A/N: This one fic was written by special request for my beta's birthday today - I hope you enjoy it! Happy Birthday, Gloria! Thanks for all you do for me.:)
Thursday Morning – Britin
Brian scowled as he glared into the master bathroom's large vanity mirror, hoping what his eyes were seeing was merely an optical illusion caused by the unnatural lighting overhead. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing…Could he?
But as he leaned in more closely and squinted his eyes in an attempt to see a little more clearly, he knew it wasn't just a trick being played by their bathroom's recessed lighting. No, the evidence was there plain as day – Brian Kinney, the forever-young embodiment of Liberty Avenue, definitely had a gray, almost white hair peeking out of the top of his head.
Shaking his head in disgust as if he were mourning a long-time friend now about to depart, he opened up the top drawer to his right and pulled out a pair of tweezers, normally unused except for an occasional splinter or thorn Justin always seemed to be rewarded with when he tried to pretend he was a master gardener around their landscaped grounds. Separating the rebellious hair from the rest of his still-auburn head (thank God his hair wasn't thinning, too – he didn't think he could go on if that were the case) he grasped the offending intruder with the tweezers and, closing his eyes against the inevitable, gave it a firm tug.
"Shit!" he cried out loudly as the hair came out along with several skin cells. He rubbed his head with his hand against the pain as he heard his husband in the next room calling out to him.
"Brian? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing," Brian reassured him hastily as he quickly placed the tweezers back into the drawer for fear Justin would discover what he was doing. It was bad enough finding a gray hair on his head, but having a husband in the prime of life who didn't seem to age a day no matter what he did didn't help the circumstances any. Trying quickly to come up with an explanation, Brian finally replied, "I just hit my funny bone against the sink."
"You don't have a funny bone," was the dry retort. Brian couldn't help snorting a little in reaction at the snappy comeback as he quickly rubbed some expensive styling gel into his hair and, tying a thick, navy-blue towel around his slender hips walked out of the bathroom to find Justin struggling to fix his silk tie around his neck. He smirked; Justin hated wearing formal clothes so much that on the few occasions when he did have to wear them it seemed his country-club lessons on attire promptly flew out the window.
"Aaargh!" he growled out in frustration as he sighed melodramatically. Justin peered into the dresser's mirror to see Brian coming up behind him. "Help me out here, will you? If I don't leave for the airport in the next five minutes, I'm going to miss the fucking plane."
His scalp still stinging somewhat from the errant gray hair he had plucked from his head, Brian feigned nonchalance as he walked over to Justin who turned around to face him. For a moment someone else's birthday other than his own impending one came to mind as Justin gazed up into his eyes with that mesmerizing stare, just like the one he had fixed upon him so many years ago when he had helped him tie his tie – just before that horrendous misstep he had taken with the birthday hustler. If only he had opted back then to just give him some damn roses instead - or any other gift - things might have turned out differently afterward. The only good part about the whole fiasco was that eventually the two of them had been able to reconcile their differences and fall even more deeply in love than before; it hadn't been easy – or all smooth sailing – but it had definitely been worth it. Now as Justin gazed up at him with a soft smile, he found himself realizing how awful it felt to think that someone – no, not just someone, Justin – had forgotten his own birthday tomorrow. Now he knew how Justin had felt that first time when he had told him birthdays were no big deal. Paybacks were definitely a bitch, he decided ruefully.
Initially he had figured that turning 40 would evoke vehement feelings in him that the last thing he wanted to do was celebrate that fact. But a lot of things had changed between his 30th, so-called 'death day' celebration and this one. Sure, he didn't relish the idea of turning the big '4-oh' and everything that it suggested. But he was actually happy with his life as it was now; he was content to just be with Justin. He liked their life together. It wasn't boring, it wasn't stifling; no, it was wonderful to have a supportive, passionate, and challenging partner by his side every day. Justin was enough; he was MORE than enough. Justin was perfect for him in every way. Why bother with anyone else, then?
He had to admit, though, that the realization that someone so perfect as his husband hadn't given him any indication at all that he remembered tomorrow was his birthday made him feel inexplicably melancholy. Not only had Justin not said a word about his birthday, but he was going out of town for four days until Sunday. He bit back a disappointed sigh as he straightened up Justin's tie and tightened it. "There," he murmured as he leaned down and, grasping his husband's shoulders, kissed the tip of Justin' nose. "All business-like and ready to take on the bigwigs of the art world."
Justin rolled his eyes, feeling like a little boy getting his father's approval regarding his manner of dress. "Thanks," he told him. "I'm glad you approve...Dad," he teased him back.
Dad. Somehow even with Justin kidding him, he didn't like the sound of that – not unless Gus was saying it. It sounded so…Ancient. "Don't stretch your luck, twat," he chided Justin as he let him go; all of a sudden he felt decidedly foolish as well as old. "You'd better get going," he reminded him gruffly as he turned to leave the room.
Justin, however, grabbed Brian's wrist in apparent concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly, knowing exactly why Brian was acting the way he was, but pretending that he didn't understand.
"I'm glorious as usual," Brian quipped in his typical, flippant way. "You're going to be late, Justin."
Justin nodded, finding it hard to keep from smiling at the pout on Brian's face. "Yeah," he agreed as he walked over to the bed to pick up his art portfolio. For the next four days, he told Brian he would be pounding the pavement in Philadelphia, trying to expand his statewide coverage to the eastern part of the state. Since he had moved back to the Pitts approximately three years ago after lukewarm success in New York, he had been able in large part with the help of some of his former PIFA professors, as well as some colleagues of Sidney Bloom's, to establish himself in two galleries downtown, enough to receive prices in the four-figure range for some of his works; it was much more reward and notoriety than he had ever achieved in the Big Apple. Not only that, one of his most faithful buyers – besides Brian, of course, who still insisted on paying for whatever works he wanted to display at Kinnetik – was a well-known commodities broker throughout the state and had arranged for him to meet with some art gallery friends who were based in Philadelphia with the hope he could branch out his name recognition.
It was too good an opportunity for him to pass up, so he had called last week to set up appointments with some of them. What Brian didn't know, however, was that his trip wasn't going to last four days; he planned on accomplishing everything he needed to do later today so he could return tomorrow in time for Brian's birthday. He wouldn't have missed that for anything, partly because he figured his husband would be having a major queen out over the occasion, but mainly because he wanted to commemorate the day quietly with the man he loved; his husband. God, he loved to say that! Having Brian unexpectedly ask him to marry him again last year, followed by a small, intimate wedding ceremony on the grounds of their home shortly afterward (thanks to the state approving gay marriages at last), had been one of the best days of his life, and had more than made up for the limited success he had found in New York City.
He hefted his art portfolio up onto his shoulder, feeling Brian's eyes boring into him from behind. Juggling the heavy canvas bag to rest higher on his shoulder blade, he turned and walked over to Brian, his eyes unable to help raking appreciatively over the still-wet body, his gaze lingering on the lean, muscled torso that he had draped himself across more times than he could count after they had made love, the strong arms that held him so protectively when he was upset or anxious, the luscious, raspberry-colored lips that could drive him to distraction, and the eyes – the eyes that practically pierced all the way into his very soul, making him feel exposed but also so loved.
"Justin, what are you doing?" Brian asked him curtly as he approached, unable to keep some of the irritation out of his voice over his husband's memory lapse. "Go – you have an important meeting this afternoon and you don't want to blow this opportunity." Despite feeling sorry for himself, he was still worried that Justin would do something to miss out on what could be an excellent chance to make his name – and his talent – more well-known.
But Justin needed to do one more thing before he left. "I'm going," he assured him before he dropped the portfolio to lean it against his side. He stood up on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Brian's neck as he told him, "but I need a proper goodbye first from my husband."
Despite his internal pity-party being waged inside, Brian couldn't help leaning down to brush Justin's lips with his own, his arms sliding around Justin's waist and around to his back to hold him close against his taller frame. Justin instinctively opened his mouth with a satisfied sigh of pleasure as Brian's tongue plunged in to taste the unique sweetness lying there.
After several seconds of kissing, both parted reluctantly, Justin knowing he really did have to hurry or he would miss his flight. He feathered some soft hair behind Brian's neck as he gazed up into his eyes and whispered, "I love you, you know. I'm going to miss you." He knew it would just be for one night – God knows they had been apart at times longer than that before – but he still hated being away from him.
Brian knew Justin was being heartfelt and loved him; he had always known that. But he still couldn't help feeling sorry for himself just the same. Justin hadn't even left and he was missing him already, too, which made the situation even worse. "I know," he conceded as he kept his hands linked behind Justin's back. "And I love you," he repeated back to him sincerely. Even though it bothered him that Justin had forgotten, he still loved the man with all his heart. Perhaps it was poetic justice after the way he had treated him on his birthdays, anyway.
