Christmas Lights - A Justin!Rage story
Hi everyone
As promised, at last, the first of my Christmas fics.
The usual proviso - my stories are all for Adults Only. So if by clicking on any of the links provided you are indicating that you fall into that category.
It's the third in the Justin!Rage universe, and I had actually planned to get it done for last Christmas but ... you know how it is.
With thanks to sandid for the pic that I "converted" into the banner (that was so the easy bit).
For those who don't know the other stories, they're here:
Justin!Rage Index.
One word of warning, however ... I don't like Mikey, never have, never will. And I was not all that fond of Gus' mommies by the end of S5 - so if you like those characters, you almost certainly won't like these fics.
In this one, set a few weeks after Always Have, Always Will, Brian is looking forward to sharing Christmas with his son and his lover.
Christmas Lights
It had been nearly a month since Brian and Justin had gone to Toronto and brought Gus - and Lindsay - back with them. There had been a few dramas in that month. Lindsay had at first refused to accept the situation as it was - that Brian once again had legal rights to his son which meant that he was no longer at her mercy where Gus was concerned. In fact, his attorney had been quick to file papers giving him guaranteed access rights with a regular visitation schedule. Somewhat to Brian’s surprise these had been put through very quickly. The records of all the payments that he had made since Gus’ birth clearly established that he had always had a role in supporting his son, and Mel’s paper removed any question that the role might be contested by a third “parent”. So Lindsay had faced the choice of either refuting Brian’s ongoing involvement - which would have meant giving up her ready access to his financial support - or accepting that the role would have a more formally recognized status. She didn’t like losing her leverage, but she actually had very little choice.
She seemed, finally, to resign herself to the situation.
However, she was far from resigning herself to Justin’s role in Brian’s life. And in her son’s. For the first few days after their arrival, she lost very few opportunities to make snide comments, casting doubt on the long term future of their relationship, niggling away at Brian’s insecurities. A couple more “nightmares” about being chased through the caverns of her own sub conscious by a monster that took the form of a terrible cold light, however, and she became more circumspect, restricting her “attacks” to when Justin wasn’t within hearing because for some reason she associated that icy brightness with him. That didn’t stop the nightmares, though; they continued until finally she stopped playing that game.
She was, however, still biding her time. It seemed intolerable to her that just when her own relationship with Melanie had finally crumbled completely, Brian should find happiness with someone else. That the “someone else” was a snotty blond who had little hesitation in confronting her whenever he thought that her resentment was getting out of hand, and who had somehow won the heart of not only the man she believed belonged in some way to her, but also of her son - that made it a million times worse. That he was also a successful artist, already earning an income from his talent while he swanned around at the prestigious PIFA - an institution which had refused to allow her admittance, added salt to the wound.
Unlike Brian’s other friends who had accepted Justin’s student status with no question, Lindsay had gone online to check him out. It hadn’t taken her very long to work out just who he was and envy over his success in the field she hadn’t been talented enough to enter was added to that over his relationship with Brian.
So when the subject of Christmas arose, she was determined to put a spoke into any plans that Justin might have made.
She was adamant that Gus would spend Christmas with her. His father might visit for a little while on Christmas morning, but that was all. And she hinted strongly that it would be more appropriate for Brian to come alone, that if he didn’t, he might not find himself welcome even for that short visit.
Lindsay, however, reckoned without knowing or understanding her opponent.
Justin was furious, not on his own behalf, but on Brian’s. And Gus’.
Father and son had been looking forward to spending Christmas together. In fact, Brian had already invited Lindsay to come and stay at the house, rather than at the appartment that he’d found for them (and was paying for) so that they might all share Christmas together. But since he also made it clear that Justin was included in that “all”, she rejected that invitation so emphatically that Brian had almost been thrown back into his old pain management habits. Fortunately, he remembered the sort-of promise he’d made Justin about coming to him first and allowing him the chance to help him. And Justin had helped. His anger on Brian’s behalf, and far more, the warmth of his love had helped Brian understand that Lindsay had problems that had very little to do with anything he might have said or done, and that maybe they might not be able to share Christmas Day with Gus, but they would still see him regularly, and there would be other Christmases.
But after that talk, after Justin had been made to see the damage that Lindsay’s vendetta against him was causing Brian, his anger increased tenfold.
As it had in Toronto, that anger seeped out into the night. Once more it manifested itself in haunted dreams, but this time they were even more powerful. Lindsay still fought the self-knowledge that the dreams tried to force upon her, but the fight took its toll on her body, and she woke up with an appalling headache - a migraine so intense that Brian, summoned by a frightened phone call from his son on the special phone Brian had given him so he could call his Daddy whenever he wanted him, took her straight to the emergency room.
The medical staff were unable to find an immediate explanation for the headache, and as it was so intense, they admitted Lindsay for further tests.
That was three days before Christmas.
Her parents, shocked at their daughter’s condition, and worried by her bizarre insistence that the headache had something to do with the nice young man who was helping out with their grandson, had insisted that she come to stay with them for a few days once she was released. Perhaps, as well as a genuine concern for her health and mental well-being, they also saw this as their opportunity to get their daughter back, to wean her away from the “unhealthy” lifestyle she’d fallen into.
She needed peace and quiet, they said. And five year olds were so rambunctious. Especially at Christmas.
Gus should stay with his father, they advised. And Lindsay could see him when she was well. After Christmas, they said. She could see him after Christmas.
Worn out as much from the energy she had been putting into the fight against self-knowledge, as from the pain in her head, Lindsay agreed. Curiously, once she had, the pain stopped almost immediately.
