Justin had a truly triumphant grin as he walked with his arm possessively around Brian's shoulder. Brian's look, however, was a bit more sheepish. He'd been had. Bested. Busted.

"Sooo...," Justin crooned, his voice deep and husky as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I'm totallynot in the mood for Vera this year. I was thinking perhaps..." He paused for what Brian always thought of as 'that damned fucking dramatic effect' and slapped his hand against his partner's chest. "...perhaps something vintage that would accentuate my ass...ets."

"Justin..." Brian rolled his tongue tightly in his cheek as Justin continued.

"Raw silk, perhaps. But not white. That would just be tres gauche." He shook his head theatrically and then suddenly brightened. "But, there's this little number Molly and I found on Etsy..."

"Justin!" There was a definite growling sound to the name this time.

The younger man grinned even more widely. "Brian, Brian, Brian... This is a huge moment for Pennsylvania. The states are falling like dominoes! You really didn't think I was going to let it pass without comment, did you?"

"Oh, Sunshine, believe me. I've known you far too long to expect anything as reasonable as that, Mr. 'we-don't-need-rings-or-vows'."

"Oh! So we're changing our last names, after all?"

"Fuck you."

Justin chuckled and lightly bit Brian on the chin. "Come on, big guy. Let's go home."

:::

They had moved back to the Pitts a few years ago in the wake of Brian becoming a less hands-on part of Kinnetik NY. It had been time, with serious health scares from both Debbie and Ben. The lesbians had returned on their heels and the family was, once more, together in one city.

Brian had lasted two whole years after Justin left for the Big Apple before following him. Long distance just wasn't his cup of tea, he discovered, and it was a surprise to both of them that the distance bothered Brian so much more than it bothered Justin. At least that's what Justin let Brian believe when the man almost literally showed up on his doorstep with his Mies Van der Rohe furniture in tow. Brian had facetiously promised Justin that he would do anything, be anything if he could just have that ample ass in close proximity.

Over the next few months, Justin had rebuffed two more marriage proposals from Brian. One drunken, one only slightly less-so. "When it's legal in the state we live in," Justin promised with a knowing chuckle, "I'll let you race me to the altar."

New York made same-sex marriage legal two months after Justin and Brian returned permanently to their estate outside of Pittsburgh. Brian felt like he'd dodged the proverbial bullet. Justin just laughed inwardly, knowing neither one really felt the need to marry anymore. They'd made their relationship work on their own terms for the last seven years. Or fourteen, depending on when one started counting. They didn't need marriage. They were good.

Hell, they were beyond good.

:::

"Yeah, me too, Sonny Boy. Get to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

"Gus doing okay?" The call hadn't been a long one but Justin knew it was a bit odd for the now fourteen year-old to call his dad this late on a Tuesday night. He should have been in bed an hour ago.

"Fine. Just a bit weirded out, I think. His mothers were celebrating their newly official status now that their Canadian marriage will most likely be recognized in Pennsylvania."

Justin nodded and returned his attention to the computer and the vintage costume search he'd promised to do for his sister, Molly. She'd landed herself a nice part-time gig as a dresser for a community theater group and he'd offered to lend her his artistic eye for their non-musical production of The Marriage of Figaro. "Yeah, Michael and Ben are doing the same thing, no doubt."

"Yeah. No doubt there is much legally sanctioned fucking going on at chez Novotny-Bruckner tonight," Brian agreed. "I'm heading to bed. Teleconference at five-fucking-o'clock in the morning with that French fucker, Corison," Brian grumbled. "You coming?"

"Give me five minutes. Almost finished here."

:::

Brian lay awake long after Justin came to bed. Long after the earth-shattering orgasms. Long after Justin began that quiet little snuffling-in-his-sleep thing he always did. He knew he was going to be for shit on the teleconference with Corison in a few hours. Damned Pittsburgh-Paris time difference. His mind was reeling a mile a minute and he seemed powerless to shut it off. He'd never been one for sleeping a lot, but he'd become a little more disciplined about it over the last several years. But... something Justin had said as he was falling asleep kept looping in Brian's head...

"'Night, Brian. Love you."

"'Night, brat. Get to sleep. It's been a long day."

"Yeah... long day... states and dominoes falling... and marriage and vintage clothes..." and then Justin began his little snuffle-snore.

And Brian lay there awake. Justin's words and the conversation earlier in the day running through his head. ...perhaps something vintage that would accentuate my ass...ets... and marriage and vintage clothes... and he thought of Justin's excitement when he heard about the U. S. District Court's decision striking down the same-sex marriage ban in Pennsylvania today... Surely he didn't... of course he wasn't thinking...

For all his offers to be anything, do anything, Brian just wasn't cut out for that marriage crap. He was sure Justin knew it by now. Why fix something that isn't broken? They worked, dammit! That's all that mattered.

But when he looked over at his lover, his partner, his whole fucking world laying peacefully beside him, Brian knew he would do anything, be anything... and he knew Justin knew that, too. And the knowing of it was all Justin had ever needed. Not the marriage, but the commitment. And he already had that and more. It had taken Brian a hell of a long time to fall, but when he did he fell hard. He reached over and brushed the hair from Justin's face, laying a small kiss on his temple.

"As hard as those damned dominoes, Sunshine. One wall after another."

Brian curled himself up behind Justin, putting all the angst away, and smirked.

As if his pampered princess would ever wear a vintage wedding dress. It would be Vera Wang all the way.