Justin nodded as he reluctantly let go of his husband and nodded. "I'll see you on Sunday," he reminded him as he picked up his portfolio again and turned to leave. Just as he reached the doorway, he turned around, his eyes widening in realization as he palm-slapped himself against the side of his head. "Shit, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed.
Finally, Brian couldn't help crowing in triumph silently. "What?" he asked innocently, more than willing to wait for his victory.
"I won't be here tomorrow to pick up your laundry from the dry cleaners! The retrieval ticket is downstairs by the phone; would you have time to do it? I know you wanted your favorite suit back before that big meeting with Reliable on Monday." That was currently Brian's latest object of pursuit; Pennsylvania's largest supplier of medical supplies had been his target for some time now, and on Monday he finally would have a chance to steal the company's business away from one of his biggest rivals across town.
Sure…Why not? Brian thought morosely as his face fell just a little. I don't have anything BETTER to do. I have half a mind to go fuck the cute brunet who owns the place as my own private birthday present, too, in fact. But he knew he wouldn't do that, no matter how hot the guy was; his heart was too firmly attached to his husband's now. "Yeah…I can do that," he told Justin half-heartedly instead.
Justin smiled in relief. "Good. Well, I'd better get going. I'll see you Sunday afternoon." He turned and hurried down the hall, afraid he would erupt with laughter over Brian's sulking before he could escape. Poor Baby, he thought with a grin. I promise I'll make it up to you. First, however, he was going to have just a little fun at his husband's expense. Just before he opened the door going from the kitchen to their three-car garage, he thought he heard Brian shouting out one more expletive. Not another gray hair, he couldn't help thinking with a knowing smile as he closed the door, not revealing earlier to Brian that he had been able to see everything clearly from the dresser's mirror which gave him an unobstructed view of his fretting husband standing behind him in their attached master bathroom while he plucked out an errant gray hair.
Later that Evening
Brian gazed up in curiosity at the new bar that had just opened up to replace Woody's. While he had temporarily rued the loss of one of his long-time favorite watering holes when he heard it had been closed due to unpaid taxes, he had been hearing glowing reports from both Ted and Emmett at the diner about this new bar that had taken its place. Not sure if he wanted to rely on those two for accurate reports, he nonetheless decided to dress in one of his sexiest outfits and drive into town to check it out and reaffirm his stature among all the other queers of Pittsburgh as the hottest guy to ever grace Liberty Avenue.
Snorting at the new name – Manhole – he walked up the steps and swung the door open to enter. The bar was completely renovated – gone were the tall, wooden chairs and small, round tables that surrounded the tiny stage. In their place were booths around the perimeter of the room, styled in steel-gray vinyl material for the seats. The table tops were fashioned to look like authentic manhole covers, complete with rivets but rectangular in shape. He was relieved to see that the pool tables were still there, though, but they had been refitted with gray felt and had been moved off to the side to allow for a small, wooden dance floor to occupy the center of the room. Currently a few male couples were gyrating to the beat of some techno song he couldn't quite place. The bar's surface, which was previously a dark wood color and ringed by tall, matching bar stools, had been replaced with the same steel-type metal as the booth's tables; chrome chairs reminiscent of the 50's were placed around it to compliment the décor. Whatever promotion the bar was currently holding must have been a very popular one, or else everyone was merely curious to see what had replaced Woody's just like him, because the place was packed at the moment with wall-to-wall men of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities.
Brian noted with satisfaction that several men were casting admiring glances his way as he sauntered up to the lone unoccupied chair at the bar, suddenly feeling vindicated and more like his 'old' self as he nodded to the unfamiliar bartender. His black satin shirt open at the collar and the matching, one-size–too-small black jeans always had been met with approval before and this appeared to be no exception. "I'll have a Beam," he told the tall brunet who was wearing a yellow hard hat on his head with the bar's name emblazoned on it; his 'uniform' was a form-fitting white tee-shirt depicting what appeared to be a construction worker with his back to him, wearing nothing but a pair of work boots and navy uniform pants with cut-outs in the rear and suspenders that exposed his perfectly-rounded ass cheeks. The words Manhole Bar – The Best Jackhammers in Town – were written underneath the picture. A pair of form-fitting black leather pants completed the bartender's 'work ensemble.'
The server, who appeared to be in his twenties, eyed Brian studiously. "You here for the 'Hot Toddies' contest tonight?" he asked as he placed a shot of Beam down in front of his newest customer, trying to make polite conversation; that was always a good idea for increasing his tips, and from the expensive-looking shirt this guy was wearing, he could smell a big tip coming a mile away.
"The Hot Toddies Contest?" Brian responded with a smirk as he took a sip and savored the burn going down his throat. At least the booze seemed to taste the same.
"Yeah," the bartender replied as he continued to study his newest customer intently. "You look pretty damn good for fifty. I think you could really clean up tonight," he added with a saucy wink.
Brian's eyes narrowed in shock as two men who overheard the conversation and recognized Brian tittered in glee. He belted down the rest of his scotch before he slammed the glass down on the bar with a loud clank. "Fuck you!" he snarled with a sputter. "I am NOT fifty; I am nowhere NEAR fifty! I will NEVER be fifty! You'd better go get your fucking head out of your ass!" He glanced over to his side, noticing two guys he had fucked a few years ago in the back room of Babylon watching the interaction with rapt attention. Feeling his face reddening with both anger as well as embarrassment, he slid off the stool and promptly tripped somehow on his own two feet, landing on the floor in an inelegant heap right on his ass.
"Need some help, old man?" one of the two men who had recognized him had the gall to ask from his bar stool nearby. "Want me to go fetch your walker?" His companion chortled at the thought as Brian's face turned redder and redder.
He glared at him as he rose to his feet, hastily smoothing down his shirt which had ridden up on his still flat stomach and abs. "I've had both of you and I didn't hear YOU complaining," he pointed out to the one who had spoken up, unable to avoid reverting back to his standard, flippant comments. "And you're the one who needs help. They do make prostheses for your problem," he pointed out helpfully with a smirk. Before the other man could utter an indignant reply, Brian turned and stomped out of the bar, suddenly feeling every bit of his (almost) forty years in each pore of his stiff and sore body.
Next Morning – Brian's Birthday
Brian, resigned to a restless night without Justin, rose bleary-eyed at 4:30 a.m., knowing it was fruitless to lie in bed longer and hope for some more sleep. After the embarrassing fiasco at The Manhole, the idea of swaggering around Liberty Avenue proclaiming himself as the Energizer Stud Bunny had lost a lot of its attraction and he had found himself driving back instead to Britin around midnight. Drinking himself into a woe-is-me, oblivious stupor in the library by downing some of his own private stock, he had staggered up to bed around 2:00 a.m. and had tried to go to sleep.
His mind, though, had other ideas. It had taken him around an hour just to fall into a fitful type of slumber, only to begin dreaming all sorts of horrendous things: Justin walking effortlessly by his side in the driveway as he drove his power scooter down the long, winding pavement to get the morning paper; a slender, youthful Justin gracefully diving off their diving board while wearing a tight pair of swim briefs as he dog paddled instead around the shallow end of the pool wearing a pair of baggy, plaid swim shorts – the kind that you tied with a drawstring in the middle – and a pair of inflatable, orange-colored wings to stay afloat; Justin wearing a black leather jacket and tight, matching, black leather chaps over form-fitting jeans that curved perfectly around his wondrous ass as he rode around the back roads of West Virginia on a shiny, cherry-red Harley Davidson and he sat next to him in the sidecar seat, wearing a pair of goggles to protect his fading eyesight, a touch of white sunscreen on his nose and a blanket wrapped around his body to keep him warm due to his poor circulation; Justin nimbly jogging up the steps to their master bedroom at night to get ready for bed while he had to wait for his stair lift chair to slowly transport him up to the second floor. It was about the time that he dreamed of Justin using Preparation H as both a lubricant to fuck him as well as a treatment for his hemorrhoids that he woke up, startled, in a sweaty panic attack, springing up in bed suddenly only to hit the back of his head on their oak headboard – his quickly graying head. It was also about that time that he decided it was time to get out of bed and get ready for work before he had a heart attack to add to his other 'maladies.'
As he dressed for work, he deliberately chose to wear an outfit that screamed "I'm Young!" It was a custom-made, fuckingly expensive, charcoal-gray Armani suit that contoured to every part of his trim body, set off with a satiny, maroon shirt and matching silk tie that made his still-clear and cataract-free hazel eyes pop. Finally feeling a bit more like himself as he styled his hair, he walked downstairs – pain-free and even dare he say with a slight spring in his step – as he picked up his briefcase from the kitchen counter and headed out to the garage.