So now, in the late afternoon of Christmas Eve, Brian looked around the living room of his house, and found it perfect.
It glowed with color and was redolent with the delicious smells of Christmas. Garlands hung along the walls, and across the tops of the window drapes while from the mantelpiece, three vivid stockings hung ready; and his nose was tickled with the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, cookies and gingerbread, and the tangy scent of pine needles from the tree which stood proudly in the corner.
The tree had been selected and decorated by the three of them nearly two weeks ago - a magical experience that none of them, Brian least of all, would ever truly forget. Tonight, however, would be the first time that the lights would be turned on. Reserving this momentous occasion to be part of the ritual of Christmas Eve was, strangely enough, part of both Brian and Justin’s childhood. Although for Brian in particular the memories this evoked were not entirely happy ones, he’d refused to let that darken Christmas for Gus; instead, he’d welcomed the chance to make this childhood ritual that he and Justin had shared a part of the Christmas experience for his new little family.
Now, standing in the home he’d never thought he’d have, Brian could hear from the kitchen the voices of that family, the sounds that made this house a home. Justin had insisted on baking both cookies and gingerbread men. Well, in fact he’d used a packet mix for each, and made so much mess that it seemed as if half the packets had distributed themselves across the kitchen, but that hardly seemed to bother either him or Gus.
The smells from the baking were delicious; even more so while both cookies and gingerbread men lay cooling on the counter. Now Justin and Gus were absorbed in decorating them. Again, Brian suspected that there would be less frosting on the cookies than there was on their faces, their clothes, and every available surface in the kitchen, but who cared?
Certainly not Brian. Justin’s laughing voice was punctuated by Gus’ giggles and Brian, listening to them, knew suddenly what it felt like to be a happy man.
He walked back into the kitchen and found Justin endeavoring to clean some of the rainbow of frosting from Gus’ face. Gus pulled away as soon as he saw his father.
“Look, Daddy!” he said excitedly, “Look at the cookies we made. I dec’ated that one just for you.”
He pointed out a rather natty gingerbread man who was wearing a bright pink tie and what looked like pair of green chaps.
It actually reminded Brian a little of Emmett, but for some reason, as his son clung to his hand and asked a little anxiously, “Do you like it?” he still found himself smiling.
He nodded and answered honestly, “Yes, Sonnyboy, I do like it. It’s fabulous.”
Across the kitchen his eyes sought Justin’s and found the blue ones laughing back at him in the shared private joke.
“We can’t eat the gingerb’ed men till after dinner, 'cos they’re too big.” Gus told him. “But Jus’in says we can have one of the little star cookies each as soon as we’re all cleaned up.
His voice took on an even more excited, but also slightly awed tone, as he went on, “And then we can light the tree.”
“Well, I guess we’d better get cleaned up then,” Brian said, exchanging another smile with his lover. He gave both Justin and Gus a gentle push towards the bathroom and once they were out of the way, started to work on the kitchen. By the time he’d wiped the countertop, the stove and the door of the fridge, given the floor a quick sweep and started on the washing up, Gus had come running back to him, closely followed by Justin, who rewarded his efforts by slipping his arms around the taller man’s waist in a quick hug. They worked together happily to finish the washing up - Brian washing, Justin wiping, Gus carefully piling the dishes on the counter top as Justin handed them to him. Brian then put away the dishes while Justin made coffee and poured a glass of milk for Gus.
They took a little time over the careful selection of one of the small star cookies each, and then took them with their drinks back into the lounge room. Justin drew the curtains, shutting out the dull grey winter’s evening, while Brian turned off the room lighting and stoked the fire, so that it burned brightly, supplying the only illumination to a scene that Brian vaguely recognized as something so cozy it belonged in some fucking Hollywood Christmas movie. He was mildly surprised to find that he didn’t give a shit.
Cookies and drinks placed safely on the coffee table, Justin and Gus knelt together on the floor opposite the tree while Brian made ready to do the lighting honors. He almost felt the moment needed a drum roll; the sense of anticipation was so intense.
With an uncharacteristically flamboyant gesture, he flipped the switch. For one moment the lights glowed brightly, then with a whiff of ozone and a faint fizzing zap!, they went out again.
Startled, Brian swore and quickly reached to turn the lights off again and pull out the plug; it felt hot in his fingers. He could hardly process what had happened, the sudden ending to that perfect moment. Any attempt to rationalize, and tell himself it hardly fucking mattered in the scheme of things was blown away by his son’s wail.
“Daddy!” A disconsolate little voice cried, “Make the lights come back!”
At that sound, Brian felt his heart contract in pain.
One fucking moment, that’s all he’d wanted. One perfect moment for his son to remember, to give Gus something to cling to in the host of less than perfect ones that life was bound to throw at him.
Fighting back his own bitter disappointment, he steeled himself to deal with his son’s without resorting to his usual tactics of sarcasm and denial.
Then, just as he was turning towards Gus, ready to promise that he would scour the town if he had to, to find new lights, the ones on the tree started to glow.
It was very faint at first, but quickly grew brighter -brighter, Brian thought vaguely through his shock, than they had ever been intended to shine. He stared at them, then down at the plug in his hand; the one not connected to the wall socket.
Then he turned startled eyes towards Justin, to gain confirmation of what he was seeing - if he needed any more than his own eyes and Gus’ shriek of joy.
The look on his partner’s face choked the “what the fuck?” on the tip of his tongue into silence.
Justin’s face showed a combination of emotions - relief and joy, and something very like guilt.
Gus’ face on the other hand, reflected pure awestruck joy.
“Look, Daddy,” he said, reaching to tug his father down beside him. “Look!”
