Chapter 32 - If I Loved You.

Brian awoke with his head resting on a nice, warm, firm chest, his body encircled by two strong arms. The familiar, musky scent of his lover, mixed with a lingering whiff of sex from their activities of the night before, brought to mind exactly how he’d ended up in that position. Brian was only slightly embarrassed to realize he must have fallen sound asleep after . . . well, after Justin made it to the TOP of the class. So much for their all-night fuck fest. Not that he regretted it at all. Brian couldn’t remember ever feeling so serene and cared for in his entire life.

Brian lifted his head from its resting place and blinked around him until he’d figured out which Palace hotel room they were in. Based on the size of the room and the old-fashioned furnishings it was pretty clear they were in 1941 this morning. He thought he was getting pretty good at this time travelling stuff.

Brian’s squirming must have awakened his bed mate, because the arms wrapped around him tightened at that point, and a pair of coral pink lips bent down to leave a little greeting on the top of Brian’s head.

“Morning, Handsome.”

“Morning, Blue Eyes.” Brian disentangled himself and stretched to his full length, then rolled over so he was back on top of the morning situation. “So, what’s next on your ‘Live For The Day’ agenda? I’m hoping it involves something to do with this . . .” Brian canted his hips so that the length of his morning woody slid between the thighs of his blond bedwarmer.

“Mmmmm. I think that sounds like a wonderful suggestion, Brian,” Justin answered as he brought his legs up so that they cinched tightly around Brian’s waist and pulled his man in even closer.

An hour later, Brian turtled his head out from under the covers, panting, sweaty and covered in cum, but thoroughly happy with their morning exercises. Justin was still lying there in a puddle of sated lust, one of his signature ‘sunshine’ smiles plastered across that angelic face, the look of happy innocence marred only by the smear of cum that streaked his cheek. Brian promptly bent down and licked the telltale evidence away, earning himself a giggle in the process.

Before Brian could move on to yet another round of fun, though, the boy’s stomach let out a grumble of protest that was so loud it could probably have been heard all the way in 2016. Both men burst into laughter. It was obvious that it was time to satiate a different sort of hunger - one that couldn’t be taken care of in bed.

Brian gave his blond one last kiss and then climbed out of bed, pulling Justin with him. They worked companionably, not even needing to speak to communicate, as they helped each other get cleaned up and dressed. Brian regretted not having a nice, big shower they could use together, but supposed that could wait for once. If they didn’t get downstairs fast, the hotel breakfast service would be over and he needed to get his boy fed as soon as possible.

The only other downside to the 1941 version of this hotel was that Brian had to remember not to try and hold his blond’s hand as they made their way downstairs in the elevator or walking through the lobby. It was harder than Brian would have thought, since he’d never considered himself to be all that demonstrative, but there was something almost magnetic about his Blue Eyes. It was a struggle to keep his hands to himself. He seemed to crave the mere touch of skin-on-skin. But, somehow, Brian managed to restrain himself to the bounds of propriety recognized by this century.

After they’d eaten - Justin downing enough to fuel at least three normal people - Brian leaned back in his chair, sipping at a delicious cup of coffee. The coffee was a rare and therefore doubly enjoyable pleasure in wartime London, so he didn’t want to rush the moment. Meanwhile, he occupied himself with looking over at his breakfast companion and trying to figure out what came next.

The day before had been such a crazy, eventful day, and Brian didn’t think either one of them had fully adjusted to all that had happened. They’d whirled through Justin’s introduction to the future, the trauma of his learning about his own impending death, and then their intense evening spent reaffirming their connection to each other and to life in general. He didn’t know how Justin was handling it so well, to be honest. Maybe it was just that, after living with the constant vagaries of war for the past six months or so, the young man had become hardened to the specter of death. But whatever it was, Brian was still unsure how the young RAF Officer would deal with the coming days.

Or what Brian had decided he needed to tell Justin next.

