Brian's default setting with handling stress – his "go to" coping method – was sex. It always had been and he thought it always would be. Fucking as often as he could and as many men as possible. Hot men of course - and never the same guy twice. That was a self-imposed guideline he mostly kept too. One he'd created for himself long before Justin ever came along.
In his younger days he'd quickly come to realize he would get bored with knowing what to expect from his tricks; it was a rare man indeed that Brian could fuck more than once and not find his mind wandering towards other things. In complete opposition to that was the addictive thrill of tricking a different guy every night; there were so many unknown possibilities. Sure, sometimes the guys had weird kinks or fetishes that even Brian was leery to try; or they slobbered all over; or they couldn't get it up more than once (Brian liked all-night fuck sessions best, of course); or worst of all, they had no self control and would come so fast Brian barely had time to realize it had happened. Sometimes though, Brian would be surprised. Those moments had been rare over the years but when they presented themselves Brian would take full advantage and repeat the fuck until boredom inevitably set in - because it always did.
Then Justin happened.
Upon first sight, Brian didn't expect he'd ever want to fuck that ass again. After all, the kid had been a virgin, it was so blatantly obvious – so how could he possibly surprise Brian? But when Brian did find himself with the kid a second time, then a third time, then again and again he realized that though in the beginning he'd had to instruct the kid on what to do and how to do it, he was also a quick study and soon was doing things to Brian that no one else had. And that was surprising. Sure – he might have kept the kid around at first because the sex was exciting and different and Justin was one of very few who could keep up with Brian's stamina – but the reason he continued to let Justin hang around after the first few times changed somewhere along the way. He realized one day that he actually liked Justin, and genuinely enjoyed his company – mostly, and as much as Brian allowed himself to enjoy anyone's company.
Those feelings, entirely undesired and unwanted and actively avoided for so long, had built upon themselves over the years the two of them were together, or apart, until Brian found himself at this point. Now. In love with a man twelve years his junior and just embarking on his life's journey…
The timing was for shit.
The point of all this though, was sex was how he'd dealt with the crap thrown at him - in his past, in his present, probably in his future, too; maybe. It always had been – and until he met Justin, he had thought it always would be. No matter who or where – a fuck in the diner's bathroom, or the bathhouse, or the bedroom of the loft…whatever.
When life handed Brian lemons he didn't make lemonade, he made orgasms.
His "relationship" with Justin over the years had varying degrees of significance to Brian. But one thing that had never changed within him was his want, and desire to fuck, and fuck often. As he'd come to realize the innateness of Justin's desire for love and monogamy Brian was also certain of his own innateness with regards to sex for sex's sake – often and everywhere. He couldn't foresee a future where he wasn't getting what he thought he needed to live. Of course he wouldn't mind if it was Justin making him come over and over but Brian also knew he wasn't above seeking out a willing mouth or ass at the baths when necessary. The inevitable release and addicting rush of endorphins were the desired outcomes – the man providing the service was, most of the time, irrelevant. Brian knew how awful it was to think that way and he'd never say as much to Justin – even if the desire for random tricks was slowly (though very slowly) losing its appeal. The point was sex was Brian's coping mechanism; and possibly his one addiction he would never be willing to part from.
In Toronto he'd been effectively distracted and so far out of his natural environment he didn't have much time or opportunity to miss his usual extracurricular activities…too much anyway. Upon returning to Pittsburgh – or Pittsburg-adjacent – once they moved out to the house in the northwest panhandle of West Virginia, Brian's urge to go to the baths and get his dick sucked so he could forget his troubles, his urge to go out and pound fast and furious into some hot but forgettable ass, quickly grew strong once more; Raging, one could say. Liberty Avenue beckoned him, his habitual promiscuity trying desperately to tempt him back.
But he couldn't, and he wouldn't. He felt both incapable, and unwilling. He was, for one of a few a rare moments in his life, being responsible. It pissed him off, to a certain extent. Though he never once, in all his years out on the scene, asked a trick what his HIV status was before he fucked him up the ass, now it was all he thought about. Brian sincerely wondered if he'd ever be the same. He wondered if he wanted to be same.
He wondered if he hadn't already changed, and that thought was the most frightening.
He considered all the men, over all the years, and marveled that something like this HIV scare hadn't happened to him sooner. Or maybe it had – and he just hadn't known. That was the more likely scenario and not one that made him feel any better about his past behaviors, or his current desire to return to the scene that allowed him to indulge in his wicked ways.
The mounting stress and responsibility was wearing him down and he desperately wanted nothing more than to escape into his old life. But he couldn't. His old life was what had led him to this moment of crisis; his old life was finally catching up to him.
The morning Brian packed Gus, and their few belongings, into the more modest (and practical – the thought of which made Brian scowl – he made as much money as he did so he wouldn't have to be practical!) Mercedes sedan he'd purchased a few days prior, these thoughts were swirling around in his head making him dizzy and irritable. Gus was oblivious, chattering on about the new house. He'd seen pictures but hadn't been there in person yet. Still, he was excited to go swimming in the large pool over the summer, and run around on the large grassy lawn that led from the back of the house down to a small copse of trees. These thoughts eventually lead to him asking if maybe he could get a puppy.
Brian had balked at the thought – but he also knew dogs could be therapeutic and if he hired a nanny he could be sure that he never had to take care of the damned thing. It wasn't that Brian hated dogs; he just didn't want one around – around him specifically. For Gus though…well, God help him, Brian had told his son maybe.
Gus had expressed the expected level of excitement when they'd arrived at the house – he sprinted through the first level, his footfalls echoing loudly on the hardwood floors and his tiny voice echoing loudly as he kept exclaiming how "cool" it all was; how much mommy would love the suite of rooms Brian had had built.
He'd converted one of several large sitting rooms in the back corner of the house into a small, private suite, complete with wheelchair access. Brian hoped the wheelchair accessibility would end up not being an issue but if it was, he wanted to be sure Lindsay would feel comfortable, and that she would be able to get around and be as self-sufficient. He knew his friend well enough to know she would hate not being able to take care of herself – as much as she possibly could.
When Brian asked Gus if he wanted to see his room, the kid had whooped and darted past Brian as they ascended the long staircase. He took off running down the upstairs hall, his head swiveling side to side to look into each open door as he darted past. Brian would have laughed if not for the odd, vacant feeling in his gut. He had never intended to live in this house without Justin. He'd bought it for them - together. But now he was here and Justin was not and everything just felt so fucked up.
It had only been about 8 hours since he'd left Justin the voicemail about the little time capsule he'd left behind at the loft but the blonde hadn't called him back or even acknowledged the receipt of the message. Brian tried to convince himself it was because he was sleeping or painting; that he was just busy and that it had only been 8 hours. But the fact was, he just wasn't sure anymore. Communication between them had been sketchy at best for awhile now.
After the emotional roller coaster of the last six weeks, starting with the car accident and Brian's temporary relocation to Toronto and ending (or coming near an end) with Brian's anti-climatic return to Pittsburgh, everything he'd done had been because he thought it in the best interest of Justin, or Gus, or Lindsay. Even Sam, to a small extent.
Brian had never really considered himself to be so controlling but he was quickly realizing, as events kept happening around him that were decidedly out of his control, that those parts of his life that he could try and control he was, thus overcompensating for the things that were out of his control – while also making decisions for those around him even if he shouldn't be. Like for Justin.
"It looks like my room at my old home!" Gus shrieked as he came to a skidding halt in front of a door near the end of the long hallway.