Brian looked - at the tree, glowing serenely, and inexplicably, in the corner; at his son’s rapt face; and then at his partner. Justin met his eyes with a slightly desperate look in his own.
“Later,” he mouthed over Gus’ head. “Please ... later.”
Brian held his gaze for a long moment, before Gus once more claimed his attention.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Daddy?” he sighed happily. “I bet it’s the most beautifullest tree in the whole world.”
In the face of his son’s delight and his lover’s need, Brian found himself abandoning rational thought.
“Yes it is, Sonnyboy,” he heard himself say. “I think you’re right. It’s certainly a very special f... fir tree.”
Justin caught the slightly sardonic note and gave him a weak grin, and a grateful handclasp. Brian tried to come up with some vaguely sensible explanation of what was going on, but then, with a mental shrug, gave it up as a bad joke. Maybe he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? At least it was a fucking happy dream.
It was with that sense of being inside some idyllic dream that he moved through the next few hours.
They ate dinner by the light of the tree (Gus laughing a protest and covering his eyes when his Daddy and Justin stole a kiss), sat together on the couch while Justin not so much read as recited “The Night Before Christmas” and then listened, munching on gingerbread men, to an MP3 that Justin had downloaded of Bing Crosby reading some story about a kid and a little donkey that had both Gus and Justin blinking away tears, while at the same time they were both glowing with happiness by the time it was finished. Then, of course, there were milk and cookies to be laid out ready for Santa.
Eventually they managed to tuck Gus into his little pirate chest bed, where he fell asleep almost immediately, the happy smile still on his lips.
After that, though, there were still stockings to fill and re-hang (Justin wouldn’t let Brian see all the things that went into his, so Brian was equally secretive when filling Justin’s which behavior made him feel equal parts ridiculous and happy - or maybe just ridiculously happy); and then the “Santa” presents had to be excavated from their hiding places round the house and placed to join those from friends (mainly Ted and Emmett) and relations (Lindsay, her parents, and a mail package which Brian suspected, and hoped, was from Melanie) already under the tree. Since these included a bike which had to be brought in from the garage, and a train set which had to be set up and given a test run or two, it was some time before the two men were free to sit and talk.
Not that Justin was ready to, exactly. But he figured it was time. It was no small secret he’d been keeping from his partner after all. He could only pray to the God he wasn’t sure he believed in that Brian wouldn’t do a major flip out and throw him out of the house. Freak that he was, he felt he probably deserved that. But it would break his heart. And Brian’s.
Oh, God! And Brian’s.
And Brian had already had so much heartbreak. Justin couldn’t bear to add to it. He had to find a way to explain, to make Brian understand. Except of course, that he didn’t understand himself. He never had. He’d just learned to accept it - not really having any choice in the matter.
He found it hard to believe that Brian, who did have a choice, would be able to accept it also, but what else could he do but try?
So, with his voice half-choked by the lump in his throat, he stumbled through a garbled explanation of what had happened.
The only part of it that Brian could even make out clearly (let alone understand) was that somehow Justin had managed to turn the Christmas tree lights on because he had some sort of super power that let him do that.
Which had to be some sort of fucking joke, didn’t it? Except that the tree, lights still not plugged in, was happily glowing in the corner of the room.
Brian was about to snarl that he wanted some sort of real explanation not a fucking fairy story, when he realized how badly Justin was shaking. Instinctively, he reached out and drew the younger man into his arms. Justin gave a sort of choking sob and clung to him, and Brian’s justifiable skepticism was swept away in the need, the absolute need, to comfort this man who meant so much to him, and who’d helped him so much in the last few months. The man who’d brought so much light into his life that he’d nicknamed him “Sunshine”.
That thought brought his spinning thoughts to an abrupt halt.
Sunshine.
Brian thought about how he’d called Justin that almost from the first - at least in his head.
Fuck!
He tightened one arm around Justin’s shoulders and then used his free hand to force Justin to look at him.
The blue eyes that he’d come to love looked up at him cloudy with tears and fears.
Brian couldn’t bear it.
He bent his head and kissed Justin softly.
“I fucking love you,” he said. “Now start at the fucking beginning.”
Justin wanted to weep with sheer relief, but instead he forced himself to sit up straighter (although still pressed close to Brian) and wiped a hand across his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re a mess!” Brian griped, getting up to fetch the tissues that had been used to mop up after old Bingo’s story. Then he sat down and pulled Justin once more into the circle of his arm. “Now, like I said ... from the beginning.”
Justin relaxed gratefully against him and stared for a moment into the fire, before beginning, “I don’t know how it happens. Or why it happens. Why I can do it. I can’t really remember how it all started. What I can remember is being really pissed one night when my father found me reading in bed and confiscated my torch. I huddled back down under the bedclothes and suddenly I could see.
“I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want them find a way to stop me. But I don’t think I thought it was weird that I could do it. I wasn’t sure that other people couldn’t do it too. I mean, I never said anything about it to anyone, so maybe all the other kids were doing the same thing.
“I couldn’t just turn it on and off though. I had to be really mad. And that … sometimes you just can’t get the energy to get angry enough, you know?”
Brian tried to take in what he was hearing.
“So you got mad and that made the light shine?”
“Well ... yeah. I mean, I know it’s crazy. But yeah.”
“And it’s always anger?”
“Well, it always has been. Till tonight anyway. That’s how the cops found me so fast the night I got jumped … I was just scared at first, but then one of the goons tore my new coat and …”
Brian had to laugh. ‘You got pissed off because they tore one of your damned Gap jackets?
