Author's Notes: I still have trouble with FFNet stripping out formatting, so if a scene break looks strange, that's what's happened. All love to my betas, moonbrightnites and roane.
This is a direct sequel to my previously-posted Shelter/QAF crossover, The Yellow Wood, and is rated M for language and sexual content.
oooOooo
"I look ridiculous." Zach frowned at himself in the hotel mirror and retied his tie for the fourth time.
"You look great," Shaun corrected him from behind, appearing over his shoulder in the reflection. Zach did, too, the suit just grey enough not to look funereal, the dove-blue tie picking up the amazing colour of Zach's eyes. He reached around Zach and straightened his collar, leaving a kiss on his cheek – smooth, just-shaved, the light tingle of Zach's aftershave on Shaun's lips -as he did so.
Zach's reflection looked back at him, his brow furrowed. His shoulders were tense under Shaun's arms, drawn tight and rigid under the soft wool. Shaun tipped his forehead down and let his breath tickle the back of Zach's neck, the short, dark hairs there prickly against his lips. He nuzzled into the scent of him, the citrus-tang of his shampoo under the cologne-musk; no sunshine and salt-surf tonight. "You look," he said, slipping his arms around Zach and pulling him in, Zach's back against his chest, "exactly like you should. The hottest new artist on the scene, on the brink of massive success. Someday, I'll sell that airplane napkin you were sketching on this morning for a cool million."
Zach scoffed at his teasing, but it got a smile out of him, which is all Shaun had been hoping for. "Yeah, right." He leaned back against Shaun's chest, and Shaun could feel the tension start to ebb in his shoulders. It's a start. "It's just two pieces in a huge gallery of stuff," Zach said. "No one will even notice."
"In that case, why stress out?" Shaun asked rhetorically. He ran his hands along Zach's arms as he kept talking, dug his thumbs into the knots of muscle at the base of his neck. "Here's the plan. We'll go out, have a fabulous dinner on Brenda's dime, hang out with Taylor and his boyfriend for a bit. Then, we'll come back to the hotel and make use of this fancy suite with the lockable door between us and the Codester. Tomorrow we go to the opening, and bask in your brilliance."
Zach considered it, nodded, but started fussing with his tie again regardless. Shaun grabbed his hands to force him to knock it off. He laced his fingers with Zach's and spun him around so they were facing each other, grabbed at Zach's waist with his other hand when he threatened to topple them both over. Zach laughed, their rings clinked together gently as their left hands locked, and Shaun grinned at the reminder of the new weight there, solid and comforting. He brought Zach's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, then turned to grab his own tie from the pile of clothes on the bed. "It'll be fine."
oooOooo
Shave-and-a-haircut-
Gabe rapped on the door to the hotel room, then shoved his hands in his pockets casually while he waited. It had been pure dumb luck that Larry had needed him to go out to New York schmooze some old clients, one more trip on the long list of places Larry had been finding to ship him. A little bit of good old Gabe charm had convinced everybody that this was totally the right week to do it, a small concession in the grand scheme of things. It might have been overkill to pull some strings in order to come all the way across the country to see a couple of paintings that he'd already seen a bunch of times in that closet that Zach called a personal studio, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered. And if he was already here, and on Larry's dime, well – that was even better.
There was some thumping from the other side of the door, and voices, and Gabe took a half-step back just as the door opened. Zach grinned and pulled the door back to let him in. "Gabe – come in. We're almost ready." Gabe grabbed Zach for a quick hug, looking over his shoulder into the room. Cody's eyes lit up from where he was hanging out on the couch with a comic book.
"Hey there, Codes – how's my main dude?" Gabe sauntered over and held out his hand for a fist bump that turned into an armlock that turned into Gabe getting hauled down over the back of the couch. He let himself be overbalanced, went limp as he fell, and landed on the couch on his hip with a thump and a grin.
"Hey, Uncle Gabe," Cody greeted him cheerfully from inside the headlock.
"How does he rate 'Uncle Gabe,' and I'm still just 'Shaun'?" Shaun asked as he came out of the bedroom, tying his tie. He was smiling as he said it, but there was an edge of something underneath that made Gabe's ears perk up.
Gabe kicked back on the chair and watched as Zach searched for his watch, not letting Cody escape. "He's got a point, short-stuff. He's the one you puked on at Six Flags, while me? I am firmly off puke patrol. Until you're 21 and hanging with the frats, in which case my job description extends to finding you a clean t-shirt and calling a cab. Vom-duty earns extra points in the uncle lottery."
"Because you're not my uncle," Cody informed Shaun casually, as though it were nothing new to say. He struggled for a second until Gabe took pity on the kid and let him go, a decision that was in no way influenced by Cody's stupidly sharp elbows and proximity to his gut. "You're my dad."