Brian pulled himself from his brooding thoughts and picked up the pace, stopping behind Gus and resting his hands on his son's shoulders.
"It should," Brian smiled, squeezing gently then releasing as Gus started forward into the room.
Brian followed, taking it in. Debbie and Emmett had done a great job of recreating the room. It was similar enough, yet also a little bit different. Brian noticed a few new touches - like the curtains on the windows, no doubt hand sewed by Debbie.
The new room was larger than Gus's old room, so there was a lot of wall space to be filled with new Disney movie posters and other artwork, different than what had been hanging in Toronto. Brian's eyes scanned the room, not really looking too closely but noting the slight changes regardless.
"Daddy! Look!" Gus was standing near his bed, pointing at a fairly large painting that hung over it.
Brian moved to stand behind Gus again, his eyes taking in the painting even as his breath caught in his throat. He would recognize the artist's work anywhere – the distinct way the brush strokes crossed the canvas; the unique, not-quite realistic but not quite impressionistic way he captured people and scenes. The obvious subjects though, that was the biggest giveaway.
The painting, roughly 14"x20", was surrounding by a thick, white, wood frame which accentuated the bright shades of greens and blues that made up most of the painting.
"It's us!" Gus turned to look at Brian, a grin on his face. Brian couldn't help but smile back down at his son.
If this was the reason that Justin had been out of touch and hard to reach…well…Brian would certainly forgive him that.
The painting was simple – yet it spoke volumes. It depicted a plain scene, a man and a little boy, hands grasped between them, walking together down a tree lined path, laughing. The little boy was gazing up adoringly while the man gazed down, joyful. The most fascinating thing, though, were the expressions on the figures. They weren't necessarily distinct but Brian never doubted the emotions they depicted. It was all there to see, even if you couldn't explicitly see it. Fuck if Justin didn't know what he was doing. At that moment Brian knew Justin belonged in New York, even if it hurt to think.
The painting was a living, breathing thing and the longer Brian stared the more he saw it living before him. The trees that lined the path were mottled in varying shades of green while sunlight dappled through the painted leaves casting soft shadows on the two figures. The small patches of sky visible were a brilliant blue that only served to remind Brian of Justin's eyes. The grass was bright, dotted with tiny wildflowers and bunny rabbits and birds. There was, in fact, a lot of detail in the painting and the more Brian stared the more he saw. There were birds amongst the branches of the trees, squirrels in the midst of scurrying from branch to branch, and butterflies fluttering soft wings in the air. Brian thought he even saw bumblebee's hovering over the tiny flowers. The leaf patterns even gave the illusion that there was a soft breeze blowing through, and he could almost see the light wind lift and flutter a section of Gus's hair.
Gus, deciding to get a closer look, climbed up on his bed and stood on his pillows, pressing his nose nearly into the painting. Brian wanted to tell him that he would see it better from slight further away, but it was Gus's painting - he could look at it however he wanted.
"Daddy?" Gus turned then, his expression suddenly very serious.
"What's up, Sonny-boy," Brian reached a hand out to steady the little boy as he wobbled on his feet, the soft bed not a stable surface for clumsy boys.
"Can Justin teach me how to paint?" he asked.
"Justin lives in New York pal," Brain answered softly, unable to suppress the feelings of guilt that flared up at the disappointed expression on Gus's face.
"Oh," Gus frowned, "is New York far away?"
"It is kind of far. But if he comes to visit I'm sure he'll show you how to paint. And mommy can show you," Brian added, hopeful that prospect would alleviate some of Gus's disappointment. "She knows how to paint, too."
"Okay," Gus sighed in response, "but we have to get really good paint."
Brain chuckled softly as he nodded, "we will."
One call to Deb that night after Gus was in bed and all was revealed.
It seemed that the painting Justin had eluded too on the phone with Brian the last time they had spoken was the one now hanging in Gus's bedroom. He had started it not long after he'd returned to New York but when his mother (who had ended up helping Debbie and Emmett set up Gus's room) had casually mentioned she was helping set up Gus's room Justin had poured himself into the piece – determined to finish it before Brian and Gus moved in. That was the reason for his absence and the lack of communication he'd had with Brian. He had been practically living at his studio – obsessed with creating a perfect scene for the little boy.
Debbie's admonishment at the end of their call, that Brian contact Sunshine immediately and grovel in gratitude, was met with amusement. Of course Brian would call Justin, but whether he would grovel in gratitude or just let him know, in his 'Brian Kinney way' that the gift was appreciated and much loved, was not Debbie's business.
Brian tried calling Justin after hanging up with Debbie. And he got his voicemail.
"Par for the course," Brian murmured as he hung up, disappointed and not bothering to leave yet another message. The things he wanted to say he preferred weren't left on a voice recorder – where anyone might ever overhear them.
The following day Brian hosted a dinner party/get together with what little of "the gang" remained in town and available to attend. No one had been to the new house yet, aside from Deb and Emmett. In fact no one even knew of its existence until Brian was back from Toronto with Gus and announced his move. To say there was a shocked silence from his friends would be an understatement.
Brian hired Emmett to cater the dinner though told the nelly-bottom that he better bring enough staff to work as Brian expected Emmett to be there as a guest, not a party coordinator. Emmett had laughed like Brian was crazy to suggest such a thing – but Brian had learned as he'd watched Emmett grow his business that the man was nearly as much of a workaholic as he was – and he had earned Brian's respect for that. Not that Brian would ever tell him as much, though.
The party was going to be unlike any party Brian had thrown before – the only parties he had ever given that weren't specifically sex parties or orgy's included Michael's surprise 30th which even still had been full of sex and booze, the Carnivale event for the GLC, which also had been full of sex and booze, and his Grand Opening reception for Kinnetik, lacking sex outright but certainly full of booze.
This dinner party had to be family friendly, which mean no sex, and little – or rather responsible – booze.
It was just too bad it was still a little too cool in the evenings to set the dinner on the back patio. Emmett, when he'd arrived earlier in the day with his crew had lamented not being able to bedeck the trellis on the back of the house, which featured a thick, mature clematis vine that was greening up nicely, with hundreds of white lights. His vision also including stretching a sheer white canopy over a long dinner table that would be set with fine but durable stoneware clear crystal goblets of red wine, with sprigs of cherry and crabapple blossoms and tiny pots of sweet alyssum all across the tabletop, the scents of the flowers mixing to perfume the air.
Yes, Emmett waxed poetic about that missed opportunity for near an hour. Finally, to silence the other man, Brian promised to throw another dinner party later in the summer to give Emmett the chance to employ said decorations – with a few modifications if necessary – and with a squeal of delight and clap of his hands, the missed opportunity was forgotten, certainly filed away for use at the promised future opportunity.
Gus was thrilled to have everyone at the house, and he was thrilled to be the center of attention. He even took down the painting, with Brian's help, and insisted a place be set at the table for Justin. He wanted to show it off, and he wanted the painting to represent him. But when Brian asked if Gus wanted anything out for Melanie, the little boy had looked away and shrugged and without a word, run back to his bedroom. Brian, intending to go after him, was stopped by Emmett with some silly kitchen emergency and so he didn't get a chance to check in on him as soon as he'd have liked. A little over an hour later, when Brian finally got upstairs to make sure Gus was okay he found him sitting on his bed, in his dress pants and jacket, coloring.
"Whatchya doing?" Brian asked as he came into the room, surprised to find Gus already half dressed. Brian hadn't declared any special dress code, but Gus was apparently excited to 'dress up' and attend a 'grown-up party', so Brian intended to let his son wear whatever he wanted.
