Author: Arlad
Summary: Brian gets an unexpected visit from his son.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them
Breathe Me
Brian slid open the loft door wearily. It had been a hell of a week, and not in a good way.
Babylon's light and sound system needed to be replaced, and of fucking course, apparently he was now the only possible authority on fucking light fixtures and sound speakers. This is why he payed people, damn it.
A big account was being dangled at him, in that 'na na na na, you know you want it' annoying kind of way. The account was big enough there was a small bloodbath going on to get it between all the Madison Avenue firms and his own, but he knew he'd get it. He was Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake, and this and sex were his talents. It was still fairly exhausting, though, being so damn brilliant.
Justin was away for this very week, too, setting up a show in New York, so nobody was there to blow job him out of the funk. Or give him an orgasm spectacular enough that everything else faded.
The real fucking cherry on the top of everything, though, was that Cynthia was ill. 'Can't go to work for a week' type of ill. It was a true and rather ridiculous irony that so much of Brian's trust and sanity was placed on a woman.
With a somewhat dramatic sigh he closed the door, shut off the alarm and shrugged out of his coat. It was times like these when he was very grateful they hadn't gotten rid of the upstairs door. Being able to skip the going up the stairs part to get to his Beam and his bed was all too welcome tonight. He was tossing his keys and moving to the liquor cabinet with frenzied need when he saw it.
A dark, tousled head of hair peeking out from the couch. A head he knew quite well.
"Gus, what the fuck are you doing here?"
The teenager being addressed whipped around, eyes wide and startled.
He quietly took in his father, who looked incredibly tired and yet beautiful in a way he could never fully grasp. He knew his dad was hot, not in a creepy Oedipus complex kinda way. No, he knew his dad was hot because any and all of his gay male friends, his allegedly straight male friends and all of his female friends had crushed on him at some point in his life... and gushed like fucking fangirls and groupies.
He vaguely remembered a kindergarten playmate, all of five years old, who was totally infatuated after seeing him at some recital. She'd become terribly annoying, until Gus had resorted to breaking her yellow crayon (her favorite) and telling her in no uncertain terms that his Daddy already had his Justin and didn't like smelly girls, anyway. They stopped being friends after that.
No, what had always impressed him about his dad wasn't just his physical presence. Or the fact that he always looked so in control. It was something else, something only a few people could ever really see. Maybe, if he'd listened to Ben more often instead of perfecting the art of the daydream, he'd be able to say precisely what it was. But the only way he could phrase it was that his dad was shelter. He was protection and understanding, and honesty. Maybe it was his soul. Whatever the fuck it was, Gus had always gone to him first, with everything.
His mothers knew of the things that happened to him, obviously, but ever since he could sort of dial a phone and later, sign in AIM and set up his web cam, Gus had gone to Brian. For childhood fears, for painful puberty and fledgling adolescence. For his joys and his grief, for laughing and 'I'm not fucking crying'.
It was hard, not seeing him all the time. Just summers, just holidays, the occasional flight up when work wasn't impossible. But living in the 21st century had its perks, coming doom, destruction and alleged Apocalypse notwithstanding, and being able to keep in touch with someone was one of the most developed ones.
This time, however, e-mails, texts, phone calls and video feed couldn't cut it. This time, he needed his dad, up close and real.
"Uh… hey, Dad."
Brian lifted an eyebrow, and Gus cringed. Yeah, 'hey Dad' wasn't the most articulate thing he could have said right then.
Brian walked towards him, leaving the shot of Beam for later, and sat down on the couch next to him. He was about to repeat his question, with much more colorful expletives, when he took full stock of his son's appearance. The barely concealed tension, thrumming in him like electricity in a thin wire. The way he ran a hand across his hair – much like himself – and mussed it up terribly. But mostly his eyes. Troubled and faintly afraid. Confused. And Brian knew his son had a good reason to show up in his loft, so he asked a different question.
"Do your mothers know you're here?"
Gus hesitated. Brian rolled his eyes.
