The One Where Justin Forgets He's Married
LaVieEnRose

Jasper still lived at home, Kyle shared a tiny room with four other guys, Meredith just moved in with her boyfriend a week ago and the last thing I wanted to do right now was watch them in their honeymoon phase, and Lisa had been crashing on her sister's couch for the past month, so she was off the table too. And besides, she rescued me last time Little Gregory had a crisis and even though that was years back she still hadn't shut up about what a great friend she was and I couldn't take extending that even longer. Which meant that, when I was standing on the street outside the place I didn't think was my apartment anymore at two AM on a Wednesday, I texted Justin. I'd known him for barely a year, but he was always telling me he owed me big time, and I wasn't ever planning to cash in on that but...desperate times, and all that, and this definitely qualified.

He pulled up in this sexy, old as hell car less than ten minutes later. He stared at me while I crammed my bag into the car. I can't believe this, he said. I thought you two were so happy.

Think that over and over again for an hour, I said. And you'll get to where I am. I'm really sorry about—

He stopped me. Don't. After everything you've done? And you'd do the same thing for me, if...

If he and and his boyfriend ever broke up. It sort of hung there in the air, like he didn't want to sign the phrase to me, like he thought that would make it real.

Maybe it would.

Broke up. Jesus.

If I ever needed you, he finished, and started to drive.

We got back to his place, and he signaled for me to be quiet as he pulled the door open. Justin's deafer than I am—I have enough residual hearing that I can tell if someone starts talking, but I can't make out individual words—but I've been doing this a lot longer than he has, so I'm more used to working around hearing people, like his boyfriend. Or my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

He pulled open the door and we entered as quietly as he could, but immediately a light went on in the bedroom, or whatever you want to call it. Bed platform. This place is strange. Justin winced, and Brian came down the small set of stairs in sweatpants and no shirt, his hair shoved up on one side of his head. He squinted at us.

I didn't know Brian well. He didn't come out with us or the others much, and when he did he was usually quiet and seemed bored. Justin was always apologizing for him after he left, and I felt bad that Justin constantly needed to be making excuses for him. The first time I ever met Brian was at a party at my place, and he left right in the middle of it without even telling Justin he was going, and the rest of the night everyone kept asking Justin where he'd gone and Justin had to smile and wave it off and pretend like he didn't care and he wasn't embarrassed.

Justin had told me Brian was just self-conscious about his signing, and I wondered how well they could really communicate if his signing was all that bad. Mario was hearing, sure, but he was an interpreter, not to mention a CODA. He'd known ASL back when I was just some average schlub who had no idea he'd be losing his hearing one day. Eighty-five percent of relationships between a hearing person and a Deaf person fail, but I'd assumed that having that Mario having his background took us out of that statistic.

These two, on the other hand?

Sorry, Justin said. Didn't mean to wake you.

Brian glanced at me and said, Ever heard of leaving a note? It was a little halting, but he signed it right.

I was only gone for a minute.

And I was supposed to know that how? I just wake up and you're gone, I thought... He looked at me again, then shook his head a little and said, So what is this, a spontaneous three-way? He looks too depressed to fuck right now.

Justin rolled his eyes. He needs a place to stay.

Brian shrugged and gestured to the couch.

Thank you, I said, and Brian shrugged again and trudged back to the bedroom. He hates me, I said to Justin, while he helped me make a bed on the couch.

He does not hate you. He told me thinks you're hot!

What does that have to do with not hating me?

He grinned. It's the first thing he thought about me. Seems to be going okay so far.

He went to bed, and I lay on a very uncomfortable, very expensive couch instead of in the bed where my boyfriend was screwing some other guy, and fucking contemplated that.

**

I woke up early the next morning, and by the time I remembered where I was and what I'd walked in on the night before, I was already aware of some kind of noise behind me. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Brian and Justin were in the kitchen, standing on either side of the bar while Justin made pancakes and Brian glanced back and forth between the newspaper and Justin signing.

—downtown Justin was saying. Can you drop him off at the bus on your way? Talking about getting me to work, I assumed.

Brian sighed. Will you come with me?

And then, what, hitchhike from Kinnetik?

Come on...

No, I have work to do today, I don't have time to babysit you. You'll be fine.

