Chapter 43 - I'll Get By.

The next several days were exceedingly dull for Brian. After taking Lindsey and Gus to Heathrow Airport - to the amazement of his time-traveling pilot, who probably would have stayed there watching the planes take off all day if he didn’t have to get back to his own time - Brian kissed Justin goodbye and went back to his hotel alone. Unfortunately, Justin’s squadron was on a Seventy-Two Hour Scramble Rotation for the rest of the week, meaning that he would have to stay on base and on call twenty-four hours a day, ready for any and all emergencies. Which meant Brian was left at loose ends. Not only was he already missing his Sonny Boy, but he had no Blue Eyes to help him through the separation with lots of distracting sex. The fact that he was able to catch up on a lot of work was really no consolation.

Every evening Brian would make his way back to the White Lion of 1941 to collect whatever note or message Justin managed to send him. He never stayed long, though, since he was still squicked that he might not get back home. And, since Justin wasn’t around, what was the point. He could jerk off alone in his bed in 2016 just as well as he could do it there.

Yeah, Brian really wasn’t a fan of THIS part of the whole relationship thing.

When he arrived at the pub on Friday evening though, it looked like he was gonna have to stay for a bit. As soon as he walked in the door, he could feel that something was wrong. The usual friendly, jovial atmosphere of the place was gone, replaced by a somber hush. The only people talking at all were whispering and not a single face in the place was smiling.

Without even being told, Brian knew the news was bad. Really bad. He felt his heart rate speed up exponentially as an icy hand of fear clutched at his guts. He rushed up to the bar where Daphne was quietly wiping at the counter with a rag. The one tear that had trickled out of the corner of her eye was still glittering on her cheek. But when Brian got there, he hesitated to ask the questions that were hammering in his brain, because he was too chicken shit to find out the answers.

Finally, though, he HAD to ask. “Who?”

“Curly,” Daphne answered, her voice breaking. “Sunshine sent word earlier today. They were in a fire fight over the channel wiv a couple ‘o Gerries last night and . . . Curly didn’t make it.”

“Shit!” Brian growled, upset not only that a man he’d come to regard as a friend was dead, but also with himself for feeling so relieved it wasn’t Justin. “Lucky . . . ?”

Daphne tilted her head to the side, directing Brian’s attention to the table in the farthest corner where Gears and Fancy were huddled next to a Lucky bent silently over his beer. The wordless desperation that surrounded the trio spoke louder than any wailing or sobbing might have. Fucking war. Fucking Hitler and all his Nazi cult followers. How dare they do this . . . Of course, there was no answer to that question, just like there’d be no answer to what all the endless wanna be strongmen had always done and would still be doing in Brian’s time. All the cowardly dictators who never had to face the results of their actions while others died for their greed . . .

“‘Ere yer go, ‘Andsome,” Daphne brought his attention back to the envelope she’d slid across the bar towards him.

“Thanks, Daph,” Brian answered, opening up the missive reluctantly.

‘Hey, Handsome.

How are you holding up without me after two days? I bet you’re missing your Sonny Boy pretty badly by now and I wish I could be there with you to distract you from your loneliness. Your consolation should be that Gus had a wonderful visit with you and got to spend such an enjoyable time with his father. You can rest assured that he will remember these weeks fondly for a long time to come. I’ve never seen a better father than you in my life.

I wish I could be there with you for other reasons than just because I could provide you with distraction, though. As you might have heard already, we suffered a grievous loss last night. There was a surprise skirmish over the Channel late yesterday evening - we were called out of our cots just after one in the morning when the radar stations on the coast picked up incoming German fighters. They seemed to be going after a shipping convoy rather than on another bombing raid on London, which was at least some consolation. We managed to get in the air in time to counter them but their numbers were greater than we had anticipated. Needless to say, we were outnumbered and it didn’t go well.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but suffice it to say that, while we managed to take out at least as many Gerries as they took out of our fighters, my squadron lost several good men. The biggest personal loss for me, I’m afraid, was that Curly’s plane was hit and he didn’t make it. We were both engaged with a finger four formation of Messerschmitts, which are faster than our Hurricanes but not as agile. I was busy trying to turn in order to get behind my own target, when a rogue fighter nobody had seen before came up from underneath Curly and got a bead on him. It all happened so fast. There was nothing any of us could do. In a matter of seconds, his plane had been hit and it exploded in front of our eyes.