"And how long have you been here? Just so I know how much crazy, worried, pissed off lesbian I'm gonna have to take."
"I got here like an hour ago," Gus frowned at his watch. "But my flight left Toronto at five. And I walked out of the house at half past three."
"And how did you manage to pay for a plane ticket?" Brian really hoped theft wouldn't be added to Gus' already long detention-deserving list of actions.
"Well, I had some money saved from mowing lawns and baby sitting for the neighbors… and from my allowance".
Toronto was certainly a friendly place, Brian mused, if a fourteen year old could swing a plane ticket on money made on odd jobs.
Well, this certainly explained the blinking red light in his machine, he was sure he had more than twenty messages; and when he turned on his cell phone it would probably explode with voicemails – he'd been busy enough and tired enough to just shut it off since lunch time.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to keep the headache away. It had been coming all day, but this really made it rear its ugly head with a vengeance.
Before he said anything, Gus stood up, went to into the bedroom and then into the kitchen, which was rarely used as that now except to store water, coffee and beers. He returned with a bottle of water and two pills. Brian took them silently, knowing it was the easy way out. Gus was worse at mothering Brian than Justin, Debbie and Michael, and much more precise at it. The Kinney genes in him made him savvier than most.
Brian took one last drink of water and asked, "So, you want to talk about whatever you came to talk about before or after I call Toronto?"
"Before," Gus didn't hesitate to answer.
Brian nodded, but decided he needed to be slightly more comfortable to have the serious conversation his son's mood heralded. He went into the bedroom, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
"Are you hungry? Want to order pizza or Thai?" he called from the bathroom.
"Already ordered pizza, should get here in a few minutes. Timed it perfectly so you'd be here to pay," Gus' voice drifted over, the amusement evident.
"Little twat," Brian muttered, putting on his softest and oldest jeans on, along with a black wifebeater. Before leaving the bedroom, he fished out a couple of bills out of his wallet to pay for the death by calories Gus had ordered.
Sure enough, the intercom buzzed and Brian could hear Gus letting the delivery man in. Perfect timing indeed. He made his way down the stairs to the first floor of the loft to pay – the door upstairs was reserved for Justin and himself.
He handed the delivery man the money and gave him a generous tip, barely noticing the way the guy ate him up with his eyes. It was quite a rush sometimes to be on the receiving end of such lustful glances when he was already hitting forty three, but he had no patience to relish the moment right then. So with a tight smile, he closed the door.
After grabbing two waters from the fridge downstairs – which was sensibly stocked with groceries Justin bought - he and Gus headed to the most comfortable couch in the place, one that Justin had picked. And Brian had tried to hate. Until he sat down on it.
They ate the pizza with relish, Brian breaking his precious 'no carbs after seven' rule in favor of a relaxed meal with his son. However, soon the pizza was finished and whatever anxiety had brought Gus to Pittsburgh surfaced again.
Brian took a deep breath. He hoped the patron saint of reasonably narcissistic, dangerously charming, gay fathers was looking out for him. Or that Justin would arrive suddenly. He really doubted either thing would happen.
"So – what's up, Gus?" he finally asked.
"I did something bad," Gus started, looking down at his hands. "Something… something really bad."
Brian ran through the worst case scenarios in his head and figured he had more than enough money to deal with them, and a fucking good lawyer.
He didn't speak up, though, knowing Gus was a bit like him in that way. The wrong thing or the right thing said at the wrong time would make him clam up and he doubted that even Justin, at his most determined and stalkerish, could go up against the silence of his son and win.
"I – Dad, I acted like them," Gus spit out the last word like poison. Still not looking up, frowning at whatever he'd remembered. "They were kissing in the locker room, and the rest of the team walked in and… and… they said things. They started saying these things…" he paused, and finally looked up at Brian, the anguish in his eyes so raw it hurt Brian to see it. "And I said things. Me. Even though I have two mothers, and two fathers and like five uncles and even though I know what happened to Justin…" he trailed off, his quickened words still ringing in the sudden silence. "Mark is my friend, Dad. Maybe not my best friend, but we get along. And instead of defending him, of standing up for him and Steve… I called them names. I acted like a homophobic prick." His face was shining with tears and he looked broken, and something inside Brian was breaking too. "And then I just left, I had to leave. And I got home, and mom was there and she kept asking and asking and..." Gus' voice wavered. "And I called her a fucking fag," he choked out. "I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't. I was just so angry at myself. So angry. And she kept asking."
