Chapter 20 - Oh Look At Me Now.

Brian must have been tired since he managed to sleep for more than two hours despite the odd hour. But, when he finally woke, the clock on his phone said it was still only quarter till eight. He knew if he didn’t get up, he’d never sleep through the night later. But he hesitated, not wanting to wake the slumbering blond boy who was still snoring quietly by his side.

Brian took a moment to look at the young pilot. Justin seemed beyond exhausted. Despite their nap, Brian could see dark circles under the younger man’s eyes. Flying almost nightly missions was obviously taking a toll on the poor kid. But, even so, Justin was still inherently beautiful.

Brian indulged his momentary whim enough to pull down the sheet a little ways, allowing him to see more of the gorgeous package. Unfortunately, that exposed Justin‘s shoulder which was now a patchwork of purple and black bruising, where it wasn’t obliterated by cotton bandaging that had become wadded up in his sleep. He could see that the deeper wound on the outside of the boy’s shoulder had bled a little, and the bandaging was sticking to it in that spot. However, the rest of the bandages had stretched and weren’t even covering most of the rest of the wounds. He made a mental note to replace those stupid swathes of bandages with self-adhesive ones as soon as the kid woke up. He wasn’t sure if anything could be done about the extensive bruising though. Poor kid. That had to hurt. It was probably a good thing that they couldn't do any kind of ‘strenuous exercises’ tonight after all.

Brian quickly determined that Justin needed sleep more than anything, though, so he carefully got out of bed, leaving the young man to snore away alone. But that left Brian a bit at loose ends. He didn’t want to go anywhere, but just sitting around in the room seemed like a waste of time. He hadn’t brought his computer with him - for obvious reasons - so he couldn’t do any work. He’d been in a hurry so he hadn’t even thrown in a book or anything else with which to entertain himself. All he had with him was his phone, which of course got no reception in 1941. But it did have a fully charged battery and hours of music on it. So, rather than just sit there and twiddle his thumbs, Brian decided he could get a decent workout in while his Blue Eyes snoozed. If Justin wasn’t awake by nine, he’d order some room service for them and then wake the kid when it arrived.

Pulling his headphones out of the bottom of his bag, Brian cued up his favorite workout playlist and then set about to while away the time with some stretching, a few hundred sit ups, some push ups and then some favorite yoga poses he’d picked up at a High Energy Fusion Yoga class he’d taken back at Ript Gym in Pittsburgh. Brian had long been a ‘yoga doubter’ until he’d fucked this yoga instructor one time and found the man to be probably the fittest person he’d ever met. The guy swore by yoga as being the best form of exercise ever invented. And, on top of having an absolutely beautiful body, the guy had been flexible enough to give himself head, which was a bonus in Brian’s book. Not that he’d mastered that particular skill himself yet, but it did give a guy something to aim for, right? And in a small, contained space like Brian’s hotel room, it was the perfect type of exercise.

Brian was just working on a tricky yoga pose that involved a combination of a sideways plank and a side leg lift all while holding your entire weight up with only one hand, when he noticed a blond head hanging off the end of the mattress staring at him with a huge grin. He, of course, immediately lost his balance and fell on his ass. That engendered a peal of laughter from the blond that momentarily overcame the Kanye West song piping to him through his headphones.

“What in the world are you doing, Brian?” Justin was still giggling at him by the time he’d picked himself up off the floor and pulled the headphones off. “Are you practicing to become a contortionist for the circus or something?”

“Ha ha ha. I’m exercising, of course. You didn’t think perfection like this just happened on it’s own did you?” Brian shot back, flicking the towel he’d been using to mop up his sweat at the boy.

“Well, if you call that exercising . . .” Justin didn’t seem to think it merited the title.

“Yes, Blue Eyes, I call that exercising. If it weren’t, do you think I would have worked up this much of a sweat? Hmm?” Brian emphasized his point by shaking his sweaty hair at the boy, who put his hands up to protect himself from the flying beads of perspiration.

“Fine. Fine. I give. Uncle. Uncle!” Justin yelled as he backed away from the dripping brunet. “Sheesh. If I’d known you could exercise by laying on your rear on the floor, I might have been able to argue my way out of all those laps they made us run in basic training. I hate running. The calisthenics were okay, but running is not my forte.”

“Well, I’d go running if I could, but it happens to be pouring outside, in case you didn’t notice,” Brian pointed to the window which clearly showed a typical grey, rainy, London spring evening.