Brian sipped his coffee, glaring at him, and finally said, What the fuck happened, anyway?

Mario cheated on him.

Brian laughed a little and shook his head, and my stomach squeezed. When will they learn...

Don't start.

It never works.

It does work. For some people. Every kind of arrangement works for someone.

That's very zen of you.

Justin sighed. You don't have to throw up walls every time the m-word comes up, you know. It's not a ploy. No one's trying to trick you into something.

No one's throwing up walls, Jesus. You're so dramatic. His signing was different from last night: smoother, looser. Better.

Do you want strawberries on these? Justin asked.

Yeah. Thanks.

Justin went to the fridge and took out a carton of strawberries, then said, So where did you think I was last night?

God, I thought you fucking sleepwalked out of here again. I was sure I was going to find you on the stairs with a broken neck.

Not sure enough to actually get out of bed and check, though.

And break my own neck stumbling over your body? One of us has to keep the family name going.

You're the only person I know who can mix wild catastrophizing with ruthless practicality.

Brian frowned. What was that sign?

He repeated it. Making a big deal out of nothing.

Brian tried it, his handshape not quite right, and smiled at Justin a little when he corrected it. How are you feeling today? he asked.

Okay so far.

You should speak some, Brian said, and that rubbed me the wrong way. I knew, of course, that Justin had been having problems with his hand freezing and spasming when he was signing—it's kind of hard to miss—but still, you don't tell a Deaf person they should speak. There's baggage there, cultural stuff that Brian wasn't—couldn't be—aware of. Some Deaf people choose to speak, some don't, and I knew, of course, that Justin was comfortable speaking in certain situations. So was I. But it's our choice when those situations are.

I don't want to wake him up Justin said.

Brian checked his watch. If I'm taking him to work, he better be waking up soon. Plus you're burning your pancakes there.

Shit.

I figured it was about time I stopped eavesdropping, so I made a a big show of stirring on the couch, and Justin stamped his foot and waved at me.

How'd you sleep? he asked me.

Good. Thank you for letting me stay.

He waved me off and brought me a plate of slightly-burned pancakes. Brian's going to bring you to the bus on his way to work.

That's okay, I can walk.

Don't be silly. He doesn't mind.

I looked at Brian, who was drinking his coffee and carefully looking at Justin, and very much not looking at me.

Okay, I said.

Justin spent five minutes trying to figure out what the nearest bus stop was that had the line to where I was going, and Brian eventually rolled his eyes and said it was fine, he'd just bring me all the way, it was close enough to where he was going. He gave Justin a quick kiss on his way out the door, then stopped, looked at him like he was thinking something over, and then grabbed him by the front of the shirt and kissed him like he was trying to swallow him whole.

I looked away. Then Brian rolled his eyes, swatted him on the side of the head, and we were out the door.

“What's Justin doing today?” I asked when we were in the car. Brian started a little; I don't think he was expecting me to speak. But following the signing of someone sitting next to you isn't easy, and the last thing I wanted was Brian to careen us into some lamp post because he thought he had to prove something.

He still signed, though, which I was grateful for, despite the increased risk of careening, because my lipreading's okay but far from perfect and especially not in profile. Shift at the diner, he said. Then he has lunch with his mom, I think.

“That's good,” I said. “That he's seeing her. It's been a while, right?”

How should I know?

“You knew he was seeing her today.”

He goes where he goes. I don't keep tabs on him, Brian said, which was, obviously, ridiculous, since he'd just laid out Justin's itinerary for me, so I had no idea what he was trying to pull.

I said, “I just meant that it sounds like she's coming around on learning to sign. Last time he talked about her he said she'd started going to classes, so—”

I get it, Brian said. He talks to you.

“I wasn't trying to—”

Just because he talks to both of us doesn't mean we have to air out his business when he's not here.

“You think you need to prove to me that you know shit about him too? That's what this is? Do you think, what, I didn't think you knew that shit about his mom?”

He didn't say anything.

“You really like reading motives into shit, don't you?”

He snorted so loud I could hear it. You're the one always making Justin explain why his partner won't come out to play. Trying to make him think it's some big problem.

“Isn't it?”

He's allowed to have his own life. His own friends.

“Of course he's allowed. That's not really the question, is it?”

