I just watched Rebel Without A Cause for the first time in a while. This story popped into my head as I was mowing the lawn and thinking about the two scenes in the observatory where Jim and Plato talk about the end of the world. So I've written this 2012 piece. I do not believe in the 2012 conspiracy, I think it's stupid. But this plot bunny wouldnt leave me alone so here it is. Warning: it's extremely angsty. I was getting a little teary as I wrote it.
Justin has been home for almost exactly two years. He came home a week after Thanksgiving, waiting for Brian on the white couch by the windows. Brian didn't see him for a while, and went about stripping off his clothes and getting in the shower. Justin smirked, looking around the room. His paintings took up space on the walls. He could see his white leather jacket still hung up by the mirror. He'd forgotten to take it with him the night he left, and hadn't bothered to ask for it back.
Brian didn't notice him at all until he sneezed. Then his lover was bounding out of the bedroom, shirt only halfway on, pulling him close and mashing their lips together. He pulled away only to ask "When the fuck did you get here?"
Justin grinned. "Doesn't matter. I'm staying." He tugged Brian's shirt off again and soon they were fucking on the couch, face-to-face, a happier version of Justin's last night in the loft.
He and Brian have been living in the loft now. Gus and the girls moved back to Pittsburgh about three and a half years ago, and Gus comes over to visit all the time. Michael and Ben live in across town, but they come around all the time as well. Debbie's still working her ass off at the diner, although a lot of times now she's just a regular who gets up and works when she feels like it.
Brian is happy. He finds it strange, but he is. For the first time in years, he's happy and content. His family is with him. The two most important men in his life are home. His two businesses are successful and everyone he knows and loves is healthy.
As the days grow darker, people begin to yell in the streets and protest and prophesize. Brian and Justin roll their eyes. People have been talking and debating and arguing over this date for years. Neither of them cares nor believes in the conspiracy enough to take much notice.
Michael joins in the cacophony one night during family dinner.
"Did you hear about the end of the world thing?"
The family groans. Lindsay puts on a worried face but says nothing. Everyone else rolls their eyes.
"Seriously, Mikey? You believe that shit? People thought the world was going to end and all computers would explode or take over the world or something when 2000 came around. That didn't happen. So why the hell would you believe the hype about this?"
That shuts him up, temporarily. Really, Brian doesn't want to hear about it anymore. The group of crazy hobos on the sidewalk across from his building already yell about it too much, anyway. He was done with it in 2009, when the commercials for that stupid movie started airing. The family goes back to eating, ignoring the interruption, changing the subject to whose house to go to to celebrate Christmas.
That night, when the hobos start yelling, Brian sticks his head out the window and screams at them to shut up. They silence and stare up at him, then shake their heads and move on down the street. Brian smiles a little at the silence, then makes his way back up to the bedroom and his blonde lover.
When scientists at NASA confirm the theories to be true, there is no 'told you so' from Michael. Brian comes home from Kinnetic to find Justin sitting in front of the dark TV, staring at nothing. He frowns. Justin looks up at him through frightened eyes.
"It's true. NASA confirmed the theories. It's going to happen." Brian blinks at him, then sits down and pulls him close. He stares at the black screen too, wondering what will happen.
As the date nears, the world gets more frantic. Powerful people are making angry speeches and declarations and prophecies. Regular people are buying up pricey vacations, huge houses, expensive things they've never really been able to afford but always wanted. Traffic is ridiculous because everyone is trying to visit the people they care about.
On the nineteenth, everyone gathers together at Debbie's house. Gus and Jenny are old enough to understand what's going on, and Gus sticks to his father's side. They eat lasagna like it's a normal family dinner, although it's actually lunchtime, but when they're all done, they group together in the living room, sitting in chairs and couches and on the floor.
They're not really sure who starts, but suddenly they're going around telling each other things. Secrets, declarations, wishes, fears, everything and anything. Their eyes are dry; they've cried themselves out since the news first broke. At first everyone is talking over each other, but then they're taking turns.
"I always thought you were the most gentle, most considerate person I've ever known, Brian." Emmett says quietly. Everyone else nods. Brian puts his head down; it's still hard for him to take a compliment.
"The happiest day of my life was the morning after Gus was born." Melanie smiles at Lindsay.
"I know you're Brian's best friend now, and I know you know him better than I do, Justin. It doesn't bother me anymore."
"You always give me hope. You always push me to keep going and support me when I fall and I love you for it." Tears spring to Emmett's eyes and he sobs his thanks into Ted's shoulder.
"Sometimes I wish you'd just infect me so we could do it raw." Michael ducks his head. Ben puts his arms around his husband. "I know."
"I was always jealous of you, Mel, for having nice parents that cared about you." Lindsay sighs.
"I hated it when you didn't talk to me, but I think it brought us closer together. Because I learned to read your body, Brian. And I know what you're saying."
"I've always been afraid of the dark." Ted shrugs.
"I'd rather top than bottom." Emmett admits.
"I'm glad you chose Ben over David." Debbie smiles.
"Vic's death scared the shit out of me. I wanted to start shooting up again, but I didn't want to hurt you anymore than you already were."
