fic
Love to the usual suspects, with an extra lick for 
susanderavish. She played a mighty big part for chap 3.
One
Two
Divergence
Three
Justin turns twenty-three and gets a letter from his mother.
Dear Justin,
Hello, sweetie. I was so proud to see your write-up about your paintings. That reporter seemed to like your art, as he should. Please save any more clippings. Debbie has been after me to give her one to frame for the diner.
Would you like to come home for your birthday? I know it was last week (did you get the message I left?) but it’s never too late for cake and presents. Brian has mentioned that he seems to have an excess of frequent flyer miles from business trips for work. He did not ask me to tell you, but I heard him mention it to Michael when Michael wanted to come out a couple of months ago to see how the Rage sequel was coming along. I assume he would be more than happy to let you use them, but then again, with Brian we should never assume anything.
Let me know.
Lots and lots of love,
Mom
He goes home, but he buys his own ticket.
* * *
Daphne picks him up from the airport, and Justin is momentarily struck by how beautiful she is. He’s always known that Daphne was pretty, but her prettiness became ordinary when he saw it every day.
Now she is smiling and confident, no longer punching him in the arm when he makes her laugh but nudging him gently with her elbow, and Justin wonders when she got so gorgeous. He asks her.
“What happened to you while I’ve been gone?”
She giggles and blushes and pays the parking attendant. “I dunno. Maybe you should come home more often.”
Justin doesn’t answer.
* * *
They go to Daphne’s, and Justin is impressed with her little apartment in Squirrel Hill. “How do you afford this?” he asks while looking out at the tree-lined street.
“I turn tricks,” she says casually, and winks at him. Justin isn’t sure she’s joking.
Dinner is pizza and cold beer, and it’s a refreshing change. Sometimes Justin thinks if he has to eat any more finger food at gallery openings or go out to sushi for business dinners, he might vomit all over the people he is supposed to impress. Then again, they’d probably think he had some “in” illness like anorexia and admire his dedication.
He picks off all the pepperoni from his slice and eats it with his fingers. “So when’s the surprise party?”
“Tomorrow night,” Daphne laughs, not bothering to deny it, “but don’t let on you know or Debbie and your mom will kill me. And probably Emmett too, since they left most of the details to him.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll practice clutching my chest in shock.”
“You’re not having a heart attack, Justin, you’re being surprised by your loved ones. Work on it.”
“So, um. Anyone else going?” Justin winces inwardly at how lame it sounds.
“Yes, other people have been invited.” Daphne smiles at him enigmatically.
“And I’m assuming other people did not give an answer whether they will be there or not.” Justin feels stupid for discussing it in these terms, but it keeps it at a distance he is comfortable with.
“Have you not spoken with other people while gallivanting around Los Angeles?” Daphne narrows her eyes at him.
“Other people did not answer my voice mail messages.” Justin feels a little guilty about that, since the messages he had left for ‘other people’ were less than friendly, but at least he tried to make contact. It’s still more than he can say for ‘other people’.
“Whatever,” Daphne sighs. “Wear something nice.”
“Um, Daph? I sort of have a favor to ask.” Justin has considered the request for days, ever since deciding to make the trip home.
“No, you cannot wear my green sweater. Get your own.”
“Ha. No, listen, really. Okay? Are you?”
“Listening. Can I have that last piece?”
“I don’t care. Okay, Daph, now you have to help me out here. Daphne? Stop stuffing your face and listen. You cannot let me have sex with Brian. ” Justin says the last part in a rush, anxious to get it out and more anxious still for her response.
Daphne stops chewing. “Oh, right,” she says, and her voice drips with sarcasm. It alarms Justin.
“No, Daph, come on. I’m not kidding around here.” Justin doesn’t like the desperate tone he can hear in his voice, but he has to count on her for this, because he sure as hell can’t count on himself.
Daphne throws her last pizza crust into the empty box and levels him with her most sensible look. “Justin, come on. First of all, think about what you’re asking me to do. If I get between high voltage and its power source, I’ll be electrocuted. Second of all, that’s just crazy talk. You and Brian haven’t seen each other in nearly a year. You think the both of you can walk into a room and not come within ten feet of each other?” She shakes her head and sighs. “Better rethink that.”
Justin does. He bites the side of his thumbnail for a minute while he and Daphne stare at each other, and then says slowly, “Okay. I get what you’re saying. But Daph, there really is an important part that I need your help with.”
“What part.”