He rolled his eyes as he pulled up to a stoplight. You know, he said, So much changed when Justin lost his hearing, but thank God one thing we didn't lose was people telling us what it is he really wants. What would we have done without that? I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I watched Brian take work his jaw, let out a deep breath through his nose, and finally sign, So what do you do? like it was an insult.

“What?”

He pulled his lips into his mouth. I signed that right.

“No, you did, I just...you mean for work?”

He gave me a duh look. I'm making conversation.

“I do graphic design for Maniac Magazine,” I said.

This wasn't an answer Brian wanted, and he hid that really, really poorly. You'd think I had an additional connection to Justin purely to piss him off. I tried not to laugh, I really did.

You think you've just got the boy all figured out, don't you? he said.

“Mmhmm. And here you thought we had nothing in common.”

He pulled up outside my building. I just think it's sweet, that's all. The two little musketeers.

It drives you crazy, I signed, now that we were stopped. You think you're fooling anyone? It drives you crazy that he's part of a world that you're not in.

Brian smiled at me sweetly, but it didn't meet his eyes. You don't know me, he said. You know your hearing prince turned out to be an asshole, and now you think it's up to you to rescue poor Justin from such a dismal fate. Because the problem must have been that he was hearing, right? Not that he was, I don't know, a cheating asshole.

I don't think all hearing people are assholes. I said. I just think Justin deserves a fuck of a lot.

He gave me a cold smile as he leaned over me to open my door. See? he said, practically in my fucking lap. And here you thought we had nothing in common.

**

He texted me fifteen times today, I said to Justin, while we were grabbing dinner at the diner later and I was trying to ignore the two guys at the counter staring at us signing like we were a novelty act. Begging me to talk to him. He's so sorry. On and on.

Justin scrunched up his nose. Maybe it was just a mistake.

No, it's been going on for months. Jasper finally told me he's known the whole time.

Justin's mouth fell open. Jasper knew?

Yeah. You..you didn't, right?

Come on, he said. You think I'd be loyal to Mario over you?

God. I can't believe this is a me versus Mario situation. This is so fucked up. I... I tore about my sandwich morosely. I felt really good about us. I don't feel good about relationships very often, y'know? But I felt like...I don't know. I was hopeful. Fuck hopeful.

Justin nodded sympathetically, but suddenly leaned forwards and said, like he couldn't help it, So you guys really didn't fuck around at all?

I mean, he was...

No, but I mean... He grappled. I forget, sometimes, that Justin's still pretty new to signing.

Consensually? I filled in.

Yeah.

I shook my head.

Not even threesomes?

No.

For a YEAR? He blew air out of his mouth. I can't even imagine.

Now I have to go get tested, I said. Really looking forward to that.

Fuck. He cocked his head to the side. Did you like it? Do you like it? Monogamy?

Yeah, I do.

We have a friend who does it. Him and his husband. I think for a while I thought...it was the only way to do marriage. I guess because it was all I've seen.

Do you want to get married? I asked him.

He shrugged. Maybe. But it wouldn't be like some... He looked at me guiltily.

What? I said. Like some straight person's marriage?

He chewed on his lip.

Do I look straight to you? I asked.

In that shirt? Not even slightly. He picked up his fork, but it immediately fell out of his hand as his fingers straightened and shook. He wrapped his other hand around it self-consciously and pulled it into his lap.

You okay? I asked him.

He nodded and massaged it for a while, but as soon as he released it to try to sign something it spasmed again. He sighed and lowered it to the table, where it danced around on its own. Sorry, he signed, left-handed.

It's fine. You want to head back?

He nodded.

We got back to the loft, and Justin, right hand still useless, started the process of getting himself out of his jacket, but I could hear noises from the bedroom that he couldn't, and fuck, it was quite the goddamn deja vu, except this time it wasn't my boyfriend we were walking in on fucking someone else. I had no idea what to say to Justin, and before I could sort it out he looked up and saw Brian on the bed. He rolled his eyes, then glanced at me, and something in his face hardened.

You're not fooling me, Taylor. Nobody wants this.

He touched my arm and said, “Come on,” and started to lead me out the door. We were almost gone when a shoe came flying across the loft and landed by our feet. We turned around.