Justin gave him a token punch in the ribs, which Brian found himself responding to with another kiss. When it ended they sat for a moment looking into each other’s eyes.
Against all the odds, against all reason, Brian realized he believed what Justin was telling him. For his part, Justin realized that against all the odds, against all reason, Brian was finding a way to accept what he was being told. He wanted to weep in relief and at the same time laugh and shout and dance for sheer joy.
Instead, needing to keep going now he’d got his far, he went on. “Apparently it was like there’d been a lightning strike in the car park. The guys weren’t hurt, but they were thrown backwards, and the light attracted everyone’s attention, so people came running really quickly. But no one mentioned that because it was all too weird.”
Brian nodded, and then was silent for a long moment.
When he spoke, his voice for the first time sounded a little strained.
“You did something at the loft, didn’t you?”
Justin hesitated. He didn’t really want to get into this. He was afraid of Brian’s reaction when he realized that Justin had destroyed the last remnants of Michael’s being.
But he had to be honest.
“Yes,” he said. “He ... there was still something there. Something dark, and ... it was dangerous. It had hurt you. I was angry.”
Brian was silent again, processing that. Part of him wanted to protest that Justin had had no right to ... to just obliterate whatever had been left of Mikey, but ... but ... Justin had been hurt, or nearly hurt, a number of times in the loft and he’d done nothing. Brian knew, knew without any shadow of a doubt that it had been the attack on him that had made Justin angry enough to act.
And that thought neutralized any anger he might have tried to muster on Mikey’s behalf. He’d never had anyone defend him, never had a protector, had spent most of his life denying that he needed one. But apparently he had one now, and the thought warmed places in him that he’d thought had frozen long ago. His arm tightened around his lover’s shoulders.
Another thought suddenly struck him.
“And the Munchers?” he asked. “Lindsay keeps saying you “look” at her. Have you done something to them?”
“I’m not sure,” Justin admitted. “I think ... I think that maybe I make them dream of light.”
Brian frowned. “What the fuck does that mean? Why would that freak Lindsay out so much?”
Justin sighed, sensing that once more he was on shaky ground.
“I think that the light keeps trying to show her things ... things about herself, about how she is with you ... and with Gus ... and that she doesn’t want to see them, so ...”
Brian stiffened.
He’d had a hard enough time accepting that one friend had somehow twisted their friendship into something dark and menacing, he simply didn’t want to deal with the fact that something similar might have happened with Lindsay. Not that she’d go as far as Mikey, but still ...
If it affected both of them then it must be something in him; some dark unhealthy quality in his soul that ...
“Brian,” Justin’s voice cut across his thoughts. “It’s not you. It really isn’t. With Lindsay it’s more like ... she wants to be the one in control ... of you, of Melanie, of Gus ... and she uses weakness to do it; the tyranny of weakness. She tried to make both you and Melanie be strong and support her all the time, not even caring how that affected the two of you. Especially the way you related to each other. And then she had Gus, and she could play on that even more because she needed you both to support her AND Gus.”
Brian heard him, and somehow the words penetrated the fog of his guilt and self-doubt. He clung to them, and in doing so recognized their truth.
He thought about his long friendship with Lindsay, about how she’d always appealed to the part of him that wanted to be seen as strong, as invincible. How she’d played on that to get him to do just about everything she’d wanted - from playing her “boyfriend” in front of her parents when they’d first met, to sleeping with her “because it has to be convincing”, to giving her his sperm. Not that he regretted that. He could never regret Gus.
But he understood, too, why Lindsay would turn away from that knowledge of her own actions. He’d probably do the same thing.
Words from a long forgotten song float through his mind ... “Let the sunshine in”.
He’d never thought before about what a truly terrifying concept that might be.
Now he would be living with it.
Brian wondered if he was strong enough, brave enough. But what choice did he have? He realized suddenly that letting Justin walk out of his life, letting the sunshine flow out of his life, simply wasn’t an option. And in that realization he found that he could accept what Justin had told him; realized also, to his surprise, that it didn’t change how he felt about the young man in his arms at all, or only to make him even more amazing, more precious; but there was one question he had to ask.
“So what made you angry tonight ... angry enough to do ... that ...?” he nodded towards the tree.
Justin turned his head for a moment to look at the tree, then returned wondering eyes to Brian.
“I don’t know. I swear, Brian, I don’t know. I mean ... I wasn’t angry this time. I just wanted ... I wanted it to be all right. For you. And for Gus. I just wanted to make you both happy.
“And then ...”
His eyes moved once more to the tree, and then he looked up at his lover again.
“I think this time it wasn’t anger,” he said in a voice in which Brian recognized both joy and hope. “I think this time maybe it was ... love.”
Brian stoked his hair with one gentle hand.
He didn’t really understand any of this.
All he knew was that he held love in his arms, and in his heart. And that was enough. It was more, far more than he’d ever believed possible. And it was making this Christmas perfect - lights or no lights.
“Time for bed,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’ve got a fucking long day tomorrow.”
Later, after they’d made their way up the stairs and made love slowly and sweetly as the night deepened around them, Brian lay on the verge of sleep.
Down the hall, his son lay sleeping under the pirate mural Justin had painted for him; downstairs, the lights shone on the Christmas tree, waiting till morning brought the unwrapping of presents and the arrival of his friends to share their Christmas feast; beside him, his Sunshine lay sleeping soundly, his head pillowed on Brian’s shoulder.
If this is what life with some kind of fucking super-hero is like, Brian thought to himself, as he drifted closer and closer to sleep, bring it fucking on.
Merry Christmas to all!
If you're interested in the next "episode", which follows directly on from this one, it can be found here:
The Real Meaning Of ...