“Do not let me leave with him, Daphne. Do not. I don’t care how many times I tell you it’s okay, I changed my mind, whatever. Daphne! Are you listening?” Justin runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
“You’ve said my name like ten times in the last five minutes. Yes, I’m listening, Justin. I get it. But if I’m going to be the best friend ever and save you from Brian Kinney’s magic mojo, you could at least tell me why. You have a boyfriend or something out there? You didn’t tell me that.” Daphne manages to look interested and hurt at the same time.
Justin fills his cheeks with air and blows it out slowly, trying to think of the best way to put things in perspective. “No, there’s no boyfriend. I just … I just can’t go to Brian’s, Daph. I can’t have sex with him there, and I definitely can’t have sex in his bed. I wouldn’t even let him come to my place last year. Just … don’t let me, okay?”
Daphne scrunches her nose up and regards him thoughtfully. “I remember a time when you made me help you beg, steal, and borrow your way into his bed.”
Justin laughs ruefully. “Me too.”
* * *
Justin pretends to be sufficiently surprised enough to fool the important people. He doesn’t think his mother and Debbie suspect a thing, but Michael catches him in the kitchen and accuses, “You knew.”
“Yep,” Justin agrees, searching the refrigerator for another Coke.
“Daphne told you!”
“Yep,” he says again, and when Michael starts to sputter, Ben rescues Justin.
“Michael,” he explains reasonably, “Justin is twenty-three. That’s a little old for a surprise party.”
“You’re never too old for a surprise party!” Michael looks horrified at the thought, so Ben kisses him.
“I’ll throw you one for your next birthday.” Ben winks at Justin, who gratefully uses the chance to escape.
“Cake!” Debbie announces upon his return to her living room, and then, “Well. Wouldya lookit what the cat dragged in.”
Justin knows whom she’s talking about before ever turning in the direction of her voice, because where Brian’s concerned, Justin always knows. He looks toward the foyer where Brian is hanging his black trenchcoat and thinks about telling Daphne to forget everything he made her promise.
Especially when Brian looks at him with a wry expression and tongue in his cheek and says, “Hello, Sunshine. How’s twenty-three feel?”
“A lot like twenty-two,” Justin manages, and when Brian brushes past him to get to the alcohol, Justin has to close his eyes against the scent of his aftershave.
* * *
Brian gets blindingly drunk and Justin pretends not to notice.
It gets a little hard to pretend, however, when Brian starts leering at him from across the room. Justin shifts uncomfortably and sends a warning look Daphne’s way. He is distressed when she ignores it.
And harder still when Brian progresses from leering at a distance to rubbing up against Justin in the hallway, the alcohol making him reckless in a way that Justin knows is not common for Brian. That realization in itself makes Justin want to hit him, because even after two years of not living and breathing Brian Kinney, Justin still knows his every nuance.
“You got time for a fuck, Sunshine?” Brian whispers in his ear, his voice low with lust and whiskey. “Or do you not do that any more?”
Justin uses his thumb to trace the scratches on the small table in the hall, trying to gain time to steel himself against Brian’s onslaught. Somehow, he thought Brian would be more understated. “Subtle. Age catching up with you?” he snaps, then regrets it, but Brian just laughs.
“You’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself. Why the battle of wills, Justin? I’m horny; you want to get fucked. Don’t tell me otherwise.” Brian splays his legs slightly and nudges his crotch into Justin’s hip.
“I can’t leave,” Justin almost pleads, and hates the desperation he hears.
Brian looks astonished. “Leave? Where did you think we’d go?”
“To the loft,” almost tumbles out of his mouth before he realizes that Brian is not inviting him home. Justin thinks he’s relieved. “Uh … I dunno. To Babylon or something.”
“That’s a long way to go for a piece of ass when there’s a perfectly good bathroom right here.” Brian says everything with characteristic confidence, and Justin finally raises his eyes to look at Brian’s face.
His eyes hold a mixture of amusement and arousal, and Justin wonders when he got so turned on himself. His own cock is throbbing in his khakis just from Brian’s proximity, and he knows Brian’s seen it because he fits a hand in between them and squeezes. Justin has to put a shoulder against the wall to steady himself.
Two years, Justin thinks, two fucking years and it’s still about Brian. It’s always been about Brian.
* * *
Brian fucks him in Debbie’s downstairs bathroom. He turns Justin against the wall and props one leg up on the toilet seat, and takes him swiftly.
Justin scrabbles for purchase against the cheap wallpaper, feeling Brian’s forehead drop to his shoulder and his fingers gripping the soft skin at Justin’s hips. “Look,” Brian growls, and Justin turns his head to the side and looks.