“Unfortunately the rain never seemed to stop the drill instructors at basic,” Justin recounted, as he lolled back on the pillows of the bed. “I promised myself that if I survived that, I’d never willingly run again. Not unless my life depended on it.”

“Well, with a twinkie physique like that, you might not have to work out, but I’m not so lucky, Blue Eyes.” Brian set his phone on the dresser so he could towel off, but quickly realized it wouldn’t be enough seeing as he really had worked up quite a sweat in his short work out. He raised one arm and took a whiff of his pit, making a face at the smell. “Damn. I stink. I’d better shower before I drive you away.” Brian donned one of the hotel robes and then picked up a fresh bath towel and his toiletries kit before leaning down to give his blond a goodbye kiss. “I’d invite you to join me, Blue Eyes, if only we had a private shower. I won’t be long though. Then we can order some dinner, what do you say?”

“I say, yum! But I’m starving, so hurry up with that shower, please,” Justin ordered from his comfortable spot on the bed.

“Be back before you can jerk off,” Brian promised with a smirk as he sauntered off, pulling the door closed behind him.

He quickly made his way down the hall to the men’s water closet. It was a very small room and not really all that comfortable, so Brian wasn’t inclined to dawdle in there even if Justin hadn't been waiting for him. He quickly used the toilet and then set his towel and other supplies down on the rickety wooden stool next to the tub. He turned on the water in the bath, waiting interminably it seemed, for it to heat up, grumbling all the time. Needless to say, the bathroom facilities at The Strand Palace were probably cutting edge for the time period, but they left a lot to be desired when looked at through the lens of a 21st-Century man.

When the water finally seemed warm enough that Brian wouldn’t immediately freeze, he flipped the switch to turn on the shower fixture, climbed into the tub and, hunching over a little so he wouldn’t hit his head on the metal showerhead, Brian quickly doused himself in the tepid water, soaped up, rinsed and then got out before the water went cold again. So much for modern conveniences in 1941.

It only took him a few more minutes to shave, brush his teeth, and run a comb through his hair. That was all he planned to do for the time being. He only gave himself ten seconds to regret, once again, the lack of hair dryers here in this decade. And then Brian was off, back to his room and his hopefully entertaining blond. They might not be able to fuck again until Justin was healed, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be having other fun.

It was the thought of all that fun-to-come that had Brian smiling as he opened the door to his room a minute later. The smile on his face froze, however, as soon as he saw the tableau that greeted him. Justin was standing in the middle of the room, still in only his boxers, Brian’s phone in his left hand and one of the earbuds from the headphones in his other. As soon as Brian appeared, Justin looked up at him with a seriously worried face.

“I . . . I saw your lightbox was lit up and there were sounds coming out of it . . . I didn’t mean to snoop but . . . I was just curious . . .” Justin held the vibrating earbud up as evidence. “And then I saw this . . .”

Justin held the phone out, tilting it so that Brian could see the phone’s lock screen, which unfortunately showed the nude picture Brian had surreptitiously taken of Justin just a few days earlier. Brian mentally berated himself once again for giving in to the impulse to take that particular picture, let alone the sentimentality that had induced him to use it for his lock screen.

“Um . . . Uh . . . I . . . I can explain that . . .” Brian scrambled to come up with some explanation he could offer the boy, but his mind seemed absolutely devoid of any plausible story.

“Applesauce! You really are a spy, aren’t you?” Justin turned his back and walked away, tossing the phone negligently on the bed as he passed by, before turning around to confront Brian again. “This is obviously some kind of elite new American technology, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never even HEARD of anything like it. This is way beyond anything the British have. I just . . . I just hope it’s the Americans you’re working for and not anybody else.”

“Shit!” Brian swore rather loudly before tossing his shower supplies to the floor and grabbing Justin’s wrist to tow the young man over to the bed with him. “I’m not a fucking spy, Justin. I swear. This is . . . well . . . I can’t really explain to you what this is. I’m sorry. But I’m not doing anything with it that would hurt you or the Allied war effort. I promise.”

Justin reluctantly let himself be pulled down so he was sitting next to Brian on the edge of the bed. He seemed hesitant to let Brian even touch him. Brian wasn’t about to let something as stupid as a cell phone mess up his evening though. If he had to come clean - or at least as clean as he could without completely revealing his secret - he would.

“Here. Look. It’s nothing secret or dangerous. It’s just a sort of camera. I use it to take pictures. See?”