Early Afternoon - Kinnetik
Brian's mood, which had lightened earlier in the day, began to darken again as the day wore on and no one – not Cynthia, not Ted, not even the mail room delivery boy – so much as uttered a "Happy Birthday" to him. No cards, no well wishes, not even so much as a whole wheat bagel or a cup of Starbucks. He wasn't about to bring up everyone's oversight, however. He was Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake; he wasn't supposed to care about such things. But damn it, he could be a regular tyrant at work when someone fucked up, but he also rewarded his employees extremely well for their successes, too– would it be all that hard, then to wish their boss a fucking happy birthday?
He glanced up in reaction to the brief knock on his office door to see Cynthia walking in. "Here's your mail, Brian," she told him politely as she placed it down in front of him. "I'm heading out to lunch; be back in an hour."
Brian nodded sourly as she turned and walked away; fortunately for Cynthia, she was out of earshot by the time her boss noticed the issue of AARP that had been delivered to him, complete with his full name and address on the mailing label, along with a separate notice from a major insurance company about a new supplement to 'his Medicare coverage.'
Throwing the mail across the room in disgust, Brian pushed back from his chair with the intention of belting back another Beam to dull his senses again, noticing a twinge of pain in his lower back as he rose too quickly. Fuck you, Ben Gay, he muttered to himself as walked over to the bar and washed his drink down with a side of pity. He stood there, realizing that not even Michael or Debbie – or even Jennifer – had apparently given any thought at all as to what day it was, either. Didn't they realize how traumatic turning (gulp) forty could be on a person? After all, each one of them had already passed that milestone and then some. They had also gone to great lengths to recognize his 30th birthday; if THAT one had been his 'death day,' what would this one be considered? Fossil Day? Well, apparently it was actually No Big Deal Day to all of his family, friends, and colleagues.
"Get over it," Brian muttered to himself, a little stunned over how much that fact hurt; actually, the worst part was that Justin had forgotten. Had all those years of telling his husband that birthdays were no reason to celebrate finally sunk in? Perhaps he only had himself to blame, then…
Sighing, he glanced up as Ted came walking into his office with a disgustingly chipper look on his face; he noticed that his accountant had a medium-sized, square, plain white box in his hand. "Hey, Brian. This is for you," he told his boss with a polite nod.
Finally! Brian couldn't help smiling a little as Ted handed him the box; at last someone had actually remembered what day it was! "Why, thank you, Theodore," he murmured facetiously. "I appreciate it, even if you are trying to suck up to the boss."
Ted frowned in confusion as he watched Brian remove the lid from the box and glance inside. His eyes widened as he noticed his boss's expression change from amusement to something far more sinister as the veins on Brian's neck begin to bulge out and his face turn red when he pulled out what was inside: a sample size package of three, disposable adult diapers and a card of hearing aid batteries.
"What the FUCK?" Brian roared at his employee as he threw the box down in rage and, diapers and batteries scattering on the hardwood floor everywhere, walked over to loom over Ted from inches away. "Are you bucking for some slow, agonizing death? Is this your idea of a fucking JOKE?"
Unbeknownst to Ted, he was seconds away from being fired before he managed to sputter out, "Uh, uh…I don't know what you mean, Brian! You asked me this morning to get a sample of Reliable Medical Supply's best-selling products before our big meeting on Monday, and that's it. That IS what you said, isn't it?" He began to back away ever so slowly from Brian's taller frame, a little intimidated by the look of Ninja assassin in his boss's eyes. It wasn't that his dominating friend/boss didn't go off on tirades from time to time in the office, but Brian's over-the-top reaction to being handed a sample for a potential client was highly unusual, even for him. In fact, Brian normally liked to see a visual example of what type of product potential clients sold to help him formulate an effective advertising campaign. "B…Brian?" Ted called out softly as he continued to back away. "Did I misunderstand what you wanted?"
Brian let out a slow, heavy breath through his lips as he realized his mistake. Shit. Noticing the look of fear in Ted's face as he continued to inch away from him, he brushed one hand through his (hopefully) auburn hair before he licked his dry lips and managed to reply, "No…you didn't misunderstand." He couldn't quite come out and apologize for his reaction – that wasn't within the Kinney operating manual, even after all this time; this was as close as he would come to admitting his mistake. After all, by now Ted of all people should be used to his occasional outbursts of indignation. This shouldn't be any different, then. "That's all," he curtly told Ted in dismissal as he turned and walked back over to retrieve the diapers and batteries from the floor. Peering down at the objects in his hands, he shook his head sadly as he returned to his desk and plopped down wearily in his chair. What was this week on the calendar anyway? Take an Old Fart to Work Week?
"Uh…okay," Ted murmured in bewilderment as he continued to back up toward the door and blissful escape. "Well, then…I'll be in my office if you need anything else." Brian merely waved a hand at him in discharge without looking up from his desk as Ted felt the framework of the door hit his back; he was through the open door like a shot as Brian wearily rubbed his face with his hand.
Making a sudden decision, he threw the samples into his open briefcase and, closing both it and his laptop, stood up to leave. He had had enough of his birthday and with work; to hell with it. He would just totter home and get completely smashed; that would at least help him to overlook the fact that no one, not even his own husband or son, had remembered what day it was. Thoughts of his beloved Sonny Boy, who was now ten years old, drifted through his mind and despite the pain attempting to stab at his heart, he had to smile a little as he thought of him. Gus was growing up so fast; it seemed that every time he saw him the boy had grown a couple more inches. His son was definitely, thankfully, going to take after him in the height department; he was already well over five feet tall. He really was glad that Gus seemed so well-adjusted and happy up in Toronto with Lindsay and Mel, but he still missed him tremendously when he wasn't around. He would never admit this to anyone else (except maybe Justin), but he loved the times when he and his son could be together for extended periods, just the three of them. For the past several years, they had worked out a plan where Gus would come and stay for a week at Christmas and for even longer during the summer – sometimes for as long as two months.
It was times like those when he felt like he could truly get to know his son all over again, and each time he found himself falling more deeply in love with his child over his enthusiasm for simple pleasures such as fishing or horseback riding, his zest for life, and the innocent way he had of looking at everything. It somehow helped to make up for all the shitty days of his own childhood and helped to reaffirm Justin's conviction that he did, indeed, love his child irrevocably and would never be the same type of father that his own had been toward him. While it did hurt to think that today of all days Gus had forgotten about his birthday – normally his child would at least send him a homemade card in the mail that he would proudly display on the refrigerator at home – he supposed he couldn't blame his child for one oversight. After all, he knew Gus loved him and had a busy life himself with school, sports and other activities; that should be enough…Shouldn't it?
Bestowing a grunt of explanation that he was leaving for the day to Cynthia, he hurried out of the office and, throwing his briefcase and laptop onto the front passenger seat, quickly pulled out into traffic. Before he got onto the highway leading south, though, something made him make a brief pit stop in front of a very familiar establishment to pick up some food to go with his Beam later.
"Hey, Hot Stuff!" Debbie greeted him with a loud voice and a surprised smile as, pencil tucked behind her ear she walked over to Brian as he slid onto one of the counter stools. "Did Kinnetik burn down?" she cracked. Normally she didn't see her ambitious, 'surrogate' son during a workday; if Brian made a visit to the diner, it was usually for an early breakfast or perhaps occasionally at lunchtime.
Ever since Justin had returned home, though, he had frequented the diner even less. It seemed that marriage had made Justin into an even better cook and he enjoyed spoiling Brian at home with some homemade breakfasts and an occasional, "afternoon delight" in place of some other type of high-protein lunch. As far as she could see, Brian wasn't complaining, either; in fact, since he and Justin had reunited she thought she had never seen him more content. Judging by the glower on his face and his furrowed brow, however, it appeared he was less than cheerful at the moment.
"That's not even remotely funny, Deb," he told her, thinking back to when another one of his businesses had been burned to the ground after the bomb went off. "Just give me four lemon bars to go, a slice of turkey meatloaf, a side Caesar salad and a hold on the sarcasm," he told her, not in the mood to play twenty questions with her or engage in polite small talk.
Debbie cracked her cinnamon gum as she bit back a smile; she already knew why Brian was in such a foul mood. He might pretend that he didn't 'do' birthdays, but then again he wasn't supposed to 'do' love or marriages, either; a certain blond, however, had changed that policy forever. In fact, the aforementioned blond had already asked Brian's circle of friends, as well as his mother, not to even acknowledge that Brian's birthday was today or to make a big deal out of it being his fortieth. He had assured them that he would take care of 'commemorating' it properly later today as a surprise to his husband. Besides, Debbie already knew that Justin would be bringing Brian by her and Carl's house for a birthday dinner tomorrow evening – an affair he had her swear would be strictly low key.
