“Are you coming or going? Or coming, and then going? Or coming...and staying?”

*****

Justin sat in the passenger seat of the Mustang, watching Brian out of the corner of his eye as they made their way across Pennsylvania. He was still smitten by how beautiful the man was, and wondered why Brian had ever been so worried about turning the dreaded 3-0 and suddenly losing all of his charm and power. Now, at 35, Brian seemed as sexy as ever, at least in Justin’s eyes -- the man was aging like fine wine.

“What are you staring at?” Brian’s voice broke Justin’s trance.

“Nothing,” Justin said quickly. “You. Thinking about how sexy you are.” Justin reached his left hand across the console and rubbed it over Brian’s right thigh suggestively, moving it toward his crotch.

Brian let go of the steering wheel for a moment and lifted Justin’s arm by the wrist, pushing it back toward the younger man.

“What?” Justin said innocently. “I seem you recall you used to like messing around in the car...and sex in public places.”

“Yeah, well that was at a red light in downtown Pittsburgh, not going 70 miles an hour down a four lane highway.” Brian’s tone suddenly turned bitter. “Or do you want me to wreck this car too? See if I can really do it up big this time and break my fucking neck?”

“Brian--”

“I can’t feel it anyway. So you’d be wasting your time. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Brian had been in a strange mood all morning, leaving Justin unsure how he should act in order to avoid setting off his seemingly very short fuse. Before they’d left the apartment in Pittsburgh, Brian had been uncharacteristically quiet as they packed up the last of the clothes and towels and bedsheets they’d used during their last night there -- the only things that had been left out of the wall of boxes that was stacked up in Brian’s living room.

Brian had spent a very long time in the shower that morning, probably sitting in there until the water ran cold, and when he came out of the bathroom, Justin noticed he didn’t particularly look refreshed, but instead a bit haggard, and his eyes were red. Justin didn’t press -- he knew the previous night had been an emotional one for Brian, saying goodbye to people who had been his surrogate family for a long time. They’d seen him through a lot. Debbie in particular, who Justin knew had been like a second mother to Brian -- or maybe his only mother in the truest sense of the word. Justin’s brief, singular run-in with Joan Kinney had given him all of the information he needed to be able to judge the woman harshly for how she treated her son. Frankly, the woman didn’t deserve to be able to call herself Brian’s mother -- between what little Justin had seen and heard, he knew that she seemed to care more about her own reputation in the church than her own son’s feelings and his ability to be able to live his life -- be himself -- without judgment from someone who should have been able to love him unconditionally. On the other hand, Debbie seemed to always accept everyone for exactly who they were, no questions asked, and Brian had been no exception.

So Justin wasn’t surprised that Brian’s goodbye to Debbie had been an emotional one. He’d managed to hold himself together long enough to get out the door and into the car, but once there, he’d broken down again, his head leaned back against the seat and his left hand covering his eyes. Justin tried to offer reassurance by taking hold of Brian’s right hand, but the older man had pulled his hand out of Justin’s grasp. Justin had tried to offer to drive them both back to the apartment so Brian could rest in the passenger seat, but he’d refused with a curt shake of his head. So they’d sat in the alley behind Debbie’s house for a long time, saying nothing. Justin felt awkward because he wanted so badly to touch Brian, to comfort him, but it was obvious in the way he’d jerked his hand from Justin’s grasp that he didn’t want to be touched or comforted. Eventually, Brian started the car and they headed toward what had been Brian’s home for the past six-and-a-half months, in silence, save for Brian’s audibly deep, steady breathing, as if he was holding himself together by a thread.

When they got back to the apartment, Justin was still feeling shut out and a little lost, as Brian was constantly a step ahead, keeping his back to Justin as much as possible while they got ready for bed. He’d wondered if Brian would even want him in the bed that night, or if he should just go sleep on the couch and let Brian be alone. As he watched Brian shift his body from his chair to the bed, Justin decided that perhaps sleeping in the living room would be best for tonight, and was picking up the pillow from the other side of the bed, trying to recall which box they’d packed the extra blankets in, when Brian suddenly spoke for the first time in over an hour.