Brian tapped at the screen a few times until the photo app came up. He swiped from the top of the screen down, causing the index of small photo images to fly past until he reached the picture he’d taken of Justin. Then he tapped on that picture to enlarge it, and held the phone out to his skeptical blond to examine.

“I took this picture of you the other night after you fell asleep. I couldn’t help it. You were so . . . Fuck it, you just looked so damned adorable, I had to take a fucking picture of it, so I wouldn’t forget it. Okay?” Brian could feel his balls slowly shriveling up as he voiced the lesbianic sentiments, but he couldn't lie to his blond again; not now when the kid was already doubting him. “I promise you, there's no nefarious purpose here, Blue Eyes. I just wanted your damn picture so I could look at it when I’m not around you.”

“You just wanted my picture?” Justin asked with a shy smile.

“Yes you silly twat. Is that a crime or something?” Brian knew he sounded a little defensive, but this conversation had already taken turns his Studly nature did not approve of.

“No. No, that’s fine, I . . . Well, I sort of felt the same way,” Justin stuttered bashfully, then reached over and grabbed his trousers from the pile of clothing still waiting on the floor and fished out his wallet. “I wanted your picture near me too,” he explained as he pulled out one of the photo booth pictures he and Brian had taken a week or so earlier at the movie theater.

Brian huffed a little half laugh, hooked his own pants off the arm of the nearby chair with the toes of one long slender foot, pulled out his own wallet and showed his Blue Eyes the matching photo booth picture which he’d had tucked away in a back fold. They both laughed and put away their respective pictures. Then Justin  picked up the suspect phone again and looked over at Brian.

“I thought you said this was a clock? And a flashlight of some kind?”

“Yeah. And a camera too,” Brian explained, swiping across the screen from right to left to scroll past Justin‘s photo on to some others. “It does a lot of things.”

“It plays music too?” He touched the wires of the headphones that were still attached and vibrating with sound.

“Yep. That too.”

“But . . . How? I mean . . . How can one device do all these things? And why are the photos in COLOR, Brian? How is that even possible?”

“Well, you’re right about it being new technology. It’s . . . You’re not gonna see this kind of camera come out for a long, long time. Not for the general public at least,” Brian hedged, feeling bad all over again that he couldn’t simply tell Justin the truth. “But other than the color thing, it’s just regular old photographs, Justin. See?”

Brian scrolled through some more photos from his library, most of which had been sent by Lindsey. Justin stopped him when he got to a picture of his son, Gus, sitting on Brian’s lap. It was a favorite of Brian’s, because it showed the boy looking at him adoringly.

“This is the boy I saw on here before. I actually thought it was some kind of painting or something. But this is just a photo? Who is this?” Justin asked.

“That’s my son, Gus. He’s three,” Brian explained proudly.

“I forgot you said you had a son.” Justin seemed almost as surprised by that reminder as he had been by the camera phone itself. “So . . . You're married? But, you never said . . . Applesauce!”

Before Brian could stop him, Justin had already jumped up off the bed and begun to grab his clothes off the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on there, cowboy,” Brian looped an arm around Justin‘s waist and forcefully pulled him back onto his lap. “No. I am definitely NOT married, Justin. No way, no how, never gonna happen.” Justin took one more look at the phone that was now laying on the bed next to where they were sitting, the picture still showing, and started to struggle to get up again. “Stop already. I swear, Justin, I’m not married. Gus’ mother is just an old college friend of mine. She wanted to have a baby with her lesbian lover, Melanie. I just helped out with a little sperm donation. I’m not involved other than that and the occasional visit with my son.”

“L-L-Lesbians . . . ?”

“Yes. Lindsey and Melanie are lesbians. They wanted a baby. Since neither of them have the necessary equipment to make one, I helped them out. That’s it,” Brian attempted to explain, wondering exactly how he’d gotten roped into this odd conversation, and hoping that it didn’t progress to the point where he had to explain in vitro fertilization to the boy.

“Wow! Just . . . Wow!” Justin spluttered, examining the picture of Brian and Gus again, a look of wonder plastered on his face. “I’ve heard about lesbians before, of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever met any. Doesn’t anyone ask about who the boy’s father is? I mean, in the neighborhood where I grew up, a single woman with a baby would’ve been . . . Well, that sort of thing is pretty much frowned on, you know? And if she lives with another woman . . .”