He had informed her that he didn't want Brian to have to go through what he had endured on his 30th birthday. Back then, he had found Brian's reaction to their theatrics highly amusing; however, as time went on he told her he began to realize that Brian saw it differently, that the reminder of his own mortality and relentless march of time in fact scared the shit out of him. He informed her that he had learned, then, to quietly celebrate Brian's birthday each as more like an 'unbirthday.' He would always find an excuse to do something out of the ordinary with Brian that day, but he made it a point never to use the 'B' word in front of him. That somehow made it more acceptable for him. He told her, what was in a name, anyway? The way he saw it, it wasn't what you called it, it was what you made of it. She had to admit that she had been impressed not only with Justin's logic, but also his creativity and thoughtfulness.
Debbie held her hands up in surrender as she held onto her order pad. "You got it," she told Brian as she pulled the pencil from behind her ear and started scratching down his order. "Four lemon bars, one slice of turkey meatloaf, a side Caesar salad, and light on the sarcasm." She peered over at Brian who looked decidedly worn out for some reason as she added softly, "Care to add a shoulder to cry on with that order? I'll throw it in free just for you."
At last she got a slight smile out of him this time as Brian shook his head, "No, thanks, I'm trying to cut back."
Debbie grinned as she nodded and turned to begin assembling his order. Fifteen minutes later, she watched sympathetically as Brian walked out the door with his Styrofoam food container, knowing he was suffering from a double whammy – the realization that he had hit the 'big 4-0' just like everyone else did eventually, and the fact that his own little ray of Sunshine wasn't at home at the moment. "Hang in there, Kiddo," she murmured as he closed the diner's door behind him. "Things will get better real soon."
Forty Minutes Later
Brian turned right to head up the winding driveway, his mood lightened ever so slightly just by the view of his and Justin's home. At least he could drown his sorrows out back on the patio and relax a little. Although he had brought his work home with him as he often did, he had already decided to leave both his briefcase and laptop out in the car as he stopped to retrieve the mail. Walking over to open the mailbox, he returned to the 'Vette and, closing the door, took a moment to quickly rifle through the day's offerings. Bills, advertisements, coupon inserts…He frowned as he came to a plain, white, business-sized envelope. There was only a PO Box from somewhere in Salcedo, Kansas of all places as the return address, along with his own name and address that appeared to be handwritten by someone in pen. His curiosity getting the best of him, he slid one long, manicured finger underneath the flap and pulled out a newspaper article. There was a yellow Post-It note attached to the top of the article in the same handwriting as the envelope that said: Brian – check this out; this might be just what you need! R.
Who the hell was "R"? He couldn't help thinking as he unfolded the newspaper article to get a better look at it. As he realized what the article was about, though, all guesses about who "R" was quickly vanished as he bristled in anger. In clear, large letters was the heading: Try Incite – Feel Like a Man Again. A brief skimming of the article confirmed his worst suspicions – it was an advertisement for male impotency. "Fuck!" he shouted in outrage as he quickly balled up the article and grasped it in his fist, his blood pressure rising dramatically. "I am NOT impotent!" he yelled out to no one in particular. "Fuck!" he repeated in anger. Could this day get any worse?
Finally, he threw the crumpled piece of paper down onto the passenger side floorboard and, gunning the engine just a little too roughly, practically raced up the rest of the driveway, just barely stopping in time for the garage door to lift high enough for him to screech into the garage and come to an abrupt stop. His breath was jagged and harsh as he opened the car door and slammed it way too hard, stomping over to the interior door and punching in the alarm code to enter.
"Fucking assholes," he muttered to himself as he quickly yanked on his tie to loosen it and took off his coat to throw it rather haphazardly over the back of one of his and Justin's kitchen chairs, placing his 'dinner' down on the counter. Sighing loudly, he walked down the hallway and over to the library to quickly fix himself a double shot of scotch and down it before he poured another one, wanting to get wasted as soon as it was humanly possible. Letting out a pregnant breath but feeling just a bit mellower as the liquor started to take effect, he took his shot glass and the rest of the Beam bottle and walked back toward the kitchen toward the double French doors leading out to the back patio. He didn't notice until he had quietly opened one of the doors that he wasn't alone, however.
"Make sure you loosen the roots before you put it in the other pot, Buddy," Justin was telling Gus with a tender smile. "That helps the flowers to get used to their new soil." He and Gus were standing over one of the patio's round, glass-topped tables with a flat of some type of flowers next to them; loose dirt coated the surface everywhere, and both were wearing gardening gloves. What appeared to be a trowel and a couple of large, terra-cotta colored pots were also on top of the table, Justin elbow-deep in one of them at the moment as Gus plucked one of the plants from the plastic, rectangular container and loosened the roots at the bottom, just as Justin had instructed.
"Good," Justin praised him as Gus beamed. "Now put it where I dug this hole and then cover the rest of the space up with the extra dirt, okay?"
Gus nodded solemnly as he reached into the same pot as Justin and placed the tender plant inside the hole that had been dug for it. Brian watched as his son took the trowel from the table, scooped up some of the nearby dirt in the pot and tamped it down around the newly-planted flower. As he silently observed them, he kept praying that he wasn't imagining what he was seeing and hearing, but his heart warmed as he realized somehow that he actually WAS seeing his husband and his son together and it was not just a figment of his alcohol-hazed mind.
"That's perfect, Gus!" Justin told the lanky child as he smiled warmly at him. "You might just be a master gardener one day." Brian's gaze lingered on his husband as Justin scrunched up his nose and used the back of his arm to scratch it, unable to keep from smiling at the simple but adorable gesture.
"What color now?" Justin asked.
"Purple," Gus declared firmly.
Justin laughed. "I should have guessed," he said dryly, looking over at a nearby lounge chair that currently held several Transformer figures, most of them in 'power' shades of red, black – and purple. Gus seemed to be fixated lately on that color for some reason according to his moms, and had even informed them that he had decided that his first car would be a dark purple one.
"Okay, then, one 'Transformer' petunia coming right up," he told him as he pointed over to the right flower. "You pick that one up and I'll dig the hole for it." They repeated the same ritual as before; this time it took less than thirty seconds between the two of them to accomplish their goal.
Brian decided it was time to make his presence known. "What have we here?" He spoke up softly as his husband and son both looked over in surprise toward the back door; neither one had heard the door opening or had seen him quietly observing them.
Justin smiled over at Brian in pleasure as Gus promptly exclaimed in delight, "Dad!" and ran helter-skelter toward his father. Brian only had a couple of seconds to bend down slightly before Gus launched himself straight into his open arms and was enfolded into a tight bear hug; at that moment Brain didn't give a shit whether his son left potting soil all over his expensive clothes or not.
"Hey, Sonny Boy," Brian murmured into Gus's neck as he wound his arms around his son's body, savoring the moment of having his son with him again. God, how he had missed this; how he had missed HIM! He pulled back enough to look into his son's sparkling, brown eyes, tenderly wiping a smudge of potting soil off his son's cheek. "How did you get here, Gus?" he asked curiously.
Gus's face lit up in excitement as he proclaimed proudly, "Justin came and got me!"
Brian's eyebrows rose as he looked over at Justin. "He came and got you all the way from Canada?"
Justin smiled. "Well, not exactly. Mel and Lindsay saw him off in Toronto this morning and booked a flight from there to Philadelphia so I could meet him at the airport; we had the same flight to Pittsburgh, though, so we could fly in together."
Brian stood up and placed one hand on his son's shoulder as he pointed out to his husband, "I thought you had to be in Philadelphia until Sunday." The blush on Justin's face, though, told him all he needed to know. "You just told me that…Didn't you?"
"I might have given you that impression," Justin told him with a grin. "Otherwise Gus's visit wouldn't have been a surprise, would it?"
"And I LOVE surprises!" Gus chimed in as he gazed up at his father. "Were you really surprised when you saw me?"
"Yeah…Trust me, Sonny Boy; I was very surprised," Brian told him wryly as he locked gazes with his husband with a look that told him they would be discussing this again later in private. He squeezed Gus's shoulder before letting his hand drop. "Gus, why don't you go get all of us something to drink?" he asked as he placed his now quickly-forgotten glass and bottle of Beam down on another table. "How about a Coke – or I think there's still some lemonade in the fridge."
"Okay, Dad," Gus agreed as he peeled off his dirt-caked gardening gloves and walked over to the nearby, still-open French doors to go inside, leaving the two men alone for the moment.