As promised, at last, the first of my Christmas fics.
The usual proviso - my stories are all for Adults Only. So if by clicking on any of the links provided you are indicating that you fall into that category.
It's the third in the Justin!Rage universe, and I had actually planned to get it done for last Christmas but ... you know how it is.
With thanks to sandid for the pic that I "converted" into the banner (that was so the easy bit).
For those who don't know the other stories, they're here:
Justin!Rage Index.
One word of warning, however ... I don't like Mikey, never have, never will. And I was not all that fond of Gus' mommies by the end of S5 - so if you like those characters, you almost certainly won't like these fics.
In this one, set a few weeks after Always Have, Always Will, Brian is looking forward to sharing Christmas with his son and his lover.
Christmas Lights
It had been nearly a month since Brian and Justin had gone to Toronto and brought Gus - and Lindsay - back with them. There had been a few dramas in that month. Lindsay had at first refused to accept the situation as it was - that Brian once again had legal rights to his son which meant that he was no longer at her mercy where Gus was concerned. In fact, his attorney had been quick to file papers giving him guaranteed access rights with a regular visitation schedule. Somewhat to Brian’s surprise these had been put through very quickly. The records of all the payments that he had made since Gus’ birth clearly established that he had always had a role in supporting his son, and Mel’s paper removed any question that the role might be contested by a third “parent”. So Lindsay had faced the choice of either refuting Brian’s ongoing involvement - which would have meant giving up her ready access to his financial support - or accepting that the role would have a more formally recognized status. She didn’t like losing her leverage, but she actually had very little choice.
She seemed, finally, to resign herself to the situation.
However, she was far from resigning herself to Justin’s role in Brian’s life. And in her son’s. For the first few days after their arrival, she lost very few opportunities to make snide comments, casting doubt on the long term future of their relationship, niggling away at Brian’s insecurities. A couple more “nightmares” about being chased through the caverns of her own sub conscious by a monster that took the form of a terrible cold light, however, and she became more circumspect, restricting her “attacks” to when Justin wasn’t within hearing because for some reason she associated that icy brightness with him. That didn’t stop the nightmares, though; they continued until finally she stopped playing that game.
She was, however, still biding her time. It seemed intolerable to her that just when her own relationship with Melanie had finally crumbled completely, Brian should find happiness with someone else. That the “someone else” was a snotty blond who had little hesitation in confronting her whenever he thought that her resentment was getting out of hand, and who had somehow won the heart of not only the man she believed belonged in some way to her, but also of her son - that made it a million times worse. That he was also a successful artist, already earning an income from his talent while he swanned around at the prestigious PIFA - an institution which had refused to allow her admittance, added salt to the wound.
Unlike Brian’s other friends who had accepted Justin’s student status with no question, Lindsay had gone online to check him out. It hadn’t taken her very long to work out just who he was and envy over his success in the field she hadn’t been talented enough to enter was added to that over his relationship with Brian.
So when the subject of Christmas arose, she was determined to put a spoke into any plans that Justin might have made.
She was adamant that Gus would spend Christmas with her. His father might visit for a little while on Christmas morning, but that was all. And she hinted strongly that it would be more appropriate for Brian to come alone, that if he didn’t, he might not find himself welcome even for that short visit.
Lindsay, however, reckoned without knowing or understanding her opponent.
Justin was furious, not on his own behalf, but on Brian’s. And Gus’.
Father and son had been looking forward to spending Christmas together. In fact, Brian had already invited Lindsay to come and stay at the house, rather than at the appartment that he’d found for them (and was paying for) so that they might all share Christmas together. But since he also made it clear that Justin was included in that “all”, she rejected that invitation so emphatically that Brian had almost been thrown back into his old pain management habits. Fortunately, he remembered the sort-of promise he’d made Justin about coming to him first and allowing him the chance to help him. And Justin had helped. His anger on Brian’s behalf, and far more, the warmth of his love had helped Brian understand that Lindsay had problems that had very little to do with anything he might have said or done, and that maybe they might not be able to share Christmas Day with Gus, but they would still see him regularly, and there would be other Christmases.
But after that talk, after Justin had been made to see the damage that Lindsay’s vendetta against him was causing Brian, his anger increased tenfold.
As it had in Toronto, that anger seeped out into the night. Once more it manifested itself in haunted dreams, but this time they were even more powerful. Lindsay still fought the self-knowledge that the dreams tried to force upon her, but the fight took its toll on her body, and she woke up with an appalling headache - a migraine so intense that Brian, summoned by a frightened phone call from his son on the special phone Brian had given him so he could call his Daddy whenever he wanted him, took her straight to the emergency room.
The medical staff were unable to find an immediate explanation for the headache, and as it was so intense, they admitted Lindsay for further tests.
That was three days before Christmas.
Her parents, shocked at their daughter’s condition, and worried by her bizarre insistence that the headache had something to do with the nice young man who was helping out with their grandson, had insisted that she come to stay with them for a few days once she was released. Perhaps, as well as a genuine concern for her health and mental well-being, they also saw this as their opportunity to get their daughter back, to wean her away from the “unhealthy” lifestyle she’d fallen into.
She needed peace and quiet, they said. And five year olds were so rambunctious. Especially at Christmas.
Gus should stay with his father, they advised. And Lindsay could see him when she was well. After Christmas, they said. She could see him after Christmas.
Worn out as much from the energy she had been putting into the fight against self-knowledge, as from the pain in her head, Lindsay agreed. Curiously, once she had, the pain stopped almost immediately.
So now, in the late afternoon of Christmas Eve, Brian looked around the living room of his house, and found it perfect.
