Chapter 5 - I’ll Be Seeing You.

“We got them, Cynthia,” Brian crowed his triumph. “I’m scanning the contracts now. I’ll email them to you in about sixty seconds.”

“Yes! Way to go, Brian! Even I was beginning to doubt you could do it, although I should know by now never to second guess the Master,” Cynthia half apologized. “Gardner has been sweating bullets for the last twenty-four hours, though, so this should make his day.”

Brian was actually surprised himself. It had taken not only his brilliant initial pitch, but also two follow up pitches and three days of intense negotiation, to close this particular deal. There had been a moment there at the end of the second day, when even Brian had doubted he could convince the crusty old Britcom CEO to sign the deal. But rather than give up, he had spent most of that night revising the boards one last time, pulling out all the stops, and coming back with an even more genius idea than his first two. Somehow, the determination he’d shown must have tipped the scales and impressed the board enough that even the doubters gave in.

This account was definitely one of the highlights of Brian’s career. And he wasn’t going to let Gardner forget it anytime soon. Britcom was a $50 million company with international reach. Signing them on would permanently solidify VanGard’s position in the international marketing world. There was nowhere to go but up from here.

And Brian wasn’t even that upset by the contract provision the CEO had demanded which obligated Brian to personally oversee the account. It meant that Brian would have to spend considerable time in London over the next weeks and months. And, whereas that idea had bothered him initially, he’d been rethinking that position since his little time adventure. Yes, he’d miss seeing his son for that long, but the idea of maybe getting another chance to venture into the past was strangely enticing. Besides, with all the bonus money he’d be getting from signing this deal, he could easily afford to fly the Munchers and Gus over for a nice long visit.

As soon as the contract was scanned, emailed and the original deposited in an overnight envelope bound for the states, Brian heaved a deep breath and collapsed onto his large king-sized hotel bed. It had been a hectic few days and he was bushed. But even so, he couldn’t quite relax enough to catch some zzz’s like he’d hoped. He was still too pumped up on adrenaline to go to sleep. He wished he had someone to celebrate with.

Which is when the image of Justin Taylor, First Officer, Eagle Squadron, Fourth Fighter Group, popped into Brian’s mind.

Not that the plucky little pilot had been completely out of his mind before then. Even when Brian had been so busy with Britcom he could hardly pause long enough to breathe, the pretty blue eyes and pouty lips of the man Brian had spent that memorable night with kept percolating through his thoughts. That whole bizarre night they’d spent together, playing cards and talking, sharing bits and pieces of their lives, their hopes, even *gasp* their feelings, seemed highlighted in Brian’s memories with a hazy, golden, glow of contentment. He didn’t remember ever feeling that way before, which is probably why it stood out so much. And the kicker was that they hadn’t even fucked. Just that one, unexpected kiss. But for some reason Justin stood out in Brian’s memory far more distinctly than any trick he’d had in the past decade. He simply couldn’t get that man out of his mind.

Since he couldn’t sleep, Brian decided to finally give in to his curiosity. He pulled his laptop over onto the bed, propped himself up on his stomach with a couple of pillows under his chest so as to free his arms enough to type, and started to delve into the history of London during the Blitz. And, seeing the pictures that immediately popped up on Brian’s screen, brought everything about that night back to him. The sights, the smells, the feel of the night, the adrenaline when the air raid sirens went off, the warmth of Justin’s body as the smaller but surprisingly strong young man had helped him into the shelter. It was all so real. More real in some ways than the sterile atmosphere of the hotel room he was currently lounging in.

And so, fucking, tempting.

Brian didn’t have anything else he had to do that day. He really wasn’t sleepy even though he should be. Both his head and his ankle were pretty well healed. Brian turned his head towards the closet and saw his beautiful Saville Row suit hanging there, fresh from the cleaners, only a little worse for wear after his adventure. There was really no reason he couldn’t put it on and take a little stroll down Duckett’s Passage was there? He didn’t even know if it was possible to go back again. But if so . . .