He can see everything in the mirror over the sink, and Justin barely recognizes himself, neck arched, mouth parted. He wonders vaguely if he’s looked like this the thousands of times they’ve had sex; his eyes half-glazed and his tongue moistening his bottom lip. Brian is watching him intently, a single bead of sweat dampening his temple.
“Look,” Brian murmurs again. “Remember it. Remember that when you go back to your cold fucking bed in Los Angeles, and then try to tell yourself that this isn’t home.”
And even as his climax threatens to send him to the floor on his knees, even while Justin throws his head back and comes all over the wall, he manages to grind out, “Not … anymore.”
* * *
Brian shows up at a convenient time to take him to the airport, much to Justin’s surprise. He looks sideways at Daphne, who says simply, “I asked him to take you. I’ve got Pilates.”
So Justin hugs and kisses her goodbye, knowing she’s going to go back inside and make herself dinner and not go to Pilates, but it’s sort of okay.
They ride in silence, Brian’s dark mood enveloping both of them, and reach Justin’s terminal with twenty minutes to spare. Justin slings his duffel over his shoulder and shoves both hands in his pockets. “Thanks,” he says, for lack of anything else.
Brian leans against the passenger side of the car. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Great,” Justin says seriously. “That always means something good.”
A muscle jumps in Brian’s jaw, but he ignores the sarcasm. “I’m done with this,” he says. “I’m done with asking you to come home.”
Justin can’t help it. A bark of laughter escapes him. “Asking me? Since when have you ever asked me to come home? You’ve tried demanding me and telling me and fucking me, and not once have you ever tried being proud of me, Brian!”
Brian’s eyes lower briefly, then raise to Justin’s face again. “That should go without saying.”
Justin sighs, disappointed but unsurprised. “That should never go without saying.”
“You don’t need my approval,” Brian says sensibly. “I don’t have to hold your hand and pat your head and tell you I’m proud of you. I’m not your mommy.”
“No,” Justin says slowly, “you were my partner. And it might have been nice to hear.” He steps forward and leans up to press a kiss against Brian’s cheek. “I can’t miss you for the rest of my life,” he says, and leaves Brian looking mutinous and sullen.
to be continued
susanderavish. She played a mighty big part for chap 3.One
Two
Divergence
Three
Justin turns twenty-three and gets a letter from his mother.
Dear Justin,
Hello, sweetie. I was so proud to see your write-up about your paintings. That reporter seemed to like your art, as he should. Please save any more clippings. Debbie has been after me to give her one to frame for the diner.
Would you like to come home for your birthday? I know it was last week (did you get the message I left?) but it’s never too late for cake and presents. Brian has mentioned that he seems to have an excess of frequent flyer miles from business trips for work. He did not ask me to tell you, but I heard him mention it to Michael when Michael wanted to come out a couple of months ago to see how the Rage sequel was coming along. I assume he would be more than happy to let you use them, but then again, with Brian we should never assume anything.
Let me know.
Lots and lots of love,
Mom
He goes home, but he buys his own ticket.
* * *
Daphne picks him up from the airport, and Justin is momentarily struck by how beautiful she is. He’s always known that Daphne was pretty, but her prettiness became ordinary when he saw it every day.
Now she is smiling and confident, no longer punching him in the arm when he makes her laugh but nudging him gently with her elbow, and Justin wonders when she got so gorgeous. He asks her.
“What happened to you while I’ve been gone?”
She giggles and blushes and pays the parking attendant. “I dunno. Maybe you should come home more often.”
Justin doesn’t answer.
* * *
They go to Daphne’s, and Justin is impressed with her little apartment in Squirrel Hill. “How do you afford this?” he asks while looking out at the tree-lined street.
“I turn tricks,” she says casually, and winks at him. Justin isn’t sure she’s joking.
Dinner is pizza and cold beer, and it’s a refreshing change. Sometimes Justin thinks if he has to eat any more finger food at gallery openings or go out to sushi for business dinners, he might vomit all over the people he is supposed to impress. Then again, they’d probably think he had some “in” illness like anorexia and admire his dedication.
He picks off all the pepperoni from his slice and eats it with his fingers. “So when’s the surprise party?”
“Tomorrow night,” Daphne laughs, not bothering to deny it, “but don’t let on you know or Debbie and your mom will kill me. And probably Emmett too, since they left most of the details to him.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll practice clutching my chest in shock.”
