed and uncomfortable as Brian softly rubbed one of his balls.
“Justin you’ve got a lump here.”
“A lump?”
He bent over to try and see but it was an awkward angle and he couldn’t manage it. He decided he must look ridiculous and sat up straighter.
“You need to go to the doctor.”
They sat in silence for a moment and then Justin pulled his pants back up and reached around to put his t-shirt on.
“I’ve been careful. I’ve never fucked raw, ever.”
He couldn’t have an STD, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he could think of anything more mortifyingly embarrassing.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Good thing you didn’t blow me isn’t it? Just jerked me off, oh fuck Brian what if I’ve given something to you?”
“What if I gave something to you?”
Justin turned and looked down the couch. Brian’s eyes were dark and upset, he was biting his lip and Justin unbent enough to hold out his hand. Brian hesitated to take it and he snapped it back against his chest, suddenly feeling dirty.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
He moved quickly off the couch and into the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and turning the water up as hot as he could stand it. He scrubbed his skin and balls and jumped as Brian opened the door and moved in behind him.
“You’re probably fine. Lumps happen, hell I had one once. I went to the doctor and it was nothing. There’s probably fuck all to worry about and you’re going to feel even more stupid than usual once you stop queening out.”
He lent back in Brian’s hands and let his mouth take him away, let himself believe it for a little while.
He didn’’t tell Brian in the morning that he saw blood in his urine.
Diagnosis
He walked from the doctor’s office to Kinnetik. It was a long way and a really windy day. Rubbish blew round his feet and he kept having to blink the dust out of his eyes.
Cancer.
Cancer.
It was a monotone beat in his head. Cancer, cancer, cancer.
He might have cancer.
He crossed roads and the traffic flew past him but he felt disconnected from it. He normally felt so plugged into the world, like he wanted to experience all of it and then get those tastes, sounds and gorgeous, gorgeous sights down on paper. Even before the bashing it had all been too much to communicate just through pencil, that’’s why he’d had to go to art school, he had to learn how to paint the world.
But now he didn’t feel it, barely saw it.
Now he might have cancer.
He reached Kinnetik eventually and wondered to Brian’s office without speaking to anyone.
“Justin?”
He jumped when he saw Cynthia looking at him, her face worried and concerned.
“Are you okay?”
He opened his mouth and realised he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know if he was okay, he might be fine. But he might have, probably did have because he’d got pretty good at recognising doctors’ expressions of pity and ass covering, cancer.
“Is Brian here?”
“He’s got clients in, he’ll be done in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait?”
He nodded and sat down in a chair in the reception area. He’d gone with Brian to look at the chairs, they’d sat on them. They’d both agreed on these, they were stylish and looked more expensive than they were. They weren’’t that comfortable.
Brian had pulled him down onto these, onto other ones and said he needed to kneel to make sure they were perfect height for giving blow jobs.
But that was before he had cancer.
Or was it? How long did you have cancer for before it grew enough to give you lumps?
He looked up at the clock and realised only a few minutes had passed. He leafed through one of the advertising or lifestyle magazines that were there for visitors. He didn’t take in a single word or picture.
The door opened and he stood up awkwardly, the magazine tumbling out of his hands and he had to pick it up whilst Brian ushered out his clients, all smooth business suits and sharp shirts. They looked at him curiously and he tried to force his lips to smile but had no idea how it came out.
When they’d gone Brian took his arm and led him into his office. He sat down opposite the desk and then got up because he just had to move, dammit and began pacing, trying to speak, but unable to get the words out of his throat.
“What did the doctor say?”
Justin stopped and looked at Brian. He was leaning against the desk and his face was blank, but his hands were gripping the surface so hard his knuckles were white.
“I have to have more tests.” He felt like he was going to be sick, like vomiting the words was the only way to say them.
“It might, fuck it Brian, it probably is…”
The last word was too much to say. Brian grabbed the top of his arm and tilted his chin up to look at him.
“It probably is what?”
“Cancer.”
They stared at each other for a long impossible moment and then Brian dropped his forehead against his.
“Cancer?”
The word was a whisper, breathed between them.
