BRIAN’S POV

I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden

6:39 a.m., Monday morning, in front of the loft

It wasn’t until I opened the door to the loft and looked right at it that I felt my overwhelming desire not to take the elevator this morning. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna explain to him why I’d prefer to drag his brand new suitcases down the stairs. He’s in a good mood, freshly fucked and dressed to kill.

I love breakfast.

“Brian, why aren’t we taking the ‘vette?” Think about it for a minute.

“Because it’s easier to take a cab.” I’m not dealing with a parking garage. Not taking a chance. And it would have to be raining or starting to rain. Wonderful.

“Just quit with the hovering umbrella, okay? You’re making me feel like Michael Jackson.” Here comes the cab right now. Right on time.

“Just getting you ready for Hollywood, ‘Hollywood.’” He just moonwalked. When the fuck did he learn how to moonwalk? “Apparently, you’ve been practicing.”

“Oh my god, I almost busted my ass doing that! Did you see that?” Rain makes sidewalks slippery, Jacko.

“Yeah. It was quite entertaining. I wouldn’t suggest showing off that talent in the clubs out there. Not your sexiest move.” He closes the trunk and grabs the umbrella out of my hand.

“Would you quit it with the damn umbrella?” I grab it back and poke him in the ass with it. Repeatedly. It has this long, silver pointy thing on the end. A million and one uses.

“Get…in…the…fucking…cab.” He tells me he’s going by himself if I don’t quit it. I tell him I’m going to do more than poke him with it if he doesn’t slide the fuck over so I can get in. “Now, Sunshine, unless you wanna be startin’ somethin’.” I get in and tell the cabbie to head to Pittsburgh International.

I’ve embarrassed the shit out of Justin now. He’s cutting his eyes at me. “Beat it.” We both bust out laughing. I pull out my cell phone and hand it to him. “I’m not taking your cell phone, Brian. I told you I’ll get one as soon as I get out there.”

“You should have had your cereal. You’re always bitchy when you don’t eat breakfast, and I’m not giving you my cell phone. I want you to do me a favor and download one of those songs for me. One of those ringing songs.”

“I didn’t have time to eat my breakfast because you were fucking me,” he whispers the last part. Like a cab driver hasn’t heard it all. “You don’t know how to download one, do you?” He thinks that’s funny.

“No, I don’t. Just do it and shut up. And if you’re quick about it and do a good job, I’ll let you have the snack that I brought for you in my pocket.” I can’t believe I’m doing this, bribing him with food.

“You brought me a snack?” He’s so excited. Why does this make me want to make out with him all day?

“I brought you a breakfast bar.”

“Which kind? Apple or strawberry?” Jesus. I have to look in my pocket.

“Uh, guess.”

“Apple?”

“Nope. Sorry. Thank you for playing. We have a lovely strawberry breakfast bar as your consolation prize.” He’s excited now because strawberry’s really his favorite. Like I don’t know that.

“Give it to me.”

“Do my ringy thingy.” He sticks his tongue out at me. I pretend to eat his snack. He gets busy.

“What song do you want?”

“Hotel California.” He smiles like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” He starts pushing buttons ninety miles an hour and mumbling to himself. I contemplate really eating his snack. I’m hungry. “Hmmm. No, I don’t want that one. Doesn’t sound very good. Let me check this app. That’s pretty good.” The hell it is. That sounded like shit.

“I don’t want that one. It sounded like the ice cream truck version.”

“Ha, what do you have bad memories of the ice cream truck man, Brian?” He mocks me. Mocks me. “Let me listen to this one. I get a lot of my rings off of this one.”

“As a matter of fact I do, only it was an ice cream truck woman.” So there. Shithead.

“Okay, let me check these two others and then see which one I like the best. What’d she do? Molest you with a fudgesicle?” He thinks he’s so funny. I actually brought him two breakfast bars, but see if I tell him that now.

“No, it was much worse than a fudgesicle, Sunshine. It was one of those fourth of July popsicles, those red, white, and blue ones. I think it even had a firecracker inside it.”

“Oh my god! Stop it! A firecracker!” I won. He lost it. “You know you would be an ice cream truck man if that happened to you, if someone put a firecracker popsicle up your ass! You would’ve loved it!” I flick him really hard on the side of his head. “Ow, fuck!”

“Fucker. Me? You. You’re the most firecracker popsicle ass lover if there ever was one.”

This is the most retarded conversation I’ve ever had with anyone, and I’m having so much fun, and he’s fantasizing. Big surprise, there.