I know that this is nothing unusual. We are fighting a war, after all. And I’ve told myself before that I should never get too close to my fellow pilots because our lives are so uncertain. It hurts too much to lose someone, so you tend not to get close to anyone. Unfortunately, this time I broke my own rules and had developed a real friendship with Curly. I am therefore feeling quite devastated by his loss. Of course, Hitler’s Luftwaffe doesn’t care about my personal feelings so I will undoubtedly be flying again tonight and every night after that until I finally meet the same fate as Curly and all the other brave young men that I have known and lost.

It seems like such a waste of a very promising life. Even I sometimes question the utility of throwing all these beautiful young lives into the maw of the war machine. If there was any other way to fight these monsters, to protect our people from the horrors they are so bent on imposing on all of Europe - and if possible, after that, the world - I think I would jump at the alternative. Sadly, I still see no other way.

I wish I could be with you right now. Not that it would change things at all, but I would have liked to sit with you and quietly share my grief. I look forward to Sunday morning when I will finally see your face again.

Your Blue Eyes.’

“Fuck . . .” Brian knew there was nothing to be said, nothing that could make this right. Maybe what Justin had said - quietly sharing grief - was the best way. “Thanks, Daph,” he mumbled before taking the beer she’d already poured him and moving over to take up the empty chair at the back table next to Gears.

And, for the rest of that evening, they all simply sat there, drinking in silence, sharing their unspoken grief and the knowledge that they weren’t alone in that emotion.

Before he left for the night, though, Brian realized that he simply couldn’t wait another two days to see the man he really wanted to share his grief with. Sunday was much too far away. He really, really, needed to see Justin, touch him, just make sure, with his own eyes, that his Blue Eyes was okay after this news. And, as he was passing by Daphne on his way out, the perfect solution came to him.

“Daph, is the Squadron Ball still on for tomorrow night?” Brian asked.

“Yeah. Gotta get what joy we can in the middle ‘o a war, right?” she answered.

“Can’t argue with that. So, tell me where and when this dance thing is happening . . .”

“What ‘ave yer got up yer sleeve, ‘Andsome?” Daphne asked with a new sparkle finally lighting up her previously sad eyes.

“Well, I just figured that the formation of a second Eagle Squadron was an occasion a U.S. War Correspondent should cover, don’t you think? I’m sure the folks back home will want to read all about it, right? RAF Fighter Command couldn’t object to one more journalist joining the celebration, could they?”

Brian made it all the way down to Creighton by just after nine pm. Considering there was a fucking war on and all, it was ridiculously easy to flash his War Correspondent ID card to the guard at the door and gain admittance to the mess hall that was being used for the ‘Ball’. Considering that about half of the squadron was still on call, though, he supposed that the accommodations were the best that could be arranged. It didn’t seem to matter much to the event’s attendees - the pilots and their guests all seemed to be in a rowdy mood, although some of that felt a bit forced.

Brian was glad that he’d shown up fashionably late and thereby missed all the grandiose speeches and such. Face it, it’s not like he was a real journalist or anything, so what did he care about all the patriotic bull shit. According to the official Program he’d been handed when he entered, there had been all sorts of High Muckety-Mucks speaking to welcome this much needed Second Eagle Squadron and all the American Flyboys. But, by the time Brian arrived, the band was in full swing and the dance floor was packed.

He was kitted out in one of his finest retro-style suits for the occasion and looked pretty swanky - to use a term Justin would approve of. Judging by the number of appreciative looks he was getting, the rest of the Ball attendees must have agreed. He wasn’t at all interested in any of them, though. Brian was intent on finding that one familiar blond head amid this sea of similarly attired Eagles. The hall was absolutely packed, so Brian’s task wasn’t easy. He wandered around, scanning one group of chattering pilots after another, nodding to those he passed but not stopping to talk or even ask anyone if they’d seen Officer Taylor.

Finally, after scanning the dance floor, the bar area and even among all the tables set up along the side of the hall, Brian made his way over to the back corner of the facility where a photographer had set up a picture taking area. Bingo! There, just posing for the photo Brian had already seen back in 2016, were a lovely-looking Daphne Chanders and her escort, First Officer Justin Taylor.