“Cancer. I have to have tests, but I think the doctor isn’t just being on the safe side, I think, I think it’s pretty certain.”
Arms wrapped round him and he buried his face in Brian’s neck. Breathed him in, cologne, some sweat, Brian. The smell that was Brian.
“You’re that sure.”
“Yes. He said, he said 95% of cases of testicular cancer are cured. It has a really low mortality rate.”
He tripped over the words, mortality rate, rate at which people die of a disease, a disease he might have.
“That’s really low.”
“Yes, it’s because they can just, just remove the whole ball.”
Brian stiffened in his arms and his breath in Justin’s ear was shaky.
“They remove a ball?”
“Yes and you have radiotherapy.”
The room was silent, just the sound of their breathing and then their clothes rustling slightly as Brian pulled back.
“You’re going to fucking well live then.”
And he was being kissed, his hair pulled and his neck scratched. They fell to the floor, shoving and ripping material out of the way. Justin suddenly felt connected to the world again as Brian bit at him and dragged his t-shirt over his head. He hit the floor and the pain sent a jolt through him, but Brian’s cock was hot in his hand and their mouths met again.
His legs went over Brian’s shoulders and he was barely prepared at all when Brian shoved in. There was the taste of blood in his mouth and his back scraped against the hard floor. Then there was only sensation, Brian’s eyes, Brian’’s face, Brian’s cock, the pleasure, the burn in his balls and rapidly shooting up his spine. In barely any time at all he was almost there, Brian’’s body making him feel stronger, more alive, completely in the moment.
He came with his whole body twanging and arching, begging with his skin and sweat. Brian ground in a few more times so he whimpered because that hurt so oddly beautifully and then he came too, gasping Justin’s name and then collapsing on him.
They lay there, as the clouds thickened and the room darkened and as rain began to strike the windows. Justin still didn’t really know what to think or feel but Brian was here and looking at him with an expression of such oddly fierce, defiant tenderness he felt convinced everything would turn out okay.
The feeling lasted until they pulled apart and realised the semen coating their stomachs was tinged pink with blood.
Operation
Brian sat outside smoking, there was a collection of cigarette butts round his feet, he’’d been chain smoking them one after another. It was something to do with his hands, he didn’t know what he’d do with them otherwise.
It was better outside than inside. Here, if he shut his eyes, he could be anywhere. Waiting at Kinnetik for Justin to meet him there, waiting outside the diner for Justin to finish his shift, waiting outside Babylon for Justin to get their coats.
Not waiting at a hospital for the doctors to finish taking out one of Justin’s balls. Not waiting for Justin to wake up.
He didn’’t want to wait inside, it would be too much like waiting before. Sitting and clutching dirty silk and feeling the tears dry and tighten on his face. He cried twice back then, the first time when he’d barely even realised and the second time a day later. Justin had still been in a coma and he’d been in the bathroom, forced to piss. He’d realised as he’d washed his hands that his nails were dirty and he’d cleaned then in a vaguely disconnected and confused way before realising what the dirt was, that it was Justin’s blood. He’d cried then, biting on his fist and tasting his own blood, struggling to not let anyone hear or realise what he was doing.
He hadn’’t cried this time.
He stamped out the cigarette and realised there were female grey shoes standing next to his male black ones.
He looked up and saw Jen there. She didn’t speak either, just sat down on the bench behind him until he eventually sat down next to her.
He lit another cigarette and sucked it into his lungs. Cigarettes cause cancer. He stomped it out half smoked, disgusted with himself.
She didn’’t speak for awhile and then groped for his hand. He held it awkwardly, not knowing what to say, if he should say anything and then he realised she was trying not to cry.
Adults are so ugly when they cry. He wasn’t bothered by Gus’ tears, aside from desperately wanting to make them stop. He didn’t look ugly, crying uninhibitedly. But Jen, with her scrunched up nose and choky breaths looked ugly and messy, as though her emotions had aged her ten, red years.
“I’m sorry, I’ve cried so much over this, but not in front of Justin. It’s just the idea, of what they’re doing to him in there.””