It glowed with color and was redolent with the delicious smells of Christmas. Garlands hung along the walls, and across the tops of the window drapes while from the mantelpiece, three vivid stockings hung ready; and his nose was tickled with the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, cookies and gingerbread, and the tangy scent of pine needles from the tree which stood proudly in the corner.
The tree had been selected and decorated by the three of them nearly two weeks ago - a magical experience that none of them, Brian least of all, would ever truly forget. Tonight, however, would be the first time that the lights would be turned on. Reserving this momentous occasion to be part of the ritual of Christmas Eve was, strangely enough, part of both Brian and Justin’s childhood. Although for Brian in particular the memories this evoked were not entirely happy ones, he’d refused to let that darken Christmas for Gus; instead, he’d welcomed the chance to make this childhood ritual that he and Justin had shared a part of the Christmas experience for his new little family.
Now, standing in the home he’d never thought he’d have, Brian could hear from the kitchen the voices of that family, the sounds that made this house a home. Justin had insisted on baking both cookies and gingerbread men. Well, in fact he’d used a packet mix for each, and made so much mess that it seemed as if half the packets had distributed themselves across the kitchen, but that hardly seemed to bother either him or Gus.
The smells from the baking were delicious; even more so while both cookies and gingerbread men lay cooling on the counter. Now Justin and Gus were absorbed in decorating them. Again, Brian suspected that there would be less frosting on the cookies than there was on their faces, their clothes, and every available surface in the kitchen, but who cared?
Certainly not Brian. Justin’s laughing voice was punctuated by Gus’ giggles and Brian, listening to them, knew suddenly what it felt like to be a happy man.
He walked back into the kitchen and found Justin endeavoring to clean some of the rainbow of frosting from Gus’ face. Gus pulled away as soon as he saw his father.
“Look, Daddy!” he said excitedly, “Look at the cookies we made. I dec’ated that one just for you.”
He pointed out a rather natty gingerbread man who was wearing a bright pink tie and what looked like pair of green chaps.
It actually reminded Brian a little of Emmett, but for some reason, as his son clung to his hand and asked a little anxiously, “Do you like it?” he still found himself smiling.
He nodded and answered honestly, “Yes, Sonnyboy, I do like it. It’s fabulous.”
Across the kitchen his eyes sought Justin’s and found the blue ones laughing back at him in the shared private joke.
“We can’t eat the gingerb’ed men till after dinner, 'cos they’re too big.” Gus told him. “But Jus’in says we can have one of the little star cookies each as soon as we’re all cleaned up.
His voice took on an even more excited, but also slightly awed tone, as he went on, “And then we can light the tree.”
“Well, I guess we’d better get cleaned up then,” Brian said, exchanging another smile with his lover. He gave both Justin and Gus a gentle push towards the bathroom and once they were out of the way, started to work on the kitchen. By the time he’d wiped the countertop, the stove and the door of the fridge, given the floor a quick sweep and started on the washing up, Gus had come running back to him, closely followed by Justin, who rewarded his efforts by slipping his arms around the taller man’s waist in a quick hug. They worked together happily to finish the washing up - Brian washing, Justin wiping, Gus carefully piling the dishes on the counter top as Justin handed them to him. Brian then put away the dishes while Justin made coffee and poured a glass of milk for Gus.
They took a little time over the careful selection of one of the small star cookies each, and then took them with their drinks back into the lounge room. Justin drew the curtains, shutting out the dull grey winter’s evening, while Brian turned off the room lighting and stoked the fire, so that it burned brightly, supplying the only illumination to a scene that Brian vaguely recognized as something so cozy it belonged in some fucking Hollywood Christmas movie. He was mildly surprised to find that he didn’t give a shit.
Cookies and drinks placed safely on the coffee table, Justin and Gus knelt together on the floor opposite the tree while Brian made ready to do the lighting honors. He almost felt the moment needed a drum roll; the sense of anticipation was so intense.
With an uncharacteristically flamboyant gesture, he flipped the switch. For one moment the lights glowed brightly, then with a whiff of ozone and a faint fizzing zap!, they went out again.
Startled, Brian swore and quickly reached to turn the lights off again and pull out the plug; it felt hot in his fingers. He could hardly process what had happened, the sudden ending to that perfect moment. Any attempt to rationalize, and tell himself it hardly fucking mattered in the scheme of things was blown away by his son’s wail.
“Daddy!” A disconsolate little voice cried, “Make the lights come back!”
At that sound, Brian felt his heart contract in pain.
One fucking moment, that’s all he’d wanted. One perfect moment for his son to remember, to give Gus something to cling to in the host of less than perfect ones that life was bound to throw at him.
Fighting back his own bitter disappointment, he steeled himself to deal with his son’s without resorting to his usual tactics of sarcasm and denial.
Then, just as he was turning towards Gus, ready to promise that he would scour the town if he had to, to find new lights, the ones on the tree started to glow.
It was very faint at first, but quickly grew brighter -brighter, Brian thought vaguely through his shock, than they had ever been intended to shine. He stared at them, then down at the plug in his hand; the one not connected to the wall socket.
Then he turned startled eyes towards Justin, to gain confirmation of what he was seeing - if he needed any more than his own eyes and Gus’ shriek of joy.
The look on his partner’s face choked the “what the fuck?” on the tip of his tongue into silence.
Justin’s face showed a combination of emotions - relief and joy, and something very like guilt.
Gus’ face on the other hand, reflected pure awestruck joy.
“Look, Daddy,” he said, reaching to tug his father down beside him. “Look!”
