Chapter 18 - Coming Home.

After dessert, Brian and Justin had resumed their usual routine, settling on the couch and turning on the television to watch something inane. Unfortunately, Brian’s long day of hard labor had taken its toll and he was dozing before they even hit the second commercial break of whatever it was they were watching. Rather than fall asleep where he was and have to sleep on the uncomfortable couch all night, though, he hefted himself to his feet and headed for the stairs.

“Let’s go, Ghost,” he ordered sleepily. “It’s time for all good little spooks to go sleepy-night-night.”

“I can stay on the couch, Brian. Really. It’s not a big deal,” Justin offered again.

“No, you can’t,” Brian insisted, pausing halfway up the stairs to turn and spear his GhostBoy with a domineering stare. “I happen to know for a fact that couch is uncomfortable as hell to sleep on. You’ll end up with a broken back if you try it. So just get your ass up here and get in bed already because I’m too tired to carry you.”

That seemed to settle the matter. Justin compliantly followed in Brian’s wake, accepting the clean t-shirt the older man handed to him in lieu of pajamas as well as the fresh toothbrush. After Brian was done in the bathroom, Justin went in and did his thing. Then he submissively padded over to the far side of the bed and got in under the covers that Brian was patiently holding up for him.

Brian thought very briefly of trying to pick things back up where they’d left off that morning, but quickly realized he was too tired to manage anything serious. So much for the legendary stamina of the Stud of Liberty Avenue, huh? It was a good thing none of his friends were around to witness his fall from glory. Although it was probably for the best - his ghost still seemed a little pensive and touchy after their dinner discussion and probably wasn’t in the mood anyway.

“Nite, Ghost,” Brian mumbled through a yawn as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Nnnnnhhhaaahhh.”

The whimpering slowly penetrated the lethargy of Brian’s sleep-addled brain. It took him a minute though to figure out exactly what was going on. He wasn’t used to being roused from the depths of dreamland by a thrashing, moaning bedmate. When he got hit across the chest by a flailing arm, however, it brought him immediately wide awake.

“No . . . Molly, no . . .” Justin’s dreams seemed to have taken a decidedly negative turn. “No. Please . . . No! . . . Mom . . . NO!”

The scared ghost bolted up into a seated position, pushing away the arm that Brian had just extended to try and calm him. From the way the kid was panting, you’d have thought he’d just run a marathon. He seemed on the brink of panic. Then, slowly, the young man blinked and seemed to focus on the darkness of the bedroom around him instead of whatever distant images he’d been seeing in his head.

“Everything okay, Ghost?”

Justin shook his head, ‘no’, but didn’t say anything. He was still breathing heavily and looking around him as if he was confused by his surroundings. Brian touched the younger man’s shoulder and the kid jumped as if he’d been poked by an electric cattle prod. Brian jerked his hand back and opted instead to get up and get the kid a glass of water.

On the way back from the bathroom, glass of cool water in his hand, Brian flipped on the light. Justin was still sitting there looking shell-shocked. Brian sat on the edge of the mattress and handed the glass off to the boy who took it mechanically. Then they both just sat there, not saying anything, while Justin sipped at the refreshing water until he seemed much calmer.

Brian continued to scrutinize the boy. Their conversation the night before still hadn’t faded from his mind - Justin’s insistence that he he’d done something ‘bad’ which somehow made it impossible for him to rejoin the world even after his father’s death. It couldn’t be just a coincidence that the kid woke up screaming for his mother and sister. That, coupled with the neighbors’ statements about how that asshole Craig Taylor had repeatedly belittled his son and blamed him for causing Jennifer Taylor’s death, convinced Brian that must be what his ghost was so worried about. Brian had been the target of emotional and verbal abuse enough himself over the years not to make that same connection here.

Fucking judgmental fathers.

“For what it’s worth, Ghost,” Brian finally spoke up, unable to just let this go even though it meant butting into something that wasn’t really any of his business, “your father was wrong. It isn’t your fault that your mother and sister were killed in that accident. You shouldn’t let it get to you like this. You’re not ‘bad’. The guy driving the other car is the one who was at fault. You’re not responsible for their deaths.”