“It needs to be done.” He was convincing himself, was convinced though it made him feel sick. “Better one ball than…” He couldn’t finish and stood up suddenly, started pacing again and his hands shook as he tried to light the cigarette and he wanted to be sick through the smoke.
She looked at him through clumpy lashes and said,
“I’m glad he can be so confident that it won’t bother you at all.”
He just nodded, not sure what would come out of his mouth if he allowed himself to speak.
***
Brian waited by Justin’s bed, not holding his hand but pressing hard against his pulse. The beat of it was the most reassuring thing in the world.
He watched Justin turn his head slightly and his eyelashes flutter a few times.
“Come on,” he whispered. Justin probably wouldn’t have heard if he’d even been conscious, but it seemed to help as he shrugged off the last of the anaesthetic and his eyes opened, warm and blue.
“Hey.” Brian touched his cheek, felt the soft hair and the beginnings of stubble under his finger tips.
“Hey.” He was alive and his lips twitched just slightly, before his eyes closed again.
Living
Later he’’d remember the whole period as somehow outside of time, outside of the journey his life took. Although that was hippy crap because he also knew a lot of the stuff he, they, decided on afterwards was directly because he’d had cancer.
But the days and weeks themselves were something of a blur. There were memories of the humiliation, sharp as shards of glass in his throat. After vomiting for hours, drinking water just so he had something to puke other than bile, his throat had felt like it had been shredded. It was humiliating. Humiliating to be so gross and incapable, to just lie there unable to move and have to have Brian literally hold him up. Humiliating to make such a mess, to not make it to the bathroom or to miss the bin and puke on Brian’s hand. It was sharp humiliation and it settled in his stomach, bitter like the familiar taste of bile in his mouth.
He was almost glad that sex was the last thing on the planet he felt like in those early days. As it was he didn’t have to know if seeing him like this, this gross, was killing off Brian’s desire for him. The ball thing didn’t actually really worry him, he was prepared to trust the doctors that once he healed up he’d be fully functional again. He could trust that wouldn’t make a difference to their sex life and Brian wouldn’t notice a difference in how hard he came or how much he wanted him.
But seeing him this dirty could not be attractive. It was a relief he didn’t have to test whether the sight of him could still get Brian hard. He knew how he looked. Not luminously pale anymore, but bleached and white with an ugly, swollen slash across his abdomen. How often could you clean up someone’s sick before that was all you saw of them?
Those were some of the bad times in the early days.
***
Justin was technically not living with him. Technically he was still living at Daphne’’s. When he’d told everyone, Brian hovering behind him feeling useless, a feeling that seemed permanently under his skin these days, the question everyone had been asking was where was he going to live? After the tears and screaming had stopped anywhere.
As Justin had said, he’d never known that getting cancer would make her shoulders so soggy.
He’d asked Justin to move in after Justin had already turned down Jennifer and Debbie. Justin had looked at him like he was mad for a moment and then his lips had thinned and his eyes turned cold.
“No Brian.”
It had hurt actually, he’d assumed Justin would jump at the chance to move in with him, in making the offer it hadn’t occurred to him that Justin might refuse.
He wasn’’t sure what showed in his face but Justin moved forward and pressed his hand to his cheek.
“Brian...”
“Look, you can’t live with Daphne, you’re going to need help. And I don’t think that either you or your mother really want Molly having to see this up too close and Debbie would smother you to death.”
“Brian look at me.”
Justin was staring at him with dark eyes and looked calm. Brian wondered how he could look so confident when they were going to cut into him, slice through his skin and take out a ball.
“I can’t live with you because I need to again, because I need you to do basic things for me. We tried that once and we both know what a failure that was in the end. I won’t be that person again, that reliant on you.
“I love you. And one day, I hope, maybe, you’ll look at your life and want me around all the time. Want me to share this space with you completely, as your equal, your partner. Until then, until we make the decision that’s where we want to be, I’m not living with you.”
Brian held his gaze for a moment and then leaned down and touched their lips together, sliding his fingers into Justin’s hair and sighing against his skin.
“You’ll use the loft when you want. Don’t bullshit me, it’’s a lot more comfortable than Daphne’s. You’ll ask for help if you need it.”
“Okay, yes.”