Luckily, they were the only customers left in the restaurant that morning, so they had plenty of privacy once the waiter had cleared away Justin’s last plate. Brian figured that was as good a time as any to bring up what he needed to say. He waited till Justin had finished his own coffee with an appreciative smacking of those delicious lips, and then leaned forward so as to keep his words as confidential as possible.

“Justin, I need to give you a head’s up about tonight,” Brian carefully broached the subject. “I know you told me before that you didn’t want to know about what’s coming, but this is a big one, and now that you know everything else . . .”

Justin screwed up his face in displeasure, but sighed and nodded to Brian to continue nonetheless.

“Tonight there’s going to be a really bad air raid,” Brian explained tersely. Since Justin didn’t comment, he carried on. “It’ll be the biggest bombing raid of the Blitz since the start of the Battle of Britain. I’m assuming you’ll want me to tell Daphne, right?”

“Yeah. Although I’m not sure how to do that without her turning you into the next Oracle of Delphi. She already thinks you’ve got ‘second sight’ like her Gran. If you keep telling her stuff before it happens, she might start asking you to tell fortunes at the pub,” Justin teased, again taking Brian’s news better than he’d expected. “I want her to be safe, though. Can’t let Lottie’s Gran get hurt before she gets around to having grandchildren.”

Brian allowed himself to laugh along with Justin’s joking, even though he was preparing himself at the same time to add something he didn’t think Justin would find humorous.

“I’ll bring her with me to the shelter here at the Palace tonight,” he ventured. “That should keep her safe and happy - she enjoyed herself here the last time.” And, taking a deep breath, Brian stepped off the deep end of the conversation. “You’ll be here tonight as well, right?”

“Brian . . .” Justin started off, the disapproving tone of his voice a dead give away as to what was coming next. “I’m not going to hide in a shelter during a raid. Especially not if what you’re telling me is true and this is going to be as bad as you claim.”

“But it’s not like you can do anything to help, Justin,” Brian protested. “What do you plan on doing, anyway? Join the fire brigades or something?”

“No. I’ll be flying of course,” Justin stated matter-of-factly, staring Brian down.

“No fucking way!” Brian erupted, startling the waiter who was tidying up a few tables on the other side of the room. “Don’t be stupid, Justin. You have a concussion, for fuck’s sake. You heard the doctor - he said no flying for at least a week.”

“I feel fine, Brian. And even if I didn’t there’s no reason for me NOT to fly,” Justin leaned even closer, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “I certainly can’t crash my plane tonight if I’m slated to die two months from now, right?” Sitting up straight again, the bold fighter pilot continued in his usual cocky vein. “My squad is scheduled to fly defense intercepts all this week, and from what you tell me, they’re going to need me there tonight to help protect the city. So that’s where I’ll be - concussion or no concussion.”

“Please, Justin . . .” Brian heard himself begging but decided he wasn’t too proud to plead for this. “It’s too dangerous. The doctor said that the altitude and pressurization fluctuations would exacerbate the symptoms. If you try to fly, you’re more likely to end up one of the fucking casualties in the damn history books than to do any good.”

Justin leaned forward and captured both Brian’s hands in his own, disregarding the public venue. “Brian, I understand that you’re concerned, but there’s really no need. I’m sure I’ll be just fine. And even if I’m not, does it really matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters, Blue Eyes,” Brian insisted with a hiss, his hands convulsively squeezing the ones he was holding onto as if they were just as worried as he was about losing the person sitting across from him. “You can’t just throw your life away like that! I don’t care what the fucking history books say, Justin. I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that. I refuse to believe that I’m going to lose you now - not when I just fucking found you. I won’t let it happen, Justin. I won’t! And I’m not going to let you fly tonight either!”

Justin managed to diffuse the built up tension with a soft chuckle and another adorable smile. “I don’t want to lose you either, Brian, but I already decided last night I’m not going to stop living just because I’m afraid of dying. Does that make sense to you?” Brian shrugged. “Good, because it doesn’t make sense to me,” Justin added with another huff of laughter. “I’m not going to shirk my duty, though, Brian. I can’t. That’s not me.”