“Yeah, really, just think about it. It'd be all cold, and then red, and then white, and then blue, and then KAPOW!” He waves his hands in the air. “Brian, Brian—“

“Justin, Justin—“ He slaps me.

“Rage and JT could totally market these things. They could do a commercial or a print ad or whatever with those old Batman ‘KAPOEY’ and ‘YOWZA’ things when the firecracker goes off in JT’s ass.”

“I get to drive the truck.”

“There’s no truck, Brian.”

Shit.

“Okay, I found a version I like. It just takes a second to download.”

“ZOWIE!” He flicks me back.

“So you want Hotel California because it reminds you of me being in California? That’s sweet.” Sappy little firecracker ass.

“No. That’s not why I want it.” He thinks about it. Scrunches up his little nose.

“Why? Because of warm smell of colitis, rising up through the air? Is that why?”

“That’s a good reason. But no, that’s not why. You’ll never guess.” He hands me back my phone.

“Here, it’s done. It’s the default ring tone for right now. I’ll tell you how to fix it for just my number when I get my new phone. Give me my snack.” I give him his strawberry breakfast bar and the small bottle of orange juice in my other pocket. He’s so fucking happy. He kisses me. “Okay, so just tell me why since I’ll never guess.”

“Because it’s an amazing song, but mostly because of the line you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

“That reminds you of me?” Mouthful of breakfast bar.

“Yeah, sort of, it’s my slogan for your ass.”

“Brian!” He looks at me to try to figure out if I’m kidding and then he realizes that I’m not.

“Has been for four years.” I shrug my shoulders. “Sorry if it pisses you off.” He finishes his breakfast and stares out the window. I put my arm around him, very carefully. He says his words to the window.

“I guess it’s a compliment.” I say my words in his ear.

“You’re damn right it is.” He looks back at me and smiles for a second.

“You better not have told anybody else that.”

“Just your mom.” He jabs the fuck out of me with his elbow. “Damn! It’s top secret. Confidential. A matter of national security, locked up tighter than your sweet, little—“

“I get it, Brian.” His hand rests on my leg, snug.

“So, can I have my song back when you get your new phone? My little less conversation, little more action?” I am the King. I think that’s been well established.

“You want the Elvis song that reminds me of my mother’s horniness?”

“You should give it back to me. You know, reassign it. Give it a new and better image.”

“Like one of your ad campaigns?” He’s not going for this one bit. “You know, she told me on the phone last night about her new boyfriend.” This is not going very well.

“Well, if you’d gone to your party last night, she could’ve told you in person like she wanted to.”

“That would’ve made it so much better.” I pull him closer. He settles against me. His eyes still outside his window.

“Don’t you think if Debbie’s getting some dick that your mom should get some, too?” He’s as bad as Michael.

“Okay, can we just stop talking about het sex altogether? I’m gonna toss my breakfast.” He folds his arms and pouts. I kiss the top of his head as I try not to laugh.

“Just give me my damn song and forget about it.” I want my song, damnit.

“Shut up, Brian.” I reach in my pocket and pull out the other breakfast bar, shaking it back and forth.

“Lookie what I brought you.” He takes the breakfast bar, opens it and takes a bite.

“Did you bring me some more juice, too?” Shit.

“No.”

“Then, too bad. No song.”

Twat.

*****************************

Cheer up, sleepy jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.


~~Office of the Assistant Director of Homeland Perversity, Washington D.C., 7:16 a.m., Monday morning~~


This is the part of my job that I hate the most.

“Agent Kinney, I assume you understand why you’re here today?”

“Yes, your majesty.” And this is why I hate it. Him. Since when do we debrief an agent before eight a.m. on a Monday morning? Whose coffee did I piss in to get shafted with this fucktard? “I was briefly briefed about this debriefing last Thursday, I believe.”

“Good. Please sign this document stating that you’re aware of the purpose of this meeting today.” I must admit, though, he looks damn fine in all of our regulation black. Black suit, black overcoat, black sunglasses. Which, true to form, he never takes off.

He slides the form back across my desk. Signed. Let’s get this party started.

“Okay, Agent Kinney. I have to do this by myself today, so I will be recording this for your file. Please sign this form indicating that you understand that this conversation is being recorded. While you’re doing that, let me explain the situation to you in very basic terms:

Your employment with the Department of Homeland Perversity, where you have been employed for the last four years, is being terminated as of today. Due to your irrevocable actions in the field over the last four years and the fact that you have blown your cover with your suspect, the United States government has also raised the terror alert in this country to code ‘brown.’”