"Just coloring," the little boy shrugged.
Brian nodded, watching him. Gus stared at his coloring book, his head tilted slightly. He looked like Lindsay when he drew, or colored, even though his features were decidedly miniature versions of Brian there was something in his expression when he was relaxed and at ease that mirrored his mother.
Brian knew Gus was also missing his other mother. He just didn't know what he could do to make it better. He was at a loss.
"Do you want to call mommy before everyone gets here?"
Because of the dinner preparations and the distance of the house to the city, Brian hadn't been able to take Gus to see Lindsay as he usually did every day. Thus, the grin that he got at the suggestion was all the answer Brian needed.
Brian had wanted to bring Lindsay out for the dinner – but she had declined the invitation, which concerned Brian. They'd only been back in Pittsburgh for a week, and each day when he'd gone to visit her she had seemed off. Something was certainly bothering her, but whatever it was, she hadn't shared it with Brian; yet.
It was a successful call – Brian listened to Gus and then he spoke to Lindsay briefly as well. It seemed the short call was certainly needed on both ends as Lindsay tearfully thanked Brian for letting Gus call, and Gus was all smiles as Brian helped him finish getting dressed, tying his tie for him.
Michael and Ben arrived soon thereafter, earlier than the others so to give Gus some one on one time with his sister. Brian, Emmett and the Novotny-Bruckner pair enjoyed a beer together making small talk while they watched Gus play with the baby.
The scene was so surreal and Brian wondered when the hell he'd become domestic. He had been thrust into the role without consultation and while most of the time he didn't mind it suddenly, watching his son play with JR while standing around with his friends drinking beer he wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the house and lose himself in sex, drugs, and hard liquor. His life had never felt more unlike his own then it did at that moment. He didn't recognize himself. Everything was backwards and unfamiliar and he was hosting a fucking dinner party. A dinner party!
What the fuck had his life become?
It wasn't long before Deb and Carl showed up with Hunter in tow, followed soon thereafter by Ted and Blake and by that time Brian was practically crawling out of his skin. It was all he could do to maintain a calm front – but he did for Gus. Several times through the dinner he caught Deb's eyes on him, though, and he was pretty sure she was seeing through that mask. She knew. She always seemed to know.
Keeping the night fun for Gus was really all that kept Brian tethered to the ground; he was intent on making sure his son had a fun, and normal night. It wasn't hard – everyone gave him ample amounts of attention and adoration and when he proudly showcased Justin's painting, everyone was, as expected, impressed and awed. As they also were when Brian took them around the house and grounds.
Many exclamations were made to the beauty and grandeur of the place and its sweeping views of dense forest and rolling hills. It really was paradise. Brian didn't mention its original intended purpose – that it was a home meant for Justin and him. Instead he simply let everyone believe it had been a recent purchase. It was easier that way – and meant fewer clandestine whispers and looks from his friends since they were already whispering and looking at him behind his back anyway.
The dinner itself was a success – no one mentioning those obviously missing; Melanie and Lindsay. Or Justin. But Brian could tell they were all missed. Gus was thrilled to share being the center of attention with JR. He greedily absorbed all the hugs and kisses and loving gestures that his "Granny Deb" shared with him while Brian watched them, silently hoping Lindsay would be well enough to move home, sooner rather than later because the little boy was obviously missing his mother's affections.
Really though, as the night wore on and the conversation turned to more and more mundane and banal 'grown-up' topics, Brian just wanted everyone to leave. His indulgence as host was wearing so thin he worried he might say something he'd come to regret just to get everyone out the door.
Mostly, what he wanted was to call Justin. Since seeing that painting the day before, he hadn't been able to get it out of his head and while party preparations and entertaining guests had been a good distraction thus far, he was over it now. He was horny, and lonely, and only wanted one thing.
Thankfully, as the hands of the clock neared 10pm, Michael and Ben declared it was time they took JR home and the party quickly broke up soon after. Emmett stayed a bit longer, overseeing the clean-up and packing his equipment and when Brian came back downstairs after getting Gus to bed, the house was immaculate and best of all, empty.
Checking the doors were locked and that no one had stayed behind, lingering, Brian happily retreated to his bedroom, locking his door just in case Gus decided to get up and wander. If Justin answered his phone and things went how Brian hoped, he didn't want his son to accidentally walk in on him.
Stripping his clothes, Brian shivered slightly. The house was large, and old, and drafty. It would never maintain a nice, even temperature like what Brian had kept at the loft, and it was with a tiny bit of annoyance that Brian crawled beneath his sheets instead of spreading out on top.
As soon as Brian had stripped of his clothes, he'd felt the blood rush to his cock and it stiffened slightly, pulses of pleasure coursing through him as he adjusted beneath the sheet. The soft cloth against his cock was extremely pleasurable and all the sexual frustration Brian had been holding in threatened to burst forth in that moment. It was all he could do to keep his hands off himself – the desire to just come, to feel that rush of pleasure followed by the endorphin-fueled natural high that would then send him spiraling down into sweet, relaxing sleep…
He wanted it bad – but he wanted a certain blond to help him in the endeavor even more. And so, cock throbbing and leaking, a wet spot forming where the tip pressed up against the soft sheet, Brian dialed Justin and waited anxiously, hoping this time the little twat would answer. And just when Brian thought his call would once more go to voicemail, the little twat did answer.
"Where the fuck have you been," Brian blurted before Justin even finished saying hello. He knew he had no right to act the way he was. Justin owed him no explanations, but still the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could reign them back in.
"Hello to you too," Justin replied somewhat coolly.
"Shit," Brian mumbled, running his free hand through his hair. This was not starting off well.
Shifting uncomfortably, Brian pushed aside the ache in his groin, his cock nearing the dangerous "blue balls" territory. God, he just wished Justin was in his bed, ready to help him resolve his 'little problem'. He wasn't averse to jacking off as it was all he'd been doing for the last month or so, but he was so fucking tired of it and really didn't want to put forth the effort for what would be an orgasm likely not even near mediocre. He wanted Justin's words and voice to take him over the edge. If he couldn't have his hands and his mouth he'd take the next best thing.
Brian squirmed some more on the soft, cool sheets causing gooseflesh to pop up when he brushed against the coolness of the bed – where his body heat hadn't warmed the surface beneath him. He couldn't get the damned blonde out of his head; Justin – and his mouth, and his ass, and his eyes, and his hands, and his mouth again, and those fucking delicious lips. It was no wonder his cock was rock hard and throbbing painfully. Still, he resisted touching himself. A part of him supposed this was some weird form of self-punishment.
"So," Brian started, trying to shake the irritable mood he was suddenly in – thanks to his raging hard-on and his cold, empty bed.
"Gus and I saw your painting," Brian said with a gentler tone to his voice.
"It's fucking amazing," he continued, when Justin didn't immediately respond. "I guess that's why you've been out of touch."
Justin remained silent and Brian immediately resented the neediness his words seemed to indicate – Christ, it wasn't like he was sitting around just waiting for Justin to call him back…
The silence from the other man did cause Brian to wonder if maybe Justin had finally had enough of all his shit. If maybe he was done being yanked around like a puppet on a string. And those thoughts only made Brian angrier at himself – and if he were honest, a little bit scared, too.
Suddenly there was a long exhale of breath and a sigh that sounded, well, Brian wasn't sure. And it was unsettling and therefore only added to his general unease and confusion.