Brian knew what Justin was saying was true, and he had all the fucking respect in the world for the boy, who was one brave little fucker, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Justin, please . . .”

“Stop, Brian,” Justin ordered, pushing back his chair and standing up, and by extension putting an end to the conversation. “Now, I don’t have to leave for the base until about five. So, do you want to spend the afternoon with me or not?”

“Fucking stubborn little twat,” Brian voiced his complaints as he got up and followed behind the mule-headed little pilot.

“Sir, we do NOT allow language like that in our establishment,” Brian was chided by the restaurant’s major-domo, who’d unfortunately been passing by right then and over heard the off color comment. “You never know when there might be ladies present.”

“Whatever,” Brian grumbled shooting annoyed looks at both the major-domo and a laughing Justin Taylor. He added a quieter, “fucking prudes,” as soon as the manager had moved away.

“Come on, Brian. Let’s get you out of here before you offend anyone else,” Justin teased, knocking shoulders with the grumbly man as he headed towards the exit. “You know, I don’t remember hearing the rest of the people in the future cursing as much as you do.”

“You weren’t listening to the right people, Blue Eyes,” Brian corrected him, starting to get his sense of humor back. “Now, if we were back in the states, it would be different. These Brits are too fucking polite all the time. Americans are a lot more, as you would say, colorful. Hell, you should hear how the average guy in New York talks these days - some of them can make even me blush on occasion.”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that,” Justin replied with a chuckle. “You make me blush quite often enough as it is, Handsome.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll have to work you up to that,” Brian agreed with a smile. “So, what’s on the agenda for this afternoon, then?”

“Well, first thing, I need to go back to Mrs. MacCready’s and get a clean uniform shirt,” Justin stated, smiling down at the far too large shirt he’d borrowed that morning from Brian. “I hope she knows a way to get the blood out of the other one - I don’t want to have to shell out for a new shirt if I don’t have to.” The door of the elevator opened and he stepped inside, adding as an afterthought, “especially not if I’m only going to need it for a couple more months.”

“Damn it, Justin,” Brian snarled as he joined the other man in the lift. “Have I mentioned before how much I dislike your black sense of humor? It’s a fucking downer.” Then he turned to address the elevator operator before that gentleman could say a word. “And don’t bother - language, ladies present, blah, blah, blah - I’ve already heard it and I don’t give a flying fuck.”

Then Brian crossed his arms and silently stewed for the rest of the ride up, as Justin stood nearby and tried futilely to suppress his laughter.

“Thank you, Mrs. MacCready,” Justin repeated for the third time. “I knew that, if anyone could save my shirt, it would be you.”

“Pshaw! It’s nothing a little white wine vinegar, soda crystals and elbow grease won’t fix. You young men, always so tough on your clothing. What you need is a good wife to take care o’ yer,” the formidable dame remarked as she gathered up the blood-stained shirt and bustled off to the back of the house to work her laundry magic.

“If you ask me, what you need is is a good husband, with a large bank account so he can pay a good dry-cleaner to clean your shirts for you,” Brian opined quietly from where he was seated on the atrociously uncomfortable, horse-hair stuffed, settee in the corner of Mrs. MacCready’s front parlor.

“Hush you!” Justin shushed him in between bouts of laughter. “You’ll shock poor Mrs. MacCready so bad she’ll have a fit of vapors.”

“Taylor? Is that you? Where the devil have you been?” Officer Hobbs complained as he clomped noisily into the house, slamming the front door behind him. “I got called in last night, even though it was my first day off in a week, so I could cover for you. And I was right in the middle of talking up a pretty little dame that looked like an Able Grable. But instead of getting lucky, I ended flying all night and almost got my rear end shot up.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I ended up getting knocked on the noggin and had to call out because of this concussion - at least my head injury probably saved that poor girl from having to put up with you for the rest of the night,” Justin shot back with a snarky little grin.