Before he had time to rethink things, Brian jumped up from the bed and started changing into the waiting suit.

On his walk over to Duckett’s Passage, Brian passed by a small local supermarket and decided on the spur of the moment to make a quick pit stop to pick up a few things. He was in desperate need of a new pack of cigarettes for himself, but for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, Brian found himself browsing the pharmacy aisle and picking up a couple of boxes of the best over the counter allergy medication as well. As he was checking out, he also grabbed a candy bar, because, well, you just never knew, right? And before he could change his mind, he was done, out the door and on his way towards the little alleyway next to the Royal Oak pub.

It was still early in the evening so the pub wasn’t busy. It looked just the same as it had when he’d ventured in there four nights previously. He wasn’t interested in a pint though. Instead, he skirted the small crowd of people hanging out by the front door and made his way around to the alleyway next to the bar.

There was the small bronze plaque at the entry that clearly read, ‘Duckett’s Passage’. Just reading the name gave Brian goosebumps up and down his spine. Was he really going to do this? Would it work? And if he did make it through time to 1941 again, was he sure he could get back?

Brian peeked down the lane and noted that there were a few people hanging out around the pub’s side door but beyond that the alley looked pretty empty. He started to walk down the passage, trying to look casual. There was a small free-standing, sandwich board advertising something at the tiny second hand knick-knack shop across from the pub, and a couple of bicycles chained up next to that door, which he edged past, but after that, the alley was mostly clear. By the time he was a dozen meters beyond the pub, it felt like Brian was the only one there. Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention at all.

As he neared the bend in the wall that marked the spot where he’d found the time hole before, Brian slowed his pace and looked back over his shoulder. The pub crew had apparently gone back inside. There was nobody else in sight. Brian cautiously walked over to the left hand wall and felt his way along the bricks . . .

But there was nothing. Nothing happened. He kept edging along the bricks, watching for that odd ripple in the light that he’d seen before when his hand disappeared, but didn’t see it. He inched forward a few more feet. And then another foot. But there was still nothing. And even more feet, with still no disappearing body parts. Finally, he was at least a meter or more beyond the little bend in the alley where he’d managed to cross through the time hole before and nothing had happened.

“Damn,” he muttered, more disappointed than he would have thought by the fact that his little experiment hadn’t worked. “Sorry, Blue Eyes. Looks like that drink just wasn’t meant to be.”

Brian sighed and his shoulders slumped as he turned around, intending to head back out of the alley. He guessed he’d stop in at that pub after all. He didn’t have any other plans now. Maybe he’d find a trick to take his mind off his failure. And if that didn’t work, he could always drink away his problems.

Before he’d taken more than two steps back in the direction he’d come, though, Brian felt a wave of electricity wash over him and the alleyway in front of him momentarily disappeared. He felt all the little hairs on his neck stand up and then, almost as abruptly as it had disappeared, the alley was back again. Only this time the alley he was looking at didn’t have the bright lights of 2016, or the bicycles and sandwich board he’d seen waiting near the entrance when he’d come in. This alley was older and darker and dirtier. This alley wasn’t the Duckett’s Passage of 2016.

It looked like Brian had made it back to 1941 again!

“Excellent!” Brian announced with a big smile. He still wasn’t sure exactly how the damned time portal worked, but at least it was still open. Now he just had to find his Blue Eyes again and see what would transpire.

On the walk to The White Lion pub, Brian stopped every couple of feet to take in everything around him. He still couldn't quite believe that this was really happening. When he thought about it logically, it made no fucking sense, so he decided the best thing to do was put the how's and why's to the back of his mind - at least while he was there - and just try to enjoy the experience.

The first order of business was to actually find the pub where Brian hoped to locate his Blue Eyes - which turned out to be more difficult than expected since it seemed to be pretty far off the beaten track. Brian had stopped at least three people, asking if they could direct him to the place, before he got any help. The guy that finally gave him directions did it sort of grudgingly, as if he didn’t care for the place himself. And even after Brian thanked the man and started to move off in the direction indicated, he could feel the gentleman’s disapproving stare following him.