"I was consumed," Justin finally spoke with a quiet laugh, "you do that to me sometimes. All the time, really."
"What's going on with us, Brian?" Justin's voice changed then, and Brian heard his silent plea beneath the loaded question. He was seeking affirmations and assurances and as much as Brian wanted to take away Justin's apparent uncertainty, he couldn't.
"I know we both decided I'd come to New York," Justin was quiet again but there was no mistaking the confusion and doubt in his voice, "and I know we both said we didn't want the other to change. But I just…"
"Just what," Brian whispered, his eyes closed and his cock painfully throbbing even as he knew what it was Justin was going to say.
"I didn't think you'd so easily revert back to old behaviors," his voice was a whisper, and apologetic. There was another heavy sigh. "I didn't think you'd call me on my fucking birthday to tell me I had to get tested for fucking HIV."
Brian was silent even though he knew Justin was expecting something from him; anything from him.
"Do you know how fucked up that was? How fucked up that is? How fucked up we are?"
He sounded angry now, and Brian knew what he needed to say. Hell, in a way he wanted to say it. The problem was swallowing his fucking pride and doing it. Selfishly, he couldn't help but think that maybe if he said it, Justin would be more inclined to participate in some hot phone sex and maybe they could find their way back to each other through the one language they so completely understood from one another.
Fuck. He was an asshole. And he didn't deserve any of the people in his life who loved him. And he most certainly did not deserve Justin.
"I know," he finally murmured. "I know and-," he paused to breath in deeply before forging ahead – saying it. "-and I'm sorry."
"I really am. Everything is fucked up right now. Including me-," Brian continued, but as he realized the path he was headed down he quickly clenched his jaw and swallowed all his words. Justin didn't need Brian's concerns to add onto his own. Justin didn't need Brian's excuses or to carry any of his weight. Brian could shoulder it alone. He had to shoulder it alone. He deserved to shoulder it alone.
"I just wish-," Justin started, seeming not to hear Brian's near confession, but then he sighed and clammed up as well.
Brian wondered when it had become so hard for them to talk to each other. They had never been chatterboxes, but they'd always been able to say anything to the other. Now it seemed they were both being too guarded, too careful. Brian wasn't sure he liked that any better than when Justin rambled on about his feelings – trying to pry emotions from Brian, too.
What made it even funnier was it was so obvious they were both in situations they didn't want to be in, yet Brian refused to expose his vulnerability while also refusing to "let" Justin give up chasing his dream – even if it was what he said he wanted to do. Fucked up, indeed.
Brian closed his eyes and the two men were silent for several minutes. He could hear Justin's soft breaths and his entire body responded to the sound – his cock, if it were even possible, grew harder as he imagined the blonde's soft breaths against his neck and his chest and his lips. Suddenly the image of Justin's mouth, taking the full length of Brian, appeared in his head and a shock of painful pleasure coursed through his body. He hadn't gotten off, aside from jerking off to porn or with really, really bad cybersex, for over a month now and even if the two of them couldn't talk, there was one thing they could do that they were really good at – either in person, or by phone. It was ridiculous and unfair of Brian to do this to Justin now, but he could only hope the blonde was as sexually frustrated as he was. He hadn't been touched by another man in so long even imagining it now, with Justin on the phone, was nearly enough to make him come.
"Justin," Brian whispered, his voice husky. He hoped the blonde could hear his desire, unspoken.
The response was a soft, resigned sigh and Brian closed his eyes, moving his hand he gently squeezed his cock through the damp sheet. The wetness leaking from his tip had spread to form a circle on the sheet roughly five inches in diameter.
"Brian-," Justin started, his voice indicating his weariness but Brian cut him off before he could say any more, whispering a word he wasn't sure he'd ever said out loud in his life.
"Please," Brian didn't even attempt to mask the need; it was painful, how much he desired the younger man. It was painful how much he needed this moment with him; now. Inside he was crumbling, his life racing ahead of him faster than he knew how to keep up and the one thing that was constant, the one thing that could bring Brian back down to reality and give him a tether, a touchstone, was Justin.
Throwing the sheet off his body and letting the cold air add to the sensations coursing through him, Brian wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it slowly.
"All I want is your mouth on me," he breathed into the phone, taking note of the slight catch and increased rate of Justin's breathing.
"Your warm, wet mouth sucking my rock-hard cock," Brian continued, his hand gripping at his cock almost painfully hard. He let his thumb slide over the tip, spreading the leaking wetness down and arching his back at the bolt of pleasure that shot through him.
"My tongue, working circles on your shaft as I take you fully in before letting you slide out oh so slow," Justin spoke, taking up the mantle now, breathless himself. Brian felt his resolve weakening, imagining the blonde twink lying spread eagle on his bed in New York, touching himself, milking his own dick.
"Near the tip I pause at your slit before slowly licking down the underside of your beautiful cock and biting gently at your balls," Justin's voice cooed, and Brian let his imagination take him there. He could almost feel the wet warmth of Justin's tongue on him. He could almost forget the feel of his own hand.
"Fuck you're so hot," Brian groaned, fondling his balls and stroking the sensitive patch of skin between his legs. His hips slowly rocked and his legs spread wider, almost without thought.
"I wish you were inside me," Justin gasped and Brian felt a jolt of momentary fear – would he ever allow himself to fuck Justin again should he happen to test positive? Could he possibly put the younger man in that position? Thinking back to when Michael and Ben first got together Brian suddenly realized why Ted had been so against them. Facing a potential situation similar to that – Brian didn't know if he could let Justin risk himself that way.
Shoving the thoughts from his mind, Brian turned his focus back to the words coming from Justin and his imagination as he closed his eyes and pictured Justin touching him. He reveled in the fantasy as they continued to talk dirty to each other until they both came.
"Almost as good as the real thing," Justin sighed breathlessly, after.
Brian simply snorted a laugh as they were both quiet for a few moments. Brian felt his breathing slow as his heart rate began to resume its normal rhythm.
"So you found my secret stash of memories," Justin said, then.
"What the fuck is that about?" Brian asked, rolling out of bed and heading into his private bath he cleaned himself off with a washcloth while he cradled the phone.
"Memories," Justin repeated and Brian rolled his eyes.
"I never really took you for a sentimental queer," Brian moved back into the bedroom and flopped down on his bed, moving to the side that was not still damp with his sweat. He'd have to wash his sheets tomorrow – or rather, leave them out for Grace, the new housekeeper, to launder.
Justin just laughed and Brian wondered what that meant. He did of course consider Justin an extremely sentimental queer. He always had been – and always would be. Brian had hoped, with his statement, to get the other man talking. He didn't really want to ask him any direct questions because he was afraid of what he would ask. So many things had been on his mind the last many weeks. Their entire relationship and all its ups and downs – it was affecting Brian's entire philosophy on life…
"I'd forgotten about it, to be honest," Justin said then.
"So you liked the painting?" Justin asked when Brian didn't respond.
Lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag, Brian exhaled before answering. He briefly debated playing his "role", but then decided he was just too damn tired for it and so for one of a few rare times in his life he was honest – without his typical arrogant attitude.
"It's amazing. You should have seen Gus, staring at it."
Justin offered a tiny laugh and Brian pictured him, hair slightly mussed, eyes drowsy with exhaustion, a smile on his face.
"He asked if you could teach him to paint," Brian added, "he was disappointed when I told him you lived too far away."
"A little artist in the making," Justin whispered, and Brian thought he detected a note of sadness in his tone.