“It’s complicated,” Brian responded, hoping to curtail this topic before it went any further.

“I bet.” Justin copied Brian‘s motions from earlier, moving his finger across the screen of the phone, smiling when it worked and a new picture appeared. “Your son is adorable, Brian. He looks so happy too.”

“He is happy and smart too. Being over here in London, I miss him.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want him here. Not with raids like the one we had last night going on all the time. He’s safer at home with his . . . Mothers.” Justin struggled with the plural, but eventually got it out. “You know, I always thought that being a father would be impossible, for someone like me . . .”

“Nothing is impossible. Not if you really want it. Sometimes you just have to work harder to figure out a way to get what you want, Blue Eyes,” Brian assured him as he took back the phone and hit the off button. “What I want right now, though, is some food. How about you?”

“Please. I’m starving. I missed lunch waiting around in the infirmary all day. I could eat you, I’m so hungry,” the young pilot said with all innocence.

“While that sounds great,” Brian laughed as he stood up and shrugged off the robe he was wearing, “I think we should get some food in you first.” He pulled on his pants. “Let me see if I can find a bellhop or maid and ask then to send us up some dinner.”

“They’ll do that? Bring your dinner here to the room?” Justin seemed amazed, reminding Brian again of how unworldly the kid was.

“Yes, Blue Eyes. They’ll do just about anything as long as you pay for it. Including room service.”

Brian pulled on his shirt and started buttoning it up.

“Okay. But wouldn’t it be faster if we just went to the dining room? I’m not sure I can wait till they bring it here.” His words were backed up by the loud growling of his stomach at the mere mention of food.

Brian shook his head and dug in his overnight bag, coming out with a large plastic box filled with an assortment of eighteen different colors of M&Ms that he’d picked up the day before as he was walking past the M&M’s World store in Leicester Square. He’d meant to send the candy to his son, but as he was rushing out the door in 2016 he’d thrown it in the bag at the last minute. Now he was glad he’d thought of it. That should keep the boy busy till he got back with some real food. And that way they could enjoy eating their dinner here in the room without annoying prying eyes watching them.

“Here you go, Blue Eyes. I think you told me before you liked chocolate, right?”

“I adore chocolate, Brian,” Justin confirmed as he took the strange see-through box. “M&M’s? I had some of these back in the states before I came to London. They’d just come out. I didn’t know they came in so many colors though. I thought it was just brown, red, green, yellow, orange and purple. And what’s ‘M&M’s World - Las Vegas, New York, Orlando’ mean?”

“I’m not sure why it says that,” Brian deflected. “I got those special for Gus. But you can have this box and I’ll get him something different later.”

“Oh, I couldn’t take your son’s present. This is too nice. I’ll wait.”

“Nonsense. That’s yours. Don’t worry about Gus. He gets tons of treats from the whole family. He won’t even miss it,” Brian urged, pushing the box back into the young blond’s hands even as Justin tried to give it back. “Now, you nibble on those for a minute while I go order food. Just don’t eat so many you make yourself sick, okay?”

“Well, okay. If you insist.”

Justin had already broken the seal and was sampling the candies before Brian had the door open. Brian hoped the candy would keep the kid busy and away from his damn phone for a while. He realized he’d dodged a big bullet once already that evening, and didn’t want to have to come up with even more half truths. Besides, he had better plans for the remainder of their evening than to talk about various forms of modern technology. Justin’s ass might be off limits for the time being, but he had plans to teach the boy what could be done with that talented mouth of his.

Brian sat at the desk of his makeshift office and was in the middle of going through a report for one of his accounts back home, when Cynthia knocked on the door.

“Lindsay is on the phone for you, Brian.”

“Put her through,” he told her, his eyes not once leaving the screen in front of him as he continued to take notes and make changes.

A few seconds later the phone at his desk began to ring.

“Lindz, where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days.”

“Well, hello to you too, Brian . . . and I could say the same for you. You haven’t been available to talk the last few times I’ve called you either.”

That was true; they’d been playing phone tag for the last couple of days, but Brian was still pissed that he’d missed out on talking to Gus.

Brian cleared his throat. “I know. Work’s been crazy. Between this London project and trying to keep up with my regular clients back in Pittsburgh, I’m working ridiculous hours,” he explained curtly. “Did you check your email? I got Cynthia to send you the confirmation details for your flight and the hotel information for you and Gus.”