Brian, balls-deep inside some guy on his knees, signed Fifteen minutes, okay? and then something else at the end, with his hands up by his face. I couldn't believe he was fucking negotiating with Justin in mid-thrust how much more time he needed to screw someone else in their bed. And Justin just nodded!

Did he just call you 'shower?' I asked Justin on our way out of the building.

It's a long story he replied, his hand finally returning to normal.

We got ice cream and sat on a bench in the park by the building for a little while, not really talking much. Justin tried to apologize for Brian to me for the millionth time but it was all so fucking depressing that I shut him up as quickly as I could, and he listened. But fifteen minutes later on the dot Justin said we had to go back, and I assumed he was curious to see if Brian kept to his deadline or not. Sure enough, when we got back, the guy was gone, and Brian was up and in the kitchen, boiling water and microwaving something. He ignored me and gestured for Justin to sit down at the bar. He started signing to Justin privately, and Justin was speaking back to him, his voice low, and I could tell they didn't want me to hear and I figured eavesdropping on them once a day was probably enough, so I went over to the couch to get some work done. When I glanced back over at them later, Justin had some kind of heating pad wrapped around his lower arm, and he was drinking tea left-handed while Brian rubbed at his right hand. It would have been sweet if it weren't so obviously Brian scrambling with his tail between his legs to make things right for earlier, and the whole thing just left me with such a bad taste in my mouth.

Every time I spared them another look they were doing something different. At one point, Brian held two cigarettes between his lips, lit them both, and slipped one into Justin's mouth. Another, he did the dishes while Justin adjusted the heating pad. Another, he wrote in a little notebook while Justin was trying to talk to him about something. Another, he shook out a couple of pills and kissed Justin's forehead.

Eventually I heard a timer go off on the oven, and turned around to see Brian nodding to Justin and carefully taking the heating pad from around his arm. Justin stretched his hand experimentally, then turned to me and said, we've got an errand to run, we'll be back soon, okay?

Okay, I said. Thanks again for letting me—

They were already gone, chasing each other and fucking giggling their way out of the apartment.

They got back an hour later and Justin said goodnight to me and headed straight to bed. Brian lit another cigarette, an eyebrow raised at me, and said, His doctor has him on a strict sleep schedule, and I still have no idea if he said that expressly so I'd feel bad about pulling him out of bed the night before to come rescue me or if he thought he was throwing me a bone sharing information with me like that. I have no idea.

So I just nodded.

Same time tomorrow? Brian said.

**

Justin got up the next morning just before Brian and I were about to leave, and Brian shot him an aggravated look and waved him back to bed. It's practically nine Justin said.

You were up half the night. Go back to sleep.

I can't just lie around here all day and not...

I'm not doing this again with you right now, Brian said, and Justin threw up his hands and stalked back to bed.

“You know he's not a child,” I said to Brian when we were in the car. “He wants to get work done, to contribute. Not lie around because you like having a housewife.”

Brian's nostrils flared. You know, I appreciate everything you've done for Justin, I really do...

“Cut the crap.”

Fine. How long do I have to be sweet about you lying around judging us from my Italian leather sofa like we're some Saturday morning game show as...I don't know, penance? He fingerspelled it.

“This is you being sweet?”

I just thanked you, didn't I? And what do I get, never ending feedback from the cheap seats and I can't even fuck in my own goddamn home...

I snorted. “Didn't seem to be stopping you last night.”

So that's what this is, he said. I'm sorry, I thought you were gay, I didn't think it would offend your delicate sensibilities.

I am gay, I said, and he made this face like I don't know about that, and fuck if that didn't just push all my buttons. I am so sick of being told that I don't count—as an artist, as Deaf, as gay—because I don't fit into someone's preconceived notions of what that looks like. Especially from smarmy pre-millennial corporate gays who have a chip on their shoulder from still being born too late to claim AIDS crisis baggage.

“Being gay does not require being an abusive shithole,” I said.

He rolled his eyes and set his jaw. Don't call me that.

“Justin was upset last night when we walked in on you,” I said. “Do you even care? Did you even notice?”