As soon as he’d moved far enough away, Brian stopped and took stock of himself and his appearance, worried that something about him didn’t pass muster in this time period. But nothing he could see stood out too glaringly. Brian thought he looked just as dapper as usual. Not that Brian ever needed an excuse to go shopping, but at this moment in time, he was extremely grateful that he’d dropped almost two grand on a tailored suit from Savile Row at the start of his trip. He was definitely one of the better dressed men walking around the area, but his suit was timeless and easily fit in with the rest of the men’s costumes around him. His hair might be a little longer and less rigidly styled than was typical of the era, and he wasn’t about to slather it down with pomade or wax like many of the men he saw passing him, but it wasn’t so far out of the norm that it would cause him to stand out. Maybe that guy just wasn’t too fond of Americans? No, that wasn’t it, going on what Blue Eyes told him the other night. The city was full of Americans and they all seemed to fit in fine. There didn’t seem to be anything else about his person that might have tipped off the guy that he wasn’t a native to this time or place. Maybe Brian had just imagined the guy’s standoffishness?

Assured that he looked alright, Brian resumed his trek to the White Lion. After two false turns, which necessitated him turning back and retracing his steps - such was the nature of the sometimes chaotic streets of Britain’s oldest city - he eventually found the correct street and, a couple of houses in from the corner, located the inconspicuous entrance to the fairly nondescript pub. Before he went in, Brian took a moment to admire the old-fashioned, hand-carved and hand-painted pub sign hanging from an iron hook by the front door. It was so typically London, it made him smile.

Brian wasn’t disappointed by the interior of the pub either. It was the quintessential British pub. A small, intimate room with low ceilings, dim lighting, exposed beams blackened by time, rough hewn tables and sturdy backed chairs, the atmosphere hazy from the smoke of a dozen or more customer’s cigarettes and pipes, the whole of it overlain with the smell of slightly stale beer, sweat and day old aftershave. Despite the fairly early hour, there was a good crowd already assembled and most of the tables Brian could see were full. The bar itself was being tended by a rather buxom young woman who was being kept busy pouring for a loud group of boisterous men in various military uniforms. The barmaid seemed to be holding her own though, giving back the banter of the men with gusto. The whole pub, it’s atmosphere and clientele, were eminently reassuring. This pub probably would’ve looked almost exactly the same in any time or era in the last hundred years - or the next hundred for that matter - and Brian immediately felt at home.

Or at least he felt at home for the first thirty seconds or so, until his entrance was noticed by the denizens of the pub, and the majority of the customers fell silent while they scrutinized him. Brian was used to making a grand entrance, but not quite like this. It was obvious that strangers didn’t often make their way into this hidden refuge. From the way everyone was staring at him, Brian felt like he was some exotic bug on display in front of a convention of entomologists. Even Brian Kinney wasn’t comfortable with THAT much attention.

Just as he was about to turn tail and flee, though, a friendly American voice piped up from a bench hidden in the back corner. “Brian! You found the place. I’m so glad.”

Brian turned towards the welcome sound and saw his Blue Eyes smiling up at him with his drink held up in greeting. As soon as Brian was apparently vouched for by a regular, the rest of the bar patrons seemed to go back to their own conversations once more, leaving Brian to make his way over to Justin’s table, guided by the brilliant smile of his target blond. Once he’d made it to the little table where Justin and two others were waiting for him, Brian suddenly didn’t know what to do. Which was really irritating since he wasn’t usually this indecisive when it came to social situations. But, here, he wasn’t exactly sure what the etiquette was or how he should act. This was all new to Brian, and new was uncomfortable to him. Luckily, Justin stepped in to ease the situation.

“Scoot out of the way, Fancy,” Justin ordered, so that the man sitting next to him would move to the other side of the table.

“This the chappie you’ve been crowing about, Sunshine?” the man asked as he swung around to the other bench. “I can see why you were so fixated on him.”