“Ha, bloody, ha! You’re a real gas, aren’t you, Taylor?” Hobbs sneered. “You damn well better not be calling off tonight too. I’ve got that gal’s phone number and I’m planning on using it.”

“Then you’re in luck - well, at least as to not having to fly, although I sincerely hope the girl thinks twice before she takes your call - but I’m definitely planning to fly tonight,” Justin assured him.

“Even though the doctor said you weren’t supposed to,” Brian added acerbically, unable to hold his tongue even though he knew it wouldn’t dissuade the stubborn pilot.

“What the hell is HE doing here?” Hobbs exclaimed, apparently just then noticing Brian sitting in the far corner. “I thought I told you to get lost and stay lost, Pervert,” he hissed, coming around the end of the couch to tower over the seated Brian. “If this loser is bothering you, Taylor, I’ll be happy to go call the coppers on him.”

“Hold your horses, Hobbs,” Justin rushed to insinuate himself between the irate pilot and his man. “What you saw the other day was just a misunderstanding. Brian and I have resolved things. You don’t need to throw him out.”

“I can’t believe you, Taylor. After he came onto you the other day, trying to kiss you? How can you just casually let a damn pervert fairy like that come back around?” Hobbs rounded on Brian’s defender with even more vehemence than he’d directed at the supposed source of the offence. “Or are you turning into one of them too?”

“Don’t snap your cap, Hobbs,” Justin sneered right back at the overbearing bully. “Who I choose to associate with is my business, not yours. When I want the opinion of a fathead, know-nothing, chucklehead, I know where to find you. Until then, just back off Brian already. You hear me, Hobbs?”

“You know what . . . Fine. You want to waste your time with this disgusting bum bandit, go right ahead,” Hobbs conceded, holding up his hands in surrender as he backed out of the room. “But just so you know, there’s such a thing as ‘guilty by association’ . . . and I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“You do that, Hobbs. And I’ll keep my eye on you too . . . Mr. Slacker.”

Hobbs shot one more hate-filled look Justin’s way before turning on his heel and stomping off up the stairs to his room.

Justin turned to Brian with a sad shake of his head. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Definitely.”

They ambled down the street together in silence for a block or two, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Justin spoke up.

“I’m sorry about that, Brian. Hobbs is pretty bad, isn’t he?” Brian nodded but didn’t think the observation merited further comment. “I guess you don’t have to worry about that stuff where you’re from, huh? It must be hard for you to come here and have to put up with that kind of thing. Back in your own time, you probably wouldn’t have let him get away with that, I suppose.”

“Unfortunately, there are still a hell of a lot of homophobes around even in my time, Blue Eyes. But at least it’s legal for us to simply hold hands.”

“Before, you said something about getting a husband . . .” Justin looked sideways at Brian as they continued on their way. “Was that just a joke or is it something possible in your time?”

“I wasn’t joking,” Brian confirmed. “Same-sex marriages became legal here in England in 2014 and in the states just last year in 2015. A bunch of states had already allowed it before then, but the Supreme Court came out and said it was legal everywhere last June. So now you could actually get yourself a husband, if you wanted, Blue Eyes.”

“Applesauce, Brian! That’s . . . that’s absolutely unbelievable,” Justin stated, his voice tinged with wonder. “I mean, literally, unbelievable. I just can’t even imagine that. Two men getting married? Do they get to have a wedding and all, even? Like regular married people?”

“Of course we get to have a regular wedding and shit. And we ARE regular people, Blue Eyes. Just regular people who love other people of the same sex.”

Justin rolled his eyes at Brian’s statement but didn’t bother contradicting him, still seemingly too amazed by the mere concept of same-sex marriage to actually believe it. Brian shook his head at the little Doubting Thomas. Then, darting a quick look around them to make sure nobody was close by, he slipped his cell phone out of his suit jacket pocket, tapped at the screen a few times and then held the device out so Justin could see the photo he’d found.