“Where are you going?” He looked up at Justin, his hazel eyes shining, even in the dim light of the small lamp on the bedside table. He was still sitting up, one leg on the bed and the other hanging limply over the side.

“I thought maybe you wanted to be alone.”

“No,” Brian grunted as he used his right hand to pull his right leg up onto the mattress. “I’m just…” He paused and took a breath. “This was a lot harder than I thought.”

“Leaving everyone?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m glad that I’m going...I don’t regret the decision at all. But I don’t think I realized how much I’ve been leaning on all of them for the past eight months. How much they’ve given me. I don’t feel worthy of it, you know?”

Justin knew that Brian’s feelings about love and being loved were rooted in childhood trauma that ran deep. Brian wouldn’t talk to him much about his past, but Justin had gathered enough through Debbie and Michael over the years to know that there was no love lost between Brian and his family, and their relationships had been emotionally and physically abusive.

“Brian, they love you,” Justin said as he sat down on the bed and placed his hand on top of the one Brian was using to prop himself up. “That’s why they did it. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

“I don’t deserve them. Or you.” Brian slid his body downward and settled back onto the pillow, his gaze turned up at the ceiling.

“I’m not here because you’re forcing me to be, you know. I’m here of my own free will. Because I love you too.”

Justin slid over next to Brian in the bed and started working a hand down the older man’s torso, slowly, then began running the hand up and down Brian’s penis, feeling it start to harden into what Justin knew was a reflexive reaction that didn’t require a connection to Brian’s brain and probably wouldn’t last very long. Still, it would give Justin an opportunity to try to distract Brian and pull him out of his melancholy mood with some pure physical pleasure. Justin knew Brian couldn’t feel his skin past his waistline, but he didn’t know how much deep sensation Brian had down there, if any, and Brian wouldn’t talk about it, but Justin figured it was worth a try.

“You’re wasting your time,” Brian sighed.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Justin captured Brian’s lips with a deep kiss, then started slowly biting, nipping, and sucking his way down his partner’s jawline and into the curve where his neck met his shoulder, which made Brian arch his back and let out a low moan. He continued trailing his tongue down Brian’s shoulder and down to his right nipple, working with his lips and his tongue as Brian writhed with pleasure under him, his breathing heavy.

“Justin--” Brian choked out between breaths, sounding like he wanted to object to what was happening, even though the bodily response Justin was getting seemed to indicate otherwise.

“Relax,” Justin said quietly as he lifted his mouth from Brian’s nipple briefly to speak. “Just let me take care of you. Let me at least try.”

Brian did seem to relax a bit after that, leaning into Justin’s ministrations with his head back and his eyes closed. Justin continued trying to find things that Brian responded to physically, concentrating his efforts on the upper half of Brian’s body and the invisible line on his skin where sensation gave way into numbness, wondering if he was going to be able to bring his lover to climax. He was rubbing his cock against Brian’s leg and working toward his own orgasm with his free hand.

It might have been unconventional, but he was certainly enjoying it, and Brian seemed to be as well. Besides, since when had conventional ever been the name of the game where Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney were concerned? Brian had gone soft in his hand several minutes before, but Justin had paid no mind to it and kept going, hopeful that maybe if he kept up the stimulation, his lover’s erection would return.

Justin eventually arrived at the point where he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and orgasm overwhelmed his senses as he felt his hand and lower torso become wet and sticky against Brian’s leg. That was when Brian stopped him, grabbing ahold of Justin’s wrist firmly with one hand, and placing his other hand over Justin’s lips.

“Stop,” Brian said simply, his eyes still closed tightly. He let the hand covering Justin’s lips fall back to the bed once Justin had lifted his head.

“Why?”

“It’s pointless.”

“I’ll keep going. I’ll keep trying. You just have to let me.”