“Excuse me, your honor, but I wasn’t aware there was a code ‘brown.’”

“It’s not published. That’s the color we go to when the shit hits the fan.”

“I see.”

“And you may address me as ‘Agent P.’ I am neither a judge nor a queen. Although word has it that you are—“

“’P’ for Perversity?” Honestly. Whatever. It’s not worth trying to reprogram him.

“Sure. Whatever works for you. May I continue?”

“Yes, your highness.” Jesus.

“The purpose of this meeting is for you to fully brief me concerning your illicit actions over the past four years, primarily dealing with how your cover was blown so that I can minimize the damage to this agency and this country. At the conclusion of this meeting today, you will be stripped of your credentials, any weapons you still possess, and you will cease to be affiliated with this department any longer. In essence—“

“I’ll be disavowed.”

“That is correct.”

“Before you begin, let me say on behalf of the department, that I was sorry to hear about your bout with testicular cancer in Phase Four of our operation, although I hear it made little to no difference in your extracurricular activities, as well as the death of your father in the initial phase of your assignment. In addition, the department sincerely regrets the trumped up child molestation charge it fabricated. Our intentions of inventing that scenario to help you integrate yourself more firmly into the homosexual lifestyle were based on completely erroneous research. Those on the Phase Three panel that made that decision have all been terminated—permanently. You may begin.”

“I need a microphone.”

“No, you don’t. This entire office is bugged. Just talk.”

“Okay. Um, my name is soon-to-be-not Agent Brian A. Kinney of the Department of Homeland Perversity. I’ve been working undercover for the last four years tracking homosexual conversion terrorist sleeper cells inside the United States, namely a group called HOMOST. I’m married with one son. My wife’s name is Lindsay Peterson. She’s also currently undercover. I take her employment is ending as well?”

“Yes. She’s also done a bang up job. Must run in the family.” Can’t be a very good undercover lesbian if you’re gonna fuck every man that comes to town.

“And my son’s name is Gus. About four years ago I became aware of a sleeper cell of HOMOST operating within St. James Academy which was headed by a young man by the name of Chris Hobbes. Hobbes was very influential and recruited many other students to join him very quickly. One of those students was Justin Taylor. Justin Taylor became the lead recruiter of the group because of his ability to socialize, flirt, and attract men of all ages and bring in new recruits quickly. Hobbes dealt mostly with the higher ups. I’ve spent the last four years attempting to maintain a relationship with Justin Taylor in an attempt to remain on the inside of this very volatile cell.”

“Hobbes is a very violent man, is he not?”

“Yes, he is. As with any terrorist organization, there is a lot of infighting within HOMOST. Hobbes has a very violent temper, and he attacked Mr. Taylor shortly after my relationship with him had really started to solidify. I believe that’s where I began to lose my way, Mother Superior. I ended up having to protect him a lot of the time, even keep vigil at the hospital at night to be sure that Hobbes didn’t come around and try to hurt him again.”

“I know that having your suspect almost killed right in front of you was unbelievably difficult for you, Agent Kinney.”

“You can’t possibly understand how difficult. His survival and my access to him was crucial to the success of the operation. I had given up being with my wife when our son was born for this assignment. I let Mr. Taylor name my son, and then took him home and fucked him while my wife was in the hospital with my newborn son. I had worked too hard to throw it all away.”

“Understood. The department deeply regrets the timing of your initial contact with Mr. Taylor. We in no way meant for it to coincide with the birth of your son. It was an unfortunate coincidence.”

“You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave Lindsay with that HOMOST bitch whore that night.”

“And yet you pulled it off flawlessly, Agent Kinney? How?”

“A B C D E E E. Duh.”

“Of course. Dumb question.” We lose so many of our undercovers to drugs. Agent Schmidt….god…he was touch and go for a long time. Once we cut Kinney loose, we’ll lose him for sure.

“And then, at some point, this relationship with Mr. Taylor crossed the line?”

“Yes. I had to remain extremely cold and distant in order to keep my cover, and as a result, Mr. Taylor left me for months. It was impossible for me to do my job without him with me. I had to have him back. When he returned, I realized he was more to me than just a homosexual terrorist.”

“And your wife?”

“We’d have the occasional walk in the park. I’d see my son, etc.”

“You do realize that you’re not the only man she’s fucking?”

“There are no secrets between my wife and I, Inspector Gadget.” I’ve angered him. His temper is well-documented.