Brian waited until the photographer had snapped the picture of the two of them smiling prettily at the camera before he approached; he didn’t want to ruin Lottie’s picture of her Gran and Gran’s best friend from the war. As soon as the pair had moved out of the way, letting the next couple move into position for the photographer, Brian stepped up behind Justin. Daphne saw him over her date’s shoulder and smiled welcomingly. Then she tapped Justin on the shoulder and pointed at Brian, prompting the young pilot to turn around.

“Brian? What are you doing here?” a startled and smiling Justin exclaimed as Brian sidled up till he was standing next to the couple.

“I came to support our troops, of course,” Brian averred with a cheeky smile and a wink. “And one specific trooper in particular, maybe.” Then Brian turned his attention to the lady in their midst. “Good evening, Ms. Chanders.” Leaning down, so that his head was almost touching the young woman’s ear, Brian added, “you look hot, Daph. I’d fuck you.”

“Uh . . . um . . . Well, now, ‘Andsome . . . uh . . . you too,” a furiously blushing Daphne finally responded, as soon as she remembered how to speak again.

“Brian Kinney, you scandalous cad,” Justin complained, trying hard not to smile, no doubt fearful that he’d encourage his foul-mouthed boyfriend. “I will not have you speaking like that to a lady in my presence - even if you ARE only teasing. Daphne, I have to apologize for my . . . Mr. Kinney’s . . . behavior. I promise you, I will take him to task for his bad manners at a later time.”

“Promises, promises, Blue Eyes,” a completely unrepentant Brian joked, fluttering his eyelashes at the stern-looking pilot. Then, dropping into a whisper again, Brian couldn’t help but pour it on thicker. “If I do it again, will you spank me?”

“No, because you’d like that far too much, you bounder, you,” Justin said, trying to look angry even though Brian could see the glitter of laughter in the blue eyes. “It would be much more of a punishment if I threatened NOT to spank you, I think. So be warned that I won’t hesitate to withhold all other ‘discipline’ if you’re not good.”

“You’re no fun at all, Blue Eyes,” Brian mock-pouted, which only caused both Justin and Daphne to break out laughing at him. “Would it help if I said YOU looked hot too, Officer Taylor?”

Brian let his finger trail down along the lapel of the tux jacket Justin was wearing. His boy did look exceedingly handsome in that outfit. Not that Brian didn’t think he looked dashing in his uniform as well - Brian admitted to himself that he secretly had a thing for the damn uniform, despite what a cliche that was - but the tux made the young man look much more sophisticated.

“Thank you, Mr. Kinney,” Justin responded, smiling up at him with a look that said what he really wanted to do was thank Brian with a kiss instead. “My uniform got a little damaged in the mission I flew the other night and, while it’s still fine for flying and all, it would have looked a bit shabby for an affair like this. Plus, I figured I’d better get SOME use out of this tux you bought me. So I asked my CO for leave to put on a bit of Ritz for this evening - much to the amusement of my mates, who have been razzing me all night.”

“Well, I ‘appens to think yer look rather dashin’ in yer pretty duds, Sunshine,” Daphne asserted with an approving shoulder bump for her date. “A lady prefers to be squired by a gent what takes care of ‘isself and dresses nice like.”

“I agree with you one hundred percent, Miss. Daphne,” Brian smiled down at his Blue Eyes with a look that would have made that fact obvious to anyone who was looking. “Do you mind if I borrow your date for a moment?”

“Nah, go right ahead you two. Least that ways a girl can find a bloke what’ll be more interested in me than than what I’m wearin’,” Daph teased, leaning in to give Justin a peck on the cheek to let him know she wasn’t at all upset with him for going off with Brian. “I think I’ll go introduce meself to that there big chappie with the dark curly hair an’ all them pretty muscles.”

Both men laughed quietly as Daphne boldly made her way into the middle of a group comprised mostly of RAF flight crew members and singled out the largest man in the bunch. Standing next to the massively tall Sergeant, Daphne looked like a beautiful little doll. Which only meant that she immediately had all the men’s attention. Yeah, Daph would be just fine if left to herself for a bit, although Brian wasn’t sure the same could be said for the men around her.

Leaving Justin’s date to her flirting, Brian led the way out of the hall and down a small corridor. He had no idea where he was going, only that he needed to find someplace private so he could finally kiss the shit out of the man he hadn’t seen in three days. If he didn’t get to do that soon, Brian felt like he would crack and just take him in the middle of the dance floor or something equally insane.