Justin eyed Brian warily as his husband approached, noting the wicked gleam in his eyes. "You're home early," he told him. "You almost got back here before we did."
Finding his spirits being quickly revived – as well as something else – Brian swaggered up and walked around his sneaky husband to slide his arms around his waist from behind. Leaning in so they were flush with one another, Justin could feel his hot breath against his skin as Brian whispered huskily, "You've been a very naughty boy, Mr. Taylor-Kinney, making me think you had forgotten my birthday. What am I going to do with you?"
Justin's face heated up at the sound of Brian's voice as he managed to turn around in his embrace to face him. "Was today your birthday?" he asked innocently.
"Little shit," Brian growled. Justin squeaked a little as Brian responded by roughly pulling him even tighter into his arms and smashing his mouth against his. A few seconds later, he moaned as Brian stabbed his tongue between his lips and demanded entrance, a concession he was only too willing to give.
They were so busy being 'reacquainted' that neither man heard or noticed Gus coming back outside with an oval, wooden tray bearing three glasses of lemonade. Accustomed by now to seeing such open displays of affection between his two 'fathers,' Gus placed the tray down next to Brian's 'other' drink and walked over to tug a few times at Justin's over-sized denim shirt to get his attention; it was normally his favorite paint smock, but he had had donned it earlier in an attempt to try and avoiding getting his short-sleeved tee-shirt dirty instead.
Justin reluctantly broke apart from Brian, smiling down lovingly at their intruder as he said, "Hey, Buddy; did you find the drinks okay?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I brought you and Dad some lemonade," he announced. He studied Justin's red, flushed face. "You'd better come and take a drink right away, Justin; you look really hot."
Brian laughed in amusement as Justin turned an even darker shade of red. "You're absolutely right, Gus; Justin IS hot."
"Brian…" Justin murmured in embarrassment as his husband took his hand and gently tugged him toward the other table to get his drink.
"Sit, boys," Brian told them with a smile as Justin and Gus took a seat. "Something tells me Justin's temperature may be heating up again later, so we'd better get him cooled off right now."
Gus nodded, accepting his father's statement at face value. "Here, Justin," he offered helpfully as he took one of the glasses and handed it to his 'other' father. "Better drink it all," he told him solemnly, sounding like a miniature version of a doctor.
"I'll…I'll do that, Gus; thanks," Justin told him as he played along and took a big gulp of the sour/sweet drink. "Mmmm," he replied as he smiled over at the little boy. "I think it's taking effect all ready. At least from the waist up," he clarified as he stared over at Brian meaningfully.
Brian smirked. "Better keep drinking then, Sunshine, so you and Gus can get back to your gardening duties. You need to finish up before Gus's bedtime; then maybe I can help you do some plowing and plant some seed of my own for you."
Justin rolled his eyes as Brian grinned over at him. "What makes you think we'll NEED any more plowing and seeding?" he asked saucily. "Maybe we won't need your help by then."
"Hey, it's MY birthday!" he countered. "If I want to do some plowing and seeding, too, I think that should be MY decision, don't you?"
Justin didn't have a chance to answer that before Gus scooted back abruptly from the table and took off at a run toward the back door.
"Gus, where are you going?" Justin asked.
"I'll be right back!" The boy announced as he flung the doors open and promptly disappeared. Both men could hear footsteps rushing down the hallway until they faded from their hearing.
"What was that all about?" Justin wondered as he looked over at Brian.
Brian shrugged. "Maybe he had to piss and couldn't wait. By the way," he added, curling his lips under. "How early IS Gus's bedtime? I've got a LOT of plowing planned for tonight."
Justin snorted at the cheesy statement. "You know what time he normally goes to bed," he chided him. "He usually takes a bath around 8:30 and reads afterward until he falls asleep around 9:30."
Brian leaned in to stare into the mischievous blue eyes. "So I'm going to wind up being one of those crazy farmers around here who plows by moonlight?"
Justin giggled. "Well, I don't think it will be THAT bad; let's just say that you should be able to warm up your combine around 10 or so and then you can plow me and plant your seed. All…night…long."
The way his husband emphasized the last three words made Brian groan in anticipation as Gus came rushing back outside with a big white envelope clutched in his hand. He ran up to his father, barely able to stop his momentum as he announced proudly, "This is for you, Dad."
Brian's face lit up with genuine pleasure as he took the envelope from his son and asked, "Hmm…What IS it, Sonny Boy?"
Gus placed his right hand on his father's shoulder as he told him, "It's for your birthday, Dad."
Brian solemnly nodded as he asked, "Hmm…What is it? A tennis racket? An Armani suit? Another horse for the stables?"
Justin grinned as Gus chuckled. "Come on, Dad!" he scolded him. "Just open it up!"
"Okay," Brian told him as he smiled over at his husband. Slipping his hand under the flap, he succeeded in opening the envelope, observing what appeared to be a handmade piece of folded paper inside. Pulling the white sheet out and opening it, he barely managed to catch the insert nestled within before he would fall to the floor. Turning it over to see what it was, his heart caught in his throat. It was a 5 X 7" photo he had never seen before of his son and Justin, both with their arms around each other's waists as they stood staring into the cameras with wide smiles on their faces. It was obviously taken outside somewhere; they were standing next to a fountain ringed by a low, round, brick wall; several people were sitting on top of the wall, eating or just people watching. Judging by the short-sleeved shirts they were wearing and the thickness of the green leaves on the trees surrounding them, it had been taken during warmer weather. He looked over at Justin as he asked, "When and where was THIS taken?"
Justin smiled in recollection as he glanced over at the picture. "Last summer," he told him. "In Central Park. Remember when Lindsay came to visit me on that art business and you couldn't come up because of the Smithson account? Well, when she went to visit her old friend at the gallery, I offered to take Gus for the day to the park. Some little old lady remarked how cute we looked together and I asked her to take our picture."
Brian nodded in remembrance. He had hated the fact that he hadn't been able to get away for those few days, especially knowing that both Justin and Gus were in New York City together. But his client had insisted on doing business only with him; there was no way he could avoid it. It was times like that, though, when he started to question his priorities, but he also knew that just as Justin was passionate to a fault about his art, he, too, was passionate about his business and that Justin understood when that happened. He turned his attention back to the photo as he cradled it in his hands.
"Do you like it, Dad? Justin said it would be a good present for you."
Brian cleared his throat a little over the unexpected choked-up feeling there as he smiled over at his son. "Yes, I do," he told him softly. "It's a perfect picture of my two favorite guys. Thank you, Sonny Boy."
Gus beamed over at him as he reminded his father, "There's more, Dad; read the card!"
Brian felt Justin's hand curl around his neck as he nodded and turned the homemade card over to look at the front cover. It was a portrait of three figures – from the two dark-haired ones of different heights and the blond-haired one with the super big smile he knew it was a portrait of the three of them. Above the three figures were the words "My Family." There was a big, bright, smiley-face sun peering down at them from the upper left corner and a rainbow on the other corner. Green grass was drawn carefully beneath their feet.
"That's you, me, and Justin here at Britning," Gus volunteered. Shortly after purchasing the home, Brian's son had struggled to pronounce the name correctly and the misnomer had stuck. Brian thought it was so cute at the time that he hadn't had the heart to correct him. Now it had become a sort of nickname of Gus's for their residence.
"I thought so," Brian said as Gus put his hand on his father's shoulder and leaned in closer to study the card with him. Brian unfolded the card to peer inside again, seeing the words Happy Birthday, Dad printed on the left-hand side along with what looked like a birthday cake with a multitude of candles on top. From the look of things, Gus must have used up his entire yellow crayon because the top of the cake had so many candles on it there wasn't any space between them. "You put a lot of candles on my cake, Gus," Brian told his son as Justin bit back a laugh. Brian glared at him in mock indignation as Gus nodded.
"I couldn't fit all of them on top, but I made sure you had a lot of them. That way you make a lot of your wishes come true."
Brian's heart skipped a beat at the tender wish as he whispered, "Well, Sonny Boy, actually I didn't need any candles at all, because all my wishes have already come true." He glanced over at Justin, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears just like he thought they would be. "Sentimental twat," he whispered to him as he quickly brushed the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt before smiling over at Brian tenderly.
Brian surveyed the rest of the card. On the right hand side Gus had drawn a big prize ribbon with a huge "#1." The bottom part was shining with way too much multicolored glitter and far too much glue – Brian could see the white, sticky adhesive poking out underneath everywhere – but the words handwritten underneath the ribbon caught his eye the most: "You're the Best Dad In the Whole Wide World. I Love You. XOXOXO Gus."