“Except that I kinda am,” Justin insisted quietly. “It’s my fault that my father wasn’t here to run to the store for mom.”

Brian started to object again, but the boy hurried on to explain.

“See, I wanted to go to this choir competition in Wheeling. Our school choir got into the state finals and I really wanted to be there for it. But, of course, the night before the contest, Molly got sick - the flu or something - mom was up with her half the night while Molly puked her guts out. Which meant that mom couldn’t take me to Wheeling like she’d planned since she needed to stay home and take care of Molly. But I had to go and throw a fucking temper tantrum like a five year old. I was a total shit to her. I even accused her of not loving me as much as Molly . . . and that was basically the last thing I said to her.”

Justin finished off his water and set the glass aside. His hands, now empty, began to fiddle with a frayed patch on the hem of the duvet. His eyes, focused on the past, didn’t notice Brian’s concern.

“Mom finally caved and called my father. He had to take the day off work to drive me to Wheeling,” Justin continued his narrative. “The choir did really well, too. We made it to the last round. But, as expected, it took all day. We didn’t even get started on the last round of competitions until after four in the afternoon. Which is when my father got the call from the sheriff’s office . . . Molly had developed a fever and we were out of Children’s Tylenol. Mom had called Dad earlier in the day and he’d promised to pick some up on the way home, but I guess she decided not to wait. So she’d loaded a sick Molly into the car and headed off to the pharmacy . . . they didn’t make it. The car was wishboned by a drunk driver less than a mile from our house. They say Molly was killed on impact. Mom made it to the hospital but died before we could get back from Wheeling.”

“So, you see, it WAS my fault. At least in part,” Justin finally looked up at Brian, his gemstone blue eyes sparkling even brighter because of the brimming tears. “I know I wasn’t the idiot driving the truck that hit them, but I didn’t need to be such a fucking brat to my mother either. I could have gotten a ride with somebody else. But I sort of wanted them there to watch the competition. I wanted to show off. And I was glad my dad was being forced to take me because he was the one always complaining about me wasting my time on art and choir. So, in my arrogance, I was glad he was being forced to take time off work to drive me all the way to Wheeling. But, if he’d been home, he could have run to the store for mom and then . . . he’d have been the one killed by that drunk driver.”

The last sentence was spoken so quietly that Brian could barely hear the words even though he was only a foot away.

So it wasn’t just simple guilt that was eating at the boy. There was anger there too. A deep seated anger that was probably festering in his soul almost as much as the regret Justin felt over losing his mother and sister. Brian couldn’t say he blamed the younger man though - from what little he’d heard about Craig Taylor, Brian was right there with the kid, wishing that bastard had been the one killed. But, unfortunately, real life didn’t work like that.

“I’ll never forgive myself for treating my mother so badly or for saying the things I did that day,” Justin insisted as he turned away from Brian and lay back on the pillows. “And I’ll never forget . . .”

Brian didn’t know what to say to that statement. There wasn’t really anything he could say or do to make the kid feel better. But, even after he climbed back into bed himself, Brian continued to think about the kid’s story and wonder if all kids of fathers like Craig Taylor were doomed to everlasting regrets.

For the second morning in a row, Brian woke up to a warm blond boy curled around him. The kid appeared to be an unconscious snuggler - during the day Justin seemed barely tolerant of even the most casual of touches, but somehow, in the middle of the night, he’d glom all over you. Brian didn’t really mind though. He was becoming rather fond of this armful of warm GhostBoy.

Unfortunately, Brian didn’t have time to laze around in bed and make out the way he had the morning before. Which really wasn’t fair. But a quick look at the clock on his bedside table reinforced the fact that he was already running late and any ghostly playtime was going to have to wait - again. Today, Brian was due at Ryder’s for his once-a-quarter Sabbatical Check-in.

