Sorry! I suck, I know!! But life has finally slowed down, so hopefully we can resume our story together, without work laying me out. Missed you all. xxx

34.

Justin stretched his arms out along the top of the bench he was sitting on and closed his eyes as he lifted his face towards the warm sunshine.  Children ran amongst the play equipment, their laughter dancing along the morning air.  He was waiting for Mel and Gus to arrive; Mel had asked him when they had been organizing this playdate if he would ever be comfortable collecting Gus from the house she shared with Lindsay, but he hadn’t been able to answer her.  It didn’t matter that the others had bent over backwards to make him feel welcome – he doubted he would ever really feel comfortable within the family again after what had happened.

Yes, he had made peace with Emmett and Ted; they met up for coffee and meals, and Emmett spent a lot of time at Boytoy now.  They had spoken openly and honestly; tears had been shed on both sides.  Apologies were offered and received; advice given and thought about.  But every time Justin caught Emmett looking at him with barely repressed grief, he was reminded of what Emmett had said.  Of what he himself had done.  And every time Ted’s eyes glazed over with moisture, the wall that stood between them remained firm.      

Yes, he enjoyed having meals with Debbie and Vic; but aside from the first time he had gone to their house with Daphne, he hadn’t set foot inside Debbie’s home.  No, not when Debbie and Vic were happy to come to his place, giving him the excuse that he needed to avoid even possibly seeing Michael.  He rarely went to the diner; too many memories, both good and bad.  Too many ghosts.  Too many opportunities for the monster in his head to drag him back into the dark hole he was still pulling himself out of. 

And he refused point-blank to set foot inside Lindsay and Mel’s house.  When it came down to it - if he was totally honest with himself - it had nothing to do with Lindsay or Michael.  They couldn’t hurt him, not when he refused to have anything to do with them.  He knew he wasn’t being fair – knew it deep down inside himself.  He just couldn’t bring himself to care.  Been there, done that, had the mental scarring as proof.   

Honesty.... It was self-preservation.  Fear.  Call it what you want.  But if he didn’t see them, he didn’t have to think too hard about what he and Brian were doing.  What they had been doing, since an honest conversation at Justin’s apartment three weeks ago had given what they were doing a name.  An honest conversation in Brian’s office that had opened his eyes to what Brian had been trying to tell him.  Because if he thought about it too hard, his brain was liable to explode. 

Dating.  He was dating Brian Kinney – the man who had always said that dating was something he wouldn’t be caught dead doing.  The man who said he didn’t believe in love; who didn’t do boyfriends or relationships.  The man who believed in fucking; who believed in getting in and out with maximum pleasure and minimum bullshit.  Who believed it was his God given right as a man to sample every form of sex; the man who fucked extensively on a daily basis and twice that on weekends.

Who had once decided to take a seventeen-year-old boy and teach him every debauched act that he knew – who had said that fucking was just fucking.  It didn’t mean matching Vera Wangs and a commitment, but whose jealousy - only don’t call it that in earshot of him - burned hotter than Justin’s ever had.  And while Justin’s would turn to anger, tears, or self-discrimination, Brian’s would turn volatile and destructive.  To Rage.       

Brian Kinney - the very same man who had pushed, bullied, and forcibly thrust himself back into his life after he had thought they were done; the man who had been brutally honest and more open than he had thought him capable of.  The same man who had asked for, and then demanded, a chance to change things.  The man who wouldn’t go away, who wouldn’t take no for an answer; the man who had said that he would give him anything, he would do anything, he'd be anything if it just meant that he would let him back in. 

The same Brian, who had finally figured out that words had to match actions, that they had to match intent.  Who had finally realized that with a single swing of a bat, he had lost his ability to read actions and silence.  That words were important, and more than that, they were needed; not half-spoken sentences, with hidden meanings and contradictions.  That direct honesty was more important in the great scheme of things.

