Cue the longest chapter I've ever written... I wanted to post this all as one as it happens all on one day. Then I realised the sheer length of it so I've split it into three parts to hopefully make it easier to read! =D
Massive THANK YOU, as always, to Boriqua522 for beta'ing and for your comments and help in general! =D
The winter sun didn't come through the thin curtains until late and when Brian finally woke up and looked out the window, he discovered why. The thick black clouds that haunted the sky made it look like perpetual night and the only thing that had woken him was the cracking thunder and the bright lightning that lit up the room, casting long shadows on his wall. He shuddered a little as he looked out over the front yard and watched the rain bouncing off the cobbled drive. He felt cold but that was ridiculous because Justin insisted on keeping this room the temperature of a fucking furnace and then he remembered what day it was and it all made sense. He realized why he'd shuddered, he realized why the weather was acting up. It was signalling the end of the world … at least the end of the world as he knew it. He was 30. Shit!
Justin wasn't in the bed, so Brian pushed himself to his feet and went to the large en suit expecting to see him soaping himself in the shower but when he found the bathroom empty, he knew something was up. Justin did not leave the bed without getting rid of his morning hard-on. Brian had a horrible feeling there was going to be something very unpleasant waiting for him probably courtesy of his well-meaning best friend. He pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on his black wife beater vest before taking a deep breath and walking downstairs. Every step he took down the giant staircase brought Brian closer to a moment of imminent dread. He could hear hushed voices whispering excitedly, smell the stench of party foods and alcohol and he knew his fantasy of getting through this day pretending it wasn't his birthday was just that, fantasy.
Taking a deep breath, Brian walked towards the dining room and opened the door slowly, peering through the gap to better assess the damage.
"Surprise," Michael grinned, pulling the door wide open and throwing glitter and party streamers over his best friend.
"What the fuck?" Brian growled, looking down at his black top that was now speckled with silver and paper colors. He looked like Emmett on a bad day.
"Happy birthday," Michael just continued smiling.
"What's happy about it?" Brian complained, brushing the shit off him as far as possible though he knew he'd be finding glitter over his body for the rest of the day.
"Always so cynical," Emmett said brightly.
"Well you'd be cynical too if you'd reached the age of fag death," Ted said, taking a cookie and munching on it happily.
"The age of fag-death?" Justin asked curiously. "How old are you?"
All four men turned to look at Justin in a way that told the kid he'd said exactly the wrong thing.
"How old do you think I am?" Brian asked, a dangerous edge to his tone.
Justin shrugged a little. "Thirty-two?" Which admitted a gleeful giggle from Emmett and a gasp from Michael.
"Fuck you," Brian growled at the kid.
"He's thirty," Michael said smugly because he knew things about Brian the kid didn't.
"Fuck you too," Brian snapped at Michael.
"What?" The shorter man asked innocently, "you are thirty."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Oh I see, it on the gravestone now," Justin suddenly piped up, pointing to a gravestone cake which stood in the middle of the table.
The icing was grey, with green bits of icing to depict mould and across the front was written; Brian Kinney aged 30. Sexually insatiable (he's fucking angles as we speak).
"That's very cute, Theodore," Brian scorned, reading the inscription.
"I told you I'd hold you to it," Ted said with a grin.
"Mmm," Brian hummed, dipping his finger into the cake and wiping his name away. It may only be icing and he knew it was a joke but seeing his name on a grave was freaking him out. He sucked the icing off his finger and smiled. "Not bad," he judged because he had to be honest, the cake tasted amazing.
"Emmett made it," Michael said immediately.
"And Justin helped me," Emmett added, wrapping his arms around Justin's chest from behind. The glares between Michael and Emmett weren't lost on Brian but he decided to ignore them as he unattached Emmett's arms from the kid and pulled Justin closer to him until they were almost pressed up against each other.
"You can bake too?" he asked the blonde. Justin just beamed back at him and nodded. "Well, aren't you just full of unexpected talents."
"Er … I came up with the idea for the party," Michael interrupted immediately, grabbing Brian's shoulder and pulling him to look around at the decorations, earning himself another glare from Emmett and Brian knew he had to find out what had happened between those two. "I did all the planning," Michael continued, "and I made you this." He handed Brian a CD of his favourite songs from their childhood. "Put it on."