Brian looked the guy over as he slid into the seat next to Justin. The man his Blue Eyes had called ‘Fancy’ certainly lived up to that moniker. He was an overtly effeminate man, dressed to the nines, who swished even when he was seated. He also spoke with an upper-crust British accent that told of an expensive Public School education. The man made Brian smile. This guy could give Brian’s buddy Emmett a run for his money in the flaming queen department.

The other man seated at the table was almost the polar opposite of Fancy. He looked like a working-class stiff - his fingertips were stained and his nails were dirty. He was dressed in a drab grey-green uniform that Brian thought might be Army, although he wasn’t really up on period uniforms and thought that he might need to brush up on that if he planned to come for another visit sometime. The quiet one raised his glass to welcome Brian and then took a gulp of his beer instead of saying anything.

“I was starting to think you’d left London already,” Justin commented as soon as Brian was seated.

Brian couldn’t help but smile at the look of sincere happiness on Justin’s face. “I’ve just been incredibly busy, that’s all,” he replied. “I had that business meeting, remember? It took me three days to talk the owner of the company into signing the contracts. But now that that’s all settled, I thought I’d come out for a bit of a celebration.”

Justin threw back the last of his ale. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, as he signalled over the busy barmaid. “Oi, Daph! Another pint of best and the same for my friend, please.”

“Allo, gorgeous,” the attractive young barmaid beamed, as she walked over to their table and collected their empty glasses. “Well, ain’t you gonna introduce me to this ‘andsome fella?”

Justin blushed. “My apologies, Daph. Brian Kinney, this beautiful thing is the daughter of the owner, Ms. Daphne Chanders, and my very first friend here in London. Daphne, this is the guy I told you about from the other night, Brian Kinney, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

Brian took the lady’s hand, making a show of bending to kiss the back of it with an ostentatious flourish. Daphne tittered and blushed so deeply that the rosiness showed even on her dusky cheeks. Brian shot her with his most charming Kinney smile, almost making her swoon as she reached up to pat at her perfectly curled and pinned hair in order to have something to do with her hands.  

“You were right about ‘im, Justin. He’s definitely a sweet talker,” Daphne commented with another giggle and a wink as she openly flirted with Brian.

Brian smirked. “Please don’t encourage her, Brian. She tries to make eyes at every guy who comes into the joint,” Justin elbowed his seat companion.

“Not that it’s h’ever done me any good, working ‘ere,” Daphne complained as she turned and sashayed back to the bar to get their drink refills. When she returned with two pint glasses, she announced, “tuppence, farthing, each, gents.”

Brian reached into his pocket for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, Justin stopped him. “This one’s on me,” Justin insisted as he pulled out a pound note and a few oddly shaped coins.

‘Thank fuck for that’, Brian thought, remembering after the fact that all he had in his wallet was a bunch of condoms, some packets of lube, a couple of hundred pounds, fifty U.S dollars and a few Euros left over from his stopover in Paris.

“Cheers, Blue Eyes,” Brian stated with a wink as he raised his glass, enjoying once again that damned adorable blush the younger man couldn’t help.

Justin lifted his glass at the same time with a mumbled ‘cheers’ back at him. The two other men sitting at the table exchanged amused glances but didn’t say anything until Brian had set his glass back on the table. Then the taciturn one finally spoke up.

“So, you’re the guy our Sunshine saved the other night, eh?”

“This is ‘Gears’,” Justin introduced his buddy. “He’s a mechanic in the First Armored Division.” Then he turned to the other man at the table and added, “and this is ‘Fancy’. He’s a gentleman of leisure at the present moment - or at least that’s what he says when you ask him what he does.” Then Justin turned back to his recently arrived guest. “And, yes, gentlemen, this is Brian Kinney, the American businessman I ran into before the raid the other night.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brian offered with a guarded smile.

“So, what kind of business brings a Yank to London in the middle of a war, then?” Gears asked, point blank.