OK, so that caught Gabe by surprise. He raised his eyebrows, but Shaun's idiotic grin – and really, how were they even related? – proved that this wasn't a regular discussion at home.
"We talked about families at school. Roy's my bio-dad, but you and Zach are my every-day dads. So, I had a Roy, and now I have a Zach and a Shaun instead. But I've only got one Uncle Gabe." And Cody, thankfully, ran out of breath. Gabe grabbed him around the waist and flipped him upside down over the couch, just to break any remaining seriousness left in the moment. Cody squirmed out of his grip until he landed on the floor with a thump.
"And thank god for that, Codes. I don't think the world could take more than one of him," Zach said, his wide smile mirroring Shaun's.
"Hey! That was uncalled for, don't you think?"
Shaun ignored the banter and grabbed Cody into a hug. "You're the best, Codes."
Cody squirmed in his arms, twisting away to get back to Gabe.
Gabe gave them a count of ten, then groaned dramatically, grabbed what looked like Shaun's suit jacket from the back of the couch and flung it at their heads. "Can the mushball act, dude; you're cutting into our bro-time."
"You'll be okay?" Zach asked from where he was kneeling and tying his shoes. "The local emergency numbers are by the phone, with the name and address of the restaurant, and we've both got our cells with us-"
"Would you please relax?" Gabe laughed. "The Code-inator and I have everything under control. Go to your fancy-pants dinner. Remember not to steal the silverware," he added with a grin. Cody jumped him and Gabe recoiled, curling his legs up to protect his belly as Cody attempted to pile-drive him.
"Thanks," Zach grumbled.
Gabe grinned, his smile one of the only things visible under Cody as the kid managed to get his uncle into a semi-credible half-nelson. It might only be for a couple of days, he might not see them anywhere near enough these days, but right here, right now, he was with his dudes, and it was all good. "Any time, bro. Any time."
oooOooo
Brian's grip was insistent, his hand hot against Justin's cock even through the soft cotton of his briefs. Justin rocked his hips up against the touch despite his better judgement. "We're – nnnng – going to be late," he gasped out, marshalling just enough willpower to push his hands against Brian's shoulders, Brian's shirt wrinkling between Justin's fingers, slipping under his palms.
Brian twisted his wrist instead of letting go, slid his hand up and over the head of Justin's dick, the fabric damp between them. "So we'll be late," he breathed into Justin's ear, his lips brushing, hot and dry, against the lobe. He licked a line down Justin's neck, Brian's teeth grazed the join of his neck and shoulder and then bit down as he twisted his wrist- yeah. That was about the limit of the resistance that Justin was willing to put up.
He wrapped his arms around Brian's neck and used his shoulders and the wall for leverage, thrust up against the insistent pressure of Brian's hand, the tips of his fingers brushing inside Justin's fly now, wrapping around to give him skin on skin, fuck, yes-
The apartment door crashed open.
Justin may have yelped in surprise. Daphne stormed in, still wearing the fancy cocktail dress she'd left in an hour ago, carrying her shoes in her hand. "Don't let me interrupt," she fired off as she passed. She flung her strappy heels into the corner, and strode furiously down the hallway toward her bedroom. "Just pretend I'm not here!" she yelled as she slammed her door.
There was a moment of quiet.
Brian tipped forward and thudded his head against the wall over Justin's shoulder, his hand still wrapped around Justin's cock. "This is why you need your own place." By which he meant, as he always did when they had this discussion – not an argument –that they needed it. Which Justin mostly agreed with.
But.
And there was always a but.
"Right," Justin said, then kissed Brian's jaw and disengaged, straightening his shirt. "And in that magical Land of Nod where we find an apartment that fits both my budget and your aesthetic sensibilities, I'm all in. In the meantime, I'd rather spend the time you're visiting doing just about anything other than apartment hunting."
"Speaking of which, she did say-" Brian said, reached out to pull Justin back in to him, but Justin pushed back and headed down the hall to Daphne's room, tucking his shirt back in as he went.
"Daph?" He knocked lightly, the drag-slide sounds of drawers opening and closing filtering through the gaps around the poorly-fitting bright-blue door. "Are you alright?"
The door opened a crack, Daphne's ironed hair and jewellery incongruous with the bra-and-sweatpants that were all she was now wearing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Justin winced at the sight. "No Andy?" he hazarded.
"Andy's a shithead," Daphne said, and he was grateful that the anger in her eyes wasn't directed at him. "A turd. A tool. The world's worst person ever.I cannot believe that I was so stupid." She closed the door with a bang. After a moment, Justin retreated.
Brian had put himself back together in the living room, and he raised an eyebrow at Justin's helpless shrug from where he was now sprawled on the couch. "Boy troubles?" and his tone wasn't nearly as mocking as it could have been.