The very same Brian Kinney who had taken him to a quiet restaurant three weeks ago; one that had linen tablecloths and candles that flickered prettily in the dim lighting.  The one who had ignored the hot-as-sin waiter, even as the guy hovered with ‘fuck me’ being broadcast so clearly from the looks he was sending Brian’s way, that he might as well have rented a billboard.  And when being ignored wasn’t understood, he told the waiter very politely that he was having dinner with his partner, and to fuck off before Brian made that the only tip he got.

Yeah.  That Brian Kinney.  The one who ate lunch with him in the courtyard, rather than go to the diner; who had taken him to restaurants, and museums, and art exhibitions.  The very same man who kept pushing for more – more time together, more words... more trust.  The man who picked him up for work and dropped him home, even though it was out of his way.  The man who would wait for him if he had an appointment with Alex.  The one who was available to him at any given time, whether it was a work-related request or something else entirely. 

The one who made no secret of the fact that he missed him – holding him, kissing him... fucking him.  The same one who wasn’t able to stop touching him – a hand to his lower back as they walked, or carding his fingers through his hair, before grasping the nape of his neck.  The one who had sworn it was on his timetable – the one who had sworn he was willing to wait, no matter how long it took.  The one who had sworn that it would be different this time around – that he was different.  That they would be different.  Yeah.  That Brian Kinney.

The one who had caused his dick to thicken slightly with nothing more than the sound of his voice, as he explained why he had left him alone in bed.  The one who didn’t hide the wistful tone in his voice as he told him how much he missed rimming him – missed kissing him.  The memory of that conversation still played though his mind at night, and it stirred more that just his dick; desire, long dormant, had begun to wake.  It had begun to thrum in his blood, and curl along his skin, leaving prickly warmth in places long turned cold.

That voice had been the staring noise in his head, as he had explored his own body under the cover of darkness.  He still hadn’t come; his dick would lose interest, and he would spend the rest of the night floating between unfulfilled desire and burning humiliation.  He should ask Brian to take him shopping for a new orgasm, as his, it seemed, was nowhere to be found.  Was there some Lost and Found Department for orgasms?  Or was it cowering in some dust-free corner of Brian’s loft, just waiting for Justin to grow some fucking balls and come back to reclaim it?   

The Brian Kinney that Justin was scared he would never be able to stop loving.  How was he meant to move forward when this Brian had the power to absolutely shatter everything that he had fought so hard to resurrect?  Self-preservation meant nothing, when what you were fighting against fought just as hard to get through the last of your defenses and back inside where he was huddled with bone-numbing fear. 

But Brian had promised that his fears were unfounded – he had promised that.  There had been no acts committed that were meant to bring him to heel; no decisions made that were designed to remind him of how little he meant to the other man.  No self-destructive moments, where he was the one who bore the brunt of Brian’s self-loathing.  There had only been support, understanding, and if he dared to admit it to himself, love.  Brian Kinney...

“Jussin!”

Justin broke out of his thoughts and automatically smiled when he saw Gus running towards him.  Crouching down, he braced himself as Gus hurled himself into his open arms.  Damp kisses were pressed noisily along his cheeks as Justin wrapped his arms around Gus and rose to a standing position with the child held firmly against his chest.  And when Gus leaned back to look at him with a happy grin on his cheeky face, Justin stared into eyes that were mirror images of his father’s.

Gus babbled on about something only he understood for a moment as Justin sat back down on the bench seat before he reached up and pressed his hands against Justin’s cheeks, causing his lips to pucker up.  Justin sucked the inside of his cheeks together and then made fish kisses - causing Gus to dissolve into helpless giggles - before he wrapped his arms around Justin’s neck and curled into his arms, softly chanting his name as Justin nuzzled the soft hair under his nose that smelled like baby shampoo.

Looking away from Gus, Justin swept his gaze across the playground.  But when he saw Lindsay sitting at a picnic table a few meters away, he stilled.  He hadn’t seen the blonde since that day at school when she had left Gus in his care.  Her face showed exactly how she was feeling as she settled down at another bench; she hesitantly lifted her hand in silent greeting, and Justin forced his eyes away from her and back down towards Gus’s face.

