Title: First Year—January
Author: Simon
Pairing: Justin/Brian
Rating: PG-13
Summary: B/J are married, their first year. This is a sequel to 'Christmas Presents', the non-death version.
Warnings: language
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Moonshadow Tribe and ATP
Feedback: Hell, yes.
First Year
January: Justin
We got back to Pittsburgh on January second. It was snowing, of course, but the plane landed alright and Mom was there to pick us up at the airport, no problem.
God, I couldn't believe it—she actually kissed Brian hello after she finished hugging me. A few months ago she was hard pressed to even be civil to him beyond her WASP ice princess act that she puts on when she thinks she has to. It was the whole Christmas visit with my grandparents and the fact that he asked for her help in planning the wedding that made the difference. We all knew that. I didn't mind—I was so happy and that Brian and I were together that I probably wouldn't even have cared if she'd been a complete bitch, which she wasn't.
Molly was great, too. I mean, I always knew she had a crush on Brian and he's great because he doesn't tease her about it, but when she saw us she gave me this really great hug and then seemed shy with Bri. She never had been before so that was a change, but he leaned over and kissed her cheek and told her that she looked great and then he whispered something I couldn't hear that made her laugh and she hugged him for real.
People walking by were smiling at us being so happy and talk about God being in His Heaven and all being right with the world.
Fuck me—that day it sure as Hell was.
Mom dropped us off at the loft, asking us if we would like to join them for dinner, but we asked for a rain check—you know, first night home and all of that.
We put the bags in the elevator and I was unlocking the door when he picked me up and I started laughing, but he wouldn't out me down. He carried me across the threshold and dumped me on the bed and we both laughing by then and kissing with our arms around each other and I think we were about to make love, but the place was freezing and the fucking phone started to ring and Brian just put his hand on my cheek and said later before reaching for the cordless on the nightstand.
I got up and checked—he'd turned the thermostat down to 50 before he left. Shit. I shoved it up to 72 and got the other line to order in some dinner. I knew that there wouldn't be anything worth eating there if the place had been empty for over a week.
So, our first night at home as a married couple was spent with Thai delivery, a hot shower to warm up and wrapped in a comforter while we ate.
Well, OK, there was also so mind blowing sex after the heat came up and we'd had food. You didn't think we read ourselves to sleep did you? C'mon, get serious.
Afterwards we were lying together and I was rubbing my fingers over his ring and I started thinking.
We were married—we were legally bound together, or whatever you want to call it. He was my husband and I was his—husband. I guess this is one of those situations where the language really hasn't kept up with the changes in society or something. I like the word 'partner', but that sounds a little artsy-fartsy to me, a little pretentious or something. You know, "Hello, I'd like to introduce my partner". It sounds awkward to me. 'Boyfriend'? That's even worse. For shit's sake, Brian is in his thirties, he's no one's 'boyfriend'. Well, that which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.
He's my husband. Deal with it.
You know, I never thought that Brian would ever do this. Get married, I mean, do the whole 'with this ring I do wed' thing and arrange what ever he called a honeymoon. Sure it was like him to keep it all a surprise until the last possible moment, just about, but shit—I just never thought that it would actually happen.
I wanted it to, I guess, but I just never believed that he'd ever go for it. I hinted around—even came right out and said that maybe someday we could—you know...and he always would look at me in that way he has when someone has just suggested something that he thinks came straight from their asshole and either tell me to forget it or that it would never happen or mention that we're not a couple of dykes...you get the idea. I never thought that it was something that he'd change his mind about any time soon.
I thought that I knew him so fucking well, and he still surprises me.
You know what else blew me away? Oh stop smirking, yeah; he did that too a few times. I found out that my Mom helped him plan the whole thing and that he'd gone to talk to her about it while he was still making the reservations. I guess that must have been one fucking conversation that the two of them had because he got her to where she was all for it. Well, all for it enough that she would help him anyway.