Brian turned to look into his son's innocent-looking face, a face full of love for him. "Thank you, Sonny Boy," he managed to say after taking a breath to calm his rapidly beating heart. "This… This is the best birthday card I've ever gotten." He reached over to hug his son tightly to his chest for several seconds before letting him go, pursing his lips together to try and keep himself composed.
Justin eyed his husband sympathetically as he fought to control his own emotions; it wouldn't do for the great Brian Kinney to fall apart in n sentimental heap in front of his son, but he could see it was becoming a real struggle for him. "Gus?" he said softly. "Since your Dad just got home, I'm sure he's a little tired. Why don't we all go upstairs and you can use the big shower in our bathroom while your father rests up a little before dinner? Would you like that?"
"Yeah!" Gus exclaimed in excitement; it was rare when he was allowed to use their shower and when he was permitted to he loved to play with the remote control to the pulsating jets built into the ceiling overhead. He also enjoyed using the shower's condensation to draw pictures and letters on the compartment's walls, which usually resulted in way too much water being wasted. Fortunately Justin had a way to control the water temperature at least, though, or no doubt Gus would be learning how to adjust that, too.
He nodded at him as he walked over and placed his hand on Gus's back. "Go get your PJs out of your dresser and we'll be right up then, okay?"
"Okay, Justin," he agreed; he was about to turn and go before he impulsively reached over and gave his father a quick peck on the cheek. "Justin made you something special for dinner, Dad," he told him with a grin as he looked over at the blond, who winked at him. "He even made a cake for you. But he made sure to make my favorite kind instead of yours since he knew I would be eating more of it than you would."
"He did, did he?" Brian responded as he held onto his son's waist and chuckled in amusement. "Well, I always thought Justin was a very smart man, don't you?" Gus nodded enthusiastically as Brian let go of him. "You go find your pajamas and some clean underwear and we'll be right there."
Gus nodded again as he turned to hurry toward the back doors; a few seconds later, the whirlwind known as Brian's son was quickly gone from sight.
Brian carefully placed his cherished birthday card down on the table, making sure it was put where there wasn't any dirt around before he pulled a pliant Justin onto his lap sideways, his hands wrapping around Justin's body to link at the side of his waist to hold him firmly in place. "I should be so pissed at you, you know," he told him as he stared into his husband's face. "You had me thinking all day long that you had forgotten and believe me, I had a shitty day; sometime I'll tell you about it."
"Forgotten?" Justin repeated innocently as he wrapped his arms around Brian's neck; he knew exactly what his husband meant, though. "Forgotten what?" At Brian's look of barely-disguised exasperation, he nodded his head. "Oh, yeah" he said. "That yearly event that you so carefully try to avoid." He played with the back of Brian's hair as he stared into the glorious-looking face that still made his heart go crazy with anticipation every time he looked at him precisely the way he was looking at him right now. The impish smile on his face dissolved into something warmer as he softly said, "You know I would never forget about that, even if you insist you would like me to. If you hadn't been born, I would never have met you. And I can't ever imagine my life without you in it. So if YOU won't officially celebrate it, at least let ME do it, okay?"
Brian pulled Justin's face closer so he could kiss the soft, warm lips again. Reluctantly breaking apart after several seconds and pulling back enough so he could stare into Justin's eyes, he replied, "I think I could go along with that…As long as you never forget that I'm the head gardener around this house."
Justin grinned at the double entendre. "I promise," he whispered back before planting another quick kiss on Brian's mouth. He regretfully slid out of Brian's arms to stand up. "We'd better go check on Gus," he told his husband as he held his hand down for Brian to grasp it. As Brian stood up to join him Justin turned to head toward the house, only to be stopped by Brian grabbing onto his wrist.
"Justin," he said in that commanding voice that always got his attention.
He turned to look at Brian, feeling the warmth of his husband's touch on his arm. "Yeah?"
"I just want you to know…What you did for me today. It was probably the nicest 'un-birthday' present I've ever received. Thanks," he told him softly, feeling so grateful that he was loved by someone who knew him so well; well enough to know the one thing he so fervently wanted for his birthday – for them to spend some one-on-one quality time with his son.
Justin flushed at the praise as he tried to make light of it. "You might not thank me when you find out that I promised Debbie the three of us would come over tomorrow night for an 'un-birthday' dinner." At Brian's look of trepidation, he hastily added, "But they've all been warned not to fuss over you or make a big deal out of it. No 'death day' celebrations allowed," he assured him.
"ALL of them? Justin, who exactly is all of them?"
Justin felt Brian's grip on his arm tighten ever so imperceptibly as he replied, "You know, just the gang. Debbie, Carl, Ben, Michael, Hunter, Ted & Blake, Emmett and – what's his name?" he bit his lip as he thought about the name of Emmett's most recent boyfriend. "Lucas," he finally supplied. "And Mom and Molly. That's all," he told him with a smile. "Just a quiet, intimate little affair."
Brian snorted as he pulled Justin to his side by sliding his arm around his waist. "Right. Well, you can make it up to me ahead of time."
As they began to walk toward the patio doors, Justin asked, "And just how can I do that?"
Brian grinned as Justin opened one of the doors and they stepped inside. He whispered in his husband's ear as he playfully took a nip at the fleshier, lower lobe. "We'll just have to go have an intimate, quiet little affair, too – upstairs in our bedroom."
One Hour Later
"Gus asleep?" Justin murmured as Brian came walking back into their bedroom, clad only in a pair of loose-fitting sleeping pants that threatened to slip down his slender hips any minute. Justin noticed the drawstring was currently untied, causing him to think Brian was playing the part of a sexy tease. And it was working – just watching his husband swaggering in with his lean, toned, tanned body made his mouth start to water and his cock begin to take notice.
Brian walked over to the bed and, taking off his remaining piece of clothing, knelt on the mattress to crawl over to Justin's side of the mattress. Justin was sitting up with his back to the headboard of their massive, dark oak bed, a sheet pulled over the lower part of his body and a narrow pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose while he perused the latest copy of Art Forum magazine. Brian was initially amused about a year ago when Justin had had to resort to purchasing a pair of store-bought, low-strength reading glasses in order to see print close up, but now every time his husband donned those pair of rimless glasses he thought it was sexy as hell and very becoming on him in a sort of 'naughty professor' sort of way.
He silently reached over to pluck Justin's magazine from his hands as he told him, "Yeah…He finally fell asleep right in the middle of Archie saving the day once again." To Mel and Lindsay's consternation – especially Mel's (Lindsay was more amused than anything else) – Gus had become enthralled lately with various comic book titles, including the "Archie" series. At least that one was pretty tame by most standards, even though the two mothers thought the stories contained mainly brainless plot lines. But at least it encouraged their son to read frequently, so for now they had decided to humor him in hopes it was just a phase and not an all-consuming passion like it still was for Michael who encouraged their son's habit by providing him with an endless supply of reading material every time he went up to Canada to visit Jenny Rebecca.
Justin nodded with a smile as Brian laid the magazine down none-too-gently on the floor by the bed and then reached over to pull Justin's reading glasses away from his eyes to expose the beautiful shade of dark blue presently staring back at him, a mirror of his own desire at the moment. He figured that no matter how long they were together, he would never get tired of making love to this incredible man. "And now," he began as he pulled the sheet away and leaned over to drape his long frame over his husband's nude form, placing his arms on either side of the smaller body as he advised, "I think it's time to commence with some serious plowing – but don't worry; I'll make sure the soil is tilled thoroughly before I do any deep fertilizing."
Justin stared into Brian's darkened, lust-filled eyes and the face that looked so serious before he burst out laughing at the hokey line. Brian couldn't help curling his lips under and grinning back at him.
"That sounds very…thoughtful of you, Mr. Kinney," Justin told his husband, causing Brian's dick to stir over the way he was making his name sound almost sinful. "But I have one more…Ahem…un-birthday present for you first."
Brian gazed down into Justin's face with one raised eyebrow as he retorted, "I thought I was about to GET my 'un-birthday' present."
Justin rolled his eyes. "Not yet…that will be the encore. Roll over on your back first."
"Justin…Not that I don't mind a little reverse role playing from time to time," Brian protested, "But it IS my un-birthday, not yours. Let's wait until YOUR un-birthday to do that."
Justin snorted. "That's not what I had in mind," he told him as he reached up and smacked Brian on the chest. "Will you just do what I say for once? Sheesh!"