“So she knows you take it up the ass…occasionally?”

“Don’t go there.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ and make a note in your file.” And hers.

“Look, I was balancing the two just fine until you guys forced me to give up my parental rights—“

“That was a mistake on our part. We had every intention of correcting that. Some paralegal thought that up. A temp." Blake somebody.

“Whatthefuckever.”

“So back to Mr. Taylor. When did this all go down the drain, Agent Kinney. When did you pass the point of no return?”

“Last Thursday, when Mr. Taylor—oh, fuck it, Justin, told me he was leaving me again. That he was going to L.A. for eight months. It was too much.”

“And what happened?”

“I freaked. I stowed him away in a hotel all weekend, bought him an ungodly amount of clothes, luggage, etc. Made love to him until he was literally dazed and confused.” Agent Kinney’s reputation precedes him in that department. “And then I told him I loved him.”

“You what?”

“I told him the truth. I told him I love him.”

“Let me guess. That’s what blew your cover, wasn’t it?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly? Possibly? Agent Kinney, forgive my tone, but what is the first thing you learn when you come to work for the Department of Homeland Perversity? The first thing?”

I cannot fucking believe this. After the amount of money we put into training people. Son.of.a.bitch.

“The department does not believe in love, it believes in fucking.”

Well, that’s sort of it. It believes in fucking UP. But he was close enough. I don’t have the patience to nit pick with him today. What the fuck does it matter now?

“That’s right, Agent Kinney. Your job was to keep your dick up his ass and your heart in an undisclosed location. Pretty simple, if you ask me. Was that too difficult for you?”

“Not exactly. I just kind of panicked there towards the end. I guess you could say I was queening-out.”

“I don’t find that funny, Agent Kinney. Not one little bit.”

“Maybe I just wanted to keep getting my cock sucked. Really well.” We could have trained his fucking wife to do that. Hell, I teach that class.

“Still, not funny. Well, all I need you to do now is tell me the exact details of the specific event that blew your cover, you’ll sign some more papers, and then you’re free to go.”

“Well, Agent 99, the incident started around seven-thirty a.m. when Justin and I arrived at Pittsburgh International Airport.”

“Wait, do you mean to tell me, Agent Kinney, that you made it four years without blowing your cover and you blew it at the fucking airport?”

“We were early for his flight and had a little time to kill. His flight wasn’t going to take off until eight forty-seven a.m. Funny you should say ‘blew it’…."

************************************
JUSTIN’S POV

And while I'm away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won't be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide

7:29 a.m. Monday morning, Pittsburgh International Airport

“I guess this is where we wait.” He was awfully quiet for the last half of the cab ride. His mind was a million miles away. We’re early. I told him we’d have plenty of time. That’s okay. “There aren’t many people here, not as many as I thought there’d be for a Monday morning.”

“Probably because you’re flying non-stop. Plus, it’s U.S. Airways. They aren’t as busy here as American.” He takes my carry-on from me and puts it next to my suitcase and sits down in an area of empty seats. I sit down beside him. It’s drizzling outside, but he’s still wearing his sunglasses. We’re facing a huge window though. There’s glare. “How long’s your flight again?”

“Five hours and nine minutes.” He puts his arm around the back of my chair.

“Your day is going to be fucked up. You’re going to get there and feel like your day started over.”

“I’m a youngster. I can handle it.” I smile at him. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got that whole stack of cards and letters from everyone to read, plus two books, plus my sketchpads, plus my ipod. I’ll be busy.” I put my left hand on his thigh.

“I wish you had a cell phone. You need to get one as soon as you get out there. It bugs me, you not having one.”

“I know. You’ve told me three times. I’ll call you from the airport as soon as I land, okay? And if I can, I’ll get a phone today with my extra three hours.”

I look up at him and smile, but he’s looking straight ahead and out the window that’s probably fifteen feet in front of us, just staring at the runway. If he’s gonna wear his sunglasses, I’m gonna wear mine. When in Rome… I pull them out of my jacket that’s laying on top of my suitcase and put them on. He looks down at me and grins, then kisses the top of my head. He pulls me a little closer.

“Don’t you want to take your overcoat off, Brian? Aren’t you hot?” His hand brushes through the back of my hair for a brief second and resumes its place back on my shoulder just as quickly.

“I’m fine.”