“No.”

“It just… It might not be like it was before, but we can try. I want to get you there.”

“You can’t do that if the road has collapsed.”

“You don’t know that it’s collapsed, though. You’re just assuming. It just takes longer.”

“Justin.” Brian’s tone was becoming more heated, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes. “I said no.”

“Why, though? Why won’t you let me try?”

Brian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrestled his body over onto his side as best he could with Justin still pressed against his hip, turning his head away from Justin. Eventually, Brian spoke, his voice softer, as if his anger had melted into an emotion Justin couldn’t quite read -- was it embarrassment? Or sadness?

“It’s going to be a long drive tomorrow. I need to sleep. G’night.”

Justin knew that hadn’t been an answer to his question; it was Brian changing the subject. He let it drop, and used a tissue to clean them both up a little before pressing his body against Brian’s from behind, spooning the older man as he wrapped an arm around Brian’s chest. He could feel small hitches in Brian’s breathing, and he wondered if his lover was crying, but he didn’t dare look or ask. He only wrapped his arm tighter around Brian in silent reassurance, thankful that Brian wasn’t pushing him away. At least, he hoped it felt reassuring to Brian -- a promise that he’d be there, for all of it, every step of the way, no matter what the path entailed or how difficult it was.

Brian had barely spoken to Justin in the morning, and was short with the movers when they arrived to pick up all of the boxes and furniture. That wasn’t like Brian at all -- he was usually all-businesslike politeness in situations like that. Justin had an idea of what it was about, though -- he assumed that Brian had been frustrated with his body and his lack of control over his emotions the night before, and now that frustration was coming out in the form of a somewhat-sour, uncharacteristically-quiet Brian.

They ate a piecemeal breakfast that consisted of what little food was left in Brian’s apartment, supervised while the movers finished their work, then headed out of the apartment themselves, locking the door and dropping the keys off at the office before climbing into Brian’s Mustang and hitting the road.

Justin was wishing he could get Brian to talk to him -- be more open and honest about what was really going on inside his head. But he knew Brian well enough to know that if he pressed too hard, he’d find himself on the wrong side of the man’s emotional wall, or worse, at the bottom of the Kinney cliff. So, for now, he was content to just sit quietly and appreciate how sexy his lover was, with his beautifully expressive eyes and his perfect body and his gorgeous lips and long fingers gripping the steering wheel. That was when Justin had screwed things up again by trying to tease Brian with his hand on his leg.

“I’m sorry,” Justin said, after Brian had picked Justin’s hand up and pushed it back to the passenger side of the car. He wasn’t sure if Brian would think he was apologizing for just now, in the car, or for last night, or both. He hoped both, because that was how he meant it. “I just wanted to see if I could get you there without the drugs. I know you don’t like how they make you feel.”

“It is what it is, Sunshine.” Brian shrugged, and then snorted derisively. “It’s definitely nothing like that day we stole Ted’s Viagra, huh?”

“I wouldn’t want it to be like that,” Justin laughed. “My ass was sore for a week.”

“Served you right. It was your idea to steal it, remember?”

“I remember. I also remember meeting your mother that day, of all days.”

“God, can we not talk about her? Please? I’m thankful to be getting away from her, and all of her proclamations about the different ways in which God is punishing me for being a fag. First cancer, now this.”

“I know, but she’s still your mother.”

“She gave birth to me because her religion told her it would be a sin for her to abort me, like Pops wanted. That’s about the most mothering she ever did. She claims she let Pops hit her so he wouldn’t hit me, but I call bullshit on that. He hit me plenty. Don’t miss his sorry ass either.”

Justin was wishing he hadn’t brought this up now, not with Brian already in a bad mood, and not while they were speeding down the highway.

“I know,” Justin said, letting the subject drop without saying what he really wanted to: that he knew Brian wished on some level that his biological family had loved him and cared for him and would miss him. He wondered if Brian had even told Joan or Claire that he was moving to New York. Probably not. Would they even care?

