Post S3 Justin gives himself a birthday present.
An Introduction: My friend Michael was like the other half of me. We were in just about every way true soul mates. Except, of course, that he was gay.
When we first met, that caused us a lot of angst and put huge strains on our friendship. Michael had been sure of his sexuality for years (he'd actually left home at 15 to live with an older man, but that's another story entirely), and I knew he was gay. But we were instantly and mutually drawn to each other. And that was confusing. We were only 19 and what we seemed to be feeling was just like all the romance books said falling in love was like - that feeling of meeting someone with whom you share a deep bond, so deep, and so instant, that it was as if we were very old friends who'd been parted for a while and had a lot to catch up on.
Society, all the films and books and stories, hadn't prepared us. They were all about romance - there wasn't anything much about other kinds of love, other ways of relating. It made Michael question his sexuality, and I ... I went through a small personal hell till we got our heads around the fact that life didn't have to be like the books and the movies all told us it should. We realized that we could make our own rules and live our lives the way that worked for us. We both moved on and into a relationship that was one of the most important in my life. In his, too, he told me before he died.
Like many others, he died way too young of the plague that has robbed us of so many long before their time.
Curiously, although perhaps symbolic of the karmic link between us, Michael shared his birthday (July 15th) with my mother. And he died on the anniversary of my father's death (July 30th).
So in July 2003, as a sort of memorial to Michael (who never got to see QAF and who would have loved it so much), I put out my first fanfic story.
Now, once again as a memorial to Michael, ...just as I put it out back then - warts and all (including a couple of Aussie expressions that I would know better than to use now) ...
1. Worth Celebrating by Wren
This was written post S3 and was prompted in part by my extreme frustration over the fact that everyone seemed to believe that it was Brian's job to do all the "courting". I get frustrated with the perpetuation of gender roles in gay culture (I'm not that fond of them in straight culture) and I simply loathe fics that see Justin as some sort of passive "little woman".
.
In the stark emptiness of the loft, the deep crimson of the flowers struck the eye with astonishing vividness.
The man placed them on the kitchen counter – it being one of the few remaining pieces of furniture – where they seemed to expand to fill the space with scent and color. Inconspicuous they were not. He sighed. He’d rather hoped to find some sort of low key way to do this, not to make a big thing of it. But the flowers themselves seemed intent on demolishing that small hope. In the florists they’d appeared a relatively small, tasteful arrangement. Here, in this space that had always been clear and uncluttered and was now downright barren, they seemed to have developed into a giant sized floral invasion force.
He heard the key in the lock and braced himself as the door slid open. He was resigned to this being a day of disappointment and the failure of hopes that were faint to begin with. This looked like being just one more of them. He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, determined, at least, not to succumb to his own fears before the battle even started.
His lover, partner, in an undefined unconventional kind of way boyfriend looked up from closing the door, surprised to find him there. That hadn’t been the plan. Then his eyes fell on the flowers and his face hardened.
“What the fuck are they doing here?”
“Brian …”
“Look, Justin, if some misguided little faggot has bought you flowers for your birthday, that’s great. But don’t fuckin’ think you can bring them here and wave them in my face and make me feel bad. Because I don’t do that shit and you know that.”
“Bri!” he attempted once more to interrupt long enough to explain.
Brian sighed, shaken, and although he would never have admitted it, scared. This birthday shit was where the whole thing had really started to unravel last year. And this year, even if he’d wanted to (which of course he didn’t, he wasn’t into that shit), he was in no position to buy the sort of extravagant, expensive gifts that were the only kind he’d ever have been caught giving. Especially to Justin who deserved only the best. He had to force himself not to shout out his fear and anger at the thought that some other asshole had bought flowers, fucking red roses yet, for his …
“Fuck!” he exclaimed in frustration. “Just get them out …”
“Brian, they’re for you.”
“What?” It came out short and sharp, a bark of sheer confusion.
Justin came round from behind the counter and instinctively Brian moved towards him. Justin’s hand touched his. “They’re for you.”
Brian stared at him.
“From me.”
“Justin …”
“Listen. Please just listen to me for a minute.”
Brian sighed, trying to regroup, to still the ridiculous surge of … not just relief, but joy. Actual joy. He turned away a little, tugging at his job-seeking tie, so that Justin wouldn’t see the smile he was having trouble hiding.
“It’s my birthday present to me.”
Brian shot one sharp glance at him over his shoulder, as Justin went on, “I know you don’t do that stuff. And that’s okay. But I do. I want to be able to show you sometimes how I feel. So,” he took a deep breath, a little surprised that Brian had let him get this far, “… letting myself give you flowers is my birthday present to me. Letting myself try to tell you that I think you’re amazing and beautiful and …”
He stopped, suddenly not able to trust his voice, took another deep breath and went on, determined now to say it all, all the speech he’d carefully prepared, not thinking Brian would ever let him finish it.
“And you accepting them … nicely … and not making any snide remarks – at least not tonight, tomorrow you can have open slather – that can be your birthday present to me. Look at it as celebrating the achievement of me having the courage to do this.”