"I've been afraid of crowds, of baseball bats, of parking garages, of hateful stares, of loud noises, ever since the bashing. Too long. I hate it." Brian's arms tighten protectively around Justin.
"I had nightmares for months after seeing you get hit. I didn't sleep because I knew my screams would be worse than yours." The room is silent. Justin turns in Brian's arms, pressing their foreheads together, whispers gently to him, kisses him hard.
"I never forgot your name." Blake admits to Ted. "I just wanted an excuse not to blame myself."
"I saw Vic in my dreams when I was in surgery after the bombing. He looked amazing. He told me that he loved it where he was and that he missed everyone. Especially you, Ma." Debbie covers her mouth with her hand.
"The happiest night of my life was the night Stockwell lost."
"George was my soulmate. I'm glad we had the time we did."
"I kept the rings. And the scarf. And I was the one who bought your drawing at the GLC show."
"I know."
They talk and talk until evening. Gus comes home with Brian and Justin. They eat ice cream and watch Monty Python And The Holy Grail—Gus is into comedy movies right now—with Justin and Gus reciting the lines in time with the movie. Brian sits on the couch with Justin lying sideways in his lap. Gus is sitting on the floor between his father's legs. One of Brian's hands is on Gus's shoulder, the other one stroking Justin's hair. He feels strangely happy. He's glad to have these two boys in his life.
When it's time for him to go home, Gus clings to Brian. Brian clenches the boy to him just as tightly. He doesn't want to let go, ever. He feels his breathing getting heavier, a knot building in his throat. He kisses the side of Gus's head.
"I love you Gus. I love you, Sonnyboy."
"I love you, Dad." Gus reluctantly lets go of his father and walks over to Justin. He wraps his arms around the blonde. "I love you too, Daddy Justin."
Tears spring into Brian's eyes, mirroring Justin's. Justin makes a small noise in his throat, squeezes the little boy tightly. "I love you Gus. You're my favorite."
Gus goes back to his father, latching on to Brian again. Justin comes up to them and puts one arm around Brian, the other around Gus. They stand there, holding each other until the Munchers knock on the door.
"Bye, Daddy."
"Later, Gus. Not goodbye, later."
Gus nods. "Later, Daddy."
"Later, Sonnyboy."
The girls and Brian and Justin exchange sentiments of goodbye. The loft door slides shut, and Brian sags against the counter, tears falling uninterrupted down his cheeks. Justin is crying as well. They cling to each other, foreheads pressed together.
"He called me Daddy."
"You are. You're his other Daddy."
"God." Justin's head drops to Brian's shoulder. "I can't stand this."
Brian's head turns and he nuzzles the side of Justin's face. He breathes in the citrus scent of his blonde lover, feeling Justin's ribcage expand beneath his arms and knowing he is doing the same.
They make slow, sweet love on the floor. Then they move to the bedroom, but the pace doesn't increase. They are savouring every touch, every movement, every scent. When they're finished, Brian wraps his arms and legs around Justin and pulls him close, like he's trying to fuse them together. Justin wraps himself in Brian and reciprocates. They fall asleep breathing each other's breath.
On the morning of the twentieth, they wake up early and fuck, shower, eat. They don't bother to read the news; they know it will only tell of the impending date and the suicide rate and the crime increase and other things that are symptomatic of doomsday. They snuggle on the couch, naked, and watch Rebel Without A Cause. During the scene in the observatory at the beginning, Brian clutches Justin just a little closer. Justin buries his head in Brian's chest when the lights flash, hiding, just like Plato.
They recite only two lines with the movie, delivering them together, aware of the weight of the words.
Jim leans against the edge of the partition in the observatory, looking at Plato, who stares back at him, frightened and upset.
"Do you think the end of the world will come at night time?" he asks the older boy. Plato trusts him with the horrifying answer.
"Uh-uh," Jim answers softly, almost morbidly, an awful foreshadowing both in the movie and now in life. "At dawn."
When the movie ends, they turn off the TV and go back to the bedroom. First they just lie together, smoking, talking. Just meaningless little conversations about Justin's art, Brian's ad awards, celebrity drama.
They fuck hard and fast, grunting and screaming, and fall asleep together. They wake later in the afternoon, shower and then wander around the loft, uncertain of what to do. Creating a painting or ad for the hell of it is pointless, and they don't want to go outside. Justin makes food, but isn't hungry, doesn't eat it and throws it in the sink.
They retire again to the bedroom, their safe space, the space that is them. Justin leans his head on Brian's chest, kisses his throat.
"Brian?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you fuck me raw tonight?"
Brian swallows thickly, nuzzles his lover gently. "Yes, Sunshine."
Justin begins to kiss and suck his way down Brian's chest, making him arch upward. He laves his tongue in Brian's navel, and the brunette groans. He moves lower, tangling the fingers of his left hand in the hair above Brian's cock, his other hand coming around the base of his dick.