Brian looked - at the tree, glowing serenely, and inexplicably, in the corner; at his son’s rapt face; and then at his partner. Justin met his eyes with a slightly desperate look in his own.
“Later,” he mouthed over Gus’ head. “Please ... later.”
Brian held his gaze for a long moment, before Gus once more claimed his attention.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Daddy?” he sighed happily. “I bet it’s the most beautifullest tree in the whole world.”
In the face of his son’s delight and his lover’s need, Brian found himself abandoning rational thought.
“Yes it is, Sonnyboy,” he heard himself say. “I think you’re right. It’s certainly a very special f... fir tree.”
Justin caught the slightly sardonic note and gave him a weak grin, and a grateful handclasp. Brian tried to come up with some vaguely sensible explanation of what was going on, but then, with a mental shrug, gave it up as a bad joke. Maybe he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? At least it was a fucking happy dream.
It was with that sense of being inside some idyllic dream that he moved through the next few hours.
They ate dinner by the light of the tree (Gus laughing a protest and covering his eyes when his Daddy and Justin stole a kiss), sat together on the couch while Justin not so much read as recited “The Night Before Christmas” and then listened, munching on gingerbread men, to an MP3 that Justin had downloaded of Bing Crosby reading some story about a kid and a little donkey that had both Gus and Justin blinking away tears, while at the same time they were both glowing with happiness by the time it was finished. Then, of course, there were milk and cookies to be laid out ready for Santa.
Eventually they managed to tuck Gus into his little pirate chest bed, where he fell asleep almost immediately, the happy smile still on his lips.
After that, though, there were still stockings to fill and re-hang (Justin wouldn’t let Brian see all the things that went into his, so Brian was equally secretive when filling Justin’s which behavior made him feel equal parts ridiculous and happy - or maybe just ridiculously happy); and then the “Santa” presents had to be excavated from their hiding places round the house and placed to join those from friends (mainly Ted and Emmett) and relations (Lindsay, her parents, and a mail package which Brian suspected, and hoped, was from Melanie) already under the tree. Since these included a bike which had to be brought in from the garage, and a train set which had to be set up and given a test run or two, it was some time before the two men were free to sit and talk.
Not that Justin was ready to, exactly. But he figured it was time. It was no small secret he’d been keeping from his partner after all. He could only pray to the God he wasn’t sure he believed in that Brian wouldn’t do a major flip out and throw him out of the house. Freak that he was, he felt he probably deserved that. But it would break his heart. And Brian’s.
Oh, God! And Brian’s.
And Brian had already had so much heartbreak. Justin couldn’t bear to add to it. He had to find a way to explain, to make Brian understand. Except of course, that he didn’t understand himself. He never had. He’d just learned to accept it - not really having any choice in the matter.
He found it hard to believe that Brian, who did have a choice, would be able to accept it also, but what else could he do but try?
So, with his voice half-choked by the lump in his throat, he stumbled through a garbled explanation of what had happened.
The only part of it that Brian could even make out clearly (let alone understand) was that somehow Justin had managed to turn the Christmas tree lights on because he had some sort of super power that let him do that.
Which had to be some sort of fucking joke, didn’t it? Except that the tree, lights still not plugged in, was happily glowing in the corner of the room.
Brian was about to snarl that he wanted some sort of real explanation not a fucking fairy story, when he realized how badly Justin was shaking. Instinctively, he reached out and drew the younger man into his arms. Justin gave a sort of choking sob and clung to him, and Brian’s justifiable skepticism was swept away in the need, the absolute need, to comfort this man who meant so much to him, and who’d helped him so much in the last few months. The man who’d brought so much light into his life that he’d nicknamed him “Sunshine”.
That thought brought his spinning thoughts to an abrupt halt.
Sunshine.
Brian thought about how he’d called Justin that almost from the first - at least in his head.
Fuck!
He tightened one arm around Justin’s shoulders and then used his free hand to force Justin to look at him.
The blue eyes that he’d come to love looked up at him cloudy with tears and fears.
Brian couldn’t bear it.
He bent his head and kissed Justin softly.
“I fucking love you,” he said. “Now start at the fucking beginning.”
Justin wanted to weep with sheer relief, but instead he forced himself to sit up straighter (although still pressed close to Brian) and wiped a hand across his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re a mess!” Brian griped, getting up to fetch the tissues that had been used to mop up after old Bingo’s story. Then he sat down and pulled Justin once more into the circle of his arm. “Now, like I said ... from the beginning.”
Justin relaxed gratefully against him and stared for a moment into the fire, before beginning, “I don’t know how it happens. Or why it happens. Why I can do it. I can’t really remember how it all started. What I can remember is being really pissed one night when my father found me reading in bed and confiscated my torch. I huddled back down under the bedclothes and suddenly I could see.
“I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want them find a way to stop me. But I don’t think I thought it was weird that I could do it. I wasn’t sure that other people couldn’t do it too. I mean, I never said anything about it to anyone, so maybe all the other kids were doing the same thing.
“I couldn’t just turn it on and off though. I had to be really mad. And that … sometimes you just can’t get the energy to get angry enough, you know?”
Brian tried to take in what he was hearing.
“So you got mad and that made the light shine?”
“Well ... yeah. I mean, I know it’s crazy. But yeah.”
“And it’s always anger?”
“Well, it always has been. Till tonight anyway. That’s how the cops found me so fast the night I got jumped … I was just scared at first, but then one of the goons tore my new coat and …”
Brian had to laugh. ‘You got pissed off because they tore one of your damned Gap jackets?
Justin gave him a token punch in the ribs, which Brian found himself responding to with another kiss. When it ended they sat for a moment looking into each other’s eyes.