Justin must have been feeling the same because, as soon as they were alone, the pilot grabbed Brian’s hand and pulled him into the first unoccupied room they came across - a pantry of some kind, stocked to the rafters with industrial sized cans of tomato sauce and boxes of powdered milk. Brian closed the door behind them as Justin continued to tow him further into the room. The shelf-lined area was only dimly lit, most of the light coming in from an open doorway on the other side of the room that appeared to lead into the mess hall’s huge kitchens. The only thing that mattered to either of the men, though, was that it seemed to be deserted right then. So, pulling Brian after him into a recess between two towering sets of shelving, Justin reached up on his toes and planted his lips on Brian’s ready mouth.

Brian had never been a big fan of delayed gratification. He’d never really let it become an issue for him, though, as he had always simply taken what - or who - he wanted, whenever he wanted them. Maybe that was why he was so surprised by how amazing it felt to kiss his . . . fine, he’d admit it . . . his fucking BOYFRIEND, after not seeing him for three whole days. It felt so good, though. Hot and tender all at the same time, their passion and longing quickly ramping up to the point that they were pawing at each other through their clothing. He could feel his Blue Eyes’ cock straining against the fly of the tux pants and he wanted nothing more than to take it out, drop to his knees like a shameless twink and swallow him whole right then and there.

Of course, that was impossible. They were in an RAF base in the middle of a fucking dance with about two hundred other men and women only a few meters away and should not have been risking themselves even for this kiss, let alone anything more serious. But, at the time, it felt like they had no choice. They couldn’t have kept their hands off each other if they’d tried. Or at least Brian couldn’t. His sadness at Gus’ leaving, his boredom and lack of companionship over the past couple of nights, not to mention his lingering fear after hearing what had happened to Curly, made it seem like kissing Justin right then, right now, was some kind of imperative. It was the only way to prove to themselves that they were still alive. And maybe the thrill caused by the possibility of discovery added just a bit to their heightened ardor.

Or at least it did, up until the very moment that they actually WERE discovered.

At some point their positions had become reversed, with Brian being pushed into the darkness of the little nook between the shelves, his back to the wall and Justin leaning into him. That meant that Brian was able to see into the room and even a little ways into the kitchen beyond. Not that he was looking during the hottest part of this hottest ever kiss. But something must have caught his attention even during their passionate clutching at each other - a small sound, an incongruous fluctuation of lighting, a glimpse of unusual motion - because eventually Brian found himself looking over the shoulder of the man in his arms.

What he saw there caused him to freeze, momentarily paralyzed with fear.

There was someone watching them from just beyond the entrance to the kitchen. A familiar, scowling face. The man’s bulky frame took up almost all the space of the doorway, his uniformed arm leaning against the left side of the frame as he hovered there, eyes combing over the covert coupling he’d found. From the almost casual way the man was leaning against the door jamb, Brian got the impression he might have been there for awhile. That perception was backed up by the way the man’s shoulders were heaving as he breathed heavily.

But Brian didn’t think their peeping tom was panting from anger over the illicit tryst he’d discovered. On the contrary, Brian saw nothing but interest in the man’s stance. The way those icy blue eyes were raking over Justin’s back, the way the man’s breathing seemed to sync with his subject’s, not to mention the extremely obvious tenting in the front of the man’s trousers and the way he surreptitiously touched himself while he watched them. That wasn’t the reaction of disgust Brian had expected to see.

It was longing. It was lust. It was . . . jealousy.

Of course, all these impressions were made in the space of about ten seconds. As soon as the watcher realized that Brian had caught him observing them, his expression morphed into something much more sinister. The longing was immediately replaced with anger and fear.

“What the hell is going on in here, Taylor?” Hobbs snarled, striding into the small storage space with a determined gate. “And what the devil is this sodding pansy doing here tonight, huh? I didn’t think Flight Command sent out invitations to the Pansy Brigade.”

“Shit!” Brian whispered as Justin’s body momentarily stiffened in his arms.

Hobbs was just getting started though. “I can’t believe you let this cocksucker come near you again after he practically attacked you that time, Taylor. And now look at you - he’s dragging you down into his depravity. What the hell is wrong with you? You know you’re going to get kicked out of the Squadron for this, don’t you?”

“Christopher Columbus, Hobbs! Haven’t you got anything better to do with your time than skulk around spying on me?” Justin complained, finally turning so he could confront the threat head on. “Don’t you have a date you can go molest or something?”