“That’s from Gus’ moms’ wedding. Lindsey is the tall blond on the left and her wife, Melanie, is the one in the tux on the right.” Justin took the phone out of Brian’s hand and stood there just staring at the tiny screen. “My best friend Mikey and his boyfriend Ben got married just before I left the States - I’ve got those pics back on my laptop, although they just did it in front of a Justice of the Peace in the court house, so they’re not dressed up or anything. But, basically, it’s done all the time now,” Brian explained.

“Applesauce!” Justin whispered as he handed the phone back to Brian. “They look so happy.”

“They are . . . most of the time,” Brian grinned.

They started walking again, Justin apparently lost in thought for the length of another block or so before he finally spoke up again. “So, is that something you want too, Brian?” he asked tentatively. “Do you want to get married and have a . . . a husband? Golly, that sounds so strange, even to just say it . . . But, is that what you want someday?”

The question stopped Brian in his tracks. He’d never actually thought about it before. Not seriously, at least. While he supported the right of same-sex couples to get married, he’d never thought about it for himself, per se. He’d just always considered himself a diehard bachelor. And since he’d never before had a relationship that lasted more than twenty-four hours, it hadn’t ever been a possibility. Marriage was something for other people. Wasn’t it?

But that was before. Before he’d fallen through time and found himself a perky, stubborn RAF Officer that aggravated and intrigued him in equal parts. Before he’d gotten himself into a fucking relationship. Before he’d realized that he cared more about that particular blond than about tricking or about . . . well, about anything.

So, yeah, now the idea maybe meant a little bit more. At least it was no longer out of the realm of possibilities. Hmmm. Imagine that - not only was Brian Kinney in a fucking relationship, but he was actually contemplating the possibility of marriage? What the hell was the world coming to?

“Maybe,” Brian answered, then added with a coy fluttering of his long auburn lashes, “if the right guy came along and offered to make an honest man out of me.”

That cracked Justin up. “You, Mr. Kinney, are a terrible flirt. You know that, right?”

“Which is why you love me,” Brian replied flippantly.

“Yeah. I do, actually,” Justin responded, dead serious. “I really do.”

Brian stumbled and almost tripped. There were those words again. The same ones Justin had whispered to him the night before. But that had been in the throes of passion - something that could be discounted and maybe even forgotten if the person saying them wanted to. This . . . This time the words were put out there in broad daylight, so to speak. And it seemed like his Blue Eyes meant them.

Which left Brian reeling.

What was he supposed to do now? Should he say something back? He didn’t know if he COULD say anything, let alone those words. Not that he didn’t feel the same . . . Damn, he really did feel the same, didn’t he? Which was even more fucking scary to contemplate. But hadn’t he just been thinking about marriage and how he’d be open to that idea with his Blue Eyes? So, he supposed that meant the same thing as this, right? But, fuck . . . what the hell did he do now?

Then Justin was standing in front of where Brian had stopped, frozen in place in the middle of the damned sidewalk, looking in his face with an amused little smile. “Breathe, Brian.”

“I . . . I just . . . I . . .” Brian heard himself stuttering like a shy little schoolboy and could have kicked himself for coming off so lame.

“I know. Me too,” Justin chuckled quietly at him. “This whole ‘not holding back and living to the fullest’ thing is kind of empowering, you know. So, how about we hurry up and get to the pub and have a drink to celebrate, huh?”

Which was the perfect thing to say, and just another reason why Brian was feeling those words for this brilliant blond in the first place.

“Lead on, Blue Eyes,” Brian answered, finally able to speak coherently again.

And with that the two of them sauntered into the White Lion, huge smiles on both their faces, shooting each other secret sideways glances every couple of feet. It was so disgustingly sweet that Brian was surprised he wasn’t gagging. But he seemed to still be on some sort of weird high from all that love shit and so he just let the whole thing slide for the time being.