"Babylon is reopening in a few weeks," Brian blurted, changing the subject before they both became too maudlin.
"Do you think you can make it back?" he asked, taking another deep drag off the cigarette and trying not to hang all his hopes on potentially seeing Justin soon…
"Probably," he replied slowly, uncertainty obvious in his voice.
"If it's a matter of money I can get you a pass on Liberty Air," Brian snubbed out the half smoked cigarette, "one of the perks of successfully marketing them into one of the top bargain airlines on the East Coast."
"Yeah," Justin said and there was no mistaking the now hopeful tone in his voice, causing Brian a slight heart palpitation, "I'd like that."
The following Monday marked Brian's official return to normalcy. He took Gus in to Pittsburgh, dropping him at Deb's for the day while he went to work. Thankfully, the surrogate mother and grandmother to the two Kinney boys had taken the week off of work from the diner – specifically, she told Brian in a hushed tone as she and Carl left the dinner party the previous Friday night – so that she could watch Gus as Brian settled in to his new life.
The few days Brian and Gus had spent together at the loft had been to acclimate the little boy to being in yet another new place. He didn't exhibit as much separation anxiety as he had in Toronto, but Brian wasn't about to return to work the moment he'd landed back in PA and leave Gus to figure out the new surroundings alone. He probably remembered the loft, but he probably also remembered the loft with his mothers there.
At any rate – Brian was thankful for Deb's offer, and the time it gave him to find a live-in nanny for the summer months.
Returning to Kinnetik was another milestone – his employees appeared excited and anxious about his return, and Brian wondered if everyone's performance had been up to snuff while he'd been out. He had no doubts about Cynthia and Ted's abilities to keep things running, but neither of them had Brian's instincts and so as he sat at his desk, going through his stack of mail, both snail and electronic, he also had them both before him rattling off details and deadlines and status updates for their active accounts. It sounded, from their reports, as though everything were in good standing, and so with a brief nod he dismissed them and turned to his computer to address the most critical communications waiting there for him. Namely, Brown Athletics wanted an in-person meeting with Brian to discuss the recent public response to their new campaign (it wasn't that good), and Brown Sutton wanted to fly to Pittsburgh with Darcy and Sam in tow to look at models and to discuss the preliminary ideas that Brian had left them with when he had left Toronto.
Picking up his phone, Brian made the first of two calls, and by the end of the hour had two different meetings scheduled for the following week; all travel expenses on Kinnetik's dime, of course.
Brian left the office in the early afternoon, picking Gus up from Deb's and then heading to the hospital rehab center where Lindsay had been a resident now for not quite a week.
They'd been visiting her every day, except the day of the dinner party, and Brian had noticed a slight improvement in Lindsay's mood each subsequent day. She seemed to be settling back into being in Pittsburgh, and the frequent visits from their group of friends seemed to also be helping her. She still wouldn't talk much about Melanie, or her feelings about the accident – at least not with Brian. He was certain she was in some sort of therapy and the thought reminded him that he really needed to see about getting Gus into talk to someone as well. The little boy seemed okay most of the time, but then would have strange outbursts of emotion that were wholly out of proportion to the incident that would elicit them. Granted, he was also a little kid, but even Brian knew that his behavior was more out of character than in.
After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, and Brian had received an update on Lindsay's condition and progress (there wasn't much – still no sensation beyond tingling pin-pricks that ended just at the knees), the two adults turned their attentions to the needs of their son. Gus, bored with adult chit-chat, took up the same pastime that he'd employed on their visits in Toronto, and settled in a chair with a coloring book.
"How is he?" Lindsay watched Gus with a gentle smile, before turning her attention back to Brian. "How is he really?"
"He's mostly okay," Brian shrugged. "I think."
"I do think he needs to see someone," Brian added, Lindsay's reaction not lost on him. Her eyes widened slightly and she bit at her lower lip.
"So he's not okay," she whispered.
"I don't know Linds," Brian sighed, "but it couldn't hurt. He seems to be fine most of the time but then something will happen and he'll freak out, or clam up, or burst into tears. After all he's been through the last five months with moving, and the accident, and moving again. I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't slightly fucked up."
Lindsay nodded, her brown eyes fixed on Gus. Brian watched her watching their son and he saw such unhindered adoration but beneath that he saw guilt. He was certain. Brian knew what guilt looked like, and it didn't belong to Lindsay.
"Stop," Brian reached out and gently grasped her chin to force her to look at him, "it's not your fault. So stop."
With a weak smile, Lindsay just nodded slightly.
The rest of the visit was spent in idle chit-chat, aside from Lindsay asking Brian to see about getting Gus into some sort of preschool for the summer – what was left of it. She warned him that he'd probably have to be the one to visit and register Gus for Kindergarten as well – seeing as Lindsay wasn't expected to be discharged from the rehab center for probably another month at least.
Brian added that to the long list of other things he had to do – find the kid a therapist, and a nanny, and now a preschool if possible, and an elementary school. He wasn't sure, living out where they did, what that would mean for schools for Gus but Brian just filed it away – choosing to focus on one issue at a time and the most time sensitive issue on the list was getting a nanny.
Brian had quickly found a local housekeeping service, a local woman named Grace had a small crew that cleaned houses in the neighborhood. He hired them to come four times a week. At the same time he found them he also found a gardener who would come three times a week to take care of the mowing and the pruning and the weeding and the raking. Because of this, he expected to find someone quickly who would gladly snatch up the position of nanny. But Brian neglected to take into account the distance of the house from the city, and its – in general – remote location. Finally though, after conducting two days of interviews he'd found a young Master's Candidate who needed a summer gig while she worked on her thesis in preparation for graduation the following fall. Her name was Gina Rice and she was studying elementary education – which Brian thought a fortuitous coincidence. She was petite in frame, but boisterous in voice, reminding him of Debbie in many ways. She had thick, dark red hair and piercing blue eyes that rivaled Justin's. A tiny smattering of freckles colored her nose and cheeks and Brian couldn't help but feel an immediate Irish kinship with her. With coloring like that, she couldn't be anything else.
At the start of the interview, he'd sensed some gentle flirtation on her part and so to nip that potential problem in the bud, Brian immediately told her about the living situation – how he and Lindsay and Gus fit together as a family. To her credit, she didn't act much surprised, and Brian was relieved. Several other interviews he'd conducted had ended quite shortly after a few of the prospective candidates had learned of Brian's sexuality and had reacted…well…badly.
Gina didn't seem to mind so much, and Brian was briefly reminded of another young woman he knew who had always seemed to take an intense interest in Brian's life – because it involved her best friend. Brian allowed himself to wonder for a moment how Daphne was faring with Justin in New York…
Part of the package for the nanny position included a small apartment above the garage, and though Gina had her own car (a Honda! Brian balked), Brian insisted that she use the Mercedes sedan when she had to take Gus anywhere. Brian still had his 'vette, and he intended to use it over the summer. He then laid out the rest of the guidelines for the job – namely that it wouldn't be regular hours. He warned her that he may sometimes work late into the night, and that until he arrived home she was on the clock to watch Gus. He told her he wasn't averse to giving her time off and all her weekends would be her own, but if she needed other time off she needed to give him at least a few weeks heads up.
To her credit, Gina was unphased by the 'rules' and that impressed Brian. She seemed confident and strong-willed, which Brian also liked and so he offered the job to her, contingent of course upon Gus's final approval. She agreed to come to the house the following evening to meet Gus.
The following evening, when Gina pulled up in her decade-old Honda, Brian was ready and waiting at the front door of the house, Gus at his side.