Brian shuffled nervously in his seat, his ale warm in his hand. Damn it, he probably should have thought about what he’d say before he visited the 1940s again. He wasn’t prepared to tell these guys that he’d travelled back here in time from 2016 - he didn’t want them all thinking he was bonkers . . . despite the fact that he, himself, still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about his mental state. But if he were going to hide the fact that he wasn’t from this time, he couldn’t tell them the truth about what he did or what he was doing in London. He didn’t think ‘International Marketing Executive’ was even a thing back then. Brian hated lying, though, even in this type of extreme situation. So, what could he tell them that they would understand and that wouldn’t be an outright lie?

“It’s, uh,” Brian cleared his throat, “it’s not something I can really discuss. It’s all highly confidential, you understand.”

All three of his listeners fell silent at that statement. Fancy nodded his head knowingly and gave Gears a wink. Gears simply whistled and then turned his attention back to his beer without comment. Justin raised his brows with a small complicit smile. Brian breathed a silent sigh of relief, it seemed like vague non-answers were the way to go here.

“So, Blue Eyes, how’s the life of a high-flying RAF pilot going? You shoot down any Red Barron’s lately?” Brian asked in an effort to change the topic from himself.

Justin laughed with a clear, happy, innocent glee. “I’m surprised you remember what it was I said I did. I wasn’t sure you’d remember much at all after that bump on the head you had. Glad to see you don’t seem to have suffered any ill effects from that at least. How’s your ankle?”

“Good as new. Or almost,” Brian answered, extending his leg out from under the table and wiggling his foot in demonstration. “I probably won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but it’s good enough to walk on at least. Thanks to your excellent doctoring, I might add.”

Justin played with the almost empty glass now in front of him. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m glad I could help,” he replied bashfully.

Right at that moment, Brian really wanted to kiss that bashfulness away, but he hesitated after looking around at the rest of the patrons of the bar. From all appearances, this place was just your standard British pub. There did seem to be a lot more men here than women, but that wasn’t really unusual, considering the time period. And maybe he was just imagining things, but he did pick up more than a twinge on his gaydar from several of the guys he saw. But even so, none of them were acting on their impulses. So, in the end, Brian really couldn’t tell if this was a straight bar, where a few gay men had just happened in, or if it was a queer bar but everyone there was completely closeted. Either way, he didn’t feel comfortable acting on the urge to show Justin the kind of attention he wanted to show him.

Matters weren’t helped much by the silent staring directed at them from Gears and Fancy, both of whom were simply sitting there, sipping at their own beers and intently watching every single move Brian made. He felt like he was on display. Apparently Justin was feeling the same way.

“I know you only just got here, Brian, but do you maybe . . . want to go for a walk or something? If your ankle is up for it, I mean,” the young man asked, his head tilting invitingly towards the door.

“Sure,” Brian agreed, tossing back the rest of his ale and then getting to his feet.

Justin quickly followed suit and a minute or two later both men were walking companionably down the darkening streets shoulder to shoulder.

They walked together in a comfortable silence for the first couple of minutes, both simply enjoying each other’s company.

“So,” Brian shivered, watching as his warm breath hit the cold spring air around him. “Tell me more about what you do. What’s it like being a pilot?”

“You really wanna know?” Justin asked shyly.

Brian nodded.

“I love it. The thrill of it. The freedom. I can’t wait for our squadron to be complete so we get to fly on a regular basis. But the good news is that I get to sub in for one of the crew in the First Squadron the rest of this week,” Justin explained, his expression and voice both betraying his excitement. “MacCarthy came down with a nasty head cold so he’s on sick leave for a week or two and I was the next one on rotation, so I get to fly some serious missions. I can’t wait. The training has been great, you know, but I want to DO something with it already. I want to make a difference. I want to be up there, flying, doing what I do best.”