“I could ask the same of you, Taylor,” Hobbs sneered. “I actually came in here to see if you needed my help to get rid of this party crasher. I saw him come in and then you towed him away from the hall, so I figured you were gonna throw him out. Little did I know you’d turned into just another cocksucker and were off for a little nookie like some khaki wacky bird. You disgust me; sick buggers, all of you. And I’ve had enough of this, Taylor. I’m through covering for you. Let’s see what the CO has to say about your friend here and the way he’s always hanging around . . .”

With his hand resting on Justin’s lower back, Brian could feel the frisson of fear that went through the scared RAF officer. This was it. This was what he’d feared from the beginning. The ignominy of discovery. The threat of losing his commission and being ostracized, maybe even imprisoned. This was Justin’s worst nightmare. But Brian wasn’t going to let anyone threaten his boy. Not if he could do anything to protect him.

“Not so fast, Hobbs,” Brian snapped. “I’ve had just about enough of your hypocritical bullshit. It’s one thing to have to put up with this kind of crap from the regular crowd of homophobic straight guys, but you’re worse. Because you’re not nearly as ‘disgusted’ by us kissing as you’d want everyone to believe . . . are you, Christopher?”

“I . . . I don’t . . . I have no idea what you mean . . .” Hobbs began to sputter and his face turned red with rage - or was that embarrassment.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Brian laughed coldly. “I may have been busy with my tongue down Taylor’s throat, but don’t think I missed the way you were pulling at your little pud over there when you saw what we were doing. Admit it, you got turned on watching us, didn’t you? And that scares the shit out of you. Looks to me like you’re just another rump ranger hiding out in his closet afraid you’ll be found out. And if you dare tell ANYONE about this, I’ll make sure everyone knows about you too.”

Hobb’s nostrils flared as he stood in front of the two men. “I . . . I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . You two are depraved and disgusting . . . You deserve each other.”

Without saying more, Hobbs turned around and fled the scene as fast as he could. Brian could feel Justin’s body sagging back against his own. Brian’s started to experience the sour aftermath of all that adrenaline flooding through his system and realized he was shaking a little. He snaked his arms around the younger man’s body and held on tight for a minute or two until he was sure of his voice. Justin was still trembling slightly as well.

“You alright, Blue Eyes?” Brian asked quietly.

“No, I’m not,” Justin huffed and spun around to face his lover. “Applesauce, Brian, you should have let me deal with Hobbs. I can handle him just fine on my own,” Justin’s breath was coming out in little puffs of air as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to . . . not anymore,” Brian responded without thinking. “I’m not going to let a piece of shit like Hobbs threaten you, Justin. He has no right. Especially not when he was standing there watching and playing with himself.  I’m sorry if me standing up for you makes you uncomfortable, but you’re just going to have to deal with it. Fucking closet cases piss me off more than anything!”

Justin’s bristling annoyance flared up again for about half a second. Brian knew he’d overstepped and that his stubbornly independent boyfriend would not be happy about him taking over like he had. But, damn it, Justin hadn’t seen what he’d seen and, well . . . Brian fumbled for the right words, not sure what he could say to stave off the talking to he figured was coming.

Justin continued to look sternly at Brian for about fifteen seconds before his lips curled up into a beautiful smile. “You soooooo care about me! You love me! Brian Kinney loves me!” the young pilot teased.

“Not anymore, I don't. You’re an annoying little brat,” Brian argued, not making eye contact.

“And that’s WHY you love me. You like annoying; you like a challenge.”

“Well, then, maybe you’re right, because you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, Blue Eyes.”

Justin smiled smugly for a minute, beaming at Brian.“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he asserted. “But don’t think that gets you off the hook, Mister. You have to stop trying to fight my battles for me, Brian. I can stand up for myself. Even with the likes of Hobbs.” Justin turned to look through the kitchen in the direction of Hobbs’ retreat. “If you hadn’t said anything I could have probably just laughed off his threats again - it’s not like he hasn’t said the same thing a bunch of times, you know - but now, I’m afraid, we might have a real problem on our hands.”

Brian held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” Justin explained, smiling while he continued with Brian’s lecture, “but maybe next time, try and lay off the big, bad hero routine. I’m supposed to be the fully trained hero in this relationship, not you, you know.”