He seals his lips around Brian, bobbing up and down, stroking the thick vein with his tongue. Every time he feels Brian get close, he backs off until he calms down again. He suckles at the head of Brian's dick, then slips two fingers into his own mouth as well, wetting them with his spit and Brian's precum, moving them down and circling Brian's hole. When he presses inside, Brian arches, pressing down on his fingers, and they slide in deeper. Justin moans around Brian's cock at the heat and pulsing around his fingers. Brian thrusts down on Justin's fingers, groaning and keening. Justin tongue-fucks Brian's slit, and Brian comes with a cry, his body snapping back, pressing his cock against the back of Justin's throat as he pulses hot and heavy into his mouth. Justin swallows around his pulsing cock, sucking softly past the aftershocks. He moves up Brian's body and kisses him, hot and open-mouthed, passing Brian's seed between them.
Brian stays sprawled against the pillows for a while, breathing, coming down. Then he rolls over onto his stomach, wriggling down so his face is level with Justin's lap, and reciprocates, pressing his fingers relentlessly against Justin's prostate until he's about to come, then backing off and simply lapping at his thighs. Justin has never had as much self control as Brian, and ends up begging. Brian moans at the sound of his voice, at the hitch in his breath, and lets him come.
Night has almost fallen, there's almost no light peeking over the horizon. They look out the large windows of the loft down to the street. People are running around in a frenzy. The crazy hobos are gone, perhaps moved on to another street, perhaps dead now that they've realized their beliefs were right. They can hear yelling and laughter and crying. Someone is singing drunkenly, they can hear it carry across the wind.
Brian's nervous energy gets the better of him, and he paces, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His mind turns to Gus and he wants to yell at the sky for the unfairness of his kid not getting to really live life. He wants to scream to whatever is up there that he's not done living, not done loving Justin or having Justin love him. He's not ready to die. He's not ready to be alone.
Justin watches him pace from his seat on the couch, lost in his own thoughts. He's admiring Brian's naked body glowing in the light from the stars, which are brighter and more fiery than usual. He wishes there was some way to express to Brian just how much he loves him, but there aren't any words in any language large enough or strong enough or intense enough to encompass it.
When Brian tires and sits down on the couch, his jittery need to move seems to transfer to Justin, who jumps up and begins to pace, himself. Brian watches the pale body walking back and forth, thinking back to all the times he's ever seen or held Justin in his arms, thinking of the strange awareness of how fragile Justin is, and yet just how impossibly strong he is.
Around eleven, they get back into bed. Brian turns the clock away from them. They're not sure when the world's going to end tomorrow, but they know how they want to go out. This time they forgo the condom, knowing that it doesn't matter whether they've been tested or not. Brian prepares Justin carefully, making sure he's stretched and slick. Justin moans at the heat of Brian's bare cock against his hole. They both gasp at the incredible heat as Brian presses inside. He can feel every wrinkle and ridge of his ass, is brutally aware of Justin's walls pulsing against his cock. He thrusts three times against Justin's prostate, and comes hard. Justin cries out at the feeling of Brian's seed burning hot inside him, and comes as well.
They fuck for hours, in every position they can think of. Brian has no idea how many times they've come, and he doesn't really care. This is amazing, and he wishes it could go on forever. The stars are so horribly bright he can see Justin's expression of pleasure perfectly. Justin's ecstasy is so beautiful it hurts.
They fuck face to face as the first tendrils of light crawl up the sky. Brian whispers "At dawn" when he sees the glow peeking through the curtains. They're wrapped around each other, clutching and clinging. Justin clings to Brian's back, staring into his lover's eyes. Brian's hands are tangled in Justin's hair, his safety spot. His eyes are bright green flecked with deep gold. He's holding back tears, but as he thrusts slowly against Justin, they fight their way out of his eyes and land on Justin's cheeks. Justin pulls Brian's face close, aware of the heat suddenly searing everything, of the light increasing frighteningly fast. They press their foreheads together, kissing, hands twining together. Justin stares at Brian's harshly lit face, their tears mingling. There's a rumbling coming from somewhere, and the screams from outside are getting louder, shriller, harsher.
"Brian," Justin whispers. He tries to go on, but his throat catches and works. The heat increases, as does the rumbling. A scream rises louder than the rest, and suddenly cuts off. The sound of an explosion ripples through their awareness.
"Brian," Justin can speak again, and his voice is full of too much emotion. "I love you more than words can ever express. I wish I could say how much I adore you, how much I feel for you, but there's nothing equal. I love you so much."
Brian groans against the heat that's pressing against them, scalding them. They can feel the building shaking, the rumbling right on top of them. He presses faster into Justin, nuzzling his face, then pushing upward, tangling one hand in his hair and staring deep into his eyes. "I love you, Justin Taylor. I love you so much."
Justin opens his mouth to say something, but Brian thrusts one last time and they're coming hot and hard and blinding white. But the blinding white light continues, the heat scorching everything, the rumbling deafening their ears even though their ears are already deaf to anything but their own pleasure, their skin is immune to everything except the other's touch, their eyes are blind except for each other. Their lungs fill with the scent of the other, ignoring the smell of smoke and death and fear. The heat sears them, burning them, melting them together. The light flashes one more time, a shrieking crash, and then blackness.