The young woman, fiery red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, offered them both a wide grin before she dropped to a crouch in front of Gus and offered out her hand.
"Hi. My name's Gina," she said warmly.
"I'm Gus," the little boy said, his tiny hand disappearing into Gina's. Brian suppressed a laugh.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gus," Gina let go of his hand and reaching into her satchel, her eyes flicked up to Brian's for a moment before she looked back at Gus, "I have a present for you. Your dad told me you like to draw and color and so…"
Brian watched as she slowly pulled out three items; a set of Prismacolor colored pencils, a set of Prismacolor pastels, and set of Prismacolor charcoals. Brian, who wouldn't know the different between Prismacolor and Crayola if not for Justin, raised his eyebrows in surprise. They weren't the most expensive brand but they were also not cheap – not for a kid who wasn't even five years old yet.
Gus seemed to share Brian's surprise, though not because he had any knowledge of brand name art supplies, but because aside from his giant box of crayons Gus had never had colored pencils or pastels or charcoals. Brian doubted he'd ever even seen them before. The little boy stared wide-eyed at the offered gifts before looking up at Brian as if asking if it was okay. Brian smiled and nodded and that seemed to be all the confirmation Gus needed.
"Wow," he whispered, grasping the supplies and offering a grin that was a rare sight since the car accident.
"What else do you say?" Brian blurted, rolling his eyes at himself at the use of the cliché.
"Thank you," Gus said looking from Gina back up to Brian, "Can I go color a picture for mommy?"
Gina stood then, her blue eyes meeting Brian's as they both shared a moment of amusement.
"After dinner," Brian reached down and took the three items from Gus, "why don't you take Gina out to the back while I get the steaks."
Gus hopped a few times on his toes before reaching out and grasping Gina's hand, pulling her through the house and rattling on about Brian didn't even know what.
Gina moved into the apartment above the garage two days later.
The following Monday Brian got an anxious call from Lindsay. She had just been visited by her parents – the first time since she'd been back in Pittsburgh. Brian never asked and Lindsay never told him but apparently she had held off on letting them know she was back. When she had called them, that morning, they had rushed over to see her and had been shocked and angry that she hadn't told them sooner of her injuries. They were also concerned about the fact that she was living in a physical therapy and rehabilitation center while her son, their grandson, was with his father.
As Lindsay relayed the conversation that ensued after that, she grew more and more upset. As she told it to Brian, her parents were concerned with Gus being around Brian and his "lifestyle". They didn't seem to care that Brian had moved them to a nice house outside the city, or that Gus was well taken care of, or that Brian hadn't gone out or brought any tricks home since the night he'd arrived in Toronto. Brian, though he did go out one night in Toronto, let Lindsay believe that he had been 100% available the entire time. In any case, the trio had fought, then, as much as their waspish tendencies would allow them. Finally, Lindsay's mother had threatened to take legal action and bring Gus into their home. That was when Lindsay had kicked them out of her room, and called Brian.
Nothing Brian could say could calm her, and until he promised to investigate the legal avenues her parents had at their disposal would she calm down. She also, tearfully Brian could hear, begged him to look into what he could or needed to do to reclaim his parental rights. She was desperate that her parents have no claim to take Gus from Brian. He wasn't too worried, but a tiny icicle of fear seemed to stab at his heart and cause him distress. He wasn't about to let anyone take Gus from him.
Needless to say, the distraction of yet another tiny crisis was not what Brian needed to start out another workweek. Still – after hanging up with Lindsay he contacted his lawyer and set him to task. Putting it out of his mind once his legal team was on it, Brian set to work on Kinnetik business, trying to regain some of the order that had been lost in his absence.
When Brian was at the hospital in Toronto, and the hospital administrator talked to Brian about what his powers and rights were to make decisions about Lindsay's care and also to see to Melanie's body, Brian hadn't questioned it or even looked any further into what it all meant. He'd been told what he could do, and so he'd done it. That was the last he thought of it, and the last he'd heard about it.
Because of that, he was surprised to arrive at Kinnetik the next morning to find a young man in a suit with a thick manila envelope addressed to Brian. The young man didn't explain anything as he placed the envelope into Brian's hands and walked out the door. It wasn't even five minutes later – Brian had just taken off his jacket and settled at his desk – when his cell phone rang.
Lindsay had apparently received a similar packet about an hour earlier, and as she explained to Brain, after reading it over, then reading it a second time, and then reading it once more, she was now calling Brian because he needed to come to her; now.
So – just as soon as he'd settled in he was off again, yelling instructions over his shoulder at Cynthia as he strode out the door.
At the hospital, Brian met Lindsay not in her room, but in the cafeteria. The nurse who had wheeled her in hovered nearby, but left them alone to talk.
"Did you look at it yet?" Lindsay asked, nodding towards the thick envelope that she'd told Brian to bring with him.
"No, it was literally placed in my hands five minutes before you called."
"Open it," she responded.
Brian couldn't read her expression. She seemed excited, yet scared; on the verge of tears, yet also moments away from screaming for joy.
But, Brian did as she requested, and opening the envelope he quickly skimmed the documents before raising his eyes to Lindsay.
This time when he looked at her she was grinning and crying at the same time.
"I wasn't sure how to start the process but now," Lindsay grinned wider, which Brian thought impossible as she was already smiling as wide as he'd ever seen her, "is it really that simple?"
"It must be," Brian replied, smiling back. He wondered if the call yesterday to his lawyer had prompted this turn of events, and he made a note to call him as soon as he left the hospital.
"Why aren't you more excited?" Lindsay's grin faltered as she narrowed her eyes at him.
"I am," Brian, who was still trying to wrap his head around everything contained in the documents. It seemed too easy; too good to be true.
"I'm just," Brian searched his head for the right word, "I'm just surprised."
"She loved Gus," Lindsay said softly, and Brian saw tears of a different nature start to fall from her eyes. "She loved us both. And I think she loved you, too. In a strange sort of way."
Brian laughed. Melanie? Love him? Somehow he doubted that, but he wasn't going to burst Lindsay's bubble so he said nothing in response.
Brian stared down at the stack of papers that lay before him. Among them, a copy of Melanie's will as well as additional paperwork that would, in essence, return all of Brian's parental rights back to him. He didn't understand all the legalese, but what he did understand was that Gus would legally be his again. All he had to do was sign the papers included in the packet, and have his lawyers file it.
That was it. It seemed so anticlimactic after all the emotions initially signing those papers had stirred within him. After all the time it had taken him to get over the loss of something he'd never wanted to begin with but had quickly learned he'd enjoyed having – even if it was brief.
Though he hadn't been Gus's legal parent for almost four years, he had always been Gus's dad, and that feeling had never left him, whether it was legal or not. The fact that he had no legal claim or right to his son never played too much of a role in his life since he'd signed those papers – except when Lindsay and Melanie had announced they wanted to move to Canada.
He supposed that was why he was feeling so oddly now. All the things he'd thought he'd lost when he'd signed those papers and let his son be taken to another country, were now being returned to him. He had Gus and Lindsay back in Pittsburgh, and soon he would be legally responsible for his son once again.
And it was because Melanie was dead. That was the only reason.
How could he really be happy? At the expense of Lindsay and Gus's grief? It was bittersweet.
Brian offered a gentle smile before pulling a pen out of his briefcase and with not a moment's hesitation he signed where indicated – only wondering after the fact if he shouldn't have had his lawyer check it first. But it was a fleeting thought, because there was no way there could be anything but good in the paperwork. Melanie wouldn't do that.
