I swallow awkwardly as I watch Brian push Ted none too gently out of the chair beside mine and sit himself down, eyebrows raising as he turns towards me in expectation.
'Well?' he asks, waving his hand as if granting me permission to proceed.
'Er...ok.' I stumble, trying to think of something to say while mentally kicking myself for getting so flustered by his arrival that it's turned me into a stammering idiot.
It would be a lie to say that Brian's presence ever leaves me completely unaffected though, even during those first days of falling for Ethan, when everything was so new and exciting and I'd spend hours floating aimlessly round the loft, listening to his cd on repeat and imagining how it would feel to be touched by fingers as light and talented as his, I'd still get a thrill somewhere deep in my gut whenever Brian came home and bitched at me to 'switch that damn racket off'.
A very big part of me hated him by that point, hated how he could be so cold, so relentlessly uncaring when it was obvious our relationship was hanging by the thinnest, most breakable of threads. It doesn't take a genius to know that playing your bit on the side's music in your boyfriend's apartment isn't exactly the best way to go about keeping an affair secret.
But the truth is I wanted him to find out, part of me longed for the moment when he'd look me in the eye and know that, for the very first time since I met him, I was the one who got to call the shots. For once it wasn't him pushing me away and threatening to kick me out that had brought us right to the edge, it was me finally realizing that maybe, just maybe, I wanted more than he was willing to give.
Oh sure, the drama princess in me wanted him to hurt and ache and get down on bended knee and beg me not to leave him, risking his dignity and Armani trousers alike, as he finally woke up to the fact that he loved me and couldn't bear the thought of passing a single day without me by his side. (What can I say, Titanic came out when I was fourteen and ever since then my romantic expectations have always tended somewhat towards the melodramatic.)
More than that though, I think I just wanted to feel like he noticed me. Before the bashing, self-confidence was definitely not something I'd ever struggled with. I knew exactly how funny and smart and extraordinary I was and if people (cough, Brian, cough) didn't seem to appreciate it at first glance, then I was sure as hell going to stick around until they did.
It's weird thinking about that now, as when I first woke up from the coma I only really focused on the physical stuff; the hand cramps, the nightmares, the crippling agoraphobia. Fighting all that took up so much of my time and energy that it took me a while to realize that a bat to the head changes you internally too. It takes away your certainty, your capacity for positive thought, your hope.
For most people that might not make that big of a dent in their every day lives, but when your entire personality is founded on your optimism, it can feel like it's ripped the real you out and replaced it with someone who may look and sound the same, but who's really just a cheap imitation. A dark shadow in place of the brightest sunshine.
After going through something like that, its hard not to feel unsure of yourself, to question the things that you once took for granted and to seek reassurance from the people who mean the most to you. And of course for me that person had always been Brian. I needed him so much after it happened, it probably wasn't fair of me to ask him to pick up the broken pieces and try and make them whole again, but I couldn't help myself. Not so long ago he'd taken a lost, nervous kid from under a streetlight and turned him into a fully-fledged out and proud gay man. He was my world and I knew that if I was going to find the way back to myself then it would only ever be through him.
That's not to say that he didn't try of course, no one could have been more gentle and patient with me than he was in those first few weeks after I got out of the hospital. He was incredible and if I live to be a hundred it still won't be long enough for me to find a way to repay him for everything he did in that time.
But Brian's always been about appearances. He took my physical problems and he found ways to solve them. He picked me up and kissed me better and when eventually my hand started to get stronger and my nightmares stopped he stepped away and patted himself on the back for a job well done.
Ok so perhaps that's not totally fair, I can hardly blame him for wanting to believe that it was all over. The prom was almost as traumatic for him as it was for me, maybe more so in some ways. Of course he wanted to convince himself that I was fixed, that we could simply forget about it and start moving on with our lives.
It might even have worked if it wasn't for one tiny little hiccup- I wasn't even remotely close to being fine. My scars ran a hell of a lot deeper than the one under my hairline, but he either couldn't or wouldn't look hard enough to see them. Soon he was back to his old (or rather young and new) tricks and it no longer seemed to matter that I was still messed up and confused, just as long as he could spend his nights in the backroom and not have me wake him up at five am by screaming in my sleep.
I needed more than that though. Hobbs had taken so much from me with a single swing of a bat that I really just needed Brian to step up and acknowledge that I was an important and permanent part of his life, that this thing between us which meant so very much to me wasn't going to end up being taken away too.
Maybe I pushed harder than I should have at times, maybe I didn't bother looking any deeper at his issues than he did with mine, didn't take the time to see that a cancelled skiing trip was really the result of work commitments and an aborted picnic that of a serious health scare.
Maybe in the end, I was every bit as insensitive and selfish as he was.
It's funny, but I actually think that ended up being a big part of the reason why he was able to take me back. If our breakup (he can argue the terminology all he wants, but that's what it was) had been entirely my fault then I feel like he'd have been too hurt to ever consider giving me another chance. After the childhood he had he's rightly distrustful of love and I think a total betrayal on my part may well have been enough to put him off it forever.