“Play?” Gus asked, and Justin nodded as he rose to his feet.

“Yeah, buddy, we can play,” he said softly.

As he straightened up, Justin glanced towards where Lindsay was sitting with a book in her hands.  But her eyes weren’t on the pages; her gaze kept flicking back and forth between the prop she held and where he stood with Gus, showing him just how little attention she was paying to her book.  Justin swallowed his nerves, and turning his back on her, he lowered Gus to the ground and kept a firm grip on his hand as they walked over to the play equipment. 

Justin turned his brain off for the next hour and concentrated on the enthusiasm that Gus couldn’t hide.  He let Gus’s laughter and excited squeals sooth the prickles that dotted his skin; prickles that told him that Lindsay was watching them with open hunger on her face.  He steadied Gus’s body as the little boy went down the toddler’s slide a half-dozen times, pushed him on the toddler swing, and then held him tightly in his arms as they went for a slow spin on the merry-go-round.  And all the while, he could feel Lindsay’s gaze on them.

In Justin’s arms, Gus became an airplane; swooping through the warm morning sunshine as his laughter danced between them.  A rocket ship, who hurtled through the stars and visited distant planets.  An explorer; one who tried to discover fey folk hiding behind trees, and interesting bugs crawling through the grass.  But after flying to distant lands, he became a sleepy worm; wiggling through the grass and into Justin’s lap, where he grabbed a firm handful of the hoody Justin wore, before he curled up and closed his eyes. 

Holding him, feeling the warm puffs of air that hit his neck in time with his baby-soft snores, Justin let out a deep breath as he cuddled the little boy close and inhaled the scent of baby powder as a shadow fell over him.  Looking up, Justin couldn’t hold back the soft sound of relief that escaped his mouth when Brian crouched down beside him.  The question was clear on Brian’s face, even as he reached out to brush the palm of his hand over Gus’s head; Justin bobbed his head slightly, and Brian reached out and curled his hand around the back of his neck.  Justin closed his eyes at the familiar weight of Brian’s hand, and was unable to stop himself from leaning into the warmth of his body as Brian settled himself on the ground so that they sat side-by-side facing each other.

“Okay?” Brian asked softly, and Justin nodded his head slightly.

Brian swept his gaze across the playground and when he saw Lindsay, the hand on the nape of Justin’s neck tightened slightly. 

“She hasn’t come over here,” Justin mumbled, and when he peered up at Brian, those hazel eyes were steadily trained on his face.

“Do you want her to?” Brian asked, and Justin shook his head.

“Then she won’t,” Brian said evenly, but Justin could hear the thread of steely determination that ran through his words, and he was unable to stop himself from leaning into the promise of shelter that Brian’s body offered.

Brian merely ran his fingers lightly over the back of Justin’s head, and down the nape of his neck.  Sitting in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin, Justin lifted his gaze to meet Brian’s when the other man shifted closer to him.

“Did he fly to the moon again?” Brian asked as he glanced down at his son, and Justin nodded even as his cheeks flushed pink.

Brian merely smiled and then reached out to run his fingers lightly over Justin’s knee.

“He loves playing at the park with you,” Brian said quietly, and Justin watched as those long fingers made another sweeping caress over his knee.

“It’s because I’m not afraid to get down on the ground with him,” he said, and Brian hummed slightly.

“Maybe,” he said finally.  “I think it has more to do with the fact that you make up exciting games for him,” Brian said, and Justin shrugged.

“I used to do this with Molly,” he murmured.  “Her favorite game to play when we were younger, was ‘Families.’  She could play that game for hours on end.”  Justin caught sight of the wince that Brian tried to hide, and he looked back down at Gus’s slack face, rather than see the dawning understanding darken those hazel eyes.   

“Families?” Brian asked finally, and Justin sighed as he kept his gaze turned from the keen knowledge that he was sure he would see on Brian’s face.