“Fine. Now, if I agree to let you win this argument, can we be done already?” Brian asked, getting an amused huff and a nod from his headstrong blond. “Good, because you should probably get back out there and use your hero powers to rescue Daphne before all the straight guys fall in love with her and she is danced into the ground.”

“Good plan,” Justin replied, pulling away from Brian after one last, tiny, reassuring kiss. “I wish we could dance together tonight. Like we did the night we went out with Lucky and . . . Curly.” Brian sighed along with Justin at the mention of his missing friend.

Brian didn’t think dwelling on Curly’s loss was going to help things tonight, so he went for distraction instead. “We may not be able to dance tonight, Blue Eyes, but how about the next time you’re in 2016 I take you out dancing?”

Justin nodded eagerly. “I would love that. Jeepers, imagine being able to dance together in public any time you like. That sounds  almost like a fairy tale.”

“Except, in my Fairy Tale, all the ‘fairies’ like to suck cock,” Brian replied, knocking shoulders with his own little fairy as he walked past and earning himself a snort of laughter. “But, yeah, we can go dancing whenever you like . . . as long as I get to be Prince Charming and not Cinderella, because, you know, my princess gown is still at the cleaners.”

They were both still laughing at that absurdity when they reached the main hall again. The crowd was surging around the dance floor with the band belting out a fast paced swing number that had everybody energized. Daphne was, of course, right out in the middle of it, being tossed about between two different partners, and apparently having the time of her life. Brian looked up at the large wall clock over the exit and noted it was already after ten. He should probably get going soon - train service these days was spotty at best and often shut down for good if there was any threat of a raid, not to mention that Brian was still a bit nervous about getting stuck here in 1941.

Justin must have noticed the direction of Brian’s gaze because he grabbed the older man’s arm to stop him before he could start to walk away. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

“Well, I should probably . . .”

“You know, my rotation ends at midnight, at which time I will officially turn back into a princess. If you stick around, you can be my Prince Charming and whisk me back to your Palace for a night of Fairy Tale fun.” Justin leaned in closer so there’d be no chance at all of being overheard before adding, “and this little fairy just loves to suck YOUR cock.”

Then Justin blushed so deeply red - probably more from reaction to having used such atypically foul language than at the idea of what he’d proposed to do to Brian - that he looked like he’d just run a marathon. Brian laughed out loud, causing several curious heads to turn their way. Damn, he loved this man . . . and Brian was even getting relatively comfortable thinking about that fact.

“I like the way you think, Blue Eyes,” Brian agreed. “Now, you go find your date and make sure none of your flyboy friends run off with her. I’ll be waiting for you over by the bar. And at the stroke of midnight I’ll be ready for the whisking.”

“Roger that, Handsome,” Justin readily agreed and then skittered off to save Daphne from her hoard of admirers.

Once the ball was finally over and Brian and Justin were officially all danced out - thanks to Daphne insisting she had to have several dances with each of them before they left - Justin received confirmation from the officer in charge that he was off the duty roster until Monday. This meant the boys gained an entire day together; something Brian was determined to make the most of. They all three piled into the last train back to London proper and, after walking Daphne home to the White Lion, the boys headed straight for Duckett’s Passage. As soon as they were safely through the portal, Brian reached for Justin’s hand. Damn, it felt good to be back in a time when they could openly touch again. It felt wrong to be so close to Justin and NOT touch him in some way. All evening Brian had been struggling against that urge and now that he could indulge himself he wasn’t going to hold back.

“Come on, Princess,” Brian said, lifting their joined hands to leave a kiss on Justin’s wrist. “Let’s hurry and get you back to The Palace so I can get started on that Fairy Tail of yours as soon as possible.”

After several rounds of vigorous love making and then a much needed shower, Brian decided to experiment with Justin’s newfound kinky side and, on the next round, he pulled out, throwing the condom somewhere on the tiled floor behind him, and came all over Justin’s freshly washed back. This was something new to Justin, and Brian wasn’t exactly sure how he’d react, so he was relieved that, after a bit of initial confusion, Justin seemed to get into it. Or maybe it was just that he enjoyed Brian licking every drop of come off Justin’s body, front and back, afterwards. Of course, that led to yet another shower and that time Brian came hard and deep inside his boy, before they finally crawled into bed together, sated, happy and once again clean.