Brian admired the enthusiasm and dedication he could feel radiating off the younger man. He’d never really felt that himself. Yes, he was dedicated to his job, to a certain extent, mostly because he liked to be the best in whatever he did, but it wasn’t the same. He had never really felt the drive to put his life on the line for his job. He’d never even contemplated joining the military. He supposed it was different for Justin, growing up in the time he was living in, when war was a much more real and intrinsic part of everyday life. However, he didn’t care for the fact that Justin’s determination and idealism meant that the younger man was now at pretty high risk of becoming one of this war’s many casualty statistics.

“Wasn’t there some other way for you to get the training you want, though,” Brian asked, letting some of his worry bleed through. “You could have just stayed back in the states, couldn’t you? Taken some private training courses and got your pilot’s license that way, right?”

“That type of training course costs a hell of a lot of money - money which I don’t have. And I did try to get into the American Army Air Division training program but . . .” Justin didn’t finish his sentence, which only incited Brian’s curiosity more.

“But what? You seem smart enough and you’re certainly qualified for the position or you wouldn’t have made it through your training here. What happened?” Brian pressed.

Justin stopped walking and turned so he could look Brian directly in the eyes, as if searching his companion for some intrinsic character trait that he wasn’t sure of. Brian thought he detected a defiant gleam in the set of Justin’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure exactly what the boy was looking for in him, but for some reason he really hoped that Justin would find it - whatever it was - and by extension, find him worthy. Which was probably nuts, because Brian usually rejected anyone’s judgment of him on those grounds. He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He wasn’t going to change to please anyone. But, for once, he was really hoping that this man would find him acceptable.

Finally, after several long moments of scrutiny, it seemed like Justin had finished his evaluation of Brian and apparently found whatever he’d been looking for. “About a year ago, the US Military board started screening for what they call ‘disqualifying psychiatric conditions’ and I was determined to be unfit due to my ‘homosexual proclivities’,” he stated bluntly, as if daring Brian to say something. “But, luckily for me, the RAF is so desperate for bodies they don’t give a damn. As long as I can fly and shoot down Germans, I guess the British don’t care that I happen to find men attractive. So I came here and I haven’t regretted it for one second.”

“Wow,” Brian exclaimed, caught a little off guard by this revelation. He’d known in a vague sort of way that gays hadn’t been accepted in the military during this time, but he hadn’t really ever thought about it that much before.

At first, Justin seemed to take Brian’s surprise as a judgmental statement. His face fell and he began to turn away from Brian. It took Brian several long seconds before he realized what was wrong and reached out, laying his hand on Justin’s shoulder to stop the pilot from walking away in a huff.

“I didn’t realize that it was so hard for gays to get by here,” Brian blurted out.

“‘Gays’?” Justin questioned, not recognizing the more modern term.

“Queers. Homosexuals,” Brian clarified. “Whatever you want to call us.” He made sure to include himself in that descriptive term so Justin wouldn’t have any doubt. “I just didn’t know they were doing that back home. I knew that the military wasn’t keen on queers serving but I didn’t know they were actively screening for it. Not that it should matter. Fuckers.”

“Well, at least we’re not living in Nazi Germany, right? Not only do they actively enforce their sodomy laws these days, but I’ve heard that after you serve your prison term they ship you right off to a concentration camp. Which is just one more reason for me to want to serve and fight those monsters,” Justin insisted, the gleam of anger in his eyes bright enough to stand out even with only the moonlight to show it.

“Shit. That’s so fucked up . . .” Brian didn’t know what else to say. The mere thought of that happening to Justin made him shiver with dread.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I’m here in England rather than back home. I want to fly. It’s that simple. I have a plan for my life and I’m not going to let anyone stop me. I can’t help it that I don’t find broads attractive, like other guys. But I’m not going to let some head shrinker tell me that I can’t fly planes because of it either. And, if I can kill off a few thousand Germans who share that opinion in the process, well then, that’s just a bonus, right?”

“I think you’re incredibly brave,” Brian told the blond honestly, “standing up for what you want like that.”

“It’s not bravery. I just don’t have any other choice. I’m not giving in on this and I don’t think I’m going to miraculously change and not want you to kiss me,” the defiant blond announced.