Brian was so busy being overwhelmed by his newly acknowledged relationship status, though, that he was a little oblivious as to the cause of the new excitement that arose immediately after they walked through the front door. Justin had stepped in front of him and, as soon as he made it inside, the boy squealed and took off running. Brian followed at a more sedate pace, watching as Justin mobbed a man sitting alone at the bar. Daphne, who’d been standing there talking to whoever it was a moment before, was now laughing at the spectacle Justin was creating. When Brian eventually made it up to the bar himself, he was finally able to get a glimpse of the poor man Justin was hugging and kissing - and he was almost as surprised as Justin when he saw Lucky looking up at him through the barrage of Justin’s exuberant kisses.

“Let the boy get in a breath or two, Blue Eyes,” Brian advised, peeling Justin’s arms off his victim. “Welcome back, Lucky.”

“When did you get out? Does Curly know? Are you okay? You look pretty good to me. Do you need anything?” Justin bombarded him with questions.

“It’s good to see you too, Sunshine,” Lucky directed a sad little smile up at the excited blond hopping around by his side.

“When did you get out of the clink?” Justin asked again.

“Yesterday. And, yes, I talked to Curly last night,” Lucky answered before turning to Brian. “Handsome, Daphne tells me I have you to thank for the money she brought me. I would probably still be in there if it wasn’t for you. Without that money I wouldn’t have been able to hire the barrister that got me off with only time served and a fine. So, thank you. A million times, thank you.”

“Glad it helped,” Brian replied, brushing off the offer of gratitude with his usual disdain.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” Lucky immediately added. “Although that might take a while, since I was discharged without pay before I even got out of jail.”

“That’s a real blivet,” Justin commiserated. “But, I’m sure something will turn up sooner or later.”

Lucky sighed loudly as he retook his seat back at the bar. “Yeah, let’s hope. Otherwise, I might as well have stayed in jail. At least there I had a roof over my head and three squares.”

Justin looked over worriedly at Brian. The time traveller who printed his own money by the briefcaseful was already way ahead of him though; he was already planning to find some way of slipping Lucky enough cash to get by before the end of the night. He winked back at his concerned blond, who broke out in a blindingly happy smile.

“Yeah, well, there’ll be plenty of time to worry about that tomorrow,” Brian announced with a jovial thump to the depressed man’s back. “Right now you have to come have a drink with us to celebrate.”

“An what, praytell, are yer celebratin’, ‘Andsome?” Daphne asked, even as she started to pour the necessary round of pints.

“I’m pretty sure Blue Eyes here just asked me to marry him!” Brian announced loudly enough to stop all the other conversations around them.

“Brian!” a furiously blushing Justin hissed at him.

“I haven’t given him my answer yet,” Brian said, ignoring the embarrassed blond glaring at him. “But between you and me, I’m pretty sure I’ll say yes. Provided, of course, that he agrees to elope, because I certainly can’t wear white, so a big church wedding is definitely out.”

“Brian Kinney, you are unbelievable!” Justin spluttered, looking like he didn’t know whether to be impressed, angry or totally infatuated.

“I know,” Brian snarked with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. “So, what do you say, Blue Eyes? Will you run away with me and live happily ever after?”

“Ya want me ter hand ‘im this beer or dump it over ‘is ‘ead, Sunshine?” Daphne interrupted, holding Brian’s drink in a menacing fashion.

“Now, now, Daphne!” Brian chided as he grabbed the pint away from the barmaid. “That’s no way to treat the man who’s offering to take you out for another extravagant evening of expensive fun at the Palace tonight, is it?”

“T’night?” Daphne looked at him with a curious glint in her eye.

“Yep. I’m afraid so. And we’d best leave by no later than eight, just to be safe,” Brian warned with an authoritative nod.

“Right. Well, I’d best be tellin’ me Da that I’ve got a date tonight then. Excuse me, fellas.” Daph smiled at them before turning and trotting through the door to the cellar.

“You know,” Justin began as he picked up his pint and led the group off towards an open table in the back, “since Curly will be on duty with me out at the base tonight, you should take Lucky with you to the Palace tonight, Brian.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Blue Eyes,” Brian readily agreed with that plan. “What do you say, Lucky? You can play chaperone for me and Daphne; make sure we don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. A fancy place like that an’ all . . .”