Despite the fact they’d been up almost all night by that point, neither seemed particularly sleepy. Brian switched on the television, the sound adjusted so low it was barely a murmur, and picked up his laptop. Justin was curled up on his side of the bed, not really watching the images on the television. Brian climbed into bed next to him, propped himself up against the headboard, and began to type furiously on his computer, which was balanced atop a pillow on his lap.

Brian could feel Justin’s eyes on him as he busily replied to some last minute emails.

“Sorry,” Brian nodded towards his laptop. “I’ll be done in a second. I just need to get these corrections to Cynthia before the morning.”

“Mmm, it’s okay,” Justin hummed happily as he plumped the pillow behind his head. “I love watching your fingers as you write. They’re so long and . . . you have really nice fingers.”

Brian laughed and teasingly popped his index finger into his mouth and gave it a quick suck. “Makes you think about how much they can make you scream, huh?” he grinned, giving Justin a little wink as he returned to his work.

“You don’t play nice,” Justin pouted playfully.

It didn’t take Brian long to finish what he was doing and, once all the emails were sent off, he decided that was as good a time as any to tell Justin about what he’d discovered online the night before.

“Hey, Blue Eyes,” Brian nudged the dozing man next to him. “Sit up. I have something I want to show you.”

Sitting up, Justin gave a giant jaw breaking yawn and smiled sleepily. “What is it?”

“So,” Brian cleared his throat nervously, “I was on the computer yesterday and without really thinking about it, I started looking up your family.”

Justin sat up straighter. “My family? What do you mean? You can see my family in there?” He asked, bringing his head closer to the screen, almost as if he thought he might see images of his family right there on the computer.

“Not quite,” Brian smiled at how naive his little Blue Eyes was. “But I remember you told me your mom’s name was Jennifer, your father’s name was Craig and your sister was Molly. Right?”

Justin nodded, he was still clearly confused as to where Brian was going with this.

“So I looked them up. You can find pretty much anything online nowadays,” Brian informed him, opening up a page for one of those online ancestry search sites. “I found your sister’s marriage certificate. She married a guy named James Stevenson in 1951.”

“Wow,” Justin looked awed. “She got married? I can’t imagine my sister as anything other than the annoying little nine year old she was when I was deployed,” he smiled fondly.

“I'm afraid so. She grew up, got married and they went on to have three kids. Justine, Caleb and Juliet,” Brian read off from the birth announcements that he’d found.

“I’m an uncle? That’s . . . that’s so crazy,” Justin laughed happily.

“What’s even crazier is that you’re also a great uncle.”

Justin’s mouth dropped open. “Applesauce!”

“See here - Caleb went on to have a son named Adam and a daughter named Lyla, and Juliet had a daughter called Abigail.”

Justin nodded, taking it all in as best he could. “What about . . . what about my mom? Can you find anything about her?”

Brian had known this question would be coming and he had been dreading telling Justin what he’d found when looking Jennifer up online the night before. Of course, he knew it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to Justin - not if he thought about it logically - but it was still going to break his Blue Eyes’ heart. Still, he deserved to know the truth.

“Yeah, I found a couple of things,” Brian said. “Apparently your mom was a founding member of the RAFLCS.”

“What’s that?”

Brian bit his bottom lip nervously as he explained. “Royal Air Force Lost Children Society - a support group for mothers and fathers that lost their children during the war.”

Justin didn’t say anything but his mouth hung open in shock.

“It says here,” Brian ran his finger over the screen. “That your mom never stopped looking for answers about what happened to you . . . That she wouldn’t stop fighting until she had the truth. That she didn’t believe you were ‘simply shot down from the sky.’”

Brian felt tears hit his arm and out of the corner of his eye he could see Justin wiping roughly at his face. “She’s gone now though, isn’t she? She’s dead?” He sniffed loudly.

“Yeah, Blue Eyes. She is,” Brian told him sadly as he wrapped an arm around the quietly shaking blond.

“When?”

Brian typed her information into the search bar and pulled up her death certificate. “June 4th, 1982.”

“Wow,” Justin gulped loudly. “That means she was. . . seventy-eight when she died . . . What about my father?”

“10th December, 1958.”

Justin wiped his nose on his arm and sniffed loudly. “I knew they weren’t here anymore . . . Too much time has passed - obviously - but I guess I just . . . I guess I just hoped . . . I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not silly at all,” Brian said softly, doing his best to try and comfort his devastated boy.