Brian was quiet for a long time, but finally he burst out with, Not that it continues to be any of your FUCKING business, but he was upset because he thought it was inconsiderate TO YOU, that it was going to remind you of walking in on your little interpreter fucking his side piece, not because of any kind of feeling he had about it. He wanted me to apologize to you. So, I'm so, so very sorry that you had to see a bit of an arrangement that doesn't fit your romantic standard. That is clearly very, very difficult for you.

I didn't say anything.

He coddles you, Brian said. He's so fucking grateful for everything you've done for him and he feels like he's never going to make it up to you, so he coddles you.

“That's probably a nice change of pace from coddling you all the time.”

He laughed humorlessly. He doesn't coddle me.

“Oh, bullshit. He lies down when you say lie down. Takes pills when you tell him to take pills.”

You have no idea what's going on with him.

“It's about his hand, I'm not a fucking idiot.”

He glanced at me but didn't say anything.

“You micromanage him and tell yourself you're playing the part of the caretaker, when really it's him kowtowing to your demands because he's, what was it? Coddling you.”

Brian's teeth worked his lower lip, and I knew I'd hit on something. Good.

“So he does it for me because of everything I've done for him,” I said as Brian pulled up outside my office. “Why does he do it for you?”

He smirked and stared at the windshield and didn't fire anything back, and I didn't feel good anymore.

Justin picked me up after work that day, eight hours and twelve more texts from Mario later. He looked pissed. Could you stop picking fights with my boyfriend on the way to work? he asked me. This is two days in a row his assistant's texted me that he's making the interns cry.

I didn't pick a fight.

I had to reassure him today that he's not abusive. So congratulations, you got to him, are you happy now?

Telling you to get out for fifteen more minutes so he can finish fucking some guy—

That's NOT what happened, Justin said. Can you just trust me?

He ordered you back to bed this morning.

Because I didn't sleep well last night and he knows if I don't sleep my hand is worse, and because he knows that if someone doesn't give me permission to lie around I'm going to beat myself up about being lazy and I won't do it. He knows me. Justin shook his head a little. I know you don't like him, but when you're giving him shit about not respecting me or whatever, have you stopped to consider that part of YOU respecting me is trusting that I get to decide who I want to be with? That if I'm fine with how he treats me, that you give me the autonomy to make my own decisions?

You're right, I said, because it was pretty hard in that moment to argue that Justin didn't know what the hell he was talking about. And because I'd spent all day not responding to Mario's texts. And because I felt bad. And because he was right.

Justin nodded.

But I couldn't help myself. I just...know how hearing guys are.

You know how one hearing guy is, he said.

Come on. You really think in all this time, I've dated one hearing guy?

He didn't say anything.

They all want to be the good guys, I said, waiting for pauses where he glanced away from the road. But sooner or later...and seeing him worry and fuss about you and your hand, yeah, it scares me, because this is how they all are. They worry, and they fuss, and then eventually it's too much for them, and they start thinking that you're holding them back and freaking out about how it's becoming their whole life, and they find some nice easy hearing guy to fuck around with instead. And let's not pretend Brian would have a hard time finding one, but I didn't say that part.

That's not Brian, Justin said. You know he has all the same worries you do about mixed relationships? He brings up all the same statistics to me that you do, when he's being insecure. You two aren't really all that different.

“Yeah, I keep hearing that,” I said, out loud, not for Justin.

He's scared about a mixed relationship because he's scared he's holding ME back. And you have got to know how rare that is. How fucking astronomical it is that he knew me, that we did everything we could possibly do together, back when I could hear, and now I can't and he isn't sitting around crying about how there's something wrong with me. Everyone looks at me like I'm a fucking charity case and he's worried my life is too big for HIM now. You're going to tell me that's nothing?

Not everyone looks at you like you're a charity case, I said. Deaf guys don't.

Yes, Deaf guys are great, he said. Deaf guys have everything going for them except for one little thing.

I looked at him.

He looked back and said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, They're not Brian.

I took a deep breath and looked out the window for a while.

Mario's leaving, I said eventually. He said it's his fault and he shouldn't be in the apartment. He's moving his stuff out tonight, and I'll be out of your hair tomorrow.

Justin sighed. You're not...

It's okay, I said, and he just shrugged. The awkwardness sucked, so I said, He signs really well when he's pissed.

Justin cracked a smile. I know, right? he said, and God, he was so proud.