Justin busied his hands with his sketchbook for awhile, and Brian turned up the radio to fill the silence that had settled between them. He drew until his fingers cramped around the pencil and his entire hand started to shake, then set the pencil and the sketchbook down in the door pocket so he could stretch his fingers.

“You okay?” Brian asked him as he turned the radio down a bit.

“Yeah, just the usual. If I hold the pencil for too long.” It was much better than it had been years ago, but it still annoyed him when he had to stop drawing before he wanted to, simply because his body had betrayed him.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Brian said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “You can’t draw, and I can’t fuck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you love to draw...and I…”

“Brian, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine and you know it.”

“Maybe to you. But I’m content to keep trying. I thought we were figuring it out. I know I enjoyed last night. I hope you did too.”

Brian didn’t respond. When he finally spoke several minutes later, he changed the subject. “You hungry?”

“Sure, if you are.”

“Okay. I figured we’d stop for lunch soon. My back’s getting really stiff. This is the first time I’ve driven this long since...well, you get it.”

Justin didn’t answer that. He got it. Although he still wasn’t sure why Brian seemed to not be able to say it out loud, even after this many months.

“So what sounds good to you?”

Justin’s train of thought was already on a different track. “I can drive for a while, if you want me to. You can take your meds and sleep if you want.”

“We’ll see.”

Justin was a little surprised that Brian didn’t make a sarcastic comment about his driving. He must really be feeling bad, Justin thought. He really hoped Brian would take him up on the offer and just relax for a while, even if he wouldn’t tell Justin exactly why he was so upset.

They stopped for lunch at a little mom and pop restaurant in the middle of nowhere in rural Pennsylvania, after topping the car off with gas at the adjacent service station. This place was like stepping back in time -- a far cry from the city life they were both used to.

Justin loved restaurants like this -- they served just the sort of stick-to-your-ribs food that his high metabolism loved. On the other side of the table, Brian mostly picked at his food, only eating about half of it in between running a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly, and shifting his body around like he was uncomfortable. He was suddenly looking very tired.

“Want me to drive?” Justin asked again as they left the restaurant.

“Sure,” Brian said, tossing Justin the keys, which he barely caught. “As long as you promise not to wreck my car and kill us both.”

“Have I yet?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

After Brian was settled into the passenger seat, Justin continued around to the driver’s side. This was the first time Brian had let him drive the Mustang. As he pressed the brake pedal down so he could put the car in gear, he noticed that the hand controls Brian used made their corresponding motion all on their own, to the left of the steering wheel.

“Yeah, they’ll do that,” Brian said. “It’s fine. Just the way everything works.”

Justin nodded and accelerated, leaving the parking lot of the combination restaurant and service station and getting back on the highway that was just a short distance away. Brian reached into the backseat, fished a pill bottle out of the zippered pouch he kept strapped on the underside of his wheelchair frame, opened it up, and took two before putting it back in its place. Before long, he was out cold, snoring a little, with his head leaned back into the headrest.

Justin reached across and gave Brian’s thigh a gentle squeeze that he knew he wouldn’t feel. The older man didn’t stir.

“Sleep well,” Justin said softly. “We’ll be in New York before you know it.”

Brian woke up a few hours later, just as they were starting to get caught up in the traffic surrounding the city.

“Shit,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long.” He stretched his arms over his head as best he could in the confines of the car.

“It’s okay. I think you needed it. You had a rough night. Feeling better now?”

“Yeah.”

They both left it at that, and the only sound in the car as they entered New York City was the GPS they’d bought specifically for the trip, directing them to Brian’s new apartment in Chelsea. The moving truck arrived not long after they did, and they spent the rest of the afternoon directing the movers and unpacking enough of Brian’s belongings to make it through the first night in his new place.

Justin was hanging clothes in the walk-in closet, and was just about to turn around to ask Brian which side he wanted his suits on, when he suddenly felt a hand on the small of his back. Brian was behind him, looking a bit nervous, which Justin thought was strange.