“Of course you could,” Brian insisted. “The last time I brought Fancy along, but he was useless as a chaperone. Ten minutes after we got there he disappeared with the Sax player from the band and the rest of the night we only saw him reappear whenever the band was playing a set.” They all chuckled over that. “Speaking of Fancy, where is HE tonight?”

“Unfortunately, he was summoned home by his father earlier in the week,” Justin explained. “About every six months Fancy is required to show up at home and pay his respects to the Pater Familias. So, for the time being he’s safely ensconced out in the wilds of the English countryside.”

“Well, that’s good,” Brian asserted, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To Fancy; our condolences on his visit with his family!”

“To Fancy,” they all replied and drank.

“Seriously, Handsome, you don’t have to drag me along wiv ya to some posh dinner tonight. I prolly wouldn’t be very good company anyways,” Lucky tried again to weasel out of the invite.

“Nonsense. We want you there,” Brian insisted again. “Besides it’ll be fun; you can help me plan my wedding reception. I can’t decide what the colors should be. Maybe mauve and teal? Or is that too old-fashioned?”

“You really do need to go, Lucky. Without you there, who knows what flights of fantasy Daphne and Brian will get up to? Before they’re done, they’ll probably have ME dressed in a wedding gown and marching down the aisle,” Justin joked.

“Sorry, Blue Eyes, but you can’t wear white anymore either.” Brian cheerily clinked his glass against the again-blushing blond’s. “Nope. There’s no hope for us. We simply have to elope. But, we could still both wear tuxes and look fabulous as we run off into the sunset together.”

“Brian!” Justin admonished him again with a semi-angry glare.

“Isn’t he adorable when he blushes like that and pretends to be angry at me?” Brian asked, leaning over confidentially towards Lucky, who finally broke out into the first laugh he’d indulged in since the night of his arrest.

“It looks like I better go with you after all, Handsome. If I don’t, there’s no telling what trouble you might get into,” Lucky conceded.

“You’re no fun!” Brian pretended to complain. “Just for that, you don’t get to be a bridesmaid.”

And after that the rest of the afternoon went merrily by, as the three of them laughed, joked, and drank companionably, until the clock struck five and Justin realized he had to get going.

“Well, that’s it for me, gentlemen,” Justin emptied his pint glass and pushed away from the table. “I’m off.”

Brian got up too. “I’ll walk you to the Tube, Blue Eyes.”

Justin smiled his approval of that idea and led the way outside. They only made it half a block though before Brian pulled him into the shadows of an alley. Justin didn’t bother to resist as he had been thinking along the same lines. As soon as they were out of sight, Brian pushed his brave little pilot against the dirty brick wall and claimed his lips in a searing, breathless kiss.

“I wish there was time for more,” Brian gasped when they finally broke apart.

“You’ll have to hold that thought until tomorrow, Handsome. I’m going to be late if I don’t get a move on. And I hate being late - the CO will make me do pushups until my arms ache.”

“Good. Then you’ll be too weak to fly and can come back here, with me, where it’s safe,” Brian proposed.

“Fat chance,” Justin chuckled. “I actually tried that excuse once and the flight commander told me that, unless I was flying a plane that required me to assist in take off by flapping my arms, it didn’t matter that they didn’t work.”

Brian couldn’t bring himself to more than huff weakly at the joke though. “I hate that you’re doing this, Justin. I really, really, really hate it.”

“I know, Brian. But I’m sure I’ll be just fine. You’re probably in more danger down here on the ground than I will be up there. You stay safe, okay?”

“I will. You too.”

“Roger that,” Justin quipped, adding in a quiet, “love you,” before claiming one last kiss, then pushing the bigger man away so he could turn and walk off down the street by himself without even a look back.

“Fucking, stubborn, brave, blue-eyed, brats, who don’t know what’s good for them . . .” Brian mumbled as he watched Justin’s back until the figure started to disappear amid the crowd of other people walking towards the Underground.

Then, in a whisper that no one around would hear, he added, “love you too, Blue Eyes.”