The loft was empty when we got back. Justin opened up a beer for himself and one for me and went straight to his easel and a half-finished painting he was clearly in the middle of when he came to get me. I opened up my laptop and worked on some photo editing for our new ad campaign, and jumped about a foot when Brian tapped me on the shoulder some undetermined time later. I didn't even know he'd gotten back.

Sorry, he said. Just thought you should know, GQ is doing an ad with that same font next month. Saw a mock up of it today.

“Really? Shit.”

He shrugged. It's just font. You can change it.

I'd have to run it by a million higher-ups first, but still, it was nice of him to tell me. “Thanks,” I said.

He shrugged and walked backwards away from me and towards Justin's easel. You know, you don't have to speak to me, he said. I can understand you.

He probably thought I was being passive aggressive, like I was implying he couldn't understand me if I signed. Maybe I was. Sorry.

He shrugged again and put his hand on Justin's arm. You know what time it is?

Justin looked at the clock on the wall—ten to nine—and sighed. I'm right in the middle of this.

Well, you have ten minutes to find a stopping point. He headed towards the kitchen.

“Brian....” I saw Justin say.

No, Brian signed over his shoulder, and Justin rolled his eyes and dabbed some more paint on the canvas, and started to realize that yeah, I really, really hadn't understood that “fifteen minutes” thing last night. It wasn't Brian telling Justin to get lost. It was him making sure he'd be back by nine.

Because at nine o'clock exactly, they repeated their ritual from last night—tea for Justin, pills, a heating pad on his arm, a long, concentrated massage of his hand. An entry in a notebook that, now that I was eavesdropping more shamelessly, I realized was a record of Justin's symptoms. They did it all on the couch this time, sitting right next to me, and I didn't know if that was to rub it in my face or if Brian was maybe trying to reassure me that Justin was good with this, that he wasn't being pushed around.

You want a drink? Brian asked me, when the timer on the oven went off to indicate he'd been rubbing Justin's hand for a full half-hour. Justin's already met his daily allotment of one.

Anti-seizure meds Justin said. So fun.

I nodded to Brian and asked Justin, Are they helping? as Brian went to his liquor cart and started pouring two glasses.

Justin stalled, and Brian looked up and said, What did he ask?

If the meds are helping. Justin kept his eyes on Brian. We're giving them time.

Brian nodded, head down. His own hand was shaking a little as he handed me my drink. I don't know what it was—I'm not really some kind of alcohol connoisseur—but it was brown and tasted awful and would probably do the trick quickly.

It hurt, to see Brian that worried about Justin. It still scared me that he'd get overwhelmed and leave, it made me think about Mario when I was sick, it made me think about how nervous I was for Justin...it was a lot, and it hurt. So I set down my drink and said, Brian, who's the baby in the picture up there? just to give him anything else to talk about.

He smiled a little. My son, he said. It's an old picture, he's eight now.

You have a kid?

Brian nodded. Gus.

I named him, Justin said, and even though I'm sure Justin had told me at some point, it really struck me that that fuck, these two had been together for ages.

Brian took his phone out and showed me some more recent pictures, and that led to me going through his music and discovering his taste didn't actually suck, and that bored Justin who can't do anything more than feel a beat so he drifted back over to his canvas while Brian and I drank and shot the shit about Bright Eyes and Ladytron. But at some point, I heard Justin's voice from over by his easel, and the grin died on Brian's lips. I looked over, but Justin was still facing away from us.

I tugged on Brian's sleeve. What did he say?

What if it doesn't help, Brian signed, watching him. From the angle where we were flopped down on the floor, Justin could see me, but not him, so Brian told me, Tell him to come here.

I did, and Justin came over to our cushions on the floor and settled himself next to Brian. Brian immediately pulled Justin's hand into his lap and started massaging it again, and I lay back and contemplating how very drunk I was at this point.

We will figure something out, Brian says. Just like we did seven years ago when you couldn't draw. We figured it out.

There's no magic computer for signing.

He kissed Justin's fingers. So we'll invest in one.

What am I even going to be? Justin says. If I can't hear, and I can't sign, what even am I?

Well, that was ridiculous, so before Brain could say anything—and I sort of regret that, because I do wonder what he would have said—I sat up and said, You're Deaf.