Brian obliged and David Bowie began to fill the room.
"A sonic recreation of our misspent youth," Brian scorned and then seeing the disappointed look on Michael's face he added, "I love it … thank you, Mikey." And Michael was grinning again.
Justin thought it was pathetic how much a word from Brian could alter Michael's mood but he didn't say anything. He knew he wasn't exactly a welcome guest at this birthday celebration and he knew that Michael was angry with Emmett for letting him in on it at all. In fact, Justin was pretty sure Michael would have preferred it if this had just been a private party for two but the house wasn't that big and nothing private went on not without Ted knowing about it anyway.
"I got you this," Emmett said, handing over a silk scarf. "Obviously I couldn't go out to the stores so I found something in my collection that you might like." He smiled lovingly at the scarf. "It's my favorite one. My Aunt Lula bought it for me just before she died and she told me to wear it whenever I needed luck but now I'm passing it on to you." He looked teary eyed as he spoke as though parting with the scarf was physically hurting him.
"It's very nice Emmett," Brian said, feeling the soft material between his fingers, "but I think it would be best if you kept it." He handed it back. "I don't need presents. I never had them as a kid."
"Well," Emmett snatched back his gift, "if you insist."
"No presents, huh?" Ted said with a slight smirk. "I guess you won't be wanting this top of the range FN57 then?" He was dangling the gun between two fingers. It rocked gently in his grip swinging tantalizingly and Brian's eyes lit up when he saw it.
"How the fuck did you get hold of that?" he asked, snatching it immediately and turning it over and over in his hands.
"I had one on order a while ago," Ted shrugged. "You were always moaning about yours being unpredictable with its shots sometimes."
"Mm-hmm," Brian nodded, as he held the weapon in his right hand. It fitted perfectly, of course, the handle slotting perfectly into his palm. He stood, legs shoulder width apart and one eye closed, as he aimed carefully the gun as though he were going to shoot the glass in the two French doors that led to the garden outside. "Is it loaded?"
"No, but there's a 20 round magazine in my room upstairs."
"Excellent," Brian swung the gun around, pointing it at each of the men in turn. He imagined what it would be like to shoot with this. His gun was fine, it was standard and it did the job but this was the gun he'd dreamed of. Semi-automatic, best shot, best accuracy, best chance of getting out. He let his finger pull back on the trigger.
"Bang," he whispered, imagining the bullets flying from the end of the barrel, smashing the glass door and flying out into the storm outside. He grinned. This was turning out to be a good day after all.
He smiled around at the other men in the room before putting the gun safely in the waistband of his jeans. It even felt good there, it felt safe.
"Thanks Theodore," he said and the older man nodded back. "Are we done?" Brian asked. "Can we go back to pretending this day doesn't exist?"
"Wait!" Michael put out his hands. "What about you, Justin?" he asked smugly. "Did you get anything for Brian?"
Justin shook his head. He looked embarrassed but it was more than that, Brian thought, he looked angry too.
"Nothing?" Michael asked and his amusement was apparent to everyone. "Not one thing for the man you claim to love."
"I didn't want anything," Brian pointed out.
"I guess," Michael agreed. "It just seems weird that Justin didn't get you anything."
"I'd have got him a present if you'd told me it was his birthday!" Justin retorted suddenly. "But you kept it completely to yourself until you decided that you actually needed Emmett's help to make the birthday cake. I only found out any of this was happening when Emmett asked me if I'd give him a hand early this morning."
"Well, you couldn't be trusted with a secret," Michael countered.
"I've been keeping secrets since I was five."
"Oh, last week then?"
"Er, ladies," Brian cut in. "Can we fight over me later? This is supposed to be a celebration of my passing over to the dead faggot society."
"Exactly," Emmett chimed in. "I think we should make a toast and dig into all this lovely food. Teddy, why don't you say a few words, you're always good at this kind of thing."
"Actually," Michael piped up, pulling a crumpled bit of paper from his jeans pocket. "I have a bit of a speech written up."