Against all the odds, against all reason, Brian realized he believed what Justin was telling him. For his part, Justin realized that against all the odds, against all reason, Brian was finding a way to accept what he was being told. He wanted to weep in relief and at the same time laugh and shout and dance for sheer joy.
Instead, needing to keep going now he’d got his far, he went on. “Apparently it was like there’d been a lightning strike in the car park. The guys weren’t hurt, but they were thrown backwards, and the light attracted everyone’s attention, so people came running really quickly. But no one mentioned that because it was all too weird.”
Brian nodded, and then was silent for a long moment.
When he spoke, his voice for the first time sounded a little strained.
“You did something at the loft, didn’t you?”
Justin hesitated. He didn’t really want to get into this. He was afraid of Brian’s reaction when he realized that Justin had destroyed the last remnants of Michael’s being.
But he had to be honest.
“Yes,” he said. “He ... there was still something there. Something dark, and ... it was dangerous. It had hurt you. I was angry.”
Brian was silent again, processing that. Part of him wanted to protest that Justin had had no right to ... to just obliterate whatever had been left of Mikey, but ... but ... Justin had been hurt, or nearly hurt, a number of times in the loft and he’d done nothing. Brian knew, knew without any shadow of a doubt that it had been the attack on him that had made Justin angry enough to act.
And that thought neutralized any anger he might have tried to muster on Mikey’s behalf. He’d never had anyone defend him, never had a protector, had spent most of his life denying that he needed one. But apparently he had one now, and the thought warmed places in him that he’d thought had frozen long ago. His arm tightened around his lover’s shoulders.
Another thought suddenly struck him.
“And the Munchers?” he asked. “Lindsay keeps saying you “look” at her. Have you done something to them?”
“I’m not sure,” Justin admitted. “I think ... I think that maybe I make them dream of light.”
Brian frowned. “What the fuck does that mean? Why would that freak Lindsay out so much?”
Justin sighed, sensing that once more he was on shaky ground.
“I think that the light keeps trying to show her things ... things about herself, about how she is with you ... and with Gus ... and that she doesn’t want to see them, so ...”
Brian stiffened.
He’d had a hard enough time accepting that one friend had somehow twisted their friendship into something dark and menacing, he simply didn’t want to deal with the fact that something similar might have happened with Lindsay. Not that she’d go as far as Mikey, but still ...
If it affected both of them then it must be something in him; some dark unhealthy quality in his soul that ...
“Brian,” Justin’s voice cut across his thoughts. “It’s not you. It really isn’t. With Lindsay it’s more like ... she wants to be the one in control ... of you, of Melanie, of Gus ... and she uses weakness to do it; the tyranny of weakness. She tried to make both you and Melanie be strong and support her all the time, not even caring how that affected the two of you. Especially the way you related to each other. And then she had Gus, and she could play on that even more because she needed you both to support her AND Gus.”
Brian heard him, and somehow the words penetrated the fog of his guilt and self-doubt. He clung to them, and in doing so recognized their truth.
He thought about his long friendship with Lindsay, about how she’d always appealed to the part of him that wanted to be seen as strong, as invincible. How she’d played on that to get him to do just about everything she’d wanted - from playing her “boyfriend” in front of her parents when they’d first met, to sleeping with her “because it has to be convincing”, to giving her his sperm. Not that he regretted that. He could never regret Gus.
But he understood, too, why Lindsay would turn away from that knowledge of her own actions. He’d probably do the same thing.
Words from a long forgotten song float through his mind ... “Let the sunshine in”.
He’d never thought before about what a truly terrifying concept that might be.
Now he would be living with it.
Brian wondered if he was strong enough, brave enough. But what choice did he have? He realized suddenly that letting Justin walk out of his life, letting the sunshine flow out of his life, simply wasn’t an option. And in that realization he found that he could accept what Justin had told him; realized also, to his surprise, that it didn’t change how he felt about the young man in his arms at all, or only to make him even more amazing, more precious; but there was one question he had to ask.
“So what made you angry tonight ... angry enough to do ... that ...?” he nodded towards the tree.
Justin turned his head for a moment to look at the tree, then returned wondering eyes to Brian.
“I don’t know. I swear, Brian, I don’t know. I mean ... I wasn’t angry this time. I just wanted ... I wanted it to be all right. For you. And for Gus. I just wanted to make you both happy.
“And then ...”
His eyes moved once more to the tree, and then he looked up at his lover again.
“I think this time it wasn’t anger,” he said in a voice in which Brian recognized both joy and hope. “I think this time maybe it was ... love.”
Brian stoked his hair with one gentle hand.
He didn’t really understand any of this.
All he knew was that he held love in his arms, and in his heart. And that was enough. It was more, far more than he’d ever believed possible. And it was making this Christmas perfect - lights or no lights.
“Time for bed,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’ve got a fucking long day tomorrow.”
Later, after they’d made their way up the stairs and made love slowly and sweetly as the night deepened around them, Brian lay on the verge of sleep.
Down the hall, his son lay sleeping under the pirate mural Justin had painted for him; downstairs, the lights shone on the Christmas tree, waiting till morning brought the unwrapping of presents and the arrival of his friends to share their Christmas feast; beside him, his Sunshine lay sleeping soundly, his head pillowed on Brian’s shoulder.
If this is what life with some kind of fucking super-hero is like, Brian thought to himself, as he drifted closer and closer to sleep, bring it fucking on.
Merry Christmas to all!
If you're interested in the next "episode", which follows directly on from this one, it can be found here:
The Real Meaning Of ...