But if I can't—

No, I said. You are Deaf. Even if you could never sign a fucking word again. We're not letting go of you that easy. You're ours now.

I glanced at Brian, but he just nodded encouragingly at Justin.

There are a million ways to be Deaf, I said to him. Just like there are a million ways to be gay.

Fine, so I said that last part to piss off Brian. But fuck if he didn't raise his glass to me, just a little bit, and fuck if there wasn't a smile in his eyes.

And, Goddamn it all, I knew what Justin had meant in the car.

**

I must have passed out on those cushions on the floor for a little while. When I woke up, the lights in the loft were still on, and Brian and Justin were cleaning up the kitchen. Justin was talking out loud a little, and Brian ducked his head and laughed at something he said. It felt peaceful.

At some point, Brian was wiping down the counter, and Justin signed, I forgot we were married the other day.

Wait, what the fuck? They were married?

Brian cocked an eyebrow.

Gregory asked me if I wanted to get married someday, Justin said. And I sat there and like, CONSIDERED it. And I didn't remember I was already married for like two minutes.

I'm so glad you said that, Brian said. Because I forget all the fucking time.

Oh God, you do?

Constantly.

Justin laughed a little. That makes me feel a lot better. I'd been beating myself up about it.

I always thought it would feel...I don't know. I would have thought I'd be chewing my leg off. But it doesn't feel any different.

Justin nodded.

So what did you say? Brian asked, grinning. Did you want to get married someday?

Oh, God, I said I didn't know!

Brian cracked up. I don't know either, he said. You want to get divorced?

Kind of, Justin said, and Brian came around to his side of the counter and wrapped his arms around him, and Justin leaned into his chest for a while. Eventually he pulled back a little and signed, When I picked Gregory up that night he apologized for bothering me, and I said, you know, it's fine, you'd do the same for me if...

Brian smirked at him.

I couldn't get it out then, either! Justin said. It just felt so ridiculous. And it felt like...patronizing, for me to sit there in the car with him after they'd just broken up and act like I even...thought there was some possibility that that could happen to me. Like it felt like I would be insulting him to act like there was any element of fucking...risk here.

Are you getting bored? Brian said. I can go out and do something really, really reckless and completely fuck this up if you want. Should I sleep with Daphne? Call in a bomb threat to Molly's school? How's your dad's girlfriend, should I put out a hit?

Sure, if you want.

Brian studied him, smiling kind of strangely. Holy shit. You're panicking about commitment.

I am not panicking.

You are! Holy shit. You realized you can't even imagine a life without me so then you went and forgot you were married. You are so freaking out.

It's just...I realized how much I've assumed you're going to be there and how much it would fuck me up if something happened so then part of my brain was thinking maybe it would be better if I just...oh God, I'm panicking, aren't I?

This isn't just any panicking, this is MY panicking. He grabbed Justin and hugged him, rocking him back and forth. This is amazing, he said, after he'd let him go. I'm the strong, secure one, and you're the one freaking out. Can I record this? I want to watch this on my phone every day for the rest of my life.

You HAD to pull out the 'rest of my life' shit right now, didn't you?

Brian grabbed his face and kissed him. This is amazing, he said again. You are so scared.

Just don't GO anywhere, Justin insisted. Make it okay that I'm this complacent, okay?

Brian kissed him. Okay.

God. We really didn't have a chance that anyone else on earth would put up with us, did we?

Not for a second, Brian said.

They finished cleaning the kitchen and then turned off the lights and skipped off to bed, and I thanked God I was too fucking drunk to bother trying to figure them the hell out.

**

I was going back to my apartment the next day, but first, Brian drove me to work for the last time. We turned up the music very, very loud instead of talking, which we really should have figured out a few days ago.

Thanks, I said, when he pulled up outside my building. He nodded, and I felt the urge to say something more. You know, your signing is really good, I said. You should be more confident about it.

He chewed his lip, but I could tell he was trying not to smile. And you are about four points above Mario, on a one out of ten scale. Plus he's boring. You can do a lot better.

I shrugged a little.

And if you just want to fuck some hearing guy to piss him off? I mean... He grinned. I have references.

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car, and I could hear him laughing as I closed the door.

I'd think about it.