As part of the deal with his boss that allowed Brian to take this year off, he’d agreed to come into the office for one day every three months. The idea was that he’d be available for questions about his old accounts, consultation on new campaigns and to complete any paperwork that required his personal signature. Brian suspected that, in reality, it was just Marty Ryder’s way of keeping tabs on him and making sure Brian wasn’t off secretly plotting to steal all the firm’s clients behind everyone’s backs.

Brian really wasn’t looking forward to it though. The routine of getting up while it was still only barely light, putting on a suit and tie, and then driving into the office where he knew a buttload of problems and stress was waiting for him, felt like torture. Even though it had only been a few months since he’d moved out here to West Virginia, that world and that life felt like ancient history. He was surprised, to be honest, how easily he’d fallen into the routine of a quieter, slower life out here. He used to consider himself quite a ‘mover and shaker’. But Brian truly liked the relaxed pace of his days now and even the hard physical labor was, in some ways, soothing. As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror to adjust his tie, Brian realized that just the act of putting on the monkey suit he used to love was stressing him out. He could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tensing up and he had the beginnings of a headache starting behind his eyes - and he hadn’t even left the fucking house yet. He hadn’t had one of those headaches in months, and was not looking forward to it coming back. This time off was proving to be good for him in more ways than he could have ever expected.

Brian finished dressing and then made sure he had all the gadgets and trappings of a modern man in his pockets: wallet, keys, cell phone. Before he left he scanned the room one more time, feeling like he had forgotten something. All he saw, though, was the GhostBoy still snoozing in his bed. The sight brought back a smile to his lips and eased at least a little of the tension he was feeling. He was bummed by having to leave so early, and would much rather stay in bed with his comfy warm ghost, but the idea that the boy would be waiting there for him when he got back was reassuring.

Kinney-Tastic: Had to go into town for the day. Won’t be back till late. Have fun haunting the castle while I’m gone. ;)

Brian sent the text before leaving the room. He didn’t want his ghost wondering where he was when he woke up. The kid had enough on his mind already. As it was, he kind of worried about leaving Justin alone all day after the bad night he’d had. He didn’t want the kid just sitting around brooding all day, guilting himself out over his mother’s death. But, hopefully, the kid would find something to keep himself busy.

Kinney-Tastic: Don’t forget to eat - that damned oreo cookie pie better be gone by the time I get home!

He sent the second post-script text, not caring that it made him sound a bit like a mother hen, since nobody but his ghost would see it. Then Brian tiptoed over to the bed, leaned down, and left a goodbye kiss on the barely stubbled blond cheek, before heading out of the bedroom and off on his day of Advertising World Adventures.

The morning at Ryder’s was just as tedious and aggravating as Brian had expected. How everyone working at the agency - other than himself and his assistant, Cynthia, of course - could be so utterly incompetent, was mind boggling. The Bobsey Twins - aka Bob and Brad - had somehow managed to totally screw up at least three of Brian’s former accounts even though he’d left them with completed, ready-to-run campaigns, that he’d thought were foolproof. Running cleanup for their messes was going to take him the rest of the day. He wouldn’t even have time to help Ryder out on any of the new campaigns he’d wanted Brian’s input on. No wonder Marty was desperate to talk him into ending his sabbatical early - not that Brian was going to capitulate on that point though. By lunchtime, he was seriously thinking about NEVER coming back at all.

Luckily he had the excuse of having to meet his friends for lunch to get him out of the business lunch that Ryder proposed. Brian had never been happier to get to the Diner and away from work. The sight of the familiar building, festooned with its rainbow decorations both inside and out, the same old faces of customers and staff, and even the same, comforting smells of greasy, fried food, quickly assuaged Brian’s frazzled nerves. When he slid into the already full booth next to Michael, it felt like coming home.

Brian was greeted with ‘hello’s by one and all and received a kiss to his cheek from Michael. It seemed like Brian was the last of the group to arrive: Michael and his boyfriend Ben were there, seated across from each other in the booth, as was Emmett, who was sitting next to the big, buff, college professor. Brian looked around and saw Ted perched on one of the stools at the counter, engaged in a tete-a-tete with a little blond hottie.