On the other hand though, had the breakup been entirely his fault, I think he'd have pushed me away even harder, convincing himself that he wasn't worthy of being loved and that I was better off without him to drag me down.
As it was though we were both as much to blame as the other, and I think it's that which made our reconciliation possible. It helped convince him that we were both as screwed up as each other and that maybe this thing could work now that we were starting off on an equal-footing for a change.
When I told him I knew what he wanted from me and what I could expect from him in return, it was more than just a ploy to get back in his bed. It was the truth. I think I had to see what life was without him, and how he reacted to me not being around anymore, to finally be able to claw back the certainty that Chris Hobb's stole from me.
Cathy says something in Wuthering Heights about how her and Heathcliff's souls are made out of the same essence and I think that's also true of me and Brian. People like to paint us as opposites and, while that may be true physically, inside we're definitely a lot similar. We're both outspoken, moral, intensely ambitious people, who aren't afraid to go after what we want, are harder on ourselves than anyone else could ever be and are both driven on by a overwhelming need to prove our father's wrong.
Oh, and when it comes to sex, we're both every bit as fiercely passionate, highly inventive and utterly insatiable as the other.
Which I guess is a rather long-winded, roundabout way of explaining why having to decide on my favorite bedroom activity of all time was an insanely hard thing to do.
Although, if I'm honest, even in the midst of all our thousands of memorable fucks, there's one thing we do every couple months or so that really sticks out for me.
Yet, glancing round at the faces watching me with interest (Emmett, Ben), eagerness (Ted), contempt (Michael) and poorly concealed curiosity (Brian), I can't help but think that it's just too intimate an experience to casually share with the gang over a drink at Woody's.
Besides, I doubt Brian would like me telling people about it, something tells me it would be far too revealing for his tastes.
No, better play safe and go with something that he'd approve of, a fast, frenzied fuck that more than lives up to his reputation as the hottest top this side of the Pacific.
'So, um, I like it when Brian fu-'
'Wait, wait, wait!' Emmett cries, slapping my arm lightly. 'Don't rush it. You're an artist, aren't you? So set the scene, paint a picture for us. Come on baby, how often do we get to hear about what goes on in the most hole-y of inner sanctums? For two boys who love public displays of affection so much, you're awfully coy about what takes place behind closed doors.'
Squirming slightly in my seat at the thought of having to draw this out even further, I can't help but wonder if it's too late to get everyone to agree to another round of pool after all.
'Ok, well, it usually starts in the morning.' I offer lamely, elbowing Brian in the ribs when I catch him scoffing contemptuously out of the corner of my eye.
'Ignore him, baby. You're doing fine.' Emmett says, throwing a glare in Brian's direction.
Nodding, I turn in my seat so that I end up sitting perpendicular to the table, facing Emmett head on and obscuring my view of the rest of the gang while blocking out Brian completely. I instantly felt more comfortable like this, almost as if me and Emmett are having a private chat instead of having the whole gang listen in as I air my dirty laundry for all to hear. Plus, this way Brian could make as many faces as he wanted without throwing me off.
I've barely turned around though when I feel his fingers pulling at the hem of my shirt, tugging until it falls loose and he's able to slip his hand up between the material and my skin. With the lightest of barely-there touches, he starts stroking my lower back in small, teasing circles.
I'd take it for an apology if I didn't already know better.
My annoyance fading instantly, I smile slightly in recognition. For some weird reason that probably only makes sense to him, Brian's always been oddly possessive of me wherever Emmett is concerned. The same man who's happily stood back and watched me fuck and suck my way through half of gay Pittsburgh without feeling the slightly twinge of jealousy, was currently displaying the kind of public affection he usually needed to be half-comatose on Anita's special mix to allow.
I didn't really know what it was that caused his insecurity, although I suspected that for all his snide comments on the subject, he recognized some of his own fearlessness in Emmett's refusal to hide who he was or apologize for who or how he chose to fuck. Either that, or he'd seen Em's impressive performances on jerk at work and gotten nervous about my size queen tendancies.
Whatever the reason may be though, one thing I knew for certain was that this little quirk of his never failed to make me stupidly happy. It's page five of the Kinney handbook that any and all shows of affection are to enjoyed and savored for the rarities they are, in fact it lies right between the page explaining that his whole 'sorry is bullshit' routine is the actual bullshit and the one about how the no carbs after seven rule doesn't apply to the ice cream he sneaks out of the freezer when he thinks no one is looking.
Leaning back into his touch, I shiver slightly at the sensations he can manage to evoke with the just the barest tips of his fingers, before I square my shoulders and start to talk.
Thank you so, so much to those who reviewed, favorited and/or followed, you made me feel brave enough to give this another go. There'll probably be one or two more chapters to come after this and if you did want to let me know your thoughts so far then I promise I'll write them quicker and make them extra good! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
*Also to peacock- sorry about the confusion, a couple of days before writing the first chapter I read a brilliant fanfiction where Emmet told Justin about the time he'd slept with Brian, it was so good I totally forgot it wasn't actually canon. I've gone back and changed it now though so hopefully it makes more sense. Thanks for picking up on it.