I'm not stupid enough to think that she doesn't have second thoughts about her little boy, as Debbie would say, "sucking cock and taking it up the ass." I mean, this can't be what she pictured for me when I was growing up. I know that, but I also know that she suspected for years that I might be gay, so it's not like she didn't have time to get used to the idea. I mean, this has to be better than her thinking that I'm screwing around or something. At least Im in a stable relationship with some one I'm in love with who actually loves me back. Right?
Jesus, we're fucking married. I'm twenty years old and I'm married to the person I love and I'm studying art and—Jesus—I don't know if it can get better than this. It may be this good sometime, but it sure as fuck can't get any better.
Brian
Yeah, we pulled it off.
God, if someone had told me a year ago that I'd be newly returned from a surprise wedding and honeymoon and that Justin and I would actually be married, I'd have told them that they were full of shit.
A year ago was about when the Chinrat was making his presence known and my life with Justin was taking a fast ride right into the dumpster. We were arguing and we both knew that the problems we had were bad ones and I doubt if either of us would have thought that it would ever resolve—at least not the way it has.
Oh, I wanted it to, sure, but did I think it would? Fuck, no.
I thought that one day I'd walk in and find that his shit was gone, that he was gone and that would be it. It almost was the way it played out, in fact—we all know that.
Fuck me. You know something? I think I always had a gut feeling that if you let yourself love someone—let them in under that frigging wire—that you'd let yourself open to having your heart stomped into about a million pieces. That's why I never did it, hat's why I never believed in love.
Oh, sure, when I was being completely honest with myself, I'd admit—just to myself, mind you—that it might be nice to trust someone. It could, possibly, be pleasant to know that someone gave a crap whether you were dead or alive and that you—I—cared back.
It might be good.
Of course, I never for a fucking second thought that it would happen to me, that I'd ever cave into that sort of shit.
I'm an ad man. I write fake romance for a living. You want to find true love? Easy. Use Chanel #5. You want to get married? Simple, have whiter teeth. You just want to get laid? Easiest of all, just wear Calvin Klein underwear or shop at Victoria's Secret or dye your hair with L'Oreal. I knew what crap it all was.
I still know what crap it all is.
I also know that when I thought that he was gone for good, I stopped caring about almost everything for a while. I went into a funk until I thought of ways to keep myself in his orbit and I made sure that he knew he could still count on me if the violinist fell short.
Did I think the two of them would last? Fuck, no.
Did I think that he'd want us to pick it up again? That's a harder question. I—hoped that he would, but I wasn't sure. I knew the night that he returned my bracelet that the spark; the attraction was still there. Jesus, we practically fucked each other with our eyes, but the time wasn't right then.
The day I was in the diner and knew that he and Ethan (yes, I know his name) had fought and that he'd spent the night at Daphne's; I thought that it was getting closer. I knew for a fact the day I walked into the art department at work and there he was, all blond and nervous and trying his damndest to no give himself away. I knew that we weren't done.
Talk about whatever you do, don't think about a hippopotamus. If you said you'd pay me not to think about him, I couldn't do it. Every fucking minute he was in my head. So I found a reason to fire him.
Then I told me that I should give him his job back and we both knew that we weren't just talking about paste-ups and fonts.
Yeah, he's got the job, he's got tenure and full benefits and I never thought that I'd do it and Goddamn, there are still times when I wonder what the fuck I'm doing. It scares the shit out of me.
You know any married people who are happy? I mean really happy together? Not many, are there?
It's not a gay thing or a straight thing. It's just so damn hard to find someone you can stand to be with, who you can let all the barriers down with and who you want to be there when you go to sleep and when you wake up. Sure, it's easy to find someone who's OK when the sun is shining and you've got a job and you're healthy and you're young and everything is on autopilot and just fine. No problem. You try finding someone who you want to be around when you're sick or in a pissy mood or upset or having a shitty day or morning breath or who snores. Go on, try it.
You want to know when I knew that I might be able to pull this off?