Brian raised a brow and tilted his head in the accountant’s direction questioningly.

“That’s ‘Blake’,” Emmett explained in a stage whisper with a disapproving frown. “I’ll tell you ALL about him later.”

The negative shaking of Em’s head already told Brian that there was some serious drama surrounding Ted’s new friend. Brian couldn’t help but chuckle at the little act. Even the catty gossip of his friends was familiar and companionable and made him feel at home.

He might not have missed work, but he did miss his friends sometimes.

“So, how are the house renovations coming along, Brian?” Ben asked as soon as Debbie had stopped by and taken their orders. “Michael was pretty impressed by all you’d done so far the last time he was out there.”

“It’s coming along pretty well. Except for the occasional electrical fire, you know,” Brian answered, knowing he’d get a rise with that comment.

“What? You had a fire? Are you okay. What happened, Brian?” Michael demanded, concern oozing out with every question.

“Calm yourself, Mikey,” Brian ordered. “It wasn’t anything big. Just a short caused by the old wiring and an overload when we tried to install some new lighting fixtures. A few papers and a table caught on fire but we put it out right away. Only, I had to spend the entire day yesterday helping the contractor install a new breaker box and rewiring the entire place. All’s well that ends well, though, and I have a newly electrified house with plenty of power now.”

“Is it wrong that I’m just a little bit turned on by the idea of Brian wearing a tool belt and doing construction work?” Emmett commented, thankfully distracting Michael from further worrying about his friend getting electrocuted.

“You should file a claim with your homeowners insurance for that, Bri,” Ted intervened, turning on his stool so he was facing the table of friends in order to impart his accounting wisdom. “You can probably get compensation for at least part of the cost of your rewiring. It’ll help defray your renovation expenses and result in an even higher profit margin when you do flip the place.”

“Excellent advice, Theodore.” Brian nodded approvingly at his staid friend’s accountancy. “I hadn’t even considered that. Although, I hate the idea of dealing with all that paperwork.”

“If you want, I can do that for you. As your accountant, it’s not outside my job description. Just email me the contractor’s rewiring quote and I’ll get it done before the day’s out.”

“Is it wrong that I’M just a little bit turned on by you going all out Accountant on everyone,” Ted’s new flame, Blake, spoke up, beaming up at the accountant in question with gooey adoration.

Ted blushed like a schoolgirl. Michael snorted a derogatory little laugh at Ted’s reaction. Emmett rolled his eyes so hard that Brian thought he might be having a seizure. Ben only smiled indulgently at the new couple’s overt and nauseating romanticism.

Okay, Brian hadn’t missed them that much.

To distract them all from the dangerous levels of couple-dom, Emmett launched into a tale of his latest trick - a Dom Cowboy who had wanted to take Em home, hogtie and then brand him. Em’s story quickly devolved into the raunchy details of his night of rodeo fun and Brian’s construction woes were soon forgotten. Even Brian got a hoot out of this particular story, which was a sure sign he’d been deprived of his own adventures for far too long.

Just as they were getting to the good parts, though, Brian’s phone chirped the tone he used for notifications of incoming text messages. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, curious who would be texting him since all his friends were right there in the same room as him and he’d specifically forbidden Cynthia to disturb him during lunch. When he saw that the message was from GhostBoy Taylor, he immediately got worried seeing as Justin wasn’t the type to just want to chat.

GhostBoy Taylor: Your plumber is here. He’s pounding on the door. What should I do?

Kinney-Tastic: WTF is he doing there today?

GhostBoy Taylor: ?

Brian quickly tapped over to his calendar app and . . . low and behold, he saw that he had, indeed, rescheduled the plumber for today. Unfortunately, he’d goofed and input the visit for 12 am instead of 12 pm, so it hadn’t shown up when he’d been looking at the calendar earlier to schedule his day at Ryder’s. Fucking technology!

Kinney-Tastic: Damn! I got my appointments messed up. Can you please let him in for me Ghost? I’ve already rescheduled with him once and if I put him off again, he’ll probably disappear for weeks.