I don’t have anything else to say, and it’s actually kind of nice just to be quiet like this with him, watching planes taxi on the runway, watching trucks and maintenance people scurry around while we just sit here calmly next to each other breathing. I look at him, my head against his shoulder, at all of his layers. His shirt, his jacket, his overcoat, his scarf just inside his coat. His perfectly coordinated tie. Everything dark today, almost black, except the shirt and some kind of stripy thing on the tie. He looks impeccable. Impenetrable. Like a rock. A rock that smells really good.

My rock.

I don’t have anything to say, but there’s so much I want to tell him.

Like thank you for everything you’ve done for me. That if it wasn’t for you believing in me every single time I was ready to give up, there’s no way I would be sitting here right now, ready to get on this plane in the first place. If it wasn’t for you pushing me when I was convinced I couldn’t draw or didn’t want to draw or figuring out a way to help me draw, I wouldn’t have had a reason to get on this plane. Thank you for trying so hard to teach me when you need to stand up for something and when you need to stand up for yourself and that sometimes there’s a difference—and that sometimes there’s not. Thank you for all the times that I was the ugliest, most frustrating person in the world, and all you ever did was tell me or show me or make me feel beautiful.

Like he’s doing right now because he’s decided to kiss me. So we’re kissing right in the middle of this indoor waiting area wearing our sunglasses on this sort of drizzly Monday.

We kiss for a long time.

And I have so much to say, so much I want to tell him, but I don’t. I just say,

“You look really nice today, Brian. Really nice.” He pulls me close and kisses me on the forehead, doesn’t say anything. “You kind of look like an F.B.I. agent or something with all this black on and your shades.”

And then he speaks.

“I am. Come here.”

*************************
the future’s so bright
I’ve gotta wear shades

He takes me by the hand with my suitcase and my carry-on, so I grab my jacket, and leads me over to the corner by the window. I think it was getting too crowded for him where we were. I guess. I don’t ask. I don’t really care. He directs me to the corner and boxes me in with my suitcases, leaning me against the wall. I can see the whole waiting area. His back is to everybody. He can see out the window.

He leans over me, blocking my view of anything but him. If I wanted to, I could disappear inside his overcoat. He pulls out his wallet and flips it open. I wish everyone would quit thinking that I need money.

“Mr. Taylor, my name is Agent Kinney, and I’m with the Department of Homeland Perversity. I’ve been tracking your movements for the last four years--“

I start laughing, and then I look at his face, and I stop.

“And I regret to inform you that I’m going to have to take you into custody.” He puts his wallet away. Doesn’t give me any money. I already knew what his driver’s license looked like anyway.

“Why?” I’m glad I have my sunglasses on. Helps me look serious, like him.

“I have evidence that you’re going to attempt to smuggle contraband onto this flight. I have to stop you.”

I wish I had something up my ass right now.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s my sworn duty to protect American citizens from conniving, scheming, flirty, hot, young bottom boys like yourself.” I put one hand around his waist and run my fingers up and down his neck tie with the other.

“How do you know you’ve got the right man, Agent Kinney?” He leans in and gets right in next to my ear.

“To be perfectly honest, Mr. Taylor, I’m not positive. My suspect goes by several aliases: ‘Sunshine,’ ‘Mr. Justin,’ ‘Little Shit,’ ‘Stupid Little Twat,’ ‘J.T.,’ and, and you’re gonna love this one, ‘Well-Dressed Vigilante,’ and I’m sure there are others. He’s the craftiest little devil I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t say?” He teases my ear with his tongue and then continues.

“If I have to, Mr. Taylor, I’ll employ my top secret interrogation techniques in order to determine if I’ve got the right man.”

“And just where do you think you’re going to do that, Agent Kinney?” I look around at the waiting area filling up with people.

“Right here.”

“Right here? And risk blowing your cover?”

“That’s not what you’ll be blowing, Mr. Taylor. Your knees, please.”

Agent Kinney with all of his years of training knows how to put people in hiding. He sort of manages to nestle me behind my suitcases and behind him and cover me quite nicely with his overcoat. I think about telling him ‘no way, I’m not doing this,’ but then I remember that I’m doing this for my country. I look up at him as I unzip his pants, and he takes my sunglasses off.

“No fair, Br—Agent Kinney. You still have yours on.”

“Making sure I’ve got the right man.” He tucks my glasses in his shirt pocket and lays his hand on the back of my head. He’s pretty much hard. By the time I get him in my mouth that part of the job is done. I don’t waste time. Agent Kinney’s a busy man—who’s trying not to moan. “Fuck this up, Taylor, and I’ll have to strip search you.” I totally contemplate fucking this up as I do what I do best with my tongue. “Mmm, I’ve definitely got the right man.”