“I can’t believe she spent all those years looking for me . . . that must have been . . .  awful for her.”

Brian nodded, he didn’t want to think about the pain and suffering that Jennifer would have felt at hearing she’d never see her child again. He’d got a glimpse of that the other day when he thought he was stuck in 1941 and would never hold Gus in his arms again. But his pain had been short lived - it had lasted less than fifteen minutes - while Jennifer Taylor’s pain lasted over forty years. The thought of living with a broken heart for the rest of his life was incomprehensible to Brian - and something he hoped he’d never, ever have to endure.

The look of heartache on his Justin’s face was something else that was much too hard to bear. It was clear that the devoted son was already internalizing all of his mother’s pain, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t be blamed for causing it any more than any other soldier or airman was guilty of their own wartime death. Brian knew he needed to do something - anything - to get a smile back on that beautiful face.

“Would you like to see if we can maybe find pictures of your nieces and nephew?

Justin looked at him, his eyes shone bright with unshed tears. “We can do that?” he asked hopefully.

“We can try,” Brian said as he opened Facebook and began searching the names he’d found, and sure enough, there they were. “Aha, here we go. I found Justine Stevenson, sixty-two years old and living in Warrendale, PA. It says here she goes by ‘Tina’.”

A beautiful picture of a woman in her early sixties came up, and there was no doubt that she was related to Justin, they had the same bright blue eyes and huge sunshiney smile.

“That’s my . . . my niece?” Justin asked in amazement as his finger traced the outline of her face on the screen. “Hi, Tina. I’m your uncle.”

From Tina’s page, they managed to find links to both Caleb and Juliet’s pages. Caleb looked an awful lot like Craig had the last time Justin had seen him, but with a twinkle in his sky blue eyes that the grandfather had never possessed. Juliet, who had been the baby of the family and was only in her early fifties, looked a lot like her sister and also posted all sorts of progressive political stuff on her Facebook page. Based on those posts, it seemed pretty clear that these women wouldn’t have judged their uncle’s lifestyle choices too harshly.

Justin’s great nieces and nephews were easily found through links from their parents’ pages as well. The two youngest, Lyla and Abigail were still in college, but Caleb’s son, Adam, was a computer engineer working at a tech company in Pittsburgh. Justin avidly scrolled through the posts on the children’s pages showing all the concerts, parties, recreational outings and times with with friends and family pictured there. They all looked happy, healthy and loved. It was at least some anodyne for the sadness of learning about Jennifer’s death.

Finally, while they were looking through Abby’s page, they hit paydirt; a single post from about a year earlier, with a banner reading ‘Words With Friends’ inviting the girl to come play a game with somebody calling herself Nana Moll. Brian clicked through to the owner’s page and there was Molly. If Brian had done the math right, she’d be over eighty-five years old now. From the profile picture she looked like she was fairly hale; a silver-haired woman, with a smile that echoed Justin’s and the same deep blue eyes. In the picture she was wearing a silly conical birthday hat and surrounded by her family. The cake in front of her had one large candle shaped like a star. The rest of the page was basically nothing but games - sudoku, scrabble, solitaire and even some silly virtual farming game. Molly didn’t post much, but there were some posts showing there from her kids and grandkids. They obviously all adored Nana Moll.

Finally, just as the sun was coming through the blinds, Brian decided it was time to close the computer so they could try and get at least a little sleep. Justin curled up in his spot next to Brian, quiet and calm. Brian was surprised, having expected more drama. Even if Justin wasn’t really the type for tears, this kind of thing might have been enough to get him there.

“You okay, Blue Eyes?” Brian finally asked, unsettled by the fact he couldn’t read his lover for once.

“Yeah. Actually, I think I am,” Justin confirmed with a sad smile. When Brian just continued to stare at him, perplexed and waiting for more, Justin finally elaborated. “They all look happy . . . prosperous . . . They’ve had good lives and that’s . . . comforting.” Brian nodded with unspoken understanding. “I mean, even if I can’t be with them, at least I know that they’ll all be okay. Which is more than most of my mates have. More than Curly had when he . . .” Justin couldn’t finish that statement, ending instead with a self-eulogy that made Brian’s blood run cold. “To know that your family and friends will go on to lead happy, long lives, and that England will win the war, kind of makes the sacrifice worth it, you know?”