After a challenge like that, Brian couldn’t help himself; he gently pushed the younger man backwards until Justin hit the wall behind him. They were tucked away in the doorway of a boarded up shop, out of sight of those that might pass by.

“Is this okay?” Brian asked as he traced Justin’s mouth with his fingertip, his touch so gentle it caused the blond to shiver at his touch.

Justin could only nod his head, words clearly escaping him.

Brian leaned in slowly, taking his time and savoring the anticipation. The moment their lips touched, Brian felt as though their mouths were made for each other. The kiss started off so soft, so gentle, so unlike anything Brian had ever experienced before, and that thought alone should have scared him, but it didn’t. It just made him want to keep on kissing Justin. To taste more of him.

Justin grinned into the kiss and was unable to hold back the soft moan as Brian swiped his tongue over the plump, cotton candy pink lips.

Fuck, his little Blue Eyes tasted good.

Grabbing the front of Brian’s jacket, Justin hummed happily.

“Mmm, that was nice.”

Brian laughed softly, leaning in for one more quick peck on the lips. “Nice? That’s all I get . . . Nice? I think you’ll find that was nicer than nice.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip shyly. This softer, more timid version of Justin took Brian by surprise. He wasn’t expecting it. Justin had seemed so strong and brave earlier, when he’d been talking about his job, and Brian had expected that gutsiness to continue. Seeing this more vulnerable side of the little spitfire, though, was an extreme turn on for him.

Brian liked the way Justin was so full of seeming contradictions. So complex. It made him even more curious about the younger man. Brian was intrigued and that didn’t happen to him very often with the men he was usually attracted to. They were too easy. Those other men only touched him on a physical level. Justin, however, seemed to draw him in both physically and emotionally. Maybe it was just the challenge, but Brian found himself even more enthralled.

“Well,” Justin explained quietly, “it’s just that . . . I have nothing to compare it to.”

That did it for Brian, and he couldn’t quite help himself. He pulled the younger man towards him almost roughly, his mouth firm against Justin’s mouth, but the kiss itself remaining soft and gentle. Without thinking about what he was doing, Brian moved his thigh in between Justin’s legs and began to grind their bodies together. Their breath hitched and Justin trembled in Brian’s arms as their nether parts rubbed together furiously.

“Justin, Justin, Justin,” Brian chanted, as the friction increased.

“Brian, stop,” Justin finally said, pushing him away firmly as he leaned back against the wall and panted until he caught his breath a little more. “We can’t . . . not here. What if some flatfoot came by and saw us. It’s not safe.”

“Shit,” Brian complained, but took the warning to heart. He figured Justin knew the time, and therefore the risks, much better than he did. Although it was a crying shame to have to stop just then. “Just when it was getting interesting too.”

Justin laughed softly up at Brian’s frustrated look. “Poor baby. You didn’t think I was that easy did you?” Justin teased him. “I might not have much experience at this, but I know enough not to be an easy mark for the first ritzy hotshot that makes a pass at me.” His words were counterbalanced by the flirty tone he said them in, making Brian’s dick perk up and take notice all over again. Then he relented and became matter-of-fact again. “Besides, there’s no time for this right now even if we wanted to do something. I told you, I’m on duty tonight. I have to be at the base by 23:00 hours. I was actually just about to head out when you showed up at the White Lion. I thought I’d better get on the Tube before it got late in case there was a raid or something and I got caught out.”

Brian sighed. But, if it wasn’t meant to be, at least right then, there wasn’t much he could do about it. If anything, the interruption left him even more determined to find a way to get more from his provocative little Blue Eyes. While patience wasn’t really a virtue Brian was accused of frequently, he supposed he could be patient if he tried. If there was enough incentive in it for him. And Justin Taylor was plenty of incentive.

Brian took a step back, allowing Justin to move away from the wall, adjusting his clothing in the process. Brian snickered but adjusted himself as well, doing his best to ease the tightness affecting his own trousers. Then, as one, they turned and resumed their unhurried walk down the street towards the closest Underground station. It was a companionable thing, their shoulders brushing together every few steps, every touch raising matching smiles from each of them.