And then they had tumbled to the floor, kissing and grasping skin and muscle and tasting.
So in essence, Justin was not living with him, but he was certainly here an awful lot.
He was asleep at the moment, sprawled over the bed and Brian walked over and lay down next to him. His hair was stuck to his forehead, sweat plastering it down, to be frank the air in the room didn’t smell good. He knew it was mad, but he couldn’t resist putting his palm in front of Justin’s open mouth to feel the breth on his skin.
Everyday this continued, the treatments and the false bravado. Everyday of Justin drinking soup before going to the doctors and making jokes about throwing it all back up, broke his heart a little more. He hadn’t known it was going to be like this, reading it on a screen hadn’t prepared him for the reality of the sickness sinking into their lives. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything as much as for it to be gone from them.
***
Some days weren’t as bad. He remembers that, looking back it was like his life was lived in cycles. He’d get up in the morning and life would be normal, he’d drink coffee or tea and orange or guava juice. He didn’t eat breakfast on those mornings. Brian would be long gone on those days, desperately making up the time at work early in the morning because he’d miss the afternoon.
He’d get dressed and fix his hair. His mom, or Daphne, or maybe Emmett, once it was even Michael, would pick him up and take him to the doctors for the treatment. Depending on who they were they would either wait or go and then when the treatment was finished Brian would be waiting for him.
He’d get home and feel alright for awhile before the vomiting started. And really just throwing up wasn’t the worst of it. No one mentioned how he would be burning hot or freezing cold but nothing in between, no one explained that when you can’t keep water down you’re unbearably dehydrated, no one told him that he would be so tired, exhausted, but the disease would keep him awake and miles from sleep.
The next day would be bad but better. Brian would try and work from home and it would be a day of sleeping and listening to the keys clicking on his laptop, his voice murmuring on the phone the words often too soft to hear, when they weren’t tearing the art department to pieces anyway. Sometimes he’d lie next to Brian and point things out on the proofs that could be done better, but most of these days are lost in his memory. Just days when he was ill.
The next day would be better and the day after that better still. In fact every day he felt less sick till the next treatment and then the sickness would start again.
He has a few choice memories of this time though, memories he stored up and brings out when Brian is being a bastard and generally annoying to be around.
There was the first time they had sex after the operation and the treatments started.
It had been a sunny afternoon and he’d woken to see the loft lit by soft, winter sunlight. The wood had seemed to glow gold and he’d stretched, feeling not too bad, not too ill. He’d smiled and then heard soft steps coming out of the bathroom and rolled over to see Brian rubbing his wet hair with a towel.
He’d been naked, his pubic hair was still damp and Justin had just lain there and stared, watched all that tanned skin.
Brian had smiled at him, looking surprised at the look on his face and Justin’s voice hadn’t sounded quite right as he’d whispered,
“Come here.”
Brian had dropped the towel then and moved onto the bed. Justin had watched his prick, the stiffening as the blood flowed into it and smiled. Brian getting hard was hardly something that only he caused, but at least he wasn’t a complete turn off these days.
He’d felt Brian’s hand sliding into his hair and he looked into his eyes, before kissing like they hadn’t kissed in weeks. Long slow kisses that had Brian rolling them over so he was on top and Justin shoving down the sheet between them. Brian’s mouth had moved to his neck and Justin can still remember the feel of his hands tracing his sides, sliding over his skin and soothing it. It had been soft and erotic and he’d shivered and purred as his cock twitched against Brian’s thigh.
Brian had put his hand down and cupped his cock, rubbing it and Justin shifted down to touch his, but he wasn’t really getting hard. Brian bit at his neck and tightened his hold on his cock and he groaned and felt himself stiffening.
He felt Brian sigh then and his body relaxed and Justin had wondered for a moment if this was a crisis that had just been averted. That hadn’t helped the lazy arousal in his body.
Brian had bit his collar bone hard and said,
“Hey, you still with me?”
He’d looked up at Brian’s face then and seen something that might almost be called nervousness. Brian had pressed a hand on his cheek and his body down hard on top of him.
