Disclaimer. The writer sadlyunderstands that she has no ownership of the Queer as Folk characters, as they belong soley to the their wonderful creators. Thank you.
After finding his seat in the first class section, Brian Kinney sat down and placed the roses he had bought on an impulse on the seat next to him. Sighing, he looked out of the rain spattered airplane window, questioned himself again on whether or not he should be flying to New York. Brian Kinney was not known for self-reflection, or at least, didn't make a habit of it. Justin had asked him to go to his first gallery opening. So he was going. That's what lovers and partners did and Brian would not let Justin down, even if it did make him queasy. He had long since stopped questioning himself about his love for Justin. He just did. It was not something that he had to question anymore. The war he had raged against himself and his feelings was long over. Justin was the most important person in his life other than his son, Gus. He just was.
It had been over six months since they had seen each other. Before they had parted, Brian had told Justin that it didn't matter if they saw each other the next weekend, the next month, or never again. It was only time. But Brian knew that time could kill the most heated of passions. It killed him to think that things would never be the same between them since their circumstances had changed again, and that Justin may not need him anymore.
Luckily, Justin was an excellent at long distance relationships. He made a point to call Brian at least twice a day. They usually talked during Brian's lunch. Over the months they had gotten particularly good at phone sex. Justin also left daily messages on Brian's answering machine for when he came home at night. These messages were often brief, sometimes just a few words. I love you or I miss you. Buy bread, you're almost out.
As hard as Brian tried not to, he had become to expect those messages. The fear that some day the messages would suddenly stop was paralyzing and occasionally, Brian thought about telling Justin to stop calling altogether. That they had to move on. The cynic in him constantly beat a path to the door of his mind, telling him to lash out; to rage at Justin for leaving him for his dream of being part of the art scene of New York. But he fought against those impulses. He had told Justin to go. He wanted the younger man to be everything that he could. The urge to love Justin made it impossible to do anything that might hurt him. Justin had pulled down all of Brian's walls of selfishness and indifference and had forced him to realize what was important in his life. The battle was over. Justin had won. Justin had made Brian a better man.
Although he was not prone to small romantic gestures, Brian had sent Justin several care packages. The first included roach traps, canned soup, and bottled water; a tongue-in-cheek response to Justin's descriptions of his studio apartment. Later, he had sent the younger man art supplies with the simply scrawled note stating for Justin to paint him something pretty. When Justin had sent him a small self-portrait Brian had had it framed.
"Those are awfully pretty flowers. Are you bringing them to someone special?" The pretty fight attendant asked him interrupting his brooding. Over the years, she had become used to obviously rich, high-powered, good-looking men traveling to New York City. But there was something about this man sitting in section D that made her insides twist. She had noticed him when he boarded the plane. It wasn't often that she felt flustered by a passenger, but there was something about this man that oozed extra sex appeal. There was something that made you want to do everything you could in order to please him. His dark bedroom eyes held yours till you thought that you'd drown in them. Oh yes. This was a man that was good looking and knew it, but wasn't using it to his advantage at the current moment. Unfortunately for her, she thought.
"I'm sorry?" Brian asked, not hearing her question.
"Your flowers. They're very pretty. They must be for someone special."
With a shake of his head, Brian smiled at her. "Yes. He is."
The flight attendant sighed. What a waste. Why did all the perfect ones have to be gay? She smiled at him and then asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Scotch. Thank you," he replied after a moment's hesitation. He hoped that the scotch would do something for his nerves. Christ, he thought., has it really come to this? What had become of the Teflon Brian Kinney? The one who didn't give a shit about what people thought, or their feelings? Before, Brian would have mocked everything, including himself, for the nerves. Being nervous made you weak and stupid. It made you make bad decisions, and if you were going to make bad decisions, at least make them for the right reasons.
Nodding, the flight attendant went to get Brian his drink. When she came back, she smiled again at him and handed him a crystal glass filled with the amber liquid.
"Here you are sir. We'll be departing in a moment. Is there anything else I can get you?" She asked hopefully. A girl could dream, she thought.
"No. This is fine," he said looking up at her. He gave her a dismissive half smile. He could tell that she was interested in him. He always could, but tonight, with so much at stake, he wasn't willing to play. With Justin on his mind, he didn't have time for straight women or flirtations.
"Sure thing. Let me know if you change your mind. We'll be departing shortly."
Brian nodded again and then contemplated the amber liquid in his glass. He was not particularly fond of the beverage, but he drank it down quickly. He could feel the plane start to push back from the gate and half listened to the pilot asking for the attendants to make the cabin ready. There was no turning back now. He was leaving Pittsburgh, and in less than two hours, he would be in New York City. In less than four he would be with Justin again. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift over some of his memories of Justin and their life together.
He thought back to the first night they were together. Brian had been under the influence, and Justin had been underage. Gus had been born that night. It never stopped amazing him that Justin had named his son. That even if they hadn't gotten together, Justin still would have left a mark on his life in some way.
Brian then thought about Justin's prom. How beautiful it had been to dance with him under the hot lights of the dance floor. How beautiful not to have to hide who they were, to shock all of the homophobes at the high school.
With a wince, Brian remembered seeing Justin's bashing. Watching his lover's head be hit with a baseball bat and seeing him fall to the ground was something that he hadn't been able to forget. The horror foiled the beauty of the night as perfectly as a Shakespeare villain. That night, he hadn't known if Justin was going to live. God, what a terrible waste that would have been, he thought. The damage to the blonde's hand still was something that he lived with.
Brian knew that Justin still struggled with physical therapy exercises and that sometimes it still hurt him to paint. That was part of why the gallery opening was so important. It wasn't just to show a brilliant young artist's talent. It was to also show his triumph. Brian felt the pride swell in his chest. It was one more reason that Brian loved him.