"Of course you do," Brian rolled his eyes.
"Ooo, la-dee-da," Emmett chuckled. "A speech?"
Michael shot Emmett a dirty look but the shorter man managed to let it go and concentrated instead on smoothing out his paper against his thigh. Once he was totally satisfied that he would be able to read the words, he cleared his throat and began to talk … and talk. And talk. Fifteen minutes later, he was still talking and the other four men in the room were sick of stifling yawns and feigning interest. If it hadn't been for the incessant lighting flashes and the thunderous rumbles from the weather outside, they would probably have been snoring ages ago but still the speech went on.
It was pretty much made up of memories and anecdotes from Brian and Michael's childhood together, their rise through crime together all the way until this point now; thirty years old and hiding out in a giant house … together. And them being together was definitely the focus point of the speech, which became particularly obvious when he finally came to the end. Staring fixedly at Justin, he finished pompously,
"And so though others may come and go, there are only two stars in the Brian and Mikey show." Then he grinned straight at Brian. "I thought I'd end on a sort of rhyme."
The other man cocked an eyebrow, "what rhyme?"
"Go and show," Michael insisted.
"Uh-huh , well, you always were shit at English," Brian smirked as he and the others got to their feet stretching their stiff limbs. "It's was very nice, Mikey … maybe a little long."
"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "It could probably have been improved by a catchy show tune in the middle. Then again," he looked to Justin seriously, "what couldn't be improved by a catchy show tune in the middle?"
"Fucking?" Justin suggested.
Emmett just pulled a face as though he was truly having to think about it and Justin chuckled a little. Michael, as usual these days, was completely humourless about the situation and just glared at the two men. Emmett, naturally, continued regardless, ignoring Michael's mini-queen outs had become part of his everyday routine in this house.
"I really do have to eat something," he said, rubbing his stomach, "before my belly starts roaring louder than a lion in a brawl."
"That's sounds like a good idea," Ted agreed, "I'll cut the cake."
"Baby," Emmett said to Justin, "why don't you grab the plates for everybody and I'll pour the drinks." He put one hand on Brian's shoulder, "time to celebrate this studs death."
"What a pal," Brian scorned, removing Emmett's hand as though it were something particularly disgusting.
"Oh I wouldn't worry about it, Bri," Ted smirked, cutting a piece of cake and putting it on one of the plates that Justin had just retrieved. "You're fucking an eighteen year old."
"That is true," he smirked, flashing the kid his most smouldering look as he took the plate of cake from the twink's hands. "Don't they say you're as young as the man you feel? Does that make me eighteen?"
"I believe it was the woman you feel," Ted corrected.
"It's irrelevant anyway," Justin grinned cheekily, "you're still not eighteen."
"Ooo-hooo," Emmett and Ted wooped in unison.
"You little bastard," Brian scowled, swatting the kid on the ass as he walked past.
Michael just watched the whole event with a scowl right across his face. This was meant to be his party and now they were all ignoring him. He'd just wanted one day, even one hour, where it was just him and Brian like it had been in the old days but the conversation had turned to Brian and Justin and this casual fucking thing that was going on between them. It was nothing, Michael knew that. Brian said that, so why were Ted and Emmett trying to make it anything more than it was. They were totally fucking deluded.
The food, especially the cake, really was delicious and everyone agreed that Emmett and Justin had done an excellent job … except Michael, who'd so far refused to comment on anything anybody else had contributed to this event. So, when they were so full they were going to explode, Emmett got Justin to start tidying up and had a quiet word in Brian's ear.
"Will you talk to Michael," he hissed. "It's for the good of the group. He's bringing everyone down with all this misery."
"What do you expect me to do about it?" Brian had hissed back.
"You're his best friend, you figure it out."
Brian had conceded, eventually, that he did owe it to the house to at least try and bring Michael out of this world of perpetual misery he'd fallen into. Besides, he was still curious about the glares Michael and Emmett had been shooting at each other even though he was fairly sure he knew what it was about, he'd still like to hear Michael actually say it out loud. So, he walked over to his best friend and took him by the elbow, producing a joint and holding it in front of the shorter man.
