Premise: Brian and Justin, after a period of distance and uncertainties. How will they make sense of each other?
Disclaimer: Underlying characters and plot used are from the series, not owned by me. Post-513 creations are self-imagined possibilities of a fan in love with the realness of history's best fiction couple.
Chapter 1
I ring the doorbell then step back, straightening my tie. My reputation is all in presentation, and it's always the best.
"Oh, hello, Brian. I wasn't expecting you," Jennifer answers a bit surprised yet polite. We hug. "Please, come in." I enter, but stay by the door.
The house is crowded with appropriateness. People, pictures, flowers and finger food. 'Can't beat country club training', as Justin used to say. Thoughts of her son leave as I offer a bouquet of white lilies.
"My condolences, Jennifer. Kitty was a lovely lady, and I'm not just saying that because she was my client."
"Thank you, Brian. I miss my aunt dearly, but she lived a wonderful life. And for her, the fondness was mutual." Jennifer turns to lay my gift on a table, a tear in her eye. She smoothes out her elegant black dress and pearls, to gain composure.
"May I offer you a drink? Scotch, neat, right?" I gently stop her from leading me out of the entrance, to the bar deeper in Kitty's grand living room. Boozing and smoozing with a bunch of phony flesh-bags isn't part of the deal. I liked Kitty, a lot, but her family leaves a dirty trick taste in my mouth.
"Actually Jennifer, I must head back to the office. I couldn't make it to the service, but still wanted to pay my respects."
"Oh, of course; I understand. It truly means a lot to us." Jennifer's warm smile jogs memories of another blonde. "I'll walk you out," she guides me with a hand on my arm. The years have given us one of those unique relationships you only find in America. Justin and I are no longer a couple, but his mother and I can't get rid of each other, thanks to her friendship with Debbie, her being my realtor and, eventually, Kitty hiring me. Having her in my life hasn't killed me yet, so I figure it's working.
"Mom, Father James is ready to- Brian?"
I whip around speechlessly to face the voice. Kitty guest appearing at her own funeral wouldn't even pull this reaction. Think of the Devil and he'll appear, I guess.
"Justin." There's my voice. A lifetime of success has made me a master at damage control. I shake off the shock. Never look the way you feel.
Jennifer is caught in headlights. It's obvious, with all she's been through, she didn't think of this possibility. I don't blame her. She can't be guardian to my and Justin's non-relationship–we're adults. She stutters to apologize for the inconvenient awkwardness. My hand on her back tells her not to bother; she remembers her escape route, instead.
"I should go see what Father James wants." Coward. I stand tall in front of the only man to ever be my equal and exude the cordiality I use on potential clients.
"How are you?" I break Justin's trance. His pink, fluffy lips gape a couple times before his brain catches up.
"Good. Good. I'm good. Given the circumstances." At least he looks it. I know his art and New York are still a hit. Have been for a while. He hasn't changed much physically, besides the Adam Lambert-ish styled bangs. His face seems a bit fuller, but it works on him. I lock eyes with his deep blues.
"I'm sorry about your aunt."
"Thanks. I'm so used to her being here; I can't believe she's gone. After my da- Craig disowned me, she told me she stormed into his store during a busy clearance sale, and wrote 'Fuck You Nazi' on a $5,000 TV, in pink spray paint. She told him in front of his shoppers that 'only Nazis turn on their sons', and that he'd 'been marked'. It won't be the same without her," Justin smiles; I must say he's got a point.
"Well I'm gonna head back to work now, so..."
"Yeah, yeah, of course. How's Kinnetik these days? I see your ads all over Times Square. I'm proud of you." Justin's comment is sincere; smile genuine. I know he knows more than he claims to, after an 'anonymous well-wisher' paid for the catering of our lavish "Kinnetik World" launch party last year.
"So am I. My original core staff's still putting up with me, but we've grown beyond expectation. As I always say: 'you can never be too big'." Justin's cheeks blush and I smirk with a straight face, feeling the connection we still have.
As we attempt farewells, a dark haired lady I've never met, with a wriggling baby in her arms, interrupts. I see some resemblance and assume she's some kind of cousin. She looks me over flirtatiously before approaching Justin. What is it with this family?
"Where's her bag? I think she's hungry." The 'she' in question is a tiny bundle of pink and blue, with curly light brown hair and a tan complexion, being passed off to Justin.
"In the kitchen; her bottle's in the fridge. Microwave it for thirty-seven seconds. Thanks Sarah," Justin commands graciously. He's trying to calm the baby down, and the bitch is having none of it. A fussy whine pitches, too new for a lot of noise but enough for attention.
"You are hungry, aren't you? Hmm? Yes, I know. I know. You're gonna get your ba-ba soon." Justin's cooing, smiling and soothing her in his arms, clearly forgetting my existence. For some reason, the exchange between them screams "routine". What's-her-name finally returns with something milk-like and hands it to Justin. She assures him she checked the temperature, before walking off. The nipple slides into the baby's mouth, and she sucks without abandon. She'd make a great fag.
"Still babysitting huh? At least Gus' no longer your last victim," I quip. I'll never deny how instrumental he is-was?- in my son's life–especially Gus' early years.
Justin looks up from "Ms. Piggy", as if seeing me for the first time. That look of discomfort means I'm missing something. I hope I'm gone before it's found.
"Oh God! Nobody told you?" Justin is in disbelief.
"Told me what?" My eyebrows scrunch in pure confusion. I better Botox tomorrow.
"Uh, Brian," Justin says panicky, "she's my daughter." Next time Kitty dies, I'll mail my respects.