"Andy's history. Finally. I never liked him." Justin frowned. He picked up his jacket from where he'd tossed it over the back of a chair when Brian had jumped him, and paused before he pulled it on. He glanced back at Daphne's door, one arm in his sleeve. "Maybe I should-"
"Daphne's a big girl," Brian pointed out, unfolding himself off the couch. "She can take care of herself."
"Don't worry," Daphne left her room, letting the door swing closed on its own this time. She'd pulled her hair into a couple of braids that made her look nineteen again, rather than twenty-nine. She'd added a baggy grey sweatshirt (that had belonged to Jonas – or had it been Will?) to the sweatpants, and had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. "You two lovebirds still have the apartment tonight. I'm going to Shanna's."
Justin touched her hand as she moved past him, gave it a squeeze and felt her fingers curl around his again in return. "Honestly. You're okay?"
She paused, glanced at Brian and then back and gave him a faint smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. I called her on the way home. She's got Netflix waiting and a bottle of tequila that needs killing. Have fun tonight…. say hi to Zach for me." Daphne shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes that looked a whole lot more comfortable than the heels she'd left in earlier, and headed out.
"Well, that's a promising start to the evening."
"Ground rules," Justin said, switching gears. There would be plenty of time for a post-mortem on Daphne's evening later. He grabbed Brian's hand, warm in his, and hauled him up from the couch. "This is a business dinner tonight. I know you're not Brenda's biggest fan-"
"Just because I notice that she's consistently putting her other clients first and not giving you nearly enough of the exposure as befits your genius, doesn't mean I don't think she's just darling," Brian said, pressing in close and dropping his hands to Justin's hips.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Justin leaned up to kiss Brian and smiled against his mouth, the lips he'd relearned a hundred times over these past six months. He wanted to taste them, slip his tongue between them and explore, taste the coffee that Brian had been drinking half an hour before- it would have to wait. But a few hours were manageable, compared to the years he'd gone without. "Behave yourself. Zach's anxious enough about this whole weekend without having to watch my boyfriend and my agent going another ten rounds in the 'who's better for Justin Taylor' Olympics."
Brian sighed and gripped him tighter, then let go. "Ah yes, the infamous 'Zach,' and his boyfriend, the writer." He smirked at Justin's expression. "What? I listen."
"Husband," Justin corrected, sliding his arms into his jacket and straightening the front with a gentle tug. "They got married this summer."
"Of course they did," Brian muttered, quietly enough that Justin was reasonably sure that he wasn't supposed to have heard the comment. That made ignoring it much easier.
oooOooo
The taxi over to the restaurant had given Zach a little more time to work himself up (even as Shaun had been fully occupied trying to calm him down again). The blast of arctic air, accompanied by snow and rain and god, was that ICE that was driving hard against his face?that hit them when they got out of the cab, though, drove all of his less physical worries out of his mind on impact. The November storm had picked up while they'd been getting ready, and Zach found himself fighting to stay upright in the wind tunnel generated by the canyon walls of skyscrapers on either side.
A waiter opened the glass door for them and Zach and Shaun were all but fucking blown inside, the rush of the wind in Zach's ears dying away as the door closed behind them, snug and quiet.
So the first words out of his mouth when the maitre d' guided them to their table, and Justin stood up to greet them, weren't any of the polite formula phrases that the extremely understated(read: expensive) decor of the place demanded, but a hearty "dude, your weather sucks. How the hell do people even live here?" before Zach could stop and catch himself.
Justin laughed and grabbed his hand to shake it, not protesting the insult. "You get used to it."
"The hell you do," Zach grinned back, shaking his head as a drop of melting ice slid off his hair and splashed, crisp and cold, against the back of his neck. And with that, a lot of the awkwardness he'd expected simply wasn't there.
"Justin," Shaun extended his hand, and Justin let go of Zach's as he turned. The pause gave Zach a second to catch his breath, to resist scrubbing the melting ice from his hair, to look at the other two seated at the table.
The woman would be Brenda, of course. From the e-mails, and a couple of brisk, efficient phone calls, he'd expected a powerhouse, some size-zero Manhattan dynamo in a killer suit. He hadn't been far off. She was older than he'd expected, maybe in her sixties, with an elegant white bob and a wrap-dress that showed more cleavage than he'd expected from someone her age. Still, she was standing and holding out her hand and her smile was less shark-like and more maternal than he'd imagined. Zach found himself shaking her hand and introducing himself and relaxing a little more, despite himself.
And then there was Brian. There was no-one else the guy could be, all long lean lines and dark hair and eyes. He stayed where he was in his chair, leaning back and lounging, watching Justin and Shaun, watching Brenda, and finally turning his gaze to Zach. He was older than Zach had imagined, though of course he'd known that Brian was in his forties. His grip was firm when he leaned forward to take Zach's extended hand, and his skin warm and smooth, and there was an intensity in his eyes that narrowed the world until the only important thing there was what he was saying.