“You’re not having a heart attack, Justin, you’re being surprised by your loved ones. Work on it.”
“So, um. Anyone else going?” Justin winces inwardly at how lame it sounds.
“Yes, other people have been invited.” Daphne smiles at him enigmatically.
“And I’m assuming other people did not give an answer whether they will be there or not.” Justin feels stupid for discussing it in these terms, but it keeps it at a distance he is comfortable with.
“Have you not spoken with other people while gallivanting around Los Angeles?” Daphne narrows her eyes at him.
“Other people did not answer my voice mail messages.” Justin feels a little guilty about that, since the messages he had left for ‘other people’ were less than friendly, but at least he tried to make contact. It’s still more than he can say for ‘other people’.
“Whatever,” Daphne sighs. “Wear something nice.”
“Um, Daph? I sort of have a favor to ask.” Justin has considered the request for days, ever since deciding to make the trip home.
“No, you cannot wear my green sweater. Get your own.”
“Ha. No, listen, really. Okay? Are you?”
“Listening. Can I have that last piece?”
“I don’t care. Okay, Daph, now you have to help me out here. Daphne? Stop stuffing your face and listen. You cannot let me have sex with Brian. ” Justin says the last part in a rush, anxious to get it out and more anxious still for her response.
Daphne stops chewing. “Oh, right,” she says, and her voice drips with sarcasm. It alarms Justin.
“No, Daph, come on. I’m not kidding around here.” Justin doesn’t like the desperate tone he can hear in his voice, but he has to count on her for this, because he sure as hell can’t count on himself.
Daphne throws her last pizza crust into the empty box and levels him with her most sensible look. “Justin, come on. First of all, think about what you’re asking me to do. If I get between high voltage and its power source, I’ll be electrocuted. Second of all, that’s just crazy talk. You and Brian haven’t seen each other in nearly a year. You think the both of you can walk into a room and not come within ten feet of each other?” She shakes her head and sighs. “Better rethink that.”
Justin does. He bites the side of his thumbnail for a minute while he and Daphne stare at each other, and then says slowly, “Okay. I get what you’re saying. But Daph, there really is an important part that I need your help with.”
“What part.”
“Do not let me leave with him, Daphne. Do not. I don’t care how many times I tell you it’s okay, I changed my mind, whatever. Daphne! Are you listening?” Justin runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
“You’ve said my name like ten times in the last five minutes. Yes, I’m listening, Justin. I get it. But if I’m going to be the best friend ever and save you from Brian Kinney’s magic mojo, you could at least tell me why. You have a boyfriend or something out there? You didn’t tell me that.” Daphne manages to look interested and hurt at the same time.
Justin fills his cheeks with air and blows it out slowly, trying to think of the best way to put things in perspective. “No, there’s no boyfriend. I just … I just can’t go to Brian’s, Daph. I can’t have sex with him there, and I definitely can’t have sex in his bed. I wouldn’t even let him come to my place last year. Just … don’t let me, okay?”
Daphne scrunches her nose up and regards him thoughtfully. “I remember a time when you made me help you beg, steal, and borrow your way into his bed.”
Justin laughs ruefully. “Me too.”
* * *
Justin pretends to be sufficiently surprised enough to fool the important people. He doesn’t think his mother and Debbie suspect a thing, but Michael catches him in the kitchen and accuses, “You knew.”
“Yep,” Justin agrees, searching the refrigerator for another Coke.
“Daphne told you!”
“Yep,” he says again, and when Michael starts to sputter, Ben rescues Justin.
“Michael,” he explains reasonably, “Justin is twenty-three. That’s a little old for a surprise party.”
“You’re never too old for a surprise party!” Michael looks horrified at the thought, so Ben kisses him.
“I’ll throw you one for your next birthday.” Ben winks at Justin, who gratefully uses the chance to escape.
“Cake!” Debbie announces upon his return to her living room, and then, “Well. Wouldya lookit what the cat dragged in.”
Justin knows whom she’s talking about before ever turning in the direction of her voice, because where Brian’s concerned, Justin always knows. He looks toward the foyer where Brian is hanging his black trenchcoat and thinks about telling Daphne to forget everything he made her promise.
Especially when Brian looks at him with a wry expression and tongue in his cheek and says, “Hello, Sunshine. How’s twenty-three feel?”
“A lot like twenty-two,” Justin manages, and when Brian brushes past him to get to the alcohol, Justin has to close his eyes against the scent of his aftershave.
* * *
Brian gets blindingly drunk and Justin pretends not to notice.