When they’d only gone a few steps, a gust of wind swept by, ruffling Brian’s hair and almost blowing off Justin’s uniform cap. The wind was cool but it carried with it a hint of something green and spring-like, foretelling good things to come. It also, apparently, carried with it enough pollen to cause Justin to start sneezing, which ruined the mood and caused him to resort to another of his mother’s handkerchiefs. And it also reminded Brian of the little packet of things in his pocket.

Brian rooted in his jacket for a moment, pulling out his wallet and cell phone before he located the small brown bag that held the two treats he’d meant for Justin. He juggled the items, his hands too full to handle everything, and accidentally pushing the button on his phone that lit up the little screen. Justin, who just happened to be looking in that direction, was obviously surprised by the odd little gadget, but he didn’t say anything, so Brian simply shoved the phone back in his pocket, hoping the incongruous item would be forgotten once he showed the younger man the other things he’d brought.

Taking one small plastic bottle of allergy meds out of the package he handed it over to Justin. “Here. These are for your allergies,” Brian stated.

Justin took the bottle, looking at the unfamiliar packaging with caution. “What is it? I’ve never heard of ‘Piriton’,” he said, reading the name on the front of the bottle.

“Um . . .” Brian hadn’t thought about how he was going to explain the miracle meds from the future. “It’s something new. I don’t think you can get it here in England yet. But it works really well. Trust me on this.”

Justin looked at him suspiciously. Brian shook his head, annoyed by the doubting reluctance, but understanding it all the same. Then he grabbed back the bottle, popped open the cap, dumped two of the small white pills into his hand, recapped the bottle and shoved it into Justin’s jacket pocket, before picking up one of the pills and swallowing it himself.

“See. Completely safe. I promise, I’m not trying to poison you or anything. Just trying to help you avoid turning into a sneezing mess at thirty thousand feet and crashing your plane because of it,” Brian explained with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Justin shrugged and took the second pill, swallowing it with a little frown. “Thanks. If it works, I’ll owe you one. My allergies are always annoying this time of year.”

Brian smiled, encouraged that he’d won that battle without giving himself away, and then handed over the second of his treats, this one less likely to cause an uproar. “I thought you’d maybe like this as well.”

“Chocolate?” Justin’s eyes lit up as he grabbed at the Cadbury’s Dairy Milk bar, the packaging for which, thankfully, hadn’t changed too much even after seventy-five years. “Golly! I haven’t had chocolate in months. Not since I left Pennsylvania. How’d you manage this, Brian?”

“I have my ways,” Brian answered evasively, happy to see how thrilled Justin was with this offering.

“Mmmmm,” Justin moaned erotically as soon as he’d torn open the wrapper and shoved the first bite into his mouth. “This is like eating a little piece of heaven.” Then he noticed Brian’s amused smile at him and remembered his manners. “Sorry. Would you like some?” Justin asked, breaking himself off another square and popping it into his mouth, then sighing happily as the chocolatey goodness melted in his mouth before offering the candy bar to Brian. “Gosh, Brian, this is better than I remembered. It’s the best thing I’ve had in my mouth for so, so long.”

“Oh? And here I thought my kisses would be the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. I’m crushed, Justin,” Brian protested with a laugh, enjoying the way he managed to bring another blush to the boy’s cheeks.

Justin smirked flirtily as he swallowed the piece of chocolate in his mouth. “I love how you say my name,” he breathed. “And, as for how sweet your kisses are, well, I guess now that I have this,” the boy waved the candy bar in the air, “I’ll have something to compare it to the next time we try.”

Then the feisty little pilot winked at Brian, turned on his heel and sauntered away towards the Tube entrance, leaving the older man standing there laughing. Damn, that Blue Eyes was full of surprises. The saucy wave over his shoulder as Justin descended the stairs along with the rest of the people heading for the Underground only added to Brian’s amusement. And his need to make sure that ‘next time’ happened very, very soon.