You’ve had him for four years.

Sir.

I suck him fast, and he’s working with me, or working me, I should say. It’s been a long time since it’s been like this, him pushing the back of my head, controlling the pace. He wants to be the foreman on this job. I let him. The words I hear when he comes are words I’ve never heard before when Brian’s come is streaming down my throat.

“DADDY! DADDY! There’s Daddy, Mommy!”

I almost choke.

Brian has never yanked his dick out of someone’s mouth so fast in his life.

“Stay where you are, Justin. Pretend you’re getting something out of that suitcase. The front pocket.” Shit.

He turns around. I fuck with my suitcase. Does he know what’s in the front of this suitcase? A butt plug. Who in the world packs a butt plug in the front pocket of a damn suitcase? I’m going to kill him.

“Hey, Sonny Boy!” Gus runs right past Brian and jumps on top of me.

“MR. JUSTIN! MR. JUSTIN! Did you see the planes? All the planes! Did you see them? Come here! Come look!” He yanks me to the window. Brian glares at me because he got bypassed. I glare back and mouth butt plug, front pocket.

“Nice job, Agent Kinney.” He flips me off. Gus is pounding on the windows, going crazy. Lindsay is just now catching up to him. “Did you know he was coming, Brian?” Coming when you would be coming? A better question, probably. He shrugs his shoulders.

“Maybe.”

Honestly. Lindsay grabs Gus for a minute and lectures him about running ahead of her, so Brian comes and stands beside me at the window, putting his arm around me. It’s a post-coital thing, I can tell. Insta-cuddle.

“That had to be one of the weirdest things we’ve ever done, Agent Kinney.” His nose is in my hair. It always is after he comes lately. It’s sweet.

“Your fellatio talents will always give you away, Taylor. Let that be a lesson to you.”

“Can I just tell you that I’m worried about you? I haven’t even left yet, and you’re already role playing.” He gives that serious thought.

“You’re not a spy if they make you spy.”

Oh, Jesus.

***************************************
Oh, big ol' jet airliner
Don't carry me too far away

“Give it to me, Mommy! Give it!” Lindsay reaches into her purse and hands Gus a piece of paper. He immediately tears across the waiting area to give to me. “Mr. Justin, this is for you! This is a picture of your plane!”

I bend down and take it from him. From his perspective, this plane has crashed. It’s laying on the grass, but it’s still the greatest plane I’ve ever seen.

“Thank you, Gus. I love it.” He grabs it out of my hand and turns it over.

“See, Mr. Justin? Look, G-U-S. I signed my name.” I give him a hug.

“You sure did. I’m proud of you, Gus. This is fantastic. You know I’m going to miss you, right?” I can feel him nodding on my shoulder. I doubt he really understands. He’s pointing out the window because a plane is taking off.

“Is that your plane, Mr. Justin? Is that the plane that’s going to the movies?”

“No, mine hasn’t left yet, but it will in a few minutes. I’ve got to go pretty soon.” I walk with him to the window and hold him up so he can see better. Brian's standing with Lindsay a few feet away. Gus is quiet and still in my arms as he watches the plane take off. He’s mesmerized, almost in a trance until it’s in the air. Yeah, there’s no way he would’ve missed this for the world.

“There it goes! Bye!” We wave good-bye to it together. “You’re gonna be in a really long movie, Mr. Justin. A movie for a long time.” I think about trying to make him understand, but I just smile and put my sunglasses on his face for a second.

“Now you look like a movie star.”

“Yeah, Daddy, look at me!” Brian smiles at him and looks at his watch. His signal to me. “I’m like you, Daddy!” I look over at Brian, and somehow he just knows I need his help with this. This is really hard for me. He walks over to me and takes Gus out of my arms.

“All right, Sonny Boy, you’re gonna have to tell Mr. Justin good-bye so he can go get on one of those planes, so you can watch him take off.” Gus is extremely excited about that and to be with Brian for a few minutes. “Go say good-bye to Linds first.”

I spend a few minutes with Lindsay who’s sweet and gracious and reminds me that I’m as important to her and Gus as Brian is, and if you ask Gus, probably more so. I laugh and tell her ‘no,’ and then we both look over at Gus running circles around Brian and crack up. She gives me a hug, and I promise to give her my new cell number when I get one.