“Yeah... A mother who would bake cookies with you, rather than for you, and a father who didn’t look at you like you were a mystery that he didn’t have the time to solve.  A brother who was average rather than artistically talented, and not...families.  Normal.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Brian asked after the silence between them had stretched out, and Justin looked up at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m meeting Ethan and Sam at the Student Union,” he said finally.  “Sam’s playing.”  Brian kept his silence as Justin nibbled on the corner of his mouth.  And when he finally spoke, the hesitation he was feeling was loud and clear.

“Do you... do you want to come?” he asked, and Brian’s mouth curled into a small smile as he watched the expressions cross Justin’s face in rapid succession.  But there were no take backs in life – no retracting the question or pretending that this wasn’t the first time since coming back together that Justin had ever asked Brian to do something with him. 

“Yeah... I’d like to come,” Brian said quietly as he reached out to tuck stray strands of Justin’s hair behind his ear.  “You want me to pick you up?” 

Justin’s gaze flicked across Brian’s face briefly before he nodded and resolutely turned his gaze back down towards Gus’s face.  He didn’t see the look of understanding that crossed Brian’s face, and the small smile that curled his lips.  He didn’t know that he had become an open book in that moment to Brian, or that Brian had read the pages before him with a clarity of understanding that no one had thought him capable of.

But when Justin eventually looked back up, Brian was closer than he had thought; he could see the individual flecks of gold and green that made up the hazel color of his eyes, and he could smell the subtle scent of cigarette smoke that lingered on his clothes.  He could only close his eyes as Brian leaned closer and lightly pressed his lips against his own.  There was no teasing flick of his tongue – just sweet, light pressure, that tasted tantalizingly like a promise.

And deep inside, huddled behind the flimsiest of defenses, his inner being closed his eyes as a crack appeared in the final wall that stood between them.  Disarmed, with nothing more than a press of lips.  And when those same lips brushed across his again, Justin simply closed his eyes and hoped that he had made the right choice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting in front of Justin as his lover looked down at Gus, Brian saw the slight smile that curled Justin’s lips and felt the matching one curl the corners of his own mouth; he hadn’t seen Justin this relaxed in a long time.  He was beginning to learn that there were many things about Justin that he simply didn’t know; the conversation they had had about the games he and Molly had played together validated that.

He had known from the moment he had taken Justin home that there was more than a twinky outer wrapper; the last two years had proven that.  There were so many different sides; hidden angles, that turned a pretty, gay boy into a fascinating, young man.  But he was beginning to see through the outer façade that Justin presented to the world; even now, when he was resolutely keeping his gaze trained on Gus, he knew that Justin was having a minor freak out over an invitation that he wasn’t sure he should have made.

He could almost see the thoughts flowing out of Justin’s mind; could he trust him with something as monumental as this?  Would he hit on anyone?  Would anyone hit on him?  Was the offer of an evening together going to turn into a lesson in humiliation in front of his friends?  Was it okay to trust?  To reach for more?  God.  More than anything, he wanted Justin to reach for more.

He wanted nothing more than to press himself up against Justin; to mold that slim body to his own and relearn every dip and curve with a slow slide of his hand.  He wanted to hold those paint-stained hands against a mattress and bury his nose in the exposed crook of Justin’s arm.  Breathe in the natural scent of his body, and wallow in it.  To feel the soft hairs tickle his nose, and to hear the soft sound of laughter that would no doubt escape Justin’s mouth at his touch. 

To lick his way over his ribs, to the light definition of his chest.  To stare down into those amazing eyes, and watch them glaze over as he grounded their hips together; to thrust and spill himself over the soft skin on his stomach, so that his scent would mingle with Justin’s; to breathe it in and know that Justin was finally his again in every way.  But when Justin glanced at him, he simply smiled slightly at the level look on Justin’s face.  Slowly... slowly. 