A couple of months ago I woke up. It was late, maybe three in the morning and something woke me up. I lay there in the dark, trying to figure out what was wrong, why I wasn't still sleeping and then I realized that there was a sound, not all that loud, and that was what had done it.
Justin was pressed against me, his arm thrown across my stomach, and he was snoring softly. It wasn't loud or obnoxious, but it had been enough to wake me.
Instead of being pissed, I liked it. I liked that he was there and that I could hear him and that he was OK. After the bashing I didn't know if I'd ever sleep with him again and when he was with Ethan I was back in the same boat and then I realized that I didn't care if he snored (well, as long as it wasn't too loud, let's not be stupid here), because it was him and it let me know he was there and that he's alright.
Jesus. Was that me saying that?
Fuck me.
Yeah, Debbie was right when she said that. He's in under the wire.
Jennifer
I probably shouldn't have gone over to the diner, but I couldn't resist. I knew that Justin wanted to make an entrance when all of the family was there and they usually gathered on Sunday mornings around eleven for brunch and to touch base before they all got started on the day and the new week.
I was dying to see the reactions. As far as I could find out, no one had been told about the wedding or even that Brian had thought of it all. It should a be a total surprise to everyone.
Molly had spent the night at a friend's house, but had made the newlyweds promise that they'd come by later for dinner with us. I saw the look on Brian's face—it was obvious tat the last thing he wanted to do was set the pattern of dinner with the in-laws every week, but he'd agreed to this one night, at least. I suspect that Molly wants to show him off.
So, I walked in the diner about quarter to eleven, kissed Debbie 'hello', waved and smiled a getting to everyone else and took a seat at the counter—the better to watch the others over in the booths. Debbie brought me over some herbal tea, asked me about the holidays but didn't really wait for an answer because one of the front tables wanted their food.
Five minutes later Justin and Brian came through the door. The temperature hadn't topped twenty since we'd been home, so they were both bundled up with scarves and coats and gloves and all. Hanging their things on the rack, they first came over to me to kiss my cheek and smirk and roll their eyes at the next few minutes then casually sat at the booth with Michael and Ben, rearranging people so that they could sit next to each other.
Brian had his hand in his lap, but Justin couldn't help himself, he—ever so nonchalantly—picked up the menu, then laid his hands flat on the edge while he pretended to read.
Ben caught it first.
"Uh—Justin?"
"Ummm?" He was still making a show of deciding between pancakes and an omelet.
"Did you have a nice Christmas?"
"Um-hmm. Great. How about you two?"
"Fine, thanks." Brian was watching this with a disinterested look on his face while actually catching ever nuance, leaning back against the wall. He reached for his glass of water just as Debbie arrived to take orders.
She stood here, looking at the two of them, looking at their hands displayed just so, their faces pleasantly blank.
Shifting her weight to one hip she looked from one to the other. "One of you assholes going to tell me what this is about?"
Justin started laughing, but Brian gave her a glare. "What, Deb?"
She stared at him—hard, something I would never have the nerve to do to Brian Kinney, no matter what our relationship is now and just said, quieter than I'd have expected—"Those are wedding rings, aren't they?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Legal?"
He nodded. Now, I know that Brian sees Debbie as his real mother and I know she had a lot to do with raising him, so when he looked at her, I knew it was important to him. I guess I expected her to scream or swear or throw her arms around the two of them or something like that, but she didn't. She got this wonderful smile on her face, looked from Brian to Justin and back again, actually wiped a tear and said quietly enough that I had to strain to hear, "I'm proud of you, both of you." Then she pulled them both up and out of the booth, hugged Justin for a long moment before moving on to her second son, holding him close while he stroked her back. She was crying.
The conversation in the diner stopped at this remarkable sight. Ted and Em both turned around to see what was going on, the girls stood up in case Deb was ill and the tableau stayed like that for a minute or so before Deb got a hold of herself. She looked up at Brian, saying, "Tell them, kiddo."
He still had that half smile on his face, but he nodded at her.
"Justin and I got back from Vermont yesterday. We were married last week."