For once? Brian scoffed silently. As if I get MY way as much as YOU do... He sighed heavily as he twisted away from Justin and rolled onto his stomach, cocking his head warily toward the side as he cradled it on his folded hands to see what Justin had in mind. He watched as Justin smiled in triumph back at him before he crawled on top of his body to straddle his thighs. Since Justin had declared that he wasn't trying to wrangle an invitation to fuck him, though, there could only be one more 'present' he had in mind. "If you wanted to rim me, Sunshine, all you had to do was say so."
He heard an indignant huff from above before he felt a sting on his left ass cheek. "Hey, you fucker!" he growled, twisting his head to try and see his offender but finding it hard to be that much of a contortionist. "That hurt!" He paused for a few seconds. "Okay, then...I guess rimming is out. But I am NOT into being spanked; just get that out of your head right now." He snickered at his unintended joke before he gasped at the sensation of Justin squirming on top of him. "Uh…Just what are you doing up there?"
"You'll find out," was the enigmatic reply. A few seconds of Justin fidgeting and the sound of what seemed to be a drawer opening later, he felt something wet and cold suddenly drop onto his upper back and he gasped again, this time from the impact. He sniffed the air, smelling something he couldn't quite place before he felt Justin's firm but soft hands slide over the liquid and begin to knead his shoulder muscles. "What is that smell?" he asked, relishing Justin's touch on his body but turning his nose up at the fragrance.
Justin leaned down and began to massage Brian's stiff muscles a little more earnestly, his cock coming to rest on the dip of Brian's lower back as he replied, "It's made out of cardamom, pineapple, papaya, amber, and green tea; you like it?" he asked as he lowered his upper body enough to place a quick kiss behind Brian's ear and gave the tender flesh a lick, causing his sexy husband to shiver in reaction.
"Am I going to eat it or drink it?" was Brian's quip.
"Oh, I'd say you're definitely going to be eating it," Justin told him, his voice an octave lower as he anticipated Brian doing just that to his ass sometime tonight. "At least if that's what the un-birthday boy wants later. We do have all night – don't we?"
Brian smirked; he liked the sound of that – ALL of that. "Oh, most definitely," he agreed. "Do I get a reduced fee for letting you provide services to me all night?"
Justin grinned as he slowly began to work on Brian's biceps, his slippery fingers working their magic on him. "For you I'll definitely make an exception. You're by far the hottest customer I've had in a long time." His grin widened as he added hastily, "Oh. I forgot; you're the only customer I've had in a long time."
"That's better," Brian growled before he moaned out a little breath of pleasure as Justin hit a particularly tense muscle in his bicep. "Mmmm," he added appreciatively. "Why have you not revealed this particular talent to me before? You must have been a masseuse in a previous life. That feels so fucking good." He mourned the sudden loss of Justin's touch just before he felt more liquid being poured onto his lower back this time, only to quickly be replaced with Justin's long, talented, fingers, this time in the cleft just before his back met his ass. His heart began to race as he asked, "This IS a front and back massage…isn't it? If I'm going to invest a lot of time and money into this, I expect to get the full treatment."
Justin laughed softly. "I think that can be arranged, seeing as how you're pretty hot, too - just like me."
Justin grinned at Brian's expected response as his husband scoffed, "Pretty hot? I'm a damn Adonis."
"Oh, pardon me; I meant to say you're smokin' hot. Whew! I can barely stand to sit on top of your body for fear I'm going to self-combust," he teased him. "Now will you please stop talking and let me take care of you?" he chided Brian. "Just lie back down and relax. We're just getting to the best part."
Brian sighed in contentment as he did as Justin requested, feeling the day's tension slowly easing from his body only to be replaced with a warm, tingling sensation all over his skin. Between his husband's masterful touch on his tight muscles and his dick lying heavy and hot on his back he was getting aroused as hell. He made a mental note to encourage this sort of 'behavior' again in the future and not just reserve it for special occasions as he felt Justin's hands slowly descending to his butt cheeks.
"Justin!" he shouted and tried to buck off the bed as his skillful mate parted his ass cheeks and unexpectedly blew some hot air on his pucker which was twitching almost violently in reaction to the simple gesture. "Shit, stop that or you'll have me coming on the sheet!" he admitted.
Justin chuckled as he reluctantly decided not to press his luck by fingering what appeared to a most willing target, choosing instead to release his hold on Brian and massage light circles on his ass. A few seconds later, he poured some more massage oil onto Brian's thighs and began the same, slow, sensual and methodical treatment on those muscle groups.
By the time he had reached Brian's ankles and finally the back of his feet, Brian was feeling no pain and felt distinctly like some spineless, contented jellyfish (even if he DID smell like one of Justin's dinner recipes; at least it wasn't some sweet, fruity shit, though).
His pulse sped up and his dick began to harden as he heard Justin say the words he had been waiting to hear: "Roll over onto your back, un-birthday boy."
As Brian did as he was asked he couldn't help flashing Justin a trademark smirk.
Justin climbed on top of Brian and bent his legs back at the knees to glare down at him in response. "Keep it up, Kinney, and I'll wipe that sexy little smirk right off your face, un-birthday or NO un-birthday."
Brian laughed at the look on Justin's face. This might be fun. "Oh, you will, will you?" he dared him. He flopped his hands out to his sides in mock surrender. "Give it your best shot, then, Cowboy." His eyes widened slightly as he saw a gleam appear in Justin's eyes, but he tried furiously not to reveal any weakness to him.
Justin smiled wickedly as he reached over to retrieve the bottle of massage oil. Grasping it in one hand, he deliberately spread his legs a little wider apart, giving Brian an even better view to appreciate as he took his time pouring some of the thick, pungent oil onto Brian's chest. Never taking his eyes off his husband's, he made sure to pour an overly generous amount onto the bronze skin before putting the bottle down (which to Brian appeared to be at least quart size) and going to work again.
Once more Brian could feel Justin's cock resting full and hard against his belly this time and he couldn't resist breaking his gaze with his beautiful lover to sneak an admiring peek at one of his husband's best features. He groaned as he realized how fucked he really was (figuratively, anyway) and his head flopped down onto the pillow as Justin began to slowly slide the pads of his slickened, slippery fingers over Brian's chest, each hand traveling in a murderously slow path toward a nipple. Brian sucked in a breath as he felt the fingers gliding over his sensitive peaks, rubbing and circling over and over again. He squeezed his eyes shut as Justin unexpectedly raked the tips of his fingernails over the pebbly surface and felt him lean in closer to his face, the weight of Justin's cock pressing into his body. He had no idea, though, why he thought closing his eyes would help; by now he knew that Justin had cataloged every trick in the book about how to take him to the heights of pleasure and he knew his husband was about to use every page in his arsenal to do just that, especially after he had taunted him. What was he thinking? But, oh what a way to be tortured!
"Brian," Justin whispered, his face inches away from his husband's. "Open your eyes and look at me. Or are you too feeble to do that?" He grinned as Brian's eyes flew open in an instant, dark and luminous as he glared up at him.
"You asshole," Brian muttered. He rolled his eyes, knowing Justin realized he wouldn't be able to resist answering that insult, but it only caused his pulse to quicken at the expressive blue eyes staring back at him and the full, luscious lips that were being wetted by a pink tongue that Brian knew all too well what its capabilities were. Justin had to have the most versatile tongue in all of gay Pittsburgh – and maybe the rest of the country. Not only could he use it to tie a cherry stem in a knot with it (that particular skill only arose when his boy was drunk as a skunk and engaging in a speed competition with others over who bet him that they could do it the fastest), but he could do contortions with that particular appendage that Brian didn't think was humanly possible. All he knew, though, was that Justin could make his body come alive like no one else ever could, and he had a strong suspicion that he was about to be given a supreme demonstration.
Sure enough, that talented tongue snaked out as Justin aimed straight for his lips, pressing insistently for entrance. Not really wanting to put up a fight anyway, Brian obediently opened his mouth to allow his husband to kiss him passionately, sighing as his hands came up to cradle Justin's head as he turned just enough to deepen the kiss even more. He could feel the oil sliding between both their chests as Justin's hands slid around to stroke his fingernails lightly across his back; he shivered at the unexpectedly ticklish sensation that ghosted over his heated, sweaty skin.
They broke apart after several seconds, both their cocks tangling together and causing both of them to moan at the friction. Brian couldn't help the yearning that escaped from his lips. "Fuck, I want you so badly," he admitted with a husky growl as he attempted to reverse their positions so Justin was lying on his back and HE was on top. But Justin always was stronger than he looked – both mentally and physically – and in the ten years since they had first met Justin had actually started to take better care of himself recently to where he had developed some definition in his arms and chest. That served to help him now as he grabbed Brian's arms and pinned them to his sides, his legs firmly holding his husband in place.
"Uh, Uh, Uh," he scolded him. "I'm not done with your un-birthday massage yet."