He was closer to Justin than he had been a few weeks ago; his patience was being rewarded, and despite the fact that he was in a constant state of arousal, he would be fucked before he did anything that would cause Justin to retreat.  It was like trying to gain the trust of a wild animal in some ways; one who was hungry for the food in your hand, but too skittish to simply reach for what it wanted.  You had to be patient – no sudden movement, or you were liable to lose the fingers that were stretched out.   

It was the small things that Justin was allowing; a hand to his lower back, or the heavier curl of his fingers around the nape of his neck.  His eyes would flutter slightly every time that he carded his fingers through the heavy mass of Justin’s hair.  But he was fully aware of how significant these innocent touches were; Justin’s muscles no longer quivered under his touch.  He no longer stiffened when he took a chance and reached out.  He hadn’t pulled away when Brian had gently kissed him in the morning sunshine.

“Did you know that Mel wasn’t coming this morning?” he asked in an effort to break the silence that had stretched out between them, and Justin’s eyes lifted to meet his own.

“No,” he said finally.  “I was of the understanding that we were meeting here; I don’t know why Lindsay’s here instead.”

“I’m assuming it’s because she wanted to see how you are herself,” Brian said quietly, and when Justin looked at him sharply, Brian shrugged.

“I’m not saying she didn’t fuck up, Justin; she did.  You know it.  I know it.  What’s more, she knows it.  But - and I’m not making excuses for her - but you didn’t see her reaction when we found out what had happened.  She was devastated; even in the face of Emmett telling her that you didn’t trust any of us, she was saying that she didn’t care how badly you thought of her – she just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I can’t talk to her, Brian.”

Shuffling closer to Justin when he heard the slight tinge of desperation in his voice, he curled his hand around the nape of Justin’s neck, and briefly pressed their foreheads together.  “Why?” he asked softly.

“I just can’t.”

Justin’s voice cracked and his cheeks flushed with color as he dropped his chin.  Brian felt the first curl of sympathy roll across his skin, but he shook his head slightly and tightened his hand around Justin’s nape.

“Honesty,” he murmured.  “Tell me... you know I won’t laugh, or think that you’re weak... fuck, Justin... just talk to me,” and when those blue eyes met his own, he could read the fear in them as clearly as if Justin had shouted his feelings out.  But then Justin licked his lips, and Brian wished he hadn’t pushed him.

“Because then it’s all real.”

There was pain in that whisper; pain, and embarrassment that was mirrored in the flush of humiliation that stained Justin’s cheeks.  It was a look he hadn’t seen on Justin’s face in a long time; a look he hadn’t seen, since the night he had caught Brian fucking Rage.  Brian shook his head slightly and carded his fingers up through the hair on the back of Justin’s skull.  Meeting his eyes, holding them, Brian pushed the words out over a tongue that had gone slightly numb.

“It is all real, Justin; what I did.  What you did.  What we’ve done.  What we’re doing.”

“Dating?” Justin asked in a slightly disbelieving tone, and Brian swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded.

“Rebuilding our life.”

Justin reached up and closed his hand around Brian’s wrist; his fingers showed all that he was feeling as they dug into Brian’s skin, but his eyes were completely open as they stared at each other.

“Talk to me...”

Justin’s eyes closed briefly, but the rapid movement beneath his lids mirrored the unsteady breath that escaped his lips.

“Our life... the one that we shared?... I... I always felt like I had pushed you into sharing your life with me; that you put up with me being around because... because I never said no,” he said quietly, as he opened his eyes.  Justin’s voice faltered, and his lips trembled once before he pressed them into a firm line.  “I didn’t say no to anything that you wanted, because I was so fucking scared that you’d toss me aside if I did,” he said finally.  “I told you... I told you that I can’t go back to that life with you, Brian.  Some of it... some of it was great.  But the rest?”

Justin lowered his eyes again and shook his head.

“I can’t find hidden meanings in obscure actions,” he said when Brian squeezed his hand.  “I can’t stand back and simply smile to make you happy; I can’t pretend that I’m okay with something, when I’m really not.”