They stayed quiet while Gus breathed deeply, calming down. Brian just waited, not judging and not speaking, waited for Gus to let everything out. Gus tried to still his racing thoughts and racing heart, desperately hoping his dad wouldn't be angry and would forgive him for an offense he'd committed against someone else. But while Gus may not have realized it yet, he'd been absolved the moment he was born and his father first held him in his arms.
"I don't understand why I did it. I've stood up for my friends before, against any kind of bully. I've gone up against the same guys who started in the locker room. But I didn't go against them this time. I – I was one of them," he said with such disgust Brian reached out instinctively, placing a hand on Gus' thigh. Gus looked up at him and in the soft lamplight saw nothing but love and understanding in his father's face. No anger. None of the disgust he felt so deeply. "Why, dad?"
Brian looked at him carefully for a second.
"Gus, I could give you an easy answer. I could tell you it was a momentary lapse of sanity, that it wasn't really you saying those things." Brian paused, considering his next words. "I could tell you that, but I won't. Because the truth is, it was you," Gus looked at him with something akin to despair, and Brian hastened to elaborate. "Sonny boy, people aren't all black or white. We aren't all perfect little angels or dreadful demons. We're a complicated mess of shades of gray… and we're both divine and monstrous. There's both good and bad in us, Gus. And sometimes, the bad wins out." Brian shrugged, tilting his head. "Maybe you were tired. Maybe you wanted, for once, to be part of the pack. Maybe you just had a bad day. But one bad day and one bad thing doesn't mean you're a bad person. It just means you're a person," he said, gently cupping his son's face in his hand. "And I can tell you now, it's not the last bad thing you'll do. But what matters isn't that you do something bad, not really. It's what you learn, and what you grow. What you choose to do from then on."
Gus stared at Brian for a moment, absorbing his words and processing them.
Then, after an audible swallow, he quietly asked, "Do you think my friends will forgive me? Do you think mom will forgive me?"
"You have to ask them. And more importantly, you have to prove to them you're sorry," Brian answered. "But yes, I think they will."
Sorry isn't bullshit, after all. Not when it's truly meant. Not when it's not just a word.
"And… do you forgive me?" Gus looked at Brian with wide eyes.
"Sonny boy – there's nothing to forgive." He smiled softly. And Gus threw himself into his father's arms, for all the world like he was only four and not fourteen, feeling a relief and a love so strong he felt like he was floating.
"I love you," Gus whispered into Brian's ear.
"And I love you. Always will, no matter what," Brian replied.
He thought of the first time he held this body – he was drunk and horny, and fucking terrified. Because he was in love. And not with the blond twink, not yet anyway, but with a tiny blob of pink, looking up at him with eyes so much like his own.
He thought of signing away rights, something inside screaming, because he never knew pen to a paper could hurt.
He thought of the first time Gus said 'Dada'. He thought of the first time they played with trains, and Cowboy Chicken. He thought of his little boy leaving, on a cold, foggy day. A day with more departures than he thought he could stand.
His mind traveled over the years, keeping in touch with his two boys. Both of them growing. Both of them away from him. And yet, they'd never left him. Not really. Not ever. They couldn't. And he couldn't. Because they loved him, and he loved them. In a different way that he'd ever loved anyone else in his life, each one of them differently. But with the same deepness, with the same steadfastness. And they loved him back.
Holding his son, breathing in his tears and his relief, Brian Kinney finally understood that love weighs nothing.
TBC
Author's note: title taken from the song 'Breathe Me' by Sia, which inspired this story. This almost wrote itself in the middle of the night, came to me from nowhere… Please let me know what you think, feedback is heaven :)