"Done," Brian slipped his pen back in his case, and then with a true grin Brian moved out to crouch down at Lindsay's side before gently kissing her on the cheek.
That afternoon Brian met with his lawyer and after a brief consultation – the man took the papers and filed them. It was done. Gus was his again.
Over the course of the week, Brian met several times with the contractors and was repeatedly assured that Babylon would be ready for the Grand Reopening he wanted to have in mid-June. Things had progressed fairly rapidly before Brian had left town, and there wasn't much left to do – just some finishing touches to the décor, and to hire a full staff to fill those spots that had been vacated after the bombing. Most of the employees wanted to come back – but a few didn't. Brian understood – but that meant more time for him to find replacements.
The time it would take to interview for the open positions he wanted to fill was not time he was inclined to take. After a few nights debating the pros and cons of taking a step back from the club, Brian decided that at least until Lindsay was discharged from the rehab center and living at home, he should keep his focus on Gus, and Kinnetik. Babylon, as much of a toy as it was for him, was far down his list of priorities.
So, when Brian called Ted into his office at Kinnetik and directly asked him if he would assume some of the day to day operational decisions for the club, the other man had been, appropriately, surprised.
"I need someone I can trust, and that list is short," Brian reclined in his chair while Ted stood before him, slightly slack-jawed.
"I'm honored you think I can do it," he responded.
"It's only temporary. Just until Lindsay comes home. And Alanzo is still in charge of managing the place. Your job will be to help him whenever he needs it. If an emergency arises, if there's a problem with a vendor, or security, or publicity, and so on."
Ted had been nodding his head as Brian had been speaking.
"No problem," Ted grinned, "I can handle it."
"Good. First thing I want you to do is go down there and help him round out the staff. You know what I want. Hot, sexy, and young."
"Got it, got it," Ted nodded.
"Well? Go!" Brian barked and Ted offered a laugh before turning on his heels and moving from Brian's office.
That was one less thing he had to worry about now, and surprisingly, he felt completely at ease with letting Ted take care of club business.
He considered if this was yet another sign that he was "growing up".
As the week wore on, Brian prepared for his two big meetings with Brown Athletics and Sutton Brewery. The meetings would serve to both reassure his older client, Brown Athletics, that things were back on track, and give his new client, Sutton Brewery, an exciting glimpse into the new campaign ideas that Brian and his team had come up with – with some help from Sam.
The Brown Athletics meeting went better than Brian expected. Leo Brown's concerns weren't as severe as he'd led Brian to believe, and so the in person recommitment to the brand had gone a long way towards assuaging his nervousness. Mr. Brown had departed their afternoon meeting throwing praise at everyone at Kinnetik and excited to expand his brand even further.
The morning after the Brown Athletics meeting, Brian met with Brown Sutton, Darcy, and Sam. They all had been very pleased with the models chosen for the new ads – and Mr. Sutton had been very pleased with the artwork – agreeing that focusing on the active segment of the population would be wise, since the name of the new brew was White Water Pale Ale. They had a successful brainstorming session, and Brian was left with a few new ideas and tweaks to consider before their next meeting in a few weeks.
Brown and Darcy left Pittsburgh right after the meeting – something about a tasting they had to get back to Toronto for – but what caught Brian slightly off guard was Brown requesting that Sam stay in Pittsburgh for a few weeks, at least, to oversee the rest of the campaign design. Brian, not used to being watch dogged, tried not to be offended by the insinuation that he couldn't handle the campaign development on his own but still he agreed to give Sam some temporary space to work at the Kinnetik offices.
After Brown and Darcy had departed, Brian leveled a sardonic look at Sam.
"This is bullshit," he sighed. "I certainly don't need my hand held."
Sam offered a slight smile, but it didn't touch his eyes and Brian thought for just a moment that he seemed not quite his usual self – at least for as well as Brian could claim to know the man.
"It was my idea," Sam said then, causing Brian's brow to rise slightly in silent question.
"I had to get out of Toronto," Sam answered without further explanation.
Brian simply nodded, examining the man before him. He didn't want another friend. He didn't need another friend. Yet there was something about this man, something in his demeanor and in his attitude that appealed to Brian. Not necessarily sexually because, even though he couldn't remember, he'd been there and done that and besides, the man was positive. No way would Brian risk that when he had Justin to consider. Still…he couldn't deny there was some kind of connection between them. He made Brian feel at ease; and he didn't judge. Sam didn't know Brian, or his past, or anything about his life in Pittsburgh. Maybe that was the appeal. Brian could be whoever he wanted with Sam because Sam didn't expect him to be anything.
"Let's go get some lunch," Brian stood suddenly from his desk. Sam followed suit, rising from the chair he was seated in and moving it back to the small, round table that filled the space to the immediate right of the door leading out of Brian's office.
The Liberty Diner was bustling, but Brian and Sam had beat the usual lunch crowd, just barely, and had snagged a booth at the rear of the diner. Sam had immediately recognized the similarities between Rosie's in Toronto and The Liberty Diner, while also taking note of the differences. Brian advised Sam on what was safe to order and what was not ("Never order the fish!" He'd warned), and they engaged in idle chit chat while they waited for a server to come over to them. Sam asked Brian a little about the scene in Pittsburgh, and Brian filled him in on Woody's and the other clubs on the street before inviting him to the Babylon grand reopening, since he'd be in town anyway.
Sam hadn't heard about the bombing, which Brian found shocking and interesting, so when Sam asked why the club was reopening and Brian told him the story the other man was appropriately shaken and dismayed. He then promised he'd be there even if he wasn't looking for anyone at the moment, if for no other reason than to support the gay community and to show those who would try to keep them down that they wouldn't succeed. Brian appreciated the gesture, and was about to ask Sam about his status when they were interrupted.
"And who is this?" the voice that interrupted their casual conversation was all too familiar and Brian cringed inwardly. He knew the chances of Deb working the lunch shift were good, but Brian had also hoped he wouldn't have to explain Sam to everyone. Though really, if he didn't want to explain him he probably shouldn't have brought him to The Liberty Diner in the first place.
Brian smiled sardonically at Sam before looking up at Deb. She was standing, empty tray resting partially on her shoulder, her free hand planted on her hip. She snapped her gum expectantly and Brian read clearly in her expression a deep disappointment. He sighed. He would never live down his past with these people – and maybe rightly so – but still the fact that she would think he would flaunt someone that wasn't Justin…well Brian was very nearly offended. If not for the thought of being offended, offending him.
"Deb," Brian drawled out her name, his voice dripping with condescension and sweetness, "this is Sam Fairfield, he's a client."
Brian watched as almost imperceptively Debbie's expression cleared and with a snap of her gum she turned to Sam and grinned.
"Well," her eyes flashed devilishly, "aren't you distinguished. A bit too distinguished for this dump."
She let out one of her full-throated laughs then, and when Sam gave Brian a slightly confused look, Brian just shook his head and shrugged.
"And I hope all you are is a client," turning to Brian then she reached out and slapped his cheek, a bit too hard to be one of her typical motherly love taps. "I know how you've behaved with clients in the past."
Then she was gone, drawn away by the bell from the kitchen likely to deliver some hungry queen his pink plate special.
If Brian had been with any other of his clients, other than Sam, he would have been horrified. No, scratch that because if he had been with any of his other clients he would not have brought them to the Liberty Diner in the first place. Why he thought it was appropriate with Sam he wasn't sure. It wasn't just because the man was gay, and it wasn't just because they shared this "secret" between them…was it?