“Come here, Gus. I want to tell you good-bye.” I bend down next to some empty seats and he comes over with a funny look on his face. Brian is right behind him. I hug him again and tell him I’ll miss him and that I love him. “And you can call me if you want and send me pictures. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah, Daddy said I can bring them to his office and scam them.” Brian just shakes his head. “And then put them in a emelope for you and put them in the big mailbox.”

“Or you can email them if you want.”

“And put them in the big mailbox.” Brian rolls his eyes again. I guess he never had a thing for the post office. I can’t really see Brian drawing pictures anyway.

“Sure. You’re gonna stay and watch my plane take off?” Lindsay told me they were, that it’s all Gus has been talking about for the last twenty-four hours. That he was determined to bring the kitten along. I’m glad we didn’t get a call about that at five-thirty this morning. Machine would’ve picked that up.

“Yeah. I’m gonna stay and be with Daddy.” That’s probably a good thing.

“Your Daddy would probably like that.” Lindsay comes up and takes Gus’ hand.

“Come on, Gus. You and I are going to go over here and watch these other planes for a while until Daddy’s ready. Tell Mr. Justin ‘bye bye.’” I give him a quick kiss before he walks away, waving to me as he goes.

“Bye bye, Mr. Justin. I’m gonna see your big plane go to the movies.”

“Good-bye, Gus.”

I can’t look up at Brian until I put my sunglasses back on my face.

*******************************
And when I go away
I know my heart can stay with my love
It's understood

“So, you have a lot to do at work today?” His hand is warm over mine as we stand together as far as we can go.

“Got a presentation for a new client at ten, and I’ll have to spend the rest of the day playing catch up, I’m sure.” That’s why he’s so dressed up. He has to be brilliant today.

“You didn’t even prep this weekend. Didn’t say a word about it, not once.” That’s a first.

“Getting to be old hat, I guess. I’ll just go in there and put it on auto-pilot.” We both laugh at that and then we don’t. Pilots. Planes. Departures. I reach up and take his sunglasses off for a second. He’s not happy about it, but he let’s me. I tuck them in his shirt pocket and put my hand back in his.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For the weekend. For the clothes. For fucking my brains out. For distracting me with the possibility of a public strip search—“ He leans down and kisses me and puts his shades back on.

“That’s still a very real possibility.”

“I’ve never told you this, but I kind of have this fantasy about you showing up at school or my job or something and arresting me and—“ He doesn’t let me finish, just takes me in his arms.

“I’d do it right now if I hadn’t forgotten my handcuffs.”

“Agent Kinney, are you falling down on the job?” He leans down and starts talking in my ear, kind of pinning my hands behind my back.

“Not that I need them. I’ll take you without them. Right now.”

“Well, it’s not like I won’t go willingly, Agent Kinney.” He tightens his grip on my wrists. Hard.

“The hell you will. In my fantasy, you put up quite a fight.” I’m gonna need an extra seat on this plane for my hard on.

“We’ll see about that……,” he raises his eyebrows at me. I raise mine back. “Sir.”

The next thing I know my feet are barely on the floor, and I can’t hear all the people buzzing around me, I can just hear him and the little noises he makes when he kisses me like this. And I close my eyes as his grip softens but he never lets go of me, and it just seems to go on forever….

“Mmmm. You taste like me.” God, this will be the last morning for a while that I taste like him. Shit. Can hardly remember a morning when I haven’t lately.

“I taste like Agent Kinney.” I lick my lips. He laughs.

“He tastes pretty good.”

“He’s delicious. Better than a strawberry breakfast bar.” He squeezes my hand and nods toward the clock. “I know.”

“Better go before he takes you into custody, and you never make your flight.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

I try to pull away from him as I say this but the force to be next to him is just too great. I end up saying it into the lapel of his overcoat. I feel his hand on the back of my head, stroking, his lips in my hair.

“I’ll be waiting. Now, go. Get on that plane.”

I nod against his lapel and pull away and start to put my jacket on. He stops me.

“No way. Don’t do that.” I give him a weird look. “Gonna watch your ass when you walk away.” I roll my eyes at him, but for some reason I’ve never felt so loved in my entire life. He helps me put my carry-on on my shoulder, and when I turn around to look at him, he messes up my hair on purpose.

He smiles at me and fixes it and sort of pats me on the head. “You make me so happy, Brian.”

“Good luck, Sunshine. Knock ‘em dead.” I pop up on my toes to kiss him really fast one last time and then walk away as fast as I can toward security.

The irony in that.

Walking toward security when the only security I’ve known for four years is standing farther and farther behind me…

I wait until I’m through the x-ray thing, until I’m pretty far away, before I turn around to see if he’s still there….