“I want you, Justin, I really fucking want you. So if this isn’t going anywhere can we just stop it now and…”
Justin had kissed him, dragged his hands into his hair and mashed their mouths together. Brian’s voice had been desperate in a way he couldn’t remember hearing. There had been fear lurking there and he didn’t want to hear that from Brian, not ever and somehow he sunk into the rhythm of it.
He was surprised when Brian came, biting his hair and digging the fingers of his free hand into his arm and gasping his name hotly into his ear. It took him awhile longer, so much longer in fact that Brian’s wrist must have been getting tired and when he came it hurt slightly and was more relief than pleasure. But still it was relief and he felt warm and sleepy afterwards, lying on Brian and thinking that Brian hadn’t felt this boneless, this relaxed in weeks. He remembered it as the first time he’d been certain that one day everything was going to return to normal.
***
Brian hadn’t wanted to go to Chicago. Debbie hadn’t wanted him to go Chicago, Emmett hadn’t wanted him to go to Chicago and he’d felt like slapping Mikey at the pitying look he’d shot Justin, because obviously Brian hadn’t grown up enough to be a supportive partner and not go on the very important business trip to Chicago.
Justin, it turned out, had grown up enough and explained that he would be fine for two days on his own. That he knew where the meds were, where the fridge was and, very importantly, where the toilette bowl was. He’d even been backed up by Jen who knew enough about business to know that fledgling companies in their first year didn’t have a lot of choice in giving into client demands and anyway it meant she could spend two days mothering Justin.
Justin had practically shoved him out the door. It had been an oddly backwards feeling of deja vue that had made him feel slightly guilty for shoving Justin away so often in the past.
But the guilt had faded in the face of how brilliant he’d been in front of the Brown Athletics team and now he was going out. He shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, it was tight and hot and he was going to tear Chicago to pieces tonight. Tonight he had no worries, no ill boyfriend in the bathroom, no cupboard full of medicines with scary names and frightening side affects, no need to be Brian Kinney.
Although, even as he styled his hair and rubbed moisturiser around his eyes he had to admit he wasn’t sure who that was anymore.
Case in point, tonight he was going out to fuck as many men as physically possible, to get absolutely wasted and forget everything apart from his name and room number. But as he walked down the stairs and through the lobby he flipped open his cell phone and dialled.
“Hey.”
“Hey, how’d the presentation go?”
“They loved it, I am a god.”
“Well I knew that already.”
“Of course you did.”
“God of hangovers perhaps, or alphabet soup, or aging playboys…”
“Fucker. I’m the Oh God of fucking. Possibly Prada and Armani too.””
“That was a terrible pun. And wouldn’t being a god of three things be a godly conflict of interest?”
“Fuck it. I’m a god and a superhero, I can be the god of whatever I want.”
Justin yawned and Brian asked,
“Taken all the meds?”
“Yup, my own version of alphabet soup these days.”
He hesitated before getting into the taxi, his hand holding the cold metal door.
“You’re doing ok then?”
“I’m fine Brian and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
The conversation left him oddly dissatisfied.
The next day he walked up the stairs to the so loft quickly he was practically running. He pulled open the loft door and stopped short as Justin turned round and smiled at him.
Justin looked ill. He’d forgotten, he’d only been gone two days but he’’d forgotten. Whenever he’d pictured him and he supposed he could just about admit it had been often, he’d pictured him well. He somehow, as he jerked off, listened to his voice over the phone wires, heard that song Justin wouldn’t stop humming, had pictured him well and healthy. He’d forgotten the pallor, how thin he was, the shadows under his eyes, the tiredness that never really left his face.
It was a full body blow, like seeing a bat fall.
He knew something must have shown on his face because Justin’s smile vanished and he turned his head away. That made him move, march across the room, pull Justin round and into his arms and push their lips together. He clung onto Justin and kissed him as though all the lust and spit they could create would be enough to keep everything else away.
When they finally pulled apart Justin blinked up at him and said in a slightly dazed voice,
“Wow. I missed you too.”
***
Another good memory Justin had of the Cancer era was the night of the weed. He’d decided to give up smoking, but wanted one last fling, one last night of being totally and utterly stoned out of his brain. He hadn’t quite expected what he got.