"That's Deb," Brian cocked his eyebrow, deciding not to try and figure out what his motive might have been and to just enjoy lunch.
"She seems," Sam paused, obviously searching for the right word that wouldn't offend Brian.
"Crazy. But we love her," Brian said, finishing Sam's thought.
"My best friend's mother," Brian continued, unsure why he felt the need to explain. "She's, unfortunately, known me since I was a teenager."
Sam smiled and nodded knowingly.
The bell above the door jangled then and out of habit Brian looked up to see who had come in. He nearly groaned out loud when he saw Ted, Blake, and Emmett.
"Shit," Brian whispered under his breath. He heard Sam start to ask him what was wrong when Emmett spotted him and waved enthusiastically, skipping across the diner and moving to fall into the booth next to Brian. When he caught sight of Sam though, Emmett paused, half falling into the booth and half holding himself up by his tight grip on the tabletop.
With a nervous laugh, Emmett collected himself and dropped into the booth, nudging Brian gently with his shoulder and forcing him to move over.
"Who is this?" Emmett cooed and batted his eyelashes.
"Sam Fairfield," Sam held out his hand and Brian suppressed a laugh as Emmett reached out a limp wrist and tenderly grasped the proffered hand.
"Emmett Honeycutt," he practically swooned, his southern accent thick and drawling, "pleasure."
Ted and Blake, who had taken their time crossing over, arrived at the booth just as Emmett and Sam shook hands.
"Theodore," Brian smiled tightly at his CFO. "Who's minding the store?"
"Relax Bri," Ted smiled causally, "Cynthia's working through her lunch. She's there."
"She better fucking be," Brian growled, tempted to pull out his phone and check up on her.
All the recent client unrest had Brian on edge. In addition to Brown Athletics, a few of his other big name clients had expressed some dissatisfaction with the quality of the work Kinnetik was putting out the last few months. Brian knew it was because of his absence and distraction of the accident and Lindsay and Gus and so he was demanding even more from his employees now that he was back. Part of that demand was making sure everyone was doing due diligence with their assignments. As such Brian, who typically didn't micromanage to this extreme, had ordered that if he wasn't at the office that Cynthia or Ted had to be.
"Sam, this is my partner Blake," Ted smiled to the other man and Brian watched as Sam and Blake shook hands. He could still see Emmett, out of the corner of his eye, grinning madly as his eyes devoured the handsome face of slightly older man.
"Pleasure," Sam made to move over and apparently make some room for the duo to sit but Brian held up his hands, causing everyone to pause and look at him expectantly.
"No," he said. "We're working. Sit elsewhere."
Brian heard Emmett sigh beside him before he slowly slid out of the booth.
"I do hope I'll see you again," the flamboyant man grinned at Sam, and Brian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, that'd be great," Sam replied. With a wave of his hand, Emmett led Ted and Blake over to a recently vacated booth nearer the door of the diner.
"Your friend Emmett is-," Sam smiled at Brian before casting a glance over his shoulder to watch the trio for a moment.
"A nelly-bottom," Brian finished, turning his attention to ordering lunch as Betty came over to finally take their order.
Sam hadn't asked, and Brian hadn't offered. They both knew it was close to the one month test for Brian. The first test he'd have since Sam had revealed his Positive result. For Brian, that made the event increasingly important and he counted down the days. He wasn't really aware that he was doing it, but somehow he knew exactly when, on May 15, he was due for that next test.
Heading to the hospital on his lunch hour, Brian was in and out in less than twenty minutes. The nurse at Alleghany General had not been as quick or efficient as the one at Toronto General, but still it was quick enough not to rouse suspicion from his coworkers.
With the looming knowledge of Sam's positive status, Brian was increasingly irritable and anxious in the days he had to wait for the results to come back. His friends commented on his snowballing attitude, and even Gus mentioned that he acted "mad all the time".
The thing was he was mad; at himself. Since the accident Brian had been forced – in more ways than one – to acknowledge his mortality and his vulnerabilities. He'd been forced to leave the last vestiges of his playboy lifestyle behind him as he assumed the role of primary parent to his son. He'd allowed Justin back into his life only to make him leave again. Now he couldn't turn off his emotions. He couldn't compartmentalize them because he simply was feeling more emotions than he had compartments to safely store them.
He briefly considered calling Sam; Brian truly thought him the only safe place he had at the moment. He was the only one who truly knew what Brian might be feeling. But he didn't call him. As selfish as Brain knowingly was – he couldn't do that to the man who was still trying to deal with his own HIV status. So Brian suffered the long days alone – taking out his frustrations on his staff and making a concerted effort to mask his son from his growing self-rage.
The call finally came late in the afternoon of the fifth day and Brian almost didn't answer. He was in the midst of yet another crisis with a fairly new client – a high end lingerie boutique that was actually calling Kinnetik's campaign ideas too conservative – which Brian found just a little bit insulting. So, as it was he was staring at half-naked women in lace bras and panties, trying to figure out how he could make the campaign more sexual without turning it into pornography and it pissed him off. He'd never received criticism that he wasn't being sexy enough in his pitches, and it was making him question his relevance.
Therefore the only reason he answered his phone was because if he stared at the images in front of him (not even men, dammit!) for one minute longer he was afraid he'd start throwing shit across his office.
So he answered, and everything changed. It was magical what that one word did to his mood.
Negative.
Brian forgot about the lingerie, forgot about the stress of everything in his life and basked in the sense of relief he felt from that one, little word. He barely heard the nurse explaining that he needed another test at three months and six months. He already knew that, so he grunted affirmations absently, then hung up the phone and reveled in the good news.
Then, despite angry protestations from Cynthia, Brian took the rest of the day off. He wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon with his son. Fuck women's lingerie. But first, he sent a text message to Justin. It was just the one word. It was all he needed to say.
A few days later Brian turned 34 years-old. Because of the stress of the HIV test, he hadn't had time to angst over his birthday and turning another year older. In all honesty, he'd mostly forgotten about it, aside from getting birthday calls and texts from his friends all day.
Arriving home from work that evening Brian was surprised to find two wrapped packages on the dining room table – one obviously from Gus but the other…
Seizing the opportunity of being alone Brian opened the card attached to the other package and felt a smile spread across his face.
There was only one word, written in delicate cursive. Yet it was all he didn't know he'd wanted.
Negative.
That was all it said, and Brian felt any of the residual worry he'd been feeling fall away. Justin was safe, still, and at this point the odds were now in their favor that they'd continue to test negative. They were very nearly out of the woods and nothing made Brian happier.
Smiling stupidly, Brian pulled the ornately wrapped package towards him, noting the heaviness of the box. The package appeared to be wrapped but upon closer inspection Brain saw it was really just a box with a removable lid. Pulling off the lid Brian peered inside and let out a soft chuckle.
The box contained another card – this one a gaudy birthday greeting which had Brian cringing and promising himself that he'd make the little twat pay – and a bottle of Chivas Regal 25yr aged Scotch Whisky. Brian's mouth watered as he stroked the bottle, a part of him wondering how Justin managed to afford the fairly high-end whisky. He didn't have time to ponder too much, however, as the whirlwind of energy known as Gus blasted into the dining room screeching happy birthday and practically jumping out of his skin to see Brian open his gift, a grinning Gina following close behind him.
"I will face what is to come
I will face what is to come"
-The Only Way Is Up, The Kinky Boys