"Let's get out of here, Mikey," he smiled. "For old times sake."
::
"The rain looks weird in here," Michael commented, as the thick raindrops smacked hard against the glass roof of the conservatory. The downpour didn't look any closer to stopping and although the lightening had died down a while ago, the sky was still thick with black, menacing clouds.
"What's wrong between you and Emmett?" Brian asked, placing the joint between his lips and patting his pockets in search of a lighter. He wasn't the kind of man to beat about the bush with inane talk about the weather.
Michael, however, was the kind of man to put things off so he said, "nothing."
"Bullshit," Brian snorted, sitting down in one of the arm chairs that looked like they were made out of bamboo. He lit the toke and inhaled deeply. "You were glaring at him all through my party. Here." He handed over the joint and Michael took a long drag, coughing a little as the smoke filled his lungs.
"It was just creative differences, that's all."
"Creative differences about…" Michael didn't answer so Brian answered for him, "Justin."
"It's got nothing to do with that little twot," Michael shot back immediately but his blushing cheeks gave him away.
"Really?" Brian asked knowingly as he pinched his joint back. "Because it seemed to me like you were pissed because Emmett told Justin about your little surprise party."
"That's not it," Michael insisted but Brian had been his best friend for fifteen years. He always knew when Michael was lying and this was one of those times.
"You don't have to exclude him, you know," Brian said soothingly, taking another long drag and letting the smoke out slowly. He was beginning to feel more relaxed already. It didn't seem to be having the same effect of Michael who was just becoming more riled.
"I don't exclude him."
"But you do hate him," Brian said calmly, about to take another hit as the joint was plucked clean from his fingers by a pissed Michael.
"I don't hate him!"
Brian smiled a little. "It's okay though," he said arrogantly, "because I've worked out why."
"Oh," Michael said, looking out the window to avoid his friends beautiful face and knowing eyes.
"Want me to tell you?"
"Oh please do," Michael scorned, he was breathing the shit in deeply now. He really needed to feel it working, loosening him up. "Enlighten me with your superior knowledge."
And Brian smiled a little more. "It's because you're jealous."
"Jealous?" The shorter man scoffed, looking over his shoulder at the other man before returning to watching the rain and taking another drag.
Shit! The thing had gone out. "You think I'm jealous?"
"No" Brian answered. "I know you're jealous." He was so confident that he was right and, Michael thought, he had every right to be … because he was right.
Michael felt Brian's body press up against his back as the taller man's strong arms wrapped around his waist and his lips come up to the skin just his ear and kissed him sweetly. Then, he whispered, "but it's okay. You don't have to be. I still love you best, Mikey."
Michael angled his head so he could see Brian's face and he smiled and kissed him on the chin because that was the only place he could reach. Brian bent his neck a little further and kissed him gently on the lips, a reassuring friendly kiss. Or at least that's what Brian had intended it to be but next second he felt Michael's tongue lap at his bottom lip as the shorter man grabbed his hand and slid it down his body until he reached the bulge at his crotch. Brian smiled into the kiss and pulled away gently removing his hand from dangerous territory.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly and giggling a little bit.
"Nothing," Michael answered in the same voice, looking away and back out of the window. "Must be the drugs."
"Yeah," Brian agreed, pressing another careful kiss against his best friends cheek. "Anyway, must get back to the kitchen. What's a party without it's guest of honour? You coming?"
"In a moment," Michael sighed.
"Okay."
Michael didn't look at Brian as he left the conservatory. He didn't dare to. He couldn't bear to face the man who'd just rejected him … again. Michael wasn't sure why he'd thought this time it would be any different from every other time he'd tried to elevate his relationship with Brian to anything more than friendship. Brian had been slowly and systematically stopping his advances ever since they were fifteen and yet, Michael couldn't stop trying. He couldn't stop loving him, no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried.
He stared as the rain poured and the puddles filled up and the darkness engulfed everything. And he felt like this dark, damp, shitty weather was a weak metaphor for the darkness in his heart because all that was in Michael's heart was unrequited love and denial that he cared both festering and fermenting deep down inside him, biding their time, waiting until they too, would cause the perfect storm.