And he is, arms folded, leaning against a column, still in his shades. Staring at my ass.

I give him a look like I can’t believe you, and he laughs for a second because he’s totally busted and then he takes his sunglasses off and I can see that he’s really not laughing.

Not at all.

And then he rolls his lips in and nods his head up at me, and I know everything I’ve ever wanted to know. Everything. And even though we can only see each other, and there’s no way he can hear me, I look right at him…

“Love you, too.”

My carry-on falls off my shoulder, and I have to rearrange everything again, and when I look back up, his hands are in his pockets, his head's down, and he’s walking away.

****************************
BRIAN’S POV

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no, no, no I'm a rocket man

Gus nearly knocks me over as I walk out of the men’s room. Lindsay’s right behind him.

“Whoa. Do you need to use the bathroom?” God help me.

“No! The planes are moving! Come on!” He grabs my arm and drags me to the window he wants to watch from. “Pick me up, Daddy!”

I hoist him up on my shoulders. I don’t think he’s ever felt so big or so tall. I have to keep reminding him not to pull my hair.

“Daddy, which one is Mr. Justin’s plane?” He’s kicking my coat with his feet. He’s so excited.

“I don’t think any of those are his plane. His will be out here in a couple of minutes.” And sure enough it is. There are two non-stop U.S. Airways flights to LAX that leave at about the same time so I’m not sure which one is his, but it’s one of the two. “It’s one of those two, Gus, those two over there.”

Gus is leaning toward the window, away from the window, all over the place. I have to hold on to him pretty tightly. I need two more hands.

“Gus, remember my hair. Please stop pulling my hair.” He lets go.

“Sorry, Daddy. There goes one! Bye, Mr. Justin!” That’s not Justin’s plane.

“Yeah, that’s not Justin, Gus. Keep your eye on those two planes over there.”

Linds comes over and stands with us for a while, her hand on my back. We’re all quiet for a minute or so as we just watch out the window. The sun is beginning to break through the clouds. The two California-bound jetliners start to taxi into position.

“Daddy. Get ready, get ready to blast off!” I give Lindsay a weird look. She shakes her head.

“Space. The Final Frontier. He learns about everything in preschool. Believe me.”

“Gus, planes don’t blast off. Rockets and spaceships blast off. Planes take off.” One of the planes gets ready to move down the runway.

“Count, Daddy, count! Ten, eight, seven, five, four, three, two—“

“Gus, it’s not a rocket. It’s a plane.” I pick him up off of my shoulder and prop him on the little ledge in front of the window. He leans against me. “Look at my hand, Gus. Rockets shoot straight up. Whoosh.” He copies me. “Planes take off at an angle. Like this.” I show him what I mean. He copies me again. “See? Rocket. Plane. You don’t count for a plane.”

“Daddy, I want to go see where the rockets take off.”

“We’ll go see that sometime, but not today. It’s down near Mickey Mouse. Far away from here.” He starts jumping up and down on the ledge because the first plane is revving up and getting ready to go. “Okay, now watch Gus. Watch how it goes at an angle and not straight up.” He follows it with his hand and covers his ears when it gets too loud.

“Ow, Daddy.”

“Yep. Planes are loud. Just like little boys.” We follow it with our fingers until we can’t see it anymore.

“Bye, bye, Mr. Justin.” I hug him so he doesn’t fall off the ledge. Gus resumes his game of ‘rocket and plane’ as the second plane moves into position and then stops his hand in mid-take off. “I see him, Daddy, I see Mr. Justin!” I don’t see what he’s pointing at.

“Where?”

“In the window! In the window! Yellow hair! Look!” It takes me a minute to see what he’s seeing. It’s glare.

“That’s not Justin, Gus. It’s just a reflection.” I pick him up and hold him in my arms as the plane is about to start zooming down the runway. He points out the window.

“Yeah, Daddy, that’s a ‘flection.” Such a sad face.

Fuck it. If my kid can pretend that plane is a rocket, then what’s it gonna hurt?

“You know what, Gus. You’re right. That is Mr. Justin.” He waves like crazy as the plane takes off, both of his hands flying through the air, alternately hitting me in the head.

“Good bye, Mr. Justin! Have a good movie!” We watch until we can’t see it anymore, until there’s nothing left to see. I take his hand and the three of us walk down the concourse to start our day.

My son's a lot like Justin. An artist with his own perspective.

He saw Mr. Justin.

I was blinded by the sunshine.

The end.

(epilogues will follow)