He gave a shaky laugh, telling himself that at least he’d done it, and said his piece; and whatever happened now, however Brian reacted, at least Justin had stuck to doing what he had wanted to do, had expressed what he was feeling. No more hiding his feelings because he was afraid of Brian’s ridicule. If he wasn’t tough enough to deal, he shouldn’t be here.
Brian stopped tugging at his tie, and turned to face him. Justin had his head up and met his eyes bravely. It was Brian who ducked his head, but not before Justin had seen the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He felt almost light headed with relief. It was going to be okay. Against all the odds this difficult, stubborn son of a bitch he was in love with was okay with this.
When Brian looked up again, it was with his tongue rolled into his cheek, his hazel eyes alight with laughter and the sly grin that from day one had made Justin’s toes curl up firmly in place.
“And just what do you propose that I do with them, Sunshine?” he demanded. “I’m not exactly stocked up with vases here you know.”
Brian felt his heart thump against his ribs as he was rewarded with a true Sunshine smile. The glow of it seemed to light the room, as the younger man scurried back behind the counter to emerge triumphantly with a crystal vase. “I borrowed it from Mum,” he explained.
Brian sucked his lips in, stifling the urge to laugh from sheer relief. He wasn’t able to stifle the warm glow in his own eyes, though, and Justin moved towards him again.
Brian tangled his fingers in the soft golden hair at the back of Justin’s neck and bent to kiss him – one swift tender kiss. Then he drew back.
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” he asked.
Justin sighed. Birthday dinner with his Mom, Molly and Daphne had never looked less appealing. He wished – but that was stupid. Brian was Brian, and a family dinner which included him just wasn’t going to happen. He knew that. He’d accepted that.
“You’re still gonna meet me later, at Babylon, right?’
“Well, actually …” Brian drawled, as he moved past him to fill the vase with water, “My plans have kind of changed.”
Justin somehow stifled the “but Brian you promised” whine that had sprung to his lips. This had gone much better than he’d hoped, and the last thing he needed to do now was spoil it – especially by turning into Mikey. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So I guess we could catch up tom…”
Brian heard the smothered hurt and stopped playing. “I was hoping maybe you’d wait for me.”
“What?”
Brian, the roses arranged now to his satisfaction, looked across them to his young lover. And offered his birthday gift. “I called your Mom this afternoon and asked her if the invitation to dinner was still open.”
Justin stared at him.
“Well, let’s face it. I’m in no position to turn down a free meal.”
A younger Justin would have thrown himself into the man’s arms, and probably suffered an attack of his allergies. For a moment Brian found himself regretting the change in his Sunshine.
But then the young man in front of him straightened and met his eyes, and Brian was struck all over again not just by his beauty, but by his bravery and his strength. This was no longer an infatuated boy, but an amazing man. A man with the world at his feet, who chose to be with him. The regret vanished without trace.
Justin smiled at him again and the happiness and love in that smile touched something in Brian deeply. He smiled back a little shakily, conscious of an unaccustomed sense of thankfulness.
For once he hadn’t fucked up. He’d managed to get it right. And his reward was looking into those beautiful blue eyes, where so often he’d seen only bewildered hurt and seeing instead that look of joy and knowing he’d put it there. If somewhere deep inside he was ashamed that Justin had to go through all this just to get him to accept some fucking flowers, the shame was, at the moment, quieted by the knowledge that at least this time he hadn’t let him down. He hadn’t turned on him with ridicule to cover his own fears. Instead, he’d stifled his insecurities and called Jenn and, for once, had actually done something to earn that smile, that amazing smile that once he’d had the arrogance and temerity to take for granted. A little shell-shocked by how good this felt, he stood still, absorbing the moment.
Knowing all too well that Brian was nearing his limit on warm and fuzzy, Justin sought to bring things back down to earth. “Well, you’d better get changed, then. Mom’s coming here to pick me …” one swift happy breath “us … up in a few minutes.”
For a moment more they stood looking into each other’s eyes. Then Brian grinned. “You want to help me shower?” he asked provocatively.
Justin laughed at him. “You shower. I’ll pick out your clothes.”
“If you think I’d trust you to pick my clothes …”
Still laughing, Justin ushered him towards the bathroom. “I’ll have to … if I leave it to you, it’ll take all night. I know you.”
“Well, your mom won’t mind waiting. I’ll be worth it.”
“Never mind my mom. I’m not waiting all night for you to pick and choose. I’m starving.”
It was Brian’s turn to laugh as he headed for the shower. Some things didn’t change.
Hearing Justin humming happily as he sought through the closet for the red shirt he loved Brian to wear, the man found himself smiling widely. Some things didn’t change at all, they just got better. Including him. Including them. And, birthday or not, broke or not, that was an achievement well worth celebrating.
In memory of my friend Michael (who was not, thank god, at all like Mikey) who has been gone 10 years now, but who I still miss every day.
And because I’ve never understood why buying the flowers was up to Brian.
Wren, July 30th 2003