That was all he said, but you could have sworn that he'd dropped a nuclear bomb. No one moved while this sank in. I looked from one person to another, the shocked, or surprised or stunned expressions—no one had ever thought to hear this—never.
Suddenly Em was the one to break the stalemate. "Sweetie!" His arms thrown around Justin, he was hugging and kissing Justin's cheek and laughing. Then the damn broke. The shouts and the congratulations and the laughing and the crying—these were drama queens, after all.
The two of them were forced to hold court, though in truth, Justin did most of the talking. Brian sat there, making an occasional comment but mostly he just watched Justin handle all the questions and the back slapping, a look on his face that almost made me start crying myself.
I can't pretend that Brian is my idea of a perfect match for my son, but with all his faults, I know that he loves Justin and that Justin would move mountains for him.
Michael was the only one who seemed to hold back, a sour, annoyed look on his face. Now, I know that he's jealous of Justin, but I thought that he could have tried a little harder for Brian's sake, but he just got up, put on his jacket and left. I think that Ben and I were the only ones to notice.
He'll just have to accept this.
Brian
The next day I was at my desk by seven. I actually didn't mind getting there early. It was quiet, I could get a lot done and no one bothered me. After the Christmas break, I knew that there would be a shitload of work backlogged and I wanted to get a jump on it.
It was business as usual. I've always been good at compartmentalizing my life, this was no exception, so it wasn't really a surprise that when Cynthia came in about nine and asked me what the fuck I was wearing, I snarked back, "A suit."
"I meant on your hand."
OK, I was going to say something snotty, but I like Cynthia, so I told her. She kissed my cheek, told me that she was happy for me and said that she'd call Human Resources to have Justin added to my benefits if I wanted. I did.
Twenty minutes later the grapevine had done it's job and Gardner was standing in my doorway. "I understand that congratulations are in order." He held out his hand. "And whom is it you've tied yourself to, if I may ask?"
"Justin. You've met him, Gardner, at your cookout last summer."
"Blond? Young?"
I nodded.
"Well, we'll all have to have dinner this week, shall we?"
The thought had to be as much of a nightmare to him as it was to me. "...Gardner, you don't really want to have dinner with me and my twenty year old husband, do you?...I mean, really?"
He hesitated, unusual for him. He was pretty smooth. "Now that you mention it, I'm not sure that we'd have all that much in common."
I laughed. "We'll call it square." He laughed, too, we understood each other.
"I really do wish you the best, you know."
"I know." And I knew that he meant it.
Justin
I heard the door slide open and wrapped my arms around Brian. He smelled like the cold and the fresh air and felt solid and strong and God, I love him. When we were finished kissing for a few minutes he took off his coat and followed me to the kitchen to watch me put dinner in the oven. He told me about the reactions he'd gotten at work and that I'd be put on his health insurance and that Cynthia wanted to have us over for dinner soon. He leaned over the counter to kiss me again, then went up to the bedroom to change into jeans and a sweater. I went after him.
"I called my father today. I asked if we could have lunch or something this weekend."
"All of us or just you and him?"
"I thought that I'd ask you what you think is best."
Brian sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me to sit beside him and holding my hand. He rolled his lips in, a sure sign that he wasn't happy about something or was thinking about something that wasn't going the way he wanted. "I think he's going to need some time to get used to the idea. Does he even know that we're back together?"
"I don't think so. He never asked me and I never told him."
"I think it might be easier on him if you see him either alone or with both your mother and me along. At least that way he won't feel outnumbered." He didn't smile when he said that. I nodded at him. He had a point.
"I don't know—that might make her feel a little weird, being the DMZ or something. That could be unfair to her."
Brian stroked my fingers while he collected his thoughts. "You're right. I'll tell you what. You set up a lunch or whatever and you decide of you want me there or if you'd rather do this alone. I'll go along with whatever you want."
"...You will?"
"He has to know at some point. I guess there's no reason to put it off." He gave me that half smile again. "He hated me when we were just having an affair, he might as well have the chance to hate me when we're legal."