Brian let out a heavy sigh as his upper body dropped back down onto the mattress in resignation. God, just shoot me now, he couldn't help thinking. So far Justin had only 'massaged' his chest and arms. He knew the worst of the torture was yet to come. Something told him it might just be a while before he would be able to get to the 'plowing' part.
Justin peered down at him with that exasperatingly wicked smile of his again as once more he reached for the nearby oil bottle and, letting go of Brian's arms, poured yet another generous amount of oil onto Brian's stomach this time, which was much too close to some other 'nether' region for Brian's comfort. He groaned as Justin leaned in and, stroking the "V" tenderly between his belly and his thighs, began to use his tongue to dip into his belly button and swirl it around and around in relentless circles like a cat licking up cream.
"Ahhhhh….Justin!" he cried out. "Shit!" he muttered as he received a chuckle in response; the vibrations of his lover's lips against his sensitive skin heightened his arousal to painful levels. He could feel a tingling all over his body as his cock began to tighten in frustration, feeling woefully neglected. Justin thankfully stopped his torment to raise his head to stare up into Brian with those insanely blue eyes that were now twinkling with amusement. The little fucker knew exactly what he was doing to him, and was apparently enjoying every moment of it.
Brian tried to lift and bend his legs to throw Justin off, but he couldn't do it with Justin sitting on top of him. "Can you speed this 'un-birthday' celebration up, Justin?" he complained. "A man can only take so much you know."
Justin smirked in a mirror image of the same type of smug one that Brian would bestow on HIM as he replied, "Losing your stamina, old man? I was just getting to my favorite part." He eyed Brian's cock, which was growing more and more purple by the second and was oozing pre-come. "At least that part seems to still be functioning efficiently. I'd better check it out a little more closely, though." And with that Justin planted his sticky hands on Brian's hips and swooped in with his lips and aforementioned talented tongue to latch onto Brian's dick with decided enthusiasm.
"AAAAAAAGGHHH!" was the incoherent response as Brian's heart began to thump madly in his chest. He blindly latched onto the top of Justin's head as he tried hard not to fist it too roughly, but the sensations coursing through his body as Justin began to lick, suck, and tease him mercilessly were quickly spiraling him out of control. Thank God he didn't have an 'un-birthday' every day or he would likely die of a heart attack; at least he figured he would die happy, though.
It didn't take long for Justin to take his steel-hard cock all the way in and cause Brian to shoot down his throat in climax. Several seconds later, the scent of the oil, sweat, and sex mingled in the air as Justin sat back up and Brian lay there panting heavily, trying furiously to calm his rapidly-beating heart in post-coital bliss. Unfortunately his 'rest' didn't last long, however, as he felt more oil being poured onto his thighs and soon afterward his husband's hands began to roam all over him once more. He was relieved that Justin stopped only briefly to fondle his balls with a lazy grin before migrating further downward to his knees, his ankles, and finally the top of his feet; his lover seemed to take great pleasure in working the oil into every one of his toes, even the crevices in between until with a satisfied breath, Justin sat back up and placed his warm, wet hands on the side of Brian's waist.
Brian thought he had a decidedly triumphant look on his face – an arrogant sort of smile – as he reached up with his left hand to wrap it around his husband's neck and pull him down onto his body before finally succeeding in reversing their positions. As he looked down into the beautiful face from above now, he couldn't help smiling down at him lovingly. Between Gus's unexpected arrival and this particular after-dinner treat, he had to admit that this was by far the best 'un-birthday' he had ever had. He did notice one problem that needed to be rectified, however, one that he was only too happy to resolve.
Reaching down between their bodies to curl his hand around Justin's cock, he murmured, "NOW can I get to my plowing? I think we'll have to loosen this particular piece up really well before I plant any seed."
Justin groaned at the possessive, firm touch as their lips met for a tongue-dueling kiss. Brian continued to pump his hand up and down Justin's dick as they continued until at last, just before he knew Justin was about to explode, he released his hold on him.
He heard the expected moan of disappointment as they broke apart, grinning down at the man he loved so deeply – the man who knew him so well; the man who he couldn't imagine ever living without, and the man who loved his son as much as he did, which only made him love him even more. The tongue-in-cheek retort about more 'gardening' promptly left him as his face softened and he whispered to him, "God, I love you so much, Justin."
Justin's eyes shone with unshed tears of happiness as he whispered back, "I love you, too; Happy Un-birthday, Brian. Now I want MY present," he demanded, "hard and deep."
Brian nodded as he used some of the oil that Justin had spread on his body earlier to part Justin's ass cheeks with both hands and coat the winking pucker nestled within before he did the same thing to his own cock. Justin raised his feet to wrap them around Brian's back and link them there just before Brian lined their bodies up together and he felt the initial push coming.
"Okay?" Brian murmured as he heard Justin groan a little on contact, knowing he hadn't prepared him very much but also realizing neither one of them wanted to wait any longer.
"Brian," Justin hissed out as his husband waited a moment for him to adjust. Justin squeezed his feet tighter together against Brian's back in silent encouragement for him to continue. "Yes," he breathed out with an affirmative nod. "More."
Brian nodded back at him as he pushed in deeper, stronger, until they were skin to skin and he was able to deftly hit the spot that drove Justin wild. The part gasp/part loud moan from his lover's mouth answered his unspoken question as Justin swept the tip of his tongue across his dry lips and hung onto Brian's upper arms before his husband pulled out partially and rammed back in, over and over again as they began their sensual journey they knew so well but never tired of. Grunts, sighs, and moans filled the air for several minutes as Brian expertly slid in and out, alternating tender and then brutal kisses with jerks on Justin's cock in time with his thrusts.
"So fucking beautiful," Brian growled out as he gazed into Justin's eyes and flushed, sweaty face. Perspiration was beaded on his forehead as his husband tightened his hold on his arms almost to a painful level. To Brian Justin was always beautiful, but no more so than when he was in the throes of their passion. When they made love it was as if every emotion Justin was feeling was written all over his face, his touch, his kisses; at that moment his husband's deep love for him was so transparent it almost made his heart stop in reaction. It also made him realize how damn lucky he was.
"Mine," he whispered almost reverently as Justin nodded back at him. "Forever."
Justin's face flushed with pleasure; he would never tire of hearing Brian affirming his unending love for him. "Yes," he murmured back as Brian unexpectedly slowed down his rhythm to a tenderer cadence. For a moment he mourned the loss of their frenzied pace, but as Brian slid in and out carefully, nothing but hot skin gliding against hot skin, he sighed in pleasure. He could feel every ridge of Brian's cock, every slight defect, every motion in and out. The heat intensified and bloomed all over his body as Brian leaned down and kissed him again. "Come for me, Justin," he entreated against his lips before he pulled back slightly to stare down into his passion-infused eyes.
Justin barely managed a nod of understanding as he felt Brian tensing up, too, inside him, signifying he was close as well. "You…You will always be so fucking hot," he struggled to reassure him as he felt his body clenching with the culmination of his desire. "I love you so much." He cried out loudly as his release erupted from within him and he exploded all over Brian's belly and chest. He felt Brian doing the same inside him, still awestruck by the hot, wet feeling gushing within him even after all this time. He thought he would never get used to that sensation; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before and he knew it would never grow old, even when THEY were.
Brian collapsed on top of him, lying there for several seconds until he rolled them onto their sides. As Justin placed his hand on Brian's arm, he endeavored to stay inside him for as long as he could, knowing how much that meant to Justin. It was such a deeply physical bond that signified their love for each other, their trust of each other. It was the one thing they shared with no one else and they never would.
Watching as Justin's eyes fluttered closed in exhaustion despite his attempt to stay awake, Brian gazed at him tenderly before he gently brushed some wet hair away from his brow, worshiping the beautiful face now at rest. His love for his husband poured out of him as he felt his heart threaten to explode with happiness while he continued to stare at him unabashedly; he heard the soft, regular breaths signaling that Justin had once more fallen asleep with him still inside him and he couldn't help smiling. It was one additional thing that could be called 'routine' in their lives, he supposed, but he realized for once that he didn't dread the predictable parts of his life now; he welcomed it instead, even the parts that showed he was growing older just like everyone else.
Using the nearby sheet to gently wipe some of the effects of their lovemaking off his body and Justin's, he tossed the sheet down onto the floor and covered the lower parts of their bodies up with a lightweight bedspread to ward off the chill that often came with early morning out in the country. Pulling Justin closer to him, he watched as his husband snuggled instinctively into his side, laying his head on his chest as he placed his own hand around the slender waist to draw him even tighter into his embrace. He noticed a small smile skitter across Justin's face just before he, too, closed his eyes and went to sleep.