“I did, and thank you, Brian. But are you sure it wouldn’t be easier for us to stay with you? I can’t imagine The Savoy is cheap.”

“Of course it’s not cheap,” Brian scoffed. “But it’s perfect for the two of you. They have a pool and you’re right by the British Museum . . . You’re not that far from where I’m staying, anyway.”

“I know that, but I was just thinking it would save some money for us to stay with you in your suite. That’s all.”

He was expecting this - for Lindz to lay a guilt trip on him for putting them up in a different hotel - disregarding the fact that he was putting them up in one of London’s finest five star hotels.

“Listen, my hours are a little unpredictable right now, so this will be better for Gus. I don’t want to be waking him up if I get in late.”

Lindsay laughed heartily. “Unpredictable hours? Tell me you’re not planning on tricking the entire time Gus is visiting?” she asked snootily, the innuendo in her voice pissing him off even further.

“No, I’m not planning on tricking while Gus is here. For fuck’s sake, Lindz, have a little faith in me.”

“Well, excuse me for assuming something which isn’t really that unrealistic.”

“The hotel arrangements are already made, Lindz, and I’m not changing them, so live with it. Or don’t come, for all I care,” Brian barked, finally losing his temper. Lindsey sputtered and backtracked, giving in eventually, as Brian knew she would if pressed. “Whatever. Just put Gus on the damn phone. You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

Lindsay sighed, “No, you asked me not to, although I don’t understand why . . .”

“Because I want to tell him myself, that’s why. Now, go get my kid,” he snapped.

He heard Lindsay put the phone down and call out for Gus. It wasn’t long before the sound of thundering footsteps came over the speaker. Then the receiver was picked up and Brian could hear the excited, high-pitched voice he was longing to hear.

“Daddy, daddddy, dadddddyyyyyyy,” the little boy shrieked happily as he came onto the phone. “Hi, Daddy!”

Brian laughed at his little boy’s enthusiasm. “Hi, Sonny Boy.”

“Hi, Daddy, I miss you.” Brian could practically hear Gus jumping up and down excitedly.

Those three little words made his chest hurt. “I miss you too. But guess what?”

“Oooooooooh, what? What?”

“You and Mommy are coming to visit me in London.”

“Mama too?”

Luckily for Brian, Melanie was unable to take the time off of work, but he hated disappointing his kid. “No, Sonny Boy, Mama can’t make it. But you, me and Mommy will have so much fun.”

“Will I see you today?”

“Not today, buddy. In three weeks. When Mommy finishes work for the summer. And when you’re finished with preschool.”

“I love preschool, Daddy.”

“I know you do, kiddo.”

“I learned lots of things. I knowed my shapes and my numbers and how to writed my name,” his kid rattled off proudly. “And my colors, too. Like blue and lellow . . .”

“I can’t wait to hear all about school, Gus. Listen. I want you to start thinking about things you would like to do when you get here, okay?”

“Okay . . . Does they have a zoo there? And a aqu . . . aquwarium?

“An aquarium?”

“Yeah, where da fishies live.”

Brian laughed, his son was seriously cute. “I’m sure they have one of those here.”

“And we can eat candy and watch Moana and stay up late, like, maybe even till seven o’clock, and eat pizza and all kinds of fun things, daddy.”

He couldn’t fucking wait for his kid to get here, even though he’d probably put on about ten pounds while Gus was visiting. It would be worth it though, as long as Gus enjoyed himself. Now, if only Justin could meet the kid . . .

Brian caught himself before he finished that impossible thought. He really needed to get a grip on himself. This thing with Justin was fun and he got a kick out of the thrill of sneaking back to 1941 and all, but he didn’t need to obsess about the pilot quite so much. And there was no way he could let Justin and Gus meet. Was there? No. It was completely unworkable.

“Okay, Gus, Daddy’s got to go do some more work now. You have a good night and start making a list of all the things we’re going to do when you get here to visit. I’ll see you real soon, Kiddo.”

“Kay! Bye, Daddy! Loves you!” Gus chirruped happily and then hung up the phone before Brian even had a chance to say it back.

“I love you too, Sonny Boy,” Brian said to the dead line, smiling despite himself at the thought that he’d soon get to see the little imp.

Then, turning back to the stack of work still waiting for him, Brian made a split decision and opted to blow off the rest of the afternoon. None of this crap was all that important. It would wait till tomorrow. And in the meantime, he could spend some quality time with the other boy in his life . . . the boy from 1941.