Craig
I swear that I couldn't believe it when the call came in this morning. Brian Fucking Kinney called me at the office to tell me that he'd like to see me, if he could, as soon as possible. He wouldn't even tell me what the hell he wanted to talk about, just that it concerned Justin. Yeah, no kidding—what else did we have in common besides my son?
So I started to tell him what he could do with his meeting, but then he said that it was important, that Justin was in some situation—wouldn't tell me what—and he'd like to try to straighten it out.
I took a look at my schedule. There was a hole at two. He said that he'd be there.
So at about ten to two I'm sitting at my desk and Hannah buzzes me to say that my next appointment had arrived. I stayed sitting—the busy exec behind the desk and all that, made sure there was some work out so it didn't look like I'd just been staring out the window and told her to send him in.
He came in, sat on one of the client chairs and crossed his legs, calm, at ease and in control. I hate guys like him. I always have. Even if he hadn't abused my son, I'd hate him. He's one of those men who have everything handed to them because of their looks and an attitude they all seem to be born with. You know, the "I'm hot shit and you're not" attitude. Kinney has it in spades.
I waited for him to start.
"Justin is afraid that you won't accept him. If you don't make some concessions, you'll lose him."
"Excuse me?"
He paused for just a moment. "Did you know that we've been back together for a year now?"
I didn't. I thought that Justin was with that musician. Kinney saw what I was thinking. "We separated—he left me—for someone else for a few months, but it didn't work out. We got back together. We've been living together for about ten months now."
"So you can do whatever you want to him in the privacy of your home. How convenient for you." He ignored me.
"Over the Christmas break we went up to Vermont, Justin thought that we were just going skiing. I asked him to marry me, he accepted. We got back a few days ago."
Jesus. This had to be bullshit. This wasn't legal; it wouldn't stand up in court. I could maybe have it annulled or something. There wouldn't even be a record of it. I saw the glint on his finger. He was wearing a Goddamned wedding ring. God.
"And you're telling me that it's a done deal and that you're now my—what?—son in law?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
I think I shook me head, I remember just saying "No."
"Look Craig, I don't give a shit what you think of me, but Justin and I are married. It's legal, if you want to call a lawyer. The only reason I'm here is to tell you this before you meet Justin for lunch this weekend so you don't act like an asshole."
"He's too young to do something like this, you've somehow forced him to do something..."
"Yeah, right. Whatever. Call Jennifer if you want, she'll fill you in. You have your lunch and you have a nice time, but if you try to make him decide between us, you'll lose. I don't want him hurt, so don't ask him to choose." Kinney stood up, his voice polite and dripping with sarcasm, "Thanks for your time, Mr. Taylor."
When he left I dialed Jen. She confirmed it. They had gotten married the week before, after spending Christmas with her and her parents in New York. Yes, she still has reservations about Kinney, but Justin was happy, so she was willing to go along with it and would be there if it didn't work out.
Christ.
What Goddamned choice did I have?
Sunday, Four PM
"Brian?"
"Bedroom."
Justin launched himself onto the bed, landing on top of Brian, trying to read. "Stupid twat. What the fuck are you doing?"
"It went sooo well! I couldn't believe it. I told him that we're back together and he was alright with that, even said something about how it didn't surprise him, so after I worked up my nerve I told him that we're married—OK, I just showed him my ring and he just looked at it."
"Did he say anything?"
"He said that he hoped that you made me happy."
"And—was that all?"
"...I told him that you do."
Brian pulled Justin until he was lying on top of the larger man, his arms wrapped around his back, Justin's hand on either side of his face. Brian tried to pull him down for a kiss, but he resisted.
"Brian? You told him, didn't you?" No answer, Brian just looked at him with his amazing eyes, hoping that his lover wouldn't be angry and would understand why he had gone behind his back. The smile started, not the full sunshine, but the one that was warmer. "Thank you."
TBC
6/26/03
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