It gets a little hard to pretend, however, when Brian starts leering at him from across the room. Justin shifts uncomfortably and sends a warning look Daphne’s way. He is distressed when she ignores it.
And harder still when Brian progresses from leering at a distance to rubbing up against Justin in the hallway, the alcohol making him reckless in a way that Justin knows is not common for Brian. That realization in itself makes Justin want to hit him, because even after two years of not living and breathing Brian Kinney, Justin still knows his every nuance.
“You got time for a fuck, Sunshine?” Brian whispers in his ear, his voice low with lust and whiskey. “Or do you not do that any more?”
Justin uses his thumb to trace the scratches on the small table in the hall, trying to gain time to steel himself against Brian’s onslaught. Somehow, he thought Brian would be more understated. “Subtle. Age catching up with you?” he snaps, then regrets it, but Brian just laughs.
“You’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself. Why the battle of wills, Justin? I’m horny; you want to get fucked. Don’t tell me otherwise.” Brian splays his legs slightly and nudges his crotch into Justin’s hip.
“I can’t leave,” Justin almost pleads, and hates the desperation he hears.
Brian looks astonished. “Leave? Where did you think we’d go?”
“To the loft,” almost tumbles out of his mouth before he realizes that Brian is not inviting him home. Justin thinks he’s relieved. “Uh … I dunno. To Babylon or something.”
“That’s a long way to go for a piece of ass when there’s a perfectly good bathroom right here.” Brian says everything with characteristic confidence, and Justin finally raises his eyes to look at Brian’s face.
His eyes hold a mixture of amusement and arousal, and Justin wonders when he got so turned on himself. His own cock is throbbing in his khakis just from Brian’s proximity, and he knows Brian’s seen it because he fits a hand in between them and squeezes. Justin has to put a shoulder against the wall to steady himself.
Two years, Justin thinks, two fucking years and it’s still about Brian. It’s always been about Brian.
* * *
Brian fucks him in Debbie’s downstairs bathroom. He turns Justin against the wall and props one leg up on the toilet seat, and takes him swiftly.
Justin scrabbles for purchase against the cheap wallpaper, feeling Brian’s forehead drop to his shoulder and his fingers gripping the soft skin at Justin’s hips. “Look,” Brian growls, and Justin turns his head to the side and looks.
He can see everything in the mirror over the sink, and Justin barely recognizes himself, neck arched, mouth parted. He wonders vaguely if he’s looked like this the thousands of times they’ve had sex; his eyes half-glazed and his tongue moistening his bottom lip. Brian is watching him intently, a single bead of sweat dampening his temple.
“Look,” Brian murmurs again. “Remember it. Remember that when you go back to your cold fucking bed in Los Angeles, and then try to tell yourself that this isn’t home.”
And even as his climax threatens to send him to the floor on his knees, even while Justin throws his head back and comes all over the wall, he manages to grind out, “Not … anymore.”
* * *
Brian shows up at a convenient time to take him to the airport, much to Justin’s surprise. He looks sideways at Daphne, who says simply, “I asked him to take you. I’ve got Pilates.”
So Justin hugs and kisses her goodbye, knowing she’s going to go back inside and make herself dinner and not go to Pilates, but it’s sort of okay.
They ride in silence, Brian’s dark mood enveloping both of them, and reach Justin’s terminal with twenty minutes to spare. Justin slings his duffel over his shoulder and shoves both hands in his pockets. “Thanks,” he says, for lack of anything else.
Brian leans against the passenger side of the car. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Great,” Justin says seriously. “That always means something good.”
A muscle jumps in Brian’s jaw, but he ignores the sarcasm. “I’m done with this,” he says. “I’m done with asking you to come home.”
Justin can’t help it. A bark of laughter escapes him. “Asking me? Since when have you ever asked me to come home? You’ve tried demanding me and telling me and fucking me, and not once have you ever tried being proud of me, Brian!”
Brian’s eyes lower briefly, then raise to Justin’s face again. “That should go without saying.”
Justin sighs, disappointed but unsurprised. “That should never go without saying.”
“You don’t need my approval,” Brian says sensibly. “I don’t have to hold your hand and pat your head and tell you I’m proud of you. I’m not your mommy.”
“No,” Justin says slowly, “you were my partner. And it might have been nice to hear.” He steps forward and leans up to press a kiss against Brian’s cheek. “I can’t miss you for the rest of my life,” he says, and leaves Brian looking mutinous and sullen.
to be continued