“Put all of my stuff on this side,” Brian said, gesturing to the bars and shelving on their left. He took a deep breath before continuing. “This other side is yours.”

The younger man barely got the suits hung on the bar before he would have dropped them out of surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d just heard. Was Brian asking him to move in?

“What do you mean, the other side is mine?”

“I’d like it if you and I were to live together,” Brian said, his words giving Justin a feeling of deja vu. “If you’re willing, that is.”

“Brian!” Justin grabbed Brian around the shoulders and kissed him, hard, nearly pushing them both into the door frame of the closet.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Brian chuckled as they separated, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“Of course it’s a yes!” Justin exclaimed. “Why would I say no?”

Brian shrugged and turned away, and Justin wondered what on earth that was about. Had Brian been afraid he’d say no? He decided not to ask.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Brian said as they both went back into the bedroom. “Otherwise, this big apartment was going to be pretty lonely.”

“Well, we can’t have you being lonely.” Justin placed his hands on Brian’s shoulders and ran them seductively down the older man’s chest, before deciding it would probably be best if he didn’t push his luck tonight. The last thing he wanted was for Brian to change his mind about letting him move in. So he kissed Brian’s cheek and turned his attention to the stack of boxes once again. “I just hope we can remember where we packed the sheets.”

They eventually found them, after opening and putting away several more boxes of clothes, leading to Justin teasing Brian about the size of his wardrobe, which was probably larger and more expensive than most women’s.

“Mel was right,” Justin said. “You are a label queen.”

“Nothing wrong with looking good,” Brian said. “Not all of us can live in cargo pants, hoodies, and sneakers 24/7.”

“Oooh, low blow old man.”

“What did I tell you about calling me old?”

“Sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting about your new lease on life.”

Brian laughed out loud. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. Not everything is about your accident, you know.”

“Only it is,” Brian said as he continued putting his folded pants and t-shirts back into the dresser drawer they’d been removed from in Pittsburgh earlier in the week. “It has to be.”

“Why does it have to be?”

“Because it’s right fucking here, all the time. I want to get away from it, and I can’t. Now, I feel like I’ve run away to New York, trying to escape it, and here it is with me again. Because I can’t escape my own damn self. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I got here.”

“Brian, you came here for a fresh start. Where people weren’t comparing you before to you now. Remember?”

“I know.”

“Why are you changing your mind now?”

“I’m not. I just...I don’t know.”

“Maybe you need to stop comparing you before to you now.”

Brian was quiet for a moment, just breathing, before he turned to face Justin. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I know. I thought I was past that. Thought I had moved on. But when we were in bed last night, and you came and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything had changed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything. You were trying, and I was being an ass.”

“You had a right. You still do. It’s okay to be angry and upset about what your body can’t do anymore. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“I know you have. This is different though.”

“I don’t think it is. You said it yourself, earlier, in the car. Or at least, you almost did. I loved to draw, and you loved to fuck.”

“But you didn’t lose your ability to draw.”

“I did, though. I can’t do it for more than 15 minutes at a time. And I had to learn how to do it differently because of that. You haven’t lost everything here either. You just need to have an open mind and learn how to do it differently. What was that you told me once? ‘Stop being a drama princess and come give it a try?’”

Brian rolled his eyes, but Justin could tell from the expression on his partner’s face that his statement had hit home.

“I’m not a drama princess,” Brian said.

“No, of course not, that’s my job.”

They finished unpacking the bedroom, then found a Thai restaurant in the phonebook that delivered, since neither of them felt like cooking after spending most of the day driving, and there wasn’t any food in the apartment anyhow. As they sat at Brian’s small dining room table tucked in the alcove off of the kitchen, Justin sighed contentedly at the thought of what he was about to embark on -- no, what they were about to embark on, together. As a couple. As lovers. As partners. The greatest reunification.