There was no immediate answer and Brian started to get just a bit worried. He knew Justin's aversion to people, but this was an emergency. Brian's entire reno schedule would have to get put on hold for fuck knew how long if the plumbing wasn't taken care of.

Kinney-Tastic: Ghost? You there? Please help me out here & let the guy in.

GhostBoy Taylor: Who is the plumber?

Kinney-Tastic: ?

GhostBoy Taylor: Is he a local guy?

Kinney-Tastic: Local as in from WV? No. He's a friend of a friend from Pittsburgh. Which is another reason why, if you don't let him in, I probably won't be able to reschedule him for weeks.

GhostBoy Taylor: Ok. Letting him in now.

Brian took a relieved breath and put his phone down on the table next to his plate. He was glad he happened to have a helpful ghost back home. But he HAD missed out on the apparent punchline of Emmett’s joke. Oh well.

A few minutes later, though, Brian’s phone started vibrating and chiming again.

GhostBoy Taylor: Mario has questions I don’t know how to answer. I know nothing about plumbing, Brian.

“Damn it,” Brian muttered as he texted back asking what now.

“Problems, Brian?” Michael asked, craning his neck over to try and read Brian’s messages over his shoulder.

“Just my fucking house . . .” Brian muttered, reading through the list of strange questions Justin was relaying to him. “Damn it. We already talked about that.” Brian started to slide out of the booth, texting as he went to ask Justin to put ‘Mario’ on FaceTime so he could have it out with the man. “Sorry, I have to take this or I won’t have running water when I get home,” he apologized to his friends.

Brian bustled out the Diner’s front door just in time to accept the FaceTime call. The screen showed Justin’s worried frowning face next to that of a sweaty, middle-aged man with a full, rather unkempt beard and blotchy, red face. Brian briefly reflected that his plumber looked more like Donkey Kong than one of the Mario Brothers.

“Thanks for dealing with this, Ghost,” Brian greeted his resident specter with a smile before he turned his attention to the petulant plumber. “Now, Mario, what’s the problem? I thought we already discussed the main floor guest bath . . .”

It only took Brian a couple of minutes to sort things out and remind his plumber of the arrangements they’d previously discussed. Mario seemed to be one p-trap short of a fully plumbed drain, but Brian didn’t have time to be picky about the intelligence level of his plumbing contractor. He just needed the work done.

As soon as Mario was set to rights, the tablet computer was handed back to Brian’s ghost and the plumber went to get started on the job. Justin seemed a little jumpy but Brian thought the kid was handling things well considering how loathe he was to talk to strangers. It was a really good thing Justin had been there though, or Brian’s plumbing would have been seriously screwed up.

“Thanks, Ghost. I know that intervening with remedial plumbers isn’t in your job description, although if you wanted to ‘haunt’ Mario for the rest of the day - just to make sure he doesn’t fuck things up, you know - I wouldn’t object,” Brian teased, getting a nervous little smile out of his ghost. “I really do appreciate you handling this for me, though.”

“You’re welcome, Brian. Sorry I couldn’t answer all his questions by myself.”

“No problem. You wouldn’t have known what I wanted. Mario, on the other hand, should have known,” Brian groused.

“Oooo - who’s the cutie? Leave it to Brian Kinney to hire an adorable twinkie plumber, am I right?” Emmett commented from where he’d snuck up behind Brian to peak at the phone over Brian’s shoulder.

“Gotta go,” Brian said curtly and then immediately cut off the FaceTime call. “What the fuck are you doing, Honeycutt? That was a private call,” he complained to his friend.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were so touchy about your plumbers, Brian. And don’t call me ‘Honeycutt’.”

“Hey, Brian. You owe me $10,” Michael announced, coming through the Diner’s door in time to interrupt the argument. “So, did you get your plumbing problem resolved?”

“You know they have pills for that these days,” Ted joked, butting into the conversation with his usual wry wit. “One little blue pill will have you up and at ‘em just like when you were a young, sprightly stud, Stud.”