"The infamous Zach – I've heard so much about you."
"Same," Zach replied, every one of Justin's stories about Brian resurfacing in his memory simultaneously. Jesus; how did Justin not implode from the sheer proximity on a regular basis?
And then Brian took his hand back, the moment over.
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it down to LA again for the wedding." That was Justin, chatting with Shaun, and Zach was back in his own skin again, pulling out his chair and dropping down into it.
"It's cool. It was short notice, I know. You'll have to take us out for a drink while we're here to make up for it."
Justin nodded and smiled, the smile coming more quickly and burning more brightly than Zach remembered from before. "We'll do that."
oooOooo
"So why the fuck," Brian asked, "are they getting married again, if they already had the whole circus this summer?" Justin's bed was smaller than the king-size in the loft back in Pittsburgh, but Brian had to admit that it had one huge benefit over his bed back home, as inferior as the sheets and general queen-sized-ness of it were. Right now, it contained a naked and thoroughly fucked-out Justin, sprawled loose-limbed and content beside him.
Justin ignored him and stretched, an utterly unfair move that left Brian staring at the play of the muscles in Justin's back and thighs, the marks on his skin from Brian's teeth- "not getting married again," he was saying something, and Brian tuned back in. "They're just going to the City Clerk's Office to do paperwork. They want to make it legal while they're here."
"It's a farce," Brian said, running the flat of his palm along Justin's thigh. "It's not as if California will acknowledge them as anything more than another pair of fags shacking up together."
Justin rolled away from his hand and onto his side, arching an eyebrow at Brian. "It won't be for much longer, though. The courts are fighting prop eight, and it could be overturned any day. And they've got Cody to worry about. Given everything they've already had to go through with custody issues and insurance, it makes sense to make things as legal as they can, just in case. You can't tell me that if you had custody of Gus, that you wouldn't do everything in your power to make sure he was safe."
Brian tipped back to fumble with the window sash and open it up a crack. He lit a cigarette from the pack on the bedside table and flopped back against the pillows, bringing it to his mouth and taking a drag. "You're going?"
"Sure, why not? It's not like they know many people here – it's pretty much you, me, Gabe. Brenda." Justin sprawled out beside Brian, resting his chin on his folded arms. The streetlight shining through the window cast shadows across his face, making his eyes hard to read.
The silence dragged out for a while, the noises of the city outside ringing in Brian's ears. He pulled the smoke into his lungs, let it sit there for a moment before breathing it out again.
Justin stole the cigarette from between his fingers and took a drag, and Brian frowned at him. "Do you think about it?"
The red ember bobbed in the air, Justin frowning behind it. "What, us getting married?" The moment pulsed between them and Brian hoped like hell that Justin didn't actually expect an answer to that. Because really, what the fuck else would he be talking about?
"Sometimes," Justin said with a shrug. The coil of tension centered itself in Brian's gut again, and he tamped it down, waited it out. "I wondered, once in a while, if we'd gone through with it – what the last few years would have been like. But then," Justin passed the cigarette back, Brian's fingers closing over his, the paper over the filter damp and warm, Justin's fingers dry and warm. "Maybe it was supposed to be this way."
"Fate?" Brian mocked. Because agreeing would mean that there had been more to that moment under the streetlight than one snap decision, and that would make things complicated. That he had been 'meant' to spend the last three years flinching every time the phone rang, just because it might have been- Never mind.
"Karma?" Justin shot back at him. "We certainly deserve each other. No. More like… time to figure our shit out. And in the end, six years down the road, we're still here," Justin pointed out. "Even without rings. So."
Brian finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, then rolled over in one quick, smooth motion to drape himself across Justin's back, and grab him around the hips. "That's not fate," he informed Justin, and fastened his mouth to the nape of Justin's neck. The tiny hairs there prickled a little, but his skin tasted of sweat and sex. Brian licked him, up the pale line of his throat, and stopped at his ear.
"No?" Justin replied, but the strain in his voice betrayed his effort. His hips bucked up under Brian's, rocking up with the rhythm of Brian's mouth, and Brian's cock was taking a definite interest in the round swell of Justin's ass beneath him. He sucked at the nape of Justin's neck, leaving another little red mark there.
"No. You just couldn't stop thinking about my dick."
"That was a big part of it, yes," Justin said, his laugh breathless and his words getting a little choppy in all the right ways. Brian braced himself with one hand on the pillow beside Justin's head and slid down and under his hip with the other, cupping and stroking Justin's hardening cock.
"Very big." Brian paused, reflecting on something, and grinned against Justin's skin when Justin bucked up insistently against him again. "We can put a ring on that, if you want."
"Brian."
"What?"
"…shut up and fuck me."