They’’d been lying on the floor, watching the thick smoke above their heads and Justin fancied he could see patterns in it, he thought he could paint it, these swirls of smoke. Turning his head was an effort but he managed as he rolled over to look at Brian and was slightly surprised to see him staring back. There had been a movie playing in the background and the blue glow from the screen had touched the colour of Brian’s skin, he remembered that later, but he never remembered what film it was.
“Hey,” Brian rasped, licking his lips.
Justin watched his tongue and shook himself slightly and reached out his hand to play with Brian’s hair.
“You’ll mess it up.”
“There’s only me here and I’ve seen it in the morning. Is that why you didn’t let tricks stay over, so they wouldn’t see you in the mornings?”
“The ones that did stay over always wanted to fuck me in the morning, I just never wanted to fuck them again.”
Justin snorted and then smiled when Brian draped himself over him. His body was heavy and warm and he thought he’d miss how touchy feely Brian was they got stoned together.
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Anything. Something I don’t know.”
Brian paused for a moment and began to run his fingers over Justin’s collarbone and rub their feet together. It sent shivers up Justin’s legs and made his cock twitch. He smiled at the feeling; he’d been so ill and in so much pain and these frequent rushes of arousal he was starting to feel again were exciting, thrilling in a way they hadn’t been since he was seventeen.
“The distance between the Earth and the moon is 384,403km.”
He laughed and hit Brian lazily.
“You know I didn’t mean like that!”
Brian stretched against him and licked quickly as his neck.
“You didn’t specify. Did you know that?”
“No.”
He felt the chuckle against his neck and wanted to wrap the moment up for ever, keep it safe and warm inside him and never forget it.
“You’re a dork. A secret dork but still a dork. Tell me something no one knows.”
“If no one knows, how can I know it?”
He ran his hand up Brian’s neck, feeling the pulse and the warm skin.
“Tell me something only you know then.”
He felt Brian sigh and didn’t really expect an answer. Their bodies slid together better and he groaned softly at the way they tangled up. He wanted, he realised. Really, quite desperately wanted this night to go somewhere, for them to fuck again, it had been so long and now he wanted it. He was still a bit nervous about it. What if it was different, wasn’t the same, despite all the doctor’s promises. And if he wasn’t as good in bed then would Brian stay? Would he still be here in a few months time?
He felt paralysed, like he didn’t know what to do or say and then Brian’s voice came through the smoky silence.
“At your prom, dancing, I was happier than I’ve ever been. That I can remember anyway.”
He felt stunned and touched Brian’s cheek, not sure what to do or say.
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes. That’s why no one else knows.”
It made him feel sick and broke his heart. He felt Brian’s hand on his skin and he wanted to curl round him, do something, anything to take away the lost sound in Brian’s voice.
He’d heard it a few times in these last months. Helplessness against a disease that couldn’t be fought with anything Brian could give. Every time he’’d seen that expression on Brian’s face he wanted to remove it, but he couldn’t do anymore than he was doing or get better any quicker than he was.
Words had never worked with Brian, never helped, it was actions that did. But he felt he had to offer some first, although finding them was difficult.
“I don’t have one single memory I can pick out and say, that, then, was the happiest I’ve ever been. But all the best memories I have are with you. There’s lots of them, moments I remember being completely happy and with nothing I would change.”
He felt Brian shudder against him slightly and he held him tighter. He thought he could pretend it was the smoke that was making his eyes water.
“We’ll find another memory. I’m not going anywhere.” Ever, he thought but didn’t say out loud.
Brian didn’t say anything, but his hand slid under Justin’s sweats and pressed against the scar.
“No.” He moved sharply, twisting round and holding Brian’s face in his hands. His eyes were dark and slightly red, his lashes were wet, although he hadn’t been crying.
“No. I am not going anywhere. I managed to get a cancer with a 95% success rate. I am going to be fine, they cut it out…” he had to pause after that and Brian gripped his hand. “They cut it out and radiated me and I will be fine. If it ever comes back we will do this all over again and then I will be fine.”
For a long moment they didn’t move and Brian’s eyes closed, Justin looked at the damp lashes against his skin and made a decision. Some things were more important than fear.