“Ha, fucking, ha!” Brian snarled. “It’s not THAT kind of plumbing problem, Theodore.”

“Judging by the delicious little plumber’s assistant Brian has back at his house, I’d say that particular pipe is just fine, or at least it will be when the Stud gets home and takes care of that pretty little twinkie. He was scrumptious!” Emmett trumpeted, enjoying the way the usually unflappable Brian Kinney was getting all bothered by his teasing.

“You’ve got a trick waiting for you at home?” Michael asked, looking up at Brian with awe. “Of course you do. That’s why you’re the Stud of Liberty Avenue . . . or should we say, the Stud of West Virginia now? *hahaha*”

“Fuck off, all of you,” Brian growled, not sure why he felt so angry all of a sudden, but sure he didn’t want any of these losers butting into his plans for the GhostBoy. “He’s not a fucking trick. And my pipes are just fine. It’s my toilets that need help.”

Of course the gang was used to Brian’s incendiary moods so they didn’t take real offense, even though a couple of them thought that he WAS overreacting a bit to Em’s teasing about the potential trick. It would have been a lot more characteristic of Brian to brag about what he intended to do to the boy when he got home - whether or not the story was true - than to get all protective of the kid. Brian’s reaction only made Emmett more curious about exactly who the pretty little blond boy was. Not that he’d risk riling up the prickly Mr. Kinney by asking about it.

However, since the lunch hour was over, Em would have to delay his curiosity for the time being. The gang broke up, saying their goodbyes and each heading off to their own jobs or homes. Michael, who had the day off, decided to walk with Brian back to Ryder’s. They chatted about inconsequential things for the six or so blocks until they reached the high-rise office building where Brian’s office was located.

“So, I was thinking I might come check out the progress you’ve made on your place this weekend,” Michael proposed as they neared the lobby door. “You know, make sure you’re not becoming a hermit out there in the wastelands, and all. I’ll bring some movies and food and we can just hang out like old times. In fact, I’ll even pick up some Thai takeout so you can relive the glory days of your urban life. What do you say?”

Brian’s first instinct was to give Michael a flat-out ‘no’. He was strangely reluctant to have his old friend imposing himself on the West Virginia house and Brian’s life there. And he really didn’t want to expose Justin to the rest of the gang just yet. It felt like Justin was a special secret - something Brian wanted to keep for himself. Like, whatever was going on between him and the Pseudo-Ghost would be tainted or damaged by any contamination with real life. Which was ridiculous, right? If anything, Brian should be encouraging the boy to get out and meet people. But, still, Brian just couldn’t do it. He simply didn’t want Michael butting in on something he was finding so precious.

“The house is a fucking mess right now, Mikey. Except for my bedroom, there’s not a single wall intact in the whole place,” Brian explained evasively. “Why don’t we wait a couple weeks and, once I’ve got things more under control, I’ll call you.”

“Uh, okay,” Michael seemed so crestfallen that Brian felt like he’d just kicked him or something.

He couldn’t stand that sad puppy look. He immediately relented. At least in part.

“How about I come into town on Saturday and we hang out at your place instead?” Brian offered.

“That would be super, Brian. I’ll make sure we have a good selection of movies. Have you seen the latest Spider-Man movie? It was so great . . .” Michael devolved into paroxysms of adoration about the latest superhero movie, which Brian only half listened to.

“I gotta get back to work, Mikey,” Brian interrupted before his friend could get too wrapped up in his Marvel fantasies. “Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll make plans. Okay?”

“It’s a date, Brian!” Michael beamed up at him happily.

Brian leaned down and gave Michael a big, wet smooch goodbye before he disappeared back into the bowels of Ryder’s Advertising Hell for the rest of the afternoon.

Brian finally made it home a little after eight that night. Ryder would have probably kept him till midnight if he hadn’t finally just got up and walked out. It had been a hellish day, but still, Brian was surprised to find himself so grateful to be back at the old, mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. It amazed him that this place - a half furnished hovel that was more construction site than house at this point - could feel more like a home to him than the loft he’d lived in for almost a decade.