His voice trailed away, and Brian had a brief flashback to the rules he and Justin had made.  Even then, back when he was denying what he felt, he would have promised anything to get the blond back in his loft and in his bed.  But unlike last time, when the rules they had decided upon had stolen his lover’s confidence, Brian had learned several harsh lessons.  They both had.  And saying that he had taken his lover in because he had taken a bat to the head, but that wasn’t the reason he wanted him to stay, just wasn’t going to cut it.

Not when he now knew that all Justin would have heard through that bumbling statement was that he had taken him in because he had felt sorry for him; because he had felt guilty.  Licking his lips, Brian swallowed hard.  He could almost pinpoint that conversation as the beginning of their troubles.  Deb had been right – he hadn’t had the balls to tell Justin the truth; he hadn’t had the courage to speak openly.  He hadn’t been brave enough to reach for the one thing he wanted more than anything else.

He hadn’t wanted to say that he had trouble sleeping now without Justin lying beside him.  That the loft felt cold and empty without him in it.  He had refused to say that coming home to the scent of a home-cooked meal had turned the loft from an emotionless showcase into a warm home.  Justin hadn’t known that he had taken to carrying a small, gold hoop in his pocket like some sort of talisman, in the vague hope that it would lead his lover home.    

“I can’t say what would have happened if we’d spoken like this before, Justin,” he said finally.  “I want to say that I would have understood, but we both know that I would have reacted... strongly.  But things are different now,” he said hoarsely, and Justin swallowed hard as he nodded and looked away. 

“You know I love you.”

It was barely a thread of sound; it wasn’t a question, however; it was a statement of fact.  But when those startled blue eyes jerked towards him, Brian shuddered.  Words... he had to use his fucking words, because how would Justin know when his version of love kept getting lost in translation?

“You know I do; I’ve told you that.  You knew it before Prom.  But it got lost in that head of yours,” he said as he reached up to lightly tap the scar that was barely visible.  “I won’t always say it, Justin; not when they’re words that I use for other people.  I keep telling you; tell me what to say, so that you know how I feel; give me a word to use, so that when I say it, you know what I mean, and I don’t choke trying to get it out.” 

“Mine?”

Justin barely spoke the word; a low murmur that softened the questions in his eyes, and Brian laughed quietly even as he closed the distance between them to press a promise against those lips that held the faintest hint of a tremble.

“Yours,” he agreed quietly.  “Yours... mine.  Mine, mine, mine...”

The soft exhale that danced between the pressing of their lips was all the exclamation that Brian needed, and when he pulled back to look down at Justin, he couldn’t hide the crooked smile that tilted his lips as Justin looked up at him.  And in that open face, he finally saw a ghost from the past.  His boy, now a man, peeking out at him from behind eyes that had been guarded for so long.

“You know I’ll need to say it sometimes.”

It was whispered, and Brian sighed softly.  “And I know you’ll need to hear it,” he agreed finally.  “Words, right?  Not actions.”

“Your actions have said a lot lately, Brian.”

Pulling back to peer down at him, Brian tilted his head as Justin licked his lips before he sighed.

“I’m still not right up here,” he said, gesturing to his head.  “There’s still a lot of tangled-up shit that I need to work through.  And if we’re really going to do this... if it’s going to really work this time... I need to fix myself.  I need to make my brain work again.”

Brian nodded, but he still grinned when Justin leaned into him slightly.  Carding his fingers through the thick hair under his hand, Brian ghosted his lips over Justin’s head and spoke quietly.  “I’ll pick you up tonight; we’ll go and listen to your friend.  But after that... do you want to come back to the loft with me?”  Looking down at him as Justin pulled away, he swallowed hard when Justin licked his lips.

“Ask me again later,” he said finally, and Brian nodded.  But he still smiled when Justin raised his chin and offered those tempting lips.  Brushing his mouth over Justin’s, keeping it light and non-threatening, Brian smiled.  Slowly, but surely.  Slowly.