He stood and held out his hand.
“Come to bed.”
He hesitated in the bedroom before deciding he was being ridiculous and turned on the light. It seemed glaring after the soft, smoky air but he pulled the t-shirt over his head. Then Brian was behind him, touching him, turning him and kissing him.
They clung to each other as they shoved clothes out of the way and tumbled onto the bed and only stopped kissing when they had to. When Brian pressed his fingers against his hole and whispered, “Justin,” in a pained, desperate voice he just spread his legs without thinking. He let Brian inside him then, for the first time in so long and he sobbed with the pleasure and spread his legs wider and tried to get Brian’s fingers deeper.
“Please, oh God, oh fuck, please…”
It wasn’’t even words really. Just a scary, desperate croon in his head as Brian got the condom on and Justin put his legs over his shoulders and looked into Brian’’s eyes as he pushed inside.
Brian looked wild but the look softened as he moved in deeper and Justin cried out again because he needed this, this made everything right again.
The rest was a blur. His name gasped in his hair, his fingers pressing into Brian’s sweaty skin so hard they bruised, the pain of not being taken in awhile, the jolts of pleasure that shot up his spine and into his balls every time Brian thrust in, the desire and the look on Brian’s face.
It started slow, like they both needed to savour it, get used to it again.
“Like the first time,” he murmured and he knew Brian understood because he smiled, really smiled and began to move deeper.
And then they were moving quicker, giving into it because it had been so long and there was nothing but the mounting, spiralling pleasure that caught up with him so quickly he couldn’t do anything but shut his eyes and arch his back and come. Brian bit down on his neck and cried out and they rocked frantically together for the last few seconds.
After as they lay there, touching all over, eyes closing sleepily and sighing when Brian finally really had to pull out, Justin smiled and whispered,
“Here, now, I’m happy.”
Remission
“I’m going to paint this moment.”
They were lying on the grass in a park near Kinnetik, watching the spring breeze blow clouds across the sky.
“Really?” Brian sounded amused and Justin smiled.
“Yes. I’m going to paint it all, the sunshine, the ache in my ass from how you hard you just fucked me, the kids over there with the stereo and the music, the dogs, the smell of the cut grass, the breeze, the taste of your cock in my mouth…”
“Remember to get in how your ass tastes too.”
“I’ll try and I’ll put in you.”
Justin sat up and grinned at Brian.
“I’ll put in how I feel about you. How fucking happy I am this thing is out of my body and how fucking amazing you are.”
Brian frowned,
“Shut up.”
“No. I know you’ll never want to hear this, but I’m telling you now and I’ll never mention it again. You’ve been amazing, absolutely fucking wonderful and thank you, really, Brian thank you.”
“Anyone else…”
“Would not have done the same.”
Justin flopped back down and smiled.
“This, this is it. The perfect moment when I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Justin…”
He turned his head and looked at Brian and almost laughed. Brian’s expression, torn between almost wanting to say those words but still, after everything, not knowing how, wasn‘t really funny. But he knew now, knew how frightened Brian had been, how much he’d helped and how he relieved he was now that the magic word remission had been spoken. When someone showed you love like that, words truly were superfluous.
He pulled himself on top of Brian and tugged on his hair.
“I know. I know you love me. You don’t have to say it.”
He tucked himself into Brian’s side, not caring who saw and decided that somehow he had to add this into the painting, the security of knowing he was loved.
“I’ve been thinking…”
Brian’’s voice was soft, not much more than a whisper.
“You’re at the loft pretty much all the time anyway and the times you’’re not, I wouldn’t mind if you were.”
He dug his fingers into Brian’s shirt.
“Brian…”
“You once said if I wanted you to move in you would.”
He rolled back on top of Brian and smiled, realising that he could be happier than moments ago, even though such happiness didn’t seem possible.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me since I was seventeen years old.””
“So…”
Hands tangled into his hair and he pressed their lips together, thinking that happiness wasn’’t the right word, ecstasy, bliss, joy were closer to the feeling running through his veins.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes…”
He trailed off then, as the joy murmured between their lips and the sunlight drenched their kisses.
The End