The primary reason for this feeling appeared almost as soon as Brian walked in the door, though.

He pulled the Jeep into the recently emptied garage and made his way through the basement, past the dark maw of the empty crawl space room, over to the stairs, and was reassured to find a light on guiding him upwards and into the Greatroom. There, seated in his customary spot on the far end of the couch, was his own personal Haunt, sitting quietly and scratching away at his sketchpad. Brian felt this almost inexplicable settling feeling in his gut at the sight. The tension in his shoulders, accumulated over a day full of stress and conflict, seemed to melt away. There was a tangible sense of comfort just seeing that small, intent, body sitting there on his couch, so focused on his drawing that he didn’t even hear Brian coming in.

It felt like what coming home should feel, or at least what Brian imagined it should be like, if he’d ever had a real home before.

“Hey, Ghost,” Brian whispered as he bent over the back of the sofa and deposited a kiss on the boy’s cheek in a familiar gesture that felt so right it wasn’t at all awkward or uncomfortable.

Justin jumped at little at the contact. He apparently hadn’t heard Brian coming in. But he didn’t shrink away from the touch like he’d been doing earlier, so Brian thought it a win.

“Hi,” the greeting was shy and sweet and the smile the boy directed up at Brian made him feel stupidly melty inside. “Long day?”

“Too flucking long by half,” Brian replied, but his smile at the little blond belied his tired sounding words. “Did you eat already? If not, I brought home Thai.”

Brian held out the large brown bag full of food he’d schlepped home. Based on the way the boy’s face lit up, he got the impression that not only was Justin hungry, but he approved of the idea of Thai take out. Brian found himself quite pleased by how well his little surprise was going over.

“No, I didn’t eat. I didn’t know when you’d be home, so I was waiting.”

“Well, then, dinner is served,” Brian grinned as he handed off the bag to his ghost.

Working together, the two of them quickly dished out two bowls of Pad Thai noodles with a side of peanut curry. Then they took their bounty back out to the couch and settled into their usual places on the couch. It was unconstrained and friendly and Brian didn’t even balk at the intimacy of it all. He was too relaxed and comfortable. So, when they sat there, their feet intertwined, their bodies leaning against the opposite arms of the couch, it just seemed right.

“So, the plumbing?” Brian asked as soon as he’d quelled the worst of his hunger.

“Done,” Justin confirmed as he shoveled in another forkful of spicy noodles. “Well, mostly. I didn’t think you wanted him to get started on the master bathroom yet, so I told him to hold off on that for now. I figured you could do that once all the rest of the house was done. It’s not a good idea to have the only fully functioning bathroom in the house out of commission right? But other than that, the rest of the fixtures are installed and it all works.”

“Excellent work, Ghost,” Brian praised him, earning another of those brilliantly sweet smiles that Brian found himself becoming addicted to. “Thanks again for dealing with all that shit. I appreciate the save. You really did good.”

The praise caused Brian’s GhostBoy to smile even more broadly. Brian found himself smiling back with a silly grin. Justin looked down at his bowl bashfully, his cheeks turning a pretty pink that made Brian want to lean forward and kiss the fuck out of the kid. And, just because he could, after a moment of indecision, Brian did just that. He set his bowl of Thai aside, twisted around so he could reach, and then bent forward so that he could capture those cotton-candy pink lips with a spicy, Thai-flavored kiss.

“Delicious!”  Brian pronounced when he finally broke the kiss and returned to his dinner.  

The rest of the evening was spent in easy camaraderie. Brian had never before felt so tranquil and contented in his entire life. When it was time to head up to bed, he found himself almost giddy at the prospect that his little GhostBoy was right there with him, following on his heels all the way up the stairs and into the master bedroom. And the strangest thing was that his pleasure wasn’t even overtly sexual. He was just happy that Justin was there with him and wasn’t fighting him or trying to disappear into his hole again.   

Yep, this really was the life that Brian wanted to be living at that point in his life.